thenogitsuneandstiles:

iamthefirechild:

thenogitsuneandstiles:

thenogitsuneandstiles-deactivat:

Stiles was slammed against the wall, the fiery red headed girl he didn’t even know the name of smashing her lips to his. How had he ended up here? He didn’t know. He remembered being angry that Lydia had dissed him (once again) and walking into a bar, talking to a cute girl, they had danced after a few drinks…

And now he was up against a wall, their bodies pressed together, lips molding into each others and somehow, he loved it. Because he wasn’t worrying, or even caring frankly, about the other red head who had consumed him. Right now, at least, he probably wouldn’t know who she was if she walked up to him.

He nodded, although he could feel the awkward tension he had created himself. Maybe he could flip it, ask her something else. But of course, Stiles is clearly not that smooth. “You sound like you know the feeling,” he commented. Maybe they had something in common?

“Oh, yes.” Her laugh was bitter. She took another sip from her chocolate, trying to wash the taste out of her mouth. Of course he would touch on the exact memories she was running away from. “It’s very familiar.” She made a gesture at herself, indicating her total undesirability.

Stiles raised a brow, and was just about to ask her how she knew the feeling, but he thought better of it, giving her an empathetic smile. “It totally sucks. What about you, Summer? All I know is that we share a mutual feeling and your name is Summer. Also, you’re very good at holding people to walls.” He laughed, taking a sip of his coffee afterwards.

She put her hands over her face. “You weren’t resisting very hard,” she shot back, slightly muffled. “Well, I go to Beacon Hills University. I’m a sophomore. I have a twin sister, who is back home in North Carolina.” Giving a shrug, she added, “That’s about it.”

Well, if you left out being stalked by her one and only ex and being able to sense other people’s emotions.

thenogitsuneandstiles:

iamthefirechild:

thenogitsuneandstiles:

thenogitsuneandstiles-deactivat:

Stiles was slammed against the wall, the fiery red headed girl he didn’t even know the name of smashing her lips to his. How had he ended up here? He didn’t know. He remembered being angry that Lydia had dissed him (once again) and walking into a bar, talking to a cute girl, they had danced after a few drinks…

And now he was up against a wall, their bodies pressed together, lips molding into each others and somehow, he loved it. Because he wasn’t worrying, or even caring frankly, about the other red head who had consumed him. Right now, at least, he probably wouldn’t know who she was if she walked up to him.

“Oh.” He made the typical ‘O’ shape with his lips, regretting saying that part about everyone loving coffee. He ordered their drinks, instantly taking a sip of the hot liquid, even though it burned his lips and insides. Yup, now he was awake. For sure. “So if you’re not a coffee drinker, is chocolate your thing?” He sat down in the chair opposite of her, setting the drinks down. Her hair was perfectly done, and it seemed so effortless at the same time. She was stunning. He couldn’t believe he was sitting here.

“If I want a hot drink, yeah. Or cider, I like hot cider too. Coffee’s just one of those things,” she flourished a wrist, “you have to have a taste for it, and I just never got it. It’s like beer, you know. One of my cats at home drinks beer, it’s so funny. He gets up in dad’s recliner and drinks out of dad’s glass.” She pushed a non-existent puff of hair behind one ear and blew on her drink.

“So, um, I think I know your name and that’s about it.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Stiles laughs, leaning back into the chair. “I think that’s one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever heard.” He continues chuckling, until she begins to speak again. He paused for a moment, thinking about himself and his identity. It wasn’t as if he could just say ‘Oh, I run with werewolves, occasionally I almost get killed, I also fight nogitsunes in my head, helplessly involved in the supernatural. There was two of me running around, too.’

“Um, well I’m Stiles, but that’s actually not my name. I don’t bother telling people my real name; Stiles has become like my adopted name or whatever. Um, I’ve been sort of like, in love I guess with this girl who doesn’t see me as anything other than a friend, if that.”

Shit. He didn’t mean to say that.

Summer took a sip of her drink so she didn’t have to look at Stiles. Awkward. “That really sucks,” she said, finally. “At least you’re friends with her? It’s better than nothing, right? It always sucks to be into someone who just doesn’t even see you at all.”

Was she really giving, basically, relationship advice to the guy she’d just been making out with? How was this her life? Summer made a private bet that she looked like this other girl, somehow. Even when she threw all her normal inhibitions aside, it still ended up like this.

thenogitsuneandstiles:

iamthefirechild:

thenogitsuneandstiles:

iamthefirechild:

thenogitsuneandstiles-deactivat:

Send ✆ for a morning text

[ text ]; hey, i was just wondering if you’d like to uh go for breakfast?

[ text ]: if you’re currently not feeling like shit and have a hangover like i do.

[text to: stiles] don’t ask stupid questions and don’t hog the syrup

[text to; summer] then you’re in trouble. i sometimes pour the entire thing.

[text to: stiles] they’ll have to bring lots of syrup then
[text to: stiles] leaving now

[text to; summer]; it’ll probably be in the newspaper
[text to; summer ] ‘largest amount of syrup ever on a pancake’

[text to: stiles] I’m here
[text to: stiles] you might as well drink the syrup

thenogitsuneandstiles:

iamthefirechild:

thenogitsuneandstiles-deactivat:

Send ✆ for a morning text

[ text ]; hey, i was just wondering if you’d like to uh go for breakfast?

[ text ]: if you’re currently not feeling like shit and have a hangover like i do.

[text to: stiles] don’t ask stupid questions and don’t hog the syrup

[text to; summer] then you’re in trouble. i sometimes pour the entire thing.

[text to: stiles] they’ll have to bring lots of syrup then
[text to: stiles] leaving now

thenogitsuneandstiles:

iamthefirechild:

thenogitsuneandstiles-deactivat:

Send ✆ for a morning text

[ text ]; hey, i was just wondering if you’d like to uh go for breakfast?

[ text ]: if you’re currently not feeling like shit and have a hangover like i do.

[text to: stiles] I’ll meet you at Denny’s in half an hour.

[text to; summer ] i hope you like pancakes

[text to: stiles] don’t ask stupid questions and don’t hog the syrup

thenogitsuneandstiles:

iamthefirechild:

thenogitsuneandstiles-deactivat:

Send ✆ for a morning text

[ text ]; hey, i was just wondering if you’d like to uh go for breakfast?

[ text ]: if you’re currently not feeling like shit and have a hangover like i do.

[text to: stiles] I don’t get hangovers
[text to: stiles] breakfast sounds great. where?

[ text to; summer ] any where is good. but i like denny’s.

[text to: stiles] I’ll meet you at Denny’s in half an hour.

thenogitsuneandstiles:

iamthefirechild:

thenogitsuneandstiles:

thenogitsuneandstiles-deactivat:

Stiles was slammed against the wall, the fiery red headed girl he didn’t even know the name of smashing her lips to his. How had he ended up here? He didn’t know. He remembered being angry that Lydia had dissed him (once again) and walking into a bar, talking to a cute girl, they had danced after a few drinks…

And now he was up against a wall, their bodies pressed together, lips molding into each others and somehow, he loved it. Because he wasn’t worrying, or even caring frankly, about the other red head who had consumed him. Right now, at least, he probably wouldn’t know who she was if she walked up to him.

He scoffed, a grin on his lips. “Of course I want coffee. Who doesn’t want coffee?” He opened the door to the small shop, seeing absolutely nobody in there except for one person working, a tired expression to the barista’s looks. “What do you want? Cappuccino, latte..?”

“I … actually don’t drink coffee. Caffeine doesn’t work on me. But hot chocolate’s fine.” She offered a smile to the barista, hoping to make their day a little better, and found a little table to sit at. Her head still buzzed a little from the music in the bar — or was that from Stiles and the way he responded to her kisses?

Fuck, he was hot. Even half-drunk and obviously nervous, he was gorgeous. “I wonder what it would be like if we were sober,” she mumbled.

“Oh.” He made the typical ‘O’ shape with his lips, regretting saying that part about everyone loving coffee. He ordered their drinks, instantly taking a sip of the hot liquid, even though it burned his lips and insides. Yup, now he was awake. For sure. “So if you’re not a coffee drinker, is chocolate your thing?” He sat down in the chair opposite of her, setting the drinks down. Her hair was perfectly done, and it seemed so effortless at the same time. She was stunning. He couldn’t believe he was sitting here.

“If I want a hot drink, yeah. Or cider, I like hot cider too. Coffee’s just one of those things,” she flourished a wrist, “you have to have a taste for it, and I just never got it. It’s like beer, you know. One of my cats at home drinks beer, it’s so funny. He gets up in dad’s recliner and drinks out of dad’s glass.” She pushed a non-existent puff of hair behind one ear and blew on her drink.

“So, um, I think I know your name and that’s about it.”

thenogitsuneandstiles:

iamthefirechild:

thenogitsuneandstiles-deactivat:

Stiles was slammed against the wall, the fiery red headed girl he didn’t even know the name of smashing her lips to his. How had he ended up here? He didn’t know. He remembered being angry that Lydia had dissed him (once again) and walking into a bar, talking to a cute girl, they had danced after a few drinks…

And now he was up against a wall, their bodies pressed together, lips molding into each others and somehow, he loved it. Because he wasn’t worrying, or even caring frankly, about the other red head who had consumed him. Right now, at least, he probably wouldn’t know who she was if she walked up to him.

She cocked an eyebrow at the headshake. “What? You don’t want coffee?” The air was noticeably cooler outside the crowded atmosphere of the bar. Feeling a little awkward, she dropped her hand from Stiles’ shoulder and tucked them together behind her back. “I mean, we don’t have to do coffee … I don’t really … “

He scoffed, a grin on his lips. “Of course I want coffee. Who doesn’t want coffee?” He opened the door to the small shop, seeing absolutely nobody in there except for one person working, a tired expression to the barista’s looks. “What do you want? Cappuccino, latte..?”

“I … actually don’t drink coffee. Caffeine doesn’t work on me. But hot chocolate’s fine.” She offered a smile to the barista, hoping to make their day a little better, and found a little table to sit at. Her head still buzzed a little from the music in the bar — or was that from Stiles and the way he responded to her kisses?

Fuck, he was hot. Even half-drunk and obviously nervous, he was gorgeous. “I wonder what it would be like if we were sober,” she mumbled.