bent criss

Dancing

In my head we are dancing.

When I hear the song play (you know the one) I turn and look at you, sitting across the room in an old comfy chair. The gesture is instinctive; my body moves before my mind does.

I catch your eye, your beautiful blue eyes; my lips are curling, my eyebrow cocks. You look down at your small fingers resting in your lap. Your cheeks are warming to the softest pink. I catch my breath as your eyes flick up and your mouth falls into an open smirk.

In my head we are dancing.

I walk across the wooden floor to you. The padding of my feet is in time with the beating of my heart. I can feel it thumping in my chest, the butterflies in my stomach seeming to be fueling it’s racing pulse. Like some sort of cartoonish hamster wheel generator connected to my veins, creating excited energy in my blood.

I grab your hands without saying anything. I hope you don’t notice the shaking, that my flirtatious eyes conceal how nervous I am to be touching you. I pull you upward, for a moment our faces are inches apart, but I start walking backwards, moving my shoulders and our arms, my hips and my feet, in time with the music. Your cheeks are still flushed. I wonder how you would have reacted if I had kissed you.

In my head we are dancing.

We move awkwardly at first, still holding hands, a foot a part. I can see you’re uncomfortable– you’ve told me so many times that you can’t dance–but you’re swaying your hips and gripping my fingers. You’re trying. I smile in a way that I hope conveys my gratitude as move my feet closer and closer to yours.

My right arm rests on your hip, my left on your shoulder with my fingers in your hair. My left leg moves between your thighs as my right moves closer against the outside of your body. It helps guide your hips to move with mine. Your arms find their way up my sides to my shoulders. I feel a shiver down my spine. When I look at your eyes the pupils are dilated, the irises mesmerizing. I pull you closer against me and you laugh.

In my head we are dancing.

Our timidness has faded and inhibitions are forgotten. I twirl you under my arm, grabbing your waist and pulling your back against my stomach before you can face me again. I grind slowly into you, my hands moving up and down your stomach and thighs. Your right hand is gripping my thigh, your left against my head, keeping me close to you.

When I raise my arms, elbows bent, so that they criss cross above my head, you turn to face me, grabbing my waist and pressing me against you. Your breasts feel soft against mine. My cheeks burn when you caress them for a moment with your finger tips before letting them trail down the rest of my body. When your hands rest on my ass I can’t help myself: I lean forward and kiss you, biting your bottom lip as I pull away. I give you a devilish grin, concealing my panicked thoughts surrounding your response. You lean forward and kiss me, your eyelashes brushing against my skin.

In my head we are dancing.

In my head we are always dancing, always moving in time with each other, getting to know one another’s bodies in an intimate and vulnerable way that doesn’t involve orgasms or a removal of clothes. Because as sexy as you are, I crave knowing you, every part of you, more than I crave your moans.

In my head we are always dancing, but I fear that’s the only place we’ll ever be together. I wish I knew how to express exactly my longing, how I ache for the girl across the ocean and half a continent from me, how much I’ve questioned if the connection is worth pain.

In my head we are dancing.

And I have faith that, one day, your skin will be within my reach, and we’ll be doing the same outside of it.

I’m tired of waiting, I’m exhausted by it.

But if waiting is what it takes, then I’d wait a lifetime for just that one dance with you.

Handwriting.

Shawn Mendes Imagine lol first one in like a year!!!!


I sat on Shawn’s bed scribbling down ideas into my beaten up spiral bound notebook. I was bent over my criss-crossed legs and was so entertained in finishing my idea, everything around me almost didn’t exist. The house could have been on fire and I wouldn’t have even noticed.

Shawn sat at his desk strumming chords on one of his multiple guitars. Every so often, he would stop and scribble something down into his notebook. He was generating something magic, and I knew that with the way his pencil moved rapidly across the paper.

We were silent for a long time, but that was how we both liked it. We worked better individually, which definitely didn’t help in the whole “collaboration” part of the project. We had come up with a consensus though; I would write the words, he would write the chords. We would change our work based on the others work.

So far, everything had been going really well. I was knocking out lines left and right, and when I got stuck, I would ask him for input. For the most part, we worked alone.

