#heimdal x reader

Heimdal looks at you. “It is your choice how we proceed...if you just want to sleep th-”

But you notice the flickering, hungry gaze to your body and it makes you feel warm and tingly. Wanted. “Please,” you whisper sultry, “don’t make me wait any longer.”

All night, you’ve been admiring the man of your dreams and now you’re finally alone. How could you delay any longer? Heat pools in your belly and you reach up to unfasten the veil from your shoulders. It drifts to the floor and is soon joined by the sash.

Heimdal catches the idea and he too begins to undress, revealing a firm and broad torso that further ignites your hunger. Strong arms and hands work effortlessly to remove boots and socks before hesitating on the belt buckle all while his eyes never leave you. Your own gaze roving, you notice the prominent bulge twitch as you release your dress, allowing it to pool at your feet. Stepping out of it, you walk up to your husband and reach forward, caressing his cock through the leather of the trousers.

“Please?” you whisper and he nods breathlessly.

Hands begin to move frantically, shedding the last shreds of clothes as Heimdal walks you backwards to the bed. The last thing he does before laying you down slowly, is to step out of the trousers, revealing a proud erection that takes your breath away.

He’s gentle, even as he stalks you across the mattress until you can get no further but rest against the fluffy pillows. And then, finally, his mouth find yours. A hand cups your face, lips gently brushing against lips while warm breaths fan your face softly. There’s a sweet, honeyed taste of mead. He’s hovering over you, encompassing your entire world. Candle light flickers across his beautiful skin and reflects in the gold of his eyes, making it seem like molten pools of amber.

Then his lips move to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Further down over the tops of your breasts which his hand cups and squeezes gingerly, rolling your already sensitive nipples between the fingers until your back arches and he can’t help but lower his head and take one of them in his mouth. Licking. Suckling. Biting teasingly.

Yourself are trying to breathe evenly, hands massaging his shoulders and arms when you don’t cup his head to steer him further down your body, impatient as the need builds in you, making your hips roll in search of some friction but finding nothing.

Still, he gets the point and moves further, fingers dancing to your mound before deftly tracing your folds, each stroke ending with a little circle around the bundle of nerves that is tingling with anticipation. It makes you gasp, writhing to chase his movement that so effortlessly seek out what you want.

Heimdal chuckles, planting a last kiss by your hip bone before delving between your thighs.

Heat rises within you. Throwing your head back, you can’t help but moan his name and he answers with a growl that vibrates through your pelvis. All you can do is hold on to his head, trying not to push or pull too much. You wish you could do more.

And then the idea strikes.

“Wait, hon,” you gasp, pulling away awkwardly. “Lie on your back, please.”

He does as you ask without hesitation and you crawl down his body until his face is between your legs once more and you, on the other hand, can place kisses and licks to his weeping cock head.

Heimdal begins before you get a proper grip on his cock, lapping eagerly at your folds which means that you can feel him stutter the moment your lips encircle him. Taking him as deep as you can without choking, you begin experimenting, bobbing your head up and down until you find the right angle to take him deeper. With each trip to the tip, your tongue darts around the crown and as you do that again and again, his mouth parts from your cunt and he groans deeply.

“I can’t...I can’t concentrate if you continue,” he gasps, making you smile at having such power over him right now.

Your lips let go with a soft plop. “Then just enjoy it, my love.”

Continuing, it becomes a game to distract each other the most and for you to pull the sweetest sounds from his mouth, the buzz of groans heightening your own pleasure which he stubbornly seeks to continue providing.

Still, you’re the one who’s unprepared for the moment he inserts a finger, wriggling and pumping it along to the speed you’re following. Then two and you feel your cunt clench, wanting more and yet being so close to the edge as he has found that special spot deep within.

“Let me...please, let me see you,” he growls.

He manoeuvres you easily, getting you on your back before he slots himself between your legs and lines up. You bend your legs in anticipation, wanting to grant him easy access and he smiles, equally eager and rubbing his cock between your folds to ready himself.

Kissing you, he drives in slowly, stealing away the air from your lungs with each inch. It’s quite a lot of inches and all of them adds to the growing pressure in your abdomen. Red hot desire and desperation for more. Reaching down, you grab Heimdal’s ass and pulls him further, urging him as deep as he can.

“Very well,” he too is breathless but he follows your less than subtle hints and fills you up before finding a steady rhythm back and forth.

Your body tightens automatically, overwhelmed by the fullness and the delight that’s coursing through your veins. Clenching around his cock, it’s all you can do to remember to breathe as he picks up the pace.

“Touch yourself, my love,” he pleads.

Who would you be to deny him? One hand coasts to his shoulder, feeling his muscles work under the skin, while the other delves between your bodies in search for your clit, finding it expertly. Slow at first, you begin to rub tight circles but soon you find his and your speed increasing, driving you to the edge sooner than anticipated.

You’re babbling, whining as the tension in your core is about to snap.

“Cum for me, love.”

Legs spasming, body shaking, you do as you’re told. Searing light and a rush that makes you feel like you’re flying. Your cunt grips him like a vice and you are vaguely aware that he spasms, ramming deep within you with a deep groan.

