don't need love when it comes in a bottle

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

“Tsk, I am so good at it darling.” The butcher replies with a warm laugh, an inclination of his head slightly. “I have always had a knack for sticking my nose in places it does not belong.” Humming thoughtfully, he sinks into the bed a bit and tilts his head. “Though perhaps in hindsight that may be the influence of the fyrhund.” If the feirw had affected him so abruptly, perhaps the fyrhund had its hold on him in other ways than just granting him a wagging tail.

But then the door is opening and snicking shut, and the butcher’s fingers fan out against Danta’s lower back as he whispers his question. To be met with the follow up of why they were whispering in the first place and gets interrupted by the knock at the door, Asta snorts softly. “I do not know. It felt as though it was the polite thing to do.” Not that it matters much.

He untangles himself from Danta with a kiss pressed to his temple, standing and approaching the door with the quiet confidence that he’s known for, opening the door to be greeted with the tray left behind. A grin sparks across his face as he collects it, bringing it in and closing the door, setting it on the bed for them. “The cookies are quite charming, no?” He asks, holding up the sweets with varying designs of random runes, antler, and bone shapes.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life