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hi!! i will be posting requests soon, thanks to everyone for sending them in :)
Summary: Arthur Hill and Y/N have been secretly dating within their close UK YouTuber friend group. When keeping it quiet becomes more exhausting than exhilarating, they decide to drop the act, much to the group's mixed reactions. But in the end, everyone knew all along.
If someone had told you a year ago that you’d be sneaking around with Arthur Hill, you would’ve laughed in their face. But here you were, tangled up in stolen kisses and midnight texts, pretending to just be friends in front of everyone else.
It all started with the friend group. The massive UK YouTuber circle that felt more like a second family than a collective of creators. George, Chris, Arthur, Max, Isaac , you, it was always the same chaotic energy when you got together. It felt natural, easy. Until one night, after too many drinks and a teasing game of truth or dare, Arthur kissed you. Not for the dare, not for the joke, but because he wanted to.
That kiss turned into another. Then a few more. Until it snowballed into this: late-night calls, holding hands under the table when no one was looking, sneaking glances that lasted too long.
The hardest part wasn’t the lying, it was pretending to be indifferent.
"You’re staring again," Chris said one evening as you all hung out in the living room, sipping ciders and yelling at a FIFA match on the telly.
You snapped your head toward him. "What? No, I wasn’t."
He smirked knowingly. "You look at him like he’s the moon or something."
You didn’t answer. George’s eyes briefly flicked to you, then Arthur. But he said nothing. If anyone knew, it was those two.
It wasn’t that you didn’t want people to know. It was that you liked it being yours. The secret glances. The subtle brushes of fingers. The way he always saved you a seat beside him, or how he’d text you from across the room.
ARTHUR: you look insanely hot in that hoodie just fyi
YOU: it’s yours idiot
ARTHUR: you can keep it. looks better on you anyway
"So when are we just gonna tell them?" Arthur whispered one afternoon. You were sitting outside a café, hiding behind sunglasses and beanies, sipping overpriced iced lattes.
"You really want to?" you asked.
He reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I want to hold your hand without checking who’s watching."
You smiled, a slow warmth spreading through your chest. "Then let’s do it."
You didn’t plan a big reveal. There was no dramatic announcement. You just stopped hiding. It started small,sitting a little closer, not yanking your hand away when his brushed yours, letting your laugh linger longer when he whispered something in your ear.
Then one day, in the middle of a group dinner, Arthur kissed your cheek.
Everyone froze.
"Sorry—did he just kiss you?" Max said, blinking.
"He does that sometimes," you said, sipping your drink casually.
Emma narrowed her eyes. "Since when?"
Arthur looked at you and shrugged, grinning. "Few months now."
Chris raised his hand. "Knew it. Knew it from the way he offered you the last chicken wing."
George smirked. "Also, you two suck at being subtle."
"Wait. You all knew?" you gawked.
"We’re not blind," Isaac said. "But congrats. This means I can officially roast you both equally now."
From that day forward, things got easier. No more pretending. No more sneaking. Just the comfort of knowing that you and Arthur were together, and finally letting the world in on it.
Later that night, as you curled up on the sofa, Arthur pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple.
"Feels good, doesn’t it?" he murmured.
You nodded. "Feels real."
And for the first time in months, you weren’t hiding. You were home.
Summary:
With the championship pushing Lando Norris to his limit, the constant pressure and endless travel begin to wear him down. Noticing him slowly fade, Y/N whisks him away on a quiet escape to the Italian Alps. Surrounded by snowy peaks and silence, Lando rediscovers the parts of himself he’d buried under stress, and in Y/N’s love, he finds the calm he’s been craving.
The tension in Lando's shoulders had been growing heavier with each passing race. He didn’t talk about it, not really. He’d give the media a smile, put in his laps, and wave at the crowd. But when the cameras stopped rolling, the spark in his eyes would flicker, dimming more and more each time. And you noticed.
At first, it was little things: the missed texts, the early bedtimes, the way he’d stare out the hotel window long after midnight. His laughter, once infectious and easy, came less often now. And when it did, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Lando,” you said one night, sitting on the edge of your shared hotel bed after yet another grueling race weekend. “You’re not okay.”
He blinked up at you from the pillow, eyes hollow, too tired to argue. He didn’t even try to deflect with a joke like he usually did. He just sighed.
“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
That was all the confirmation you needed.
Three days later, you were boarding a plane with him tucked under your arm like fragile glass. You didn’t tell him where you were going until you landed in northern Italy.
“The Alps?” he murmured as he stepped out of the car, looking up at the snow-dusted peaks. You nodded.
“Just us. No media. No phones. No pressure.”
You rented a secluded cabin tucked into the hillside, surrounded by pine trees and crisp air that bit your nose and cleared your mind. Inside was cozy, wood-burning fireplace, thick wool blankets, a stocked kitchen. Lando was quiet when you arrived, eyes drifting from the mountains to the windows to you.
“Why here?” he asked softly, voice nearly lost in the silence.
“Because you need to breathe again.”
The first day was slow. Lando sat on the back porch with a mug of tea clutched in his hands, his gaze far away. You let him have his silence, curling up beside him with your own cup and watching the clouds crawl across the sky.
By the second day, he’d wandered down the trail behind the cabin with you, marveling at the icy stream cutting through the trees. He took photos. Of the water. Of the birds. Of you, when you weren’t looking.
And that night, by the fire, he finally let himself lean into you.
“I’m scared,” he admitted, voice low. “That I’m losing myself. That this dream of mine is burning me out.”
You stroked his hair, kissed his temple. “Then let’s find you again.”
The third day brought snow. Lando dragged you out into it, laughing as he tried to pelt you with snowballs, his grin finally real. You tackled him into the snow, both of you breathless, cheeks flushed from cold and something warmer. He kissed you then, slow, grateful, full of emotion.
“God, I missed this,” he whispered. “Missed you.”
You framed his face with your hands. “I’ve been here. I’ve just been waiting for you to come back.”
He hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck. “I think I’m starting to.”
That night, you cooked dinner together. Music played softly on the little speaker you brought. Lando danced with you in the kitchen, arms wrapped around your waist, noses bumping as you both giggled like teenagers.
“Marry me,” he said suddenly.
You paused, blinking.
“What?”
“I mean it,” he said. “Not right now. Not tomorrow. But someday. Just… keep being my safe place, and I promise I’ll keep trying to be yours.”
Tears welled in your eyes. You didn’t answer with words, just kissed him again, slow and sure.
By the fifth day, Lando’s shoulders were looser. He hummed while brushing his teeth. He held your hand like he didn’t want to let go.
The world would come calling again, press conferences, flights, points, and podiums. But for now, tucked between the pines and silence, he was just Lando. Yours.
REQUESTS OPEN !!!!
Summary:
After a long, grueling stretch of races, Lando finally has a break, and he knows exactly how he wants to spend it: spoiling the girl who’s stood by him through it all. From a surprise shopping spree to a dreamy date night, he reminds Y/N that even in the chaos of Formula 1, she’s always his first priority.
The season had been brutal , grueling flights, endless strategy meetings, and races that made your heart stop with every lap. But finally, the F1 summer break had arrived. The paddocks were quiet, the engines silenced, and for once, Lando Norris wasn’t glued to a simulator or buried in team briefings. He was home. With you.
And he had plans.
“Pack light,” he said cryptically that morning, standing in your shared apartment, arms crossed, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Pack light? We’re not going anywhere!”
“Exactly. We’re staying here. But I’m taking you out all day, and I don’t want you complaining about your heels hurting or carrying ten bags.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Bags?”
Lando just smirked. “We’re going shopping, baby.”
You laughed, stepping closer. “What’s the occasion?”
“You’ve been by my side through a wild season. You’ve sat through races in the rain, waited through delays, dealt with my crankiness after bad qualifying days, and screamed louder than anyone when I got on the podium. It’s break time, and I want to spoil you.”
Your heart melted. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. And also… you look hot when you try on things. So. Win-win.”
—
He’d made reservations at all your favorite shops before you even woke up. Private fitting rooms, complimentary lattes while you browsed, a chauffeured car idling outside every store. It was the kind of day you thought only existed in rom-com montages.
At the first boutique, you slipped into a silky champagne-colored dress, poking your head out of the curtain.
Lando, lounging on the plush sofa, looked up from his phone and visibly choked.
“You’re getting that one.”
“I haven’t even looked at the price tag.”
“Don’t care. It’s mine now.”
You snorted. “I’m pretty sure it’s mine—”
He stood, walked over, and gently spun you in front of the mirror. His arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.
“Mine,” he murmured. “But yes, also yours.”
