mississippi boys, inner city boys

you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name

“Oh, I forgot.” Asta drawls amongst the flames, before they’re gone and his warm body heats up the bed as he crawls into the bed and effectively winds himself in the blankets, pinning Danta with a look that seems to say you’re no fun.

The rum remains very far away, but stubbornly he doesn’t want to get out of the bed after he’s already curled himself up in it, watches the blonde’s approach and doing nothing to stop Danta from unwinding the very blankets he’s wrapped around himself.

And as he finally reaches skin, Asta sinks down a little against Danta once there’s room. “I did take care of you.” He protests, tilting his hornless head to press in against Danta’s collarbone. “You were healed, were you not?” He punctuates the point, lifting his head to look at Danta as he shifts to blanket the other Ancient, pausing to prod the punctured tip of his tongue into his cheek to see if it still hurt.

Astaroth

fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart