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Hiccup was well aware that he was being cheeky. But honestly, could anyone really blame him? He had a plan, and it was a good plan. The hunters were distracted, fumbling over their wrecked ships like angry, clumsy crabs trying to patch up holes in a sinking shell. Two dragons still chained, just waiting for a rescue, and the Riders were sitting up here on the cliff talking about "too risky" and "better wait it out."
Wait it out? Wait it out?! He could practically hear those dragons crying for help. How could he just sit still?
If only his stubborn, overly protective, impossibly difficult friends would just listen.
And, well, Hiccup might not have the biceps of Snotlout, or the intimidation factor of Astrid, or the sheer chaotic menace of the twins, but what he did have was… an ace up his sleeve. A devastating weapon. A trick so unfair, so manipulative, it should probably be outlawed.
He turned to face them, took a deep breath, and unleashed it.
The Eyes™.
He widened them until they practically sparkled, lashes fluttering like he’d rehearsed this in a mirror (not that he would admit to it), his lips pouting just slightly, the perfect picture of tiny, innocent pleading. He even hunched his shoulders in, making himself look smaller, more pathetic. The finishing touch? A soft little, "…Please?"
The reaction was instantaneous.
A chorus of groans filled the air, like he’d just stabbed them all in the heart and twisted. Ruffnut flung her head back dramatically. Tuffnut slapped both hands to his face like he was shielding himself from the sun. Fishlegs audibly squeaked. Astrid pinched the bridge of her nose. And Snotlout? Snotlout muttered something that suspiciously sounded like, "Why does this always work?!"
Astrid sighed the sigh of someone who’d already given in but wanted it on record that she had resisted first. "I swear to Thor, Hiccup. You cannot keep doing that."
Hiccup, of course, beamed at her with the most innocent smile he could muster. The kind that very clearly said: Yes, I can. And I will.
And just like that, they were swooping down on their dragons, scattering hunters like sheepdogs with wings, freeing the last two dragons before the hunters even knew what hit them.
The raid was over in minutes. Dragons freed, hunters scrambling, ships smoking. A perfect success.
The Riders regrouped mid-air, but instead of congratulating themselves, every single one of them turned to look at Hiccup. Their supposedly fearless leader. Their supposedly serious chief-in-training. Currently grinning at them like the cheeky menace he absolutely was.
"Unbelievable," Snotlout muttered darkly. "We are actual warriors. Trained dragon riders. We fight battles, we face danger every single day. And yet one pair of big green eyes and we’re toast."
"I don’t even know how to say no to that look," Fishlegs grumbled, still pink in the face. "Like, do you just look him in the eye and say no? That feels like kicking a puppy!"
"Exactly," Ruffnut said, throwing her hands up. "It’s criminal! He weaponized cuteness. He’s literally a criminal."
"Wait," Tuffnut gasped, eyes wide. "Does this mean we’re… accomplices?"
"Pretty sure it means we’re victims," Astrid deadpanned, though the corner of her mouth twitched, threatening to betray her.
And Hiccup? He just laughed. Full, unashamed, boyish laughter that made the others groan even louder because—really? He knew. He knew what he was doing, and he was enjoying every second of it.
Because the truth was, somewhere along the line, their awkward, scrawny, little-too-big-for-his-boots friend had… changed. Puberty had apparently tripped over itself to bless him. The cheekbones, the jawline, the hair that always managed to catch the sunlight at the exact right angle—it was ridiculous. He didn’t even need royal clothes. Put him in some half-decent armor, give him a dramatic wind, and he could probably pass for some prince out of a saga.
And the worst part? He wasn’t oblivious. Not even close. He knew. He absolutely knew. And he wielded it like a sharpened blade, turning his own friends into helpless, flustered puddles with one tilt of his head.
The Riders exchanged looks, every single one of them silently swearing to finally build immunity. To resist. To not fall victim next time.
But then Hiccup shot them another grin, sunlight catching his stupid auburn hair, freckles glowing like some painter had gone overboard, and—
Yeah. They were doomed.
Forever.
If the terrifying Grimborn brothers could crumble under Hiccup’s charm, then what chance did they have?
None. Absolutely none.
They all swore, right then and there, that they were going to resist next time. They weren’t going to fall for it again. They were dragon riders, for Thor’s sake, not a gaggle of blushing, stammering villagers at the sight of Berk’s Chief’s son smiling too brightly.
And yet…
It happened first with Astrid.
They were scouting the coastline when Hiccup, naturally, wanted to push further into a cave system that looked extremely unstable. Astrid immediately crossed her arms and shook her head.
“No, Hiccup. Absolutely not. Those rocks are loose, the whole thing could collapse. We’re not going in.”
Hiccup tilted his head, lips pursing into a small pout, and blinked up at her. “But… don’t you want to make sure no dragons are stuck inside?”
Astrid steeled herself. She steeled herself. “I—No. No. Stop that. You can’t—”
Then he widened his eyes just slightly, freckles standing out against his pale skin, and murmured, “Please, Astrid?”
Her shoulders sagged like someone had cut her strings. She groaned into her hands. “Ugh, fine. But if this collapses, you’re explaining it to Stoick!”
Hiccup’s grin? Radiant. Astrid’s soul? Doomed.
Snotlout’s downfall came during training.
He had been basking in the glory of showing off a new axe move when Hiccup dared to suggest that, maybe, he should “work on control before flair.”
“Excuse me?!” Snotlout barked, puffing his chest. “Control? I’ve got control! Look at these arms! Control for days!”
Hiccup tilted his head at him, blinking those ridiculously wide green eyes, putting on that innocent little half-smile that he knew drove people crazy. He even clasped his hands behind his back like he was five again.
“Do it again?” he asked, voice all soft and sweet.
Snotlout froze like he’d just been ambushed. “I—uh—well, I don’t have to do anything just because you—” He cut himself off, groaning. “Ugh, fine! But only because you asked nicely, cousin!”
And then he went at it again, hacking the air like a man possessed, while the others muffled their giggles behind their hands.
Snotlout: utterly defeated.
Fishlegs thought he could intellectualize his way through it.
Hiccup wanted to check a nest dangerously close to hunter territory. Fishlegs immediately launched into statistics.
“Actually, if you calculate the probability of running into them based on their patrol routes, the risk ratio is astronomically higher than last week. Scientifically speaking, this is a terrible idea.”
Hiccup clasped his hands together, leaned forward, and whispered, “But it’ll be quick. You’ll keep me safe, won’t you, Fishlegs?”
Fishlegs froze. His entire face turned red. “I—uh—well—scientifically, that’s, uh, technically—well, fine, but only for a moment! Only because… because you asked.”
Fishlegs’ brain: fried.
Ruffnut was the loudest about resisting.
“Listen here, Freckles,” she warned, wagging a finger at him, “that trick doesn’t work on me. I am immune. I laugh in the face of cuteness!”
“Really?” Hiccup asked softly, tilting his head. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, freckles glowing under the sun.
Ruffnut blinked. Her jaw slackened. “…Okay, wow, that’s unfair. You’re cheating. I said I was immune!”
“Then no helping me with this?” Hiccup asked, bottom lip jutting out just a little.
Ruffnut groaned so loudly it startled Barf. “Fiiine, but only because I hate myself right now.”
Immune, huh? Not even close.
Tuffnut decided he’d out-weird Hiccup.
When Hiccup asked for help cataloguing dragon behaviors, Tuffnut said, “No way! That’s boring. My heart is a rock, Hiccup. A rock! Unmovable!”
Hiccup tilted his head, eyes big, smile small. “…Please?”
Tuffnut shrieked, throwing his arms in the air. “AAAAH! Not the eyes! Anything but the eyes! Fine, I’ll help, but only if I can write it in interpretive poetry form!”
“Deal,” Hiccup said, grinning.
Tuffnut sighed dramatically, clutching his chest. “Curse your powers, oh tiny freckled demon.”
Even Toothless tried to resist.
When Hiccup wanted to fly into storm clouds (again), Toothless firmly planted himself on the ground, tail smacking the dirt.
“No, bud, come on, it’ll be fun,” Hiccup coaxed. Toothless huffed and looked away.
Then Hiccup crouched down, tilted his head, and gave him the same wide-eyed pout he used on the Riders. “…Please, Toothless?”
The Night Fury froze. His pupils dilated. He made a strangled sound, like a cross between a growl and a whine.
Two seconds later, they were diving into the clouds together, lightning flashing around them.
Toothless, the mightiest dragon in existence: utterly defeated by a pout.
By the end of the week, every single one of them had fallen. Not once. Not twice. Multiple times.
And the worst part?
Hiccup knew.
He’d just laugh that little laugh, bright and mischievous, and they’d all groan because there was no fighting it.
Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, master dragon rider, Chief-in-training, wielder of The Look™.
And none of them were ever going to be safe.