Honor among thieves, or something close enough.

Cole likes the tavern.

Now you must endure. Drabbles of the Inquisitor and those who follow.

Flowers have meaning and, sometimes, not knowing them can be beneficial.

Cullen struggles with his lyrium addiction. Some days are better than others. Or (if you prefer a silly summary for a not-so-silly fic): In which Cullen is suicidally depressed, Dorian is a high-functioning alcoholic, and Bull just wants them both to be happy, except when he wants to crack their heads together for being emotionally stunted idiots.

Cullen, delirious with lyrium withdrawal, is too far gone to ask for help. Cole hears his silent cry. In his roundabout way, Cole sets out to help the commander of the Inquisition forces.

This is a metafic about a disabled Inquisitor and the changes the disability not only brings for them, but also for their companions, their advisors, the Inquisition as a whole, and the people of Thedas. One of my goals for this was for it to be as inclusive as possible: your Inquisitor's race and gender don't matter. Every possible class is addressed. Topics include: addiction, amputation, bigots, blindness, depression, muteness, tranquil mages, transsexuality, veterans, withdrawal.

He's not sure why people think him above desire. Cullen's a man and as weak to it as any other man in the world. He's just much worse at expressing it than others.

"It's awkward and confusing all over, because he's not sure he should find something attractive in the way the soft light of the tavern softens Krem's cheeks. That a few dark drops of wine on his lower lip should be worth of study, or that Cullen can perfectly recall the crooked angle of his smirk when the Chargers are away. "

There are and will always be abuses in the Circle. Beware a woman's blood magic. We don't do tender.

Dorian rolls onto his side to face him, squinting in the mid-morning light. "You wanted to talk, last night. So talk." "Mm, not like this." Bull cracks his neck, stretches his free arm above his head. Dorian doesn't even pretend he's not watching the muscles shift in Bull's shoulder. "You don't talk about sex in bed."

A Tevinter deserter and a Dalish blessed by Andraste herself have more in common than one might think.

Three families Krem has had.

Well, it’s finally happened. They’ve figured it out. Two years, a handful of concussions, more scars than he can count, and suddenly it all means nothing. That’s Tevinter gratitude for you.

Cullen is afraid of what he's willing to do for the inquisitor and what he stands to lose.

Cole grows increasingly confused by gender and seeks out advice.

The temporary fall and subsequent Maker be damned rise of Dorian Pavus.

A Doribull Story! "...and as you gripped my horns, I. Would. Conquer. You.” The Bull's words to him on the road that afternoon had wormed their way into Dorian's mind, and try as he might he can't seem to rid himself of them... - My exploration of how the in-game relationship between Dorian Pavus and The Iron Bull might have come to be, based on in-game banter and the conversions you can have with both characters. This story is very much a case of 'sex first, feelings after'.

Krem is a fugitive. And he gets caught. And things get ugly. And then they get kind of miraculous. Bull is a Qunari spy and actually, all he wanted was alcohol. Then things get ugly. People die. But not the kid. He´s keeping that kid

Afterward, Dorian cannot recall what he had expected, only that it had not been this.

Iron Bull is almost certainly playing games with him. Dorian is particularly sure of this when he's been drinking.

I love Krem and Bull's banter :D

“Small package of murder, huh?” He laughs. “I knew they’d tell you that.” “It’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” “I’m sure I can think of better ones.”

Krem’s grin fades into a quiet smirk, his eyes warm and amused, and Cullen does not forget how to move his legs because he is a grown man, a leader of soldiers, commander of the Inquisition’s army. He breaks the silence by coughing loudly, because he is also an imbecile. Series

It takes a long, long time for Dorian to realize that he is still waiting for the Bull to finish what he started.

They are enemies before the Inquisition brings them together. When the tension of unexpected camaraderie gives way to something more, Dorian learns that the Iron Bull is almost nothing like what he expected. It leaves one to wonder: what does the future hold for a Tevinter mage and a Qunari ex-Ben Hasrath agent?

If Dorian were half as confident as he says he is, he'd be a force to be reckoned with.

Dorian reacts a little more strongly to a compliment than anyone expected. Bull decides to test how far it goes. (Spoiler: it goes pretty far)

Dorian's still operating like he's in Tevinter, and the Bull safewords the hell out.

Cullen can't get it up and it turns out the Inquisitor doesn't want that anyway. Funny how these things work out.

Harding isn't quite sure what to make of Dagna, but she's not one to back down from a mystery--or a challenge.

Dorian is not returning to Tevinter, as such. He just happens to be the best person to pop over the border and chase down a few leftover Venatori, that's all. He'll be back to Skyhold in no time. Turns out the road to starting a revolution is paved with good intentions.

The not so epic romance of Dorian Pavus of the illustrious House Pavus and Hissrad-- more commonly known as The Iron Bull-- of the Ben-Hassrath.

In which people with floofy pauldrons like Cullen should probably not stand so close to the woman waving around a lit candle on the end of a board.

A party was never quite a proper party in Tevinter until there was at least one assassination attempt, and the novelty in the attempt at Magister Caius’ party lay not quite in its actual occurrence but in the ambition of its assassin. At the height of Caius’ decidedly juvenile lyrium-laced drinking game, during the start of dinner, Magister Fabiana made a sudden gesture close to the Divine, all the while leaning closer, as if to say something private. Divine Leontius’s hand snapped up, viper-quick, grabbing Fabiana’s hand high on the wrist. She rose from her seat, fright and outrage both in her eyes, fire stealing hot up from her trapped wrist before it was abruptly… gone. Shock froze Fabiana’s snarl in her throat, even as, with a gentle, almost intimate economy, Leontius pulled Fabiana towards him and shoved a dagger up through her ribcage.

“Hey. Hey. I have an awesome idea,” Sera said suddenly, having rolled slowly onto her back until her head and part of her shoulders were hanging off the edge of the couch. “We could… we could totally set Dorian up. With one of our, our other friends. He’ll cry less, we’ll drink less, everything will be great.” “… Sounds doable,” Evelyn burped. “But who?” “Urm.” Sera frowned. “What about Thom?” “Naaah. He’s too much of a sad puppy. He’ll make it worse.” “Bull?” “Think he’s banging some waitresses right now. At least two. At the same time without either of them knowing. It’s like some serious spy shit.”

Dorian had scarcely read through the first chapter when a shuffle of footsteps stopped outside his nook. He glanced up, a little warily, then set the book down on his lap in surprise: it was General Cullen, of all people, still in his military uniform, the khaki pressed to razor edges, the collar blood red against his throat, the gold star of his rank bright and high over his sleeves. “General,” Dorian greeted Cullen, when Cullen seemed to hesitate. Hells, but the man was ridiculously handsome, more so than Dorian had expected: it wasn’t just the uniform, at that - there was something deliciously attractive about a gorgeous man who was utterly unaware that he was gorgeous. “Something the matter?”

Varric only got as far as “And this is the-“ before Hawke purred, “Why, hello there, stranger.” Disappointingly, the drop dead gorgeous vision of male perfection behind the staid old desk in the partly ruined stone chamber stared at Hawke in pure confusion. Tousled tawny gold hair over a vision of a face: strong jaw, yet something indefinably boyish, full cocksucker lips, broad shoulders, trim hips… “It’s good to see you again, Viscount,” the stranger blinked as Hawke finished his blatantly curious once-over. “‘Again’? Surely I’ll have remembered you from somewhere before, handsome.” “Er,” said the wet dream, and behind Hawke, Varric let out a deep sigh.

Written for a kmeme prompt. Cullen is raising a baby alone through the events of DA:I, Dorian is more help than he expects. Slow burn.

"You make me feel like I'm not good enough."

Dorian's parents come to Skyhold to take him away based on a deal Dorian and his father made a long time ago that if Dorian was not in a relationship by a certain age, Halward could marry him to Livia Herathinos. No questions asked. Cullen only sees one way to ensure his chess partner stays in Skyhold. They only need to fake being in a relationship long enough to get Dorian's parents out of Skyhold anyway. How hard could it be to complete the Tevinter courtship rituals?

Dorian keeps waiting for everything to fall apart. Bull has a better idea.

Some of the Herald's loyal followers take it upon themselves to punish a certain Tevinter mage for daring to corrupt their icon with his affections. In Skyhold, the Inquisitor's own fortress, the man he loves is attacked by the people he's sworn to protect. Worse, he's not there to stop it, or comfort his mage afterwards. Many of the Inner Circle are, however, and they're on the warpath: hunting down those responsible while trying to undo the damage done. Some scars are more than skin deep, though, and there may be more to the story than any of them realize...

A series of fanfictions exploring Sera's possible neurodivergency, some based off my own symptoms that I see in her.

"It's bad enough that everybody here in the bloody south thinks that I'll kidnap them and use them for blood magic, it seems a bit over the top for them to think I'm cruel to tiny fluffy animals as well."

A crush, a dog, a kiss, and hope for a lifetime.

"Maker save me from you Southern chantry boys." Dorian shakes his head, rolling his eyes and not seeming like he minds being oggled all that much. "You believe in the Maker?" Cullen asks softly, stunned at the idea. He knew there was still a chantry further north, but the idea of them worshipping the same Maker Cullen does is difficult to grasp. "Don't you?"

Playing designated driver is not Dorian's forte. Luckily, he's got some sober company in the form of the second most attractive friend in the group--after himself, of course. Dorian's not sure why Cullen comes to these parties. He doesn't drink, doesn't socialize, he even goes to work with most of these people! There has to be a reason though, right?

For the kink meme prompt: "Josephine who is secretly a mage, and is just really really good at hiding it."

There's nothing wrong with a little online flirting. Cullen hardly ever expects it to go anywhere even if he really does like the man he's been chatting with for over a month.