Dylan O'Brien Imagines

Only human (Stiles Stilinski)

Stiles Stilinski

Donovan bared his crookedly sharp teeth at Stiles menacingly, his eyes livid with rage for vengeance. He strode towards Stiles arrogantly, a diabolical grin glued onto his face.

"Stiles Stilinski, the Sheriff's son huh? Well let me tell you that your fucking dad's a frightened little bitch. And you're just a little bitch son of that scared little bitch." Donovan spat, his voice full of ill contempt and deprecation.

"Donovan, why are you doing this? Why do you want to kill me?" Stiles stumbled backwards, occasionally grabbing onto the shelves for support. His entire body shook violently, his heart beating so fast that he was certain that he would get a fatal heart attack before he was killed.

"Oh no, I'm not going to kill you. I'm just going to put you through a whole lot of pain. I'm going to tear your legs out with my teeth." The Chimera scowled, ready to make a pounce onto the helpless boy.

"Donovan, don't do this!" Stiles shouted, turning on his heels to run.

Donovan charged towards him, the two of them catapulting through rows of shelves. The wood cracked, pieces flying everywhere. The books were dispersed in all directions. Stiles landed on the ground and felt the sharp and hard wood press into his back, his arms, his legs. His head spun at the impact, his breathing ragged. Donovan was now on top of him, about to strike.

Stiles writhed and twisted under him, trying desperately to escape from the monster, hoping to come out alive. He screamed his lungs out for help but no one came. He was all alone, the boy who was human—skinny, defenseless Stiles.

Stiles caught a glimpse of a piece of splintered wood within arms length. He made a grab for it and stabbed Donovan's abdomen, causing him to let out a howl of pain. He jumped up, giving Stiles the chance to scramble to his feet.

Unfortunately, Donovan took little time to regain his strength. Stiles made a dash towards the ladder, with his attacker chasing him from behind.

The boy leapt onto the ladder and his hands and feet moved clumsily, taking much effort to climb each rod due to the stinging pain in his shoulder. A wound that was incurred earlier by the same person who was now about to bite his legs off.

Stiles climbed and climbed. He was almost there. Almost at the top. But the enemy was quicker. Donovan grabbed Stiles' dangling ankle from below and held onto it tightly, the 'mouth' on his hand ready to sink its teeth into his flesh. Holding onto the ladder tightly, Stiles swung his legs with all his might, hoping to shake Donovan off.

At the same time, his arm stretched towards a pin that was stuck onto the pole. First attempt. Not even close. He could feel Donovan tugging him down. He pushed himself upwards, his arms aching. His fingers jolted, unable to get hold of the thin piece of metal. Second attempt. Closer, but still a fail.