just-a-girl-who-wrytes · 1 year ago
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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."
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gifs-of-puppets · 5 months ago
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Henson's Place: The Man Behind the Muppets (1984)
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jimhenson-themuppetmaster · 2 years ago
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Sesame Street Behind the Scenes 1975
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streakyglasses · 10 months ago
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it's so insane/funny that 1x19 literally just starts with the squad committing a bunch of crimes in a row
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3-rats-in-a-doublet · 7 months ago
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Now I would never pray for someone's downfall, HOWEVER Jim Street's mother dying I will, in fact, celebrate.
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avictimofthejazz · 5 months ago
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//Enjoying strong feels for the Cousin!verse again so... headcanon time! (under the cut). Please note--this verse takes place in the 1970s/1980s to better align with the timeline of SWAT and Adam-12. The cousins:
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Detective Sargent/Inspector Gavin Troy--Causton Constabulary
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Officer James 'Jim' Reed--LAPD
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Officer James 'Jim' Reed--LAPD
All of them are cousins on their mothers' side--the Chestertons. Joanna married Wilder Reed, and raised her children outside of Los Angeles. Nora married Gabriel Street, and raised her son in White Rock, California in the town she grew up in. Celia married Owen Troy, and raised her son in Causton, England.
Reed is the oldest, being five years older then Street and Troy. Street and Troy are only a few months apart.
Reed and Street met fairly often at holiday gatherings and family parties since they both grew up in California. Troy only met his American cousins once or twice in his childhood, when they came to England. He never went to California until he was an adult, as Celia claimed she never wanted to go back. Troy suspects she didn't want to expend the effort to travel.
Despite that, Street and Troy were pen-pals growing up, and became very close friends through the letters. They bonded over being the same age, and being only children. Troy told Street many things he didn't discuss with anyone else, such as his parents divorce and his dad's death.
Troy's a dual citizen--British and American. Celia set that up when he was a baby, just in case she ever wanted to run back to her parents. Though it presents some difficulties, such as having to register for American Selective Service and pay taxes to two governments, Troy maintains his status since he figures it could be useful for his career.
Street is the only one who went to Vietnam--he was drafted. Reed already had a wife and son by 1969, so he was not eligible to be drafted. Troy's number didn't come up, so he skated through it--but Street was pretty much his only friend, He was so upset about it, that he considered going to America, and signing up anyways. Ultimately, Street talked him into staying in England.
Generally Reed and Street are referred to by their surnames, though when Troy's speaking about them to a third party he will refer to them as "The Jims".
Reed is generally the nicest of the three of them--he's basically a golden retriever in a uniform, and it takes a LOT to make him angry. Troy's the grumpiest, and he has the weakest social skills of the trio as he's good at insulting people, and making enemies.
Reed and Troy are quick to confirm that Street is the most dangerous of the trio, even if he doesn't look like it. He's a combat veteran, and then became a SWAT officer.
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atlafan · 2 years ago
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what about when I finally crack and write the nastiest fucking smut fic about Jim and Pam, huh? What then?
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destinyandcoins · 1 year ago
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oh hey, look what I found in my drafts in pursuit of some other idea of mine, I'd forgotten about this in the frenzy of experiencing every emotion known to mankind these last couple weeks courtesy of the most ruthless of emotional rollercoasters that was the good omens s2 finale and its fallout on tumblr.
Behold, an unedited compilation of my initial reactions to the entirety of good omens s2, ft a slowly less careful tracking of which episode any of these reactions originated from:
oh...my god....crowley and aziraphale before the beginning. they're so fucking adorable. AND CROWLEY'S HAIR.
making it look like azi was going to flip the sign to "open" LMAO BITCH U THOUGHT. and "i'm very good at forgiveness" p l s
aziraphale: ((b99 scene of that one lady jamming whilst Shit Goes Down)
jon hamm LMAO. "who told you I was naked?" and the arrows on the box pointing up
the expression on azi's face when someone mentions the naked man in front of crowley LMAO
"Does it calm you down" "not.really."
"Do we know a jim??"
FUCKING DRAMA QUEEN CROWLEY throwing a tantrum in the street lmaooooooo
they're so fucking married they're so fuckING MARRIED THEY'RE SO FUCKING MARRIED. the little "i didn't see you come in" "let me ring the bell to get your attention so you can't ignore me" THE APOLOGY DANCE
episode 2:
RAIN UNDER A CANOPY AND THEY'LL FALLIN LOVE. LIKE--THE FIRST RAINSTORM AND SHELTERING SOMEONE UNDER YOUR WING?? PERHAPS?
lmaooo like a game show announcer showing off the prizes
"i thought i would take the car. our car" RECORD SCRATCH. so....fucking married. like how much more obvious can you be....
THE GOOD OMENS BOOK.
muriel is precious, and crowley and aziraphale are so patient and gentle with them, they think so too.....adorable
episode 3:
THEY WORKED IN THE "YOU HAVE TO START THEM ALL OFF ON THE SAME LEVEL" and "that's lunacy" "that's ineffable" LINES!!!!
THE DANCE. AZIRAPHALE WAS SO EXCITED TO DANCE WITH CROWLEY. OH MY GODDDDDL HE'S WRITING HIS OWN A/C FANFIC
gabrie's FUCKING COAT. OH MY GODDDD
"I am, but rescuing me makes him so happy" FUCK. KO. THAT'S ALL SHE WROTE FOR ME, FOLKS. HELLO??? the self awareness but perfectly encapsulates their relationship....hold on a sec. man just hold on
....crowley is such a fucking bleeding heart omg. his little smirk through the window at azi taking charge
aziraphale's unending heart eyes as crowley just, like...exists.
crowley not knowing/"remembering" a single other angel or demon he's previously met but being the only one who recognizes the metatron....brilliant.
of course crowley is cleaning up the shop for aziraphale while he's gone.....of course he is.
WHAT IS THAT.
WAIT. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT. WHAT THE FUCK??? IT ENDS THERE?? NO???
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reidswhre · 2 months ago
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secret santa; spencer reid x fem!reader
summary: based on the gift that jim gives to pam on the “christmas party” episode on the office! basically a secret santa!
warnings: absolutely fuffly
a/n: it’s september so that’s means december. i love christmas and i would not stop writing about the office i’m sorry (not really) english is not my first language, let me know any mistakes, also remember that my request are open!
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Christmas is that time of year when the world seems to pause in a sigh of hope and joy.
The streets, normally gray and monotonous, transform into rivers of twinkling lights that dance with the wind, as if the stars themselves had descended from the sky to accompany humanity in its celebration.
The air is filled with a cold that doesn't bother you, but rather invites you to embrace a little tighter, to seek the warmth of a fireplace or the soft glow of candles in the window.
It was definitely your favorite time of year.
And you were determined to bring that spirit to the BAU.
"Hello! How is everyone?" You rushed into the office, carrying a pumpkin latte for each of your coworkers. You went to every desk, dropping off their coffee.
"Hey, sunshine," Morgan smiled broadly at you. "What’s with all this cheer?"
"It's almost Christmas, Derek! I’m so excited." You beamed, handing him his latte. "This is the best time of year, of life, of everything!"
Spencer smiled at your excitement. He wasn’t particularly crazy about Christmas—not that he minded it. It was a nice season, sure, but nothing that kept him up at night.
"So, because I’m super excited, I thought we could do a secret santa!" you told your teammates.
"What’s that?" Emily asked, looking a bit lost.
“You’re joking, right?” JJ stared at her in disbelief.
Everyone chuckled a little at Emily’s confusion.
“What? What’s going on? I don’t know what that is, guys,” Emily protested.
“It’s a game where everyone gets assigned a secret friend to exchange gifts with. And on the day of the exchange, you find out who your secret friend is, and you swap gifts based on their tastes, of course.”
Everyone turned their attention to Reid.
“The tradition of gift exchanges in December dates back to Roman festivals. ‘Who gives a gift gains prestige and creates an obligation in the recipient, who must somehow reciprocate the gesture, thus forging social bonds of hospitality, protection, and mutual exchange,’” Reid explained.
“Thanks a lot, Reid.” Derek laughed. “You just took the fun out of Christmas.”
“Don’t say that.” You lightly swatted Derek’s shoulder, scolding him.
“Anyway! Are you guys in? Please!” you begged your coworkers.
“Of course, sounds like fun,” JJ smiled at you.
“Good luck convincing Hotch,” Emily laughed.
“Are you kidding? He’s my best friend,” you scoffed with mock seriousness, making everyone laugh.
“I’ll tell Garcia,” Derek gave you a small pat on the shoulder, smiling at you.
You invited everyone to your house for a small dinner and to exchange gifts.
You were wearing a long-sleeve burgundy blouse, with a black skirt and tights, and your hair loose. You felt beautiful.
You had managed to convince Hotch; it wasn’t hard, he was really a sweetheart, just pretended not to be.
The gift exchange was planned, and you got Garcia. This made you extremely happy; you knew her well and had come up with a great gift for her.
She had been wanting a video game for a long time, but it was quite expensive, and she wasn’t willing to splurge on it.
How lucky that you were.
“Are you kidding!? I’m dying!!!” JJ screamed with excitement when she saw the watch Hotch bought her. Apparently, she loved it.
“It’s nothing.” Hotch gave JJ a small smile as she gave him a brief hug of thanks.
“Oh, cuties!” Garcia smiled.
“You know, I get to give a gift to my favorite cutie.” You approached Garcia.
“Shut up! Really!?” She squealed with excitement.
“Here you go.” You handed her a small box.
“AAAAH! How exciting!” With joy, the blonde with glasses unwrapped her gift.
“She seems quite excited.” Spencer, to your right, whispered in your ear.
“I hope so, because I won’t be able to buy coffee for a month,” you laughed.
Spencer watched you, feeling a bit nervous. He wasn’t sure if it was because he feared you wouldn’t like the gift he had for you or because you looked so pretty.
He didn’t believe much in Christmas magic, but lately, seeing you in those Christmas colors and scents, it definitely had to be magic.
“It can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be!” Penelope repeated with euphoria when she saw the video game in her hands. “I adore you!” Penelope hugged you warmly.
“I adore you too, sweetie.” You gladly returned the hug.
“It can’t be, I’m going to play this at work all day.” The blonde said as she released you.
Then she remembered Hotch was in front of her. “I mean—no—you know—” She stumbled over her words.
Everyone laughed at seeing the girl struggling and started to spread out into their own conversations. So you decided to head to the kitchen for some chocolate.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” you told Spencer as you got up from your seat.
Spencer thought it was the perfect moment to give you your gift, so he followed you to the kitchen.
The truth was, he wasn’t thrilled about everyone seeing his gift. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed or anything, just… it made him a little nervous.
“I love the decoration.” Spencer commented on the decor in your kitchen.
“Oh, really? I love decorating for Christmas!” You smiled, this season truly filled you with joy.
“Yeah… sure.” Spencer smiled nervously.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” You touched his shoulder, noticing he seemed a bit off.
“Me? Yeah, of course, it’s just that—umm—you know—I—” Spencer stammered. You looked at him puzzled, laughing a little.
“Here.” He handed you a box wrapped in red Christmas paper.
You gasped in surprise. “I’m your secret Santa?”
“Hmm” He nodded.
“Oh God!” You started opening your gift. You realized it was a large pink teapot. “It’s so pretty.” You smiled gratefully, you loved making tea.
“Yeah—well—umm, there are other things inside.” Spencer pointed to the teapot.
You looked at him curiously and opened the teapot. It was filled with small mementos of your friendship.
It had the ticket from the Redskins game you went to when you first met, the ticket from the first time you went to the movies, some colorful bands you used to braid Spencer’s hair from time to time, and many other things that reminded you of memories from your relationship.
This made you a bit emotional, causing your eyes to well up. “It’s so sweet.” You looked at him with misty eyes.
“Hey, don’t cry.” He whispered and used his thumb to wipe away a couple of tears rolling down your cheek.
“It’s just that—I don’t know, it’s so meaningful, it’s so sweet, Spencer, really.” You sobbed. “Thank you so much.”
“It’s okay, I—I thought you might not like it, I wasn’t sure if I should have just bought you the headphones you wanted.” He scratched his neck nervously.
“Are you kidding? This is perfect.” You set the teapot on the counter to hug him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his chest.
Spencer tensed a little but immediately returned the hug, soaking in your scent.
You pulled back slightly from the hug, not completely, so you were quite close.
“You know what could be the best Christmas gift ever?” He whispered against your lips.
“I have an idea.” You whispered back.
“Really?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Hmm” You nodded as you leaned closer to him.
“It’s good we have the same ideas.” He finished by pressing his lips to yours, in a kiss as soft and sweet as the first sip of hot chocolate on a winter morning. It wasn’t a hurried or stolen kiss, but one full of meaning.
As the kiss continued, the world stopped. The laughter and Christmas carols in the background faded away with the touch of his lips.
Christmas was definitely magical.
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versias · 2 days ago
Text
New Brother Just Dropped! Limited Time Cryptid Edition!
Bruce was very proud of his status as a good foster father. You could see it in how he perked up whenever someone asked about his kids, even those no longer living with him. They spent a good thirty minutes discussing how each kid was doing.
Anyone could tell that Jim Gordon’s request for him to foster a witness for a few weeks was taken with respect as a badge of honor.
Tim, of course, was aware that Batman was investigating the disappearance of two Doctors Fenton and subsequent appearance of unusual technology on the streets of Gotham. The fact that their youngest, Daniel, had been found wandering those streets, battered, bleeding, and silent as the grave, had a fairly large impact on Bruce’s willingness to take him in. While he might have done so anyway, the incentive of getting information from him was pretty enticing, too.
When Daniel was brought in to meet Bruce, Tim snapped a surreptitious pic on his phone and sent it to the family group chat.
TimBot: New Brother Just Dropped! Limited Time Cryptid Edition!
Several people are typing…
Even in the photo taken with his enhanced WayneTech camera, Daniel’s features blurred. There was an overlaying haze that caused digital noise to radiate through the image. They figured it was some kind of meta ability, triggered by the same trauma that caused him to shutdown whenever he was questioned about his family.
The boy was sixteen and scrawny in a way that spoke of not getting enough to eat, consistently. His hair was black and his eyes were blue (a fact that everyone was surely going to point out when they got a good look). His hair was unhealthy, though, greasy and brittle and too long in the back. His bangs had clearly been cut on his own to keep his hair out of his eyes. Bags under his eyes and the sallow tint to his skin spoke of nights without sleep, anxiety without end. His clothes hung off him, too big by a size and a half.
He looked kind of like one of the wet kittens Damian had brought home one night—sad and pitiable. A bit pathetic, if one was being uncharitable.
His eyes flickered around the room, sizing up exits and occupants. He cringed away from the officer leading him gently by the shoulder. It looked like he wanted nothing more than to curl into himself and disappear.
He looked hunted.
He looked haunted.
He needed help. Tim was going to make sure he got it.
“Hello, Daniel,” Bruce greeted with a winning smile, the tender version of his innocent grin, number four.
The boy stiffened and blinked. A flinch, suppressed.
Something about the attention of being talked to? Was it Bruce’s superficial resemblance to his father, Dr. Jack Fenton? Or was it a reaction to the name? He could possibly address one of those, at least.
“Do you mind if I call you Danny?” Tim piped up. “I’m Tim, another of Bruce’s gaggle of kids. Obviously, short for Timothy but– Ugh, please don’t.”
Danie- Danny nodded, looking the slightest bit relieved. Bruce gave Tim a grateful glance for the assist.
Tim grinned at both of them.
He checked his phone.
Spoiler Alert!: what’s with this can’t be captured on film shit we adoptin vampires now???
Dancing Queen: 🧛❓❌
🆕 👯✅ 💃🏻💕
Damian Wayne: He is not a new brother, Cain. We are taking him in to protect him and to gather whatever intel he is privy to. Cease this nonsense.
Dancing Queen: 😠 😢
Duuuuuuke: lol denial. 10 bucks says he’s here to stay
304 notes · View notes
maviscat123 · 3 months ago
Text
Anatomy II
By: JohnBoy
Someone was pounding on the door...
Big Jim Reese woke up with a snort; he'd been having a late afternoon nap on the cot in his office. His "office" was actually a small trailer, parked amongst some trees near the back of the construction site.
Jim sat up groggily -- he coughed and slowly ran a large, beefy hand over the stubble on his shaved head. The pounding came again, more urgent this time.
"Hey, Mr. Reese! You in there?" It sounded like a young guy.
"Yeah, yeah," he spoke in his deep baritone, "hold on a sec." The huge black man got up and opened the door.
It was Ken, the son of the crane-operator. He was tall and rather well-built, about 20 or so, sandy blond and blue-eyed, and with a tuft of bristly beard on the end of his chin.
Jim had noticed (on the four or five other occasions that he'd met him) that he always acted a bit shy and nervous around him. Probably, he guessed, because he was intimidated by his size: Jim was a half-foot taller than him, and probably out- weighed the kid by at least 130 pounds (a good deal of it was solid muscle, too).
"Hey Kenny, what're you doin' here?"
"Is-- is my Dad here?"
"Nope, he's gone home already." Jim yawned; he thought the young man looked even more nervous than usual. "Uh, everything okay?"
Ken glanced over his shoulder. "The cops are after me, man."
"What?" Jim looked towards the street; he could see a police cruiser pulling up in front of the site. He'd heard that this boy had been in trouble with the law in the past: B&E, some minor theft...
"I need a place to hide. Please, you gotta let me in!"
Jim sighed. He wanted nothing to do with this kid's problems. But an idea was starting to form in his head... and before he even realized it, he said, "Okay, get in." Ken was peeking out through the blinds, watching the cop. Jim had not asked him what kind of trouble he was in this time, and the kid hadn't told him...
"What's he doing?" Jim asked.
"He's just talking to one of the workers. Wait-- shit, the guy's pointing this way!"
Kenny looked around the trailer. "Fuck, if I get caught this time, I'm going to jail for sure. You can't let him find me!"
"If he wants to look in here, I don't think I can really stop him."
"But... there's no place to hide in here! What am I gonna do?"
"Well," he said slowly, trying to sound nonchalant, "I got a suggestion."
"What??"
"How much you weigh, Kenny?"
"Wha--? Uh, about 190, I guess. Why?"
Jim tugged thoughtfully at his wiry, dark goatee. This young man was a fair bit bigger than the doctor had been. He wondered, could he do it?
"You can hide... in here." Jim pointed to his stomach.
"Huh?"
"I could swallow you."
Ken just stared at him.
Jim went on, "Just for awhile. I could swallow you whole and hide you inside my belly, just 'til the cop leaves. Don't worry, you'll be safe. If he comes up here lookin' for you, well... there's no way he'd find ya. Then when he's gone, I'll let you out."
Ken continued to stare at him.
"Well? What do you think?"
"Oh come on... this is a joke, right?"
"No, I mean it. I'm serious."
"You're crazy, Mr. Reese. You can't swallow a whole person. It's-- it's frickin' impossible!!"
"Well, yeah, for most people. But I'm different; there's somethin' special about my anatomy that lets me do it. Big mouth, big throat, big stomach... just ask my doctor. Trust me, I can do it." Jim knew this might not be completely true... after all, when he'd done it before (three days earlier), Doctor Moffat had given him some kind of injection as well. Whether he could do it now, without the drug, remained to be seen.
Ken still seemed unconvinced. He looked out the window again, anxiously.
"Well, we're runnin' outta time, son," Jim said, "Do you wanna try it or not?"
"But... you'll let me back out, right?"
"Yeah, sure, of course I will."
The kid shrugged. "What the hell, I guess I got no choice. Okay."
"Damn right!" Jim tried to suppress his excitement. Ever since the doctor's appointment, he'd been thinking of little else but swallowing someone again -- and now he had his chance!! Of course he intended to release the boy afterwards...
but he thought, maybe he could try to keep him inside for awhile? Say, ten minutes or so? Would he survive in there that long??
"Er, what should I do...?"
The big man went to the tiny fridge and pulled out a stick of butter. "Take off all yer clothes and rub this on you."
Ken's face screwed up. "What are you gonna do, fry me up first?"
"It's to make you slide down easy. Come on. And take that earring off, too." Jim looked through the blinds. "You better hurry up, son. I think the cop is comin' this way," he lied.
Kenny started to undress. Jim took off his own shirt, undid the button on his jeans, and unzipped his fly part-way. He saw Ken looking at him as he did this, and said, "Gotta make room for ya." He patted his belly. "You're a big boy."
The young man was completely nude now. After hesitating for a moment, he picked up the stick of butter and began to rub it over his chest. "It's cold!"
"Don't worry, you'll get nice and warmed up once you're inside me." Jim realized that he was starting to salivate. His stomach began to grumble and groan in anticipation, and he wondered if Kenny could hear it...
After the boy had buttered himself up, Jim ordered him to lie down on the cot, on his back. He dropped to his knees heavily at the foot of the cot and grabbed him firmly by the ankles, lifting his feet up. He hoped the hunger in his face wasn't too obvious. Now Jim could see a hint of fear in Ken's expression, and realized he'd have to work fast and get it done with before he changed his mind. (And just in case the policeman came around, too!)
He said in a reassuring tone, "It's okay, kid. I promise it won't hurt a bit. I've done this before." He grinned. Then he crouched down and opened his mouth very, very wide...
"Shit, man," Ken mumbled.
With a grunt, Jim quickly thrust both feet into his mouth and part-way down his throat -- Ken giggled despite his fear, squirming around as if he was being tickled. Jim grasped his legs more tightly and pushed again, taking him in almost to the knees with a thick, slurping sound.
"Holy cow, I can't believe you're doing that!" the boy said in amazement. "Hey, wait, I just thought of something... will I even be able to breathe in there?"
Jim tried to nod (which wasn't easy), and gulped again, taking his legs in even further. He couldn't believe how fantastic this felt... the kid was delicious! He'd be moaning with pleasure if his throat hadn't been so full. He wished he could slow down and enjoy every inch of Kenny's smooth, firm, sweet flesh as it slipped inside him, but there wasn't enough time -- besides, he was too ravenous!
Ken's face turned pale as he watched the huge man's mouth working to take him in, gobbling him up, the lips stretching around his hips and ass now. "Goddamn..." he whispered.
Jim's eyes were starting to roll over white with the effort. He continued to swallow, while at the same time holding Ken by his upper arms and shoving him in. Then he guided his hands into his mouth, gaping even wider to engulf the boy's muscular torso and arms. He could feel his legs starting to fold up inside his belly.
"Uhh, Mr. Reese?"
He ignored him. He couldn't believe the power of his throat muscles; it seemed they were working on auto-pilot, flexing and gulping almost on their own, practically sucking the kid down his gullet... it felt so natural. He realized there was no question now as to whether or not he needed drugs to do this.
But the most difficult part was coming: Kenny's wide shoulders...
Ken seemed to be having a bit of trouble breathing with the pressure on his chest. His eyes were starting to bug out, and there was an incredulous expression on his face; Jim imagined that he must've looked quite bizarre right now, with his mouth stetched out to grotesque proportions.
This was starting to get harder, and the sensation of fullness was unbelievable. Perhaps the boy was too big? Had he bitten off more than he could chew, so to speak?
The young man blurted, "I-- I'm not sure about this anymore. Wait..." He began to struggle feebly, but his arms were pinned to his sides, inside Jim's throat.
Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the trailer door. A voice called out, "Anyone in there?"
Jim's heart lunged. Shit, it was the cop! He looked Ken in the face, wondering what his reaction would be. Would he scream for help??
A moment of silence passed... then Ken seemed to make his decision: "Uh," he cleared his throat, and tried to talk in a deeper voice, "Yes, officer? I mean, who is it?"
Jim would've smiled if he could. He continued to swallow -- but now it felt like the kid was almost stuck!
"Jim Reese? I'd like to talk to you, if you don't mind."
"Uhh... okay, er, gimme a minute," Ken said.
Jim reached out, clamped onto Ken's shoulders and began forcefully shoving him in with all his strength, swallowing hard.
The door handle rattled. "Please open up, it's the police."
"Just-- just let me get some pants on! Oh, Christ..." Kenny gasped.
Now only his head still protruded from the man's mouth. Jim pushed on the crown of his head with both hands, and he continued to slide in... he could feel the kid's little beard scraping against the roof of his mouth.
In a muffled voice, he heard him say, "Jeez, it smells like hamburgers in here..."
And then he closed his mouth completely over him and gulped hugely. He felt the boy going all the way down, filling his gut...
The cop was knocking again, impatiently. "Sir, will you open the door??"
Jim was gasping for air. "Yeah, yeah," he managed to say. He could feel Ken squirming around inside him -- it seemed like he was trying to turn around. He gulped down several large mouthfuls of air so the kid could breathe. Then he got up with a loud grunt, steadying himself against the wall. The weight in his gut was incredible; he was having some difficulty just standing up!
He quickly kicked Ken's clothes and shoes under the cot, then unlocked the door.
The police officer looking up at him was on the short side, but quite burly. He had a thick, brown, brush-like moustache and a buzzcut. He was carrying his cap under one arm.
Almost immediately, his eyes went to Jim's enormous, round globe of a belly, and his jaw dropped slightly. But then he tried to compose himself and looked Jim in the face, saying in a firm voice, "Is there a problem?"
"Uh, no-- sorry I took so long, officer. I was... I had to put some clothes on." Jim tried to laugh.
The cop looked at him suspiciously. "I thought I heard someone else in here."
"Nope, just me. I was having a little snooze."
"Well... I'm Officer Banks. May I come in? I'd like to ask you a few questions."
"Oh, sure." Jim backed up to allow the guy to enter.
"So you're the foreman on this site, Mr. Reese?" The cop couldn't seem to help himself; he kept glancing down at Jim's gut. Jim was nervous... for some reason, Ken was struggling a bit inside him, and he hoped it wouldn't be visible from the outside. Was the boy uncomfortable?
"Yes."
The policeman looked slowly around the interior of the trailer. He said, "You know a young man named Kenneth Delaney?"
"Yeah, I think so. He's one of the employees' kids."
"Have you seen him today?"
Jim's stomach gurgled audibly. "Ah, no. Haven't seen him."
"You sure? One of your workmen seems to think he came up here. He's in a bit of trouble, I'm afraid."
"Sorry, I was sleeping. I didn't see anyone." From Jim's belly came a small moan; Jim thumped a hand to his gut and uttered a short, loud burp. "Ooof... 'scuse me, officer!"
Banks couldn't seem to contain himself any longer -- chuckling, he poked Jim in the belly and said, "I'm sorry, but... man! That is some huge gut you've got there, buddy." He shook his head. "You got a horse in there, or what?"
"Aw, no, it's just fat. And... I had a big lunch today, too." Jim smiled broadly.
"Never seen anything like that. Damn! Sorry, I hope I haven't embarassed you."
"That's alright, I know I could stand to lose 'bout 200 pounds. So, umm... what's the boy done?"
"I can't really tell you that." The cop took another quick look around the trailer. "Well, you just keep an eye out for him, okay?"
"Okay, sure thing."
"Thanks for your time. You take care, sir." He left.
Jim could feel a massive belch building up, trying to escape. He sat down on the cot with a groan. Ken was wriggling around more now, and he could hear him trying to say something -- obviously, he wanted to be released.
Now that the policeman was gone Jim could relax, and really savour the experience of having a whole, live person inside his stomach. It felt great, even better than with the doctor... he'd never had such an enjoyable and satisfying meal in his life!
And now he was starting to realize something else: he didn't want to let the boy back out after all. He knew he had to; he'd surely suffocate in there before long and besides, he thought he could feel his digestive juices starting to flow. Just awhile longer, he thought...
The kid moaned again from inside his gut. His struggles seemed to be weakening.
Mm-mmm... he'd sure been a tasty morsel. He felt so full... and yet he thought that he could probably take someone even a little bigger than Kenny, next time. Jim rubbed his belly, opened his mouth wide and heaved out a huge, long, thun- derous belch. He was about to gulp down some fresh air for the boy, but then stopped himself.
With a sigh, he stretched out onto his back instead. I guess this was my plan all along, he thought to himself. Wasn't it? He didn't know if he could actually digest such an incredible amount of food...
but he supposed there was only one way to find out.
166 notes · View notes
achilles-rage · 4 months ago
Text
Off Limits
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summary: you're street's foster sister and a hacker for swat, and rocker can't keep his eyes off you. one night a case you helped rocker with leads you into danger, landing you in the hospital. rocker's protectiveness of you has street a little confused, and it takes a while before street finally realizes that your feelings for each other are real, leading to confessed feelings.
word count: 6.7k
request- @melodyflowersblog: What about a swat fic with rocker X fem reader, where is street or Chris sister who is always at their work, either she is like a hacker or some other reason, and her and rocker get closer as time goes on and no one knows until there is like a shooting and reader gets hurt and he gets protective of her even when she's cleared from hospital, and everyone can see the love in his eyes or something like that
A/N: i decided to make the reader street's foster sibling so it could be race inclusive! pls let me know if i wrote anything that was not race inclusive! and i don’t know anything about computers so if anything i wrote doesn’t make sense just close your eyes<3 and also
plot hole!!! big dumb idiot alert!!! apartments have those doors at the front you need a key to get into!! get over it!!!! and street leaves the apartment after helping rocker drop reader off!!! and he has no car!!! just pretend he took an uber!!!! that's all, enjoy<3
warnings: reader's house is broken into and she's held a gunpoint, making out at the end lolz, flirty rocker<3, no use of y/n, plus size!reader fem!reader, race inclusive!reader
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“Miss me, sweetheart?” you hear Rocker say as he walks into your office, winking as you turn to look at him, forcing you to fight back a smile.
After your brother Street helped you get a job at SWAT, everyone was quick to welcome you with open arms, but Rocker had seemed to take a special interest in you. You, Street, and Nate were always close growing up, living in the same foster home, with them coming to your rescue when the other kids teased or picked on you. With the trouble Jim and Nate had gotten into as kids, you took it upon yourself to help them out of their predicaments, learning that knowing how to hack let you erase security footage, and blackmail some bad people they had gotten themselves tied up with.
You were a breath of fresh air to Rocker at SWAT, your introverted personality a stark contrast to the officers he worked with. You were brilliant, and you had an eye for figuring out things that the other tech assistants couldn’t. And your pretty face and gorgeous, soft body definitely had nothing to do with his infatuation.
“What do you need, Rocker?” you ask softly, face growing hot as you turn back to your computer, rolling your eyes. You feel him lean over your shoulder, hand on the back of your chair, looking at the words and numbers on your screen, pretending to know what the hell he was looking at.
“Can’t I visit my favourite girl without needing something? Maybe I’m just here to see your pretty face,” he teases, looking down at you, a smirk on his face.
Rocker had been flirting with you for months, loving the way you react to his words, his looks. He’s used to flirting with people sometimes to get what he wants, but with you, he seems to go the extra mile, not stopping until he leaves you a flustered and stuttering mess. He loves the way you look down, muttering something about getting back to work, or how you look up at him with those doe eyes, breath catching in your throat. 
“Shut up,” you whisper, fingers slightly shaking, hovering over your keyboard. “What do you need?” you ask again, biting your lip as you stare at the screen, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips as you feel the heat radiating off of him. 
“We found out who the head of that cartel the squad is working on is, but he’s up in the air. Is there any way you can work your magic and find anything else on him? I’m desperate here, princess.” he explains, and you can’t ignore the way his voice grows more stressed as he nears the end of his sentence.
You nod, smiling softly, as your fingers begin to move, eyes combing over credit card uses and security cam footage of various cartel members, hoping to find something to set him on the right track. 
He watches you work, eyes gazing down from your screen to you. The way your hair looks perfectly styled, how he can see a glimpse of your chest from the angle he was standing over you, the softness of your thighs spread across your chair. He had to look away, clearing his throat quietly as his mind began being overrun by your thick thighs and how they would feel wrapped around him.
“Why didn’t you ask Jacobs to do this? He knows more about your case than I do.” you ask softly as you work, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, taking in his features. You’re glad he was here regardless, happy to spend a few minutes with him, despite the hammering of your heart in your chest and the way your breath quickened. You may or may not have a small crush on him, not that it could ever happen. Him and Jim may be friendly now, but you can tell that they butt heads every now and then, and with how protective Jim is of you, you know better than to ever do anything about your silly little work crush. You’re too shy, anyway. No matter how giddy his advances make you, you know nothing will ever come of this.
“Yeah, but he’s not near as fun to talk to as you. And you’re good, sweetheart. I have a feeling you may find something that he’s too stupid to catch onto.” he teases softly, looking down at you, smirking, his eyes not leaving you as he studied your frame.
You shake your head, fighting back a smile as you continue to work, trying to ignore the way he leaned in closer to you. After a few minutes, you make a small noise of victory, turning to look up at him, smiling.
“1435 West Park Avenue, room 219.” you whisper, watching his eyebrows furrow. “His right hand man. He has two aliases, but nothing was coming up for either of them, so I put the first name of one with the last name of the other. It’s being used at a shitty motel downtown, and it’s being paid for by a credit card that was just reported stolen. The credit card payment said he checked in the day the cartel leader went MIA. I hacked into the motel’s security footage. That’s him, right?” you ask, excitement flooding your body as Rocker looks at the slightly blurry security footage, a smile breaking out onto his face. He leans down, kissing the top of your head, laughing softly.
“That’s my girl. You’re a genius, sweetheart.” he says happily, earning a giggle from you as you shake your head.
“It was a lucky guess,” you whisper, biting the inside of your lip as you break eye contact, face getting hot.
“And yet, Jacobs didn’t find it, you did. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re doing this so that I’ll come to you more often. Especially when you’re wearing clothes you know will drive me crazy,” he teases, smirking, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at you, eyes glancing down to your cleavage peeking out of your low-cut shirt.
You look back up at him with wide eyes, scoffing as you fight back a smile. “I’m not doing anything,” you protest, trying not to look away as his intense gaze meets yours.
As Rocker is about to respond, your brother walks in, looking at the lack of space between the two of you. How Rocker was standing in front of your chair, arms crossed, smirking down at you.
“What’s going on in here?” Street asks, eyebrow raised, leaning on the doorframe. You look up at him, smiling softly, shaking your head as you try to collect your thoughts.
“Nothing. Just helping Rocker with his case. What’s up?” you explain, standing up from your chair as Rocker backs up. Rocker shoots you a wink before turning, walking out the door, nodding to Street as he walks past him.
“Thanks again, sweetheart!” Rocker shouts as he steps into the hall, Street’s eyes narrowing as his eyes follow Rocker down the hall.
“What the hell was that?” Street whispers as he turns back to you, walking into your office, arms crossed over his chest.
“Nothing, don’t worry about it. He just likes getting a rise out of you, you know that.” you tell Street, letting out a soft exhale, trying to calm your nerves. Why did it feel like you’ve been caught doing something wrong? Other than the less than pure thoughts running through your head, nothing had actually happened.
“Yeah, whatever. He’s a flirt. Just…don’t get attached or anything, okay? I know you. You fall for people too fast. Remember that guy we met at the beach when we were 15? You wouldn’t shut up about him for weeks,” he teases, laughing softly.
“Alright, we were 15, and he promised he’d take me to that concert I wanted to go to that you and Nate refused to go with me to,” you argue, rolling your eyes, smiling softly at the memory. This earns a snort from Street as he shrugs, shaking his head.
“I’m just saying. Okay?” he says, eyes softer as he grabs your shoulders, ducking his head slightly to meet your gaze.
You nod, muttering a quiet ‘okay’ as you look up at him, giving him a small smile. He smiles back, patting your shoulder before letting you go, backing up towards the door. 
“Team’s going out for drinks tonight, if you wanna come? They’d love to have you there,” he tells you.
“Nah, I’m pretty tired. I think I’m just gonna head home, have a night in,” you tell him, sitting back down at your desk, waving him off. “Now get back to work before Hondo fires you. Again.” you tease, turning your chair around to face your computer.
You hear him laugh as he walks away, letting you get back to work. As you continue doing some digging for various cases SWAT has open, your mind trails off to Rocker. You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help it. The biggest reason he makes you so flustered is the way his eyes scan you whenever he sees you. You were a little surprised at first, noticing how his eyes fell from your chest to your plush stomach, your thick thighs. Your tits, you were used to, but you could feel your body grow hot as he examined all of you in a way you weren’t used to. He was good with his words too. Always knowing what to say to make you stutter, your palms growing sweaty as your eyes trailed down to the way his arms flex in his tight uniform shirts. 
You look at the bottom corner of your screen after a couple more hours of work, noticing the time as your brain returns to the task at hand, your thoughts still foggy with thoughts of Rocker and his stupid attractive face. You stand up, grabbing your purse and walk out of your office, making your way to your car to drive home. You say a quick goodbye to everyone as you walk out to your car, noticing 50 squad pulling into the parking lot, returning from the motel you sent them to earlier.
“You get him?” you call across the parking lot as Rocker steps out of the armored truck.
He turns to you, a smile breaking out on his face as his eyes meet yours.
“All thanks to you, sweetheart!” He yells back, winking at you.
You laugh softly, smiling to yourself as you reach your car, eyes looking down as you shake your head.
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It’s almost 11PM when you hear a crash coming from your living room. You sit up quickly in bed, breath catching in your throat as you put a hand over your mouth, listening to the quiet that envelopes you.
You wait a moment before you hear a quiet voice in your hallway, whispering to someone, then you hear two sets of footsteps slowly getting closer to your room. Your eyes widen, and you quickly get out of bed, silently making your way to your doorway, masked by the darkness of your room.
You tense as you see one of the men you were looking into earlier; one of the lower level members of the cartel you were helping Rocker’s team with. You tiptoe to your closet quietly, grabbing your phone on the way, dialing the number of the first person you thought of as you close your closet door, hiding yourself behind some of your clothes.
“It’s late, sweetheart. I wonder what you could be calling me for…” Rocker teases softly once he answers your call, a smirk on his face.
“Rocker,” you whisper, almost inaudible, tears welling up in your eyes as the gravity of your situation suddenly becomes quite clear.
He tenses as he hears the fear in your voice, standing up from his spot on the couch, jaw clenched.
“Sweetheart, what is it?” he whispers, grabbing his keys and gun, jogging out to his truck, phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder as he unlocks the door, climbing in.
“The cartel, they’re in my apartment.” you whisper, putting a hand over your mouth to stifle your breathing as you hear one pair of footsteps growing closer to your room. 
“I’m on my way. Where are you exactly? How many of them are there? Do you have a weapon?” he asks, his voice hard, as he starts to drive, weaving through traffic as he drives well above the speed limit, trying not to imagine what they might do to you if they find you.
“In my closet. There’s two of them. I don’t have anything.” you whisper, shrinking further back into your closet, mind racing to figure out how and why they found you.
Suddenly, it hits you. You didn’t log out of your computer when you left work. You had a program open, the same one you used to find the cartel leader, trying to track down some of the higher ups in the cartel that got away, when you noticed it was time for you to go home. While that program is good, it’s dangerous, and with the right training, the people you’re trying to find can find you as well. Leaving it open meant they had more time to track you down, finding your name, your job, and your address. 
“Stay on the phone with me, baby. I’ll be there in 2 minutes. If they find you and try to take you out of your apartment, I need you to fight. I’ll get to you, I promise. Just buy me some time.” he explains, listening to your ragged breathing over the phone, picturing the fear etched onto your face as you hide in your closet.
All of a sudden, he hears your closet door open and a stifled scream as your phone falls to the floor. The two men grab you, pulling you out of the closet as one slaps a hand over your mouth.
“Got you, you stupid bitch. You thought you could get our boss arrested and we wouldn’t track you down?” Rocker hears over the phone, his whole body tensing as he pulls into your apartment complex’s parking lot. He throws it in park, not bothering to kill the engine as he runs inside, gun in hand.
You thrash in their grip, trying to break free as one holds onto you, the other aiming a gun at your head.
“Struggling is pointless, darling. We’ve got a job to do. Now, you’re gonna tell us everything you found out about us, and we might just let you live.” the one with the gun spits at you, eyes never leaving yours as he smirks. He waves the gun at the man holding you, signaling him to take his hand away from your mouth.
“You don’t have to do this. I didn’t find anything. Just where your boss was hiding, and he was caught. That’s all I know, I swear.” you lie, trying not to look at the door. They didn’t seem to notice your phone before you dropped it, so you hoped if you didn’t do anything to make it look like you were waiting for someone to show up, Rocker might have the element of surprise on his side. 
“Bullshit. You’re gonna tell us, or we’re gonna make sure that your death is extra long, and extra painful. Did you see the way we torture people while doing your research? It’s not something you want,” the man with the gun says angrily, the sound of him cocking the gun ringing in your ears, making you flinch.
As you’re about to reply, you hear two gunshots. You shut your eyes tightly, a high pitched noise escaping your throat. Rocker steps into the room after taking down the man with the gun, gun raised at the man still holding onto you tightly, a new sense of urgency in him as he notices the red spot growing on your shirt. You open your eyes once you feel the sharp pain in your side, knees growing weak at the feeling. You make eye contact with Rocker as he stands in front of you, his eyes quickly looking down as he bends to grab the man’s gun and puts it in his waistband, keeping his own pointed at the man behind you. 
“Duck,” he says to you quickly, noticing the man’s grip on you faltering as the realization of what just happened crosses his face.
You drop to the floor quickly, hand moving to your side, trying to put pressure on the gunshot wound, flinching as you hear another gunshot, keeping your eyes to the ground. You hear the man behind you drop to the floor, and almost immediately after, you feel Rocker’s hands on you, forcing you to lay down on your back, grabbing your hands and forcing them to cover your wound. When the man with the gun went down, his finger was still on the trigger, sending a rogue bullet into your abdomen as he fell.
“Baby, where’s your phone?” he asks, a sense of urgency in his voice.
“Dropped it when they grabbed me,” you whisper, breath quickening as the searing pain in your side grows.
He quickly runs to your room, grabbing your phone, dialing 911 as he races back over to you, moving your hands gently before using his own hands to cover your wound, trying to slow the bleeding. You wince, crying out softly as he applies pressure, growing dizzy as he gives the 911 operator your address. 
“Stay with me, sweetheart, you gotta keep your eyes open, yeah?” he whispers to you as your vision gets blurry, your eyes blinking slowly, fighting to keep them open.
“Look at me, baby. Let me see those pretty eyes.” he says louder, hands still pressing your wound, watching as your eyes flutter closed, the sound of sirens getting closer.
“Come on, don’t do this to me. Open your eyes, baby,” is the last thing you hear, the pain subsiding as everything goes black.
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You wake up to the sound of beeping, wincing softly as you open your eyes, blinded for a moment by the fluorescent lights shining brightly over you.
You hear a loud exhale from beside you, someone’s grip tightening on your hand as your vision comes into focus. You look over, seeing your brother sitting beside you in a hospital chair, a worried look on his face.
“Jesus Christ, you scared the hell out of me, we didn’t know if you’d make it.” Street whispers, standing up to kiss your forehead softly. 
You look up at him, swallowing as you try to sit up, wincing louder.
“No, no, Stay there. You were shot. You have to rest. I’ll go get everyone, they’re all waiting in the lobby.” Street says, letting go of your hand and walking to the doorway, waving everyone in.
You look to the door as Chris, Hondo, Tan, Luca, Deacon, and Rocker walk in, looks of relief on their faces.
They all take their turns of saying how glad they were that you’re okay as you smile weakly at them, eyes glancing to Rocker as he makes his way over, jaw clenched and hands in his pockets, refusing to look you in the eyes. A look of sadness fills your eyes as you see him standing toward the back of the group, a hard look on his face as his eyes focus on where your wound is. You look back over at Chris as she tells you how glad she is that you’re okay, thanking her as you try to take your mind off of Rocker.
After a while, the team all look exhausted, and you tell them to go home and get some rest. They agree after much convincing and leave, while Street tells you that he’s staying whether you want him to or not. You laugh softly at his insistence, wincing as you feel a pain shoot up your spine, Rocker’s eyes immediately lock on yours, moving beside your bed as he glances down at where your gunshot wound was, before looking back up at your face, eyes softening.
You’re so caught up in Rocker’s presence that you don’t hear Street tell you that he’s going to grab some snacks, his sentence stopping short when he sees the way you and Rocker are looking at each other. He watches for a second before backing out of the room, letting you two have a moment, brows furrowed as he tries to figure out if the emotions he saw between you two were the product of his lack of sleep.
“Thank you,” you whisper to Rocker, turning your palm face up on the bed, moving it closer to him.
“Goddammit, sweetheart, you don’t have to thank me. Do you know what I’d do for you?” he says, sitting down in the chair Jim had pulled up to your bed, moving to cradle your hand between his own.
You let out a shaky breath at his words, chest feeling heavy as the weight of his words hit you. You’re unable to form words as you look up at him, the way he was looking at you expressing all the emotions he was feeling for you in this moment. The fear of possibly losing you. The adoration he felt for you. The guilt he felt for you being in this situation. He felt like it was his fault. He was the one that asked you to do some digging on the cartel.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you. I kept thinking about what I might walk into, what they could’ve done to you. I know this cartel. The things they would’ve done if I didn’t get there in time,” he trails off, head dropping as his eyes fill with tears.
“Hey,” you whisper, reaching out to put your hand on top of the hand on top of yours, “I’m okay. You saved me. I’m right here.”
“You got shot, baby. Because of me.” he whispers looking back up at you, face red.
“I’m alive because of you. You saved me. I called you because I knew you’d save me.” you tell him, giving him a look that you hope conveys all the things you want to say to him, but are too scared to say.
He lets out a shaky breath, wiping away a tear that falls down his cheek as he nods.
“I’m never gonna let anything like this happen to you again,” he whispers. He leans down, kissing your hand softly before looking back up at you, holding eye contact.
After a moment you look down, face growing hot at his intense look. Leave it to Rocker to make you feel flustered even after being shot.
As you both sit in silence, your brother walks back in, stopping as he sees the way Rocker is staring at you, holding your hand in his.
Rocker quickly stands up, dropping your hand as he nods at Street, a hard expression making its way onto his face again.
“You got her?” Rocker asks Street, standing up straight as he crosses his arms over his chest.
Street nods, giving Rocker a ‘what the fuck’ look as Rocker starts walking towards the door.
“Get some sleep. I’ll be back in the morning, okay?” Rocker says in a much softer voice, looking over his shoulder to you as he gets to the door.
You nod, smiling softly, watching him until he’s out of sight. You look back over at Street as he clears his throat, looking at you with a raised brow.
“What the fuck?” Street whisper-yells, sitting down on the chair beside your bed as you look at him sheepishly.
“What?” you ask, looking down at your hands, fidgeting with them.
“I was a little confused on why you called him and not me, other than him living closer to you. But now I see why,” he tells you, leaning back in the chair, putting his feet up on the bed.
You sigh, shaking your head. “It’s nothing, Jim, I swear. I was helping him with that cartel today. I thought he was the best one to call since he’s more familiar with them.” you explain, biting the inside of your lip nervously, hoping he doesn’t try to call your bluff. 
“Right,” he mutters sarcastically, rolling his eyes, “I’m telling you, don’t get too attached, please. It’s his job, he did what he was trained to do.” he tells you, opening up the bag of chips he bought.
“Why do you hate him so much?” you ask, looking back over at him.
“I don’t hate him. I just know guys like him. Trust me, you don’t wanna date a cop.” he tells you, his focus going to the chips in his hand, offering the bag to you. You shake your head, sighing.
“You know guys like him; you don’t know him. He’s a good guy.” you argue softly. As much as you love your brother, he can be really overprotective of you. You’re generally very trusting, and a lot of the time, he feels the need to make sure you’re giving your trust to those who actually deserve it.
“I’m not saying he’s not a good guy, he’s just not good for you. He’s cocky, and arrogant, okay? I promise, the attraction will wear off soon.” he tells you as you roll your eyes.
“So, he’s like you?” you tease softly, not wanting to argue with him right now, still feeling weak.
“Exactly,” he teases back, shoving more chips into his mouth as you laugh softly, wincing. “Now, get some sleep. I’ll stay here with you tonight. Doctor says we can leave in the morning.” he tells you with his mouth full as you nod. You lay your head back on the pillow, sighing as you drift off to sleep.
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The next morning, you wake up to Street’s snores, looking over to see him in an awkward looking position on the chair. You sigh, rolling your eyes, groaning softly as his snores echo through the room. You look over at the table beside your bed, reaching for your phone once you notice it. As the screen lights up you see a text from Rocker.
Rocker: I cleaned up your apartment. It’s all ready for you when you get discharged. And I set up some blankets on the couch. I’m staying there until we catch the rest of the cartel members, and I don’t wanna hear anything from you about how I don’t have to. I’m not letting this happen again.
You smile softly as you read the text, replying a quick ‘okay’ before setting your phone down, knowing that arguing would be pointless. A few minutes later, Street wakes up, looking over at you and smiling softly, sleep still in his eyes.
“Morning. How are you feeling?” he asks, closing his eyes again, yawning loudly.
“It still hurts a little, but these pain meds are helping,” you joke, sitting up slowly. “When can we go?”
“I’ll go get the doctor. She said we can leave today. We’ll probably just have to fill out some forms or something.” he tells you, standing up, stretching.
You nod as he walks out the door, smiling again as you think about Rocker’s text. As quick as your smile appears, it disappears. He’s staying at your house. For God knows how long. While his protectiveness has your heart beating loudly in your chest, it could also very much be credited to the nervousness you feel from having him in such close quarters.
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Later that day, Rocker pulls into your apartment’s parking lot before jogging around to the other side of his truck, opening your door for you and grabbing your arms to help you get out. Rocker told Street he would drive you back to your apartment, Street hesitantly agreeing because he knew driving you home on his motorcycle wasn’t really an option. You thank Rocker softly, feeling two arms wrap around your waist, one Rocker and one Street’s, both of them trying to help you walk inside. 
“I got shot in the side, my legs still work,” you tell them softly, rolling your eyes at their focused expressions.
“Yeah. You got shot. And you’re gonna accept our help for the next few weeks until you heal.” Rocker says seriously, careful of your wound as they lead you to your apartment.
They guide you to your couch, sitting you down softly before backing up, making sure you’re still okay.
“Okay…I guess I’ll go…” Street says, looking between you and Rocker, noticing that Rocker wasn’t moving, feet firmly planted in the middle of your living room.
“And Rocker?” he says, eyes narrowing as they meet each other’s gaze, finger pointed at his chest, “Don’t fuck my sister.” 
Your jaw drops at his words, face growing hot as you look between them. Rocker’s reaction is similar to yours for a moment, before it’s quickly replaced by a neutral expression.
“She just got out of the hospital, Street. I’m not that big of a douchebag,” he says sarcastically, glancing over at you to give you a wink.
“I’m serious,” Street says, eyeing you.
“It’s not gonna happen, Jim, I promise. Thank you. I love you. I’ll be fine.” you tell him, your arms making a shooing motion.
He puts his hands up in surrender, backing up towards the door. Telling you he’ll check up on you later before leaving. 
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It’s a long few weeks as you slowly recover, Rocker refusing to leave your side, keeping his word and sleeping on your couch every night. He talked to Hicks, both agreeing that a uniformed officer would stay outside your door while Rocker was at work, making sure nothing further happened to you.
It was hard to be in your apartment at first. Many nights involved waking up with tears in your eyes, clutching your side as you relived what had happened. Each time you woke up, Rocker was already at your side, shirtless and hair messy, hearing the sounds you made in your sleep. He would softly brush the hair out of your face, whispering that he was there, that he would protect you. If you weren’t so scared, you would’ve noticed his bare chest, and the soft look in his eyes as he calmed you down.
One day he came back to your apartment from work, a large grin on his face as he walked over to you sitting on the couch, kissing your forehead.
“We got them,” he tells you, “All of them. They’re all in prison. You’re safe.” 
“I was already safe, Rocker. You made sure of that as soon as I came home.” you tell him, smiling.
You had gotten used to his company. The longer he was there the less flustered you got around him, his presence only really affecting you when he really laid on the charm.
“Yeah, but now you really don’t have to worry about them again.” He says happily, sitting down beside you on the couch, leaning back as he lets out a long sigh, finally feeling a weight off his shoulders.
“I guess that means you can go home.” you say softly after a few moments of silence, sadness in your eyes. You had liked him before this happened, but now, your feelings have increased tenfold. And he felt the same. He loved coming home to you, making sure that you were okay, he didn’t wanna give that up. You both really didn’t want him to leave, but it made no sense for him to stay, and you both knew that.
“Yeah, I guess it does,” he says, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice as the realization hits him. “Hey, didn’t the doctor clear you for work? When are you going back?” he asks, trying to distract himself from the idea of leaving your apartment. 
“Mhm, I go back in 3 days. I’m excited to get back to it,” you tell him as he nods, eyes unfocused as he tries to burn the feeling of being in your apartment into his brain. Sitting on your couch with you, both comfortable in each other's presence.
“I’m gonna go make dinner. Pasta?” he asks after a few minutes pass, standing up and looking at you. You nod, smiling softly as he goes to the kitchen, sighing as you think of what it would be like to have him here all the time, not just when he feels the need to protect you from the cartel.
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You walk into SWAT headquarters with a smile on your face, waving at your coworkers as you pass them, happy to finally be back. Making your way to your office, Street jogs up to you, lightly putting an arm around your shoulders, still wary of your wound, even though it has pretty much healed by now. 
“Glad you’re back, sis. I was gonna throw you a welcome back party, but Rocker said you’d kill me,” he teases, squeezing your shoulder lightly.
“And he was right. I’m glad you didn’t,” you tell him, fighting back a smile as you both walk into your office, sitting down. 
As you and Street continue talking, Rocker walks in, a smile on his face once his eyes land on you.
“It’s good to see you back in here, sweetheart.” he says, winking, leaning up against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.
“You need something, Rocker?” you tease, turning to look at him, giving him a smile.
“As much as I’d love your help on this new case, I’m not asking you for anything else. I’m not putting you at risk again.” he tells you seriously.
“I told you, it wasn’t your fault, it was my mistake. I’ll help with anything you need, you know that.” you tell him, matching his tone.
“Not taking any chances. Now I’ll just be in here to catch up, tell you how pretty you look,” he says, smirking as his eyes scan your soft frame.
Your face grows hot as you look down, fighting back a smile. 
“Get back to work, Rocker.” you say softly, turning your chair back to Street, hearing Rocker say a quick goodbye before walking to the locker room. 
“Maybe I was wrong about him,” Street whispers, looking over at you, smiling softly as he notices the way Rocker’s words are affecting you, “He’s a good guy for you.”
“Yeah?” you ask in disbelief, your eyes widen as he says this, lips parting in surprise.
“Yeah. He really cares about you. He stayed with you for weeks to make sure you were okay. I thought that maybe he was just flirting with you for fun, that he was just leading you on. But he clearly likes you,” he tells you sincerely, hand coming up to rest on your shoulder. “I give you my blessing.” he jokes, patting your shoulder gently.
Your laugh, raising a brow. “Your blessing? I didn’t realize this was the 1800s,” you tease.
“Yeah, but I know you were holding back because of what I said. I don’t think you should.” he tells you, standing up from the chair beside yours, slowly walking towards the door. “Tell him how you feel!” he says loudly, winking at you. He turns, walking away, leaving you alone in your office laughing softly.
You think for a moment, biting your lip as you try to figure out what to do. You can’t just tell him you like him. Sure, you let him flirt with you, and sometimes you muster up enough courage to say something flirty back, but you can’t tell him. The thought of him rejecting you was too much, and even if you knew he wanted you, you’d still be too scared to say the words.
Little did you know, Street had left your office and went to find Rocker, which led to a weird conversation about you and Rocker’s relationship, and Street’s “blessing.” 
