for torsewell prompts: 5, 28, or 48? whichever sparks your interest
48. Dancing with each other
Torse's hand is cool on Maxwell's back. Firm. Strong. Gentle, despite the blades on it. Maybe even gentler because of them.
They're outside in the garden of some great Zoodian house, a distant violin making its quiet way towards their ears. There had been a wedding - a ball - music and laughter and drinking and song. The ball is still ongoing.
Torse and Maxwell are no longer a part of it. The noise had become too much, the lights at the same time too bright and too dim, the smells and the heat and-
Maxwell had taken Torse's hand, and dragged him outside into the cool night air, head pounding. “Too much,” he had said. And then, “Sit with me?”
Of course, Torse had obliged. There was no universe in which he did not oblige. His clockwork heart had ticked a tattoo against his ribs, at the warm wrap of Maxwell's fingers around his hand.
“You weren't dancing,” says Maxwell. “Even after I taught you.”
“I…” Torse sighs. “I feared I would embarrass myself. Were I to ask.”
Plastering a smile onto his face, Max nudges Torse's side. “Got your eye on someone, then?” Someone other than him. Who would Torse even- How had Maxwell not seen?
“Well,” says Torse, taking his palm away from its soothing place in the small of Maxwell's back, wringing his hands together. “I had planned to ask you.”
“You've danced with me before,” says Maxwell, around the new lump in his throat. Could it- Could he be so lucky?
“I have not asked you to dance,” says Torse, as if that explains anything. “Not in- Not in such a formal situation. People would make… assumptions.”
Maxwell stands. “Dance with me,” he says, heart dancing in his chest. “Out here. No one to make assumptions.” Except for himself, but his assumptions rarely tended to be so self-complimentary as the ones Torse appeared to be worried about.
Torse stands, towering over Maxwell's head, and offers a hand. Maxwell takes it, and they fold into each other, follow and lead, hands upon hands upon waists upon shoulders, the gentle flutter of breath, the soft ticking of clockwork joints. They curl around each other in a circle, ever closer, indecorous, indecent, perfect. Maxwell is so warm in Torse's arms, the heat of blood and muscle and bone. The violin still sings above them, quiet and gentle and slow. The sun is setting, the sky painted with hues of purple and blue and fading orange, stars just beginning to peek through the sky.
“What assumptions,” asks Maxwell, all trepidation, “were you afraid of people making?”
“True ones,” says Torse. “That I adore you.” It is not what he had intended to say - had, in fact, planned to sit on that particular piece of information until the truth of it faded into the rest of his life, a background hum instead of a crashing symphony whenever Maxwell directed a smile his way.
“Oh,” says Maxwell, and he is smiling, the curve of his mouth crooked and imperfect and beautiful, the most beautiful thing Torse has ever seen. “I had hoped- I did not know if it was possible. If whatever created you-”
“I do not think it was intended to be,” says Torse, and their waltz slows, their forms collapsing until they are merely swaying in the quiet courtyard, pressed together. “And yet it has happened anyway.”
“Good,” says Maxwell, and their feet finally still. “I- I feel the same. Obviously. I- Torse?” he asks.
The metal man tilts his head, inquisitive, and Maxwell cups his jaw. “May I?”
Torse nods, and bends down slightly, allowing Maxwell to lean up and press a kiss to his face plate. “We should head back inside,” Max says. “It would be polite.”
The party is still in full swing. They could rejoin now, and no one would be any the wiser. Maxwell knows this, and had said it, and yet makes no move to remove himself from the circle of Torse's arms.
Torse shrugs. “I would rather be impolite,” he says, as their dance begins again, slowly, “and have a few more minutes with you.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
@waveridden I think I already submitted something for where the world begins but I’m doing it again. Truly not just one of my favorite rancher fics, but one of my favorite fics ive ever read in any fandom. So beautiful. I read it 3 times in a row the first time I discovered it and I think and talk about it fondly all the time still
They keep it pretty professional at work. Neither one of them are that big on PDA, or at least, they don't like PDA more than they like their working reputations.
But there are little things. Things Athena wouldn't appreciate from anyone else. Things that stand as reminders that they aren't just colleagues - that when she takes her uniform off at the end of the day, when she drives home, he'll be there waiting for her.
Tonight she's first on the scene of an apartment fire (not one that seems like it'll be that bad, thankfully). She's coordinating getting roads blocked off, caught up in the sirens already going, which is what she blames for the fact that she doesn't know the 118 are on the scene until there's a hand at her elbow.