—
By midday, you had more bags than you could carry and a belly full of overpriced pastries and iced coffee. Lando insisted on holding all your bags himself, loading them into the car like some doting chauffeur-slash-F1 champion.
“You spoil me,” you said quietly, squeezing his hand as you drove to the next stop.
“You deserve it.”
“But it’s not the clothes or the bags. It’s you. Just you. I’d rather have days like this with you over anything in a shopping bag.”
He smiled softly, then leaned over to kiss your temple. “Then it’s a good thing I’m all yours.”
—
After a brief pit stop back at the flat to change, Lando pulled out all the stops for dinner. Rooftop terrace, fairy lights strung above, soft music playing in the background , the kind of date that belonged on a Pinterest board.
You wore one of the new dresses, a soft green satin number that made his jaw drop the second he saw you.
“You’re not real,” he whispered, pulling out your chair like the gentleman he very occasionally remembered to be.
Dinner was filled with stolen glances, laughter, and Lando playing with your fingers across the table. When dessert came, he passed on the chocolate tart and simply watched you.
“What?” you asked between bites.
“Just thinking.”
“That’s dangerous.”
He grinned. “About how I want more of this. More normal. More spoiling you. More of us.”
Your heart fluttered.
“We don’t get enough of it during the season,” he continued. “So when we do… I’m going to go all out.”
You leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Lando Norris, are you getting soft on me?”
“Absolutely,” he said, then added with a wink, “But don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.”
—
Later, curled up on the couch back home, your legs draped over his lap and your head resting on his shoulder, you sighed contentedly.
“This was the best day.”
“Good,” Lando whispered. “Because tomorrow, we do nothing.”
You laughed. “Nothing?”
“Absolutely nothing. You. Me. Couch. Maybe some ice cream.”
“Sounds like heaven.”
He kissed the top of your head and tightened his hold on you. “It is. As long as you’re there.”
Summary:
With Alfie constantly away filming, Y/N begins to feel like she’s no longer a priority. The distance grows until Alfie notices the shift in her eyes, the quiet in her voice, and the love slipping through his fingers. Realizing he might lose her, Alfie sets out to remind Y/N that nothing, not fame, not work, matters more than her.
The buzzing of Y/N’s phone barely drew her attention anymore. She was so used to the constant stream of pings, group chats, notifications from his videos, DMs about Alfie’s latest upload. But none of them were from Alfie himself.
It had started slowly. First, it was a missed FaceTime call. Then it was a series of late replies to her texts. Then came the cancellations, the dinner plans, the lazy Sundays, the spontaneous late-night drives. One by one, the little pieces that made up their relationship had begun to vanish.
She sat on their shared couch, tucked beneath a blanket, one of Alfie’s oversized hoodies enveloping her. The scent of his cologne still clung to it, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t him.
The door creaked open. She didn’t turn. She didn’t need to.
"Y/N?"
Alfie’s voice filled the quiet apartment. Still, she didn’t respond.
He dropped his bag near the door and stepped forward. "Hey. I’m home."
Now she turned, just slightly. Her eyes met his for a brief moment. Something flickered there. Distance.
Alfie’s heart sank.
Alfie never meant to let things get this far. At first, he thought he was doing it for both of them. Working hard. Building something. Making a future they could share. But somewhere in the whirlwind of filming, traveling, editing, and uploading, he’d lost her.
Not literally. She was still here. But she wasn’t here.
She used to run into his arms when he came back from a shoot. Now she barely looked up from her tea.
"Y/N," he tried again, sitting beside her on the couch. "I know I’ve been... distant. And not just physically."
She finally looked at him, the hurt in her eyes evident. "Alfie, I understand your job is important. But when did it become more important than us?"
His heart twisted. "It didn’t. I swear. I just... I thought I was doing it for us."
"You were doing it without me. That’s the difference."
Silence settled. Heavy. Uncomfortable.
He reached out, brushing her hand. "Please. Let me fix this."
The fix wasn’t immediate. It never is. But Alfie started small. Real, intentional changes.
He cleared a weekend and didn’t touch his camera once. Took her out to breakfast without posting a single Instagram story. Held her hand like it was the only thing tethering him to the world.
And slowly, she softened.
They lay on the grass one evening in a park near their flat, watching the sunset. Alfie turned on his side to face her.
"I missed this. I missed you."
She looked over. "Then don’t lose me again."
He nodded, eyes sincere. "Never."
Alfie stopped saying yes to every opportunity. Started saying yes to her.
To game nights at home. To grocery shopping together. To slow mornings in bed, tangled in sheets and sleepy laughter.
He learned how to balance. How to prioritize. Because he realized that without her, none of it mattered.
And one night, as they danced in their living room to a song only they knew, Alfie whispered in her ear, "You’re my favorite part of life. I’m sorry I forgot that for a while."
She leaned into him, smiling softly. "Just don’t forget again."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Have you intentionally moved away from the uk yt guys because of the negativity that came your way? If not, I would love a fic of George coming home to you after having been away for a week.
a/n: hiii so i have not really tried to move away, the ukyt fics just haven't been doing as good. buut i will be writing a lot more for them, i am currently writing a whole bunch for them and will schedule posts for them. here's your fic, hope you enjoy :)
Back in Your Arms
REQUESTS OPEN !!!
Summary:
George Clarkey has been away for a week, and when he finally returns, his girlfriend Y/N is exhausted and longing for comfort.
The key turned in the lock with a familiar click. It was well past midnight, and the flat was bathed in quiet shadows, but George’s heart thumped with anticipation. After a whirlwind week of travel, filming, and meetings, all he wanted now was to collapse into the comfort of home, and more importantly, into the arms of the one person who made everything feel right again.
He dropped his duffel bag by the door, kicked off his shoes, and shrugged off his hoodie as he made his way down the hall. The flat smelled like lavender and her vanilla candles, subtle, soft, warm. Just like her.
The bedroom door creaked slightly as he nudged it open. The room was dimly lit by the bedside lamp, casting golden hues over the figure curled beneath the duvet. Y/N stirred, blinking sleepily before her eyes widened, taking in the sight of him.
“George?” Her voice was husky with sleep, and something in it tugged at his chest.
“I’m home, love.”
She sat up immediately, the blanket falling from her shoulders. “You said you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow!”
“I couldn’t wait.” He gave her a crooked smile and stepped closer, drinking her in. “God, I missed you.”
Y/N didn’t hesitate. She threw the blanket aside and met him halfway, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso. George held her like he never wanted to let go, burying his face in her hair.
“I hated sleeping without you,” she mumbled into his hoodie. “The bed felt so cold.”
George pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I felt the same way. Every night, I just kept picturing this. You. Home.”
She pulled back enough to cup his face, brushing her thumbs across the stubble along his jaw. “You look exhausted.”
“I am. But seeing you, feeling you, it’s like everything just clicked back into place.”
“Come to bed.” She tugged him gently.
He peeled off his hoodie and shirt before climbing into bed beside her. Y/N immediately curled against him, her head tucked under his chin, legs tangling with his. The warmth of her body seeped into his bones.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. George ran his fingers through her hair, over her back, grounding himself in her presence.
“How was the week?” she eventually asked.
“Busy. Long. There were moments I forgot what day it was. But whenever I had a second to breathe, I thought about you.”
Her lips brushed over his collarbone. “I missed you so much, George.”
“I know, sweetheart. I missed you more than I can even explain.”
She shifted slightly, looking up at him. “You always say that, but I don’t think you understand how lonely it gets here when you're gone.”
George’s brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, love. I never want you to feel that way. I’ll do better about checking in. Next time, I’ll FaceTime every night, even if it’s just for a few minutes.”
“I know you’re busy,” she murmured. “I just missed my best friend.”
George pulled her tighter against him. “I’m here now. And I plan on making up for lost time.”
The next morning, George woke before Y/N. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, painting soft lines across her peaceful face. He watched her for a moment, grateful, before slipping out of bed.
In the kitchen, he started breakfast, scrambled eggs, toast, and her favorite tea. He worked quietly, not wanting to wake her yet, but he wanted to show her just how much he appreciated her patience, her love.
By the time she padded in, wearing his oversized t-shirt and rubbing sleep from her eyes, the table was set. She paused in the doorway, a soft smile playing on her lips.
“You cooked?”
“Surprise,” he said sheepishly. “Don’t expect Gordon Ramsay levels, but I tried.”
She crossed the kitchen and stood on her toes to kiss him. “You’re perfect.”
“No, you are.” He grinned. “Now sit. Eat. Let me take care of you for once.”