It takes a while before the two of you calm down enough to move let alone talk but when you come to your senses, Heimdal lazily kisses you.

“My beloved,” he whispers hoarsely.

Pacing back and forth in his station, he looked to the faraway world where she was busy being a hero – a task he never would take from her although it filled him with worry each time she left to battle great evil. This time, just like all the other times before, the battle had been won and she, Loki, and Thor were preparing to come home.

From far across the realms, a voice calls out for him: “Heimdal!”

That is his cue. Inserting the sword in the mechanism, he twists, unleashing the Bifrost and watches it travel beyond the stars at his will. It’s magnificent as always, the light and colours that blaze through the darkness of the universe...but he only has eyes for one thing. One person.

...  Reader   ...

You love the rush of travelling via the Bifrost. The wind whipping about you, pulling at your clothes and making your eyes water, and the bright light that stretches ahead and above you, leading you home to where you left your heart.

You’re in love – have been for many years now – and your impatience is starting to wear on you although you should have known that this, just like anything else, would be a thought that would have to mature in Heimdal’s mind before he’d be ready to act on it.

Maybe you should ask him? It would not be in accordance with Asgardian tradition, but you’ve travelled around enough to know that there are other ways to instigate a marriage. You also do know, however, that the man you love is proper AND stubborn enough to refuse it any other ways than the “proper” way and so you sigh a puff of air that disappear into the torrent surrounding the Bifrost.

Hard ground meets your feet and you regain your balance quickly, looking immediately for the one that holds your heart.

Golden eyes. Broad, perfect smile that’s meant just for you even though Thor tries to lay claim to it right away:

“Heimdal,” the God of Thunder booms, “good to see you too.”

Loki rolls his eyes at his brother before nodding to the Gatekeeper and leaving, dragging the blond man with him.

It’s just the two of you now. You could ask him. You want to...but you refrain.

...

You’ve bathed and dressed for the feast but Heimdal (who for once has gotten a replacement for the station and therefore can attend with you) is leading you down the paths to the castle garden. Silvery trees with emerald leaves stand as pillars and domes a ceiling above you while fragrant flowers nod in greeting in the faint breeze. There’s a small pond with a stream that gurgles merrily, like a soft melody, and lanterns have been hung from branches. In other words: you don’t mind the detour.

“Beloved,” Heimdal stops your meandering, “there is something we must discuss before we continue.”

Anxiety grips your chest at the nervous expression on his face and as he takes your hand, you can feel his tremble, making you fear the worst. And this morning you’d been on the verge of proposing to him! Whatever comes next, you’re not sure you want to hear it but there’s nowhere for you to hide. Not from him. Mouth too dry to form words, you just nod.

And then he kneels. One of his big hands conjures a little box from a pocket and he has to let go of you to open it, revealing a ring as gorgeous as you could ever have imagined.

“Y/N...will you do me the honour of marrying me?”

For a second you can’t breathe, unable to fathom that he really has asked you but you somehow manage to push out the most important word in your life up until this point: “Yes!”

You repeat it, just to make sure. And then again as he slips the ring on your finger and again as Heimdal kisses you.

...  Heimdal   ...

He has barely let go of her, constantly seeking her touch one way or another during the feast, and the few times they’ve been pulled apart, Heimdal’s been watching her. Seeing her show off the ring. Witnessing how she beams as she is being congratulated with the engagement. It makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“Heimdal, my man!” a heavy hand slaps down on his shoulder and he turns to see Thor smiling broadly at him.

Returning the smile, Heimdal lifts the goblet of wine he’d almost spilled. “Prince Thor.”

The prince in question waves dismissively at the title as he sits down next to him. “I hear congratulations are in order. Finally popped the question, hm?”

“Finally? But yes, yes I have.” He can feel pride swell in his chest although he’s not entirely certain why. “And I was wondering if I might ask you a favour...”

“Anything, you are my friend.”

Heimdal hesitates for a moment, but who else can he ask? “It would mean a lot to me if you would be my man of honour.”

It’s not impossible to astound the friendly god but he rarely sits quiet for long. This time the man says nothing but simply embraces Heimdal tightly.

Then he stands up, grabs a fresh drink and turns back to the watcher, teary eyed before finally saying: “It would be my honour!” Then he gets a serious frown on his brows. “What are my duties and when’s the wedding?”

...  Reader   ...

Heimdal has promised not to peek and you trust that he won’t but right now you could still use his calm to soothe your frazzled nerves as you prepare to stride into the throne room. You know Odin will be waiting with your groom by the throne, ready to make your marriage a reality. You know the place is packed with important people. At least you look amazing with the flower crown on your head and the dress made of layers of gossamer silk flowing from your body like a river of gold and white.

And then it happens: the grand doors open slowly and the chorus begins to sing, instigating the pace you’ve rehearsed at home when no one watched. It’s your cue to walk up the aisle and when you start...oh, you feel like running, wanting to get to your dazzling love as soon as possible, but you restrain yourself and instead step forward in a more moderate pace.

You’re halfway when you notice the tears in the golden eyes of his.

...  Heimdal   ...

