Birthday Girl
A/N This is my first tumblr fic. I’m a retired Wattpad warrior, I only wrote this bc the Ellie tag is over diluted by smut, we need some angst and fluff to balance it out. My credentials are that I used to write Game of Thrones fanfic and I was blocked by Noah Beck on Twitter. Apologies in advance for any spelling errors or confusing sentences, bc I was high off my ass when I wrote this.
Summary
Jackson’s resident Baker works herself tirelessly to take care of everyone on their birthday and ensure they get something nice to brighten their special day but who is there to take care of her?
Birthdays are like brilliant gems in the kaleidoscope of time; they are the times when life's symphony crescendos into a celebration of its children. As the sun circles the earth once a year, we are given a day to celebrate our own journey, a day that whispers stories of victories, laughter, and the sweet notes of resiliency. You had always loved birthdays, who didn't? The look of joy on someone's face when they open a gift you spent weeks looking for, the uncontrollable smile and pure serotonin that took over even the grumpiest of people. Everyone had a special day designated to them, of course, it was a cause to celebrate.
You worked in the town bakery with very few other people, from five am to twelve pm on Monday to Friday every single week you were hustling around in a humid bakery, hell, you ran it like the navy. Every morning, walking into the bakery is like stepping into a fragrant paradise where time seems to slow down to the sound of ovens buzzing to life. The first two hours were just for you before you let anyone in, The comforting routine of donning a flour-dusted apron and tying back unruly hair precedes the artistry of crafting pastries and breads. The almost therapeutic rhythm of kneading, rolling, and shaping becomes second nature: the soft crack of eggs, the calculated pour of sugar, and the clouds of flour hovering in midair.
There wasn't much creative freedom while working in the Jackson bakery, it really just consisted of making dozens of bread loaves daily and then carting them over to the 'Barbecue Place' Which was once a restaurant though it had been refashioned into Jackson's mess hall. However, you were able to dabble in some fun and were able to make cupcakes daily and a large batch of miscellaneous pastries every Friday. The cupcakes were very dear to you, you had to beg Maria when you were thirteen to approve the idea and eventually, you were green-lit.
As you step into the bakery you are greeted by the creek of wooden planks which are a testament to decades of busy activity; the dance of innumerable bakers has worn away at their shiny surfaces. The aroma of baked goods still hovers in the air from the previous day and all the days that came before, taking you to a more peaceful time. Sunlight streams through old lace curtains, illuminating worn, mismatched tables and chairs that have served eager clients for centuries though they no longer serve guests in the bakery. Deeply patinated wooden shelves support a variety of ceramic jars, each containing a treasure trove of hidden ingredients. Fading photos and yellowed newspaper clippings decorate the walls, telling the story of the bakery's illustrious past. There are copper pots and pans strung like time capsules on strong hooks, and an old-fashioned cash register sits on the end of the counter past the empty glass displays, it no longer serves a purpose but you have fought bravely to keep it around as it makes you think of what life had been like before the world fell apart.
You look at a beat-up calendar on the walls, sitting in the place of an old picture frame that had been knocked down and shattered by none other than yourself when you were fourteen and had the bright idea of having you and your friend toss a bag of flour at each other to see who was strong enough to last longer in the odd game of catch. Surely, Ellie threw the five-pound bag a little too hard, you ducked to save yourself but it smashed into the framed photo of the family who ran the bakery before the apocalypse. It not only was smashed into little fragments but the bag of flour exploded and covered the dining room of the bakery as well as yourself in white powder, it looked like it had snowed inside. The calendar you were checking held the birthday of every person in Jackson, it was messy and hard to read as you usually had to cram several birthdays into a single day which was only a small square, it was hardly legible, there was almost no one else who could read it. Every day when you walked into the bakery, the first thing you did was check the calendar to find out whose birthday it was, then you began your bread dough or carried on with the sourdough started the day before, while the dough rose, you made cake batter, adjusting the recipe according to how many you had to make. After finishing work for the day or sometimes when you were midway through it, you would give each person a cupcake to celebrate their special day.
Even if no one else remembered their birthday, you were always there to make it a little bit better.
Today there were two birthdays on the calendar, Sean Casey, a man who was turning sixty. The second birthday marked down in the little square was yours.
That's what made that day so special, you were ecstatic to see what your friends had planned for you later. Last year Ellie promised that she would go above and beyond for your next birthday and you were going to hold her to that. There was already a nice start to your morning by having your dad wake you up with breakfast in bed which you found truly impressive as he usually slept in till at least ten, on top of that he had scavenged a stand mixer for the home. You grabbed your apron off of the hook putting it over your neck and tying it tight around your waist. Everyone had a couple of designated aprons to rotate through throughout the week, yours consisted of two plain white ones, a red gingham pattern, one of forest green, and another made of a fabric covered in hyacinth flowers, their colours diluted like paint. Today you wore the apron your father gave you last year on your birthday, it was your favourite colour and the neckline was embroidered to say '(y/n)s kitchen'. You could tell your dad did the embroidery himself, the stitches were loose and uneven in some areas while being extremely tight in others, that's why you loved it so much, it was the thought and care behind it.
With a gentle hand, you pulled each of your necessary ingredients along with equipment out to begin your day. You preheat the ovens and in the quiet pre-dawn hours, the bakery comes alive with the hushed sounds of industrial mixers. The heady scent of freshly milled flour dances in the air as you measure the precise alchemy of ingredients, your hands moving with practiced grace. Kneading the dough becomes repetitive, muscles working in harmony to transform a mound of humble ingredients into a soft elastic texture. As the dough rests and rises, the anticipation builds—the promise of crusty loaves and soft, pillowy interiors. You slipped the pans of dough into the industrial ovens, the heat attacking you the second you opened the door; making sure to place the pumpernickel, rye, sourdough, brioche and wheat loaves all sorted on different racks in the respective ovens.
By the time you put the loaves in ovens it had been two hours from when you began, even with preparation the day before and dough starters, it was a process. You quickly washed your hands before unlocking the door for Juno as well as anyone who wanted to come in to visit.
The clock read '7:09', because of the passthrough you were still able to look outside via the glass storefront, you could see people walking along the streets heading to whatever job they worked to contribute to the community, no one got paid, it was a commune after all, you couldn't imagine a world where everyone was so dependent on money and so obsessed with over-consumption. Part of you was waiting for one of those people to come in and wish you a happy birthday, but you shook the thoughts from your head.
You began to make the small portion for two of cupcake batter, remembering distinctly how four years ago you sat next to Sean at the Fourth of July party and he went on and on about how much he hated vanilla, it seemed like one of those crazy old man rants but you found delight in it. Never had you seen a man so passionate about cake flavouring. He said vanilla was nothing special, flavourless; you had come to learn that he was a chocolate man, every holiday event filling his pot belly with chocolate, when you had brought assorted sweets for a Christmas party he dove straight for the brownies. So it was easy for you to make up your mind on what flavour of cupcake to make.
After years of this cupcake tradition you had memorized each ratio to make, a double serving of chocolate batter consisting of 1/4 cup of flour, 2 1/2 tablespoons of white sugar, 1 tablespoon of unsweetened cocoa powder, 1/4 tablespoon of baking soda, a dash of salt, 2 tablespoons milk, two tablespoons canola oil, 1/4 tablespoon vanilla extract. You treated baking like it was a science and recipes were your formulas.
As for the frosting, you had a stockpile of plain buttercream that you took small servings from and flavoured according to said person's preference. All you had to do was whip it up and add some cocoa powder to make it fluffy and creamy again.
The bell above the doorway rang, signalling the arrival of someone, you looked up to see Maria. "Hey, there," You smiled, turning off the stand mixer so you could hear her.
"Hi, (y/n)," She greeted and you quickly wiped whatever was on your hands onto your apron before coming around to the service counter to speak with her. "I have something to ask of you."
"Yes?"
"I know you already do your little cupcake thing but we are throwing a surprise party tonight for Sean and I was hoping you could make a cake for him?"
You nod with a smile "Anything for the town chief."
"Great, then how about a simple vanilla cake?"
"Sean doesn't like vanilla," You answered quickly.
"Okay, well I trust you with it, his party starts at eight tonight in the town square and he's turning sixty so it's a big one, I'll see you there around then?"
"Definitely," You grinned at Maria, waiting for her to wish you a happy birthday and reveal that she was only pretending to forget but she didn't. She thanked you and walked out, leaving you in a flour-covered apron with a tinge of hurt in your heart. It wasn't like you weren't close with Maria, you had Thanksgiving at her house every year.
Nonetheless, it was only a blip in your soon-to-be perfect day. Just as you had frosted the two cupcakes, putting chocolate chips on Sean's and breaking half of a double fudge cookie and sticking it into the thick icing. Rainbow sprinkles cascade like confetti, adding a whimsical touch to the miniature confection. The bell rang again calling for your attention, this time you didn't leave the kitchen instead just moved to look at whoever it was by the passthrough.
"Hey, kiddo!" Tommy greeted, clad in a red flannel tucked into blue jeans. He walked into the bakery as comfortably as he would his home.
"Howdy, Tommy," You said, moving out of his sight for a quick moment to put the two cupcakes in the fridge to prevent the buttercream from prematurely melting.
"So, it's Sean's birthday today and I was wondering if you could bake a cake for his party-
"Maria was already in," You answered "Don't worry, I'm on it."
He smiled "Of course, you're always so on top of it," He leaned over the counter slightly, trying to get a look inside the kitchen via the passthrough "Say, have you got anything back there for me?" You opened the box of double fudge cookies you made the day before and scooted around the passthrough to hand him one, boots clattering on the ground. Tommy loved to visit the bakery as you always had a sweet treat for him and he would never get sick of the aromatic embrace of fresh bread. "Thanks, kiddo, I'll see you around."
This was the moment you were almost convinced that they were planning a surprise party for you, sure Maria could forget about your birthday, she was a busy lady but there was no way Tommy would. He was good buddies with your dad and was over at your place for beers a minimum of once a week. You always baked for him when he came over and he constantly joked about you trying to fatten him up.
The bell sounded again though you didn't bother to look up, you knew who it was by the time of the clock, Juno was starting her shift. As usual, she tied her mousy brown hair into a sleek ponytail then grabbed her apron and stuck a baseball cap on over her head so there was no chance of her hair coming loose. "Good morning," She walked into the kitchen, heading over to the sink to wash her hands.
"Mornin'," You answer.
She looks you up and down with a slight smile "You're wearing your favourite apron, must be a special day."
“Sure doesn't feel like it."
♡
Your birthday wasn’t panning out great but you didn't want to lose hope.
You had walked over to the greenhouses after your shift to find Sean, he loved the cupcake, he even hugged you which was nice albeit a little odd. You walked through town a bit after you had stopped and talked to everyone on the street for not a single one to say the words you've been pleading to hear all day. Taking it as defeat, you grabbed a sandwich for lunch from the mess hall and began the desolate walk home.
Nestled at the end of a peaceful, tree-lined street, the charming but battered house had a certain charm that cut through its worn yellow exterior. Tentacles of ivy wrapped about the crumbling outside walls, their green tones infusing the dilapidated building with a hint of the natural world's tenacity. The worn-out yet friendly doormat and weathered rocking chair on the porch told of years spent taking in the changing of the seasons. The wooden frames of the windows, adorned with faded drapes that seen innumerable sunsets, spoke tales of laughter and time passed.
The house's coziness unfolded inside like a time capsule, with worn-out rugs covering creaky floorboards and a fireplace in the living room that was adorned with vintage tiles that were mismatched and provided warmth in more ways than one. The rooms had a lived-in comfort despite the peeling wallpaper and chipped paint, and each mismatched piece of furniture seemed to tell a story of its own. Despite being tatty and ragged around the edges, the house exuded a calmness that invited guests to enjoy the beauty concealed in the flaws of a place that had aged gracefully and with character like most homes in Jackson. The living room was always your favourite, there was a spruce bookshelf pushed behind the gray, L-shaped couch, and the rug was once a maroon colour though it's clear that it's been well-loved over the years. Pillows and throw blankets were carelessly scattered over the couch from when you and your dad had watched '21 Jumpstreet' the night before, he kept saying it was a shame the outbreak happened before they got to make a second one, though many of the jokes didn't land with you, you loved to see your dad laugh so hard he snorted. The room was illuminated by a warm glow from the fairy lights overhead that your dad scavenged years prior, a small stack of books piled up on the coffee table which had been hand-crafted by Joel.
You popped 'Mean Girls' into the DVD player, just to have some background noise and went to the kitchen and started on Sean's cake. As much as you loved the bakery, you wanted to be somewhere a little more close to comfort.
As you measured each ingredient with care, you couldn't shake the bittersweet feeling that lingered in the air. Sifting the ingredients into the bowl, you had wished your father was home from patrol duty, all you really wanted was a hug but instead, you slaved away at a black forest complete with layers of moist sponge, decadent frosting, and a profusion of vibrant decorations.
As you delicately frosted the cake, your mind flitted between thoughts of the celebration and the poignant fact that everyone seemed to have overlooked your own special day. The kitchen, usually a sanctuary for you to escape to, now harboured the weight of unspoken emotions. Your heart, though excited for Sean to get a nice surprise on his Birthday, held an unnoticed longing for acknowledgment.
The aroma of the baking cake filled the kitchen, mingling with the scent of disappointment that you couldn't quite shake.
As the cake took shape, you couldn't help but think back to the calendar at the bakery, where the date circled in red seemed to mock you. Your own birthday, usually a day filled with surprises and the warmth of laughter, had slipped through the cracks of everyone's awareness. Though the night was still young and Ellie had said that she was planning something incredible.
Finally, nine was about to roll around, you changed into some clean clothes that hadn't yet carried the memories of your disappointing day, just a white top and some jeans. The sun had set, and your dad wouldn't be home for a good while so you walked over to the town square alone.
There was a table full of food and a long banner that read 'Happy Birthday Sean!' strung between two street lamps. There were twinkling fairy lights illuminating what would have otherwise been a dark night.
"There she is!" Tommy smiled, doing that awkward little dad jog over you. "Wow, that cake looks incredible, mind if I take it off your hands?"
"Go ahead," You held out the cakeboard. Tommy gingerly took it away from your grasp, his forearm underneath to support and his other hand held the side of the board for balance.
"I owe ya' kiddo," He winked before taking the cake away to show a group of adults.
You stood around awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do with yourself. You turned your attention to the moon, wanting to believe that it shined so very bright just for you, because the moon, unlike everyone else recalled how important this day was to you-
"SURPRISE!" Everyone erupted in cheers as Sean walked up to his party, his daughter had her arm linked with his. He had the biggest smile on his face it almost made you forgive everyone for forgetting because at least Sean got something thoughtful.
"Lord, I was thinking everyone forgot my birthday!" Sean laughed, pulling Tommy in for a hug.
"(y/n)!" Dina yelled, you turned your head to follow her voice. She was sitting at a long picnic table beneath an awning with some friends "Over here," She motioned for you to sit down and you obliged, taking a spot between Ellie and Laila. "What have you been up to? I feel like I haven't seen you all day."
"That's because you haven't," You said with an awkward smile. "I've just been baking, like always."
"You're always working so hard, I swear you live in that bakery and when you aren't in there your busy busting your ass around town to make sure everyone gets something on their birthday," Dina sat across from you and put a hand onto yours "You look out for everyone, but who's looking out for you?"
"My dad?" You glance at Ellie who isn't tuned into the conversation in the slightest, she has her arms crossed in front of her on the table and her head resting on them.
"Aw, that's sweet-" Kayla moves to look at you but in doing so, she spills a glass of juice onto you. "I'm so sorry," She slaps one hand over her mouth, her eyebrows furrowing. Kayla stood up from the table, her ginger curls rustling with the breeze "I'll get a cloth or something-
"Don't worry about it," I wave her off "It's just clothes, I'll grab some napkins." You push yourself away from the table, walking over to the table adorned with food, you see a small stack of Christmas themed napkins (it must've been hard for them to come by regular ones) and grab a handful, bunching them up in your hand in an attempt to soak up some of the juice that had already indefinitely stained your clothes.
You feel some eyes on you from the other side of the table, to look up and see Joel, he doesn't say anything though his lips are pressed together tight.
"You're back," You say, a spark of happiness rekindling inside of you "So my dad's back from patrol too?"
Joel nods "Too tuckered to come out, said he was just heading home," He uses tongs to put a couple cuts of chicken onto his plate "Oh and happy birthday, you've probably heard that a whole bunch already, lord, it's all your old man would talk about on our last couple of patrols."
"What did you say?" You look at him with furrowed eyebrows, unsure if he said what you really thought.
"I said happy birthday, shame you've stained your clothes on your birthday," He absentmindedly added some mashed potatoes onto his plate. The words hung in the air, a moment that transcended the boundaries of their usual exchanges. You, momentarily taken aback, met Joel's gaze. It was a simple, earnest wish, uttered with the spontaneity of someone who had remembered a small yet significant detail in the whirlwind of festivity.
"Thank you, Joel," You replied, your voice carrying a mix of surprise and gratitude. In that fleeting instant, the isolation that had surrounded her seemed to dissipate. A connection, however tenuous, had been forged in the acknowledgment of her existence amidst the collective celebration.
"No problem, kid, I'll see you around," He left with his plate leaving you to stand alone at the table. You continued to dab at the juice on your white top, and though you knew it wouldn't come out you proceeded to rub it; the best exchange of your day, no more than eight sentences suddenly turned from joy to frustration. The only two people who remembered your birthday were your dad and a fiftey-eight-year-old man who practically raised the girl you had spent years crushing on, not the girl herself, but her father figure. However, you thought, maybe if Joel remembered, Ellie had aswell and she actually did have something planned.
Amidst the lively chatter and laughter that reverberated through the night, you stood in the midst of flickering candles and colourful decorations, your eyes cast down to the ground. The atmosphere of celebration enveloped her, but a palpable sense of solitude hung in the air like a heavy mist settling upon your shoulders. It was a birthday party, yes, but not your own. Forgotten and overlooked, your heart echoed with a quiet ache, the irony of your situation casting a shadow over the festive scene.
The square was adorned with streamers and balloons, a tapestry of colours that seemed to dance in rhythm with the joyful voices around her. The community gathered, their faces lit by the warm glow of the fairy lights and street lamps, each one caught up in the merriment of the moment. Yet, for you, the celebration felt like a distant spectacle, a scene from which you were detached.
It was your birthday too—a fact that no one cared enough to recall. As Darla (Sean's daughter) calls guests toward a decadent cake adorned with candles, which you had made, you couldn't escape the bitter irony of the situation. You watched as the room erupted into a chorus of "Happy Birthday," the song meant for another soul, another moment of joy. You joined in, lips forming the familiar words, your voice harmonizing with the collective melody. But within the depths of your being, the celebration rang hollow, a stark contrast to the cheer that echoed around you.
Throughout the evening, you navigated the party with a forced smile, concealing the invisible weight of your emotions. Conversations buzzed like bees in your ears, no- it grated like a fork in a blender, but you found yourself on the outskirts—a silent observer amidst the numerous connections. The laughter that erupted like fireworks, the clinking of glasses, the embraces of old friends—it all seemed distant, an echo from another realm where she once belonged.
The party unfolded as a series of snapshots: a group photo with smiling faces, a toast to Sean, and the opening of gifts that weren't meant for you. Each moment, though vibrant and filled with the warmth of shared camaraderie, magnified the silence that enveloped your own celebration, forgotten and left to dissolve into the shadows.
As the night carried out, seeming like the celebration would never cease, you cut yourself a slice of cake, grabbing one of the half-melted candles that Sean had already blown out, they sat in a frosting-covered pile next to the cake. You took your favourite colour out of the rainbow assortment of candles and stuck it into the piece of black forest cake.
With your cake you sat back down by Ellie at the picnic table where she still returned to after conversing, everyone else had gotten up to dance. You reached for the lighter in your pocket and struck it to ignite, sparks flickered around the end of it, you struck it again and a flame arose, you carefully brought it to the wick of the partially melted candle.
The flickering flame cast a subtle glow as you made a silent wish for understanding, for the beauty found in selflessness, and for the recognition that sometimes the most meaningful celebrations are the ones we craft for others, even in the quiet echoes of our own unacknowledged birthdays. Ellie turned to look at you as the candle's flame danced in the darkness, before you could blow out the candle to solidify your wish a little girl climbed up onto the bench and blew it out, you looked at her and all she did was smile up at you, the gap in her teeth prominent, her deep chocolate hair braided so intricately you had to believe that it must've taken her mother hours.
As much as you wanted to deck that little girl in the face for ruining your moment, you didn't because it would be wildly inappropriate. "Do you want this?" You sighed, holding out the plate to the girl, she smiled and nodded enthusiastically, taking the cake and scattering away "Hey, Ellie," You pushed back tears in your eyes, forcing a smile on your face "Got any plans later?"
“Yeah," She said, short
"Oh, what are they?"
"Not to sound like a cunt but I'm not really in the mood to talk, I had a shit patrol and all I want to do is go home, smoke a joint, watch a movie, maybe read a comic, and pass out on my couch, the only reason I'm here is that Dina dragged me out and Joel said I need to be more involved in the community."
Your smile dropped, you couldn't hold it in anymore, realizing that this wasn't the elaborate setup of a surprise party but Ellie genuinely forgot it was your birthday. "Are you serious?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Do you know what day it is?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you remember what's happening today?"
"It's Sean's birthday," She gestured to the party around her.
"You're fucking serious," Any amusement that had been in your tone was gone, replaced by a subtle anger boiling up inside of you
"Are you going to cry?" Ellie gave you a weird look "What are you so mad about?"
"I can't believe you," You laugh bitterly "Actually I can, this is so like you, I need to stop building it up in my head that you're going to surprise me with something great. But hey, at least you never fail to let me down."
"Jesus," She scoffed "There's always something going on with you, can you go one day without finding some irrational reason to be upset?"
"Irrational?"
"Yeah, irrational," She reiterated "You always come to me when something sets you off in the slightest then your problem becomes everyone else's. You're so fucking draining and I'm sick of it."
"Fuck you, I hope your comic catches fire from your joint and you burn your place down." You stand up from the bench, wiping tears away from your eyes. Your boots clattered against the cobblestone. You stormed past the dancers, some stopping to look at one another with concern. Dina leaves Jesse to ask Ellie what happened.
The walk home might've been the loneliest you had felt in your life, the harsh wind of the night bit at your nose. The feeling of the sticky juice soaking through your clothing was borderline unbearable, were just about ready to scream. There wasn't a single person out and about as everyone was either at the party or cozied up in their own homes.
Arriving at your doorstep, you fumbled with the handle, the metallic clink resonating in the quietude that enveloped the house. The door swung open, revealing the dimly lit foyer, still no surprise. Why do you still think there is going to be a party? No one is coming.
You wandered into the living room, the TV was lit with the options screen for 'Mean Girls' that you had put on hours earlier.
Sinking into the worn-out couch, You let the weight of the day wash over you. A single tear welled in your eye, and as it escaped, a floodgate of unshed sorrow burst open. The first teardrop traced a silent path down your cheek, leaving a glistening trail of heartache in its wake.
The tears you cried weren't silent and dainty but violent sobs that burned your throat each time you cried out. As you wept, it felt like someone had stabbed your gut with a thousand needles, you cried and cried, to no one in particular, maybe the moon glistening outside the window though the moon seemed to absorb your tears, offering no solace in return.
The soft tick of the clock on the wall echoed in the quiet room, marking the strike of midnight, your birthday had ended. There was no secret party or a prank where everyone was only playing an act, only the emptiness of the house echoed the howls soaked in your tears.
The oak staircase creaked, and your dad turned the corner, peering into the living room. "What's wrong, honey,?" He shook the sleep from his mind, focusing on what was important, he sat next to you on the sofa. "I thought you said you were going to be out all night with your friends?"
You shook your head, breathing shaky breaths alone, hardly able to get a word out "They forgot," You felt the harsh sting of desolation hit you all over again "Everyone forgot," You grabbed his grey t-shirt burying your face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling you gently like you were a child who had just scraped her knee not someone who had just turned nineteen, "Except for Joel, so be nice to him, please."
"I'm sorry, baby, it was probably just a mix-up," He rubbed one hand on your back to comfort you. "I should've been there with you, I'm so sorry."
You couldn't get the words out of your mouth, all you could manage was to shake in your father's arms with sobs until you cried yourself to sleep.
♡
"Happy birthday, Jasmine!" You smile brightly, presenting a lemon-raspberry cupcake to the woman. She was serving breakfast in the mess hall, the early morning light streaming through the many windows, blinding those trying to enjoy their meals.
"Aw, thank you, love" She took the cupcake "That's real sweet," She wore a hairnet, despite having short cropped hair. "I just realized I don't even know when your birthday is."
"It was yesterday, actually."
"Aww, how was it?" Jasmine smiled, her white teeth contrasting with her dark skin.
"It was nice, it was quiet too, I just spent it by myself."
A frown replaced Jasmine's smile and she lowered her tone "Did your friends drop the ball?"
You wave off her question "Oh no, loads of people remembered, I just wanted some time to myself, it was nice."
You could tell Jasmine didn't wholeheartedly believe you, she was at Sean's party last night and saw you rush out with tears building in your eyes "If you say so," She shrugged, taking a bite of her cupcake "This is really good."
"Thanks," A small smile plays on your lips.
"God bless you, sweetheart, you deserve the best." She said, every bit of truth behind her words. She took another bite of the cupcake, savouring the sweet and sour taste "And I mean that."
You were too caught up in conversation to notice Jesse ahead of you in the service line right away, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the dispenser, trying to play cool and not have your attention drawn to him. With a shaky hand, he put the glass on his tray and hurried over to the table where Ellie was eating with Dina. "Guys, something not that great just happened."
Ellie furrowed her eyebrows looking from Dina to Jesse "What?" She asked through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, she swallowed them down and spoke back up "Please tell us what terrible thing has happened in the time it took you to walk to the service line, get your food and come back?" Sarcasm dripped from her voice.
"We forgot (y/n)'s birthday," He said quickly, Ellie and Dina looked at each other with wide eyes, thinking back to the night before and the way they had both behaved. Dina was extremely ignorant and Ellie got into an argument with you, though Jesse didn't speak to you at all.
"We're awful friends," Dina says quietly, scraping her mind for any way they could salvage the situation and play it off like they hadn't forgotten. "We could change all of the calendars in town and make it seem like her birthday is actually today."
"Be serious, Dina," Jesse said, though he was considering her idea. "I think the only way we can fix this is by making it up to her."
"How would we do that? We can't make it up to her, she remembers every single person's birthday in this town and gives them a cupcake, even people she doesn't like, do you remember how she planned all of our birthday parties for the last four years and has never let us down?" Dina and Jesse nodded "And how we always scramble something together last minute? Like last year, we only remembered two days before and we threw her a subpar movie night, we watched Star Wars and she doesn't even like Star Wars."
Dina sucked air through her teeth "Yeah, not our best moment."
"You think?" Jesse asked, sarcastically. "And Ellie didn't make it any better by yelling at her yesterday!"
"You yelled at her? You told me you didn't yell at her," Dina whipped her head to look at Ellie, the smallest glimpse of judgment in her eyes. "Shh, she's coming!"
You were making your way to the exit lugging the cart that had held loaves of bread on it before you dropped them off to the kitchen, still in your flour-covered apron, hair pinned up messy, baby hairs flying away. Clad in jeans, a green T-shirt and beaten-up boots, clacking against the hardwood floor, you still looked beautiful to Ellie with red eyes and a puffy face from crying all night. "Watch this," Jesse murmured to the group before turning around and flagging you down. "Hey (y/n)!" He smiled brightly, his words catching your attention "Did you enjoy your birthday, yesterday?"
"Jesse, I know you heard me talking to Jasmine." You said and Ellie couldn't bear the disappointed look on your face. At that moment, the guilt hit her all at once. You had been the first kid her age that she warmed up to when she arrived in Jackson, trying your best to include her in everything. You invited her to hang out with your friends even though she didn't particularly get along with them, she went anyway because she just wanted to see you. On her birthday the previous year, you had scoped out an old comic store hours away just to bring her there for one day.
Jesse's smile fell and you had walked out the door before he had the chance to push a lie through his teeth. Last night's conversation echoed through Ellie's head over and over again, she cringed at the memory, god, why did she even say that?
Dina reached over the table and gave Ellie a harsh smack on the arm "Why did you even say that?!"
"Ow," She flinched, rubbing the spot that had been assaulted by Dina "What are you talking about?"
Dina looked at Ellie like she was just about ready to scream "What you said to her last night, what was going through your head?"
"Not much, apparently," Jesse answered for her, earning a death glare from the Auburn girl.
"I'll just apologize and it'll be water under the bridge," Ellie said, leaning back.
"That's not going to work," Dina replied quickly.
It, in fact, did not work. Ellie had shown up at the bakery where you promptly ignored her. "(y/n), I'm really sorry I forgot your birthday and said those things to you." Nothing Ellie said could get you to even look at her.
She had later stopped by your house, it was your dad who answered the door and Ellie sheepishly asked if you were home. He called for you to come down, the moment you saw Ellie, you shut the door in her face. There was no way she could defend herself, she couldn't say that she said those things because she had a bad day (even though she did), and that would just make her seem pathetic. She really wanted to say that she was scared of how much she liked you, she didn't want to ruin a good thing, you both had spent years playing the role of each other's best friend until Ellie started to distance herself from you and you ended up enwrapping yourself with work to distract yourself from the fact that she was drifting away.
Ellie didn't know what to do, if she didn't act fast, it would be too late and she was going to lose you.
♡
One week later
The sun was just beginning to set as you were already preparing to settle into bed and read a book, just about to change out of your floor-length sundress and into one of your dad's old shirts. However, your plans were interrupted when you heard your dad screaming downstairs, it was blood-curdling. You dropped everything, pulling your bedroom door open and rushing down the stairs, tripping on a step and stumbling before quickly regaining balance and moving with haste "Dad?" You called out, worry running through your head.
"SURPRISE!" People practically screeched, the volume so loud that you jolted back in fear. The chatter only grew as you looked around you and realized what was happening, this was your belated birthday party.
You were pulled in suddenly for a hug, squeezing you so tight you thought your eyes would pop out of your skull was Tommy "I'm so sorry, kiddo, I was being a real shithead on your birthday."
"It's okay," You choked out, nearly gasping for air. Much to your relief, he released you and you took a deep breath.
"Happy belated birthday!" Dina sang, placing a fat box in your arms. Many people followed after her, piling gifts on top of the initial one, you were quickly losing balance, so you stumbled into the living room and put the gifts onto the coffee table. There was so much life in the living room it was almost hard to believe that just a week before you had been crying alone, bathed in moonlight.
There were streamers strung throughout your house and odd dangly decorations that hung from the ceiling. Some balloons were taped to the walls while others bounced around the ground.
The lively hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the melodic strains of birthday wishes filled the room as the party pulsated with energy. Colourful decorations adorned the walls, and the air was charged with the festive spirit.
You had the biggest smile on your face while everyone joked and jeered. Shoving their gifts into your face, trying to get you to open them first. It had made you forget about how awful your real birthday was, though you did try to dodge awkward apologies of people fumbling over their own words to make up excuses as to why they missed your real birthday.
"Happy birthday to you-" A voice began singing, and soon enough the entire crowd joined in, harmonizing into an off-key rendition of the birthday song. They made way for the person carrying the cake which had been none other than Ellie herself. The song ended off and Ellie placed the cake in front of you on the coffee table. "Make a wish."
You blew out all of the candles, and no punchable little girl around to steal your thunder, the room erupted into applause. The celebration continued with the living room becoming a dance floor, laughter echoing through the corridors, and conversations flowing freely. The cake itself reminded you of the embroidery your dad had done on your apron, it was sloppy and imperfect but you could tell it was made with love, the icing had been put on prematurely and had partially melted off the cake. It read 'Happy birthday' with 'Sorry for being a dick' written smaller beneath the first bit of text.
"Thank you, Ellie," You smiled softly up at her.
No one else was paying attention to you anymore, aside from those who wanted a slice of cake. Ellie nervously fumbled around with her hands "Do you want to dance?"
Ellie invited you to dance as the opening notes of the song floated through the air and she held out her hand. With a gentle smile, you accepted and you moved into the middle of the living room to form a makeshift dance floor. The soft aroma of fresh flowers blended with the scent of vanilla candles created an ambiance that enhanced the moment's sensory magic.
To the gentle beat of the song, your bodies moved in unison. Your hand settled comfortably on Ellie's shoulder, and her hand wrapped around your waist. Your bond transcended the material in the living room dance, an unspoken language of mutual feelings and unknown depths.
You both danced, recklessly, so much so that you were nearly a hazard for the swaying couples drifting around you, moving faster and not hurriedly as the tempo picked up. With each step, the living room's walls became silent witnesses to a romance that was developing on the plush carpet under their feet. The muted rustle of your clothing and the melodic notes of the music were all that could be heard to your ears.
The two of you took great pleasure in the dance's exuberance, laughing at the imperfect nature of it. In the noise of the living room, your eyes, locked in a dance of their own, spoke volumes. You were embraced by the dim lighting's vulnerability, which freed you from the burdens of the outside world to fully enjoy the moment.
Ellie guided you in a soft spin as the song went on, your moves were not fluid and elegant but Ellie could've sworn that looking into your eyes made it feel like there was liquid sunlight coursing through your veins
You and Ellie drew closer in the song's last moments, your bodies pressed together in an embrace that went beyond the material. As the last notes of the music faded, they held each other for an extra moment, relishing the warmth that they shared and the unspoken promises that danced between them. You wished that you could've stayed in Ellie's strong embrace for centuries.
You let go of Ellie, taking a step back with a smile, "Why didn't you tell me you were such a good dancer?" You tease, almost out of breath.
"I didn't know I was," She grinned, taking the sight of you in. Your cheeks were flushed and your hair had become messy, she thought you to be beautiful all the same, if not more. Her eyes raked over your body, your floor-length sundress and mismatched socks "And here I was thinking it was too late for sundresses."
"It's never too late, Ellie."
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Hiccup x reader where Hiccup is stressed over being the chief of Berk and is extra clingy to reader?
Better Left Unsaid
Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Reader
Words: 14,022
You wondered if you would ever be able to touch the sky again. You don’t talk about it.
Tags: Httyd 2, Comfort, reconnection, resolution, suggestive content, Gender Neutral reader, reclusive reader (ish), reserved reader (ish), disappointment, rebound, oneshot, ambiguous ending
“It-It’s just too much,” Hiccup stuttered angrily, hushed. He shifted his arms, gesturing lightly but frustratedly with the mug in his shand, leaning against the wall. The water inside sloshed back and forth as he settled the mug down on the table with a thin clacking noise, pushing off against the wall.
It was silent, the empty dark of night all-consuming in a way that blocked everything else out. Even with passion in your voice, you probably still couldn’t speak louder than a gritty whisper.
The Haddock house was empty and dark, the fireplace in the center of the hut untouched as it has been for many nights since the passing of Stoick the Vast. Your basket sat abandoned by the door, washed over by a sheet of blue shadow.
“Maybe you need a system,” You suggested awkwardly, caught off guard as hiccup paced, too taken by his own trouble to care for much else. This wasn’t how you’d imagined any conversation between the two of you to go.
You saw each other around, of course, but events like those usually consisted of turned cheeks. It had been so long since you last talked, and it hadn’t quite ended on good terms.
“My Dad didn’t-” Limbre fingers struggled against the straps and buckles of his armor, inelegant and terse with frustration, Hiccup’s cinched brows and an angry grimace conveying everything you needed to know.
Usually nothing short of a stupid idea from his own head would get him out of it. Or a hard hit. You did your best to give him counsel anyways, despite your unsurety. He’d probably just been swept away by it all, falling back into old habits quickly.
He would snap out of it soon enough, though if he decided just as you did that you’d rather not address anything at all, you would certainly not complain.
“Your Dad didn’t have to deal with so many trappers or dragons.” You shook your head. You had to admit that you were somewhat disconnected from the matter. The two of you hadn’t been close for years, and you kept to yourself pretty closely. This whole situation was an accident, more of a wrong place, wrong time then anything done on purpose, per se.
You moved around the table, nearly stumbling as you went, suppressing a shiver as you shifted through the cold room, like an empty void. You wondered how Hiccup dealt with it.
You snorted.
Helping him out felt like crossing some sort of invisible boundary you usually avoided like the plague. But, you had pity on him and the dark circles underlining his eyes. You didn’t think he’d notice. It wasn’t something you worried much about, anyways, not since you were in your teens. That was a sore spot you’d rather not touch on.
“Isn’t a Chief supposed to be able to handle everything on his own? If I do that, then wouldn’t…” Hiccup trailed off into a contemplative, moody silence, glaring off to the side as you did your best to pull his straps free. You weren’t much better with them than he was now, but it was workable, “I’m supposed to be- Wouldn’t that prove that I’m not-…”
He looked somewhat like his father, with that expression, though the skinny frame and his wild, scruffy hair offset it somewhat.
His father was large and tough, but something you noticed about Stoick, even from a distance, was that he was stressed. And angry, all the time. He knew what to do and when to do it but couldn’t handle a lot. Not always. You could imagine the veins bulging from his forehead now, even from beyond the grave.
You weren’t sure Hiccup was ever supposed to be like him. If he was supposed to even try. Him being Chief wasn’t ever something you imagined even as kids, just as he probably never imagined it for himself, but you were sure if he pulled something together it might be manageable.
“You’ve always been enough for whatever you wanted,” You muttered, “You’ve been enough since before the dragons and you are enough now as Chief. Coming up with some sort of system isn’t... bad. You Dad had a system,” You winced, watching his expression carefully as you brought up his Dad, though you were sure that not much would reach him when he was in this state, “Your father had a second-in-command for a reason, you know.”
“My inventions, they’re not-” Hiccup groaned. You heard the unsaid question. But wouldn’t that be cheating?
“They’re just as a part of you as anything else.” You repeated the age-old adage, “It doesn’t have to be in invention, though, if you don’t want it to be. Just… Establish a chain of command, or something.”
Hiccup threw his head back, scrubbing his face with his hands. Then he looked back at you, as if he was just then realizing who he was talking to.
“The island probably won’t implode without you. They’re Vikings, they need a little lead, just trust me.”
Sometimes you were fine, and sometimes your disappointment followed you like a sheet over your eyes, something buzzing constantly around the periphery of your vision, bits stuck to the back of your boots like poorly spun wool.
You crunched through the grass on the far end of the bridge leading up to the village, nerves coiling in your guts briefly before you brushed them away.
Such was the life of a recluse.
You squinted as you marched across large wooden planks, confident in the sturdiness of the bring just as you were unconfident in what lay before you, a figure sitting with their head down on one of the large logs that made up the railing.
It was a common sight for people to sit by the edge, usually teens, usually with friends, a stolen jug of mead or two in hand on dark nights. It was also a good spot for contemplation. You’d use it many times, especially on rainy, foggy days. It made quite the atmosphere.
However, during the broad daylight, people usually tended to just come and go. They didn’t spend much longer there than they had to. To be honest, most people had dragons. There were many more interesting places up in the sky. You didn’t get that. You dragon, it left a long time ago.
You shifted your basket of foraged berries and sticks and bits under your arm and grimaced confusedly as you neared the figure, closely examining dark gray armor and a worn, untucked green undershirt.
“Hello, Chief,” You said plaintively, after you’d spent a few seconds stopped being him, looking down on hunched shoulders and frazzled flyaways.
He groaned, “Please don’t call me that.”
You snorted, gently resting your basket on the ground, making sure all the latches were secured tight over the lid. It got pretty windy up there, wouldn’t do you any good to lose all of your day’s hard work, “What brings you over to my small neck of the woods?”
You shrugged at his silence, relaxing the the hand on your hip before swinging your legs over the same log and planting yourself firmly to his left
“I can’t do this,” Hiccup mumbled exhaustively, without looking up.
You stuck out your tongue, leaning back onto your hands, which pressed against the warm surface of the wood pleasantly. It took you a moment to remember that you should probably come up with a follow-up question, “Why?”
You were a bit rusty.
“I can’t do this,” Hiccup turned briefly to give you a sour look. You stuck your tongue out at him.
“Okay,” You shrugged your shoulders, ever the loyal confidant.
So you were going the whole ‘ignore the Gronkle in the room,’ route. You could deal with that.
You wondered where Toothless was. He’d taken to his Alpha statues pretty well, as in, he did nothing to enforce it at all, so there was nothing for him to worry about. Come to think about it, it really was just Hiccup, managing both Vikings and Dragons.
Hiccup shot a look at you again, perhaps asking himself what was wrong with you. Below you, the sea rushed and lulled, storming over the jagged rocks below. You watched it like a snake on a mouse, hypnotic in its movements.
“It’s not. There’s so much to keep track of and,” Hiccup started, continuing on, shaking his head, “Everyone’s always got something- this isn’t like- it’s not like my Dad’s just on a vacation. He’s dead. I’ve never taken care of something this long-term. And Astrid-... I’m not so great at the whole ‘commanding’ thing.”
The split with Astrid was rough on him, you knew. He didn’t talk about it much at all, but everyone could tell it was weighing down on him. People talked, and you didn’t necessarily have to be a part of the conversation to overhear.
You hummed sympathetically, as a group of people started to gather on one end of the bridge. You weren’t sure if Hiccup had noticed it yet, though you were sure if he had he was ignoring it for the time being.
“You don’t have to command. You just have to be able to direct,” Most people sort of expected Astrid to be there for the whole commanding thing, but honestly you resented the idea, despite the accuracy of it in practice, “I know a guy who would be willing to handle the stables for a day. Johannes, you remember him, right?”
They, meaning Hiccup and Astrid, were both busy with their own responsibilities, so you didn’t think they had a lot of time to talk it out. It was strange. For the longest time, second to Toothless, of course, she’d been his best friend. The thought sent a sharp, bitter jab up your spine.
You rolled your eyes anyways. A lot of Vikings would give a lot to be able to be in charge of something. As you grew older, you started to realize that Stoick the Vast had a hand in everything. Maybe too much of a hand- that man was stretched thin, “The whole commanding, intimidating bit is Toothless’s job now.”
“Yeah,” Hiccup choked out.
From the corner of your eye, you noticed a pack of Vikings already halfway to you, encroaching from the Berk side of the bridge, arms waving in the air. You looked away for a moment with furrowed brows, beginning to scoot back with high caution, trying your hardest to not make any sudden moves.
“When’s the last time you did something for yourself?” You asked, “Gone to the forge, or flown out?”
“I have no idea,” Hiccup wheezed.
“When’s your next lull? It’s a lot easier for me to say it than for you to do it, but you should probably, you know, take a step back,” You suggested.
“Never,” Hiccup gestured with his hand, other arm pressed against his back, “This is it, for the rest of my life.”
You grimaced, shrugging pityingly as you heard the distant shout of his name, and watched Hiccup crumple in on himself again as the two of you met eyes.
You were a bit surprised by how easy conversation flowed between you, though you were sure whether you wanted to run or just shy away from it. You weren’t sure if you felt anything for it at all.
You shook your head, deciding very astutely on the running bit, swinging back onto solid ground and gently lifting up your shoulders. You hooked your fingers under the edge of your basket and pulled it into your arms, settling it smoothly in hand.
“Well, when your life’s over, I’ll be here. We’ll, ah, figure it out then, I guess.”
You lifted your tunic from your back, tugging until you were able to twist it over your head.
As you did, you eyed the portraits of the wives taken off and replaced, hung lower on the wall and decorated with each of their assets. You’d found them lying around and it felt wrong not to return them to their original owners somehow. They were usually separated from the rest of your dwelling by a thin, old moth-eaten curtain.
You were sure the wives were all just as ugly and unpleasant as Mildew himself, but there was something off about taking them down especially when you kept everything else close to the same.
You patched the hole in the roof with old ship’s sails and mismatched tiles, just enough to keep your cabin barely above freezing in the wintertime.
You shook your clothes onto the floor as you changed, mindful not to look down at any of the scars in the darkness of your hut.
You were probably supposed to feel proud. They were trophies of battle. Most other Vikings would wear them proudly, displayed like an honor bestowed onto them. They didn’t particularly bother you, though it never bode well to linger on reminders of things long since finished.
If only they knew how you’d gotten them.
You didn’t earn them through bravery or anything else of the sort and you weren’t anywhere near one of the worst when it came to scarring. First place probably went to Phegma, who had a huge burn scar just barely covered by her day wear.
You got yours because you weren’t fast enough to dodge the blow of an axe, to jump out the way of a trap sprung on the group without taking some serious damage.
You were a great planner, an architect and an infrastructural thinker. But that didn’t often come in handy on the Edge, especially not when all the buts of your knowledge that could be applied were better covered by the other Riders’ areas of expertise.
So where everyone else excelled, you stumbled. Where everyone else tumbled with the blows, you fell hard onto the ground, and you hadn’t anyone to confide your hurts in.
Eventually trying to keep up got to be too much. When you saw the rest of them, able to come together so easily and shake off all their cuts and injuries, you hurt.
There was nothing quite as terrible as watching everyone, especially Hiccup, walk forwards while you strayed behind, struggling your hardest and failing to even to keep to their heels.
You blinked at the scratching of something sharp against wooden walls, muffled though still clearly audible, coming from the outside. You paid it no mind, ignoring it just as you ignored the tiny shafts of sunlight seeping through the cracks between wooden planks and crumbling walls, illuminating tiny particles of floating dust.
It was just the branches pestering the framework of your salvaged home, one of the half-dead bushes lining the front, nearing the height of a tree, mimicking the sound of a dragon you’d long since pushed from your mind. Yours.
You sighed. It was just another thing weighing on your mind back then, when you’d been at your lowest. You were tired of it, now. But a blank kind of tired.
Like a flat, fresh water ocean. Waveless, shallow. Eerie.
It was a much calmer tired than the kind you felt then; Violent waves slamming you into the sand, rubbing fragile lungs raw with grit and silt. Of the bruised ribs, the fighting, the cuts and hurt no one seemed to notice and the friend you didn’t seem good enough to have anymore.
You reached down to pull your tunic off the ground, tossing it onto a nearby table, covered in dust, made frail through disuse. You coughed at the fine grime tossed into the air, flapping your hand in front of your nose in an effort to disperse it.
You wondered if the sealights would be lit tonight.
“-He has five dragons. Five. And he wants me to come up with a whole set of dragon towers for him how?-”
You trod through the dewey morning leaves, back straighter than necessary, trying not to sweat too much or to look back at the armorless, green-tunic-ed guest at your back.
You couldn’t say you weren’t a little tired of the whole running Berk it yourself. Sure, you weren’t necessarily responsible for it but it was a pastime of a lot of the Vikings around town to talk about it, the mindless gossips, and once or twice while you were in town trading for what you needed.
There were also the sailors, who had a mind, when down by the docks, to share the business of everyone regardless of the tribe. Even as the village recluse, you got roped into it, listening around corners with rap ears
“-Even with dragons it’s not easy to-” Hiccup waved his hands around, journaling under one arm and eyes glued, glaring onto the ground. It turns out he had taken you at your word. Sort of. He was still very much alive. He must have found some time off, or figured out something, because here he was.
You squinted at the paper in your hand, staring at messily done blueprints. There was a house sketched lifted above the ground by a pole and another sketch of a bunch of regular huts stacked on top of each other. You held the same basket from before under your arm, woven bits frayed and flexible and worn.
You recognized the beginning stages of a bunch of these sorts of huts being built all around Berk. It was getting fuller, especially with all of the ex-trappers and Vikings migrating in from the other tribes. And then there were relations outside of the interpersonal to manage. So of course there needed to be a few changes.
“This isn’t safe,” You said drily, “Remember the windmill? These are all going to fall down with the next devastating winter. And where are we going to find logs large and long enough to keep all these houses up? There aren’t nearly enough trees on all of Berk to get this done for everyone.”
“I know!” Hiccup pausing, turning to shake his head quickly, before bending over to scrub the hair on his head, “It’s insane! Everyone wants me to go with it!”
“You shouldn’t,” You deadpanned.
“I might,” Hiccup pursed his lips, “If it gets them to leave me alone. I can’t be builder, Rider and Chief.”
“Well- no, you can’t be. But why don’t you just come up with a few sturdy designs and make him choose one. Same for everyone else. Then just,” You paused, grimacing as you had to grab a branch, pushing it out of the way, “Put someone in charge of building all of them. And making sure they don’t go build in all the wrong spots.”
“I don’t know,” Hiccup shrugged his shoulders, letting his arms fall back to his sides, turning his head up and allowing the light filtering through the thick wooded area to fall onto his face, “Everyone wants something unique. You think they’ll settle?”
You turned around, branch still in hand, “They’ll have to. Same way they have been for three hundred years.”
You rolled your eyes and set forth again, letting go of the branch, which swung back quickly. You didn’t quite see what happened any more than you heard Hiccup’s yelp and the subsequent step back.
“Ow, ow, ow ow, Gods, curse it-”
You turned back around startled, turning back into the branch which followed its inertia, snapping back into your face.
You brought your hand back up to your eye so quickly you smacked, dropping your trusty basket right out from under your arm and falling roughly onto your butt. The berries on the inside poured out of your basket onto the forest floor and you cursed, bemoaning it and yourself and laying the rest of the way down onto your back.
Head against the roots of a tree, smelling the earth and staring up at the dappled sunlight through waving tree leaves, you couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up through your throat.
It was better than getting mad, or crying. Still, you stifled it, shaking your head clear, pushing yourself back up, ignoring the stickiness of the berries stuck to your back and the juice dripping down the side of your hand.
Hiccup looked down on you skeptically, lips quirked in a way you read as confused. You remembered a time when he might have fallen down with you. It seems though that as the two of you got older, he became much surer of yourself.
Still, it was a world of difference from the Hiccup you knew a moment ago, stressed and weighted and tired with all the burdens of everyone else on Berk and the loss of his father on his back.
You wanted to see more of this Hiccup, who was snippy and sarcastic and who you might have loved once upon a time. Who wasn’t stuck in mournful contemplation about identities and relationships and other such sad things.
And maybe you wanted to take back some of him for yourself, as if it might bring back to you the part of yourself you lost, at least for just this little while. Though if this was where it ended, for you, this moment would be more than enough.
He needed reprieve. You decided you would be that reprieve, for as long as he would take you.
“Why don’t we do something besides talk about Berk?” You smiled wryly to yourself, rubbing your hands off on your smock, shrugging your shoulders loose once you got back onto your feet.
You did your best to put on a happier facade, different from the insecure, hunched-shouldered version of you from way back in the past, and different from the apathetic lone figure you were now.
“I…” Hiccup blinked at you for a moment. He looked a tad thrown off by you now with your shoulders high, hands on your waist and back straight, much different from any sort of behavior you’d exhibited since long before.
The wide smirk on your face faltered, and you toned it down a little, slumping a bit. You knew you hadn’t had the ability to make Hiccup smile in a long time, but this was just terrible. Sometimes you wondered if you ever had, or if he was just faking it. It didn’t matter much to you now.
“Or, you can come with me and wait outside while I go find a change of clothes,” You said blankly, letting your hands fall to your sides, “Your pick.”
Hiccup grimaced, probably thinking of the greeting he’d get once he got back. You weren’t quite sure how he made it out here in the first place, and in his casual wear no less. You hadn’t seen him in anything less than a full set of leather armor for a very long time.
Of course, he’d chosen the latter. Sort of.
You let the water from the stream run over the toes of your boots, waterproofed by tar and oil as you pulled up your smock, scrubbed until it was worn and back to the same colorless dull hue you had gotten it in. It was to your benefit that you had worn something under, though the berries were much too pigmented for you to leave your smock on its lonesome.
“You didn’t have to wait for me,” You sighed, picking yourself up and away from the beck, slinging your water heavy clothing over a low-hanging branch.
You turned to look at Hiccup who had decided to wait by the treeline, back to one of the large pines lining the whole island. He had found himself a terror along the way and was minding it with amusement, waving a thin branch above its head and watching and it leapt and curled after.
“It’s alright,” He said almost bashfully, without looking up, as the Terror flipped onto its belly, wriggling after the branch Hiccup waved over its stomach like a fish to a worm, “I, ah, I got Johannes to handle the stables.”
Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck as you pulled down your sleeves, picking at the loose threads and checking for any unpleasant damp spots, of which, for once, thankfully, there were few.
“You took my advice, then,” You noted absentmindedly that this was the tunic you’d worn on the Edge, its color washed out and much thinner, but still very recognizable.
“Yeah,” Hiccup weighed the stick in his hand almost contemplatively before tossing it to the side, watching as the terror scurried after.
“So,” You said, sweeping your foot almost carelessly across the carpeted forest floor, pulling your basket into your arms again, “How have you been?”
“How have I been?” Hiccup asked astoundedly even as he eyed your smock, reluctantly pulling his gaze from it in order to follow as you led your way back up to the forest path, “I think you know the answer to that.”
“Yes, well, no- I mean, from before that,” You scoffed, looking down darkly into your nearly empty basket.
You meant after you left.
You felt the familiar pulling of tides, tugging at something deep and light in your gut.
The air was still between you. It was hard not to feel when there was nothing between you but air and your own memory of some hastily forgotten hurts.
“That was a stupid question,” You shrugged, kicking aside a stick, protruding from just off the path.
You were sure Hiccup had been too stressed earlier to care or notice but it was easily felt now. Your quarters were much too close for you to put on the same old facade and pretend that nothing had ever happened and that the two of you weren’t ever more than strangers, your bond closely resembling something you might have once called friendship.
“I… Well, if you don’t mind tagging along still, I won���t make you do much,” You pushed down thoughts of beating storms, rain so thick you couldn’t see five feet in front of you, “You caught me off guard.”
You blinked away memories of rushing, towering waves and a bone-deep chill only made worse by the pressing winds and the water soaked deep through your clothes and to your bones, causing you to shiver and shake and pull closer to the neck of your dragon.
Pressing deeper into leathery skin and scales, closer than you ever thought possible, praying to the Gods that you might be spared the indignity of living to see another day past your shame, past your desertion.
“Alright,” Hiccup decided finally, eyeing you oddly.
You pretended you didn’t feel the phantom shivers clawing up and down your spine or the echoes of a deep burning hurt you were certain had gone long since unnoticed by all the wrong people.
You made sure your breathing was steady as you marched forward, carefully putting one foot in front of the other.
You listened to the occasional wingbeat of a dragon from up above and the unburdened twittering of small animals in the foliage surrounding you.
You heard Hiccup stifle a yawn from back behind you. You wondered what you could do to make this trip worth it for him. To be honest, you weren’t quite expecting him to take you up on your offer. It was more of a snipe, really.
You’d never been good at those, though. People always took you much too seriously.
There was a clearing up further ahead to your left, one you neared as the trees grew thicker and larger, where you could hopefully make up for some of your lost boon. The berries, you were sure they were gone, but perhaps you could make up for it by finding some other things.
The loudest noise between the two of you was the sound of your footsteps.
You inhaled the misty air of the forest and, eventually, you began to relax.
“Here we are,” You hummed, as the path grew lighter, sunlight filtering between the trees and the foliage.
You examined the crown with care, looking over each leaf and link, turning it around gently in your hands. What began as a task born from boredom became something you invested yourself into with brief interest.
The atmosphere was bright and the sun warm against your shoulder blades, laying like a heavy furred blanket across them as you leaned down, splitting small holes in the ends with your fingernails and threading grasses through until you had some approximation of a flower crown, minus the flowers.
It was the kind of warmth that made you sentimental, bringing up a feeling that felt like something flowering, which you pursued vaguely as if this might have been the last time you ever felt it.
By the time you two had been teenagers, Hiccup had been long since uninterested in that kind of thing. In teenage boy fashion, he avoided things such as flower crowns and playing in the sand down by the beach, much too focused on killing a Dragon and trying to seem tough enough to meet standard.
Then he got Toothless, and from there on after he hadn’t time for anything but Dragons and the Riders. He was too absorbed in his inventions to pay any mind to other things.
You’d deeply wanted to do it, though maybe not always specifically to him, but you’d never found the purpose. You had it now.
You turned to Hiccup with a lopsided smile, watching his chest rise and fall gently for a few moments. Your lips twitched, falling into a small crown as you held out the crown, deciding whether or not you should drop it.
Hiccup blinked drowsily awake at the sudden movement, to which you startled and before you realized it, the crown had gently slipped from your fingers and fell over the crown of his head. Because of the angle, though, it looked to be resting more on his forehead than anything.
You held your breath as his eyes unfocused and fluttered shut again, unregistering, and you backed up on all fours with quiet ease, pushing yourself to your feet, attempting to flee the scene and pretend nothing had quiet happened at all.
You shuffled to the other side of the clearing, craving distance, walking a path around it like you were attempting to trace the edges with your feet. You balanced on it, placing your heel to the other foot’s toe and then again with the opposite foot, arms out in front of you, taking note of all the shrubbery around you.
Eventually the shifting ferns drew back your attention and you glanced back towards Hiccup, who’d sat up groggily, slowly examining the crown that had probably, most likely just fallen from his head.
He looked a complete and utter mess. You hid an ugly grin.
“I hope you like it,” You smiled down at the stem connecting a nice wad of berries to the bush. It was too quiet for him to hear and you were much too far away, but it was more of a musing to yourself anyways.
You leaned back onto your heels, sore for all the walking you’d done. You wondered if they were the right kind, enough to replace the bushel you’d lost earlier. You weren’t completely sure they were edible, anyways.
The two of you had broken out into a clearing, one covered in grass and ferns, and this was where you had decided to set midday camp.
You lounged there in the waning sun, Hiccup more so than you, not so much watching the world turn to oranges and reds as witnessing it in your periphery. You’d lived it too many times for it to be any sort of novel.
You were sure it was different on dragonback, but alas. You didn’t have that option.
After you came back to Berk, taking to the ground like you’d developed a phobia of everything else, it spent a lot of time flying around on its own, going who-knows-where on most days. One day, when you’d had the mind to look for it, you’d found that it had flown off for what was most likely good.
You traced the leaf veins below your thumb, lost in mindless remembrance, ambiguously aware as Hiccup got up.
He groaned like he was a decades older man than he was, audible across the clearing, while putting his hands to the small of his back and leaning backwards mad before he made his way over.
“What’s this?” Hiccup asked, holding what you were sure was the crown in his hand. You weren’t looking and ignored it, not necessarily expecting him to call you out on it any more than you’d expected to make the crown itself.
“Not sure,” You said, before looking over, and glancing up and down at ruffled clothes, messy hair and the sleeve that came up to wipe off the corner of his mouth, “Have a nice nap?”
“I’m just fine, thanks… “
You rolled your eyes, “That wasn’t my question.”
“Does it matter?” He asked, straightening out his shoulders.
“You were out for a while,” You said in lieu of an answer, “Was worried you needed me to drag you back to the village. Tuck you into bed.”
“No,” Hiccup said exorbitantly, “Never.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” You shot back.
“Maybe.”
“Definitely…” Hiccup started, “An exaggeration.”
“Not at all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Everyone’s had their share of it,” You stated, lifting your shoulders exaggeratedly, bringing both hands up by your head with your shrug, while kicking out your foot, turning to trot off in the opposite direction.
“You do a lot of really-need-to-be-dragged-back-after activities.”
“Hey, well, I’ve done a lot of that for you, too.”
“Pick one, name something.”
“I mean, I’ve kept you from falling down off cliffs a lot,” Hiccup ran a hand through his hair.
“I have since not stopped falling off cliffs,” You squinted at him, “And neither have you, I’m pretty sure. Also, that jumping off dragons thing? Serious disqualifier. That counts as at least half a cliff jump every time. Negative helping-me-out points. Honest.”
“What?” Hiccup shook his head, gesturing towards himself, “Doesn’t count. Never met a dragon that didn’t have my back. Natural Dragon Master. No danger.”
A natural if by natural he meant through fifteen years of absolute failure in any sort of interaction with an animal more sentient than a frog.
“Sure…” You remembered all the time he spent as kids, half with you and sometimes without, running across rooftops for his dad. Because you were being chased. By dragons.
“Okay, call me a dragon, right now.” You said, with finality.
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
You spent a little while staring at him.
“What, now?”
You nodded.
You were slightly surprised when he played along, even though you knew you had been egging him on to do it. You watched him cup his hands and chitter oddly into them, in a mimicry of what you understood as a Terror call.
You looked down on him with fake skepticism. Usually, with the call, it was a hit or miss whether a dragon would respond. The dragons with Riders tended to ignore you completely unless you were their rider.
Both of you knew this, though you counted it on being a miss.
“They’re coming, you’ll see,” Hiccup said, waving his left hand as if he was clearing smoke out of the air.
“I hope it blows up in your face. Like that catapult, from when we were kids,” You blew a raspberry at him.
“What, which one?” Hiccup asked.
“The one you tried to roll up to your house, kept rolling down the hill, went straight through Burthair’s cart and smashed through his fence,” You grinned, “Your dad made you round up all his sheep after, remember?”
