you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
He doubts heavily that he’s no more trouble than Danta was – because at the very least it seemed like Danta was doing everything in his power to get away from everything. Astaroth, on the other hand, finds one single speck of movement and it’s target sighted. Perhaps that’s the main difference between the two of them, though, because the last thing the butcher would have expected from the Maverick would have been getting his throat torn out by rows of sharp teeth.
He'll be the fool the day it happens, though.
So he hums a note of understanding even if it isn’t felt, the butcher’s fingertips tracing soft lines into Danta’s hair and only pausing as his head tilts back. Even if the nightmare had been bad, the butcher would’ve lied and said it wasn’t if he could have gotten away with it. Thankfully, though, as Danta starts to relax, a soft “alright,” is murmured against his ear, legs shifting to tangle around his to keep him close. And while this might appear like he’s boxing him in, trapping him within the confines of his arms, the butcher knows better than anyone at just how slippery the Maverick could be if he didn’t want to be pinned. He knows that Danta could escape this hold with complete ease, and Asta would absolutely let him if that’s what he wanted.
So selfishly, he’s glad that Danta doesn’t move. And instead, Astaroth’s tail flicks in annoyance and protectiveness to hear that it was about Morax – even if a small part of him was relieved it wasn’t about him. “She had no right to do the things she did to you.” He murmurs, voice heavy with the touch of anger from what Danta had gone through. She had no right to make me do the things I did to you, either.
He'll be the fool the day it happens, though.
So he hums a note of understanding even if it isn’t felt, the butcher’s fingertips tracing soft lines into Danta’s hair and only pausing as his head tilts back. Even if the nightmare had been bad, the butcher would’ve lied and said it wasn’t if he could have gotten away with it. Thankfully, though, as Danta starts to relax, a soft “alright,” is murmured against his ear, legs shifting to tangle around his to keep him close. And while this might appear like he’s boxing him in, trapping him within the confines of his arms, the butcher knows better than anyone at just how slippery the Maverick could be if he didn’t want to be pinned. He knows that Danta could escape this hold with complete ease, and Asta would absolutely let him if that’s what he wanted.
So selfishly, he’s glad that Danta doesn’t move. And instead, Astaroth’s tail flicks in annoyance and protectiveness to hear that it was about Morax – even if a small part of him was relieved it wasn’t about him. “She had no right to do the things she did to you.” He murmurs, voice heavy with the touch of anger from what Danta had gone through. She had no right to make me do the things I did to you, either.
Astaroth
fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart
