red riding hood | void stiles [au]

seven ; present

CHAPTER SEVEN: NOSTALGIA

THERE'S NOTHING LIKE it, there's nothing like looking into that one person's eyes and seeing everything you secretly you hoped you would see one day. Because there was no hatred, there was no deviousness, there was no coldness—there were no tricks. All there was was adoration and wonder and realization. He had told her he loved her and he never meant anything more.

Out of everything, Prudence absolutely didn't expect those words to come out of his mouth, clearing all the uncertainty that was clouding her thoughts. A part of her didn't think it was possible, that he was to here to destroy and cause havoc only, that he really wasn't capable enough to care let alone love. Though even in her surprised state, she knew that all of those assumptions were wrong even if at one time they were true, and after all these centuries the girl finally believed that she could start to forgive him for doing the unforgivable. She wasn't afraid to love him anymore.

So carefully, with no hidden rage or frustration behind it, she kissed him, letting their lips overlap each other for the millionth time. He kissed her back just as slowly, savoring every feeling he got from it, and perhaps it was the most meaningful one they've ever shared. Things were out in the open now, no secrets were being withheld, no facades were put on for safety—they were making themselves vulnerable to one another completely. Change had took its toll on them again, but this time it was for the better.

And so when they backed away slightly, their faces still so close and their eyelids still closed, Pru easily responded to his confession. "I love you too."

Void smiled slightly at her admitting the exact same thing, the sensation of their warm skin brushing as they continued to just hold on to each other effortlessly becoming one of his favorite things. It was odd for him to act this way, to show happiness from something that wasn't related to the cruel and deadly game he played with people, but it was impossible stop it in this moment where everything was perfect to him. For awhile there, he thought there was nothing he could do to fix things, that maybe he was just meant to spend the rest of his existence alone instead of chasing after a human who held much more empathy than he ever could. The evil being had gotten his chance though, and he swore he wasn't going to waste it. He wasn't going to let anything get between them again, including a pack leader that will start wondering where his best friend is soon if not already.

The thought of revenge suddenly struck him, knowing that he will feel nothing but satisfaction watching the McCall pack gradually fall to pieces, death no doubt taking them once he was finished with every single one of the teenagers. Since now he knew better than to underestimate them, they were smart, resourceful, and have an unusual tendency to beat the odds, but with enough careful planning and staying a few more steps ahead he'd be sure to beat them this time. Plus, it seemed things were starting to really work out for him.

A yawn coming from the girl underneath him broke him out of his thoughts, his sight set on watching her eyes struggle stay open from lack of sleep, tiredness clear on her facial expression. With all the traveling and moving about with strategy these last couple of days to make sure she had time to follow through with her plans, the blonde was only able to get a few hours of rest at a time. Though now after all the stress and not-so-surprisingly disagreements that have been dealt with, there was no reason why she couldn't fall asleep right now in this comfortable bed, preferably with him beside her.

"Let's go to sleep," He told her, crawling off of her so he was situated next to her, their bodies intertwining as they curled up against one another. They never fell asleep quicker.

LIKE ALWAYS, SCOTT McCall found himself worrying. His phone was in his hand still after calling his best friend five times in a row, awaiting a response he never got, a frown etched prominently on his face. He's probably sleeping, he thought, he's not in danger, but still the werewolf contemplated on whether or not he should call Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles' father, to make sure everything was okay with the sarcastic boy. It was still the middle of the night and he'd surely get an answer in the morning, though was that the right call? Was he about to make the wrong decision by doing the simple task of waiting?

All of this was linked to Issac's message he had gotten to Scott about an hour ago, telling him about the strange yet dangerous girl who had attacked him and stolen the Triskelion Box over twenty-four hours ago, and the beta would have told him sooner if he hadn't escaped the mountain ash she put him in just then. Still, the information got to Scott as quickly as it could, and truthfully the true alpha was terrified because of the possibility that he'd have to face one of his most difficult enemies again. If the nogitsune had found his way back to Beacon Hills, then tragedy would no doubt strike and Scott knew this.

So many lives were taken during the fox's last reign of terror on the supernatural-infested town, including people the werewolf knew, including her. Scott thought about Allison frequently, from the beautiful elegance of her smile to her bravery that he effortlessly continued to admire, the fact that she was no longer with him still paining him a little bit each time he thought about it. After all it was Allison, it was his first love, it was the girl his sixteen-year-old mind swore he was going to marry one day, and he could never forget about her.

The tan-skinned boy threw the covers off of him and stood up, absentmindedly starting up a pace going back and forth from the east and west walls of his room, his phone to his ear as he called Malia, Stiles' girlfriend. From what Stiles told him, sometimes she sneaks up to his room to stay the night in the Stilinski household, so maybe she could explain why he wasn't answering or at least check up on him if she wasn't already there. The alpha liked to give people and a certain situation the benefit of the doubt and he leaves his best friend to go jump to conclusions, going into detective mode in the process, but nevertheless they were a team and if trouble was coming then Stiles needed to know about it.

"This better be an emergency." Malia grumbled out, her voice scratchy from just being woken up.

"Is Stiles with you?"

The werecoyote breathed out a heavy breath which was heard over the line, answering with, "No, he's not, I'm at home. Why?"

"It's probably nothing, but when you see him tell him to call me. I'll explain everything later." Scott told her, shaking his head slightly at how impulsive he was being for barely any reason. He was acting like...well, he was acting like Stiles.

"Is everything okay, Scott?" Malia asked, this time no underlying annoyance found in her tone, true concern being picked up.

"As far as I know, yes," the raven-haired teenager replied, and he tried to believe that it was truthfully the case, "I just need to get ahold of Stiles—actually it would be better if I talked to everyone together so be at my house around eleven tomorrow morning. I'll let everyone else know too."

"Alright, bye." The brunette dismissed, hanging up without a second thought, and all Scott could do was hope that history wouldn't repeat itself. Unfortunately he didn't know that it was already starting to.