#back from Oahu

[dearduende]

residual

eager to wash the airplane off me

but not the salty waves from my hair

to scrub the travel from my skin

but not yet exfoliate the tan steeping

to step back into city life

but move at the island pace

where hours are clocked only

by the sun moving across the sky

sunsets glow fiery behind mountains

savored from the lineup in a bikini

and part of me is still there

and part of me is back here

drawn to return like migratory birds

finding their way on instinct

older than science and time

where am I from

and where do I reside

when parts of me are pulled

to many places elsewhere

may I find my home

for now right here

[sxcretricciardo]

here for you

The sun was setting over the picturesque beaches of Oahu, casting a warm glow over the island. Steve McGarrett, head of the Five-0 Task Force, had just wrapped up a long day. He was looking forward to a quiet evening with Y/N, his girlfriend. She worked for a secret government agency, and their relationship was often punctuated by periods of absence and secrecy, but they made it work.

As Steve poured himself a drink, his phone buzzed. It was Y/N. Smiling, he answered, "Hey, you. How's it going?"

There was a pause, and then he heard her voice, tense and hurried. "Steve, I don't have much time. I've been compromised. I have to go under. I just wanted to tell you that I love you."

His heart skipped a beat. "What? Y/N, what are you talking about? Where are you?"

"I can't say. It's too dangerous. Just... trust me. I’ll contact you when it’s safe."

"Y/N, wait!" But the line went dead.

Steve stood frozen for a moment, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Y/N was in danger, and he needed to find her. Without wasting a second, he called his team.

Within minutes, Danny Williams, Chin Ho Kelly, Kono Kalakaua, and Jerry Ortega assembled at headquarters. Steve briefed them on the situation.

"Y/N's been compromised and has gone under. We need to find her. Start pulling every contact, every lead. We don’t have much time."

The team sprang into action. Danny reached out to his contacts within law enforcement, while Chin and Kono scoured surveillance footage from various parts of the island. Jerry used his tech expertise to trace Y/N's last known locations and digital footprints.

Hours turned into a day, and the team worked tirelessly, driven by Steve's determination. They finally caught a break when Jerry intercepted a communication indicating that Y/N might be held in a storage unit on the outskirts of Honolulu.

Steve led the charge, with Danny, Chin, and Kono flanking him. They arrived at the storage facility, the place eerily quiet. Moving cautiously, they approached the designated unit. Steve's heart pounded in his chest as he forced the lock open.

Inside, they found Y/N, bound and bruised, but alive. Relief washed over Steve as he rushed to her side, carefully untying her restraints.

Just as Steve was about to lift her to her feet, a shadow moved in the corner of the unit. Steve barely had time to react before a burly man lunged at him. The kidnapper had been waiting, anticipating a rescue attempt.

Steve managed to sidestep the initial attack, but the kidnapper was strong and determined. They grappled, fists flying and grunts filling the air. Steve landed a solid punch to the man's jaw, but the kidnapper countered with a blow to Steve's midsection that knocked the wind out of him.

Y/N, though weak and still recovering from her ordeal, wasn't about to let Steve fight alone. She grabbed a metal rod from the floor and, summoning her remaining strength, swung it at the kidnapper's legs. The man stumbled, giving Steve the opening he needed.

With a swift and powerful move, Steve disarmed the kidnapper and subdued him, pinning him to the ground. Breathing heavily, he looked over at Y/N, who was leaning against the wall, exhausted but determined.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

She nodded, managing a weak smile. "I am now."

Back at the Five-0 headquarters, Y/N received medical attention. Steve never left her side, his worry gradually easing now that she was safe. The team debriefed, planning their next moves to neutralize the threat that had endangered Y/N.

Later, as the night settled in, Steve and Y/N sat on the balcony of his house, overlooking the ocean. The ordeal had taken its toll, but they were together.

"Y/N," Steve began, breaking the comfortable silence. "I want you to join Five-0. I can't go through something like this again, not knowing where you are or if you're safe. I want you closer to me, where I can protect you."

She looked at him, seeing the earnestness in his eyes. "Steve, I don't know..."

"You'd be an incredible asset to the team. We could use someone with your skills. And more importantly, I need you here, with me."

Y/N smiled, a mix of exhaustion and affection in her eyes. "Alright, Steve. I'll join Five-0."

He pulled her into a tight embrace, the fear and worry of the past days melting away. They had faced danger and uncertainty, but in the end, their bond had only grown stronger. Together, they were ready to take on whatever challenges lay ahead.

[kayhi808]

First crush ask…

Has Miss Abby been to the beach? I’m thinking Bucky takes her and Mama on holiday somewhere warm and cashes in awe of the waves and so much sand.

But maybe she’s also worried about papas arm as well, or something else even.

🩵🩵

Oooh, I like this one! I'm bringing this little family to my island. Bucky is treating you and your baby to a Hawai'i vacation.

Abby starts to take off in a run, but your quick reflexes snag her arm. She lets out a scream, "No, Mama!" She continues to struggle, fighting to escape to the water.

"Abigail! Stop it. You need to put on sunscreen and your floaties. Do you want to drown?"

"I needs to shims!" Growling to be set free.

Peeling off his shirt, Bucky throws it onto one of the rented lounge chairs the resort provided to you. Ducking under the umbrella to look Abby in the eyes, "Or we can just go back home, and you don't get to swim at all," giving her a smirk & a careless shrug.

That stops Abby's struggling, but a frown remains on her face. "C'mere," pulling her close to you and start applying sunscreen.

You and Bucky were able to carve out some time off together and Bucky decided you all needed a family vacation. The next thing you know, Bucky booked a trip to Hawai'i. It has a Disney resort on the west side of the island of Oahu, Aulani. You'll be away from the hustle of Waikiki and the city, to hopefully get some true relaxation. Or as much as you can with a wild Abigail on your hands just dying to get into the ocean.

Not wanting Abby to be in pain first thing on vacation, you slather on the sunscreen. You'd be set for the day at the beach if Abby would stop squirming. "Mama, this sticky and stinky."

"Stop complaining." You stick her in her floaties and start applying sunscreen to yourself. Abby darts off again but Bucky scoops her up making her scream. "Abigail!"

Throwing her head back, "I need to SHIMS!"

"You need to wait for me & Mama. Do you want us sunburned?"

Frowning, "No." Bucky kisses her cheek and sets her down and she adds, "But pwease hurries up."

You and Bucky quickly get each other's back and hard to reach spots under Abby's winter soldier glare. Arms akimbo. Foot tapping. She's such a brat sometimes. Holding out your hand to her, "Ok, let's go!" She grabs your hand, squealing as you both run down to the ocean's edge. This isn't grey/green waters of Coney Island or the Jersey Shore. Crystal clear water meets you, cool and refreshing. Abby runs until she full body plops into the water.

She quickly stands, rubbing her face, "Mama!" She starts sputtering and spitting. You pick her up trying to wipe the water off her face. "It taste junk!"

Laughing, "I know! Keep your mouth closed. Your eyes too. The salty water is going to burn. This isn't like the pool.

Bucky comes running over,"Here Abby Baby, put these on so the water doesn't get in your eyes." You laugh at the ridiculously pink sparkly goggles.

"When did you get that?!"

Shrugging, "Before we left." He's so sweet you give him a kiss.

******

See the line where the sky meets the sea

It calls me

And no one knows how far it goes

If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me

One day I'll know

If I go, there no telling how far I'll go

Floating on your back, splashing around, building sandcastles, you and Abby sing Moana's song on repeat. Out of tune, but wholeheartedly. Abby spent the day swimming and playing with you and Bucky. She kept an eye out for "Pudge" the fish. If she found him Bucky said he'd buy her a sandwich so she could feed him.

Abby is not a fan of sand. It sticks to her body and hands and gets into the worst places. "It so much dirt Mama!" She waddles up to you and Bucky from her toys at the shore.

Bucky smiles, " It's sand, not dirt."

"I tinks it gots in my pants." She gives a little shimmy. "I don't wikes it!" You laugh, scooping her up and carrying her back into the ocean. You hold her with one arm while trying to empty out her swim bottom with the other. "Mama," she gasps, "my butts is out!"

Looking around, "No one can see. Do you want sand in your pants?" She giggles at that & shakes her head. "Ok then." You give her a little shake & adjust her bottom, "You should be fine until we get back to the hotel and take a bath." You smack her bottom as she runs back to the chairs with Bucky. "Mama had my butts out!"

Bucky cracks up, "What??"

"We shook out the sand in her bottom."

Abby wiggles her bottom, "I thought the fishies would bite my tushie!"

*****

The air was warm and balmy as you stepped out onto the lawn. You see the sun dipping below the palm trees and you can imagine the beautiful sunset you'll get tonight. You and Abby are dressed in sundresses. The weather being so much warmer than New York. There's live music being played as you make you way to the luau grounds. You and Bucky get kukui nut and shell leis upon arrival. Abby got the choice of a necklace with Maui's fishhook or a shell lei. She was excited to get the necklace.

"I thought you didn't like Maui for saying Pu'a was boat snack?" Abby pretends not to hear you as she examines her new necklace. Feeling a little guilty knowing Pu'a is propped up against her pillow back in the room.

There were so many demonstrations prior to dinner. You were able to leisurely wander from station to station. Abby found a temporary tattoo station, which she needed one. "Mama, I need one. Pwease!" How could you say no?

Then she found the lei making stand. She made a little orchid wristlet. The colors were so vibrant.

She also wanted a ukulele after taking a quick lesson. You said you'd think about it, but by the look on Bucky's face, you knew he was bringing a ukulele home.

By that time, Moana made an appearance inviting everyone to dinner. Abby squealed, jumping up and down, "Mama, lookit! That's Moana! She's here!!" Bucky grabs Abby, throwing her up on his shoulders so she can wave and get Moana's attention. Abby insisted Moana waves directly at her.

Once dinner and dessert was completed, the evening show started.it was not overly Disney or cheesy. Moana, Minnie and Mickey made an appearance, which thrilled Abby. The show was very educational, the history of the land was told through beautiful dance and song. Abby lost her mind when they invited the children to gather in front of the stage to participate in the dance. Covering her mouth to cover a gasp, "Oh Mama! Cans I go?"

"Get up there! Absolutely!"

Once she was up there, she kept waving to you and Bucky. You also saw the little furrows on her brow trying to learn the dance. Your baby is so adorable. Bucky kept inching closer to get pictures and videos of Abby dancing the hula. He had to send it back for the team to see. Just like a proud father would.

The evening ended with the famous fire dance, telling the story of how Maui fought with the Sun God, Kāne. Abby was cheering and clapping so hard her palms were bright pink and you thought her voice would be hoarse the following morning. This trip was going to be one she never forgets. Bucky keeps bringing magic into your lives. Giving you a life you never thought imaginable.

@waywardhunter95 @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unax @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @buckitostan @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05 @ozwriterchick @crazyunsexycool @baw1066 @nommingonfood @jvanilly

[section-chief-prentiss]

Love Story

Summary: You and Emily both propose on the same day during your vacation. 

Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Reader

Word Count: 1986

Ao3 

You closed your eyes, letting the salty ocean air fill your lungs. One arm rested on the balcony railing outside the hotel room you shared with your girlfriend, Emily, who was fast asleep inside.

In the two years you’d been with Emily, this was the first vacation you’d taken together, and you couldn’t resist the idea of watching the sunrise at least once on this trip.

So you’d dragged yourself out of bed, still in your pajamas, and stood at the edge of your balcony, waiting for the initial whispers of sunrise to appear. Emily had never been an early riser, so you knew better than to wake her. 

When you opened your eyes, you could faintly spot, where the sky kissed the ocean, hints of orange and yellow. You were so mesmerized by the sight that you didn’t hear your love walking up behind you until she spoke. 

“Hey, you,” Emily said, wrapping her arms around your torso and setting her head on your shoulder. “What on Earth are you doing awake at this hour?”

You giggled. “I wanted to watch the sunrise. You can go back inside; I’ll come back to bed after.”

Emily nestled deeper against your shoulder and hummed. “I’m okay right here.”

As profilers with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, time off wasn’t easy to come by—especially for two of you at a time. 

Fortunately, the team’s caseload lightened up in time for you to take a week off, right around your second anniversary, and with it being January and miserable in DC, your destination was an easy choice—Hawaii.

Emily, ever the world traveler, knew of an amazing resort on the beach in Oahu, so you left the planning in her hands.

You had your own agenda for this trip. And today was the day.

As the sun rose higher, yellows and oranges won their battle against the dark blue sky, making way for light blues and pinks. 

The air was humid, and getting warmer with the sunrise, but you had never felt so content. 

“It’s beautiful,” Emily murmured. You nodded in agreement.

You knew after three months of dating that Emily was the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. But you only got one chance at a proposal with your dream girl, so planning proved to be more difficult than anticipated. And while you considered your BAU team your family, you knew that if you told any of them, the secret would be out within an hour. So confiding in them was, unfortunately, not an option. 

As soon as the trip was booked, you knew this was your opportunity. Buying the ring was easy; you’d both known what you wanted and had openly discussed it almost the entire time you’d been together. Hiding the ring was harder—you had to move it every few days in case Emily decided to snoop. 

She always had a sense for secrets and sniffing them out. 

You blamed yourself for falling in love with a profiler.

“What do you want to do today?” Emily unwrapped her arms from you, and as soon as her touch was gone, you missed it. She took her place next to you, leaning against the balcony railing. 

With vacations being so rare for you both, you’d decided together that you didn’t want to plan too much and overbook yourselves. Instead, you made a few dinner reservations and left it at that. 

“Seems like a good day for the beach,” you said, nodding at the so-far empty beach below you. It wouldn’t be that way for long, you knew. But you weren’t in a hurry. 

“Whatever you want,” Emily smiled. “But first… back to bed?” 

You took your girlfriend’s hand with a smile of your own. “Whatever you want.”

***

Some time later, you and Emily were perched in lounge chairs on the beach. At first, you weren’t sure if you remembered how to relax, but laying back on a chaise in your favorite swimsuit next to your favorite person in the world—you remembered.

Your only request when Emily planned this trip was that one of your dinner reservations was on your second night. The first night you knew you’d be too tired from the travel, but you wanted to propose at the beginning of your trip so you could spend the rest of your time off celebrating. 

But the more time you spent on the beach, the more you started to look at your phone, wondering how early was too early to start getting ready. You wanted to look nice but not so nice that you’d make Emily suspicious, and finding that balance wasn’t going to be a short endeavor.

You opened your mouth to ask what time your reservation was—even though you’d engrained the time in your memory—when Emily spoke up first.

“We should head back soon if we want to make our reservation,” she paused. “If that’s alright.”

“Is it that time already?” you asked, forcing nonchalance in your voice. To aid in your ruse, you glanced at your phone for the tenth time in the last half hour. “Yeah, let’s head back.”

You tossed your towel around your waist and headed back to the room in a comfortable silence. 

Your hair took longer than Emily’s to style, so you mutually agreed to let you shower first—fighting the urge to ask Emily to just shower with you, but you couldn’t afford the time you would lose—and took the time to run through what you wanted to say when you proposed. 

Your reservation was early enough that you hoped to walk back on the beach during sunset, and that’s when you would get on one knee and ask her to be your wife.

It would be perfect; you were confident. 

***

You paused in front of the full-length mirror, appraising yourself. Your hair was curled and half-up—the beach was windy earlier, and you didn’t want to be eating your hair when you proposed. Your makeup was light, and you’d decided on a black romper. You’d packed a few sun dresses just in case, but you didn’t want to flash anyone when you got on one knee.

How did people do this? Your palms sweat just thinking about what was coming.

Across your body, you had a simple black bag, just big enough for your phone, wallet, and ring case. 

As soon as you’d dressed, you’d thrown the bag over your shoulder and kept it close. The last thing you needed was Emily throwing her phone in your purse—something she often did, as she didn’t usually like to carry her own bag—and stumbling across the ring box. 

But when your beautiful girlfriend stepped out of the bathroom—her raven hair curled and bangs perfectly styled, dressed in a skin-tight red dress that took your breath away—she had a similar black cross-body slung over her own shoulder.

In hindsight, that should’ve been the first clue of many. But you were too preoccupied with your own secret to pick up on hers. 

“Stunning,” you breathed, leaning forward to kiss your love.

“I know you are,” her mouth smiling against your own, “but how do I look?”

You giggled, heart bursting. It took all of your willpower to not take out the ring box right then and get this whole thing over with.

But she deserved a proposal more special than one in a hotel room, so you bit your tongue.

“Ready to go?”

She nodded. “Ready when you are.”

You laced your fingers through hers and followed her out of the room and through the hotel’s doors.

“I thought we’d walk, take the scenic route, since we have some time,” Emily said. “The beach will take us right to the restaurant.”

Your heart skipped a beat. If you took the beach on the way there, would she think twice about you requesting the same on the way home?

No, you thought. What she’ll find weird is if you say no right now.

So you swallowed your panic and pressed a smile across your features. “Whatever you want, love.”

She squeezed your hand and took the lead. 

“Are you having a nice time?” Emily asked. You weren’t sure if you were just projecting your feelings onto her, but did she sound… nervous?

“I could stay here forever,” you answered. “I don’t know how we can go back to winter in DC after this.”

“You’ll be ready to get back to work by the time vacation is over,” she said with a wink. “I know you too well.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you sang. “I think I could stay here forever with you and be perfectly happy.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

You opened your mouth to suggest honeymooning here, but caught yourself before you gave yourself away completely. 

Instead, you turned to stare out at the water. “It’s a beautiful view.” 

Your walking slowed before coming to a halt, both of you admiring the crashing waves lapping not far from your feet. 

“It is,” she said.

You turned to find her eyes boring into yours and flushed. 

“The two years I’ve spent with you have been the happiest of my life,” Emily said with a sincerity that stilled you. “I never knew I could love somebody this much until I met you.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. Emily released your hand, and you contemplated reaching for your purse. Was this the moment you’d been waiting for?

“I feel the same way,” you said, fighting the lump in your throat.

“I’m not always the most eloquent with words,” she admitted, patting at a stray tear in her eye. You chuckled, thinking of the times she couldn’t place what she wanted to say and started mumbling in other languages until she figured it out. “But I need you to know that you’re my everything. My love, mi amor, mon amour, amore mio, moya lyubov…”

She trailed off, reaching into her cross-body and pulled out something she concealed in her hands. You frowned.

“I know you love it when I speak French,” she said with a mischievous grin, kneeling down before you, on two knees instead of one, due to the dress she wore. “So, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, veux-tu m'épouser?” 

You froze. You knew what that sentence meant—it was one you’d looked up online and practiced relentlessly in the mirror to get your pronunciation just right for your proposal, as you knew French was her favorite language.

When you didn’t answer, she translated, “Will you marry me?”

Tears poured from your eyes. When you opened your mouth to answer, a laugh bubbled up instead. 

Now it was Emily’s turn to frown. “Love?”

Once you started, it was impossible to stop. You fell to your own knees in front of her, laughing and crying in equal measure. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, but you held up a hand.

“You had to beat me to the punch, didn’t you?”

“I don’t understand…” she said.

You reached into your bag, procuring your ring box, clearing the tears from your face with your free hand. The rest of your speech was moot now, but you couldn’t let the French you learned go to waste. 

“Emily Elizabeth Prentiss, je t'aime de tout mon cœur, et pour toujours. Veux-tu m'épouser?” 

Emily gaped, glancing from you and the ring in your hand to the ring in hers. In the blink of an eye, her own face was covered with tears.

“Yes,” she gasped.

“Me too,” you whispered.

You exchanged rings, not even taking a moment to admire the fact that, of course, she got you the exact ring you wanted, before throwing your arms around your fiancee and pressing your lips to hers.

When you finally pulled away, you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face.

“We’re not making our dinner reservation, are we?”

“God, I hope not,” she breathed before pulling you in again. 

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[slutforsilverfoxes]

Sleight of Hand

[A/N: I DID IT! I finished my Steve x reader undercover op fic, and I kind of love it??? I hope those of you who were looking forward to it enjoy it too 😈🖤 Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to write this as a full blown fic! Over 5.7k words hehe whoops]

—————

When your former mentor had contacted you about an opening at her coral reef research lab, moving from Camden to Oahu had been a no brainer. You’d packed up your life in New Jersey and been on a plane to the Aloha State within a week. Your favorite cousin, who’s truthfully more like the big brother you always wanted, had been elated to hear the news, welcoming you at the airport with open arms and two simple rules.

“Always answer the phone when I call so you don’t worry me to death,” Danny had said, holding up one finger, “and two,” he added a second, “you’re an adult and you can date anyone on this island-”

“Thank… you?”

“-but stay away from this schmuck.”

The schmuck in question had simply rolled his eyes, draped a beautiful lei around your neck, and greeted you with a warm hug. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Steve.”

Your confident promise to your cousin had been broken a whopping two months later- and no, you hadn’t ignored one of his phone calls.

“Did you get me a beer?” you ask with a teasing lilt to your voice, wringing out your wet hair before dropping down onto the bench beside your boyfriend. A quick glance around reveals that Danny’s over by the shrimp truck with Kamekona, and you lean forward to steal a kiss before putting some space between yourself and your favorite brunette.

“I surely did not,” Steve sasses back and takes a swig of his ice cold beverage. “Alcohol and diving do not mix. But I did happen to get a mango smoothie from that one place down the road this pretty girl I know really likes.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he responds, a goofy grin spreading across his handsome face. “But, uh, she didn’t show, so I guess you can have it.”

You laugh and give him a playful shove, then let out a content hum as you pop the straw through the lid and take a grateful sip. “So good,” you moan in delight, and Steve has to bite his lip to refrain from making a comment when he spots Danny approaching the table with your regular orders.

“Hey, you.” Your cousin greets you with a kiss on the cheek before taking up residence on the bench across from you and Steve. “Why’re you sitting all the way over there, huh? You like that clown better or somethin’?”

“This guy?” you snort, taking your lunch off the tray and rifling through the napkins in search of a fork.

“Ouch.” Steve winces as if burned by your comment, and you surreptitiously squeeze his thigh beneath the table.

“So tell me about this case you’ve got,” you coax your cousin to change the subject, spearing some grilled veggies on the plastic fork’s tines and scooping up a respectable mound of rice on top.

“So there’s a diamond smuggling ring-” Danny starts, and you immediately cut him off with, “Shut up, that doesn’t happen in real life.” You turn to Steve for confirmation, but there’s no provocative arch to his eyebrow or twitching of his lips to suggest this is a joke. “Are you serious right now? BFFR, Danno.”

“I don’t- I don’t know what that means. Why are you making me feel old?”

“Be fucking for real,” you and Steve supply in unison, and you smile proudly at him. “You’re learning!”

“Between you and Gracie, I keep up, okay?”

“Oh, between my baby cousin and my daughter, you- okay, that’s excellent,” Danny proclaims, his tone indicating it’s anything but. “Anyway, they’re using poker games as a cover to uh, collect their product, shall we say.”

“There’s enough rich people on Oahu with actual diamonds?” you ask, incredulous. “And here I am working like a pleb for paper currency.”

“Word,” Steve seconds your statement, raising his beer in a toast. You clink your smoothie against it before taking another refreshing sip and asking, “So how’re you gonna catch them?”

“Well, there’s a high roller tournament on Friday night that we’re betting they’ll hit. We wanted to go in undercover and flush them out but…” Steve trails off and gazes at you thoughtfully, but Danny’s shaking his head before the words have even formed on the brunette’s lips.

“No, absolutely not. Don’t even think about it, Steve.”

“What?” You turn to him, excitement coursing through your veins at the way his eyes have lit up. “Think about it! And tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“You could go undercover with me to the tournament, help me gather some intel. Maybe we get you to confirm the diamonds are actually in their possession and-”

“No!” Danny chimes in again. “What’s the matter with you, huh? These guys have killed two people, Steve. It’s too dangerous for her.”

“First off, fuck that-”

“Language.”

With an eye roll, you amend, “Forget that. More importantly, shouldn’t Danny go undercover? You kind of suck at poker, Steve.” You feel a sharp pinch at your side and you yelp in protest, slapping at the Navy SEAL. “It’s true, you little-”

“You’re not going,” Danny says definitively. “What about Tani?”

Steve shakes his head. “Tani and Junior have already questioned two of the men involved. They’ll be made before they even get to the table.”

You cross your arms and level your cousin with a smirk. “Sounds like you need me, Danno.”

“Then I’m going with you,” he declares.

“Yeah, no, hard pass,” you backpedal. “Even as a former thespian, there’s no way I can convincingly play arm candy for you without it being weird.”

“So, it’s settled then, little Williams,” Steve says with a grin. “You and me. Friday night. The high roller table at the Ilikai Hotel.”

__________

“This whole affair is giving very much Ocean’s Thirteen,” you remark as you lean into the mirror to line your puckered lips with Devil’s Den red. “The diamond heist, the poker game… it’s all so exciting.”

“Except this isn’t Hollywood and a bullet will actually hurt,” your cousin ever so graciously reminds you, trying to tug the slit ends of your dress together and then grunting in displeasure when the action reveals more of your bare back. “You’ve gotta be kidding me with this dress, babe,” he tuts. “Why’s it so expensive if it’s missing half the fabric, huh?”

You shrug and answer with a smile, “Don’t ask me! Your buddy picked it out.”

“Oh yeah, I bet he did,” Danny grumbles under his breath. “I mean, you’d be the most beautiful woman in the room if you were wearing a paper bag, but this- this dress-”

“Danno,” you laugh, completing the finishing touches on your makeup before turning around to squeeze his shoulder. “Remember one of the first things you said to me when I stepped off the plane?”

“Don’t date Steve?” he offers hopefully with a grimace.

That ship has sailed and it’s not docking anytime soon, you think wryly. “No, you goofball,” you respond instead, “that I’m an adult. Everything’s going to be fine!”

“Alright, okay, but just- just promise me you’ll be smart tonight and play it safe.”

With three fingers held aloft, you answer solemnly, “I promise.”

“And don’t let Steve talk you into doing something stupid, okay? No honeypot insanity or trying to sneak into rooms or anything, you got it?”

You press your lips to your cousin’s cheek and then wipe away the smudged lipstick. “Relax, Danny. The man’s a former SEAL. What could possibly go wrong?”

You open the door of the en-suite bathroom with a small smirk tugging at your lips as Danny splutters on behind you in answer to your incendiary question.

As soon as your stiletto touches down on the carpeted floor of the luxury hotel room, you’re hit with an enthusiastic, “Woah, baby!”

“You like?” you ask with a grin, holding your arms out at your sides and giving Tani a spin to show off the dress.

Tani laughs appreciatively and lets out a low whistle. “You are smokin’ hot. I am looking… disrespectfully,” she concludes after pretending to mull over her word choice. She sneaks a glance over at her boss who’s trying and failing to draw his gaze away from the high slit that’s showing off a majority of your leg, then steps closer to you and drops her voice. “And I’m not the only one.” You shush your friend quickly and she ducks away from your playful smack with another peal of laughter.

“Wow,” Steve breathes out, practically sporting heart-eyes as he drinks in the black silk hugging every curve of your body. His piercing blue eyes blaze a trail of heat from the stilettos on your feet to the low bun your hair is swept into, and you feel your skin grow warm under his attention.

“You look pretty wow yourself,” you remark, appreciating the smart tux he’s donned, the perfectly tailored suit accenting every defined muscle on his powerful body. The blush on your face deepens when your gaze meets his, catching a glimpse of a hungry predator on the prowl.

“No, but you, Y/N,” Steve counters, his voice a low growl, “you just- I mean- wow.” He looks ready to pounce, and you’re positive he would forego the event in lieu of spending the evening in bed if there wasn’t a case riding on your performance tonight- and your cousin who you’re keeping your relationship a secret from less than a foot away.

Danny snaps in his face, directing the brunette’s attention to him. “Don’t you gawk at her like that. Paws off my baby cousin, you hear me? Better use the right head tonight, Steven, I swear.”

You dart your eyes over to your boyfriend and make an intentionally obscene gesture with your hands, indicating which head you’re thinking about. He covers up his laugh with a cough, then hurries to reassure his partner. “Danno, c’mon. I’m a perfect gentleman. Aren’t I, Y/N?”

“You’re an animal, is what you are,” your beloved cousin continues his tirade, answering for you. “Just remember I’m watching, huh? I’ve got eyes on all the cameras.”

“Alright, people, focus now,” Lou admonishes gently, handing you and Steve small communications devices that you fit snugly into your ear, out of plain sight. “Y’all remember the plan?”

“Stand there and look pretty. Don’t get shot at,” you dutifully list off your objectives for the op with an exaggerated waggling of your eyebrows while Steve tests the microphone tucked away in his bow tie. “As an unofficial member of Five-0 now, do I get a gun?”

“Are you insane?” Danny cries as Steve asks, genuinely, “Where would you even hide a gun in that dress?”

Unable to resist, you shoot him a coy smile and challenge, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Commander?”

“Woah.” Your cousin holds his hands up between the two of you and declares, “Flag on the play. Don’t- Don’t do that. No flirting. Get in, entice Lee to steal your fake diamonds, get out. Deal?”

“We’ve got it, Detective,” Steve huffs, bending down to adjust his ankle holster.

Junior approaches then with a gorgeous looking diamond necklace and announces, “Got our bait here, boss.”

“Excellent,” Steve says, taking the jewelry from him and motioning for you to turn around. He gathers the necklace in one hand, his fingers drifting across your shoulder and collarbone to grasp one end before he fits it snugly around your neck. The simple touch has your veins flooding with heat, but you tamp down your reaction, keenly aware of the multiple sets of eyes on the two of you. “Tight enough?” he murmurs, and you nod in response, not yet trusting your voice.

“Oh, and one more thing!” Lou reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box, opening it with a flourish to reveal one simple silver band, the other studded with diamonds. “Little extra bling for good measure.” Your cheeks flush at the sight, and you turn your face away from Steve while you slide the wedding ring onto your finger.

One glance at its mate on your boyfriend’s hand has you weak in the knees, and Tani whispers, “Girl, you are down bad.”

“Shut up,” you hiss, fighting the blush threatening to give you away. Steve approaches with one eyebrow raised in curiosity, and you clear your throat before taking the arm he’s offered to you. You tuck your hand into the crook of his elbow, pressing yourself close to him and sending a sharp look to your older cousin when you feel his eyes boring holes into the two of you. ��Knock it off, Danny.”

He cups your face between his hands and pulls you closer to press a kiss to your forehead with an apologetic smile. “Be smart. Be safe. I love you. You watch her back, okay?” He directs the last comment to his best friend with all the gruffness of a father sending his daughter off to prom.

“I will, Danny,” Steve answers solemnly, squeezing your hand.

“Alright, buddy. But not too close, okay? Remember, I’m always watch-”

You pull the door shut behind you with a sigh. Steve guides you down the hallway towards the elevators, and your grip on his arm tightens at the prospect of what you’re about to do.

Steve immediately intuits your nerves and offers a soothing, “Hey, you’re okay.” He takes your left hand in his, his right hand coming to rest on the small of your back so you feel completely enveloped by his steadying presence. He lets his thumb drift back and forth across your skin, just above where the fabric drapes at the base of your spine, and your comms come crackling to life. “Higher.”

Steve shifts his hand up with a chuckle, and your cousin begrudgingly remarks, “Better.”

The moment relieves some of your tension, and you shake your head before pressing the call button for the elevator. The lavish gold doors open to reveal an already sizable group dressed to the nines and clearly heading to the big casino-sponsored event downstairs. Steve applies gentle pressure on your back to guide you into the elevator, and as you descend each floor and the crowd grows, you’re forced closer together in the corner. “You’re wearing a new perfume,” Steve comments, his lips right by your ear to avoid your conversation being picked up by his mic.

“How observant,” you reply. “My boyfriend bought it for me.”

“He has excellent taste,” he continues the charade, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at the compliment. With the crowd in the elevator blocking the camera’s view, Steve allows his fingers to glide down your spine until they reach their intended destination, and he sucks in a sharp breath when he realizes you’re not wearing anything under your dress. You smirk to yourself but quickly lose the upper hand, forced to swallow down a gasp when the elevator doors open into the lobby and Steve brazenly palms your ass while calmly stating, “Target acquired.”

“We see him, too,” Junior affirms. “East corner of the lobby, talking to the concierge.”

“Come on, darling,” Steve croons, settling into character- or rather dropping your usual act. “Let’s go win me some more money to spend on you.”

__________

“No entry without invitation, sir.”

You crane your neck to look up at the beefy bodyguard at the entrance to the high roller section. His biceps must be the size of your head, if not bigger, he’s got at least 6 inches on Steve, and his hulking form is completely blocking your view of the room behind him.

“Honey,” you murmur, “you brought it with you, didn’t you?”

Steve gives you an easy smile and pulls a gold-plated poker chip from the breast pocket of his tux. “Of course, my love.”

“Alright, enough with the cutesy nicknames,” Danny gripes, and you’re forced to stifle a laugh at Tani admonishing him in the background. The security guard pulls back the velvet rope to let you pass, and you duck behind the curtain to cross into the high roller area.

The room is a sea of expensive suits and sparkling cocktail dresses. A thick cloud of sweet-smelling smoke has settled in the air from the Cubans lit around the room, and the distinct symphony of ice clinking in glass tumblers joins the hum of dealers murmuring at their tables.

“Why don’t you go get us a drink and I’ll find a table to join?”

“The usual?” you purr in question, running your manicured fingers across the lapel of Steve’s suit.

“That’s perfect,” he assents, squeezing your hip before releasing you to do your own recon. Then you feel his fingers lace through yours and he murmurs, “Y/N, wait.” When you turn back to Steve, he tugs you closer by your connected hands and presses his lips to yours in a kiss that has your head buzzing before a drop of alcohol has even hit your tongue. “Lee’s watching,” he whispers against your mouth by way of explanation.

“Then let’s give him something to look at,” you respond with a glint in your eye, winding your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. Steve’s left hand comes up to rest on the nape of your neck as the other caresses the diamond fitted snuggly against the hollow of your throat, making sure that it catches the light just so as you lay the groundwork for your operation tonight.

“He’s practically suffocating her,” Danny cries in the hotel room upstairs, hands raised while he stares at the two of you in disbelief. “What’d I say about ‘not too close’, huh? Animal.”

“Okay, lovebirds, get some air,” Lou chuckles over your comms. “Seems like our man Lee has his eye on the prize now.”

Junior leans over to Tani as he watches the two of you part ways on screen, tracking your path to the bar with a skeptical brow. “Is it just me, or was that… intense?”

“C’mon, Junes,” she laughs breezily. “That is theater at its finest.”

“One scotch on the rocks, and one vodka tonic that’s light on the tonic,” you place your order at the bar, absentmindedly letting your fingers drift over the diamonds as you peruse the top shelf.

“Easy there, cowgirl,” Danny coaches in your ear. You look around for the nearest mounted dome camera and make a face at it. “Real mature, kid.”

You feel a heated gaze on your back, and you turn to flash a coy smile at Mister Jason Lee, the suspected brains behind the smuggling operation, before collecting your drinks and making your way back to Steve.

“He’s interested,” you murmur in his ear as you bend down to place the glass between his hands on the table. “But we need to really hook him. Better start throwing some money around, hotshot.”

“Go ahead, baby,” Steve says animatedly, attracting the attention of the other players around the table. He makes a big show of closing his eyes and letting you bet for him, clearly unaffected by winning or losing a few hundred on your blind faith. As you lean over to push a stack of chips towards the pot, you hear an appreciative titter around the table and turn to find Steve with one eye very obviously peeking- but definitely not at what your hands are doing.

“Naughty boy,” you scold playfully, and he offers his palms in an act of mock deference.

“Can you blame the man?” one of the other players barks out through a raucous laugh, and you smile politely even though their leering eyes make your skin crawl. When you bend to retrieve your drink, Steve moves closer with a grin and whispers in your ear, “If one of them so much as breathes in your direction, I’ll break off every one of their fingers and feed them to ‘em, okay, mama?”

Acutely aware that Danny and the rest of the team are watching your every interaction, you suppress a shiver and murmur back, “Sir, yes, sir.”

Steve has mixed luck on his first few hands, but you’re sure to make a big show of celebrating each win with a kiss that has the older women in the room clutching their proverbial pearls and Lee hanging onto your every move. You toy with the necklace as a nervous habit each time Steve places his bet and let your fingers trail across his broad shoulders as he studies each hand, squeezing affectionately every now and then.

“I hate this,” Danny declares, a dismayed frown tugging at his lips as he watches you on the live CCTV footage. On the small screen, you drape your arms around Steve’s neck and press a kiss to his cheek before murmuring something in his ear that’s too quiet for the hidden mic to pick up but has Steve grinning like a fool. “I hate this. Why did I let him talk me into this? Putz.”

“Relax, Danny,” Lou attempts to soothe his ruffled feathers. “They’re doing great.”

“Hey, hey, look!” Tani calls to garner their attention. “They’ve lured Lee in. He’s about to make contact.”

“Good evening,” he opens politely, pulling out the chair next to Steve.

“Evening,” your boyfriend offers in kind.

“Do you mind if I join you for the next hand?”

“Not at all,” you purr. “Perhaps you can help break my husband’s current losing streak.”

“With a good luck charm like you on his arm?” Lee counters smoothly. “Impossible.”

“From your mouth to the cards’ ears,” you laugh airily. “Let me go get you another drink, my love,” you say to excuse yourself, running your hand down Steve’s arm to collect his glass. “Can I get you anything, Mister…?”

“Good girl,” Tani praises you quietly over your comms.

“Lee,” he supplies. “But please, call me Jason.” He raises the remaining amber liquid in his glass with a smile then says, “Perhaps when I finish this drink, I’ll have what your husband’s having. Clearly he’s got excellent taste.” The way his eyes wander across your body isn’t lost on you.

“Arrogant son of a bitch,” Lou scoffs to his fellow team members upstairs. “Not even using an alias.”

Steve notices Lee’s hungry gaze straying from his cards to appreciate your form against the backdrop of the expansive bar and remarks, “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Indeed,” he agrees, swirling the expensive liquor in his glass before taking a sip. “Women like that are hard to find. As rare as that diamond around her neck.”

“Laying it on thick there, buddy,” Danny comments over your comms, and you steal a glance over to the table. “Take the bait, Steve.”

“Only the finest for my girl.”

When you return to the table with your and Steve’s drinks in hand, he hooks his ankle around the chair beside him and tugs it close for you to sit by him. “Slick move, double-oh-five-oh,” you murmur appreciatively in his ear before nipping at his earlobe. He seems extra possessive now, his hand either resting on your thigh, or your hip, or the back of your neck, always maintaining some form of skin to skin contact while the other holds his cards, and you can’t help but wonder what transpired between the two men.

Leaning over, Steve presses his lips to the point where your pulse thrums along your throat and asks, “What should we bet, beautiful girl?”

“Hm?” Your gaze is hazy, more so drunk on Steve’s touch than alcohol, and the unbidden thought that you can’t wait for this guy to be in cuffs so you can take your man home crosses your mind. You run your manicured fingers down his cheek and answer coyly, “I want you to go all in.”

The two of you dutifully ignore Danny’s protesting in your ears at your overt innuendo as Steve pushes his stack of chips to the center of the table.

“A bold move,” Lee declares with a whistle.

“What’s a few thousand when I have a million on my arm, hm?” your boyfriend counters with a sly glance in your direction.

“Let’s make this a real game. I’m all in, too.”

The dealer flips over the river card, and Steve’s arm tenses beneath your fingertips. The other few players around the table toss their cards aside with a sigh, but Lee looks over at the two of you with a grin, presenting his hand- a flush- with a flourish. He stands to collect the pot but Steve holds up one finger.

“Not so fast, my friend,” he laughs, his confidence making your body grow warm. Steve lays his hand out on the table with a smug smile. “Full house. Aces over eights.”

You let out an excited squeal, genuinely delighted at such a triumphant win, and pull Steve toward you by the lapels of his jacket to mold your lips to his. He makes an appreciative noise low in the back of his throat and his hand comes up to cup your neck in an overtly possessive manner that has you melting into his embrace. You feel his fingers playing with the clasp resting at the nape of your neck, and then the necklace falls into your lap, the next phase of your ruse in full effect now.

You pull back with a gasp and pout at Steve, your eyes wide. “It broke!”

“Then I’ll buy you ten more,” he answers easily, shrugging off your concern. “Go put it upstairs and don’t give it a second thought, okay?” He presses his lips to yours once more and gives you an affectionate pat below the dip of your dress when you stand that has you blushing. You can practically feel Danny’s laser eyes through the screen where he’s watching you.

You make sure to wobble the tiniest bit when you move, steadying yourself on Steve’s shoulder with a laugh. “What was our room number, honey?”

He shares a knowing look with your mark, then jokes, “How many vodka tonics have you had, hm? How many fingers am I holding up?” He has his fist raised and you smack at his chest with an eye roll. “217, my love,” Steve supplies before taking your hand and kissing the wedding band adorning your ring finger.

You head upstairs to the empty room the team had rented for this very purpose and place the necklace in the carefully concealed safe in the cupboard. When you return to the table, you find Steve alone.

“Where’s our friend?”

“Turned in for the night after that big loss,” your boyfriend supplies, winking at you. “Shall we?”

He offers you his arm, and after collecting his winnings, the two of you make your way to the lobby to lie in wait. “You’re going to be insufferable about that win forever now, aren’t you?”

“You said I was bad at poker,” Steve reminds you.

“You still are,” you fire back. “Dumb luck one time does not a skilled player make.”

“Jeez, boss,” Junior’s voice comes crackling in over your comms. “Want some ice for that burn?”

“Would you just- would you shut up and focus on the room, please?”

After a few minutes of waiting with no sighting of Lee, you lean into Steve’s chest and ask the team, “Anything?”

“Girl, hop off the mic,” Lou admonishes you, and you jump back from Steve. “We can hear you when you talk normally. Damn.”

Leaning back in, this time you whisper, “Sorry, guys.”

“Hey, McGarrett?” Tani speaks calmly but you can hear an edge of tension to her voice. “At your 4 o’clock, there’s two guys in suits who’ve had an eye on your table all night. I thought they were watching for potential card counting but they seem to have taken an interest in you and Y/N.”

“Copy,” Steve says quietly, pulling you closer to his body in a protective move in case all hell breaks loose.

“Let’s just show them we’re not a threat,” you offer.

“You want to go back in?”

“I was thinking of a more… hands on approach.” As the clicking of Italian leather shoes on the polished floor grows closer to you, you spin Steve around and push him against the wall, crashing into him for a heated kiss. His strong hands caress your bare back for a moment before one stays put to hold you against him while the other deftly undoes the knot holding your bun, your hair cascading down to its full length so Steve can use it for better leverage. You can’t help but moan into his mouth as he kisses you like a man starved until you’re shaken from your stupor by yelling approaching the lobby.

“Hey! Five-0! Stop running, dumbass!”

Without opening your eyes or breaking your kiss, you stick your foot out at the opportune time, making contact with the ankle of your diamond thief’s leg so he goes sprawling. There’s a faint splash to your right, and when you pull away for a breath, you can see your necklace winking at you from the lobby fountain.

Danny catches up to the scene and yells, “Hands- hey! Hands!”

Lee raises his hands above his head with a sigh, but your cousin continues on, “You two! Yeah, let me see your hands, too!” You turn to find Danny’s gun aimed at the diamond smuggler, but his fiery eyes are trained on you while Tani and Junior wrestle the other two lackeys to the floor nearby. You exchange a look with Steve, then feel the warmth of his palms leave your bare skin as the two of you slowly raise your hands as well. Clearing your throat, you offer meekly, “We’re really into method acting?”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Danny growls, slapping zip ties on a defiant Lee and ratcheting them tight before hauling him to his feet.

“Hey, man, ease up,” he whines and Danny barks, “You shut up.” He continues lamenting his woes audibly as he leads the thief to the waiting squad car, grumbling, “Had enough of all of you. My baby cousin and my best friend. Christ. What am I gonna tell my aunt?”

Steve whistles low under his breath when Danny’s out of earshot, then mutters, “That could’ve gone better.”

“On the plus side,” you comment, “he still referred to you as his best friend.”

Tani shoots you a sympathetic smile when she passes by with the man she apprehended, but Junior wastes no time leaning in and playfully tutting, “Bus-ted.” Steve raises one eyebrow and he tacks on a hurried, “Sir.”

—————

With Lee and his crew stewing in interrogation and HPD clearing the scene, you’re left sitting on the couch in Steve’s office like kids who got sent to the principal for misbehaving in school. The three of you must look ridiculous from the rest of the team’s point of view- you clad in spare clothes from Steve’s wardrobe in his office that you’re positively swimming in, your 40-plus-year-old boyfriend in a full tux with his bow tie and top few buttons undone, hand pressed over his mouth to avoid saying something that will further incense your cousin, and said cousin still dressed in his shirt and tie pacing the floor in front of you with his hands flying to emphasize every point he makes.

“And you-” Danny pauses his pacing to point an accusatory finger at his best friend. “How old are you, huh?” The finger changes angles to point at you. “And how old is she?”

“Do you want me to actually answer the quest-”

“No, Steve, they’re rhetorical questions! I know how old you are, and I’ll tell you! Too old for my baby cousin, that’s how old, huh? What’s the matter with you?”

“Why don’t you let Y/N speak for herself, Danny? Gotta let her grow up, buddy, c’mon now.”

“Thank you!” you cry. “Can I say something?”

The blonde and brunette duo turns to look at you with the same infuriating, incredulous look before simultaneously deciding, “No.”

“Alright, y’know what?” You slap your hands against your thighs and stand with a huff. “You two-” You point back and forth between Steve and Danny before continuing, “You work out your little marital spat. Daniel, when you’re ready to talk to me like the adult I am, I’ll be with Tani. After I drink some water. Because I’m still buzzed.” With that, you attempt to walk out of your boyfriend’s office with your head held high but are thwarted by the door, pushing on it to no avail.

“It’s a pull-” Danny says quietly, and Steve jumps in at the same time, “Pull, babe, you gotta pull on the-”

“I got it,” you bark at them, tugging on the glass door with a grumble about architectural intuitiveness.

After a long conversation with Steve and a short interrogation with Lee and his associates, Danny finds you nursing a bottle of water in Tani’s office, as promised. She slips out as your cousin takes a seat next to you, pulling you into a hug that you allow yourself to melt into even though you mutter all the while under your breath about his overprotective nature.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t just tell me you were seeing Steve.”

Woah. What?

“What?” Danny laughs. “You were right. We should talk about this like adults.”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“The ‘Woah. What?’? Yeah, you did, babe, it was very much not an inside thought.”

“Excellent,” you laugh, nodding solemnly. “Well, um, thank you for that. And sorry for not coming out and just telling you.”

“Guess I made it pretty hard for you to tell me, huh? What with the two rules and-”

“Yup.”

“But everybody else knew or-”

“Tani knew, cause she’s my girl, y’know. Grace figured it out pretty quickly. Pretty sure Lou’s had a feeling since at least Thanksgiving, honestly.”

Danny sits back with a start, pulling away from your hug. “How long has this been going on?”

With a sigh, you realize it’s time to come clean. “You remember when I wanted to go on that dive with you, and you said I should take Steve since you don’t ‘do water’? Well, Steve took me to this really beautiful dive spot and we kind of made a day of it so…”

“That was like-”

“A while-”

“Like seven months ago!”

“I mean, we didn’t exactly start dating on that day- well, no, we kind of did,” you correct yourself quietly, biting your lip with a grimace, but Danny’s already halfway across the floor back to Steve’s office. Lou takes the opportunity to poke his head in to check on you and you draw out a slow, “So Lou…” He raises one eyebrow in question, and you dare to ask, “Would now be a bad time to tell Danny about Will and Grace?”

—————

Tagging you beautiful people who commented for me to finish writing this 🖤

@the-silentium @ilovewriting06 @jamie2305 @kelssssxd @cassadilasworld

[moanologue]

Say It Again

Chapter 4 - Flustered Detective

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Rating: Mature

Category: M/M

Fandom: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)

Relationship: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams

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The morning draped Oahu in a golden haze, the air thick with the promise of heat, heavy with the scent of salt and blooming plumeria carried on a lazy breeze. The sun is already climbing, painting the sky in streaks of coral and amber, as if the island itself is stretching awake. Inside our little slice of chaos, I wake to the grating screech of our ancient blender, a sound like a chainsaw chewing through metal, punctuated by Steve McGarrett’s frustrated growl. It was a noise that could wake the dead or at least me, still groggy from a night of tossing and turning, my dreams a tangle of case files and Steve’s infuriatingly smug grin.

“You piece of junk! Blend, damn it!” His voice carried that dangerous undercurrent he usually reserved for cornered suspects or, apparently, malfunctioning kitchen gadgets. It was the kind of tone that made you want to snap to attention or duck for cover, depending on your relationship with him.

I shuffle into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from my eyes, my bare feet sticking to the cool, slightly tacky tile floor. The air smelled of burnt coffee, a faint whiff of something grassy, like a lawnmower’s revenge, and the sharp, metallic tang of Steve’s determination. He stands at the counter, broad shoulders hunched, his Navy SEAL physique filling out a faded gray T-shirt that clung to him in ways I was actively trying not to notice. Dark hair was still mussed from sleep, and his jaw was set in a way that suggested he is waging a personal war against the blender.

“You can’t force it, babe,” I say, leaning against the counter, my voice still rough with the gravel of sleep. I cross my arms, the motion pulling at the thin cotton of my own T-shirt. “That thing’s older than both of us combined. It’s practically a museum piece. You should donate it to the Smithsonian under ‘Artifacts of Misguided Optimism.’”

Steve doesn’t look up. He jams the lid down harder, his knuckles whitening, as if sheer willpower could bully the machine into submission. “I need it to work, Danny,” he says, each word clipped and sharp, as he is defusing a bomb instead of making breakfast. “This is non-negotiable.”

I raise an eyebrow, fighting the urge to laugh. “Why? You whipping up another one of your lawn-smoothies? What is that, kale and regret? Spinach and existential dread?”

He snorts, finally pausing to shoot me a look. “It’s a protein blend. For stamina.” His lips twitch, not quite a smile, but close enough to make my chest do a weird little flip.

“Stamina,” I echo, dragging the word out, leaning forward just enough to catch his eye. “For what, exactly? Solving crimes in record time or swimming laps around Oahu with a pack of sharks trailing you?”

He straightens, wiping his hands on a dish towel, and that’s when the full, cocky, and infuriatingly charming smirk breaks free. “Both,” he says, stepping closer. “You questioning my multitasking skills, Danno?”

Before I can fire back with something witty or at least something that didn’t make me sound like a flustered idiot he moves past me, his hand grazing my lower back as he reaches for a glass on the counter. Just two fingers, brushing against the thin cotton of my T-shirt, right at the base of my spine. A casual touch. Meaningless. Except it wasn’t. The warmth of his hand lingered like a static charge, spreading up my spine and rooting me to the spot. My breath hitches, and I hate myself for it. And on top of that my heart gives a single, hard thud, like it is trying to break free and make a run for it. I turn, ready to call him out, but he is already pouring a vile-looking green sludge into a cup, acting like he hasn’t just short-circuited my entire nervous system. His focus is on the drink, his brow furrowed in that way that made him look like a man on a mission. I open my mouth, then close it. What was I even going to say? Hey, stop touching me like that because it’s messing with my head?

Instead, I grab a mug from the cabinet, pour myself some of the burnt coffee, and lean back against the counter, watching him sip his smoothie like it was fine wine. The kitchen is quiet now, save for the hum of the fridge and the distant crash of waves against the shore outside. I study him, the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way his fingers grip the glass just a little too tightly. There was something about Steve in these moments, when the world wasn’t watching, that made him seem… human. Not the invincible SEAL, not the fearless leader of Five-0, but just Steve. A guy who gets pissed at blenders and drinks smoothies that looked like swamp water.

“You know,” I say, breaking the silence, “if you spent half as much energy on paperwork as you do fighting that blender, we’d have the governor’s office begging us to slow down.”

He chuckles, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “Paperwork’s your thing, Danny. I’m the action guy, remember?” He leans against the counter opposite me, mirroring my stance, his arms crossed over his chest. The space between us is maybe three feet, but it feels like inches, the air charged with something I couldn’t name.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, taking a sip of coffee to hide the way my eyes keep drifting to his. “Action guy. More like reckless guy. You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days, you know that?”

His smirk softens and he tilts his head. “You’re tougher than that, Danno,” he says quieter now. “You can handle me.”

The words hung there, heavy, and I swear the room gets smaller. I swallow, my throat tight, and force a laugh. “Handle you? I’m still trying to survive your cooking.”

He laughs then, a real laugh, the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes my stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the coffee. “You love it,” he says, pushing off the counter and heading for the sink, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding like I just ran a marathon. Did he know what he was doing? Did he know how that low teasing tone hit me like a punch I hadn’t braced for?

I watch his back as he moves to the sink, the muscles in his shoulders shifting under T-shirt, the one that was just tight enough to remind me he is built like a weapon, all precision and power. The faucet hisses to life, and he rinses his glass with the kind of focus most people reserved for disarming explosives. Casual. Oblivious. Or maybe not. Maybe he knows exactly what he is doing, tossing out those words, that touch, like grenades he doesn’t stick around to watch explode.

My heart is still hammering, each beat loud enough I was sure he could hear it over the running water. I want to say something, anything, to break the tension coiling tighter in my gut. Something sharp to cut through the haze, to put us back on solid ground. But my mouth is dry, my tongue stuck, and all I can do is stare at the way his hands move: deliberate, steady, like he could dismantle my defenses as easily as he takes apart that blender.

“Danno,” he says, not turning around, his voice softer now, almost thoughtful. The nickname rolls off his tongue like it is second nature, but there was something else in it this time, something that makes my breath catch again. “You’re awfully quiet over there. You okay?”

I force a laugh, the sound rough and unconvincing even to my own ears. “Me? I’m fine. Just wondering how you manage to make a smoothie look like a war crime and still act like it’s gourmet.”

He chuckles, low and warm, and finally turns, leaning back against the sink with his arms crossed, the dish towel slung over one shoulder. His eyes lock onto mine, and for a second, I forget how to blink. “You’re deflecting,” he says, his lips twitching into that half-smirk that drives me up the wall. “What’s got you so rattled, huh?”

You, I want to say. You and your stupid smoothie and your stupid hands and the way you keep saying my name like it’s a secret we’re both in on. But I just shake my head, take a too-hot gulp of coffee that burns my throat, and mutter, “You’re a menace, McGarrett. That’s what’s got me rattled.”

He laughs again, and the sound is like a match struck in the dark, lighting up something I wasn’t ready to face. He pushes off the sink, closing the distance between us in two easy steps, and for one wild, stupid moment, I think he might touch me again. But he doesn’t. He just grabs his keys from the counter, tosses them in the air, and catches them without breaking eye contact. “Come on,” he says. “We’ve got a day to survive.”

And just like that, he is out the door, leaving me to follow, my heart still racing, my head a mess of questions I wasn’t sure I wanted answers to.

The call comes in just after noon, shattering the quiet rhythm of our morning. A body had been found near Waimanalo Beach, half-buried in the sand, wallet gone, signs of a struggle etched into the scene. Steve’s demeanor shifts in an instant, like a switch flipping from laid-back partner to Navy SEAL commander. He is on the phone before I can blink, barking orders to the forensics team, his voice sharp and precise as he maps out possible routes the suspect might have taken. It is like watching a machine come online, all focus and purpose, the playful Steve from the kitchen gone in a heartbeat.

I grab my badge and follow him out the door, the weight of the case already settling over us. That’s what I do, I follow him, whether it’s into a crime scene or the kind of trouble that leaves scars.

The drive to Waimanalo is brutal. The sun is a relentless hammer, beating down on the truck’s windshield, turning the cab into a sauna. My shirt clings to my back, damp with sweat, and every bump in the road sends a jolt through my spine. The air conditioning is fighting a losing battle, wheezing like an asthmatic in a dust storm. I glance at Steve, his sunglasses reflecting the glare of the sun. He doesn’t seem to notice the heat, or if he does, he is too stubborn to acknowledge it.

“You okay?” my voice cutting through the hum of the engine.

He doesn’t turn, just gives a short nod. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“About the case?”

He hesitates, then shrugs. “Among other things.”

I shift in my seat, the leather creaking under me, the heat making my shirt stick to my skin in all the wrong places. The air conditioning is losing its fight, and the cab smells faintly of salt, motor oil, and the clean, sharp scent of Steve’s aftershave. I want to ask. God, I want to ask. What other things? What’s got you so deep in your head that even you, Mr. Navy SEAL Zen, look like you’re wrestling with something you can’t punch into submission?

However the moment slips through my fingers, like sand on that damn beach we are headed to. I glance at him, his profile sharp against the glare of the sun, sunglasses hiding his eyes but not the tension in his jaw. He is always like this on cases, but there was something else today, something quieter, heavier. Like he is carrying a weight I couldn’t see.

“You sure you’re okay?” I try again, my voice softer this time, almost lost in the hum of the engine. I didn’t know why I am pushing, why I can’t just let it go. Maybe because I was tired of the unspoken things piling up between us, the half-glances, the touches that lingered too long, the way he’d say my name like it meant more than it should.

He doesn’t answer right away. His thumb taps the steering wheel. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Just… got a lot on my mind.”

I open my mouth to push harder, to demand something concrete, but the radio crackles, Chin’s voice cutting through with an update on the crime scene. The moment snaps shut like a trap, and Steve’s focus shifts, his posture straightening as he responds with a clipped, “Copy that.”

I lean back, my head against the headrest, and let out a slow breath. The truck roars on, carrying us toward the beach, toward the body, toward the kind of chaos that is easier to deal with than whatever is brewing between us. I tell myself it didn’t matter, that I’d let it go. But the question “what other things?” burns in the back of my mind.

The crime scene is worse than I’d imagined. The body - a man in his late twenties - lies partially exposed, one arm twisted at an unnatural angle, his face half-covered by sand. Bruising bloomed dark and ugly across his throat, a map of violence that told a story of rage, not randomness. I crouch beside him, the heat of the sand searing through my pants, and study the marks. This wasn’t a robbery gone wrong. This was personal.

Steve stands a few feet away, his sunglasses reflecting the glare of the sun, his posture rigid as he scans the scene. “We’re looking for someone close,” he says.

I nod, brushing sand from my hands as I stand. “Family, ex, maybe a roommate. Someone who knew his routines, knew he’d be out here.” I squint against the glare, the salt air stinging my eyes. “This wasn’t random. You don’t choke someone like that unless you’re angry. Really angry.”

He turns to me, his eyes hidden behind those damn shades. “Let’s start with who he was with last night.” Then, without warning, he tosses me the keys to his truck, the metal glinting as they arc through the air.

I catch them, my fingers closing around the warm keyring, and stare at him, my brain short-circuiting for the second time that day. “You’re letting me drive your truck?” I ask, my voice laced with disbelief. Steve’s truck is his baby, his sacred chariot. He doesn’t let just anyone behind the wheel. Hell, he barely lets me touch the radio.

He shrugs, already walking toward the crime scene tape, his boots kicking up little clouds of sand. “Don’t make it weird, Danny.”

But I am already making it weird. I climb into the driver’s seat, the leather hot against my thighs, and grip the wheel a little too tightly as I start the engine. I slide the key into the ignition, my fingers still buzzing from the weight of the keyring, from the way Steve tosses it to me like it is no big deal. The truck’s engine comes alive with a deep, guttural snarl, vibrating through the seat and into my bones, amplifying the restless energy that is building all day. My hands tighten on the wheel, the leather warm and slightly worn under my palms, and I can feel Steve’s presence beside me, a steady heat that is somehow louder than the engine. I don’t look at him. I can’t. Not when my head is still spinning from the crime scene, from the way he stands there, all sharp edges and quiet intensity, scanning the sand like he can see the answers written in it. Not when my skin still remembers the ghost of his touch from that morning, a fleeting brush that had no business lingering this long. I shift the truck into gear, the movement jerky, my foot a little too heavy on the gas as we pull away from the beach.

“You’re driving like you’re mad at the road,” Steve’s voice cutting through the low growl of the engine. I can hear the smirk in it, that infuriating mix of amusement and challenge that always makes me want to either punch him or pull him closer.

