An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 9/10
Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Relationships: Octane/Sandstorm (Transformers)
Characters: Octane (Transformers), Sandstorm (Transformers), Thunderhoof (Transformers)
Additional Tags: Continuity Soup (Transformers), Gambling, Drinking, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Obsessive Behavior, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Slavery, emphasis on the Implied/Referenced because none of them are "on screen" in the fic only...implied/referenced, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Emotional Manipulation, Sleazy Old Man x Aggressive Golden Retriever
Summary:
Cast out from the Decepticons and unwilling to join the Autobots, Octane has no choice but to go on the run when an old acquaintance comes to collect an overdue debt. A past with compounding interest, Octane bets against the odds with the only collateral he has left—his life. But when Sandstorm, a mech who thinks friends-with-benefits actually means they're friends, sneaks onto his getaway ship and refuses to leave, the ex-con is forced to start relying on a currency he'd long give up on. Trust.
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Octane goes on the run, Sandstorm follows and is very...very normal about how much he wants the former Decepticon.
Part of TFBigBang 2025!
Emmett didn’t get much sleep. It was still the middle of the day, but he desperately wanted to rest. He burrowed his head into the pillow, trying to drown out the harsh fluorescent lights and the babble of his roommate.
The man kept talking about escape, or fighting back; stupid shit that he didn’t want to hear. Why the fuck should he leave, anyway? The world was full of monsters like serial killers and landlords, and if he hadn’t messed up his life would be perfect by now.
Emmett ignored him.
The door at the top of the steps clicked open. He was so attuned to the doors now, he could hear it through the chatter of the guest.
The scent of something delicious wafted down the stairs. His stomach rumbled.
Emmett was stripped naked, cold, and his back and ass burned. And the man would not shut up.
God, he was going to lose his mind down here. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes.
Don’t cry, he told himself. Don’t you dare cry.
He heard Master on the steps, and his mouth began to water. Finally, some food.
Master unlocked the kennel, and Emmett crawled out. He didn’t like being so exposed, completely nude and vulnerable, but he made no move to cover up. It could be disobedient.
“Thank you, Master,” he said as he set the plate in front of him. Master liked good manners.
Lunch was plain chicken and rice with peas, and it was a far cry from whatever Master was cooking upstairs. Emmett didn’t care. Food was food.
Master fed the guest, and watched them eat.
Emmett thought as he ate his rice. Obviously the best course of action was to be absolutely obedient from now on, and hope that would be enough.
___________________
It wasn’t enough.
He’d been silent, only speaking to thank Master, and perfectly good. It didn’t seem to work. He was still ‘grounded’, but at least he had boxers now.
He was doing the work, taking care of the morning routine. Master even trusted him enough to leave after refastening his muzzle.
But Master no longer ruffled his hair or smiled at him. Not even a ‘good job’, and the silence was crushing. He was forbidden from speaking with guests, and the lack of interaction, any at all, was maddening.
What else could he do?
___________________
The opportunity came soon enough. They were alone again, just him and Master in the house.
“I think we can leave this off, hm?” Master dangled the muzzle in his fingers. Emmett nodded. “Good.”
Master turned to go hang the muzzle on its hook and Emmett had to act fast.
He lowered himself onto his hands and bowed his head to the cold floor. Maybe Master would take pity and pay attention to him.
“Emmett,” said Master, and he couldn’t read his tone. “What are you doing?”
“Please,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry. Please let me fix it. I want to be good for you.” He tried his hardest not to cry, but his voice cracked and tears slipped down his face. “I just want to fix it.”
Master said nothing, and he started to sob. His hands came to tug at his hair and he rocked a little trying to calm down.
“I can’t do this! Please, talk to me! I can’t-”
“Emmett, be quiet.” He shut his mouth hard enough to clack his teeth. Master crouched down in front of him, and took his chin in hand. Through his blurry tears he could hardly see Master’s expression.
“You want to be good for me?” Emmett nodded the best he could, still whimpering.
Master stood. “Come on then.” Master turned to the stairs, and Emmett’s heart soared. He followed him up the staircase, and deeper into the house. Was he finally good enough for a room?
