#Carver x Merrill | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lasatfat · 3 months ago

Note

Happy Friday night :D what about "calloused hands in soft hands" for Carver/Merrill? <3

touches ask game | @dadrunkwriting

I can't see either of them having very soft hands, so you're getting bebe fic, my friend. CW for childbirth and mentions of yeurchy stuff related, nothing graphic or detailed.

~~~

“A new baby is like the beginning of all things – wonder, hope, a dream of possibilities.”

- Eda J. Le Shan

The Beginning of All Things

The babe came with as little trouble as any babe does. The pains began on the afternoon of the winter solstice, though they initially blended in with the aches and pangs that had been Merrill’s day-to-day for several months. It wasn’t until Carver arrived home that a healer was summoned, Merrill was examined, and both were told her labours were underway.

They lasted through the next day, and into the early hours of another. Finally, the midwife lay the newborn girl upon Merrill’s bare chest as they both cried, one in fear and the other in relief. Both in pain from the birth, no doubt. One of Merrill’s hands was still trapped by both of Carver’s – he had never left her side, despite the midwife’s protests – but she placed the other on her daughter’s back, holding her close. Andaran atish’an, da’len. She still isn’t sure if she said the words or just thought them. Carver kissed her forehead, and his tears mingled with her own.

The next few hours were a blur. The cord was cut, the afterbirth delivered, and both mother and child were gently bathed. Merrill is returned to a clean, dry bed, warm and safe and well. Carver stayed with the baby, at her insistence, and now sits on the bed beside her, the child resting safely in his arms. One of her hands clings tight to his forefinger.

“How do you feel?” he asks, eventually, and then cringes to himself. She isn’t sure why. It’s a fair question.

“Sore, and tired,” she answers, “but I’m so, so happy. Happier than I ever thought I could be.”

Carver smiles, his eyes brimming with tears, and she knows that he feels the same. He swallows hard, before he speaks. “We still have to name her.”

There’s only one name that comes to mind. Her dearest friend, lost in the Fade. “What about Marian?”

He half-laughs, and shakes his head. “Rian hated that name. They’d never forgive me.” The baby gives a little cry, as if she doesn’t like the name much either. “If you want to honour them, I think they’d rather we named her Bethany.”

Bethany. Merrill’s heart feels as though it may break, though not with sorrow. “That’s it,” she says, almost sobs. “That’s it. That’s her name.”

Carver looks up, almost alarmed. “Are you sure? You don’t have to…”

But looking at the babe’s face now, Merrill can’t think of her as anyone else. “I’d like to hold Bethany, please,” she says.

With the utmost care and gentleness, Carver shifts little Bethany in his hands, and places her in Merrill’s arms. It isn’t the first time she has held her daughter, but it overwhelms her just as much now as it did then. She never knew she could love anything so much. She is lost to it, and she is terrified by it, but still it seems as vital as air, and she gives herself over without a moment’s thought.

Bethany doesn’t seem to take note of it. She only clings on to Merrill’s finger – it takes her entire hand to circle it, over the callous from her staff. Her skin has no such imperfections.

“I hope her hands are always soft,” Merrill says, wistfully. And then, she thinks about it a little more. “Unless she wants to learn an instrument, or be trained to fight, or…”

Carver kisses her temple, and she falls quiet. “I know what you meant.”

“Of course you do,” Merrill whispers back. “You always do.”

#asks #answered #perlen gold #video games #dragon age #Eddie writes #Carver Hawke #Merrill Sabrae #Carver x Merrill #DADWC

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stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage · 1 year ago

Text

[so, you’ve come to distract me from my patrol, have you?]

Pairing: Carver/Merrill Rating: T Word Count: 3,079 Summary: Merrill surprises Carver while he's doing a night patrol of Hightown's The Garden, a route so dead only a guard being punished [or coddled] would be put there. Merrill makes it more exciting.

