run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
Content to be fussed over, only because he can hardly think to do it himself — the most the butcher can do is brush his thumb across Danta’s shoulder, tug softly at the soft strands of blonde that brush against his skin. The question is earnest, and the answer is one that has him holding his breath lest he feel the sting of the tears again and the tightness of his throat.
In stark contrast to the pull of Danta’s cheeks in the grin he flashes, Asta feels anything but that charming and suave arrogant man that had woken from stone. “Of course it’s you.” He says in a tone more akin to ‘how could it not be?’ But his voice is gravelly and sharp and it hitches when he clutches him impossibly tighter.
The pain meds are doing their job, certainly, with the way Asta tries to swallow against the tightness of his throat and he ducks his head as another few tears drip down his cheeks, vanishing into the stubble of his beard. “Ugh, stop being so fucking sweet.” He hisses as if annoyed, though only for the tears that drop and not the compliments themselves.
In stark contrast to the pull of Danta’s cheeks in the grin he flashes, Asta feels anything but that charming and suave arrogant man that had woken from stone. “Of course it’s you.” He says in a tone more akin to ‘how could it not be?’ But his voice is gravelly and sharp and it hitches when he clutches him impossibly tighter.
The pain meds are doing their job, certainly, with the way Asta tries to swallow against the tightness of his throat and he ducks his head as another few tears drip down his cheeks, vanishing into the stubble of his beard. “Ugh, stop being so fucking sweet.” He hisses as if annoyed, though only for the tears that drop and not the compliments themselves.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
