'We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair' for Merrill/Carver or Varric/Marian, whichever you prefer! :)
thank you so much for the prompt!! I’ve done this one for Varric/Marian before but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to write one from Marian’s POV
for @dadrunkwriting
from this list
Hawke cracked an eye open and groaned. Her body screamed at her as she shifted in bed.
Hang on, she was in a bed? Her bed, if the smell of wet dog was anything to go by. The last thing she remembered…the last thing she remembered was the fight with the Arishok. Ouch. Lots of very pointy stabby spears. Not a very fun time for Marian.
A light snore drew her attention, and she glanced over to the side. There was a plush chair pulled up close to the bed, and Varric was gently snoring, half in the chair and half sprawled across the bed.
His hand, she realized belatedly, was holding onto hers. Maybe it was the pain talking, but there was something almost angelic about the way the candlelight reflected off of his face, dancing across his golden hair.
Andraste’s sacred knickers, it was definitely the pain talking. Marian was to romance what oil was to water. Dancing across his hair? That was the kind of thing Varric would put in Swords & Shields.
Her stomach loudly announced that it had been too long since she’d last had something to eat. She was strangely reluctant to remove her hand from his, but holy Maker she was hungry. As she pulled away, Varric’s head shot up, his eyes unfocused.
“Hawke?” he rasped. Parts of his hair were sticking up in odd directions and his face was creased from lying on the sheets. A very small part of Marian thought oh.
“In the flesh,” she managed.
“Don’t-- don’t you ever do that again, you understand?” he said. He was holding onto her hand again.
“But Varric, think of the book sales,” she said weakly. She was interrupted by a hacking coughing fit. “Although maybe don’t include the bit where I got turned into a kebab. Not a very glorious hero moment, is it?”
“Hawke…”
“Alright, alright, I pinky-promise I won’t get stabbed through the stomach again. Probably. Not anytime soon, at least.”
“Marian.”
Oh.
He’d never called her that before. She was always just Hawke to him. But there was something about the half-desperate way that he called her name that brought the blood rushing to her face.
He was close now, close enough that she could see the dark flecks of brown in his warm, amber eyes. Was wanting to kiss your best friend a symptom of getting stabbed? Was that a thing? She didn’t think so, and she was Kirkwall’s leading expert on being stabbed.
“How long was I out?” she asked instead, endeavouring not to stare at his lips.
“A week,” Varric said, his voice strained. His eyes hadn’t left her face. To her immense surprise, she realized she was blushing. She hadn’t blushed since she turned 15, despite Isabela’s best efforts.
“Ah, well, you need a lot of beauty sleep if you want to look this fantastic,” Hawke replied.
“Marian,” he said again, and then he was kissing her. Soft, and warm, and wonderful, and why hadn’t they started doing this years ago?
When they finally broke apart, breathless, she rested her forehead against his.
“Do you think I could go get a sandwich first? I’m starving,” she whispered. His answering laughter, rich and warm, was something she’d treasure for years.
damerey and #1? honestly if you did any of them i’d die happy bc your writing. is. the. best. thing. ever.
I have you shoved against the wall but now I can’t stop looking at your mouth
(And thank you!!)
***
“Best two out of three?” Rey panted, her cheeks flushed.
Poe grinned at her, his hands still wrapped around her wrists, pinning them to the wall. “You aren’t afraid I’ll just beat you again?”
She blew her hair out of her face with an irritated twitch of her nose, and glared up at him. “I’ll kick the banthacrap out of you, Dameron.”
“That’s…Commander Dameron to you,” Poe chided her cheekily, his fingers tightening. Rey scowled more deeply, her face turning a darker shade of red.
Poe laughed, his eyes flicking down to her pout. And then his gut twisted.
He forced himself to look back into her eyes, but now Rey’s expression was teasing.
“What did you say …” She trailed off for a second and then bit her lower lip, drawing Poe’s eyes back down. “…Commander?”
“Uh.” He couldn’t look away for more than a few seconds now, and his fingers slackened slightly around Rey’s wrists, the wrappings around his hands flexing and shifting with the movement. Why had he suggested they box again? Right. Something about building Rey’s non-lightsaber combat skills.
…Hadn’t it been her idea?
