Why Can't Someone Be This Devoted To Me!?!?! 😩😭😤

Why can't someone be this devoted to me!?!?! 😩😭😤

DARK DEVOTION || Void Stiles 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Void Stiles x gender neutral reader

Summary — A love story written in blood and whispers. Void courts you in his own twisted way and you like it.

Memo —I am currently half awake and I refuse to go to sleep so boredom prompted me to write this.

Word Count —1050

Warnings — You're arguably as insane as Void. Dark Themes, Blood/Gore, Possessiveness/Obsessive Behaviour, Murder/Death (implied killings), Mild Body Horror (descriptions of blood and injuries), Stalking/Watching.

I. The First Gift

The first time it happens, you don’t think much of it.

You step outside one morning, the world still wrapped in the quiet hush of dawn. The air is crisp, the sky painted with the soft hues of early sunrise. Then, your eyes fall to the ground.

A gift.

A crow, its throat slit cleanly, feathers still damp with fresh blood. Its wings are splayed open, and nestled between them is a single white flower—delicate, untouched by the violence surrounding it.

Something in your chest tightens. Not in fear. Not in disgust. But in something else.

You kneel, fingertips grazing the petals. The stark contrast between death and beauty is... intentional. A deliberate display.

A courtship.

And there’s only one creature twisted enough to offer it to you.

You should be terrified. You should scream, recoil, run. But instead, you pluck the flower from the corpse and twirl it between your fingers.

When you glance up, you aren’t surprised to see him watching from the treeline.

Void.

The thing wearing Stiles’ face.

He smirks when your eyes meet. A sharp, knowing thing. His head tilts, dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

You say nothing. Neither does he. But in that silence, something shifts.

And the game begins.

II. The Second Gift

The next offering comes two nights later.

You return home late, the weight of exhaustion pressing against your shoulders. But when you step inside, you freeze.

A velvet box rests on your kitchen counter. No note, no explanation.

You know better than to open it. You do.

And yet, your fingers move before your mind can stop them.

The lid lifts with an eerie sort of grace, revealing a heart inside—dark, wet, and still warm.

Your stomach doesn’t churn. Your hands don’t tremble. You stare for a long moment before exhaling a slow breath.

"This is getting dramatic," you murmur.

A chuckle ghosts over your shoulder. You don’t jump.

"Did you think I’d be subtle?" Void’s voice is a velvet whisper, coiling around you like smoke. "I am trying to woo you, after all."

You close the box and turn to face him. He leans lazily against the doorway, all sharp smirks and dark amusement.

"Woo me," you repeat, deadpan. "With body parts?"

Void pushes off the frame, stepping closer. "They weren’t yours," he points out. "Shouldn’t that count for something?"

You hold his gaze, unflinching. His eyes are endless, drowning pools of black.

Slowly, you place the flower he gave you the other day behind your ear.

His smirk falters. Just for a fraction of a second. But you see it.

Then, his grin returns, sharper than before.

"Oh," he breathes. "You do understand."

III. The Third Gift

After that, the gifts escalate.

You wake to whispers in the night, cold fingers brushing over your skin before vanishing like mist. A shadow lingers just beyond your vision, moving when you move, watching when you sleep.

A blade, elegant and wickedly sharp, appears on your pillow one morning. Its hilt is carved with symbols you don’t recognize, its edge stained faintly with something dark.

"I made it for you," Void hums when you confront him later that night.

"You made me a weapon?"

"You deserve something beautiful," he replies smoothly. "Something deadly."

His fingers brush your wrist, and the room tilts for half a second. Not physically. Not really. But there’s a pull—something unnatural, something his.

"Do you like it?" he asks, voice soft but dangerous.

You turn the blade in your grip, watching how the light catches on the metal.

And then you smile.

Void inhales sharply. His pupils blow wide.

"You’re enjoying this," he realizes.

You lift a brow. "And you’re not?"

