Summary: Magnus likes to poke fun at Hearthstone’s jealousy for his partner.
Request: “Hello! Can you please do headcanons for how Hearthstone would act around his s/o when he’s jealous? Thank you! He deserves some love!”
He pulled them closer to his side with his arm wrapped around their shoulders as they talked with Magnus, “ So you’re really going to New York? “
“ Yeah, Annabeth wants me to meet some of her friends while they’re in town. “ Magnus shrugged, “ When do you think you’ll be back? “ Y/n queried.
“ Probably in about a week. “ Magnus answered, “ Why you gonna miss me? “
They scoffed playfully, “ I’m gonna miss killing you. “
Subtlety Hearthstone had tightened his grip around their waist. Magnus smirked at the elf at his possible jealous behavior that his significant other wasn’t noticing. In proper Magnus fashion, he had to continue with the teasing until his best friend had enough.
“ Is little Y/n going to miss me? “ He teased in a childish voice, “ I have a knife, and I’m not afraid to use it. “ They retorted.
“ Is it the knife Blitz made you? “ Magnus queried, making Hearthstone tense immediately, “ Hearth, you okay? “ He asked the white-blond male.
Hearthstone didn’t want to take his arm away from his significant other's waist, so he nodded, but the grip on their waist was hard to ignore, “ Just come see me before you leave, yeah? “ Y/n replied.
“ Yes, ma’am. “ Magnus saluted and walked off with a victorious smirk, leaving them alone.
Instantly his grip on their waist was calmed, and they turned to him using their hands to sign, “ Are you okay, love? “
“ I’m fine. “ He signed back, and they let out a defeated huff crossing their arms, “ Are you okay? “
“ No, tell me what’s wrong. “ They signed, and Hearthstone gave a look of reluctance.
It was when they started laughing that his train of thought stopped. He couldn’t hear their laughter, but he could see them almost doubling over in tears at the amusing sight that he didn’t see. When they calmed down, they gave him the biggest smile he’d ever seen on their face. It warmed his heart and made his stomach flutter.
“ You were jealous. “ Y/n accused, and immediately Hearthstone signed back, “ No. “
“ It’s okay to be jealous. “ They replied, and Hearth crossed his arms defiantly, making them chuckle again.
Gently they grabbed the scarf from across his neck and put it around themselves. Wholly consumed in the way it smelt like cinnamon, pine, and eucalyptus. He admired the way that Y/n snuggled up in his scarf. The scarf never really left him unless it got lost, stolen, or fell apart. Blitz always told him that he looked better with it. Hearthstone had to disagree. His significant other really pulled it off.
They kissed his cheek before signing, “ You’re the only one I’ll ever love, H. “
He blushed before pulling them in for a tight hug. He knew that his jealousy was fruitless. They’d never leave him, and they had done so much for him. So they just stood there together in the hallway of floor nineteen, embracing one another. His white-blond hair tickled her shoulder, and his light grey eyes were shut in contentment. Happy to be in their arms and forever loved.
A/N: Listen I heard this audio and I finally thought YES I CAN WRITE SOMETHING WITH BLITZEN NOW! anyways take this yes I'm a dork and im feeding the fandom CAUSE THERES NONEEEEEE
Summary: Blitzen never understood why his Valkyrie partner refused to take off their battered old armor until he realized it wasn’t stubbornness, but safety.
So, with all the care of a master craftsman (and a very nervous boyfriend), he forges something new: armor built not just for battle, but for them. Between shy rambles, crushing hugs, and a lot of squealing, both dwarf and Valkyrie learn that sometimes the best protection is love. As he made a designers vow in Iron just for you.
╰┈➤ ⸝⸝★ Riordanverse Masterlist ୭ ˚.
Blitzen tapped his charcoal pencil against the edge of his sketchpad, his dark eyes flicking from the page to you. You stood there stiff and proud, armored head to toe in a battered set of Valkyrie steel, helm pulled low so only your sharp gaze glimmered behind the mask.
“Why don’t you take off that battle armor and slip into something more… comfortable?” Blitzen asked at last, tilting his head as if it were the most casual thing in the world. His pencil scratched another quick line on the page, his brows furrowed in concentration even as his lips tugged in a sly smile.
You folded your hands behind your back, the movement making your plates clink softly against each other. “I am most comfortable,” you said with all the pomp of a warrior giving a speech in Odin’s court, “when I am impervious to most physical forms of attack.”
Blitzen’s snort escaped before he could help himself. He leaned back on his stool, adjusting his tailored vest, his beard twitching as he fought to keep from laughing outright. “Of course you are.” His gaze lingered on the scuffs and dents along your breastplate, the frayed straps where the buckles no longer quite held. It wasn’t bad armor not for a Valkyrie but it wasn’t going to last you much longer, not with the way you threw yourself into danger. He pressed his lips together and tried to focus on his sketches.
“[Name]…” he said after a moment, lowering the pencil. “May I be allowed to measure you?” You tilted your head slightly, helm catching the light, and he knew you were giving him that confused little look beneath the mask. The one you never let anyone else see. He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to make you take everything off at once.” “Okay,” you said cautiously, the word muffled through your helmet.
For you, letting anyone see beneath the armor wasn’t easy. It was more than steel and chainmail it was safety. Shield and shell. Most Einherjar never even glimpsed your face. Even other Valkyries rarely did. But with Blitzen… it was different. Slowly, hesitantly, you loosened the helm and let it fall away, revealing only your eyes and lips. That much, and no more.
For anyone else, it might’ve seemed like nothing. But for Blitzen, his chest went tight. He always felt like he’d been given a secret too keep every time you let him see even a glimpse of you.
His pencil moved again, careful lines tracing across the page as he worked. His fingers itched to start draping fabric, sketching patterns across your silhouette, forging something worthy of you.
The habit grew without either of you meaning it to. Every time you stopped by Blitzen’s shop, whether with Hearthstone or Magnus or even both, it always ended the same way: the two boys would snicker into their sleeves when Blitz flinched at your sudden appearance. He’d be halfway through fitting an armored jacket on a mannequin, muttering about stitching lines, when you appeared silently in full battle gear at the door.
“Could you… maybe wait just a second?” he’d say, cheeks warming under his beard. You’d fold your arms and nod once, standing perfectly still as though guarding the threshold of his workspace. Hearth would sign something smug to Magnus, who’d struggle not to laugh, but Blitzen always pressed on. He’d tug the mannequin into a corner, smooth down his waistcoat, and come greet you with that soft, patient smile that was just for you.
On dates, he fussed even more always checking your armor straps, brushing dust off your shoulders, reminding you to sit where the light wouldn’t glare against your visor. He never pushed you to shed your protection, never teased. He just smiled at you the same way every time, even if all he got was the gleam of your eyes through a narrow slit of steel.
So when one evening he surprised you by steering your date toward his private design room, you didn’t know what to expect. His hand was warm at the small of your back as he ushered you inside, the smell of metal and leather heavy in the air. “Blitzen…” you began warily, fingers brushing your chestplate but then your eyes landed on it.
Displayed beneath the lamplight was a suit of Valkyrie armor unlike any you’d ever seen. Sleek but elegant, the plates were polished to a dark sheen that caught the light in subtle patterns. The breastplate was engraved with delicate knotwork, curling like vines, and the pauldrons swept outward with a faint flare practical, but undeniably stylish. Even the helm was shaped with care, the visor opening narrow yet graceful, like wings folded at rest.
Blitzen stood beside it, wringing his hands, a nervous little duck doodled in the margin of his sketchpad where he’d clearly lost focus earlier. “Tada?” he said, voice pitching up in uncertainty.
You froze, unable to look away from the armor. For once, words tangled uselessly in your throat. All you could manage was a slow, shaky breath as your hand lifted to touch the chestplate. The metal was cool beneath your palm, but it wasn’t just steel. It was safety. It was beauty. It was him.
Blitzen rubbed the back of his neck, his ears turning red. “I… I just thought well, if armor makes you feel safe, then you deserve something that doesn’t just keep you safe. Something that looks like you. Strong, beautiful, terrifyingly fashionable…” He trailed off, glancing at you nervously. “It’s not perfect. Nothing ever is. But-”
You dropped your helmet to the floor with a clang, and before he could finish, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him. His pencil clattered to the ground.
For once, you weren’t a Valkyrie first. You weren’t just steel and sharp edges. You were simply his, and he was yours. You pulled back from the kiss with a giddy laugh, eyes shining as you turned toward the mannequin again. “Can I?”
Blitzen blinked, then nodded quickly, scrambling to help. “Of course, of course! Here- let me just- yes, start with the greaves- careful, they’re balanced for agility-”
You were already half skipping toward the armor, childlike excitement breaking through your usual stoic Valkyrie composure. Piece by piece, Blitz lifted the set from its display, his hands moving with the precision of a master craftsman and the nerves of a doting boyfriend. The metal was smooth where your old armor had been coarse, feather-light where your plates had weighed you down.
When the breastplate clicked into place, you caught sight of yourself in the tall mirror at the far end of the room. Your mouth parted in wonder. The reflection staring back at you looked like you not just a warrior, not just a Valkyrie, but something proud and radiant, powerful and beautiful all at once.
Blitzen’s voice carried in a fast stream beside you, his hands brushing across clasps and seams as he fussed over every detail. “See, I actually consulted with the other Valkyries first strictly professional, mind you just to double check the balance of weight versus mobility. And of course I had to weave in some dwarf-grade enchantments, because if you’re going to wear armor, it should last. Oh, and the runes subtle, not flashy but they’ll deflect up to three magical strikes at once before needing recharge. Honestly, I was this close to adding a cape, but then Hearthstone reminded me capes are impractical- well, unless you want to look dramatic-”
You couldn’t help it. A giggle burst out of you, bubbling brighter with each word he rambled. “Blitz,” you wheezed, eyes sparkling when you took of the helmet, “you sound like Magnus when he tries to explain why he’s late except you actually know what you’re talking about.”
“Ha-ha, very funny,” Blitz muttered, though his beard twitched with a grin he couldn’t hide. He leaned closer, smoothing his palms over your armored arms, adjusting the straps, checking the weight. His touch lingered just enough to remind you it wasn’t just a craftsman perfecting his work. It was him making sure you were safe.
You squealed suddenly, the joy too much to contain, and threw your arms around him causing Blitz’s voice to crack as the plates of your new armor crushed against his ribs. He squirmed helplessly in your grasp, arms pinned at his sides. “Careful, careful! Dwarf lungs are sturdy but not indestructible!”
You only laughed harder, burying your face against his shoulder, your laughter ringing through the workshop like a bell. Blitz groaned, patting your armored back in defeat, but you could feel the way he was smiling into your hair.
For once, you weren’t hiding behind your armor. You were glowing inside it. And Blitzen, nervous duck-maker, son of Freya and Bili, had never been happier to be the reason why.
