#and it's delightful to consider that my peers do not tolerate my strange and sometimes inappropriate behavior but are actively accepting of

[box16]

louis wain was right. i am happy because everyone loves me

[bumblybeebounce]

Sweet Music

So I was the guitar anon in @rzrcrst 's asks a while ago, and thought hey, why don't I try to practice a bit more on writing Ezra? Ssso I made this. Hopefully it's at least tolerable? :'D I just wanted to write something sweet, maybe it will cheer someone up a bit! I am actually trying to learn how to play guitar, but please consider: I am a dumbass. It's a slow going thing. VERY SLOW. So apologies if I got something wrong! Anywho, the song in this one is "I Belong To You" by Brandi Carlile.

Rating: E Pairing: Ezra x Reader Warnings: None

Taglist: @rzrcrst @tarrevizslas @equalstrashflavoredtrash

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Sometimes, for all the advancement made in space travel, the waiting was a purgatory of boredom you just HAD to get through one way or another. Like right now. With you and Ezra in your ship, docked to another carrier on the course for another possible payday. And as much as you could appreciate it when your companion decided to leave you alone for a bit and have some quiet time with a book, this was one of the times where you actually kind of wanted him to talk. Of course if he did he wouldn't shut up for a few hours but listening to him would've been vastly preferable to the sheer amount of mind-numbing boredom you were going through right now.

"If you don't mind me saying so, birdie, going by the frequency and continuous nature of your fidgeting, it truly sounds as though you're preparing to climb the walls." And then he simply turns the page. Like he's not even bothered by the fact that all the daily tasks are finished and there's no reason to go out anywhere because the carrier has sweet fuck all in it and gah!

"Astute of you." It comes out grumpier than you really intended, but going by the lopsided smirk Ezra flashes at you while looking at you knowingly from behind the book is kinda worth it. He seemed to take a lot of pleasure when at any time you either used a fancy word, or spoke in a similar long-winded way he did. Which, let's be fair, was kind of growing on you after spending enough time in his presence. Stupidly charming... Smart-ass. With a nice ass.

"Well. If you are feeling amenable today-" He started after a while and laid his book against his knee, finger between the pages. "I can't help but recall you to be musically inclined, and that you have an instrument hidden in that there locker." Ezra nodded at the locker underneath the bench you were on, causing you to automatically look down at it too.

"Ah. So you noticed." "With this little space to work with, birdie, it's very difficult not to notice such things. Now, that is not a reproach in any way, shape or form, calm yourself-" He leaned forward a little and straightened his leg as you opened and closed your mouth, swallowing the apology you were about to give. "I merely mention it because I do believe you haven't played your guitar in my presence before and I am nothing if not a man who appreciates the arts, as difficult as those may be to find here among the constantly moving stars. So if you would indulge me this once, I believe I would appreciate immensely to hear whatever you deem fit to share with me."

Ezra did have a point, you had been making sure to practice mostly when he was out of earshot for one reason or another, a little convinced that he didn't much care to hear the music. Granted, that could've just been a mix of modesty and self-consciousness, but it honestly hadn't come up before now. You scratched your head a bit and shrugged.

"I mean. If... If you don't mind..." Actually, playing the guitar sounded kind of nice right now. "Oh, I insist."

And with that, you got the bag out and pulled out the acoustic guitar. It had been a bit since you last did so a while went by with just checking that it was still in tune and and just testing that everything sounded right. Your partner kept looking at you with a small smile from his side of the ship as you did, and begun strumming the chords in no particular tune, just to feel it out.

"I must confess, I am mildly disappointed I haven't suggested this earlier. It is a privilege to witness living art produced by a living work of art." Ah, and there was the blush back on your cheeks. You gave a nervous titter and raised a brow at Ezra. "Really, Ez? You're going with that?" He inclined his head in good humour, while keeping his voice serious. "Birdie, have you ever known me to be untruthful about your considerable skills or your considerable charms?" For once, he was very bad at keeping that smirk off his face and you shook your head, telling him to enjoy and keep reading his book.

And so the time passed, with Ezra reading his book and occasionally glancing your way warmly, and you strumming the instrument, playing old songs you half remembered or just nothing in particular. It was surprisingly easy to just get lost in the act of playing, the notes in the air, filling the little pod with something other than mechanic beeping.

Still, now that you had the approval of your partner to practice more freely, it didn't feel like that big of a step when you decided you wanted to sing a bit. Reaching into one of the pockets of the bag, you pulled out a capo and clipped it to the fretboard, tested out the strings, and began. The notes flowed wonderfully and familiarly, like an old friend returning as you took a breath and sang.

“Last night I had the exact same dream as you I killed a bird to save your life and you gave me your shoes You said clip my wings and walk my miles And I said I would too Then I woke up But I wasn’t gonna tell you.”

“Today I sang the same damn tune as you It was ‘Lady in Red’, I hate that song and I know you do too You didn’t catch me singing along But I always sing with you Nice and quietly 'Cuz I don’t wanna stop you”

Alright, so your voice wasn't at it's best but it was fine. It felt nice to be singing again, you thought, even if it was a bit shaky.

“I know I could be spending a little too much time with you But 'time’ and 'too much’ don’t belong together like we do If I had all my yesterdays I’d give 'em to you too I belong to you now I belong to you”

“I see the wo-”

The sound of something dropping startled you and made you look at the source of the sound. It had been Ezra’s book, that much you could see but it was more the look he had on his face that gave you pause.

“Songbird.” Ezra breathed the word out like it was the sweetest word in existence, like it was the culmination of all the wonders of the worlds delivered to him at once, and combined with the look of stunned awe on his face, he sounded like he had just witnessed something indescribably glorious.

The blush creeping up your neck wasn’t that strange in Ezra’s company, the man seemingly lived to fluster you, but in this instant it felt different somehow. The changed term of endearment didn’t escape your notice either.

“… What?” You shifted on your seat, suddenly overwhelmed by the weirdly irrational feeling of doubt and embarrassment. “Sorry, I’ll stop-”

“No, no no no, songbird, please don’t mistake this interruption as a request for cessation, Kevva forbid-” Ezra got up, his book forgotten as he hurried his way to sit in front of you, still looking like he was witnessing the birth of a galaxy while he was given all his birthdays at once.

“I apologize for my clumsiness that distracted you from your practice, and forgive my presumptuous request, but I implore you to finish your song if there is still some of it left.” His voice had grown unusually hushed as he peered at your now very warm face, practically on the edge of his already precarious seat.

The silence stretched for a bit as you tried to respond. This was quite possibly the most captivated and enthusiastic audience you had had in a very long time and it was poking at your nervousness more than you would have guessed.

“Um. Well, okay, uh, just…” Fingers back on the strings and the fret, you counted from where you were and started again.

“I see the world the exact same way that you do We lend our hands, and take our stance In tandem when we do But I lied and said I knew the way And I hid my eyes from you I still don’t know why I probably didn’t wanna scare you”

You could feel Ezra's gaze on you, though you were trying your best not to let your brain psyche you out and just kept going.

“I know I could be spending a little too much time with you But 'time’ and 'too much’ don’t belong together like we do If I had all my yesterdays I’d give 'em to you too I belong to you now I belong to you"

“I’m gonna die the exact same day as you On the golden gate bridge I’ll hold your hand and howl at the moon Scrape the sky with tired eyes, and I will come find you And I ain’t scared 'Cuz I’m never gonna miss you.”

“I belong to you now I belong to you.”

“I belong to you now I belong to you.”

You looked up at Ezra, and had barely enough time to draw a breath before he was kissing you sweetly. You let out a surprised squeak and he lifted his hand bringing it to the back of your neck, caressing your skin as the kiss went on, somehow passionate while remaining warm and almost chaste, considering how his kisses usually were.

