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hidden-poet · 6 months

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Commander Snow; 7

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit, violence, death.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

chapter 8

Coriolanus threw himself back into his work upon returning to the compound. It meant he was gone early before you woke up but he made an effort to return home for dinner. He was adamant that at least one meal had to be eaten together.

You would take walks often together to get some fresh air, leaving the dishes to soak in the sink after dinner.

There was not much to look at in the Compound. Makeshift tents and metal sheds with big locks. Everything was dull, with the colors matching the small gray rocks that formed the roads amongst it.

Only the men running around in their light blue peacekeeper uniforms offered a break from the monotone of it all.

You watched them as Coriolanus led you through the compound by your hand. They would never make eye contact as they went about their work. But it didn't bother you. The isolation imposed by Coriolanus grew on you. You had gotten so used to only ever talking to Coriolanus, that you weren't sure you could hold a conversation with anyone else.

He pulls you gently out of the way of an oncoming truck and takes you down a quitter path.

"You never ask about your mother," he comments as the noise quietens.

You remain quiet as if you didn't hear him.

''She never visits," he continues, "You never ask to visit her."

You feel your heart rate rise. Surely that has not tipped him off that your mother was safe out of his reach.

"Why would she visit? She thinks you want to kill her. And I know she is fine and even if she wasn't, you would lie."

A loud clanging sound turns his attention behind him, to where a large metal sheet had slipped off a pile onto the ground.

"Would you let me visit her if I asked?"

He turns his attention back to you as the embarrassed Peacekeepers scramble to put the metal sheet back on the bed of the truck.

You wondered if this was your chance to escape. A pass for a day trip to see your mother turning into your disappearance.

"We could go tonight if you wanted," he offered, but the choice of “we” made you reconsider your plan. He wouldn't let you go alone, and you couldn't let him see the empty house.

"No," you state, "I’m tired tonight."

He hums in response. "Let's turn back."

You circle back to your starting place. The walk was halved by your comment. The water in the sink would still be warm.

As you walk up the steps to the apartment you turn back to gaze at the far bins. Your freedom was just behind them but despite only being half a yard away, you were stuck in your chains.

With Coriolanus so close and so fast, you enter back into your prison willingly.

You start the dishes, scrubbing the pans free from their grease while making plans for your escape. Edmund would return tomorrow night if you weren't at the house. But the keys seemed impossible to get.

Coriolanus was clingy. He seemed hyper-aware of your movements. He somehow knew when you were faking sleep and when you had actually succumbed to it. The only way he would sleep was when he knew you were.

You would wake too late to an empty bed and a bedside table void of any keys. Even if you got the keys, it would take ages for you to figure out which one it was. They all looked the same.

As if he could sense your thoughts, Coriolanus came up behind you, taking your throat into his large hand, keeping you from moving as he grazed and nipped at your neck.

"I have to do the dishes," you complain.

''So do them." The hand from your hip reaches between your legs and slides up your dress.

You jolt but his firm hold keeps you still.

His hand goes to where you presumed they would, under the elastic band of your underwear.

"Stop," you command, wrapping your wet hands around his assaulting arm.

He bites harshly at your neck from your rejection, causing you to wince at the pain.

"Worry about the dishes."

He only inserts one finger as he tries to elicit a response from you.

"Dishes," he repeats as you don't move.

You obey and pick up the sponge again, attempting to distract yourself with them.

His lips continue to suck and bite as you scrub the cutting board. It's uncomfortable at first as his dry finger intrudes upon your dryness.

He kicks your feet apart to get better access. The feeling intensifies between your legs and you feel yourself unintentionally getting wet.

He inserts two fingers, feeling you pool, twisting and curling his fingers inside you. You throw the chopping board on the drying rack and pick up a plate. When his index finger drags your wetness up, it drops from your hands.

"I think you missed a spot," he taunts. You don't pick it up again, distracted by the tingling sensation, but he reinserts his finger and curls it harshly to tell you to continue.

Once the plate was clean and you were beginning on your second, he rewards you by coming up and massaging your pearl.

You yelp, gripping the counter of the sink as you try and move your hips away.

The hand gripping your throat moved to your wrist forcing them back into the water, before returning to ensure that he still had free access to your throat. The water from his hands dripped down over you.

You washed the dish but your focus wasn't enough to tell if it was clean enough.

He stops his circling and uses the two fingers to rub along your wet lips. The lack of friction was an unwelcome change.

You pick up a kitchen knife, attempting to wash it but it is yanked out of your grip and thrown back onto the counter. His hand returns to your neck with a tightened hold as he focuses on leaving red and sore marks, all while his fingers run up and down.

"Coriolanus. Stop." You choke out.

He inserts the two fingers but refuses to move them.

You cry out as he bites into your flesh, sucking and grazing the spot just where your neck ends and your collarbone begins.

It gave him a sense of satisfaction as you try and wiggle your neck away.

Your wet hands wrap around the wrist that encircles your neck. You could feel him hard against you as he took a step back, taking you with him.

It was a mercy when he moved his fingers once more, pumping in and out. His lips were no longer at your neck but ghosting behind your ear as you stood, locking your own hands around his wrist.

You could feel your stomach form the same knots that you felt the first night he came for dinner. Half of you didn't want him to stop, knowing the release that was about to occur.

His fingers push harshly up and with force, he circles your pearl once more. A strangled moan makes its way from your throat as the knots from your stomach loosen out.

He pushes you back towards the sink and you grip the edges of it as you pulse around his fingers.

The moment passes and you are left breathing heavily, leaning over the sink. You take the sponge back and begin to wash the same dish as if his actions meant nothing. But your head spun, and you felt so spent the sponge was weak in your hand.

His fingers intertwine with yours under the water and he presses them against the side of the sink together as he rests his head against your back.

You were grateful for the moment of silence to collect yourself.

"I am going to take a shower." He states, releasing you.

You retain your composure until you hear the bathroom door shut, immediately slumping over the sink.

--------------------------

Coriolanus wanted to fuck you, that was no secret. But he hadn't earned it yet. A woman such as you deserved to be laid in more than just a Commander's bed. It was old and reused from the last Commander.

He wanted you surrounded by riches, in the comfort of a brand-new Capitol bed. He wanted to be more than a Commander of this scummy district. When he fucked you, he wanted you to have a sense of pride about who was above you. President of Pamen, or just about.

He had not earned the right in any manner. But one day soon, he would.