The rest of the day was slow and sweet. They lounged on the couch watching reruns, talked about everything and nothing, and napped in the late afternoon sun. When night fell, George lit a few candles, brought out a bottle of wine, and turned on their favorite playlist.
Y/N snuggled into his side, her hand resting over his heart. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”
“I did,” George whispered, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Being away made me realize how lucky I am. How much I need you in every part of my life.”
She looked up at him, eyes glassy with affection. “You have me. Always.”
George leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. “And you have me. Forever.”
They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in each other, safe, home.
okay so i was wondering if you could do one where rafe and reader are hanging out w friends and reader and friends decide to prank him with the “just gimme my money” challenge on tiktok idekkkk if you know what i’m talking about or if i worded it correctly 😭?? … i’m sorry if this is confusing you really don’t have to do it if you don’t understand
a/n: thanks so much for the requets. i was a bit confused about this so i hope you enjoy and that i wrote it how you imagned :)) enjoy !
Just Gimme My Money
REQUESTS OPEN !!!!
summary:
You and your friends prank Rafe with the “Just gimme my money” challenge, leaving him hanging and confused. His reaction sparks laughter and teasing, showing the playful bond you share.
The Outer Banks was alive with laughter, the salty breeze carrying the sound of crashing waves and upbeat music from the portable speakers. You and your friends had claimed your usual spot on the beach, towels spread out on warm sand, snacks stacked high, and the golden sun lazily beginning its descent. It was one of those perfect days you wished could stretch on forever, simple, fun, and filled with the kind of company that felt like home.
Among your crew was Rafe Cameron, confident, cocky, and annoyingly charming, lounging against the tailgate of his truck. His dark sunglasses reflected the sunlight, and the familiar smirk tugged at his lips as he caught your eye.
“You really planning on jumping in the ocean in that dress?” he teased, voice smooth and low.
You smirked, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Maybe. You planning on taking your shirt off and showing off for everyone?”
He grinned wider. “Think it’d work?”
You rolled your eyes but felt the familiar flutter in your chest. That smirk had always been a bit like a challenge, annoying and irresistible all at once.
As the group settled in, the music thumped with infectious energy. Sarah nudged you with a conspiratorial smile. “You sure about this? He’s gonna lose it.”
“That’s the point,” you whispered, already pulling out your phone and ready to record.
Rafe was distracted, tossing a football back and forth with Topper and Kelce, utterly unaware of the prank about to unfold.
You pressed record and whispered to the camera, “Watch this.”
Sarah was the first. She jumped up, took a deep breath, and shouted with perfect timing, “JUST GIMME MY MONEY!”
The group erupted in cheers, clapping and hooting like she’d just nailed the performance of the century.
JJ didn’t hesitate. He sprang up next, throwing his hands in the air with an exaggerated grin. “JUST GIMME MY MONEY!”
The energy skyrocketed. Everyone joined in, their voices ringing out over the waves.
Topper and Kelce bellowed the phrase with equal enthusiasm, their laughter contagious. Even the normally laid-back Sarah was clapping and whooping.
Rafe shifted beside you, brow furrowed in confusion but still smiling.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
You nudged him. “Just wait.”
One by one, everyone took their turn shouting the phrase. The vibe was electric; passersby on nearby towels peeked over, laughing along.
Then, all eyes turned to Rafe.
“Alright, your turn!” you said, struggling not to grin.
His brow raised. “Again? What’s this all about?”
“Just say it,” Sarah urged.
With a dramatic sigh, Rafe stood up, ran his hand through his hair, then yelled, “JUST GIMME MY MONEY!”
Silence.
Complete silence.
No cheers, no claps, no laughter.
Everyone suddenly looked anywhere but at him. The energy died as if someone had flicked a switch.
Rafe blinked, the smirk fading. “Wait…”
You covered your mouth, barely able to hold in your laughter.
“You guys seriously aren’t gonna cheer for me?”
Still nothing.
Topper stared out to the horizon, biting his lip.
Sarah picked at her nails.
JJ whistled casually.
Rafe turned slowly, arms spread wide. “I just shouted like an idiot in front of everyone.”
Still no response.
He locked eyes on you, mock offended. “Oh wow. Y’all really gonna do me like this?”
That’s when you broke. Laughter spilled out, uncontrollable and bright.
JJ doubled over, clutching his stomach. “Dude, your face!”
Rafe shook his head, disbelief mixed with amusement.
“You’re evil,” he said, grinning despite himself.
“You love me anyway,” you teased.
He tried to glare but it melted into a lazy smile. “Maybe.”
The prank had been perfectly ridiculous, the kind of chaos that only made the day better.
As the sun dipped lower and the group began packing up, you and Rafe found yourselves sitting on the tailgate of his truck, sharing a soda and replaying the prank in your heads.
“I was genuinely hurt for like ten seconds,” he admitted, nudging your shoulder. “I thought you guys hated me.”
You leaned into him. “You’re way too cocky. Needed a reality check.”
He laughed, tipping his head back. “Mission accomplished.”
A comfortable silence settled between you, quiet moments like this, after laughter and teasing, always felt the most real.
Then he looked down at you, his eyes soft. “Still, if anyone else pulled that prank on me, I’d be pissed.”
“But not me?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.
He smiled. “Not you.”
You leaned in, brushing your lips softly against his. “Good.”
The sound of JJ and Kelce arguing over the last bag of chips broke the moment, but neither of you minded.
“Next time,” Rafe said, hopping down and offering you his hand, “I’m the one doing the pranking.”
“Oh yeah?” You took his hand with a smile.
“Yeah,” he said, a smirk creeping back. “And it’s gonna be good.”
hi can you make a steve mcgarrett x reader where reader is a famous Actress and a singer who they are married and danny and the others were shocked to learn that steve is married.
hiiii !!!! , thank you for the request. hope you enjoy :)
Undercover Hearts
REQUESTS OPEN !!!!!
The sun beat down over Oahu’s shoreline as the waves lapped lazily at the sands. Danny Williams had barely gotten his morning coffee down when he noticed something strange: Steve McGarrett was humming. Humming. Steve, whose idea of fun was jumping off buildings and chasing suspects through jungle terrain, had a new bounce in his step.
“Okay,” Danny said, narrowing his eyes, “What is going on with you?”
Steve glanced at him innocently. “What? Nothing’s going on.”
“You’re smiling. Like actually smiling. Did you finally replace the adrenaline in your veins with coffee?”
Before Steve could answer, Lou and Kono entered HQ, both glancing between the two men.
“Someone’s in a good mood,” Lou noted.
“Seriously,” Kono added. “Did someone slip happy pills into his protein shake?”
Steve rolled his eyes but said nothing. The truth was far more entertaining than any of them could guess.
Because Steve McGarrett wasn’t just in a good mood. He was married. And not just married, he was married to you. You, the global superstar. Award-winning actress. Chart-topping singer. Cover of every entertainment magazine for the past decade. And his wife.
It had been your decision to keep things quiet. Your career had exploded so fast and so publicly that the thought of anything being yours and private was rare. Steve understood that. He never needed the limelight anyway. You were his peace amidst the chaos of the world.
But the time had come. You were wrapping up a film shoot in Hawaii, and the cast and crew had a final wrap party scheduled at one of the most upscale resorts on the island. And this time, you were bringing Steve.
“What are you doing tonight?” Danny asked Steve that afternoon as they wrapped up the last of their paperwork.
Steve closed his laptop. “Got plans.”
“Plans? Like… plans with another human being?”
Steve just smiled.
The resort shimmered with twinkle lights and soft music as actors, directors, producers, and stylists mingled near the open-air bar. You were the center of attention, as always, graciously thanking everyone for their work and sharing hugs with castmates. But your eyes kept drifting toward the clock.
And then, he arrived.
Steve walked through the front entrance, dressed in a clean suit, his hair slicked back just enough to pass as Hollywood-ready while still being pure McGarrett. The security detail at the door stiffened until you waved them off.
You met him halfway, sliding your arm around his and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“You made it,” you murmured.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
The two of you navigated the crowd together, a few people doing double takes, some whispering.
“Is that Steve McGarrett?” one of the makeup artists gasped.
“Wait, the Navy SEAL Five-0 guy? With her?”
You tried not to laugh.
Danny arrived late—of course—and did a double take so hard it nearly made his head spin. He nudged Kono and Lou as they caught sight of you and Steve together, your hand casually resting on his chest as you talked to the director.
“What the—” Danny muttered.
Steve finally turned to them and waved. “Hey, guys.”
Danny blinked. “Is that Y/N Y/L/N?”
“Yup,” Steve said simply.
Lou stared. “And you two are…?”
“Married,” you said, smiling.
Danny choked on his drink. “Married?”
