#swat imagine

[fluentmoviequoter]

Surety of Ghos-ti

Requested Here!

Pairing: Dominique Luca x pregnant!fem!reader

Summary: You are held hostage, and Luca and his team have to save you and your baby.

Warnings: angst, violence, threats of homicide, comfort/fluff

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

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“Hondo!” Luca calls as he enters SWAT HQ.

Hondo stands immediately, his eyes wide as he asks, “She’s in labor?”

“No, man, and she won’t be for a while,” Luca replies with a smile. “I thought I was supposed to be the nervous, jumpy one.”

“Give it a few more weeks,” Deacon interjects. “It gets easier after the first one, though.”

“We ain’t all like you, Deac,” Hondo teases. “What do ya need, Luca?”

“50 Squad’s serving a felony warrant with the Marshals in Santa Clarita, so Hicks wants us to be ready to pick up the slack.”

“They better not go to Magic Mountain without me,” Street grumbles from the other side of the room.

“Priorities, Street,” Deacon reminds him.

“Yeah, they’re sorted.”

“I have to be at the party supply store before they close at 9,” Chris says. “As long as our shift ends when it’s supposed to, I can let Rocker slide this one time.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Luca responds.

Chris turns to stare at Luca, and after a moment, he concedes and raises his hands. The team decided to throw you a baby shower, besides the one you had for friends and family, because you are part of 20 Squad, and you’ve gained another family. Luca expected Annie to be the one who took the reins of the shower. He has seen how well you and Chris get along, so he shouldn’t be surprised by her insistence on making the party perfect.

“When does she learn the gender?” Street asks. “If it’s a boy, Streeter has a nice ring to it.”

“They’re not going to set the kid up for failure before birth, my man,” Hondo calls.

“Her appointment was supposed to be today, but the doctor had to reschedule,” Luca answers. “She’s not sure she wants to know, though.”

“Chris works for a niece or nephew,” Chris points out.

Luca laughs, then remembers that Hicks asked him to review a new strategy with Hondo and, despite his preference to continue discussing you, he focuses on work.

Los Angeles has every kind of store you could ever need, but when a new handmade baby goods store opens a few miles from your place, you know you must visit. Luca is at work, you’ve done everything Chris allowed you to for the upcoming baby shower, and even though you’re 20 weeks pregnant, you’re restless. So, you gather your phone, wallet, and keys, then lock your front door and begin the short drive to the store.

The pastel blue façade welcomes you after you park, and you run your hand under your growing bump as you enter the store. A handwritten “Cash Only; Sorry!” sign is displayed on the counter, and you mentally thank yourself for asking Luca to take you to the bank over the weekend. He’s the best part of your life, the love of your life, and his insistence to help you prepare before giving birth has been a godsend.

“Hi!” a smiling employee calls. “Welcome in, let me know if you need anything!”

“Hello,” you reply. “Thank you. I’m just looking for now.”

“Awesome! There’s so much cute stuff in here, take your time.”

You smile, then trail your eyes around the store. It’s larger than it looked from the outside, and you decide to start in the back corner and work toward the front of the store. There’s a small cart return area at the front of the store, likely from the building’s past resident, now blocked off with a sign that says, “We got you, mamas. If you’re shopping alone and need assistance, let an employee know and we’ll keep your stuff behind the counter so you can relax and focus on finding the perfect items.”

As you reach the back of the store, there’s a corner filled with onesies and toes relating to parents’ jobs. A pair of pajamas catches your eye, embroidered with a police van that reminds you of Black Betty and “Relax, my dad is a police officer.” You lay it over your arm, then laugh at the one behind it. With both secured, you continue walking around the store. The employee from earlier checks in with you as you walk past and graciously offers to take the items from your arms and hold them behind the counter for you.

“Thank you,” you call as she uses a dry-erase marker to write your name on a plastic bin beneath the register.

“Of course!” she replies.

She waves to another employee, returning from somewhere, and you continue shopping. You look at some BPA-free bottles and specialty pacifiers rather than looking up when the bell over the door rings.

“Welcome in.”

You hear the strain in the cashier’s voice and shift your attention quickly, reaching for your phone when you see a man dressed in all black blocking the doorway. He puts his gloved hand against his hip as one of the women places her hand against the edge of the counter, her fingers underneath the lip. You assume she presses a panic button and stay behind a shelf as you click your screen to find Luca’s contact.

“Empty the register,” the man demands.

“Okay, okay,” one of the women mutters, opening the register and dumping a few bills and loose coins onto the counter.

“Where’s the rest of it?”

“That’s all. We just took most of it to the bank, we only have enough to make change.”

“Open the safe!”

“Don’t have one.”

The man jerks his head to the side quickly, then pulls a black gun from his waistband. You forget about texting Luca and press the button to call him instead. The man pulls his black cap off, running his fingers through his hair. He turns toward you after his arm falls out of his peripheral view, suddenly aware of your presence.

“What are you doing over there?” he yells, aiming the gun at you.

You raise your hands quickly, but not before setting your phone behind a bottle on the shelf and praying Luca answers. “I was just shopping,” you answer as you step away from the shelf.

“Give me your money, too!”

You swallow as you pull your wallet out, then hand over the cash you have. The man holds the gun on you with one hand as he counts the money with the other. He sighs, then backs toward the door. He twists the lock until it clicks and flips the sign on the door to say Closed.

“This isn’t enough,” he says as if he’s having a normal conversation and not threatening lives over less than $500. “What are we going to do about that?”

“What about a bottle warmer?” Street asks, scrolling through a baby registry on his phone.

“Got one,” Luca answers without looking up. “I told her to make her own registry.”

“Towel warmer for Mom?”

“I bought her one,” Hicks interjects. When the team turns toward him, he shrugs and says, “New moms need comfort and new things, too.”

Luca smiles and shakes his head as his phone begins ringing. “Speaking of new moms,” he murmurs before answering the phone. Luca doesn’t hear anything, so he repeats your name several times. Just before he hangs up, he hears muffled speech.

“What’s up?” Tan asks, noticing the concern on Luca’s face.

Luca gestures for him to be quiet, places his phone on speaker, and turns it up.

“I was just shopping,” you say, your voice growing quieter like you’re stepping away from the phone.

“Give me your money, too!” a man yells.

Hondo reaches across Luca’s chest and mutes the microphone to ask, “Where is she?”

Keeping the phone call connected, Luca navigates to your contact and reads your current location so Street can type it into the computer.

“Home Grown Baby, it’s a handmade baby goods store,” Street says. “The silent alarm was activated less than a minute ago.”

“Maybe you should put the gun down,” another woman says. “We can help you.”

Someone screams, and you plead, “Stop, stop.”

Hicks raises his own phone to his ear, whispering hurried commands. “I called off local PD. That’s a hostage situation. Luca, if you need to sit this out-”

“I’m good,” Luca assures the team. “Let’s do this.”

“Luca,” Deacon calls, stopping him on the way to Black Betty. “Your girl, your unborn child… he’s going to try to use them as insurance, a surety that things stay in his control. We need to you think with her if this is going to work.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Luca answers, letting his training override his emotions. At least until he gets to the store.

You hold a hand against your stomach as you sit beside the employees, tucked under the front of the counter as the armed man paces before you. Glancing over, you see that the woman who returned from the bank, Elizabeth, is looking better. He hit her over the head with his gun, but her color is returning, and the blood on her temple is drying.

“Is-" the other woman, Jane, begins. She stops when the man turns toward you. When he turns away again, she whispers, “Are you really with a cop?”

You nod once and squeeze her hand in a silent promise that your cop, your love, your Luca, will get everyone out of this building alive.

“Guns blazing,” Hondo suggests.

“I doubt he’ll like that,” Deacon argues. “He clearly wants to be in control based on the phone call.”

“They haven’t spoken since he made them sit,” Street adds, Luca’s phone pressed to his ear. “Not loud enough to hear at least.”

“We can’t risk spooking him into hurting anyone,” Luca agrees. “Try hostage recovery, talk him down, then go from there?”

“Thirty seconds,” Tan alerts from the driver’s seat. “Lights and sirens?”

“Lights only,” Hondo answers. “Park right outside the door, I want him to see us.”

Hondo takes a deep breath, then stops. He passes the phone to Deacon and nods once. Deacon dials the store number and waits for an answer as he trades places with Street to sit in the front.

“Hello,” he says after a moment. “I’m Sergeant Deacon Kay with LAPD SWAT. Who am I speaking to?”

“How’d you know I was here?” the man demands, in stereo for Street, listening to Luca’s phone and Deacon’s call.

“It’s a busy parking lot, someone got suspicious,” Deacon says carefully. “Is there something we should be worried about?”

“Yeah, there is!”

“What’s going on, sir?”

“I need money! She took everything from me, I can’t even see my kid and now I’m going to lose my apartment.”

Hondo holds up his left hand and taps his empty ring finger. Deacon nods, then takes a dramatic breath.

“I get that,” he replies. “My ex took all three of our kids, told the courts I would neglect them because of my hours as a cop. They- women take and take.”

“I need $1,200 but there’s only $300 here!”

“Listen, you come out, and I’ll help you with a plan to get the other 9.”

“No, no, I walk out there, I lose it all anyway. That isn’t how I’m ending this.”

“The women in that store didn’t do anything wrong, Mr.?”

“Kirkfield,” the man says quietly. “Keith.”

“Alright, Keith, my name’s David. I can help you, but not until I know the other people inside are safe.”

“I got a cousin who’s in jail for assault and battery, he called this part ghos-ti, you know what this is, David?”

“No, I don’t.”

“It’s like the root for our word hostage. I’ve got three ladies in here unwilling to cough up the cash I need.” He raises his voice, likely so you and the employees can hear, and adds, “If they’d listened, I’d be gone already!”

“Keith,” Deacon begins.

“No, I’m thinking you don’t get it either. So, remember next time you call without my money that ghos-ti also sounds a lot like a dead baby.”

Luca’s eyes widen as he grips the non-lethal gun across his chest. Hondo informs them they can’t get the money quickly, and Street shakes his head to communicate that Keith isn’t talking.

Suddenly, Deacon’s phone rings again.

“Change of plans, Sergeant,” Keith says. “Ten minutes, or I start shooting.”

“That won’t-“

The line beeps, and Luca tightens his jaw as Hondo begins brainstorming a plan to get inside.

You hold your hand against your mouth, growing nauseous from the stress of your situation, pregnancy hormones, and hunger. It’s been eight minutes since Keith gave Deacon ten minutes, and you know that the team is working to get inside if they’re not already.

“What are you doing?” Keith asks. “Move your hand.”

“I’m getting sick,” you explain before pressing your lips together.

“She’s pregnant, her blood pressure is probably too high or her sugar’s dropping,” Jane says. “I have snacks in my bag behind the counter, please just let me-“

Keith fires one shot into the wall, and you drop your head to cover your ears, fighting the rolling sensation in your stomach.

“Hold,” Hondo commands after the shot. “Street?”

“He-“ Street looks toward Luca. “He was talking to her, and one of the women asked to get her a snack. No one’s talking.”

“Stay here,” Hondo tells Luca.

“Absolutely not,” Luca argues. “We’re wasting time, Hondo.”

Luca’s chest tightens; he feels like taking a full breath would kill him, and this time, he can’t rely on his training. He heard the shot but no screaming, so he has no idea what they are about to walk into. Maybe Keith shot on accident, or maybe there’s a bloodbath. Regardless, you’re inside, and he will not sit on the sidelines.

They move silently through the back room of the store, pausing against a wooden door separating them from the showroom.

“I’ll give you my credit card, whatever you want, just please stop,” one of the women pleads through tears. Street thinks it’s Elizabeth, and as they review the thermal scan of the room, he tries to find where your phone could be.

“He’s pacing,” Tan says quietly.

“When he turns toward the front again, we’re breaching,” Hondo decides. “Don’t give him a chance to get another shot off, Chris.”

“I won’t give him a chance to pucker,” she mumbles as she moves into position.

Tan watches the image, raising his fingers to countdown from three. Hondo pulls the door open, and Chris shoots Keith’s upper leg before he even turns all the way around. Luca calls your name, rushing toward the counter as his team finishes their job. When he sees you, your arms wrapped protectively around your bump, he drops to his knees and pulls you against his chest.

“He’s cute,” the woman beside you – bloody woman Luca notices after – whispers.

You nod against Luca, carefully moving your arms to hug him. As you thank him repeatedly for coming, Chris and Tan haul Keith to his feet and take him toward an approaching patrol car.

“You hid this well,” Street applauds as he extends his phone toward you. “That microphone is nice, I should get one.”

“Priorities, Street!” Deacon yells from the back of the store.

“Thank you for coming,” you tell Street. “I need to pay for my stuff and then- I actually need to get up first.”

Luca holds your arms carefully, and Street lays a hand on your back as you stand. Once you’re on your feet again, Luca wraps his arm around your waist.

“These are so on the house,” Elizabeth tells you, passing two bags over the counter. “I’m going to the hospital with Jane but thank you for everything.”

“Thank you,” Luca tells her, pulling the bags to his side. “Now, we’re going home.”

You smile and lean tiredly against Luca. As he helps you into the passenger seat of your car, Street runs over and hugs you. Luca shoves him away from the back door before sitting in the driver’s seat and sighing.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he tells you, holding your hand against his thigh. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you reply.

“Isn’t it cute?” you ask, spreading the police van onesie over the table before you.

“Not cute enough to risk you getting shot at,” Luca mumbles against your temple. “But very cute.”

“Then you’ll really like this one.”

You pass the folded cloth to Luca, leaning harder against his side. He unfolds the onesie, reads it, and laughs. The sound feels like home, and as you curl up beside Luca, you know you and your baby will always be safe.

“Proof my mom loves policemen,” Luca says after a few minutes. “That’s funny.”

“And true.”

“Prove it,” he requests, smiling as his lips brush over yours.

[achilles-rage]

♡ sweet as pie: part one ♡

summary: on your way out the door to hang out with your friends, you meet your new neighbour, and your dad’s friend, donovan rocker.

word count: 1.3k

series masterlist

a/n: i changed the mood board because i hated the other one<33 this is also a little shorter than i normally write, but this series will be a drabble series, so most parts will be this short. i have a lot of ideas for this, and most chapters may take place days/weeks after the previous one, and may not be necessarily chronological. if you have any ideas involving these two, i would love to hear them and include them in a future part!!

warnings: age gap, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

You’re singing along to the music playing from your phone as you stare at the three outfits on your bed, one arm crossed over your chest as the other props up your chin. Your brows are furrowed as you try to imagine which of these outfits would be best for your plans for the day.

Not the jeans, you think, you’ll be sitting down the whole time, and these are definitely not sitting jeans. You look between the two other outfits, both dresses, some of your favourites. Finally, you reach for the dress on the left, nodding once to yourself as you take it off the hanger.

It’s supposed to be warm today, so this is definitely the best option. You pull on the short white dress, fingers gliding over the small pink flowers littering the fabric as you pull it over your head and let it fall down against your upper thighs. Then, you pull on your light pink tie front cardigan, tying the strings into a quick bow as your phone dings.

You huff when you read the text from your friend, telling you that she’s in your driveway to pick you up. Ten minutes before she said she would be here. 

You’ve been away at college, and now that you’re back for the summer, your friends are eager to finally see you for longer than a few days during holidays and spring break.

You text her back, telling her you’ll be right there, and then move to your dresser to put on your necklace. You watch yourself in the mirror as you fasten the clasp, tilting your head to the side and inspecting your face when the necklace is securely around your neck and resting right in the valley of your breasts.

You’ve decided on light makeup today, opting for just some mascara and some tinted glittery lip gloss. With one final once over, you grab your purse and make your way downstairs.

Your brows furrow when you hear voices in the living room; one your father’s, and one you’ve never heard before. When you step off the last stair and onto the hardwood of the living room, both pairs of eyes trail over to you, and your smile at your father while your eyes dart to the man on the couch across from him for a split second.

“Hey, honey. You remember I told you we got a new neighbour while you were gone. This is Donovan Rocker.” your dad tells you. You finally take a good look at the man, eyes meeting his as he smiles at you. Your hands are clasped behind your back, and your feet are stuck to the floor as you feel his gaze burning your skin.

You have to admit that he’s attractive; he’s clearly well built, his sharp jawline and plump lips have your throat going dry, and his eyes are a beautiful blue that have you unsure if you want to keep staring into them or to force your gaze away. He’s wearing jeans and a tight black t-shirt, but you try not to stare at his pecs with your father right there.

Your eyes widen slightly when he stands from the couch and reaches a hand out to you. You take his hand gently and shake it, your heartbeat suddenly sounding very loud in your chest as you take in just how tall he really is. 

You snap out of it when he lets go of your hand, your entire body feeling hot from the warmth of his palm lingering on your skin, and the air around you feels suffocating as you struggle to bring oxygen to your lungs. When your father speaks again, you have to fight hard to tear your gaze away from Rocker.

“Sorry, what?” you ask, both men clearly unaware of the thoughts currently swirling around your head. 

Rocker takes this time to trail his eyes down your plush figure. Your little dress is pretty on you; and it shows off your thick thighs and your soft tummy and chest wonderfully. You look gorgeous standing there, and he smirks to himself when he sees the coating of glittery lip gloss on your lips and the little heart locket teasing him as it hangs between your breasts.

“Where are you going all dressed up?” your father asks again. You look down at your outfit sheepishly, subconsciously smoothing the dress down your body to give it just a little extra length. It’s a little short, you’ll admit, but you were planning on having a day out with your friends, not standing in the living room with your dad and your handsome new neighbour.

“Going out with the girls. Brunch.” you reply quietly, looking back up to your father, and he just nods with a hum.

“Alright. Well, have fun.” your father tells you, and you give him a smile, mumbling a quick agreement. Your eyes dart between Rocker and your father again, eyes trailing down to Rocker’s hand gripping his bottle of beer. God, even his hands are attractive.

“Okay. It was nice to meet you.” you tell Rocker, meeting his eyes again to see his smirk. He raises his beer, giving you a nod as he returns the sentiment. You turn without another word, both you and your father completely unaware of Rocker’s gaze glued to the way your hips and dress sway gently with each step. 

You hear your father get up and go to the kitchen for another beer, and Rocker takes his chance to continue watching you at the front door. You bend down to put your mary jane doc martens on, and Rocker swallows, your dress dangerously close to showing him your pretty pink panties. 

You jump slightly when you hear your friend honk the horn from outside, almost falling over as you stand back up. You hear Rocker chuckling quietly, and you look at him from the corner of your eye, letting out a shaky breath as you try to calm your racing heart.

“You okay?” he asks in a slightly teasing tone, and you give him a big fake smile, feeling embarrassment flood your body. 

“Yep. Bye.” you reply quickly, hand gripping the door knob. His eyes sweep down your figure once more before he speaks again.

“Have fun.” he tells you. You nod once, swallowing as you turn to open the front door.

When you’re finally out of sight and safely in your friend's car, you let out a shaky breath, but your hot older neighbour is quickly pushed out of your mind as your friend greets you excitedly.

Inside, as Rocker keeps talking with your father, he tries not to think about you, and he begins to feel a little guilty. That’s his friend’s daughter, for God’s sake, but even so, he can’t keep his mind from wandering to the way your chest was practically on display for him, or the way your dress just bordered on too short. 

If you were his, he’d probably keep you from wearing that in public. At the very least he would keep a close eye on you all day, keeping you glued to his side so no one gets any ideas.

He tries to keep his focus on your father as he speaks to him, wiping you out of his mind completely, especially because your father is right there, and he’s sure his unease would be easy to spot if your father knew what to look for.After a few hours, he excuses himself, telling your father that he needs to get home. He doesn’t want to run into you again; he doesn’t know what kind of stupid thing he’ll be tempted to do if he sees you again. All he does know is that this is going to be a long summer with you here all the time.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[violetflowerswrites]

Taking it Slow

Summary: An unexpected explosion severely injures you, and Jim Street, your LAPD SWAT roommate, comes to your rescue. The life and death situation makes you reevaluate the status of your “just casually dating” relationship.

Pairing: Jim Street x (Female) Reader

Disclaimer: Cannon violence and danger. Mentions of fire, explosions, and bombs. Location is an elementary school, mentions of danger to minors, but reader is the only one injured. Gruesome descriptions of bodily injury and blood. Some angst and mentions of divorce. BUT ALSO consensual kissing and touching. The smut in this is absolutely filthy as usual. Oral sex (female receiving). Consensual P in V sex. Street has a big cock. 18+ for explicit smut, violence, and language

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: I finally got around to watching more SWAT after taking a break from crime dramas and I gotta say, Season 4 has been SO good. The commentary on our Covid and post-Covid society especially with race and Black Lives Matter is so thoughtfully done. I was re-inspired to make a part 2 of my Jim Street fic from back in July 2022! This fic can be standalone but it is technically a continuation from “Too Complicated.” Enjoy!

Part One Here - “Too Complicated”

Part Three Here - “I’ll Be Here”

Masterlist Here

…

“All Units please respond, bomb at Harriet Tubman Elementary, repeat bomb and fire at Tubman Elementary.”

The police scanner radio squawks to life in the leather-scented interior of Sergeant Daniel “Hondo” Harrelson’s sliver Dodge Charger.

Hondo locks eyes with Jim Street, LAPD SWAT. His expression falls immediately, drawn and serious.

A school bombing?

Not on their watch.

”20 David, Sergeant Harrelson responding. Let’s roll!”

…

Your pink highlighter squeaks across the tiny Times New Roman text of each signature line on the paperwork you’re preparing.

A tightness in your neck forces you to pause and lean your head to the side, trying to release the tension in your body.

It’s another tough case. The student was expelled out of a previous school due to repeated fighting. His current teacher is young and inexperienced, and the counselor is definitely overwhelmed. You were called in to take over his case and then recommend him to a therapist, a behaviorist, a specialist, someone before he was expelled again.

Who knew that an 8 year old could wreak so much havoc at a school?

You glance out the window of the 2nd floor classroom, watching the poor kid get into a screaming match with a yard duty. The bright red digital display of the classroom clock shows 9:00 am in blinking lights that seem to say…

tick

tock

It’s

only

9

freakin

AM

on a Monday.

But, no one could have predicted what would happen in the next ten seconds.

One

A thunderous boom echoes across the playground, so loud that all the kids freeze, balls dropped and forgotten.

Two

Thousands of shards of shattered glass fly through the air as the school building collapses into itself from the roof downwards.

Three

The ear-splitting screech of the fire alarm forces everyone to cover their ears, eyes squeezed shut.

Four

Smoke rises in thick gray plumes into the sky, followed by bright orange flames.

Five

The stampede of three hundred little feet shakes the earth as panicked children run towards the grass field, away from their burning school.

Six

Bewildered shouts across the blacktop try to account for all the children, staff members still running out of the smoke.

Seven

Wide-eyed stares fill with tears as it dawns on the kids what had happened.

Eight

A dozen simultaneous calls to 911, all trying to be heard over the crying, screams, and shouts.

Nine

A terrifying pop pop pop makes everyone flinch and duck for cover, as the heat from the fire breaks even more windows. But it could have been gunshots. Everyone doesn’t dare to move.

Ten

After those ten, chaotic seconds, you finally open your dust-filled eyes, ears ringing, sounds muffled as if you were underwater, and your dazed mind takes several agonizing seconds to comprehend the scene around you.

Fallen desks and books scattered haphazardly across the classroom.

Shattered glass reflecting the flickering flames of a fire somewhere above you.

Looking up, a gaping hole in the ceiling leading to a smoke-stained blue sky.

The incessant blaring of the fire alarm doesn’t help your clearly concussed head make sense of it all.

You deduce that there had been some kind of accident. An explosion maybe.

And that caused an industrial AC unit to collapse through the ceiling, knock you out of your chair, and pin one of your legs from the waist down.

And now, an alarming pool of blood was starting to seep from under the crumpled gray metal.

Even more alarming, you couldn’t feel a thing underneath the crushing weight.

“Oh. I’m dying.” You huff out loud, your logical deduction giving way into dark humor.

You twist your neck around, the soreness long forgotten, and try to find something, anything, to help yourself survive.

You grab your cardigan, covered in drywall dust, and slip it under your upper thigh, tying the sleeves together as tight as it could possibly go. The makeshift tourniquet immediately soaks up your blood, turning the cream-colored yarn into a horrific deep red.

Bile rises in your throat as panic sets in, but you push it down, desperate to get out of this.

You look down, realizing that your phone fell out of the pocket of your jacket when you grabbed it. The screen is cracked, but usable.

Without hesitating, you press a number on your phone and it starts to ring. There’s only one person in the world you want to talk to before you lose consciousness. Maybe forever.

…

“Street! What do you think you’re doing?”

“What? You’ve never played in one of these as a kid?”

You’re out on another casual date with Jim Street, LAPD SWAT. Also known as your impulsive, annoying, immature, and absolutely adorable roommate.

That you had accidentally-on-purpose kissed one drunken night. Which led to much more…for several hours.

And now, the two of you went out most every weekend, casually dating, but not trying to label it…yet.

“Come on, Y/N! It’ll be fun!”

Street ducks into an arcade, which immediately deafens you with a cacophony of beeps and honks, electronic character voices, and techno dance music. It’s an overstimulating nightmare so you focus on the leather-clad back of Street, who is leading you deeper into the room.

A couple of surly teens throw judgemental side eyes at the two of you, grown-ass adults screaming and shouting at basketball, skew-ball, and claw machines.

You clutch a small blue plushie, from Lilo and Stitch, courtesy of Street’s claw machine skills, as he whoops upon seeing another game, his childhood favorite.

“Yes! We have to play this next!” Street grins at you from ear to ear.

You hesitate for a split second, but shake your head, chuckling, “Okay NASCAR, wait for me!”

You tease him, knowing that Street’s name is all too fitting, his long history of all things on wheels that can go faster than 100 miles per hour is well known.

You sit behind the plastic wheel of the racing game as Street quickly punches in a couple quarters.

“Think you can keep up?” Street teases you immediately.

“Mhm.” You reply, your face dead serious, all traces of amusement long gone.

Street takes in your expression and furrows his brow.

“Oh shit!” He exclaims as you leave him in the dust, your digital car screeching as the wheels fight against the tight turns.

You’re silent, the only sounds are the quiet clicking of your foot pressing on the fake gas pedals of the game.

Your car peels around the track, going into the final lap, with a 3 second lead on Street.

“Oh my god, are you seriously drifting?” Street shouts in frustration, watching your vehicle slide sideways against the last tight turn and across the finish line with a flourish.

He smacks the wheel and laughs.

“That was crazy, Y/N. I didn’t expect you to be so good! I thought you said you didn’t really go to arcades growing up.”

“Can we go home?” You grab your jacket from the armrest of the racing game chair, turning away from Street.

“Uhh…yeah sure.” Street says slowly, confused.

You walk quickly out of the arcade, a mix of frustration, shame, and sadness filling you.

Hands clench into fists at your sides as you suck in a shaky breath, trying to steady your whirlwind of emotion.

Street half-jogs to catch up with you, calling your name. He reaches out a hand to grab your wrist, but the instant he makes contact you snatch your arm back abruptly.

“Don’t touch me!” You snap, more harshly than you intended.

Street’s face flashes confusion, hurt, and a bit of anger all at once. You see him stifle the urge to snap back at you, and instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets, his shoulders slumped down and he quietly pleads with you instead.

“Talk to me, Y/N. Don’t keep it in again.”

You know you’re acting like an asshole and ruining the date. Street surprised you with being the mature one in this situation while you’re the one taking out your emotions on him.

So you slowly reach out to take one of his hands in both of yours. It’s warm, heavy, and sure in your grasp, a reassuring anchor. You clutch his hand close to your chest and duck your head down, unable to make eye contact.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just tell me what’s going on. Please?”

“It’s just—I’m not used to opening up like this.”

“I know. We’re learning how to, with each other.” Street slips his free hand under your chin, lifting your head up to kiss you affectionately on the cheek.

“Take your time.”

You sigh into his touch, releasing some of the tightness in your chest.

“Can we get ice cream first?”

…

Over a double scoop of cookies and cream, you confide in Street more of your life story.

How there was a period of time in middle school where you used to spend hours at the arcade after school to avoid going home.

Your parents were fighting constantly and you just couldn’t take all the screaming. Your older sister was in high school and worked part time, so she would drop you off with a handful of quarters and get you after.

For some reason, that racing game became your focus, your obsession. You channeled all your frustration, all your hurt, all your pain into that game.

It was your escape.

“It feels silly to freak out now. It’s been well over a decade since I’ve played that game.” You mumble into your ice cream.

“It’s not silly,” Street reassures you, “It’s a painful part of your life.”

You scrunch up your nose and murmur in agreement, not really wanting to think about it anymore. You take another lick of your ice cream, accidentally getting some on your cheek.

Street reaches out with a finger to wipe the smudge of the sticky treat off your face and instead of cleaning his hands on a napkin, he decides to lick it off instead.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, the gesture unexpectedly sexy, but Street just chuckles.

“What? You taste good.”

…

You clutch Street by the collar of his leather jacket, slamming his broad back against the apartment door.

He drops the keys with a clatter, slides a free hand up to lock the door before gripping the back of your neck roughly, returning your desperate kiss.

“Y/N. Are you sure?” He releases your lips with a pant, pressing his forehead to yours and checking in with you.

Consent is so sexy, especially coming from him. Your previous boyfriends always took what they wanted, when they wanted, and you thought that’s how sex had to be.

It was only after being with Street that you realized how gentle, how considerate, and how trustworthy someone could be during sex.

Street treated you with respect, with reverence. He took his time to worship your body.

You were his queen, his goddess, and even if he didn’t say as much in words, he sure as hell showed it with his actions.

So yes.

You were fucking sure you wanted him.

You pulled off your clothes as you walked ahead of him towards your room, dropping fabric across the hallway on your way there.

Street followed quickly, stopping at the foot of your bed with his jeans still on. His chest visibly flushed red as he stared in wonder at your naked form. And he half-laughed, half-groaned out loud.

How did you manage to get your clothes off so quickly and look so damn delicious on the bed for him?

He grabs both of your ankles and drags you down, lifting them up above his shoulders so he can taste you.

You lean back on both elbows, your hair splayed across the sheets as you tip your head back in delight.

“Oh shit, that feels so good.” You breathe out, a moan slipping through your lips.

“Mmm, I can tell.” Street smiles into your pussy as he licks long strips up your core. He finds your clit within a few moments, and starts alternating sucking and licking the sensitive nub.

Your thighs start shaking as the stimulation shoots down your legs.

Street’s chin grows slick as your arousal throbs out of your core, but he simply holds down your thighs with his strong grip, and dives his tongue into your center even more.

It’s only when you spasm particularly hard, almost kicking him in the head that he finally releases you, chuckling as he swipes a thumb across his lips, wiping off some of your juices.

Your body is still twitching, your nerve endings shooting electricity from your core all the way down to your toes and you throw an arm back across your forehead, trying to recover.

“Come on, you can’t be done yet…” Street teases.

“Absolutely not.” You laugh out in a huff, “j-just…give me a minute.”

“Nah.”

Street lifts your legs again, this time crossing them behind his hips, so that he can line himself up to your entrance.

He pushes in slowly, but just the round head of his cock stretches your pussy to the point that you have to grab his arms and stop him.

“Hold on, Jim.”

Street freezes. You only call him by his first name when you’re being serious or something’s wrong.

He pulls out immediately and lifts you up into a sitting position. He immediately grabs your face in his hands, searching your eyes for pain.

“I’m so sorry, did I hurt you? We can stop— I didn’t mean to—“

You grip his wrists and gently remove them from your cheeks. Instead, you press a gentle kiss to his lips, your gaze at him soft and reassuring.

“I’m okay. Let’s try a different position.”

“Are you sure?”

You turn around, holding up your weight on your hands and knees, and spreading your hips back. You flip your hair over your shoulder and glance back at him with a smirk.

“You haven’t made me cum yet, have you?”

Slowly, Street’s concerned look spreads into a smile.

“No, I haven’t.”

“So fuck me.”

Street holds his cock steady while you carefully push back against him, controlling the pace.

When you’ve fully taken him in, now adjusted to his size, Street still hesitates.

“It’s okay. I’m ready now.” You brace yourself.

“Be as rough as you want.”

A sound akin to a growl escapes from the man who is balls deep in your pussy.

He places a bruising grip on your right shoulder and left hip, and slams you back, knocking the wind out of your lungs.

He does that again and again - pulling out almost all the way before slamming your body back against him almost violently.

“Oh fuck!” You yelp each time, your pussy throbbing around him.

Street then pushes your neck down, and you fist the sheets in your hands as you press into the bed, your ass in the air as he thrusts into you relentlessly.

You can hear your bottom smacking against his strong abs, as he swings his hips into you over and over.

And that cock, his huge, delicious cock, spears your pussy in just the right place every time.

“Oh my god, Street. That feels so good!” Your muffled voice can barely be heard over his grunting. God, you love it when men are loud during sex.

Before you know it, you’re close. Street must be too because he snakes a firm arm around your tummy and lifts you up, holding you tightly to his chest. Your core is still clenched in a vice grip around his member as he thrusts upward into your pussy.

“Street! Oh wow! You’re so big!” You praise him, feeling his cock hitting your cervix from his position.

“Yeah? You like it when my cock hits your pussy. Just. like. that?” Street punctuates his question with a hard bounce into you.

“Mmph!” You moan, and you grab his arm, still trapping you against his sweat-slicked body.

“Street,” you pant.

“Yeah?”

“Go faster.”

With a guttural groan, Street grabs the flesh around your hips and drills up into you. His cock drives in and out at a speed that could only be described as mechanical, a piston that pumps as deep as it could possibly go before pulling out and slamming back in as far as it can go.

You fall onto the bed again, unable to do anything but hold on far dear life as Street rails you like a rag doll.

Within seconds, you feel that familiar tingle spread from your core to your entire body, washing over you in waves of pleasure.

“Oh god— I’m cumming!” You scream, gasping for air.

You are answered with a growl as Street collapses on top of you, cumming inside your throbbing core, your pussy milking every last drop from his twitching cock.

Fuck, that was incredible.

After a few moments, you crawl out from under him, and stand up to head to the shower. He leans up on an elbow, watching you with a blissed-out smile. You tie your hair up into a messy bun, the simple action somehow sensual as hell as he sees your bare shoulder blades squeeze together as you reach up to your head.

You turn, catching him admiring you.

“What?” You ask, totally unaware.

“You’re beautiful.”

Your already hot skin somehow flushes even hotter at his words. You have a love-hate relationship with Street’s compliments.

So you just lean down and peck his cheek with kiss-puffed lips.

“Go to bed. We both have work tomorrow.” You whisper before pushing him back onto the mattress, shaking your head in laughter.

…

Your current reality is a universe away from yesterday’s date night with Jim Street.

You stare at his name on the phone, willing him to pick up.

“Y/N?”

Before you can explain to him, you hear the police radio in his car announce your school site and the bombing.

“Jim. I’m there.”

Street is speechless, the dots connecting with several torturous seconds as his worst fears become true.

One

You had told him that morning that you weren’t going into the office, but visiting a school today.

Two

You never call him, preferring to text. If it’s a call, something must be urgent.

Three

You almost never call him by his first name.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Hondo responds to the radio but Street barely hears it as he shouts into the phone.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“There’s been an explosion. A bomb? An AC unit fell through the roof. I’m trapped on the second floor.”

“Are you hurt?” Street repeats his question, desperation seeping into his tone.

Somehow you hesitate to tell him. So instead, you switch to video call and show him your leg.

Street’s eyes widen in horror as he sees the bloodied, crushed flesh.

Hondo glances at Street’s phone, his siren already screaming down the streets of LA.

“We’re coming.”

…

“You can’t keep me here, Hondo! Y/N is hurt, I have to get to her!”

“Street, you’re compromised. You’re gonna take risks and I can’t have you do that, not when there are kids here who need your head straight.”

Another sudden crash makes both men instinctually duck for cover. They had just arrived into a horror scene, with a blazing fire, fire trucks dousing the building with water, police holding back hysterical parents, ambulances treating kids and staff for smoke inhalation, and a soot-smeared principal talking to the fire marshal.

Hondo makes a beeline for her, Street on his heels.

“Sergeant Harrelson, LAPD SWAT. Is everyone accounted for?”

“Yes, all the kids and staff, but we’re missing one visitor, a social worker.”

Street chokes your name out, to which the principal nods, confirming that it’s you.

Meanwhile you breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Thank god everyone is safe.” You remark weakly, still on the phone, hearing their entire conversation.

Street is astonished you can think about others but his train of thought is interrupted when Chris in his comms crackles to life.

“There! I got eyes on the bomber! He’s on the roof, east side!”

“We have to go!” Street yells desperately.

“Okay.” Hondo huffs out, making a split second decision.

“Tan, go with Street and get Y/N out. Weapons hot, masks on, the bomber might run into the building. Deacon, you’re with me, let’s trap this rat.”

Street wastes no time running inside the smoke-filled building, his flashlight barely penetrating the ash and dust as he finds the stairs and runs up, Tan covering his back, sweeping his gun back and forth just in case the bomber decides to come their way.

“I’m coming, Y/N. Ten seconds out.” Street speaks into his comms, and his phone, for your benefit too.

But he doesn’t hear a reply.

“Shit!” Street curses. “She was losing a lot of blood, she’s not responding!”

Tan makes a game plan immediately as they keep running.

“I got the AC unit, you start CPR!” Tan shouts.

They skid to a stop at the destroyed classroom, and Street’s heart almost stops at the scene.

Your limp body, lying in a pool of dark blood, trapped under a giant hunk of metal, your phone still clutched in one hand.

Street kneels next to you, his own heartbeat reverberating loudly in his ears.

Thu-thump

He presses his fingers to your neck, feeling for a pulse while leaning down, trying to feel your breath on his face.

Thu-thump

Nothing. He immediately rips his smoke mask off his face and breathes into your mouth.

Once. Twice.

Thu-thump

He braces his hands against your chest and pushes down forcefully, starting CPR compressions.

Thu-thump

With a grating screech of metal, Tan manages to tip the AC unit off of you, revealing your upper thigh soaked in blood and your leg clearly broken in at least two parts.

Thu-thump

Street barely glances down to look, focusing on bringing you back to life. He feels for a pulse again, finally feeling a weak heartbeat, but a heartbeat nonetheless.

“She’s stable! Let’s get out of here!” Street shouts, throwing his smoke mask back on, and another for you.

Tan has already tied your leg down into two splints, one for your thigh, and another for your calf and ankle.

“Ready!” Tan replies in a voice muffled by his smoke mask, wiping his blood soaked hands on his tactical pants and gripping his gun again.

Street lifts you up, carefully draping your injured leg over his forearm, and cradling your concussed head gently against his shoulder.

He flies down the steps, Tan covering his back.

“This is 25-David, Y/N is secured, coming out of the school now.” Tan communicates to the team.

The moment they step out onto the front lawn of the school, their comms crackle again.

“Don’t do it man, don’t!” Hondo yells out. He must have found the bomber.

“Second bomb!” Chris warns, just as another explosion on the far side of the school collapses the roof completely, burying the spot where you were just trapped, and taking the bomber along with it.

“Hondo! Deacon! Chris!” Tan shouts into comms. The two of them shield you from the debris, holding their breath as they wait for a reply.

After a few moments, they hear Hondo coughing into the radio.

“20-David. We’re okay, we’re coming down.”

Street and Tan breathe a sigh of relief, as the EMTs run up to the three of you, carefully putting you on a stretcher.

Streets hurries alongside them, and jumps up into the back of the ambulance, glancing back at Tan.

“Go!” Tan shouts at him. “I got it covered.”

The last thing Street sees as the doors close is Tan standing with his back illuminated by a school on fire, his hands hanging at his sides, bright red with your blood.

…

Bzzt Bzzt Bzzt !

Vision blurry, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to focus and notice the late afternoon sun streaming through plastic blinds in a white-washed room.

A hospital room. That’s right, you were injured in an explosion at the elementary school, and your leg…

You looked down to see a full cast, from thigh to ankle, keeping your leg locked straight. A thin, polyester blanket covers the rest of your body.

Bzzt Bzzt Bzzt !

The insistent vibrating of a phone turns your attention to where a sleeping Jim Street, still in full SWAT gear, rests his head on his folded arms in the empty space on your bedside. One of his hands holds yours gently, even as he dozes.

You slip your hand out from his warm grip and brush his hair back, still flecked with a bit of ash and dust from the rescue mission.

Your gaze softens as you look at his peaceful face. You must have worried him so much with the accident.

Bzzt Bzzt Bzzt !

You see his phone lying on the table and you can just make out what it says.

5 missed calls from Hondo. 2 texts from Chris and Tan saying he missed the debriefing.

And currently, Commander Hicks is ringing, ready to ream his ass for being irresponsible, you’re sure of it.

“Street.” Your voice cracks. Clearing your throat, you try again, louder this time.

“Street!” You shake his shoulder insistently.

He shoots up, awake in an instant. “Y/N! You’re up!”

His eyes dart over your face, checking for any signs of pain.

“You’re in trouble.”

Street takes one look at his phone and mutters “Shit.” Without thinking, he presses a kiss to your clammy forehead and ducks out the door, phone pressed to his ear.

You bring a tentative hand up to your forehead, a lot dazed and a little shocked. The two of you haven’t really discussed the nature of your relationship after that weekend of crazy sex, trying to take it slow.

But it’s not every day that you get gruesomely injured and your hot as fuck roommate rescues you from near death.

As you hear Street’s muffled apologies outside of your hospital room, fuzzy memories start coming back to you.

White letters of a SWAT vest hovering over you as firm hands push down on your weakening heart.

Strong arms holding you up as you feel yourself being carried down a flight of stairs at a ridiculous speed.

The smell of smoke, and the unmistakable smell of Jim Street as he cradles your head into his chest, keeping you safe.

A warm hand never letting go of yours as sirens squeal in the ambulance, your consciousness fading in and out.

A reassuring voice, his voice, telling you that you’re alright, that you're safe.

“I got you, Y/N. I’m right here.”

Fuck taking it slow.

You’re not a girl who normally falls in love with a man in an uniform but damn. You sure as hell get it now.

The door opens with a quiet click and Jim Street steps back inside.

“Hey—“

“I love you.” It comes out a little louder than a whisper. ”I love you, Jim.”

Street's words die in his throat as his eyes widen. He crosses over to you in two strides and simply lifts up your chin so that he can press a kiss to your lips.

A desperate, urgent, love-filled kiss that says just how scared, just how terrified he was to lose you.

And just how much he loves you too.

….

[gemstone-roses]

Frustrated

David deacon Kay (s.w.a.t) x reader

Summary: after a few bad dates leaves you... unsatisfied, deacon takes care of you. 18+ only there be smut ahead. Praise kink, teasing. Fingering. Pet names (honey, sweetheart). Deacon isn't married in this.

Warnings: mentions of bad dates not making reader cum, fingering, female reader.

A:N- I'm feral for this man. Minors be gone this work and this blog is strictly for those 18 and over. Reminder you are responsible for your own media consumption. Likes and reblogs much appreciated ty🥺 maybe I'll do a part two👀

"Rough night"? A gruff voice asks from behind his locker.

"Yeah something like that" you sigh, shutting your locker a bit too hard.

"Another terrible date?" He probes, shutting his own locker and looking at you.

You swallow, slightly embarrassed, and what makes it worse is that your having this conversation with the one man on your squad you've had a crush on forever, your closest friend on the team.

"Well, he got what he wanted, I uhm, ugh never mind" you chuckle nervously.

Deacons brows furrow.

"Anything I can do?" He asks kindly and you can't help the thoughts that swarm your mind, thinking of him, you, together.

It's been a rough shift, you excuse yourself to the bathroom of the bar the whole team is relaxing in.

Your wound up, the adrenaline from the day hasn't worn off fully, your not looking where your going when you bump into something hard.

Someone.

It causes you to stumble back slightly.

"oh sorry I wasn't paying attention" you say, resting your arm behind you on the bathroom door.

"Are you okay y/n?" His brows furrow again and your heart speeds up, he's so kind, so genuine, so hot.

"Y-yeah why" you say.

"You seem a little.. tightly wound today" he steps closer to you and you make no effort to move, allowing him to cage his arms on either side of you.

"I'll be okay, i just need to-

Deacon bites his lip, your brain short circuits for a moment.

"Need to what honey?" Deacon moves one of his hands to your waist, he strokes his thumb across your side.

"I need to, uhm, you know" you mumble, and deacon tuts slightly.

"Words honey" he teases and you take in a shaky breath

"I need to cum" you whisper, heat rising up your neck as you admit it.

Deacons chest heaves at your confession.

And with a surprising amount of confidence you add

"Make me cum, David?" And his lips are on yours instantly.

He kisses you furiously, pushing open the bathroom door with one hand and guiding you into it with the other.

You moan into the kiss, wrapping your arms around him as he pushes you against the bathroom wall breaking the kiss to catch his breath.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that" he confesses.

"Me too" you say and he smiles at you.

"You gonna let me take care of you honey?" He leans into your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses as you moan again.

Deacon moves his hand to the top of your trousers

"Come on honey what did I say? Use your words sweetheart"

"Yes" you huff out, desperate for his touch.

"Good girl" he touches his nose to yours as his hand finally dips below your waistband.

He runs his fingers up and down your clothed pussy a few times, humming in satisfaction.

"You're soaking" he whispers

"Deac" you whisper, leaning your head back.

He moves your panties to the side and slides a finger through your soaking folds, bringing it up to circle your clit.

He catches your moan in another kiss, this time a gentle one.

He rubs your clit slowly, applying pressure at the same time.

"You make the prettiest sounds" he says as he slides a finger into you.

"Oh deac" you whine.

He keeps one finger circling your clit as he pumps the other one inside you, seeing your reaction, he inserts another finger.

You feel a pressure building within, your breathing speeds up as deacon curls his finger to hit that spot.

"Oh fuck deac I'm gonna-

"You gonna cum for me honey? Already? You needed this didn't you sweetheart" he speeds up his fingers as he speaks, you grip his shoulders tight, your orgasm fast approaching.

"I got you, come for me honey"

"Fuck deac I- your words stop short as your orgasm washes over you, your pussy clenching around his fingers.

"That's it, let go baby" he comforts you as you release around him.

"Oh my god" you whisper, coming down from your high.

"That was incredible" he groans, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Feel better?" He asks, embracing you, hands resting on your ass.

You nod, bringing your lip between your teeth.

"Shall we, get out of here?" You propose, eyes moving to the prominent bulge in his pants.

And deacon has never moved so fast in his life.

[stefanmikaleson1864]

Secrets

Jim Street X Reader 

Street helps the writer through a panic attack. 

A/N: I hope you all like this drabble !!! 

Y/N’s POV

Swat was a amazing job and you were so greatful that you got to be apart of it. Being one of the elites and fiding a family was something that you were beyond greatful for.

But being apart of the elite meant that you had to be on top of everything and leaving no room to have anything wrong.

You knew about your anxiety diagnosis sense you were little it was something that you manged and took medications for. The only problem was that you kept it out of your medical history.

You were afraid they wouldn't think you were quailifed enough and that your dreams would be over before it would start. So you kept it hidden and any time you had a flare up you would say you would try and hide it.

It was nothing personal you just knew you had to keep it to yourself. It wasn't like it was going to affect them. You all were super close but they didn't have to know everything about you.

Usually you were fine you would take your medications and practice your excersies you had. Like breathing techniques and even journaling to help you.

Being on the job for a couple of years know you quickly learned how to take the moments for yourself. To slip away and take the self care you needed.

But it was hard though always wondering if someone was gonna find out. Or wondering you were going to have a panic attack on the scene holding a weapon or fighting with the suspect.

It always just felt like a big ticking bomb that was being held over your head.

Was you making the best descion for you? And was it the best one for your teamates and society. Was this anxiety a big deal or not at all ?

Everytime you thought about it you had a panic attack just thinking about it.

Today was a different day. Today was a hard one it was just call after call and you were high paced all day long.

You could feel your anxiety setting in strong and the panic attacks felt like they were gonna happen. 

You couldn't do any of the normal thing you usually did during the day to help.

Your hands were shaking and your leg was bouncing. Thankfully everyone was sitting around and doing their own thing. 

You were sitting in the lounge room watching tv with Street and Tan. they were making you watch some show that you weren’t paying attention to. 

You were so wrapped in your thoughts. You were thinking about everything and anything at all once. 

It just felt like your mind was spinning and you were trying to claw your way out of a hole but couldn’t get out. Street looked over at you and he gave you a concerned look on his face. 

But you didn’t even notice. You began to feel you breathing getting labored and you were getting lightheaded. So you got up and ran out of the room. You didn’t know where you were going but you just knew you had to get out of there 

You just kept walking and ended walking outside. The warm sunlight was hitting you all over and it did feel nice. 

You walked over to the nearest bench and your legs were shaking and you felt like it was taking forever to get there. Each step it just felt like you were getting further and further away.

Suddenly you felt these hands on the back of you trying to give you some support. 

You were worried when you realized when someone was behind you. Worrying if it was all going to come out.

But then when you felt the familar warm touch you always craved you knew who it was instanly.

“Hey it’s okay I got you” Street said

You sat on the bench and then he got in front of you an kneeled down. You bent over your hands were cradling your face. 

Jim took your hands and removed them from your face. You looked a total mess your face was red and your face was all wet from crying. 

He was making you look at him. He had a look of concern written all over his face. Then he took his free hand he had and started rubbing your back which made you feel better and helped you calm down. 

“Hey talk to me, okay and breathe just breathe it’s gonna be okay” Street said in a soft voice. 

“It’s nothing okay I’m fine” You said breaking eye contact with him. 

“It’s not nothing what happened I mean i know it’s been a long day just had a moment” You said not looking at him. 

“Is it anxiety or something” Jim asked. 

You didn’t really say anything to him just started down at the bottom of your feet. 

“Hey don’t do that don’t shut me out i’m just worried about you” Jim said. 

You lifted yourself up and sat up straight. Taking your hands and wiping your face. 

You started taking deep breaths trying to get yourself back in order. You were struggling on what to answer because you were worried Street would go and tell Hondo or someone because he was worried about you.

You knew he only had pure intentions but you still didn’t want the whole team to know. But the way he was looking at you wanted to just spill your heart out to him. 

Looking at him in the eyes you decided to take the gamble and tell him. 

“ I have pretty bad anxiety and panic attacks i take medications for” You said. 

Jim got up and you started worrying again thinking where the hell was he off to. He sat down next to you. He then took you and pushed you close to him. So you were leaning up against his body. 

“I’m not gonna tell anyone. If that’s what your worried about” JIm said. 

You felt like a giant weight had been lifted off your chest once he said that. 

“Thank you really I mean it’s nothing bad It’s just some stuff I want to be personal” You said. 

“No i get that were all together all the time it’s hard to keep some kind of boundary” Jim said. 

“So what about you i need a big secret so incase you tell mine i’ll tell yours” You said. 

“Now why would I tell you something major then” Jim said laughing. 

“Because i know most of your shit so you got something and i need leverage you won’t tell then you got nothing to worry about” You said laughing. 

“Fine okay here goes I have a crush on someone from work” Street said. 

You got up and looked at him with a surprised face. Not knowing this so this was huge news. 

“Well who is it do I know her” You asked. 

Street looked at you and smiled. He had this big goofy look on his face. 

“Yeah you know her and nope that’s all the information you get’ Street said smiling.

“Wait come on this isn’t fair you gotta tell me something I’ll die if I don’t know” You said pleading with him. 

Suddenly the bells went off and that meant you all had to roll. 

“This isn’t over Street” You said getting up

You both started jogging over to Black Betty. 

“Now we both have secrets” Street said winking at you and getting in the back of the car.

Damn you never regretted something more in your life then you did right now

[nevaehbentbackwardsoverthegrass]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐭

inspired by @blathannabeaga

in which, you come home late to your sleeping girlfriend but forget about the icy harsh cold outside when you curl up in bed word count; 635

pairing; Chris x SWAT!reader (more fem implied)

You left your jacket on the coat hanger by the apartment's entry. It felt like you had removed an extra layer of skin from your body, the armor that protected you from the harsh cold of December in Los Angeles. It wasn’t exactly cold to say the least but with the humidity it felt as though icicles hung from the peach fuzz on your face, adorning your cheeks with an imaginary ice droplet beard.

Ear muffs got tossed onto the cushion bench, sitting perfectly as if headphones waiting to be picked up by a teen girl. Except instead of music they played Muffled Sound Of The World by Covering Your Ears over and over and over. Great band but only one single.

Doc Martens sat in the boots tray, catching a small layer of melted powdery snow. You were surprised by how much snow was out there, even if only 3 inches of powdery snow, for Los Angeles that wasn’t exactly normal. Then thinking about it, nothing in Los Angeles was normal. If you were normal, you were wrong and weird.

You had just gotten off a tiring shift at SWAT and filling in for a missing member of 50-David was not easy. Rocker was pushing you to your limits to help lead the team and with the T.L.I. competition creeping up behind you like an ever growing shadow, you also had to throw in extra practice for fitness evaluations. 

A sleepy Chris–your girlfriend–mumbled something indecipherable while half asleep as you entered the bedroom, in prior need of a deep sleep. You thought she was knocked out asleep though, her short hair somehow managing to cover her features. Chris was a koala, hugging her pillow as if it would stand up and walk away if she let go of it.

You quietly changed into pyjamas, an old stretched out black Blondie shirt with pink pyjama shorts. It was a random combo but you used whatever shirts you retired from public daylight as sleeping tops and random shorts you’ve still owned since you were in grade 10.

Quietly and cautiously sliding into your guys' bed, you slowly tugged the comforter over your body as if putting that armor back on to protect yourself from the chill in the air. To your surprise, Chris moved a bit, now half on top of you, head buried under your chin. The koala had found a new branch to hold on to.

You almost laughed out loud but enjoyed the way you two fit together like a puzzle, two souls being intertwined and weaved together like strings in a bracelet. Gently rubbing her back, your arms protectively wrapped around Chris, you hadn’t realized the one thing you had done to make Chris slightly grumpy.

“Get your grubby little ice bricks off my legs.” She grumbled, a shadow of a frown on her face after you pushed the hair out if it. Despite the temperature freezing your butt off outside, you’d forgotten about the cold emptiness that still clung to you and now Chris was the suffering victim with ice blocks on her legs.

Being your usual self, you decided to drag out that torture just a little bit longer, a fan of your grumpy girlfriend. Your arms wrapped around her tighter, Chris made no intentions of leaving your hold, her head tucked under your chin.

“But you’re so warm!” You drag out, inviting her warmth that helps the emptiness in yourself. Chris hummed but squirmed like a toddler as if trying to get out of your embrace. Small laughs slipped past her lips but if anyone asked–no she didn’t, her laughing is some fake rumour!

“Stop! Let me go!” She giggles, the sound like music to your ears. Eventually she gave up, letting herself relax into your hold.

@nevaehbentbackwardsoverthegrass

[findingnemosworld]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐢 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬.𝐰.𝐚.𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧, (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬.𝐰.𝐚.𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭) - 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐱 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐤 ( 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 )

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐩 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜 (𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞) 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

- 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

[rockermybuddie]

Shot

Rocker x reader

Story 3

Summary: Its been eight months since you slept with Rocker. Its been hard but you both have managed to not let it happen again. Still good friends at work. You manage to get caught in a bank robbery off duty.

——————

You shift your weight from one foot fo another as you wait in line at the bank. Only two people ahead of you.

All of a sudden a group of five people walk in with heavy guns and masks.

“Everyone get down now!” One yells firing his gun in the air.

“This cant be happening.” You say quietly to yourself. Surly one of the bank tellers triggered the silent alarm.

“No body move!” Another commands.

Trying to come up with a plan quick scanning the area. Out numbered and out gunned anything you try to do could get you killed.

Police should be here soon, hopefully.

You see the cops pull up through the window, SWAT right behind them.

Some how you and Rocker immediately made eye contact through the window. His facial expression stern and now his focus is to get the civilians out and you safety.

With your hands you tell him 5 shooters and 14 civilians. So he knows what hes working with. Usually with bank robberies the numbers can be unsure.

You see how Rockers team is going to enter the building. Everything is going to plan intill the person beside you sees your badge flash on your hip.

“You’re a cop?! Do something!” They say. “Shhh! The cops are here. Im out numbered here. Trust me.” You tell them.

“Shut up!” A robber yells in our direction, thankfully he didnt hear the cop part. “Shes a cop, shes going to arrest all of you!” The person yells.

All of a sudden you’re lying on the ground a throbbing pain in your stomach and blood pouring out of you. You become light headed.

“Hey, hey, hey. Keep your eyes open sweetheart.” Rocker says kneeling beside you. He puts pressure on the gunshot wound calling for a medic.

“25- david is down!” He says on the radio. “Open your eyes baby. You’re gonna be okay. Just open your eyes” he begs.

——-

You hear a constant steady beeping noise. You open your eyes and see an unfamiliar ceiling, trying to remember where you were but cant think of anything.

You feel your mouth is open trying to close it your feel something plastic keeping it open. You move your hand to your mouth and feel a tube.

You panic trying to get it out thrashing around on the bed but immediately wince in pain.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart. Its okay. Calm down.” A voice says grabbing your wrists pinning you down.

You eyes dart around trying to focus on something. You see a face with deep brown eyes looking at you.

“I need a doctor!” The face yells towards the door.

All of a sudden there were other faces surrounding you none of them familiar. They removed the tubing in your mouth and replaced it with a tube in your nose that went around your ears.

“How much pain are you in?” One of the faces asks. “A lot?” You answer unsure. She puts a bag of liquid on a metal pole that has a tube going into your arm.

After awhile they all leave and the first face you saw came walking back in the room, but was followed by a new group of faces.

“Hey there. You gave us a scare there.” A tall man with gray hair and a well trimmed gray beard said.

“Who…..who are you?” You ask weakly, your voice a soft loud whisper. The man furrowed his brows as if he was trying to see if you were being serious or not.

“Deacon. Im Deacon.” The man tells you. You shut your eyes trying to think of someone called Deacon. But when you do you see a bank, a gun, then its blank.

“You…..you shot me?” You ask unsure of what is going on. Everyone looks at each other with concern as you try to put pieces together.

“No, you were at the bank during the robbery. You were shot. You don’t remember?” Deacon tells you. “I’m going to go get the doctor.” The girl says stepping out of the room.

“Bank robbery? How…. How did you know that was in my brain?” You asks.

The docotr came in and did a check up on you. He informed the others that your confusion is caused by the loss of blood and being in a coma for three days. He said your memory should slowly come back to you. Just give it time.

——-

“Rocker?” You say trying to get his attention. He immediately got up from the chair he was napping in. “Yes sweetheart? What is it?” He says at your bedside.

“You….you saved me.” You tell him. Your memory came back and you remember seeing Rockers face just before you blacked out.

A smile came across his face as he pushed some loose hair behind your ear. “I’m just glad you’re awake now.” He says.

“Do they know?” You ask him. “Know what?” He asks furrowing his brows, unsure of what you’re asking. “Do they know about us?” You ask more clearly.

“Oh. No. I don’t think so. I just told them i would stay here with you since i’m the last person you saw.” He explains.

“I’m going to sign the paper.” You tell him. You know what the outcome is going to be once word gets out that you are dating the leader of 50 squad but he saved your life and the past eight months have been brutal.

“But your career, are you sure?” Rocker asks trying to keep his excitement down incase you change your mind.

“I can handle gossip if i can handle getting shot.” You smile.

Rockers face lights up as he leans down and plants a deep loving kiss on your lips.

“If anyone gives you any shit let me know and i’ll make sure they get stuck on armor duty intill they retire.” Rocker says. You laugh at that but grabbed your side in pain.

——-

[imaginingyourfandom]

having an anxiety attack - dominique Luca (s.w.a.t)

You didn’t often have anxiety attacks

When you did have them, you usually kept it to yourself

You had your own strategies to get through one

But sometimes that didn’t work and Luca hated seeing you in pain

He would hold you as you struggled to breathe and get out your words

He would talk you through it and make jokes to make you laugh

Get you a glass of water afterwards

You would explain to him what set off the anxiety attack and he would listen to you patiently

He would ask how he could support you in the future

You would kiss and hug him for being so understanding

[almostluckydragon]

Comfort (Luca x reader)

A/n : This is my first piece of writing so let's be honest it's gonna be cringey but I hope you enjoy!!

I pushed open the kitchen door of SWAT headquarters revealing, Luca, my boyfriend of a year sitting hunched over a tablet.

He looked up at me, smiling sadly.

"Hey baby, what's up?" I said.

"Nothing, y'know all that I can do right now." he replied.

Ever since his injury, Luca had been benched and it was obvious it was starting to get to him. The PFQ was his chance to get back on the team and back to what he loves but he failed the 30 mile run.

Both me and Street had been telling him to take his time, he had been working non- stop to be back on his team. I was worried that he would injure himself more.

"Dom, come on. What's going on in that head of yours?" I asked, moving behind him to massage his shoulders.

He sighs.

"Kelly, said she was going to audition for a school play."

"That's..." I started.

"She didn't get the part."

I frowned.

"She was freaked out about it so I told her that if she auditioned, I would finish my PFQ." he explained.

"Well, if Kelly can audition, what's stopping you?"

"If she didn't get the part in her play, what if I can't do the run? I'm benched. For good."

Luca turned to me, fear etched on his handsome features.

"Luca" I sighed, brushing my hand through his hair "You can't really be comparing a 12 year old auditioning for a play with a SWAT PFQ?"

He looked down at my hands settled in his lap.

"I know your scared, Dom. But, I want you to know, I believe that you can finish it. Hell, the whole team does. The only person who doesn't believe in you is you."

He looked up at me, frowning slightly.

"So, you gotta believe in yourself, okay? And finish the PFQ. And whatever happens, I'll be here to help you, whether you finish or not."

"But, what if my hip acts up? What if I don't finish it in time? What if... " he starts.

"Dom, you have been working your ass off for the past months. Of course you can do it. You just gotta trust yourself."

For the first time in a while, Luca smiled. Wrapping his arms around my waist. He pulled me in and buried his face in my stomach.

I pulled him up and held his face.

"Thank you , baby. For believing in me." he said.

"So... you'll do the run?" I asked, giddily.

"I will, well I'll try." he laughed, pulling me in for a kiss.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Whole Again

Requested Here!

Pairing: Dominique Luca x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: You're injured during a raid, but your boyfriend Luca doesn't know how bad it is. After you're separated and instructed not to speak, your team finds a way to let you comfort one another.

Warnings: angst, r is shot, a civilian is killed during a raid, fluffy comfort!

Word Count: 2.2k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Luca Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

“One more thing,” Hondo says as you approach the raid location in Black Betty.

“He’s going to hear us coming at this rate, Hondo,” you complain playfully.

“Maybe you can just talk until he surrenders,” Street agrees. “It wouldn’t take long for me.”

“Funny,” Hondo replies, even though you can tell he is amused. “You must want me to say something about the little fling going on here.”

“There isn’t a fling,” Luca calls from the driver’s seat. “And Hicks knows about the relationship.”

“But nice try,” you add.

“Stay liquid,” Hondo concludes, shaking his head as he smiles.

“Fifteen seconds,” Deacon alerts, sitting in the front by Luca.

“Let’s do this!”

You pull your helmet over your head and prepare to exit Black Betty as Luca stops three houses down from your final destination. The man holed up in the dilapidated bungalow down the road has warrants for three violent crimes and has racked up enough charges in fees from missing court over the years to pay off every student loan in America, you think. He’s dangerous, but you trust your team, and patrol officers have given you good intel. Right now, his house is as quiet as it gets. He should be inside, asleep, and likely won’t even know SWAT raided his home until he wakes up in jail later today.

“We got this,” Luca whispers beside you.

“Be careful,” you reply before splitting up.

Luca goes with Deacon to the west side of the house, and you branch off with Street to enter through the back door. Your relationship with Luca isn’t new, but it’s still growing. Luckily for today, you’re out of the stage where being away from him during a breach like this terrified you and it was hard to breathe until you saw him on the other side.

You take a deep breath as Street counts down with Hondo. The explosive on the door blows loudly, and Street leads you into the kitchen at the back of the house as you cover him.

Very quickly, you realize that all of the intel was bad. Hondo curses over the comms, and you begin yelling with your teammates.

“LAPD SWAT!” you yell with Street. “On the ground now! Everybody on the floor!”

The rest of your team is out of sight, caught in different parts of the house, but you can hear them shouting commands. In the kitchen and living room, standing before you and Street, at least 30 men are pushing toward you slowly, speaking to one another in Spanish when they aren’t yelling at you.

“Any ideas?” you ask Street.

“Flash bang?” he replies.

You nod and trade places with him, holding your gun against your shoulder. Several shots echo through the house as Street pulls the small flash-bang from his pocket. Unable to tell where the shots came from, if it was your team shooting or being shot at, you force yourself to focus.

“Back up!” you yell as a man steps toward you.

Just before Street throws the device, someone at the back of the crowd raises a pistol. You begin to warn Street, but you don’t get the chance. Before you hear the shot, the bullet knocks you backward and throws you against Street. He scrambles away from you quickly to keep the men away from you. Three flash bangs detonate simultaneously, and 50 Squad enters the front door to provide much-needed backup.

“Everybody good?” Rocker asks as patrol officers begin escorting the disoriented criminals out of the house.

“I think so,” Hondo replies. “Deacon and Luca are with me.”

Luca looks around, expecting you to walk out of the hallway joking with Street.

“Hondo!” Street yells from the kitchen.

Luca’s chest tightens, his heart feels like it leaps dangerously in his chest, and he steps forward to follow Hondo with pure fear running through his veins.

“Hold it!” Hicks calls, walking into the house with Jessica at his side. “20 Squad, get out of here.”

Hondo explains that something is up with you and Street, but Hicks repeats himself. Rocker nods and then disappears around the corner into the kitchen and doesn’t speak again.

“You can’t talk before the investigation begins,” Jessica adds.

“He didn’t make it?” Hondo asks, remembering the man who was shot.

Jessica shakes her head, and Hondo leaves the house without knowing how his team is. As Deacon prepares to follow him, he pushes Luca forward gently.

“I know,” Deacon says softly. “But we have to go.”

Rocker returns just as Luca stumbles out of hearing distance and requests a medic get inside. The same medic who announced the civilian DOA rushes into the house with a large medical bag bouncing against his hip. Street, however, is told to leave and grumbles as he exits the house.

“I’m fine,” you grumble as he kneels beside you. “It hit my vest.”

The medic pulls your vest over your head carefully, then unbuttons your uniform shirt and pulls the neck of your undershirt away from your chest. He shines a small flashlight against your skin before letting your shirt fall back into place.

“No hospital trip for you today,” he says. “You’re going to be sore and have a painful bruise for a few days, but your vest did its job.”

���Where’s my team?” you ask, hissing as you sit up.

“Headed back to HQ,” Jessica says.

You look up quickly, surprised to see her here.

“A civilian was shot, he’s dead,” she explains. “Until we figure out who took the shot, you can’t see them.”

“I need to tell Luca I’m okay,” you argue. “Two words, please.”

“I’m sorry.”

You stand, refusing her help as you follow another officer to a cruiser. As you fall into the passenger seat, tired and sore, you wonder how Luca will react to this sudden separation.

When you arrive at the station, you get permission to change in the locker room before taking your place in a private room to speak to Internal Affairs. The door closes behind you, and Luca steps out of the shower area, still wearing his tactical gear. He rushes toward you and carefully takes your shoulders as his eyes travel up and down your frame.

You take his hands and smile as you promise, “I’m okay.”

Luca hugs you carefully, though it's more him awkwardly wrapping his arms around you than hugging. “What did the medic say?” he asks.

Before you can answer or get too comfortable in his hold, an IA investigator opens the door and demands, “Officer Luca, we need you.”

“Can I get just a second?” he requests.

“No.”

You can see Luca’s attitude shift as he steps back. He doesn’t want to leave your side while you’re injured, and being forced to makes him grumpy. But he’s a good officer, and he’s going to listen. For a while, at least.

“I’m sorry, Luca,” Hicks says in the hallway. “But it’s protocol.”

“I don’t even know what happened to her!” he argues.

“And you won’t until after we’re finished. But I can promise you she’s okay.”

Luca stops outside the door where the IA team is waiting. He lowers his voice to reply, “She got shot, Hicks, you know she isn’t.”

Several minutes later, you exit the locker room in the most comfortable clothes you could find. After finding a place to sit and wait, you watch the hallway opening, hoping that Luca will come down here at some point and you can explain everything to him.

“Luca!” you call as he exits an office.

He steps backward, then turns to walk toward you.

“Officer Luca,” the officer behind him directs. “This way, please.”

Luca’s jaw tightens as his anger increases. The grumpiness he showed in the locker room was cute, you thought, but he’s getting worse. If you don’t get a chance to tell him what the medic said soon, he might snap and get himself in trouble. So, you decide to find an opening to promise you’re okay.

“Officer Luca,” the man repeats. You look up again, surprised to see Luca squaring his shoulders before the other man. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” he warns lowly.

Luca’s fingers tighten into a fist, but he turns and storms away. You exhale in relief, then stand and follow them at a distance. The officer instructs Luca to wait by the sparring ring, then walks into Hick’s office.

Because he’s alone, you walk to Luca's side and bend forward to kiss his cheek. After kissing his cheek, you begin to pull away from him. “The medic said I’d be sore and bruised for a while, but the vest kept the bullet from doing any real damage. I’m absolutely okay, Luca. I promise.”

Luca nods, and says, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You walk away from Luca and feel his eyes on you until you turn the corner to return to your previous place.

“Where were you?” Jessica asks.

“I needed a tissue,” you lie. “Are they ready for me?”

“Not yet. Do you need anything?”

You sit down and shake your head. The only thing you need is Luca, and you already know the answer to that request.

You let your eyes close as you continue to wait. Soft footsteps echo in the hallway before they stop beside you. You recognize Luca’s touch as he lays his hand on your thigh and squats beside you. Opening your eyes, you smile and lean forward to wrap him in a hug. He reciprocates, being careful of where he touches you.

“Incoming,” someone warns from the end of the hall.

As Luca stands, you see Street standing guard and smile to thank him.

“We’re going to get time to talk,” Luca promises. “I’ll be back.”

You assume that the rest of your team will assist him in returning, likely aware of how worried he is. Over the next few hours, you’re all in and out of interviews with IA to account for every move and every breath you took in the house. Between those conversations, you and Luca find each other in quiet hallways, behind open doors, and tucked behind lockers for tiny moments to talk and show each other that you’re okay. The worry goes both ways: Luca is worried about your injury and you’re worried about his happiness and carrying residual concern about losing sight of him during the raid. The little moments aren’t enough, but they’re something, and your team helps you find every spare second you can.

Hiding behind Hondo so it appears that he and Luca are simply facing opposite directions to bide time, you ask, “Can I come over tonight?”

“If you think there’s another option, we need to get your head checked.”

“Sergeant Hondo, we’re ready for you,” someone calls before you duck around a corner and return to solitude.

Twenty minutes later, Hicks and Hondo exit his office together.

“20 Squad!” Hicks calls.

You join Deacon’s side, and he offers you an arm, unsure what the extent of your injury is. You smile and thank him, but don’t have a chance to tell him why you said no before Hicks dismisses you.

“IA has cleared all of you, you’re free to go home and get some rest,” he adds. “Sorry again about all of this, but…”

“We know how it is,” Deacon responds.

You take Luca’s hand as you walk to the locker room, and don’t let go as you gather your things and walk to his truck. The ride to his house is spent in silence. There’s too much to say, too many emotions involved, to have the conversation in the car.

Luca helps you inside and invites you to get comfortable. Once you’re in his bed, he climbs beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Turning slightly, you let Luca rest his head on your shoulder as his other arm lies gently across your waist.

“Are you okay?” you ask, trailing your fingers up and down his back.

Luca moves slightly, and you suddenly realize that he’s crying. You slide down in the bed, not caring that it hurts, to take his face in your hands.

“Luca,” you murmur, holding him tightly. “It’s okay.”

You fall silent then and let Luca release all the emotions he’s been carrying since this morning. Several minutes later, he quiets but keeps his arm around you as you hold him.

“I’m okay,” you promise softly. “I’m sorry.”

Luca shakes his head, silently promising he’s not angry with you. “I thought I was going to lose you. It terrified me.”

“Hey,” you whisper, encouraging him to look into your eyes. “I’m never leaving you.”

“You can’t make that promise.”

You nod, then amend, “I’m not leaving you, not without a fight. I’ll come back to you, even if I’m crawling, okay?”

Luca hugs you tightly, then releases you to say, “Sorry, sorry! Are you okay?”

You laugh at his reaction, getting close to him again. “I’m great now. I love you, Luca.”

“I love you,” he replies. “I’m not leaving you either.”

“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t punch anyone in IA.”

Luca groans, dropping his head against your shoulder. You feel whole again beside Luca despite the pain and fear of the day. Luca’s phone vibrates with a text from Street asking when Luca will cook to thank them for helping you today, and though you ignore it, knowing that your team cares about you and your relationship makes everything a little better.

[achilles-rage]

Deserving

summary: while your ex-boyfriend used to put you down for everything you did, deacon treats you exactly the way you deserve. when he asks you to meet his team, you can’t help your ex’s words coming back to you, and you’re afraid that they won’t think you’re good enough for him. he comforts you, and you finally agree to meet the team.

word count: 2.5k

request: anon- could i request a deacon x reader, where she is nervous to meet his team even though they have been dating for a little while. she’s afraid they might see her as not good enough for him. deacon can’t figure out why she doesn’t want to meet them at first.

A/N: you guys i can never take deacon requests seriously because all i see when i look at him is arthur’s brother from arthur christmas🫠 anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: none, no use of y/n, plus size!reader, fem!reader, insecure!reader, race inclusive!reader

“Why the hell are you wearing that?” your boyfriend asks harshly once you walk out of the bedroom, eyeing you angrily. 

It’s your anniversary, and you thought you’d surprise him with a brand new dress. You spent ages trying to find the perfect colour for your skin tone, and even bought a new necklace to match. You thought he might like it, but you were wrong. Again.

“I bought it for you. Thought you’d like it.” you tell him softly as you look down at the dress, trying to smooth it down over your chest and soft tummy. You’ve heard of guys that worship the ground their girlfriends walk on; loving to see, and touch, and feel their soft curves whenever they could. Your boyfriend was, evidently, not one of them. 

When you first started dating, he gave you compliments here and there, but never about anything specific. “You look good,” or “you look nice” is all you really remember him saying, but over time you grew to love him, which is why you couldn’t bring yourself to leave.

The night ends with him dragging you out of the restaurant before your meals have even arrived. He behaves once you’re in the restaurant, pulling out your chair for you and holding your hand, but you know that it’s just for show; he’s still upset with you for your dress. It was too short, too tight, he had said. He didn’t want everyone to see him with you like that, and although you pretended to not know why, you’re sure it had to do with others seeing the dips and curves of your tummy, and your plush hips and thighs. 

He had raised his voice to almost a yell when you offered to change before you left, mumbling that you were already late enough as he made his way to the door and slammed it before you could make your way across the room.

“I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” he seethes as he drags you through the parking lot, his hand grabbing your wrist harshly once you’re away from the wandering eyes of the restaurant.

“I don’t understand what I did.” you tell him softly, a hint of fear in your eyes as his footsteps echo on the concrete in front of you.

“No? You don’t remember when I told you what we were getting, and then when you corrected me in front of the waiter because you ‘didn’t want that?’ Made me look like a fucking idiot.” He opens your door for you and waits for you to get into the car, finally letting up on the tight grip on your wrist.

You get in silently, your fingers rubbing your wrist softly once you’re buckled in. He keeps his eyes on the road as he drives, jaw clenched and arms tense. You steal glances at him out of the corner of your eye, trying to will the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks away.

“I’m sorry.” you get out after a few minutes, your words cutting the tension inside of the car. Rather than your soft apology calming him down, his eyes dart over to yours as he puffs out his chest.

“You’re sorry? I don’t wanna fucking hear it. I can’t take you anywhere, can I? Fucking pathetic.” A tear finally makes its way down your cheek, and you try to wipe it away quickly, knowing he’ll yell again if he notices. Neither of you say a word the whole way home. You’re afraid anything you say will set him off again.

It's been almost two years since then, and you’ve been dating a man that’s completely different from your ex for almost a year. Deacon is everything you thought a man should be when you were a lovesick teenager. He does worship the ground you walk on, he brings you out to nice dinners, he buys you “just because” flowers. He’s perfect in every sense of the word, and the more he does for you, the more you forget about how your ex treated you.

Despite this, you can’t help your ex’s words nagging at you deep down. They echo through your head, telling you that you aren’t good enough. Frankly, it’s exhausting, but Deacon’s words are often able to cut through these words and drown them out. 

“You have the day off today?” he asks you, his voice just above a whisper. You two decided to spend a few minutes in bed together before starting the day, laying comfortably in each other’s arms.

Your cheek is resting on his chest, and you’re tracing soft patterns on his abdomen with your fingers as his thumb traces circles on your shoulder.

You hum softly as you nod, not trusting your voice this early in the morning. You raise your head from his chest and rest your chin on it, looking up at his face.

“Perfect. Maybe you could drive me to work? Meet the team?” he asks in a hopeful voice. He’s been trying to get you to meet the squad for almost as long as you’ve been together officially, but each time, you’re able to come up with a last minute excuse. Your best friend has food poisoning and they need your help, your neighbour called and needs help looking for their lost cat, you feel a migraine coming on and you need to rest. Honestly, if Deacon hadn’t already shown the team a few of his favourite photos of you two together, they would all think that you’re not real.

“Oh, um, I actually can’t.” you tell him in a soft voice, getting up and straddling his waist, aiming to distract him. He smiles as you straddle his lap, hands immediately going to your wide hips while his eyes trail down your figure in your oversized t-shirt. 

“Honey, everyone wants to meet you. I’ve been bragging about you since I first met you.” You smile softly at his praise, but you feel yourself biting the inside of your cheek as you think about it. 

As much as you want to meet his team, you’re much too nervous. You’ve grown more confident in yourself with Deacon’s help, but you can’t help feeling insecure as you think about being introduced to the most important people in Deacon’s life. What if they don’t think you’re good enough for him?

“I have to drive my friend to the airport.” you lie quickly, eyes darting away from his eyes for a moment as you trail your hands up and down his chest. He looks up at you, brows furrowed.

“I know you’re lying. You would’ve told me about that earlier than right now. Come on, what’s going on?” His eyes search your face, hoping to find some sort of clue, but your tense posture and slight frown give him nothing.

“I don’t want to meet them.” you whisper, afraid that if you speak any louder, your words will seem more harsh than you mean them to be. He frowns, reaching a hand up to your chin and forcing you to look back down at him. You see the confusion in his face, and you sigh. You’ve already said this much, you think, you might as well explain yourself. 

“What if they don’t like me? What if they think I’m not good enough?” you ask, your voice barely audible as your ex’s words echo through your head. To him, you were never good enough, and a small part of you thinks that you’re not good enough for Deacon either. 

“Why wouldn’t they like you?” he asks, his brows still laced with confusion, and slight anger. He knows a little about your ex, and he assumes this is where this is coming from, but he still doesn’t understand how this has anything to do with you not wanting to meet his friends. 

“My ex hated being seen with me. I was always doing things to embarrass him. What if I do that with you? What if-” You’re cut off by his voice, which is raised slightly to stop your rambling.

“Wait a minute. ‘What if you’re not good enough?’ Good enough for what?” You sigh, looking away for a moment as you lick your lips.

“For you.” you tell him with a huff. It feels a little silly once you’re saying it. You know he loves you, but you can’t help the insecurities eating away at your confidence as you take in his handsome features. 

“Honey, where is this coming from? I love you. Everything about you.” he tells you sternly, reaching up and cupping your cheeks with his hands, bringing your face down closer to his as his eyes scan your face.

“My ex, he always told me I wasn’t enough for him, or too much, I guess.” you whisper, looking down at the way your thick thighs pressed against his lean torso and the way your tummy jutted out.

“He told you that?” he asks, anger growing inside of him as his hands move back to your hips, squeezing them. 

“Well, not exactly, I guess. He would get mad at me for a lot of things. He didn’t like me wearing certain things, or doing certain things. He got mad a lot.” you explain in a soft voice, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you, trying not to meet his gaze as you explain. 

“Did he ever hit you?” he asks through gritted teeth. He’s a little afraid of the answer, afraid of what he’d do if you say yes. He knows there would be very little holding him back from hunting him down and doing far worse than he’d ever done to you. He lets out a sigh of relief as you shake your head, closing his eyes for a moment to think.

“What exactly did he do?” he asks in a somewhat calmer voice. He’s still on edge, pissed off that your ex had done something to make you think like this, but he’s still glad he never physically hurt you.

“He didn’t like when I wore things that showed off my body. Sometimes when I did things, like talk to people in public, he would get mad. On our anniversary, he got mad at me for telling the waiter I didn’t want what he ordered for me, and he dragged me out of the restaurant. What if your friends see what he saw? What if they don’t think I deserve you?” you finish with a frown, finally looking back down into his eyes when you’re done speaking. You’re still straddling his waist, which feels like an odd position to be having this conversation ij, but his warm skin touching yours is also keeping you grounded.

“Sweetheart, you have nothing to worry about. They would never think that. I would never think that. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. You’re sweet, and you’re stubborn, and you’re smart, and you love so much. You love people who don’t deserve it because you have such a big heart. If anyone doesn’t deserve someone, I don’t deserve you.” You tear up at his words, the voice in the back of your head getting smaller as you take in his words. He sees the way your eyes soften, tears forming in your eyes, and he massages up and down your thighs in an attempt to soothe you. 

“Honey, you’re absolutely gorgeous. Please don’t let that prick control you anymore. I would never do anything he did, you know that, right?” he asks, hoping his tone and his expression make you believe his words. 

You nod slowly, sniffling as a tear finally falls from your eye. You know he wouldn’t, but sometimes, you think too hard about what your ex used to say, and you feel yourself slipping back into your old state of mind. The one that made you believe that no one would ever love you for you. 

“You don’t have to meet them today if you don’t want to. But the next day you’re off work, I want you to come see me at work, and I’ll introduce you to everyone. Deal?” he asks with a hopeful look in his eyes. You hold your breath as you bite your lip, thinking it over. You know you can’t put this off forever, and his words give you a sudden wave of confidence. You know if you don’t say yes now, you never will.

“No, I’ll go today. I’ll meet them.” you tell him finally, a small smile finally breaking onto your face as you see his grin. He pulls your face down to let his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss. He tries to convey all of his affection for you into the kiss, hands moving from your cheeks to your hips, then making their way up to your tummy under your shirt. His fingers brush over your soft tummy, ghosting over the stretch marks and rolls, and he groans softly at the feeling. He loves all of you, especially your cute little tummy.

“Let's go, then. Wanna get in there early so you can meet everyone before we start.” he mutters once he pulls away. You laugh softly and get off his lap, watching as he stands up from the bed. He turns back to you and pulls you up, wrapping his arms around your waist and swaying you side to side.

“What should I wear?” you speak after a moment, mind racing as you try to come up with something appropriate to wear.

“Doesn’t matter to me, sweetheart. Wear whatever you’re comfortable with.” he tells you softly, leaning in to give you a feather-light kiss on the nose. You scrunch your nose with a soft laugh, then pull away from him and go to your shared closet. 

He makes his way to the bathroom as you pick out an outfit. You finally land on one that doesn’t hide your curves, but doesn’t exactly cling to them either. Deacon whistles once he sees you all ready, eyes trailing down your figure. He takes in the hint of cleavage peeking out of your top, and the way it shows the curve of your hips and waist just enough to drive him wild. 

Once you’re at his work, you walk in with your fingers intertwined. Your hands are shaking slightly with nerves, but he’s quick to bring your hand up to his lips, causing your nerves to settle just long enough for him to drag you up to the group.

They all greet you with wide smiles, immediately seeing what Deacon sees in you. You greet them with a soft smile, hugging them all as they insist on it. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks as Hondo congratulates Deacon for pulling you, and a wide grin breaks onto your face as soon as Luca invites you out for drinks with all of them the next time they finish a case.

You agree happily, eyes glancing over at Deacon, whose grin is wider than yours. He’s so glad to finally bring his two worlds together, and he’s even more happy that your nerves are finally settled, almost as if you finally understand exactly what he sees in you.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[violetflowerswrites]

It’s Been A Long Day - David “Deacon” Kay 

It’s Been A Long Day - SWAT x Reader Drabbles 

David “Deacon” Kay

Prompt: How does the team seek comfort after a difficult day on SWAT?