Coriolanus was a man of restraint and strategy. But as he watched you make beds and iron clothes, he yearned for that intimacy that only sex could offer.

He wanted to lay naked in your arms and be held by you. It felt as if only then would all the thoughts in his head stop.

You were stingy with your love. Coriolanus had not earned it. But when he became

President, how could you deny him his reward then? He would have exceeded everyone's expectations of him: Dr. Gaul, Grandma'am, Tigris, all of his Academy classmates.

The goal was good for him, it motivated him to work harder and longer. It reminds him of his Academy days when the only thing on his mind was the Plinth Prize.

His mind needed a goal to fixate on. The presidency was all well and good but came with its own problems. The reward laid in the long awaited esteem from those who doubted him, or in your case, ran from him.

He would prove to them all that Snow always lands on the very top.

He would prove to you that he is a man worthy of your attention and care.

But he had pressing matters to deal with. He felt as if you teased him all day long. He went to sleep hard as a rock most nights. He offered you release anytime you wanted it, but you never gave him the same courtesy.

It interfered with his work. He thought about visiting the District call girls but the thought made him sick. Why should he do that when he had you? He had you. Tucked away in his apartment. Ready for him. He just needed to take.

He grabbed the letter that came for you days ago from his desk and made his way back to his apartment. He was self-conscious of his hard-on as he walked through the compound and readjusted his pants.

The sight of the apartment felt like water after a long day in the sun. He took the steps two at a time before regaining himself at the doorway. He couldn't look desperate.

You jump up from the couch as he enters, surprised to see him.

"What are you doing home?" you ask.

His heart flutters at the usage of 'home'.

"Delivering mail."

He holds the letter up in the air, tempting you.

“From your brother.”

You hold your hand out for it but he keeps it high.

“I’ll trade you for it.”

You doubted he would want any personal keepsake of yours. You could see the hunger in his eyes.

You turn back away from him to the couch but he grabs your wrist to keep you. It was an act of desperation that he scolded himself for.

“We can trade the letter for dinner.”

He places your caught hand upon his belt. And your hand stills.

You wondered if you really had a choice. He would just keep taking things away until you submitted. But Edmund would be here tonight to release you. Could you get away with resisting?

You wondered what the letter would say. You were sure it was full of written anxieties from your brother. Could you use the Commander's desperation to your advantage? Your fingers curl around the belt buckle as you think.

He leans back against the counter with the letter still in his hand.

He was desperate. You could see it from the way he clenched the countertop.

“I want to write a letter back.” You demand as you undo his belt.

Coriolanus nods hastily. It gave you a thrill of power.

With the belt unbuckled, you weren't sure what to do next.

He helps you by pulling his pants down to his ankles.

"On your knees,” he instructs.

It gives you a direction on what he wants, so you sink down and open your mouth.

You pull back at first but will yourself to give it another go.

His taste was nothing new to you. He lets out a shaky breath as you finally put him in your mouth.

“Go slow,’’ he demands and you try your best to accommodate.

His length hits the back of your throat causing you to pull off. He grunts in dissatisfaction but allows you to come back at your own pace. His face reads of his annoyance. His features turned to stone, and his jaw locked in place.

But he showed mercy by not forcing you back and keeping his hands wound around the counter.

Now knowing your limit, you go as far as you can before coming back again. It was enough for Coriolanus, who threw his head back and allowed you to take charge. His hips bucked slightly the more worked up he got, but with free movement of your head, you could adjust to his movements. Compared to your other experiences, this one was slightly bearable.

Having been pent up for weeks, the feeling of your wet mouth upon him had him coming quickly. He slaps the countertop with his hand as he comes into your mouth, only stopping when you have stopped moving completely, having taken his full load. You spit it out on the ground that you had just washed.

He remains leaning against the counter as he catches his breath. In no rush to give you what was promised.

You yank the letter from his hand, seeing that it was already open. It read angry. The pen was pressed harshly into the paper, the ink spilled all over the page.

The letter was not addressed to you. It opened with “bastard”.

Archie had promised to kill Snow. You had only called him Coriolanus in your correspondence, so you knew it wasn't only your letter that was delivered.

‘Don't take anything from him,’ the letter read to you. ‘I am coming home to you. I am so sorry. I never should have left. I'll be there soon, stay hidden with Mum.’

You turn to Coriolanus with anger, "What did you do?"

He stood in the kitchen, fully dressed again.

"I introduced myself."

"As Commander Snow?" you seethe.

''As your man. Your letter made it seem as if I was a friendly neighbor."

“You son of a bitch. Archie-"

"He'll kill me, yes I know. I read it."

"Archie will kill himself! And it will be your fault!"

"His life or his death, I can't imagine which is worse."

You slapped him for the way he spoke about your brother and instantly regretted it.

Within a second, he had you slammed against the fridge with his hands around your throat. The hold presses against the bites from the previous day.

"Get off of me,” you demand. The bites upon your neck felt like fire as he pressed on them.

He doesn’t move and you bring your hand across his face once more. He remains unmoved by your action and you attempt again. This time he catches it in a painful hold and twists your wrist away from his face.

You shout from the pain but he doesn’t release you.

With a harsh shove against the countertop, the strain on your wrist is gone.

He looks at you as you nurse your wrist and feels a pang of guilt. He thinks of someone saying something about Tigris. He surely would have killed them.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that about your brother. I didn’t mean it.”

He did mean it, but he loved your devotion to your family. You both shared the same values, he shouldn’t be training you out of them.

It wasn’t Archie’s fault he was born District, but to die District would be beyond pathetic.

Even the Plinths made it out, and when Coriolanus was stripped of his Capitol-born rights, he too fought to make it out of District 12. Archie had only swapped one district for another. It was pitiful at the very least and embarrassing at the most.

But he was your brother, whom you loved, so Coriolanus will watch his tongue around you.

“Are you alright? Do you need some ice?” He reaches out to inspect your wrist but you yank yourself away from him.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I want to help you.” It was the first time he had hurt you for something that wasn’t your fault. It made him feel terrible. He wasn’t a violent man, only a man capable of violence. He didn’t want you to think he was against you.

“Go away.” You push past him to get to the bedroom, where you slam the door behind you.

He goes back to his office to let you cool down. He apologized, what more did you want?

—------------

You wait by the window for Edmund. You felt foolish that you failed to get the keys. But since the Cabin, Coriolanus has harbored a quiet distrust of you. Every extra precaution was taken. You had learned that a 15-minute window of time opened just before Coriolanus normally finished for the day. Everyone was trying to avoid the path of the Commander as he made his way to his apartment. It was a blessing that he was so avoided, it gave Edmund a chance to appear.

You saw his shadow approaching with something large in his hands.

He calls out to you and you are quick to answer.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'll be better once you open the door," you admit. Your wrist still hurts from the afternoon.

He asks you to stand back away from the door, and you take three steps back.

You hear a loud banging noise, the sound of wood cracking but no spring of the door.

You felt as if you might throw up from the anxiety. He was causing so much noise, surely someone was going to hear it.

He curses but tries again.

You place yourself by the window to see what he was doing. He was trying to pry open the door with a large crowbar. It cracked the wood and left enough damage that the door would jiggle but not open.

A building light flicks on down the road. You can see a shadow of a man as he searches for something before his body appears in front of the doorway.

A flash of light jiggled as it made its way across from the Compound.

"Edmund, someone is coming," you warn.

He ignores you, continuing with the door.

"Edmund, you have to leave!"

"We won't get another chance." With more force, he tries to pry open the door.

You can see the light getting brighter as it approaches.

"He'll move me. So long as I am not trapped here, I can make my way through the fence".

"You were wrong last time."

"Edmund if you die, I'll never get out of here. Wait for me at home. I can make it, I know it".

He grunts as the crowbar slips from the door. Looking over his shoulder, he realizes that he isn't going to get it open in time.

"I won't know where you are!" he cries.

"Don't come back. Just wait for me. There will be an opportunity".

Edmund could hear the footsteps on the gravel. He had to leave now.

"Go," you encourage him.

He climbs down the railing, dropping to his feet and hiding in the darkness before the man reaches the steps.

A Peacekeeper examines the door before speaking into his communicator. A large siren sounded through the compound filling you with dread. They were locking the place down with Edmund inside.

"Miss?" the Peacekeeper knocks on the window, "Are you okay?"

You knew as soon as that man spoke into his communicator, Coriolanus knew of the events.

Could you take cover for Edmund? Tell Coriolanus that it was you who did the damage. No. The damage was on the outside.

Could you start a fire and tell him that it was a peacekeeper trying to break down the door to release you? But why would the peacekeeper run? He would surely press to find out who it was.

You wished that sound would stop so you could think. All you could hear was the siren, ringing through your head.

"Miss?" the Peacekeeper asks again.

“Yes. Fine.” you dismiss. You could feel your heart in your throat.

The Peacekeepers were quick on their feet. In two minutes, swarms of them combed through with their guns raised. Coriolanus was close behind, you could hear him running up the steps past the Peacekeeper.

He unlocks the broken door, leaving the keys in the keyhole as he rushes over to you.

He takes the back of your neck and presses it into his chest, using the other hand to press against your back.

"What happened? Are you alright?"

"She's fine, sir. I was ensuring the assailant didn't come back." the Peacekeeper spoke out of turn.

Coriolanus let go of you to take hold of the man's shirt and pushed him against the wall.

"What was he doing here in the first place? Where were you?"

"I don't know, sir. I was in my office. It's really the patrolls fault." The man looked like all the blood had rushed from his face.

Coriolanus throws the man out the door by his shirt. He lands harshly on the ground.

"I want him found," he demands.

The peacekeeper nods his head and rushes to get up and away.

Coriolanus turns back to you and you expect harsh treatment but his hands softly cup your face.

"Did you see what he looked like?"

You knew it wouldn't take much for Coriolanus to figure out it was Edmund, so you lie and pray it doesn't get anyone into trouble.

"He was short. Long dark hair. I don't know, it was dark and I was scared."

He pulls you back to his chest, resting his cheek on the top of your head.

"If you're ever in danger, you hide, okay?"

You had tried that but he found you within days.

"I didn't know if you were okay, " he spoke softly. You almost didn’t hear him.

Peacekeepers shout and you jump thinking that they have caught Edmund. You tear free of Coriolanus and rush out to see that the men are fighting over a flashlight.

Your relief came out in a sob. You silently beg for Edmund to be okay. The anxiety of him being found poured out from your eyes in the form of tears.

It was a good display for Coriolanus, who thought you were crying out of trauma from your supposed break-in.

He takes you by the shoulders and leads you back inside.

"You're safe. We'll find him," he promises.

With his hold, he presses you back against his chest.

He kisses you and you sob against him. Your lips part against his as you croak out a cry.

"Shh, it's okay,", he presses your face back against his shoulder to collect the tears.

You will yourself to stop. Edmund was safe, they hadn't caught him, he must be beyond the fence line by now.

You settle with three big breaths and Coriolanus pulls away to look at you.

"Okay?" he asks softly brushing away your tears.

"Yeah," you sigh, bringing your hands up to rub your eyes.

You pull away from Coriolanus as three Peacekeepers arrive at your door. They carried large cases and were dressed in protective gear.

Coriolanus takes your hand in his and gives a nod to his Peacekeepers, giving them the go-ahead to begin their work.

“Who are they?” You ask, watching one man run a blue light across the surface.

“Forensic crew.”

Panic rushes back up but you shove it down. Edmund hadn’t touched the door. Only the railing as he jumped but many others had covered his prints with their own since then.

You feel his hand take yours in a possessive hold.

He leads you down the steps and through the sea of Peacekeepers.

Officers with sniffer dogs pass you. You reassured yourself, it was nothing Edmund couldn’t handle.

He leads you to his office. It was dark and soulless.

Closing the door behind you, he turns to you once more, trapping your head between his hands, and forces a kiss upon your lips.

The kiss spoke of his anxiety; it was needy and possessive.

You try to pull back but he follows the distance you try to separate.

You try to speak his name to warn him to get off you, he sees it as an opportunity to capture your tongue.

When he does pull off, you turn your head quickly.

“You’re okay,” he comments.

“I am okay.” Wrapping your hands around his wrists you gently pull him off from around your head.

He goes to kiss you again but you are too quick for him.

“Do you have any water?” you direct.

He pauses with his head half-bent to your height.

“Yes. I’ll go get some.”

With a gentle touch to your shoulder, he leaves you in his office alone.

You think about making a run for it while the coast was clear but with the Peacekeepers searching, you wouldn't make it to the fence without detection. Tonight you had little chance of escaping, tomorrow was the better option.

The large office was eerie. The paper he was working on was thrown to the ground in his hurry. You asked yourself why you were picking it up but your nature just called for it. You looked after people. You never thought it would become your downfall.