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You tense as you hear a knock on your door that night, slowly making your way to your door. You sigh in relief as you see Rocker through the peephole, opening the door and motioning him to come inside with a small smile on your face.
“What are you doing here?” you ask as he comes in, running a hand through his hair as he turns to face you. You shut the door, spinning around to look up at him, brows furrowing as you see what you swear is nervousness on his face.
“Do you want me?” he asks quickly. He had written a whole speech in his head on the drive over, but now that he was standing in front of you, that’s all he could say.
“What?” you whisper, not knowing what else to say, feeling your heartbeat quicken and breath catch in your throat.
“God, I’ve wanted you for so long. Do you know how much it hurts to see you every day at work? Not able to do anything but stare at you? Flirt with you? But only when I needed something, because Street would skin me alive if I did anything more than that? God, you drive me crazy.” he tells you, stepping closer to you, your back almost touching your front door as you stand there, stunned.
“I-” you whisper, trailing off, letting out a shaky exhale as his gaze burns holes into you, feeling the heat radiating off of him
“Just say yes. Please,” he practically begs, hands clenched at his sides, fighting the urge to pull you into him and run his hands down your body.
“Yes,” you breathe out, immediately feeling his hands grip your hips, pulling you into a rough kiss as your hands move up to his chest.
You whine slightly as he pushes you backwards, your back hitting your front door, your arms quickly moving to wrap around his neck. One of his hands moves up to your jaw, tilting your head up more as he deepens the kiss, his hips slowly grinding into you, forcing a moan out of your mouth.
He smiles into the kiss as you moan, the hand holding your jaw trailing back down your body, moving both hands to the backs of your thighs.
“Jump,” he whispers against your mouth, bending down slightly.
“Don’t wanna crush you,” you whisper, pulling back from his lips, looking up at him, breathing heavily.
“Sweetheart, look at me. I’ll be fine.” he teases softly, a cocky expression on his face. Not wanting to wait for you to jump, he instead roughly grabs your thighs, pulling one of your legs up to rest on his hip before forcing your other foot off the ground, wrapping your other leg around his waist as you shift your weight.
You squeal softly, giggling as he lifts you up, your back hitting the wall again. He wastes no time in finding your lips again, pressing against you as his hands squeeze your thighs.
Your hands find his hair, weaving through them as you kiss him back, tightening your legs around his waist. He can’t get enough of you. The feeling of your thick thighs wrapped around his waist, how they feel in his hands. The way your chest and tummy feel against him. How your lips feel against his.
Suddenly, one of his hands travels up your back, pulling you off the wall as he turns, before it trails back down to the back of your thigh. 
You pull back from his lips as he moves, turning to look at where he’s going. You bite your lip as he makes his way to your bedroom.
“I’ve been waiting a long time to do this, sweetheart.” he whispers in your ear, placing a soft kiss under your ear before throwing you on the bed.
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pinkiemachine · 5 months ago
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How would you do Batman, I'm just wondering because Batman's my favorite character
OH HO HO!! I HAVE WRITTEN SO MUCH ABOUT BATMAN!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
*ahem*
His show is called BATMAN: GOTHAM FILES, and I have the basic outline for each and every one of the seasons! There’s 9 total, plus a movie finale. Here we go!
SEASON ONE:
Most of us should know basically what Bruce’s backstory is, so I’ll keep this part brief. Bruce Wayne was eight years old when his millionaire mother and father were gunned down in front of him in an alleyway in Gotham City. They never found the killer. The family’s loyal butler, Alfred Pennyworth, took care of Bruce from that point onward. Bruce started taking self-defence classes in-between going to the schwanky Gotham Academy and learning how to run his father’s business, Wayne Enterprises (a massive conglomerate that was famous throughout all of America, but especially the East Coast.) The young man had hardly healed from his traumatic experience, though, and after graduating college (something he was practically forced to do by Alfred), he decided not to stay in Gotham. He hated the city. Instead, he took off in a plane… and secretly never intended to come back…
EIGHT YEARS LATER…
It was a welcome surprise when Bruce Wayne turned up in Gotham, seemingly in a much happier headspace and eager to finally, finally take his father’s business seriously. The Prince of Gotham had returned. Months after that, there was a new legend lurking in the streets of the city. Something called “the batman” or “the bat.” Criminals were getting caught and arrested left and right, and half of them were scared out of their minds about this spectre. The police force didn’t know what to make of it… except for one Captain Jim Gordon. He knew that the legend was true… and occasionally, he would sneak into his office and scare the living daylights out of him. He and Batman had been working together for a little while now, (we get an episode later that explores how they first met), but Gordon doesn’t know who he really is under the mask, and no one else in the force thinks that Batman is even real. But Gordon is eager to help him because the police force is falling apart. They’re completely unable to do their job and keep the streets safe, so Gordon agrees to help Batman stop crime in its tracks. He wants to make Gotham safer for his wife and daughter.
Shocking literally no one, the audience discovers that Bruce Wayne is Batman, working out of a massive secret base underneath Wayne Manor—his ancestral home. But, he must balance the life of a vigilante with the life of billionaire Bruce Wayne, which can be difficult at times. We get several episodes just laying the ground work. Who runs the company when Bruce isn’t around? Lucious Fox. Who manages Bruce’s affairs and schedule? Alfred. Who makes all the gadgets and gear that Batman uses? He does. Using plenty of materials and goods he can buy since he’s a billionaire. When did he learn how to make all this stuff? Hmmmmmm….
We meet our first few villains—Penguin, Two-Face, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze, Riddler, etc—Batman is still trying to track down who murdered his parents, and we’re having a generally good time until THE MID SEASON FINALE. You see, there’s a circus coming to town.
Haley’s Traveling Circus was famous on the East Coast, being one of the oldest circuses in the country, as well as boasting the Fabulous Flying Graysons! A family trapeze act! However, this smiling troop of clowns was actually hiding some pretty dark secrets. When they arrived in Gotham City, they were asked to help out known mob-boss Tony Zucco with some… not-so-nice things. John Grayson, head of the Flying Graysons, had been feeling conflicted about how much behind-the-scenes shady dealings the circus had been involved with over the years. So, he thought that maybe if he just let the tiniest bit of evidence leak to the police, maybe they could handle everything and the Graysons wouldn’t be caught in the cross fire. This is what brings Batman to the scene. He investigates the circus, meets the Graysons, including their son, Richard, aka Dick, and eventually goes on to solve the mysterious crime, pinning it on Tony Zucco and getting certain members of Haley’s Circus arrested. (The ones actually involved in the crime.) However, Zucco manages to avoid jail time. Not only that, but he discovers who snitched on him. That night, after the case has been solved and Bruce shows up to catch the Flying Graysons perform, everything is going great until the unthinkable happens: the lines on the trapeze snap and Mr. and Mrs. Grayson go falling to their deaths.
Dick Grayson is an orphan… and he’s angry. He’s about 11 years old, but he’s smart enough to know what’s going on. He knows why Batman was coming around asking questions, he knows who Tony Zucco is, and he knows that his father made him very unhappy. After the police have arrived, but before social services do, Dick sneaks out and climbs to the top of the building with the Bat-Signal on it (yes, by this point in the story, that’s a thing). He flashes it on and off, rain pelting down, until the caped crusader arrives. He demands to know if this was Zucco’s fault. Batman refuses to say anything, but Dick doesn’t care. He says he’s going to make Zucco pay, whether Batman helps or not, and he tries his hardest to remain true to his word. After that night, Dick runs off through Gotham several times, trying to get in touch with Zucco and attempting to enact revenge, meanwhile Batman has to keep swooping in to keep the kid from getting himself killed. He recognises the pain he’s in—he completely understands his anger—and realises that he needs a teacher—a mentor—a father figure who can lead him through all of this and keep him out of trouble. So, as Bruce Wayne, he decides to adopt Dick. At first, Dick doesn’t want anything to do with this stranger—he’d rather stay with his circus family if he’s going to stay with anyone—but then, in court one day, Bruce says something—something only Batman said to him once—and all of a sudden, it clicks in Dick’s mind. He instantly asks to be placed in Bruce’s care and not a few hours after arriving at Wayne Manor, Dick manages to discover where the Batcave entrance is. Sneaking down there, he plans to become his own kind of vigilante, just like Batman, and get revenge… until Bruce catches him and tries to knock some sense into him.
It’s here that Bruce has to confront his own past. His sense and reason are saying, “Don’t let the kid try to enact revenge!” But then, he has to ask himself, “why am I still hunting down the man who killed my parents?” He has to tell himself, “it can’t be about revenge. Only what is just and fair.” When/if he finds the killer, he will turn him over to the authorities and let him face proper punishment. Zucco… he’s too powerful. There needs to be a lot of incriminating evidence against him before the police can take action, and even then, that’s not what Dick wants. Dick wants Zucco gone. Permanently. THAT is what needs to be dealt with inside of Dick. Bruce refuses to let this boy make himself a killer. Instead, he decides to channel that anger and drive into training him. You see, when Bruce vanished for eight years, it was during that time that he met many teachers and learned many new skills. Through bettering himself and learning these skills, he felt he had grown as a person and had worked through some of his emotions. It was therapeutic. He hopes it will be the same for Dick. He also teaches him about the justice system and detective work so that they can bring down Tony Zucco WITHOUT killing him. Little by little, over the course of the next year, Dick starts to turn into the infamous side-kick Robin, following Batman on small cases and learning about fighting crime… from a distance. (Mostly.) Dick does have a knack for getting into trouble.
On the personal side of things, Dick still needs to adjust to living in Wayne Manor, going to a new school (Gotham Academy) navigating being a wealthy, famous person’s adopted son, etc etc. And then… Ra’s Al Ghul shows up. Now it’s time for Bruce’s past to be revealed. He had traveled the world, and he did have many teachers, but none quite as legendary as the Demon’s Head, leader of the League of Shadows. A secret organisation (cult, really, Bruce later realised) that had mastered martial arts, ninjutsu, and so much more. Each member was a peak specimen of the human race, with no genetic weaknesses or flaws, especially their leader, Ra’s. Bruce had been one of his top students, but then he had revealed his grande scheme for the world. Ra’s wanted to wipe out the rest of humanity (which he deemed as impure and flawed) and then the only people who would be left to inherit the Earth would be his perfect family and his perfect followers! All he was missing was a male heir to his throne. His daughter, Talia, most perfect of his children, had fallen in love with Bruce during his time in the Shadows, but before anything serious could come of it, Bruce had snuck out and left the League, meaning never to come back. Now, though, Ra’s had found him and wanted him to marry his daughter. Bruce refuses. Ra’s tries to take him by force, Robin helps save the day, it’s a big exciting grand finale to the season, and it ends with Ra’s and Talia retreating… because while Bruce was captured, they managed to steal some… “DNA”… and test tube baby Damian would be thus conceived, unbeknownst to Batman and Robin.
(Like, he’s a test tube baby from conception. Talia was never physically pregnant with him.)
Anyway, things are looking up for our main characters. They saved the city, they saved each other, they’re working on their personal growth, and everyone is excited to see Season 2 because—
JOKER TEASE!!!! DUN DUN DUN!!!!
