sfw. psychological horror | manipulation | mind games
credits: @/yoursoob @/angeliicide
void stiles ┃ at first he just knows what you're going to say. eventually, you're no longer sure the thoughts were ever yours to begin with.
There’s something deeply unsettling about the way void listens.
Not while you’re speaking.
Long before.
At first, it feels like coincidence. You’ll pause to think of the right word, only for him to say it first with a lazy smile, as though he simply beat you to it. You reach for your coffee just as he slides it across the table. You turn toward the window seconds before he casually remarks that you were about to check if it was raining.
It happens often enough to make you notice.
Not often enough to make you panic.
Not yet.
He starts finishing your sentences after that. Sometimes he gets them right. Sometimes he gets them almost right. When he doesn't, he'll laugh softly, shrugging as if he were only guessing.
"Close enough."
You tell yourself he's observant.
He's always been observant.
That's all this is.
Until he starts answering questions you never asked.
You'll glance toward the door for half a second, wondering whether you should leave, and he'll tilt his head with that infuriating little smile.
"You don't have to."
The words stop you cold.
You hadn't spoken.
You hadn't even moved.
He simply... knew.
You begin paying attention to yourself after that. Every habit. Every expression. Every nervous glance. You wonder if maybe you're easier to read than you thought.
Maybe everyone could do this.
Maybe you're the strange one for only noticing now.
Then one evening you're sitting across from him, turning a thought over in your head before deciding whether it's worth saying aloud.
He watches you.
Patiently.
Almost fondly.
"You were going to say no."
The words are so casual they barely register.
You blink.
"No?"
He nods once.
"I asked if you trusted me."
You frown.
"You never asked me that."
"No," he agrees pleasantly. "I didn't."
Silence settles between you.
You open your mouth, ready to tell him that's exactly what you were thinking—that you were trying to decide whether you trusted him enough to ask a question that's been bothering you for weeks.
Instead, you stop.
Because now you're not sure.
Was that what you were thinking?
Or did he just...
Plant it there?
Your hesitation is brief.
Barely noticeable.
He notices anyway.
His smile grows.
Only a fraction.
Only enough that you realize he'd been waiting for it.
"Yes," he murmurs quietly.
"You were."
After that, everything feels wrong.
You catch yourself second-guessing your own thoughts before you speak them, wondering whether they're yours or if he's simply become so good at anticipating you that there's no difference anymore. Conversations become exhausting. You start changing your mind halfway through a sentence just to prove he can't predict you.
He adapts.
You deliberately reach for the book on your left.
He hands it to you before your fingers get there.
You decide not to answer a question.
He responds with the exact words you would've used.
You stay silent all afternoon.
He smiles more than usual.
"You think louder than you realize."
It isn't the confidence that unsettles you.
It's how rarely he's wrong.
Days pass, and you begin noticing something even worse.
You're no longer surprised when he knows what you're about to do.
You expect it.
You find yourself waiting for him to speak before making decisions, catching yourself searching his face to see if you've guessed correctly.
It's subtle.
Small enough that you don't notice it's happening until one afternoon you reach for your jacket, only to stop halfway because you're waiting—
Waiting for him to tell you whether you actually wanted it.
He watches your hand freeze.
His expression softens into something almost proud.
"There you are."
You look at him, confused.
"I was wondering how long it would take."
Your stomach sinks.
He isn't pleased because he guessed correctly.
He's pleased because you stopped trusting yourself before you trusted him.
And somehow...
he never had to convince you to do it.
He only had to know you well enough to let you convince yourself.
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