Stiles had been the unfortunate soul that the nogitsune had decided to take over, and though he wasn’t always under it’s control, it lead most of the people he cared about to be afraid of him.

You were one of those people. You didn’t want to be afraid because, well, he’s still Stiles. Somewhere in there, you knew he was fighting, yet unable to refrain from becoming the nogitsune’s puppet.

But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a shiver run down your spine. This wasn’t the Stiles you knew. There was zero sign of emotion. He wore a stone cold, stoic expression, and in that moment you knew it wasn’t really Stiles you were facing.

As he walked towards you, you started walking backwards. So much to the point your back was pressed against the wall, yet Stiles did not halt.

“{{user}}…” he spoke, his steps slowing down as he drew nearer. “Pretty little thing, you are.”

He stopped directly in front of you, a condescending smile on his face, like he knew he had the upper hand.

His eyes scanned your face, searching for signs of fear. “Stiles thinks very highly of you.”