“Yeah, well,” I shoot back, keeping my eyes on the road, “maybe I’m mad at the guy who thinks tossing me his keys makes him less of a control freak.”

He laughs, a short, sharp sound that fills the cab and makes my chest tighten. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he says, stretching out in the passenger seat, one arm propped against the window, the other resting casually on his thigh. “Not everyone gets to drive my baby.”

I snort, risking a glance at him. Big mistake. He is watching me, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, his eyes catching the late afternoon light in a way that makes them look like the damn ocean we just left. “Don’t get used to it,” I mutter, forcing my gaze back to the road. “This is a one-time deal. Next time, you’re back to playing chauffeur.”

“Sure, Danno,” he says, and there it is again. I grip the wheel harder, my knuckles paling, and try to focus on the road, on the case, on anything but the way his voice wraps around me. The truck’s growl is steady now, a low rumble that matches the tension in my gut, a reminder that no matter how fast I drive, I can’t outrun whatever this is.

The radio crackles again, Kono’s voice updating us on Kai’s background check. I let Steve handle it, his tone all business as he asks for details, but my mind is elsewhere, tangled in the weight of his keys in my hand, the trust in that small gesture, and the question I still haven’t asked: Why me? Why now?

We track down the victim’s roommate by mid-afternoon, a wiry bartender named Kai with a rap sheet for petty theft and a nervous twitch that screamed guilt. We find him at his apartment, a cramped, dimly lit place that smelled of stale beer and desperation. He is pacing when we walk in, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his eyes darting between us like a cornered animal.

“Kai, sit down,” Steve leans against the wall, arms crossed, every inch the predator sizing up his prey.

“I didn’t do nothing,” Kai stammers, collapsing onto a sagging couch. “I swear, man, I just-”

“Save it,” I cut in, sitting across from him, my notebook open. “You and your roommate, Jason, you had a fight last night, didn’t you? What was it about?”

Kai’s eyes widen, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard and fingers twisting the hem of his shirt. “It wasn’t a big deal, okay? He owed me money, and I… I got mad. But I didn’t mean to-” His voice cracks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Steve slowly pushes off the wall. “You didn’t mean to what, Kai? Push him? Choke him? Leave him out there to die?”

Kai’s head snaps up, his face pale. “No! I didn’t- I mean, I pushed him, yeah, but I didn’t think he’d… I panicked, okay? I didn’t know what to do!”

The confession spills out like water from a broken dam, messy and unstoppable. Kai’s shoulders slump, his bravado crumbling as he admits to the fight, the shove, the moment he realizes Jason isn’t getting up. Steve’s voice cuts through the air, low and teasing, with that familiar lilt that always catches me off guard. “Book ‘em, Danno.”

My heart thuds too loud in my chest. The words hit me like a wave, not because of what they were, but because of how he says them. His voice is warm, anchoring, carrying a weight that feels… different. I glance over my shoulder, and there he is, leaning against the doorframe, one hand in his pocket, the other resting casually on his hip. His sunglasses are off now, and those damn ocean-blue eyes lock onto mine, a half-smirk playing on his lips.

I stand, pulling the cuffs from my belt, the metal cool against my palm. “Kai, you’re under arrest for the murder of Jason Reed,” I say, my voice steady despite the adrenaline humming through me. I grab his wrist, twisting it behind his back, the cuffs clicking into place with a sharp, final sound.

“Get him to the car,” I mutter, shoving him toward the uniforms waiting by the door, trying to shake off the feeling.

Steve doesn’t move, just watches as the uniforms take Kai away. I stay behind, scribble my notes for the report, pen scratching against the paper, but my focus keeps slipping. I can still see him in the doorway, leaning against the frame like he owns the place, his posture loose and his sharp eyes pinning me in place. That smirk. The way he says my name, like it is more than just a catchphrase, like it carries a weight I wasn’t ready to unpack. My fingers flex, the tingling spreading up my arms, and I shake them out, trying to ground myself in the task at hand.

“Detective Williams?” One of the uniforms, a young guy with a buzz cut and a nervous edge, hovers nearby, holding out a clipboard. “Need your signature for the transfer.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I take the clipboard, scrawl my name, and hand it back, my eyes drifting to the doorway where Steve is. He is gone now, probably outside coordinating with Chin or checking the perimeter, doing whatever it is he does when the adrenaline starts to fade. But his absence doesn’t make the room feel any less charged, like the air is still holding its breath, waiting for him to walk back in.

I step toward the window, the late afternoon sun slanting through the grimy blinds, casting long shadows across the floor. Oahu stretches out beyond the glass, all vibrant greens and shimmering blues, and it feels distant, like a postcard I couldn’t quite reach. The day is a whirlwind: crime scene, suspect, confession, all of it moving too fast to process. And yet, my thoughts keep circling back to him.

Why did that… stand out this time?

[whatifmcdanno]

What if... when Steve leaves Oahu to 'find himself', Catherine tells him about a special island that he should go to that she found out about while working with the CIA. Taking her advice, Steve heads to Fantasy Island where he is met be Elena Rourke and though he's skeptical about what's possible, he's at least about to know that being on the Island means he's cut off from everything while he figures things out.

Steve needs to work out where his home is and his fantasy is to know what his life would be like if he had been brave enough to tell Danny how he felt about him a long time ago and whether all the hardships they'd both faced would even have happened or if they'd have somehow made them more difficult. The island shows him what could have been if they were in a romantic relationship and that although bad things still happened, they faced them together and knew their love was strong enough to withstand the pressure. And missing out on having that was a greater loss than being scared of what might happen. When he leaves the Island he makes his way back to Oahu, now more confident in what is possible.

[brostateexam]

Please tell me about your vacation boyfriends 🥺

I also wanna know what you’d want to teach as a professor!

I'm going to answer the second question first, cause it's a shorter and easier answer: when I was in undergrad, I really wanted to pursue a PhD in Social Psychology and be a college professor. Funding for the field is scarce in the US, but the prospect of ending up where funding for it does exist -- mostly the UK and Australia -- did not bother me in the slightest. The idea of moving far away and being a professional teacher and paper writer seemed amazing.

I did not do it because I felt that the competition in the field was stiff and that the most likely outcome would be that I end up a professor of Psych at a community college somewhere, or an adjunct to three different schools, making no money and living out of a car with 150,000 miles on it. While I don't exactly fault the logic of younger me, I do wish that the dream was more feasible, because I think I would have really enjoyed it!

As for the first question: I have been lucky enough to have three vacation boyfriends over the course of my life. Put some details under the cut.

Maui

I was in Maui for a work trip. It was a resort where we had villas and a budget of like $300/person/day for incidentals, so we were not exactly struggling. This is definitely top 3 for all the crazy, extravagant things that my company paid for. It was an excellent time.

And I really really wanted to escape and get laid while I was there, so I found a local who lived on the other side of the island from the resorts and started chatting with him every chance I got. Eventually, I snuck out of the work socializing I was supposed to be doing and met up with him for a walk around a beach on the far side of the island from where my colleagues were. Then we went to dinner, and we went home together afterward.

He was a former parks employee who had ocean creature themed tattoos all over his body. He was built like a swimmer, which made sense -- he swam or surfed basically every day, sometimes for hours on the weekends. He loved orchids and had an entire little homemade greenhouse of them in lieu of a garage in his small house on the island. Since he lived on the rainy side of the island, there was an evening rainstorm while we had sex, and it felt, well, romantic.

I was smitten, I must admit. I looked to see if there was any work I could do on the island -- I didn't tell him this because i was worried he'd think it was insane -- but there wasn't any, so the fun time ended when I left a few days after.

I messaged him out of the blue a few years after our initial encounter just so basically say that I thought he was amazing and to thank him, and he was super gracious and said similar nice things. Truly, just a gem of a guy. He is only still single because of where he lives -- if he moved to any place with civilization he'd be snapped up in a second, and rightly so.

2. Oahu

I had planned a trip to Waikiki with two friends for right around the winter holidays back when it was still summer and we thought to ourselves "it'll be nice to get to Hawaii when it's grey and rainy here every day." Plus, if you can believe it, it was actually very cheap to go to Hawaii at that time. Since the pandemic, everyone's figured out that the best thing for the winter blues is tropical sunshine and I think there's a boom in tourism in the winter now, too, but that didn't used to be the case.

I almost didn't go on the trip because about a month after we'd booked it, I lost my job, and I didn't have anything on the horizon at the time I went to Hawaii, which was nerve wracking. Unemployment runs out, after all -- and then what, you know?

Anyway, I wasn't really expecting to meet anyone while I was there, and I had the thought of like "even if I do, I'm sharing a hotel room with two girls so what exactly will end up happening?"

But I met someone who was in a bar nearby while I was out shopping, and he was just gorgeous. Also a traveler, like me, but he worked for a European airline and was based out of Malta. Big bear of a man with the second most well-groomed beard I've ever touched (best beard is its own story -- weird guy but great beard).

He was not gentle and he didn't lie to me -- I talked to him about being unemployed and he gave me good advice. I talked to him about my insecurities (being alone, being overweight, etc), and he gave me good advice that I still think about now, almost a decade later.

The sex was also absolutely fantastic, and we took the Lanikai Pillbox Hike together, which was one of my favorite memories of that trip, and there were a lot of good memories!

We did not meaningfully stay in touch. I got a job shortly thereafter and started working like crazy. By the time I thought to reach out, my old phone had died, frying all my contacts, and it had been nearly two years. It was very much a ships that pass in the night situation, but I'm very grateful that we passed near one another.

3. Taiwan

My work took my to Taipei semi-frequently for a period of about two years, and I met this guy there on my second trip. Every trip I was there was between 7 and 18 days, and since I was there to manage vendors, I would occasionally have time to myself, and not necessarily when you'd expect: mornings were usually reserved for meetings, and evenings for vendor dinners, but I often had afternoons to myself if I was smart about getting my work done quickly, and I was typically on my own after about 10 PM, and that was the perfect time to go on dates in Taipei. It's very much a late night city, like New York or (I'm told) Tokyo, with a whole culture that doesn't really get going until about 8 PM and stops at like 2 or 3 AM.

I met a local pretty quick, on maybe my second trip there. Like many young people trying to figure out their direction, he did a little bit of everything: he was a dancer, he did choreography, he served as a local guide/translator for when non-natives came to the island, and he was in school. He was also funny, and smart, and very understanding about my frankly insane and constantly changing work schedule.

So he became my Taipei boyfriend, for a while. When I was there, I'd go out to dinner with him, give him presents, hang out with him, watch movies with him, etc. I'd let him know when I was going to be in town, and we'd usually see each other 2-3 times per trip. We'd talk sporadically on WhatsApp when I wasn't there, but mostly we saved it for irl.

He clearly found it very fun to do super touristy things with me, like go to the 101 building or go to the bougie shave ice places that charge 3x more than the street vendors, and he was gorgeous and funny and fun and I liked having the arm candy, if I'm being honest. The sex was nice, but kind of beside the point. I just liked hanging out with him.

At some point, we transitioned to just being friends and the sex stopped, but it wasn't really weird or awkward -- that phase of the relationship just ended, and the rest remained.

I stopped going to Taipei during the pandemic when there was a travel ban, and I've never been back. I did talk to him during covid, though, and found out that he'd emigrated to Australia, where he was dating a former rugby player and was very happy to be out of Taiwan.

So there you have it! Sorry it took so long for me to write all this, and I hope it was worth the wait. Thanks for asking me this question. It was a ton of fun to write about.

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part thirty-three] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, angst, discussions of plane disasters, mentions of sex (mdni ; 18+)

word count: 3k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional a/n: disclaimer that this chapter and the following chapters take place on oahu and kauai, hawai'i. i wrote this a year ago (originally posted on sept. 22, 2022) and included mentions of the negative impact and sentiment tourism in hawai'i procures, but it was before the fires in maui. i included hawai'i in their vacation in the first place because i'm part hawaiian and wanted to bring attention to our people's attitude toward tourists while also writing about the parts of the islands that i grew up loving. and i thought i should clarify that before posting, as i feel the context is important to precede what would be an otherwise distasteful choice if i had written this now. please keep hawai'i in your thoughts, mahalo plenty <3

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

Predictably, you cried yourself to sleep. You debated over whether or not to tell Minho. He’d probably find out when he woke up in the morning but would he be mad if he didn’t hear it from you? If Jisung was right, he didn’t care about you at all, so why would you grant him the courtesy of a head’s up? You didn’t want to believe Jisung, rather, you wanted to believe that he had only said those things in the heat of the moment but at the end of the day, he knew Minho far better than you did. Whether or not he was telling the truth to try and save you or lying to hurt you was up to you to decipher.

You wound up texting Minho, ‘Jisung knows,’ without any other context and calling it a night. 

The next morning, you woke up to a message from Jisung telling you not to bother getting ready for the day and that he’d be going on without you. It was mostly a relief not to have to put on an act after everything that happened the night before but it also stung.

You weren’t very optimistic about repairing your relationship with Jisung, but any lingering hope vanished when he wouldn’t even look at you in passing in the hallway. 

You spent the entire day in bed, trying to distract yourself with anything you could think of to pass the time. You scrolled through social media until your timelines stopped refreshing with new content. There wasn’t anything interesting enough on TV to pull you out of spiraling so you didn’t even bother trying to find something to hold your attention. 

At one point you remembered the book you were reading but as soon as you opened it you were greeted by all of Jisung’s little annotations he had left for you. He still had your book and you wondered if he would ever finish it now that you’d ruined everything. 

You thought about texting him, just to check in or try and talk about things but you didn’t want to bother him. A couple of times, you almost texted him just out of instinct. You would go to send him a tweet that you thought he’d find funny and then remember.

Minho came by your room that night after dinner when everyone was back from the day’s activities. He knocked twice, letting himself in before you’d even finished telling him he could enter. 

“Care to explain what happened?” he asked, hands on his hips.

You shrugged noncommittally. “Jisung found out.”

“How? Did you tell him?”

“And ruin my own relationship with my best friend? Yeah, definitely.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “I didn’t come here to argue. I just want to know what happened.”

“Then don’t accuse me of shit.”

“I didn’t mean- I’m sorry. That’s not what I was trying to do.”

You sighed and signaled for him to sit down if he wanted to. He did, perching himself on the edge of the bed cautiously. 

“He knows because he noticed me sneaking out and finally decided to follow me.”

The color drained from Minho’s face. “So he heard-”

You nodded. “I don’t know how much, but enough.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck is right.”

“He wouldn’t say a word to me today,” Minho said. 

“He wouldn’t even look at me.”

“I guess we knew this would happen eventually.”

“Yeah.”

“We fucked up.”

“Yeah.”

“You were right.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

“We really do deserve each other.”

Oh. What Jisung had said earlier rang through your ears again. 

“I guess I was.”

Just then, the door to the bedroom opened and Jisung walked in, scoffing as he passed his brother. 

“I should have known,” he muttered to himself. 

“Ji, look-” Minho tried, only to be immediately cut off by his younger brother. 

“Don’t. Please just fucking don’t.”

“But-”

“God, you never listen to a word I say, do you? Either of you?”

You wanted to protest that you did listen to him but you thought better of it. It wouldn’t help your case at all. Instead, you sat there silently like a child being scolded. 

“I don’t want to hear you explain yourself,” Jisung continued. “I don’t care why you fucked my best friend. I think the act in itself doesn’t need an explanation.” Minho opened his mouth to respond but Jisung cut him off again. “I don’t want to hear an apology either. I already know you don’t mean it. In fact, I think we’re done here so if you wouldn’t mind getting the fuck out of my room...”

Minho looked like he wanted to argue but likely knew it wouldn’t do any good so he simply hung his head and let himself out, bidding you a quiet goodnight as he left. You didn’t respond. You didn’t even acknowledge him. How could you?

“Don’t forget to pack your things for the flight tomorrow. It’s a long one.”

You sat there, stunned. You hadn’t expected Jisung to speak to you at all, let alone say something amicable. 

“O-ok thanks,” you responded shakily.

“I’m sleeping in here tonight,” he added. 

“Oh-” you scrambled up, preparing to leave but Jisung stopped you. 

“No, I meant with you. It’d look weird if I slept on the couch again.”

Of course. Keeping up appearances.

“Is it even worth it to do this anymore?” you asked. “I mean, it’s falling apart at the seams.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jisung argued. “It’s just a few more weeks.”

“Do you really want to keep pretending to be in love with someone you hate?”

He froze, still bent over his suitcase. Then he straightened up and turned to face you. 

“I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I don’t think I could ever hate you. I’ve been trying, trust me.”

You weren’t sure how to take that. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to take it. You tried not to let his words stoke the embers of hope you were still clinging on to but it was already proving difficult. 

“Maybe with time,” you suggested. 

He shrugged. “Ready for bed?”

-

You managed to get some sleep, despite everything. It took a while for your heart to calm down as you lay there beside your (ex?) best friend who was already snoring softly. He had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. You weren’t sure how he was able to drift off so easily in spite of your whole friendship falling apart but perhaps the stress was only one-sided. 

You were the one being eaten alive by anxiety and guilt. All he had to do was mourn the loss of everything you destroyed. 

The hours of sleep you did get passed quickly without dreams which was unusual for you. Before you knew it, Jisung’s alarm was going off and both of you were groaning as you dragged yourself out of bed. 

You finished packing the rest of your things in relative silence. Neither of you had much to say aside from when you passed each other’s things back and forth from your suitcases. 

The sun had yet to come up when the rest of the Hans gathered in the kitchen with their luggage. Since the flight was over twelve hours long Jisung’s parents had booked the earliest possible departure which just so happened to be before the sunrise. 

The boys slept during the ride to the airport but you weren’t able to. You were squished between Jisung and Minho in the very back of the van, feeling like a pin in a grenade. They ignored each other, of course, both seemingly dead to the world. 

Minho woke up before Jisung. He glanced over at you and offered an expression of sympathy. You just shrugged in response. 

Sitting in the car like that caused your knees to brush up against each other every so often, each time you rounded a corner or went over a speed bump. Every time it happened you fought the urge to meet his eyes. The touch, be it fleeting, made your chest tighten over and over again until you were half-convinced you were going into cardiac arrest. Eventually, Minho gave up trying to give you space and just let his knee rest against yours. Funnily enough, it helped you relax.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s fine.”

He was so hard to read these days. Not that he was ever easy to read. You couldn’t tell whether or not he liked having his knee there. You weren’t sure why you were getting so caught up on it in the first place.

You longed to hold his hand. You longed to hold Jisung’s hand. But all you could do was sit there in between the two and wait until you finally arrived at the airport. 

Thankfully, Minho was sat with his parents for the flight, which meant you were squeezed in between Jisung and Felix. You gave Jisung the window seat, knowing you wouldn’t get any sleep yourself. He looked like he wanted to argue when you offered it to him but ultimately surrendered when he saw the look in your eyes. You compromised for switching halfway through since the flight was so long but even that seemed to be pushing it for him. 

It was funny how Jisung was still looking out for you after everything you had done. It was as if it was instinctual to him, to put you before himself. The realization almost made you tear up. Had you cared that much for him too? Or was it all one-sided? Either way, you were positive you didn’t deserve him.

-

Dom had chosen Hawai’i as his destination. A controversial choice, given the state of tourism at the moment, but it wasn’t like you had much say in the matter. Jisung had confided in you earlier in the trip that he had tried to talk his father out of it but that he couldn’t be swayed. 

“We might as well try to make the most of it,” you argued. “It’s like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, right?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

The flight from Bali to Hawai’i was over twelve hours long which meant that you had roughly six hours to figure out how to entertain yourself before it was time to trade places. You could try to sleep but that meant leaning on Jisung and you were almost positive the last thing he wanted was for you to touch him right now. 

You didn’t feel like paying for the in-flight wi-fi so you had to get creative with how to keep yourself busy. You scrolled through your camera roll for a while but it just made you sad. The pictures from the trip were one thing, but then there were all of the ones of you and Jisung back at school. The further back you went, the happier you seemed. There was no way that was actually true, it was just putting more distance between what had happened in the present from the way things were in the past. That, and you had a tendency to romanticize the past. 

“Did you know flight attendants are trained to take oxygen masks from passengers?”

Felix’s voice from beside you pulled you from your spiral of self-pity almost immediately. You turned to look at him and cocked your head in confusion. 

“What?”

“Like, you know that whole spiel they give you about safety before the plane takes off? And they’re like ‘during the flight, oxygen masks might drop from overhead’?”

“No, I know all of that. Why would they take the masks from passengers? Do they not have their own?”

“They do, but they might need to move around the cabin when that happens in case of an emergency or something, and if that were to be the case, they’re trained to take masks from passengers to oxygenate themselves. They’ll give it back, but in order to do their jobs they might have to borrow one without asking.”

“What if the passenger passes out?”

“Then they’ll be able to help them! Because they’re fully oxygenated.”

You made a face. “I’m glad you’ve got the aisle seat, then.”

Felix shrugged, grinning. “It sounds fucked up, but it’s just logistical. Wanna know something actually fucked up? These seat belts are practically useless.”

“What?” you weren’t sure if you really wanted to know where he was going with this but your morbid curiosity got the better of you once again. “What do you mean?”

“Well, they help with turbulence and stuff but in the event of a crash, these aren’t going to do shit for us. They’re just here to keep us strapped to the seat so they can identify the corpses by looking at the flight log.”

You sat there in stunned silence as the information Felix had just told you sunk in. 

“That is... so dark,” you said finally. 

“Yeah, but isn’t it interesting?”

“I guess, but why did you have to tell me all of this while we’re in the air?”

“Because it’s relevant!”

You sighed and glanced back at Jisung who was asleep and slumped against the window. “Ready to switch?”

It was just a joke but Felix scoffed nonetheless. 

“I’m offended,” he whispered. 

“And I’m traumatized.”

“My bad.”

Somehow, Felix kept you occupied until it was time to switch with Jisung. You lost track of time talking to him about everything and nothing. Out of all of the Han brothers, Felix was the one you knew the least. 

You learned a lot about him in the six and a half hours you sat next to each other. You learned that he, like Jisung, had a passion for photography. He liked anime but manga adaptations always disappointed. He wanted to be a dancer when he was little, just like his big brother. 

When it was Felix’s turn to inquire about you, you were sort of at a loss for words. You had to tread carefully around how much to actually reveal about yourself. When to lie, when to stretch the truth. You were exhausted. It was exhausting. But Jisung had made it clear that this was still important to him despite you not seeing the point anymore. So you played along for his sake. It was the least you could do since you ruined everything else. 

You talked mostly about school, what you were studying, what you wanted to do with your degree... all the small talk that usually took place when you first met a person, not after you’d been traveling with them for over a month. But Felix didn’t know a lot about you interests wise so he listened intently and asked a lot of questions. 

When it was finally time to actually switch, you were half-relieved, half-bummed. Talking with Felix was fun but you hated lying to him. 

Jisung lifted up the armrest between you and him to let you slide over while he stood awkwardly in the aisle. 

“Do you want to use my hoodie as a blanket, baby?” he asked.

“Sure, thanks.”

He laid it over your shoulders after you got settled against the window, kissing you on the head and telling you goodnight. 

You shut your eyes and tried to relax but sleep wouldn’t come. You knew it wouldn’t. You took deep breaths in an attempt to slow your heart rate, lowkey considering holding your breath until you passed out. 

Next to you, Jisung was flipping through the in-flight movies. You could hear him tapping on the touchscreen, huffing in frustration when he couldn’t find anything he wanted to watch. 

“You okay, bro?” Felix asked his twin. 

You felt Jisung sort of shift, likely checking to see if you were asleep. He sighed. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Relationship troubles?” Felix guessed.

“Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been pissy for like, the past two days. I assumed it had something to do with your girlfriend.”

“She hasn’t been sleeping well,” he explained simply, lying through his teeth. Well, it wasn’t technically a lie because you weren’t sleeping well, but that had nothing to do with why Jisung was upset. “The exhaustion has been leading to a lot of fights.”

“Sorry, man.”

 “It’s okay. It happens. Not that you would know.”

Felix scoffed. “Ouch, I try to have a heart-to-heart with you and you go there?”

“This is a heart-to-heart to you?”

“You know what I mean. A real conversation.”

“Okay, but I’m right. You wouldn’t know.”

“Not all of us can have healthy relationships like you, Jisung,” he sighed.

“I know. I think I’m mom and dad’s only chance at grandchildren at this point.”

“Not if our brother has anything to say about it,” Felix said lowly. 

“What do you mean?” Jisung asked.

He sounded genuinely confused but you knew that internally he was panicking because you were too. You were still pretending to be asleep but you had stopped breathing, waiting to hear what he would say next. How much did Felix know? You and Minho weren’t great at sneaking around but you had at least tried to be a little careful. 

“You mean you haven’t noticed the way Minho looks at her?”

“Not really? But you spend more time with him. You know him better than I do.”

“Well, you should pay more attention. He makes it kind of obvious,” Minho muttered.

“Makes what kind of obvious, though?”

“That he wants her.”

“What?” 

“I can’t believe you haven’t caught on to him flirting with her.” 

“Well obviously he’s doing it behind my back so-”

“Sorry you had to find out this way,” Felix said, likely grimacing, “but at least she isn’t reciprocating, from what I’ve seen.”

“Yeah, at least there’s that,” Jisung murmured. 

You were able to exhale in relief, but only slightly. Felix didn’t know everything but he could tell Minho was interested which wasn’t a good sign. How long had he been picking up on that? 

Your best friend sighed angrily. “The one thing I thought Minho couldn’t take from me-” 

You bit the inside of your cheek, guilt consuming you all over again. 

“Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?” Felix asked. “He hasn’t even made a move or anything, mate. I just think he thinks she’s cute.”

“With Minho, that’s enough.”

i'm sick so no tags :(( but i've got nothing else to do so here ya go, lmk what you think I always appreciate feedback!!

add yourself to the taglist here!

[ronsstickyhands]

Chapter One: Echoes of a Broken Past

~3297 words~

The living room was lively, well as lively as their living room could get, John was sitting on one of the plush armchairs, a cold beer in one hand, the other hand grasping the remote control, his feet resting on the wooden coffee table. Taylor was sweeping, dusting, doing anything to help pass the time, the music suddenly stopped, and a male voice boomed through the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen of The United States Of America, we interrupt this radio broadcast with a message from the White House Press Secretary, Stephen Early: ‘The Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor from the air and all naval and military activities on the island of Oahu, a principal American base in the Hawaiian islands.’” 

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy and strange, as if the world itself had shifted on its axis. Her legs gave out from under her, she was now almost swallowed by the plush red sofa next to the bookshelf she was just dusting.

She wasn’t naïve, she knew exactly what an unprovoked attack on U.S. soil meant. Something that got people killed something that made mothers cry.

War.

After a moment she turned her head towards her husband, his posture remained rigid, face still and emotionless.

“Did you hear what they said?” She began carefully, trying so hard to avoid another argument.

His head hung low as he spoke, not looking at her. "Mhm, loud and clear, Taylor. We’re in a war. Big fucking deal."

The last words came out louder, sharper, and somehow meaner, she flinched, instinctively straightening her back.

“The whole fucking Europe’s at war, Dollface,” he added with a bitter laugh. He stood up, towering over her in an unsettling way. “You better get used to your life not being all sunshine and fucking rainbows.”

He grabbed his black wool coat from the coat rack, shrugged it on, and walked toward the door. Not a glance spared her way, no goodbye, no mention of when he’d be coming home. He slammed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the apartment.

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As bad as it was with him, sometimes the silence was just as dangerous and unsettling, but today it was for the better. They were both better off alone now, with the news.

Mere moments after her husband's departure Taylor would sink into the soft, warm sofa. She’d pick up her guitar, the familiar weight of it grounding her, her fingers finding the strings like they had their own memory.

It didn’t fix everything. Nothing could. But for a few moments, when she was lost in the rhythm, it felt like she was almost whole again. Even when she became numb to the hurt, the guitar was there. The little brown journal her grandmother gave her, now worn from years of use, became like a lifeline. It was an escape, a small corner of the world that was hers and hers alone.

The songs weren't anything special, they were simple, reflecting her life. The one she had jet to finish was no different, a slow melancholic melody accompanied by somber lyrics about her tragic love story.

“His eyes and words are so icy, oh, but he burns

Like rum on a fire

Hot and fast and angry as he can be

I walk my days on a wire.”

The quiet melody and the feeling of the strings moving underneath her fingers calmed her down. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sound envelop her, drowning out the chaos of her thoughts. For just a breath, she could forget about everything, her husband, the war her country had just entered.

“The way he tells me I'm his and he's mine

Open hand or closed fist would be fine

The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine”

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An hour later the phone started ringing, bringing Taylor out of the trance the music put her into, she stood up and walked over to the telephone, picking up the receiver gently.

“Hello, is Taylor there?” A male voice one that sounded so familiar.

A smile crept up on the woman’s face. “Hey Nix, it’s me, yeah.”

“Did you hear the news?”The man asked, his voice not quite reflecting the boy who used to run around New York with her all those years ago.

“Yeah, I heard,” Taylor replied, her tone steady, though her mind still raced uncontrollably.

Nixon was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice had a quiet resolve. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, about what’s happening, about what’s going to happen. I’ve made up my mind, I’m joining the Paratroopers.”

A gasp escaped her lips, “You sure you’ll be able to, don't think you’re as fast as you once were.” She could hear him chuckle, and knew he didn’t take her teasing seriously, they’d known each other long enough to know. “All jokes’ aside Nix, I’m really proud of you, takes a lot of courage to join up.” The next words that came out of her mouth were much more still and almost tight in her throat.

“What did Katherine say, I’m sure she wasn't too thrilled. ”

“I’ll be an intelligence officer. I’ve talked it over with Kat, and she… she understands. It’s what I need to do.”

Taylor nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “I get it, Nix. I really do. Just don’t go getting yourself killed out there, okay? Because I’ll march into Europe or Africa or wherever they send you and I’ll kill you myself if you leave me here all alone.”

“I’ll be real careful. You take care of yourself, too. I don’t need to hear about you getting into trouble over there in the hospital, you hear?”

Taylor smirked, feeling a small flicker of warmth. “I’ll be fine. Just don’t go getting yourself shot up too bad. I still need you to come home when this is all over. When are you going, to training?”

“Uh… I’m going to Georgia in two weeks, then it’s just training.”

Two weeks were all she had left with her best friend, at least for a long time.

“Well you take care, okay, and I mean it I’ll come kill you if you die.”

“I will.” He got quiet for a moment before finally saying something, something that she needed to hear.

“Oh and if you want to come down to New York, to get a break from that prick John, you can. I think Kat’ll appreciate some help with Michael.”

“I- I don’t know Nix, John needs me and it’s best if I stay, and I’ll be fine, don’t worry ‘bout me.”

A dry laugh escaped his lips. Don’t worry about me.

“You’re like my sister of course I care,” The line went quiet for a moment before Lewis spoke up again. “Goodbye, Taylor.”

“Goodbye, Lew take care of yourself.”

After the conversation, Taylor stood there, the receiver still resting in her hand. Her mind was racing. Nixon, her childhood friend, the boy who’d been there for her through thick and thin, was about to throw himself into the middle of the warzone. She wasn’t sure what hit her harder, the fact that he was joining or the quiet realization that the world she knew was slipping away, bit by bit.

She shook her head as if the motion would clear the sudden tightness in her chest. The quiet hum of the phone line seemed to echo the emptiness inside her. He was doing what he thought was right, just like everyone else who would soon follow. They were all heading into something far beyond them, a storm they couldn’t outrun.

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It had been three days since the news broke out, the hospital air was tense, so thick you could cut it with scissors. A few seconds after she finished on a patient a familiar man walked through the doors of her emergency room, one that she treated all of those months ago, the one that brought a smile to her father's face for the first time in years.

Oscar O’Hara made his way over to her, her doctor instincts quickly kicking in and leading him to an exam table while exchanging pleasantries.

“So, sir what brings you back here, everything alright?” She asked while getting herself a stool and sitting in front of the man.

“Well my chest’s bothering me again, Taylor, so I just thought it would be best if I came by.” Before she could get a word in he started up again. 

“And I also brought something for you.”

Something for her, that was weird, sure the man had become like an uncle to her, but she didn’t think he’d give much thought to her.

“Alright, sir let’s check you out, we’ll figure out what’s going on and then we can talk about that.”

The check-up was quick, really the man might have been a bit paranoid, but it was Taylor’s job to determine the seriousness or lack there of the presented situation. After the read-head was reassured that he’d be fine, he moved on to the matter at hand. He reached his hand into the brown briefcase that lay beside him on the bed and pulled out two letters. One was small, well normal sized for a letter, the envelope had her name written on it in neat cursive, the other much larger almost a package had her name and title written alongside a big army seal. The screaming eagle took over a quarter of the envelope, once both of them were in her hands the man opened up his mouth.

“You should open the smaller one first, it gives a bit of an explanation to the bigger one, Doctor.”

With that, the short man stood up and started walking away. The letters felt, heavy and important in Taylor’s hands.

“Oh and Doctor, open them while you are alone.” As she turned to look at him he was already at the door of the building, a brief smile formed on his lips as he looked back at her.

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Taylor stood in the kitchen, exhausted from a long shift at the hospital, the weight of the letters in her handbag still present. She had just hung her coat and bag by the door and was halfheartedly preparing dinner, her hands moving on autopilot, her lips humming some sad melody, she had just come up with. Her muscles ached, her mind dulled by the endless hours of work and the news she couldn’t shake from her head. 

An hour later, dinner was done, and now it was time to clean. That part came easily to her, cleaning was something she could control, something she could make perfect, something repetetive. Scrubbing counters, wiping down the windows, and rinsing dishes became her way of quieting the noise in her head, even if only for a little while.

But tonight, even that couldn’t settle her nerves. The letter sat like a lead weight in her purse, impossible to ignore, no matter how much she tried. She caught herself glancing at it more than once, her stomach twisting each time.

Is it something about the war, what could they want from her?

The thought nagged at her, but so did the clock on the wall. He’d be home soon. She glanced at the table, now neatly set for two, and smoothed her apron. Everything was in its place, just as he liked it.

The sound of the front door opening made her heart jolt. She turned, forcing a smile onto her face as heavy boots stepped through the door. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, the air thickened. His anger seemed to settle over their home like a cloud, suffocating, always present, John stood there with a pissed-off look on his face as he took his coat off, walked over to the bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass.

“Dinner ready?” He asked with a trace of anger in his voice.

“Just finished it. Come sit,” she replied, a fake smile almost permanently stuck on her face, as she patted one of the chairs. 

God, please let today be quiet.

John walked toward the table with a glass of amber liquid in his hand, sat down and began eating the meal she had spent hours on. Quietly sitting across from him she also started eating, the food was good, Taylor was a good cook, her grandmother was to thank for that.

Joséphine had taught her the importance of doing everyday tasks with care and excellence. While her grandmother pushed her to get a good education, she also made sure Taylor knew how to cook, clean, and carry herself with pride. Summers in New York had always been a mix of structure and joy.

And then there was Lew. Her best friend, who was only four years older than her. His name slipped into her thoughts unbidden like the sunlight breaking through a storm cloud. The image of Lew, laughing on a hot summer day in New York, brought warmth to her chest. But it was a fleeting thought, one that vanished as quickly as it came. She couldn’t afford to linger on memories now.

The memory disappeared as quickly as it came, cut off by the sound of John standing up abruptly and walking to the fridge. He pulled out a cold bottle of beer, heading to the living room without a glance in her direction.

She stayed at the table for a moment longer, staring down at her half-empty plate. The sound of the television flickered to life, followed by his mumbling commentary. The knot in her chest tightened, but she pushed herself up and carried their plates to the sink.

It was better this way. She’d rather be alone in the kitchen than endure his company in the living room.

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As the last of the dishes were washed and dried she heard the noise she’d been dreading to hear.

“Taylor, come here.” Her husband yelled, his voice booming through their small apartment, a quick sigh escaped her lips as she walked into the living room.

“It was nice today.” John started as he patted the space next to him, motioning his wife to sit and she did. “Having you home before I got home, that should happen more often, shouldn’t it, my Doll?” His hand made its way to cress her cheek, the touch sent a jolt of electricity down her spine.

Doll. She hated that nickname, it made her feel so small and incapable.

“Well, you know it can’t, I have work.” His head turned towards her, as the words left her mouth.

“You and your stupid fucking work Taylor, I don’t know why you have to work, why you can't be normal. A woman is supposed to stay at home.” His voice was now angry and loud. “I want you to stay home, take care of our apartment, take care of me when I come home, that's a wife's duty, that is what you should focus on. Leave the saving of lives to the men.” Once those words left his mouth she could feel tears forming in her eyes, they felt like a slap to her face. “Leave the saving of lives to the men.” The phrase echoed in her mind, every syllable digging deeper, making her feel smaller with every breath.

Taylor blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that had sprung to her eyes. She could feel the heat in her chest, the sting of his words burning through her. She didn’t want to cry, not now. Not in front of him. She had spent so many nights hiding her emotions, pretending like they didn’t bother her, but tonight, they couldn’t be ignored.

She swallowed hard and looked at him, her hands gripping the fabric of her skirt. “John,” she said, her voice quivering, but she forced it to steady. “I’m doing something important. You don’t understand. I’m saving lives, making a difference.”

John’s face twisted his expression hardening. “A difference?” he spat, his voice rising. “What about our life? What about me, Taylor? I need you here, where you belong. This isn’t some... career you can just throw everything into. This is real life, not some job you can clock out of when you’re done. I’m your husband, I deserve to have you here.”

Taylor's heart raced. This wasn’t just about her work, it was about who she was. He didn’t just want her to quit her job; he wanted to change who she was. To make her dependent on him, to make her feel like she couldn’t stand on her own two feet. But she could stand on her own. She had always been independent, and had always done things her way. But the longer she stayed in this marriage, the more she realized she was losing herself.

“John,” she whispered, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “Every time you do something like this, you take a piece of me, and I let you. And I…” Her voice cracked slightly, but she pressed on. “I need more than that. I need to do something that matters to me.”

John’s face darkened, and he clenched his fists. “You think I don’t matter? You think I’m just some afterthought while you run off playing hero?”

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “I don’t think you don’t matter. But I matter, too. I need to do this. I need to feel like I’m more than just a housewife. More than just your wife.”

He stood up abruptly, his feet scraping across the floor. “You’re being ridiculous. This is what a woman does. This is how it’s supposed to be. I’m the one working, and providing, and you’re supposed to be here. Here, with me. What do you think you’re doing, playing at being some... some doctor or whatever the hell you think you are?” 

He quickly returned to where she was standing, grabbing her wrist with a vice-like grip, and dragging her away from the window. Before she could react, his hand collided with her cheek, the slap sharp and brutal. It stung, burning on her skin like fire, but she bit down on her lip, refusing to let the tears come. She couldn’t let him see her break.

His hands were stronger and bigger than hers, and no matter how much she fought or tried to push him away, she was helpless against the force of his anger. Another slap. Another blow. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but everything inside her was shutting down, trying to protect her. And then, just as quickly as it had started, everything went black.

The darkness swallowed her, but inside, something stirred, it wasn’t over yet. She wasn’t broken, not yet.

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The next morning, Taylor woke up to a pounding headache and the cold emptiness of the bed next to her. The room spun slightly as she tried to push herself up, but the dizziness made her lean heavily against the bedpost. Her fingers brushed against the raw skin of her cheek, and she winced as she made her way to the bathroom. The mirror showed the evidence of the night before: a black eye and a busted lip.

Her breath caught as she stared at her reflection. For a moment, she barely recognized the woman staring back at her. She was exhausted physically, and emotionally. But there was something else in her eyes now. A spark, maybe. Something that refused to die.

She picked up the telephone receiver and hesitantly punched in the number she knew by heart, the ringing started, barely there marking a new start.

“Massachusetts General Hospital, how can I help you?”

“Hello, this is Doctor Taylor Willock, I’m just calling to say I won't be in today. I’m umm…  sick.”

The line was quiet for a moment that seemed to stretch to eternity. “Well alright Taylor, you take care of yourself, and come back when you’re feeling okay, bye-bye.”

A sick day, just one so she could figure out what to do next.

Slowly she made her way to the kitchen, a half-drunk cup of coffee stood next to the opened newspaper that littered their kitchen table.

The letter.

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So this is chapter one, I hope you'll enjoy it.

[pepgione-punk]

Regarding that NYtimes article that I found in spanish but I cannot find in english;

RJ talks in detail about lu's surgery and timeline:

• Says L went back to Baltimore months before the surgery (the picture from him, his parents and his parent's friends in Hayfields was from may 2023, so I guess he got there around that time).

• In August 2023 lu sent him the xrays and texted him saying he would need to stay some time in the mainland to fix some hospital stuff.

• It says in this article (I haven't seen anywhere else) that luigi told RJ that he was back in hawaii in LATE 2023.

• rj implies luigi went back to hawaii ONLY to travel, he visited Oahu, Big Island and Maui in november and december, before going back to Baltimore for christmas. (Now, this might be to make himself feel better about not visiting him but yeah, he basically said luigi went back around oct/nov but didn't stay long in honolulu).

• In february they had plans to meet up but Luigi decided to go to asia.

• In March RJ texted him 'I miss you brother, I hope your back's almost fixed, let's catch up soon'.

• On april 15th, luigi texted 'yeah let's catch up on the phone' but RJ didn't call and they didn't set a time to catch up.

• On june 23rd, RJ texted him 'where in the world are you', rj had heard from their acquaintances that nobody had been in touch with him since before he left for his asia trip. That was the last text he said he had sent him.

Ty for the info!

Although I think the Feb stuff was with another person, I think his name is Adam? the one who made that tiktok with the scribbled photos.

So most of this comes from RJ, honestly I still don’t see him as a reliable narrator. I know I have talked about this before, I just get the feeling that’s something it’s off with him. I guess time will tell…

Btw aquí se habla español 😉

[naok-iyuu]

Hello! I love your writing so much and I was wondering if you could write for Nico Alexander? Maybe something fluffy where there's a minor misunderstanding between the reader and Nico where the reader thinks he's interested in Lahela but he's really only asking her for advice to ask the reader out? That's just an idea, honestly I'd love to read anything with him in it, I can't find much on him!

Her bright yet avoidant eyes - Nico Alexander x F!Reader

Summary : You've met Nico at the Oahu Health Medical Center when visiting for family members. You thought your frienship with him could lead for more... But the day he beat cancer was the day he became awfully close with his doctor, Lahela.

Word count : 1.8k Warnings : Might contain mention of cancer, otherwise, slight misunderstanding because jealous reader, FLUFF !!

Autor's note : Jesus you are so sweet TwT Thank you for your kind words <33! It means everything, really. And God I was so surprised and happy to see this request ! I had like one idea for Nico that I didn't get the chance to work on but I'll do it someday ! I don't know were I was going at some point but I hope I did well !!

My Masterlist

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You've always suspected Lahela and Nico to have a thing.

You weren't putting much thought into it at first, thinking it wasn't your place to.

Being aware of Nico's flirty personality and his condition, it was natural and vital for him to be needing Lahela by his side.

So it wasn't much of an issue when you saw his toothy smile offering itself to her.

You might have started to act distant a few days after the boy's body beat cancer.

Of course he wasn't going to stop seeing his doctor after all she did for him. Yet, the wandering eyes, the subject changing while stuttering when you happened to walk by or his legs taking him to the brunette in a rush was enough for your anxiety to go over the roof.

You couldn't bare seeing him finding all of the world excuses and taking them out of his pocket to step away from you. You could not just tell yourself you had a silly crush on him anymore.

It was enough for you to take your distance from him.

And enough for Nico to be send into a spiral.

Why were your eyes so avoidant lately ? Why were you not hanging out at your usual favorite spots ?

Was something bothering you ? Did he bother you ?

Lahela wasn't much of a help either when he asked her countless times how he should ask you out. Always offering the same, annoyed response.

"Why don't you just do it ?" She had rolled her eyes for the hundredth time in just a few minutes.

She couldn't begin to understand why, Nico, super flirtatious, confident biker guy couldn't possibly just ask you, cute and understanding girl, out.

Was he... Maybe, that serious ?

"What if she says no ?" His wide open eyes warned her.

"What if she does not ?"

"You're right, she's definitely gonna say worse." His hand went through his hair as his eyes wandered from bush to bush that decorated the outside of the hospital.

Nico hated going back to the hospital. But if it meant gathering his courage to ask you out... Well, he could at least handle talking to Lahela right in front of hell itself.

"Oh.my.god." She desperately moved her hands up to let them smack her side in exasperation.

What was going on inside this tiny little brain of his not to see how your eyes brightened everytime you caught a glimpse of his features. And it was evident how you tried to play it off too.

"Listen, if you don't say anything... She's really going to slip away from you !" She saw his dark eyes glancing at her before looking away.

"She already is !"

"Because everytime you got a second of time you run to me instead of talking to her !"

Nico's mouth opened and closed a few times. Coming from Lahela's mouth, he looked like a jerk that was obviously taking his chance with his doctor. What was happening to the gutsy biker that would flirt with you like you were the only flower blooming within a radius of a hundred kilometers ?

Seeing his hesitation, Lahela knew her next words weren't going to be sugarcoated. And she hoped it would shake him without holding a grudge against her.

"Listen, did you really beat cancer to act like this ? Didn't you tell me you accepted the treatment for her ? To take your chance once cured ?"

He froze. Even if he did say that to her, those words stinged more than he wanted to admit. His scars were new, he still couldn't quite believe his shoulders were freed from such a weight.

Maybe that was why he kept coming back here.

But most importantly right now, was you.

"Can we... Can we not do the doctor talk ?" He gestured his finger toward her, his face clearly trying to imply that any more words concerning his former health would make him jump off a cliff.

"Then go get the girl." He was about to retort- "She's at the beach."

"At the beach ?" He asked, flabbergasted.

Yes, it was Hawaii. But you, alone, at the beach ? With your hatred for the sand ? Was it a new way of self torture or self sabotage ?

"And you better hurry because Brian noticed her sad cute face and even if he's too young he's no going to-"

Her words were cut short by Nico's rushed footsteps and roaring dirt bike after the click of the helmet's buckle under his chin.

"And off he goes."

. . .

Nico was quick to arrive at the beach, resting his bike against a palm tree in a spot he knew nothing bad would happen to it.

Your silhouette was the first thing he saw, and his motorcycle was the first thing you heard.

Your fingers tucked the end of your short. You could feel yourself becoming nervous from the thoughts echoing in your head.

His footsteps got closer, mixing their sound with the ones of the waves. As Nico's face entered your peripheral vision, you couldn't help but stare for a few seconds at his giddy smile.

"Thought you hated being alone at the beach."

You adverted your eyes from his, not wanting his mood to melt and mix with yours.

"Just needed a change of scenary."

His head nodded, watching carefully in the direction your eyes wandered. Nothing really interesting he hasn't seen before, so he looked back at you, pointing a finger to the empty spot on the towel you were sitting on.

"Seat taken ?"

It took you a few blinks for his words to perfectly ring a bell.

"Oh uh no, go on."

You moved closer to the end of your side of the towel, making the sitting spot for him the tiniest bit bigger. His eyes flicked in your direction a few times once sat, fully acknowledging something bothered you.

"Did I do something ?" His voice gently rose up between you, bringing your eyes back to him.

"No why ?"

"I feel like, you've been distant lately."

You knew Nico was worried about your well being, yet, the little devil on your shoulder couldn't help but whisper little mean things to you. 'No really ?' 'How come ?' All with that tiny little sarcastic voice you used to hear from your own throat when feelings were too hurt to sound gentle.

You brushed the tiny devil you from your shoulder, shrugged after its downfall and peered at the emplacement on the sand it should have fallen on while trying to sound not that annoyed and bored.

"Well, you've been glued to Lahela so, yeah. Maybe a bit."

Your intense sand staring made you unaware if the toothy smirk painting itself from ears to ears on the brunet face.

"Are you... jealous ?"

You frowned slightly, the corners of your lips tucking downward at his comment. When your gaze went back to his face, you frowned even harder at the amusement he showed.

You weren't really 'mad', just... pouting a bit. And somehow, you knew Nico guessed that from the wrinkle between your brows.

"What makes you say that ?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe that little pouting lips of yours."

His thumb and index came and pinched your lower lip with playfulness and gentleness, making you airily slap his hand away from your face.

His mood finally got to your edges, his chuckle making your mouth strangely twist as you tried to repress your newborn smile.

It was infuriating how the curve of his lips could make your whole temper change from night to day. Even so, you never really minded.

"You are frustrating."

"Come on, I know you like me." He raised his eyebrows at you, only earning a roll of your eyeballs. "Going back on topic, I only was asking her for some advice. I shouldn't have pestered her so much.

You confusedly frowned your brows again. "Some advice ?"

Your first thought was wondering if it was concerning his health. Even if Nico had won his battles, maybe worries still lingered under his skin. You noticed how he started to explore even faster the world around him when his body got freed from the white, self destructing bed.

You surely worked up yourself over some teenage misplaced jealousy.

"Dating advice."

The face you made next was beyond description.

"What ?" You blurted.

"You what ?" He fakely acted hurt.

"You're the most confident and flirty guy I know !"

"First of all, thanks," Another eye roll and a sigh escaped your lips. "and second, why does everyone say the same thing ?"

"Because that just how you act on a daily basis." It was Nico's turn to shake his head with a fake offended sound. "But really ? Is that girl that hard to approach ? Even for you ?"

" 'Even for me' ? I am not a love expert of some sort, but I guess it's just... More complicated when you really like someone."

You slowly nodded your head a few times at his sentence, communicating your understanding of the situation as your eyes moved again toward the energetic waves.

"She's a lucky one."

Nico couldn't guess what you were thinking, but he knew you were losing yourself farther in the distance, thoughts emerging past any form of self preservation or fairness.

"I guess so. And actually, she's right next to me."

It took you a second too long to fully grasp the meaning of the words that tried to freeze your every braincells. Your turned your face in his direction slowly, you mouth slightly open.

"Could you... hmm..." You fingers danced around each other, trying to do a rewind motion.

"Oh right," He cleared his throat teasing you with his previous sentence. You surely were a bit dense. "Well, I really like you." You looked surprised again. "And I was wondering if you would like to go on a date. Tomorrow maybe ?"

Even as your heart started to beat faster and you core was screaming you to jump on him, or just jump around of happiness, your body didn't react. Leaving you with that amusingly lost for words face.

Nonetheless, you managed to speak up.

"What about now ?"

Nico's eyes widened. "Now ? Like, now now ?"

Realization seemed to settle in your mind, a wide smile gradually stretching accross you face.

"Yeah ! Now !"

You stood up, offering your hand for him to take. You knew you couldn't lift him, and he surely didn't need help. But when his hand touched yours and intertwined his fingers with yours, you both knew you wouldn't want to let go.

[anonsally]

Big Island Vacation

I didn’t have time to write during our vacation because we sort of didn’t adjust to the time zone, since jet lag worked in our favour for getting up early for various activities—but that also meant we didn’t stay up late enough to have time to post on Tumblr!

But we had a fabulous time. We stayed for a week in the Captain Cook area and then for two nights near Hawaii Volcanoes National Park.

Highlights below the cut.

Snorkeling from Two Step. I was happy that on this visit to Hawaii (the state), unlike the previous two, I managed to rent a flotation vest (not just a flotation belt) with my snorkelling equipment, to give me a little confidence boost. We chose Two Step both because it was near where we were staying and because it involved getting into the water where it was already deep. In the past I’ve struggled with snorkelling from the shore because I often want to come up to adjust my mask, which I can’t do if I’m floating in shallow water over a coral reef. And walking in sand with flippers on is impossible. So this was a perfect way to start, plus Honaunau Bay is sheltered and calm. Even our first snorkelling outing was enjoyable for me; I only felt really panicky for a few seconds at the beginning (anxiety medication also helped). It was so good that we actually went back to the same place the next day as well. In addition to lots of colourful fish, we saw moray eels and a small white-tipped reef shark there. 

Visiting Pu’uhonua O Honaunau. This National Historical Park had a really good informational brochure about the cultural importance of the site, which used to be a place where powerful ali’i (chiefs) met as well as a place of refuge where people who had broken the kapu (taboos) / committed crimes could go—if they managed to reach it alive, they could be pardoned instead of being put to death. In addition to what was left of the historical site, there were reconstructions of some structures as well as of traditional canoes.

Shopping at farmers’ markets and fruit stands. We tried several fruits we’d never had before. Our favourite was snake fruit (an Indonesian fruit whose real name is Salak Nanas, I think), which is shaped like a rather large fig and has papery brown skin with a texture reminiscent of snakeskin (hence the name). The fruit on the inside looks like giant garlic cloves, but it’s crunchy and tastes similar to pineapple. We also bought a lot of handmade fruit leather and dried fruit, because you can’t bring fresh fruit home from Hawaii but you can bring dried fruit!

Touring a cacao farm. We got to handle the cacao pods, visit the fermentation and drying shed, and taste the fruit, the fermented but not-yet-roasted beans, and several chocolates made by the company from cacao grown at their orchards in several locations on the Big Island as well as some grown on Oahu. We also got to taste some cold-brew Kona coffee (local!) and see a very tiny pineapple growing on the pineapple plant. 

Snorkeling off a boat. This was a great way to snorkel more than one site in the same morning, including places that can’t be reached from land, or at least not easily (like Kealakekua Bay). Riding on the boat itself was a bonus, especially when some dolphins showed up to play with the boat. (They like to race the boat and surf in its wake.)

A guided birding day in Hakalau Forest National Wildlife Refuge. (Wife did not join me for this.) This preserve is only accessible on a guided tour, and the few companies with permits to take visitors are only allowed to take a limited number of visitors per year (including the guide each time!); the company I went with gets 100 slots. We had to disinfect our shoes before entering in order to avoid spreading a fungal disease that causes rapid ohi’a death and which is decimating these native trees. There were 9 of us including our guide, and we had an amazing day. We spotted all of our target species, which were endemic and in several cases endangered. This refuge is one of the few places where some of these birds’ populations are actually increasing. In addition to a number of ‘i’iwi (a red bird with a positively comical beak) and apapane (another awesome red bird), both of which I’d seen in Maui, we saw the ‘akiapola’au, a yellow bird with a ridiculous beak situation (it opens its mouth to use the lower part of the beak, which is straight and sturdy, to peck like a woodpecker, and then uses the fragile, thin, curved upper part of the beak to fish larvae out of the holes), the elepaio (very cute bird), a bright orange akepa (well, most of us saw it), several ‘oma’o (Hawaiian thrush), a number of amakihi, a few alawi, an ‘io (Hawaiian hawk), and, elsewhere, a pueo (Hawaiian subspecies of short-eared owl). We also saw kalij pheasants, which are introduced but play an important role in spreading the seeds of some of the native plants. On our way there we got a look at a Pacific golden plover in its breeding plumage (most of them breed in Alaska, but migrate to Polynesia in winter; however, some of them have apparently decided to bail on migrating and just live year-round in Hawaii -- and who can blame them?!). I got up at 4:30am for this tour, but it was worth it!

Taking a submarine ride. It was only a 45-minute ride but was really a great experience. We saw coral, fish, two shipwrecks, and an eagle spotted ray with its baby! It was fascinating to see these things from underwater rather than from on the surface as a snorkeler. I’m never going to scuba dive, so this was a special opportunity!

Driving around the south coast of the island. This scenic drive included a stop at Punalu’u Black Sand Beach with its sea turtles resting on the sand and others swimming in the surf. 

Visiting Kilauea Volcano. We unfortunately missed the big spectacular lava fountains that have been happening intermittently (I’m watching one on the live cams right now as I write this!), but we spent two nights in a comfortable lodge in the rainforest and had a day and a half to explore the volcano. We had a lovely if somewhat klutzy hike doing the Kilauea Iki crater loop, which descends through a rainforest onto the barren crater floor, then across the crater and up the other side. We undertook this hike in heavy mist, and I managed to slip twice: once on an asphalt ramp near the trailhead to descend to the crater, so I had to do the hike with a wet (and slightly bruised) butt, and then once on the crater floor, bruising and scraping my shin on the sharp lava. Still, it was really unique scenery and a bit of a workout climbing back up to the rim. We also visited the Thurston Lava Tube, the Steam Vents, part of Devastation Trail, and Uekahuna. And after dark, we returned to the park to have a distant view (from across the caldera) of the steam from the north vent, which was occasionally glowing yellow. We even saw a few small jets of hot lava spew out, which was exciting—but nothing like what is happening now. A new lava fountain episode started 3 days later and lasted some hours before it went dormant again until today. 

All in all, it was a great trip, though we had to skip whole large sections of the island since we only had 9 days.

[nitpickrider]

Stingray, A Soft and Simple Shanty

“Dr. Richards wants that data.” Diane said to me, short dark hair barely falling past the backs of her ears. She was dressed in swirling psychedelic patterns, a base of deep sea green with crescents and reaching coral limbs of red and pink and blue.

“Dr. Richards will get that data. If he wants to find a better way to get a reading of strange mineral deposits several miles down and three hours sail off the coast of Oahu then he can do it himself. Until then, he'll take the time table I give him.” I said, standing up tall.

Diane stopped, a smile kinking up the right side of her lips.

A stark white bodysuit and crimson shorts, boots and gloves. A red strike up the center with a starburst taking up most of my chest and a helmet tucked under one arm with no facial features save for a curved arrow pointing down. The suit's “cape” or “wings” extended down from each arm, segmented with long stripes like the feathers of some titanic sea bird.

“What?” I asked her, smiling as if I didn't already know the answer while she approached me. She set down the clipboard against the bolted down table on the deck of our research boat. She pushed herself up on her tiptoes and kissed me.

I sighed, closing my eyes softly and wrapping my arms around the small of her back. Cursing the suit's environmental seal for not letting me feel her warmth on mine.

“Just thinking about how dashing a figure you cut, Stingray.” She said, taking the helmet out from under my arm. She fitted it over my head gently, clicking both latches shut in one motion. With a shrill little beep the helmet's HUD flashed to light in a squint inducing shade of red that wouldn't be lost against the ocean backdrop.

“'Stingray' is for when I'm doing something unwise around people with guns or who can toss trucks like footballs. Now what you CAN say is that Dr. Walter Newell, savant oceanographer and inventor cuts a dashing figure. Stingray is a part-timer.” I said, sweeping her back up into my arms and getting close. “Your husband is here for every second.” One of my gloved hands reached down over her forearm and laced my fingers into hers, running the tips of my fingers along the gem of her wedding ring. A teardrop of aquamarine in gleaming silver. Yes, Aquamarine. No one can ever accuse “us” superheroes of not being blunt as battering rams.

“When you get back from your day job, Mr. Part-Time. I'd like to take you up on that…” She said as I stepped up on the edge of the boat.

“Mmm, careful. Bad for the ecosystem if I start turning sea water to steam on contact.” I said and thrust my arms out to either side, wings snapping up, glittering red in the sun.

(Here it issss~)

[mjonthetrack]

The block was thinning out.

Music dimmed, folding into the sounds of folding chairs and sweeping brooms. Kids with juice-stained mouths trailed after tired mamas, while a few volunteers stacked tables in the back.

Imani was still on her feet.

Still directing. Still moving. Still carrying the weight of a whole neighborhood on her back like it didn’t hurt.

She finally sat on the edge of the stage platform, kicking her heels off with a groan. Her toes flexed in her socks, and for the first time all day… she looked tired. Not broken. Not weak. Just human.

Joshua clocked it.

He hadn’t said a word all afternoon. Just posted up with a few of the community heads he knew, played background, eyes scanning the scene. But he watched her. Watched how she ran the event like a general with a honey-dipped voice. Watched how she poured herself out—discipline, tenderness, fire.

And when she crossed that street earlier?

Shit. That was something different. That wasn’t outreach. That was love with calluses.

Now, as the streetlights flickered on, he made his move. Slow. Intentional. Let her see him coming.

“Yo,” he said, voice low but solid as concrete. “You good?”

Imani looked up.

Took in the man in front of her.

Tall. Locs thick and clean. Dunks, black cargos, white tee clinging to a frame that looked like it’d seen a weight room and a warzone. Gold chain around his neck—nothing too flashy, just real. His eyes held peace… and something ancient behind it. Like he’d lived too many lives to play games now.