Every once in awhile, Aaliyah or Shawn’s mother would come to check up on us, but we wouldn’t have moved positions. Shawn would still be at his desk, and I would still be bent over my legs and scribbling.

Aaliyah started to get fed up with us because of the lack of communication and the lack of movement in general. At one point in the day, she got so fed up that she yelled at us for not speaking to each other.

She entered the room with a plate in her hand and a frown on her face.

“I come bearing cookies,” She muttered and dropped them on Shawn’s desk.

“Thanks,” We replied.

Aaliyah sighed out a long sigh. “Are you kidding? Have you even talked to each other once since you’ve been locked away in here? Probably not. Speak to each other. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be doing here anyways? Jesus, words are important. Use them.”

Finally, we both looked up from our work and to Aaliyah who was standing in the middle of Shawn’s room. Resulting from our blank looks at her, Aaliyah groaned and walked out of the room and slammed the door right behind her.

I slightly jumped at the loud sound, but started to slightly laugh shortly after. Shawn smiled and rolled his eyes at her drama. He leaned back in his chair to stretch a bit.

“She’s probably right,” Shawn said.

“Yeah, probably,” I replied.

I sat up straight and twisted to one side, feeling a ton of cracks throughout my back. Shawn made a noise and I twisted back towards him, laughing a bit.

“That definitely felt good,” He laughed.

“Oh yeah it did. Could’ve been better though.”

“Come here. Eat some cookies and show me what you got,” Shawn said and motioned for me to sit in the seat next to his.

I did as I was told and sat next to Shawn in the other chair with my notebook tightly clutched in my small hands. I was scared that he wouldn’t like what I wrote and he would make me start over again. I really just wanted him to like what I wrote, what I had to say, but most importantly, I wanted him to like me.

Hesitantly, I handed him the battered up notebook and studied him as his eyes scanned the words and the pages. Eventually, I got too scared to keep looking for reactions so I stared at my hands and prayed I would be good enough.

“First,” Shawn sighed. “You have the cutest handwriting I have ever seen. Not to mention, it comes from the cutest hands, too. They’re so small. I don’t get it.”

“Thanks.” I laughed, and I could feel the blush creep into my already pink cheeks.

“Second, this is amazing. You’re such a great writer and I’m pissed that I’m just figuring this out now. You should write a fucking novel, damn (Y/N). I love it. I think it’ll do so well with the music I’ve written so far, too.”

For the next few minutes, we went through his music and added my lyrics with it. Shawn tried to get me to sing the words with him, but no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn’t get me to. I sounded like a dying whale when I sang and I was not going to subject him to that.

Shawn was in the middle of writing notes on his pages when I felt a sneeze coming on. I turned away from him, breathed in deeply, and sneezed into my elbow. Almost directly after, as I was turning back to face Shawn, a chill went right up my spine and caused a shiver to erupt in my body. Shawn simply laughed.

“Are you alright? Cold?” He asked, a huge smile adorning his beautiful face.

I nodded and rubbed a hand over my left arm. I watched Shawn as he got up from his chair and went into his closet, grabbing a hoodie. He handed it to me and I hesitantly put it on. I pulled it over my head and laughed at how loosely it hung over me.

“It looks good,” Shawn giggled.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure,” I replied with intense sarcasm.

I flipped the hood off my head and pulled my long hair out of the sweatshirt. I glanced over his notes to try and get Shawn to stop staring at me, but none of my efforts were working. Instead, he pulled me closer to him and smiled.

“You’re really pretty,” He said with an airiness to his voice.

“S-so are you,” I replied.

His closeness to me was making me nervous and I could barely think about what to say. Thinking about what to do was almost the most difficult task of my entire life.

Then, Shawn smirked. I jolted forward and, without thinking of course, I smashed my lips against his. As my thoughts began to straighten themselves out, I pulled away, horrified of what I had done. I shot up from my chair and placed my hands over my mouth.

“Oh my God,” I muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

I went to leave his room and cry about the previous minutes, but I was pulled back and onto Shawn’s lap. He pushed my hair out of my face and smiled at me.

“Don’t be sorry,” He said. “What did you think I was about to do?”


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