A/N: This is a continuation of Champions and Heroes, but without any of that stuffy plot business. Instead it's mostly fluff and random prompts people send me. Most of it will be GenesisxHawke (or Gawke as it shall henceforth be known). No real continuity between them, some may even be mutually exclusive.

Disclaimer: I own neither Bioware nor SquareEnix


Prompt – Flower

Hawke hated lilies.

She didn't think she'd ever have the courage to explain why. It wasn't a story she was prepared to think about let along discuss.

Just the delicate smell of lilies was enough to draw her down into the forbidden depths of her mind. To a place where all she could smell was blood magic and rotting corpses, where every shred of fabric began to resemble moth eaten bridal clothes and her mother's last rattling breath echoed in every room.

Aerith wouldn't understand. The flower girl was too innocent, too entrenched in her own ways to see how a simple flower, grown with nothing but tender loving care, could be horrifying. Despite having already lost her own birth mother, she didn't know the unflinching terror that such a harmless object could represent. Hawke hoped she never would.

Genesis was more perceptive. He saw how she would studiously avoid the side of the flower patch in the church where the lilies grew. It was almost an art really, the way she could strategically plan everything she did to avoid having to venture to the other side of the room. He didn't know why, but something in her expression told him everything he needed to know. Whatever he saw in her eyes when the smiles grew plastic and her laughter became forced told him to keep his silence on the subject.

She didn't even know he'd noticed until Valentine 's Day rolled around. It was one of the very few holidays that occurred on both worlds, even if the names were different. The celebrations were mostly the same, barring one tradition. On Thedas it was customary to gift your lover with roses.

On Gaia the flowers of romance were lilies.

The majority of the day was a torment to Hawke. Some part of her suggested perhaps facing her past and overcoming the agony. The rest of her was too busy scowling at a city drowning in lilies to even consider it. The entire world looked to have suffered a downpour of the insipid flowers, their cursed white petals (far too white, how could anything that stunk of such vile death be so white?) adorning every shop and house, the subtle aroma contaminating every street corner.

Hawke never thought she'd miss the overbearing stench of the slums.

In retaliation she locked herself in her room and pretended she was sick, knowing she'd have to come out sooner or later but happy to take the coward's path till then.

She had a date with Genesis that night. He would pick her up and no doubt he'd have a bouquet of lilies for her and would undoubtedly take her to some lily drenched restaurant where she would waste all of her energy in trying not to throw up and the entire evening would be ruined. No, she wasn't brooding, why do you ask?

At 7 O'clock (or 1900 hours as he insisted on calling it) he knocked on her door, looking incredibly sharp in an impeccably tailored tux.

Hawke was wearing a sheer silk dress in maroon and looking absolutely ravishing if Genesis' expression was anything to go by. Her own expression was unmistakably her 'I am definitely not scared' face.

With a knowing look he pulled out a bouquet of red roses. She was so relieved she could have kissed him. So she did.

He caught her around the waist and quietly spoke into her ear.

"I hope the day hasn't been too insufferable for you."

She smiled softly, reflecting on how fabulous her taste in men was.

"Utterly insufferable," she said lightly, "But it's just gotten a lot better."

She wasn't ready to talk about it. But she didn't have to be.

He understood that.

Dammit she loved him.


Prompt – Shave

Genesis was always meticulous in his appearance. He had an image to maintain and standards he would not abandon. On Gaia that was all well and good. As an apostate on the run in Ferelden however, this was something of a problem.

Still, he had been on the front lines of a war and dealt with limited supply lines, he could weather the loss of some luxuries. No cologne, no perfectly styled hair, there wasn't even any tooth paste (salt and vinegar did not count, no matter what Hawke claimed), but he could handle that.

As time continued however it became increasingly obvious that the lack of safety razors was a serious issue. He didn't know how to use a cut-throat razor (which was the only option), and he grudgingly resigned himself to having a beard. Hawke however, was unprepared to have a bearded Genesis and declared he wouldn't be kissing her again until he was clean shaven.

Five minutes later Genesis was standing in their room at this week's inn staring at a cut-throat razor and muttering about sacrifices at world's end.

Hawke rolled her eyes and deposited him on a rickety chair, taking the blade from him.

"I used to do this for Carver." she explained, "He had all the fine motor controls of an ogre."

She covered the lower half of his stubbly face in shaving foam and picked up the razor. The blade glinted in the dull light.

Moving to stand behind him, she partially wrapped herself around his shoulders and held up his chin.

"Don't move." she whispered into his ear.

The razor pressed against his skin as she gently brought it along, cutting a clean swath through the shaving foam on his cheek. She manoeuvred the blade deftly, her hands skilled and steady.

Genesis sat perfectly still as he felt the razor slide against his chin. The edge of the blade didn't so much as nick him, held as it was by a woman who wielded blades with absolute precision. The unforgiving metal edge was in sharp contrast to the soft body pressed against his back and her gentle hand turning his head as needed. This was who she was to him: warm, caring, and holding a blade to his throat. Genesis suppressed the smile the thought brought to his face. He had always courted danger; there was no surprise that he had never felt safer than in Hawke's arms as she dragged a razor across his neck.

"You've far too fine a jawline to go hiding behind those whiskers." She said absently, wiping the blade on a towel.

"You just wanted to run your hands over me." he said, trying to move as little as possible.

"As though I need an excuse." she said with a smile. She came around in front of him, kneeling between his legs. "Careful now. Wouldn't want to mess up this part."

He dutifully held his chin up higher, her fingers holding him in place. His hands came to rest on her waist. The cold razor scrapped up along his neck. There was something incredibly intimate about it, the slow glide of metal against his flesh; he was defenceless under her intense gaze and steady hand. His hands held her waist securely, grounding him to her beyond the cold metal.

"There you are." she snapped the razor shut. She wiped the remaining bits of foam off his chin and ran a hand along his now smooth cheek. She brushed a soft kiss over his neck. "Much better."


A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are endlessly appreciated, and if you have any ideas for future prompts please let me know :)

Next Time: Fenris