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Can we get some more Dagur x reader, please?? Maybe some hurt/comfort, be it physical hurt, or maybe they had a fight and need to make up, I have no specific idea, just looking for fluff! 🫶

⋆˚࿔ᝰ.ᐟ DOWN IN THE DARK dagur x reader word count: 4.75k reader is a dragon rider. during an attack, their dragon gets shot down. dagur goes after them. cw: violence, but i feel that's a given. some swearing, astrid says "fuck" exactly once. (y/n) is used exactly once, (d/n) is used in place of the reader's dragon's name. a/n: this took far longer than i was expecting, and also ended up being much longer than i was expecting. so sorry for the wait but!! it's finally done!! hope you like it <33

You were a star, blazing through the night sky. A black emptiness surrounded you, punctuated by the fire plummeting through the sky. You were a falling star, breaking from a constellation, and you were quite sure you were going to die.

Funny, how time slowed during a crisis. You had what felt like all the time in the world to assess your situation, and yet, you knew there was nothing to be done about it. You may have been thinking slowly, but you were falling fast. There was nothing yourself, your dragon, or anyone else could do.

You weren’t the only star in the sky, but you were the only one descending to the earth. The wind was deafening, but just over it, you could hear a voice calling to you. A shout reduced to a whisper in your ears.

It was supposed to be an easy mission, the kind you'd already gone on a hundred times. A surprise attack under cover of night, raining destruction from above on the hunters' camp. Normally, you had no trouble with these missions. You would have executed your part perfectly, and then you would have gone home to celebrate a job well done. It was as simple as that. So how had you gone wrong here? Had their aim improved, or did the fault lie with you and your own failings?

However it had happened, you were here now. A net was tangled in your dragon's wing, making it impossible to stay in the air. Try as you might, you couldn't untangle it, not while they were panicking and thrashing about. You nearly fell off just trying.

So here you were, the woods below racing towards you. The falling star was about to fizzle out. Your only hope lay with your dragon, that perhaps they'd pull off a miracle.

And thankfully for you, a miracle they did pull.

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

The longer Dagur found himself allied with the Grimborns, the more he thought it to be a mistake.

The alliance made sense at the time. They were both dragon hunters, their goals appeared to align. More importantly than anything else, they had a common enemy. But where Dagur was focused on revenge, Viggo was much more interested in profits. It might not have been so large a problem, but Dagur kept getting roped into things that really had nothing to do with him. It felt more like being an employee than an ally.

This trip, at least, was a bit more his speed. The Grimborns' usual source of changewing acid had dried up, so they'd sent out a hunting party to replace it, Dagur at its head. This was just the kind of job he liked to pull off. Changewings were tricky beasts, with their tendency to vanish into thin air, and Dagur loved a challenge. He would have to keep a few alive for Viggo, but after that? He would have the run of the island.

The hunting party had arrived on site the previous day. They got camp set up, erecting their tents and making sure their defenses were ready. Dagur had led a few men out today, but they found nothing of significance. A few critters were scurrying about, but there was a notable lack of dragons. Odd, considering the island was reported to be crawling with the things. Hopefully they'd have better luck tomorrow.

The sun had just set on the island, leaving the hunters to their supper. The scent of roasted boar wafted through the air, but Dagur had already had enough. He was sitting on the ground by his tent, watching the sky. That seemed to be where his eyes usually came to rest. It probably read as paranoid to others. He was always on the lookout for attack, but he had his reasons. An attack meant bloodshed, chaos, a chance to take down his nemesis. And it also meant getting a glimpse of you.

"Done eating?" A shadow cast over his face, and Heather came into view. She was standing over him, one hand on her hip and the other holding a plate of food. Dagur had been overjoyed when his sister returned to him, and he much preferred when she came on expeditions with him, but he hadn't been expecting her to tag along on this one. The one thing she refused to give up was her dragon, and he knew very well she didn't like seeing any of the scaly things come to harm. Volunteering for a hunting trip was out of character for her. But he who was he to refuse her company? Especially after so long without her. So, he'd accepted it without much question.

"Ugh, I've had more than enough." Dagur gagged. "These idiots couldn't cook a good meal to save their lives." He was pretty sure he'd eaten dirt that tasted better than whatever it was he'd just consumed.

Heather dropped down next to him with her food. She hadn't tried it yet, so she took a bite to see what he meant. "Hm… Yeah, it's not great, I'll give you that." She sat there, considering the taste for a second. "Should've cooked it longer," she concluded. " And I think they roasted it heavier on one side than the other."

"We really pulled the short straw with these guys, huh?" He snickered. Dagur's gaze finally broke from the sky, falling instead to his sister. She'd been back for a good few months now, and he was happy to have her back. Sure, she acted a bit strangely, and her dragon was freaky. Honestly, he felt she'd forgiven him too quickly. But she was his sister, and it would be stupid to complain about forgiveness. The dragon left him alone for the most part, so everything was okay in his books.

He had almost everything he wanted.

Almost.

You were that missing piece that remained stubbornly out of reach. Each time you met, he'd beg you to come with him, and each time, you'd staunchly refuse. But maybe, someday, you'd change your mind. You'd finally realize this was the better option, and Dagur would stop staring at the sky. You could bring your dragon, he wouldn't mind, just as long as you were there.

Speaking of dragons, Windshear had come to rest behind her rider. That wasn't particularly surprising, she went everywhere with Heather. But right now, something seemed off with the dragon. She was alert, her gaze darting across the camp. It was like she expected something to jump out at her any second. Maybe not an unreasonable assumption, in all honesty - most people in this camp would jump at the chance to harvest a razorwhip's scales.

"Does that thing ever relax?" He asked, scooting away from Windshear's restless tail. It wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten cut by being too close to her.

"She's just a little on edge," Heather answered, reaching up to press a hand to her dragon's nose. "She's in an unfamiliar environment with unfamiliar people. She can probably sense there are other dragons on the island. She'll calm down after a few days."

He sincerely hoped she was right about that. Dagur didn't want to be around that thing while it was on edge. He'd learned to tolerate Windshear more than most dragons, but if he had to fight her, he would, and he didn't want to have to do anything to his sister's pet in front of her.

Instead of dwelling on the thought, he turned back to the sky. It was purely out of habit, he wasn't really expecting anything to happen. The chances that the riders had found out about this particular hunt without an inside informant was near impossible. All he was expecting to find were stars.

And he did find the stars, but he didn't find only the stars.

He jumped to his feet right as the first explosion hit.

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

It was Hiccup who fired the first shot.

The hunters' camp was right where Heather had said it would be, and it was just as she'd described it - occupied by a couple dozen men, and defended by three catapults. At least, it had been defended by three catapults, until you struck.

You watched as the first of three exploded into splinters. Instantly, the clearing below erupted into shouts, men scrambling for their weapons and trying to avoid the debris that had once been their protection. You had the advantage of surprise, but it would last for long.

The goal was to do as much damage as quickly as possible, forcing them to leave the island without their supplies. The top priority was their weapons. Once you didn't have to worry about being fired at, you could move on to other matters.

Wordlessly, the formation broke. By now, the hunters had gotten ahold of their crossbows, but arrows whizzing past your face was nothing new. You trusted your dragon. Their reflexes were far more refined than yours, and you knew they'd keep you out of harm's way. You were focused on the larger weapons, one of which was loaded and aimed at you.

“(D/n), catapult!” You barely had to say it before your dragon was barrel-rolling out of the way. That was a wasted shot - good. It would take them time to reload, giving you time to retaliate.

You leaned forward and prompted your dragon to dive. Your descent was steep, bringing you so close to the ground, one might've thought you were landing. You continued to fly low over their camp, and from your dragon's mouth, a stream of fire followed. Before you, men scattered. You brought fire as though it were rain, and destruction rained upon their camp. In this moment, you were to be feared.

In the split second before you pivoted back upwards, you came face to face with him. Spiked red hair, beard to match, a scar across his face. You were mere feet apart. You weren’t shocked to see him, but he certainly looked shocked to see you.

Then, you were making the steep climb through the air, leaving Dagur behind.

You always felt odd, coming face to face with him. You’d been friends, once, before the dragons. Even after that, your interactions had always reflected more than what was warranted. There was a time you had found yourself alone with him, and by the time you took your leave, everything had changed between the two of you.

You eagerly awaited each meeting just as much as you dreaded each meeting.

You were back in the sky, gliding just out of reach of their arrows. You made a quick scan of the clearing below, now lit by your handiwork. While you’d been burning a path through the camp, the second catapult had been taken out. That meant there was only one left to worry about, and Astrid was already en route to take care of it.

