#nonbinary hawke

[olliwrites]

DA Rogues Week 2026

Day One: Contract

“How’s the suitor search of your mother’s going?” “Ugh, don’t remind me!” Hawke groaned as Norah dropped off another round. “What would I even do with a marriage? Oh, ‘awk!” she mimicked the approximation of Orlesian the Hightown nobles put on. “You ‘ave not zeen a dog since arriving in our city, yet you still smell like ze wet pooch!”

[Read on Ao3]

@da-rogues-week

[sulky-valkyrie]

Hi from dadwc! I'm very intrigued about "I did warn you not to trust me." From dialogue prompts for Isabela?

Happy Fridaaaaaaaaaay!!! for @dadrunkwriting

Emjee leaned on the bar.  “Thought you said you left.”

Isabela hid a wince.  This wasn't how their reunion was supposed to happen.  Granted, she had no idea how it should've gone, which was why she was here.  Not at Merrill’s, or Emjee's.  Drinking alone, or whatever passed for it in a crowded bar.  Going to the Hanged Man hadn't been the brightest idea, but it was familiar, more so than any other place in Kirkwall.  Maybe, just maybe, Isabela had hoped, if she stood at her usual spot at the bar, she’d know what to say when any of her former friends next stopped by.

She didn’t.  Instead, she downed another shot and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand before gathering the courage to look up.  “I did.  Twice.”

Emjee arched an eyebrow as they pursed their lips together.  Isabela knew that expression well, and hated to see it turned on her.  It meant they weren’t Emjee anymore, but Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, lauded by enemies and hangers-on alike for their service to the city that would’ve chewed them up and spat them out barely four years ago.  She turned away and motioned Corff for another drink.

“Better do it a third time then, I guess,” they said.

Ow.  Isabela spun around, snarl ready on her tongue, but the look on their face wasn’t mocking or angry.  It was… sad.  Worried.  “Why?” she heard herself ask.

Emjee offered a small smile.  “Well, otherwise you lied to me, right?  Terrible thing, secrets and lies in relationships.  If we have one, I mean.”

What about love?  Emjee had asked that first night.  Isabela had brushed the question off before pulling on her boots and sauntering out the door.  But that was before they’d risked the entire city to keep her safe.  Before they showed her love wasn’t a bauble to be locked up and admired in its gilded cage, but a living breathing thing, made of hopes and fears and dreams, and,t most importantly, of action.

Yet still she’d left, running from those feelings as much as the howling mob who’d called for her execution for bringing the qunari down on the city in the first place.  

She’d left, but now she was back.  She slid her rum toward Emjee, like a boozy little olive branch.  “I…”  Had she ever apologized for anything before in her life?  Maker, why was talking about this so hard?

“Yeah?”  Emjee prompted as they sipped at it, grimaced, then sipped again.  

“I did warn you not to trust me,” Isabela finally said, then offered a soft smile of her own.  It wasn’t enough, but hopefully, it could be a start.

[perkeleen-lavellan]

My daddy told me blood was my last resort

He taught me how to sell my soul

To a monster for power

And he told me ‘Child,

For your sister and your brother you shall die

But before you do remember that you shall stay alive’

Here’s the full version without the commission stuff

do not tag as f!Hawke/Marian!

[lasatfat]

Welcome Distraction

also on AO3

“Come to bed, Varric.”

It’s not the first time Hawke has had to tell him. There’s always something new for the Viscount of Kirkwall to deal with, but it seems that that one of his numerous other occupations is keeping him busy tonight. “I’ve almost finished this chapter,” he says. “I just need a little more time.”

Hawke has heard that excuse before, but Varric has been staring stubbornly down at the same spot on the page for at least the last half hour, with any progress scribbled out a few moments later. Snapping their own book shut, they shuffle to the edge of the bed.

“What you need is sleep,” they argue. They cross the room to him, leaning over the desk, pushing their leg underneath to touch their foot to his. “Come to bed, let it rest, and go at it fresh in the morning.”

Varric crosses out his newest attempt – at this point, the page will soon be more scribbles than legible words. “I know what happens next,” he retorts. “Need to figure out how to word it.”

Well, clearly asking nicely isn’t working. Time to change approach.

They crouch on the floor. They’re a little old to be crawling around under desks, especially one set this close to the floor, but crawl under they do. It’s a nice desk, at least. Looks like real serault oak, polished to perfection, even on the underside. They could probably see their reflection in that wood, if they cared enough to cast magical light and check. As it is, the candlelight provides enough illumination to allow them to unpick the laces on Varric’s boots.

“Damnit, Hawke, what are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” they reply. Boots shed, they get to work on his breeches. Varric startles; Hawke bumps their head. “Ouch.” Not the best start.