You nodded. “Three years.”
Kono was speechless.
Danny finally recovered. “Okay. Okay. So let me get this straight. You, who we practically have to drag out of the house to go on a date, have been married to one of the most famous women in the world for years, and you just never thought to mention it?”
Steve shrugged. “It never came up.”
“It never—?!” Danny looked like he might implode. “Steve!”
You were laughing now, leaning into Steve’s side.
“It was my idea,” you said. “I like keeping the best part of my life private.”
“And here I thought I was your best-kept secret,” Steve teased.
Danny threw up his hands.
As the night went on, your colleagues slowly adjusted to the idea of you being married to the brooding yet somehow charming Hawaiian crime-fighter. The initial shock faded into admiration. Steve wasn’t like the Hollywood types. He was real. Grounded. And completely in love with you.
Back at your shared home later that night, you both kicked off your shoes and collapsed onto the couch.
“Well,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder. “That secret’s out.”
“You okay with that?”
You smiled. “Yeah. It was kind of fun watching them freak out.”
Steve chuckled. “Danny’s never going to let me live it down.”
“Probably not.”
You turned your face toward his. “But I’m glad they know. I’m proud of being yours, you know.”
His expression softened as he leaned in to kiss you gently.
“I’m the lucky one,” he whispered.
And with the ocean breeze drifting through the open windows, and the stars above your quiet home, you knew this, far away from cameras and red carpets, was the real story.
Trapped by a blizzard, Spencer and Y/N share the last room, and one bed. Logic says it’s no big deal, but shared glances and brushing hands say otherwise.
The storm hit faster than anyone expected.
By the time they pulled off the snowy highway and into the sleepy little town, visibility was almost zero. The case had already wrapped, thankfully, and the team was heading back to D.C. in separate SUVs. Morgan’s voice crackled over the comms just as Spencer turned into a dimly lit motel parking lot with you in the passenger seat.
“We’re stuck. Road’s closed two miles back. Find somewhere to hole up for the night.”
You were already out of the car before Spencer finished repeating the message. Your fingers trembled from the cold as you opened the front office door, sending a soft jingle through the warm air. The innkeeper, an older woman with silver curls and a thick knitted cardigan, looked up from her paperback novel.
“Got one room left,” she said before you could even ask.
Spencer joined you, shaking snow out of his hair. “We’ll take it.”
A single key slid across the counter. No mention of two beds.
The room was… fine.
It had charm, if you squinted. Warm wood-paneled walls. A small electric fireplace flickering in the corner. And, just as you both feared when you stepped inside, one queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, neatly made with faded quilted sheets.
Spencer stood there for a moment, blinking.
You crossed your arms. “Okay. One bed.”
He nodded slowly. “Statistically speaking, this was bound to happen eventually. We travel a lot. Share hotels. Bad weather. It’s... inevitable.”
You raised a brow, trying to hide the flicker of nerves in your stomach. “Spence. It’s fine.”
He nodded, once, fast. “Right. I mean, we’re both adults. We can sleep in one bed.”
You gave him a look.
“I’m not implying anything,” he added quickly, cheeks pink. “Just. Sleep. In proximity. Nothing inappropriate.”
You bit your lip to suppress a grin. “Okay, Reid.”
You both changed in awkward silence. You took the bathroom, and when you returned, Spencer was already under the covers, fully clothed in a long-sleeve shirt and sweatpants, sitting stiffly against the headboard with a book in hand.
He didn’t look up when you slipped into the other side of the bed.
For a while, it was just the sound of pages turning and the wind howling outside.
“Can’t sleep?” you asked quietly, turning toward him.
He shook his head. “I… don’t sleep well in unfamiliar places.”
You hummed. “You don’t say.”
A pause. Then: “Are you cold?”
You were. But you hadn’t planned on saying it.
“…A little.”
He reached for the extra blanket at the foot of the bed and draped it over you, tucking it around your legs gently like it was second nature. His fingers brushed your knee.
Your breath caught.
Spencer cleared his throat and looked away.
Eventually, the room fell into silence. Lights off. Book closed. You lay on your sides, backs turned, tension so thick it might as well have been a third person in bed.
But sleep didn’t come easily.
“Spencer,” you whispered into the dark.
“…Yeah?”
“I can hear your heartbeat.”
You felt him stiffen. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s not bad. It’s just… fast.”
A beat passed. Then, so soft you almost missed it: “So is yours.”
You turned slowly, facing him in the shadows. “I thought you couldn’t sleep.”
“I can’t,” he said. “You’re too close.”
You blinked. “Should I move?”
“No,” he said, so quickly it almost startled you. “I mean… I don’t want you to.”
You stared at him, heart pounding.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“Anything.”
“If we weren’t coworkers… and this wasn’t a snowstorm… would you still have said yes to sharing a bed with me?”
You smiled, a little shyly. “I said yes because it’s you.”
Spencer looked at you like he was seeing something for the first time. Then he whispered, “Can I hold your hand?”
You reached for him without hesitation.
You woke up with your hand still in his.
Neither of you mentioned it the next morning when the storm cleared and the roads reopened.
But the way Spencer brushed your knuckles when he passed you your coffee? The way he looked at you like the sun had risen just for you?
Summary:
Spencer Reid may be a genius, but relationships are uncharted territory. When Y/N starts picking up on his awkward flirting, playful moments turn into something deeper, and Spencer begins to learn how to connect beyond intellect.
The BAU’s bullpen was quieter than usual, an unusual calm settling over the usually bustling office. Spencer Reid sat at his desk, his eyes glued to his computer screen as he poured over case files. His long fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up profiles, matching data, and connecting dots that others would have missed. It was his specialty, filling in the gaps when everyone else was lost. But, despite his focus, his mind kept drifting to a certain someone.
Y/N.
She was always around. Often working with the team, but there was something different about the way she interacted with Spencer. It was the kind of connection he didn’t quite understand, one that made his heart race and his mind a little more disorganized than usual. But Spencer was a logical man, and when his thoughts wandered back to the files on his desk, he couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t just her sharp wit or intelligence that had caught his attention. It was something more, something that made his chest tighten whenever she flashed him that playful smile.
“Spencer?”
The sound of Y/N’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he quickly blinked, trying to focus. His eyes met hers as she approached his desk. She had that confident stride, the one that always caught his attention, and her smile was both warm and knowing.
“Yeah?” he said, his voice a little breathless.
Y/N leaned against his desk, crossing her arms and giving him a knowing look. “You’ve been… different lately,” she observed, her eyes studying him with amusement. “You’ve been complimenting me more, looking at me in ways that aren’t just, you know, ‘I need your expertise’ kinds of looks. What’s going on?”
Spencer’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t thought he was being so obvious. “I… I don’t know what you mean,” he stammered, avoiding her gaze as he fumbled with the papers in front of him. “I’ve just been, uh, focused on the case.”
Y/N’s smile deepened. “Focused, huh? Or is this a new method of flirting?”
Spencer’s cheeks flushed slightly, his mind racing to catch up. Flirting? Was he flirting? The more he thought about it, the more he realized it was true. He had been trying to get closer to her, trying to say things that made her smile, all while his heart seemed to skip a beat every time she laughed or looked at him in that particular way.
“I… uh, I didn’t realize I was—” Spencer started, but Y/N interrupted him, her voice playful yet soft.
“Are you trying to flirt with me, Spencer?”
The question hung in the air like a challenge. Spencer felt a rush of heat rise to his face as he tried to find the right words, his usual confidence crumbling under her gaze.
“Uh, well, yes,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I am. I just… don’t really know how to do it.”
Y/N chuckled at his honesty, the sound light and melodic. “You’re not exactly subtle, Spencer,” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “But I’ll admit, it’s kind of endearing.”
“I—endearing?” Spencer repeated, his brain working overtime to process the compliment. He couldn’t tell if she was mocking him or being genuine, but the way she looked at him told him it was the latter. “I’m sorry if it’s—”
She held up a hand, cutting him off. “No need to apologize,” she said with a warm smile. “I’m just surprised. You’ve always been so focused on work, I didn’t know you had it in you to, well, to try and flirt.”
Spencer’s mind was spinning. The idea of flirting was so foreign to him. He was a man of facts and logic, of patterns and analysis, not of the subtle art of attraction. But there was something about Y/N, the way she made him feel both grounded and slightly out of control at the same time, that made him want to learn.
“Do you think it’s working?” Spencer asked hesitantly, his voice low as he met her gaze. The question felt vulnerable, and it made his stomach flip. This wasn’t a case to analyze or a suspect to profile. This was real, and he wasn’t sure how to navigate it.
Y/N smiled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Are you asking if you’re doing a good job at flirting?” she teased.
Spencer nodded, still unsure whether or not he was embarrassed.
“Well,” Y/N said, her voice suddenly serious as she leaned in just a bit closer. “You’ve got potential. But maybe next time, try actually looking at me when you say something nice. You know, not just your papers.”
Spencer blinked, a little taken aback by her directness. He had spent so much time trying to figure out the right words, he hadn’t realized that maybe he’d been hiding behind his work. It was classic Spencer Reid behavior to get lost in his thoughts, to retreat into the logical realm where everything made sense. But now, Y/N was asking him to step outside that zone, to connect with her on a more personal level.
“Okay, I’ll try,” he said, his voice steady now, though the warmth in his chest had only grown.
Y/N smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. “Good. I’ll hold you to it.”
Spencer swallowed hard, his mind racing with possibilities. This was new territory for him, but it was also… exciting. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that maybe, just maybe, this was something worth exploring. He wasn’t sure what would happen next, but for the first time in a long while, he was looking forward to finding out.
As Y/N turned to walk away, she shot him one last glance over her shoulder, a playful glint in her eyes. “And for the record, Spencer? I’m not entirely opposed to the idea of you flirting with me. Just don’t make it so… painful next time.”
Spencer smiled to himself, feeling his heart beat a little faster in his chest. “I’ll work on it,” he promised, his voice more confident now.
And as he watched her leave the bullpen, he couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, he was getting the hang of this flirting thing.
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Summary:
When Leo Valdez starts calling Y/N “Princess,” she’s set on shutting it down. But during a week-long quest together, sarcasm turns to sincerity, and playful banter sparks something more.
"Stop calling me Princess!"
Leo Valdez barely suppressed a grin as he twirled his screwdriver between his fingers. "I apologize, my Queen."
Y/N let out an exaggerated groan and turned on her heel, storming out of the forge with her braid whipping behind her. Leo watched her go, a smirk playing on his lips, but beneath it was something softer. He didn’t mean anything by it, well, not much. Maybe he liked the way her nose scrunched when she was mad. Maybe he liked that she always came back, even when she threatened not to.
The teasing had started weeks ago when she'd tripped over a wire in Bunker Nine and landed with a very unladylike squawk. Leo had laughed, hard, and she’d punched him in the arm, declaring she was "not some damsel in distress." So naturally, Leo had responded by calling her "Princess" every chance he got.
Today, though, she'd seemed... genuinely annoyed.
He set down his tools and wiped his hands, that smirk fading just a bit. Maybe he’d pushed it too far.
Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), Leo didn’t have to wait long to find out. Chiron called a cabin meeting later that afternoon to assign pairs for an upcoming quest, a monster reconnaissance mission just outside Long Island.
Y/N’s face dropped the moment Chiron said the words, "Y/N and Leo."
She turned to Leo, mouth open to protest, but Chiron was already moving on.
Leo shot her a smile. “Don’t worry, Princess. I’ll carry your bags.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re going to regret that.”
He shrugged, still grinning. “Worth it.”
They left at sunrise the next day. The sun peeked over the horizon, casting warm light on the gravel path as they walked toward the hill. Leo had his tool belt slung over one shoulder, a satchel over the other, and a walking staff he’d rigged with a hidden flamethrower just in case.
Y/N had a dagger strapped to her thigh, a bow across her back, and a look that said she wasn’t here to play games.
For the first few hours, neither of them spoke much. The only sound was their footsteps and the occasional rustle of wildlife in the trees. Leo kept sneaking glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.
Eventually, Y/N broke the silence. “You know, I don’t mind being called Princess.”
Leo blinked. “Oh?”
She smirked. “As long as you understand I’m the kind of princess who rescues herself. And maybe burns down the kingdom while she’s at it.”
Leo laughed, something warm flickering in his chest. “Noted.”
They set up camp by a stream as the sky turned shades of gold and rose. Leo built the fire, glancing up when Y/N returned from gathering firewood.
“You okay?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous habit.”
She sat across from him and picked at the grass. “Why do you always do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make everything a joke. Deflect.”
Leo stared into the fire. “Because if I don’t, I have to deal with everything I’m actually feeling.”
Y/N was quiet for a long time. Then she said, “That’s exhausting.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “It is.”
The next day, they reached the edge of the forest where the creature had last been seen. They moved quietly, weapons drawn, scanning for movement.
“Did you hear that?” Y/N whispered.
Leo nodded. “Behind that tree.”
A second later, a hellhound lunged from the brush. Y/N rolled aside, loosing an arrow into its shoulder. Leo shouted and unleashed a burst of fire from his staff, catching the beast in the side. It yelped, staggered, then vanished in a puff of smoke.
Panting, Y/N stood and dusted herself off. “That was fun.”
Leo offered her a hand. “You alright?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Can’t complain. Although I think I inhaled some monster fur.”
She laughed, and Leo caught himself staring.
“What?” she asked.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’ve got a leaf in your hair.”
She reached up, but he stepped closer and plucked it out before she could.
Their eyes met. For a second, neither moved.
Then Y/N stepped back. “Thanks.”
“No problem, Your Highness.”
She gave him a look, but it lacked heat.
By the fourth night, something had shifted. The teasing hadn’t stopped, but it had softened. There was a new rhythm between them, one built on trust, shared silences, and unspoken glances.
As they sat by the fire, Leo pulled out a half-finished project from his bag. It was a small bird made of bronze and gears, wings twitching with each crank.
Y/N leaned closer. “What’s that?”
“Something I’ve been working on. It’ll fly once I figure out the balance.”
She watched it move, mesmerized. “It’s beautiful.”
Leo smiled. “You think so?”
“Yeah. You’re... really talented, Leo.”
He looked at her, and she was already looking at him. Her gaze wasn’t teasing this time. It was open.
“Why do you call me Princess?” she asked.
He hesitated. “Because I wanted your attention. And because the idea of you being untouchable kind of scared me.”
She blinked. “Untouchable?”
“You’re confident, smart, brave. You make me feel like I’m always two steps behind. So... teasing you? It made it easier.”
Y/N didn’t reply right away. Then she said, “You’re not behind, Leo. If anything, you’re always racing ahead.”
His chest tightened. “Do you hate it?”
“The nickname?” She shook her head. “No. I hated that I liked it.”
Leo looked at her, his heart doing something ridiculous. “Then maybe I should retire it.”
She smiled. “Only if you replace it with something better.”
He leaned closer, voice low. “How about ‘mi reina’?”
Y/N’s lips curled into a grin. “You’re impossible.”
“But charming,” he said.
“And infuriating.”
“And yours?” he asked, voice almost a whisper.
She didn’t answer. She just leaned in and kissed him.
Summary:
Leo Valdez has faced monsters and fire, but nothing challenges him like Y/N’s sharp wit. A day of playful banter at Camp Half-Blood slowly reveals something deeper between them.
Leo Valdez stood in the middle of the Camp Half-Blood forge, hands on his hips, his face streaked with soot and sweat. He’d been working on a new contraption for Chiron, some sort of auto-cleaning stables system, and let’s just say it wasn’t going well. Pieces of metal were scattered across the floor like confetti, steam hissed from a cracked valve, and the air smelled like burning rubber.
He didn’t notice Y/N until she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.
“Is this supposed to be a sculpture or an explosion in progress?” she asked, smirking.
Leo turned, wiping his hands on a rag. “Depends. Are you impressed either way?”
Her eyes sparkled. “It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”
Leo blinked, stunned for a moment, then laughed. “Okay, ow. That was a good one.”
Y/N grinned and stepped further into the forge, her gaze sweeping over the steaming pile of metal. “Seriously, though. What is it?”
“An automated Pegasus pooper-scooper,” he said proudly. “Or... it was.”
She tried to keep a straight face. “Truly, you’re the pinnacle of romance and innovation.”
Leo placed a hand on his heart. “You wound me, mi corazón.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, but she was laughing. Leo loved that sound, the way it melted into the clang of hammers and hiss of fire like it belonged here.
“Wanna help?” he asked, nudging a wrench toward her.
“Sure. But if this thing explodes, I’m blaming you.”
“Deal.”
Two hours later, they were both on the floor, surrounded by nuts and bolts, and covered in smudges of grease. Leo had abandoned his blueprint halfway through in favor of improvising, and Y/N was surprisingly good with tools.
“Okay, now twist that valve,” Leo instructed.
Y/N reached over to tighten a bolt. “Like this?”
Leo nodded, his eyes focused on her hands. “Perfect.”
She leaned back and wiped sweat from her forehead. “I think we actually fixed it.”
“You mean you fixed it while I made vaguely helpful comments,” he said with a grin.
“Exactly.”
They sat in silence for a moment, breathing in the warm air of the forge. Leo glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her cheeks were flushed, probably from the heat, but there was something softer about her now. Less teasing. More... thoughtful.
“You ever think about just leaving it all behind?” he asked quietly. “The monsters, the quests. Just... going somewhere normal?”
Y/N looked at him, surprised by the sudden change in tone. “Sometimes. But then I remember I’d be bored out of my mind.”
Leo laughed softly. “Yeah. Same.”
She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Besides, you’d probably set a normal town on fire within a week.”
“Rude,” he said, mock-offended. “But accurate.”
After cleaning up, they walked together toward the cabins. The sun was beginning to set, casting the camp in a golden glow. Leo felt something warm bloom in his chest, not from fire, but from the way Y/N walked beside him like she belonged there.
“Want to stop by the lake?” she asked. “It’s nice this time of day.”
“Sure,” he said. “As long as you promise not to push me in.”
“No promises.”
They sat on the dock with their feet dangling above the water. The sky was streaked with purples and pinks, and for a while, neither of them spoke.
“You know,” Leo said after a while, “I never thought I’d get close to someone again.”
Y/N turned to him slowly. “Why not?”
He shrugged, eyes fixed on the water. “I’ve lost too many people. I thought maybe it was better not to let anyone in. Less risky.”
“But?”
“But then you walked into my forge and insulted my pickup lines,” he said with a soft smile. “And I thought... maybe risking it isn’t so bad.”
Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder. “You’re not the only one who’s scared, Leo.”
He looked down at her, heart thudding in his chest. “I can’t promise I won’t mess things up.”
She met his gaze. “I’m not asking for perfect. I’m asking for you.”
Later, back at Cabin Nine, Leo was sprawled on his bunk when Y/N poked her head in.
“Can I come in?”
He sat up quickly. “Yeah, of course.”
She hesitated at the door. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Leo scooted over and patted the space beside him. “C’mere.”
Y/N sat next to him, then leaned against the headboard with a sigh. Her eyes looked tired, her shoulders tense.
“You okay?”
She nodded, then shook her head. “Just... need to not be alone right now.”
Leo’s expression softened. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her in. Y/N tucked herself against his side, her fingers fisting the edge of his shirt.
“You’re really warm,” she mumbled.
“I’m like a human furnace,” he said lightly.
Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Don’t let me go just yet.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
They sat like that for a long time, the kind of silence that doesn’t need to be filled. Leo watched the rise and fall of her breathing, the way her features slowly relaxed.
He’d always been the jokester, the inventor, the fixer. But here, with her, he didn’t have to perform. He just had to be.
Eventually, her voice came out soft and sleepy. “Thank you, Leo.”
“For what?”
“For letting me fall apart a little.”
He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “You can fall apart anytime. I’ll always be here to help pick up the pieces.”
She didn’t respond, but her grip on his shirt tightened just a little.
And for the first time in a long time, Leo Valdez felt like maybe, just maybe, he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
sorry ive been inactive, have some work things and family things going on. i appreciate all the requests and i will post sometime in the week, just not sure when.
i appreciate and love you all, i ask that you please be patient with me :)
A fight between Spencer and Y/N leaves them both hurt and emotionally drained, unable to talk things through. But when the case pulls them back together, they are forced to confront their feelings, letting go of the anger and hurt that has built between them. Can they move forward without more pain, or is the damage too much to repair?
It had been two days since the argument.
Two days since words had been thrown like daggers, and two days since the space between you and Spencer felt like an impenetrable chasm. The team had just wrapped up a grueling case in which the stakes had been high. The kind of case that kept everyone on edge, eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights and hands shaking from exhaustion.
It should have been a victory.
But it didn’t feel like one.
Because as you sat in the bullpen of the BAU, the silence between you and Spencer was deafening. He was on his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration, his fingers typing quickly. You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at him, his messy hair, the way his mind worked so tirelessly, his shoulders tense as he worked through the residual stress of the case.
And you? You felt nothing but exhaustion. Exhaustion from the case. Exhaustion from the tension between you two. You felt a pang of guilt every time you thought about the argument, the words you both said that couldn’t be taken back. You hated that it was still unresolved.
“You’re quiet,” Spencer said without looking up, his voice flat.
You bit your lip, not knowing how to respond. The truth was, you didn’t know what to say. You wanted to apologize. You wanted to reach out, to tell him that you were sorry, that everything between you two didn’t feel right anymore. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.
“I’m fine,” you said finally, a little too quickly.
Spencer’s eyes flicked up from his phone, narrowing just slightly, and you saw the way his expression softened in that way it always did when he knew you were lying. “No, you’re not.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Spencer,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
He took a deep breath, the quiet between you heavy. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”
The simplicity of the words hit you like a physical blow.
For a moment, you just stared at him, trying to absorb the weight of what he said. He was right. Neither of you had wanted this, but both of you had let it happen.
“I don’t either,” you said finally, your voice trembling. “But... we can’t just pretend nothing happened. It’s not that easy.”
Spencer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar way that made your heart ache. “I know. But I don’t want this to keep going. I don’t want to keep feeling... like this.”
You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I don’t either.”
The next few hours were a blur. You went through the motions, finishing up paperwork and signing off on the case files, but your mind kept drifting back to Spencer. To what had happened. To the things you’d said to each other.
When you finally gathered your things, you were surprised to see Spencer waiting for you outside your office.
“Can we talk?” he asked quietly.
You nodded, heart hammering. “Yeah.”
The two of you walked in silence toward the parking lot. Neither of you knew exactly where to go, but somehow, it felt right to leave the building behind and step outside into the chilly night air.
Spencer opened the door to his car, and you slid into the passenger seat, trying not to feel the weight of everything still hanging in the air between you two.
Spencer didn’t start the car right away. Instead, he let out a long breath, eyes forward, his hands on the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice low but earnest.
You looked at him, taken aback. “Spencer—”
“No,” he interrupted, his eyes meeting yours. “Let me finish. I... I should’ve handled it differently. I should’ve been more patient. More understanding. But I wasn’t. I got defensive, and I... I said things I didn’t mean.”
You looked at him, feeling a pang of guilt for what you had said, too. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have shut you out. I was angry, and instead of talking about it, I just—”
“You shut me out,” he finished, his voice strained, but soft. “And I should’ve respected that, but I didn’t. I just wanted to fix things, to make everything better.”
“I know,” you said, your voice breaking a little. “I know. And I should’ve trusted you more. I shouldn’t have kept it all inside.”
Spencer turned to you, his eyes wide with sincerity. “We can work through this, you know. We’ve always worked through things before. I... I don’t want this to be the thing that breaks us.”
“I don’t either,” you whispered, feeling your heart soften.
He looked down at his hands on the wheel, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. “I don’t know how to fix it. But I do know that I don’t want to keep fighting.”
You reached for his hand, placing it gently on top of his. He looked at you in surprise, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t.
“I don’t want to fight anymore either,” you said, your voice trembling. “I want to make things right. I don’t care how long it takes. I just... I don’t want to keep feeling like this.”
Spencer gave a soft, almost relieved laugh. “Me neither.”
The drive back to your apartment was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You talked about small things, how you both missed Garcia’s weird sense of humor, how Morgan’s workout routines were ridiculous, how JJ had been the team’s unofficial mediator since... well, forever. For the first time in days, the air between you two felt lighter.
When Spencer parked in front of your building, neither of you moved to get out of the car immediately.
“I’m sorry,” Spencer said again, his voice gentle. “I never want to hurt you. I know I can be difficult sometimes.”
You turned toward him, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “I don’t think you’re difficult. Just... stubborn.”
He smiled. “That’s fair.”
You hesitated, then said quietly, “I don’t want to lose you over something stupid.”
Spencer’s expression softened, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, sitting in the quiet of the car. The fight still hung between you, but it wasn’t as heavy anymore. It felt like it was something you could both move past.
“You won’t lose me,” Spencer said, his voice steady, unwavering. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Summary:
After weeks of chaos with the supernatural, Y/N and Stiles decide they’ve earned a break. With the pack distracted and no threats on the horizon, they escape reality for one night of comfort: pajamas, popcorn, and Star Wars. Just the two of them, a galaxy far, far away, and a love that's closer than ever.
The lights were off, the popcorn was popped, and Stiles Stilinski was finally, finally getting a night without death, blood, or banshees screaming in the woods.
And most importantly, he was spending it with you.