She smirked at him and kicked his foot lightly. “Are you going to make a move or what?”
“Kriff.” Poe laughed, feeling his face flush.
“Hmm?” Rey’s smirk didn’t waver, and he realized that even though he’d won the match, Rey was more prepared to win the war.
“Yeah, yeah,” Poe muttered, his hands flexing around hers once more. He pinned them against the wall again, surging in to press his body against hers; he kissed the resident Jedi, feeling her smile against his mouth the whole time.
“Best two out of three?” Poe murmured into the small space between their lips when they parted.
“Yeah.” Rey sounded distracted though, and when he took a step back, she tackled him to the mat and kissed him again.
no. 4 from the 'good parts' list for Joan/Harding for DA DWC, if you fancy? <3
thank you!! this was such a delight to write, this is one of my absolute favourite prompts <3
written for @dadrunkwriting
4. We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair from this list
Joan figured that the Maker must have been having a laugh when He, in his infinite wisdom, decided to make the Emprise.
Well, Joan amended, He’d probably been having a laugh when he invented all of Orlais.
It wasn’t a long journey from Skyhold to Emprise du Lion, but it was a pain in the ass. Scout Harding had taken up the role of fourth member of the party by virtue of being the only one with any sense of direction in the snow. And sweet Andraste, there was a lot of snow.
The wind began to whip up, sending small crystals of ice lancing across Joan’s face. Impressive, really, given that she was bundled up to the approximate size of a marshmallow. She could hear distant shouting. She shifted her massive earmuffs out of the way to hear Harding better.
“Storm coming, we’ll need to stop for the night,” Harding called over the wind. Lace, she’d said Joan could call her. “There’s a tavern up ahead I’ve been to a fair few times.”
Joan let out a tiny sigh of relief. At least she wouldn’t have to spend another night in a tent. With the snow.
Unfortunately, as it happened, the inn was almost full-up. The inn-keeper anxiously explained that there were only two rooms left. Bull and Dorian agreed to share with a surprisingly minimal amount of bickering. Which meant that Joan was sharing with Lace.
What the inn-keeper neglected to mention was that there was only one bed per room. Joan had blushed crimson red from the tips of her ears down to her toes when she realized. She had the thought that she should nobly decline and sleep on the floor, but she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
The first thing that Joan noticed when she woke up was the warm feeling of an arm loosely slung across her waist. The pieces from the night before slowly clicked into place as she slowly opened her eyes, squinting in the early dawn light.
At some point in the night, she’d turned to face Lace. She was, at the moment, immensely grateful that she had. She had a front row seat to the most beautiful sight in Thedas.
The bright light, glinting off of the freshly fallen snow, filtered in through the heavy curtains. It highlighted the freckles that dappled Lace’s face like a constellation. Scars danced across her skin, reminders of the number of fights she’d won (and lost). Her long hair, normally neatly braided back, was in wild disarray. In the light, it shone like molten copper.
They say that things that are beautiful are graceful and delicate, and that things that are sublime are overwhelming and unknowable. As the air left her lungs in a rush, Joan realized that Lace was both.
Joan wasn’t particularly given to religion, she’d known too many members of the Chantry for that. But in the early light of the morning, with Lace’s arm wrapped around her, she felt dangerously close to having a religious experience.
That thought was driven from her head when Lace made a small noise and snuggled her face against Joan’s shoulder. Joan’s heart stuttered to a halt, and she momentarily forgot to breathe. She must’ve made a sound, because Lace shifted next to her.
“Morning,” Lace said blearily. Joan could get used to hearing that. For the rest of her life, in fact. She badly wanted to run a hand through Lace’s hair, to find out if it was as soft as it looked.
“Did I wake you?” she asked instead.
“No, I always like to get up with the sun,” Lace explained. A delicate blush dusted her cheeks when she realized her arm was still wrapped around Joan. “Oh! Sorry, I’m a cuddler. Should’ve mentioned.”
“No worries,” Joan said faintly. Lace nodded awkwardly and shifted to get off the bed.
Joan couldn’t say what made her reach out. Loneliness, maybe. A bone-deep sense of want that, for just a moment, had been quieted by the feeling of Lace’s arm around her. Whatever it was, she found herself reaching out for Lace’s arm. Lace turned to face her, her green eyes still soft from sleep. Joan hesitantly cupped her face in her hands.