Note: Listen, this is absolutely a self-indulgent oneshot after all my recent rants about Carver not getting to join the guard, and my desire for more Carver/Merrill content. Sure, it's probably not the most responsible thing for Carver to be smooching his girlfriend on the job, but in his defense- if Aveline gets to bone Donnic on the clock, then Merrill can distract Carver on patrol for a bit, it's fine.

Read on AO3

---

A dead patrol. A surprise to no one.

Carver could walk up and down the same street of cobblestone and moss a hundred times during his shift, all without a worry. The only threat to him was the temptation to sleep through the rest of it behind the thorny bushes.

Right, that’s all he needed—for Nabil to find him drooling all over himself and report back to Aveline that Carver was sleeping on the job. Not that she could possibly give him a worse route than this.

The Garden, as everyone called it, was a neighborhood of noble mansions and botanical greens crawling over the cobblestones and rooftops. Morning glory grew in shades of soft pink, purple, and blue up along most of the homes, the delicate flowers entertaining a few buzzing bees. Thick vines grew over the heraldries, each displayed oh so proudly.

The sun fell and the bustle and hum went with it, leaving little to listen to but the ambience of night.

To call this “light duty” would be an understatement. Carver always took night patrols in Lowtown where gangs of thieves and scum prowled the shadows and rooftops, predators in search of unsuspecting prey. Due to the changes Aveline made, as well as some off-the-books help from his brother, Carver and his fellow guardsmen ensured that Lowtown was far safer than it was years ago when he and his family first landed in Kirkwall. He took pride in that. He'd worried that being a city guard wouldn't be the fulfilling career path he wanted it to be, but unless he wanted to go back to mercenary work, or join the templars, it was the only shot he had at earning a living with the skillset he owned. Three years on the job brought him experience and satisfaction. Well, for the most part. There were... exceptions.

But Carver did good work. He believed it with everything that breathed inside him. It proved to him that Kirkwall didn’t have to be a cesspool of crime and filth, miserable with every reminder that it once was—or still is, depending on who you ask—the damned City of Chains.

He still missed Fereldan sometimes, but that ache had dulled once he got the footing to pave his own path, to find his own people. To find love.

The shadow cast by his brother, as well as his situation as an apostate, no longer felt constrictive. Carver had the liberation to be more than he was.

The qunari’s attack on Kirkwall three months ago left a fresh wound that’s yet to scab over. The Viscount dead at the hands of the Arishok, and his son, Saemus, at the hands of the Chantry—excuse him, only one mere fanatic, Mother Petrice. Tensions between the mages and templars escalated with every passing day.

And Edgar, Carver’s big brother, now the Champion of Kirkwall… nearly killed by the Arishok, still healing and only able to walk well with the aid of a cane.

Carver stopped his pacing to rest back against the tall, stone wall that encased the neighborhood and cast a shadow over half the path. He pulled the gauntlet from his hand to properly rub his tired eyes.

He needed to stop dwelling on that. He could replay that whole battle verbatim in his mind; relive the horror of Edgar getting run through as Fenris and Aveline held Carver back while Sebastian restrained Anders from interfering. It'd only give the rest of the qunari reason for attack.

All the sleepless nights spent sick with grief and worry that Edgar might not make it, that losing Mother only weeks prior wasn't enough…

The only comfort he'd found was in Merrill’s gentle voice and the way her slender fingers brushed the dark hair away from his eyes. The way she kissed his knuckles, then his cheek. Light kisses up to his temple. Her arms around him.

Carver's head fell back against the cold wall, and his eyes fell shut.

Nothing would come of brooding over such things. Edgar survived and the qunari were gone. Merrill waited for him back home. That’s all that mattered.

“Shit,” Carver grumbled.

He hated light duty for this very reason. Nothing to do but entertain his thoughts, and those thoughts often slipped into territories he didn’t wish to explore.

"Not even a lowly thief," he said, voice slicing through the air sharply. "Surely these nobles have something worth trying to steal. Anyone would do."

He should be patrolling Lowtown, the alienage, or the docks. He'd even take Darktown at this point. Anders' clinic always needed guarding from those deranged enough to try causing trouble, or steal supplies from a man giving treatments out for free.

Somewhere he and his blade could actually be of use.

But no. Tonight, he stood in Hightown, left to guard a bunch of mansions with nobles no one cared about in an unsuspecting corner because sure, Guard-Captain Aveline didn’t coddle her men despite what some rumors would suggest—she's only decided to coddle him after the qunari attack.

To say it was maddening would be laughable. Did she do it on purpose to rile him up? Or did she truly believe he hasn’t changed since Lothering?

Aveline didn’t even want Carver to join the guard in the first place, and any chance he might’ve had would’ve gone out the window once she was promoted to Guard-Captain if not for Edgar.

His brother had a persuasive way with words that Carver tended to lack. Though, that “persuasive way” was just Edgar filling out a new application for him and taking it straight to the Viscount for approval. He slapped the approved application down on Aveline’s new desk with that triumphant, shit eating grin of his; “So, when can he start?”

Aveline didn’t talk to Edgar for a week after that one, but Carver's never been so bloody grateful for his brother's inability to keep his nose out of things.

But now Aveline’s made a point to avoid him recently, citing her reasons as “too busy with aiding the recovery from the qunari invasion to bicker with Carver about patrol routes.”

Another exasperated sigh escaped him as he peered around once more. Still nothing out of the ordinary caught his eye.

But a rustle hummed in the air. Carver stilled, listening. Footsteps, perhaps? Light as a feather, but there. He pushed himself away from the wall to stand in the moonlight, and with another glance around the neighborhood, rolled his shoulders. The weight of his sword rested comfortably against his back just as it always did, ready for anything.

It’s probably just one of the residents coming home for the night. That’s about as exciting as it got around here. A drunk stumbling home no mind paid to him, or a couple who'd each gave a polite nod, or sometimes someone all alone who pretended they didn’t see—

Leaves rushed above.

“Oh!”

From his peripheral, a flash of green dropped beside him with a heavy, “oof!”

Carver yelped, and drew his sword in an instant. A jump back. Stance widened, fully alert. Heart lunging in his chest. Flower petals of yellows, whites, and burgundies fluttered in the air. Brow furrowed. Sword raised defensively. Lips parted to confront his attacker, but the threat caught in his throat.

His attacker was anything but.

“Mythal’enast!” Merrill gasped out, those pretty green eyes of hers wide with shock, still bright even in nightfall. “That’s not at all what I meant to do!”

Carver froze, blinking. It only took a moment to register that it was actually her, then all tension in his body melted away. Merrill dressed in a casual, loose shawl and simple leggings, flower petals scattered all over her from the bouquet she held, which had fallen apart. A lovely sight, as disheveled as she was, Maker’s breath.

He lowered his sword with a relieved huff, rushing to her side. “Maker, Merrill, you scared me!" Carver's eyes darted around, looking for any signs of danger. "Are you alright?”

“Oh, yes!” Merrill breathed out, grabbing his arm to help steady herself. “I’m sorry! I meant to surprise you, but not like that!” She wiped her hands on the front of the shawl with a small wince, causing Carver to instinctively grab them. Her palms were a little rough, but the skin was untorn, thankfully.

"Color me surprised." Then, softer, "A pleasant surprise."

She smiled sheepishly. Maker, beautiful doesn't even begin to describe her. Don't ask him how or why she chose him, he couldn't tell you and he could hardly understand her reasoning for it. They hadn't been together long; less than a year. And they still might not be if not for, once again, Edgar... who had the cheeky idea to "accidentally" lock them down in the wine cellar together one night and had Anders cast some spell to seal it shut.

His damn brother. The more he succeeded in helping Carver, the more insufferable he became about it.

“I thought I'd come see you," Merrill said. "But couldn’t remember exactly where you said you’d be tonight and spent ages wandering around. I thought I’d find you in the Viscount’s garden, but I looked in every corner and you weren’t there. I thought it was odd they’d have you guarding flowers.”

Carver chuckled, carefully plucking a few petals from her hair, not wanting to hurt her with his gauntlet, and said, “Close, but not quite.” He motioned to the wall, adding, "Doesn’t explain how you nearly toppled over me, though.”

The blush coloring her cheeks took on a purple hue in the night light. “I figured if I could just get up high enough then maybe I’d find you—which I did! And I may have misstepped, but I’m fine! I've fallen from higher! I just…Oh, I picked these for you, but… uhm.” Merrill’s shoulders dropped when she inspected the sorry looking flowers, if they could even be called that anymore. They’re mostly green stems and leaves now. “They were much prettier before I fell, I swear.”

Warmth bloomed in Carver’s stomach, his heart fluttering as he laughed. Maker, he wished he didn’t have his armor on. He did so want to hug her, but a city guard uniform wasn’t the most comfortable when pressed against, and acted as an unfortunate barrier between them.

He did the next best thing, and leaned down to press a light kiss to her cheek before whispering in her ear, “So, you’ve come to distract me from my patrol, have you?”

Merrill laughed, discarding the ruined bouquet to the cobblestone path. She gripped his waist, humming, “Maaaybe. If only for a minute. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Carver looked up and down the single path through The Garden yet again, still as dead as it was from the start of his shift. He still had another hour or so before guardsman Nabil showed up to take his place, and that’s just an hour of waiting for nothing to happen.

He took his position seriously, and carried out every—okay, most orders with little complaint, and only did things off-the-books when judgement deemed it necessary. The Garden patrol was beneath him, and with Merrill’s gaze drifted down to his lips…

“It’d have to be a serious watch for me to get in trouble,” he told her. “You falling off a wall is as thrilling as it’s gotten.”

“No one’s been mugged?”

“No.”

“No shivving? No kicking or punching or biting?”

“Nope.”

"Not even a cat who wants to scratch you?"

"Not even."

“Well!” Merrill shook her head, tapping a finger to her chin to make a show of thinking, but he caught the hint of mischief in the way she grinned. “I suppose I'll have to do something about that.”

Before he could protest, Merrill planted both hands on his chest and pushed Carver into the shadows, both stumbling until his back hit the wall with a clank.

"Merrill!"

"Shh!" she giggled. "You'll wake everyone up."

"Who says you haven't already?" Carver challenged, teasing. "That fall of yours was a spectacle."

"It wasn't that noisy. Your scream was louder."

"I didn't scream!" he protested. "I... that was a war cry."

"Oooh," Merrill pressed herself fully against him, her hands moving up his neck to caress his face. "Well, it was a very handsome war cry, then, not a scream." She ran her thumb over his bottom lip, and in a low voice, said, "I wonder if I can make you do it again."

His heart leapt. Heat pooled in his gut, bright embers flying around inside him. Gooseflesh rose, a tremble working up his spine. The sweet scent of earthy florals washed over him, so her in every way. Carver gripped her waist as she leaned on her tip toes to press a slow kiss his chin.

"Ma vhenan..."

Her lips brushed along his neck. His breath hitched. Despite the cool air, he felt all too warm beneath his armor. Her eyes locked with his, her pupils blown.

"Kiss me."

"Is that an order?" Carver breathed out.

"Mmhmmm~"

He slid down the wall a little, legs stretched out with her standing between them, and planted his feet securely. In this position, he wasn't as tall, and it allowed them closer, but his damned armor—

Maker's breath, it didn't matter.

Both gauntlets were off, tossed to the stone, and his hands brought her face to his. Their lips finally met in an urgent kiss, their lips moving together in every way that muddled Carver's mind. The embers in his belly ignited into a wildfire that spread through his each of his limbs as a pleasant moan vibrated in Merrill's throat, tingling through his palms. She ran her fingers through his dark hair, pulling just enough to make him groan.

He kissed her, and kissed her again, hands gliding over her back and waist, fingers spread to hold as much of her as possible. When they finally broke apart, her finger pressed under his chin, tipping his head back to give Merrill's lips room to latch back onto his neck. There she peppered long, drawn out kisses until he felt her smile.

She hooked one leg up around his hip.

"Merrill," he warned, non-committal.

"Does this armor have to be so bulky?" she asked, feigning innocence. "Can you even feel me at all?"

Carver snorted a laugh. "It keeps us from getting stabbed easily."

"Right. That's nice and all, and I do prefer you unstabbed, but it really makes it hard to do anything."

"You can do this." He kissed her. “And this.” Another, this time teasing her bottom lip with his teeth.

That made her smile.

A fresh breeze rushed through the trees, and Carver remembered where he was. Nothing about The Garden had changed. Not a soul passed, nor did anything distressing beckon him to do his duty as a guard.

It was a bad thought to have, one completely brought on by the need pumping in his blood and the way Merrill felt beneath his hands, but he had it anyway; did he really need to stay? Carver was never one to abandon a post, not unless he absolutely had to… but would anything actually happen in the time between now and when Nabil showed up to replace him?

Well, if it did, that’d just be his luck.

And there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Nabil would report back to Aveline that Carver abandoned his post, especially if he didn’t report in.

But he found it hard to care. Everyone knew this route was practically a joke, given to new recruits or punished guards—or to Carver whenever he pissed Aveline off or she felt he needed to calm down, or when she felt over-protective.

Even Nabil only had the route after him because he got into a fist fight in the barracks over Varric’s novel, Hard in Hightown, again.

Ah, shove it all.

“C’mon,” he said, lacing his fingers with Merrill’s. Carver gave her a final kiss, and led them away from the wall, though she made her disappointment clear with a sigh.

“So soon?” she asked. “I could put some wards down. So that no one interrupts us while we… you know.”

Carver flushed at that, and raised a brow at her.

“Would those wards set Nabil on fire when he showed up?”

Merrill shifted her gaze away. “No.”

“Paralyze him?”

“…Probably not.”

“Merrill.”

“Okay, maybe, but only a little! Just long enough to make ourselves decent again!”

Carver threw his head back with a laugh that bounced around the empty neighborhood, and soon hers joined in. Carefully slipping his arm around her shoulders, they walked down the path at a slow pace.

“I wonder what report would alarm Aveline more,” Carver started, “that Nabil tripped a paralysis ward suspiciously set in The Garden, of all places, or that you set it so we could fool around in the bushes.”

“Not in the bushes. They’re too thorny. You may have armor that keeps you unstabbed, but I don’t.”

Carver snorted. “Dirty.”

“What?” Merrill’s brow furrowed. “How was that… oh.”

Their laughter continued to ring through the night as they walked, soon reaching the end of the path that brought a set of stairs leading down into the rest of Hightown.

“I don’t think anyone would care if I left early,” Carver told her, giddiness bubbling in his throat at the way she perked up.

“Really?” Merrill asked. “Are you sure? What if something happens? What if someone steals something, or giant spiders crawl out from Darktown and eat everyone?”

“Then it’s Nabil’s problem,” he shrugged, grinning. “And I’m pretty sure Ed’s not home. Something about the Hanged Man and Isabela’s new hat. We’d have the estate to ourselves."

That was more than enough for Merrill.

Together they hurried out of The Garden, only garnering the judgement of a beggar and a passing couple as they ran hand in hand. Luckily the Hawke estate was close, and that poor Bodahn wasn’t there to greet the kissing couple as they nearly toppled in through the door.

All thoughts and worries were far from Carver’s mind, any consequences be damned.

Not that there would be any—Nabil didn’t even show.

The only evidence that anyone worked in The Garden that night was a pair of forgotten gauntlets and a plethora of scattered flower petals.

#da2 #dragon age 2 #dragon age #carver hawke #da2 merrill #carver/merrill #carver x merrill #dragon age fanfiction #first time posting any da fic writing #i have a two fics in progress but they're multichapter and kinda kicking my ass right now sooo #i thought maybe i should ease into writing more da content by doing oneshots #and after my recent posts about carver and the guard... i mean what can i say except of course i'm gonna write about guardsman carver #and make it carver/merrill because i love them but absolutely need more practice actually writing them before i tackle my longfics

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