You remembered trying to help him quietly in secret, gathering a few sheep on a lead before you were caught and sent home to be scolded.
“No, hey, You blew that one up,” Hiccup said incredulously, “That one was all you.”
“Yeah, it was.” You admitted guiltlessly.
“You are the worst,” He said, as the sound of flapping and the rustling of trees grew slightly louder. You ignored it, thinking it was just another random group of dragons lost over Berk. There had been a lot of those as of late.
“The worst,” You agreed. You had a foot already up, halfway into a turn before a bright yellow, spiny body slammed quickly into your face.
You yelped, falling to the side, tumbling slightly as what must have been a Terrible terror scrambled for purchase and left off your face and into the tree line. You blinked, half-shaded under low-hanging branches.
You braced yourself against your arm, bringing your other hand down from your face to see red in the shape of a smeared line across your face. By the look and size of it, it wasn’t too bad.
You opened and closed your jaw with annoyance, realizing quickly that the Terror must have scratched your face.
Henceforth, though, you were much more easily capable of dodging around the sudden appearance of more Terrors, catching a tiny green one just before it face planted into the dirt.
“Woah, woah, woah,” You caught Hiccup, too, doing his best to dodge around them, jumping back as a feisty blue clawed its way up his back as he made his way towards you.
It was a difficult effort to make as by the time you had found solid ground, the dragons began to jump on top of him, covering his arms and legs so that he looked like a pile of very large and colorful bees standing on two legs.
You could help but laugh, wobbling over to help. You slipped your hand under the leg of a terror just before Hiccup fell over with a shout, falling forwards and nearly dragging you with him as he tumbled into the shade of the treeline.
And as if following a command, terrors scuttled away, as if chasing after your peals of laughter, echoing around the clearing.
There wasn’t nearly enough time between Hiccup’s call and the appearance of the dragons for any, or at least most of them to have come in from Berk, nor any guarantee that any of the Terrors heard him, but these gathered quick enough for you to be seriously impressed.
“Yeah… I wasn’t expecting that either.” You stared down at Hiccup as he stared back, the two of you looking at each other with startled eyes, you bent half over and Hiccup propper up on his elbows on the ground before the two of you broke out into breathy laughter.
The flowers and plants around you were heady, filling the breathless airheadedness in between your eyes with even more cotton.
Your voices mixed and quieted in equal fashion, the two of you ignoring the mutterings of the forest until, eventually, they grew into something you could hear.
“Hiccup!”
You froze, a wince stuck on your face.
“Hiccup!” This shout was much more drawn than the last.
It was Astrid.
You saw the shadows of her and Stormfly drift smoothly over the face of the clearing. You wondered if she had followed some of the Terrors out or if she had gotten Stormfly to track Hiccup’s scent.
You were about to look back at Hiccup for some sort of direction before he tugged you after him. Tugged until the two of you were huddled under the alcove you had missed, made by two thick roots of a ginormous tree, waiting.
You weren’t sure how far above she was, she hoped she didn’t see your basket, sitting plainly across the way.
You could tell Hiccup was holding his breath, staring out deep into the forest, where trees went from towering to the sole consumers of light, protecting a misty undergrowth beneath a dark, leafy roof. There was a log to the left of the entrance to the narrow space, half-rotted and sprouting mushrooms out of its side.
You recalled that there had been a notable instance around when the two of you had been just about twelve, sneaking around in the Great Hall for the leftovers post meal. You’d been trapped in a closet, when they’d had those, removed after you and Hiccup had accidentally burned them down at fourteen, with nothing but a loaf of bread between you.
The air wasn’t nearly as musty or stale, and of course it was much darker then, with not the whiff of a fresh plant in sight, but the principal was still the same.
You held very little stake in it all, but you kept close and stiff anyways, the joyful atmosphere from before mixing into something fun and scurrilous, electrifying the space behind your eyes and sending ticklish bolts of lightning down your spine.
It remained there until the heavy wing beats of the Dragons above you faded long into the distance.
The field, littered with scented flowers and bushes, must have muddled Stormfly’s scent. Or she really was just following the Terrors. One thing was sure, though. Where there was one Rider, there were more.
“I thought you said you got people to cover it?” You asked.
“I did. They should have been able to, but something must have happened,” Hiccup leaned back against the tree bark, hitting the back of his head against it lightly, grunting lightly as it did.
You wondered if he had grown a few inchest still since you had last been close to him on the Edge.
You raised your eyebrow, asking the silent question. Are you going to go back?
Hiccup said nothing, looking away, though you couldn’t miss the soft clench of his jaw and the gentle slouch, or the agitated twiddling of his fingers by his waist.
You rolled your eyes. Privately, you almost felt bad that you weren’t able to give him a better time out. But also, there would be many other times for him to make up for it with other people. You wondered if he would ever choose to come back to you.
“They should be able to handle it. They’re not children. But it’s no burden on me whether you stay or go,” You inclined your head forwards.
You placed one foot in front of the other across the uneven wooden planks. You just needed to get down to the fields.
You strode past the bright red hut that marked the Jorgenon Clan, avoiding haphazardly placed construction materials.
You paused where you stood and turned back as Hiccup called your name, standing right in the middle of the walkway. It never ceased to surprise you whenever he showed up.
It wasn’t much. But it still surprised you every time he came with greetings.
You smiled.
He quickened his pace, pulling himself up onto the path and stopping in front of you, prosthetic clicking against wood.
“Hiccup,” You greeted, “What brings you to me?”
“Where do you live, now?” He asked, “I was planning on stopping by, but…”
“Up behind the spire on the way to Gothi’s,” You hummed.
“But that’s… You live in Mildew’s old hut?” Hiccup asked, surprised.
“Yeah,” You nodded, rifling through the satchel clipped to your waist, flicking through rows of herbs with delicately placed fingertips, “So what have you been up to?”
You realized you needed to go off-island soon. The idea filled you with dread.
“Do you really want to ask that?” Hiccup questioned, “because there’s been a lot…”
“Why not?” You shrugged.
“Some rouge dragons have been eating holes into the earth- and with all the dragons underwater, coupled with the Scauldrons-” Hiccup rubbed his forehead, “Basically, they’ve been drilling new hot springs, which has been nice, but no one’s gotten to any of them yet. They always seem to dry up before anyone can get there and back and I keep getting complaints about people’s water getting stolen, or something.”
“Ouch,” You said sympathetically, as Hiccup continued on.
“I wish they’d give it up, honestly. There are more important things for me to get to, but I haven’t even been able to get to all the trading issues with all the other tribes… Anyways, are you busy?” Hiccup asked quickly, looking back and forth.
“Busy?” You asked.
“I kinda want to get out of here before anyone else…” Hiccup shrugged his shoulders, cringing.
“Notices?” You finished, “Let’s go.”
“A hot spring?” You asked aloud, both your and Hiccup grasping the edge of the pool on your knees, watching the water bubble slightly.
Hiccup extended a hand hesitantly, grazing it over the bubbling surface. You watched as the foam fizzled underneath his palms and when he didn't flinch, you sat back and pulled off your boots, rolling up the legs of your trousers, revealing a long scar on the leg furthest Hiccup.
“It’s alright to wash in?” You asked, Hiccup nodding an affirmative.
You rested a bare foot onto the bubbling water, testing it out with your toes, before sinking your legs in with a breathy sigh.
“It’s one of the ones you were talking about, right?” You asked
“Yeah,” Hiccup confirmed, watching you closely.
You let out a soft, disappointed sound at the idea that it might be gone soon.
The spring looked to be about waist-deep, though that might be something you needed to test out before dipping into the pool. It was pressed up and partially embedded in the side of a rocky cliff, spearing into the ground at a sideways angle.
All around, the two of you were packed in by large, lush fauna. Huge ferns, even larger trees and a great deal of mist.
Very, very private.
It was extremely tempting.
“We could… It would be nice, but…” Hiccup reasoned. He didn’t seem into the idea, which was fine. Honestly, you didn’t mind having this spot all to yourself.
There wasn’t much of a practical way to sink into the waters without stripping nearly bare anyways. Hiccup’s armor would most definitely be damaged by the water, and you didn’t like the idea of marching back to Berk in sopping wet furs.
Your undergarments certainly weren’t up to scratch for the kind of soak you were looking for.
“We don’t have a change of clothes.” You said, meeting his eyes head on. The two of you looked at each other for a moment.
Hiccup must have followed the same line of thought, looking at you like he’d caught something odd and he didn’t know what to do with it. There was an odd feeling curling in your stomach, and an awkwardness that hadn’t been so palmable between you since before… Before.
Did it really matter if he saw you naked? Or at least clothed only partially? It wasn’t as if you’d never seen him the same during all your years of semi-sturdy friendship.
You spent a moment feeling the skin on your face begin to warm, brows crinkling with a remembrance that sort of killed the mood before you glanced away with as much casualness as you could muster.
“Do you think we could get back in time?” You asked instead.
“Well, there’s not much hope, but I guess it’s worth a try,” Hiccup started hesitantly.
You and Hiccup stared down at the small bubbling hole at the base of an empty basin. It had been an awkward walk back to the Village. Still, you seemed incapable of suggesting anything else. Hiccup, too.
“Gods damn it,” Hiccup said.
You shrugged, the roll of cloth under your hands shifting only slightly. Besides the tarp strapped to your back and the towels to Hiccup’s, the both of you were carrying a set of undergarments you found which should have covered just enough to remain modest in the springs.
Toothless, behind the two of you, basket in mouth, grumbled as he dropped it to the tall grass floor. You’d brought him along in order to help carry the bulk of your things.
“Well,” You started, puzzling to yourself, hand under your chin, “I mean, we could try what you did last time? With the Terrors?”
“But with a Scauldron, right?”
You nodded, “Honestly, it’s that or head back.”
Hiccup winced, immediately backing away to settle down onto one knee. He was turned to face your right, so that he was looking out towards the forest.
He opened his mouth and cupped his hands, then paused. Then he tried again. But no sound game out. The whole time Toothless looked peeved, eyes shifting between the two of you as he snorted.
You stared blankly, waiting, which was probably the first time you and Toothless ever felt the same sort of emotion, though you most likely meant it in a much more joking fashion than he did.
“I can’t do it with you watching,” Hiccup said, finally.
You squinted at him, wondering what was up with the sudden-onset stage fright, just as Toothless rolled his eyes, shaking his torso like a wet dog, causing a hastily-clipped basket to fall off his saddle.
“Oh,” You said, turning around and grinning to yourself, “Alright. Howl away.”
You hoped he hadn’t figured out how to get to the fish basket yet. It would be a pain to walk back to Berk with everything in hand, and it would be very easy for Toothless to leave without his incentive to follow the hostage on his back.
“It’s not howling.” Hiccup deadpanned.
You knew that. You were actually pretty decent at it, back when you were still involved in the dragon business.
“Alright.”
You stared out at a heavy wall of fauna, a large leaf and a towering set of two trees consuming the vast majority of your vision. You watched a bug crawl up the exterior of one and noted to yourself silently that you would have to watch where you rested your things while you were in the spring, if what Hiccup was trying was to work.
You listened to him shift and shuffle, moving around until Toothless must have gotten tired of waiting and he himself let out a loud, echoing roar.
You jumped back, caught off guard, jerking towards the pair with your ears covered by your hands, undergarments, falling to the grass below.
“How long do you think it will take to fill up?” You asked from the floor, hips sinking into the grass as you pushed yourself up, shrugging the straps holding the large cloth tarp in place off your shoulders.
“Not sure,” Hiccup said, shifting from foot to foot, “We should get changed first.”
“Yeah,” You agreed, tossing it over to him. He weighed it in his hands, examining it before pulling it free and letting it unravel onto the floor.
“Hey, do you have any idea where we packed the blanket?” You asked. It was a bit overkill, but… You bit your lip.
“In the saddle, I think.”
You inhaled touchily as Hiccup gripped onto the edge of the tarp, turning from you to throw the other end out, watching it unfurl as it caught air, “Ah, do you think you could get it?”
Swiftly though not without ungain, Hiccup slung the tarp over one of the low-hanging branches, the ends of the fabric falling horizontally over the thick grasses and bushes around you.
You supposed that meant the tarp was unnecessary, the forest here enough to bless you with cover and privacy. You noted that down.
“What? He’s harmless,” Hiccup said, letting the curtain fall closed behind him.