“I think I’d like to kiss you,” she rasped. A radiant smile broke across Lace’s face, brighter than the sun glinting off of the freshly fallen snow.
Ooooo 12 for Damerey if you’re up for it :) I’m a sucker for the fake dating trope lol
#12: We were pretending to be lovers but I’m not pretending anymore and I have to know if you feel the same way
(Three people asked for this!)
***
Rey tosses her hair out behind her while they walk down the street, cherry blossoms littering the ground underneath them. Poe’s whistling cheerfully beside her, and she can’t stand it, can’t stand the goofy grin she knows she’ll see if she looks over. It becomes too much, and she picks up the pace, the car in sight.
She jerks her hand out of her pocket to click the key fob and stomps the rest of the way.
“Rey?” Poe’s concerned voice washes over her, but Rey jerks her head.
“Let’s get you home, Dameron.” She grabs her door handle, but a second later a much larger, warmer hand wraps around hers. “Let go.”
“Okay.” His grip loosens, but Poe doesn’t move away. She eyes him warily, hating the sadness in his eyes. “Did I do something?” Even with the foot of space between them, Rey can feel the heat radiating off of him, can smell the leather of his jacket and his cologne.
“No.” Rey spits the word out through her teeth.
“Are you sure? Because you haven’t said a word since we left the party.”
“I’m sure,” Rey snaps, and she turns her head away when Poe tries to peer into her face.
“C’mon, Sunshine, let me know what I did wrong?”
“You never do anything wrong.” It’s out before she can stop it. “You’re always - perfect.” That’s the problem.
“I’m not perfect” - Poe’s hand is back on her wrist again, light as he tugs on her - “Far from it.”
“Yeah, okay.” Rey crosses her arms in front of her chest and turns to lean against the car. “Pull the other one.”
“Rey.” Poe sighs softly. “Please? Tell me what’s wrong.”
“What’s wrong?” Her voice sharpens like a weapon, and Rey fights the urge to snarl. “Fine. I’ll tell you what’s - God, it’s been - you have been perfect every single second since I’ve met you. We’ve been friends for what, three? years? -then you ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend to make your dad happy, and go figure, you’re even more perfect as a fake boyfriend. So of course I say yes when you ask me to do it again, for Thanksgiving, just to meet the aunts! And then at Christmas. And New Year. Not like I have anywhere else to go.” Her voice breaks more than she wants it to. “I can’t just … I’m not like you. I can’t just fake loving someone and then switch it right back off. I can’t … I can’t pretend not to love you when you don’t need me anymore. I’m not like that.”
She realizes her mistake too late, and covers her eyes with her hand, her lower lip quivering because of course her tear ducts are hard wired to her embarrassment levels.
“Who says -” Poe clears his throat and is silent for a long second, and Rey waits for him to figure out how to reject her lightly, politely, kindly. “Who says I’m switching it off?”
“Don’t be stupid.” Rey wipes the one drop of moisture that’s collected in her eye away angrily and scowls at him. “As if you’d ever-”
“I would.” Poe’s close again, his eyes studying her face carefully, his expression oddly nervous. “I do.”
“What?” Rey blinks in confusion, and Poe licks his bottom lip. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying…” Poe puts his hand on the roof of the car and drags his foot back and forth on the pavement. “I’m saying I asked you to … pretend to be my girlfriend because my father knows me better than to accept that I’d date anyone other than the girl I’ve been in love with for three years.”
“What?”
Poe grins and ducks his head for a second. He looks back up at her through one of his eyes squinted shut. “Shit, this really isn’t going well.” He taps his fingers on the roof of her car. “I’m saying I love you.”
“Oh.” Rey considers this for a long second and then smiles, at the ground. “Oh.” She smiles at Poe, now.
“Oh?” Poe looks at her through lowered lashes, and Rey nods.
We’re hiding from the authorities and it’s very close quarters in here, I can feel your body against mine.
Dex was heavy. Chowder had known that, of course. He was used to the space Dex took up on the couch, the field of vision he blocked on the ice. Metaphorically speaking, he was aware of the volume of Dex’s concern. Chowder knew how to account for Dex.
Chowder did not know how to deal with the fact that Dex was pressed on top of him, so close their cheeks were brushing and he couldn’t even see his friend. Chowder did not know how to deal with the fact that he could feel the soft hitch in every breath Dex took. Chowder did not know how to deal with Dex’s breath ghosting over his ear.
Because Chowder did not allow himself to think about his friends in situations where they would be this close.
That was a lie. Chowder thought about it. He just didn’t know what to do about it now. Because this was definitely not the situation that he had thought about.
And if he didn’t stop thinking about those situations, this situation was going to get hella awkward, hella quick.
The steps outside the room finally moved away, fading down the hall and Dex relaxed, melting over Chowder even more.
“Um, Dex?”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry Chowder.”
Dex lifted himself up, bracing with his forearms and looked down at Chowder and.
Honestly, he didn’t mean to. But what was he supposed to do in a position like that? Dex’s muscular arms framing his head, Dex’s weight pressed against him, Dex’s lips slightly parted as he took a few deep breaths.
His hands just gripped Dex’s hips of their own accord and pulled. His eyes fell closed and Dex could have brushed it off. Stood up, checked if they were clear, pretended it was just a muscle spasm from the tension.
But Dex leaned down and kissed him. And Chowder happily kissed him back.
Oh, my God, I thought you were going to die. Please don’t ever scare me like that again.
Let it be known, Dex is concerned because Farmer is from California. He’d have the same concern for Chowder. And probably the same concern for Nursey because Nursey is Nursey and New Yorkers can’t be counted on to be sensible like he definitely is in this story. shh. He’s from Maine, he’s tough. That’s his story and he’s sticking to it.
************
“Get Cait.” Dex nudged Farmer into Chowder and Nursey’s waiting arms and sat heavily on the couch next to their impromptu pallet by the radiator. “Check her. It’s too cold out there.”
He worked his jaw, trying to get feeling in his cheeks and grappled with the laces on his boots.
“I’m sorry, Cait. I should have gone over to get you earlier. Are you ok? Can you feel your fingers and toes?” Talking was helping, kept him moving. He was vaguely aware of Chowder and Nursey fussing over Farmer nearby. He just couldn’t seem to make his fingers do what he told them to. He furrowed his brow and focused on grasping the lace of his boot.
“Get off me, guys. I’m fine. Help Dex.”
“Cait? Why do you have two pairs of gloves on?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. This idiot gave me half his cold weather gear.”
Warm hands took Dex’s and he looked up. “She was freezing. It’s too cold out there for her.”
Still, he didn’t resist as he was helped out of his outer clothes and bundled into the pile of blankets on their pallet. Long minutes of reassuring himself that Farmer was ok, and allowing the others to check him, to rub feeling back into his wind seared skin, slowly gave way to hours of cuddles.
Dex pressed a kiss against Cait’s hair and she nuzzled into his shoulder. “Don’t scare me like that. Please.”
“You’re the idiot that nearly froze.” Her words were sleep heavy and slow.
The feeling returning to his toes was still painful, but he had his boyfriends and his girlfriend all safe. He had all he’d ever wanted. He smiled.
yes hi hello i'm going to need #8 as nurseydex because i love your nurseydex and if anything is going to break through those idiots' thick skulls it's a near death experience
Oh, my God, I thought you were going to die. Please don’t ever scare me like that again.
Still from this list.
Nursey couldn’t breathe. Partly because he’d just fallen down the stairs to the basement and landed hard on his back. Mostly because there was two hundred pounds of ginger d-man squeezing him.
“Dex.” His voice was wheezy and he tried to suck in enough air to clear his throat and try again. “Dex. Can’t breathe.”
He was no longer being squished. It was less of an improvement than he expected. He definitely did not reach out or moan from the loss. The moan was because he was in pain from falling. It was also definitely not because Dex’s hands were now roaming his body, gently but firmly pressing and assessing.
“Where does it hurt? I don’t see any blood. Maybe a punctured lung. Don’t move, your neck might be injured.” Dex started slowly feeling along Nursey’s ribs. “I’m going to call the paramedics, but you need to tell me where it hurts so they have all the information.”
“Dex, stop. I’m fine.” Nursey grabbed Dex’s probing hand. “I’m just winded from the fall. I’m fine.”
