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just-a-girl-who-wrytes · 7 months

Note

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

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

Text

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

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stefanmikaleson1864 · 9 months

Text

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

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iluvreid · 4 months

Text

Have i started watching SWAT because of Shemar Moore? Absolutely

#swat #shemar moore #criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg #spencer reid x reader #mgg pics #i need this man biblically #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x fem!reader

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violetflowerswrites · 2 months

Text

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

freakin

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

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army-of-idiots · 1 year

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#gun #guns #gunblr #gun control #weapons #shotgun #pump action #pump #semi auto #edc #semiauto #carry #military #swat

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otkdude3 · 3 months

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Whap! Ouch!

#butt #cheeks #glutes #spank #swat #smack #discipline #red cheeks

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kaenbl4ze · 8 months

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

#911 #9 1 1 #evan buckley #911 fanart #fanart #art #swat!buck #swat buck #swat #swat cbs #swat 2017 #s.w.a.t.

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autistic-brushstrokes · 3 months

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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

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just-a-girl-who-wrytes · 7 months

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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

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