He pulled back, pressing his forehead against yours as he smiled with his eyes closed. He huffed a laugh as his hand slid over to cup your cheek, almost reverently.

"All the words in the language at my disposal and I cannot find a single one to describe what I am feeling at this very moment, songbird."

It was a little strange how easily he could summon a flock of butterflies into your gut while making your heart squeeze in delight. And all you could offer him back was a delicate "Oh.".

And then he kissed you again, brushed your cheek like you were a miracle and suddenly words felt incredibly superfluous. You wove your hand into his hair and carded your fingers through it, enjoying the affection he was giving you. When you broke the kiss, you bit your lip shyly.

"So I take it that I should play more?" "Songbird, the day I refuse the pleasure of hearing you serenade again is the day I am long dead and turned to dust." "Do... You want me to play something else?" "There is nothing that would please me more."

And who were you to deny such an earnest request?

[pocket-bunney]

Educational | An Overwatch story

‘Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel’ - Moira said, each word rolling off with more delight from her tongue ‘You have really outdone yourself this time.’

She picked up the tablet from the table and a wide smile spread across her face. Unintentionally, she let out a strange little chuckle of excitement, one she usually reserved for significant scientific breakthroughs.

‘We must bring him here at once so we can start our research.’ she said, her voice matter-of-fact with a dash of that lingering delight.

‘Tomorrow evening at 2200. I heard you two know each other?’ Gabriel growled and turned around and headed to the exit  ‘Spare me the whole story. Just be ready. I heard he is unstable, our best bet is that he will react favorably to a familiar face.’

Moira looked at him leave but did not say anything. Then she carefully lifted up the tablet again, looking thoughtfully on the profile picture of a man in his sixties.

‘Siebren… you’ve really done it this time, old fool’ she muttered, then discarded the tablet and turned around to make preparations.

***

It seemed like a lifetime ago when she first met him, even though it must have only been 15 years or so, but her life had taken quite many turns since then. 

Back then she was still working on her paper about DNA alteration, but skill, knowledge and diligence - as she had to find out - did not bring progress after a certain point in the scientific community. You needed connections, mentors and sponsors, the more influential, the better.

Moira in her younger years was never quite good at socializing. There were a few peers she could tolerate from her long years of studies, but that network only got her so far. Her funding, and hence her research, was halted for good without some influential backers.

Therefore, albeit unwillingly but she started reaching out to other colleagues across the globe and got to attending some science conferences. These were mostly bland and boring, bound by the shackles of ethics, not a true innovator among any of the people she met. Even worse, all that socializing, small talk and fruitless network-building were making her sick to the stomach.

She was in Rotterdam now at a conference where the overarching theme was gravity. Physics were normally not in her field of interest, but she was quite intrigued by the biological findings of the Horizon Lunar Colony, and anyway, the event was just a short plane-trip away.

‘I should be up there’ she thought to herself annoyed, standing in one of the lobbies by one of those tall, skinny tables and taking yet another piece of dry salty pastry form a bowl while glancing up at the sky with the pale moon up. ‘I should be up there, making actual, daring research, not those pansies with breeding monkeys and hamsters.’

‘Excuse me, madam’ someone said, stepping into her line of sight. She looked up unamused - it was a surprisingly tall man about a decade older than her. He had muscular, broad shoulders and a friendly expression on his face ‘I saw you were here all by yourself so I thought you could use some company. Please let me introduce myself, I am Dr. Siebren De Kuiper, astrophysicist.’

‘‘Dr. Moira O’Deorain, genetic engineering.’ Moira offered restrained and held out her hand. Dr. De Kuiper had a nice handshake - Finally someone, Moira thought - not too aggressive, not too limp. She was not a short one herself but she found she needed to tilt her head up if she wanted to look into his eyes.

‘So, Dr. O’Deorain, what brings you to this conference, if I may ask? Surely not the awful break-time snacks.’ he said, taking a piece from the bowl.

Moira snickered, but instantly checked herself.

‘I mainly came for the session about the Lunar base and to hear the findings about the genetic level influences of low- and zero gravity.’ she offered in a measured tone ‘But I don’t want to bore you with the details. Surely, an astrophysicist has a broader interest here than me.’

‘Oh, good Doctor, but that is the thing! The theme of the conference is Gravity. Such an overarching power, so many fields influenced... From the very stem cells we all come from, until the super-massive black holes at the center our our Galaxy… Gravity is everywhere, governing our existence, our very fate!’ his blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he was talking and gesturing ‘Such a force to be reckoned with, uniting so many people… I must admit, it makes me quite happy colleagues from other fields also find interest in this event today. But-- forgive me, I am rambling. Dr. O’Deorain, do tell more about your research.’

Moira took a slight breath and gave her elevator-pitch on her current research about custom genetic programs. She had several of these speeches perfected out for each type of listener - one for patrons who knew little of science, one for scientists from other fields and the most elaborate of course, for genetic engineers. She thought the pleasantries would end after her short speech, but to her surprise de Kuiper was very inquiring and before long they struck up quite the conversation. He was a strange person: wise and thoughtful, yet also eccentric and quite jovial - and above all, very polite and thoughtful.

Moira felt intrigued and, after the last year or so full of long and tedious of forced networking, she found herself enjoying the conversation about their researches just for the sake of it.

A bell rang somewhere and Siebren perked up, then quickly apologized and told Moira to come to his seminar that was the last one of the day.

‘I really hope you will come. I’ll do my best to make it interesting’ he added with a smile, and Moira caught herself smiling back and nodding.

Once he was out of sight, she angrily bit the long nail of her thumb, contemplating why the hell she agreed to go. It was not like she had to gain anything from this connection. 

Why would she even be interested in something else than her own agenda? 

And still - some time later, there she sat in the seminar room with the rest of the crowd. Just to observe him, she told herself. There was something to learn from this elderly man.

Siebren was commanding the small stage with his posture, gestures and charismatic but friendly voice. He sometimes stammered just a bit, looking for exactly the right words, like a teenager confessing his love, and wanting to get the feelings across just right. He had a simple, old-school whiteboard behind him and scribbled some equations Moira did not grasp at all, and now and then used some impressive holographs to prove a point. Amidst all the gravity-related puns (of which there were more than what Moira was comfortable with as a geneticists) Moira couldn’t help but think how the power of harnessing a black hole’s energy was quite as exhilarating and a morally grey area like her own research of DNA alteration on the cell level.

If one could create black holes at will… maybe even use the immense power of gravity to shield oneself and to assault enemies… Surely it could be done, with the right circumstances. But the issue of stability…. well that was agreeably the greatest risk of this hypothesis.

Moira found herself feverishly noting down some raw ideas, mixed with observations she made from Siebren’s presentation. He was captivating everyone’s attention in the room with his words, tone and gesture - and she wanted to possess such a power as well.

There was a roaring applause once the Dutchman finished and several members from the audience went down to shake his hand and speak a few words with him. Moira lazily scribbled in her notebook as the line in front of Siebren just got longer and longer. 

She stretched and let her thoughts run wild in her head - not quite sure how much of these she could actually include in her current research, but it was a refreshing change to be considering new possibilities after being bogged down in her laboratory for such a long time. She found she was not tired at all, and was not in the mood to return to her dull hotel room just yet.

At one point a strange chill struck her, and she looked up, seeing Siebren staring directly at her from the podium with a wide smile.

‘How did you like it?’ he asked cheerfully. They were the last two people in the enormous hall.

‘It was… educational’ Moira said teasingly as she gathered her notebook and slowly walked down the flight of stairs next to him.

‘Educational?’ he seemed a bit disappointed ‘O mijn God, even my completely stoned students have stronger opinions than that, Doctor. Was it that bad?’ he asked, stepping next to the whiteboard and wiping it off with a concerned look.

Moira stepped next to him and picked up a whiteboard marker.

‘It actually made me think of a few new things.’

Siebren’s face instantly lit up. ‘Happy to hear that!’ he exclaimed ‘Do you wish to discuss?’ he asked eagerly, gesturing towards the whiteboard.

‘Before we do, Dr. De Kuiper…’ Moira started in a silken voice ‘I am quite inclined to ask you about your views on ethics. Both you and I seem to be exploring quite the moral grey zone, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘Hmmm’ the man replied at first with a light smile as he looked thoughtfully into the heterochromic eyes ‘I can of course give my opinion… Under one condition.’

‘Yes?’ Moira frowned. She did not like conditions.

‘Let’s be on a first name basis, Dr. O’Deorain. Such conversations are more suited with closer acquaintances’ he said with a warm smile, and she smiled back at him.

‘Very well... Siebren. So, your views?’

‘Well, Moira, twenty years ago everyone thought me for a fool for even mentioning harnessing black holes’ Siebren chuckled and sat down on the table on top of the podium ‘It took some convincing, some funding and a lot of work to change how people perceived it. Let me put it this way - gravity and ethics both keep something together. Only the latter is not absolute, it is not a rule of the universe. You can slowly chip away at it. Two hundred years ago women in science were unheard of. And now, here you are. Ethics change. We are the ones changing them, Moira.’

They talked for hours, discussing hypotheses about utilizing black holes and gravitational force on a cellular level. There was no topic too daring, no idea too unethical for their conversation. He even promised to get her in touch with some important people. 

Around 2 a.m. he called a taxi for her, holding out an umbrella until she got into the car. 

The contacts he introduced her to ended up being the founders of Oasis, which, after the fall of Blackwatch provided to be a stable means to fund her research.

Later they emailed each other a few more times, but never quite managed to meet up again. She occasionally read articles about him, but in the last few years, all but forgot about him - until today.

***

The facility was unassuming on the outside, but a fortress on the inside - but it all mattered not with Gabriel’s planning and Talon’s sheer force.

‘Daaaamn, this security is top-notch’ Sombra pouted ‘Just sayin, I ain’t goin’ in there to see granpa if this is the level of security he gets.’

‘Just get this thing open and disable the alarms’ Moira snapped at her ‘I’ll take care of the rest.’

‘Be sure you do, Doctor…’ Sombra replied, giving out a little snicker.

The door to the cell was a huge one, protected not only by electric locks but also a huge mechanical valve. After the screeching alarms went down, Akande tore off the whole door and flung it to the side as if it was made out of paper, then glanced into the small room beyond it, padded from floor to ceiling.

‘Not going in?’ Sombra teased him.

‘Doctor, this is your specialty’ Akande gestured towards the room, but as Moira passed him, he grabbed her arm and whispered into her ear - ‘I want you and him BOTH in one piece and in a usable form.’ The woman removed her arm from his grip and brushed it off with an annoyed expression. Then, with a sharp inhale, she stepped into the confinement room.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room, but once they did, she saw a figure standing in one of the corners, hunched and muttering something inaudible. The silhouette she recognized but it has changed, the broad shoulders and confident stance broken and shaking. He looked like he was on the verge of imploding on himself.

‘Siebren.’ she called out softly. The figure twitched but did not turn her way.

‘It’s all the same! Life, death… it doesn’t matter!’  he suddenly said, then fell abruptly silent.

Moira took a step closer. Suddenly, the floor gave away beneath her and the air was instantly pressed out from her lungs. She slowly fell to her knees - the floor was still there, but the sinking feeling in her stomach just kept getting worse. She was panting, trying to fight this invisible force, somehow. 

