Stiles Stilinski got sent to juvie when he was twelve for murdering his sister. No witnesses, not a lot of proof, and no reason for why he did it. When he comes back to school six years later, he meets Lydia Martin, a girl who's intent on knowing everything about him. --- 'He's insane.' 'He's just.... misunderstood.' [Book 1 of the Outcasts Series]

"Are you really going to go without asking me the question that you've been dying to ask me?" "Well I'm not.... I haven't been dying to ask anything. I... N-no questions here, for Stiles. Nothing." •••••••••••••• It's the classic room mates switcheroo in which case Stiles and Lydia accidentally assume their newest room mate is of the same gender. And everything's fine two minutes in, but three minutes and Lydia automatically knows that good terms is out of the option. Sure he was sarcastic and a dick and she could live with that (having a few snarky comebacks herself). Until he has sex with his girlfriend. When she's literally a room away. Wait. Did I say girlfriend? "Sweetheart, I don't think you understand. I don't date. And you'll learn that in a couple minutes when the next girl shows up."

Stiles was no knight in shining armor. Hell he wasn't even a castle guard. Instead this boy of nineteen was a florist. Yes you heard right, a middle class peasant florist. He dreamed of the princess often, hell didn't everyone? So I guess you could say he was just as normal as anyone else. Until he made his daily venture through the woods and stumbled upon a girl no older than him. Well, she stumbled upon him. "Why are you in a tree?" The girl laughs, causing him to smile. "My best friend told me to climb up here and stay put." He shrugs. "And you listened?" She laughs again. He couldn't exactly tell her he had no choice but to do what his friend had told him. It was his curse. •••••••• Loosely based off of Ella Enchanted (very very VERY loosely)

"Our moms were best friends before mine died, we used to take freaking bubble baths together when we were three."

"Oh God. Where to begin? First of all I got one of my best friends pregnant senior year, beautiful baby girl. She's two now and I'm still madly in love with her mother, have been since the third grade. And I've basically been in the friend zone ever since Claudia was born. We both have our own apartments and we switch off custody days... Oh and I slept with Heather a couple days ago, But what's new with you?" Stiles says with a full on sarcastic grin, taking the straw of his soda between his teeth. Scott raises his hand as though he's in class. "I slept with my exe..." He offers. ~~~ After two years of online colleges and unexpected movings, the pack reunites back in Beacon Hills to support Liam through his senior year. Claudia is now on the brink of turning three and it's clear even to her that Stiles and Lydia still like each other.

"I always thought that we've had this sort of connection... Unspoken- of course" ~~~~~~~ -Stiles Stilinski

in which a fiery redhead's world is turned upside down by the supernatural, but mostly by the mischievous brown eyed boy that she can't seem to get rid of.

The Girl with Antidepressants "Allison. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean anything I said. I just wanted to protect you. I didn't want you to get hurt, just like me. I've accepted the fact that not all guys are like Jackson. And if Isaac makes you happy, then I'm happy for you. I love you so much. Sorry. Please forgive me. Talk to me when you're ready." Sent 12:37am Read 12:42 am. - 1:42 am, March 18, 2012. "Hello. Is this Lydia Martin?" "Yes. Who is this?" "This is Mr. Mendoza, of Beacon Hills Hospital. I'm sorry to say this but, Ms. Allison Argent is dead." ©Copyright 2015 by thecastaways Ranked #227 in Fanfiction 2015 ~~~~~ Created: January 2015 Ended: November 28, 2015

Lydia's life changes when she goes off to college. The boyfriend she's loved forever seems to be more and more distant. The girl she just met turns into an instant best friend. The boy she meets in the hall, she just can't figure out.

He lifted his head and suddenly his eyes didn't have the same caramel hue, just plain brown and I didn't want to map his paint splatter moles like the infinite galaxies I read about at the library. I watched as his ski slope nose became less of an art piece and the hair I once loved to fiddle with looked coarse and dull, I guess that's the only way you can describe unloving someone.