That was your fatal mistake, assuming that she had it under control. You saw her and immediately took all attention off the weapon. If you'd been watching, you would've seen it coming. But you weren't. You didn't know anything was wrong until you heard Astrid shouting, and by then, you had already been hit.

Your body shook with the impact, and down you went. Down, down, through the air, through the trees, time slowing to a crawl, and you were gone.

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

The past few minutes had been a complete whirlwind.

Dagur was born on the battlefield. It was his happy place. Seeing that man without blood on his hands felt a bit like looking at an unfinished painting. Unfortunately, it was quite difficult from him to get blood on his hands when his opponents were playing a particularly intense game of keep-away in the sky.

"Damn it, have none of you shot a dragon before?" He shouted over the din. The camp had broken into largely useless chaos - some men went for their weapons, but others were running around like headless chickens, contributing absolutely nothing to the fight. "Aim for the dodge, idiots, aim for the dodge! Someone get me a fucking crossbow!"

Clearly, the men Viggo had sent with them were incompetent. Dagur lost sight of Heather shortly after she mounted her dragon, but the Gronckle was also missing. She must have chased him off. What was that rider's name? He could never remember. Birdarms? Something like that. That was besides the point - Heather was gone, and everyone else was plain stupid. If anything was going to be done, Dagur would have to do it himself.

Dagur continued shouting orders as he looked for a weapon. He'd been stupid to let his guard down. You should never be caught in battle unarmed. He was running for the hunting supplies when the wind rushed past him. The field was afire, and he was eye to eye with a dragon. Not just any of dragon, your dragon. There you were, mere feet from him. He could reach out and touch you, if he wanted. Your eyes glistened in the light of the fire, meeting his own.

You were most beautiful when you were wreaking havoc.

And just like that, you were gone. Dagur stood there in awe, though he knew he should be grabbing something to shoot with. That always happened when you were with the riders. Curse you for being such a distraction - it put him at a distinct disadvantage. That probably wouldn't be remedied if you were by his side, but at least it wouldn't come with that ache in his chest.

Dagur was brought back to his senses by the heat. Everything was on fire, including the majority of the camp's equipment. Only one catapult remained, to the detriment of everyone on the ground. Something needed to be done. He'd finally found a weapon, a crossbow discarded on the ground. Someone must have dropped it in their hurry to get out of your way.

He loaded an arrow into the crossbow. Now, he was ready to shoot anyone who descended far enough that they'd be in range. Oh, how he'd love to bring Hiccup down on that dragon of his.

Unfortunately, it was not Toothless who would be hit tonight.

"IT'S A HIT!" He heard someone call. Finally, those idiots had landed a blow on someone. He looked up in delight, hoping to see a nightfury falling to the earth, but he would not be so lucky. It wasn't a nightfury, or a zippleback, or even a gronckle. It was your dragon that was plunging down to the woods.

"Shit-" he mumbled under his breath. He ought to stay here and keep the situation under control. He was the head of the party, and his second in command was absent. But the situation was already out of control, wasn't it? It was all burning. Whatever they managed to save wouldn't be enough to sustain them. No matter where it went from here, they were leaving this island empty-handed. Why should he stay?

He sprinted off with his crossbow, away from the camp and into the woods. The air got cooler the further he got from the fire. He'd come up with some excuse later. He was making sure you were truly dead, maybe, ensuring you wouldn't be a problem. He was already a loose cannon. No one would be surprised by his elopement.

It wasn't hard to pinpoint where you'd gone down. Your descent had caused a lot of damage. A path of mangled trees marked your path; all he had to do was follow it.

And there you were. He could only barely see you, just the top of your head. The rest was obscured by your dragon. A majestic beast, to be sure, but heavily injured. They were bleeding from several gashes cut by tree branches, and their wing was still tangled in the net. He doubted they could even fly in this state. And yet, despite their injuries, they were still fiercly protective of you.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Dagur stepped back as the overgrown reptile snarled at him. They were shielding you with one wing, and though they was snapping their jaws at him, they weren't advancing. They didn't seem eager to leave your side. "Calm down! You don't gotta set the forest on fire!"

You blacked out around the time you hit the trees. It was a small mercy, saving you from the sensation of your skin ripping open, but only a small one. Once you woke, you could feel every ounce of pain shooting through your body. It would have been a lot worse if (d/n) hadn't cushioned your fall. They'd taken the worst of it, and yet they were still trying to protect you, even now at their lowest.

It occurred to you, once you were fully conscious, that you should probably question what they were protecting you from.

There was someone there, a person. Not one of your friends, or (d/n) wouldn't be so hostile. A hunter come to finish you off, most likely, or so you thought until you heard him speak.

"(D/n), down." Something cracked in your ribs as you sat up. Something else cracked as you soothed your dragon, bringing their wing away from its defensive position. Gods above, it hurt like Hel. The fact you were even upright was a miracle.

Though confused, you dragon lowered their wing, retreating behind you so you were leaning against them. Sure enough, there he was, crossbow in hand. He was staring at your dragon like they would attack at any moment. Maybe not an unwarranted assumption, but as long as you told them to stand down, they would.

Dagur took a cautious step forward, waiting for a reaction. When your dragon didn't lunge for him, he dashed to your side. "Holy shit, how are you conscious right now?"

You weren't in good shape, to say the least. You were bleeding in a few places, but for the most part, you had been saved from anything catastrophically bloody. Your left arm was at an odd angle, definitely broken, but your other limbs seemed fine. Your ribs were another story, if your breathing was any indicator. Overall, while it wasn't good, it could be significantly worse.

"It's okay, it's okay," he started chanting. His words weren't particularly convincing, but they seemed to be more for his benefit than yours. "Just a couple of broken bones. No biggie, right? You're gonna be fine. You're gonna be just fine."

"Would you stop that?" Oh, talking hurt. Every word felt like a dagger was being driven into your chest. And yet, you pushed through it.

"Stop what?"

"Talking to yourself like a crazy person." As if that wasn't exactly what he was. You didn't earn the epithet "The Deranged" for nothing.

"Oh, I'm sorry for trying to be comforting." You didn't find his panicked speech particularly comforting, but maybe it was helping him. Clearly he was shaken if he'd broken off from camp to find you. If that tidbit got back to the Grimborns, their trust with him would certainly take a hit. Then again, you had just set said camp on fire, so maybe leaving was the better choice regardless.

While you were alternating between considering such things and finding yourself overwhelmed by how badly it hurt, the man kneeling before you was trying to decide on a plan of action. Dagur wasn't a stranger to injury by any means. It came with life on the battlefield. But the forest floor was not the best place to set a bone, especially next to a dragon he was pretty sure would bite his head clean off if you showed any sign of discomfort. And yet, what else was there for him to do?

"Okay, (y/n), I'm going to try and set the bone back in place-"

"No!" To his great confusion, you reached up to stop him. "If you set the bone-" You were cut off by a sharp pain shooting through your body. The pain in your arm was really quite dull next to that in your chest - you must have at least two broken ribs, since the pain wasn't relegated to one side. Maybe more.

You took a moment to compose yourself before continuing. "If you set it, Gothi won't have to, and she'll know someone else did. It'll raise questions." You paused again, wishing the pain would pass. It did not. "Wait for the others."

Wait for the others. It was sound advice, sure, but when would your peers come for you? The selfish part of Dagur, the part that would usually prevail, hoped it wouldn't be for a while. Each moment with you was precious, and this moment would pass as soon as your friends came for you. But it was different this time. You needed to get out of here and see a healer, and for once, he wanted you to leave as soon as possible.

"Well, I'm not leaving you alone here."

Of course he wasn't. Truthfully, you didn't want him to. You didn't want to be lost here, hurt and alone with a dragon liable to kill themself trying to keep you safe. You didn't want the pain to be the only thing keeping you company.

So you didn't protest when he settled in next to you. He came to sit next to you, on the side of your good arm. He seemed nervous being so close to your dragon, but when they didn't attack him, he relaxed.

There you sat, leaning back against your dragon with Dagur sitting at your side. It was hard to focus on much beyond your hurting chest. Every so often, your dragon would growl at something in the darkness. As much pain as you were in, you were more worried about them than yourself. You wished there was something you could do, but you'd just have to wait for the other riders.

Dagur, feeling pretty helpless himself, was left holding your hand. You would hold it limply, most of your strength gone at the moment, but every so often you would squeeze hard. It was a reflex that came with the sudden bursts of pain.

You weren't sure how long you sat there in silence. Dagur never remained quiet for long, but he rarely found himself in this situation. He didn't know what to do with himself, sitting next to a loved one in pain. The logical thing, he thought, would be to treat the injury, but you'd already refused that. Comfort didn't come naturally to him, so would it not be better to keep his mouth shut?

For potentially the first time ever, you were the one to break the silence. "Tell me about your day?" You asked. You needed something besides your broken bones to focus on - it felt like you'd go crazy otherwise. "Or whatever else you want to talk about, anything's fine."

You were asking for sound. You were giving him instructions, and he finally had something to do.

To your great relief, as well as his, he started to talk.

"I'm really starting to think Viggo's an idiot," he started. "Either that, or he's setting me up for failure." You honed in on his voice. Not many people would think of it as calming - no, it had this underlying madness to it, this sort of sound that made you expect maniacal laughter at any moment. But it wasn't about the voice itself for you, it was about who the voice belonged to. You'd learned that hearing his voice meant you were safe. No matter how far you fell, he was always there waiting on the ground.

"You wouldn't believe how stupid the people he sends with us are. I mean, I thought my crew was bad, but gods, it's like these guys never learned basic life skills! It's a miracle no one's died on this trip yet. Well, not that I know of, anyway. I'm pretty sure you set one guy on fire back there, so uh, don't know how he's doing." He broke into a short laugh. Only he would find the image of one of his own on fire to be funny. There was something wrong in that brain of his, but then again, there had to be something messed up in your own to match it.

"Sorry about that." Whispering didn't negate the struggle that came with talking, but it eased it a little bit. Then again, it could just as easily have been a placebo effect. "In my defense, he was in the way. It's not easy to divert (d/n)'s path when they're already going."

"No hard feelings. It's probably better for him in the long run - maybe he'll remember how to think while he's out of commission!" You could feel his laughter next to you as much as hear it. He thought his own jokes were so funny, and while that was an annoying trait in most people, you liked to hear his laugh. It was as loud and boisterous and him.

Being next to him felt right. This was right, and yet, it wouldn't stick. Not as long as you were you, and he was him. Both of you knew that. It always came to an end, and it would end again tonight.

And as much as Dagur wanted to ask you to come with him, he knew better. This wasn't a night for dredging up that argument. It was bad enough seeing you slumped over from your injuries - he didn't want to start a fight with you on top of it.

That was something special about you. He didn't want to fight with you. Anyone else he was ready to face, to scream at and bash open and rip to pieces, but that wasn't what you deserved. You weren't an ant to be crushed under his boot. You were more than anyone.

The clock on your time together was ticking down. This was never going to be a particularly long meeting. The fight had been basically over when Dagur ran from it, and the dragon riders had an annoying tendency to never leave each other behind. He was telling you about supper that night when he heard the first shout for you.

You didn't hear it at first, lost in the constraints of your physical body and the small comfort of his voice. You didn't know anything was happening until he abruptly stopped talking. He moved away from you, and your eyes snapped open. There you saw him, now standing, looking up at the sky.

He was going to leave. You knew it was for the best, but you still wished it could be different.

He knelt back down, grabbing his crossbow from where it had been left on the ground. You took a moment to memorize how he looked in the moonlight, how his silhouette glowed.

Then, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "I better see you in the sky again, or I'm coming to get you myself."

He stood back up, began to retreat, and then the moonlight was blocked out.

There was a loud thud next to your dragon, who finally seemed to drop their guard with the arrival of the cavalry. Stormfly's tail bristled, poised like a scorpion's stinger, and Astrid jumped before her dragon was fully on the ground.

"Get the fuck away!"

One of her axes went flying past Dagur, and he broke into a sprint. When she was sure he'd vanished into the woods, Astrid turned and dropped to her knees in front of you. "Are you okay?! Stormfly, go signal the others!"

You felt the rush of air as Stormfly took off, and you felt the warmth of Astrid's palms as she set them on your shoulders. She was here now. You'd be safe. You and your dragon were going to heal, and everything would be alright.

For a quiet moment, you sat there, letting Astrid assess your injuries. And as she did, you looked over her shoulder, staring in the direction Dagur had run away in.

It wasn't the first time he'd run, and it wouldn't be the last either. But to leave, he had to be there first, and wasn't that the important part? That he'd been there.

You would meet again. And as long as that was the case, you would be happy.

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