He returns as you straighten his desk. The sight causes him to smile.

“I thought you might be hungry.” He holds up a military packet of savory biscuits. They were used for long journeys where fresh food was hard to come by.

Unscrewing the lid, he passes you the bottle and places the biscuits on the desk.

“I am not. Thank you.” The anxiety of the night ate away at your stomach. Even if Edmund got beyond the fence you were sure that Peacekeepers had been sent beyond the compound. Still, you had faith. He was smart and knew District 12 well. He would be okay, but only if you could manage not to blow his cover.

Coriolanus unbuttons his Commander's coat with his long fingers.

“Of all the places I thought you would have been safe, the Commander's apartment was my first choice.”

“I was safe,” you contend, “He didn’t get through the door.”

“How did he get in?” Coriolanus sighs, “Another hole in the fence?”

He was talking to himself but you felt the need to interject.

“His clothes looked torn. Maybe he climbed over top.”

He looks at you like you said something incredibly stupid. With the fence being 12 feet tall and wrapped in barbed wire, it properly was.

Coriolanus takes your shoulders into his hands, bending down slightly to your height.

“I don’t want you to worry about this. It won’t happen again.”

You place the water bottle down on the desk too hard, “I am not worried, and I am not hungry. I am fine.”

He takes your hand in his and pulls you along to the couch.

“We’ll sleep here tonight. They won’t be done until late.”

You couldn’t escape anyway. It didn’t matter where you slept.

You sink into the soft material of the couch. Another one sat directly opposite against the wall. Given the small space, it would be logical that you take one and Coriolanus would take the other but you knew he was going to want to share.

He bends down and begins to unlace your boots for you.

“Do you often wear boots in the apartment?” He throws the boot over his shoulder, eyeing you suspiciously. You knew the answer was no, you don’t wear your boots in the apartment. They hurt your feet after long periods of use. Coriolanus also knew this. He would trip on them coming home, or accidentally step on your bare toes with his big boots as you maneuvered away from him.

“I wanted to be ready for our walk,’’ you lie.

He seems to buy it, rising from his spot with no harsh motions.

Instead, he rubs his hand across his face.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you this afternoon, and I didn’t mean for you to be bait for zealous rebels.”

“Coriolanus, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“I want to talk about this. When I got the alert today, all I knew was the door had been broken, I didn’t know if they had gotten in. If you were safe.”

“Well, I am so…”

“And if you weren’t?” He pauses for a second before continuing,

“I’ve lost many things in my life, I won’t lose you.”

The promise sounded like a threat upon your ears.

Edmund had emasculated Coriolanus today. Made him feel as if he looked inadequate in your eyes. He was determined to prove himself to you. That he could and would, protect you better from now on.

“Nothing happened,” you spoke slowly and softly to him.

“I don’t want you to think I can’t protect you.”

“I don’t.”

Coriolanus sits down beside you on the couch.

“There’s paper on my desk you could use if you wanted to write that letter to your brother. Write one to your mother too. I’ll mail them tomorrow with a few panems. Would you like that?”

Protecting you meant protecting your family too.

Nodding your head, you take his invitation and take a blank piece of paper off his desk. He follows you off the couch and offers his office chair to sit in. Several pens were thrown around the desk, you pick up the black pen closest to you and begin to write as Coriolanus puts away files that he was done with.

The paper had the national Panem letterhead, it distracted you while you penned your letters. You wrote the first one to your brother, telling him to keep a cool head. Everything was under control. He must be grateful to be out of the mines. People disappeared all the time up in the mountains. You heard news that two miners went missing and were yet to be found. You were happy he was in District 8. He must stay there. Your family was always worried when he went to work in the morning, now everyone knew where he was: Safe in District 8. There was no need to come back, only to remain where you knew he was safe. All his friends from the mine wish him well and take turns in looking after mother. You finish by telling him to stop being so stubborn and take the money to look after himself.

The second letter to your mother was shorter and superficial. She wasn’t home to collect it. It just needed to appear like she was.

Coriolanus reads over your letters before sealing them with an official seal and a few coins. He leaves them on his desk to mail tomorrow.

You could still hear the Peacekeepers outside the window. Their vans and heavy boots and hard way of talking.

They still hadn’t found Edmund. You could sleep now knowing they weren’t going to.

For a few more hours, you remain up with Coriolanus. He talks of his family back home. How Tigris quit her job and now could focus on her designs. She was going to send you a few new dresses. You learned he called his grandma, ‘Grandma’am’ due to her upper-class upbringing. He talked about how she would dress Coriolanus like a doll, pre-war, and show him off to her friends. She grew roses of all colors. He was surprised to learn that you had never seen a rose.

“I suppose you wouldn’t have.” District 12 was bare and colorless. There was no place for fine roses amongst the suffering. The Snow penthouse is full of them, he says. Replaced daily with fresh ones.

When there was a lapse in his talking, you suggest that perhaps it was a good idea to catch a few hours of sleep before he was woken with news of the capture. In framing the suggestion for his benefit, he was much more agreeable.

He takes off his white t-shirt and pants, leaving him in his underwear before joining you on the couch. He needed to feel your warm skin against his after today. Despite not deserving it.

You are pressed between the back of the couch and Coriolanus. He looked to be sleeping but you could tell from his breathing he wasn’t.

The silence shared between you was interrupted by your gnawing question.

“Did you find what you were looking for out in the woods?”

“No. But the trip did give me closure.”

“Will we have to go again?” you wonder.

“No. It’s in the past now. The future is all that matters.”

The future for him was the Capitol. Where he would prosper and you would wither.

“I can’t go to the Capitol, Coriolanus,” you whisper. You were hoping he would realize it and set you free of his own accord. You could part as estranged friends.

His eyes shoot open to look at you.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers back, “Everything is going to be okay. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

You could appreciate that his words were supposed to be comforting but what good were his promises? They were nothing you could truly trust.

His lips hit the bottom of your chin in a quick peck.

You wondered if he could feel the wetness of your cheeks from where he lay.

“You’re my girl, I wouldn’t let any harm come to you. You’ll see, you’ll love the Capitol.”

Your answer was given when he wiped away a running tear from your cheek.

“We will turn our back on District 12. The Capitol is our future.”

You nod in the hope of getting him to stop talking. It works, and the silence returns.

He wraps his arms around you as you sleep. You wrap your hand around his dog tags. It felt as if your brother's courage was radiating off it. You would survive Commander Snow.