You flopped onto the couch in plaid pajama bottoms and one of Stiles’ old Beacon Hills lacrosse hoodies, the sleeves too long and the hem hanging past your hips. You looked ridiculously cozy and ridiculously adorable. Stiles noticed. He always noticed.
“Okay,” he said, flinging himself down next to you, a blanket over one shoulder and the remote in hand. “So I’m thinking we start with A New Hope and just keep going until one of us taps out. You cool with that?”
You gave him a mock stern look. “Is that even a question? It’s Star Wars. You know I’m ride or die.”
“That’s why you’re my favorite,” he grinned, pressing play before you could fire back.
The iconic intro crawl filled the screen, the triumphant music blasting from the speakers. Stiles pulled the blanket over both of you, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth like it was the most sacred ritual of all time.
You leaned into him, legs curled under you, and he didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your shoulder. It was simple. Natural. Like gravity.
And it was perfect.
For the first time in weeks, maybe months, there were no howls in the night. No emergency group texts. No cryptic omens or grim prophecies. Just you, Stiles, the Millennium Falcon, and a metric ton of popcorn.
You didn’t even realize you were smiling until he caught you staring.
“What?” he said, chewing exaggeratedly. “Do I have popcorn on my face? I knew I should’ve gone for the vacuum sealed snack helmet.”
You laughed, swatting his arm. “No. You’re just… really cute when you’re relaxed.”
Stiles blinked, like you’d told him the moon was made of cheese. “Me? Relaxed? Babe, I’m 98 percent stress and 2 percent caffeine.”
“And yet here you are,” you said, nudging him. “Chill. Happy.”
He pretended to fan himself. “Must be the company.”
You rolled your eyes but leaned closer, your head resting on his shoulder. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Just being normal for once.”
Stiles hesitated a moment, then kissed the top of your head. “Yeah. It’s really nice.”
The film played on, the two of you trading quips and impressions, some better than others.
“Leia should’ve just force choked Han for being a cocky little jerk,” you muttered.
“She totally should’ve. But, you know… then we wouldn’t have the greatest romance in sci fi history.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Greater than ours?”
Stiles turned to face you, dead serious. “Okay, they had lightsabers and a rebellion, sure. But did they have matching flannel pajamas and a shared addiction to gummy bears?”
“Touché.”
He grinned and kissed you, soft, lingering. The kind of kiss that didn’t demand anything. It just said, I’m here. I love you. This is everything.
By the time Empire Strikes Back started, you were tangled together under the blanket, feet warm, hearts warmer. Stiles was humming along to the score, completely off key, but you didn’t mind.
“Hey,” you whispered, halfway through the Battle of Hoth.
“Hmm?”
“I know things are crazy. And they’re probably gonna get crazy again. But... thank you. For this.”
Stiles looked at you, eyes soft. “You don’t have to thank me. You’re the only thing that makes all of this” — he gestured vaguely to the ceiling, to the world — “bearable.”
You swallowed hard. “You mean that?”
“Totally,” he said, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “You’re my anchor, Y/N.”
You blinked at the sudden rush of emotion. “Since when are you the poetic one?”
“Since you wore my hoodie like it was a dress and curled up on my couch and made me feel like maybe, just maybe, the universe isn’t completely out to kill us.”
You laughed, even as your throat tightened. “That’s such a low bar.”
“And yet, here we are. Surpassing it.”
You kissed him again, longer this time. When you pulled back, his eyes were sparkling, like stars in the night sky.
Or maybe just a reflection of the screen, where Luke was battling snow and Wampas.
Either way, you were content.
By the time Return of the Jedi rolled around, you were half asleep against Stiles, your legs tangled, the popcorn long forgotten. He was playing with your fingers, absentmindedly tracing patterns over your knuckles.
“You know what I always wanted?” he said quietly.
“What?”
“A night like this. Back when everything started, the werewolves, the alpha packs, the Dread Doctors, I used to dream about just one night where I could pretend none of it was real. That I was just some guy. In love with someone way out of his league.”
You smacked his chest playfully. “You are not out of your league.”
“Oh, I absolutely am,” he said. “But I’ve accepted it. I’ve made peace with it.”
“Stiles…”
He turned, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “What?”
“You’re my favorite person in the whole world.”
His heart thudded.
“I don’t care about the supernatural stuff, or how many nightmares we’ve survived. I’d still choose you. Every time.”
“Even over Pedro Pascal?” he teased.
You paused, then nodded solemnly. “Even over Pedro.”
“Wow,” he whispered. “That’s commitment.”
He leaned in to kiss you again, his lips gentle, reverent. He held you like the universe was holding its breath around you.
And maybe it was.
It was past midnight when the credits rolled and the room went quiet. The only sound was the hush of the house settling.
Stiles adjusted the blanket around you both and leaned back with a sigh.
“I wish we could freeze this,” he murmured. “Just this moment. Forever.”
You traced little circles on his chest. “We don’t need to. We’ll have more. When everything goes crazy again, which it will, we’ll always come back here. Pajamas. Popcorn. Star Wars.”
“Our little sanctuary,” he said.
You nodded. “Exactly.”
And in that little pocket of peace, in a quiet house in Beacon Hills, surrounded by Sith Lords and space rebels, Stiles Stilinski knew, no matter what darkness came next, this was his light.
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Summary:
When Kono brings her old academy friend, Y/N, and her skilled K-9, Ghost, to HQ for a visit, the Five-0 team expects a simple introduction. But Steve McGarrett sees more than a guest, he sees potential, strength, and someone he wants on his team.
“Trust me, you’re gonna love her,” Kono said, grinning as she pulled open the doors to HQ.
Steve glanced up from the tablet in his hand, raising an eyebrow. “You say that about every old academy friend you bring around.”
“This one’s different,” Kono replied. “She works K-9 for HPD, best in the field. Ghost is her partner. You’re gonna want her on our team.”
Steve chuckled but didn’t argue. If Kono vouched for someone, he paid attention.
The moment Y/N stepped into the room, the air shifted. She moved with the confidence of someone who didn’t need to prove herself. Clad in tactical pants, boots, and a gray T-shirt with the HPD K-9 logo on the sleeve, she looked like she belonged in an ops room. Her hair was pulled back, and her sharp eyes scanned the space with quiet precision.
Right beside her was Ghost, a large Belgian Malinois with a calm but alert demeanor, ears perked and eyes tracking every motion.
“This is Y/N Y/L/N,” Kono introduced. “We graduated together, then she went straight to K-9. That’s Ghost.”
“McGarrett,” Steve said, stepping forward and offering his hand.
Y/N shook it firmly. “I’ve heard about you.”
“Only good things, I hope.”
“Depends on who you ask,” she teased lightly, a smirk touching her lips.
Steve caught the gleam in her eyes and couldn’t help the small smile that formed. “You’re with K-9 full time?”
“Four years now,” she nodded. “Ghost and I specialize in tracking and narcotics, but he’s also trained for defense. We’ve got a solid record.”
Chin nodded in appreciation. “K-9 units don’t mess around. Ghost looks sharp.”
“He is,” Y/N said proudly, patting his side. “Smarter than most humans I know.”
Danny walked in mid-conversation, sipping his coffee. “What’s this? Another of Kono’s prodigy friends coming to show us up?”
Danny eyed Ghost warily. “Please tell me that one doesn’t bite.”
“Only if I tell him to,” Y/N replied with a casual shrug.
Steve chuckled, already impressed. There was something about her—the balance between authority and warmth, the way Ghost sat so calmly at her side, how effortlessly she fit into the room. He could see it. He could see her here.
“You ever think about doing something more?” Steve asked.
Y/N tilted her head. “More?”
“Something like Five-0.”
Kono looked between them, clearly already expecting this.
“I didn’t come here for a job interview,” Y/N replied, crossing her arms.
“No,” Steve said, “but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice your presence. Your energy. It fits.”
“Steve,” Danny said, walking over, “you’re not seriously offering a position after ten minutes of small talk?”
“I offered Lori Weston a badge with less,” Steve countered.
Danny huffed. “Fair.”
Before anyone could continue the banter, the front screen lit up with an alert.
“Armed robbery in progress. Waikiki district. Suspects armed and fleeing in a black van.”
Steve's gaze snapped to the screen. “Let’s go.”
He glanced at Y/N. “You up for a ride-along?”
Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”
“Absolutely.”
She turned to Ghost. “You ready, boy?”
Ghost barked once and sprang to his feet.
The van screeched around the corner, tires burning rubber. Steve’s truck was in hot pursuit, with Y/N riding shotgun, Ghost panting behind her seat.
“Suspects are headed toward the marina!” Chin called over comms.
“We’ll cut them off,” Steve responded, turning the wheel hard. “Y/N, you and Ghost go in on foot, Danny and I will take the front.”
