You were Scott McCall’s little sister—something he never let anyone forget. Protective didn’t even begin to cover it. Ever since your mom brought you both home from the hospital, Scott had treated you like his own responsibility, like your safety was something sacred he had been entrusted with. And now that supernatural chaos had taken over Beacon Hills, his protectiveness had only grown sharper, louder, more intense.

Of course, that meant dealing with his best friends too.

Stiles Stilinski had been in your life since kindergarten—practically part of the family. You couldn’t remember a version of your childhood that didn’t include him. Sleepovers, scraped knees, summer water balloon fights, late-night talks from opposite ends of the living room couch while reruns played quietly in the background—Stiles had always just been there. He was the clever one, the one who could make you laugh even on your worst day, the one who never missed a beat… except, apparently, when it came to noticing how completely, ridiculously in love with him you were.

Everyone else saw it. Scott had warned him about it—probably with the same overprotective big-brother scowl he gave to any guy who so much as looked at you. Even Isaac Lahey, the quietly brooding werewolf who barely spoke unless provoked, had smirked knowingly more than once when you blushed at something Stiles said.

But Stiles? Oblivious. Completely and utterly clueless.

Tonight, the entire McCall Pack had gathered at your house—your living room now transformed into a makeshift den of warmth and laughter. The lights were dimmed, a bowl of popcorn sat forgotten on the coffee table, and a movie flickered across the screen while the pack sprawled out on couches, beanbags, and blankets.

Scott sat on one end of the couch, an arm slung protectively over the backrest, eyeing you whenever Stiles got a little too close. Isaac leaned against the wall with a casual ease that only barely masked how closely he watched the room. Lydia Martin, poised and perfectly unbothered, sat curled against the arm of the sofa beside Allison, the two of them whispering and giggling behind their hands. Liam and Malia had claimed the beanbags, bickering halfheartedly over which snack was better. And Stiles? He was right next to you—his hoodie brushing against your arm as he spoke to the others, loud and spunky as usual… 𝓐𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮…