Outcasts [Book 1]

Twenty

Oh my god I feel it in the air
telephone wires above are sizzling like a snare
honey I'm on fire, I feel it everywhere
nothing scares me anymore
kiss me hard before you go, summertime sadness
I just wanted you to know, that baby your the best

- Summertime Sadness, Lana Del Rey

---

The sheriff apologizes for the third time about having to leave, adjusting his shirt while backing out of the house. Stiles rolls his eyes and gives his dad a light shove. "It's not like we're going to burn down the house, Dad."

John Stilinski snorts, waves to Lydia and his son, then jogs off to his car. Stiles hums, closing the door with that smile only he can pull off. "Your dad's nice." Lydia comments, smiling back. Stiles chuckles and nods.

He leads her a little further into the house, their fingers intertwined. Stiles stops and thinks for a moment, glancing up at the stairs as if someone was there. "You haven't seen my room yet." Stiles cautiously suggests, swinging their joined hands towards the stairs a little.

Lydia smiles at his nervousness. Stiles Stilinski, the so-called murderer, badass that supposedly has a thousand tattoos and no heart, vaguely and awkwardly asking her if she wants to 'go to his room'.

She doesn't know how anyone could think he was so cold. If anything, Stiles is light. He shines brightly and protects the ones he loves, like a guardian angel or some mystical creature that keeps the peace.

His eyes are practically glowing when Lydia leads him up the stairs, even though she's only been downstairs before. They skip the top step, Lydia making her way down the hall as if she grew up there.

Lydia can tell which room is his by the Star Wars poster on his wall. Almost everything is blue, and a few chipped baseball trophies sit on a shelf along with a baseball signed by someone she hasn't heard of.

"So, what do you want to do?" Stiles asks her, letting go of her hand. Lydia sits on the edge of his bed while he starts rambling. "We could play a game? I, uh, have monopoly." He gestures to the game lying in the corner. "Or watch a movie." Stiles goes on.

She raises her eyebrows at him. He makes pointless suggestions until it's just gibberish. "We could watch a movie," Lydia says slowly, as if she was actually thinking about it, "Or we could do other things."

Stiles' Adam apple bobs. "I like your suggestion best." He comments. Stiles lowers himself so he's half squatting, half kneeling in front of her, his hands on either side of her hips. The kiss that follows is soft and passionate, both of them humming slightly into it.

After a minute, his legs get tired and they pull away from each other. Lydia scoots further up the bed so she's lying on her elbows and Stiles follows, hovering over her. He trails open-mouthed kisses down her neck, leaving marks upon marks and soothing them with light pecks.

Stiles uses one hand to tug at the hem of her dress. He stops momentarily to give her time to protest, but no protest comes, she even arches her back to make it easier for the material to slip off. Stiles bites his lip, eyes roaming over the exposed skin.

He meets her eyes, leaning in to kiss her. The kiss says everything that neither of them are saying. A silent promise of love that warms them both. Stiles pulls off his shirt and Lydia grins in excitement.

Their next kiss is heated and quick, a clash of tongues and everything good in life. Lydia runs her small hands over his chest like she had done at the beach. She stops at his belt buckle, hearing his breath hitch involuntarily.

"You trust me?" Lydia asks quietly. "With my life." Stiles replies simply as she undoes the buckle.

---

"Wakey wakey, Banshee Girl."

Lydia feels cold breath against her face and twists up her nose. She turns a little and opens up one eye, seeing Stiles' blurry face above her. "Stiles?" Lydia chuckles. She smiles and stirs when he runs a freezing finger down her neck.

"Not quite." He whispers. Banshee girl. Her eyes snap open in alarm. Wide eyed and nearly paralyzed, Lydia opens her mouth to scream but Void clamps his hand over her mouth. Lydia attempts to squirms away from him, very aware that she's still naked.

He had put his pants back on but stayed shirtless. "Miss me?" Void questions mockingly. The caring gold is gone and his eyes are now black, like looking into the ocean at midnight. Every word he says is menacing and dripping with venom. If it scared her when this happened to Scott, it terrified her now on Stiles.

Lydia manages to squirm away but finds she's handcuffed down to bed by her ankle. Void makes a 'tsk' noise, shaking his head at the girl as she tries to escape. The handcuffs dig into her leg. She winces in pain. "No? I'm hurt." He lowers himself with his hand still over her mouth. Void traces his lips across her neck until he reaches her ear. "I missed you." He mutters, making her whimper.

Void inhales like a predator stalking its prey. She enchants him, that's the thing. A banshee and a demon, it's almost inevitable. He hates to admit it, but he has a soft spot for her, or more of a 'I wanna rip off both your head and your clothes' kind of feel.

Lydia says something against his hand and Void pulls it away briefly, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Fuck you." Lydia glares at him. Right now, her words are her only defense. "That could be arranged." Void responds. She swears his eyes get darker.

Just leave her alone. Stiles nearly yells in his own head, watching his life like its a movie. Oh, Stiles, I have big plans for our little banshee.

Void makes a disappointed sound and climbs off her. His movements are quick and catlike, nothing like Stiles' awkward fumbling. At an inhuman speed Void puts on a shirt from off the floor. "Too bad, I have things to do. There's so much fun to be had." He smirks at her.

He grips the windowsill with pale hands and in seconds he's disappearing out the window.

A/N

Is it weird that I'm excited about writing about Void bringing chaos, strife, and pain to Beacon Hills?