His answering grin is feral.

IV. The Fourth Gift

You don’t find the next offering. It finds you.

One evening, as you step out of your usual coffee shop, someone stumbles in front of you. A man, pale and shaking, his shirt stained with blood.

"H–help me," he rasps.

Your eyes flicker down. A deep gash runs along his abdomen, fresh and brutal.

Your pulse remains steady.

A dark chuckle echoes nearby, and Void emerges from the alley, hands in his pockets.

"He hurt you once, didn’t he?" he muses, tilting his head at the man. "Called you a slur. Pushed you at a bar. Thought I forgot?"

The man trembles violently, eyes darting between you and the monster in Stiles’ skin.

You exhale through your nose, tilting your head. "This is a bit much, even for you."

Void pouts. "You wound me."

Your gaze shifts to the man, who is on the verge of collapse. You don’t feel sorry for him, not really.

But you do feel something.

Something close to intrigue.

You step forward, slow and deliberate, and crouch in front of the bleeding man. He flinches.

Then, ever so gently, you press your fingers to his wound.

He whimpers in pain.

Void lets out a breath that sounds like a growl.

"You’re insane," the man chokes out.

You smile at him. Then glance back at Void.

"You didn’t kill him yet," you muse. "Why?"

Void crouches beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath ghosts against your ear.

"Because I wanted to share."

You don’t move for a long moment.

Then, slowly, you stand.

Void follows your lead, dark eyes never leaving yours.

And without another word, you step aside.

An invitation.

Void’s smirk is wicked. His fingers graze your wrist as he passes, a silent thank you.

The man screams.

And you don’t look away.

V. The Claiming

Void presses you against the wall that night, his hands caging you in. His touch is cool, unnatural, but you don’t pull away.

"Say something," he murmurs, voice sharp with frustration. "Tell me to stop. Tell me you hate this."

You meet his gaze, unflinching. "I won’t."

His fingers tighten on your jaw, nails biting into your skin. "Why not?"

You smirk, tilting your head just enough to brush your lips against his.

"Because I like it."

Void stills. Then, his lips curl into something almost hungry.

"Oh," he breathes, amusement laced with something far darker. "I knew I picked the right one."

And when he kisses you, it’s possessive. A promise.

You’re his now.

You always were.

❗AVOID THESE PEDOPHILES AT ALL COSTS! ❗

I was scrolling through Tumblr and came across a post of KNOWN PEDOPHILES ON TUMBLR (many of which have or want to rape actual children/minors)

THERE ARE ACTUAL PEDOPHILES ON TUMBLR TRYING TO GET IN TOUCH WITH MINORS ON TUMBLR

PLEASE SIGNAL BOOST THIS LIST AND KEEP OUR MINORS SAFE

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whovianwar

6 years ago

— when you are short.

Connor:

• does not compute how short you are, just too cute • but he’s really a gentleman about it • will make sure everything is not out of your reach • didn’t know that finding the right size for clothes could be this complicated until you two went shopping together • genuinely surprised when you told him that your dress was actually a very big t-shirt • “I’ve read somewhere that short people are usually mean because they’re closer to hell but I highly doubt that since you’re so pretty.” • so smooth with you • has he upgraded his flirting software or • he still blushes tho when you place your hands on his forearms as a support to kiss him • blushes a lot more when people mistake you for his little sibling • long walks arm in arm and hand in hand • he says it’s fundamental so you don’t get lost in the crowd • and you believe him bc he’s a negotiator model he’s good at telling (white) lies • and because sometimes you really do get lost in crowds • but of course he just want to hold you close to his body he’s p u r e

RK900:

• didn’t know humans could come up in this size • “do you have a hormonal deficiency or it’s just genetics?” • not in a mean or teasing way, he’s purely curious • you’re automatically ‘smol’ • every time you get mad all he can think about is ‘so much anger for such a small creature’ • ofc you always call him ‘big boi’ • what do you mean you don’t like to be lifted up • strong arms around your body all the time • gets things for you from high shelves • really protective • and by that i mean REALLY PROTECTIVE • sometimes overwhelming because “you know i can do things on my own, right?” • he knows, he has simply decided not to care bc you are his human pup and must protecc • over time he realizes he’s head over heels in love with how short you are • didn’t know androids could have a ‘type’ • you’re definitely his ‘type’ • just picture this big sturdy mess of a man leaning down for a kiss please • you constantly on your tiptoes • lots of kisses on your temples, on the top of your head, forehead kisses • gently places his chin on your head and hugs you from behind while you are lost in thoughts • please wear his clothes it turns him on so much seeing you in an oversize something and if it’s his something??? he can deactivate and blush peacefully

RK800-60:

• “you’re tiny” “yeah i know” “no you don’t get it. you’re tiny” • really amused by your height • constant jokes about how short you are • really he doesn’t stop • downloads jokes about short people every day just for you isn’t he the sweetest thing ever • your head it’s his new armrest • but don’t get angry, he does it because he thinks it’s very cute • plus by doing this everyone knows who you belong to • when you sleep his LED is endlessly yellow because he can’t stop looking at you and thinking at the fact that you are too cute for this world • since you are so elfin he’s the big spoon FIGHT HIM ON THIS • how can you be this cute just because of your height it’s outrageous • “are you sure you are not underage?” • you desperately want to be taller so he can shut up • carries you on his back if you are tired • even if you are not

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whovianwar

1 year ago

OBI-WAN KENOBI + JEDI COUNCIL CHAIR (insp)

OBI-WAN KENOBI + JEDI COUNCIL CHAIR (insp)

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whovianwar

3 months ago

🎨color study note

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whovianwar

2 weeks ago

Always

Me too eevee

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whovianwar

6 years ago

Omg the feels y’all

misha should get the trench coat. whether it’s the old one from season four, or the one now. whether it’s all of them. the last day on set, when they say “and that’s a wrap for misha collins!” the exact moment it is said: the trench coats belong to him, the blue ties a part of it all as well. he can take them home and put them in shadow boxes like they do at fancy restaurants. or, he can tuck them away in the back of his closet only to take out when he’s feeling nostalgic. either way, they’re his. he can do with them what he wishes.

jared, jared gets the demon blade. the knife isn’t only memories of seasons past, with fights and fake blood, but it also ties him to remembrance of when he met genevieve. when she came on as ruby, black eyes glistening. now she wears his ring on her finger and supernatural is where it all began. and that knife was there from the start of the long journey of jared’s changed life. from the weird drinking demon blood thing-using the blade to cut her skin-to now, where jared and genevieve raise their three children together. i imagine that jared would probably frame it-hang it on the wall of a room where it would most be seen. where guests would come and see it, and start up conversations.

and then jensen. jensen will drive home in a heavily loved 1967 chevy impala. the amulet that he wore in the beginning of the show will be hanging on the rear view mirror. jensen obtaining the car was something they all expected, but how often he drove it was something everyone was curious about. baby will be well taken for. he’d take her out only on warm saturday afternoons, but not too often. the sound of her engine turning over stirs up something in his chest that is painful and bittersweet. the smell of her leather seats bring up too many memories of when he used to smell it everyday, sitting in that car-jared shotgun. but baby will be well taken for. he rotates her tires probably too often, and checks the oil to make sure she’s aging well. and she will. like a fine wine, baby will become more and more beautiful each day a new car hits the road. jj, zepp, and arrow-they’ll grow up loving her just like sam and dean did. they’ll find solitude within her seats, and home when jensen sits behind the wheel. it’s a gift that jensen will share. sometimes when jared and misha come to visit, they’ll all just walk out to the garage where she sits. if not to take a ride, at least to take a glance at her. If cars could run on love, baby would be set for a lifetime.

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