#cbs swat 2017

[chosenimagines]

SWAT (2017) Masterlist

Announcement

Season 5 in Germany

Crossover

Criminal Minds X Swat

Headcanons

Darryl is a writer

Random posts

Dear CBS Swat Writers

SWAT obsession

Just started Swat

Reblog

Hondo needs patience

Street, Luca & cooking

Prank & Luca’s kindness

Not enough Tan

Ships

My desired ship for Luca

Simping

Tan & Basketball

How do you feel about Tan?

Masterlist of Masterlists Taglist (doesn't exist yet, but hmu if you wanna be on it)

[luca-street-chris-deacon-rp]

@ofmymanymuses

For the last fourteen years, Annie and Deacon had lived in a marriage that they had both believed would last forever. But that hadn't been the case because eighteen months ago, Annie had sat him down and told her husband, after quite a serious rough patch, that she wasn't in love with her husband anymore and wanted a divorce. It had come as a shock for Deacon, who had tried reasoning, listening, and trying to fix their marital issues, Annie didn't want to continue trying and she had listed off the many reasons why she wanted their marriage to end. So Deacon had gone from sleeping in his own bed to sleeping on the couch while he searched for some place else to live. The kids had been upset, maybe not even fully understanding what was going on, and they were confused, while Matthew, the eldest, was angry. That was eighteen months ago, and while Matthew was angry and getting into trouble, Lila was upset because she missed her dad, and Samuel and Victoria were confused because they were both still relatively young, both under eight. Sometimes, when couples separated, they found that they got on a little better, but in Kay's case, it just made it worse, going from reasonable to grudgingly amicable to bordering on toxic. Neither the two of them thought that their lived would have ended like that, so it was a big adjustment. What was also a bit adjusted was the fact that Luca had a friend who was single and was trying to set them up. Their lives had been turned upside down completely. So, while they dealt with agreed shared custody, they were also navigating a divorce.

Deacon had put Luca and Street off for a while when they kept trying to set him up with women and he genuinely wasn't interested, but to shut them up he agreed to one date and he was relieved to see a mutual friend at the bar, Fallon. They had been friends for a few years thanks to Luca, so seeing that Fallon was his date wasn't a bad thing after the few date disasters that he had been set up oh by other friends.

"Hi, can I buy you a drink?" He asked her, and he already knew what she drank. "If Luca had told me that you were my date then I wouldn't have been so nervous."

Unbeknown to Deackn, Fallon was into him, and Luca knew this, so he made it happen . He had watched Deacon when he was around Fallon and how different he seemed.

[brinleyparke]

Luca: What's a word that's a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?

Deacon: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated, ...

Street: Smad.

[bullet-prooflove]

Reputation - Donovan Rocker x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @oliviah-25 @luckyladycreator2 @crazy4chickennuggets @one-sweet-gubler @janeaustenlover @victoriajhyde @telepathay @genius2050 @irishavengersassemble @crimeshowjunkie

Rocker knows you have a reputation. You’re a good girl, one that follows orders with precision, who always play it safe. In the field no one has to worry about you, you’re solid and dedicated, loyal to a fault. You haven’t got a rebellious bone in your body, at least that’s what they thought.  

They didn’t know you the way he did. They haven’t seen that reckless side of you, the one that comes out to play in the depths of the night, they didn’t know you’re secret.

Rocker discovered it by accident. He’d been listless after the divorce, instead of hitting the same old places he wanted something fresh. That’s how he’d come across Noche, a club known for its ambience and music scene. It wasn’t like the other clubs in L.A with the booming beats that makes your skull throb, it’s dark, a hole in the wall shrouded in mystery and the perfect place for him to disappear for an hour or two.

He’d been on his way home after having a couple of beers with Stevens when he heard the serenade of a violin. He wasn’t into classical pieces but the music he was hearing was an entanglement of soft rock, something more his speed. The notes tapered over the drums, touching something deep down inside of him. He was enthralled by it, ensnared. He found himself seated at the bar, another beer in his hand, his attention drawn to the stage. His gaze came to fall on the violinist, head cradled against the instrument, and it was like he had been struck by lightning.

He knew it was you, he would know your stance, your movement, your posture anywhere. You wore a black sheer Victorian style top, with a high collar and long sleeves with a lace bralette underneath. It accentuated your body, showcasing the lines of your form as you swayed in time to the music. The leather trousers clung to your lower body as your hips swung from side to side. It was the first time he’d seen you with your hair down, normally you wore it in a plait or a tight bun but tonight it was gloriously loose. He wondered what it would feel like to run his hands through it, to kiss you on the mouth and smear that red lipstick you wore. Your eyes, always so expressive were framed with dark eyeliner, making you look just as dangerous as he knew you were.

You up on that stage right now, was the sexiest thing damn thing he had ever seen.

The way you played, it was dynamic and passionate. A sensual experience and he couldn’t tear himself away. He had no idea what you did after work, you played your cards close to your chest but he had never expected anything like this. He’d always had an affinity for the darker side of things, his marriage to Val had been pretty vanilla. The two of them had been college sweethearts but there were things he’d wanted to try, things he knew didn’t fit into her puritan view of sex.

He doesn’t realise you’ve noticed him until you appear alongside of him at the bar. Your set is over and he’s been toying with the idea of approaching you or simply slipping out when your hip bumps against his. The sultry scent of your perfume clings to your skin and it just adds to the allure.

“I didn’t think you saw me.” He says to you as you tilt you head towards him.

“You’re a striking man.” You inform him, taking a sip of your water.

He blushes, he can’t help it. No one has ever said that to him, Val used to call him her prince, it reminded of something out of Disney. The way those words roll off your lips, especially the term striking, it does something to him. He isn’t used to this side of you but he likes it.

“You wanna get out of here?” he ventures.

You smile, before tossing your hair back over your shoulder and giving him a look that makes him weak in the knees.

“Are you hitting on me Sergeant?” You ask him.

“How about we drop the titles for tonight?” He requests, setting his beer bottle down on the bar.

That reputation you have as a good girl, it completely goes out of the window. You ruin him that night, with an inquisitive mouth and fingertips that trail over his scars as your thighs hug his hips. You keep him on the cusp, drawing out his ecstasy until his fists grip the sheets and he begs you to let him come.

Not until I do, you had whispered in his ear.

Fuck he’d never had a woman straddle his face before, it was something he had always wanted to try but Val had never been into it, but you…

He had lost his mind when he got his mouth on you, you tasted like candied honey on his tongue, he’d taken you apart slowly, learning what you liked, what made you say his name. You liked it when his tongue delved deep, his palms grasping your thighs to hold you in place. When you climaxed, he didn’t want to stop, he sucks your clit before pinning you against his mouth and ruining you all over again. When he makes you come for a third time, he’s deep inside of you, his fingers threading through your hair as he grips it in his fist and pulls your head back so he can stare into your eyes. There’s intimacy in the eye contact and he watches your face, your lips parting as he makes you say his name.

The next morning, he wakes up alone, tangled up in his sheets with your lipstick marks decorating his skin. He sees you in work and it’s like it never happened, like he doesn’t know you sound like at the height of pleasure or how sinful that mouth of yours really is.

That night he turns up at Noche again, he sees you there up on that stage. You are a force to be reckoned with, a wildfire, untamed and untethered as you play, and he drinks it in. There’s an erotism to what you do, and it taps into something deep down inside of him. He’s like a moth to a flame, he can’t stay away, he doesn’t want to. Instead he clings to the nights that he has you, the ones where you’re his and only his.

Love Rocker? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[kaenbl4ze]

The more SWAT!Buck I want, the more SWAT!Buck you get. And boy do I love this crossover, so here's another sketch!

[streakyglasses]

salvation is coming in the morning

Chris's phone is almost dead, her keys are nowhere to be found, and all she can see is a sign that says Sunset Drive Inn. She considers her options before calling the one person who she knows, really, was the only option.

In the wake of Erika's death, Chris isn't doing well. Street helps.

S.W.A.T. (2017)

TW: anxiety attacks, mentions of drinking

Relationships: Chris Alonso & Jim Street

Other: hurt/comfort, post 4x08, tenderness, developing relationship

Read on ao3 here (registered users only)

or under the cut

The first thing Chris feels when she wakes up is the worsening pounding against her forehead. She groans against the pain, her hand reaching out to grasp her phone. Panic reels through her when she realizes not only can she not find it, but the sheets twisted around her aren’t her own. 

Opening her eyes, she immediately has to blink back against the sunlight streaming through the broken slats in the blinds. The yellow-orange walls are in sharp contrast to the gray of her bedroom. She holds the scratchy covers over her chest as she raises up onto her elbow enough to gather that no one else is in the room with her. 

Anymore, she thinks, trying to ignore the anxiety that fills her up. 

Luckily, she’s jolted from her thoughts by the sight of her phone on the ground. Flipping it over, she exhales and lets her shoulders drop when there’s some battery left. Not a lot, but enough to give her the motivation to get up and collect her clothes. She considers a shower once she’s gotten them in a wrinkled pile in her arms on her way to the bathroom, but decides against it when she catches a glance of herself in the dirty mirror. 

Dark circles stand out against the dullness of her skin, and the eyeliner that’s been applied over for days now is too smudged to be fixed. She doesn’t let her eyes travel further south than her collarbone, but even still red scratch marks are visible rounding over her shoulders. A vague memory of someone’s arms lifting her up as their beer-soaked lips met hers floats across her mind. The feeling of nails dragging against her skin as her back met the wall with a thud makes her wince, knowing that there has to be bruising from last night and the nights before that will soon make an appearance if it hasn’t already. 

Just get out of here. 

She pulls her clothes on as quickly as she can. When she finds her shoes, she’s thankful that she had enough forethought to opt for boots instead of heels, because trying to manage that at— whatever time it is— would only make matters worse. It takes another minute of hunting around before she finds her purse sticking out from under the bed, wallet and contents intact, but no keys. More panic starts to chip away at her and she reminds herself to take deep breaths as she tries to think back to the last place she was. 

All she can remember is a dimly-lit room with exposed brick and lights, which could be any bar within a twenty-mile radius. A bright yellow sticky-note catches her eye, but all it contains is the scrawl of a stranger, without any hint as to where said stranger may have come from. Though, if they didn’t take her money, they probably didn’t take her pickup. 

Braving a look through the blind confirms that her truck isn’t in the parking lot. A sinking feeling settles on her stomach now that she knows she’s effectively trapped. The small clock on the table reads 6 am, and she’s thankful for a moment that her job has conditioned her to wake up so early and that whoever she was with evidently functions the same way. Her phone is at a whopping 18% and she considers her options before calling the one person who she knows, really, was the only option. 

“Hello?”

Her breath catches at the sound of Street’s voice, and her mouth opens but no sound escapes.

“Hello? Chris? Are you okay?”

She clears her throat and tries to keep her voice from thickening with tears when she speaks. 

“Yeah,” she says, though it’s quiet and crackles with uncertainty. 

“Yeah. I- yes. Promise you won’t judge me?” She starts again. 

Her hand shakes and she bites her lip as she waits for his response. She thinks if she grips her phone any tighter, it will snap in half, but her grip loosens at his voice. 

“I may mock, but I never judge. What’s up?” She can tell that concern is creeping into his voice, and it pains her to know that not only is this affecting the rest of her team, but that Street’s the one of them who won’t let it lie.

“I’m at a motel— the Sunset Drive Inn. Room 14. I don’t have my keys, and I’m not sure where my truck is. Can you give me a ride?” 

There’s silence on the other end of the line. It only lasts a moment but it feels like it drags on for a lifetime as she waits for him to process. Her mouth opens to say something, anything else to fill the space, but before she can, he’s talking without an inch of doubt in his tone. 

“I’ll be there in thirty.” 

He doesn’t ask any more questions or demand any information, filled with an overwhelming need to see that she’s really okay. He brushes Luca off with a quick excuse before grabbing his keys and his bike helmet and hitting the road. 

------------

Chris sits on the edge of the bed while she waits. She checks all of her banking apps until she has a short list of where her truck could be, and then lets her phone sit face-down next to her to save the battery. Her eyes travel the wallpaper, taking note of how it’s peeling away at the corners of the walls and warping the pattern. Bouncing her leg helps ease some of her anxiety, but it buzzes throughout her whole body as she tries not to tear herself apart for something that’s too late to change now. 

For all the things she’s done in recent memory that are too late to change now. 

The tightness in her chest grows and makes it harder for her to breathe. She clenches her jaw in response, trying in vain to remain in control against the guilt that threatens to swallow her. She digs her nails into her palms to keep the tears at bay until a knock at the door jars her back to the present. 

“Chris? It’s me.” Street’s voice passes through the thin wooden door to her ears and it’s like, all of a sudden, she can breathe again, like the world has stopped crumbling beneath her feet. Any semblance of composure leaves her as she crosses to the door in a few short steps and rips it open. 

Chris steps back to give Street room to enter and he bumps the door closed with his foot. Her instinct tells her to wrap her arms around him as tight as she can, but she stops herself. In his hand are two coffee cups, one of which he hands to her with a small, if scrutinizing, smile. 

“Figured you might need it. Your usual, just not iced.” 

She nods, too in shock to be able to say anything, and lets the burn of the coffee sit on her tongue for a second too long before swallowing. 

“Thank you.” She whispers, leaving her gaze locked on the brown plastic lid even though she can feel Street’s eyes on her. In her periphery, she sees his hand come up, like he wants to rest it on her shoulder, but he freezes when she jerks away. It’s involuntary, he can tell, though it sends a pang of hurt through him all the same.

He racks his brain for anything he can do or say to try to make her feel better, but she cuts him off. 

“I think I know where my truck is. A bar off 8th.” 

She still won’t meet his eyes, so he just nods and says okay. He turns and holds the door open, watching her double check her pockets for all her belongings before she skirts past him. 

“I’ll drive slow. Hang on.” He promises, though it holds none of the usual flirtatious undertones that make Chris roll her eyes and swat him on the shoulder. With nothing but another small nod, Chris climbs onto the back of the bike and wraps her arms around his torso. 

------------

“Oh, thank God.” Chris murmurs under her breath when she sees her pickup sitting in a now-nearly-empty lot. Once Street’s bike is parked next to it, she leaves him to load it into the bed while she reenters the bar. 

The smell of alcohol makes her nauseous, and the lighting brings more memories from the night flooding back to her. She shakes them off, searching over the heads of the few patrons until a tall, blond man smiles at her from behind the bar. 

“Let me grab your keys!” He says, with too much energy for the hour. She nods and walks to the cash register to meet him. 

“Alright,” he says, swirling the keys around his finger, “your tab was closed last night so you’re good to go. Be safe.” 

“Thank you.” She says. She maneuvers her way through the tables back through the doors where Street is waiting at her driver’s side door. Unlocking the truck, she tosses the keys over to him without a word. 

The radio hums low, and the cool window helps soothe her head on the drive back to her apartment. 

------------

“Thank you.” She says as she slides out of the truck. The world swims for just a second so she braces herself on the door while she finds her footing. Once she’s sure she isn’t going to be sick, she steels herself and starts to walk towards her apartment, knowing Street will follow. 

Her apartment feels cold when she walks through the doorway. She kicks off her boots and leaves them haphazard by the door. A glance at the clock tells her it’s just past 8, and a running timer until when her shift is supposed to start at 10 pops into her head. 

Like he can read her thoughts, Street speaks before Chris can even turn around. 

“You should call out. Take a day, get some rest.” 

“I’m fine.” Chris snaps, the words out of her mouth sooner than she can even process what she’s saying. Street sighs, which only serves to aggravate her further as her walls slam back up and the bit of alcohol that’s still in her system sparks like a forest fire. 

“You’re not.” Street says, his voice even and leaving no room for argument or bait to be taken. Chris tries anyway, the need to defend herself activating her fight or flight for the latter. 

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” She bites back. Her eyes narrow when she sees how Street bites the side of his cheek to keep from scoffing. 

“I just had to pick you up because you drank too much and ended up in a seedy motel.” 

It’s like a stab right through her stomach when he says it. Casually, like it’s the same kind of fact as saying the sky is blue, and she can’t help the tears that line her eyes even though her tone is as aggressive as ever. 

“And what happened to not judging?”

Searching her eyes for something, anything he can hold onto, he softens when he sees the pain that’s behind her hardened gaze. He takes another step towards her. 

“I’m not judging. I’m just worried, Chris, and you know if our roles were reversed, which they have been, you’d be telling me to take a day, too.” 

Her only response is to look away as his words hit her and more tears start to swell. 

“Call out. Take a shower and get some rest, okay? I’ll vouch for you.” 

“Okay,” she starts, and then a different fear grips her. 

“Luca? Was he, does—?”

“He was awake when you called, but he didn’t hear anything. I’m sure he’s also just concerned. I’ll tell them it’s a bug.”

She can see them asking questions and poking holes in his excuse now, but is too tired to try to come up with a better solution, so she nods. 

“Okay. Thank you, Street.” 

He smiles, dimples prominent even in the dim light, and takes another step towards her, opening his arms slightly. Waiting until she gives him the okay, he hugs her close to him and runs a hand down her back a few times before pulling back to arm's length. 

“It’ll be okay, Chris. Go easy on yourself today, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she promises softly. She watches him go, turning back to give her one last glance before softly shutting her door, and then she sighs. Like the rest of her energy has been drained from her, she slumps against the wall and then slides down until she’s sitting on the ground. 

She doesn’t know how long she sits on the ground, nor does she remember opening her phone to text Hondo that she’d be out. Once she’s able to bring herself to stand, she plugs the device in and pours a shot of the vodka in the freezer, downing it without a second thought. 

Just to take the edge off, she tells herself. 

The mirror has fogged with shower steam before she moves to strip and step into the stream. Doing everything in her power to avoid looking at herself, knowing she’ll only look more unrecognizable since the motel bathroom only a few hours ago, she washes off the remnants of the prior night with the hottest water she can stand. 

Whatever relief the hot water provided for the agony reverberating in her skull fades away as soon as she turns it off. Sighing, Chris grabs the first thing she gets her hands on out of her drawer, and buries herself in bed. 

------------

It’s nearly 8pm when Chris wakes up for longer than a few minutes, but the paralyzing despair she’s felt every time she’s opened her eyes is still present. She knows she has a stream of texts waiting for her, able to hear the ding of her phone, though the thought of venturing down the hallway feels like a lead weight on her chest keeping her stuck in bed. 

Erika’s belongings are gone, have long since been packed by Chris on a day she tries not to remember and picked up by Erika’s sister, but the memory of Erika, of what was supposed to be, permeates every common space. The couch has been delivered, but Chris hasn’t been able to sit on or pull up the painter’s tape outline on the floor of where it was to be set. Even the few photos of the pair that belonged to Chris seem to stare into her whenever she leaves her room, filling her with guilt that she has the audacity to continue to live in a space that she feels directly responsible for ruining. 

It eats away at her, morphing into a panic that’s so loud it’s the only thing she can focus on. 

Her heart beats against her chest like rising water against a dam, and she can’t keep her eyes open long enough to dispel the images that cross her mind when she closes them. Her hands twist in the sheets, gripping at them with white knuckles as she tries to draw in a full breath. The realization that she can’t only serves to make her more panicked, until she shoots out of bed and runs to the island for her phone— memories be damned. 

She’s just finished punching in his number when reality hits her. 

Calling him now will only make the team more worried. 

She sighs, but is grateful for the single moment of sanity that has her opening her texts instead. His name sits near the top. 

‘Will you come over after shift?’ 

She hardly waits five minutes for a response. 

‘As soon as I get off.’ 

She exhales. The microwave clock tells her half an hour has passed, meaning she realistically has another two before he knocks on her door. Throwing on sneakers, Chris grabs her keys from the countertop and lets the door slam shut behind her.  

------------

“Chris?”

A knock at the door startles her, same as the morning, and she takes a sip of her water as she pulls herself off the couch to answer. 

“Hey.” She says as she opens the door, sticking her hands in her pockets to hide their slight shake. 

“Hey.” He gives her a small smile and finds his keys a place on the hook. “So, what did you—- Oh!”

He’s cut off by her arms wrapping around his torso. On instinct, his body returns the gesture, one hand gently cradling the back of her head.

His surprise quickly turns to concern when he feels how her shoulders are shaking underneath him, paired with soft sniffles. When he tries to take a step backward, he’s met with her grip tightening and a shake of her head.

“Don’t, please,” she pleads, voice ragged. It’s enough to make his heart break and he shushes her.

“Okay, it’s okay.” He soothes her. She pushes even closer to him. His leather jacket is cool under her hands as her fingers claw at the steadiness of his shoulders. Her sobs heighten past the point of being able to understand his comforting words, and steal her ability to breathe. The more she tries, the worse her whimpering becomes. 

“Chris?” Street whispers, hearing the catch in her breathing. She shakes her head, her fingers digging into him even harder, and he swallows down his own panic. 

“C’mon, let’s sit down, okay?” 

Unable to speak, Chris nods, though her body won’t listen to commands to walk any more than it will a command to breathe. She’s afraid that if she lets him go, she’ll collapse. Feeling her freeze up, Street keeps his arms around her as he maneuvers them both to the couch. He takes her weight easily as she falls next to him, buries her face in his neck, and curls her knees up to her chest. 

Street feels her tears hot on his skin once they’re sitting, and it’s all he can do to keep running his hands up and down her arm and back and remind her to try to breathe. She pulls away from him the more stunted it becomes, her face in her hands. With one look at her shaking body, Street moves from sitting next to her to kneeling in front of her, his body wedged in between the couch and coffee table and his hands wrapped around her forearms. 

“Chris, you’ve got to breathe for me.” He pleads, his pitch rising in panic. He watches as her hands clench and open as she grasps for control of herself. 

“You’re safe, just breathe.”

 Her body jerks. His words sound like they’re traveling through water before they reach her so she can only make out pieces against the blood rushing through her ears. She tries to look up, to catch a glimpse of his face, but her vision is blurred and his eyes swim before her. 

“I can’t,” she finally chokes out. It’s hard to make out around the lump in her throat and her hyperventilating, but Street nods along to let her know he heard her. 

“Street, I can’t.”

She knows she sounds scared, because she is. Her chest is heaving, stars creeping into the corner of her eyes, and he sees her face go pale. With more urgency, Street pulls her arms away from her face to cradle it in his hands instead. 

Steadying his voice, he holds her still and looks into her eyes. 

“Yes you can. You’re safe, Chris, I promise.”

She shakes her head, hands again coming up like she’s going to shove him away, but he manages to catch her hand in one of his own before she can. Her grip is so tight he knows it’ll leave marks behind, but he doesn’t care. A glance at the clock tells him it’s been almost ten minutes since he arrived, and he wonders if she’s sat with this all day by herself.

“It’s almost over, Chris. Breathe.” 

High-pitched whimpers continue to escape as her body’s nervous system continues to catapult and plummet like a rollercoaster. He wipes away her tears with his thumb as they fall, and then caresses her cheekbone over-and-over.

After another few minutes of his gentle ministrations, the wall in her chest breaks, and the tears start to slow as her lungs fill with air. 

The world comes back into focus slowly. Her breathing is choppy, eyes squeezed shut out of fear, and Street’s touch on her is a lifeline. When she does open her eyes, he’s the first thing she sees. His face is also red, the remnants of tears long since quieted on his lashes, and her eyes flick down to see his hand in hers, the weight comforting on her lap. No one speaks as her body returns to itself, exhaustion and relief hitting her in equal parts. 

“Thank you,” she whispers a minute later, voice croaking. A soft smile comes to his face and warms her as much as his hand moving back to her cheek as her eyes flit around, uncertain. 

“No thanks necessary. Let me get you some water, okay?”

He waits for her nod to disentangle himself from his position on the floor. Rooting around her cabinets, he pulls out a glass for water and a small bottle of painkillers. Last, he grabs the box of tissues on the end table and sets them next to her on the couch. 

She holds the water in her mouth, letting the cool sensation touch every one of her nerves before swallowing, and when she does, she exhales as if to tell him again that she’s okay. 

He watches as she blows her nose and then dips another tissue into the water to wipe her face. Afterward, she takes another drink and then sighs. 

“How do you feel?” Street asks, bringing her attention back to him. 

Chris shrugs, but takes the time to take stock of her entire body. Her neck aches, her whole body aches, and each individual thread of her sweatshirt seems to rub her arms. Finally, she settles on, 

“Tired. But better.” 

He knows she doesn’t just mean in the physical sense, and nods. 

“I’m glad you feel better, I know everything has been a lot recently, for all of us.” 

She side eyes him like she wants to make a comment about how she’s the only one who just had an anxiety attack on the couch and can barely drag herself into work every morning, but she refrains. His hand on her arm is electric even through the fabric. 

“I’m not kidding, Chris. This is the hardest thing that’s happened to me since Nate. Everyone is grieving, you’re not alone.” 

He sighs when she shrugs again, trying to think of anything he can say to get through to her. 

“I used to have anxiety attacks too. A lot, actually, as a kid and all through the academy. Then with my mom, and after Nate. I told you earlier, no judgement. I mean that.” 

The gentle authenticity of his voice is almost too much. She curses the tears that are in her eyes again, and the way her voice cracks when she speaks. 

“I just feel like I failed her all the time.” 

Street is quick to pull her back into his side, an arm around her and running up and down her shoulder with his cheek resting on the top of her head. Her cries are less intense, made up more of whimpers than anything, and she’s able to stop them much quicker. 

“I’m so sorry, Chris. I promise you, you didn’t. And I know it may not mean much now, but no one blames you. Erika certainly wouldn’t.” 

Her head shakes, her hair tickling his cheek, like she wants to argue. 

“I was the reason—”

“Yeah. You brought Erika on to fill in, but you had no idea what was going to happen walking into that place. None of us did, and we all agreed to the risk. You didn’t give anyone those guns or do anything other than try to get Tan out safely. Erika’s death is a tragedy, but the only person who’s at fault is the man who shot her.” 

Somewhere throughout his monologue, Chris maneuvered herself out from under his arm to look at him. His hazel eyes are as sure as they’ve ever been, full of sadness but also life. 

“Can you please try to believe me?” 

His question cuts straight through to her heart. 

“It isn’t that easy.” 

“I know, trust me. But it gets easier, especially once you’re able to set aside the self-blame.”

“Negative rumination.” She mutters under her breath, all-too familiar with the term thanks to Wendy. He nods in understanding and takes her hand to squeeze it. 

“It’s not easy. But you’ve got to let go of a little bit of this weight before it tears you apart. The team can’t lose you. I can’t either.”

She’s shaking, she knows, and understands that everything is far from fixed or normal and she’s far from feeling okay, but a long-forgotten calmness seems to settle on her. It’s like, after weeks, the edge has finally been taken off. 

“Will you stay tonight?”

“Chris—”

“Not for— it doesn’t have to be the bedroom. I don’t care where. We can sleep on the couch and chair. I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since I moved in. I can barely stand to be in here half the time.”

It all clicks at once. The hotels and the blacking out and the avoidance. He’s able to leave it at HQ, but the reality of what happened follows Chris home every day. He’s reminded of a series of stripped motorcycles and his own late night phone calls to her.

“Of course, I’ll stay.” 

She gives him a small, sad smile and squeezes his hand before standing. She picks up the tissues to toss them on her way to the bathroom, and he exhales when he hears the door close. 

New weight has settled on his chest, the want to help her and to keep the extent of this situation from the team, but so has new understanding.

While the water runs, he takes the liberty of cleaning up the rest of the table and tidying her kitchen so he feels useful. Looking down the hallway, her bedroom door is open and his gaze switches between the dim light on her headboard and the couch. Street takes stock of himself, his own emotions, and when the decision firmly lands in his gut, he follows it, and waits for her to open the bathroom door. 

“I just need to brush my teeth, and I don’t have pajamas, but…”

He isn’t sure how to say it, to voice his comfort with sharing a bed with her in a way that feels significantly more intimate than any sex he’s had. That, despite the issues within their own relationship, all of that feels secondary to just being together as people, as friends, helping one another feel safe and loved. Instead, she follows his gaze over her shoulder into her bedroom. 

“Okay.” She says softly. 

------------

“Hey,” he says as to not startle her when he enters the room. 

“Hey.”

She’s already under the covers, sweats traded for pajama shorts but the hoodie still in place. Her back is turned towards him as he undresses himself down to boxers and a white tee-shirt, and then flicks off the light and carefully slides into the bed so they’re facing one another. 

A mix of insecurity and uncertainty hits Street, broken by Chris’s voice. 

“Thank you again. I’m going to talk to Wendy tomorrow.” 

He smiles at her and lets his hand come up to brush the hair that’s fallen across her face and rest on her neck. 

“Good. I’ve seen her a lot lately.”

“The team didn’t ask any questions?” 

“Just if you were okay. I told them you weren’t feeling great, but you’d be okay. Nothing more than that.”

She looks like she wants to say something else, to thank him again or ask another question, but exhaustion is like an extra blanket on her and all she manages is a yawn. 

