Simping on main and got no shame

— Freyr is absolutely the biggest player known and you cannot tell me otherwise. He's definitely been with countless of partners, and who could blame them?! He's Freyr.

— That being said, despite him being a player, he definitely falls for you. And he falls hard. I don't mean that metaphorically either, when he first met you he stared so hard he tripped face-first into the mud.

— You're the most beautiful being he's ever laid his eyes on, perfect in every way, like you were made from the very roots of Yggdrasil. And he's not shy, he tells you that straight to your face with the stupidest expression ever—he thinks he looks handsome.

— But that stupid smirk is wiped right off his face when, instead of flirting back like you were obviously supposed to do, you just tell him "Thank you!" with that gorgeous smile and walk away.

— Really? He just called you one of the most poetic things he could think of and you're going to just say thank you?! Whatever, he brushes it off and decides that he wasn't trying hard enough.

— He continues with using sweet words and compliments, buttering you up nicely with "You're looking extra radiant today" or "I love your voice", simple things. When you once again just thank him before walking away, he can feel his eye twitching. Nevermind. Perhaps it's time to take things a step further.

— If he had Ingrid at the time, he'd definitely try and gift it to you, only to be ultimately halted by Freya with a smack. He's definitely tried it with other woman in the past (and Odin).

— He starts bringing you things back from when he goes on missions every so often. They'd range from beaded necklaces to flowers he placed in your hair to jewels he found in some hidden chest. It buffs up his ego when he sees you wearing it most of the time.

— You're also the first person he talks to when he returns to camp, first person to hear the details about what he saw while out. Majority of his time in camp he spends with you. If you're ever sent out on missions, he'd try to come with you, and if he can't then he'll just send someone trusted with you.

— By now it's painfully obvious he's fawning over you like a young mortal man. Everyone in the camp can see it, everyone but the one person he wants to see it: you. As dreadful as it was to witness, everyone in camp found it too funny to really step in and help either side out.

— Up to this point he really tried to make his hints obvious, and he's sure there's no way they could be more out in the open than they already are. Eventually he gets fed up when you turned down another advance of his and just straight out yells his feelings.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Odin

"I'd prefer not having the space between realms all over my table while working, dear."

That made you look up.

"Oh... oops." You gave a sheepish smile, seeing as your hair was sprawled all over Odin's work space. It looked like chaos, honestly. Stars and galaxies littered across a wooden table. Some floating in the air, too.

He watched as you gathered it all up, letting it fall over your back neatly, some of it still floating a bit. Your hair was long, almost as long as Sif's (you don't know how she keeps it all together), and quite often it got in the way of Odin's tasks when you were alone.

It hardly seemed to bother him though. Even now.

"I still wonder how it's possible..." He muttered. "That my hair is so long?" "No, that it's a piece of realm fabric itself."

You smiled sheepishly at that.

"It's a gift from the universe itself, perhaps." That response seemed to make him think.

"It's surely a unique one," He said while reaching over to brush aside a floating strand from your face, "I wonder it's purpose."

Brows raised, you asked, "What purpose would floating, starry hair have?"

His eye met yours for a second, lips twitching in something that resembled a faint smile. "Everything has a purpose, yes? I'm sure it's meant to do something."

You hummed in thought, grabbing a strand of your hair. A grin spread across your face.

"You think I could strangle someone with the universe?"

"No."

Kratos

"You want me to do what?" You had to suppress the eye roll that so desperately wanted to escape.

"Braid my hair." You said a second time, "Or at least brush it. I'm tired of it getting everywhere."

It was easy to understand your frustration. Currently Kratos watched as the bursts of stars and colourful skies floated around your face, it almost obscured the entire cabin. Not because it was everywhere, but because of how colourful it was.

He let out a deep groan that you grew to understand means 'Fine, but I won't like it.'

Without saying anything, he extended his arm towards you. Smiling in victory, you handed him the brush and turned around so he could get to work.

The feeling of his rough, calloused hand ls gently grabbing stands of your hair as he brushed it and weaved the strands together felt nice. Kratos knew how to be gentle when the moment called, despite his fear of hurting you sometimes.

He was reluctant at first, but eventually allowed you to teach him how to braid hair. It was strange for him (he's not exactly rocking the most luscious hair), but eventually he learned how to do it.

"There." His hands left your hair a few minutes later. You stood and reached behind to feel the long neat braid he had put your starry hair into.

Still smiling, you turned around to face him. "You're getting better."

All you got was a grunt of approval.

𓅨

"For someone who picked on a little boy, you're quite a softie with children."

The comment had him glaring at you, but his gaze immediately left you as your daughter tugged at his tunic, wanting his attention again. Lilac eyes softened ever so slightly.

"That little boy has an ego too big for his size. He thinks himself smarter than us all," Sounded familiar, "Yet Allfather refuses to see it."

"Oh, he sees it. And I'd guess he has a plan that he's keeping hidden for now." Pushing yourself off the wall, you walked over to the two sat. He had been braiding her hair for the past couple minutes. 'She wouldn't stop bothering me if I didn't do it' is what he told you, but you didn't need bïfrost eyes to see that lie.

The way his fingers gently wove through strands of her hair said enough. Of course your daughter—the daddy's girl she is—was ecstatic about it. She didn't move from his lap once. Her little legs swung as she patiently waited for him to finish the last braid.

"No one knows what goes through the Allfather's head." When he finished, you lifted your daughter into your arms, you could see the beautiful Asgardian braids he had given her. Similar to his own.

"Happy?" I asked. She smiled and nodded quickly.

Heimdall stood with a chuckle, his earlier irritation at the Jotun boy seemingly gone. He rarely stayed angry for long when with you and his daughter. It was hard for him to admit it out loud, but he adored his beautiful wife and daughter more than he'd ever say.

Maybe, he'd find the words to tell it to you one day.

"Why don't you ever braid my hair?"

"You're not a four year old, are you? You can braid your own hair."

"Rude," You scoffed. Your daughter giggled.

Heimdall smirked, that same smirk you went from hating to getting butterflies at seeing it. He grabbed your waist and pulled you close. "Ask me again when I feel like."

"And how do I know when you'll 'feel like'?"

"You're my wife, shouldn't you instinctively know these things?"

"Heimdall."

A low chuckle, "Joking." His arm slid further around your waist. His other hand gently placed itself on your daughter's back as you held her on your hip. His way of showing love behind closed doors as his chin rested on your forehead.

"So you'll braid my hair?"

"I'll think about it."

You smiled to yourself. He had strange ways of saying he loved you.

Maybe, he'd find the words to tell it to you one day.

Maybe, you didn't need words to know how deeply he truly cared.

------------------------------

Travelling to Vanaheim was something you always longed to do, hearing stories about the realm... Sadly realm travel to it hadn't been an option for a long time.

That was until you met Kratos, and his wonderful son Atreus. When you had so idiotically went out during Fimbulwinter for too long, a blizzard making you lose your way home... Until they found you, and took you in (not without Atreus begging his father a little) Which now brought you here. To the realm you've been anticipating to visit for so long.

Vanaheim.

You also got to meet Freya's brother: Freyr. Or Yngvi as she calls him. The god and his little group of loyal followers weren't so welcoming of you at first, all of you. But you tried not to hold it against them, you cannot imagine what it would be like to live such a life in hiding, knowing the very people who called for "peace" betrayed you.

They were scared to trust again, but Freya's assurance of the alliance she had made with Kratos seemed to lighten things up. Thankfully.

All that brought you up to here, tending a wound of Birgir. There was a recent run-in with a group of Einherjar soldiers. Everyone got out alive but not without a few casualties.

"There. All done." You offered a smile to the large man. He gave his own kind one back, bowing his head slightly as he left.

"Well, Realms be damned. If I knew you were this good of a healer I would have probably begged you to join my group." Freyr appeared next to you, his usual smug smile on his face.

The presence of the god was a little surprising, but you chuckled, "Would you?... I'm honoured to know my witchcraft managed to gain the attention of a Vanir god... So much."