Dex blinked at him. “What the hell were you doing, Nurse? You could have died!”
Nursey smiled. “There’s my favorite grump.”
Dex’s eyes were still wide and wild and he clutched the hand still holding his. “You could have died, Nurse. You could have died. I thought….” Dex stopped talking and took large, heaving breaths.
“Hey. I’m ok. Come here.” Nursey pulled Dex back down against him. “I’m ok. Since when do you get that worried about me, Poindexter?”
“Always.” The word was muffled because Dex had pressed his face into Nursey’s chest, but he still heard it. Nursey blinked a few times and thought back over their friendship. Every time he’d been injured, there had been Poindexter’s grumpy, worried face. Huh.
“Dexy. Maybe we could cuddle on your bed instead of the concrete?”
#9 with poly dmen or.... uh shit. #7? Whatever, the "I've never seen anyone handle that like you did" one for tango/dex or dex/chowder/farmer
We’re hiding from the authorities and it’s very close quarters in here, I can feel your body against mine.
and
I’ve never seen anything like the way you handled that. I’m just so moved.
A read more because doing two means it long.
Dex shifted slightly, trying to get his arm out from where it was pressed between his and Ransom’s chests.
“Poindexter, stop moving. Now.” Nursey’s voice was a low growl in his ear. It should not be hot, all things considered.
Letting himself be talked into skinny dipping in the hotel pool by Ransom and Holster was one of the worst decisions he’d made in his life. But he was pretty sure the top spot went to hiding in a tiny supply shed with three other d-men when they’d nearly been spotted by a security patrol.
He was just grateful that they’d been clothed at the time. If he’d been sandwiched between Ransom and Nursey, and staring Holster in the eye over Ransom’s shoulder, without the benefit of clothing. Well, spontaneous human combustion may not have ever been observed occurring before, but he was pretty sure it would have happened then. As it was, it was taking all his effort not to think about the warm bodies pressed around him.
He finally managed to get his arm unbent from the weird angle and the ache subsided. He decided a moment later that he should have left it because it was infinitely more difficult not to think about his fellow d-men pressed against him now that that distraction was gone.
“It could be worse. We could have already been swimming.” Holster’s whisper was loud in the still night and both Ransom and Nursey hushed him.
Dex shifted again and tried his best not to think about it. Again. Nursey hissed in his ear and he froze. Slowly, Dex let himself pay attention to the bodies pressed against him instead of fighting to distract himself. It seemed like his brain wasn’t the only one diving into the deep end.
He dragged his hand up along Ransom’s side, slowly bumping over obliques and ribs, watching his dark eyes glint in the low light. When Ransom’s lips parted in a low moan, Dex dipped in to swallow the sound.
Nursey’s and Holster’s twin groans threatened to alert the patrol. Dex rolled his eyes without opening them. Nursey’s hand slid up his abs and Dex had to swallow his own groan.
“Can we get out of this damn closet and back to one of the rooms yet?” The words tumbled out of Ransom’s mouth against his lips and they all stilled, breathing heavy while craning their necks to check if the guard was gone.
Letting himself be talked into skinny dipping in the hotel pool by Ransom and Holster was one of the best decisions Dex’d made in his life.
***********************************
“That was beautiful. You are amazing.” Dex cradled Cait’s face in his hands and pressed kisses to her eyelids.
She batted his hands away, smiling. “Stop it. It was nothing.”
Chowder plopped down next to Cait on the couch and leaned into her arm. “What? What did she do?”
“Nothing. Dex is just being dramatic.” Cait rolled her eyes as Dex slid down onto the couch.
He reached an arm around her shoulders, cuddling her in close and allowing him to run his fingers through the hair on the back of Chowder’s head. “Since when have I been one for dramatics?”
“Since you found out I made kettle corn from scratch, apparently.” Cait leaned forward and grabbed the bowl of popcorn she’d just mentioned and Dex smiled as Chowder’s eyes widened.
“I told you. She’s amazing.”
“I knew it, but it’s still always a surprise.”
They both leaned into her and pressed kisses to her cheeks.
“Stop it.” She could barely get the words out without laughing. “Come on, guys. We’re supposed to be watching a movie.”