You wake the next day with Coriolanus’s Commander coat on top of you. Coriolanus sat at his desk writing a letter. His ears pick up on your movement. And he rises himself to see you sit up on the couch.

“Good morning.” he greets, getting up himself.

He flicks the leftover coffee from his cup into his waste bin and refills it from the streaming pot.

You watch him walk over to you with it in his hands.

“Here,” he says, carefully passing you the cup.

“Did they find him?” You take the cup but not a sip.

“No. But they are still searching.”

Your heart bounced up from its anxiety.

“Honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. It was probably a young boy searching for food. I had dinner ready, he could properly smell it.”

Coriolanus begins to pace in front of you.

“I am going to make an example out of him. Make sure everyone in the Districts thinks about starving to death before entering the Compound.”

“A hungry child is no need for alarm.”

“What if he had gotten through the door? These Districts are animals. He would have hurt you.”

Coriolanus cringes at his words, “I didn’t mean you. You are not an animal.”

“Yes, you did.” You rise from the mattress.

“No. I didn’t.” he grits.

“You treat me like an animal. Sit, eat, stay.”

“I don’t want to fight with you.” he dismisses you with a wave of his hand.

You had no interest in arguing with him either. Time was of the essence. You had to get back before the door was fixed and you were locked back up.

He returns to sit at his desk. He had work to do.

“I’ll go home and make breakfast. Bring something back for you.”

Goodbye Coriolanus, you thought.

“No.” he looked at you like you were crazy and you stared back similarly.

“No. You’ll stay here with me until he is caught.” He sits back down at his desk but you remain frozen in the middle of the room, “Or maybe you’ll just stay here forever, seeing as no one in this District seems to have a clue where he is.”

You had thought that the broken door would offer you freedom but it seems to have just caused Coriolanus to tighten his grip.

“I can’t, I have to, I have to-” your panic interrupted your sentence.

“You have to do, what? The dishes?” he mocks, “They can wait until we go home.”

He returned to his work, the conversation was over for him.

“I want to go back and take a shower and-”

He pushes his heavy folder over the edge of his desk.

“I’ve had a District break into the compound, new of which will makes its way back to the Capitol, I’ve got recruits coming and nowhere to put them, and lieutenants who can’t read. I just need you to be perfect today.”

He shuts his eyes and sighs, pausing for a moment. “Please, I just need to know where you are today. That you're safe. If you’re here, you’re not another thing on my mind.”

You wanted to kick and scream but it would only end with a bruised cheek. He wasn’t asking you to stay, he was telling you. District scum were only animals for him to herd. You just so happen to be his favorite sheep.

So you sit back on the couch and he reaches for his work and not your throat. Maybe he would send you to get something. A cup of tea for him, deliver a message, you would take any opportunity.

You lay down on the couch, back under his coat to keep warm, and he goes back to his work.

An hour later, his receptionist appears holding two metal trays of food. He greets her as she enters, and she offers the same back. You don’t exist. She doesn’t look at you once while she is in the room. You pass her as you make your way to the desk. She deliberately checks her red nails.

A gray-looking porridge, a slice of jam toast cut in half, and a cup of broth sat on the tray.

“I can see why you glorify my cooking.”

“I used to eat boiled cabbage and potato peels every day back home. When I came to District 12, I thought these meals were just great. Now I have you, and these meals make my stomach turn.” He pokes at the porridge with his spoon, “You’ve spoiled me.”

“I can still go and make you something.” you offer. The second you were out of view you were going to bolt to the fence.

He shakes his head ‘no’ and you sink into your chair. He felt clingy today, almost as if he could sense your plan to leave him.

“I need a reminder of the dangers of complacency.” He shovels a spoonful into his mouth. You choose half of the jam toast.

“How are you feeling after last night?” he takes the toast from your hand despite having his own in front of him.

“Fine.” You wished he would stop bringing it up.

“I am sorry he got so close.”

“These animals are my people. He wouldn’t have hurt me even if he got in.”

“I told you I wasn’t calling you an animal, and yes, he would have hurt you if he got a chance. You don’t know what people are capable of.”

The whole world is an arena and you are prey, he wanted to say.

“People are good.” you refute, although you are unsure if you believe that anymore.

Coriolanus definitely didn’t believe it. People were animals that needed the threat of violence to keep order. He thought back to a day during the war when he had collapsed in the street with swine flu. No one stopped to help a young child. Only Tigris, sick with the chills herself, picked Coriolanus up and nursed him back to health. He was sure you would too. You had picked up the child with the scraped knee while others walked around him.

“You are good. You are kind. The people around you were using you for their own benefit.”

“And you’re not?” you bite.

“What benefit would that be? A bruised eye? A fight every time I try to connect with you?”

You groan, rubbing your face aggressively with your palms. At this rate, he was likely to throw you in the compound jail. A fight with him would only derail your plans. He said it himself, complacency blinded him.

“I am sorry,” you sigh, “I didn’t sleep well on that couch. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

He reaches across the table to intertwine with your hand.

“It’s okay. Why don’t you finish your breakfast and go lie down again.”

You do finish your breakfast in a comfortable silence. Coriolanus was happy to be apologized to, and you were happy not to further the conversation that would surely turn into a fight.

You lay looking at the roof while Coriolanus tries to be as quiet as he can.

You barely hear him as he works. A stroke of a pen here, a shuffle of a paper there.

You think of Edmund and your mother. They would both be worried sick. But how could you get to them with Coriolanus breathing down your neck? By the time you broke free, would the Peacekeepers have found the hole in the fence?

The phone rang once before he could get to it. He speaks in a low, hush, tone. Seemingly calm he hangs up.

You hear his footsteps as he walks over to you causing you to sit up to see him come into view.

When Coriolanus raises his hand and brings it down upon your cheek with enough force to knock you to the ground, it surprises you.

“Edmund’s hair was found between the hinges of the door.”

He stood above you tall and angry.

“He and his family are nowhere to be found, along with your mother. But I suspect you already knew that.”

He crouches down and takes a harsh hold of your chin, “Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” Your answer earns you another smack to the face.

“I don’t know,” you cry, “I honestly don’t know.”

“Short with long dark hair, you said,” he laughs humorlessly, “I should have known it was him.”

“He came to say goodbye. I wasn’t going to leave, I swear.”

“Why should I believe you? Every chance you get you betray me.” He shoves your head out of his hold.

You shake your head ‘no’, and cautiously test how far he was willing to allow you to get up. You managed to a sitting position on the floor before you saw his body flex. You were level with his face. The proximity puts you on edge.