Master opened the door to reveal a plain bedroom with a queen sized bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. It was perfect.
“Get on the bed, my dear.” Emmett scrambled for the bed, kneeling in the center.
“Lie down. On your stomach.” He got down immediately, but his excitement faded when he realized. He tensed at the sound of Master’s belt.
“Relax, darling,” cooed Master behind him.
“I- I’ve never-” he stammered, turning his head to the side to see him.
“I’ll be ever so gentle. Nothing to fear.” Master came to the nightstand, pulling open a drawer to reveal lube.
“Have I ever lied to you, Emmett?”
“No, Master,” he whispered, eyeing the bottle. He clutched the bedsheets.
Master disappeared behind him, and he felt the bed dip. A warm hand guided him, tilting his ass upward to reveal more of his most sensitive areas. He flushed.
Master would not lie to him. He would be gentle.
Fingers dipped underneath the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down. He heard a plastic sound, and a wet squelch as Master emptied some lube into his palm.
Emmett took a deep breath in and out.
“Good boy.”
A cool wetness circled around his hole before slowly pushing in.
Just one finger, and it already felt a bit much.
“Just breathe. It will feel good soon.” Master would not lie to him, Master does not lie-
He gasped as the finger brushed that spot inside; one he’d heard of but never tried himself.
Master hummed, pleased, and Emmett could finally relax a bit. Master was happy, and that eased his worries.
A second finger, just as slick, entered him and it wasn’t… so bad. This was a test, he was sure of it, and he was determined to pass.
The second finger turned into three, and Master seemed keen on pressing against that spot every other thrust. By the time he deemed him open enough, he was panting and rock hard. Precum dripped onto the sheets, but he was too distracted to remember this was supposed to be his new bed, and too out of it to be upset it was already ruined.
Master shifted behind him, and his only thought was to breathe.
He pressed into Emmett, slow and careful. Master grunted, and he tried hard to relax and not feel like he was being torn apart.
He was so big.
But Master was a gentle, patient man, and he waited for Emmett to adjust before fully fucking him.
It felt strange, but a part of him enjoyed the attention. Master brushed against that spot, and stars burst in his vision.
He cried out on a particularly nice thrust, and Master reached around to stroke him. Emmett was torn between pushing back and pressing forward into Master’s hand.
It was good, hard but not demanding, firm but not bruising, and Emmett was so so close.
But Master finished hot inside him, and pulled out. Emmett whined at the loss, sinking into the bed. Disappointment coursed through him, but Master grabbed him by the waist and flipped him over. He grasped Emmett in hand, and stroked him hard and fast. Emmett panted and rolled his hips until finally, finally, he came.
There was a tiny part of him that screamed in horror at what he’d become, but the respite that came with pleasing Master drowned it out.
He had passed. Master hadn’t lied, and he had won the attention he was craving. It was everything he wanted.
“Such a good boy,” murmured Master as he cleaned him up with a warm washcloth. He got Emmett a new pair of boxers from the dresser. “I think you’ve earned this room. What do you think?”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 21/22
Fandom: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Female Hawke/Varric Tethras
Characters: Cara Hawke, Varric Tethras, Solas (Dragon Age), Background ensemble
Additional Tags: Rewrite, canon adjacent, Slice of Life, Swearing, Alcohol, Eventual Romance, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, background solavellan, Hawke Gets Left In the Fade, Eldritch!Hawke, Fade Nonsense, Solas is Fen'Harel (Dragon Age), Hawke Gets Out Of the Fade, Angst with a Happy Ending, but also..., Ambiguous/Open Ending, I Will Go Down With This Ship
Summary:
Sometimes you're in love with your best friend. Sometimes they love you back.
Sometimes, being foolish is inevitable.
NSFW will be marked with **.
Beta'd by Iron_Angel.
Updates on Mondays.
Chapter 21 - New Roads to Take
“Little Tethrases,” she whispered aloud, seeing Varric's faint smile echo her own. She could make that happen now, couldn't she? “You're on, Varric. As soon as you buy me dinner. And a drink or ten.”
“I can do that.” He took her hand in his. “What happened to your hair?”
She huffed lightly, the mundane question so beyond funny that she almost didn't know how to reply. She touched the roughly shorn ends. Felt like an hour ago. A year. A century. Maybe just a few seconds. “I cut it off. It's a long story.”
Happy Thursday! I’ve posted chapter four of “Make Your Bed (Lie in It)” over on ao3! Only one chapter left!
“Make Your Bed” is a Codywan canon au fic that focuses on, well, Obi-Wan and Cody platonically bunking up early in the war and how that all plays out over time. Hurt/comfort, angst, bedsharing, and daring rescues all feature. This is a somebody lives/not everyone dies fix-it of sorts.
Warnings include canonical character death, mentions of past canonical torture, nightmares, canon typical violence, mentions of a suicide risk, and everything associated with Order 66, including mind control.
As you stand upon the edge
Woven by a single thread
And fate may fall down upon you
While the devil is knocking
Right at your door
Awaken - League of Legends (2019)
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Vergil wasn’t surprised when Nero led him to the former location of the Qliphoth Tree. It was the weakest barrier between worlds, something Vergil and Dante had used to escape themselves. But he thought the seal they’d placed on it would have held longer than a year. He was, however, surprised that Mundus had managed to find it. They’d been pretty thorough in cutting all remnants of the tree down in the Underworld, and Vergil was certain they hadn’t left any remnants of themselves behind.
“Where’s Dante,” Vergil snarled, trying to keep his demon self calm. The last thing he needed was to lose his control at such a critical moment. But memories of Roxy kept flashing through his mind. Her smile. Her laugh. The time they spent together. Their first and only kiss…
He shook his head. Not now. He could remember her later.
He flinched at that, unable to fully bury the thoughts from his mind.
Roxy...
“Dad,”
Vergil paused, whirling back on Nero who threw his hands up. “I know you’re angry,” Nero said. “But you can’t let Mundus get to you.”
“I won’t.”
“Are you sure?”
Vergil’s eyes narrowed. “After all she gave up… I won’t fail.”
Nero nodded. “Dante disappeared somewhere around…” He froze, eyes wide as a pulse of demonic power erupted behind Vergil. He spun around in time to knock away Dante’s Devil Sword. The half-demon appeared where the sword landed and slashed again, eyes a deep red. “Dante!” Vergil yelled, blocking every strike. But his brother was just a bit stronger, knocking him away with a perfect strike to his chest. Vergil landed on his feet, growling as he launched at his brother. Dante transformed and dove at him.
Nero dropped between them, one demonic hand on Vergil’s chest as the other punched Dante straight in the mouth. Vergil teleported backward as Dante rolled to his feet, wings extended. “Getting a real sense of deja vu!” Nero shouted as Dante pulled his sword back. “Snap out of it!”
Vergil leaped in front of his son, blocking the strike. “I don’t think he can,” He shoved back and summoned Kuro’s sword. Ice covered the blade, sweeping out in a wide arc when Vergil did the same. The blast smacked into Dante’s chest, but he brushed it off as if it were nothing. “Nero,” Vergil said. “Give me Yamato.”
“Are you sure?” Nero yelled back. “Wasn’t Mundus like… calling to you or something?”
Vergil hesitated, nearly taking a sword to the face. He dodged backward, swinging more arcs of ice. Each one slicked across Dante’s body, but his demon melted anything that lingered on his skin. Raijin had said he was safe… right? Was Mundus still a threat? Or was he already here? Lingering within Dante?
And if that was the case… Did that mean Dante had lost?
Impossible.
“I need it,” And, as much as he hated to admit it, Vergil said, “This sword won’t be enough.”
Nero grimaced but held Yamato out. The second Vergil grabbed it, the world started spinning. He grunted, barely dodging another strike by Dante. You’re a fool, Nelo, Mundus’ voice whispered. Did you really think you could get away that easily?
No. He had to be hearing things. Roxy’s connection had broken Mundus’ hold. It had to have. Her life… her hope for a brighter future… it couldn’t have been for nothing.