Whilst you busied yourself with a bowl of herbs, Freyr shrugged. "Well, I mean—I'm just speaking the truth. From what I've seen so far, you're a really great uh... Witch. Ally. I would dare to say... Aesir-ass-kicking companion, even?" He asked, raising a brow with a smile.

Shaking your head amusedly, you replied, "What about friend? Or does... 'Aesir-ass-kicking companion' fall under that category?"

You started walking. Freyr looked at you, as if the word 'friend' was almost offensive. "Uhh... Yeah, sure. Friend? Hah! Friend." He followed you as you walked around the camp.

As you continued to work, he watched you closely. His gaze taking you in, before lingering on the torn section of your clothing, where a wound had been. Now ow a dark scar took its place. "I'd uh..." He cleared his throat, leaning against a pillar, "I'd like to apologise for that too. Hope there's... No hard feelings." He chuckled lightly.

Finally you looked at him. Following his gaze, you looked at the scar on your arm where a gash had been. "It's fine, really. I don't think either of us expected to see each other." There was an amused tone in your voice as you smiled at him. The memory of Freyr attacking you coming back. Though when he saw your face, and soon came to know you were allies with his sister—he froze up almost.

"Oh trust me... I really didn't expect you." Pushing himself off the pillar, he walked around as you continued working—probably on some healing drink he imagined. "But hey! That turned out to be a good thing." He stopped again, looking at you, "Didn't it?"

Your eyes met his dark gaze. By the Realms, you were something else.

"I guess it did." You approached him slowly. He crossed his arms, leaning back. Calmly.

"Freyr?..." You called his name. He looked at you, "Yeah?" He asked in a normal voice.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and he felt his heart speed up. He watched your face intently as you gave him a small smile, your brows raising.

"You're um... Kinda standing in front of the herb shelf. And I need a few things from there—"

He blinked, turning around to see he was, indeed, standing in front of the herb shelf. "Oh."

—————

"He's actin' stupider than normal... Ya know what I'm thinking, dont'cha?" Brok said.

Kratos grunted lowly as they watched you and Freyr speak, "Do not tell me."

"Why don't I tell you in song form? Cause there's this beautiful song of love I've heard before!"

Mimir cleared his throat, "Oooh—"

"Quiet."

—————————————

It was never easy being Muriel.

Living, knowing he was a burden to his own family. Knowing he has to live with the guilt of who he killed for the rest of his life. Those memories haunted him, especially in moments like these. When everyone purposely stood far from him as he walked through the busy streets of Vesuvia.

Even in the crowded place, people still found a way to avoid him. His appearance alone struck fear in the hearts of people. And it made him... Sad? Annoyed? Want to scream out? He wasn't sure himself.

"Sir? Excuse me... Sir!" A soft voice pulled him out of the dark space in his mind. He looked to the side, a woman was calling him. How long was she doing that?

You smiled as the man finally looked at you. He didn't seem annoyed that you stopped him, thankfully. Just confused.

"Here..." Reaching into the basket you held, you pulled out a stunning orange tulip. You looked at him and then put your hand out, offering the flower.

Muriel was shocked at this. So shocked he didn't even do anything, he just stared down at the flower. Why were you being so kind and caring towards him—warily he narrowed his eyes.

"Flowers often brighten moods. Especially ones with colours like these." You glanced down at the flower in your hand before looking back into the man's eyes, "You seemed a little down... Maybe it could help."

"...Oh." His face goes pink, and he hoped the shadows casted by his cape made it hard to see.

Slowly, he reached out and took the tulip from you. Then quickly, he muttered "Thank you..." before walking faster than ever and leaving the area. It confused you, but you quickly went back to nurturing your flowers.

A week passes.

Muriel is back in Vesuvia.

Once again he roams through the busy streets and markets. It's what he's always done for the past couple years. Nothing is new.

As always, people avoid him. They're terrified of what he is, of what he can do. And many make it clear by hugging their bags and items close to them as he walks past, even though no one even knows him.

Then he reaches a familiar place. Your flower stall. He remembers it because you gave him a flower out of kindness. No one has ever done that for him. That small act never left his mind.

And when he passes by, thinking you'd simply ignore him, he's surprised when you do the exact opposite.

"Um... Sorry, sir? Sir!" He heard your voice for the second time and freezes before turning.

Again you smile at him, and again you pull out a tulip—this time a yellow one—and again you offer it to him.

"Flowers often brighten moods, you... Seemed a little down, maybe it could help?..." You hoped you didn't offend him. His intense gaze kept flickering between you and the tulip. He had almost a shocked expression on his face, but you couldn't exactly tell.

Gently, he grabbed it and uttered, "...Thank you." Before anything else could be said between you two, he left. But you failed to see the tiny traces of a smile on his lips.

Then Muriel notices the pattern.

This goes on for another two weeks. He'd take his usual route past your stall, you'd stop him and offer a tulip, and that would be the end until his next trip into Vesuvia.

It takes time, but he finally concludes and accepts that you're a person not wanting to hurt him.

"Um... Excuse me, sir?" He turns almost immediately this time, a neutral look on his face.

As expected, you smile at him and reach into your woven basket for a tulip. You really liked tulips, didn't you?

"Here... Flowers often—" "—brighten moods," Muriel unconsciously finishes the famous line for you. His eyes widen when he realises what he did and he looks to the side when your eyes go wide.

"You've um... Given me flowers before."

"I... Have?" You don't remember seeing this man before, let alone giving him your flowers. Did you forget one of your customers? A friend? Oh, now you felt bad.

"I... I'm sorry, I don't—"

You cut yourself off when the man sighs and almost hesitantly reaches into a pouch, pulling out a bundle of something. You recognise it as myrrh.

He gives it to you, and you slowly take it from him. The smell of myrrh fills your nostrils and your brain, it's delightful, but then it brings back memories.

You have seen this man before. And you gave him tulips! How could you forget?!

Your face flushes almost instantly at the embarassing fact that you didn't recognise the man you gave flowers to every week. You don't even think about how myrrh is what helped you remember him.

"I'm... Sorry." The man just nods, he himself looks flushed, "It's fine. I... liked... the flowers."

Then he actually smiles at you. It's small, but It's the first time you've seen him do so.

That makes you smile. "What's your name?"

"Muriel...".

"Well, Muriel." You offer the same tulip from earlier again, "Flowers often brighten moods, care to take one?"

"Aagh!..."

"Stop squirming like a child. You're making this harder than it needs to be."

If looks could kill... Gná would be flying in Valhalla for eternity right now.

"You try experiencing what it's like to have an arrow lodged into you then ripped back out..." You sucked in a breath as the Valkyrie continued working on your wounds, "...then we'll talk."

You and Heimdall were sent on a mission to Vanaheim by the Allfather. It went smoothly at first, you both were navigating the rather vast and humid realm well—but then the Vanir resistance decided they wanted to ruin your day.

And as much as you hated to admit it, they really did. First that damned dark elf flew down on you, catching you off guard. Then while you were busy with her, that little pig (literally) Hildisvíni managed to sneak up behind and shoot an arrow, hitting you. Right. In. The. Torso.

You don't remember much about what happened, since you blacked out shortly after from both exhaustion and pain—though you managed to fight until the world went black, it costed you a lot, but at least it put some pride in your chest.

"There." As soon as Gná finished, you jerked away from her, ignoring the pain for a moment. There was a mutual hate that you both had for each other. Though "mutual hate" ran wild in Asgard, so it wasn't really much of a big deal. She just scoffed before turning and leaving.

"Sif does it better..." A shame the goddess was busy with her own mission. You were just lucky to be important enough to Odin and a certain Watchman that Gná didn't try anything with you.

Speaking of said Watchman, he just walked in.

Paying little mind to Gná as she left, his eyes landed on your form right away, laying wounded in bed. They swirled restlessly.

Turning away from him, there was an awkward silence. After a moment you asked, "How did the rest of the mission go?" He was silent, but you could see him stare at you from your peripheral vision.

"It went well, you could say." He made his way to you, pulling out a chair to sit right next to the bed. "But it would've been better if..." He gestured to your wounds, " some things didn't occur."

Oh, you recognised that tone. He was mad. Annoyed. Downright furious. Whether it was at you or what happened to you was still something to find out.

