#Chicago PD blurbs

[cutielando]

hey my lovely 🫶🏼 first I LOVE your smut, it's really just as good as your writing in general, so don't doubt that you're a great writer. 🙂‍↕️🫶🏼

second lmao i saw that you are accepting requests for Jay Halstead (my man), could you write one where he and the reader have sex in his truck? as if she rides him 😅

every time saw him get off her i was collapsing, it looked so good 😩

Only if this makes you feel comfortable and like i said if you still write about him, I send you all my love and hugs 🫂💌

in the car | jay halstead

synopsis: in which you can't resist him

warnings!!: smut, p in v, car sex, pet names, daddy kink, degradation, oral sex (male receiving)

pairing: jay halstead x girlfriend!reader

my masterlist

It hadn't been your fault, really.

Ever since you two arrived at Molly's, he had been looking insanely hot and delicious. The shirt that hung onto his biceps a little too tightly, the way his spread thighs looked at you, begging you to go and sit on them. The booming laughter that escaped him every now and then.

Everything Jay was doing was driving you absolutely crazy. You had seen little of him in the past week because of a case he was working, so you were craving him way more than you usually would on a Friday night.

"Are you okay?" Kim snapped you out of your daze, looking at you worriedly. You looked around you and saw that none of your other colleagues were paying attention to you, which you were thankful for.

You cleared your throat, giving Kim an unconvincing smile in reassurance.

"I'm okay, just kinda tired" you explained, making the girl smile and nod in understanding.

You almost sighed in relief when she shifted her attention back to your friends, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a hot minute.

Your eyes naturally shifted towards Jay again, admiring him from every angle your mind could come up with. The way his eyes lit up whenever he laughed, the way he would slap his thigh every time someone would say something funny, the way he was just so effortlessly hot.

Jay knew you were all hot and bothered for him. He knew your body inside and out, so it was easy for him to pick up on the little gestures you always did when you were horny.

He got smug when he would think about it, knowing how much torture it was for you to not be able to jump his bones right then and there.

Half an hour later, much to your relief and excitement, Jay had decided you were both going to call it a night, much to the dismay of your friends.

"Come on man, you barely got here" Ruzek complained, throwing his hands in the air.

"Sorry man, we'll stay some other time" Jay said, taking your hand in his while trying hard not to smirk.

If only they knew why you were leaving early...

You waved at your friends one last time before Jay held the door open for you, the fresh air hitting you instantly as you stepped out of the crowded bar.

You both walked in silence towards Jay's car, just enjoying the quiet and peace of the young night.

"I hope you know you're in for a treat tonight" Jay whispered in your ear once you got to his car, holding the door open for you.

You looked at him and bit your lip, trailing a hand down his chest.

"Can't wait, daddy" you whispered seductively in his ear, biting on his earlobe before getting into the passenger seat.

Jay let out a shuddering breath, his pants tightening even more around his crotch. He cursed under his breath as he rounded the car and got into the driver's seat.

He started up the car and started driving, his knuckles clutching tightly at the steering wheel. You tried to hide your smirk so he wouldn't see it, but were failing miserably.

"You think this is funny? This is all your fault" he said, pointing to his crotch where you could clearly see how hard he was.

You bit your lip as you stared at his boner, licking your lips. An idea suddenly sparked into your mind, making you smile. You unbuckled your seatbelt and scooted closer to the console, a hand slowly running up and down the inside of his thigh.

"Stop, I'm trying to drive" Jay warned you, his knuckles a hot white as his grip on the wheel tightened.

You didn't pay him any mind, your hand now trailing directly over his bulge. You bit your lip as your hands slowly unzipped his pants, your hand massaging his hard cock over his boxers.

Jay let out a strangled groan, trying to focus on the road ahead instead of you touching him where he desperately needed to be touched.

"I know you don't want me to stop" you said nonchalantly as you put your hand in his boxers and freed his aching cock, the tip an angry red and leaking precum all over his pants.

