Dagur x male reader

☆Yule special☆

Y/n ran out of the forge, shivering slightly at the drastic change in temperature, to see the chaotic state his home was in. Several of the huts were on fire and other structures were collapsed. How could this happen in such a short time?

We're they under attack? With this new fear in mind Y/n ran back home, readjusting his grip on the daggers. He had to get his weapons, any would do, just not Dagur's axe or gift.

"Son! Where have you been!? You just up and left after you went back upstairs?"

"That's doesn't matter! What's happening? Are we under attack!?"

Spitelout let out a chuckle causing Y/n to be completed confused. His mind was still thinking through all the possibilities.

"That Hofferson lass is responsible. If you want you can lop her head off with that pretty new axe you got."

'By the gods what does he mean? I hid it. I definitely hid it.'

"So when were you planning on telling me that you were with that deranged Dagur kid? Mmm."

Y/n stayed silent. He couldn't believe this.

"What? Why would you think that!?"

Spitelout stood up from the chair and walked closer to Y/n. Looking down at him he answered. "You're very bad at hiding things from me. You couldn't keep something from me unless you were on the opposite side of the archipelago."

Y/n sighed, conceding to his father's accusations.
"Ok, yes, Dagur and I have a relationship that is closer than a relationship between friends."

Spitelout jumped from the chair, bringing his son into a bone-crushing hug, laughing as he spun around with a very confused Y/n in his arms.

"Sure I'm a little disappointed that I had to snoop around to find out my son is with a not-so-sane lad but at least he's strong? How long have you two been courting one another, ey?"

Before Y/n could answer though a loud thump resonated throughout the village as if something large had just collapsed against Berk. Followed by cheers and dragon roars.

"We should really check that out."

"Right you are boyo! Right after we send of your little present to Dagur. Am I wrong to assume that those are for him? Mm." Spitelout cocked an eyebrow in a knowing look, as if he dared his already flustered son to say he was wrong.

Y/n shook his head, his face turning a shade of red from embarrassment. His father would never let this go.

⊙°⊙

It was snowjng heavily. The merciless wrath of winter had overtaken the village leading to the inhabitants to hide away in their homes. Most sat by their fireplaces greedily basking in the warmth of the fire.

But in one particular hut, bigger than the rest housed two, a father and son.

The son, a muscular broad shouldered boy with long beautiful red hair which laid surprisingly neatly against his back, sat by the fire dejected and tense.

The father walked into the heart of the hut a neatly wrapped box in one of his large hands.
"Dagur, something arrived for you. Its from Berk."

In a flash the neatly wrapped box was snatched out of Oswald's hands.

"You didn't open it did you? Its mine! Mine! It must be from my Kærasti! He really does care!"
'He didn't forget about me!'

"No, son. I -"

Dagur had already shut the door to his room the slam cutting off his father mid-sentece. Yelling a "thanks!" before the door had fully closed.

At least he had said thank you?

Now in his room, Dagur opened the box with excessive care. Eyes seemingly glowing with anticipation and excitement. Laying his stomach against the wools of his bed, he carefully took out the weapons.
A small gasp of amazement escaped him.

'I love him so much! And they're daggers! Like Dagur!'

"Who knew my Kærasti was such a jokster? Well I did of course!"

He then began to weigh one of the daggers in his hand, his eyes mesmerised with the detail of the blade, which were sharp and shiny with a little pattern engraved by the base. He felt the handle, nice and comfortable against his coarse hands and the cloth which allowed him to get a better grip.

A soft smile came across his face, soft eyes and relaxed body. Finally at peace and full of joy. He felt the uncomfortable lump of anxiety in his stomach die down. Stabbed away by the love put in the gift.

His Kærasti had such an affect on him.

He cuddled against the daggers, slowly lulling off into a deep sleep, ignoring the note at the bottom of the box.