#jim street

[writings-of-a-demigod]

“I’m not a violent person” you said.

 Street and Luca looked at each other in ‘are you kidding me look?’ Street started laughing while you looked at them with raised eyebrow and Luca trying to hide his smile.

“I’m sorry can you repeat that I swear I heard you say that you’re not a violent person” Street said while looking at you.

 “Yeah that’s what I said I’m not a violent person” you repeated.

 Luca started laughing louder now while Street looked at them a laughed to themselves in a quieter voice.

“Oh my god I swear they are trying to kill me” Luca said while holding his stomach.

You looked at them unamused “I’m not.”

Street looked at you dead in the eyes “I have a literal list to prove that you are a violent person.”

“bushh no you don’t” You said trying to walk ahead

 “Oh really?” said Street “Look at my nose” He walked faster than you then stood right in front of you.

 “You broke my nose because I opened a box that belonged to you” you rolled your eyes.

“Still not a violent person” you move around Street and kept walking.

“Oh I’m not done yet” Street followed thought while Luca was just watching the scene fold in front of his eyes.

“That time you punched me in the jaw. That other time you broke my arm oh and let’s not forget the time you pushed me down the stairs and broke my leg” Street was using his fingers to count you turned around and looked at him.

 “You knew what was coming”

Street stared at you “Oh yeah what about the time you stabbed me in the shoulder.”

You scoffed “I didn’t stab you”

Street’s eyes winded “Right I just happened to walk into the knife you were holding.”

“Yeah you did” You replied.

“and what about the time you threatened to break all Luca’s fingers because they wanted to move that stupid machine?” Street folded his arms over his chest.

“That was a warning”

 Street raised their eyebrow “what if I tell you that I will take that sword away from you?”

You got real close to Street’s face and said in a real quiet voice “Then I will break every bone in your body.”

Luca smiled “Said the nonviolent person” in a loud voice.

*gifs not mine*

#writings-of-a-demigod #SWAT imagines #s.w.a.t #s.w.a.t imagines #jim street #dominique luca #jim street x reader #luca x reader

[just-a-girl-who-wrytes]

Omg I just accidently found your blog and I'm so freaking happy, cause there are not enough writer who writes for Deacon 😭 unfortunately I'm super obsessed with him, with an unhealthy amount of fic ideas in my brain xD so I give it a try and send you one of those, hopefully jot annoying you with this (or with my shitty English, it's not my first language, so I'm sorry).

Well buckle up for my request:

Reader is a new Swat member and instantly everybody loves her, with her bubbly friendly self. She's bonding great with her teammates and especially her and Deacon grow super close (they develop feelings for each other but don't want to tell the each other afraid to ruin their friendship, so their feelings stay hidden). When one day a case goes sideways and it leaves her injured (maybe a concussion or something like that) Deacon blames himself for her injury and the next days he distances himself from her, cause he thinks that it is unhealthy for him to have such deep feelings for her and him constantly worrying for her wellbeing. She notices his change of behavior and she's super sad. He starts to being unfriendly to her and being a little bit of an ass?! Even alerting the other members with his behavior. The whole situation is taking a toll on her and she is starting to effecting not only her poor heart but also her health. (so maybe she falls sick, but keep it from her teammates especially Deacon, cause she thinks that after her injury during a case he thinks of her as not capable or something like that). That is until one day she doesn't show up to work which very uncommon for her, cause she's always on time and the first one at the station. They're all worrried and Hondo tells Deacon that he has to drive to her apartment. Well he tries to refuse and send Stress but Hondo insists, so Deacon drives to her apartment. He finds her suffering from a very high fever..... So maybe with a happy ending like Deacon regrets his shitty behavior, she instantly cries when she recognizes him in her feverish state, asking him why he hates her suddenly, which is now breaking his heart. He cares for her and nurses her back to health, or at first tries to bring her fever down. Later he confesses why he was an asshole.

Soooorry it's so long. There's so pressure for you to write this. Maybe you just want to use some ideas? Well I would be so happy.

Please take care lovely

Here you go, hope you enjoy!

“Nice!” Luca exclaimed as the team watched you send rounds down range from your firearm.

With the increase in officer related shootings, LAPD had decided to provide each team a SWAT medic and you were the newest member of 20 squad. 

“Who knew girls can shoot?” You heard Deacon asked. You turned to playfully scowl at him and noticed him wink at you. 

“Better watch it, Kay, or I’ll show you just how good I really am.” 

You had been a part of the team for just over two months and they were the best guys you had ever worked with in your career. You truly became a part of their family – you had their backs and they had yours. There was one that was different though. 

David Kay. 

You had noticed him watching you on more than one occasion, stealing winks from you, sharing small, flirtatious smiles. You weren’t sure if your attraction to him was mutual or not, but if you had to guess, you would say yes. However, you didn’t want to complicate anything by dating one of your teammates and you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had developed with Deacon. You assumed Deacon adopted the same mindset because he never brought it up either. 

However, that didn’t mean your flirting with each other fell on blind eyes. 

The entire team noticed it and often gave you both shit over it. 

You both were in the middle of denying another teasing round of friends with benefits accusations from your teammates when you were dispatched to a school shooting. 

The mood immediately sobered up as all of you put on your gear and grabbed your bags and firearms. The ride to the school in Black Betty was quiet minus updates from Hondo. 

“Stay liquid, guys,” He told the team as you pulled up on scene. 

There were multiple reports of injured children inside of the school. 

This call was all yours. 

It was going to be your job to go inside and assess each injured child to see how critically injured they were. It was your team’s job to protect you while you did that. You were going in without any knowledge of where the shooter was, but you knew if you had children, you would want someone to go in and save your baby. You swallowed your fear and prepared to do your job. 

You got out of the armored truck and took your spot in the middle of your team. You slowed your breathing down to get your heart rate under control and keep your emotions in check. 

Deacon made sure that he stayed close to you as you entered the school. He knew his teammates would have your back too, but he felt… differently about you. He cared about you a lot. He had quickly fallen for your smile and your personality. You didn’t let the team’s banter intimidate you one bit from the start. You were quick and witty with your playfulness with them. You were smart as hell when it came to medicine and you had proven to be a solid member of the SWAT team in training exercises and on calls you had run together. He wanted so badly to ask you out to dinner, but he wasn’t willing to change the dynamic of the team by adding a relationship to the mix. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be protective over you – whether you noticed it or not. 

That was why Deacon had taken it so personally when you were knelt down, applying a tourniquet to a fourth-grade student’s leg and got shot by the hidden gunman. His team covered him while he immediately turned to you to make sure you were okay. The round had struck your vest, but you knew it had broken ribs. The pain you felt in your side was unmistakable. Regardless, you threw your body over the child’s to protect her from the gunfire that ensued. Deacon and Luca dragged you both behind a desk behind a wall in a classroom. 

“Are you okay?” Deacon asked without taking his aim from the door way. 

“We’ve got to get her out of here.” You ignored his question as you continued to try and stop the little girl’s bleeding. 

Your voice was forced and you were breathy. 

“I asked if you were okay,” Deacon said angrily. 

“I’m fine.” You retorted. 

You soon heard Tan’s voice over the radio that the shooter had been neutralized. You didn’t know if there was more than one shooter, but didn’t see any signs of one so far. When you got the clear from Hondo, you radioed for another team to come in and get the girl out and get her to a hospital. Once she was safely removed, you resumed your formation in the middle of the team to continue to clear the school building. Deacon could tell you were injured because you didn’t shoulder your firearm correctly, but he didn’t see any blood so he let it go. He was pissed off at you for not stopping and going to get help yourself, but he was even more pissed off at himself for not seeing the gunman before he shot at you. 

It took two hours to clear the rest of the school and stabilize the remaining children. By the time you were done, you were visibly diaphoretic and short of breath. You could hardly manage three words without stopping to catch your breath. 

“20-David to command,” Deacon radioed, “We need an EMS unit to our location, we have a team member who needs to be checked out.” 

You were in pain, you couldn’t breathe, and you were pissed off that Deacon asked for EMS without consulting you first. 

“Why did you do that?!” You managed to asked through clenched teeth. “These children need those paramedics.” You took a few shallow breaths, “Not me! Cancel. Them.” 

If looks could kill, your sergeant would be the one who needed a medic unit, not you.

“Officer,” Deacon said sternly, “You look like hell and you cannot breathe.”

You started to open your mouth to cut him off, but he started speaking loudly again.

“Now, I suggest you shut up and listen to your sergeant. I am not the one who takes orders from you.” 

His harsh words hit you harder than the bullet hit your ballistic vest and left you just as speechless. David had never been so disrespectful to you. If the paramedics hadn’t arrived to assess you, you would have turned in your badge right there. You knew the rest of the team had noticed as well because they were all silent which pissed you off even more. Where was your support?

The paramedics tried helping you onto the stretcher, but you refused it. Despite not being able to speak for being short of breath. You held onto the stretcher for support and walked to the ambulance. By the time you finally made it outside to the ambulance, you were physically unable to get into the ambulance because you were hurting so bad and so short of breath. The EMS providers finally convinced you to get onto the stretcher and they were able to load you into the truck. 

When you arrived to the ER, you were taken to a trauma room due to the fact that you had technically been shot. Your chest x-ray revealed a collapsed lung due to the broken ribs. 

The rest of the team finished debriefing before being cleared to leave for the day. Hondo met Deacon in the quiet locker rooms since most of everyone else had already left. 

“Deac…” Hondo paused, knowing he needed to tread carefully, “What was up back at the school? I have never heard you speak to anyone like that – especially one of our teammates.” 

Deacon slammed his locker shut. 

“Hondo, now ain’t the time, brother.”

The lieutenant raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I won’t press, but I do ask that you consider an apology. It was unwarranted today. We all performed immaculately given the circumstances.”

“No, Hondo. No. We did not all perform immaculately.” His tone was biting. 

Deacon walked passed Hondo and left the locker rooms. He left the station and threw his duffel bag in the backseat of his truck. He climbed in, started it, and drove to a nearby lake that off the road and would likely be deserted after dark on a week night. He parked in the dark and slammed his fists against the steering wheel in frustration. 

Tears filled his eyes as he mentally kicked himself in the ass for missing the shooter that injured you today. He didn’t fight the tears as they spilled down his cheeks. What had gotten into him? Why were you different? Why was he so upset? Why did you getting injured bother him so badly? You were okay and you were expected to make a full recovery according to Hicks. Where along the line had he developed feelings and why was he so afraid of talking to you about them?

You spent 6 days in the hospital, 4 of those with a chest tube before being discharged home. During your entire hospital stay, Deacon had not been by to see you once despite daily visits from the rest of your teammates. It made you mad, but most of all, it hurt your feelings. You really liked you sergeant – or you thought that you did. His actions since you had been injured spoke louder than any words that could have been said. 

Luca and Chris were there to take you home and help you get settled. They carried your bags in and Chris helped you unpack your things while Luca cooked supper for the three of you. Chris helped you remove your bra so you could put on a loose, comfy t-shirt. Being the only females on the squad left you two comfortable around each other. 

“That is one hell of a bruise, babe.” She said as she looked at your black and purple side. 

You had to agree – the entire left side of your torso was bruised. It looked awful. Thankfully, the doctors had been able to help manage your pain with narcotics. 

“I’m glad it finally looks worse than it feels… Which is saying a lot because it still hurts like hell.” 

You slipped on a pair of sleep shorts and made your way back into your kitchen with Chris. 

You took a pain pill and joined your teammates in your living room to eat the spaghetti that Luca made. 

“Thank you so much for taking care of me guys,” You said several hours later as you walked Luca and Chris to your door. 

“That’s what we’re here for, love,” Luca said, pulling you into a gentle hug. 

You kissed his cheek, “Supper was delicious, Dom. Thank you times a million.” 

He returned the kiss to your cheek and Chris pulled you in for a hug. 

“Call us if you need anything?” 

You smiled at her after the hug, “You know I will.” 

You settled onto your couch with a glass of wine. You knew the alcohol and narcotic wasn’t the smartest elixir, however, you needed to mask more than your physical pain. 

You couldn’t get Deacon off your mind and your heart had yet to stop hurting. Your emotional pain screamed much louder than your physical pain. 

“Dammit!” You heard through clouded consciousness. “What the fuck?” 

You felt yourself being picked up and carried to your bed. You recognized a familiar cologne but quickly disregarded the scent and winced at the pain in your ribs before drifting back off to sleep. 

You woke up the next morning nearly in tears again as you entered a coughing spell. You managed to get out of bed and make your way to the kitchen where your pain pills were, but you were scared shitless by a man sitting at your kitchen table. As soon as your heart began racing with fear, the fear subsided, realizing that it was Deacon sitting inside of your home. 

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck, David?” You held your chest with one hand and braced your broken ribs with the other. 

He didn’t answer you. 

You ignored his silence and took your morning pain medication. 

“Ya know… I said the same thing last night when I came over and found you unconscious on your couch. So, I can also say, what the fuck? What were you thinking?” Deacon’s voice grew steadily louder as he stood up and turned to you. “Pain pills and alcohol?”

You were angry. “Something to make this shit stop hurting,” You spat as you snatched up the side of your shirt to reveal your black and blue torso. 

You could tell the extent of your injuries caught Deacon off guard. His facial expression softened and he didn’t respond. 

You let go of your shirt, letting it fall back down to your waist and continued fixing yourself a glass of water to take your pain pill with. You took your medicine and continued to ignore your sergeant as you turned your back to him to get the milk out of your refrigerator to fix yourself a bowl of cereal. His hand stopped yours mid-air reaching for your cabinet. He gently held your wrist with one hand and you felt the edge of your shirt being lifted again. He let go of your hand, staring at the bruising that covered you. You could sense his demeanor soften. 

There was a long silence as he took in your injuries. 

“I’m so sorry…” He whispered. 

The tone in his voice felt like a hug to your soul. 

“Deacon-” You turned around to face him. 

“No, listen to me,” he interrupted you. “This…” He grazed his fingertip down your side, “is all my fault.”

The confusion was written all over your face. 

“I should have seen that bastard before he ever had a chance at you.” 

You began shaking your head but you weren’t quite sure what to say. 

“You’ve been an asshole to me ever since it happened, David, what the hell has changed now?” You were beginning to grow angry again. 

“Look, I am so, so sorry.” His voice was gentle. “I should have stopped that guy before he shot you. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did. I should have visited you in the hospital. You are a teammate and I failed you, but I really should have told you from the get-go that I have developed feelings for you.” He didn’t take a breath the entire time he spoke so you struggled to follow him, but his last sentence hit you like a ton of bricks. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Ever since you have been on the team with us, you have become more than just a teammate to me. Truthfully, I have liked you from the day that I met you and my attraction to you has only grown every single day. I like you so much more than just as a teammate. I would dare say that I am falling in love with you.” He slowly reached up to cradle your face with his hand, hesitant, wondering if you would allow him to touch you. 

You did. 

“I am so, so sorry that I have treated you so poorly this week – so wrong. It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with the fact that I hate myself for not being able to protect you like I should have. I’ve been so afraid to let you know how I feel about you. I’m sorry I was more afraid of affecting the team than I was giving you the honesty that you deserve. Please, please forgive me.” 

He looked into your eyes as he nervously chewed on his bottom lip. 

“Deacon…” You said quietly, leaning into his hand caressing your jaw. 

He took a deep breath and continued, “If you don’t feel the same way, I understand, but I came over here last night to apologize and tell you all of this. When I found you passed out on the couch, barely responsive, it frustrated me. So, I stayed here last night to make sure you were okay. Please don’t be mad.” 

Silence fell between you while you considered how to respond. Given the emotions that you had worked through over the past week, going from feelings for your partner, to physical and emotional hurt, to anger towards David for not visiting, texting or calling, resentment towards yourself for having feelings towards David despite how cruel he had been to you with his absence while you had been hospitalized, you struggled to find any words.

Deacon watched you suffer through a week’s worth of feelings as he watched your eyes. You took a deep breath. 

He decided that you were taken too long to respond and if he didn’t act now, he never would. 

He leaned down and softly pressed his lips on yours. 

You instinctively closed your eyes and allowed David to kiss you. When you didn’t pull away, he parted his lips just enough to run his tongue tenderly along your bottom lip. You opened your lips, allowing him to kiss you deeper. You began to return the kiss when David went to place his hands on your waist, forgetting about your injuries. You stopped kissing him and winced. 

“God, I’m so sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay.” You whispered, your voice shaky. 

Deacon noticed the tears that trickled down your cheeks. 

He wiped them away with his thumbs and began apologizing to you again. 

You interrupted him with another kiss. You reached up and intertwined your fingers behind his head, softly rubbing his neck with your fingertips. He moaned quietly into the kiss. He grabbed your arm and squeezed it, needing to touch you, but being mindful of your injuries. You enjoyed the feeling of his tall, muscular body, towering over yours. You felt protected. 

“Deacon?” 

He pressed his forehead to yours, brushing a stand of hair behind your ear, “Mmhmm?”

“I love you.” 

"I love you too."

#christina alonso #david kay #dominic luca #hondo harrelson #imagine #jay harrington #jim street #swat #swat cbs #david deacon kay #Deacon #David deacon kay #deacon x reader #deacon fanfic #deacon kay x reader #swat officer #love #swat x reader #swat imagines

[fluentmoviequoter]

Opposites

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x shy/quiet!fem!reader (implied Hondo's sister)

Summary: Hondo finds out you're dating someone, but doesn't expect it to be Jim Street, your total opposite.

Warnings: r is referred to as Hondo's sister but I left this pretty vague (could be half-sister or they just grew up really close!), lots of fluff!

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

A/N: I'm still getting a feel for writing Street, so apologies if he's OOC!

Picture from Pinterest

“Ooh, I know that smile!” Hondo says. “Haven’t seen it since high school, though.”

“Leave me alone,” you demand weakly.

“You talk to your new boy toy like that?”

“Yes.”

Hondo shakes his head as he sits beside you. Growing up together taught Hondo all of your tells. While he will be the first to tease you mercilessly, he is fiercely protective, refusing to let anyone else take advantage of your shyness. Your seemingly sudden and unexplained silences have often been taken as weakness; Hondo has been defending your honor for most of your life.

“So, you’ll admit there is a guy?” Hondo continues.

You tilt your head back against the couch, sighing rather than answering.

“Oh, that’s a yes. It’s been a while, has your type changed since high school?”

“You haven’t.”

“You’re not gonna tell me anything, are you?”

“Nope.”

Sighing, Hondo pats your knee before standing. He has to go to work, and you know he will be thinking about you and your “new boy toy” until he gets answers.

“Hondo,” you call softly. “He’s a good guy, okay? And I’ll introduce you as soon as I’m ready.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“And listen to you use it against me? Yeah, sounds like tons of fun, bro.”

“Against you? What kinda guy you think I am?” Hondo replies, raising a hand to his chest. “I’m just try’na help you.”

Humming, you hope he knows you aren’t buying his protective big brother act. You and he both know that it’s not an act and he has overprotective tendencies.

“As long as he’s good,” Hondo continues, “I’m alright with it. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to meet him when you’re feeling up to it.”

You nod, and Hondo waves over his shoulder as he leaves for work. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you text your so-called boy toy to have a good day, but you don’t include a warning that Hondo is in one of his investigative (read: nosy) moods today.

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking into SWAT HQ the following morning, you tap Hondo’s wallet against your palm. If you catch him while he’s alone, you’ll tease him about leaving his stuff at home or try to get ransom money, but you doubt that will happen. Hondo is rarely alone, and he seems to enjoy watching you squirm at the attention of his teammates. They’re nice but make you even quieter than usual, which Hondo didn’t think was possible until you visited the first time.

Hicks says your name, smiling as he approaches you. “Hondo’s over by the ring. Good to see you.”

“You too,” you reply quietly.

You hear him before you see him, and your shoulders tense when you hear the number of voices mixing with his. Stopping beside a pillar, you wait until he notices you, unable to interrupt their bickering. Street sees you first, his brows furrowing as he looks you over, ensuring you’re okay. When he sees the wallet in your hand, he rolls his eyes, elbowing Hondo’s side and pointing to you. Street smiles when you tuck the wallet behind your back.

“What’s up?” Hondo asks when he sees you.

“Are you missing something?” you ask, keeping your eyes on him rather than the other men looking at you.

“I don’t think so,” he answers after a moment. “Should I be?”

You shrug, and Street steps back to hide his smile from Hondo.

“What’d you take?” Hondo demands.

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing. Don’t make me take you into an interrogation room in front of all my lovely friends here.”

You take a short breath at the idea, already shy enough just standing before them.

“Hondo,” Street calls. “Lay off, man.”

“When you get your own shy person, you can decide how much teasing is acceptable, kid.”

Street looks back at you, shrugging as if saying, ‘Hey, I tried.’ You know better than anyone that Hondo can’t be reasoned with.

“So, you’re not missing anything?” you repeat.

“No,” Hondo insists.

You nod, pulling his wallet from behind your back. You take some of his cash and a random gift card from it before tossing it to him.

“Hey,” Hondo warns, holding his hand out for the rest.

“You said you weren’t missing anything, so this isn’t any different,” you argue softly.

“She’s got you there, boss,” Luca comments, leaning against the corner of the boxing ring as he watches the interaction. “But can we get back to work now?”

Hondo looks at you with his brows raised and his jaw set, so you smile and slide the cash into your pocket before waving. After you’re out of sight, you shake your arms, desperate for the comfort of solitude after being on display like that.

Behind you, Street says, “You may call the teasing shots, but she owns you. Can’t blame you for letting her get away with so much, though.”

“What does that even mean, man?” Hondo replies.

“Nothing,” Street answers with a smile. “Now, can we keep sparring so I can take your title, old man?”

Hondo stretches his neck to the side, forgetting about you and focusing on defending his title. His misplaced focus keeps him from dwelling on the soft looks between you and Street.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You good?” Street asks, laying his hands on your shoulders.

You nod, relaxing under his touch.

“I liked your bad cop act at HQ today. Think you should have taken some more ransom money, but you’re cute when you’re trying to be tough.”

Leaning toward him, you wish there was an easy way to hide from him.

“Sorry.”

“What’d you do today?” you ask.

“Can’t tell you that, it’s classified,” he replies quickly.

“Who’d you do it for?”

“Can’t tell you that, either.”

“Do you like me?”

“Can’t tell you- hey, that actually wasn’t bad.” Street smiles as he hooks his arms over your shoulders, pulling you close in a hug that probably looks uncomfortable but wraps you in safety. “I can tell you that and the answer is yes.”

“Why?” you whisper, looping your arms around him.

Street doesn’t answer, raising a hand to brush over your hair and down your back. You sigh, grateful for quiet moments like this. Street can push you just as hard as Hondo, but the moment he takes it too far or thinks he does, he gets sweet and gentle again, whispering apologies and pressing kisses to your hairline that make you even shyer than the original teasing. You are sure he does it on purpose, but you don't care while receiving his affections.

“Hondo figured out that I’m dating someone,” you tell him, pushing a hand under his jacket to rest against his back.

“How?”

“Apparently I have a smile unique to liking someone.”

“Cute.” You huff, and Street adds, “I’ve never had a brother like Hondo, but it seems to me like he really cares about you and just wants to make sure you’re safe and happy. If you want to tell him, I’m prepared to accept the consequences.”

“I don’t want to tell him. He’ll do it again.”

“Do what?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

Street tightens his arms on you until you grunt. If he really thinks touching you more will make you talk, he hasn’t learned anything.

“Well, just know that whatever you decide to do, I’m with you. And if you need someone to protect you from Hondo’s teasing, I’m pretty good at that.”

“Hicks can make him stop faster.”

“Because Hicks is scary.”

“No, he’s not. Hondo just respects him more.”

“You may be quiet, but you have no regard for maintaining my ego, do you?”

You shake your head against him, smiling as he dips his head to whisper, “Luckily, I like you more than me.”

Tucking your face against him, he chuckles underneath you. You don’t know if he can tell, but when he makes you shy, it’s different than when Hondo does it.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I’m heading out,” Street announces, hoisting his backpack over his shoulder.

“Have a nice weekend,” Deacon replies.

“If you have time, our campaign needs us!” Luca calls after him.

“Hard to find time in a busy social schedule like his,” Hondo jokes.

“He’s actually been seeing the same girl for a while,” Luca comments.

“Good for him,” Tan responds.

“I’m right behind him,” Hondo says, closing his locker. “Enjoy your time off.”

As he walks outside, he doesn’t expect to see Street is still there, but what truly surprises him is the sight of Street sitting on his motorcycle, looking up at a woman like she’s the only thing that has ever mattered.

Hondo shakes his head, taking a step toward his car. He stops when he hears a familiar laugh, low and like it’s trying to be hidden. Turning quickly, he calls your name.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What are you doing here?” Street asks, pulling you into a hug when he sees you.

“Missed you,” you confess.

Street pulls back, gripping both sides of your waist as he lowers onto his bike, looking up at you. You drop your eyes to his arms, unable to speak with his attention on you like this. Someone yells your name, and you look up without thinking, immediately stiffening when you see Hondo walking toward you.

“Help,” you whisper.

Street stands, nodding at you before he turns to face Hondo.

“Hondo,” he begins.

“Don’t,” Hondo warns, pointing at him while looking at you. “Jim Street, really?”

“Yes,” you answer. “We’ve been dating for a while.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me? Of all the people you could’ve chosen, you got 20-David’s resident playboy. I know you’re shy, but you can do better.”

 “Hondo, stop,” you demand. “That’s not fair.”

Hondo takes a breath, thinking back to the moment he interrupted. That was a side of Street he has never seen.

“Okay,” he says, turning toward Street. “Try to explain it.”

“She is the best thing that has ever happened to me,” Street answers. “But forcing her to talk before she’s ready isn’t going to help this.”

Hondo hates to admit it, but Street is right. You’ve clearly been happy, and in the few minutes he’s been watching, he’s gentle with you, at the least.

“You’ll still talk to me when you’re ready?” Hondo asks you.

“No. Not unless you apologize. You’re judging Jim for something he used to do with no evidence that he’s still like that. You changed, and you preach that people can, but you refuse to see it.”

Your shoulders drop as you finish, losing your anger after defending Street.

“You’re right,” Hondo replies. “And I’m sorry, Street. I just-“

“I get it, Hondo, she’s your sister. But I’m not going to hurt her.”

“You better not.”

Hondo walks away, and you sag against Street’s side.

“Sorry,” you tell him.

“Eh, I’m used to him,” Street replies.

“As a sergeant, not an overprotective brother.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Not until I have to. He won’t understand any of it.”

“Just tell him opposites attract.”

“Makes it sound like you think I complete you,” you murmur.

“I think we need to get out of here so I can kiss you until you can’t even say my name,” Street whispers in your ear.

You make a sound that you hope conveys your displeasure with his statement. He takes it as an opportunity to keep teasing instead. He really is your opposite, but that’s what makes you like him.

#jim street x fem!reader #jim street x reader #jim street fluff #jim street #swat #swat cbs #fem!reader #shy!reader #requests

[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

#swat imagine #swat #jim street #street x reader #jim street x reader #jim street imagine #jim street one shot #swat x reader #swat one shot

[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”

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.

….

#swat #swat cbs #cbs swat #jim street #jim street fic #jim street imagine #jim street smut #jim street x reader #street x reader #swat imagine #swat fic #swat smut

[autistic-brushstrokes]

Me: when I said I like slow burns I didn’t mean 5 years

CBS SWAT: …

Me: and I sure as hell didn’t mean 20 years

CBS NCIS: ….

#maybe it’s the acronyms #Tiva #stris #ncis #swat #cbs #slow burns #ziva David #Tony dinozzo #Chris Alonso #Jim street #ao3 #fanfics #tropes #relationships

[meep-meep-richie]

'' Keep your head on a swivel.''

#no but guys i started this show for its great plot #and it really have a great plot #you see #great great plot #swat #swat cbs #jim street #donovan rocker #alex russell #lou ferrigno jr #swat series #swat season 1 #swat 1x02 #tv gifs #tv series #dailytvshow #my gifs #gifs #gifedit #gif post #tv: swat

[brinleyparke]

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

Deacon: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated, ...

Street: Smad.

#incorrect quotes #swat 2017 #incorrect swat quotes #swat cbs #swat #incorrect swat #swat incorrect quotes #incorrect s.w.a.t. quotes #s.w.a.t cbs #s.w.a.t. #jim street #dominique luca #david deacon kay #deacon kay

[archive-folder]

#gif #s.w.a.t. #swat #hondo #jim street #shemar moore #alex russell #s.w.a.t. hondo #swat hondo #s.w.a.t. season 2 #swat season 2 #mine #minde: gif

[chenbuckley]

JIM STREET SWAT (2017) ✶ 1.09 - Blindspots

#jim street #swat cbs #jimstreetedit #swatedit #proceduralsedit #crimeshowsource #filmtvcentral #tvedit #mine* #three weeks until s7 i'm <333

[just-a-girl-who-wrytes]

Hero

For you, @spnshortcake !

You pulled your husband’s body close to yours by his belt. He cradled your face in his hands, giving you a deep, loving kiss. 

“Be safe today, baby.” You said to him once he pulled away. 

He responded with a smile, “Everyone goes home, darling.”

You and Deacon were both preparing to leave for work, standing between your vehicles parked in your garage. He opened your car door for you to get in. Once you were buckled, he leaned in and kissed you again. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“I will be right here, waiting on my prince charming.” You winked at him as he shut your door and you parted ways. 

Deacon walked into the station with his duffel bag on his shoulder. He greeted his team mates and made himself a cup of coffee before meeting in the debrief room prior to their shift starting. Once the team was seated around the table, Hicks stepped into the room and began a rundown of what to expect for the day. Right before the meeting wrapped up, Hicks’ cell phone rang. He answered it and quickly told the team to suit up as all their pagers went off simultaneously. 

“There’s a hostage situation at a bank downtown.” Hicks announced. 

A few minutes later, the team was in Black Betty, heading towards their call. 

“Hostage situation, one confirmed fatality, a few other injured is what we know so far.” Hondo said as he began reading the notes that came across his work phone to give his guys a rundown of what they were heading into. 

Hondo made it to the bottom of the notes and saw the address of the bank they were going to. “Deacon?” 

“Oh my god.” Deacon interrupted. He had beat Hondo to the bank’s address in the notes. He immediately pulled out his personal cell phone and tried to call you, only to be greeted by your voicemail. 

Hondo knew you hadn’t answered as he watched his teammates face turn pale and tears well up in his eyes. 

“She is okay, brother. We are going to take care of her, but I need to know you are safe to go in here with us.” He leaned forward, meeting Deacon eye to eye. 

Deacon looked at him and nodded, wiping his eyes. “She knows what to do, she’s trained with us before; we’ve taught her what to do…” He spoke words, yearning for his heart to believe what his mouth was saying. “I’m good, Hondo. It’s my job to protect her.” 

S.W.A.T. arrived on scene to law enforcement still getting a perimeter set up outside of the bank. The team lined up at the front and back entrance of the building, preparing to enter once given the go ahead. 

Deacon was sure his heart rate was 180. He was scared as hell on what he might walk into. He knew you had been faced with losing him multiple times – how many calls had involved him getting shot at and he was unable to communicate with you until hours later? It was a part of the territory that came with being a SWAT wife. Even though he had put himself in your shoes before, or at least tried to, he had never actually been in your shoes and it made him nauseated at the thought of losing you. He made a brief mental note to love on you extra once you were safe in his arms. 

Deacon lined up behind Hondo, preparing to enter the building. 

Once they entered, Deacon took lead. One masked man laid on the floor in front of the teller’s desk, dead. There was no one behind the teller’s desk. A second body was found in the hallway leading to a back area of the bank. Deacon was initially unable to determine if the second person was a suspect or an employee, but soon noticed a firearm laying several feet away from him and decided that the dead man was likely a suspect.

 The rest of the bank was cleared except for the conference room. It was the last hallway and room to be cleared. The team approached the door. Deacon took his stance on the side of the door. 

“LAPD,” Deacon announced, his voice deep and loud. 

“David?!” A weak voice came from the other side of the door. 

As soon as Deacon heard your voice, he immediately opened the door, gun aimed, his teammates behind him. 

20 David entered the room to find you kneeling on the ground with your knee in the groin of one of the bank tellers who had gotten shot. Your knee was holding pressure to gun-shot wound to keep him from bleeding out of his femoral artery, where he had been struck. Your 9mm was pointed right back at the SWAT team. Other bank employees were also cowered in the corner of the room to your left. 

As soon as you saw your husband and his team, you lowered your weapon and began sobbing. 

“The shooters are dead,” you said through sobs and hyperventilating, “We need EMS for him.” You nodded your head towards your coworker whose life was in your… knee.

“Oh my god,” Hondo said as he looked around the room.

“Oh, baby…” Deacon said simultaneously. If you didn’t know better, you’d say your husband was also on the verge of tears as well. 

The team began getting the other bank employees out of the building. Deacon kneeled in front of you and cradled your face. 

“You did that?” he asked, nodding his head towards the door behind him, referencing the two dead gunman in the front of the bank.  

You nodded with tears still streaming down your face. Deacon glanced down at the gun beside you and immediately recognized that it was your personal firearm. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you carried in here?” He kept his voice low to avoid any unwarranted questions. You both knew you would soon face plenty of those. 

“Because, I didn’t want you to ever be in trouble for knowing and not saying anything about it if… something like this were to happen.” You knew that anything you did could fall back on your husband if he was aware of it – another part of the SWAT wife territory. The last thing you wanted to do was to get him into trouble.

“Are you hurt?” 

You shook your head. 

“What happened?”

You sharply inhaled as you told your story for the first of many times that day. 

