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As much as Hiccup enjoys the unexpected and sudden attention from his girlfriend, he can’t help but notice something’s off.
Sure, it’s not completely unusual for Astrid to shower Hiccup in complete adoration, but lately it’s been incessant. And it takes him by surprise every single time. Of course, the spotlight is far from irritating; even being near her general vicinity makes butterflies flutter around in his gut and reduces his mind to nothing but a sugar-spinned snarl.
Maybe he’s being paranoid. She does love him a lot, and he loves her just as much if not more. No harm in revelling in a couple extra cheek kisses while he’s tinkering away at his latest passion project, or cherishing spontaneous hugs throughout the day.
Yeah, it’s just his paranoia. No sweat.
——
Hiccup flexes his fingers to alleviate the cramps in his palm and wrists, wincing as he shakes his aching hands. He cracks his knuckles and neck, pops his spine, takes a swig of water from his bottle, then begins working again.
At the peak of the afternoon, the Edge is quiet; the twins are probably out destroying concerning amounts of forestry, Fishlegs tending to his zen garden, Snotlout napping in his hut, and Astrid training with Stormfly. The perfect time to hunker down at his desk and work away the new tail fin he’s making for Toothless.
He smooths the crisp leather, feeling its roughness against his calloused hands, then rummages through his desk drawer for thread. In the corner of his room, Toothless chirps softly, clearly dreaming about something pleasant as he snores peacefully.
If he manages to finish all the sewing in an hour, he’ll be able to take it for a test flight by tomorrow morning, he deduces. This fin is supposed to help Toothless make smoother turns while going at lightning-high speeds, something his old design was lacking in.
After allotting an adequate amount of thread for himself, he pulls a needle from his pin cushion and attempts to swiftly stick it through the tiny eye. The slight tremble in his weary hands doesn’t help whatsoever, and he squints to try and get it through. Maybe he should invest in a needle threader, or perhaps a needle with a bigger eye. As he oh-so carefully manages to line up the thread to the slit, he prepares to push it through.
“Hi, honey,” Astrid gleams, her breath hot on the shell of his ear.
Hiccup jerks, yelping in surprise as he bangs his knee against the bottom of the table. The needle goes flying, and the thread slips from his once-steady fingers. “Astrid!” he scolds, and she erupts in a fit of giggles before showering him in a rainfall of kisses.
“Sorry,” she says, although she doesn’t sound apologetic whatsoever.
The butterflies return to his stomach when she trails down to the crook of his neck, not sparing any mercy as her tongue and teeth dance along his olive skin. A shudder runs up his spine, electrifying his senses and short-circuiting his brain. Before long, he breaks the silence to shake her and the undeniable heat rising to his head off. “O-okay, okay. Guessing you missed me much?”
“You could say that,” she simpers, ceasing her attacks with a final peck.
Hiccup stares at his girlfriend, his girl , the prettiest woman to ever grace this Earth, a goddess fallen from her throne in Valhalla, a valiant warrior carved from the finest marble. Any mortal would yearn to be wrapped in her warm embrace, to weave daisies and dandelions into her primped braid in a sunny field, to fall asleep hand-in-hand beneath the starry night sky. He was blessed with that privilege, so surely it means something, knowing he is no friend of Luck.
She doesn’t speak again like Hiccup expects her to: instead blinks at him once– then twice. She smiles, grants him one last parting kiss, and dashes out of his hut.
Dazed, he sits there dumbfoundedly, the ruddy paint strokes spread across his cheeks creeping down to his neck. Oh, how he loves this girl.
–––
The cool daybreak wind feels like a refreshing dip in the ocean as Hiccup slices through it easily as if it were the softest yak butter. “C’mon, bud!” he hollers, and Toothless warbles excitedly in response. Nothing like a leisurely flight to start the day.
Well, it was meant to be a leisurely flight, before Astrid decided to join him. Naturally, it turned into a race around the designated course around the Edge. Toothless was fast, though Stormfly was just shy behind him, and with Astrid’s determination and encouragement, on occasion they’d catch Hiccup off guard and snag first place.
Together, their competitive nature only increased tenfold, and today was not a losing day for Hiccup.
“Better catch up, Hiccup!” he hears Astrid yell not far ahead, a familiar, playful lilt in her tone.
He grips his reins and pats Toothless’s neck, grinning slyly. “You heard her, bud. Let’s show them what we’re made of.”
The forest is nothing but a mild inconvenience, for they navigate nimbly around the pine trees with ease. They burst through the canopy of foliage and into the amber-hued sunlight, spotting the turquoise Deadly Nadder in the distance. Toothless accelerates, bringing him just behind the dragon and her rider.