Pairing: Deacon x GN! Reader

Disclaimer: reader has children with Deacon, married couple. Vague mentions of police work, politics, fear of police. Reader and Deacon use gender neutral pet names (honey, sweetheart, etc.)

Word Count: 600

A/N: I am on Season 4 of SWAT which is full of complex and difficult topics like racism, Black Lives Matter, Blue Lives Matter, and more. I love the way the show handles modern day conflicts and struggles. I felt like it was fitting that Deacon would bring some of those thoughts home. He just needs to be comforted and supported!

The house was silent, save for the quiet crinkle of the page as you flipped through the book you were reading.

It was in this quiet that you heard the front door open and shut. Expecting footsteps to come upstairs to where you were, you continued to scan your eyes across the page.

After a few moments of hearing nothing however, you paused.

Why wasn’t David coming up to bed?

Concern furrowing your brow, you swung two feet out of bed and into your soft slippers, sliding a satin robe around your bare shoulders.

You stepped down as gently as you could, trying not to disturb your sleeping children, an action you’ve done a hundred times over.

In the same practiced whisper, you called out from the bottom step:

“Honey?”

The still form on the couch stiffened, then the tension released from his shoulders as you laid a gentle, warm hand on his back.

“What do you need?”

Deacon leaned back to look at you with appreciation. He loved that you didn’t interrogate him, scold him, or even ignore him.

You simply offered your unconditional support.

That’s just who you were and he couldn’t help but fall for you a little more in that moment.

“I just need a minute to…” he trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

“Can I sit with you?” You asked.

Your husband made space for you, and you cuddled into his strong side, hip to hip, head to his chest, hearing that comforting heartbeat steady under your ear.

David automatically wrapped his arms around you, the stress in his body already melting away from your warm embrace.

Sometimes, he just needed you near and that was comfort enough.

Eventually, he released his hold on you and you leaned back, gazing patiently into his warm brown eyes. Tonight though, those eyes were lined with worry.

He lifted up your left hand, rubbing a thumb across your wedding ring thoughtfully.

“You know, this ring, it’s a constant reminder of our love, and our commitment to each other.”

You reached over and lifted his left hand, pressing your lips to the cold metal of his ring in silent acknowledgement of what he said.

“In the same way, my badge, it’s a symbol of my loyalty to the force, to my fellow policemen. And my dedication to protect and serve the citizens of LA.”

David leaned back and rubbed a hand over his tired face.

“But to some, this badge is a symbol of power. A power to exploit for their politics, or a power to fear of being targeted.”

He looked at you now.

“That’s not why I decided to be a cop.”

“I know.”

“It’s just, it feels like just being a good cop isn’t enough anymore.”

“Life isn’t black and white. It’s messy and complicated and full of the unexpected.”

“I know…I’m just tired of trying to defend myself. Protecting what I think is right.”

“You are a good cop. And an even greater man. I trust that you’ll do what’s right. Always.”

David pressed a kiss to your hair, but you saw that he didn’t quite believe what you said for himself.

“And if you don’t, if you make a mistake, you know I am here. Your team is here. You aren’t alone in this, David.”

At that, the deep sigh that your husband exhaled seemed to take some of the burden off of his heavy shoulders.

“Yeah. You’re right sweetheart.”

“Aren’t I always?” You smiled.

He chuckled and lifted your chin, pressing the softest kiss to your lips.

“Thank you.”

…

[twistnet]

so good [ chris alonso ]

⋯ KINKTOBER PROMPT ; day 28 [ strap-ons ]

⋯ WARNINGS ; afab!reader, smut [ strap-ons, mommy!chris, authority kink, rough sex, orgasms, cum ] + mature language

⋯ NOTE ; this content is strictly for those 18+ ; any minors // ageless // blank blogs interacting with this post // masterlist will be blocked

chris smiles softly, hands softly caressing your sides as she lets you adjust to the fake cock she has you impaled on. she hears you moan quietly, the pillow you have your face shoved into and gripped tightly between your fingers muffles the noise, yet she can still hear everything that leaves your mouth.

she smoothes a hand along your arched back, feeling along the curve of your spine until her hand comes to rest at your shoulder and she gently shakes it to get your attention, “are you ready for me, cariño?” she whispers softly, slightly breaking the tone she had set at the beginning when she had ordered you to undress the second the both of you entered the apartment.

you swallow harshly to steady your breath, “yes.” you mutter softly, tears already starting to brim your eyes before chris tsks lightly, “yes, what?”

“yes, mommy.” you correct, heart fluttered at the sound of her approving hum, giving your sides another soft caress before gripping rough at the flesh, “that’s much better, sweetheart.”

you nearly whimper as the cock slides back, slowly drawing out of your puffy cunt until the tip barely sits inside of you, before chris’ hips snap forward. the action sends you into the pillow your holding, the air feeling as though it’s been knocked from your lungs as chris continues to repeat the motion over and over again.

chris fucks into you, muscles flexing as she moves, the tips of her fingers now digging into the flesh of your hips and leaving behind marks that are sure to linger for the next few days. 

you sob, back bending more as your legs spread wider. chris’ hands sliding down and around your waist to fuck into you harder. her lips press against your spine, murmured praises leaving her lips. then, her fingers slip to rub at your clit, circling the bud in time with her thrusts as you now hoarsely cry against the pillow, “doing so well, baby. taking my cock so well.”

your hips jut back against her thrusts, driving her deeper into you and continues until you cry out wantonly, voice cracking as you come around her cock. she still continues to fuck you through your orgasm, praising you softly through the aftershocks and with a final kiss to the middle of your spine.

chris pants against your shoulder, hot and heavy breath ghosting along your pricked skin as she sags against you, “fuck baby... you managed to make me cum without even touching me.” she mutters, smile spreading across her lips before a light chuckle fills the air, “i’ve never done that before.”

when you huff back a laugh, she sighs and gently smoothes one hand up the length of your back before slowly pulling out of you. her hands immediately guiding you to rest on your side before a hand shoots you caress your cheek, “take some deep breaths for me, baby.”

she waits patiently with you until your breathing beings to slow back to a normal pace, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips before drawing back once more, “do you want a bath or shower?”

once you give your answer, she’s quick to draw you up and out of the bed, shouldering you with a brief forehead touch towards the bathroom to get you cleaned up for the night.

blog navigation ⇢ [ kinktober masterlist ]

[whitewolf2759]

First Meeting-Chris alonso

Hey guys I hope you enjoy this one-shot, I have just started publishing my writing so there may be some mistakes and if you want to view more of my content I will place a link to my youtube below.

You had first been introduced to Chris by Street the both you were raised at the same orphanage until you had been adopted by a nice old couple, however you made sure to stay in contact as he was like a brother in everything but blood.

After being adopted you had moved to the UK which was actually were you were born and raised until the age of six where you had been adopted by couple that were bad parent and chose to leave you when on holiday in America.

You were conflicted about as the UK was where you born but it would make staying in contact with Street harder. After reaching 18 you had followed in your adopter fathers footstep’s and joined the army as a medic.

After just over 19 week of army training as well as 22 weeks of medic training I then served for 4 years doing 2 tours after which I decided to join the military police.

At the age of 29 I had been a member of the military police for 6 years however during this I continued staying in contact with Street. We told each other everything as we comforted each other at every low and celebrated every high, however what we spoke most about was his team and every little shenanigan they got up.

These conversation gelped me decide to take an offer to move to America and work as a liaison between the military police and swat as well as an onsite medic.

///

Hey Chris!" Street waved to me "Come meet someone!"

I put my weights down and jogged over.

"Chris, this is y/n who’s basically my sister. She's going to be working here at SWAT."

"I'm mostly going to be assisting Commander Hicks and helping teams with military based cases as well an injuries if needed. It's not as difficult as what you lot do" You said with shy smile and slight blush at seeing the state Chris is in.

Chris almost didn't even process what you said because she got lost in  your bright eyes and shy smile. Get a hold of yourself Chris.

"Nonsense, you'll be plenty of importance. Welcome to 20-David" Chris say’s with a welcoming smile and dusting of pink of her cheeks at getting distracted shaking your hand.

While the two of you were focused on each othet neither noticed Street watching you both with a raised eyebrow, knowing look in his eyes and smirk slowly rising on his face before hiding it before either of you noticed.

///

You have now be working a swat for a couple of days and Street had introduced you to the rest of the team, while working if you had time you would spend in getting to each other and you made sure to give any teasing material they had on Street to annoy him when he gets in your nerves.

Most of the time you would obviously hang out with Street however you and Chris had also spent a lot of time together. With the amount of time spent with each other you had learned a lot about the other, for example you had learned that Chris loved trying a lot of different activities and she had learned of you love of reading. During all of this your attraction to Chris continued growing, however it only took one event for you to ask her out.

///

 Chris and the team had just returned after taking down a gang’s drug operation and the all got a bit banged a few scratches and bruises, Chris had the biggest wound which was a shallow cut from a knife on her right side.

“Chris you should really had gone to the hospital in case you need stitches” Hondo said in serious but tired voice knowing it was useless trying to get Chris to go the hospital.

“It’s fine it barely grazed me, nothing that wont heal in few days” Chris said in a tired voice just wanting to clean up and get out of her gear.

Both Hondo and Street shared knowing it was useless trying to convince however as they walk into HQ Street spot’s you talking to Hick’s knowing how much you worry about the team he now knows how to get her wound looked at.

“Hey Y/N we’re back” Street say’s catching you attention you glance at them before finishing you conversation with Hick’s.

As you make you way towards them Chris focuses on you seeing your hug your form showing your perfect hourglass figure causing her to get into a trance.

While this is happening the rest of the team leave to take their gear off besides Hondo and Street who share a look and Street indicates to Hondo what his plan is.

“Hey guys heard about the operation hope you all didn’t hurt badly” You said in caring voice your still showing you British accent.

“We’re fine just a few bruises but Chris has a cut she should get checked at” Hondo says in a hopeful tone hoping Streets plan works.

“What, no Im-.”Chris says in a annoyed tone with a slight blush realising she got distracted and they were still going on about her wound, however before she could finish her sentence Street interupted.

“Chris didn’t want to go to hospital so we were hoping you would take a look” Street said giving Chris a knowing look as she shot him an annoyed one in return.

“Sure, Chris meet me in office aftet getting changed” You said leaving no room to argue as head to your office to get your med kit ready.

As you leave Chris watches you getting slightly hypnotised by the jeans hugging against your figure. After shacking her head she look towards Hondo and Street about to argue about what they just did but stopped as they look at her with knowing look’s having caught her so she heads to changing room with a light blush leaving behind the two smiling at her action.

///

30 minutes later Chris enters your office with tank top and jogger's hugging her form causing a slight blush to form on your cheek's before you tell her to sit on your desk as you get stuff to clean her wound.

Chris heads to sit on your desk with a slight smile on her face having caught your blush, a happy feeling filling her at the fact you find her attractive.

You sit on your chair in front of Chris and raise her top just below her breasts, blush returning when seeing her toned form. You start cleaning her wound apologising when she winces at the sting, while this happening you stay quite focusing on her wound while she tells you about the mission

However both of you fail to notice that Chris stops mid way through her story. When you finish you realise she’s stopped you look up and immediately blush.

When she see’s your blush she realises she got so entranced on you while you focused on her cut that she stopped talking.

Not giving her time to talk you get up to get a bandage for her cut and as you come back you see a shy look on Chris face. Smiling to yourself you place the bandage on her and lower her top, as she gets up and begins to leave you stop her.

“What are you doing Sunday?” You ask with a small smile and hopeful look in your eyes.

“Nothing why?” Chris replies while turning back to face you.

“I wondering if you would like go on a date” You said the smile on your face widening as a shocked but happy look crosses Chris’s face.

“I would love to” Chris says a happy but shy smile on her face at the fluttery feeling you caused at the question

You just continue to smile as you walk towards her placing a kiss on her cheek before heading back intent on clearing up so you can finish early and start planning your date.

As you turn Chris watches you with surprise in her eyes before a sweet smile appears on her face as she leaves.

[gemstone-roses]

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