Jay didn't say anything, but the loud moan that erupted from his throat as he felt your warm mouth envelop his cock. You immediately got to work, sucking harshly and playing with his heavy balls. He sucked in a breath as he felt you taking him cock all the way down your throat, your gag reflex long gone by this point.

"Oh shit" Jay moaned out, one of his hands tangling into your hair, pushing your head further down his cock.

You were sucking and slurping at his length like it was your meal, fondling his balls and applying pressure on the thick veins popping out. You were so focused on sucking him off that you didn't even realize he had pulled over on the side of the road.

Feeling him swell in your mouth and his veins throbbing, you lifted your head with a pop, wiping the corner of your lips.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N" Jay said, breathing loudly to catch his breath as he chuckled.

"We're not done, baby" you said, making him look at you hungrily.

You got up from your seat and jumped into his lap, getting comfortable once he pushed the seat back so you had more space.

Smashing your lips against his, his hands were gripping your hips tightly, your panties-covered pussy rubbing against the length of his dick as you grinded your hips against his.

You were so horny, so desperate to feel him that you reached your hand down and pushed your panties to the side before you took his cock in your hand and lined it up with your entrance, moaning into his mouth as you slowly slid down on him.

"Fuuck" Jay moaned, the feeling of your warm walls wrapped around him making his eyes roll in the back of his head.

You slowly took in all of him, stopping when you were sat on his thighs, closing your eyes to take in the feeling of his cock stretching you out perfectly, his tip nudging at your cervix as your walls contracted around him, his protruding veins tickling your insides.

"You feel so fucking good" you whimpered, grabbing his shoulders to steady yourself.

"I can feel your juices dripping down on my cock, so fucking hot" Jay said as he placed open mouthed kisses all over your chest, sucking on the flesh of your breasts while trying to ground himself and not cum too soon.

You bit your lip as you slowly started lifting yourself up and down on his cock, swallowing him whole every time you would go down on him. The angle at which his cock was hitting all of the right spots inside of you made your toes curl and your mind go fuzzy.

Jay held your hips in his hands and guided you up and down, helping you maintain a rhythm. You were now bouncing up and down on his cock, your nails digging into his shoulders as moans kept escaping your throat.

"You feel so fucking good, daddy. So big and perfect just for me" you mewled as you collapsed onto his chest, your thigh burning with exhaustion.

"Such a good girl for me, you're doing so good fucking yourself on my cock, dirty girl" he grumbled as he lifted his hips and started pounding into you, making you scream out in pleasure and screw your eyes shut.

The windows were fogged up, the car rocking with how fast Jay was now pounding into you. His tip was hitting your cervix repeatedly, making the coil inside of you grow hotter by the minute.

"You're gonna make me cum, daddy" you stuttered out, your brain fucked out and your body slumped against him.

Hearing that, Jay immediately brought a hand to your clit and started drawing quick circles on it, applying pressure while doing so. His orgasm wasn't far behind, but he wanted you to cum with him, to fill your cum dripping down from your pussy as he filled you to the brim with him cum.

"Cum for daddy, baby. Let go for me" he whispered against the shell of your ear, picking up his brutal pace even more and his hand speeding up working on your clit.

It only took a few more thrusts before you were screaming out his name, your pussy walls clamping down and pulsating so harshly around his cock that his orgasm hit him with full force, his toes tingling as he shot rope after rope of cum deep into your pussy.

"Oh my God" you squealed when you felt his cum spreading through you, triggering yet another orgasm from your pussy, milking him for all he was worth.

Jay was thrusting up lazily as he emptied his heavy balls inside of you, feeling slightly overstimulated as your pussy kept fluttering against his cock, almost like you didn't want him to ever pull out.

Slowly, you both came down from your thighs, breathing heavily against one another.

You lazily picked up your head from his shoulder and smiled at Jay, leaning down to peck his lips a couple of times.

"That was so hot" you murmured against your lips, making the both of you burst out laughing.

Yeah, it was fucking hot.

And you would do it again anytime.

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[equallyshaw]

Gun to My Head, Heart in His Hands | Jay Halstead

warnings: kidnapping. w.c: 6.0K masterlist. |

8 days. Millie had been trapped here for eight days. No escape. No strength left to fight back. No proof anyone was coming.

She wasn’t a cop built for battle. Not muscle. Not a weapon. She was the ��book”—the “shrink.” The one who barely scraped through the academy, who talked her way into Intelligence with words instead of bullets.

Why would they come looking for her?

Why would he?

Jay Halstead. The man who could read a room in seconds but never once looked at her long enough to see her. The man who got under her skin faster than trauma ever had. Who held her at arm’s length like she was a liability—only to pull her close, just to walk away again.

He hadn’t stood up for her. Not when it counted. Not when the team had laughed. Not when she needed him to speak, to see.

She’d swallowed the humiliation. Tasted metal when she bit her tongue. Pride bleeding out between her teeth.

I hope I die before I lose myself.

Because if she broke in here, no one would care enough to find the pieces.

She wasn’t the hero. Just a file clerk in a bulletproof vest. A body behind a desk.

No guts. No glory.

Some of us are the ones that should’ve gotten away.

And maybe she was one of them. Not the one who mattered. Not to him. Not to anyone.

—

Her head throbbed as she woke on a cold, concrete floor in some desolate warehouse on the far South Side—right at the edge of the city limits. Her mouth tasted like metal—her own blood—slowly clotting after his elbow had collided with her jaw. No break, thankfully. But a dull, persistent ache lingered.

Her eyes cracked open, adjusting to the dim surroundings and the absence of… well, anything.

As the conditions came into focus, her eyes widened. She looked down at her body, searching for trauma. Just dried blood on her shirt—presumably from her mouth. And then she remembered—the way her head had snapped back, then righted itself. Whiplash.

Millie shuddered as her hand drifted to her temple, brushing against more dried blood. Tears burned her eyes at the swelling beneath—a definite bruise.

She bit down. Hard. She knew better. Better than to cry. Better than to scream. Better than to beg.

They couldn’t know they’d gotten to her. They had to think she was broken. Maybe then… maybe then she could escape.

She coughed into her arm—force of habit—just before the screech of the metal door sliced through the silence.

He stepped in.

That face. It had haunted her nightmares for years. He grinned. A devil’s grin wrapped in sugar.

“Hi, Millie. Been a while, huh?” he said, settling into a wooden chair in the corner.

It took everything in her not to respond. Not to give him the satisfaction. But if she was honest—she’d wanted to kill him the second he stepped through that door.

The man who stole everything from her. Maybe now was her time. Maybe now she’d rise to the occasion—guts and glory.

He tsked. “Aw, sweetie, don’t remember me? You’re breaking my heart.” He placed a mocking hand over his chest.

She rolled her eyes.

He chuckled. “You pretending not to feel anything? That shrink-mind bullshit isn’t gonna work on me, baby.”

His voice dripped with venomous sweetness, and it turned her stomach.

“What would your father say, hmm? What would Marcus—”

“Don’t you dare bring him up,” she snapped. “Don’t you dare say his name, Martin.”

His grin didn’t falter. “Or what, baby? Hmm? What?”

She shook her head, lips curling into a snarl.

“You don’t get to say his name. Not after what you did. Not after you murdered your own partner. My father.”

Her voice shook. Wobbled. He just smiled.

“You knew it was me that night,” she whispered. “You knew he was taking me to that father-daughter dance. You knew exactly who I was—what I meant to him—and you still put a bullet in his head and made it look like suicide.”

He blinked once. Slow. Calculated. Smug silence filled the room.

“He trusted you,” she spat. “Like a damn brother. And you covered it up. You made him look unstable. Left him with the weight of your crimes—and a bullet in his brain.”

Martin leaned back, comfortable in his lie. “The department bought it. You know why? Because he was spiraling. I just gave them the ending they were already expecting.”

“You staged it,” she growled. “You made it real. And you kept going. Still on the force. Still undercover. Still playing the good guy—while you rot inside.”

He stood slowly, pacing. “Don’t pretend you’re clean in all this.”

His voice was sharp now.

“You were ready to burn the whole thing down just to prove a point.”

Silence. Then a sigh—low and bitter.

“But that’s what they don’t get about you.”

He glanced at her.

“The others... they think you’re soft. Safe. Just some desk jockey who’s in over her head.” A pause. Longer this time. “They don’t see the fire in your blood. The fire behind your eyes.” He stepped closer, voice quieter.

“The same fire your father had. The kind that doesn’t die—it kills.”

He smirked. “I bet it’s the same fire Hank Voight has, hmm?”

She snarled.

“But they don’t know that. They don’t know how twisted you really are, do they, baby? Should we take a peek at your Med file?”

He reached into her bag, pulling out a stack of stolen case files.

“Oh yeah—these are golden. The entire Intelligence team, huh? Why, baby? Why do you have your own personal file cabinet on them… and yourself?”

He stepped closer, faces inches apart.

“Planning to play their game—or rewrite the rules?”

Then he pulled back, flipping open her file.

“Defiance. Fighting. Swearing. Threats. Dumpster fire...” he read. “And oh, yes—the gun incident.”

He paused. Looked at her.

“And my favorite one of all: your childhood cat.” He raised a brow. “You told me about her once. Third grade. White, with one black paw. You cried when she died. I remember.”

Shame. Guilt. Rage. It all flooded her at once. If he didn’t shut up, she was going to vomit.

“They don’t know, right? That your father covered for you?” He flipped another page.

“Family cat found dead in the backyard. Cause: blunt force trauma. Millie claimed the cat was ‘sick’ and ‘wouldn’t stop screaming.’ Said she ‘just wanted it to stop.’ Psych eval noted emotional detachment and a desire for control. When asked why she didn’t tell anyone, she said: ‘They wouldn’t have done anything.’ File sealed by Det. [REDACTED] following mother’s death.”

He shut the folder gently and laid it on the stack, smiling like the devil.

Tears burned behind her eyes.

He made it sound like a horror show. But he wasn’t there. He didn’t hear the screams every night—the animal, not her mother, though both haunted her room. The cat was dying. Millie had begged her father to take it to the vet, but they couldn’t afford another bill.

She didn’t know how to help. She was twelve. She panicked. And afterward, she never stopped feeling like a monster.

Her psych eval showed a paradox: a natural counselor who scored high on sensation-seeking and had a defiant streak that refused to back down, no matter the cost. She wasn’t reckless. But she wasn’t afraid of risk either.

"Your thinking doesn’t always align with what’s expected," the evaluator had said. "It’s not the norm—some might even say it’s dangerous. But there’s intent behind it. Compassion. A refusal to let others suffer when you believe there’s another way."

And Hank... he’d seen it early, hadn’t he? Back when she was just a kid, when he’d stop by for late dinners and midnight drinks, listening to the proud, worried stories her father told.

Tales of what she’d gotten into. The messes. The moments. The way she already saw the world bending at the seams—and tried to hold it together with both hands.

And now—he saw that spirit tenfold. Quieter. Sharper. Calculated. He saw it in the way her mind still worked like clockwork, always five steps ahead. Always watching. Always trying to save someone from the fire.

“You think no one noticed your late-night hangouts? What? He fucked you and ghosted you?”

“STOP!” she screamed, hands flying to her ears.

They hadn’t hooked up. They were just close friends. But she didn’t know why Jay had started pulling away. Their pizza nights. Their coffees. Their long walks after tense cases. All of it had slowed—then stopped.

The shoulder she used to lean on was gone.

Did he know?

Martin chuckled and walked toward the metal door.

“Think it over, baby. I’ll be back.”

The door clanged shut.

She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Tears fell. Her body trembled.

Was she the reason Jay disappeared?

Or worse—was he next?

