Dive Deep into Creativity: Discover, Share, Inspire
He hears your voice. Softly singing along with the song, it's volume and melody low compared to the music he's used to hearing his brothers crank. And it calls him. Beckoning him to you like a moth to flame.
He finds you in their common room. Barefoot, wooden bo staff in hand, moving through a series of stances. Entirely lost to the music. Completely unaware of his presence.
He watches intently. You're not finishing each stance with decisive sharpness. Nor is your form controlled the way it should as you transition into the next. Then you raise up on your tiptoes, with the staff stretched across the back of your shoulders. You spin, dipping your head low and raising one leg high as you rotate in a smooth, practiced motion.
Now that's not right, he thinks.
He knows the training is still pretty new to you. It's not that new though. He's shown you proper technique. There's no reason for you not to have it now.
But just as he's about to take a step forward to correct your form, the music suddenly seems louder, and a thought occurs to him. Freezing him in place.
You're dancing.
You're dancing through the stances he's taught you.
You're in control. You know what your body is doing. You know exactly each step you intend to take.
And it takes his breath away.
The fluidity of your limbs. The strength of your form. Your own unique power and control shining through. The beauty you convey.
No, there is no sharp, snappy jerks as you shift. There are no short huffs of air forced from your lungs. Not an ounce of tightness to your delicate features. There's no force or fury being channeled through. Not like when he trained.
You're enjoying this. So effortless are your actions, as the music floods your mind and sweeps you off into a world all your own, he wonders if he is really the teacher. And you really the student.
Were you showing him the grace and beauty of his own art? Letting him truly see his own craft for the first time? Or was it --- was he truly seeing you for the first time?
It felt like watching you move in slow motion to him. The music deafening everything else but your voice to his ears. Your voice making his eyes blind to everything except you.
Smooth. Soft. Fluid and steady. Circular motions without points like those of his own angular ones.
Funny, how this moment mirrored the differences between you two. And yet, somehow making clear how much sense it made for those differences to bring you together.
Just as the last notes of the song fade away, your hair falling from free from momentum to drape over your shoulders, bo staff resting across your thighs as you drop into a bow, it hits him hard in the chest. Audibly knocking a shaky breath free.
Fuck, he thinks, as your eyes finally raise to his. Fuck, you're the one.
@luckycharms1701 @yorshie @justalotoffanfiction @morenovix218 @writinandcrying @donniesgirlie
YES YES YES. PLEASE AND THANK YOU
lazy cuddles with stiles sound sooooo good rn
like maybe you’ve had a long day or maybe you took a day off just to be together. but you’re both in bed with light filtering through the windows as you talk about everything and nothing.
his arms around you and his head on your chest, your hands running through his hair as you hum softly. maybe it’s the tune of a song you like or maybe it’s random notes in a non-sequential order but nonetheless it’s a soothing sound.
you focus on his breathing at certain times, just to make sure he’s still there. reveling in the fact that he’s real and this is a moment you want to remember forever. it’s pure domesticity and bliss and you wish that it was always like this.
maybe he asks you questions or maybe he’s telling stupid jokes to make you smile because that’s his favorite sight in the world. maybe his hands move to tickle you because your laughter brings him unfettered joy. and when he settles, he just looks at you like you’re his entire world. because you are.
soft, sweet kisses at sporadic moments just because he loves you so much and the urge overtakes him.
just. ugh i need stiles comfort rn.