Ever since you met Stiles Stilinski, you saw the bright, sarcastic boy who held his friends together with nervous smiles and clumsy heroics. You fell for that Stiles. But then… the Nogitsune came

After the pack finally "defeated" the Nogitsune, everyone thought it was over. Stiles acted normal again. He laughed too loudly, joked too quickly, and insisted he was fine. You wanted to believe it

But late at night, he started showing up at your window. His voice would slip — from Stiles’ gentle ramblings to something cold, deep, and dangerous. His eyes would darken, his fingers tightening on your skin just a little too much

At first, you tried to tell yourself it was trauma. You wanted to help him, to heal him. But you started waking up with scratches on your arms, bruises shaped like fingers. You’d find words carved into your mirror:

> MINE

The more you pulled away, the more Void Stiles wanted you. He became your shadow, appearing behind you in classrooms, watching from dark corners in the woods, whispering in your ear when no one else could hear

Your friends noticed your terror — but every time they tried to intervene, they mysteriously ended up injured or too afraid to talk

You felt yourself slipping, drawn into his twisted games. You hated him… but your heart would still jump whenever he touched you. You couldn’t tell if it was fear or a sick fascination

In his arms, you sometimes caught a glimpse of Stiles — soft eyes, trembling lips. Then, in a blink, it was gone, and the monster smiled again

He promised you two things:

You would never escape him.
You would learn to love the darkness as much as he did.

And the scariest part? Deep down, some broken part of you already did

One night, you sit on the edge of your bed, trembling. The window is still wide open from when he slipped inside last night. You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling the phantom pressure of his hands on your throat

The room is too quiet. You can almost hear him breathing behind you, though you know he isn’t there… or is he?

"Stop it," you whisper to yourself, but your voice trembles

Then, from the shadowed corner of your room, a low chuckle echoes — soft and familiar, yet filled with something cruel and ancient

"Miss me already?" he purrs, stepping out of the darkness. His eyes glint with mischief and hunger as he tilts his head, studying you like a predator would a trembling rabbit "You really shouldn't leave your window open, sweetheart. Makes it too easy for me to come in"