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oncewhenalongtimeago · 2 months

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Hello I literally love ur writing style SO much, been binge reading all your httyd stuff and having a blast!!! Ty for being awesome, ur updates always make my day :3

The Jealous One pt 5

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 1848

The Great Hall is always a nice place to frequent when one’s seeking companionship. You are, however, not doing that.

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE

You spoke and acted suddenly with Hiccup and with a wrongness that had made you uneasy for days to follow.

Acting out with Snotlout and the Twins had gone against a lot of your do-good lay-low-and-miserable instincts, which made you momentarily numb to them, in a way.

When you were caught up with them, too busy to think, you ended up doing things in ways you definitely wouldn't have had you been thinking normally. The joy always ended up outweighing any other feelings you might have had on what you did later, but now it was a little different.

You feigned normal, but also you avoided Hiccup a lot, so you weren’t sure how you ended up here.

“-I don’t think that does anything for most dragons,” Fishlegs looked down at Ruffnut, some of his general nervous demeanor melting away in favor of minor exhaustion at her relentless questioning, maybe catching on some, “There are some, but…”

Snotlout was off on the other side of the Hall. Be it far below him to serve. However, he’d lost a very minor bet so he had to go get you guys dinner for the next five weeks.

You weren’t quite sure where Ruffnut was. Busy, probably.

You sighed, slightly rotating the mug you had in hand, slumping down on a nearby bench, giving the off-put Viking a rest. That wasn’t your intention, to put him off, anyways.

Tuffnut chuckled to himself, before dropping down on the opposite bench, cradling Macey over his shoulder.

Fishlegs stood watching you for a moment, before perking up slightly.

You turned your attention away from him, choosing instead to lay your head over your arms on the table. You didn’t care to register anything past that, even as Fishlegs began silent conversation with a new party, someone you barely sensed joined him through the loud hustle and bustle of the hall.

It took a while, but eventually you heard a familiar holler, followed by an exhausted declarative, “Food’s here.”

You lifted your head genially to reveal Snotlout, with a set of four plates balanced on his arm, one balanced between the horns of his helmet. Ruffnut followed closely behind, laughing at him.

“Snotlout!” You cheered.

Ruffnut poked his middle, causing him to nearly fumble your food as he balanced angrily past moving gaggles of Vikings.

“Hey!” He snapped, “Watch it!”

She cackled as a group of running children, followed by Gustav, nearly ran him over.

“Oh, wow,” Came a voice from your left, “Never thought I’d see him do that.”

Your head jerked to reveal Hiccup, standing above you, watching Snotlout with mild amusement, though there was something stiff about him which you thought was very well deserved.

“That’s for sure,” Said Astrid with casualty, revealing herself from behind a set of women carrying two full plates of chicken to one of the larger tables, where clans preferred to sit together.

You grimaced slightly and turned away, leaning back against the meal table behind you, elbows propped against wood.

Then cringed as they eyed each other with mild apprehensiveness from opposite sides of the table, then rolled your eyes and scooted away slightly as you spotted Snotlout, who had finally made his way over, Ruffnut dropping a roll of thick, hastily carved spoons on the surface.

You cringed as they clattered across wood, picking one up and rubbing it with your sleeve.

“You have to get your own food,” Snotlout scoffed at the two plus Fishlegs as he finished unloading plates onto the table.

“Thanks, Snot,” You batted your lashes at him falsely as he gagged, ignoring the odd, caught-off guard look from Hiccup as you glanced back.

You fought the urge to gnash your teeth at him.

“But…” Fishlegs started, staring at the plate that had once previously been on top of his head. But you knew he’d have no luck. As always, Snotlout managed to negotiate himself an extra bit of food on top of his already loaded plate.

You noticed, with glee, that your plate was loaded with a little extra stew than normal. Something Plegma usually only did for the Riders.

“Nice,” You said, somewhat pleased, lifting your brows slightly and grinning from ear-to-ear, slouching back further against the table before taking a small bite.

