southern comfort's comforting, isn't it?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Twining his arms around the butcher as soon as he's in reach, Danta will remember the ring in Asta's hands eventually, he's sure, but for now it's the man holding it he's more interested in. Tilting his head up to catch his lips, he kisses him deeply and without a thought for breath or propriety or anyone who might catch sight of them through the window. He kisses him until his lungs burn and stars begin to dance behind his vision, and even as he's forced to part he leans in to rest his forehead against the other man's.

"I didn't even know what love was before you," he pants, like he needs to get the words out before he loses them entirely. "Fuck, even when I did know I ran from it so hard I nearly lost it again." He can see it plain behind his eyes: their bloody feuds in those early days in The Climb, the reluctant alliance struck centuries later, the strange friendship that bloomed into something searing and untamed between the sheets before smouldering into something no less hot, but infinitely more precious.

"I'm never going to lose that again," he says, sealing the sentiment with another kiss that Asta will have to be responsible for drawing away from. The butcher has seen him at his brightest and at his lowest, has held him through nightmares and indulged the chaos in him borne of trauma, has been responsible for his scars and for kissing them better. "Thank you, for the record. For being my second chance as well."

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash