#resolved angst

Everything feels hollow -- off-kilter. You're late to work for the first time in years, running behind with raw eyes and no reminders of the time shouted across the room.

Of course, you're used to the mornings that he's away. When he's in a different state you do this alone all of the time, but it's punctuated with texts and calls and promises that this isn't your new normal.

But now, the possibility hangs low over your head, a storm cloud dripping steadily over you as you work.

Annoyingly, the weather doesn't reflect your mood: it's sunny, there's a breeze, leaves cover the ground. It's the sort of weather you would convince Spencer to take a walk in. It's the sort of weather that, eons ago, he would have noticed and brought you out to walk in without you asking first.

It's not easy to notice when the shift happened. One moment he was exactly who you fell in love with: passionate about his job, sure, but equally excited about you. But, slowly, he changed. Like ice melting in water left outside, the parts of him that made every moment apart worth it slid down the glass and evaporated. The Spencer left is vacant, reading files at home even when you know he doesn't need to. He hasn't planned a date in months, hasn't texted you because he read something new that he wanted to share, hasn't seemed to see you for longer than a few seconds in weeks.

You tried to bring it up to him but the conversation was put aside because of a work call. He had to go but he pressed a kiss into your hair, hugged you tight, and promised you would work on it. Together.

That was over a month ago and he's made no effort. If anything, things have gotten worse. You can't remember the last conversation you had with him that had any true substance.

"Alright, go home." Your boss' voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you into the now.

"Sorry?"

"Go home, get some sleep, you look like shit," he says, shaking his head at you. "Don't argue, you're only missing a few hours, we'll survive without you."

Thanking him, you gather your things and begin the walk back to your car, scattering the fallen leaves with your feet.

You try to think of anything else as you get in the car, turning on music. It's hard, but you do it. You think about what to cook for dinner, what chores need to get done, mundane things that usually plague you.

You don't think about if you still have a relationship. You refuse the thought every time it creeps into your mind, shaking your head as if to physically remove the thought.

Spencer's car is in the driveway when you pull in. You put the car in park and stare at it, letting your head slowly fall forward and cheek rest on the steering wheel. He was so rarely home in the middle of the day on weekdays. You're not sure if you're ready to face him but know you have no choice.

With a sigh, you get out of the car and make your way into the house.

You can hear him moving around in the kitchen when you push the door open. Quietly, you slip out of your shoes and set your things on the table. Without saying anything, you go to your bedroom and start the shower.

You're tired of always initiating the conversations. You're tired of seeking his attention, practically begging for it, only to be shut down. Let him come to you if he's really sorry -- if he even is sorry.

You've been in the shower less than a minute when you hear your name being called. The bathroom door opens and you can just make out Spencer's head poking inside the room through the shower curtain.

"Hello?" He asks, stepping inside.

"Hi."

"I didn't hear you come in." You don't answer him, wetting your hair instead. "Can I sit?" He asks after a moment, his voice hesitant.

"Sure, if you want."

You watch as his shadow crosses the bathroom and he sits on the toilet, slouched, forearms resting on his knees.

"I was an idiot last night," he starts. You stay quiet, silently agreeing as you begin to shampoo your hair. "I can't honestly say anyone or anything is more important than my job. And I know you understand that, you've always understood that. I mean, I'm saving lives. Protecting people. What I do, it's important."

"I know," you say, softly.

"I know you know," Spencer says, just as softly, voice hurt. "But that doesn't mean you're not important or that I can treat you as less of a priority. Because you are, you know. A priority. Pretty much my main one."

You hang your head under the warm water, watching it drip through your hair and take the suds away with it. The soap runs down your arms, down your legs, and swirls around the drain. Steam lifts over the curtain, filling the air and making your eyes hazy.

There isn't much to say other than, "I haven't really felt like one."

"And I was an asshole when you tried to tell me, I know." Spencer rubs his hands across his face, voice agitated.

"What happened?" You ask, eyes still trained on the drain.

"Nothing, really. I think I just let myself get too sucked in. I mean, you've always been so consistent in my life, even before we got together, that I just sort of always expect you'll be there for me."

"I will," you admit, leaning against the wall of the shower so you can watch his shadow move as he speaks. It's true, you'll always be there for Spencer.

Spencer shakes his head, leaning forward and resting it in his hands. "You shouldn't have to if I can't prove the same is true in reverse. I should be just as consistent. I used to be just as consistent. I prided myself on how well I managed our relationship and our job. I got too comfortable, too cocky, too sure that I couldn't fuck this up that I ended up doing just that."

"I don't think you've fucked this up." Spencer laughs, low and harsh, lifting his head to look at the ceiling. "No, really. I think you just fucked up but it's nothing that can't be fixed."

"You deserve better."

"You are better, Spencer. I know you are. You're just going through something. I don't know what, I don't even think you know what, but if you let me in, we can work through it together. Just, you can't push me away."

"I don't even want to push you away, that's the thing. I can tell when I'm doing it but I can't figure out how to stop."

"Well, this is the best way to start. By telling me. I trust you. I trust us. Do you?"

"I trust you," Spencer says, voice breaking. "And, yeah, I trust us."

"Then that's all we need, no?"

He joins you in the shower a few minutes later. All innocence, helping you wash your hair and letting you wash his. The water is warm, you're in each other's spaces, not talking but just together.

It's the mundane task that truly starts to make you feel better. He's gentle as he works conditioner in your hair, eyes shut in peace when he bends down for you to run your fingers through his.

He jumps out before you to grab your towel, opening it and wrapping you up before hugging you. Warm, steady, he rubs small circles on the nape of your neck, under your dripping hair, where he holds you close.

"I was going to make dinner, I was making a list when you walked in," he says when the two of you make your way back into the kitchen. "I wasn't expecting you to be home yet."

"I was sent home early because I looked tired. Well, he actually said 'like shit' but I know what he meant." You send him a sarcastic smile as you sit down at the kitchen table, leaning forward to look at his grocery list, puzzling out what he wants to cook. "What about you? Why are you home so early?"

Hands shoved in the pockets of his sweats, Spencer shrugs. "Today is pretty much just a paperwork day. I got what I needed to get done out of the way and went home. The team was confused but they'll be fine."

"You left early?" You ask, raising an eyebrow and your gaze to watch him.

"Like I said, you're a priority, too. You deserve to be treated like one. I can't leave early most days, but the ones I can ... you deserve that, at the very least."

You stand, shuffling over in your socks, to hug him around the waist. His hands come to wrap around your shoulders without hesitation, smoothing over your hair.

You stand like that for a minute, his grasp firm, your nose pressed into his neck.

"We're going to be okay," you whisper, just as much for him as yourself.

"Of course," he replies.

here u guys go, luv u <3

Roronoa Zoro

I'm not going to lie, he wouldn't understand at first.

But nonetheless, he'd stop as soon as you started crying.

He would apologize, wrapping you in blankets and squishing you against him.

Sometimes, he would say, he just underestimates himself.

"I'm not moving until you stop crying."

His arms are around your waist, your face crushed into his chest as he holds you.

Whether he believes it or not, he ultimately just wants to see you smile again.

Would rub circles in your back or sides if you asked, but would mostly just hold you.

He wants to make sure you're alright.

He'd let you lay on his chest and listen to his heartbeat as you relax, if it's late at night.

"Promise me that if I ever hurt you again, you'll tell me right away."

Portgas D. Ace

Apologizes as soon as he sees a single tear.

When you tell him that it hurts, he's completely understanding.

He'll bring you up into his arms, entirely forgetting how naked he is, and just hold you there, with his arms around you as he kisses your teary eyes.

"I love you, you know that right?"

He'll whisper stories of growing up with Sabo and Luffy in your ear just to make you laugh.

His warmth is soothing, almost like he himself is that feeling of being snug under a blanket on a winter's day.

His fingers rake through your hair, and he leaves a chaste kiss on your forehead before his dark eyes meet yours.

it was confirmed, and the crowd went wild. within days there were tabloids of 'pro-hero dynamight's secret lover: who could it be?'

it was innocent at first; just plain curiosity about a public figure.

but then it got deeper. talk shows got psychologists to give professional insight as to how a relationship with someone like dynamight would be.

as expected, it wasn't positive. and soon enough, everyone on the internet was bashing dynamight for being dangerous or violent, specifically towards his lover, whom they knew nothing about.

you'd rub the tension out of his shoulders at the end of the day, reminding him that he was good, no matter what the media had to say. they didn't know him like you did.

your comfort and reassurance usually calmed him down and left him grumbling, "i didn't even care anyways."

so he took the criticism. and he took the bashing, the false speculation—and he kept moving forward.

that is, until someone thought it'd be fun to make a 'top ten pro-heroes who'd cheat' blog post that went absolutely viral. it reached every corner of the internet, even getting mentioned in the news as outraged heroes demanded the website be removed.

the number one spot, the one bakugo had yearned for, was his.

but not in the way he wanted.

being ranked most likely to cheat did a number on his behavior, both in public and private. he was more distant and less explosive, which somehow spurred the press on more.

they concluded that he cleaned up his act because the blog was right and he wanted to create a better image for himself. that wasn't true at all—he was just tired.

so tired, in fact, that he proved the rumors right.

denki was draped over your couch, watching some game show on tv when you found out. the two of you had planned to hang out for a bit and watch a movie at the cinema, but nothing good was showing, so you ultimately decided to head back to your place.

your shared place. with bakugo.

you assumed it was one of his late nights since he wasn't home, so you started cooking dinner, making small talk with denki.

"so you can go swimming, then?" you quirked a brow, poking your head into the living room.

"yeah, just as long as i don't activate my quirk, you know?" denki opened his mouth to explain further, but the front door messily slammed open, beating him to it.

and there he was. bakugo katsuki.

with someone else in his arms, his face nearly being eaten as they pushed back and forth against each other.

everything stopped the moment he made eye contact with you. the kissing stopped, your brain stopped—it even felt like the tv was muted.

even worse was that his eyes held no remorse. just a little surprise, like finding your old charger after buying a new one.

"thought you were hanging out with dunce face," his voice was gruff, low and sultry as his gazed burned into you with... impatience?

"katsuki, what're you.." you mumbled out, brain still trying to process the sight before you, "why're you.."

"didn't think you'd be back already." he shrugged, gaze shifting back to the person he was with. and only then did his brows relax, lips tugging up into a smile. "now, if you'll excuse us.."

he tried to walk past you, but you shoved his chest, "what the hell are you doing?" you nearly screamed, eyes red and burning with tears.

"haven't you heard the rumors, y/n? i'm a cheater. you don't need to be with someone like me."

you saw the flash of hurt in his eyes, but even that couldn't overpower the utter devastation pooling all the way from your chest to your toes. oh, it hurt.

"kami," you whispered desperately once they were gone—in the room that you used to sleep in—head starting to swim, "kami, help me, please."

you didn't even know what you wanted him to help you with. you just wanted everything to stop.

he rushed to your side, finally snapping out of his shocked daze. his arms were around you in an instant, chin on top of your head, "you're okay, y/n, i'm here. it's okay."

you were shaking and sobbing into his shirt, grip tight on his unzipped jacket.

"it hurts. oh god, it hurts. kami, make it stop, please." you shuddered, and everything was suddenly too loud.

he held you tightly, letting you cry for what felt like hours.

and then he got you out of there.

BONUS:

the healing process was long and still incomplete. some days you still felt so empty, only able to complete the bare necessities to get through your day, but denki was by your side when he could be.

you'd since moved out of your shared home with bakugo and into a place of your own, which was a difficult adjustment. but with denki calling you twice a day—literally—you didn't have a chance to be lonely.

most nights he spent at your house, claiming it was because he loved your cooking.

you weren't dumb; denki flirted with you all the time. he was truly unashamed every time he greeted you with a 'hey, hottie', and bid you goodbye with a 'love you, sweetcheeks'.

it made you cringe, but it was denki, so you had to love him.

after a year of being closer than ever, he’d asked you on a date numerous times, receiving a playful 'no, you know i'm not ready for that.'

but, one time was special. one time was heartfelt and so genuine that you shed real tears. denki laid his heart bare for you, every ounce of emotions spilling out of him and onto your shirt.

"i know you're not ready, y/n, but i love you so much. i'll wait for you, i swear it!"

and after all those no's, you finally said yes.

i like to think that bakugo did it for you. obviously this wasn’t the right way to go about it, but he just.. kind of got so tired of being accused of something terrible. he became the monster they swore he was. and you got caught in the crossfire. also i bolded dynamight instead of bakugo because i feel like this focuses on that part of his persona. his hero-self got too wrapped up in the media. also! kirishima was originally gonna be the new lover, but i feel like it’d be too similar to the other bakugo one i wrote.

He saw Scott's eyes widen, and he could tell that he was trying to put together the words to either defend himself, or to throw out an accusation, but Stiles didn't let him, and instead kept going, years of frustration fueling every single word that came out of his mouth.

Fuming, he kept on ranting, determined to get all the way through it without letting Scott get a word in edgewise.

“Number three…but at this point it feels stupid to keep on counting because I don't think I can count every single time, so let's just do this in bullet points, shall we? I'm the one who confronted Argent on my own and convinced him that his sister was a rapist and a killer! I'm the one who worked my ass off trying to get the right information for you, which you barely used, by the way!” He took a deep breath. “I'm the one who dove into the pool to keep Derek alive by treading water for over 2 hours while you took your sweet time getting there…”

For the first time ever, he saw Scott look almost guilty--but it didn't deter him. Stiles knew better than to be fooled. He knew his friend well, and he knew the way that he weaponized his expressions to get what he wanted. He wouldn't give in.

Instead, he added in a low hiss, “I'm the one who stepped between the kanima and Erica and Isaac. Me, the weak little human. I was also there for Erica when she went through her seizures. Where were you, Scott? Where were you for all this? Oh, that's right: either focused on Allison or scheming behind our backs with Gerard.”

He purposely brought it up, hoping to goad a reaction out of him, and smirked when he saw Scott’s nostrils flare and his jaw tighten.

Stiles continued.

“I’m the one who snuck into the basement and got Boyd and Erica out of there! You never even asked why I was hurt. Gerard got his hands on me and had no issues torturing me alongside them.” Scott looked shocked at that, and Stiles couldn’t help but feel a little bit smug. “I also saved both Boyd and Ethan at that nightmarish motel, and you didn’t even acknowledge the fact that I saved Ethan's life!” he added, waving his arms wide to emphasize his point, and then glared pointedly in Scott’s direction.

Scott opened his mouth, stammered for a moment, and then said, “I-I never thought about it—”

Stiles immediately cut him off, saying, “That's the problem, Scott! You don't think! You let everyone else do your thinking for you and then don’t even acknowledge their existence afterwards!”

He paused, bit at his lip, and then decided to keep going, swallowing as he said, “I saved Cora’s life in the back of that damn ambulance. She stopped breathing, and I brought her back! Lydia almost got her goddamn ankle cut off in one of those horrific bear traps in the woods, and I got it off her before it could trigger! I also saved Malia’s life back in Eichen House--one of the nurses was trying to overdose her so she wouldn’t talk. I then anchored her during the full moon and kept her from getting out. I've anchored Liam, too, by the way, to keep him safe and sane in the back of the van when we went down to Mexico to save your sorry ass.”

He took another moment.

And then he breathed out, “Even when I was possessed by the goddamn nogitsune, I managed to get a warning to Derek. Using my chessboard, of all things.”

Scott looked at him and then said, “I didn't know. Why didn't you just tell me? Why couldn't you have just told me? I mean—”

“I tried! But you were too focused on your own little world to notice the hell that everyone else was going through around you, let alone my pain! I swear to god, I don’t know how you became an alpha, Scott!! You were always willing to sacrifice Boyd and Erica! And you used Derek’s own beta against him, all because Gerard sold you some stupid lie that you fell for because you didn't bother to talk to any of us!”

He was gasping for air at that point, his chest heaved, his size ached, and his hands were practically shaking. Stiles held back his tears that threatened to fall and continued.

“Everything you’ve ever done has been through this narrow view of ‘how can it help me?’. You’re so damn focused on your own personal bubble that you’re not paying attention to anyone else around you!” he yelled at him, trying to get his friend to listen to him--he then became vaguely aware of the fact that Derek had arrived and was waiting around the corner, hidden, listening in on their conversation. He also knew that Scott was oblivious. It was like he never even bothered to use his werewolf senses. He had most likely already taken care of the witch that they were after, too.

“Stiles, I…I don’t mean to. You know that I’m your best friend, right? That, no matter what, I’ll be here to help you. I’ve never meant to ignore you, to make you think--”

Stiles interrupted him.

Looking up at the dark sky, he threw his hands up in frustration and shouted, “God, you’re not even listening to me! It’s not even about me, Scott! It’s about everyone! They are out there risking their lives for you almost every day because they think you actually care about them! It’s like you don’t even know what a pack is supposed to be!”

At that, Scott looked affronted, and Stiles knew that he was about to try and defend himself all over again, so he beat him to the punch.

“Did you know that all of the ones that you call your pack still suffer from debilitating nightmares?” His friend--once more--looked confused. Stiles began to list them off, his anger rising. “Lydia, Liam, Malia…hell, I know Kira was having them by the time she left, as was Jackson and Isaac. There’s a reason why so many of them have left you, Scott!” he said vehemently, not caring if he hurt his feelings. “They realized that you didn’t care about them! You only cared about what they could do for you.”

He took a breath and calmed himself, and then asked in a measured, even tone, “Do you even know where your pack is, tonight?”

Scott looked at him blankly.

“Because I do.” Another blank look. “Malia likes to spend her Friday nights going back out to the desert, to check on Kira and talk with her. They help each other: Kira helps her feel more human. Malia helps Kira tap into her kitsune powers by showing her how to not fear her animal side. Lydia goes to the station to keep Parrish company on the weekends. They’re helping put together more information for the bestiary,” he explained, noting that Scott was still completely in the dark. “They’re both piecing together what they can, bit by bit.”

There was a long stretch of silence.

Unexpectedly, Scott asked, “How do you even know all this? You’re never around these days,” and Stiles shook his head and corrected him, “I’m never around you, Scott. You may not like this fact, but you are no longer the most important person in my social life. You’re actually at the bottom of it. You have been ever since the incident with Theo.”

He could see he was about to try and defend himself again, so Stiles waved a hand and said, “Don’t. I’m tired of trying to figure out who you are, anymore, Scott. I have a different life than you, these days. It’s actually been different for a long while, and I think I’ve just been trying to convince myself that nothing had really changed--but I know better, now. And I’m tired of lying to myself, especially when it comes to you.” He gestured at the air between them. “You and me? There really hasn’t been a ‘you and me’ for years, now. I’ve tried being your emissary and wondered for the longest time why it didn’t feel right…and I finally figured out that it’s because I was never supposed to be your emissary.”

Quickly, Scott interjected, “But you’re an emissary, Stiles! This is what you’re supposed to do! You, you--you have some sort of spark and Deaton’s been helping you learn how to use so that you can better help the pack--he’s told me about it.”

Stiles shook his head and snorted.

“God, you really don’t listen, do you?” he quipped. “I was never supposed to be your emissary. You were never supposed to be an alpha in the first place, Scott! Don’t you get it, by now?!” He felt his anger rising a second time, but instead controlled it--not letting it explode like before. “You’re not the only werewolf in town, remember? You’re not the only one with a pack.”

At that, Scott took a step back and said, “What are you talking about? There aren’t any other alphas in Beacon Hills, Stiles. There can’t be any other pack than mine.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw, and then ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep his cool. Breathe, he silently reminded himself. Breathe.

After a few seconds, he swallowed down the epithets that he wanted to fling, and instead explained in a calm and measured tone as he stared at the toes of his shoes, “You don’t have to be an alpha to lead a pack, Scott. You just have to know how to lead.” He looked back up at him and leveled his eyes with the person that he no longer even considered a friend. “And Derek does that better than you ever have.”

“Derek?! You’re shitting me right now, right?” Scott exclaimed, looking thoroughly pissed off. “He was a sorry excuse for an alpha! Couldn’t even protect his own pack!”

Stiles wasn’t surprised at his reaction to the werewolf’s name.

“Because you tried to kill it!” Stiles shot right back at him. “You went after Boyd, didn’t accept Erica, and then you even shoved Isaac to the bottom of pack when he tried to come to you for help!! Hell, it’s because of you that Boyd and Erica are dead! You were the one that made the decision that ended up with them killed!”

Dammit. He was getting too emotionally involved. He waited for Derek to arrive from around the corner…but he didn’t. That was when Stiles knew that the older werewolf was there only for emotional support--almost as if he knew that this argument between him and Scott was bound to happen sooner or later. Stiles knew that he should have confronted his friend a long time ago but had never had the courage. Not until tonight, when Scott had tried to leave him behind because he saw Stiles as a weakness.

He gathered the last bits of courage that he had and said, in a voice just above a whisper, “I was meant to be the emissary for the Hale pack. Always was.”

The silence that settled was stony. Scott simply glared at him.

Stiles sighed.

“Right before Derek left, right after we saved Cora…we both started to realize that we had this connection. Neither of us could explain it,” he said, keeping his voice low and steady, trying not to set Scott off any more than he had. “We kept on being drawn to each other, over and over again. And when we went down to Mexico to save you and he was hurt by the berserker--I was going to choose him over you.”

He looked up and stared his friend in the eye as he then said, “But he told me to save you. And so I did. And, as fate would have it, we ended up meeting again back on the east coast when he came to get me from Quantico to drag me back to Beacon Hills to save you--and when he showed up, I didn’t even hesitate. We had a long drive, so we talked…and we eventually figured out that I was his anchor, as well as his emissary.”

Scott continued to glare at him, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Stiles was starting to get annoyed.

“C’mon, man, say something. Anything!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. “If you want to take a few shots at me, go ahead! I may not be a werewolf, man, but I’ve been learning a hell of lot about being an emissary and can put up a decent fight when I have to!”

He finally spit out, “How could you do this to me, Stiles? How could you betray me like this?” and Stiles rolled his eyes so hard he thought he might fall over from the sheer force of it.

“Dear god, you aren’t listening to a word I’m saying. I give up!” He threw his hands in the air and dropped his arms listlessly to his sides. Deciding he had nothing else to lose, he added, “And, just so you know, Derek and I have been sleeping together since right before we got back to Beacon Hills. While we were on our impromptu road trip, we got our heads out of our asses and realized we both had feelings for each other and had had them for a long time,” he admitted, and then lifted a hand and added, “By the way, it’s also the best relationship I’ve ever had, so don’t you dare go shitting all over it, saying that Derek somehow took advantage of me!”

Scott’s eyes went wide at his confession, and he looked ready to say something, but then Derek emerged from around the corner and said with a smirk, “If I remember correctly, you seduced me that first night,” and Stiles couldn’t help but chuckle. He then said, “Also, the witch is gone. You’re welcome.”

The young alpha said, “What the hell? Derek, when did you get here?”

Derek ignored him and instead walked over to Stiles, gently placing his hand on his lower back, saying, “It sounded like you said everything you needed to say.”

Stiles nodded.

“Yeah, pretty much. But you’ve got to stop lurking, babe. I thought you’d moved past that stage,” he said, arching an eyebrow at him. “Remember? Lurking makes you look like a creeper.”

Derek just shook his head and leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his temple and Stiles took it as a good sign. He couldn’t help but lean into it, grateful for the gesture of support. After the argument, he felt as though he was almost swaying on his feet. He was tired and worn out and just wanted to crash in his bed for a few hours--preferably with his boyfriend next to him.

Scott gaped at the two of them…and then he asked, “You said Derek has a pack. Who?”

Without missing a beat, Derek turned his attention to Scott and answered, “Isaac, Jackson, Ethan, and Kira, for now. Not including Stiles, of course,” he said, lightly squeezing his hip with one hand. “And Malia has mentioned that she’s thinking about it. She is, after all, my cousin…and she’s become very close with Kira.”

“She wouldn’t do that to me,” Scott breathed out, looking completely perplexed. “Me and her, we’re--”

“You’re not what you think you are,” Derek interrupted. “Malia’s been trying to find her anchor for a while now, and she tried Stiles, first. We both think it was because of his spark and how it connected him to the Hales, and that’s why she was drawn to him…then she tried with you because you’re an alpha, and she thought that would ground her--it didn’t.” Stiles saw Derek’s brow soften as he then said, “But then she met Kira…and since she’s been with her, I’ve never seen her so settled, so calm and in control. And happy.”

Stiles watched as Scott tried to process what the other werewolf had just said to him. He seemed even more confused than before.

He then stammered out, “But, b-but…she’s straight!”

Stiles snorted and saw Derek muffle a chuckle of his own, and so Stiles quickly said, “She’s as bi as I am, Scotty boy. Hate to break it to you, but you’re not the person that she needs.”

Scott looked as if he was about to argue even more, and Stiles felt a surge of pride when Derek cut him off with, “Don’t even try to tell me that you’re in love with her. You don’t know what love feels like, Scott. You know what obsession is, and I know that you’re familiar with lust--I smell your hormones all over Malia every time she comes to visit.” Scott looked offended, so Derek added, “Look, you probably loved Allison, but you’ve never been in love. Believe it or not, there’s a difference.”

“How can you say that?” the alpha finally got out, eyes going slightly red, but Derek rolled his eyes and shook his head at the pathetic attempt to intimidate him.

“Because when you’re in love, you make a choice. You choose to make yourself completely vulnerable to another person. And you’ve never done that, Scott. Not with any of your so-called girlfriends, and definitely not with your pack…”

Derek’s voice drifted and he looked back to Stiles, and he couldn’t help but smile at seeing the look in his boyfriend’s eyes. He and Derek had been working on talking to each other about their emotions and how to do it without escalating the situation, and Stiles was proud to see that he was using those same techniques on his old friend.

Stiles reached out and grabbed Derek’s hand and lightly squeezed it, ignoring the way that Scott was staring at the two of them. He knew that he had said all that he had wanted to say--so there was nothing more for him to say. As much as he hated to admit it, Scott wasn’t really his friend anymore and Stiles had finally found a place where he was both needed and wanted. Derek believed in him completely and knew that he could take care of himself.

Giving Scott one last look, he said, “You’ve been so wound up in your idea of who I am, that you haven’t noticed how much I’ve changed, Scott. I’ve grown up. You haven’t.”

And with that, he held onto Derek’s hand a little bit tighter and walked away.

By the time he and Derek had made their way back to his Camaro, he felt a massive sense of relief, as if a burden had been physically removed from his shoulders. He slumped against the passenger’s side and let out a long sigh of exhaustion, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, Derek was giving him a soft look, his brow lightly furrowed.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, rubbing his thumb reassuringly over the inside of his wrist.

Stiles nodded.

“Yeah. Better than I expected, actually,” he breathed out. “I never thought I would have the guts to say that to him. But I did.” He paused, collected his thoughts, and then looked up at Derek with a small smile and said, “Thanks for being there. I think it got easier knowing that you were behind me. You showed up at exactly the right time.”

He moved forward and pressed a light kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek and murmured, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Derek,” and the werewolf chuckled, and gave him a smirk as he shot him a smug look from under his lashes and replied, “You’d probably still be tripping over your own feet half the time. But that’s why I’m here, Stiles. To catch you.” He moved his free hand up and cupped his jaw. “We’re a team. No matter what happens, even if Scott tries to do something--I’m going to be here. For you. And for our pack.”

Stiles gave him a look that he was certain made him appear like a completely lovesick fool, but he didn’t care. He moved forward and leaned his forehead against Derek’s.

And then he said, “Thank you.”

They stood there for a moment, just breathing each other’s air, and then Derek muttered, “Can we get in the car, now? That witch was a bit of a bitch to take care of, and I could really go for some Chinese takeout. I am starving.”

Stiles snorted and laughed, pulled his head back and looked in his boyfriend’s eyes and saw the faint tiredness behind his amused smile and nodded.

“Yeah, Chinese takeout sounds great.”

“Good.”

And with that, they got into the Camaro and drove back to Derek’s new loft apartment, his hand on Stiles’ thigh the entire drive over--and Stiles smiled to himself. He had stood up to Scott and he felt stronger than he had felt in years. No longer was he in the shadows of his supposed best friend…instead, he was standing on his own two feet, with Derek by his side, alongside an entire pack who believed in him and his abilities.

It didn’t take long for word to travel that Harry was a touchy subject for me. Most of the girls knew me well enough to know to avoid touchy subjects like the plague, so I didn’t have to talk about him anymore. Unfortunately, it was hard to avoid his arrival ten minutes later.

As soon as he stepped foot backstage, all of the younger girls flocked to him. I watched as Harry smiles, basking in the attention like a cat in the sun, but moved further away and behind a rack of clothes so he wouldn’t see me.

“Hiding are we?” a voice sounded from behind me, causing me to jump slightly.

Eyes landing on Alessandra, I let out a breath, “Ya, maybe something like that.”

She smiled softly, but didn’t say anything, chasing instead to stand and watch with me. I appreciated that she didn’t push, but I knew she wouldn’t. Alessandra was a mentor to all the Angels, but she had taken a particular liking to me since I arrived. She was like a cross between an older sister and a mom, always looking out for me and making sure I was ok with whatever was going on. Being a young lingerie model was hard, and I was glad to have the support of one who had been in the industry for most of her life.

