The first night you spent with Asgard wasn’t anything wild or rushed—it was quiet, thoughtful, just like him.

It had rained that day. The kind of steady, calming rain that soaked the Sanctuary stones and left the scent of earth in the air. You’d both been caught in it, soaked to the bone by the time you reached his quarters. He’d insisted you stay—there was no way he’d let you walk back to your own room with the storm still rolling in.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he had said immediately, already moving to grab extra blankets. “You’ll take the bed.”

You’d just stared at him, dripping wet, heart aching a little at the sight of this towering man offering to curl up on the cold floor like a guard dog.

“Asgard… we can share the bed. It’s big enough.” A pause. A long one. Then, softly—
“Are you sure?”

And so, that night, you lay beside him. The room was dim, lit only by the flicker of the lantern on the nightstand. He barely moved, lying on his back with his massive arms tucked stiffly at his sides, clearly unsure of how much space he should take up.

You shifted closer.

He turned his head slowly, golden hair spilling over the pillow. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you whispered. “You’re just… very big.”

“…I know,” he said, clearly trying not to move too much.

You smiled and pressed your hand over his chest—warm, solid, steady. “It’s comforting.”

For a while, you lay like that, hand over his heart, listening to the steady rhythm of it. Then, carefully, hesitantly, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close. His embrace was gentle, yet it felt like you were being held by a wall that would never let anything harm you.

He didn't say anything else that night.

He didn’t have to.

The way he held you said it all: You are safe. You are cherished. I will never let you go.