You were in your office at the bank when you heard loud voices followed by screams followed by instructions to “shut the fuck up!” Your heart sank when your mind processed what was happening but you didn’t have much time because very soon after, you heard a gunshot followed by more screaming. You pulled your firearm out of the holster underneath of your shirt, aimed it, and immediately met a gunman in the hallway. When you saw his weapon being raised towards you, you didn’t hesitate to pull your trigger. 

The man was dead before he hit the ground. 

You quietly made your way to the front of the bank. You peeked around the corner to see a second gunman pacing back and forth with the bank employees on the ground. His back was towards you and you took the shot the second that you had it. He was also dead moments later. 

You paused and looked around for a third gunman. When you didn’t see one after several moments, you stepped out into the front of the bank to find the teller shot. No one else was injured that you noticed. 

You had two male customers drag the injured employee to the conference room after you instructed everyone else to make their way there. It was a central room in the building. You didn’t know what was waiting on the outside of the bank for all of you if you decided to leave so you didn’t want to send anyone out. You knew you could sit inside of the room with your gun to neutralize any further threats that may find you. 

It was fourteen minutes from the time you shut and locked the door, knelt down with your knee in your coworker’s groin, steadied yourself and pointed your firearm at the door. However, it felt like eternity. You couldn’t express the relief that you felt when your husband was the first person you saw to walk through the door. It had felt like an eternity. 

Deacon kissed your forehead moments before paramedics entered the room. 

Security footage confirmed your story. Ever since you and David began dating, he always told you that everyone goes home when you told him to be safe. It was a theory you had adopted as well. That was why you decided to begin carrying your firearm inside of the bank with you every day at work. You knew if it was ever discovered, it would cost you your job, but what was the alternative? Losing your life? Jobs could be replaced. You or your husband could not be. 

And your suspicion of the following repercussions were correct – you were let go from the bank for carrying inside against policy. But, as you walked out of the interrogation room, hand in hand with Deacon, you didn’t care. All that mattered was that you got to be with your husband. 

The rest of the day was long and you didn’t walk out of your investigation until the early hours of the morning. You were walking hand in hand out of SWAT’s headquarters with Deacon. You had been able to shower at the station and Deacon had spare clothes you put on, but you were ready to get home, take a shower with your own things and slip into bed with your prince charming. 

The day had been so exhausting that you didn’t have much energy left for any conversation with Deacon and he recognized that. He didn’t pressure you to talk as you arrived home, showered, and prepared for bed together. He climbed into bed beside you and pulled you into his arms. Even as you drifted off to sleep, you were intoxicated by your husband’s scent – his skin, his beard oil, his body wash, and the spritz of cologne he put on every night before bed simply because he knew that you loved it. You were so grateful for the safety of David’s arms.

The following morning, you woke up still entangled in your husband. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” David said softly once he saw your eyes flutter open. 

“Mmm,” you nuzzled into your husband’s neck. “Good morning, baby.” 

He kissed your forehead. “What would you like to do today?” 

“Is spending the day wrapped up in you an option?” 

“It most definitely is if that’s what you want.” He rubbed your arm with his thumb. “Are you hungry?”

“Is my name Mrs. Kay?” 

Deacon chuckled. “Let’s go get some food, then we’ll come home and snuggle until you get tired of me.”

“Never.”

Deacon took you to your favorite coffee shop for breakfast. He chose a booth for the two of you and sat down on one side before pulling you into the seat next to him. He turned so he could pull you close to him and keep his arm around you. 

He was never one for much PDA so this took you slightly off guard, but you had no complaints. You were so thankful for Deacon after the previous day’s events. He peppered your cheek with kisses while you waiting on your food. 

“You know…” Deacon started talking after your plates were placed in front of you. You turned so that you were facing your husband while sitting next to him. “I know that you face the fear of something happening to me every single day I go to work,” he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. “But I have never truly understood what that fear felt like – until yesterday.” 

You gave Deacon a small smile. He caressed your face with his hand, softly rubbing your cheek with his thumb. 

“Baby, I don’t know how you endure that every day you watch me leave.” 

You reached up and held Deacon’s wrist and leaned into his hand. 

“Lots of prayer…”  you started, “and it comes with the territory.” You winked at him. 

“You know you’re a hero, right?” Deacon asked. 

You scoffed, “Not hardly.”

“Baby, because of you all of your coworkers lived and went home yesterday.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about taking the gun to work with me.” 

Deacon chuckled. It was typical of you to disregard compliments that shined any light on you – it made you uncomfortable. 

“Mrs. Kay, I am going to spend the rest of our lives never letting you forget how much I love you and how much you mean to me.” 

He leaned in and kissed you. He managed to keep the kiss PG, but you felt every ounce of passion that filled the kiss. 

You spent breakfast with your husband feeding each other pancakes and bacon, giggling and stealing quick kisses from each other. 

“Will you go home with me?” Deacon asked flirtatiously as you finished your last sip of chocolate milk. 

“Mmmm,” you smirked at him, “Going home with a good lookin’ man? Sounds like a fun time to me.” 

“God, I love you,” he kissed you again. 

You slid out of the booth, hanging onto your husband as you walked to the cash register together. Deacon paid for your food and drove you home together. When you got home, he opened your car door, helped you out, led you inside, and started your favorite movie before pulling you into his lap on your couch. You spent the day, snuggled up with your Sergeant. 

#david kay #imagine #jay harrington #hondo harrelson #swat #swat cbs #david deacon kay #jim street #dominic luca #christina alonso #deacon x reader #david kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #husband #wife #love #fluff #hero

[fluentmoviequoter]

It's Your Life, But Let Me In

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!reader

Summary: You overhear Chris and Molly giving Street a hard time and ignoring his boundaries. When you encourage him to make his own decisions and remind him that you are with him, he realizes how different you are.

Warnings: spoilers for and dialogue from S.W.A.T. 4x7 "Under Fire", angst to fluff, Chris and Molly, love confession, kissing

Word Count: 3.8k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

“Luca needs to get back from Germany,” you bemoan. “I’m starving.”

“There’s this crazy new thing called cooking for yourself. You should try it sometime,” Hondo replies with a smile.

“I have tried and it’s not the same.”

Hondo rolls his eyes and pats your shoulder as Lieutenant Lynch enters S.W.A.T. HQ.

“What are you doing here so early?” she asks you.

“Nothing better to do.”

“Wow. Thanks for that,” Hondo interjects. “I’m not going to let you visit Street anymore if you’re going to treat me like this.”

“You should blame yourself for sending Luca away. I’m irritable because I’m hungry.”

 ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

Across town, Street is facing a similar problem of being hungry in Luca’s absence. He’s taken a different approach: less complaining and more cooking for himself and Molly.

“Maybe not as tasty as Luca’s special breakfast burritos, but, uh, as long as he’s in Germany, it’s gonna have to do.” He sees the time and adds, “I’m running late. Would you mind plating these? I’ll be right back.”

“Plating?” Molly repeats. “Think maybe we need to stop binging those cooking shows.”

As she moves the food from the pan onto the prepared plates, three plates she notices but doesn’t stop to wonder why, Jim’s phone begins vibrating on the table.

“Babe, your phone!” Molly calls. When she doesn’t receive a reply, she looks at the caller ID: State Prison Lancaster. “I think it’s your mom!” she adds.

After two more vibrations, she answers and says, “Jim Street’s phone.”

“This is a collect call from state prison inmate Karen Street. Will you accept the charges?” an automated voice asks.

“Yes.” When the line connects, Molly begins, “Mrs. Street, my name is Molly. I’m Jim’s girlfriend.”

While Molly answers his phone, Street gathers his things and thinks of you. You’re supposed to stop by the station this morning to visit, and he’s planning to take you some food because he knows you miss Luca’s incredible meals as much as he does. Upon returning from the bedroom, he sees Molly on the phone and asks, “Is that my phone?”

“Yes,” Molly answers, covering the microphone. “Just a sec, Mrs. Street. Here’s Jim.”

Street takes the phone and ends the call before sliding it into his pocket. He returns to the kitchen and shakes his head at his mom’s antics.

“Jim, what are you doing?” Molly asks. “That was your mom.”

“Yeah, I know. Why would you answer that?” Street replies.

“What if it was an emergency? Which it was. She’s really sick. Says they’ve got her at the prison infirmary.”

“She’s fine.”

“She didn’t sound fine.”

“I promise you it’s just another one of her scams to suck me back into her life.”

“If you’d talked to her, we’d know for sure, wouldn’t we?”

“There’s a reason that I never mention my mother to you. I’m done with her. She’s out of my life. I don’t want her anywhere near me, and I definitely don’t want you anywhere near her. Believe me, it’s for your own good.”

Molly stands in her place, unable to see where Street is coming from. She doesn’t understand why he is so comfortable leaving his mother alone, especially when she calls to tell him she’s not doing well.

“You know,” Molly says after a moment, “I’m going to be late. I’ll grab breakfast at work.”

“Molly,” Street calls after her. “Just wait a second, Molly.”

He sighs as the door closes behind her and sets the empty pan to the side. Street has never been great at relationships, but after Molly ignores his reasons and wishes, he’s not sure she is the woman worth fighting for, anyway.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

“Good morning,” Deacon says as he looks over your shoulder.

You turn quickly and smile when you see Street walking toward you. He extends a covered bowl of food, and you gasp excitedly before thanking him. His close-lipped smile immediately clues you into the fact that something is wrong.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

“Yeah, I’m good. Enjoy the food.”

You nod and thank him again before he walks away with his team. After their morning meeting, you hope to spend a few more minutes with Street and get to the bottom of whatever bothers him. Years of friendship have brought you incredibly close to him, and you want him to know that you support him, no matter what he is going through. However, you also know that he is with Molly, so you respect that boundary, too. While you want to hug him, hold him tight, and promise that everything will be okay, that isn’t your place. Until he invites you in, you are happy being an onlooker in Street’s life.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

“You made breakfast,” Chris muses as she shakes her head. “Guess that means Molly stayed over.”

“How’s that going?” Deacon asks. “You planning to settle down sometime soon?”

Street inhales before he shrugs. “I guess we’ll see how it works out.”

“Hey,” Hondo calls as he gestures for Street to hang back and talk to him. Once the rest of the team is out of earshot, Hondo says, “I haven’t heard much about your personal life recently. Your mom’s not still giving you trouble, is she?”

While you look for Street to thank him for the delicious breakfast, you accidentally stumble upon him talking to Hondo about his mom. You stop in a nearby hallway, and prepare to turn around to let Street finish his conversation privately. He tells you a lot about his life, and though you don’t know how big that is for him, you think you probably already know what he’s going to say: he has everything under control, even if he doesn’t, because he has trouble asking for help.

“I got it all handled," Street answers as expected.

“That’s not an answer. Talk to me,” Hondo replies.

“She tried to call me this morning from prison. Molly answered, she didn’t know any better.”

On that note, you do turn and walk away. Molly is not your friend, Street is, so now that the conversation has shifted, you feel wrong about eavesdropping further.

“That doesn’t sound handled. Your mom still locked up?”

“Yeah. Violating parole should’ve been just a year, max, but she’s still there, so it can only mean she’s still screwing up.”

“You don’t talk to her?”

“No. I mean, I did, early on a couple times. But it’s always the same old BS with her… How she’s a victim, how the C.O.s or the other prisoners aren’t treating her right. Nothing’s ever her fault.”

“She’s still blaming you for being there?”

“Probably. She was never exactly the forgiving type.”

“All right, look, kid. I’ve always tried to have your back where your mom’s concerned. Now, we banged heads over it early on, but when it comes down to it, you got to do what’s in your heart.”

Street nods, but lately, what his heart wants goes against what everyone around him thinks is right.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

“C’mon,” Chris says, “I have to do the boring part of the job and I could use some company.”

You nod and follow her into the kitchen and dining area of S.W.A.T. HQ. Technically, you were supposed to leave a while ago, but you’re still worried about Street and want to stay close in case he needs a friend. Yes, his teammates are also his friends, but since you don’t work with him daily, it is easier for him to open up to you. Or, at least, that’s the reason as you see it.

Chris gives you a few directions so you can help her and make the project go twice as fast. You work side-by-side and talk about your plans for the weekend. Even though you aren’t on the team, Street’s teammates always make you feel like part of the family when you stop by.

“So, any big weekend plans to tell Street how you actually feel?” Chris asks.

Luckily, the door opens before you can reply.

“Oh, hey,” Street says when he enters. 

He smiles and asks what you’re still doing here, but you don’t get to answer before Molly walks in.

“Molly, what’s up?” Street asks.

You return your attention to your task, and you and Chris speed up to get out of the room as quickly as possible.

“I know you’re busy, but I called the prison to check on your mom.”

Once you hear that Molly crossed such a clear boundary, you freeze momentarily before growing desperate to escape this conversation.

“You did what?” Street demands.

“She wasn’t lying, Jim. I talked to a doctor, it’s something with her liver. They’re transferring her to a hospital for tests. It’s bad.”

“I told you, I want nothing to do with her. You know our history. Her- her drug abuse, alcohol, violence.”

“Every one of those things is consistent with her being abused,” Molly argues.

“Do not go making her a victim.”

You finish what you’re working on and look at Chris. She picks everything up and points hurriedly at the door. A tiny part of you wants to hear where this is going, but you and Street are too close to throw away your relationship over something he will tell you when he’s ready.

“Well, that was…” you begin as you walk into the hallway.

“It’s going to be a long day,” Chris sighs.

“Not what I was thinking,” you murmur.

You look back over your shoulder at the door and wish you could go in and encourage him to do whatever he wants, whatever he thinks is right. But Molly is in there, and you trust Street will always do the right thing no matter what she says.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

Street watches you leave and wants to follow you, but Molly continues arguing.

“Babe, your mom is a victim. I deal with women like your mother all the time, their lives destroyed by the trauma of being abused and never getting help. Twenty years ago, she needed treatment, and all she’s had is a life of black eyes and incarceration.”

“This is my fault for having her locked up again?” Street questions.

“No. But, Jim, this is the woman who gave birth to you.”

“And dragged me through hell every day since. She betrayed me, she lied to me, she stole from me, she almost cost me my career at S.W.A.T. I can’t believe you’re taking her side on this.”

“I’m not taking sides.”

“Don’t you think maybe you should be? You know what? I can’t do this right now. I’m at work, okay? I just…” Street turns and walks toward the door as he finishes, “Can’t do this.”

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

You leave the station soon after Street returns from his conversation with Molly. You plan to visit again when he gets off and remind him that you’re here for him, but he is at work and has more important things to focus on than his mom, girlfriend, or you. There’s a brief moment where you consider calling Luca and asking him to talk to Street. You decide against it because Jim probably doesn’t need anyone else in his business right now.

When you arrive at the station, Deacon sees you in the parking lot and insists you go inside. He noticed Street’s off attitude, too, and thinks you're the cure.

“Are you sure?” you ask quietly.

“He needs a friend. That’s you.”

You nod and walk into HQ. Street isn’t around, so you sit beside the locker room and are soon unintentionally eavesdropping for the third time today.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

At the end of the shift, after a long day of saving firefighters and finding a shooter, Chris and Street are in the locker room and preparing to leave. Street wants to go home, maybe call you, and then enjoy some alone time without anyone asking him what he is going to do, or worse, tell him what he should do.

“You figured out how you’re gonna make it right to Molly yet?” Chris asks.

“How I’m gonna make it right? I’m not the one who needs to apologize," Street replies.

“We got out of there as fast as we could, but I heard enough to know, you… You’ve got some fences to mend.”

“You also heard how she totally went behind my back with my mom.”

“Her motive being, what? Compassion? Giving a crap about women who’ve had a messed-up life?”

You pull your phone from your pocket and press Street’s number. He doesn’t answer, and you frown before standing. You don’t want to hear more than you have to, so you walk to the parking lot and wait beside Street’s bike. He exits the building alone and is clearly in no mood to talk, but you must ensure he knows that Molly and Chris are wrong. They have no say in his personal life and are never willing to be there for him.

“Hi,” you greet. “I know you’ve had a crazy day and you’re ready to get home, but I need to say something first.”

“Let me guess,” he begins defensively. “You’re going to tell me that I should go see my mom or apologize to Molly. Why not make it better and say both?”

You fight down a smile at his response. At least he hasn’t lost his personality in the day he’s had.

“Actually,” you reply, “I was going to tell you that Chris and Molly overstepped. None of these decisions are theirs, and, in the end, it’s your choice. Because your life is the one being most affected. I just thought you could use a reminder that no one gets to make these calls for you. It’s your life, Street. I, for one, am with you no matter what you decide to do.”

“What if I make the wrong decision?” he whispers. Every trace of defensiveness is gone in his clear doubt about the choices he faces.

“Then you’ll find a way to learn from it. I don’t think there is a wrong decision here; unless, of course, it’s not yours.”

“I really don’t want to talk to my mom.”

“Then don’t. You know you and you know her, so you know what is best for you and your relationship with her. If that’s no relationship, that’s your choice.”

“I don’t know.”

“But you will,” you promise. “You’ll make the best decision for the right reasons. You choose for you, not for anyone else, okay?”

Street nods slowly, and you wish him goodnight before you turn toward your car. Suddenly, you remember he is facing one more decision and spin to face him.

“One more thing, Street. You didn’t do anything wrong, you just stood up for yourself, so don’t apologize unless you think you need to. Don’t let anyone that’s not in your relationship into your relationship.”

“Thank you,” he calls after you.

You don’t see Street’s smile return as you enter your car, but your statements help him more than you thought they would.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

When Street texts Molly and asks her to come over, he fully expects her to say no, so when she knocks on the door a few minutes later, he’s surprised.

“Thanks for coming,” he says as he invites her in. “I wasn’t sure you would after today.”

“I’m here, so…” Molly begins. She trails off and waits for Jim to do something.

There’s an apology somewhere inside Street, where he says he was a jerk and makes excuses for his actions. However, your words are fresh in his mind, and he decides not to apologize. As he looks at Molly and compares what she said and did today to your words and actions, Street realizes something.

Whenever he thinks of taking the next step with Molly or one of the guys asks where he sees the relationship going, he can’t get past this point. Hondo joked that it was his inner playboy, but Street sees now that the issue was never him or a fear of commitment. It was Molly the whole time. 

Since the beginning, Street knew that Molly wasn’t the right one, but he’s finally ready to admit it. Molly was never really there for him, never listened to him – still doesn’t, Street thinks – and she has never been respectful or careful of his boundaries. 

“You may be expecting an apology,” Street says, “but I don’t think I need to give you one. I asked you to leave it alone, and you didn’t. I know you mean well, Molly, but I can’t keep doing this if you’re just going to go behind my back and ignore everything I say.”

“She’s your mother!” Molly argues. “You still have time to fix things with her.”

“That’s just it, though. I’m- I’m not sure I want to. Listen, Molly, I know that you lost your mother, and how devastating that was for you, but it’s not the same situation for me.”

Street’s mind drifts to you. He remembers what you said earlier and realizes it has always been you. You are the only person in his life who has always been with him, listened to him, supported him, and respected his feelings. You respect him and his boundaries no matter what. Unlike Chris and Molly, you’ve never tried to decide for him or make him see your reasoning, but you’ve been there to talk or listen when he needs it.

“Molly, look. I love you; I do. But not in the way that you deserve to be loved, or that I need to love whoever I spend my life with,” Street explains. “You will always be special to me, but I have to make my own choices.”

Molly wipes a tear as she asks, “Like what?”

“When to go get the girl,” Street answers quietly.

Molly nods and rushes out of Street’s house. He sighs before he follows her.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

A loud knock pulls your attention from the book in your lap, and you set it to the side before you slowly walk to the door.

“It’s me,” Street says from the other side.

You release a breath and open the door. It’s late, and you’re confused about why Street is knocking on your door when he’s supposed to be with Molly, but you let him in anyway. When he stops beside your table and stares at the book you left on it, completely silent, you grow less confused and more concerned.

“Street,” you say. You lay your hand on his arm and ask, “You’ve been different today. What’s bothering you?”

“You,” he whispers. 

After you pull your hand away, shocked and heartbroken at his answer, he rushes to explain himself.

“No, listen,” he begs. “What you said earlier changed everything. You told me that it was my decision and that I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to, all that. But, when I was talking to Molly about how she doesn’t respect my decisions or my boundaries and tries to force her opinions about what I should do without knowing my reasons, I remembered you.”

You furrow your brows, and Street raises his hands to hold your shoulders.

“I appreciate you, so much. Not just for telling me what I deserve but for being that and so much more. You are the only person in my life that just lets me do what I need to do, and you’re by my side through all of it. Everything that you said I needed, I have in you. Thank you.”

“Of course. It’s your life, Street,” you reply. “But that doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.”

“You-“ Street begins again before trailing off. He doesn’t know how to express his feelings because he’s slowly realizing what he feels for you.

“Spit it out, Street,” you say with a smile. “I’m here to listen.”

Street shakes his head but lowers his voice to do as you say. “I loved Molly, but- but Molly didn’t just love me back. She tried to tell me how to love. And Chris- I don’t even know what Chris’s problem is; some days she wants to love and others she just wants to be loved, but never at the same time. It’s exhausting to deal with, but then she argues about what love looks like even though she can’t possibly know.”

You nod along, not sure what Street needs or wants to hear. Staying silent seems like the best option while he works through these thoughts. He’s saying the word love a lot, but never in the present tense or as an active feeling, you notice.

“But you… with you everything is shared. You love without expecting love in return, and you listen and remember. There has never been a moment with you where I felt pressured or ignored, and I love that about you.”

You smile and open your mouth to tell Street you’ll always be here for him, but he cuts you off.

“I love that about you,” he repeats. “I love you because you are everything I don’t deserve, but you make me feel deserved.”

After your eyes widen, you make a noise that sounds like a sob and a laugh. Street waits for you to say something, but you can’t beat the speech he just gave, so you raise your hands to his cheeks and nod. His eyes widen to match yours when a tear slides over the bump of your cheek as your smile returns.

“You said it’s my life, but I don’t have to do it alone, right?” Street murmurs as you step closer to him.

“Right.”

“Then, I think that I’d like to make you a bigger part of my life.”

You don’t hesitate to kiss him, and as he meets you in the middle, you think about how long you have wanted to be part of his life. Being near him was beautiful, but being by his side through everything will be an entirely new and perfect experience. You love Jim Street, and now that he loves you, too, you feel like a part of his life, not an accessory to it.

“I love you,” you say against his lips.

Street’s arms tighten around your waist, and he tilts his chin to kiss your forehead before standing.

“Did you break up with Molly before you came over here?” you whisper.

Street nods, and you bite your bottom lip before saying, “So, you’re giving me her position?”

“No,” Street promises with a laugh. “I’m giving you the position I should have given you a long time ago.”

You kiss Street quickly and laugh when he tries to follow you for more. “I promise to fill my position well, and to always listen to you, respect your boundaries…”

Street ducks his head, and his nose brushes against yours as he replies, “Maybe we could remove a few of our boundaries.”

He kisses you again, and you find that you like your new position in Jim Street’s life more than you ever anticipated.

#jim street x reader #hanna writes✯ #jim street x fem!reader #jim street fluff #jim street #swat cbs #street x reader #jim street imagine #jim street fic #requests #fem!reader

[stefanmikaleson1864]

Close Call

A/N: If you like my work please comment like and reblog ! It means a lot to see interactions on my work 

Chris and Y/N are going through a rough patch but then a recent close call buts things into perspectives 

Chris Alonso X Reader 

You and Chris had been dating for over a year.  The two of you meant through mutual friends and hit it off right away.

 Chris was so sweet and kind and always made you feel good. Though the only thing is you have yet to meet her team. 

Her swat family was her family and it bothered you that you never meant them yet. It sometimes made you question why. I

 mean it’s not like the relationship was new. It was the opposite you guys were getting more and more serious about each other. 

You really thought she was the one. The one you knew you were going to spend the rest of your life with. 

But there was always a part of you that wondered if she felt the same way. 

You knew that Chris had been through a lot. With her mom and other things . So you always tried to be understanding on why she might be so hesitant about everything.

 If she really was the one for you then you could work with her. Is what you told yourself 

But honestly you were starting to pull away from the relationship. You tried so hard but you were tired of being the only who felt like they were putting the work in.

Chris had always made some excuse or something with work. It felt like you were living with a ghost. 

This morning Chris had already left for work or didn’t even come home. Sometimes it was hard to tell. 

You worked in the entertainment business .Working as a director and writer and even a producer. 

Wearing multiple job roles means that you would be gone from home a lot. Which also means you didn’t see Chris some days. Which worked for the two of you. 

Today you had a busy day ahead of you. You were finishing the script to a big show you were going to pitch. 

You also were executing a big tv network show so you had to add the final editing on the show. 

So you got up for the day. Making some breakfast and then getting your self together. 

You checked your phone and saw nothing from Chris. So you texted her good morning and hoped she was staying safe. 

The little bubbles went off like she was going to say something but didn’t. You tried not take it personally. But lately it was just getting hard not to

You had a big office that you worked out of. It was in a nice building in the heart of LA. It had a stunning view and was something that you were really proud of.  You made your way in and got started for the day. 

You had a lot to do that and didn’t waste anytime. When you got working you got stuck in your own little bubble and the world seemed to disappear for a while. 

Hours has passed and you didn’t even realize it. You heard yelling and panic and  that is what broke you out of your trance. You popped your head went outside to see what was going on. 

Everyone was just kind of running around like a chicken with their head cut off. You saw one of your friends from the building Kayla. So you walked over over to her to see if she knew what was going on. 

“Hey what happened what’s going on” You asked 

She looked at you with a confused and panicked looked on her face. 

“You didn’t hear it went to everyone’s phone ” She said 

“Hear what I have no clue what is going on” You said 

“Someone called in a bomb threat and the  LAPD seems to think it’s real. They locked us all in there” Kayla said 

“How could they do that we need to be able to leave get out” You said the anxiety was growing and the panic setting in. 

“The call came in from the office and they threatened other buildings in the area so no one in and no one out. “Kayla said

“How can they just leave us in here like this” You asked 

“There worried that if is real the then the person behind it could get away with it.” Kayla said. 

“Wait let me see if Chris can tell us anything” You said 

You pulled out your phone and called her. Of course there was no answer. 

So you texted her 

“Hey do you know anything going on” You sent her. 

There was no reply or anything of course you figured. 

Someone started yelling from downstairs so the two of you looked over the railing and saw Dan. 

He worked as an editor in the building. He was always a weird guy and didn’t really talk to anyone. 

He was running around around and was going off about something it was hard to make. 

“Everyone is going to know my name and the true meaning” Is what he was yelling. 

“Maybe we should” Kayla said 

You knew she was right that you needed to get the hell out of there but there was a also a part of you that couldn’t leave.

 You were like glued just watching what was going on down there. 

Dan just kept going on and on that the world was watching and people were going to pay. You had no clue what he could possibly be talking about. 

“Hey Let’s go right now” Kayla yelled pulling you. 

The two of you made your way into your office. You shut the door behind you and sat on the couch in your office. 

You weren’t really sure what to do in this scenario. If it was a bomb where do you even go to hide ? 

Your anxiety was just going through the roof. You always either wrote about these scenarios or saw about the on tv. Never did you think you were going to actually live it. 

Chris’s POV 

We all had to head in early this morning. We were tracking down a radical group who was involved with multiple bomb threats around town.

 Were all in on this case and it was taking a lot. 

I left early this morning. Y/n was still sleeping when I left and I didn’t have the heart to wake them up. 

Or maybe I was just avoiding them. We had been going through a lot lately. 

I know it was more on me and them. They tried so hard but I always kept pulling back. 

Things were getting serious between us and that scared me. I was afraid I would loose them or something would happen . 

I was also afraid of driving a wedge between us. Why did I always have to complicate things. 

Y/N texted me good morning and I was just starting at my phone deciding on what to say. See what I mean about complicating things 

“Hey you good” Street asked me 

“Yeah I’m good what’s up” I asked walking into the room where the team was. 

“Were rolling out we a bomb threat called into to a building downtown LA address is 212 west hollywood drive” Hondo said.

My heart broke into a million pieces. I knew that is where Y/N was and my anxiety was at an all time high. 

“Let’s roll and stay fluid” Hondo yelled. 

We all pilled into black betty. I kept picking at my fingers and trying not to freak out. 

“You good you seem really nervous” Jim asked. 

“Yeah of course I’m all good” I said lying. 

Days like today I wish i wasn’t so secretive about everything. Because I knew my team would be here for me if i only let them. 

We reached the destination in no time and we all pilled out. Our target dan was inside going crazy we could hear it. 

“All right me and Deac will go in front , Jim and Chris go to the side ways and Tan and Luca go up top.” Hondo said. 

We all nodded and go into position. Dan was waving around a gun and there were people every where. They were all scared. 

He had a backpack on and no one what was inside. 

“Come on man doesn’t have to be like this” Hondo yelled trying to calm him down. 

I scanned around the room hoping to see Y/N but no luck. I was partly relieved and also very nervous. 

Hondo kept trying to talk him down but he kept getting more erratic. So Hodo had no choice to take him out. 

Deac walked over and cleared the backpack and it was a decoy thank goddess. Me and Street them moved to clear out the upstairs. 

We went in a couple of rooms and no Y/N 

“Damn it” I yelled 

“You good” Jim asked 

“I’m sorry didn’t mean that” I said 

Finally on our way to check the last room I saw Y/N and a girl crowded into each other. I ran over to them. 

I opened up the door and walked over to Y/N 

“Hey It’s Okay It's just me ” I said 

Thank god I found the safe 

Y/N’S POV 

Your hands were shaking and you kept looking down at your phone and nothing. Kayla grabbed your hands and gave you a squeeze. 

“Hey look at me it’s going to be okay” Kayla said 

“I know I know” You said 

You both jumped when you heard a loud band followed by some pops. You both kind of leaned into each other. 

You heard some footsteps and your heart felt like it was going to explode. You never felt pure fear like this before. You didn’t even notice the tears were falling down your face. 

The door opened up slowly. And not trying to be dramatic but your life flashed before your eyes. Thinking about anyone and everyone you ever loved. 

You squeezed your eyes shut and then a small hand was placed on your back. 

“Y/N Y/N hey it’s just me” You heard a familiar voice say. 

You slowly opened your eyes and turned around and saw Chris standing there. You felt like a giant weight was taken off your shoulder. You got up and ran over to her.  

You embraced her in a big hug and you could feel her wrap her arms around you squeezing you tight. 

“Hey It’s okay It’s just me” Chris said 

“Thank god what happened” You asked 

“Dan Williams he was tied to a pretty radical group he’s gone now though we got him” Chris said 

She placed her hands on your face and leaned in and kissed you softly. 

“Whoa whoa who’s this” You heard a  man’s voice ask 

“This is um Y/N my partner we been dating a year now” Chris said 

“Jim street finally nice to meet the person who has been making Chris so happy” Jim said. 

“I know but you know how private Chris can be” You said 

“Oh trust me I know but now we know we can finally complain about Chris together” Jim said 

“Trust me I have so many stories you need to hear” You said 

“Nice try you two let’s go” Chris said 

You all walked out and Chris held your hand squeezing it the whole time . When you walked out there was a group of people with SWAT on their uniforms.

 Who looked up at you with a confused look. 

Chris looked over at you and smiled. 

“Come on I have some people I want you to meet” Chris said 

You smiled at her and nodded. 

“Hey everyone this is Y/N my partner we been dating a year now” Chris said smiling 

“It’s about damn time we meet them” A tall muscular man yelled. 

“Nice to meet you all finally thank you for helping us in their and you know saving our lives” You said 

“Of course it’s our jobs happy to be of service” A older man with gray in his hair said. 

“Hey come over here for a minute” You whispered to Chris 

“Excuse us for a second” Chris said 

You two walked out the way and got to a private space. 

“Hey what happened to you this morning” You asked

“Sorry we had an early call time” Chris said 

“Is everything okay and I don’t mean with just this morning” You asked 

“I know I’m sorry I just been going through some things at work” Chris said, then she grabbed your hands. 

“I promise I’m going to do better. I really want this to work. I love you I mean it was a hell of a wake up call when I heard the bomber was at your work. I panicked so hard and I felt scared and worried” Chris said 

“Look I know things have kind of unstable between us but i want to change that what ever it takes” Chris said 

“I love you to when I was in that room I thought of you not being able to see you again and it killed me I just want us to go back like when we first meant” You said. 

Chris leaned in and kissed you. And you kissed her back and it was slow and sweet. 

When the kiss broke Chris looked at you and smiled 

“Come on there are some people who you need to be properly introduced to” Chris said 

She grabbed your hand and walked you over to the team. 

“Hey so this is Hondo , Deacon, Tan and Luca and you already meant Street” Chris said 

“Nice finally properly meeting you all” You said 

“You to wish it was under different circumstances though” Luca said. 

“Maybe we all can go out and grab a drink tonight I have so many stories to tell” You said 

“Were in sounds amazing” Hondo said. 

Suddenly over the walkie they got a call they had to clear out. Chris grabbed you and gave you a kiss and then ran off. 

When you woke up this morning you were not expecting this turn of events. But you were glad it ended the way it did. 

Things were going to change overnight but you were glad it was headed in that direction. She was the one you were meant to be with.

#chris alonso #Jim Street #daniel hondo harrelson #Hondo Harrelson #david deacon kay #dominic luca #victor tan #swat #swat x reader #swat imagine #swat one shot #chris alonso x reader #chris alonso imagine #Chris alonso one shot #christina alonso

[tommy-kinard-buckley]

This is some more from my bucktommy hostage au as inspired by a post from @edelfan

“Damn, Tommy. Where did you get that scar from?” Tan was pointing to the leaf-like scar on the right side of Tommy's abdomen. He slightly lifted his pec so he could make sure that it was the shrapnel scar that Tan was pointing to and not the fresher one. “I got that scar when I was a firefighter. Factory explosion, I caught a piece of shrapnel.” Tommy let Tan look at it for a few more minutes before pulling his T-shirt on and getting his uniform out of his bag. “Did you get those tattoos during that time as well?” Tommy didn't stall getting ready to answer the question this time. “Some of them, others I got while I was in the Army.” Tommy smirked when Street whipped his head around in surprise. “You were in the Army?” Tommy nodded his head while buttoning his shirt and getting out of his jeans. “Yep, it was during my time as a firefighter.” Tommy pretended not to notice the impressed look that Street gave him. “That's cool.” Tommy finished getting dressed just as the Commander was walking by the locker room looking for Tan and Street. “Both of you finish getting ready and then meet the rest of us in the briefing area.” Tommy felt that something was off during that time but didn't think too far into it. 50 squad was basically backup for 20 squad during the prison riot, which again Tommy didn't mind. It was all okay until he saw Bobby and Hen and Chimney in the infirmary win room but not Evan or Eddie. Hundo and Tommy both got the door opened and ushered the 3 members of the 118 out of the room, Tommy hoping to see Evan behind the rest. “Where's Buck and Eddie?” Tommy looked right at Bobby, hoping that the captain knew where his fiance was. “We don't know. We sent them with who we thought was an injured inmate but turned out to probably be an injured guard.” Tommy knew that Bobby was trying to let Tommy's mind piece the puzzle together but his mind was so filled with fear that the pieces weren't fitting together. “What are you trying to say?” Tommy subconsciously knew exactly what Bobby was trying to say but didn't want to accept it. “It turns out that the 2 guards we sent them with weren't guards at all but actually 2 prisoners that now are holding Buck and Eddie hostage.” Tommy knew that he could be a dangerous person when protective but would've never expected the wave of pure psychotic urges to course through his body. He walked away from the 3 teams and told Stevens that he was in charge until Tommy got back. He expected to be looking for Eddie and Evan alone and was shocked when the 3 members of the 118 and Athena waiting for him.

No pressure tags

@cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @carlos-tk @thisbuildinghasfeelings @lemonlyman-dotcom @firstprince-history-huh @rmd-writes @storms-s @edelfan @paperstorm @carlos-in-glasses @goodways @reyesstrand @reeeallygood @strandnreyes

#tommy kinard #victor tan #jim street #swat cbs #911 on abc #wip wednesday

[violetflowerswrites]

Too Complicated

Summary: On a drunken whim, Jim Street and his roommate share a kiss. They try to forget it the next morning, but things only end up getting more complicated when a second kiss leads to much more. (Sex. They have lots of it.)

Pairing: Jim Street x (Female) Reader

Disclaimer: teasing and flirting and plenty of good ol sexual tension. Some mention of the foster system, homelessness, drug addiction, custody of children, and jail (reader is a social worker). Soft and caring Street. Reader can’t take a compliment. Alcohol consumption (both are 21+). Kissing and touching. The smut in this is absolutely filthy. Oral sex (female and male receiving). Consensual P in V sex. Definitely 18+ for explicit smut and language.

Word Count: 4.0k

A/N: I had a LOT of fun writing this fic with Jim Street. SWAT might be one of my fave shows right now and something about Street and his cute little dimples just makes my heart go–! I also got a little intense with the case that the reader talks about. It’s inspired by some real students I’ve encountered in my (very short) time as a teacher. ALSO I am sorry not sorry about how dirty the smut got in this so PLEASE use your good judgment before reading this. I was heavily inspired by a GREAT video on Bellesa by the same title. So here’s my tribute to Street and all his beautiful baby boy energy!

The bright LA morning sun is shining lazily through the kitchen window while you mindlessly shove another bite of cereal into your mouth. You scroll through instagram, liking pictures of your friends and their dogs when you hear clomping footsteps come out into the room.

Your back tenses up immediately and you force yourself to look as if this was just another typical morning living with Officer Jim Street, LAPD SWAT.

Street, on the other hand, acts like nothing is amiss and he goes straight to the cabinet, grabs a glass, and starts mixing his usual disgusting protein shake.  

The silence drags on for a few minutes more, but it feels like an eternity. You finally twist around in your chair, and god, why did he have to be shirtless today of all days? You try not to get distracted by Street’s biceps and washboard set of abs as he leans against the kitchen island, sipping his drink and scrolling on his phone.

He doesn’t even bother to look up until you break the quiet with: “So, we’re not gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Street asks, his drink half raised to his mouth.

“Last night. We got drunk–and we kissed.”

…

That Friday night started out like any other.

You were sitting on the couch watching some overdramatic crime show when you heard the unmistakable sound of the front door being unlocked and a pair of thick-soled boots thumping onto the hardwood floor.

“You know those shows are all super inaccurate, right?” Street comments from the doorway.

“Hi to you too. There’s brownies on the counter.” You continue watching, but you roll your eyes at him even though he can’t see it.

Street rubs his hands in anticipation of a treat. You’re an excellent baker, and one of the best perks of having you as a roommate is that you’ll sometimes leave a plate of goodies out, with a sticky note and bold sharpie letters explaining what it is. It was the best pick me up after a long day at SWAT, and he always had trouble limiting himself to just one dessert. After all, he has to stay fit for work, or so he tells himself.

But tonight, the counter had brownies. And another plate of chocolate chip cookies. And another with lemon bars. And a pile of freshly washed mixing bowls stacked high on the drying rack that told him all he needed to know about your day.

You were stress baking.

This had happened a few times before and it usually meant you had a particularly difficult case at work, and you put all your frustration into the sugar, butter, and flour.

In a weird way, Street benefited from your stress, but he also proved to be a good listener, and the two of you became pretty good friends after those deep conversations.

So this time, Street stuffed a brownie into his mouth as he went to the fridge, grabbed a can of beer for himself and your bottle of wine, and settled onto the couch next to you. He paused Netflix and poured you a glass, forcing you to look at him.

“You stress baked again.”

“Hmph.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining ‘cause I get to eat it all, but you wanna talk about it?”

You stare at the glass of wine that Street handed you and decided that you didn’t really want to get into it. Not while you were this sober at least.

“I’m trying out recipes for a bridal shower next month. Try each one and tell me which one I should make.” You change the topic, avoiding eye contact.

Street knows you don’t really like opening up and he gets it–neither does he. So he decides to play along and grabs one of each treat.

“I’ve already had the brownie so let me try the cookies and the lemon bars. Do you want any?”

“Can I have another lemon bar?”

“How many have you had today?”

“Shut up.”

Street laughs and brings you one, while you nibble on it quietly. He says the lemon bar is the winner and you agree.

The silence stretches on for a bit longer while the two of you drink and eat. To his credit, Street is pretty patient when he wants to be.

At last, the light tingling in your head from the wine finally loosens your tongue to say what’s really on your mind.

“I’m tearing apart a family.” You can’t bring yourself to look at Street so you stare out the window at the glittering lights of the city instead.

“What’s the case?” Street asks quietly. You’re a social worker and Street has trusted you enough to tell you his story before. And of course, cops and social workers sometimes go hand in hand, and it’s never a kid who’s in a great situation. So you know Street gets it. It’s just hard what the two of you have to deal with at work sometimes.

Too hard.

“Mom and the kids used to be homeless, up in the Tenderloin in SF. They moved down here to LA to stay with a relative until they got back on their feet. Kids make it to school most of the time, and they are doing well. But Mom’s on and off drugs. I’ve met her and she’s so loving and so committed, but it’s hard for her to stay clean. We’ve been working with her and a program and it’s been going well, but Dad just got out of jail. The oldest had a panic attack at school because Dad came back to visit. And now, Mom’s back on her habit again and the court is saying she might lose custody if she can’t stay sober for 6 months. If she loses custody, I need to place the kids in a foster home.”

“Okay. You’ve handled, what, hundreds of cases like this by now, right, Y/N? What’s getting you about this one?”

You finally look at Street’s steady gaze and say what’s really on your mind.

“I feel like it’s gonna be my fault if the family breaks apart. She’s about to lose her kids, and there’s four of them. They’re all in a great elementary school right now and they love their teachers. I’ve personally visited them at school and they feel so safe and happy and supported there. They’re making good grades and their teachers are so patient with them and if Mom loses custody, I won’t be able to keep them in the same home, let alone the same school.”

You tip back the last of your wine and quickly pour another glass, trying to drown your frustration in the alcohol.

Street watches you quietly, before gently grabbing your wrist, and making you put down the bottle. Your skin is hot, but you tell yourself it’s because of the wine, and not his touch.

“Hey. It’s not your fault if the family breaks apart. You can’t control addiction and their situation.”

“Hah!” You laugh bitterly. “I know it’s out of my control. I’m freakin’ trained to not let my personal feelings get involved in my cases, but this one…I don’t know. It feels personal.”

“You feel responsible. And that’s because you care about them, Y/N. That’s not a bad thing.” Street encourages you earnestly.

You feel a hot flush creep up your neck and you quickly lean back into the couch, and immediately spill the wine onto your shirt.

“Shit!” You look down and there’s a purple stain blooming right on top of your chest. You hop up to go change while Street hides a chuckle by taking another sip of his beer.

“I saw that!” You yell over your shoulder.

“What?” Street replies, innocently.

You throw your stained shirt into the hamper and notice one of Street’s black SWAT t-shirts folded neatly on top of the dryer. You decide to throw it on and it’s much softer and looser and comfier than you expected.

You walk out with it on as if nothing happened and you plop right back onto the couch.

“Are you wearing my shirt?” Street comments with surprise lacing his tone.

“It was clean. Can I keep it?” You ask jokingly.

“Uhh…y-yeah. I have more.” Street stutters out an answer.

When you came out in his shirt, it was the first time he felt his stomach flutter around you. There was something about the way you looked so…domestic? Comfortable? Relaxed? in his t-shirt, with a tiny pair of booty shorts and your hair up in a messy bun that just seemed so right.

Street clears his throat, trying to shove those unexpected feelings down.

“Anyway. Like I was saying. You’re frustrated because you care about them. You’re a great social worker, Y/N. I know you’re gonna do right by those kids. As best as you can.” Street compliments.

You hate compliments so you take another sip of your wine and mumble into your glass, your cheeks turning bright red.

“Shut up.”

That only encourages Street to double down with even more honest praise.

“I mean it, Y/N. You’re good at what you do because you actually care about the kids. I mean, if you were in charge of my case, I bet I wouldn’t have ended up in half the foster homes I did growing up.” Street continues.

“Shut up, Street.” You look up to glare at him and you lightly shove him in the arm. You really really hate compliments. Especially when it comes from such a genuine place of heartfelt encouragement. Gross.

“Hey, I’m just telling the truth.” Street puts his hands up in surrender, trying to calm you down. “If I can see how hard you work and how much you care, I’m sure the kids can too. They know you’re on their side. No matter what happens, they know you fight for them. Every day.”

“Jim, shut up!” You burst out, and you find yourself half in Street’s lap, your right fist balled up in the collar of his t-shirt. He’s leaning back on the couch, his hands still up and his eyebrows raised in shock.

“S-sorry, did I take it too far?” Street starts to apologize, but you cut him off.

“Shut up…” you whisper, eyes locking with his. “And kiss me.”