“Food could be better,” You said snippishly, as you nudged the stew around your bowl with a spoon, resting your mug against the table and tugging it towards you with your other hand.

“Ugh,” Ruffnut rolled her eyes.

“Stick-in-the-mud,” Snotlout agreed, though not with cheer, looking at Tuffnut with a sneer as he scratched himself in the armpit.

You blew a raspberry at them, before frowning.

Maybe you had been grumpy.

You glared at Hiccup from the corner of your eye, a move that might look coy on someone else, though you personally just felt a little bit queasy, as if a horde of bugs had started buzzing up and down your intestines, angry as you.

What had happened- you weren’t sure it was even an argument -maybe it was- but you could have gotten over it, maybe. Going over it with Tuffnut, though, had broken something in you that you hadn’t realized you’d been building back up hanging out with one half of the Riders.

You sighed shakingly, as you finished another swallow, bringing your mug down genially. It settled on to the table by your side with a simple clack, before pushing off against the table, swinging your legs over the side.

You felt the tension in your chest release as you moved across the hall, not expecting anyone to follow.

You weaved through the throng of the Great Hall clumsily, though not without experience. One hand held your elbow, the other the handle on your mug.

Your goal was, of course, to refill your cup, though that also had the slight upside of taking you away from the Riders.

You’d gotten sick of watching them all talk together, and to be honest, you were feeling a little out of place.

People milled by, momentary, uninterested onlookers to your conversation, by the side of a lunch table; a sturdy, tall woman with red hair piled up into a huge knot, a man in a helmet with four horns knocking people aside with his elbows, large trays in hand.

A lady with a shawl passed by, covered in the skulls of small animals swept by, nearly knocking you in the head with a wooden tray, speaking loudly to someone on her other side.

Looking back, you couldn’t help thinking about how you would have loved this if you’d been just a few years younger.

Sure, you were only friends with a few of them, but-even if you weren’t at the forefront of the crowd, you always imagined you’d feel like the girl of the hour. Maybe it would have been better because of it. Sure, you were living on a small rock island in the middle of nowhere, constantly showered on by torrents of hellfire and bloodshed, but you had Hiccup.

The Riders were his dream, so being ditched felt like he was telling you to kick rocks. Like he wanted you to feel miserable. Deep down thought, you’d wanted his dream- You’d wanted to be there too.

You’d had Hiccup in those daydreams, those dreams within dreams, casual and there and real enough like goats milk on skin, like falling asleep with hands carding through your hair after a long day.

You were incensed. You wanted to cry and yell, but you also felt terrible. The feeling built high in your stomach.

You wondered if anyone else took notice.

You had never quite spent time with all of the Riders at once, and were quite adverse to the idea. The more you thought about it, the more you were even less inclined to stay than before.

You paused at the brush of a palm over your shoulder, loose and without any sort of grip, yet feeling enough for you to take notice, stopping suddenly.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood. If you’d had hackles, they would have been raised.

“Hey, wait, where are you going?” It was a bit difficult to hear over the rabble, the crowd around you built up by voices much stronger than his or yours with personality and enthusiasm, yet you were able to make it out, a voice you knew by heart all the same.

Hiccup.

You turned and reached behind you, feeling the edge of a table bump into your rear. You leaned against it, racing your hand down slightly behind you to brace and dust over its surface.

The grain of the table was lumpy under your fingers yet smoothes by years of use and the grazing passes of many other hands.

“Why do you care?” You grumbled, arms falling loosely from their cross. You were nearly surprised when he heard you after.

“Why do I care?” Hiccup shook his head, “...What’s going on?”

You nearly missed the last bit, his voice nearly drowned out by the shout of someone two tables over. It was quite difficult to hold up an argument in the middle of a crowd, it seemed.

“Nothing,” You said, in lieu of an explanation, irritation spiking in your gut.

“It’s not.”

At that moment, the large arm of a blonde man nearly pushed him onto the table aside.

You fought down the urge to smile, looking down and feeling pretty malicious.