“Let’s get some sleep. Nate always used to say that ‘salvation is coming in the morning.’ I don’t know where he picked it up, but it was profound for a 12-year-old, and I remind myself of it even more often nowadays. I’ve found it’s usually true.” He promises, kissing her forehead and adjusting as she turns and presses her back against his chest. His hand is held tightly between hers, up to her chest. A few moments later, he spares a quick glance at the clock to see that it isn’t as late as he thought. When he feels the rest of her weight drop into the mattress and her breathing deepen, he closes his own eyes and waits for sleep. 

------------

Chris wakes up first, right as the sun is starting to rise, though she can’t tell with her curtains. Her body, mind, and soul are heavy, but lighter than before. A million questions float through her mind, a jumble of ones full of anxiety and guilt mixed with wondering about when she’ll see her family next. Taking a deep breath, she steadies her heartbeat and quiets the flood.

Focusing on nothing more than her own pulse, Street’s hand next to her chest where it was last night, and his breath even on her neck, she thinks that he’s right. 

Salvation is coming in the morning.

[thecallthatchangemydestiny]

DOMINIC LUCA ONE-SHOT

-I don’t think this is a good idea- said Jessica Cortez to her friend

-it’s our only chance- said Maya - plus… I like dancing- Jessica sighted, indeed it was the only way to take down the Russian gang down. The plan was simple, Maya going to the strip club, making the boss ask for a private dance and making him talk.

-Okay, you’re going tomorrow-

-everything is going to be fine- said Maya with a big smile-well I’m going to set everything, see you tomorrow- Maya leave the place while Jessica called her SWAT team.

-Hondo, Luca you’re staying with her as the “bodyguards” if she says bring me the wine is the safe word to attack.-Luca an Hondo hesitated, Maya has never been in action before so they feel nervous about this whole operation. -Deac, Tan, Chris and Street are going to stay outside waiting for your signal to enter Hondo.-

-Okay, let’s get ready- said Hondo watching Luca, and everybody left the room.

•The next day•

-I’m ready- said Maya entering the room with a beautiful (and short) gold dress, her beautiful long hair was loose and her makeup was just sparkling… all of her looked like gold. All the eyes where on her but she didn’t even notice, all her focus was on the operation.

-Okay remember Maya- said Hondo in his bodyguard disguise -you’re Ramona, the star of the strip club and you hire Rooster and Gene as your bodyguards- Maya said yes with your head, she notice how Luca was silent looking at her, he seemed nervous but she couldn’t get why, he was always excited and ready for a mission.

-Yes Gene, don’t worry- Maya winked her eye at both of them- let’s get going, my show is about to start!-

-I’ll be fine- said maya behind the stage with her mic on so Luca and Hondo could hear-I got you guys taking care of me, nothing could go wrong.- with that said Luca smiled.

-And now the star of our show…- began to said the owner of the club

-Okay he’s in the first row- began to said Luca to the mic -white as a ghost, red suit and the ugliest face I’ve ever seen- Maya laughed, she feel relived now that Luca was more calm.

-RAMONA- and with that said, Maya enter the stage dancing, she could feel the lust eyes of Sergej, the Russian, all over her body.

-Hey Luca, when I said eyes on her all the time I don’t meant like THAT- Hondo laughed while looking at Luca, who couldn’t care less about what Hondo was saying, he was only looking at her. But the ones out the strip waiting for Hondo signal where laughing imagining the scene.

-Excuse me, are you Ramona’s bodyguard?- said a guy approaching Luca, who returned to his reality

-Yes, me and my friend Gene over there- said Luca in a serious tone pointing at Hondo who was across the room.

-Good, my boss would like a private time with her- Luca had mixed feelings, happy because everything was going as planned but angry and nervous of that man being too close to Maya.

-Absolutely, do you have the money to pay her private time?

-Of course with do- said that man with a funny tone, making fun of that question.

-Come with us- said Luca and he took the man and Sergej to the room where Maya was.

-You’re absolutely beautiful- said Sergej with a really strong Russian accent and an evil smile -and you’re dance was spectacular!- Maya give a fake smile, but yet, a nice one so Sergej didn’t even notice it wasn’t sincere.

-thank you sir.- Maya begin to say with a flirty tone of voice -you’re too kind.- the Russian bodyguard was near Luca and Hondo who were in front of the door watching the whole interaction, but Luca was more focus on her.

-I want you to be my partner, my girlfriend- said the Russian man to her, she was surprised, she wasn’t expecting that preposition - You’re beautiful and I’m going to give you everything you want, you can leave thin place forever.- Luca and Hondo looked at Maya, who was analyzing what to say

-do you know how many man have told me that they’re going to take me out of here?- said Maya getting closer to Sergej -How can I know you’re telling the truth?-

-Tell your bodyguards to leave- said the Russian pointing Hondo and Luca -and I’ll tell you- Luca was worried, and very angry ¿why he wanted them to leave? ¿What if he does something to her?

-Fine- said Maya looking at Luca -but tell also your man to leave- and with that said, Sergej said something in Russian and his man got out the room. -Rooster, Gene- continue Maya -please also leave- Hondo leave but Luca stay a little bit longer, looking at her, promising to himself to always take care of her. And just then, he left the room.-

A few minutes had passed but from outside the room nothing could be heard.

-stop going around so many times, you’re going to make me dizzy- said Hondo looking how Luca was nervously going around

-Sorry man, I’m just nervous- said Luca standing in front of him -I don’t like the silence-

-I know, but everything is going fine, so don’t worry- Luca smiled a little bit

-Rooster, Gene- shouted Maya -Can you bring the wine, please?- Luca and Hondo looked at each other, that was the sign.

-Bring the wine to the star- said Hondo to the mic, for Deac and the other squad to hear. -Let’s go- and with that said, Hondo run to room and shouted -LAPD EVERYBODY TO THE GROUND- the Russian man take out the gun and began to shoot Luca and Hondo, while Sergej punched Maya and took her pointing a gun to her head. Hondo took down the Russian, and Luca looked at Maya.

-Let her go- said Luca furious pointing with his gun at Sergej -NOW- Maya stomped her foot hard with her heel, making the other man shout with pain while Luca shoot him in the shoulder and taking Maya into his arms.

-Hey Rooster- said Maya getting closer to Luca, she was in the doctor the whole night because of the injuries Sergej left to Maya after the hit he gave her, Luca stayed at the hospital waiting for her.

-Hey! Maya- Luca hugged her, he was worried about her -how are you feeling?-

-better, we got him, that’s all that matters- and she have him a huge and beautiful smile.

-I was worried about you.-

-I know-

-how do you know that?- said Luca funny

-You’ve got your mic on this whole time- and then his smile disappeared, she could hear how he admitted to Chris and Street his mad crush on her, how Hondo make fun of him and how obvious he was… his whole face got red while Maya laughed with tenderness.

-Maya… I’m so sorry, I didn’t…- and than she interrupted him with a kiss.-

-I had a big mad crush on you too-

[uqmxa]

tan is so fucking fine he needs more screen time

[solesommerso]

yup I chose to be problematic today <3

tagging @blathannabeaga & @anne-is-obsessed bc y’all are the only swat ppl left I swear

[chosenimagines]

i have a swat obsession and there is not much about swat out there *sobbs uncontrolably*

and the stuff there is is not much my stuff

AND THERE IS EVEN LESS ABOUT MY BOY TAN AND IT BREAKS MY HEART

[luca-street-chris-deacon-rp]

Open Thread

Open to everyone - M/F

Relationship type - Friend, lover, spouse, colleague, ex partner.

Plot type - Drama, angst, smut with plot

Approved Kinks- Roleplay, objectication, breath play, knife play, BDSM, exhibitionism, scene play, dom and sub, sadism and machoism, edge play, CBT, impact play, rope bandage, fisting, pegging, orgasm control, dirty talk, nipple play, gags, praise kink, electrostimulation, whipping, wax play.

Plot - Luca has been secretly diagnosed with stomach cancer and he's decided that he's leaving SWAT and leaving LA, but he doesn't intend on telling anyone who is in his life. Convince him to stay and give him some hope because he may or may not get the treatment to fight it.

~~~~

Luca removed his bag from his locker and discreetly began removing the contents of his locker piece by piece so no one would notice, sighing softly as he jammed a few pictures into one of the pockets before zipping up the pocket. In a few weeks he would be gone and no one would know where he would end up because truthfully, he didn't know where he would end up. And since he was off the next day, he was planning on going home and getting shit faced drunk. Do drunk that he wouldn't be able to walk, talk or even think.

[brinleyparke]

Street, texting Hondo: *sends a voice message*

Hondo, texting back: I’m a little busy, is it urgent?

Street: No, don’t worry, just listen later.

*later*

Hondo: *presses play*

Street's voice message: THERE’S A FIRE-

[bullet-prooflove]

Dominique Luca Masterlist

Dominique Luca x Reader:

- Bite Me - Luca decides to help you out after a bad day.

- Keep It A Secret - Luca asks you to keep a secret.

- Pain - You notice Luca is in pain.

- Tonight - You make a choice regarding your relationship with Luca.

- Being With Dominique Luca - Luca’s relationship with you.

- First Time (NSFW) - Your first time with Luca.

- Tied up By Luca (NSFW) - Luca ties you up.

- Tying Up Luca (NSFW) - You return the favour.

Bad Timing Series

- Part One - Luca discovers your back from UC.

5 Sentences

Kissing

[kaenbl4ze]

hell yeah hell yeah SWAT!Buck on the floor

too slow :( got hit :(

[streakyglasses]

she's sleep when i need rest

Street gets the flu from Mirabel. Chris takes care of him.

Based off the prompt from @rosewritingprompts Color Series: "I feel like I'm going to throw up."

For @lolliz11

Platonic Stris, mentions of illness, mentions of puke, no graphic descriptions, Sick Jim Street, caretaking, domesticity, fluff.

Read on ao3 or ffn

[tvthemesongs]

S.W.A.T. (2017) intro