“Anyone could walk in!” he hisses, even as he lifts his arse off the seat, letting Hawke tug his breeches and smalls out of the way, and bare him from the waist down. He’s half-hard already.

“Entering the viscount’s private quarters unannounced?” they say, with a smirk. They brush their beard up the inside of his thigh. “Who would dare?”

“There’s a ffffffirst time for everything.” Varric almost loses grip of that sentence, as Hawke wraps their right hand around the base of his length.

“Go on, then,” they say, punctuating their speech with open-mouthed kisses up the length of his now straining prick. “Finish your chapter. I’m keeping myself amused.”

“You’re not making it any easier,” Varric gripes.

They don’t really have a good retort, so Hawke puts their mouth to better use. Their lips close around the head of his cock – tastes the sour-salt of precome – and they flick their tongue against him.

“See? You don’t – ah! – you don’t have an answer for that,” he says, entirely too smug for someone with their genitals so close to someone’s teeth. Hawke reminds him with the barest scrape of theirs as they pull off.

“I don’t have your talent with words,” they reply, which is true to some extent. Varric is the author, the negotiator, the silver-tongued raconteur, but Hawke has made him come more than once by simply whispering in his ear.

“Maker, Hawke…” and he does lose that sentence, groaning as Hawke takes him into their mouth again, and swirls their tongue. They chase the sound, taking more of him with each stroke, each grunt or whispered curse lifting fresh butterflies up from their stomach, until they think he must be able to feel them too. They can’t see his face, but they can see his hands in a vice-grip on the arms of his chair. The writing has been well and truly abandoned, it seems.

Hawke pulls off, for just a second, just long enough. Their free hand – marred with a whorl of burns – fondles his balls in compensation. “I want you to come on my tongue.” And they take him deep, deep enough for the wide head of his cock to slip down the back of their throat. A tiny spurt of salt falls over their tongue as they withdraw, cheeks hollowing.

“Rian.” It’s not often Varric uses their first name. “Shit, Rian, I’m…”

Sensing how that sentence would end, Hawke presses forward, taking him to the back of their mouth once again. Varric comes with a noise like a growl, cock pulsing, spend filling their mouth and flowing down their opened throat.

Hawke holds his softening cock in their mouth for a moment longer, savouring the weight of it. When they pull off, prompting a disappointed sound from Varric, they slump back against the desk drawers to catch their breath. They’d been so focused on him that they hadn’t noticed the growing ache in their jaw, or the bump on their head. The hot throbbing of their own cunt.

After another minute or so, Varric pushes his chair back, offering a hand to help them out from underneath.

“Always the gentleman, Master Tethras,” they chuckle, clambering to their feet. When he pushes them back against the desk, it takes them by surprise. “Oop. Spoke too soon.”

Varric hooks his thick fingers into the waistband of their trousers, pulls them down over their arse. They take the opportunity to perch on the edge of the desk. Their smalls must be visibly wet, because Varric eyes them with a low laugh, and says, “got you good and worked up, huh?”

“That you did.” They lift themselves up, and tug the underwear out of the way, tossing it aside. “What are we going to do about it?”

Varric grins. “One good turn deserves another,” he responds, before dipping his head to taste them.

[sky-fire-forever]

Scorpius Hawke (they/them) with their romantic partners!

Credit to @pluvae for this absolutely amazing art that I commissioned! Find them Instagram under the same @

Please do not tag as "male Hawke"

[thiefbird]

since you are slightly drunk and writing

prompt: Anders actually gets drunk and figures out the real reason Justice doesn't let him drink normally is it suppresses the Spirit

Thank you!!

Reluctantly, Anders extinguished the veilfire in his lamp and shuttered the doors to his clinic. Hawke wouldn't let him skip Wicked Grace night at the Hanged Man again, not with a Templar raid apparently scheduled for that night.

He made his way up to Lowtown, stopping to refill refugees' barrels with fresh water whenever asked. Even with the delays, he managed to make it up to Varric's room as the dwarf was dealing the first hand.

"Ah, Blondie, you're alive!" Varric greeted him cheerfully, dealing him in as Anders slid into the remaining seat, between Hawke and Fenris.

"That's the rumour," he quipped, accepting a tankard from Hawke. He sipped tentatively, then eagerly as the crisp taste of apple washed over his tongue. "Thanks, Hawke!"

They grinned at him. "Corff just got that one in, I thought you'd like it."

He smiled back, heart flipping at the tender expression on Hawke's face, and then sighed heavily as he picked up his cards, his face falling.

"Fasta vass, mage, you could at least pretend to bluff," Fenris complained with a roll of his eyes. "Just because you do not play with your own coin does not mean you should waste Hawke's."

Anders made a face, glaring at Fenris. "Not that it's *any* of your business, but I *am* playing my own coin, Fenris," he ground out through clenched teeth. He finished his tankard of apple-something, nudging Hawke for a refill.

"And who gave you that coin?" Fenris needled.

"Anders earns his cut the same as you, Fen," Hawke chided, setting their firm gaze on the elf. "Can we not have you two at each other's throats tonight?"

Anders shrugged, and Fenris scoffed. "I shall leave the mage alone if he will leave me be," he agreed reluctantly.

"It's a deal." Anders savored the taste of the apple drink, sweet and cool on his palate. He hadn't had anything as delicious in years. It reminded him of lazy days at the Vigil, drinking and laughing with the other Wardens, before Cousland disappeared and the Orlesians took over.

Anders only realized something was off after a few more tankards of apple-something. "Hawke, what's in this?" he asked, words slurring slightly.

They flashed him a confused look. "It's... Oh shit, is it alcoholic?"

He smiled widely, feeling...wonderfully relaxed. "I think it is, yeah," he mumbled, leaning slightly sideways in his chair, much to Fenris's apparent distaste.

Isabela swooped in then, settling sideways in Anders' lap with a giggle. "I haven't seen you drunk since the Pearl, sweet thing. Has Justice relaxed his hold on you, finally?"

Anders finally to get a feel for his spirit's thoughts, and found... Nothing. For the first time in years, he was alone in his head. He felt a flicker if panic that was quickly eclipsed by the pleasant buzz he had accidentally acquired.

He could deal with Justice being missing later. For now, he would take advantage and enjoy himself. "Justice has taken a vacation, I guess. The cat is away, the mouse will play!"

Isabela and Varric cheered, and Hawke poured him another round.

[violasarecool]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Rating: G, Gen Characters: Hawke & kid Summary: Hawke's been putting this conversation off for a while now, but he can't avoid it forever: Little Anne is getting to the age when Hawke herself first started thinking about his gender.

When Hawke stepped out onto the deck that afternoon, he found her child leaning on the railing, a box under her feet so she could see out over the ocean. "You shouldn't be out here alone," Hawke said, joining her at the railing.

"I'm not alone!" Anne protested, gesturing around them. Pockets of sailors stood scattered across the deck, little flurries of wind tugging at loose clothing and snatches of conversation. A few feet away, a pair of women sprawled across a lumpy tarp, feet kicked back, hats tipped over their eyes.

"They're working," Hawke said. (Anne giggled.)

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[fiadhaisteach]

NB Dragon Age Tags

So I sent in a ticket to AO3 Support, because most Nonbinary characters roll up to the general character tag; i.e. “Nonbinary Lavellan has been made a synonym of Lavellan (Dragon Age).“, which is, of course, fairly useless when searching for works with the tag.

“I was wondering how many tags a character needs to be separated from a parent tag.

In the specific case I have looked at, in the Dragon Age fandom, the protagonists can, canonically, be male or female and have tags for such; but there are a growing number of NB and Nonbinary Suranas, Mahariels, Amells, Adaars, Lavellans, Trevelyans, Wardens, Inquisitors, and such that are currently made synonyms of their parent character category (which are very large) and thus are hard to keep track of new stories being published.

Nonbinary Hawke is the exception; they have been "elevated," but as an "Additional Tag," not a "Character."

Thanks for everything y'all do!“

Their response came last week (see below), but I didn’t get a chance to test it out until last night.

Hi there,

Thanks for contacting us.  We passed your feedback along to the tag wranglers, who have replied as follows:

"In general, we're moving away from creating character tags for specific gender variations of video game protagonists, because while they can be useful they can also lead to issues when filtering. We now prefer to create these tags in the Additional Tags instead, since that allows for more flexibility in searches.

The current gendered character tags like Female Lavellan and others were created under older policies, but going forward the team has opted to create new non-canon gender variations as Additional Tag canonicals instead.

We now have the following nonbinary tags created under Additional Tags: Nonbinary Inquisitor (Dragon Age) Nonbinary Tabris (Dragon Age) Nonbinary Anders (Dragon Age) Nonbinary Hawke (Dragon Age) Nonbinary Lavellan (Dragon Age)

And the team will be creating more in the future when there are enough uses for a particular character or group."

Now the original is still true (it’s how I actually got the text copy/pasta), BUT, if you go to the “Freeform: Nonbinary Lavellan (Dragon Age)“ or “Freeform: Nonbinary Tabris (Dragon Age)“ or any of the others, in the tag search, you now get “This tag belongs to the Additional Tags Category. It's a common tag. You can use it to filter works and to filter bookmarks.“

So if folx with NB DA characters use those tags, it will be a lot easier for those of us looking, to find their stories; and if enough use the format for NB characters that aren’t Additional Tag canonicals yet, they will be in the future.