On the floor, you were greeted by a half-eaten leg of meat lay bitten into and discarded a few lengths away from you, a puddle of what was either stew or something you didn’t want to think about just further ahead.

You grimaced and scuffed a single loose boot toe into the Great Hall stone, annoyed, not surprised at all when it slid smoothly against the surface.

“What are you getting at?” You asked antagonistically. You felt stupid, dancing around him, mostly because you didn’t want to be talking to him at all.

Was it arrogant for you to want to get away? Was this conversation penance, punishment for your earlier outburst?

You couldn’t help but wax poetically about it in your head.

“What am I-?” That seemed to do it -tick him off, that is.

“I can’t really read that mind of yours, genius.”

“Maybe if you stopped spending so much time with Snotlout-” Hiccup stepped forwards.

You snapped, gritting your teeth and stepping closer, feeling your nails dig into your palms through the fabric of your skirts, clutched in your hands, “What’s your deal been?! I’m friends with Snotlout. What’s the big deal?!”

“I-...” He started, looking frustrated, though his eyes darted to the side slightly, “I just-”

“Gods,” You grit your jaw, bringing your hands to your head, not flinching when a few drops of mead spilled out the other end of your mug.

You didn’t show it, but you felt terrible.

You hated the way his brows tilted, the momentary expression of grief on his face- yet you just wanted him to leave you alone.

#wanted to give some writing for this ask #httyd #it made me happy #thank you #how to train your dragon #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #fem reader #female reader #toothless

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snapeaddict · 2 years

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Snapetober day 17 - Dessert

‘Eat'.

'My Lord...'

'Eat'.

Severus lowered his gaze. His arms and hands were shaking too much, he tried to steady them - it was too late. With a grin, the Dark Lord extended his bony hand towards the plate and retrieved whatever awful substance had been placed on it. He brutally shoved it down Severus' throat, making sure to choke him in the process, placing his hand on both his mouth and nose to make sure he swallowed. The taste was vile. Severus could tell he has been fed a potion, a poison certainly; it was only minutes before he fell on his knees, gritting his teeth under sudden combined waves of nausea and stomach cramps.

The Dark Lord grinned once more, retrieving a chair from the table and placing it right in front of the fallen man. He sat there serenely, crossing his legs.

'Don't you dare vomit, Severus.'

'Albus, the boy is starving himself.'

'Poppy -'

'I don't mean this only as a figure of speech this time, headmaster.'

The old man sighed.

'I know. I promise you I am doing everything I can to make Severus feel better. But I cannot make him forget... Unpleasant experiences. His body won’t let him either.’

It had been a week, and the boy could not even look at food. He had not said much. There had only been the usual terrible, haunting smile on his face when he had woken up - and then, when Poppy had brought him dinner, he had been violently sick. Albus had asked him to speak to him; Severus had simply turned his back on him, staring absently at the floor.

'I have told you every bit of useful information', he had told him flatly, 'as for the rest, it is my business and my business only'.

Some would have said that refusing to talk about what had happened was not healthy, that he needed to confide in someone, to let it out. But Albus knew what was at stake here. Control. He was no fool: he was aware Severus' agency wasn't his own, and it never really had been. The man was always made to talk in one way or another - his privacy was all he had left.

So Albus had left the room, leaving the boy to rest.

But a week later he had not eaten anything besides strengthening potions, and the headmaster was worried the boy would injure himself while brewing, or worse.

But what could he do?

'Really, Minerva, if it were so urgent, I am sure the headmaster would have come down to see me directly.'

'Come on, Severus. I did not interrupt anything, did I? So there is no reason not to come'.

'I am busy'.

'You were sitting in an armchair with neither light nor heat'.

'We all meditate in different ways'.

The Gryffindor rolled her eyes.

'After you'.

'Merlin, Albus, that is a disaster'.

There was no question the scene was hilarious. The headmaster was standing in the middle of what must have been a kitchen - both Minerva and Severus of course knew it was his kitchen, but we'll hold on to uncertainty for the sake of emphasis - a kitchen that looked like a proper shipwreck. There were piles of plates and casseroles, dirty bowls here and there, food packages half empty; as for the actual cooking, it looked like sugar and flour had been used to paint the walls and headmaster's robes in a white, uneven colour. Albus looked mortified.

'The biscuit is flat', he said, opening the oven with an air of absolute defeat.

Severus advanced and hurriedly closed the oven, almost startling Minerva.

'You do not open an oven while baking a cake, Albus!' he said, increasing the temperature. 'And what is this? Headmaster - you must never stop to whip the pastry cream! That is basic chemistry!'

Minerva chuckled. 'Albus, you once burnt pasta in front of me. This all seems very advanced for you.'

'It was for a good cause', Albus replied apologetically (and with a hint of malice), smiling as he watched Severus putting every dirty dish in the sink and washing them with a flicker of his wand. His own lab was always immaculate.

'I know exactly what you are doing, Albus' Severus said, his back still turned on them. He was whipping the pastry cream vigorously.

'I never said you didn't', the headmaster replied innocently. 'The coconut cream is on your left.'

Minerva sat down beside the kitchen table, folding her arms with an air of absolute delight. This was better than muggle comedies, without a shadow of a doubt. A Louis de Funès kind of comedy.

'Pass the spoon - the spoon, Albus'.

'This is terrible. This is an outrage. I don't even know what I am doing here.'

'There is flour all over your shoes.'

'Didn't I tell you to put it back on the shelf?'

'It is back on the shelf.'

'Ah yes. Some of it happens to be on the floor as well.'

'My wrist hurts.'

'And yet two years ago you asked me to make one batch of wolfsbane a week. Pass the cream.'

'I told you, my wrist hurts.'

'That cream is at room temperature, Albus. Your crème diplomate will never rise'.

Severus cut the cake open.

'What is it you attempted to do, Albus?' Minerva finally asked, looking doubtful as both men filled the cake with cream.

'I trust this was supposed to be a tropézienne pie, wasn't it?' said Severus, sitting down beside her, looking drained. 'I need a drink'.

'Not on an empty stomach' Albus said joyfully, putting the cake before them and decorating it with sugar pearls.

The cake looked miserable. It was flat, but Severus had succeeded in cutting it evenly; however the crème diplomate, which had not risen, was escaping on all sides of the cake, almost making it look like an enormous dish of floating island. There was a long silence between the three of them.

'All I can say is that the cream will taste good' Severus finally said, aware that Minerva was trying hard not to burst into laughter.

It was indeed hard not to be amused, for the headmaster, far from sharing his colleagues' open scepticism, was looking proudly at his cake, definitely convinced that things could have been much worse.

Minerva cut out three pieces - well, there was biscuit, and then a few spoonfuls of cream on top of it, and then the pearl sugar that had fallen on the table in the process.

Albus watched anxiously as Severus looked down at his plate while Minerva, putting down the platter, pretended to busy herself with the soggy biscuit.

Severus frowned, considering the cake critically. It was indeed a disaster: it looked childish, almost a work of abstract art, the plate was of course excessively colourful, the silver spoon had an eccentric handle, the whole thing was yellow and beige.

What was certain, though, was that this looked nothing like the Dark Lord's meal of choice.

He took a small mouthful, and did not get paler.

Then, slowly, quite enjoying the power he held over the room at this very moment, he declared: 'it is actually not bad at all'.

Albus smiled brightly. The cream was, indeed, a delight.

#From the details you can guess the tropézienne disaster is a true and recent story #Except everything was perfect but my country doesn't know how to make plant-based cream that rise and it never rose though all instructions #were followed to the letter #It was really good #but miserable looking #next time I'll tell you about my croissants #Excellent and flat as hell #I should stick to the things I know #Anyway #Have this #it made me happy #I'm super lonely here and I found out this gives me serotonin again!#snapetober2022 #snapetober #pro snape #severus snape #albus dumbledore #minerva mcgonagall

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