#needless to say i think im readily warmed up

[localicecreambiter]

Writing Warm-up: 7th times the Charm

I haven't written anything substantial in a long while so I decided to crank out a little thing for some practice. I didn't proof read so forgive the mistakes and terrible writing flow

my first actual loz piece

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"What can I do to help?"

It was always the same question. The same tone. The longer he knew the other, the more sure he grew that Link wasn't even aware it was something he did. The Hylian was just helpful by nature; a heart pure and true is what Ravio always said. Too nice for his own good.

So when a group of self proclaimed heros knocked on his dear friend's door, asking for Link to help on another quest, Ravio couldn't say he was surprised.

Lorule was a land buzzing with magic, despite the (previously) lack of triforce. It was a kingdom filled with strange monsters, items, and people. So to say the Lolian was magically inclined would be an understatement. Identifying Hyrule's magic had been challenging initially. Despite the similarities, there was a distinct difference in magical presence that threw the merchant off at points. Just as their lands mirrored not exactly the same, the magic reflected in kind. While he tended to get confused, there was no denying the glaringly obvious: these heros held the exact same magic Link harbored.

It was something unexplainable, not through words, at the very least. Call it a gut feeling, but he just knew.

Wisdom had always been drawn to courage anyhow.

The small cottage atop a hill in central Hyrule had never felt so empty as Link saddled his adventuring bag. His excitement betrayed the cool persona he attempted to keep, fidgety digits readjusting his bag strap every few seconds. They would make eye contact every so often as the party trotted along the pebbled road, greenery edging his vision. That was the toughest part about being friends with a hero: the guy had responsibilities set upon him by the goddess. No matter how much Link grumbled and complained, cursed and forsaken, he always did his duty at the end of the day.

It was one of the numerous things that set them so far apart.

He shook his head, vowing he had let go of that insecurity years ago. He wasn't 14 anymore, he wasn't the failed hero of Lorule. He was a merchant, and a friend of the hero of Hyrule. He wanted nothing more, nothing less. So when Link swung around to offer one last goodbye, pride swelled inside the cowardly rabbit.

"Try and make it back in one piece, pal." He tried for a smile, lip quivering with emotion. "Sheerow and I will always be rooting for you back home, so don't let us down buddy."

Link only shook his head, smirk doing nothing to hide the fondness on his face. "Yeah yeah, no promises. Make sure my house doesn't burn down… And don't pawn off my stuff." The pointed look was playful, they both knew he would never dream of it.

They could stand there and banter all day, but Ravio knew Link had more important places to be.

"I'll see you later." Not a question, nor an offer, but a fact. The merchant could do nothing but nod for fear he'd lose his composure. There was always some uncertainty when leaving for an adventure, but if Link was anything, it was reliable.

He always made it home without fail.

And as the portal closed, he was reminded of how fast things can change in a single moment.

There was always a constant, and as he turned to make the trek back to the empty feeling cottage on a hill in central Hyrule, he hoped silently Link would be that constant.

The odds were six to nothing. A reassuring ratio.

The Lolian smiled, he could live with those odds.

Link would be home before he knew it.

@kaite--s i figured you'd wanna see this since we've been discussing (but seeing as you lurk in the ravio tags as much as I do im sure you would have found it eventually)

[winterscaptain]

in line.

Aaron Hotchner x Male Reader

request from anon: Thank you for sharing your writing on here! A blurb idea, because I hardly see any male readers, is that maybe Hotch has figured out he’s attracted to men too and has a boyfriend? Someone Hotch can go home to and be taken care of by them, someone Jack trusts? Because hotch spends all his time caring for the team, his s/o really spoils him with affection and TLC. I’m really soft for that idea, and the team being real pleased he’s found someone who appreciates him again. Hope you’re doing well! a/n: i wanted to give this a little more attention than a blurb, so it turned into a Whole Thing™ words: 2790 warnings: swearing, some drinking, derek being charming, and emily prentiss: patron saint of The Gays™

i don't have a specific male!reader taglist yet, so i added all yall on my gn!reader list, so nobody would miss this! lemme know if you wanna stay on the male!reader list or not - you’ll never hurt my feelings :)

masterlist | requests closed!

Aaron came home to all the lights off save one, illuminating a little scene before him - dinner (still hot) on the coffee table, a glass of wine, and you, holding the remote ready to start a movie. 

He smiled, set his briefcase down, and slipped his shoes off. 

“Jack’s at Jess’s,” you said, before he could ask. “I thought it would be a nice surprise to spend the evening, just you and me.” 

He crossed to the couch and sat down, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “It’s a great surprise, thank you.” You grabbed his tie and tried to pull him down on the couch, but he pried your fingers off and laughed. “Let me change and I’ll come sit with you, alright?”

You picked up your glass of wine and tipped it his direction. “I’ll be here.”

It was true. When he returned and dropped down next to you, you were waiting for him. When he was firmly settled with dinner, you started the movie. 

After a while, you asked, “Did the case go okay?”

He nodded. “We got ‘im. I had to stay and make sure the DA had a strong enough case, otherwise I would have been home yesterday.” 

You leaned into him, and he wrapped an arm around you. “I don’t mind. Jack and I went out for a bike ride yesterday and didn’t miss you at all, not even a little.” 

Aaron laughed. “Good.” 

+++

“Damn it.” 

Aaron forgot his lunch. He could see it in his mind’s eye, sitting there next to his travel mug of coffee on the kitchen island. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he had just resigned himself to a takeout lunch when his phone rang. 

“Hotchner.” 

“Babe, you left your lunch here,” the light amusement in your tone dissolved his sour mood, and he smiled despite himself. 

“I noticed.” 

He could hear you shuffling around in the background as you spoke. “I’ll swing by and leave it downstairs after I drop Jack at school. No more than an hour, okay?”

Aaron smiled and sat in his chair, leaning back. “What did I do to deserve you?”

You laughed. “Absolutely nothing. I’m just a sucker for charity cases.” There was a shuffle, and you heard Jack laugh. You were probably at the table, poking the kid in the ribs until he almost got sick with laughter. Before Aaron could respond again, you said, “Alright, love you, bye!” and hung up.

Aaron rolled his eyes and got to work. 

True to your word, no more than an hour later found you at the front of the Quantico Federal Building, Aaron’s lunch and coffee in your hand. You’d never seen the inside, but you knew you were on the visitors list. 

Fuck it.

You checked in, got your visitor’s badge, and made your way to the sixth floor with only a little bit of spatial confusion. You knew which bullpen was theirs immediately - you had yet to meet the team, but you’d seen pictures and heard enough stories to keep track of names and faces.

You quickly stepped through the glass doors, doing everything in your power to avoid directing too much attention to yourself. But alas, Aaron worked with profilers, and they all noticed you despite your best efforts. 

JJ’s head shot up. “Is that -”

“Hotch’s travel mug? Yeah.” Derek squinted at you as you took the stairs two at a time up to your boyfriend’s door. 

You knocked, and a crisp “Come in” sounded from inside. 

Aaron couldn’t hide his surprise when you poked your head through the door, stepping in and closing it behind you. He stood, circling the desk and leaning against it. 

Boundaries were important to him at work, you knew, so you refrained from untoward affection, stepping back to a respectable distance after you set his things next to the file on his desk. 

“How’d you get past security?” He asked, and you knew it was a joke. 

“I guess they’re letting just about anyone in, these days.” 

Aaron nodded, in facetious consternation. “Looks like it.” He broke after a moment, offering you a small smile. “Thank you. You didn’t have to come all the way out here.” 

You shrugged. “Wasn’t too hard.” 

He glanced out the blinds. The entire team averted their eyes, bumping into each other in their haste to look busy. 

You followed his gaze. “It’s okay, Aaron. Don’t feel pressured to introduce me to any of them - I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.” There was a little swoop in your stomach. 

Did I overstep?  