But lucky for you, The voice continued. I don’t need you. Not anymore. I’ve found something even better.
Vergil threw both swords up, blocking another strike by Dante. But his brother just laughed, eyes blazing. “How unfortunate,” A distorted voice echoed back. Mundus. Vergil grit his teeth and shoved his brother away. But he landed and charged within a second, stabbing the Devil Sword straight at Vergil’s chest. He tossed Roxy’s sword, embedding it into Dante’s shoulder and knocking him slightly off course before stabbing Yamato into his gut. But Dante - Mundus - just looked up at him with a feral grin. “You couldn’t even kill Raijin,” He said as he pushed himself off of Vergil’s sword. “What makes you think you can kill your own brother?”
I can’t, Vergil thought before he could stop it.
Dante’s grin widened. “A pity.”
When he swung again, it was Nero who appeared back between them, clapping his demonic hands on either side of Dante’s sword. He grabbed Roxy’s sword and tossed it to Vergil. “Go,” he said. “I’ll hold him here.”
“What?” Vergil said. “Go…?” He glanced behind him. The Underworld. Wherever Mundus was doing his experiments had to be nearby. Maybe if he found it… he could save Dante.
“Go!” Nero said.
“I can’t just…”
“I can handle myself, old man!” Nero snapped as he punched his uncle straight in the chest. Dante’s body went flying, and even Mundus seemed surprised.
“You’re his son,” He said.
“Damn right,” Nero said as he rolled his neck and flexed his wings. “And I’ve fought much worse than you.”
Mundus snorted. “We’ll see, child.”
“Hold on,” Vergil paused, glancing at Yamato. Whatever connection Mundus had was through the sword. And if he could read his mind…
“Take this back,” Vergil said. “I’ll be back soon.”
Nero caught it with a flourish, blocking Dante from going after Vergil.. “Counting on it.” And as his son tossed his Uncle away for the second time that fight - Mundus clearly didn’t have much practice controlling a body like Dante’s - Vergil leapt back into the Underworld, hoping the portal didn’t simply snap closed behind him. He glanced up as he landed, glad to see that it didn’t, but knew he didn’t have much time. If Mundus got a hold of Yamato…
Vergil shook his head. Nero could hold his own. He had to trust him.
So, Vergil took off, searching for any sign of Mundus’ domain. The former demon king hadn’t been anywhere near Vergil and Dante during their time here, of that Vergil was certain. They would have found him then, either in one of their rounds or by pure luck. But it had to be close, right? How could Mundus both hide from them and remain near the Qliphoth Tree all at the same time?
Underground.
Of course. Neither of them had thought to check underground for anything, much less Mundus. So he flew low, searching for any kind of entrance. Demons cowered beneath him. He slashed through every tree. Shattered every rock. He practically tore the earth itself apart, searching for something.
Then, he found it, a false tree leading to a hole in the ground. It was too small for his demon form, so he swapped back, dropping inside with a quiet thump. The tunnel was dark and empty, but his superior vision could see a flickering light toward the end. He walked toward it, hand on Roxy’s sword. He could feel the ice on his fingers, waiting to be used. It made his heart twist, even as he tried to ignore it. He couldn’t have brought her with him. Mundus would have killed her too easily, and humans didn’t do well in the Underworld. But he wished he could have done something. Anything to ensure her survival. Now, all he could think about was her silent heart. The light dying in her eyes. Her smile slipping away.
He shook his head, trying again to dispel whatever he could. He had to focus. Mundus himself could be waiting, and Vergil had to be prepared. Failure meant death. Failure meant losing his brother, his son, and everyone else to Mundus’ schemes.
Failure meant the end of everything.
Once he reached the light, it took his eyes a moment to adjust. He was inside what looked like a human science lab with bright white walls, wooden tables filled with documents, and panes of glass separating him from a variety of unconscious demons. But as he walked further, the demon prisoners turned to human subjects, each one dead. Vergil wondered if Raijin had helped with that, or if there was some other place in the Underworld where Mundus could have found human subjects. Maybe, he thought with a flicker of regret, they were all victims of the Qliphoth tree.