Then, she knows who it'll be before she looks.
"Where are we setting up, Sergeant?" Bobby asks.
Someone who didn't know either of them probably wouldn't be able to tell they were married, maybe not even that they knew each other beyond work. They wouldn't know the way her voice is a hair softer with Bobby, or that the way he's smiling at her is different from how he'd greet anyone else in this position.
"The 136 are in charge. They're set up around the southeast corner," she says, gesturing to one side.
He nods and turns around. "Alright team, southeast corner, let's go."
The 118 make in that direction. As they do, she calls, "Be safe!"
"You too!" he replies.
And that's enough for now. Way more than enough, really. She turns back to what she was doing, knowing that more of that will be waiting at home.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Have you read transitive property (Life Series)?
Yes, and I’m in the fandom.
Yes, but I'm not in the fandom.
No, and I’m in the fandom.
No, but I'm not in the fandom.
Voting ended onNov 20, 2024
Summary:
“Our king takes care of his people,” Martyn says, like it’s obvious. “Let’s get your shoulder fixed up.”
“Uh,” BigB says, face heating up for no particular reason. Both of them are looking at him. “I was kind of going to do it… myself…”
BigB's hurt after a battle. Ren and Martyn fix him up.
hiiii here are my 2 playlists for @waveridden for the blb fanmix exchange! the first is a fast-paced mix for özlem suttner's can't lose trip around the league, and the second is a ken loser/shannon chamberlain sad ship mix :3
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
There’s anxiety in the pit of her stomach as Steph waits; without even noticing her fingers keep picking at the handles of her crutches. Even with with all the plans (and an elopement between it all), Summers has still been gone for four hard seasons, and things have changed– are always changing, of course.
Still, it’s Summers, and there’s no one she trusts more in the world, really. Whatever has changed, they’ll figure it out, they always do, and if things could survive the shell, a little distance can’t even come close–
“Babe?”
And there she is, in all her glory. Looking up, tears inadvertently come to her eyes, and Steph moves to stand up, but Summers leans in, their lips meeting.
It’s all a bit overwhelming, really; the warmth of Summers hand on her cheek and the delighted laugh escaping her lips even as she tries to swallow it down. The taste of burnt coffee and stale gum and sunscreen on her lips–
BUTTERCUP—ingo, friend to various pokémon. it's been touched on before in fics/fanart/etc. but not the specific concept i have here, i think, which is that ingo isn't... just close to lady sneasler. all of the noble pokemon kind of just like him? he has a similar affinity for alpha pokemon. it annoys melli to no end that ingo can just walk into electrode's hollow, no problem & it's caused a bit of tension with the diamond clan when one of their nobles decides to pick him up for a visit, but overall it's mostly just. a lot of big, scary pokemon see this funny train man and go oh! my train man now. he also has this effect on ghosts. (it's nice for someone not to be scared of you, for once.)
for the fic title meme: inhale, maybe we'll be equal
oohhhh...
i know you don’t go to vld but this would be like, a season 1-era klance fic. like that whole genre of “keith and lance end up stranded on a planet together and have to learn to work together and maybe fall in love along the way” fics...
i am a Sucker for near-death experiences and nursing each other back to health. thinking about keith being severely injured and this ends up kind of leveling the two of them...up to now lance has always kinda felt like second-best, always thinks of keith as being ahead of him and almost kind of untouchable, and it’s devastating that it takes seeing keith almost on death’s door for him to go, “oh, shit, he isn’t untouchable he isn’t some god...he’s just a kid. we’re both just kids”
and keith who hates being helpless being forced to rely on someone else for what feels like the first time in forever. and especially lance. he doesn’t necessarily think lance is useless to the team or anything like that, but up to now lance still has his strong goofball tendencies, tendencies not to always take things seriously, and this combined with keith just not knowing what to do with someone caring about him because everyone either leaves him or dies on him...it’s a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for him
and so the two of them slowly learn to rely on each other and trust each other...they begin opening up to each other and seeing new sides to each other they’re not used to seeing, especially the longer they’re stranded together (lance sees a funnier, goofier side of keith, even if his wit is dry and humor sometimes morbid) (keith sees a more serious side of lance who takes charge and is able to think reliably on his feet)
can u tell i’m normal about this. i’m normal about this
anyway thank u for the ask!!! i’m mentally ill
send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it!