He sighed. “I know. You didn’t. It feels a little...ridiculous to be hiding anything from them after all this time.” He reached out, and you took his hand, still a couple of steps away. His eyes stayed on your linked hands as they swung a little between you. “I don’t mean to hide you from them.” 

You squeezed his hand with a warm, small smile. “I know.” And you did. It was big for him - explicitly and obviously coming out to his team was bound to be terrifying, and to add a new person on top of that? 

I don’t envy him. 

Meanwhile, down in the bullpen, everyone was taking turns reporting back on what was going on behind the blinds. 

“They’re holding hands, and not in a handshake way,” Emily said, covering her face with a folder as she looked up. 

JJ chanced a look. “He’s been a lot less uptight recently.”

“He’s also not coming in as early. His arrival time is, on average, about thirty-seven minutes later than five months ago.” 

Emily looked at Spencer like he’d grown another head. “You keep track of when we come in?” 

Spencer didn’t look up from his book. “Of course.” 

“I’m glad he has someone,” JJ noted lightly. “It’s good for him.”

Back up in the office, you took a step toward Aaron. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, my love.” 

He huffed a laugh and ran his thumbs over your knuckles. “Come to Dave’s the next time we all get together.” 

“Really?” Your eyebrows felt like they were going to meet your hairline they shot up so fast. 

“Yeah. They’d love to meet you.” 

Your brow furrowed, confused. “How do you know?”

He shrugged. “They’re very predictable.” 

+++

Needless to say, Aaron was right. They politely, pointedly, and casually posed questions about Hotch’s lunchtime visitor until he wasn’t able to avoid them anymore. Thus, he invited you to Dave’s the next time the team had a night off.

You were excited, but admittedly a little nervous. You were all headed to the car, Jack (very carefully) carrying the brownies you’d made that afternoon. 

He was chatting away, telling you stories you’d already heard, about JJ and Emily and Derek and Spencer and Dave and Henry and etc. etc. etc. 

You loved that kid. 

When Aaron pulled up to the house, Jack jumped out of the car and walked through the front door like he owned the place. It made you laugh. 

Aaron looked over, a fond smile on his face. “What?”

“Jack. He just -” you made a vague gesture with your hand - he just goes and goes, and Aaron laughed. 

After a moment, you two sobered. He reached for your hand, and you laced your fingers with his. 

“They’re going to love you. You know that.” 

You snorted. “I certainly don’t.”

Aaron kissed the back of your hand and covered it, so two of his hands were holding one of yours. “Are you ready?”

“Are you?”

He patted your hand twice by way of an answer, releasing you and opening his door. You followed suit, waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

When you actually looked, you realized how truly massive Dave’s house was. Aaron had told you he was well-off, with his book royalties and other savings, but the beautiful and tasteful mansion before you spoke to a bank account that had eight figures, rather than six. 

Aaron stepped forward and offered you his hand. You took it. He led you up the flagstone path and through the front door, opening it without preamble. 

The foyer was beautiful, opening to a staircase, the living room, and some kind of den or parlor off to the side. Aaron led you to the kitchen, where a statuesque woman with dark brown hair was mixing a drink. Emily. 

She turned when she heard you enter, and a wide smile broke out across her face. “Hi!” 

You dropped Aaron’s hand and offered it to her. She shook it readily, and you found yourself mirroring her smile. “Hi. Emily, right?”

She nodded, and spared a glance at Hotch. “Hotch, you know it’s polite to introduce guests.” 

He huffed in good humor and gestured pedantically as he spoke. “Emily, this is my boyfriend, Y/N. Y/N, Agent Emily Prentiss.” 

You were very impressed by his lack of hesitation over the word boyfriend, as it had been a topic of discussion in the past. 

“It’s so juvenile. I feel like I’m in high school.” Aaron chuckled, staring up at the ceiling with his hands laced behind his head. 

You rolled over onto his chest. “I can’t be your partner - you’ve already been a lawyer and I would hate to confuse people. You’re the one with a juris doctorate, not me.” You rested your chin on his pec, giving just a little more weight than was necessary. 

He dropped one of his arms, and you scooted up to fit nearly under it. “Is it at all weird to have a boyfriend in one’s forties?”

You shrugged. “I think it’s whimsical.” 

“Oh yeah, that’s me.” He laughed. “Whimsical in the extreme.” 

Emily’s voice was warm and genuine when she told you, “It’s a pleasure to meet the person who keeps him,” she jabbed her index finger at Hotch, “in line.”

You laughed, the anxiety melting little by little. “Bold of you to assume anyone can keep him in line.” 

She snorted. “Don’t I know it.”

Hotch crossed his arms over his chest. “Guys, I’m right here.” 

“And?” You and Emily answered simultaneously.

He shook his head with a smile. “C’mon. If you want to continue making fun of me, there’s plenty of ammunition out back.” 

You offered your arm to Emily, and she took it daintily. “Such a gentleman.” She looked over her shoulder as she started walking you to the back patio. “How’d you snag this one?”

“Apparently, he has a thing for charity cases,” Aaron deadpanned. 

A few pairs of eyes flickered to you when you stepped out, and Emily’s hand squeezed you reassuringly. You already loved her. 

Hotch came up to your side and grabbed your hand as Emily stepped away, stopped by two men who had to be Derek and Spencer (who needed a mediator for some inane, hair-splitting dispute they were having). 

A couple who you assumed were JJ and Will smiled at you as you approached. 

“JJ, Will, this is Y/N.” Hotch said, a little more confidence in his voice than before. 

“I’m the boyfriend,” you supplied, and JJ laughed. 

“I’m so glad you could make it!” She leaned close to you, and you dipped your head to listen. “We’ve been asking about you since you stopped by a couple of weeks ago.” 

You raised your chin in a knowing fashion as you leaned back, once again including Hotch and Will in the conversation. “Ah, I see. So there’s lore?”

“Definitely.” She pursed her lips in mock solemnity. 

You matched her facetious tone. “Don’t believe everything you hear.” 

JJ broke then, smiling at you once more. “I never make that mistake.” Just then, a little blond boy ran up to her, attaching himself to her leg. She automatically put a hand on his head and gestured to you. “Henry, can you say hello to Mr. Y/N? He’s a really special friend of Hotch’s - like Miss Savannah is to Derek.” 

“Hi.” 

You crouched to Henry’s level, offering your fist. A look of satisfaction crossed his face as you bumped fists, your hands exploding out of it (with sound effects). “It’s so nice to meet you, man. Were you playing soccer over there?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Jack’s really good but he lets me get goals.” 

“Wow.” You raised your eyebrows. “That’s really nice of him, and I bet you learn a lot, too.” 

Jack called Henry from across the yard, and he offered you one last adorable grin before sprinting off. You rose, checking in with Hotch as you did so. JJ and Will were distracted watching Henry for the moment, so they missed the awe that crossed Aaron’s face for just a moment. 

Your eyebrows pulled. What?

He shook his head. Nothing. But there was something there. Something fond and altogether content. 

You heard Emily come up behind you before you saw her, so you turned as she approached with Derek, Dave, and Spencer. 

You offered your hand first to Derek, and shot a smile to Spencer. Hotch had warned you before you left the house that Spencer didn’t shake hands. 

“Nice to meet you, man. Derek Morgan.” Morgan’s grip was firm and warm. “Emily was just telling me I owe you a thanks for reminding Hotch he has a sense of humor.” Derek’s smile ate up his whole face as he beamed at you. It very nearly stole your breath - he was stunning, and smart. The way he phrased his introduction made it unnecessary to re-introduce yourself, and you were sure that soothed whatever remained of Hotch’s anxiety. 

Hotch’s deadpan was decidedly dry. “Funny.”

That’s a good sign. 

Spencer was quiet, but there was a little smile playing at his lips. He looked just over your shoulder, and seemed to communicate with someone behind you for a moment. It was only the barest changes in expression, but you’d been around Aaron long enough to know a silent conversation when you saw one, no matter how subtle. The outcome of the conversation looked good, as Spencer stifled another smile and looked over at Hotch.

You then offered your hand to Dave, who took it in both of his. “It is so good to finally meet you.” He shot a sly smile at Hotch. “I was beginning to wonder if you were a figment of my imagination a couple weeks ago.” 

“I promise I am very real,” you said with a laugh. “It’s so great to meet all of you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All bad I hope,” JJ chirped from over your shoulder as she approached. 

You nodded. “The worst.” 

Aaron kissed your temple as the rest laughed, and you could feel the small smile resting on his lips. He sure was smiling a lot tonight, and you couldn’t help but feel a little proud that you had a lot to do with it. 

A woman you could only assume was Penelope bounced up and swooped under Derek’s arm. “What did I miss?”

Hotch laughed (he laughed!) and introduced you. “Y/N, this is our tech analyst Penelope Garcia. Garcia, this is Y/N.”

Instead of a handshake, she just got out from under Derek’s arm and gave you a hug. You relaxed right into her. 

She let you go after a second, but kept her hands on your upper arms. “I am so glad you’re here. I’ve been hoping someone would come along and snag our fearless leader before too long.” She winked, and it warmed you. 

The rest of the evening flowed smoothly, eventually moving to the living room, and then to goodnights. Everyone wished you a warm goodbye, and Dave kissed you on both cheeks before letting you go. Jack was apparently spending the night at the Jareau-LaMontagne household, so you and Aaron were alone on the drive back. 

You relaxed into the seat as he sped along the highway, his hand locked in yours across the center console. “That was really fun.” You looked over at him, finding less tension in him than you’d ever seen before. “Your team is incredible.” 

“I know it. They’re the best at what they do.”

You kissed the back of Aaron’s hand. “I’ve heard it helps to have a great boss, or so Penelope tells me.”

He huffed a little laugh through his nose. “She is the authority on such things, as I understand it.” 

The car was quiet for a few minutes. 

“I - “ Hotch cleared his throat, but his gaze never wavered from the road. “I can’t tell you how much tonight meant to me.”

You squeezed his hand. “It was nothing.” You were lying, and he knew it, but at the end of the day, you’d do anything for him.  

He smiled, broad and genuine, and you decided then that Aaron’s joy was your favorite sight in the whole world. 

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[damienthepious]

no lizard this tuesday. have some pre-canon rilla/damien smoochin and discussion of [checks notes] uh death!!! it’s fun!!! im stress’d

No Aching Necessary

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Tuesday, Established Relationship, (im POSTING this for LKT but i won't put it in the tag because arum ain't here.), (maybe if i ever pin down a follow up for this feat. the lizard? perhaps.), self-sacrificing idiot vibes, Mild Suicidal Ideation, Pre-Canon, Communication, discussions of uhhhh death

Summary: Sir Damien feels love like self-immolation. Rilla feels a little bit differently about it.

Notes: I've had this idea for a while, because Sir Damien is nothing if not dramatic, and sir "self sacrifice is a knightly virtue!" seemed like the type to say this particular phrase on repeat. Basically just wanted to unpack all that I guess?? anywayyyy no thoughts brain scrampled egg. also this may have a part two someday? maybe? idk. there's potential.

~

Love, for Sir Damien, feels...

Eternal, and holy, and sacrificial. As in, it sounds of yet another litany in his mind, alongside the song of prayer to Saint Damien, alongside pleas for Tranquility, alongside fear and doubt and fortitude. I love you becomes too big for itself, it transforms, rather quickly, into-

"I would die for you."

Rilla stares at him the first time he says it, furrowing her brow, her dark eyes filled with concern. He kisses her frowning lips, gentle and aching, and when she kisses back her grip is possessive, firm, sturdy, and Damien melts against her as easy as wax beneath the flame.

The second time it bubbles out of him in helpless delight. She rolls her eyes and squeezes his hand almost too hard as she pulls him along to the next booth at the festival, distracting him with games and laughter until the throbbing of his heart eases into something more like joy.