You squinted into the sky, up through a very small window, shafting light down through the trees. You would have worried that no other dragons would heed Toothless’ call, knowing that you yourself wouldn’t, had you not already heard the hurried beating of wings from up above.
You stuck your tongue out at Hiccup, then turned it towards his dragon.
Honestly, it was still unimaginable to you that Toothless had developed the ability to become Alpha. It was insane, and insanely lucky. For Hiccup, that is.
The two of you, meaning you and Toothless, had never been left alone in the same room together for a reason, though most people just thought it was your fault. The reason being that Toothless didn’t like you, and you didn’t like him as a result of that.
Harmless… Right. You scoffed.
You knew you knew better and you reassured yourself of that fact, as Toothless grumbled at you from across the small space.
Hiccup shook his head at you, quirking the corner of his mouth to the side as it formed a fondly exasperated line, unclipping various satchels and baskets from Toothless’ back.
You grimaced and scooted further away from the dragon, nudging the basket of fish closer to him with your foot, hoping that he might take more of an interest in that instead.
You kept your eyes trained on the dragon even as Hiccup walked to his side with his clothes under his arm shuffling through the treeline and behind the curtain.
“You have enough room?” You squinted at Toothless, resting your arms against your knees, and he narrowed them back.
It had been a tricky job to get his things without anyone else noticing, a lot of careful pressing around corners and tricky, calculated jabs from Toothless, many of which you were still bitter about.
“It’s enough,” Hiccup responded, voice trained.
The scaly thing was still grumpy; the chances of him soldering a grudge were high, especially where you were involved. The two of you called him away from a tussle with some other dragons from around the bend, which he seemed to be enjoying by at least some measure.
If only he’d put some of that energy into being a more attentive Alpha. You wrinkled your nose, judging the dragon like a temperamental parent.
You listened to the shifting of leaves, fabric and leather before deciding you’d been waiting too long, much too used to doing things on your own time.
“I’m just going to change over here,” You called through the curtain, “Turn around, will you?” You asked Toothless, who grumbled at you disgruntledly, the ridges of his brows as furrowed as he could make them.
“Turn around, Toothless,” Hiccup confirmed from behind the curtain.
He shifted with a grumble, lumbering sideways and around, though not without whacking you in the calf with his tail, first.
You finished changing just as the first few dragons began to settle down.
You shuffled to the side once you were ready, letting Hiccup through to order and direct, gentle-parenting the dragons into doing what you needed.
You watched him. He was shirtless, legs bare, though his left ankle remained wrapped to his prosthetic. You wondered if it hurt, sometimes, though you hadn’t the courage to ask.
He was slim as always, muscled but not quite muscly, more soft than not. It went unsaid that he was not nearly as built or wide as any of the other Viking men, so you tried not to ogle.
You sat, legs crossed on the ground as Hiccup directed the Scauldrons and Gronkle in turn, slowly patching and filling up the pool.
“How long do you think it will take to cool down?” You asked as he sent them off and he came over to stand by you, settling himself onto the small stretch of grass you were laid in.
“Not sure,” He answered.
At one point Toothless turned towards the trees, shaking himself off before beginning to march through the underbrush.
“Hey, don’t go too far, bud,” Hiccup called after him.
The two of you sat there, just you, watching steam rise from the pool
“He’s been really independent lately,”
Hiccup stiffened slightly, picking at the wooden end of his prosthetic, “Yeah…”
You moved back to give him space as he unraveled the leather wraps keeping his prosthetic secure to his leg, revealing a stump and a good amount of pinched scar tissue.
You spent a moment longer looking at it than you probably should’ve before looking away. You’d never seen it before
You wondered if Astrid had. You couldn’t imagine a world where she hadn’t.
Hiccup sunk into the water first.
Sweat beaded on your forehead as you hovered above it, hands lightly gripping the edge of the pool.
You dipped your toes in before all at once you sunk into the water, drifting down until your feet touched ground, sighing as you felt the heat rise up to your hips.
The ground was made up of small pebbles and smooth stone, and much nicer on the bottoms of your feet than you’d expected.
There was a ledge underneath, just the right height and length going around the inner edge of the pool on most sides to make a nice enough bench. You waded towards it, settling over the concave surface, ignoring the slight unevenness of it.
You relaxed, going boneless underwater, feeling your face redden as the heat from the water floated up into it, causing a line of sweat to run down your cheek.
With nothing else to you, your eyes drifted over towards Hiccup. He was much the same, though he was a little more out of it.
He really needed it, you supposed.
You blinked at him as he tilted his head back, exposing freckled skin, much more faded than when you were younger but visible just the same.
You eyed a multitude of cuts, long and light against his tan, following them down to a long vertical cut by the right side of his chest.
“What’s on your mind?” Hiccup’s voice brought you back to alertness, breaking the spell the spring seemed to put you under.
You tilted your head back and forth, debating whether or not you should answer.
He followed your eyesight instead, answering the silent question in your eyes.
“That… Axe. Training accident,” He answered, shrugging. You marveled at the casualness of it all.
“...And that one?”
“Dragon racing. Caught in the side by one of the spikes over Hofferson house,” You nodded. You hadn’t been in town for that one.
“And, I’m guessing, that’s why you guys use more of a track, now?”
Hiccup rubbed his neck sheepishly.
“Where’d you get yours?” He asked
Being able to talk and converse with him like this was great and all, but you were afraid that behind all the mindless platitudes and play-warmth he would finally, finally see you. See deeper than the scars like cracks on your surface, seep right into line lines and stare into your core to somehow find you wanting.
You hunched slightly inwards self consciously.
“Hey, it’s… it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,”
Hiccup drifted towards you, resting his hand on the side of your shoulder.
You kept your eyes trained downwards, staring at large groups of bubbles as they rose to the surface, coloring the water an opaque white.
Your exhale blew hotly back into your face, rising up with the steam.
You nodded.
Hiccup hummed under his breath, voice tinted with a hint of confusion.
You pressed your thumbs into his shoulder blades in the dark of your hut, moving with his muscles as he groaned and flexed them backwards.
You felt the outline of lightning scars under his shirt and followed them down lazily, rubbing a path around them, pushing deep into weary muscle through his thick tunic.
Hiccup leaned into it. Again, you moved to accommodate him.
You shifted over your hastily done bed, dull fabric shifting below you.
Afternoon light trickled in through the blinds.
You counted every scar visible above the line of his collar, each cut and scab that formed alabaster marks against peachy-tan skin.
You worked through knots, strains and strains and stresses, watching with a careful eye as Hiccup softened, letting them melt off and away.
You worked your way back up, and down, leaning maybe a bit closer than necessary, feeling your breath on your face as you exhaled into the nape of his neck, lifting your elbow higher in order to get a hard spot a few lengths away from his spine.
Hiccup let out a breathy sigh.
You flushed.
You sifted through the assortment of ripe berries in the cart, humming thoughtfully.
You weren’t quite sure what to buy. Honestly, you didn’t need to buy any at all. You had a large enough stock at home to guarantee you’d not need to buy or forage anything until the next year.
You would never say it out loud but you were actually out to take inventory. A whole lot of the other Vikings would be displeased to hear about it, you were sure. It was a good way for you to keep stock of what was in store and what you would need to search for on your own. It was how you made your coin.
It was quite easy, especially when you took advantage of your close proximity to Gothi. Though a tough and harried healer, she was still an elder and it was much more convenient to have the shops travel up towards her.
Some might have called it ‘taking advantage of the elderly,’ but you were loath to the idea. You didn't upcharge her by too much. Whenever you did up the price, it was much deserved payback for dumping her waste down your side of the mountain. Somehow it always landed on your roof.
You brought your finger to your chin and moved to accommodate a newcomer you sensed by the corner of your eye, careful not to look up at the stall keeper, who was squinting down at you suspiciously. You were afraid he might have been catching on.
You walked over to a wide array of scales, most likely scavenged from the dropped and shed skins of the dragons who enjoyed roaming around town.
You enjoyed the fresh air, the wind as it flowed over your scalp. You felt light and pleased, one hand held to your back as you pursued the displayed wares.
There was a nice arranged pyramid of orangish-reddish scales and a set of electric yellow and purple sat above a wrinkled, dull green cloth, and a line of iridescent scales by your right hand.
“You see something you like?” You startled as you heard a voice murmur by your ear. It seemed to be that you were so engrossed in pretending to be invested that you hadn’t noticed as your fellow shoppe leaned into your space.
You walked to the side, turning so that you were leaning away from her.
It was a woman, brown hair nearing red, the brightest auburn you’d ever seen in the light, dressed in a thin layer of furs with both hands on her hips. You recognized this woman.
“These came from me,” She exclaimed calmly, voice running off her tongue like thick, gooey honey.
The stall keeper rolled his eyes, “You’ll get your cut, don’t worry.”
The question must have been obvious in your eyes because Valka smiled, “Oh, yes, I collected those myself, you see.”
You smiled uncomfortably as Valka laughed to herself, finally backing up a tad.
You straightened your back and your shoulders, exhaling deeply.
Though she was unbalanced from her time away from general society, she was confident and it served her well.
Her swell mood was contagious. You quirked your lips with the urge to join in, though to your chagrin, your own laughter came out more as a breathy uncomfortable chuckle than anything. You were also very much out of practice.
She didn’t seem to notice, though you knew that was most likely a calculated effort. You were glad for it.
“Hello,” You managed an honest smile, “Trying to push sales?”
“I’ve a bit of a vested interest in this shop, I should say,” She said, examining you as if you were a sort of creature from a land she’d never seen before, “Who are you?”
Valka paused, blinking to herself. Before you could respond again, she asked, “What’s your name? What’s your story?”
She didn’t know, you realized with a pang. There was no reason for her to, of course, Hiccup being your only link to each other and the two of you hadn’t been nearly as close as you had been before, as of late, but it still hurt a little. Definitely put a damper on your mood.
You kept up your smile anyways, mimicking her pose.
“I’ve not much of a story to tell, I’m sad to say,” You inclined your head.
“Everyone’s got a story,” Valka insisted, “Even-Oh, it should be-...”
You hummed your question.
“It’s probably wandered off somewhere, the frightful thing… There-! This one’s been pretty helpful,” Valka pointed out behind you, “A bashful thing, helped me bring down some of the wares. He showed up a few months before, well…”
Her eyes unfocused and her stance fell just the smallest bit. You winced with sympathy, remembering how Drago had smothered the island in ice before nearly killing off all of its inhabitants. She was very open about it, especially in the hall, and word spread faster than fire on Berk. It must have been difficult to lose her husband and her Alpha Dragon all in one day.
You shifted, turning following her direction after a moment of solidarity, and froze.
With its head bowed down, looking guiltily away from across the clearing was a dragon. Your dragon.
She leaned forwards against you conspiratorially, though this time you didn’t react, even as she whispered loudly in your ear with false secrecy, “It doesn’t hurt to have a bit of extra change on hand, you see. That’s why I’m here.”
“I do see,” You nodded along, though something about your voice was off as you spoke, still staring at your old dragon. Your voice was much too sharp and flat and cracked in all the wrong places.
You blinked away a light burning in your eye, refusing to meet your dragon by the eyes.
Your heart twinged, ruffled and upset as you were all at once confronted with the reality that you really had been abandoned, though it wasn't as bitter a fruit knowing that it had been, in part, your fault.
“So, you said these scales are on sale?” You cleared your throat, turning back towards the stall with the full intent to ignore the thing as you would a stranger, which it might have very well been.
“Which would you recommend?” Your eyes refused to focus as you blocked it out of your mind, refusing to acknowledge the faces or manners of any of the people around you.
It was because of that that you just nearly missed him, approaching down the path to your left, once again clad in dark gray and brown leather.
“Oh, hello, Hiccup!” You called.
“You’re trembling,” Hiccup noted with surprise in his voice as you approached.
“It’s been a while since I rode a dragon,” You admitted balefully, as the two of you strode towards Toothless’ saddle.
Even before, when you had just gotten yours, you’d had a hard time learning to love being up in the sky. But you pushed through it, because it was what Hiccup loved, and because it was getting to a point where you needed a dragon in order to keep up with everyone else.
You never did talk to anyone about how much it terrified you.
“Will you be alright?”
You nodded hesitantly, though privately you weren’t so sure, your heart beating like a drum.
Hiccup sighed, “We’re just headed to the sea stacks, right?”
