hold me tight or don't

// there's shadows on the walls //

"I wanted to bite your throat out only a few weeks ago when I was in the same state, so we'll call it even," Danta suggests, only to find himself suddenly in the other man's lap. Some shred of tension snaps in his shoulders and down his spine at that, the Maverick settling and holding Asta more tightly, even as the shiver racks through his body. "Hm? I'd have kicked you in the face and commissioned a very fashionable peg leg," he tells him with a lopsided smirk, one that fades as he realises the other man is being serious.

Letting a warm hand graze across the butcher's cheek, Danta leans in to press a kiss to his dark hair, his free hand smoothing across scarred shoulders as if trying to wipe the marks away. "I would have still shifted, but I'd have flown out the window," he says easily. "And I'd have brought something back for you to eat, providing you didn't jump off the balcony." He scrunches his nose at the thought. "But I promise you wouldn't have killed me. Not after all this time."

Dantalion

// of moments far too troubling to recall //