The third time she only says I'll see you tomorrow, Damien, and glares hard at his back as he returns to the Citadel.

The fourth time he presses their bodies together and breathes it against her lips and-

She rolls him onto his back, sinking her teeth into his bottom lip and making him squeak and gasp, and when she pulls back she presses one hand to each of his shoulders, and the fury on her face is nearly thunderous.

"What's that thing you keep calling me, Damien?" she asks, inarguable and stern.

Damien blinks, panting as he stares up at her in confusion and desire and, suddenly, rising worry.

"Wh-what?"

"What is it that you call me? That romantic, poetic little name you have," she repeats, moving one hand from his shoulder to his neck, thumbing at his pulse.

"I…" Damien swallows, feeling her hand against the column of his throat. "M-my- my forever-flower?" he tries, his voice weak and wavering, and Rilla's eyes flash as the hand on his shoulder squeezes.

"If I'm yours," she says, her dark eyes utterly serious, her gaze inescapable, "your flower, then you're mine, Damien."

"Always," Damien breathes, and she blinks for half a heartbeat, apparently not expecting his easy (eager) acquiescence.

She shifts even closer, her voice lowering in both volume and tone. "You're mine," she says again. "And I intend to keep you, for as long as I am physically capable."

"A-ah." Damien's heart thuds, some delicious thrill at the idea of being kept. That she would- that she does want him, that she wants him enough to say things like that-

"Which means," she continues, her palm still warm against his throat as her other hand sinks into his hair, her nails tickling his scalp, "you need to stick around to be mine. I don't wanna hear you say anything like that to me. Understand?"

"But... but it's true, my love. I would die for-"

"You'd better not," she growls - growls, her eyes flashing, and a delicious shiver runs down Damien's spine - and her grip on his hair tightens, carefully angling his face up so that he looks her in the eye. "I want you, I love you, and I don't want anything to do with you dying."

"Rilla..." Damien swallows, looking down and away for a moment before he meets Rilla's eye again, hesitant. "You know, of course... I am a knight, my love, my flower. Each day, each mission is a risk. I take those risks willingly, knowing that I face potential fatality for the sake of my Saint and my Citadel. And, now... for you."

Rilla frowns hard, and then she kisses him harder, her hands firm and inarguable in his hair and on his neck for one long, searing moment before she pulls away again, and some of that righteousness on her face fades, her brow creased with distress.

"There's a difference between understanding the mortality rate of your career and you, apropos of nothing, claiming that you wanna throw your dead body at my feet, Damien. It's not romantic, it's not comforting, and I don't want to hear you say it. Why would you think that I would want to hear you say that? No one is asking you to die for me. I want you. I love you. And I can't fucking love you if you're dead, and especially not if you're dead for no goddamn reason."

"I never said-" Damien pants, his words slipping from his mind like trying to snatch a ribbon from the current of a river. "Not for no reason, it isn't as if-"

"Would you want me to say that?" she says, her voice almost- almost keening, beneath her frustration. "Do you want me to be eager to die for you?"

Damien lifts his hands, gripping Rilla's sides as if to keep her there.

"There is no reason whatsoever for you to even consider-"

"You can't know that for sure. Neither of us can. It isn't just your job that's dangerous Damien, it's the whole damn world. So, what if I do? What if I want to die for you, too? Does that make you feel good about our relationship?"

"I- well, I-"

"Does it make you feel good to think about me dying for you, or does it make you feel terrified?"

Terrified. Needless to say.

Needless, of course; Rilla's glare eases at the look on his face, at the way he freezes beneath her hands like startled prey.

"Exactly," she says, muted and gentle, and then she draws her hand through his hair, her other raising enough to cup his jaw. "I know... I know that being a knight is dangerous. I know because of how many times I've had to put one back together. Even just by how many times I've had to put you back together, even. I know- I know, intellectually, that losing you-"

She pauses, her breath doing something strange, her dark eyes too bright, suddenly.

"Rilla..."

She scowls as he wraps his arms around her middle. "I know it's a possibility. I know it's- likely, even," she says more fiercely. "But that doesn't mean I want to hear you say it, and it doesn't mean I want you to sound so goddamn eager to die. Got it?"

"I'm- I'm not- I don't-"

Eagerness does not come into it. Damien knows, though-

Damien knows what Rilla knows. As she has just quietly, sadly confirmed. The life of a knight is risk, inherent. More accurately, the life of a knight is sacrifice: his own safety in exchange for the protection of the citizens of the Citadel. The same exchange Sir Damien promised, in his heart, so many years ago to his Saint. It is likely, extremely likely, that Sir Damien will die in the service of his Saint and his Citadel.

And Rilla-

Rilla. Kneeling above him, curled down to place her forehead against his own, holding his face in her hands.

He would die for her. His heart aches for her, resounds like a bell in his chest, and he would die for her just as readily as he would die for his Saint, or his Queen. That is what she means to him, her equivalent place in his heart, what she does to him. He-

She bites his collarbone, sharp and sudden, and Damien yelps.

"Rilla!"

"You were thinking it again," she mutters, darkly, and then she kisses that same spot, feather light. "I just- I love you too much to hear you care so little about yourself." She lifts her face towards his, then, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Please. If you love me-"

"I do. My love for you burns like a wildfire, races like a waterfall, it fills me like-"

"Then you have to look out for yourself too, because I love you. And- and I can't always be there to watch your back and patch you back up. It's important to me that you're not- not trying to destroy yourself to prove a point about how much you-"

"Never," Damien breathes. He holds her a little tighter, then reaches to draw his hand through her hair. "No, that isn't... that isn't what I meant. I acknowledge the- the mortality rate, as you called it, but- but I hope, at least, to die nobly in my purpose. There would be no such end in reckless inattention to my safety. I swear."

Rilla frowns - nearly pouts, perhaps - and then she sighs as she bumps the tip of her nose into his cheek. "Alright. Okay. Thank you for... for listening. I know how- how much you feel, it's just- I can't do that. I can't hear you say that, especially not- not like you're saying it instead of... I just can't. Okay?"

"I understand," Damien says. "I will try to... to find more agreeable - less distressing, rather - ways in which to express my adoration."

Uncertain, whether or not he will be able to banish the thought from his mind, however. Occasionally it blinds him, when he looks at her, the breathlessness of his love, the need to protect and worship and bend himself to her merest desire-

But-

She desires, in no mere way, for him to be safe and whole, and holding her.

It still roils within him like a tempest, like waves and rocks and thunder, love like roaring and electricity.

But for her-

(Tranquility)

Sir Damien kisses her brow, kisses her neck, kisses her nose to make her wrinkle it and laugh.

Rilla loves him: miracle. Rilla loves him, like blankets and safety and hearth. Like sunshine, and laughing wind.

The soldier sings of death, as it walks ever by his side, but home- home will not abide such talk while the soldier rests inside.

He purses his lips. Unpolished, not without potential-

"I guess that's one way to think about it," Rilla murmurs, her cheeks a little dark, and Damien starts with the realization that he spoke aloud.

"Er- ah, well-"

"You really think of me as-" she pauses, bites her lip, then meets his eye again. "As... home?"

Damien exhales, overwhelmed by the strangely shy pleasure on Rilla's face, and then he tips his face up to capture her lips in another kiss.

"I do," he breathes, and then he kisses her again. "My forever-flower, my love... my home. Of course, my home."

"It- I think of you that way too," she whispers, and then she closes her eyes. "That's... why, I think. That's why it's hard for me to hear you say things like that. I know bad things happen, I know that homes- I know that things break. I just... don't like the reminder, I guess. I don't need it. I already learned that lesson too many times, y'know?"

Amaryllis of Exile looks down at him with a hesitant smile, her hand on his cheek scented vaguely of mint and smoke. Damien knows, yes. He knows what she has lost. He kisses her again, gentle and precious.

He loves her, and he knows that she loves him. So brave a love, in fact, that she will hold him and know she may lose him, and she will love him all the more fiercely in response.