So this is his power, she thought to herself. She needed to get closer, within reaching distance… but it was impossible to stand, so she resorted to crawl towards him inch by inch - she would have felt immensely humiliated if she wasn’t completely oxygen deprived and fighting for each and every breath.

‘It’s me Siebren... Moira… Dr. Moira O’Deorain. You need to calm down for me… Siebren, can you hear me? Do you remember me?’

‘I don’t remember what went wrong’ Siebren muttered ‘My calculations… my life… everything was coming down to that moment…’

A bullet swished through the air, abruptly stopping right before Siebren’s head, then it bounced right back where it came from with a loud PANG. Moira couldn’t decide if she felt relieved that this ragtag group of idiots were looking out for her or disappointed that their efforts were worth absolutely nothing.

‘THAT MELODY, I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE, WHAT IS IT?!’ Siebren suddenly yelled out. Moira felt her body rise uncontrollably and then be abruptly smashed back into the floor. She growled; every inch of hers hurt like hell, her head was spinning and she was on the verge of throwing up, passing out, or worse enough, both. She needed to end this, now.

With her last bit of strength she hoistered herself up onto her forearms and saw De Kuiper collapsing a few feet away from her. He was completely silent now, just slightly twitching and staring up at the ceiling, never blinking.

Moira slowly crawled next to him and felt the pressure on her lungs lift with every passing second. Gently, she held out her left hand above his head and released a tiny amount of healing biotic energy. Then, she placed her hand on Siebren’s forehead.

‘I’m here’ she said in the gentlest tone she could muster. He twitched a couple more times, then slowly closed his eyes.

‘Doctor O’Deorain’ he muttered, only half opening his eyes, his gaze unfocused. ‘May I ask, what brings you to this conference? Surely not the awful break-time snacks.’

After her initial shock, Moira forced a smile on her face and while whispering a reply, carefully reached into her pocket for the tranquilizer she’s stashed away.

‘I came to see your  seminar on gravity, Siebren. I heard it was quite the event.’

‘Someone once said it was... educational’ Siebren chuckled to himself, then tensed a bit as Moira pressed the tranquilizing shot onto his neck.

‘Well, we can’t all be great astrophysicists like you’ Moira said lightheartedly, leaning back a bit.

‘I have a great experiment lined up…’he said, dozing off, then twitched, and looked at her sharply ‘Help… m-’ then another twitch ‘So nice you ca…’ and then he closed his eyes and remained still. 

Moira felt her hand weighing down on his forehead heavily, as if bound by a tiny but powerful gravity field.

[shannaraisles]

3. You have chocolate on your lips. Poppy/Cullen?

This got long! My first exercise in writing Poppy, so apologies if it’s not quite what you were expecting!

The estate in Hightown was quiet - one of the few that was. Alex had gone down to The Hanged Man, no doubt to try and catch Isabela under some mistletoe and convince her that a kiss was a poor reward for being a handsome arsehole; Bodahn and Sandal were spending the evening with friends of their own; Leandra had been invited to a Satinalia feast by the Delauncets. She had attempted to convince Poppy to come with her, but the better known of her children in Kirkwall had cried off for the evening. Satinalia had always been her favorite holiday, but this was the first Satinalia without Bethany. Even six months on from that loss, it didn’t seem right to celebrate so soon. And with her in a melancholy mood, even Rogue, her mabari, had gone out, preferring to be her mother’s escort for the evening than to sit and brood with his mistress.

So here she was, sitting in the quiet and the dark, eating ragged chunks of dark Rivaini chocolate from a paper box as she stared into the flames, remembering better times. Satinalias with her whole family - with Father, Carver, Bethany, all present. Even though their familial tension had often been too much to bear, Satinalia had always been the one day of the year when everyone made an effort to get along. And now they were diminished. No Father, no Carver, no Bethany. Just Leandra, who needed to be the Amell Kirkwall remembered to cope with her losses; Gamlen, who barely tolerated his sister’s children; Alex, who would rather get drunk and get laid; and Poppy. A confused mess of reputation and hidden hurts, sitting alone in the dark because she couldn’t quite let the past go.