__

day two.

Gods, her body ached. It felt like death—fire in her veins, every limb breaking at the seams.

Martin had already been in that day. Said he had to go on patrol, promised he’d be back before midnight.

He always knew what buttons to press. How to twist grief into guilt, guilt into shame. That was Martin’s superpower: redefining reality until you questioned whether you were ever good in the first place.

That’s what her father had loved about him. When he still had a grip on reality. Before the cancer made him cruel. Before bitterness swallowed the man who used to braid her hair and make up songs to stop her tears.

She’d spent years in grief counseling after her mother died. Spent even longer learning to name her feelings instead of running from them. But trauma doesn’t evaporate. It lingers. Lurks. And in moments like this—abandoned, bloodied, betrayed—it surged as if it had never left.

And yet, she was still here. Tied up in metal chains. Cold concrete beneath her—hard, unforgiving.

Exactly what she was.

Martin had brought up Jay again. His file. The one she had been working on, for her own files. He mentioned what Jay clearly meant to her—the late-night hugs, the hand-holds outside their respective places when he’d been following her.

That didn’t surprise her. Of course, Martin had been planning something. He was always the planner. Her dad had always been the muscle.

Her mind drifted to the first time she saw Jay.

She’d just graduated from the academy a week prior—barely scraped by—and was partnered with Sean Roman at the Twenty-First Precinct.

Trudy had made some sarcastic comment that bit deeper than intended. Something about how fun it’d be to watch Millie on patrol for a day before she quit the force.

But Millie didn’t give her the satisfaction.

Sure, she was a bit reckless. She knew that.

She and Roman were called to a stakeout that spiraled into an ambush—guns drawn, nerves fried—when Hailey was pulled into a chokehold, a knife pressed to her throat.

God, Millie had been such a fool. Reckless. Dangerous. Timid. Naive. Dumb, they’d called her.

She lowered her gun to the floor. Stepped slowly past the officers pressed against hallway walls and doorframes, toward the man holding Hailey—who was panting in panic.

“Hey, man. I promise they won’t do anything,” she began, stepping between Jay and Hank, who stood at the front.

She raised her arms. “You don’t think I understand how you feel? You think you’re the only one backed into a corner, no way out, no one coming to help? Think again.”

The suspect’s eyes darted, pupils blown wide with desperation. His grip on the blade tightened.

Millie didn’t flinch.

“You don’t think I know what it’s like to lose a parent?” she continued, voice calm. “To lose someone you love? Especially at the hands of a cop?”

The room shifted. The unit exchanged glances. Rookie or not—what the hell was she saying?

But Hank… Hank knew. He knew who she was. And in that moment, he began to suspect what had happened.

“If you want to hurt someone to make them feel what you’re feeling—take me.” Her voice cracked, just barely. “I can handle it. I promise. You want someone who might actually feel it with you? You’re looking at her.”

Silence.

She took a step closer. “But ask yourself this: Do you want to die… or are you just tired of surviving?”

Her eyes locked with the assailant’s. They both started to cry.

He pulled Hailey to the ground gently, and Millie knelt beside them.

“Let us help you,” she said softly. “You don’t want to do this, Julio. I promise.”

“Give me the knife, Julio. I promise—you’ll get the help you need.”

Then, with a hint of sarcasm: “If you hurt me, I will be very hurt.”

She reached for the knife. Julio’s hands trembled as he passed it to her.

Julio gave it up.

Hailey sagged, backing away. Jay moved quickly to catch her. His eyes never left Millie. Antonio and Adam swept in, cuffing him and taking him out the back door.

Millie had been reckless. Yes. Dangerous. But she’d proven herself.

She wasn’t the muscle. She was the brains—with enough nerve to stare down a criminal without blinking.

She walked out beside Roman, who nudged her shoulder. “Not bad, Shrink,” he muttered.

Jay caught that. So did Kim.

Millie rolled her eyes. She hated that nickname. “Hm,” she grunted.

“Good job back there, officer—” Jay started, then paused when she smiled. “Evans. Officer Evans.”

She looked to Roman. “We call her Shrink because she’s a doctor of psychology,” he teased.

A doctor.

She grimaced, sighing. “Have a good day, officers,” she said, eyes flicking between Jay and Kim, then lingering on Jay.

And then she turned, walking back to the patrol car. Jay watched as she seemed to shrink into herself—Roman’s words gnawing at her.

Curiosity gnawed at him, too.

Until the day she joined Intelligence as their book and brains. That was the day Hank Voight finally recognized her—not as the new asset, but as the daughter of an old friend.

She was no longer the child he once knew. She no longer went by Murphy.

She went by Evans now.

A shield. A separation. A choice born from survival.

__

Martin had been at psychological warfare for six hours now — beating her, kicking her ribs, yanking the chains on her wrists until they were bloody and raw.

But the worst damage wasn't physical.

He poisoned her mind.

Told her her father never loved her. That she was a problem — too much. Whispered what the Intelligence Unit really thought of her, what they were doing right now — drinking at Molly’s without a care in the world. Twisted Jay’s silence into betrayal.

And then he rewrote the night her father died.

Swore it wasn’t suicide. Swore Hank killed him.

And the worst part?

She believed him.

Millie was rotting from the inside out. Five days of fighting — every manipulation, every trick — and now?

She was too weak. Too dehydrated. Too starved. And her mind? Clawing at the edge, desperate for one truth to hold onto.

“What is it? Can’t handle the truth? Maybee you were boring? Predictable? Calculated? Unlovable?”

He laughed.

And maybe... Maybe she was.

She sagged in the chair, pain radiating through every inch of her. The chains clinked as her arms dangled, metal embedded into her skin like a second skeleton.

Then one last blow. He struck the back of her head.

Everything went black.

A fucking game. All of it. Twisted. Rehearsed.

Millie’s body shut down. Her subconscious retreated into the only safe space left: Memory.

A Month Earlier.

Jay had been over at her place in the Loop. They’d ordered two pizzas — her deep dish, his tavern-style — and were sharing red wine.

They hadn’t spent time together in weeks.

Jay had been quiet. Off. Not the steady Jay she knew.

Even at work, he'd been distant. Dodging calls. Leaving her out of conversations. Not obvious — just enough to make her question everything.

Now they were on her couch, laughing over Adam and Kevin’s antics. They’d just closed a fifteen-year-old kidnapping case. The motive?

Revenge.

Millie’s smile faded. The case felt too familiar. Like her childhood. Like her father’s death.

Jay noticed and tapped her knee.

“You okay?”

She nodded faintly.

“Yeah… just a long week.”

She set her plate down.

“Thanks for staying this week. The case... it brought everything back. I felt fifteen again. The night my dad died.”

Jay blinked. She’d never told him this.

“You don’t think it was suicide?”

She shook her head.

“No. I was upstairs. Just a few rooms away. And something’s never added up.”

He listened, silent.

“He was undercover. He told Hank and Al — if something happened, it wouldn’t be an accident. Martin, his partner, said grief drove him to do it. Said I was too much. A problem child.”

She laughed bitterly.

“I wasn’t. My dad loved me. But they closed the case. No one believed him. They thought Hank was covering his ass.”

Jay’s chest tightened.

He remembered her outside interrogation the other day — broken, shaken. He’d pulled her in, wordless, held her as she sobbed.

She remembered too — and regretted it.

“You must think I’m weak,” she said, grabbing her wine and standing.

Jay caught her wrist.

Their eyes met.

“Never,” he said. Steady. Certain.

She gave him a faint smile, then walked into the kitchen.

Jay stayed seated. That’s when he saw it — the edge of a manila folder in her tote.

He hesitated, then reached for it.

Marcus Murphy. Her father.

Inside: the case file. Her notes. Theories. Questions. Accusations. Voight. Al. Martin. All annotated.