Street immediately brings his hand down to your face and gently tilts your head for a tender kiss.

You enjoy his gentle touch for about two seconds before you break it off and you’re so embarrassed you can’t look him in the eye.

What the hell was that?

“I-I’m sorry, shit, I don’t know what came over me, I must be drunk.” You stumble off, grabbing your wine glass and dumping the rest of the drink down the kitchen sink. Street quickly scrambles up to follow you into the kitchen.

“Hey, look, Y/N –” Street starts but you interrupt him by whipping around with the detachable faucet head in your hand.

He takes a step back, unsure of what in the world you’re doing.

“Spray me.” You state as if this were a perfectly normal situation.

“W-what?” Street stutters out.

“I said, spray me! I need to sober up.” You grin at him, trying to hide your embarrassment at what just happened with your freakin’ roommate of all people.

Street finally catches on and grins back at you. He grabs the faucet head and aims it at you and you take a step back, immediately regretting your strange request.

“Don’t make a mess.” You hesitate.

“You asked for this,” Street laughs, and sprays you right in your face.

You half sputter out water, and half laugh, shaking your head like a wet dog.

“Okay, okay! I’m sober! Goodnight, Street!”

You run off to the shower and go to bed, leaving a bewildered Jim Street staring at the wet footprints you left behind all over the apartment.

…

“Oh. That kiss.” Street looks up at you and shrugs. “I completely forgot about that.”

“You…forgot.” You state flatly, not believing him for a second.

“Yep.”

“Street, we’re roommates and that kiss complicates things.”

“Why would it complicate things? You said it, you were drunk. Let’s just forget it.”

You stand up as Street starts walking out of the kitchen, following him.

“Jim. Stop it.”

He pauses at the entrance to the living room. Where everything went wrong last night. He turns slowly in his sock-clad feet to look at your flushed face and irritated stance with your arms crossed over your chest. You only use his first name when you’re being serious.

“Okay, fine. So what, you wanna discuss why, as roommates, we shouldn’t be kissing?” Street states with a hint of sarcasm.

“This is embarrassing enough.” You huff out a scoff. You can’t believe him! “Do I really have to spell it out for you? I asked you to kiss me. That means, whether I like it or not, there’s something there.”

“Y/N. You were drunk. I wasn’t.” Street’s voice has dropped to a low volume, and he steps even closer to you. “So when you asked me, I chose to kiss you.”

“And I kissed you back. And I liked it.” You admit in a hushed tone.

“I liked it too.” Street unexpectedly replies.

“I thought you said you didn’t remember.” You shoot back at him.

“Of course, I remember.” Street says indignantly. He rubs his hand over his face in exasperation and sighs.

“So… what now? Does this mean one of us should move out? I mean, we can’t go back to how things were before. Maybe I could crash at my sister’s for a bit until we figure things out–”

“Y/N, Y/N, stop. You’re making things too complicated.”

“Well, what am I supposed to–”

Street cuts you off by pressing his lips against yours. His hand reaches up to caress your face, just like last night, and you grab his wrist, not to pull him away, but to hold yourself steady. As if you couldn’t believe this was really happening. Again.

With a small gasp, you break it off.

“We should stop.” You breathe out.

“I don’t want to.” Street murmurs quietly.

“Me neither.”

With that, you find yourself slammed into the wall, your hands wrapped around the back of your roommates’ neck, kissing as if your life depends on it. Street’s unshaved stubble scratches at your soft skin, a sensation you never knew you would enjoy. His lips dance against yours deliciously, as you tease and bite him, trying to savor how he feels against you.

This is bad. You’re getting really turned on. But you feel a hard log bump against your leg, and you know you’re not the only one getting aroused.

Before you lose your nerve, you sneak a hand in between your bodies and feel Street through the flannel of his pjs, and his thick length starts to harden in your hand.

“Mmph! Y/N…” Street groans against your mouth and you know you’re doing something right.

But he returns the favor by feeling up your chest, pulling off your hoodie and exposing your bare breasts from under your bralette. He immediately palms your sensitive nipples in one hand, while the other tucks into your shorts, seeking out your wet core.

Your breath starts coming in pants, combined with quiet mewls of arousal as Street rubs your pussy through your panties. You press your back against him, one of your hands gripping his wrist that is still locked onto your breast, while the other continues to rub his member.

“Oh god, Street, this feels–” you can barely get a coherent sentence out when Street turns you around and presses you up against the wall, pulls down your panties, and proceeds to eat you out.

You cry out at the new sensation, his hot, wet tongue dancing inside your folds. Your shaking thighs can barely keep you upright, so you try to steady yourself by gripping the short brunette hair on Street’s head. That only serves to turn him on even more, and he starts sucking on your clit. The pleasure makes your head spin and you can’t stop moaning at his relentless attack on your pussy.

Soon enough, you slide down the wall in a crumpled heap, but not before you grab Street’s pants and pull them down during your descent.

You don’t dare make eye contact with him. Instead, you simply stroke his thick length, weighing it in your palm, and you lick a wet stripe up to his tip. Street rewards you with a deep, gravelly moan, and you quickly suck him down your throat. You can taste him, a mix of saltiness and sweat, and your feral mind goes crazy.

You love the feel of him under your tongue, and Street grabs your hair into a loose ponytail, his eyes closed with pleasure. You bob your head up and down on his cock, trying to breathe through it all, and taking him as deep as you can.

Street finally pushes your shoulder back in a wordless gesture to stop. You look up at him with a grin, and swipe the back of your hand across your mouth. Before you can get a word out, Street pulls you up roughly and grabs your ass, spreading apart your cheeks.

You know what he’s aiming for and you brace yourself on the wall.

“Shit!” You hiss out your favorite swear word as Street enters your dripping pussy. He wraps a muscled arm around your ribs and you quickly grab onto him as he shakes your whole body with violent thrusts. His hips lift up into yours, making your ass jiggle and the skin of both of your bodies clap together sinfully. Jim Street fills you up so well, and it feels nothing short of incredible.

“You’re so–mmm!---so wet for me, Y/N.” Street grits out between clenched teeth. You’re about to reply when he spins you around again, and scoops you up in a delicate balancing act.

You let out a yelp while Street drops you right onto his cock, his thick thighs and bulging biceps keeping the both of you upright.

You’ve never been with a man who was strong enough to do this before, and you’ve definitely found a new favorite sex position.

“Ah! Street!” You gasp out at each thrust. “Don’t drop me!”

“I won’t.” Street promises, spearing you with his cock over and over. You roll your body against his, trying to get him to go deeper each time, while your ankles lock behind his waist. He even manages to kiss you again as he bounces you on top of his thick member.

After a moment, Street finally lets you go, and you slip down, almost losing your footing.

He laughs at your clumsiness. “Couch?”

“I think it’s a little safer.” You tease him, swiping back your messy hair away from your face.

Street hops over the couch and you roll your eyes at him showing off his athleticism. You walk around it, like a regular person, and you see him laid back, legs spread, arms crossed behind his head.

“Someone’s ready for more.” You laugh at him, kissing him on the cheek. As much as you tease him, you know you aren’t satisfied yet either.

So you climb on top, carefully sinking down onto his erect cock, and you sigh at being filled to the brim once again. You waste no time rolling on his lap, over and over. Soon, that motion graduates to bouncing on top of him, your voice coming out in little yelps that drives Street crazy with lust. He grips your hips, helping you land just right every time.

“Hold on, Y/N, just hold on a second.” He taps your ass and you pause.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” You pant out, your heart racing from the sex and the exertion.

Street slides down from under you until he’s sitting on the carpet and your dripping center is right above his face.

“I want to taste you.” Street breathes out, his hot exhale tickling your wet folds.

“Oh shit.” You whisper, and your face flushes, as if your skin couldn’t get any hotter by now. So you grant his wish and you gently lower your pussy onto his face, trying not to smother him. His expert tongue penetrates you, finding your slick opening and stimulating you to the point that you think you might pass out. You let out a feral cry, your body making the dirtiest squelches you’ve ever heard, and your voice becomes a mess of feeble noises you didn’t think you were capable of.

Who knew that Jim Street was so good at eating pussy?

Your orgasm sneaks up on you suddenly, and you simply bite your bottom lip and start quivering. The sensation is so overwhelming that you can’t even speak. But you’re sure Street realizes what’s happening because he stops and cups your vibrating center with his hand, holding you still, and he kisses you with lips wetted by your arousal.

You finally let out a moan, and he lays you back down onto the couch. Meanwhile, he gently enters your pussy with his digits, quickly becoming coated in your cum. He spreads it around, scissoring inside of you until you're a mewling mess once again.

He reaches out to palm your breasts, never ceasing in his quest to truly ruin you for anyone else. You inadvertently let out a whimper of pleasure as his hands work their magic. God, his touch lights your skin on fire!

“Street, oh my god, that was good. So good.” You praise breathlessly, gripping the back of his neck as you press your forehead to his, your chest rising and falling rapidly under his rough hands.

“I know. You came really hard. It was hot.” Street smirks at you and you’re too spent to tell him to shut up.

“Can I…” you feel almost too shy to say it aloud, but you do it anyway. “Can I make you cum?”

Street groans at your request, before nodding quickly. You carefully lift up a leg over his shoulder and he braces his arms beside your head. He lines up his throbbing member against your slick entrance and proceeds to rail your body like a doll.

He slams into you deeply, pulling and pushing through your hot pussy that grips him like a vice. Your juices soak him so that every penetration is quick and easy, so much so that he makes your butt lift off the couch with each thrust. Before you know it, Street’s movements get faster, and even more frantic, an unmistakable sign that he’s close.

“I’m gonna—!” Street growls out, his abs clenching as he uses all of his strength to thrust into your throbbing core.

You both let out a moan at the same time. Street pulls his member out of you and cums all over your chest and stomach, his pearls painting your skin as the two of you try to catch your breath.

Sweat makes both of your skin glisten and you carefully sit up, draping your legs over his lap, and wrapping your arms around him. You lean a tired head on his shoulder, cuddling your naked body into his large one.

He wordlessly reaches up a hand to hold your arm, the other is rubbing soothing circles on your thighs with his thumb.

You stay wrapped up in each other for a few minutes, quietly breathing in and out.

When your heartbeat finally calms down, you look up at him, only to find that Street is already looking at you.

“Plans today?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Nope.” He replies, just as casually.

“Dinner?” You offer.

“Sounds complicated.” He teases you.

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise and you shove him off the couch. He tips over easily and falls over onto the floor, totally caught off guard.

“Shut up, Street!” You exclaim, running off towards the shower.

“And kiss you?”

You whip your head around just in time to catch Street’s grin that takes up his whole face, making his irresistible dimples even more apparent on his cheeks.

You take one look at his stupid face and you know that it’s not complicated at all. You’ve fallen for Jim Street. Simple as that.

#cbs swat #swat cbs #jim street #swat fic #swat smut #jim street fic #jim street smut #jim street imagine #jim street x reader #street x reader #swat #street

[brinleyparke]

Street: Bad things keep happening to me, like I have bad luck or something

Chris: Street, you don't have bad luck. The reason bad things happen to you is because you're a dumbass.

#incorrect quotes #incorrect swat #swat cbs #swat 2017 #swat #s.w.a.t cbs #s.w.a.t. #incorrect s.w.a.t. quotes #swat incorrect quotes #incorrect swat quotes #jim street #chris alonso #alex russell #lina esco