“Hey, Astrid,” he says cooly, maintaining his nonchalant composure when Astrid’s neutral expression turns to one of surprise.
“Hiccup,” she responds, quickly mirroring the smile upturning his lips, “fancy seeing you here.” Suddenly, she speeds off, and he follows in pursuit.
They descend to the glittering water surface, which is technically off course, but nevertheless a pleasant detour. A drizzle of droplets spatters around them as they glide mere centimetres away from the ocean surface. Hiccup floats beside Astrid, both of them laughing and attempting to guide the salty spray towards the other. The sight of the girl of his dreams, so mirthful and full of life in the dazzling aurora, is enough to throw him off guard and allow her to reclaim the lead.
“See you!” she exclaims, Stormfly carrying them to victory. The dragon disappears over the cliff’s precipice, and her cheers echo through the lethargic, dawn atmosphere. Her victory is secured, it seems.
He chuckles, allowing her a brief moment of faux triumph before zipping up the cliff, over the huts (of course, passing Astrid with a wink), and landing right on the training arena’s roof with a thud , thus ending the race.
“Seems you have been bested yet again by none other than, yours truly, Hiccup Haddock!” he proclaims, bowing as if there were a vast crowd applauding him when his girlfriend nears, still airborne. Toothless burbles in assent, which earns him a few neck scratches.
“Pure luck,” she insists, but she can’t contain the smile that creeps onto her face.
“Oh, what’s that? Is that my, what? Third win of this week? I’m on a streak! Oh Thor, someone contain this maniac!” he gloats, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest when Astrid laughs.
After their peals of thrill subside, she sighs. “You looked really handsome in the sun, by the way.”
Hiccup freezes. “What?”
“You. Handsome. Very , very, handsome,” she drawls, landing Stormfly and sliding off her saddle to nuzzle the chirping dragon’s head. “Am I speaking in a language you understand now?”
“Oh.” The sudden compliment makes his cheeks feel hot, especially considering the fact that he was focused on how pretty she looked. Toothless floats down to Stormfly, allowing his rider to dismount before running off to play with the sea-green dragon. “W-well, I think you looked very pretty too.”
She steps in front of him, scrutinizing his facial features. The added attention only makes Hiccup feel more flustered, and he nearly jolts when she reaches to toy with one of the little braids peeking from his auburn curls. “You know,” she says as he feels like a kettle about to squeal, “you’re no good at hiding your blush.”
Her brash comment only makes roses bloom across his cheekbones, and he instinctively brings a hand up to cover a portion of his face. “I… you- uh-”
Astrid’s lips taste like honey and wild berries, a flavour he could get drunk on for the rest of eternity. Hiccup feels like he’s floating when she tugs his hair, eliciting a little mewl from his mouth which she drinks up immediately. Right as he presses in for more, she separates, head tilted and eyes glinting with mischief. He gazes into her eyes, wishing to see into her mind and dive head-first into her deepest thoughts, her desires, her fears, her everything , but her pupils are focused elsewhere.
With a wake-up call like that, who needs coffee?
––––
It’s official, Hiccup deduces, his girlfriend is trying to kill him. Of course, not literally, but it sure does feel like it.
He’s noticed a pattern: peace, tranquility, pure and utter silence. Then a sudden flirty action, whether a snarky comment or brazen action, that comes from a complete left field. Next, he’s left feeling flustered and stunned no matter how many Thor-forsaken times it happens, and Astrid goads him on before finally ripping it all away from him. She dangles the temptation between his eyes like a piece of steak in front of a starving wolf with its snout muzzled shut.
And each time she leaves him in the dark, he’s too starstruck to chase after the fleeting frisson leaving his body and brain like a dying firecracker sputtering before fading to silence. What on Earth is she planning? Whatever it is, Hiccup absolutely cannot take it anymore. If he has to sit through one more tempting tease or risqué advance, he’s going to explode into a million pieces.
So, naturally, he feels a sense of victory as they sit on Astrid’s bed, lazily making out, as if he’d beat her at her own game. Finally, he’s getting what he wants, sating the voracious beast in his mind that craves for more.
“Wait,” she utters, gasping for air, “gimme a sec.”
He complies, hands tracing circles in her hips as she gulps down lungfuls of refreshing air. Their chests rise and fall in synchrony, and his lower legs are beginning to tingle and ache with the weight of Astrid sitting on his thighs. Blinking like an eager dragonet, he waits for her permission to continue.
“Take your time,” he hums, eyes trailing up her brawny, warrior-like frame. He takes note of all the beauty marks, the blemishes, and little imperfections dotting her skin. One day, he wishes to map out the entirety of her, taking in all the miniscule details only for his eyes.