“He broke the door to say goodbye. You honestly expect me to believe that?”

“I meant what I said in the cabin about one more chance. I wasn’t going to leave. I told him I wasn’t going.”

“Why not tell me that? Why lie?”

“I didn’t want to upset you. Coriolanus, I didn’t betray you.”

“You’re a filthy liar.”

You shake your head ‘no’ frantically.

“Where has he gone to?” he asks again.

“Coriolanus, I wasn't going to betray you. I was going to stay!”

“Where is he!” he shouts in your face.

“I don’t know. Please-”

Your shaky hands take his face between them.

“I wasn't leaving you. I swear.”

He looks at you with soft, unsure eyes. You could tell he wanted to believe you. You just had to push him a bit further.

You bring his head towards your collarbone and he willingly follows, bringing the whole force of his body against you. The weight knocks you down on the floor, where he rests on top. You leave a hand on the back of his neck and the other pressed down on his shoulder blade to keep him there. In this position, you had the power. He positions his body on top of you, his leg over your hip and left arm over your shoulders.

He felt like a little boy pressed against your side. Nevertheless, it was the Commander.

Your face pounds from earlier assaults as a reminder.

You eye the door from where you lay on the floor.

“You were going to leave,” he sounded almost to be crying.

“I wasn’t. I was going to stay.”

“It was a mistake. I am going to find him and hang him up.”

He goes to get up in his anger but you clamp down on your hold.

“I didn’t leave you. Don’t leave me. Stay.”

He breaks free enough to raise his head over you.

“You would have if he got the door open.”

“No.”

“The doors open now. You could leave. I wouldn’t stop you.” He rolls his body off yours and onto the floor beside you.

He seemed earnest. You would at least get a head start. But you couldn’t be fooled by your eagerness.

“Go.” he offers.

You sit up beside him and look at the door. His violent temper made him poor company, but you could control it. Manipulate it until the opportunity arises, where you could get more than a 30-second head start.

“I heard there was a drink in the Capitol that tastes like apple pie.”

“There is,” he replies indifferently.

“Do you think I could try it when we get there?”

He turns his head towards you with a curious gaze.

“It can be the first thing you have.”

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#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth #hunger games #dead dove do not eat #commander snow

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allgoodnamesrgoneee · 1 month

Note

Omgggg I’d love something like angst turned into fluff where Kylian and reader breakup for a while then get back together and before they move to Madrid, she finds out she’s pregnant💗

Rekindled

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — You and Kylian have been broken up for months. Then you get a call from Kylian begging for you to meet him.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Kylian Mbappé x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 3.3k

Warnings! ANGST! They love each other but it hurts, FLUFF

You thought you were over it—over him.

The late-night conversations that lingered like a warm breeze on a summer night, the way his laughter could turn your worst day into something bearable, even the stupid inside jokes that only the two of you found funny.

You told yourself it was just nostalgia, a ghost of what was, not what is.

It had been three months since you and Kylian had parted ways. The breakup was a storm you never saw coming—a whirlwind of emotions, misunderstandings, and words left unsaid. The pain had been unbearable, and even now, the memory of it made your chest tighten.

You had loved him with everything you had, and the loss of him had left a void in your life that nothing seemed to fill.

But life moved on, as it always does. You threw yourself into work, into friends, into anything that could distract you from the ache of his absence. And slowly, ever so slowly, the wound began to heal.

You convinced yourself that you were okay, that you didn’t need him, that you could be happy without him.

You had moved on, or at least that’s what you thought.

Then, out of the blue, he called.

He wanted to talk. To see you. Said he missed you. There was something in his voice—an urgency, a sincerity—that you couldn’t ignore. He was begging, and you had never heard that before. Never heard him so desperate, so broken.

So against your better judgment, you agreed to meet him at the café where you’d had your first date. A place you had avoided for months, afraid that the memories would be too painful.

You chose it. So you couldn't complain.

A small part of you wanted closure where it all started. For him to give you back your heart where he had first stolen it.

You remembered the way he held your hand, the way he looked at you as if you were the only girl in the world, the way he made you laugh.

You took a seat in the same corner you’d occupied that night, waiting for him to show up.

He was late—something he never used to be—but you didn’t mind. You used the time to go over the reasons you were here, the things you wanted to say to him, the things you hoped he’d say to you.

Now, as you waited for him to arrive, doubt gnawed at you. What was the point of reopening old wounds? What could he possibly say that would change anything? Why now?

The sound of the bells ringing pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up, and there he was—Kylian, standing in the doorway, his eyes searching the cafe until they found you.

He walked in, his eyes red. He looked the same, but different. There was a vulnerability in his expression that wasn’t there before—something deeper, more serious.

He walked over to you, his movements measured, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy with the weight of everything that had been left unresolved.

The way he was looking at you, that mix of surprise and something else you couldn’t quite place—was it regret? Or maybe it was just the reflection of your own feelings, mirrored back at you.

You stood there, frozen, as the world around you seemed to blur and fade. It was like someone hit pause on everything except for the two of you. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a reminder of the emotions you’d spent months convincing yourself you no longer felt.

“Hi,” he finally said, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

“Hi,” you replied, barely above a whisper.

He took a seat across from you, his gaze never leaving yours. “Thank you for coming.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say, unsure of what you were even feeling. The emotions inside you were jumbled up, a mess of happiness and sadness, longing and anger.

He started to say something, but you couldn’t hear him over the roaring in your ears. Your brain screamed at you to walk away, to leave before you got sucked back in.

But your feet refused to move, rooted to the spot as if tethered by an invisible string that connected you to him, no matter how much you tried to sever it.

He reached out, placing his hand on top of yours pulling you out of the trance you were in. The touch sent a rush of electricity through your body, and your breath caught in your throat.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice full of emotion as he tried to give you a small smile. One that was so strained it looked like a grimace. He leaned in, his eyes holding yours.

You hadn’t expected that. Not now, when you’d finally begun to heal. Hadn’t expected him to look so broken. The same hazel eyes that used to light up your day now looked dull, the smile that you loved now barely existing on his lips.

He looked lost. And for a moment, your heart hurt for him. You had thought he had moved on, but now you wondered if he was okay. If he was truly happy.

“Kylian,” you said, your voice shaking as you struggled to find the right words. “We can’t do this-”

“Please, just let me say this,” he interrupted, leaning forward, his expression earnest. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even deserve it. But I have to say this, for my sake as well as yours.” He took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. “I'm so sorry. For walking away when I should have fought for you. For us. I regret every word, every second I wasted. Every stupid thing I did to make you hate me.” He stopped, taking another deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the motion.

“I thought I was okay without you,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Thought I could just move on and be fine. But every day without you is worse than the one before. I-” He paused, his eyes burning with an intensity you’d never seen. “I need you, [Y/n]. I can’t live without you. I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but I'm begging you to give me one anyway. Please, baby, please. I miss you.”

Tears pooled in your eyes as your heart broke all over again. His words echoed in your mind, replaying over and over until it became a mantra. He needed you.

Did he?

After it's been three whole months since you've even seen each other. Since you've talked. You wonder why he wants to do this now. After all this time. So you ask.

“Why now, Kylian? Why after all this time?” You tried to keep your voice from shaking. But it was too late.

“Because I couldn’t keep lying to myself,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “You're the love of my life Y/N. Tu es mon trésor le plus précieux. I can't live without you, bébé.”

Every word was a punch to the gut, making it hard to breathe.

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt or hesitation, but all you saw was sincerity. It was the truth, raw and unfiltered.

And you didn't know how to handle it.

Noticing your hesitation, his face fell. “I’m moving to Madrid,” he continued, his tone filled with both hope and fear. “I want you to come with me. I want to start over, to build a life together. But I can’t do it without you.”

His words hung in the air between you, the promise of a new beginning. Could you really do it? Leave everything behind and start fresh? With him?

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if you were ready to forgive him. To give him another chance. But you did know that the love you had for him hadn’t disappeared, not really. It was still there, deep down in your heart, waiting to resurface.

Just as you were about to tell him all of this, your phone buzzed in your pocket, making you jump,breaking the spell that had been cast over the two of you. You pulled it out, looking at the screen as a notification popped up.

As you looked at the screen, your breath caught in your throat.

It was an appointment reminder—the one you had been avoiding, the one you had hoped was just a mistake.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he watched you. “What happened? Is everything okay?” Kylian asked, concern evident in his voice.

You hesitated, unsure if you should tell him.

You took a deep breath and opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You had no idea how to explain, or even if you should.

The phone buzzed again, reminding you that you were running late.

You stood, glancing at Kylian. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

Kylian frowned, his eyes darting to the screen of your phone before returning to yours. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Did I say something? I-” he stopped as you shook your head. “No. You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just—” you trailed off, unsure of what to say.

He rose to his feet, his eyes searching yours. “Let me come with you, please, whatever it is, let me be there for you,” he pleaded, his voice full of concern and desperation. He had never seen you look so distress and knew immediatly that whatever it was that was bothering you, he was ready to face it with you. Fight it for you.

You shook your head, feeling the walls closing in on you. This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. You were supposed to get closure, maybe find some peace. Instead, you felt more tangled up than ever, the strings of your past pulling you in every direction.

Kylian grabbed your wrist, his grip light. “I’m not going to let you run from me, Y/N. Not this time. I love you. Please don’t shut me out again,” he whispered, his voice cracking as his eyes searched yours for something—anything—to hold onto.

The weight of his gaze was unbearable. You wanted to say yes, to let him be there, to tell him that you loved him too. But the words stuck in your throat.

“Please,” he pleaded, his grip tightening, his eyes burning with an intensity you’d never seen. “Please let me help.”

“Okay,” you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper. The word felt like a weight on your tongue, as if the decision to say it had already changed the course of your life. It will.

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he pulled you into a hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his lips pressed against the top of your head as his arms tightened around you.

“Let’s go,” you said, breaking the embrace.

Kylian nodded, his eyes searching yours. “Where are we going?”

You glanced at your phone, the reminder burning into your brain. “The hospital,” you said, tucking your phone into your pocket.

****

The drive was silent, neither of you sure what to say.

Kylian’s hand reached out, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand. You didn’t pull away, and instead allowed him to thread his fingers through yours, the familiar warmth of his touch settling into your bones.

He squeezed your hand, his thumb running over the top of your knuckles. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to ease the tension in the air. Enough to let you breathe a little easier.

When you arrived at the hospital, Kylian followed you into the waiting room, his presence steady at your side. You checked in, and the nurse handed you a cup for a sample.

You stood, Kylian’s hand still wrapped around yours. “I need to go to the bathroom,” you told him, pointing to the door.

He nodded, his face serious. “I’ll be right here when you get back.” He tried to keep a brave face but inside he was panicking. Why were you at the hospital?

He knows how much you despise hospitals, so whatever brought you here must be serious. A bitter memory surfaces—he recalls the time you had a fever of 103 and still stubbornly refused to go. Whatever this is, it’s grave enough to drag you to the place you hate most in the world.

Were you sick?

The thought alone made him want to cry. He couldn't lose you. Not again. Not when he still hadn't gotten the chance to put that ring on your finger. The one he bought four months ago, a few weeks before your breakup.

You headed down the hall, your heart pounding in your chest. The silence in the hospital was almost deafening, as if you were the only person there.

As you passed a window, you stopped, looking at your reflection. You looked tired, worn out. And scared.

You were scared.

This was it. The moment of truth. The one thing you had been avoiding. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

You had to do this.

You pushed into the bathroom, taking a seat on the toilet, and peeing into the cup.

Your hands were shaking as you walked out, the cup clutched tightly in one hand.

Kylian was standing by the nurses' station, his phone in his hand as he texted. He looked up as you walked in, his eyes searching yours. “All good?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he noticed the pee in the cup.

You nodded, handing the cup over to the nurse before walking over to him. “Yeah, it’s fine,” you lied, trying to sound confident.

Kylian frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice dropping low.

You shrugged, looking away. “Yeah,” you said, the word sticking in your throat. “I’m just-" Before you could say anything else , the nurse called your name telling you that the doctor was ready to see you.

You froze, panic seizing your lungs. “Come this way,” she said, gesturing for the both of you to follow her.

She led you down the hall, stopping at a room on the right. She gestured for you to enter. “Have a seat and the doctor will be right in,” she said before disappearing back down the hall.

You sat down, Kylian taking a seat next to you.

Neither of you spoke, the tension between you thick. You looked at him, and his eyes were filled with questions. Ones he didn’t have the courage to ask.

Your mind was racing, a thousand scenarios playing in your head. None of them good.

The door opened a few minutes later, and a man walked in, his white coat billowing behind him. “Good morning,” he said, his smile friendly. “I'm Doctor Frenette.”

