southern comfort's comforting, isn't it?

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

"I love you too," Danta mumbles, feeling dizzied by the past few moments (and likely a lack of oxygen as well) and having to lean into the butcher a little more than he would otherwise. His fingers tangle in the back of Asta's dark hair even as the other hand smooths down his back, as if worried he's put a wrinkle in the shirt he's so carefully put on. "I'd let the world burn for you." Or he'd burn it himself, more likely.

Wanting to chase after his touch even as they part only a fraction, it's the carved box that Asta holds up between them that has Danta remembering the reason he'd dropped to one knee in the first place. "I didn't get you anything," he whispers, like it's an oversight he ought to have foreseen, but he nevertheless cups his hand around Asta's to push the lid up and to reveal the sparkling fire obsidian within.

"You had this made?" he guesses, sounding quietly awed and carefully taking the ring from where it's nestled inside. "It's like a little piece of you," he observes immediately, slipping it onto his finger - one conveniently left bare and entirely suited for an engagement ring, where it glitters prettily among the array of other jewellery. "What do you think?"

Dantalion

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