“Okay,” she exhales, undoing her braid. The once neatly-packed strands fall apart like felled trees tumbling to the forest floor. Hiccup’s heart flips once or twice knowing he’s the only person who gets to see her with her hair down; it just further reminds him how special and significant their dynamic really is.
He quickly perks up, knowing she’s ready, but is abruptly paused by a hand flat on his chest.
“Wait,” Astrid murmurs, voice suddenly careful and hushed. “Let me try something.”
Lost in his hazy state of mind, he quickly obliges, leaning against the headboard and presenting himself to her mercy. As she leans in and he catches sight of trademark twinkle in her eye, it clicks. He’s fallen right into the palm of her hands. Again.
Butterfly-light kisses trail down his neck, leaving pink and lavender carnations in its wake. Before he can even speak, his mind melts like taffy; words coming out like jagged stones, awkward and incoherent. Is he dreaming? He must be. It should be a sin to feel like this, too good to be real. Emotions raw and untethered, breath quickening and heart hammering as if he’d run a marathon.
“Is this okay?” her voice comes, words laced with a sweet venom. A cruel kindness that only makes his insatiable desire scream for more .
Calloused hands tighten their grip around her waist when nips prick his skin, as if grounding the body they’re attached to. “Yes,” he breathes, head angled to the welkin above. His eyes flutter shut, blocking out the tumultuous world around him. How wonderful it feels when all you know is nothing more than pearly-white magnolias and hedonistic pleasures. He cranes his neck, allowing the angel atop his legs to leave a mural of crimson and lilac blotches along his pristine, unmarked canvas.
She reaches for him, a luminous being made of stardust and tears, hand extended in a silent beckon of “ follow me .” Like a beam of hope in the night gloom, the candle light of solace in an abyss, the angel radiates with the promise of opulence. Extending his hands, the angel’s fingertips grazing his own, and–
Nothing.
His pliant body plunges back into reality like freezing-cold water, jostling his senses back to life. When he’s come to his senses, Astrid’s grinning curiously, head cocked and soaking in his bemused expression.
“Astrid, you’re killing me,” he confesses, exasperated. The ghost of her lips brushes his skin, and a subtle shudder ripples through his body.
“That’s kinda the point,” she states plainly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the entire world. Her fingers trace up his bruised neck, coming to twirl an auburn lock of hair.
His eyes narrow skeptically. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing,” she smiles deceitfully, “nothing at all.”
All the pressure building up inside him over the past two – excruciatingly-long – weeks, explodes like a volcano teeming with bubbling lava, pouring over the edges and ravaging everything around it. “Be honest with me, Astrid,” he retorts, “I’m not oblivious. And frankly, it’s been plain torture letting you throw me around however you please.”
The fingers in his hair delicately move to his cheek, before a palm replaces its spot. He’s stunned, a confusing amalgamation of perplexion, frustration, and fluster pumping through his veins like they’re the only things keeping him alive. As Astrid cups the side of his face, her thumb runs over his mouth, starting at his Cupid’s bow and finishing with a tugging at his bottom lip.
“When I catch you off guard while you’re focused,” she begins, eyes trained on his lips, “you get all jittery and flustered.”
Immediately, he flushes. What in Thor’s name is she talking about?
“When I compliment you, the tips of your ears turn red.” Hiccup might be hallucinating the halo framing her perfect head. “You practically melt in my hands like warm caramel.”
His hands have fallen to his sides, too stunned to even move in fear of shattering the foggy haze surrounding them. “When I whisper something into your ear, your face lights up in the colour of Slitherwing scales.”
He barely registers the pressing sensation in the crook of his neck and the coolness replacing her hand on his face. It prods at the lovebites, causing him to wince in discomfort. His breath hitches when she leans in, a sly, pleased expression paints her face in the dim light illuminating her room.
“And when I kiss you here ,” she whispers, voice like the sweetest symphony to his ears, “your body feels like it just went up in flames.”
The angel bats her lashes as if she didn’t just say the most insane thing in the world.
For Thor’s sake .
His brain scrambles to corral a witty remark, or a snarky quip, or anything , but his tongue runs drier than a desert, and he feels like a feeble mortal standing at the feet of a divine goddess. “S-so all this time, you were just…”
“…using you as a test subject of sorts?” she says, finishing his sentence when he struggles to. “Guess so. There’s a lot of things I never knew about you, y’know.”
A bewildered noise escapes his mouth, and he can’t help but laugh at how ludicrous his situation is. “You are truly something else, Astrid.”
“You as well, Hiccup Haddock,” she smiles, leaning in for another kiss. This time, it’s sweet, chaste, stemming from purity and sincerity. “You as well.”