𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐦 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞-𝑺.𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒌𝒊/𝑽𝒐𝒊𝒅

-5-

When Y/N woke up she was cold and a pulsating pain made her wince. She reached to touch her head but the sound of chains and a slight tug stopped her.

Y/N frowned and focused. She glanced at hands only to see shackles around both her wrists. Then everything washed over her.

Stiles.

Panic set in and she stood to her feet. She looked around but could not see anything due to it being pitch black. Y/N swallowed hard, shaking slightly.

"What the fuck?" Was the first thing that came to her mind. She checked her pockets but there was nothing.

She then noticed that she doesn't even have pants on. She exhaled sharply a single tear falling from her eye.

"What? No." Y/N glanced down, feeling coldness at the bottom of her feet. She's barefoot, in her underwear and is shackled. Y/N didn't know what to think in a moment like this.

But what she does know is that she's absolutely terrified and confused.

Y/N got her eyes adjusted to the dark and noticed a bed in the right corner of the room and a pail next to it. But that was it in the room.

She walked over to the bed, the chains of the shakles scrapping across the concrete floor. Y/N studied the small matress and noticed a sheet and pillow. Then again, that was all.

She heard a screak and spun around.

"Scott? Scott!? Scott I'm in here!" She screams. Lights turned on and she squinted, sheilding her eyes for a moment. There was a thud and then a few clicks.

"Scott?"

Moments later there was a creak. Y/N set eyes on a metal door and she watched as it opened up. She moved, getting closer to the door, but the chains stopped her.

Y/N glanced down, finally being able to see that there is a red line on the floor. The door closed shut, startling her. Y/N gazed back at the door and her heart sank when she saw who it was.

Brown eyes, the few freckles that's at the bottom of his face, his hair and the same clothes he had on from earlier.

"Stiles." Her words were breathy and broken. He stopped and closed the door behind him. He set his back against it, pocketing his hands as he propped his foot up.

Those light brown eyes scanned her body and Y/N glanced down. She covered her body, taking a few steps back.

"Stiles what is all of this?" She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why'd you...is this a prank or something?"

No answer.

"Answer me! What are you doing?!" When he didn't answer and kept staring Y/N sobbed. She doesn't know if he touched her and that made her want to puke.

"You sick fuck." She grits out with a glare. "Where are my clothes?" Still he didn't answer, he just continued to stare. Y/N rushed over to him as a mean to attack him but the shackles kept her behind the red line.

She tried again and the shackles rubbed against her skin, causing friction. She winced and glanced down at the iron bracelets. Her eyes followed the chains to the ground and the rest of it disappears in the ground.

"What is this?! You sick fucking bastard let me out Stiles I don't want to be apart of your sick games!"

Finally there was movement and Y/N stepped back. He took another step forward and she another step back. He stops, right by the line.

Y/N choked back a sob and sniffled as tears blurred her eyes.

"Okay fine, nice prank. But please let me out." She breathlessly begs.

He on the other hand didn't care about what she was crying about. To be honest, seeing her this way, scared and crying made him feel something, something he wasn't familiar with.

Y/N got mad again and ran up to him to hit him but he caught her arm. Y/N grunted in pain and used her other hand but he caught that too —all while looking her in the eyes.

He raised them up to his chest and backed her up slowly. Y/N cried silently as he did so. Her back hit the wall and she sobbed.

"Please don't hurt me." She whispers a beg.

"Why? Hm?" Y/N stared at him, not being able to speak due to the bile at the back of her throat.

"You're hurting me."

He gazed at his hands around her arms and he let go, choking her instead. Y/N grabbed his wrist, her nails digging into his sleeve.

"Your fear brings me...arousal."

Y/N scrunched her brows and his grip tightened. Y/N hit his hand frantically in need for air.

"S-stiles..."

"It's Void!" He shouts. "Not Stiles...Void. Okay?"

Y/N felt like her head was about to explode and her vision blurred. She nodded and Void released her.

Y/N fell to the floor, choking and gasping for air. Void stared at her as she caught her breath and exhaled.

"Scott...is going to know about this." She says.

He grins. "No he won't." Void knelt down to her level and forced her to look at him.

"Want to know why?" Y/N didn't answer, she just glared at him in silence. "It's because I'm not Stiles."

"You're insane!"

He slapped her. Y/N fell to the floor in shock. Warm liquid pooled her mouth and she just laid there.

"No." Void stood up and went over to the door. He glanced back at her and suddenly felt tired almost.

Void quickly left the room and clicks echoed the room. Moments later the lights went out and Y/N curled inside of a ball, sobbing.

She thouht Stiles was a funny, cool person. All this time he was just a creep. Well...to her of course.

In all reality, what she doesn't know is that —that truely was not Stiles.