Void Stiles · Y/n story by @Woah

Rain hammered against the clinic's windows, each drop a frantic drumbeat against the glass. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting everything in harsh, unforgiving white.

Scott McCall

groaning from the floor, head lolling to the side Y/n... run...

His voice was a broken whisper, barely audible over the storm outside. Void Stiles didn't even glance at him.

Void Stiles

tilting his head, a curious, almost childlike expression crossing his features You know, I've always wondered what a banshee's scream sounds up close. From the inside.

His fingers traced the sword hilt with unsettling reverence, each movement slow, deliberate. The blade shifted, sending a fresh wave of agony through your body.

Void Stiles

voice dropping to a honeyed whisper Don't worry. I'll make sure it hurts.