Kylian and you both greeted him, the words sounding hollow.

He pulled up a chair, taking a seat across from you. “Miss [Y/n], you're here because of the test you took last week, correct?” he asked, looking at your file.

You nodded, your mouth dry.

Kylian shifted beside you, his hand reaching out and finding yours. “Well, I'm glad to report that it was indeed positive. The sample you just gave us has been tested and confirms the one you took at home. Congratulations!” Dr. Frenette said, smiling at you.

The words hit you like a ton of bricks, stealing your breath. Positive?

You looked at Kylian, who was staring at you. “Positive for what?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “What’s going on, Y/N?”

You felt your heart stop as he turned to the doctor, his eyes searching the other man's face for answers.

Dr. Frenette's smile was still plastered on his face. “Congratulations, Miss [Y/n], you’re pregnant.”

You heard Kylian’s breath catch, and saw the shock written on his face.

Pregnant.

The word echoed in your mind as your world tilted sideways. Pregnant? Was that possible?

It's been months since you had done anything with Kylian. It's the main reason why you refused to believe the home pregnancy test after all. Surely you would notice by now if something was up. Right? It is your body after all. You're supposed to know.

And yet you didn't.

The doctor started talking, telling you something about ultrasounds, appointments, and prenatal vitamins, but you couldn’t focus on what he was saying. All you could hear was Kylian's ragged breaths in your ear. All you could see was him, his eyes fixed on yours as the news sunk in.

You watched as his face changed, the shock turning into something else—something you hadn’t seen before.

He looked… happy.

You felt your own breath catch as he squeezed your hand, a grin stretching across his face. His eyes met yours, and you saw the tears pooling in his eyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Dr. Frenette leave to give you some privacy.

“Pregnant,” he whispered, the word barely audible. His voice was filled with awe, and it shook with emotion. You stared at him, still trying to process the reality of it. Pregnant. The word felt foreign, like it didn’t belong to you. But the look on Kylian’s face, that raw, unfiltered joy—it made the impossible seem real.

Kylian's hand tightened around yours, anchoring you to the moment. “We’re going to have a baby,” he whispered, his voice trembling as if saying it aloud would make it vanish. “Can you believe it? We’re going to be parents.”

You blinked, the room spinning as you tried to steady yourself. Parents. The word sent a wave of fear crashing over you, mingling with the joy in Kylian’s eyes. This wasn’t how you imagined your life would turn out—not here, not now. Not with everything so uncertain between you two.

“Kylian, I—” you started, but your voice faltered. How could you explain the chaos in your heart, the mixture of fear and hope that tangled together, pulling you in different directions?

But he seemed to understand. He always did. His smile softened, and he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “We’ll figure it out. Together. I’m not going anywhere this time, Y/N. I’m here, and I’m not letting you do this alone.”

The sincerity in his voice, the sheer determination—it melted something inside you. Tears welled up, and you let them fall, not even bothering to wipe them away. Kylian reached up, his thumb brushing away a tear from your cheek as he cupped your face in his hands.

“You’re going to be an amazing mom,” he said, his voice full of conviction. “And I’m going to be there every step of the way, I promise.”

His words wrapped around you like a lifeline, grounding you in the storm of emotions. You wanted to believe him, wanted to let go of the doubts and fears that clung to you. But a small voice in the back of your mind kept reminding you of the hurt, of the past mistakes, of the possibility that things might not work out.

But as you looked into Kylian’s eyes, saw the hope, the love, and the unwavering support, you felt a flicker of that same hope ignite within you. Maybe, just maybe, this was your chance to start over. To build something new, something stronger, together.

You took a deep breath, nodding as you placed your hand over his on your cheek. “Okay,” you whispered, the word carrying the weight of your fears and the promise of your future. “We’ll do this together.”

Kylian’s smile widened, and he pulled you into a hug, holding you close as if he’d never let go. And for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

-Bianca🌻

#footballer x reader #kylian fanfic #kylian imagines #kylian x you #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian x reader #kylian mbappe #kylianmbappé

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cattologofpurring · 3 months

Text

Attention! The author of the post has a burning ass and he came to complain.

This concerns the canonical personality of Error Sans. If the character himself said: “I am the destroyer of worlds,” then all the people who have not read the comic begin to make him a Mary Sue!

Fanon Error:

A character with unstable HP. That’s why he is portrayed as immortal, super strong. He is cold to everyone, he truly hates everyone and everything.

Canon Error:

It has an unstable but generally 1 HP. He is stronger than classic Sans only because of the strings! Without them, he is an ordinary Sans, who also has vision problems. The threads only work because of the unexpected. But you can dodge them. Yes, he is strong, but he is just a child who wants to destroy other people's Lego houses.

At the same time, it remains a cute bun with chocolate inside. He knows how to be embarrassed, he does not consider himself crazy. His outlook on life rewrote his last thoughts into anti-voids. He doesn't destroy AU for the sake of balance, he just wants to leave one universe. He enjoys hanging out with Blueberry, but he can't admit it to himself. He is a tsundere towards Underfell. He's not an emotionless monster. He is a weak child with big ambitions. Just why do people use a completely different image of Error...? Canonical Error is more interesting and more elaborate.

With all this, people put him on par with Nightmare and Dream. But no! He won't be able to do anything. Error's strings are twisted blue magic. Neither Dream nor Nightmare are affected by magic. He can destroy Dream's body, but it will recover. He will not be able to break either negative or positive apples. He is an ordinary mortal, albeit with a broken code. The energy of the apples will simply destroy his hand. Best case scenario. I think even Killer, if he is ready for strings, will simply destroy Error in phase 4. Error does not have a stronger reaction. His attacks are no faster. He may not even want to destroy you if you are interesting to him.

I'm not saying that Error is Weak. He may be strong, but he's not super strong. This is his charm. The canonical Error is one of the best characters in Fandom. It’s a pity that almost everyone forgot about him and began to turn him into who knows what.

Phew, thanks for reading! If you have any thoughts on this matter, write in the comments.

@loverofpiggies

@jokublog

@rahafwabas

#undertale #killer sans #killertale #sans #underswap #undertale au #undertale something new #errortale #error sans #nightmare #dream #dreamtale

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oncewhenalongtimeago · 11 months

Note

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.”

#not an exact fill but close enough #no clinginess sorry could not work it in #how to train your dragon #httyd #x reader #fanfiction #toothless #httyd imagine #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #gender neutral reader

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