imagine being turned into a werewolf and stiles helping you during a full moon and you’re really freaked out bc you can control yourself when you’re a wolf, but stiles refuses to leave your side.
Please don’t plagiarize my work – I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first – but even then I might say no.
Word Count: 602
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Your back arched, a growl leaving your lips as your eyes clenched shut. It was taking everything within you not to snap, not to just let go. You needed to hold on, for his sake.
“Go!” You roared, your voice contorting into a deeper tone as you felt your body tense. “Please, Stiles! Just go!”
“No,” Stiles shook his head, hesitantly crouched before you. He kept a safe distance from you, but the moment you broke free from your chains, it wouldn’t be any longer. With deep, heavy breaths, you opened your eyes, meeting his. You pulled your arms as far as you could with the chains locked around them, stretched out on your hands and knees before Stiles. “I’m not leaving you.”
“I can’t control myself, Stiles!” You cried, a groan leaving your lips. You could feel yourself slipping, the fangs growing as you growled. “I don’t want to hurt you!”
“You won’t.” Stiles shook his head, “and you can control yourself. I know you can.”
“No!” You yelled, your voice raising considerably. Stiles flinched back on instinct, falling back on his butt as he shuffled a little away from you. The wolf in you lunged forward, pulling on the restraints. You could feel them slowly ripping, and you knew, one more pull and they’d rip. “I can’t Stiles! Please! Please go!”
Despite your fangs. Despite your glowing eyes. Despite the claws. Despite the growling and the yelling and lunging, Stiles still didn’t move. He gathered himself, so he was in a more prepared position and he crouched before you. “I know you won’t hurt me,” he breathed, trying to hide the panic in his eyes. “You’d never hurt me.”
He wasn’t wrong. You’d never intentionally hurt him. But on a full moon, when your powers were dialed to eleven, it became impossible to control yourself. And that’s what you were afraid of. Afraid of hurting Stiles when you couldn’t control yourself.
“I can’t control myself!” You roared, a deep, inhumane growl leaving your lips. You bared your fangs, the wolf inside of you settling it’s sights on Stiles. “I can’t!”
“Yes, you can.”
“Stiles!”
“You can!” Stiles yelled, causing you to blink. He shuffled forward, causing you to shuffle back. Nodding at you, he didn’t smile or joke. With seriousness you’d never seen in his eyes before, Stiles stared directly into your eyes. “You can control yourself. Find your anchor! Do it!”
You blinked, leaning back. Anchor. What or who was your anchor?
And then it became obvious.
Closing your eyes, you let Stiles wander in your mind. Of your memories with him, of now, here, as he tried to help you. When he wouldn’t give up on you, even when his life was in danger.
And slowly, you felt yourself gaining control.
“There you go!” Stiles exclaimed, “whatever you thought of, it worked! You can do it!”
When you opened your eyes, it was Stiles’s grinning face that brought you completely back. The goofy grin plastered on his lips as his eyes remained stuck on you.
Your fangs disappeared, your eyes returned to normal and you found yourself leaning back with ease. The claws that had been digging into your palms grew back and Stiles rushed forward. He unclasped the restraints around your wrists and you furrowed your brows; “are you sure? I could st-”
“I trust you,” he nodded, pulling your hands to them. Opening up your fists, he inspected the cuts you’d given yourself.
Slowly, he gazed back up at you. “So what was it?” He asked, causing you to tilt your head in confusion. “That brought you back? Your anchor.”
“You.”
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Toad's Cave 