The knock on the main door resounded through the town house in echoing thuds, drawing her out of her mildly self-pitying thoughts with a curious frown. Who would be calling here tonight? Everyone’s out. Though clearly not everyone. It said a lot for Poppy’s character that even after almost two years in Kirkwall, she still considered herself unworthy of her friends’ time and effort. Still, it was someone at the door, and that required her to at least get up and open it, if only to tell them to sod off.

Tucking her robe about herself, she shuffled through the vestibule to the main door of the house, one dagger in hand. Opening the door, she peered out into the darkness ... and felt her mouth drop open in startled surprise.

“You?”

Knight-Captain Cullen stood on her doorstep, divested of his official armor in favor of a simple coat over his tunic, though his sword remained strapped at his hip. He swallowed at the look on her face, glancing almost nervously to the darkened square behind him.

“Mistress Hawke, I, ah ...” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I had thought to see you in The Hanged Man this evening.”

“I ... I didn’t ...” She didn’t have a reason for not being there, that was for sure. But did he have a reason to be here? Beyond their usual meetings, that is. Not that she would say no to scratching that itch tonight, but surely it was a risk for him to come to this house tonight? That thought reminded her that they were standing on the doorstep. “Come inside.”

“Thank you.”

Stepping back, she drew the door fully open, sheathing the dagger in the harness that hung against the wall as Cullen stepped over the threshold. He seemed younger out of his templar plate and paraphernalia, looking his twenty-one years as he glanced about the darkened vestibule. Poppy bit her lip, uncomfortably reminded that she was the elder in their equation. She should have been able to keep herself from taking advantage of that, all those months ago. And each time since, too, but ... she didn’t want to stop. She didn’t think he did, either.

“You are alone?” he asked, a flicker of concern in his expression as she took his coat and gloves from him.

She nodded silently, drawing in a slow breath only to release it in a staggered rush. “Satinalia is a time for family,” she tried to explain herself. “Only ... it doesn’t feel that way this year.”

Cullen’s hand twitched toward her, only to fall back to his side. Even now, having seen and touched and tasted every inch of her, he was wary of letting that familiarity show, even in this private setting.

“I am sorry to hear it,” he murmured, and to her amazement, she felt a tiny smile quirk at her lips, touched by the sincerity in his quiet condolence.

“It will not kill me to be alone for another Satinalia,” she assured him, hugging her arms about herself as she turned to lead the way back into the main room where the fire burned warm. 

“You are not alone.”

Poppy’s footsteps stuttered as she came to a halt, twisting to face the handsome, nervous templar who stood so close behind her in the enveloping gloom. In other circumstances, in another life, perhaps ... but that was wishful thinking. They gave one another an outlet for something neither one dared with anyone else. That was all. Even idle dreams of more was a foolish endeavor.

“Why are you here, Knight-Captain?” she asked, his title one more barrier to hold between them, to keep him at a distance in some strange attempt to protect the younger man who was so damaged he couldn’t even admit that mages were people.

“I ...” Cullen hesitated, raising a hand to rub at his neck as he seemed to take a moment to gather his thoughts. “I was concerned for you. As I say, I went to The Hanged Man in the hope of seeing you well, yet you were not there.”

“Any of them could have told you where I was,” she pointed out softly. “Sometimes you need to be alone.”

“You are not made to be alone on such a night,” he told her, the words firm with confidence despite their softness. “On any night.”

Her smile was just a little bitter. “I am often alone, Cullen,” she replied. “Even in a crowd. That’s what happens when no one seems to know your name, yet everyone knows who you are.”

“That, I can understand.” He nodded, sighing a little heavily. “I ... I did not come to ... to take advantage of your ...” His hand waved, not truly wanting to label her circumstance as loneliness. “Simply to be certain that you had not ... tried again.”

