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In my modern au (such as in every other modern aus in the world) Snotlout's (Gary) father is an asshole, he treats his kid bad and now Gary is starting to feel more and more the pression on his shoulders One day he can no longer keep the mask on
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐝
༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺
Summary: You and Hiccup as best friends. You’re the only one who never doubted him, not about dragons, not about the Night Fury. The boy who trusted you with his dreams.
༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺
There were a thousand ways to be alone on Berk.
You learned them early.
There was the loud kind, being mocked in the training ring, laughed at when your axe missed its mark, dismissed as too small or too soft or too different. And there was the quiet kind, the kind that came when the whole village bustled around you and yet somehow no one truly saw you.
You didn’t mind it most days.
Solitude had weight, but it also had freedom.
And then there was Hiccup Haddock.
He was alone in a way that echoed yours, though his was sharper, more visible. The chief’s son. The village’s disappointment. Too thin, too awkward, too thoughtful in a world that prized muscle and noise.
You noticed him long before anyone else bothered to.
It was the way he lingered on the edges of the training field, pretending to be busy while watching the other teens fight. The way he flinched, not from danger, but from expectation. The way his eyes lit up at ideas no one else cared to hear.
You never thought of him as weak.
You thought of him as quietly brave.
You were there the night everything changed.
The forge was nearly empty, the fire burning low as Gobber muttered to himself and hammered out something vaguely axe-shaped. You were helping clean, because someone always needed help, and because it gave you an excuse to avoid the chaos outside, when the door burst open.
Hiccup nearly tripped over the threshold.
His hair was wild, his clothes scorched and torn, his face streaked with soot, and his eyes were shining like the northern lights.
“I did it,” he breathed.
Gobber didn’t even look up. “If this is another one of yer ‘inventions’, I swear—”
“I shot it down,” Hiccup said, voice trembling. “I actually— I hit it.”
Gobber froze.
You turned slowly.
“Hiccup,” Gobber said carefully, “what did you hit?”
“The Night Fury.”
The words landed heavy and fragile, like glass.
Gobber barked a laugh. “Ohh, you hit a Night Fury, did you?! And I suppose it asked for ya autograph while it was at it?”
Hiccup swallowed. His gaze flicked toward you, not desperate yet, but hopeful. Like he was bracing for the moment the last person would laugh too.
“I’m serious,” he said. “I built a new launcher. I calculated the wind. I tracked its flight path. And I— I fired.”
Gobber shook his head. “No one shoots down a Night Fury, kid.”
You stepped closer.
“I believe him.”
The forge went silent.
Gobber stared at you. “Ya what?”
You didn’t raise your voice. Didn’t dramatize it. You simply met Hiccup’s eyes and repeated it.
“I believe you.”
Hiccup sucked in a sharp breath, like he’d been holding it since the words left his mouth.
“Why?” Gobber demanded.
You shrugged. “Because he wouldn’t lie about something like that. And because if anyone could figure out how to do it… it’d be him.”
Gobber studied Hiccup for a long moment. Then he snorted. “Well, if you’re wrong, you’re both cleaning dragon dung for a month.”
Hiccup didn’t hear him.
He was looking at you like you’d just handed him the sky.
That was the beginning.
From then on, Hiccup told you everything.
His sketches, messy and brilliant, gears overlapping with dragon tail designs and notes scribbled sideways in the margins. His theories about dragon behavior. His quiet fears about his father, about never being enough, about wanting something different from the life Berk demanded.
You listened.
Not just with your ears, but with your attention.
When he snuck out to the woods to find the Night Fury he’d shot down, you followed. You didn’t question him when he said the dragon was still alive. You didn’t recoil when he described its intelligence, its pain, the way it looked at him not with hatred, but fear.
“You’re not scared?” he asked once, voice hushed as you both crouched behind a rock, watching Toothless from afar.
“I am,” you admitted. “But fear isn’t the same as doubt.”
He smiled at that. A small, real one.
You helped him bring fish. Helped him study the dragon’s movements. You stood watch while he worked on the prosthetic tail, passing him tools and steadying his hands when they shook.
When he said, “I think dragons can be more than enemies,” you didn’t argue.
You said, “Then prove it.”
And he did.
The rest of Berk caught up slowly.
There were battles. Losses. Fire and screaming and the Red Death’s shadow blotting out the sky. You fought alongside Hiccup, not as a rider, not as a warrior, but as the person who knew him before the world decided he was worth listening to.
When the Red Death fell, Berk roared.
They lifted Hiccup onto their shoulders. Chanted his name. Finally saw the boy you had always seen.
You watched from the edge of the crowd, pride swelling in your chest so sharp it almost hurt.
He found you eventually.
His hair was singed, his armor dented, his smile bright and disbelieving. “We did it,” he said, breathless.
We, not I.
You smiled back. “You did.”
He shook his head. “No. I couldn’t have without you.”
You believed him.
That was your mistake.
Because heroes grow fast.
And sometimes, the people who helped build them are left standing behind, still holding the blueprints, still remembering the one who whispered dreams in the dark when no one else would listen.
But for now?
For now, you were still his best friend.
Still the one who believed.
And the future hadn’t taken anything from you...
Yet.
Imagine the dragon riders never stopped being mean. Snotlout and the twins just had to stop being so. . . Physical with their bullying. But they’re always capable of making jabs at hiccup, and if Toothless gets mad they can make it seem like he’s the problem.
All of the dragon riders feel a collective jealousy. How did Hiccup, the chiefs runty son, tame a nightfury? How did he get the dragons respect and not someone more deserving of it? Even fishlegs and Astrid are jealous.
Astrid, who’s jealous because hiccup was nothing, but now he’s something. Now, hiccup has a nightfury, and the tribes respect. Astrid loves Hiccup, she would sooner kill anyone who said otherwise, but during Dragon training and the first months when dragons were getting integrated into the village she couldn’t help but feel jealous. She couldn’t name what she was jealous of, sometimes she felt jealous of the dragons taking Hiccups attention, other times she felt jealous of Hiccup himself. All she knew was that at the pit of her stomach, burning jealousy would rise.
Fishlegs, who was previously recognized as the smartest boy on the island. Not hiccup, the apprentice black smith whose crafts rivaled Gobber’s, Fishlegs. Because Hiccup was crazy and deluded whereas Fishlegs wasn’t. But now, Hiccup is “smarter than Fishlegs” knows more than fishlegs about many dragons. He can’t stand it. It’s even worse when Hiccup doesn’t even acknowledge it, acts as if they’re equals. Hiccup and Fishlegs are friends, but fishlegs occasionally feel sharp teeth of jealousy sinking itself in his neck.
Hiccups knows, of course. He has an inkling of an idea, residue of distrust and suspicion from a part of his childhood that’ll haunt his nightmares forever. He isn’t a vengeful person, he doesn’t hold anything against them. “We were young” he reasons to Toothless “people make mistakes” he’ll excuse, Toothless will huff, puff, and stomp his feet but a glare from Hiccup shuts him up. Hiccup will pretend like he believes what he said, that he truly does have such strong conviction in his heart, but on cold dark nights, when old scars itch, burn, and paralyzed him, he allows himself the grace of admitting to himself, “things were fucked up”
Reupload! Medcup :ccc
Poor boy he so small ad he lying this bed ;__; why i am doing this???
Just remember guys stoic lived years thinking the love of his life was gone and now varka has to live the rest of life knowing that he's gone
𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞
a/n: lowercase intended! been in an anime binge lately and am currently watching horimiya. its great honestly, it makes me feel so mushy bc me when !! but also i can kinda relate. sorry this wasnt proofread! if there are any mistakes lmk ;-;
characters: rtte!hiccup x fem!reader
tags: kinda angsty, unrequited (?) pining, intimate touches and moment (nothing nsfw)
word count: 1.5k
if you missed it, here's part one: can i be her?
The road to recovery was slow, and the mending of Hiccup and I's relationship even slower. Although I had forgiven him, there was an undeniable shift in how I acted towards him, whether it was intentional or not.
I had felt guilty about it, of course, but I couldn't force myself to go back to the way things were and pretend nothing had happened. Even more so when I could tell that Hiccup and the other riders picked up on it too.
After that incident however, something else had also changed. As subtle as it was (or tried to be), Hiccup had begun doing things out of his own volition. Small things like the soil in my garden being damp when I wake up, my medicine cabinets tidied and arranged how I liked it after a nap, or even my hut being spick and span, a still-hot plate of food awaiting me on my bedside table when I wake up.
It was strange to be on the receiving end of such actions. I had gotten used to helping the riders more than I had received it in return. So having hiccup do so much for me just because, induced emotions in me that I'm still quite unsure in how to handle.
Ryker’s grip on Dagur’s tunic tightened, pulling him closer before slamming him back against the rough stone wall. The impact sent a fresh wave of agony through Dagur’s shoulder, a sharp spike of pain that made his vision blur.
"Is this what being a Dragon Rider does to someone, Dagur?" Ryker sneered, his voice a low growl. "Turns mighty Berserkers into sniveling, weeping children?!"
He punctuated the last word with a brutal punch to Dagur’s gut. Air exploded from Dagur’s lungs, and he sagged in Ryker’s grasp, a strangled gasp escaping his lips. The hunters snickered, no longer bothering to hide their amusement. Ryker's smirk widened, pleased with the reaction.
"Still got that fire, Berserker?" Ryker delivered another blow, this time to Dagur’s jaw. Dagur’s head snapped to the side, his teeth clanking together painfully. He tasted blood – warm and metallic – on his tongue. He spat, a crimson droplet landing near Ryker’s boot.
"Looks like… you’re still… stinking up the place," Dagur wheezed, forcing the words out, a defiant glint in his bloodshot eyes. "Wouldn’t want to… ruin your… fragrant reputation."
Ryker’s face contorted in a mask of fury. He backhanded Dagur across the face, a cracking sound echoing in the small cell. Dagur’s head slammed against the stone again, and for a moment, stars swam before his eyes. The world tilted. Good. Maybe this is it. Maybe I can just… fade out.
"You think this is a game, Berserker?" Ryker snarled, grabbing a fistful of Dagur’s hair and yanking his head up. "You think your little friends are coming for you? They think you're dead! And even if they didn't, they abandoned you, just like you abandoned your father!"
The words, sharp and venomous, cut deeper than any punch. Dagur flinched, not from the pain, but from the raw wound Ryker had just exposed. His father. The guilt, simmering beneath the surface, erupted into a searing blaze. He deserved this. Every blow. Every taunt. He was a monster. He hadabandoned his father. He had tried to kill Hiccup. He had destroyed Berk.
Ryker, seeing the raw agony in Dagur’s eyes, pressed his advantage. "They're not coming, Dagur. Nobody cares about the 'Berserker Blunder'. You're nothing. You always have been." He threw Dagur back against the wall one last time, letting go of his tunic. Dagur slumped, wrists screaming as the chains took his full weight, his body throbbing with a dull ache that resonated with the ache in his heart.
"Enjoy your stay, Dagur," Ryker sneered, wiping his hands on his tunic as if cleansing himself of Dagur’s touch. "Viggo will be along shortly. And trust me, you'll wish I had killed you."
With a final, contemptuous glance, Ryker turned and exited the cell, the two hunters following quickly behind him. The heavy door clanged shut, plunging Dagur back into the dim, cold silence, broken only by his ragged breathing.
He hung there, suspended by the chains, his body screaming in protest. His jaw throbbed, his ribs ached, and his shoulder felt like it was on fire. But it was the other pain that truly consumed him. The words. Monster. Berserker Blunder. Nobody cares.
He truly was alone. And Shattermaster… If he was dead, it was Dagur’s fault. If he was alive and in Viggo’s hands… that was also Dagur’s fault. He had only ever brought destruction. He had tried to change, wanted to be good. But it was a lie, wasn't it? A pathetic, desperate lie. He was Dagur the Deranged. He was his father’s son, but without his father’s honour. He was barbaric, impulsive, destructive.
Tears, hot and unstoppable, streamed down his bruised face, mixing with the blood from his lip. He choked on a sob that was halfway between a laugh and a cry of despair. He had fallen so far, and there was no one to catch him. No one should catch him. He deserved this. He deserved all of it. He was a weapon, and he had turned that weapon on himself.
dark Rune AU?? YESSIR
this AU is so damn sad, I made myself cry when I was figuring it out LMFAO I might share some lore for it if anyone wants to know more