If he hadn’t already known then this would have been the eye opener: Y/N is the most beautiful woman in the universe. In the multiverse. Breath knocked from his lungs, it’s all he can do to keep standing still, waiting for her to come to him. What he really wants to do is go to meet her, kneel before her once more and offer up his soul and heart...but an approximation of that will happen soon enough and while he waits, Heimdal just stares at the wonder before him.

Thor whistles ever so softly under his breath, nudging Heimdal slightly and earning a quick scowl from Odin...but none of that registers with the groom.

Heimdal just can’t believe that it’s really happening, that he gets to be so lucky. Somehow, the ancestors has found it in them to allow him to find someone that compliments him, someone he can look up to and strive to be better for. Someone that has decided to return his adoration.

He has to wipe his eyes to make the image stand clear again and next he can see, she’s almost by the throne and Heimdal has to step forward to take her hand (first wiping his discreetly in his cape because it feels clammy).

She smells like soap and flowers. Calm and collected, she smiles at him, making his knees weak as they stand facing each other.

“People of Asgard!” Odin begins, “we are gathered here today to witness the joining of two people, to hear their declarations of love for one another. However, before we begin...does anyone wish to object?”

Heimdal can feel Y/N tense, her breathing halt for fear that maybe someone does want to impede in their happiness.

But no one talks.

“Very well, then we shall proceed.”

Odin steps back, allowing Frigga to join the couple with a long, red ribbon, winding it loosely around the wrist and hands before stepping back once more.

“It is time to speak your vows,” Odin announces, gesturing to Y/N first.

The most delicate tongue darts out to wet her lips, then Y/N takes a deep breath and looks Heimdal in his eyes: “Heimdal. My soulmate. My love. There is much I want to say. I have a love for you so deep that no ocean can even fill the bottom. I felt lost until I met you...now a part of me will forever be gone from within whenever you’re not near.” She breathes out slowly, making the ribbon quiver. “But no words can truly express what you mean to me. All I can say is...the time we’ve spend together have been the best years of my life and I am keen to face whatever comes as long as I can do it beside you, with your hand in mine. Heimdal...thank you for being you and for letting me love you.”

...  Reader   ...

You can feel heat rise to your cheeks as people applaud and cheer, causing you an unexpected relief at the realization that what you said was good enough despite your worries. Excitedly, you look to Heimdal.

“Y/N. Today one of my dreams comes true: you are accepting me to be your husband. Like you, I am at a loss for words but let me try regardless because I want you to get at least an inkling of an idea of what you mean to me. I admire you for your courage and mind – you encompass what I strive at every day through your kindness and wisdom. You used the term soulmate...a term I feel is fitting for what I have experienced since meeting you. So I tell you this: I am not hopeful today...I am certain. Certain that I will be by your side for as long as you’ll have me, whatever may come. Thank you for letting me love you.”

His words echo in your mind, floating softly as your heart swells and you fall for him just a tad more even though you could have sworn that was impossible.

Then Odin coughs, silencing the applause that had risen when Heimdal finished his vows, and steps forward with Frigga. “We have heard their vows,” he proclaims, “yet I must ask you...Heimdal, Keeper of Bifrost and Protector of Asgard, do you give yourself to Y/N to be her husband?”

“Yes,” Heimdal’s deep voice admits with a smile.

Then Odin turns to you. “Y/N, Warrior and Protector of Asgard, do you give yourself to Heimdal to be his wife?”

“Yes.”

Holding her hands over yours, Frigga speaks the words of a long-forgotten age and golden magic radiates from the silk. It’s warm and pleasant, even as the bond tightens before it evaporates with the light.

“I now declare for all to hear that Y/N and Heimdal have been wed. You may kiss each other.”

Being a day labourer at some farm can work especially with your (although limited) knowledge from the job at the veterinarian, because cattle is cattle and you know how to deal with them and spot their health issues, and maybe the owner will let you camp out in the barn at first. Alternatively, a big city will offer support for homeless people and there’ll be a plethora of menial jobs that no one else wants. With enough hard work and smart living, you’ll be able to regain the kind of life you want. A lot of hard work. City-folks are rarely forgiving or kind, as far as you’ve seen, and there’ll be no connections to draw on or friends who can vouch for you when trying to crawl up the proverbial ladder. I’ll rather live as a bum for years than go back to him.

Still, no amount of imagination or will is going to help you get past the first challenge. You’re going to have to convince the Asgardians to drop you off far from where they found you. Heimdal knows where I live. The facial muscles constrict tiredly to create an expression of nervous curiosity, distorted in the reflection on the vase. How did he know? You haven’t told him how to navigate through the streets and the park in New York, but somehow…he’d followed the path you took each day, leading the magic sight of his to the ruins of the apartment building. And, now you were thinking, why the hell had he suddenly showed you what he could see? Just like that, out of the blue! The Asgardian has avoided you for a week, but suddenly sees it fit to drop that bomb on you! Who does he think he is?! Stubbornness turns into roaring flames as you decide that this game he’s playing has to end, because damnit, you deserve better than being left in the dark with no clue as to what’s going on.

“Heimdal.” The words hang sharp in the air, and you hope he can hear it from wherever he’s hiding.

Softly, the answer reaches you. “Lady [Y/N].”

That was not in my head. Whipping your head around, you see him standing in the door. The sparingly lit hallway behind him is not enough to reduce him to a silhouette, but you’d have recognized him anyways even with the heavy golden cuirass covering his chest and the impressive (yet impractical looking) helmet under the arm. Trying to stop yourself from gawking at him, you press your lips together.

“I apologize for not knocking…” A large hand reaches for the back of his neck, rubbing awkwardly before falling back to the side. “May I enter?”

Staying silent, you nod, suddenly the determination and frustration leaking from you like hot air from a balloon. His is not the voice of a man oblivious to the feelings of those around him.

As he closes the door gently, you become aware of the darkness of the room and scramble to find matches to light the candles that are placed on tables, shelves and the dresser. While busy, you’re painfully aware of how the tall man strips himself of every piece of armour, depositing it carefully in a heap on the floor. The tiny flame of the match nearly reaches your fingertips as you linger by the last light, turning your brain over for a different way to go about this. Something less aggressive or demanding.

“Please forgive me, [Y/N], for not visiting you the last many days…” the deep purr begins before you can, “it must have seemed as though I abandoned you.”

A pause stretches, allowing you to breathe deeply and gain control of your own voice. “Where…where were you?” The candle flame flickers on your breath but regains steadiness quickly.

“The All-Father reinstated me and tasked me with an additional duty.” This time Heimdal speaks from somewhere closer to where you’re standing and the butterflies in your stomach begin to stir. “My days have been long, keeping me from you against my will until you already had found rest.” The scents of warm sand and cinnamon surround you now. “Each night I’d come by, wishing you would be awake…” The deep inhalation is shuddering, the exhalation tickles you neck and jaw. “We have so little time together unle–“

You know exactly how he must have nearly bitten his own tongue to stop the rest of the sentence from spilling out, but rather than serving its purpose in keeping the peace, it pisses you off. Why can’t he just say what he wants? Why all the sneaking and holding back and damnit!

“Unless?” You groan in exasperation. “Unless what exactly?”

Turning around sharply, you come face to face with him and almost lose the sense of balance thanks to the amber eyes that nearly glow with…with what? To avoid this smoldering unknown you lower your gaze, only for it to land on his mouth, lips parted slightly. Hot damn. Your breath hitches ever so discreetly whereas his is heavy.

“[Y/N]…” When you don’t respond or move, Heimdal simply cups your face in his strong hands, tilting it upwards gently but insistently. “Please believe me when I say…there’s no place I rather want to be, than with you.”

Deep shadows created by the candles are dancing around and on both off you, still they are unable to dim the burning intensity you’re facing. Surely, your heart must have skipped several beats and it’s only as you remind yourself to breath that you know you’re still here. Standing with Heimdal in a small room in the palace known in myths as Valhalla on Asgard. Heimdal, who has just said something that sounds frightfully similar to a love confession.

As times like these would have it, articulation and poetry comes to your aid: “Whaa…?” The blood rises to your face the moment you utter the less than inspired word. “I’m s-sorry, I thought you…? Are you saying…? But how could we…?” Breathing in deeply and closing your eyes stops you from rambling on. “Won’t I have to leave, regardless of what I want?”

“Maybe not. Odin has been considering having you stay as an…ambassador.” The words are testing, fishing for a response as carefully as possible.

Ambassador? Hell, I’d have accepted being a stable-worker or cleaner. “So…I could stay...”

“Yes.”

Silence envelops you like velvet. Not in the absence of sound, but the chaos that has been raging inside you, the roar of worried thoughts trying to drown each other out are gone, leaving a soothing peace as each half-hearted plan and shattered solution to dissolve into nothingness.

Finally, you can meet the warm gold of Heimdal’s eyes. “With you?”

“If you will have me.” The smile is carefully optimistic. “I do not wish to imagine a life without you, my lady. Not since the day I first laid eyes on you by mere chance.”

Oh. “Before the…’fore New York.”

“Aye.” He actually has the audacity to bite his bottom lip in shame. “I tried to avert my gaze. I’d been smitten by your mesmerizing nature, but who was I to spy on you? A few glances as you walked through the city was all I had, and I cherished them, knowing it would never be more.” The Bridge-Keeper’s sigh makes your hair float for a heartbeat. “Then came the day of Loki’s attack. You showed strength and courage beyond measure…I could not let you die. Not you.”

A tear has formed and now it spills onto his cheek. Gently, cupping his jaw in your palm not unlike the way he still holds you, you wipe it away.

“You didn’t tell me…because you didn’t want to force my feelings?” His soft nod prompts you to slip your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. “But I’ve come to love you anyways.”

Words aren’t needed anymore. Time doesn’t matter. Only Heimdal’s burning lips as they meet and languidly explore yours while his hands travel, one to your neck and the other to the middle of your back, pushing you flush against his strong body. Your own grip adjusts as you nearly cling on to him, fingertips digging into his shoulder and grazing his scalp.

Lips part.

Tongues dance.

Teeth nibble gently as new areas are explored, heated skin showered in kisses while fingers and hands roam freely in a fevered yet leisured devotion to the other person. At the first moan Heimdal coax from you, he freezes, worried that he may have hurt you. It’s a whimper from the loss of his action that spurs him on in an effort to pull more sounds from you.