“I’m straight,” she said, reaching for her water bottle. “You need something?”

He let a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. “Nah. Just been watching. You got that whole auntie-mayor-energy going.”

She huffed a dry laugh. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

He nodded. “From me? Yeah.”

She gave him a look, squinting. “You from around here?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Born in Oahu. Raised in Oakland. Been in Detroit a few years now. Got roots here now, though. Work in private security—community stuff mostly.”

Imani studied him again. Noticed how he kept his hands loose at his sides. How he didn’t look like he was trying to impress her. Just be seen by her.

“So what made you walk over?” she asked.

He stepped a little closer, voice dipping.

“That moment earlier—when you checked lil dude in front of them old heads? Most folks would’ve let that slide. You didn’t. You don’t just protect your people—you claim ’em.”

That touched something low in her chest.

“Figured,” he added, eyes holding hers steady, “somebody should make sure you had somebody in your corner too.”

Imani didn’t respond right away.

But something softened in her shoulders. Just a little.

“You always that smooth?” she asked, smirking.

He shrugged. “Only when it matters.”

She let out a quiet, real laugh. “What’s your name?”

“Josh,” he said. “Or Fatu,if you talk to people who knew me back when I was wild.”

“Well,” she said, standing up, slipping her heels back on, “I don’t know you like that yet.”

He smiled. “Yet.”

—————

She didn’t respond right away.

Just held his eyes for a beat. Studying. Calculating. Seeing if that smooth delivery came with substance underneath it.

Then, without breaking her gaze, she pulled her heels back on, stood up, and smoothed the front of her tee like she was brushing off more than dust. Like she was putting her armor back on.

“That’s cute, Josh,” she said, voice syrup-slow with a sharpened edge. “But I still got work to do.”

He nodded, no offense taken.

“I see that,” he said.

“Good.” She turned, her voice tossing one last line over her shoulder. “Then keep watching.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Moving through her people like a heartbeat. Hugging somebody’s mama. Handing a few teenagers folded bills for their help. Giving a nod to her staff as they handed out last plates of food.

Josh didn’t chase.

Didn’t insert himself.

He stayed posted up as the scene slowly unraveled into dusk, but he didn’t lose sight of her. Not when she wiped sweat off her neck with a rag. Not when she made a small kid laugh just by letting him honk the horn on the event van.

And especially not when she made her way to the street, unlocking the matte black pickup parked like a tank on the corner.

Lifted tailgate. Soft slam.

Stacked up crates with one hand and dragged coolers with the other like it was nothing. He caught a glimpse of the custom tags. Out-of-state plates. She wasn’t from here originally… but she claimed it like blood.

He watched her load that truck herself—nails done, edge control sweated out, sliding her Timbs on as the last bit of daylight slipped behind the skyline.

She paused just once.

Looked over her shoulder, eyes meeting his from across the lot.

Josh straightened a little. Met it head on.

She gave him a chin-tilt—barely there.

Then got in the driver’s seat. Blackout tints swallowed her whole as the engine turned over, low and loud like a warning.

Josh chuckled to himself. “Mmhmm…”

Yeah. He was gonna see her again.

No need to press it.

Real ones don’t need to chase. They wait for the right time.

————-

the kind that clung to your skin and settled into your bones like truth you couldn’t run from. Imani’s boots hit the pavement with that same unbothered rhythm—calm, steady, but with purpose behind every step. She wasn’t dressed to impress, she was dressed to move—loose cargo pants, a cropped black tee, gold hoops and nails that still gleamed like she had a fresh set, even if they were chipped from work.

She was walking a beat she knew better than some officers did. Same blocks, same faces, same risk. She was there to check in on a mother of two who’d been catching heat from some boys running corner work too close to her porch.

That’s when she heard it—raised voices down the street. Not wild, not violent… yet. Just off. And Imani had a gift for catching something before it spun out.

She turned the corner and that’s when she saw him.

Not the one shouting—the one standing there quiet.

Joshua. Leaned up against a pole like he’d been part of that sidewalk his whole life. Dark tee, chain glinting, one hand tucked into the front of his sweats, the other holding a water bottle. He wasn’t speaking—just watching. But the way those boys shifted around him said it all. He didn’t demand respect, he commanded it.

He saw her at the same time she saw him.

And what he noticed first? She didn’t flinch.

Didn’t blink. Didn’t pause to ask what was going on.

She stepped in, squared up with the young one yelling wild at another boy, and hit him with that sharp, no-bullshit tone only a woman who really gave a damn could get away with.

“You yelling like you got something to say, but you ain’t moved a damn thing except your mouth. You wanna be a man, act like one. Or go home and let your mama raise you all over again.”

Silence.

Josh arched one brow. She didn’t look at him once.

She had that boy apologizing within two minutes, then dapping up the other, breaking the tension like she’d been born with peace tucked in her back pocket. She didn’t need backup.

But it sure didn’t hurt when she turned to leave and finally caught his eye.

He nodded once. Not in greeting.

In respect.

She nodded back. Nothing flirtatious—just real recognizing real. That kind of nod only two people who live for their people understand.

And then she was gone—boots hitting pavement, long braids swaying behind her, that same slow stride of someone who knew they’d be back

——

Three weeks later.

The walls of The Block, her community center, vibrated with the warm hum of second chances.

Imani moved through the crowd like she owned the place—because she did. Not just the building, but the vision. The chairs were filled with brothers trying to find footing after time inside, their loved ones seated beside them, and volunteers from all walks, all corners of the city. The smell of catered food, Black-owned and seasoned right, danced through the air.

This was the launch of her newest reentry initiative: “Next Up: A Blueprint to Start Over.” She’d poured every ounce of grit, grace, and her own damn money into it. She wasn’t here to hand out hope. She was here to build futures.

She adjusted her mic at the podium, rocking her signature gold hoops and fresh nails, slides on her feet like she wasn’t afraid to kick one off mid-speech if need be.

“Some of y’all got told your whole life that you wouldn’t be nothin’. That’s not truth. That’s trauma. But today? We shifting that. Brick by brick, we build again. Not just buildings—but men. Families. Legacies.”

Applause broke out. Loud. Real. Her name was being called from different corners of the room—“’Preciate you, Miss Imani!” “That’s real talk!” “Keep saving lives, sis!”

But there was one set of eyes on her that didn’t move.

Joshua.

Standing in the back, near the exit like someone who never quite let go of survival mode. He’d heard about the event from one of the young homies he looked out for. Came through out of curiosity… and maybe something else.

There she was again—commanding the room, voice steady, chin high. Not chasing praise, just doing the work.

She caught him watching this time.

And this time?

She looked a second longer. Didn’t smile. Just gave him that same nod from the street. A little heavier. A little... intentional.

He nodded back. No words. Not yet.

But that mutual energy? Palpable.

She stepped down from the mic and got right back to work—hugging mamas, dapping up returning citizens, handing out job packets like they were keys to a new kingdom. Her hands stayed full.

Josh stayed posted up, soaking in the atmosphere. Respect in his eyes. Maybe a little something more.

But he didn't step in yet.

He was waiting.

And so was she—she just wasn’t gonna be the one to say it first.

——-

The sound of Frankie Beverly & Maze spilled from the speakers, the beat so familiar it had the aunties out of their seats before the first note dropped.

“This the one!” Imani grinned wide, her arms already mid-air as she kicked her slides off and jumped into the wobble line like muscle memory. Her locs swung with every step, her hips rolling easy, rhythm deep in her bones. She laughed out loud—unbothered, beautiful, free.

Some of the men who’d been through her reentry program were there too—holding their wives close, kids hanging off their legs, one or two even joining the dance line with cautious two-steps. These were the wins folks didn’t see on paper. This was legacy work.

Josh stood just inside the building now, shoulder leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. Watching.

He didn’t say nothing. Just observed her in motion.

There was something about the way she took up space without demanding it… how everyone made room for her just off respect. She laughed big. Threw her head back. Reached for one of the elder mamas and spun her gently, both of them hollering through it.

“That’s how you do it, Mama Joyce!”

Josh smirked, head tilted. That was the second time she caught him watching—but this time, she beckoned.

Not a full invite. Just a subtle raise of her chin and a look that said, “Come correct or don’t come at all.”

He stepped forward.

“Imani, right?” His voice was smooth, with that Bay drawl buried under island soul.

She turned toward him slowly, grabbing a napkin to dab her forehead. “Mmhm. Depends who’s asking.”

Josh chuckled, sticking out a hand. “Joshua. Folks call me Josh.”

She eyed his hand, then shook it firmly. “I remember. From the block.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Saw what you did that day. Had to see more.”

She quirked a brow. “And what’d you see?”

Josh didn’t blink. “A woman who moves like she don’t need nobody—but got everybody moving.”

Her smile curled, lips glossed just right, cheekbones high. “You flirtin’, Mr. Josh?”

“Nah.” He leaned in just enough to drop his tone low. “I’m observin’. Lotta folks talk community. You out here living it.”

For a brief second, her shoulders dropped—not from exhaustion, but from being seen.

She stepped back just a little, keeping space between them, but not cold. “You always this quiet?”

“Only when I’m listenin’. You got a lot worth hearin’.”

That made her pause. Just long enough for him to know he said something right.

One of her mentees called her name and she held up a hand to signal she’d be right there.

“You here to volunteer or just to watch the party?” she asked, arms crossed.

Josh shrugged, smile slow. “Guess that depends. You need help?”

Her smirk was sharp now. “Always. Just don’t waste my time.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

As she turned to walk back into the crowd, she tossed over her shoulder, “Good. We start early. I’ll see if you show up.”

And just like that, she was back on the dance floor, shoulder-bumping a granny and two-stepping into her purpose.

And Josh?

He just stood there. Watching her in her light.

Plotting how he was gonna move in it without dimming a damn thing.

——-

[moanologue]

Say It Again

Chapter 11 - Healing Detective

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Rating: Mature

Category: M/M

Fandom: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)

Relationship: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams

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I wake up alone.

Not to the scream of sirens tearing through Honolulu’s dawn. Not to Steve’s voice, sharp and commanding, yanking me from sleep like a lifeline. Just… stillness. A quiet so deep. Early light spills through the blinds, pooling in soft, golden patches against the far wall of Steve’s bedroom. Outside, palm fronds rustle in the trade winds, a low, soothing whisper that feels too gentle for a morning after yesterday’s chaos. My throat burns from where that bastard’s hands tried to crush the life out of me. My ribs throb with every shallow breath, a reminder of how close I came to not waking up at all. But that’s not what drags me out of sleep.

It’s the absence.

The space beside me is empty, the sheets cool where Steve should be. I sit up slowly, wincing as the motion tugs at every bruise, every strained muscle. Steve’s bed is massive, a king-sized fortress with a mattress firmer than I’m used to, the kind that forces your spine to behave. The pillows soaked in his scent of ocean salt, something sharp and clean like eucalyptus, and a faint undercurrent of coffee baked into the fabric from years of early mornings. Each inhale makes the empty sheets beside me ache all the more. My skin’s sticky with sweat, the Hawaiian humidity clinging to me despite the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead. I swing legs over the edge, my ankle protesting with a sharp stab, ribs screaming louder. I grit my teeth, ready to stand, to shuffle toward the kitchen, bracing for the emptiness of a house left behind by a man who’s always three steps ahead.

Then I hear a faint clink from the kitchen, the low hum of a coffee maker.

He’s still here.

My heart does a weird stutter, and I pause, one hand gripping the edge of the mattress. Steve, still here, not halfway across Oahu chasing a lead or barking orders at the team. It shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. I ease myself to my feet, ignoring the way my body protests, and limp toward the kitchen, the hardwood cool under my bare feet.

He’s there, standing by the counter like a statue carved from sunlight and stubbornness. Shirtless, barefoot, in low-slung sweatpants that cling to his hips. He’s holding a coffee mug, staring out the window at the ocean beyond, the early light catching the sharp angles of his shoulders. His posture is all business. But he’s here. Not gone. Not leaving me to wake up in an empty house.

He doesn’t turn when he hears my footsteps. I know he clocks me. He always does.

“I told you to stay in bed,” he says.

“Good morning to you too,” I croak, the words scraping like sandpaper.

He glances over his shoulder, and there’s no smirk, no playful glint in his eyes. Just a slow scan that starts at my face, lingers on the bruises blooming across my bare chest, and dips to the loose sweatpants he slipped me into last night when I was too out of it to notice. His jaw ticks, a tiny muscle jumping under the stubble.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he says, and it’s not a suggestion.

“I was. I’m rested. Ish.” I limp to the counter, ignoring the sharp stab in my ankle, and grab the second mug he’s poured for me. The coffee’s black, strong, the way he likes it, but he’s added a splash of cream. I don’t comment, but it warms something in my chest. “You always this bossy in the morning?”

“You almost died yesterday.” I flinch before I can stop myself. My grip tightens on the mug, the heat biting into my palms. He notices, of course he does.

“I’m fine, Steve,” I say, but the words sound hollow, even to me. I’m not fine. My body’s a map of aches, my head’s a mess of half-formed thoughts, and every time I close my eyes, I see bloodshot eyes, a scarred eyebrow, the tile cold against my back. I’m not fine, but I don’t know how to say it.

“You keep saying that.” He turns to face me fully, leaning against the counter with that effortless grace. He’s too close, the heat of him cutting through the morning chill. Or maybe he’s just close enough. The light catches a bruise on his collarbone, a purpling mark where the pipe clipped him during yesterday’s fight. It’s a reminder he’s not invincible, no matter how much he acts like it. I want to reach out, press my fingers to it, feel the warmth of his skin under the discoloration. However, my hands stay wrapped around the mug.

“I meant what I said last night,” he says quieter.

“Which part?” I ask, trying to deflect the weight of this moment. “The threats or the part where you climbed into bed like a protective boyfriend?”

He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. Just holds my gaze with those damn blue eyes that see too much, that strip me bare without trying. “Both.”

My heart skips, a traitor in my chest. My mouth goes dry, and I don’t know if it’s the coffee or the way he’s looking at me.  “Okay,” I manage, the word barely audible, a surrender I didn’t mean to give.

“You’re not going back to your place for a while,” he says, and it’s not a question. It’s a fact, delivered with the same certainty he uses when calling a play in the field.

“Steve-”

He steps forward, closing the distance in one smooth stride. “You’re staying here. You’re not working until I say you’re ready. If you go anywhere, I go with you. End of discussion.”

I stare at him, searching for the line between overprotective and… whatever this is. This thing that makes my chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with my ribs. “You realize how that sounds, right?” My voice cracks, and I wince, hating how weak it sounds.

He tilts his head, just enough to make my pulse jump. “Safe?”

“Controlling.”

“I don’t care.”

And the worst part is…I don’t either. Not really. Because my chest is still tight from yesterday, from the moment I thought I wouldn’t make it out. Because his bed, his house, his presence was the first place I’ve felt warm, grounded, in weeks. Because there’s something about the way he says these things, with that unshakable certainty, that makes me feel like I belong somewhere. Like I’m not just drifting through my own life, a detective playing at being whole.

I take a sip of coffee to cover the silence, the bitter heat grounding me. “So what, you’re gonna chain me to the couch?”

“If that’s what it takes,” he says, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. “You’re not moving until you can walk without limping. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re not a doctor,” I point out, but there’s no heat in it. I’m too tired to argue, and deep down, I know he’s right. My body’s screaming for rest, and my head’s not far behind.

He steps closer, and I don’t move away. His hand comes up slowly, fingers grazing my jaw where the bruises are darkest. “You did good,” he murmurs. “You’re here. That’s enough.”

It shouldn’t be. I’m a mess of aches and doubts, a detective who’s supposed to have it together but feels like he’s unraveling. But when he says it, it feels true. Like it’s enough just to be standing here, in his kitchen, with his hand on my face, the ocean whispering outside.

I lean into his palm, my exhale shaky. “You gonna say that every morning now?”

He smiles a little. The kind of smile that promises trouble and safety in equal measure. “If you want me to.” The moment stretches, heavy with everything we’re not saying. I swallow hard, my throat aching, and force myself to step back, breaking the contact before I do something stupid like close the gap entirely. “Coffee’s good,” I mutter, turning to the counter, needing the distance to breathe again.

He lets me go, but I feel his eyes on me, as I limp toward the kitchen table. The morning unfolds slowly, a rare pause in the relentless rhythm of our lives. Steve doesn’t let me out of his sight, and for once, I don’t fight it. The kitchen smells of coffee and the faint, sweet tang of mango from the tree in his backyard, its branches heavy with fruit that sways in the trade winds outside the open window. The counter is cluttered with the evidence of Steve’s morning routine: a half-empty bag of Kona coffee beans, a cutting board with mango peels curling at the edges, and a knife moves smoothly in his hands, slicing the fruit into perfect wedges, the juice dripping onto the counter. It’s domestic in a way that feels almost alien for a guy who thrives on high-stakes chaos.

He’s at the stove now, his back to me, the muscles in his shoulders shifting as he flips eggs in a skillet with the kind of precision you’d expect from a SEAL. He’s still shirtless, the sweatpants riding low enough to reveal the faint tan line at his hips, a detail I shouldn’t notice but do.

“Stop staring,” he says without turning.

“I’m not staring,” I lie, my throat still raw, the words scraping like gravel. I shift in the chair at the kitchen table, wincing as my ribs protest. “Just… admiring your culinary skills. Didn’t know you could cook anything that didn’t come out of a blender.”

He snorts, sliding the eggs onto a plate with toast and a fan of mango slices, the vibrant orange glowing against the white ceramic. “You’re lucky I’m feeding you at all, considering you’re supposed to be in bed.”

He sets a plate in front of me, his movements gentle. I try to crack a joke about him being a domestic goddess, but it falls flat when I catch the way he’s watching me, like he’s memorizing every wince, every hitch in my breath.

“Eat,” he says, sliding into the chair across from me. It’s not a request.

I roll my eyes but pick up the fork, my hands shakier than I’d like to admit. The eggs are fluffy, the toast crisp, the mango bursting with flavor that feels like a small rebellion against yesterday’s darkness. We eat in silence, the only sounds the clink of silverware, the distant crash of waves, and the soft hum of the ceiling fan. It’s… nice. Too nice. The kind of nice that makes me nervous, like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I glance at the fridge, where a single photo of Steve and Mary is pinned under a magnet shaped like a surfboard. It’s slightly faded, the edges curling, and I wonder when it was taken, what version of Steve smiled for that camera.

My phone buzzes on the counter, and I reach for it out of habit. Steve’s hand is faster, snatching it before I can. “Nope,” he says, tucking it into his pocket. “No work. No team. Just you, me, and rest.”

“You can’t just confiscate my phone,” I rasp, the effort making my throat burn. I cough, and Steve’s eyes narrow, like he’s ready to call a medic.

“Watch me,” he says, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his bare chest. The bruise on his collarbone catches the light again, and I can’t stop staring at it. He notices, because Steve McGarrett notices everything. “What?”

“You got hit,” I whisper, nodding at the bruise. “You’re not bulletproof either, you know.”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Takes more than a pipe to slow me down.”

“Yeah, well, maybe slow down anyway,” I mutter, and the words slip out before I can stop them.

His eyes soften, before he leans forward, elbows on the table. “I’m not the one who needs slowing down, Danny. You’re staying put. Couch. Bed. Pick one.”

“Couch,” I croak, mostly to be contrary, but also because lying in his bed all day feels too… intimate. Too much like crossing a line I’m not sure I’m ready for, even if it’s the only place where I’ve felt safe in weeks. The couch is neutral ground, a way to keep some distance between us, even if it’s just in my head.

He nods, like he’s won some unspoken battle, and gestures toward the living room. “Move.”

I limp to the couch, easing myself down with a grunt. The cushions are soft, worn in, the kind of comfortable that makes you want to stay forever. Steve follows, carrying a blanket and a glass of water, and I can’t help but laugh, even if it makes my ribs ache. “You’re really leaning into this nurse thing, huh?”

“Shut up and drink,” he says, handing me the glass. But he’s close again, closer than he needs to be, and when he drapes the blanket over me, his fingers brush my shoulder, lingering too long. I catch the faint scent of his soap, something crisp and oceanic, and it grounds me even as it sets my nerves on edge. The blanket is old, slightly frayed at the edges, and I wonder if it’s one he’s had forever, maybe from his Navy days, carried through years of missions and moves.

