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TEXTS FROM LAST NIGHT
How To:
01. Post with your character and fandom.
02. In the box, put your text from last night. If you can't think of one, go to the TFLN site to find one. Please remember that you're the one texting the first message so please don't leave your comment blank.
03. Tag others to make it more fun! Mistexts happen all the time, right?
How To:
01. Post with your character and fandom.
02. In the box, put your text from last night. If you can't think of one, go to the TFLN site to find one. Please remember that you're the one texting the first message so please don't leave your comment blank.
03. Tag others to make it more fun! Mistexts happen all the time, right?
the black eye was caused by a 12 year old girl in a vampire costume who punched you in the face after you aggressively screamed "TEAM JACOB!" in her face & howled at the moon...
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Why in hell are you "team Jacob" anyway? Unless, it's cause you've a thing for Scott?
Oh, and do you remember sucking my neck trying to give me a 'vampire bite'?
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...I did *what*?
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Then what's with the Team Jacob? Hm?
Want to see the photos?
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Oh you are *evil*.
...fine. What do you want for them?
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Oh Really? I'm sure you're breaking Scott's heart.
[There's a long pause between texts]
You've not got anything I want. I should just send them too everyone.
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[Somehow the pause seems worrying.]
Dude! Not cool! C'mon, name it. Rake leaves off your creepy lawn? Wash your getaway car?
There has to be something.
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Asshat? Not what you were calling me last night- Sexy, beautiful they were mentioned.
[He laughs brightly to himself before replying]
Sounds like you're offering a Bikini carwash...
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[Stiles stares at his phone for a long, outraged second that may or may not have a hint of blush creeping up his neck.]
You're a real piece of work, Derek.
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If you want the pictures- you know what to do.
My place. My car. You. Tiny tiny swimwear.
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[Stiles would be embarrassed to say he actually thinks about it for a second.]
...You'll just replace the pictures with worse ones!
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You can confiscate my phone first.
Besides- you trying to hump me is surely more embarrassing?
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[Maybe he did. Fuck.]
*Nobody else* can be there. And I *will* take your phone.
[He blushes as he types the words, but holy hell he's about 60% sure he's going to do it. Damn blackmail. He's also 157% sure this is going to end horribly.]
How small?
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Just me. You have my word.
Think David Boudia diving... That small.
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[But Stiles heads out to his Jeep, full of dread and sporting a massive hangover, and drives to Target. Oh good grief. When did this become his life?
He gets to Derek's house 20 minutes later with the plastic bag and an angry blush coloring his cheeks, shooting off another text.]
I'm here, asshole.
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