…

As the woman stretches in her sleep beside Heimdal in the bed, he can’t help but thank the All-Fathers of old. Pulling [Y/N] closer, he knows that he now will have an unparalleled reason to revert his gaze to home.

Pacing the room, there’s no way you can outrun the negativity. Both because you’re well aware it’s all in your head, a result of years spent with a guy who’d put you down at any given chance, and also because the regenerative treatment you’ve received that very same day has left you sore and tired. It adds to the dreadful feeling of inadequacy. In fact, why should you even bother worrying about Heimdal or anything? In the end, an end that draws nearer each day your health improves, you’ll have to go back to earth and your old life. I’ll need a new job. Even if the publicist you’d worked at still existed, there’s no way you’d still be employed there after such a long time away. Most likely it’s been destroyed during the fighting like so many other companies in that area of Manhattan. And then what? Without a work lined up, you’d lose your place to live in the city (which had been hell to find). Your rent was automated, sure, but money doesn’t last forever, and your bank account must be getting close to the red digits.

Sighing, you pour a glass of water from the carafe. There’s nothing you can do about anything. You’re perfectly safe where you are…still the world is crumbling around you.

…

Staring into the endlessness beyond the golden, globular observatory, Heimdal stands immobile, his thoughts much closer than the many worlds he’s watching. A week has passed, yet for someone who has lived more than a millennium, this week has been an eternity.

On the way from [Y/N]’s chambers, the Watcher had been approached by a servant of the king and told to follow to the throne room. The conversation with Odin had been brief and rather one-sided. No one refuses the All-Father lightly, and so Heimdal had been reinstated as the Keeper of Bifrost and Guardian of Asgard effective immediately. Furthermore, he’s tasked with supervising the training of an elite squad of Einherjar. Their responsibility will be to scout for very specific types of threats in the chaotic aftermath of Loki’s betrayal and they will in time be imbued with seiðr, granting them abilities similar (although not as potent) as his.

By the time Heimdal’s daily tasks end and he’d make it to the [Y/N]’s quarters…he’d find her fast a sleep. A few times, he’d lingered in the doorway, a smile finding its way to his lips as the moonlight illuminated graceful features, her chest rose and fell steadily, and the eyelids would tremble lightly at whichever dream-visions she saw. Each time, he’d leave quietly.

Momentarily, his gaze slips and amber eyes glow with a golden light.

…

The walls of the room fall away, revealing the splendor of stars and galaxies, you only have seen during the night where the pain medication hasn’t been enough to grant you rest. Iridescent clouds of space dust shimmer in the light reflected off a comet as it sweeps through, creating purple and peach ripples against the never-ending darkness of the backdrop. With a fluid motion, the scene changes and comes to rest with a planet in focus, its red and green surface riddled with mountains and valleys, although there’s nothing to compare it to you have a distinct feeling that this is a small globe, and only one city (because it must be just that) is visible on the horizon. But before you know for sure, your view is shifted again. This time you see through a haze of clouds and smoke erupting from tall chimney belonging to a city that cover every inch of the surface, blanketing the alien planet in gold, black and grimy white. It could have been impressive, the individual buildings maybe even beautiful, if it wasn’t because industrialism and pollution was smothering every sign of life.

“How can they –?” You stop yourself, knowing that no one’s there to answer your question.

“Lady [Y/N]?” A warm voice emanates from all around you. Or within me? “Don’t be alarmed, you’re safe.”

The sight fades, leaving you blinking against the fading sunlight. The half-full glass is still in your hand. In fact, nothing has changed…except everything is different.

You know which voice you just heard. “Heim-Heimdal?” Carefully replacing the glass onto the table, you sit down not knowing what to expect.

“It is I, Heimdal.” This time the voice’s in your mind. “My apologies, I didn’t intent to show you what I see…”

“Wait, you see that?” Maybe he can read your mind (the thought immediately makes you blush), but oddly enough you still speak out loud.

“I am blessed with sight and hearing beyond that of any mortal.” There’s an edge to his words that makes you think he’s trying to be modest. “In a simple vernacular, it would not be amiss to say that…I can see across time and space. This is not to mean that I see the future, though.”

Science in high school had been alright, but the teacher had favoured the boys, thinking that girls shouldn’t bother with things like that, and so it’s hard to remember the details about space and light. “What you see is actually happening the moment you see it instead? No delays like the rest of us would have when observing something lightyears away…”

“Well said.”

An awkward silence descend. Is he still there? There’s no way of knowing for you and after a week without his visits…Oh, just try!

“Heimdal…” A hum of approval reverberates in your skull, like a meditative chant that brings peace. “Can you show me Ear-Midgard?”