With a gentle touch, his fingers ran the length of the bandage wrapped around you, making your body tense. Of course he noticed, brows furrowing. "You're still in pain." That confirmed it.

"Yeah..." Gently you grabbed his hand that was on your torso while trying to sit up right. Immediately Heimdall reached with his other hand to make you lay back down, but you just shook your head with a gentle smile, despite the pain.

"What do you need? If you're hungry I can-" "Right now I just really want you, Heimdall. Nothing else."

You saw something in his gaze soften. Like all his anger and annoyance from when he walked in disappeared. His normal demeanour broken down to his truthful one—admiration but also concern.

"Stop worrying, I don't like seeing you like this." He scoffs playfully, that usual smirk sneaking upon his face, "I can't not worry about you, darling. You just ignite that part of me."

"What? The part that's suppose to be normal?"

He narrows his eyes at you and you have to stop yourself from bursting out in laughter. And you don't see it, but it makes him smile lightly. "No... Just the part that adores you."

You roll your eyes, slowly shuffling toward him. He gets what you're trying to do and grips your waist (being mindful of your wounds) to pull you in for a gentle hug. Even now, somewhat far into your relationship, it felt odd seeing Heimdall like this.

"It's sticking around for a while now, so get used to it."

"And if I don't?"

"Well... I'll just have to do it more often so you will."

You smile to yourself, pulling back to stare into his glowing gaze, "I guess you will."

At first glance, Odin would have never guessed you were a god. Your kind demeanour and gentle expressions made you seem almost... Weak.

Of course your lover would never have considered you weak. No, he knew better than to see you in that way. You were a god alright, a strong one at that.

But to be the ruler of your own realm? His mind is blown away when he finds out.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn't show how much that information truly affected him, this is Odin after all. He's a king of controlling emotions and deceiving others' perception of him—just as much as he's a king of his own realm.

Will want to know everything about your realm, only because he loves how passionate and happy you get when you talk about your people and realm that you're proud to be ruling.

Though he really does think it's interesting! He might be a god of knowledge, and knowing the secrets of realms and life may be what he's destined to know, but he genuinely does find some of what he learns interesting. Your realm is one of those things.

Many are worried he'd exploit you for your powers, which angers Odin. You on the other hand? You're hardly worried. Why? Because you trust your husband, even though he might not be the most... Loyal when it comes to basically everything. But you know he's loyal to you.

That's what worried Odin, you seemed too naïve. He no doubt appreciates and treasures how much you care, love and trust him, but he didn't like how that personality carried on with others. There was weakness in it.

Or so he thought.

It was a peaceful day, you and Odin were having a lovely stroll and talking about ways to improve things in both yours and his realm. While you chatted, a messenger you recognised as one of your people appeared, bearing the news of raids and attacks happening in your realm.

You absolutely lost it.

Odin and all of the Aesir themselves never thought you were capable of such anger and rage. For the first time Odin was both concerned and absolutely shit scared of you.

And don't even get him started one the entire ordeal that played out afterwards. Where you went back to your realm and obliterated the invaders who harmed your people. I'm talking ripping their limbs, tearing their heads off, snapping their spines and so much more.

That wasn't even what concerned Odin the most, it was the fact how you came back all smiley and apologized for taking so long, like you just came back from taking a stroll (a very bloody one at that).

But in all seriousness, Odin adores you even more now. If it was any other person he would probably have seen such brutality and power as competition (similar to how he saw Freya, with her being Vanir and all). But with you he's just glad to know you can fend for yourself, and do so much more.

Also he may or may not use you to keep some of the Aesir in place when he's too busy or annoyed to deal with them... Cough cough Thor cough cough—i mean it's not like you've ever actually tried keeping him "in place", you're too nice for that.

Even though sometimes you can be a little overprotective when someone is talking to your people, like when Heimdall was being snarky with a mage you knew and you threw him the most death-inducing glare ever that even he's surprised he's not 6 feet under yet.

Don't worry though, the Aesir now have plenty reason to not anger you, so no misbehaving will happen when you're around, even if there are some ignorant people with blonde hair and swirly eyes in the room.