I don’t flinch. I don’t pull away. I just look at him, and for a moment, the world narrows to the space between us. The warmth of his hand, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his eyes hold mine like they’re searching for something.

“You don’t have to do this,” I say, my voice quieter than I mean it to be. “I’m not gonna break.”

“I know,” he says, but his hand doesn’t move. “But I’m not taking any chances. Not with you.”

The words hang in the air, and I don’t know what to say to that. I just nod, letting the blanket settle around me. He steps back, breaking the moment, but the warmth of his touch lingers, a quiet anchor in the stillness of the morning.

Around noon, the doorbell rings, shattering the quiet like a gunshot. I tense, my body reacting before my brain catches up, heart races, throat tightens, and I flash to yesterday, to the click of a gun, the hands on my neck. Steve’s already on his feet, his posture shifting to that alert, predatory stance he gets when there’s a potential threat. He glances at me, a silent stay put, before heading to the door.

I hear muffled voices, then a familiar, high-pitched one that makes my chest ache in a different way. “Danno?”

“Grace?” I call out, my voice cracking. I try to sit up straighter, ignoring the stab in my ribs, as Steve steps back into the living room, followed by my daughter and the entire team. I notice the way the light catches Kono’s earrings, small silver hoops that glint as she moves, and the faint stubble on Chin’s jaw, like he hasn’t shaved since yesterday’s chaos. Grover’s wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt, the kind he claims is “classic”.

Grace barrels toward me, her backpack bouncing, and throws her arms around my neck before I can brace myself. The hug hurts like hell, but I don’t care. I wrap my arms around her, breathing in the familiar scent of her strawberry shampoo, and for a second, everything else fades away. “Hey, Monkey,” I whisper. Talking feels like swallowing glass, but I push through for her. “What’re you doing here?”

“Mom said you got hurt,” she says, pulling back to look at me, her brown eyes wide and searching. She’s too smart for her age, too perceptive, and I see the worry etched into her face. Her gaze lands on the bruises around my neck, and her eyes widen. “Danno… your neck…” Her fingers hover near the marks, and I see her lip tremble before she catches herself. It’s a punch to the gut, knowing she’s seeing me like this.

“I’m fine, Gracie,” I say, forcing a smile, and I guess, she’s not buying it. She frowns, her little hands still gripping my shoulders, like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go. I notice a small sticker on her backpack, a glittery unicorn, and it’s such a normal, kid thing that it almost breaks me. She’s still my little girl, even if she’s growing up too fast.

“You don’t look fine,” she says, and I can’t help but laugh, even if it makes me wince.

“She’s got you there, brah,” Kono says, leaning against the arm of the couch with a grin. She’s trying to keep it light, but her eyes are cataloging every bruise on my face, every stiff movement. “You look like you went ten rounds with a bulldozer.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I mutter, easing back against the cushions. Grace climbs onto the couch beside me, careful not to jostle me too much, and curls up with her head on my shoulder. I rest my arm around her, grateful for her warmth, her presence.

Chin steps forward. “Good to see you in one piece, Danny. You had us worried.” His voice is even, but there’s a weight to it, a reminder of how close yesterday was. I catch the way he glances at Steve, a quick, silent exchange, and I wonder what they’re not saying, what details of yesterday they’re shielding me from.

Grover’s less subtle. He plants himself in the armchair across from me, his bulk making the furniture look comically small. “Man, you look like you got hit by a truck. Next time, duck, yeah?”

“Appreciate the advice,” I deadpan, but there’s a warmth in my chest at their concern, their presence. This team, this family…they’re my tether, even when I feel like I’m fraying.

Steve’s been quiet, standing near the doorway, his arms crossed as he watches the scene unfold. But he’s not detached. His eyes track every interaction, lingering on Grace’s head against my shoulder, on the way Kono’s hand rests briefly on my arm. He’s orbiting, like he did this morning, a steady, gravitational pull that keeps me grounded.

Grace looks up at me, her voice soft. “Uncle Steve said you’re staying here so he can take care of you. Is that true?”

I glance at Steve, who meets my gaze with that unreadable expression. “Yeah, Monkey,” I say, ruffling her hair. “Uncle Steve’s playing nurse. Don’t let him fool you with that tough-guy act.”

She giggles, and the sound is like sunlight breaking through clouds. “He made me pancakes this morning,” she says, like it’s a secret. “With chocolate chips.”

“Traitor,” I mutter, shooting Steve a mock glare. He just shrugs, a small, dangerous smile tugging at his lips.

“Somebody’s gotta keep her fed while you’re slacking,” he says, and the team laughs, the tension in the room easing just a fraction.

Grace shifts, reaching for her backpack, and pulls out a small sketchbook, its edges worn from constant use. She flips it open, revealing a page filled with colored pencils and a half-finished drawing of a beach scene: waves crashing, a palm tree leaning into the wind, and two stick figures standing side by side. One has short, spiky hair and a badge; the other’s taller, with a surfboard under one arm. I don’t need to guess who they are.

“Whatcha got there, Monkey?” I ask.

She glances up, her brown eyes catching the light. “It’s for you,” she says, holding the sketchbook out. “So you feel better.”

I take it carefully, my chest tightening as I trace the lines of the drawing. The badge on the smaller figure is a lopsided star, but it’s unmistakable. The surfboard has a tiny Five-0 logo scribbled on it, and I can’t help but smile, even though it pulls at the bruises on my face. “This is amazing, Gracie,” I say. “You’re getting good at this.”

She beams, leaning into me again, and I catch Steve watching from the doorway. Kono notices too, scooting closer to peek at the drawing. “Whoa, Grace, you’re an artist,” she says, her voice warm. “You gonna frame this for Danno’s desk?”

Grace nods, her cheeks pink. “Maybe. If he wants.”

“I want,” I say quickly, ruffling her hair. “This is going on the wall, kiddo. Right next to my badge.”

Chin leans over. “You got talent, Grace. You ever think about doing a mural? We could use one at the office.”

Her eyes light up, and she launches into a story about a school art project, her voice bubbling over with excitement. I listen, my arm around her, and for a moment, the aches in my body fade, drowned out by her laughter and the team’s quiet attention.

Kono pulls out a bag of takeout from a nearby diner, setting it on the coffee table. “We figured you’d need something better than Steve’s protein shakes,” she says, unpacking containers of loco moco and malasadas. The warm and comforting smell hits me, and my stomach growls despite the ache in my ribs.

“You guys didn’t have to do this,” I say, but my voice is rough, and I know they hear what I’m not saying. Thank you. I needed this.

“Family shows up,” Chin says simply, and that’s that.

We eat, the room filled with the sound of chatter, Grace’s laughter, and Grover’s loud complaints about the latest case.

Steve stays close, sitting on the arm of the couch beside me. He doesn’t eat much, just watches, his hand occasionally brushing my shoulder when he thinks no one’s looking. But Grace notices, her eyes flicking between us, and I wonder what she sees. What she understands.

Later, after Grace has dozed off against my shoulder, her sketchbook still open on her lap, Kono slides onto the couch beside me. The others are in the kitchen, cleaning up the takeout mess. She’s close enough that I can smell her coconut shampoo, and her silver hoop earrings catch the light as she tilts her head, studying me.

“You scared the hell out of us, you know.” Her dark eyes scan my face. “When Steve called… I thought we were too late.”

I swallow, my throat burning, and try to deflect. “Takes more than that to get rid of me, Kono.”

She doesn’t smile. Instead, she reaches out, her hand resting lightly on my wrist, her fingers cool against my skin. “I’m serious, Danny. You’re not allowed to do that again. We need you.”

The words hit harder than I expect, and I look away, focusing on Grace’s steady breathing against my side. “I’m here,” I say, and I feel the weight of her worry, her care, like a blanket I don’t deserve.

“I know you are,” she says finally, squeezing my wrist before letting go. “But you gotta let us take care of you too, yeah? You’re not Superman.”

I snort, wincing as it tugs at my ribs. “Tell that to McGarrett. He’s the one who thinks he’s bulletproof.”

She glances toward the kitchen, where Steve’s rinsing plates. “He’s not,” she says quietly. “Not when it comes to you.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I just nod, my eyes drifting to Grace’s drawing still clutched in my hand. Kono stays for a moment longer, then stands, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Rest, Danny. We’ve got your back.”

As she heads to the kitchen, I catch Steve’s eye across the room. He’s watching again, and I wonder what he sees when he looks at me like that.

Grover’s still in the armchair, his massive frame making it creak every time he shifts. The team’s winding down now, the takeout containers cleared away, and Grace is still asleep, her head heavy on my shoulder. Chin’s on the phone with Malia, while Kono’s flipping through one of Steve’s old surfing magazines on the floor. Grover, though, is staring at me, his eyes narrowed like he’s sizing me up.

“Alright, Williams,” he says, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “I’m gonna give it to you straight. You look like crap, and you’re not fooling anybody with that ‘I’m fine’ routine.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks, Lou. Real motivational.”

He doesn’t laugh. “I’m serious, man. You went through hell yesterday, and you’re sitting here like it’s just another day. You gotta let yourself heal, physically and up here.” He taps his temple, his gaze steady. “I’ve seen guys try to push through worse and end up breaking. Don’t be that guy.”

I shift uncomfortably, Grace’s weight anchoring me. “I’m not pushing through anything.”

Grover leans back, crossing his arms over his loud Hawaiian shirt. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that? You got people who care about you. Let ‘em in.” He nods toward Steve, who’s now leaning against the counter in the kitchen, pretending not to listen. “Especially that one. He’s been a wreck since yesterday.”

I glance at Steve, catching the way his shoulders tense, I think he knows we’re talking about him. “Yeah, well, he’s good at hiding it,” I mutter.

Grover snorts. “Not as good as you think. Man’s been glued to your side since we got you out. That’s not just partner stuff, Danny.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I just look down at Grace, her face peaceful in sleep. Grover doesn’t push, just stands, stretching his arms. “Get some rest, Williams. And don’t make me come back here and tie you to that couch.”

“Noted,” I say, and he gives me a nod before heading to the kitchen, clapping Steve on the shoulder as he passes.

The team’s about to leave, and the living room feels emptier already, the warmth of their presence lingering like an afterimage. Chin hangs back, his hands in his pockets, his expression calm but heavy. Grace is awake now, sitting up and rubbing her eyes, her sketchbook tucked under her arm. She’s chatting with Kono about some new surfboard design, her voice bright despite the late hour.

Chin sits on the edge of the coffee table, close enough that I can see the faint lines of exhaustion around his eyes. “You holding up okay, Danny?”

I shrug, wincing as the movement pulls at my ribs. “Been better, been worse.”

He nods, like he expected that. “You know, when I was with HPD, I had a case go bad. Real bad. Took me months to shake it.” He pauses, his eyes distant. “Malia used to say the only way through is to lean on the people who’ve got your back.”

I swallow, my throat tight. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a pretty good crew,” I say, glancing at Grace, then at Steve, who’s saying goodbye to Kono and Grover at the door.

“You do,” Chin says. “And you’ve got him.” He nods toward Steve, his voice dropping even lower. “He’s not gonna let you go through this alone, whether you like it or not.”

I laugh, a rough, quiet sound. “Yeah, he’s made that pretty clear.”

Chin smiles. “Good. Let him. And let Grace keep you grounded.” He stands, resting a hand on my shoulder for a moment. “We’re family, Danny. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

He heads to the door, joining the others, and I watch them go, promising to check in tomorrow, Grace lingers, her backpack slung over one shoulder. She hugs me again, gentler this time, and whispers, “Get better, Danno. I love you.”

“Love you too, Monkey,” I say and kiss her forehead, breathing her in one last time before she pulls away. Steve walks her to the door, promising to bring her back tomorrow, and I hear her giggle as he teases her about something I can’t catch.

When he comes back, the house feels quieter, but not empty. He sits beside me on the couch, close enough that our shoulders brush. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, and for the first time today, it feels like it might be true. “Thanks for… you know. Letting them come. Taking care of Grace.”

He nods. “You don’t have to thank me, Danny. This is what we do.”

And maybe that’s it.

I lean back, letting the blanket settle over me, letting his presence settle over me too. “Don’t get used to this nurse thing,” I mutter, closing my eyes.

He chuckles, and I feel it in my chest. “Too late.”

By mid-afternoon, I’m half-dozing with a dog-eared copy of The Sun Also Rises on my lap, but I haven’t read a word. The sound of the ocean and Steve’s quiet movements lulling me into a haze. He doesn’t leave, doesn’t go to work, doesn’t answer his phone when it buzzes with what I’m sure are urgent calls from HPD. He stays, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself rest. Really rest. Not because I want to, but because he’s here, holding the line, keeping the world at bay.

Time to time my eyes keep drifting to him, where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a pile of old photos he pulled from a box under the coffee table.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Cleaning,” he says without looking up. He holds up a photo, a faded Polaroid of a younger Steve, maybe twenty, in a Navy uniform, grinning beside a woman with light hair and his eyes. His mom, I realize, and my throat tightens.

“Spring cleaning in June?” I deflect, shifting to sit up straighter, ignoring the twinge in my ribs.

He shrugs, setting the photo aside. “Figured it’s been a while. Found these in the garage last week.”

I watch him sort through more: pictures of Mary as a kid, Steve surfing, a group of SEALs laughing on a beach somewhere. Each one feels like a piece of a puzzle I’ll never fully solve, a life before me, before Five-0. He pauses on one, his fingers lingering, and I catch a glimpse: him and Catherine, arms around each other, the ocean behind them. My chest does a weird twist, and I look away, focusing on the book I’m not reading.

“You ever miss it?” I ask before I can stop myself. “The Navy. That life.”

He doesn’t answer right away, just sets the photo face-down and leans back on his hands, studying me. “Sometimes,” he says finally. “But this-” he gestures vaguely, encompassing the house, the team, me on his couch “-this is better.”

I don’t know what to say to that. My fingers trace the edge of the book, the pages soft from years of use. “You’re full of it,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it. I want to believe him, want to think this messed-up, beautiful life we’ve built is enough for a guy like Steve McGarrett.

He moves suddenly, sliding onto the couch beside me, close enough that our thighs brush. He takes the book from my hands, his fingers grazing mine, and sets it on the coffee table. “You’re thinking too hard,” he says, like he’s talking to a spooked animal. “Stop it.”

“Easy for you to say,” I rasp, meeting his gaze. His eyes are too much, too knowing. “You’re not the one who almost-” I cut myself off, swallowing the rest. Almost died. Almost left Grace. Almost lost this.

He doesn’t flinch, just reaches out, his hand settling on my knee. “You’re here, Danny. That’s what matters.”

I want to argue, want to push back against the simplicity of it, but his hand on my knee feels like the only thing keeping me tethered. I nod, letting out a shaky breath, and he doesn’t pull away. We sit like that, the photos forgotten, the afternoon light slanting through the windows, and for a moment, I let myself believe it’s enough.

The sun sets fast in Hawaii, like someone flipped a switch, and by evening, Steve’s living room is bathed in deep oranges and purples, the ocean outside a dark, endless expanse. The ceiling fan hums above us, and I’m still on the couch, a glass of water in my hand, the book long abandoned. Steve’s in the kitchen, heating up leftovers from the team’s visit. The smell of beef and gravy fills the air, comforting in a way I didn’t expect.

He walks in with two plates, setting one in front of me on the coffee table. “Eat,” he says softer now, less like an order and more like a request. He sits beside me, closer than he needs to, his knee brushing mine. The contact is small, but it sends a jolt through me, like static.

“You ever gonna stop feeding me?” I ask, picking up a fork and poking at the rice. My appetite’s coming back, slowly, but every bite still feels like a victory.

“Not until you stop looking like you’re about to keel over,” he says, but there’s a teasing edge to it, a lightness that wasn’t there this morning. He takes a bite of his own food, chewing slowly, his eyes on the ocean outside.

We eat in silence for a while, the only sounds the clink of forks and the distant crash of waves. I set my plate down, half-finished, and lean back, studying him. The bruises on his collarbone are darker now, the light catching the edges, and I can’t stop thinking about how he got them. How he threw himself into that fight to get to me.

“Tell me something,” I say, breaking the silence. “Something I don’t know about you.”

He raises an eyebrow, setting his plate aside. “What, you think you’ve got me all figured out?”

“Hardly,” I say. Steve’s a puzzle I’ve been trying to solve since the day we met, all sharp edges and hidden depths. “Come on. Humor me.”

He leans back, stretching his arms along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing my shoulder. “Alright,” he says. “When I was a kid, I used to sneak out at night and sleep on the beach. Just me, a blanket, and the stars. Felt like the ocean was the only thing that made sense.”

I picture it: a young Steve, all gangly limbs and restless energy, curled up on the sand with the waves as his lullaby. It’s so vivid it hurts, and I realize I want to know more, want to peel back the layers of this man who’s become my anchor. “You still do that?”

He shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not in a long time. But sometimes… I think about it.”

I nod, letting the image settle in my mind. “Your turn,” he says, his eyes on me now. “Something I don’t know.”

I laugh, my throat still raw. “You already know too much, McGarrett.” But I think for a second, searching for something real, something that matters. “When I was a rookie, I used to keep a picture of Grace in my locker. Not just for luck, but… to remind me why I was doing it. Why I kept going out there, even when it scared the hell out of me.”

His smile fades, replaced by something softer. “You’re a good dad, Danny.”

I shrug, uncomfortable with the praise. “I try. Doesn’t always feel like enough.”

“It is,” he says, and his hand moves to my shoulder, squeezing gently. The touch is warm, and I don’t pull away. We sit there, the sunset fading into twilight, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe. And so time slowly moves towards midnight, and the house is dark except for the soft glow of a lamp in the corner. The ocean’s louder now, a steady roar that fills the silence. I’m still on the couch, too stubborn to admit I’m too sore to make it to the bedroom. Steve’s been in and out, checking on me every hour like I’m a kid with a fever, but now he’s sitting on the floor, his back against the couch, a beer in his hand. He offered me one earlier, but I passed, ‘cause my head’s fuzzy enough without it.

“You’re gonna regret sleeping on the floor,” I say. “You’re not as young as you think you are.”

He chuckles. “Says the guy who’s been camped out on my couch all day. You planning to move in permanently?”

I snort, shifting to look down at him. His head’s tipped back, resting against the edge of the couch, close enough that I can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his throat moves when he takes a sip of his beer. “Don’t tempt me,” I mutter. “Your house is nicer than mine.”

He turns his head, meeting my eyes, and there’s something unguarded there, something that makes my chest tighten. “You’re welcome here, Danny,” he says.

I swallow, my throat burning, and change the subject. “You ever think about… I don’t know, slowing down? Doing something normal for once?”

He laughs quietly, with a hint of sadness. “Normal’s not really my thing. You know that.”

“Yeah,” I say. Steve’s a hurricane, a force of nature, and I’ve been caught in his orbit for years. But tonight, with the house dark and the ocean loud, he feels human. Breakable, even. “Maybe it should be. Just for a night.”

He doesn’t say anything, just takes another sip of his beer, his eyes on the ceiling. Then he sets the bottle down and stands, offering me his hand. “Come on.”

I blink, confused. “What?”

“Outside. You wanted normal. Let’s do normal.”

I hesitate, but his hand is steady, and I let him pull me up, wincing as my ribs protest. He doesn’t let go and leads me out to the lanai. The night air is cool, the stars bright above the ocean, and he grabs a blanket from a chair, spreading it on the grass near the water’s edge.

“Steve, what the hell-” I start, but he’s already sitting, patting the blanket beside him.

“Sit,” he says, and it’s not an order this time, just an invitation. I lower myself carefully, the grass soft under the blanket, and he lies back, hands behind his head, staring up at the sky. I follow, slower, my body screaming but my heart oddly calm.

The stars are endless, a map of light against the dark, and the ocean’s rhythm is a heartbeat. Steve’s shoulder brushes mine. “This is normal?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“As close as I get,” he says, and there’s a smile in his tone. “You complaining?”

I shake my head, even though he can’t see it. “No,” I say, and I mean it. We lie there, side by side, the world reduced to the stars, the ocean, and the steady warmth of him beside me. For the first time in days, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.