Come Now, We're Children (Let's Play A Game): He has no idea what you're supposed to say when you find one of your...werewolf acquaintances, completely out of their mind, growling like they're about to see what your insides taste like. There's no handbook for this. Stiles is thinking that if he survives he might write one. Totally Not A Meet-Cute: "Gerard has had a crush on Train Guy for a while, but just going up and talking to him would be weird. He needs a reason, right?" In the Belly Of: "Because space whales…fish…are a thing. In multiple universes. (Look, Todd asked and I said Okay, and this is what happened. I don’t know either.)" Turn Your Head: "Written for the genderplay square at kink_bingo's April 2012 "gift baskets" challenge." Apple Bottom Jeans (And Other Love Songs): "Or, how Steve Rogers--kind of--learns to dance."

"I love Jackson," she says as soon as she's close enough that she doesn't have to raise her voice. "Okay?" Stiles glances left to right, like her meaning is crouched in the darkness somewhere. "I love Taco Tuesdays. Back to you." They go back to school in the fall, and everyone acts like it's all okay. Like none of it ever happened. That's all right, because Lydia could have an Oscar someday. If she wanted one.

Stiles Stilinski is five-feet-eight-inches of sarcasm and unbridled nerves, with a mess of uneven curls, and delicate, unusual features, and she’s lanky and clumsy and always has bruised elbows, and she talks too much about too little, and she owns only one pair of battered sneakers for feet too big to really be graceful, and her car is horrific, her driving even worse - she's seventeen and awkward and wild limbed, and she's the complete opposite of everything Lydia wants out of life. These are the moments Lydia falls in love with her.