“Ah ...”

Poppy bit down on her lower lip, casting her gaze aside as a shamed flush rose on her cheeks. Of course that would be his concern. That attempt which had thrown them together somewhat in the first place - he, because he could not let someone do such a thing before his eyes and not intervene; she, because she had needed someone to stop her. She opened her mouth to assure him there was no danger of that ... and felt the words stall in her throat as his fingers touched her cheek, drawing her eyes back to his. He stood close to her, his thumb drawing gently over her lower lip as she swayed toward him, that desire she hid so well flaring at his merest touch.

“You have chocolate on your ...“

He gestured to his own mouth with absent fingers, his eyes focused on her lips. She swallowed, feeling her own gaze narrow down to the soft pillow of his mouth - a mouth she had felt on every part of herself, but her own. Because that was too intimate, too familiar, for what they had done together. And yet tonight ... it was what she needed more than anything.

“Poppy, I ...”

Yet his words were swallowed by the touch of her lips to his, the almost shy creep of her fingers to skim the line of his jaw as she gave into that urge to kiss; not simply because she wanted to, but for the more complicated reason below it. He had said her name. Her name - not Hawke, not serah, not messere. He had proven with a single word that he knew who she was, and the mouth that bore her name on his breath was the only mouth she wanted to kiss. Yet he was still, unmoving in answer to that kiss, and she drew back, shame rising in her eyes, in the flush on her cheeks.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t ... I shouldn’t have ...”

His thumb touched her lips once again, silencing her apologies as amber-dark eyes burned into hers with the fierce desire she knew he felt ashamed of yet was brave enough to confront, at least with her.

“May I?” he asked, his voice strangely hoarse as he stepped just a little closer, crowding her with the heat from his body; the broad, strong frame she had worshiped in her own way these past months when they could snatch a moment or two alone. “May I kiss you, Poppy?”

She stared at him, shocked, amazed, unexpectedly delighted to hear him ask for such a small thing. A small thing that suddenly meant the world to her; a warning that whatever was between them meant more to her than she had allowed herself to believe.

“Yes,” she whispered back to him, her nod a tiny thing that shook her head up and down too many times to count. “Maker’s breath, yes, Cullen. Please.”

It was not the kiss of her dreams. For all he had learned of physical intimacy from her in past months, this was the first real touch of lip to lip they had shared; it might even have been his first true kiss at all. He was tentative, shy, encouraged by the way she rose onto her toes, curled her fingers through the coils of his hair. Encouraged too far, perhaps, for his response was too hard for comfort, too hungry to contain - a messy, almost painful press that nonetheless she welcomed. The kiss burned, an expression of shameful, longing desire, a thing of trust between a man and a woman who knew better than to indulge yet did so anyway. Hands gripped, pulled, demanding a closeness that stole breath as lips parted. She felt him hesitate, seized the moment to guide him, gentling that eager mouth against her own, feeling him groan into her as he struggled against the rising tide that wanted so much more than a simple kiss. He had taken the kiss, yet she was the one who controlled it, gently easing away with softer touches until they were still, lingering close as breath mingled in staggered bursts between them.

“I-I shouldn’t,” Cullen breathed, his eyes closed, his brow pressed to hers longingly. “I shouldn’t want this. Want you.”

“Do you want me to stop?” she whispered, a part of her hating herself for offering such a thing but knowing there was only so far this zealous templar could be pushed. He had suffered more than she knew not so very long ago; she would not be responsible for breaking him with her own desires over his.

“I ... No,” he whispered, his cheeks coloring with shame even as his hands tightened on her. “Please ... don’t stop.”

There was no mistletoe, no crowd of laughing friends to tease them onward. But here and now, in the warm darkness of an empty townhouse, forgotten by the world outside the windows for a few scant hours ... these were Satinalia kisses they would not soon forget.

[Festive Winter Prompts!]