Anja Rules

"No, Asshat. I'm going to make them with strawberries and chocolate chips. Are you in?"

Stiles scoffed with full chest, raising his chin. He fought werewolves now and all kinds of crazy shit. He was a man. Not that he could tell her though. "It didn’t hurt. Just hitched a bit— Hey! Big sis rules suck, okay? Give Stiles some fun? You know something that age didn’t change was my mischievousness." he smirked a bit but flailed with her words, worriedly. "What— No! Hey, I like it, actually. I’m being honest here. Anja is cute and unique. Kay? And who am I to talk? I call myself Stiles. Now quit the disappointment face and lets have some ice cream."

"I can see that." She joked, poking him in the chest, and laughing. "You look cute all puffed up. Like a baby duck." Anja could be cruel without even thinking about it. Every word she said was in jest, but still, she never thought before she spoke.

"You look so butt hurt. Are we seriously having a day where I'm less sensitive than you?"

Stiles squinted slightly as his hand flew to his bicep. He chuckled at first, playing strong but gave up soon enough, whining a bit as he rubbed his arm through the fabric of his shirt. "What- have you been lifting weights or so?" He scoffed. "Jerk. I’ll make sure to steal all your food and put toothpaste on your face in your sleep." he teased back and smiled quietly as she admitted she missed them too. It was a nice view, considering things hadn’t been okay for anyone when she left, right after their mom died. "Anja." he pursed his lower lip as he nodded. "That’s.. nice. And yeah, sure. Let’s do that. I’m sure you miss that ice cream shop you used to always get ice cream from."

"Uhuh! Awww, baby did that hurt?" Anja laughed, placing a hand over his arm and roughly rubbing there. "You do any of those things, and you won't live to see September. Big sis rules."

Taking a quick half step back as the other stepped forward, Violet shrugged. ”Do you kn-know Jackson Whittemore? I’m his foster sis-sister, Violet.” Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, she let her gaze fall to her shoes.

"You're a potato. I thought Stiles was a potato, he's like...a well placed turnip compared to you, Bro. I'm sorry."

Anja swatted at his hand and punched his arm jokingly, with what was unfortunately the force of a regular boxer. That was her sport, back in Poland. "Don't touch the hair, asswipe. If I'm hanging with you all summer, you're getting nothing but Potato Stiles memories." 

Flinching,  Violet retreated by a couple steps. ”S-sorry.” Keeping one arm across her ribs, she brought the other up to me with her lip: a nervous trait. Nodding her head, she spoke up. ”Y-yeah, it’s okay.”

"Lookin' like you can't be peaches either."