“Yeah,” You took a few hesitant, shaking breaths before swinging yourself up on the saddle behind Hiccup, who looked back at you, securing his helmet as if he thought it might be better that he leave you behind, as if you might shatter at the slightest breeze.
“Thanks for taking me,” You looked away, ears burning shamefully. The things you could forage for on Berk weren’t cutting it. You needed the extra coin.
You jolted suddenly as you took off, alarm racing up and down your spine as you pressed yourself flush to Hiccup. You kept your eyes as straight ahead as possible, knowing that looking down, at the disappearing dow of Berk in the distance, would be your downfall.
You noticed Hiccup kept close to the ocean floor, guiding Toothless only just high enough to cleanly avoid the ocean waves below.
Past the wind rushing through your hair, the pressure plugging your eardrums and the sound of Toothless’ wings beating through the air, you realized that this wasn’t so bad.
Eventually your breathing evened and you were able to loosen up to some degree.
You leaned your head against his neck, arms relaxing slightly around your torso though your front stayed no less melded to his back.
You noticed the two of you had wandered all the way down, strolling the boundary between grazing fields, dotted by sheep, and the closer line of houses to your right.
You were still a slight bit shaken, though you’d made it back with all of your things intact plus extra, which was alright enough.
Hiccup looked back and forth, at where your hut ended just beyond the Great Hall, probably wondering if he should have been the one to walk you back instead.
“I don’t eat down at the hall much,” You looked back, keeping the silent ‘or ever’ to yourself.
“Well, I can understand why,” Hiccup looked to the side, voice sardonic, as the two of you, from a distance, watched Tuffnut and Snotlout wrestling for a plated chicken leg. You weren’t sure how they got so far out from the Great Hall so quickly. As far as you were aware, they didn’t serve food this early.
“Would you?” He asked.
Snotlout was able to pin Tuffnut to the ground, about to take a bit from the leg in his meaty grasp before Tuffnut basked him over the back of his head with the empty plate.
The other Riders were sat around him at the high table.
Hiccup seemed uncomfortable sitting up on the elevated platform reserved for the Chief and company by the forefront of the Great Hall. Out of place. Not quite like he was in shoes he hadn’t grown into yet, as was the saying, but more as if he was standing in front of a pair of shoes that did not belong to him at all.
You asked yourself if he might be more comfortable down with the common folk.
You sent him a small wave just as the two of you met eyes, Hiccup at once sending a complimentary quirk of the lips back.
You came.
It took you a few days to get there, but eventually you worked up the courage to make it down and to sidle around the heavily concentrated group of Vikings in the open floor of the hall.
Just as I promised.
You gave him a half-smile, lifting a spoon of stew to your mouth. It had been a while since you had tasted something from the hall. You had to admit it was a taste that you couldn’t replicate, not that you tried. You weren’t sure whether or not it was something you liked.
A crowd of Vikings obscured your vision as they walked past, large mugs and plates in hand.
You stared down at your bowl of stew and the thin slice of bread on the place beside it, wondering if all of this was worth it.
You were surprised when Hiccup settled down in front of you, startling you out of your own musings, plate of his own in hand.
You peered round him, back at the table to see the rest of the Riders and Gobber back up on the podium. They seemed just as equally confused.
“What brings you down here?” You got the vague idea that it was expected, though not a requirement of the Chief, for Hiccup to sit up by the front table. Something about establishing authority and basking in the attention or something before it wore off, you didn’t care.
It didn’t seem like something Hiccup was interested in, anyways.
“What, no ‘hello?’”
“Nope,” You popped the ‘p’ as Hiccup pulled out his journal from under his arm, settling it on the table to his side. You stared at brown leather and at all the small bits of parchment sticking out the sides.
“Let me see,” You said,
“You sure?” Hiccup asked with a crooked smile.
You nodded, beckoning him over to your side of the table, craning your neck as he laid the book out in front of you and settled down besides.
“What’s that?” You pointed downwards, as he began flipping through the pages.
“What, this?”
You hummed, “No, go back.”
Hiccup blinked, and you saw the minor realization wash over his face before he flipped back the page almost reluctantly, revealing a messily sketched out crack in the earth and a crude map of the archipelago with a bunch of x-es littering random regions over the sea.
“Do you mind if I…?”
He shook his head no, handing over his notebook as you pushed aside your stew.
You read over some of the notes to the side, furrowing your brow.
“The Caldera,” You said, remembering the old wives tale.
“Yeah,” Hiccup rubbed his neck, “I didn’t mean for you to see it, but what do you think?”
“There’s something about it, I don’t know,” You said, shrugging, “It would be really nice.”
Hiccup scrubbed his neck embarrassedly, “It’s just a fantasy I have sometimes.”
“Is that why you spent so much time wandering?” You nodded your head, taking a sip from the large mug in front of you with hunched shoulders, “It would make a great discovery.”
Hiccup nodded.
You got it. It was unbelievably unrealistic, but that was probably the point. It was something for him to chase after even after everything else became unfamiliar. There was something charming about its unattainability, in a way.
Mead. Maybe it was a comfort you yourself craved.
You barely paid attention as you filled your mug and his, watching as, across the hall and through warm and bustling bodies, Hiccup and Astrid spoke.
It was with all of the passion of a newly split couple. Though you couldn’t hear everything, you could see the meaningful tilt of Hiccup’s brown, the way his shoulders only moved when he spoke about something worthwhile, and the emotive movement of his hands.
They were leaning close together by a gaggle of the others, speaking in whispers. It was probably nothing of consequence to you. She was, still, his right hand woman.
But he looked at her like she hung the stars and wove this very Earth, hanging on to her every word, no matter the severity or banality.
You downed a mug, mead dripping down the corner of your chin. You wiped it off with your chin, lamenting and then going after another. It would take quite a great deal for you to get drunk.
You watched as Astrid walked away, back turned to Hiccup, her side exposed to you, and took note of the way, mouth open as if to speak, he reached out slightly, like he might be able to pull her back by some invisible string.
Your heart beat against itself, rhythm as loud and violent to your ears as the crashing waves outside down by the coast. You ignored it, tucking it away like a book under your pillow in the dark of night.
You furrowed your brows, picking up another mug and filling it to the brim. It was only considerate, if you were going to drink.
Your arms were full of mugs by the time you thought to wander back, balanced unevenly in your arms. He might need it just as bad as you did.
You’d stumbled back to Hiccup’s hut in the dark, chuckling and laughing like a pair who didn’t want to do much besides forget the world around you.
There was something tense in the air between the two of you despite the physical closeness. You weren’t quite sure when or how the two of you had fallen into each other, or why you thought this was a good idea.
You gasped through the press of lips and the taste of ale on tongue, backed up against a wooden wall, head pressed back against the hard, uneven surface.
You pulled apart, and Hiccup leaned forwards to rest his forehead against the wall by your head, panting in your ear.
You weren’t sure who you’d slept with and who you hadn’t. Many drunk nights at the Hall, sneaking large mugs of ale and mead into your small, lonely corner meant many mornings slung over beds in houses you weren’t familiar with. Being so disconnected meant it was easy for you to slip out and away without anyone noticing.
But you knew you were here, and you were here now.
You slipped your knee between his legs. He ground down on it.
Your undergarments were up to scratch this time, though you weren’t sure if you needed them.
You felt the rise and quell of feeling and emotion and dead conversation. You searched for something to say, something to soothe, to matter or to not in a way that mattered the way someone did when they knew they weren't great, but wanted to be.
He looked exhausted. Tired from hours on his feet, time he wasn’t allowed to spend alone and a while too long throwing ideas on building, automatic tailfins and infrastructure between the two of you.
Guilt curled around like a tiny worm in your stomach. It was the same feeling you got falling from a high place, the same kind you avoided every time you saw a dragon take off into the air.
You pondered if you should ask, wondering if it was fair to want him to take the first step or back away, hands drifting back and forth underwater.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” He said, and you weren’t sure why.
You tilted your head, sitting across from Hiccup in the same spring from before. His calf was pressed between your ankles, brushing over scar tissue as Hiccup sandwiched your left ankle between that and his other leg.
“Me too.” You were sorry, for taking up his time and his space, when all he wanted was something else. You thought he might rather be alone. If that was the case, you knew you would go.
Calves and ankles pressed together, shifting against each other under the water testingly.
Your face was red, heated by steam. Hiccup looked the same.
You scooted closer. Hiccup shifted forwards on his arms, leaning nearer to you.
You weren’t sure where you stood, since the night you spent together. You didn’t know if it meant anything or not, if it was a tryst born from your interest or Hiccup’s want to forget Astrid. You couldn’t remember.
But.
“Is it…?” He asked, eyes half-lidded.
You drifted forwards, standing up in the spring and met him the rest of the way, thighs slotted together.
Your arms were braced on either side of him underwater, palms resting on the smooth ledge surface.
Hiccup rested his hand on your arm, the other by your waist.
There were too many things between the two of you that went left unsaid. You hoped that one day you’d be able to say them.
“A-ash…” He breathed into your mouth.
You half-slid, half-climbed down the rocky cliffside, grinning to yourself as Hiccup jogged after, falling slightly behind your enthusiasm.
To be honest, you weren’t so sure about sharing this secret with Hiccup. It felt weighty, like you were putting it to bed somehow and you weren’t sure you liked that, not ready to give up your reprieve.
It was private to you, but also, maybe it would be worth it, to share something so nice with someone else. There was a low chance he hadn’t seen it yet anyways. Soon, the others would find out and all the other Vikings would start funneling in, you were sure.
You slid to a stop just barely in time, backtracking with your arms out, stumbling back-first into Hiccup.
The two of you fell backwards, Hiccup falling into a set of bushes stationed behind you.
“Oh, ow,”
“Are you alright?” You asked him, as you separated, quickly scooting over and peering down at him as he pulled himself from the fanning ferns.
The two of you were surrounded by rocks and fauna, world dark and blue in a way that felt fresh and new and freeing.
This ledge was one that was difficult to get to unless you knew the way, which you won through hard-earned practice and exploration.
The grass under you was cold, and wet from dew, But that was one of the many things you ceased to notice once you peered over the edge, at the beginning of a beautiful flickering.
“I’m alright,” Hiccup smiled, rubbing his head. You tried to look around him as if you might be able to see the back of it from the angle you were sitting.
“Look,” You pointed forwards with a breathy grin, as Hiccup settled himself beside you, your legs hanging limply over the side of the clifface.
He followed your direction, and he breathed. You could see the exact moment he looked down into the waters, calmer than they should be, always seeming flat and unassuming in this area.
You watched him focus, taken in by the mesmerizing sight.
Tiny dragons lit up the sea below, blinking pale pinks and greens and blues under the shifting water, looking very much like small, twinkling gems by the sand.
It was what you assumed was a mix between the glowing algae left over from the Flightmare’s time in the archipelago and the new, different kinds of dragons flooding Berk.
The two of you relaxed into the scene, calming in a way you were hard pressed to calm anywhere else. Maybe you had made the right call.
It was a while before either of you would break the silence
“I…” Hiccup started, he looked at you with open eyes, “I…”
You perked up slightly, turning your head by the most minute degree, watching him from the corner of your eye. You waited, giving him time to articulate himself.
“...I miss…”
His eyes twinkled, lights dancing in the shine of them, moving back and forth with the lights below. You softened in them, twisting so you were looking at him directly.
You wondered what he missed. You wondered if it was something to quell or nurture the beating blooming jittering feeling growing in your chest.
“Them,” Hiccup said finally, lamely, before stopping, leaning against your shoulder.
At the last moment, he looked away, pulling his hands off the ground and you read something a little like shame on his face as he said it, or on as much face as you could see, carefully tilted away from you.
You were sure you knew who, or whom he meant.
You remembered how he looked at Astrid the other night as she walked away. How something in his eyes just seemed to storm.
You remember how glum he was, still was, after the passing of his father, tall and mighty in a way that seemed to make him immortal.
You were glad. Just glad, and disappointed, in equal measure. But also you also couldn’t help but be a little disappointed that he hadn’t said something else.
You leaned back with equal weight onto his shoulder, though instead of feeling any sort of the warmth or amity you should have felt- or peace, like you usually did, staring down at the swirling lights, dancing with the currents- you just felt empty.
You took in the rustling of leaves behind you, the chittering and splashing of small dragons as they leapt out of the water, filling the air below with a colorful, glowing spray. Anything but the man besides you. The Chief, now.
“I know.”
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