“Ladies! Ladies! Quiet please!” Olivier, the director of this year’s show yelled from the middle of the room.

Everyone quickly quieted down, gathering around to see and hear what he had to say. Alessandra and I moved closer too, knowing that it was time to get down to business. 

“Ok, so I need the official Angels in their robes and at Backdrop 1 to take a picture with Harry,” he said, glancing down at his clipboard briefly, “and I need final makeup and hair on everyone else. Get ready people!”

I sighed, turning to glance at Alessandra, “Time to work.”

She laughed at my sullen tone, knocking her shoulder against mine, “Cheer up girl! You’re an Angel, get excited.”

Smiling softly, I looped my arm with hers, “Ya, I guess I am.”

Together we quickly made our way to the specified backdrop where we would pose with Harry Styles, just as we had with the other performers yesterday before dress rehearsal.

“Alessandra! There you are!” Daisy, the show’s social media manager, said when she saw us, calling everyone’s attention to us since we were the last to arrive.

His eyes found me in a second, and the sight visibly stole the breath from his lungs. A thousand emotions flickered across his face in a second. In the same second, his muscles tensed as he prepared to move towards me. Before he could, however, I looked away, choosing to focus on Daisy instead.

“Where do you want me?” Alessandra asked, giving my arm a squeeze before she stepped toward the group. 

“Right next to Harry,” Daisy answered, “and I want our newest Angel on the other side.”

My heart stopped, “What? I thought I would be in the back?”

I could hear a few other girls huffing as Daisy shook her head, “No, sweetie. We think for this one, since you have a past connection to Mr. Styles, you should be by him.”

“Great,” I breathed, trying not to look how I felt as I forced my body to move toward him.

Harry’s eyes followed me as I walked to my place by his side. With my eyes downcast, I slid between him and Martha. My stomach fluttered and rolled as I pressed my side against his and wrapped my arm around his back.

“Hey, angel,” he breathed against my hair as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pressed a quick kiss against my head.

“Hi, Harry,” I said back, my voice devoid of emotion.

He didn’t get a chance to say anything else, thank God, as Alessandra pressed against his other side. Her hand found mine behind Harry’s back, and she squeezed it firmly. Taking a deep breath, I wrapped my other arm around Martha. I forced myself to focus on the girls around me and their excitement, allowing it to seep into me. I was finally an Angel, and I wouldn’t allow this man to ruin it for me.

“Alright, Angels,” the photographer called for our attention, “give me a smile.”

“Ya, girls,” Harry spoke up with a cheeky grin, “it’s not everyday you get a picture with a famous person.”

Everyone laughed with a big smile, and I forced myself to join in. The photographer snapped a few pictures, all of us changing poses slightly for each one. On the final picture, I decided to give them something I knew the fans would love. While the other girls blew kisses at the camera, our signature final pose, I pushed up on the tips of my toes to press a kiss to Harry’s cheek.

I knew Harry’s face was one of shock because Daisy died laughing. She quickly dismissed is, telling us how long before show time. I scurried off before Harry could catch me. He would definitely have a lot to say about that kiss, but I refused to talk to him until after the show. This was the biggest day of my life, and Harry Styles had already messed it up enough. 

Thirty minutes later, I was strapped into my wings and the show was starting. The first segment was punk themed, and Harry sang a song I was told was titled “Kiwi.” I didn’t have to walk in this part, so I allowed myself to relax and just enjoy what I was apart of. Although it was my most important job yet, the show was meant to feel like a giant party. Things ran more smoothly and looked better when the models were having fun, and as I listened to my first love’s song for the first time, I found myself having fun.

By the time Harry’s song and the first segment of the show were over, all of my apprehension and dread about Harry being here was gone. I was filled with excitement for the chance to walk in the biggest fashion show of the year as an official Victoria’s Secret Angel. My body buzzed as I bounced on my toes, ready to open the Porcelain Angels section of the show.

There was a short interlude as Harry left the runway and the next performers came on. Thankfully, Harry didn’t notice me off to the side with my back to him as I watched the screen showing the runway.

“Y/N, on deck,” Olivier called, waving me over to the curtain.

I grinned and took a deep breath. It was time to shine.