in this, and all else

ice water

the common use of dryers for your clothes

carbon beach in malibu california

fall foliage in boston massachusetts

central AC

that thing where if you pump your arm at a passing 18 wheeler they'll honk their big loud horn just for fun

your ability to attend college/course of study/subsequent career isn't locked in by the results of one exam you take at 16 years old like in most of eurasia

that it's appropriate to wear blue jeans almost anywhere

rock music, and all its parent genres

these really beautiful string art earrings i bought on the agua caliente rez

mexican, italian, and chinese food all on the same street

no official national language or religion

how we smile too big and shake people's hands too hard and immediately give ourselves away in foreign countries by our gregariousness

broadway musicals

@whumpril Day 2- Bite for Blue

-

if any of you saw this on monday no you didn't

ANYWAY sterek (wip) wednesday

you are so right bestie this song is an absolute sterek banger,,, let me demonstrate

Derek has a problem.

A two inches short of six foot, beauty-mark splattered, annoyingly confident - if not just annoying - plaid-clad problem.

He is in front of him now, manning the DJ booth while Derek himself is trapped behind the bar counter, nowhere to look but forward towards the stage, towards Stiles. 

He’s wearing a tight black crewneck and skinny jeans that may as well have been painted on, one hand on the mixing table while the other holds one end of a pair of headphones to his ear. He moves with the music in a way that DJ’s don’t always, making it a performance as much as a presentation. Bouncing, throbbing, electric energy condensed into a one hundred and fifty pound snack.

Not that Derek is hungry.

These just so happen to be Laura’s words, her reasoning for why Stiles would be taking over the DJ timeslot during Derek’s shifts (the busiest nights of the week) after Cora finally pulled her head out of her ass and asked Lydia out. Now that the two of them are dating they don’t want conflicting schedules, which left Lydia’s usual DJ in need of a landing pad. 

And now here he is, smack in the middle of Derek’s line of vision, every single goddamn shift.

And Derek can’t even preoccupy himself with serving drinks to customers. The bar is deserted, as it always tends to be during Stiles’ sets. Instead, the entire crowd of The Wolf Den is moving as one, thrashing wave underneath the stage, trapped under the spell of Stiles’ performance like Derek himself.

~He's the baddest of them all~

~The baddest of them all~

Derek’s eyes fall to where Stiles is perfectly mouthing the words; he might as well be singing them himself. Derek feels a sensation creeping up over his shoulders, a wave of heat. That clever mouth, those pretty pink lips, pull into a devilish smirk.

~Do you wanna dance, baby?~

Feeling the tingling of being watched, Derek’s eyes leap up to find Stiles’ electric gaze already locked on him. 

~I know you see me lookin' at you on the daily~

That building heat culminates over Derek’s head and crashes down. Stiles presses into the performance even more, curling into the beat, neck arching back.

~Ooh, I'm in a trance lately~

~I need something to wake me up, something to faze me~

Derek's already knuckle-white grip on the counter edge tightens even more. He doesn’t even want to blink. In front of him, Stiles bats his eyes demurely, and Derek wishes he were close enough to see the fan of them. He knows from the times that Stiles comes up after sets for a drink that they can be very, very dark. 

~Do you wanna kiss, maybe?~

Derek swallows. Thickly. Never more glad to be shrouded in dim lighting than in this moment. He knows his face is burning, and there’s no denying how personal Stiles’ performance has become. How blatantly it is intended for Derek. 

If he weren’t so completely enraptured by the man on stage in front of him, he might have noticed the few people taking notice of this themselves, and shooting curious backwards glances his way. He would have noticed Laura, grinning like the cheshire cat in the back corner with Boyd the Bouncer.  

But all he does see is Stiles.

~I know I’ve seen you lookin' at me, wanna date me?~

Derek’s feet start moving. He wonders, belatedly, as he moves out from the bar into the crowd to cross the distance to the stage, if he really has been put under a spell. He can’t stop moving towards Stiles. Whose features have flared at the sight of Derek moving, flared in the way a fire sparks. 

~Ooh, I feel my knees start shaking~

Derek has reached the stage now - which doesn’t have stairs up to it from the customer side - and so he has to grip it and launch himself up. The crowd - already raucous from Stiles’ heated performance, riles into even more of an uproar. Stiles - beautiful, captivating, magnetic Stiles, is watching Derek with an expression of both utter delight, and complete astonishment.

~Everything you do, it just seems to amaze me~

Whatever comes next is left to be finished by Eliza Rose herself, because Derek is twisting a hand in the fabric of Stiles’ shirt and yanking him into a kiss, warm, soft lips opening on a gasp that Derek drinks.

The crowd explodes - so loud that even the thumping music fades to background - and Derek decides in that moment that he’s done having an audience. 

He pulls back with great reluctance to peer down at Stiles, his eyelashes fluttering open to peer up at Derek dazedly. 

“Come with me,” Derek rasps.