“Copy that,” she said, already unclipping her harness.
The moment Steve stopped the truck, she was out, Ghost beside her like a shadow.
Y/N moved low and fast, making her way between boat sheds while Ghost sniffed the air. He paused, ears up, tail stiff. Y/N signaled silently and followed his lead.
A suspect bolted from behind a boat, Ghost took him down in seconds, teeth clamped gently around the man's arm, holding him without causing harm.
“HPD K-9!” Y/N shouted. “Do not move!”
Steve and Danny rounded the corner just in time to see the takedown.
“Damn,” Danny muttered. “That dog is terrifying.”
“Efficient,” Steve corrected, eyes fixed on Y/N.
They cuffed the suspect, and within the next ten minutes, the rest of the crew was rounded up. Smooth, clean, no injuries. The kind of outcome Steve liked.
Back at HQ, Y/N removed Ghost’s harness and knelt to give him water. Her hair was pulled loose now, framing her face as sweat glistened on her brow.
“Nice work,” Steve said from the doorway.
Y/N looked up, smiling. “You too.”
He nodded toward Ghost. “He’s amazing.”
“He’s my partner. We trust each other.”
“I noticed that. It’s rare.” He stepped closer. “I meant what I said earlier. You’d be an asset here.”
“You don’t even know me,” she said, standing and facing him.
“I know enough.” His voice was low, steady. “You’re smart, calm under pressure, and you have instincts that saved us time today.”
Y/N studied him for a beat, then looked past him through the glass windows into the ops room. The team was laughing, Danny probably ranting about something, Kono elbowing Chin. They looked like a family.
“I’ve thought about leaving HPD before,” she admitted. “But Ghost and I are a unit. We come as a package.”
“Then we’ll take the package,” Steve said simply. “No one splits up what works.”
A pause stretched between them. Steve shifted, a rare uncertainty in his eyes. “It’s more than just your skills. I see how you fit. And I don’t say that lightly.”
Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Is this still a pitch or are you flirting?”
“Can’t it be both?”
She laughed. “You’re bold, McGarrett.”
He gave her that half-smile that could make any threat seem charming. “I don’t like waiting around when I see something, or someone, I want.”
Y/N stepped closer. “I don’t either. But I’ve got conditions.”
“Name them.”
“I run Ghost’s training my way. I pick my missions. And I don’t take orders if I don’t agree with them.”
Steve arched a brow. “That’s going to make staff meetings interesting.”
“Then maybe you should learn to be more convincing.”
Steve laughed, genuinely. “I’ll work on it.”
He offered his hand again. This time, she took it without hesitation.
Later that evening, Steve stood on the beach near his house, watching the waves roll in. He heard soft steps behind him and turned.
Y/N, now in jeans and a hoodie, walked barefoot through the sand with Ghost trotting beside her.
“Kono said you might be here,” she said.
“Needed some quiet after the chaos.”
“Thought you’d like some company.” She stopped beside him. Ghost sat between them, looking out at the sea.
Steve glanced at her. “You settle on your answer yet?”
“I did,” she nodded. “We’re in. Ghost and I.”
Steve’s expression warmed, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Welcome to Five-0.”
They stood in silence for a moment, the sound of waves lapping at the shore between them. The orange glow of the setting sun made her eyes look even brighter, and Steve felt something unexpected twist in his chest.
Not just admiration. Connection.
“You made the right choice,” he said softly.
“I hope so,” she replied, voice just as quiet. “But I think you’ll make it worth it.”
Ghost huffed beside them, leaning his weight against her leg.
Steve chuckled. “I’ll take that as approval.”
Y/N smiled, leaning down to scratch behind Ghost’s ears. “You should. He’s a good judge of character.”
Steve turned his gaze back to the ocean but this time, he didn’t feel alone.
And for the first time in a long time, Steve McGarrett wasn’t just thinking about the next case.
He was thinking about the future, and who he wanted standing beside him.
can you do a steve mcgarrett fic where she's being framed for a crime and there is this mutual pining/unspoken feelings thing going on thank you<3
a/n: sorry for the late post and thank you so so so much for the request, i hope you like it
Beneath the Surface
Summary:
When Y/N is framed for a crime she didn’t commit, the Five-0 team races to prove her innocence. As tensions rise and truths come to light, Steve and Y/N are forced to confront the feelings they’ve both kept buried for too long.
The knock on Y/N’s door came just after sunrise, sharp and deliberate. She barely had time to register the sound before the door swung open and two HPD officers stormed in, guns drawn. “Y/N Y/L/N,” one barked, “you’re under arrest for the murder of Senator Harlan Koa.” Her blood ran cold. “What?” They didn’t wait for a response. Cuffs clicked around her wrists. Her protests went unheard.
By the time she was sitting in the sterile, gray HPD holding room, her mind was racing. Senator Koa? Murder? She hadn’t seen him in weeks, since a security detail job she’d taken on behalf of the state. A familiar voice snapped her from the spiral. “Where is she?” Steve McGarrett’s voice rang out in the hallway, fury and urgency in his tone. Moments later, he stormed into the room, eyes locking with hers. “You okay?” Y/N gave a tight nod. “They think I killed Senator Koa.”
“I know,” Steve said, jaw clenched. “But I don’t believe it for a second.” She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Screw protocol,” he said flatly, pulling the door closed behind him. “You’re not alone in this.”
The evidence was damning. Surveillance footage showed a figure matching Y/N’s build entering the senator’s office the night of the murder. Her fingerprints were on the weapon. A burner phone was found in her apartment with text messages detailing the hit. But Steve knew her. And knowing her meant knowing there was no way she could have done this. “She’s being set up,” he said to Danny later that afternoon as they huddled in the Five-0 conference room. “Whoever did this went to a lot of trouble to make it look like her.”
“Someone with access to HPD evidence lockers,” Chin added, scanning the case file. “The burner phone matches a box that went missing last week. Someone planted it.”
“Someone inside,” Steve muttered. “This is bigger than we thought.” Meanwhile, Y/N sat in a cold interrogation room, her heart heavy not just from the situation but from the man on the other side of the glass. Steve had always been her weak spot. Strong, steady, maddeningly unreadable. They worked like a well-oiled machine, danced around each other in brief touches and late-night stakeouts. But it never went beyond what-if glances and unfinished conversations.
Now, with everything on the line, the silence between them screamed louder than ever. The door creaked open. Steve stepped inside, his expression unreadable. “They’re moving you,” he said quietly. “Protective custody until we clear your name.” Y/N shook her head. “Don’t waste your time on me, McGarrett. You have bigger things to handle.” He crouched in front of her, eyes intense. “You are not a waste of time. And I don’t want you out of my sight until we fix this.”
Her breath hitched. “Steve…” He stood, brushing a hand gently over her cuffed wrist. “I’ll get you out of this.” The breakthrough came two days later. Kono tracked the IP address behind the burner phone texts to a shell company tied to a disgraced ex-HPD officer, Martin Reyes. He had a grudge, a motive, and connections deep enough to frame someone without raising any suspicions.
Steve and Danny raided his compound just before dawn. A gunfight broke out. When the dust settled and the shots stop, Reyes was in cuffs, and in his files was everything they needed to clear Y/N’s name. Steve found her waiting quietly in the holding cell, arms folded, tired eyes blinking up at him. “It’s over,” he said softly. “You’re free.” She let out a breath that sounded like it had been held in for years. “You did it.”
“We did it,” he corrected, stepping closer. “You were right to be suspicious of the senator’s office. Your report on their shady funding? That’s what started this. You were getting too close, they didn't like it and decided to end it.” She looked up at him, emotions warring behind her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d fight this hard for me.”
“Y/N,” he said, voice thick, “I would’ve burned the whole damn island down if that’s what it took.”
The silence swelled between them. But this time, it wasn’t empty. “I thought maybe…” she started, eyes flicking to his lips before moving to look at him. “Maybe I mattered more to you. But we never said anything. I didn’t want to assume.”
“We never had to,” he said, stepping into her space, lowering his voice. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day we met. I kept telling myself it was safer to keep it quiet.”
“But it wasn’t,” she whispered. “It hurt.” Steve leaned in slowly, his hand brushing her cheek. “Let me make it right.” And then he kissed her, soft and sure and long overdue. Later that night, as they sat on the beach behinf his house, with the stars above and the fire crackling between them, Y/N leaned her head on Steve’s shoulder.
“You are it for me, only you” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I’ve been sure for a long time.”
She smiled, fingers lacing with his. “Good. Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t love you.” He turned to her, eyes soft. “Then don’t.”
