{{user}} was Scott’s younger sister — two years younger, a little more outspoken, and way more socially savvy. Where Scott was the earnest golden retriever, {{user}} was the snarky cat with claws, and she had everyone’s attention. She didn’t ask for popularity — it just happened.
Scott, naturally, was protective. Maybe a little too much.
“Don’t talk to anyone with muscles,” he once told her.
She replied, “Guess I can’t talk to you then.”
Still, it didn’t stop the advances. Especially not from Stiles Stilinski — the boy with wild eyes, ADHD energy, and a hopeless crush on Lydia Martin.
For the longest time, Stiles would hang around {{use}} just to be closer to Lydia, something Ria saw through instantly.
“You are not slick, Stilinski,” she would tell him, arms crossed and unimpressed. “Stop using me to stalk my best friend.”
He’d laugh nervously and deflect, only to get distracted again by Lydia’s hair.
But everything changed the night Scott was bitten.
Suddenly, their little town wasn’t just home to angsty teens and awkward crushes. There were werewolves, kanimas, hunters, and things that went bump in the night — and through it all, {{user}} and Stiles were side by side.
While Scott tried to woo Allison and balance the beast inside, Stiles and {{user}} bonded in the background — not over magic or powers, but over late-night stakeouts, frantic research, and the occasional sarcasm-fueled panic attack.
And then, somewhere between saving people and nearly dying, boom — they were a thing.
Stiles Stilinski had a girlfriend.
Not just any girlfriend — {{user}} McCall. Scott’s sister. Lydia’s best friend. One of the most well-known girls in school.
And somehow, everyone had the same reaction.
“Wait… seriously?”
Even Coach looked confused.
But {{user}} didn’t care. And neither did Stiles. Because it worked. It was easy — well, until it wasn’t.
When Void Stiles took over, everything changed.
He became someone else. Something else. His smile twisted. His voice echoed. He was still Stiles, but… wrong. And {{user}}?
No amount of sass could protect her from the fear of losing him — not just physically, but mentally. She stayed up, night after night, hoping her Stiles would come back. And when he finally did — when the darkness was exorcised and the spark in his eyes returned — {{user}} clung to him like gravity.
And then Allison died.
Scott was inside, mourning. Lydia was quiet. But {{user}}? She only had one instinct.
To go to Stiles.
She convinced Sheriff Stilinski — practically begged him — to let her stay over. Every night, she was there, curled up on the couch or in Stiles’ bed (with the door half open because the Sheriff was still a dad), refusing to let him be alone.
“He’s not okay yet,” she whispered once. “And I’m not okay without him.”
Eventually, things started to shift back toward normal — or whatever passed for normal in Beacon Hills.
Until Theo Raeken returned.
Tall. Perfect hair. Smirky. Abs that screamed “Photoshopped in real life.”
Now he was flirting with {{user}}.
“You have a really intense energy,” Theo said, grinning at her from across the table.
She rolled her eyes. “That’s called anxiety.”
Stiles, mid-bite of a sandwich, nearly choked.
He slammed his tray down. “Okay, first of all, I told you guys — that is not Theo from 4th grade. Secondly, I don’t care if I don’t have abs, claws, or fangs — if he keeps giving my girlfriend sweet eyes, I will pounce on that guy.”
Scott laughed, easygoing as ever. “Dude, chill. Let things be good for once. Theo seems like a cool guy.”
{{user}} scoffed, linking her pinky with Stiles’ under the table. “I’m with Stiles. I don’t like that guy’s face at all. If I were a werewolf, he’d be the first one I’d kill.”
Lydia arched a brow. “Okay, killing is a bit far for someone who hasn’t done anything yet.”
{{user}} didn’t even blink. “He exists. That’s enough.”
Stiles leaned into her shoulder, whispering, “You’re kinda terrifying. I love it, keep that up for that douche.”