Blue, green and white on one half at first, the familiar planet rotates into view with its moon in a slow waltz around it. Even sitting down (which is odd when you can’t see yourself or where you’re sitting), you’re breathless at the glorious sight suspended in a universe infinitely more complicated than you once suspected. Continents and coastal countries are discernible between meteorological patterns and you recognize North America easily before the view zooms closer, bringing you to New York where construction sites have spawned since last you were there. Life goes on, of course. And as reassuring as it is, the trepidation infuses your limbs with lead. How can I? The answer will have to wait, and until you find it, you’ll simply take each day at a time. By guiding Heimdal, the offices of the publicist come into view…or what’s left of them. Half the building is gone! And what’s left is being torn down by humongous, canary-coloured machines.

“At least I don’t have to worry about missing out on work, I guess…” The dry laughter you manage to produce doesn’t spook the encroaching dread away.

Buildings sweep past, making it seem like you’re flying (although it’s nothing like the pigeons and seagulls of the metropolis) and bringing you north before crossing Central Park along a familiar route. It calms you to recognize the Japanese Zelkova tree and all the other plants in the rectangular oasis still are intact. Yes, it’s different flowers blooming, and the colours of the park has changed with that…but there’s no damage to be seen here. There. You have to remind yourself that you are, in fact, sitting in Asgard far across the universe.

A slim border around the park is intact, but as the flight brings you between buildings you can see the destruction and havoc. It’s more scattered. Maybe from stray missiles or whatever aliens use? Already the crews of labourers with their towering machines have found their way to each site, clearing away rubble and debris and tearing down what’s left of the buildings that had gotten hit. Including your home.

“I’m sorry.”

Heimdal’s words reach you, warm and soothing…except you’re certain the shock isn’t related to the loss of your home and belongings in themselves, as he might think, rather the fact that you’ve got one place to go: your hometown. Fuck. It wasn’t for nothing that you’d moved across the country to get away from that hell-hole. Returning would be humiliating. And according to the last messages from your sister before New York was attacked, your ex had been far from over the sudden abandonment.

Breathing in deeply and taming your voice just enough to breathe out: “Thank you. That’s enough.”

Once more, you find yourself in the beautiful room flooded with the warm glow from the setting sun which adds a pink tint to the white walls and light up the wooden details with the radiance of fire and gold. A slim vase sits on the table, housing a single flower that only opens at nightfall to allow the delicate anthers and stigma to shine like tiny stars. It had been there when you woke up the morning after the…picnic. At first, you’d thought it was from Heimdal. Now you weren’t so sure.

Something lands on your hand, startling you from the somber train of thoughts. A wet drop glistens in the light and you realize your cheeks are damp too. Angrily, you wipe them away.

I knew, I had to go back to earth.

Still, it’s not the planet itself that worries you.

I’ve made it out of there once before…I can do it again.

Every alarm bell in your head starts to ring because this is how your ex was in the beginning. The difference is that you’ve learned to recognize the warning signs by now, granting you both the horrible clear hindsight in terms of discovering the warnings of the no-goo-loser you left back in the middle of nowhere…and now the cracks in the veneer covering Loki’s true character. Yelling won’t help. Instead he’ll get off of it, unless it makes him downright vicious. Unfortunately, insulting or mocking him openly won’t do any good either.

“Lucky guess or simple recognition?” You hope the prisoner can’t hear how your voice quakes.

The way the man tilts his head reminds you of a predator zeroing in on the target. “I visited your pathetic realm recently,” the Trickster hisses, “your kind is weak…unmistakable and meant to cower before a god like me!”

What a first-class fuck-head! “You’re no god.” The scoff escapes your lips before you can bite it back, but you’ll be damned if you don’t follow it up. “You’re not a king either…in fact…you rule no one and nothing and neither I or anyone else will knowingly bow to you. Ever!” The outburst leaves you winded, each expansion of your ribcage painful like piercing ice.

“You’re meant to be ruled! And if you won’t do it of your own volition, then you can be broken!” The sharp features contort into a sneer as he speaks, his fist impacts hard with the seemingly magical barrier between you and comes to a rest by his forehead as he leans in. “Your world has merely had a taste of what’s to come.”

It’s meant to be every bit as threatening as it sounds, and with the ruthless stare and manic grin, it’d make sense to run away screaming. Even so, you refuse to back down.

“What’s broken can heal,” you reply quietly, referring less to Earth and more to your own condition.

Freeing yourself from Heimdal’s supporting embrace, you make it the rest of the way until your nose could touch the barrier where you straighten up and stare right back into the emerald eyes. Unflinchingly, ignoring the desperate complaints of your body, you study the would-have-been invaders mimic: the dilation of his pupils, how he sometimes licks his lips with a quick dart of the tongue, the twitch at the corner of his mouth, even the thin crow’s feet by the eyes. And then you see it. Hidden deep within, pushed away from his consciousness by sheer will power is the little kid that wants to prove himself and needs to belong. The child that’s well aware of having done the wrong thing but won’t admit to it for the sake of self-preservation.

“Interesting…” His eyes narrow with suspicion at your sudden calm. “Forgiving you’s out of the question…maybe, though, you’ll find your peace one day.”

The tension in the room increases to the point of being palpable as malice emanates from the man in the cell who’s sputtering, searching for an answer when you let Heimdal help you back the way you’d come.

“Come back here!” Loki yells at your retreating back to no avail. “Come back and face me, HARLOT!”

The heavy, metal doors slide shut with a clang, sealing the echoes of the furious screams within the dungeon. Looking around desperately for somewhere to sit, you find nothing within reach before your legs will give out from right under you, and the only reason you don’t collapse is because Heimdal slips his strong arms behind your knees and back, lifting you effortlessly. As you wrap your arms around his neck, he tugs you closer, enabling you to rest your head against his shoulder. Your eyes close as the Keeper of Bifrost lulls you with each long step he takes. Warm sand and cinnamon soothe your senses, washing the anger and hatred towards the pale maniac away. The pain in your chest subsides as the furious breaths calm and the tensions in your muscles unclench. At least the shithead known as Loki is locked away. People on earth are safe from him. Your safe. Especially here in these strong arms.

But the closeness must come to an end eventually.

As Heimdal enters the room you stay in, carefully closing the door behind him, you know that he’ll be tugging you in and then call a healer to take care of you. Soft furs and pillows form around you, allowing the burned to be lifted from his embrace.

“Wait.” Clinging on to his shoulders for a moment, it’s hard to chose a feature to lock your gaze onto. What if…no.

Throwing caution to the wind, you pull yourself up a bit. Just enough to plant a featherlight kiss on his lips. The sharp intake of breath through his nostrils is audible to you and the fear that you’ve gone too far crashes down on you. But as you begin to pull away, he swoops down, chasing your mouth to deepen the kiss. Gentleness becomes hunger. Softness turns into need. He even tastes of warm, sweet spices, you think as the tip of your tongue traces the seam of his mouth. A large hand slides from your knee, coming to rest on the thigh instead and eliciting a tiny sound of approval. However, as Heimdal wraps the other arm around your waist and pulls you closer, the pain flares up and twists the sound into an anguished whimper, prompting him to pull back.

“Forgive me, [Y/N].” His pupils are still blown, nearly swallowing all of the amber irises although the concern’s evident. “I shou–“ Interrupting himself, he breathes in deeply. “I didn’t intend to cause you any pain…I’ll get the healer right away.”

He’s already at the door before you’ve managed to open your mouth. “Heimdal.” The door handle has disappeared in the same hand that had stroked your thigh. “Don’t feel bad, please.”

“I hurt you.” His back is still towards you, making it impossible to even guess at his facial expressions and in turn emotions.

Three treatments in the cradle. Each one had left you exhausted, your body burning with the heat of electricity, and it had lingered long into the night, making you cranky and draining every bit of energy that wasn’t used for walking back and forth in the room with two healers ready to catch you. When you didn’t do any of that, you slept, only waking up a few times to see that Heimdal was dozing in the chair next to the bed, or that he’d been around, leaving some token behind instead of waking you. First it had simply been a note, saying that her sister was doing well and that he would come by later to entertain her. Another time it’d been a book with old stories and myth of the Asgardian people. Then flowers, strangely familiar and yet alien at the same time.

Today, you say to yourself, today I’ll stay awake. Wriggling out of the light hospital-like gown, you look over at the stack of clean clothes that Frigga has provided you with. There’s no doubt, they’ll be nothing like you owned at home, but you can’t wait to wear them. Anything to be less like a patient and more like a person.

The shower is true to the grandiose style of the city beyond your window. Like a waterfall, it springs from the stone wall, cascading onto you and the marble floor in a soft, warm stream that washes away the last bits of mustiness that had build up under the bandages although they’d been changed frequently. Oh, gods, it’s good. Rubbing your scalp and hair with plenty of shampoo, you realize that a haircut is long overdue. Maybe you will leave it long this time? Change it up, just like your life has been? The possibilities seem endless and the freedom to choose anything makes you smile. All in all, life has taken a turn for the better since you left your hometown. Sure, getting squished by a giant, alien “leviathan” hadn’t been ideal, but you’re alive, recovering well…and you’ve gotten to see more than you could ever have imagined.

Once clean and dry, you dress in what you assume must be Asgardian fashion, to you it could’ve been taken straight from a renaissance fair or a fairy tale. At least the queen has provided you with pants. Tight and made of leather, which seems a bit daring. But it’s much better than having to move around in one of those long dresses the women seem to favour around here. A soft tunic goes over that, and once you’ve wrapped a leather belt around your waist, it’s hard not to nod approvingly at your reflection in the mirror. Lookin’ good.

…

Rechecking that everything is prepared, Heimdal can’t help but feel a bit nervous. The queen had been kind enough to divulge the plan for [Y/N]’s treatment, granting him an opportunity to plan ahead. Ready. With a satisfied smile, he strides off to handle the next phase of the plan.

By the time he reaches the door to the Midgardian’s chamber, an apprehension unlike anything he has felt since he was a young man is hammering inside his chest. He knocks for once, and the answer comes promptly, urging him to enter.

Not sure what to expect, it’s a pleasant surprise to see the woman sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in leather and delicately embroidered linen. The cool purple of the tunic is broken by thin lines of gold and yet…it cannot distract from the glory of [Y/N]’s smiling face and sparkling eyes that greet him unwavering. She’s…exquisite. Sure, the clothes are simple, nothing worth bragging about, so rather it’s the concept of this woman, radiant with life and curiosity, finally not being reduced to simply a patient. Even without having exchanged greetings with her, Heimdal’s sure his plan will be accepted happily.

“Morning, Heimdal.” The woman drops the gaze, picking instead at some invisible speck of dust on the tunic.

She doesn’t see as the Bridge-Keeper smiles at her self-consciousness. “Good morning. It’s a joy to see you free of the infirmary’s dreary gown.”

“It feels good to wear sorta normal stuff.” [Y/N]’s eyes go wide as she realizes what she just said. “I mean…It’s not that it’s not normal! I just…on earth we, y’know…it’s uhm…different and…ehm…and –“

It’s impossible not to let loose a guffaw at the woman’s attempt at recovering from what she thinks it’s a blunder. “Don’t worry, my friend,” Heimdal calms, “I’m well aware of the garments used in Midgard.” Observing as a shy smile erupts, the Bridge-Keeper decides it’s now or never. “Perhaps, if you feel up for it, I could tempt you with an excursion? A skiff has been prepared to take you across the realm of Asgard rather than only watching the world from behind a window…?”

A variety of emotions flutter across the features of [Y/N]: astonishment and delight are pushed aside by something akin to worry, perhaps. The bright smile turns into a frown as she bites softly into the lower lip and the fingers wind themselves in the embroidered border of the linen.

“What is it, my lady?” Heimdal allows himself to take a seat next to her on the edge of the bed, carefully reaching for her hand.

Taking it, delicate fingers trace invisible patterns around his knuckles. “I would seriously, like really, abso-freaking-lutely love to go. There’s so much to discover here and it’s like…like being in a fairy tale. Only it’s real.”

“But…?” Holding his breath, the Guardian of the Bifrost attempts to steal his heart for the worst. After all, why would she care to spend time with him?

How…how do I get to the skiff? I still can’t walk very far yet.” Again, the lower lip falls victim to a soft bite, and Heimdal finds himself wishing it was his lip. “The length of the hallway,” she indicates with a nod towards the corridor beyond the chamber-door, “but then I’m done for.”

Is that it? Expecting her to go on, the Asgardian hesitates, but nothing more comes. “If I’ll have to carry you, to grant you a taste of the world you so keenly have observed, then I will!”

“Oh, no! I can’t let you do tha–“

“[Y/N], there’s no need to fret. Just like on you earth, we have means of transporting people too ill or injured to walk.”

Meeting the [Y/E/C] eyes, he witnesses the decision being made, and his own heart could burst from his chest.

…

Of course! You’re absolutely certain, that you’re the biggest idiot to walk the planet. A people as advanced as the Asgardians are bound to have wheelchairs and what-not. Oddly enough, Idun has so far insisted on ferrying you to and from the cradles in a lying position, so you simply haven’t seen any other means of aid. And lying on he way to an exploration-trip hadn’t seemed like a good idea.

So of course, it doesn’t Heimdal long before he’s arranged a surprisingly stylish set of wheels for you and brings you through the labyrinth of halls and passages until you finally are outside in the sun. Breathing deeply, it strikes you again how clean the air is contrary to that back home…even out in the middle of nowhere, where you used to live. The sound of the city was distant and soothing, unable to overpower the songbirds and myriad of busy insects dancing on the breeze from flower to flower. This is heaven. It really did make sense why the Vikings of old had lived in glorifying hope of going to Valhalla. A morbid thought with a sense of humour as black as the deepest cave makes you quirk a smile, because in a way you (almost) did die in battle like the warriors thought was needed to be taken by the Valkyries to Asgard…and here you are. Difference is that you’re very much alive. The sun warming your skin and the gently win playing with your hair is proof of that. So is the fuzzy jolt that travels through your body as a strong hand rests against your back, urging you to step into the longboat that’s hovering in a waterless channel.

Once settled neatly on board, resting against furs and pillows, Heimdal maneuvers the vessel expertly out of the alien dock and along an invisible path.

“Anywhere particular in mind?”

That voice can also only be from heaven. “All of it?” You answer makes him laugh, honey eyes nearly disappearing in the smile. “I’d like to see what you see when you’re guarding Bifrost. And the mountain inland! And the lake I can see from my room.”

He get’s what you are trying to put into words, and as he navigates through the air, the many stories of the nation and his own youth surface. The intricate pattern in this Asgardian’s life has you criss-crossing fields and rivers, skimming over the treetops of the vast forests, and cruising along herds of deer leaping over the plains that fall and rise like ocean swells. And although each detour has the skiff aimed in a new direction, Heimdal consistently draws nearer to the mountains, the heart of the world. The snow-capped peaks loom tall ahead of you as the upland grows steadily steeper.

“These summits,” with a flourish he indicates the two tallest, “are Kóngurinn and Drottningin.”

Apparently, it means king and queen and are referring to the very first king and his wife. Buri, as the king was called, established Asgard’s dominance and role as a protector or the “Nine Realms”. This is not completely new to you as some of the books you’ve been reading while stuck in bed also covers subjects such as Asgardian history. Still…hearing it from Heimdal is much better and you feel your gaze drawn to him rather than the view. He has a way of oozing contagious interest, each word dripping with a calm confidence.

Enchanting.