When he reached the end, he sliced through the glass. It shattered, spilling in all directions. Vergil stepped through, brushing the few shards that had managed to cling to him as he looked up at the person inside. A human male. Well built. Tall. Dressed in workout attire. He floated in a test tube with a sewn scar on his chest. Vergil moved down the line, checking each and every one. All of them were similar. Tall men with scars on their chests. Vergil frowned. Had Mundus been practicing transplants? Why? It wouldn’t do him any good to put a demon heart into a human body. Surely he knew from Raijin’s limited knowledge the downsides of replacing a heart. “So what was his…”
A low chuckle caught his attention. He whirled around, katana in hand, wishing he’d been able to bring Yamato. The laughter turned to wheezing and Vergil followed it, reaching the end of another hallway with a door. When he cut it down, his eyes widened in shock. For there, sitting on a throne of metal, as the Mundus from his nightmares. Except this one was slumped over in his seat with a hole in his chest. Demonic tendrils grew from the wound, stretching to a table to the demon’s right. There, Vergil saw a steadily beating heart. Except what should have been a large and imposing thing was shriveled and dying; a heart even smaller than his own.
“I knew you’d find me,” Mundus said. “But it doesn’t matter now. I’ve gotten what I wanted.”
“You look pathetic,” Vergil said as he lifted Roxy’s blade. “I’ll cut you down right here and now.”
“Go ahead,” Mundus said. “This body is nothing to me.”
Vergil frowned as he glanced again at the heart. How was such a small thing fueling him? How had it ended up so… shriveled? But when he looked closer, he realized it had been cut. Dozens of sealed incisions lined the heart in various shapes and sizes. The heart had shrunk naturally. Mundus had taken pieces from it.
That was it, then. It wasn’t that these people had all lost their hearts. Mundus had attached a piece of his to theirs instead. That’s why Raijin had survived so many attacks but stopped fighting once Vergil pierced a different part of his chest. Roxy froze because she had all of Kuro’s heart, not just a piece. Mundus wouldn’t want a failed body. He would want control. And that must have been what happened to Dante. One useless injury could have implanted one without Dante even realizing it.
Now, Vergil knew how to save him.
But first… he had to ensure Mundus wouldn’t survive it.
“Your son’s close to death,” Mundus said. “Better hurry.”
“Enough,” Vergil said, though it was difficult to keep the worry from his voice. Mundus in Dante’s head was a terrifying prospect. His brother wouldn’t be able to hold back. Wouldn’t be able to stop himself from killing Nero. He had to get back. Kill Mundus now and…
With a hefty sigh, the demon rose from his seat and reached for his heart. The tendrils wrapped around it, pulling it back into his chest. He towered over Vergil, just like he had all those years ago. “It still haunts you, doesn’t it Nelo.”
“It’s Vergil,” He growled. “And I suggest you remember it.”
“The blades through your heart,” Mundus continued as he moved forward. “The voices in your head. The vines that pulled your muscles tight. The glass that nearly shattered you.” He chuckled. “I remember it all quite clearly.”
“Enough,” Vergil said.
“You might kill me,” Mundus said. “But you’ll never save your brother. And then he’ll bring your son right back here, where you once were. I wonder if he’ll survive as long as you did.”
Vergil darted forward, jamming the sword into Mundus’ chest. But the demon just laughed it off, raising his hand to bat Vergil away. He yanked the sword away, jumping back in time to dodge it. Mundus was slow, but his movements were precise. He swung his hand the other way, striking Vergil. He flew into the wall, but triggered before it did any damage. He shot back at Mundus, slicing in as many directions as he could. Mundus cackled at the pain, holding his arms wide. “Do what you want, spawn of Sparda,” He said. “You won’t win.”
Vergil stabbed him in the chest again, shoving the sword deep within the wound he already had. Mundus’ breath stopped, but his smile never faded. His body dissipated, but Vergil wasn’t done. He cut through everything he could. Breaking glass. Putting the test demons out of their misery, ensuring that the bodies left behind were both dead and without a heart for Mundus to draw off of. And with every strike, the voice in his head slipped away. With everything he tore through, the few tendrils Mundus had left on him dissipated. A sense of freedom nearly overwhelmed him, but he used it as fuel, burning everything in his path as he triggered and darted back to the surface.
Vergil emerged from the Underworld, slipping between Dante and Nero. The second his son tossed Vergil Yamato, it plunged into Dante’s chest, but Vergil yanked it away. It didn’t work, as he could still see Mundus’ eyes in his brother’s own.
There was only one solution.
He’d have to cut Dante’s heart.
The idea of it was revolting, but Vergil didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t kill something he couldn’t see. And Dante would survive it… right? He could heal anything… couldn’t he? Even a temporary transplant? The other option was to keep swinging in the dark until he struck the piece Mundus had left, but Vergil didn’t know how long that would take. And Nero looked tired, a sign that Vergil couldn’t ignore. He didn’t have time to question himself. He had to move and fast.
“I’m sorry,” He whispered as he lifted both swords. Ice burst from Roxy’s sword, covering the blade. Blue energy pulsed off of Yamato. Vergil charged at his brother, shifting forms as Dante did. One slice of Yamato cut through his demon’s armor. Another with Roxy’s sword reached deeper. It burst, sending shards of ice everywhere. Everything it touched froze, and the ice spread quickly. Still, Vergil knew he didn’t have a lot of time. And as the body heat of Dante’s trigger began to melt his fragile prison, Vergil drove Yamato through the only gray piece of his brother’s heart he could find.
Dante gasped as the piece of Mundus’ heart froze and shattered. His trigger vanished as the wound closed. Dante hit the ground dry-heaving, throwing his hand out in a thumbs up. “I’m good,” He said through coughs and sputters. Nearby, a body rose and stumbled from the pit. Vergil could feel the remnants of Mundus inside, struggling to hold on. Nero snorted as he finally wandered up to Vergil. “Is that our guy? Trying to run in a body like that?”
Brandishing Yamato, Vergil said, “This should be the last body he can go to.”
“Can we save the human?”
“No,” Vergil said. “The body is already dead.”
Nero looked sad, but nodded. “Then do the honors.”
But as Vergil started to move, electricity pulsed around them. Surprised, his gaze rose to the horizon as a half-dragon slammed down in front of Mundus. Ice and electricity exploded in all directions, forcing the Devil Hunters to take a long step back. Mundus howled in agony and, when Vergil could look up again, this new dragon had his human form by the throat.
“Roxy,” Vergil whispered.
She didn’t look at him. “You know why I’m here?” She said, her voice distorted. Vergil’s heart sank. Had Raijin really taken her body? He wouldn’t… couldn’t…
“Because of his last wish,” She whispered. “To watch your end.”
With another pulse of electricity, she slammed Mundus to the ground before smiling up at Vergil. Relief flooded through him, and he knew what she was asking before she had to say it. Roxy hopped to her feet as Vergil buried Yamato in Mundus’ chest. A silent scream wracked his features, but the life in his eyes faded in an instant. Vergil pulled Yamato from the body, flicking it to the side to throw off any blood before sheathing it and turning to his love. “Roxy…” He said.
She watched him for a moment, giving him time to take everything in. Her body was split, half Kuro’s wing and scales, half Raijin’s. Magic swirled around her hands, down that same divide. Even her eyes were split, one light blue, and one purple. She lowered herself to the ground, bringing her wings in and she stared up at him. How little she still was, even in this form. He wondered if that was a conscious decision. “Vergil,” She said, her voice shifting between a demonic growl and her own voice.
“What happened?”
“Raijin…” She said. “He’s… gone.” She placed her hand against her chest. “He gave everything to make this beat again. The least I could do was fulfill his last wish.” With a slow breath, everything vanished. Her skin returned to normal. The wings dissipated. Only her draconic eyes remained, both teeming with untapped potential. It must have been overwhelming existing in such a state. “He warned me that I would have some trouble adapting.”
“It’s alright,” Vergil said as he stepped up to her. “You’ll have help.”
Then, after a moment of simply staring at each other, he swept her into his arms and held her tight. She laughed as she hugged him back. “Miss me?”