I’mma make more posts, this is a long one, strap in…
I also have a sketch of Talia…
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Part 2 👇
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violetflowerswrites · 5 months ago
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I’ll Be Here
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Summary: After a traumatic injury, your SWAT roommate turned boyfriend (?) Jim Street strives to take care of you, and meet all of your needs.
Pairing: Jim Street x (Female) Reader
Disclaimer: Minor mentions of leg injury, meds, and recovery with wheelchair, casts, and crutches. Reader has a protective older sister. One scene of nightmares, mentions of trauma. Discussion of child abuse, drug use, drunkenness, in Street’s family history. Filthy Smut. Oral sex (female receiving). Consensual P in V sex. 18+ for explicit smut, and language
Word Count: 4.0k
A/N: I felt like there needed to be one more epilogue / ending to this Street x Roommate fic series. It picks up directly after the ending of Part Two (Taking it Slow). I got a little caught up fleshing out her backstory and recovery journey, but there’s a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, and quite a bit of smut. I added some details from Season 4, Ep 2 as well. It’s a slower paced story than what I normally like, but I still had a fun hell of time writing it. Enjoy!
Part One Here - “Too Complicated”
Part Two Here - “Taking It Slow”
Masterlist Here
The click of the door makes the two of you startle, and quickly.
“Commander Hicks is gonna put you on armory duty for a week for pulling a stunt like that.”
“Hey, Tan.” Street smiles at his teammate’s lack of greeting. Classic Tan — a bit of hard-ass, but always means well. “Hicks already chewed my ear off on the phone earlier.”
“Figured. I just wanted to come down, see how my friend’s sister was doing. I already briefed her on what happened. She’s on her way back from a case up in Burbank.”
“Thank you, Victor.” You breathe out a sigh of relief.
Victor Tan was co-workers with your older sister back from his days in LAPD’s Hollywood Vice division. When you decided to move to LA, she figured you being roommates with a SWAT officer was the safest place you could be.
But the world is a dangerous place, even if you live with Jim Street, LAPD SWAT.
Victor looks you up and down, noticing that besides being a little pale, and having a massive cast on your leg, you don’t seem to be in pain.
Then, he notices the way that Street is standing— body turned to yours, hand hovering on the bedside protectively, as if he wanted to hold your hand at any given moment.
“Hold on, don’t tell me you two are a thing now.”
A hot flush creeps up your skin and you and Street immediately stumble over your responses.
“We were trying to take it slow—“
“and not make things too complicated…”
“but then this happened so…”
“We don't really know what we are, but I do know that I am so so grateful for you Victor. You and Street helped save my life.”
You end your rush of words with a watery smile, emotion cracking your voice.
Tan looks down sheepishly, immediately trying to be casual about it.
“Nah, Y/N. It was the tourniquet you made that probably saved your life. You gave us a big scare today, but I am glad to see you’re okay.”
“That makes 3 of us.”
A petite, fierce-looking female cop stands in the doorway of the hospital room, her hand sweeping back some stray hairs that fell out of her tight bun in her rush to get to you.
Your bad-ass cop sister stays over for a week while you recover, watching Street like a hawk. You’re so hopped up on pain-killers that you barely notice the tension between them.
Street on the other hand, feels like he’s being evaluated in some test he didn’t train for. He couldn’t take time off, so he’s eager to see you whenever he gets home. But most of the time, your sister is hovering over you, helping you adjust to moving around in the wheelchair, and making sure you are eating your meals and taking all your meds correctly.
One late evening while you’re supposed to be sleeping, you overhear your sister confront him.
“So. When were you gonna tell me you’re fucking my sister?”
Street spits out the beer he just took a sip of. He’s barely exchanged more than a few sentences to your sister, and that was when she helped you move in a few months ago.
“Uh…”
“I see the way you look at her. I’m pretty sure I warned you that this arrangement was solely to keep her safe while living in this neighborhood. Didn’t expect you guys to fuck so quickly.”
Damn. Your sister is known to be blunt, but this is next level. You remembered how she reacted when your dick-head of a college ex-boyfriend broke your heart. He was sorry to have ever known you after that.
“About that…” Street starts, but gets cut off with a raised palm in his face.
“Before you say anything, I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She hasn’t told me yet, but I know. She’s down bad for you, Street.”
You automatically pull your covers up in embarrassment, hearing your sister lay all your feelings out in the open like that. She’s right though, you’ve fallen hard for him and it’s not just because he saved your life a week ago.
It’s because he's an empathetic listener to your rants about work, LA traffic, anything.
It’s the way he notices the small things, like when you're stress baking, or when you have your shoulders hunched up in frustration at the kitchen counter.
It’s how he gently pries your closed off doors open, helping you heal from your past.
It’s how he loves you, in such a sweet, gentle way that only he can.
“So you have 2 days before I go back to Vice to show me that you can take care of her.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Well, I don’t want to, but we’re about to make a big drug bust and my team needs me. Y/N is strong. She can take care of herself, but I worry about her. Her surgery was intense, and it’s gonna be a long recovery. I was gonna have her live with me for a few months, but I don’t think she wants to be away from you.”
“Thank you.” Street lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He may be a big bad SWAT officer, but your 5 foot nothing of a cop sister scared the shit out of him.
“Don’t thank me yet.”
That weekend, you get the full princess treatment from Street. He helps train your upper body strength to be able to lift yourself on and off your wheelchair. He takes you to the park to get some sun, and makes sure the entire house is wheelchair friendly so you can move around independently. He rearranges the fridge and pantry so that your favorite foods are all easily reachable from your lower height. He even meal-preps some home-cooked lunches to have while you go back to work on Monday.
Working with your sister, he re-arranges his schedule so he can drive you to the office in the morning and your sister can take you home.
On Sunday evening, you read out a long string of dates as Street writes all your upcoming appointments on the fridge-calendar and your sister says which ones she can take you to, and which ones she needs Street to help drive you.
“Well…fuck.” Your sister swears, which only happens when she’s particularly exasperated.
”What? What’s wrong?” You look up from your laptop with your Google calendar open.
“Y/N, I didn’t wanna admit it, but you got a good one here.”
An ear-splitting grin spreads across Street’s face as he realizes what she means.
You obviously told your sister that you overheard Friday night’s conversation, and all of what’s been going on between you and Street…minus the mind-blowing sex.
“He passed?” You ask eagerly, hopeful stars in your eyes.
“He never had to pass anything in the first place, Y/N. If you chose him, that’s all the approval I needed to know. I trust you. I was just giving him a hard time, because I love you.”
You burst out laughing while Street spits out a flabbergasted “The hell did I try so hard for?!”
“That’s what big sisters are for. Y/N deserves all the princess treatment she can get. We put our lives on the line every day, but she doesn’t normally have to. She’s gonna need you, Street.”
Street places a reassuring hand on your sisters’ shoulder.
“I’ll be here.”
Street lives up his promise, taking care of you through some of the worst physical and emotional pain you’ve ever been in.
He’s there at your physical therapy appointments, making sure you’re practicing the exercises at home even when you just want to lie down from exhaustion.
He’s there holding your hand even though you squeeze him until his fingers go numb. It hurts him to see your face contort with unexpected pain when the meds wear off and you try putting some weight on your leg for the first time in weeks.
He’s there when the trauma sets in. He notices when you’re on the couch in the evenings, the TV on, but you’re not really watching. He holds you tightly while you wake up in the middle of night crying, reliving the moment you almost died.
He’s there through it all.
“How do you deal with it?”
You’re sitting upright in bed, the soft yellow glow of the bedside lamp warming the darkness of the middle of the night.
“Deal with what?”
Street’s sitting next to you, holding your hand while your sweat-soaked forehead leans against his shoulder, your racing heartbeat finally slowing down.
Your breath draws in and out in a steady rhythm as you calm yourself from your latest nightmare with his comforting presence.
Street ran into your room when he heard you. That’s been the third night in a row that you’ve woken up to the sound of your own screaming.
“Deal with trauma. Not the physical pain, but those horrible moments that just keep flashing before your eyes every time you close them.”
“Well, I’ve been dealing with trauma my whole life I guess.”
Street has already talked to you about growing up in the foster system, because his dad was a drunk. You knew that his mom was in jail for killing him, but Street didn’t go into details. You knew as much as he hated talking about his past, he hated talking about his complicated relationship with his mom even more.
“Last week, we were surveilling a house, trying to get someone for the CIA, and I saw a kid. A little boy, covered in bruises on his back porch. He looked so alone, and so scared.”
“What happened?”
“I got into it with Hondo a bit, almost compromised the mission because I wanted to get him out of that abusive home.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. But it brought back a lot of memories, and none of them good.”
It was your turn to comfort Street as you could hear his breath come in shudders as he thought back to his rough childhood.
“Have I ever told you that my earliest memory of kindergarten was my mom putting makeup on my chin to cover up my dad’s crappy weekend?”
“No.” The word comes out in a saddened whisper. “You’ve never told me that one before.”
“Well, it’s not something that comes up in casual conversation. And I’ve tried a lot of things to make sure I never have to mention those moments.”
“What kinds of things?”
Street lets out a wry chuckle.
“What haven’t I tried? Drugs, alcohol. Thrill seeking. Street racing. Driving way past the speed limit.”
“You still do that one.”
Street laughs genuinely now. “Yeah, but not where I’ll get caught by cops.”
“You are a cop!”
He chuckles again, but quiets down into contemplative silence.
“For many years, I just poured myself into my job. Climbing the ladder until I could make something of myself. Run away as far as I could from that childhood me. The one with the drunk dad, jailed mom. The helpless foster kid.”
“It didn’t help, did it?”
“No. Not really.”
“Then, how did you heal?”
Street looks down at you now, his heart breaking to see tears streaming down your face. He’s certain those are empathetic tears, tears for his hardships. His rough childhood. Pangs of guilt wash over him.
He doesn’t deserve your tears.
Then, he sees the way you’re looking at him. The way you’re holding him in a bone-crushing embrace. Well, as tightly as you could possibly hold all of his heavily-muscled torso.
So, he sucks in a grounding breath and reminds himself that you’re crying because you care about him. Because you love him.
And it’s okay to accept your love.
Street caresses your cheek with a strong hand, and thumbs off a few of your tears.
“I’m still healing. But when those moments come, I’ve learned that it helps to talk about it.”
All those late-night bike rides down the California coastline could never truly help him escape from his problems.
He thinks back to all the people in his life who’ve helped him open up. Who’ve confronted him on his bullshit and made him stop running away.
Hondo and Buck.
Chris, Deacon, Tan, and Luca.
Even his ex-girlfriend, Molly Hicks.
As much as he hates to admit it, putting his trauma out in the open was better than keeping it in.
Your hand in his starts trembling and that small movement pulls him out of his thoughts.
“What if I’m not ready to talk yet?” You choke, as if you could barely get the words out.
“Then I’ll be here waiting until you are.”
Weeks pass in a whirlwind of work, doctors’ appointments, and recovery exercises at home. Eventually, the nightmares subside, and you start seeing a therapist to help you work through the trauma.
You graduate from the wheelchair and giant full-length cast to a bootie on your calf and ankle. The hardwood floor is littered with little dents from the first few days you learned to hobble around on crutches, but you get the hang of it quickly.
Both Street and your sister feel much more at ease leaving you at home alone, knowing that you can take care of yourself more easily now.
Except today.
Because your idiot brain put the crutches by the bathroom door instead of next to the towel rack.
And here you are, butt-naked in the shower, the floor wet and a slipping hazard, and 6 feet away from independence.
Just as you debate bear-crawling across the cold tile to grab your crutches, you hear the front door open and close.
“Street!” You call out.
Heavy footsteps rush over to the bathroom and skid to a stop as Street quickly leans his head against the door and asks urgently, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine! I just left the crutches by the door and I can’t reach them. Can you help me get out of the shower?”
Street breathes out a sigh of relief. Ever since the accident, he finds himself panicking easily about any situation that has to do with you getting hurt.
“Of course. I’m coming in.”
You’ve managed to dry yourself off, wrap your body in a fluffy white towel, and sit on the edge of the tub.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by Street how your damp hair clings to your skin, flushed from the hot water. Lavender-scented steam hits him in a rush as he opens the door, a familiar smell to him. You love lavender shampoo, soaps, lotions, candles, anything.
He scoops you up gently, trying not to think about the last time he carried you like this was when you were bloodied, unconscious, and barely alive.
A small moan draws him out of his head immediately.
Not a moan of pain.
A moan of lust.
What?
Street freezes and gently places you on the bathroom counter, carefully holding your injured leg against his hip.
His eyes dart across your flustered face as you realize just what kind of inadvertent sound escaped your lips as soon as you were in Street’s strong arms, and you inhaled the familiar leather of his bike jacket.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Street kisses you breathless and pulls your towel down, inhaling your damp skin and that damned lavender soap that is making him dizzy with lust.
Water drips from the ends of your hair down your body, and Street licks up the river trailing from your shoulder, down the swell of your breasts, all the way to your core.
He pulls you to the edge as he kneels down in front of you. Ever-conscious of your injury, he lifts your hurt leg onto his shoulder, which only serves to widen your thighs, giving him full access.
Your knuckles tighten against the counter and your moans bounce off the tiled walls the second he licks your dripping pussy.
Street is a master at oral and it’s been weeks since you’ve had the pleasure of being his pupil.
His tongue dives first into your center, stretching your hot, leaking core. Then his lips find your clit, sucking it in gently, until the nerve endings in the sensitive nub light your body up with pleasure.
Before you have a moment to recover, his fingers find your entrance and enter with ease. Your slick gushes out, dripping onto the towel as he thrusts two fingers in and out. His knuckles curl up, searching for the spongy spot that he knows will drive you absolutely wild.
Filthy sounds of wetness fill the bathroom as he eats you out and fingers your clenched center, once, twice, three times.
Before long, his moans mix with your own as you voice your pleasure, cumming on his face in moments.
“Keep going.”
Street freezes at the first words you’ve uttered since he kissed you. It was an impulse, a lack of self-control that got him to this point in the first place.
It was seeing you nearly naked, with that damned lavender filling his nostrils that drove him crazy.
But he was going to stop. It was enough to get you off.
”I’m not done yet, Street.” You demand arrogantly, and look pointedly at the hard erection pushing against his dark-blue jeans.
“But—“
“I’ll be fine. Just hold my leg up and fuck me.”
You pull him up by the collar of his leather jacket, and kiss him roughly, panting in his ear as you lick and suckle the skin of his cheek, his neck, the underside of his jaw.
It’s been too long since you’ve had his body, his touch, his cock. You crave him with a hunger you’ve never known before.
And now that you’ve had a taste, every cell in your being is vibrating with one simple word.
More.
Needing no other encouragement, Street strips off his jacket only for you to take it and pull it over your bare shoulders.
The sight of you, fully naked except for his jacket, makes him suck in a breath.
His eyes darken immediately and he can hear his heart beat in double time.
You make him go feral.
It takes no time at all for him to rid himself of his remaining clothing, and line himself up with your pink entrance.
“You’ll tell me if I’m hurting you?” Street asks, still hesitant, even as the pre-cum of his throbbing member mixes with your juices.
“Yes.” You affirm breathlessly, feeling the round tip of his hard cock start to breach your center.
“You’ll stop me if you can’t handle it?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure about this, Y/N?”
“Yes! Street, fill me with your cock already!”
He blushes at your filthy words, feeling the heel of your good leg dig into the small of his back, trying to draw him into your waiting core.
You finally feel him push through the tight circle of your center. You’re especially tight, having not had sex since the accident over a month ago.
Street lets out a growl as he feels your pussy gripping him, struggling to push in deeper.
But instead of pain, you only feel pleasure.
“Fuck—! That feels incredible. Go deeper, Street. Please!” You beg him, desperate for more.
He grabs your thighs, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pulls you towards his pelvis. You can feel his cock thrust to the end, finally completely filling you with all of him.
You throw your arms around his waist, breathing heavily as the heady lavender steam only serves to make the two of you even more sex-drunk.
You hear Street suck in another deep breath before he pulls out, and slowly inches his way back into you, experimenting with how fast he should go.
How much you can handle.
But the slower pace feels heavenly to your hot, needy core. His cock stretches every part of you, pressing against your spongy center, all the way to your cervix as he thrusts down to the hilt once more.
”How’s that, Y/N? Does it hurt?” Street checks in with you again, a vein popping out of his neck as he strains to maintain his self-control. All his cock wants is to fuck you with total abandon, but he refuses to put himself first.
Your voice comes out in a stream of incoherent whimpers as you wordlessly express just how good it feels to be filled by him.
So Street cups the back of your ass, and presses you flush against him, and you cry out, feeling him impossibly deep inside.
“Oh my god! Street!”
“I’m just getting started.” He grins, licking the side of your neck as he starts to roll his hips into you.
You feel his cock slip out just a few inches only to thrust back in as far as it can go, over and over.
As you look down, you are blessed with the magnificent sight of Street’s abs clenching with every sensual roll of his body against yours.
Every slight motion pushes you to the brink of orgasm, your body almost unable to handle all the stimulation after having only known pain and discomfort for the past several weeks.
Impulsively, you bite down on Street’s shoulder, trying to expend all the pleasure you’re feeling somewhere else, muffling your moans against his muscled flesh.
“Shit! Are you biting me?” Street growls, incredulous, but also massively turned on.
“Does it hurt?” You grin mischievously, pulling his lower lip in between your teeth next.
“Yeah.”
“A good hurt, or bad hurt?”
“Good.” Another sharp inhale. “Fuck, I’m already close!”
Street’s body shudders as you feel his grip slide back to your hips, his slow thrusts giving way to a faster, more desperate rhythm.
You nibble and nip the side of his neck, the bottom of his ear, as you feel just how hot his skin is under your tongue and lips.
Another loud moan is wrenched from your throat as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you. His cock satisfies your body in a way you can’t describe.
You can’t wait any longer.
“Cum for me.” You whisper into his ear, demanding his obedience. His brow furrows as he tries to delay his incoming orgasm, and you kiss it, giggling as you watch him come undone by your body.
Street pushes his cock into you, your wetness making the movement easy, but your tightness gripping him like he is never supposed to separate from you again.
You lock your fingers behind the small of his back, pulling him in and clenching down until you feel his cock spurt out jets of hot cum into your core.
Street grits his teeth and heaves out the sexiest, most overstimulated moan you’ve ever heard from any man.
Your own orgasm follows right behind his, your entire being vibrating with pleasure, wetness repeatedly gushing around his cock. Your pussy stutters, muscles spasming as it tries to recover from the best sex you’ve ever had, with the biggest cock you’ve ever had.
With the most loving, caring man you’ve ever had. Your heart fills with love and contentment at the moment the two of you just shared.
This is what sex should be like - intimacy, pleasure, love.
It is truly something else.
“Y/N?” Street murmurs against your damp shoulder, slowly regaining some semblance of control and coherent thoughts.
“Mmm?”
“You know I love you, right?”
“I know.”
“I never want to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“I’ll always be here for you.”
You find the rough skin of his jaw and pry him off your body, and instead, pull his face towards you, your forehead pressing against his. As you lock eyes with the emotional gaze of your lover, you notice that he’s a little teary, and your heart melts for him even more. Jim Street. The love of your life.
“I know.”
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avictimofthejazz · 4 months ago
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Icons only: Street: Luca's striking out hard with a date
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batman-dc-imagines · 8 months ago
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Hi!!!! May I please request the J squad (Gotham) separately with a reader who works at the police office and is kinda like their inside mole? Like they let them know plans to catch them and are also always willing to help them escape and stuff? THANK YOU ❤️
A/N: All jobs are associated with the GCPD. Slite nsfw on Jerome's end.
Gotham!Jerome Valeska
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Job: Police Officer
Oh you little tattletale.
He’s not too surprised by your efforts in trying to keep him from getting caught.
Hell practically half if not most of his followers are or used to be coppers before joining him.
You’re no exception.
Expect to get anonymous calls from him talking and asking about anything other than any more information on Gordon being on his tail or big plans the precinct has been working toward.
For example, one day he called you while on shift to just say, “When are ya gettin’ off cop doody?”.
He has a printed and digital copy of your work schedule.
As we see in Season 4,he has complete control over Arkhams guards and prisoners, even saying that he wants to make a show of his escape, further displaying the extent of his 'showman complex'.
 For the sake of the prompt, if he had any minor inconveniences with his little escape he wouldn’t turn down you assisting him in his plans.
Though do keep in mind his showman complex and that unless you want to be discovered as a traitor, you’ll need to discuss with him a plan where you won’t be seen as an accomplice.
He’ll leave little gifts for you on your desk mostly to show his appreciation for all that you’ve done for him.
How he gets them there, you’re not too sure.
If you don't care for his gifts, he'll offer other ways to show his appreciation. (I'm winking under the eyepatch)
Gotham!Jervis Tetch
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Job: Doctor
“Twinkle, twinkle, pretty doctor, how I long to unlock her. In this asylum, you shine with smite, but in my heart, you are my light.” (Yes, this is similar to him and Lee’s interaction.)
When he got sent to Arkham, there wasn’t much he was looking forward to.
Except getting back out on Gotham streets and getting revenge on James Gordon.
But when he meets you? Now there’s something to look forward to.
Once he realizes you’re on his side and help him escape the first time, expect to hear from him often.
Quite often in fact.
When he gets sent to Arkham a second time, doctor visits and check ups are a lot more fun now.
It’s like two kids in kindergarten, passing secret notes to one another while the teacher isn’t looking.
Some being about a plan for his escape while others are all laughs and giggles.
He is a gentleman when it comes to showing his gratitude for your assistance.
That is if he likes you of course.
Gotham!Jonathan Crane
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Job: Forensic science technician
When you first met, Jonathan didn’t trust you.
In fact he hated you.
Anyone associated with the GCPD and Jim Gordon, he hated.
He blamed you all for the death of his father.
It took a bit of time and patience for him to fully trust you.
Even when you started becoming a full time mole for him, he still kept you at an arms length.
No matter how often you’d update him on the GCPD and their plans, or Jim Gordon’s whereabouts, he’d just give a vague form of acknowledgment or confirmation in your words.
The only reason he started to put his whole trust in you was when you started showing interest in his experiments.
Especially his toxin.
He starts enjoying your company more when you start helping him perfect his toxin.
You both find out it comes in handy that you’re able to get information on your former colleagues' fears without any suspicion.
He’s able to find weak points in practically every police officer in the precinct.
He starts showing his gratitude for your help later on.
Though he does tend to act vague about it.
235 notes · View notes