At the bottom: a photo. Millie at fifteen. Fierce eyes. Forced smile.

Present Day.

Jay bolted upright.

“Voight! We need to check Millie’s. There’s a file. Evidence. I saw it.”

Her apartment.

The living room was a crime board. A detective’s mind mapped out in red string and Post-Its.

Photos. Notes. Maps. Profiles.

Martin — DANGER.

A “Suspects” section: only one name in red.

HANK VOIGHT —What they all said.

Jay’s breath caught.

On the mantle: the folder. Waiting.

Pinned above it:

He has me. Jay — You saw it. You read between the lines. You saw the fear in my eyes. You know why I left the room. Why I left it here. I left a trail because you always saw me clearly. Don’t look for him. But take him down when he shows. — Millie

It wasn’t just a trail. It was a lifeline.

__ day eight.

3:43 PM. Millie called.

Jay tore off his headset. “Trace it. South Side. Industrial block. Near the old slaughterhouse.”

Voight didn’t move. His eyes were locked on the ringing line.

“Line two,” the desk sergeant said. “They say they're Millie.”

Voight grabbed it. “Voight.”

Static. Then her voice, broken:

“Hank?” “Please—don’t come after me. Don’t come after him.”

“Millie? Are you hurt?”

“Chained to a wall. Listening to him whisper how horrible you are as a human being.”

“We’re coming.”

“No. That’s what he wants. I have to be the shield, Hank. To protect you.”

A beat.

“No,” she whispered. “I protected the only one who still gave a damn about him.”

Jay froze. “Her dad…”

Voight already knew.

“Martin murdered him. I was fifteen. Getting ready for a stupid father-daughter dance.”

“He was building a case on you,” she added. “Thought you were dirty.”

“I know.”

“What?”

“I was cleared. Martin wasn’t. I always knew. Your father he-he warned me. Told Al and me about it while undercover.”

“He’s going to kill me, Hank. And I didn’t stop it in time. Didn't stall him long enough.”

“You left a trail. We found it.”

Millie’s voice trembled, almost breaking: “I prayed you’d see me... even if I wasn’t the same — if I changed my name, disappeared... that you wouldn’t forget.”

Jay’s eyes locked on hers, steady and sure. “Never, Millie. I could never forget you.”

A tremble.

“Please don’t let him hurt you. You’re all that's left of him.”

The only one who can keep his memory alive & bring down Martin.

“Millie—”

But the line exploded with noise — footsteps, metal scraping.

“Oh God—he’s coming— I have to go—”

“Millie—!”

A scream. Then silence.

She was out cold.

Martin dragged her limp body across the floor, unhooking her wrists, pulling her into the next room — the one with a ditch filled with glass shards and jagged, rusted blades.

Her unconscious mind spiraled. Memory on loop.

Jay.

She had already fallen for him. In their silences. In the way he made her feel seen — her instincts, her fire, even her doubts.

He told her she kept the team sane. Said they wouldn’t have solved half their cases without her.

But one memory haunted her most.

That day in the joint Narcotics-Intelligence briefing.

Narcotics had sneered at her, mocked her, spit the old nickname like poison: the shrink. They whispered that her father — once the proud head of Narcotics — would be ashamed of her if he were still alive. Barely scraping through the academy. Laughable.

What gutted her wasn’t their cruelty. It was the silence of her own unit.

Not one of them stood up for her.

They let it happen. Watched her burn under the weight of their jeers. Intelligence offered no defense — just tight smiles, awkward chuckles, complicit nods. Even Jay had laughed once, when a nickname landed sharper than intended, as she stumbled through her case briefing, swallowing tears and fury and pride.

She left that meeting ready to walk away. From the badge. From all of it.

Because how could she trust a team to protect her out there, when they wouldn’t even defend her in the room?

Especially Jay.

It tainted her view of him — maybe even cracked the pedestal she’d put him on.

What she didn’t know was this:

Two days later, Voight walked into Narcotics unannounced. No warnings. No pleasantries. He tore them to shreds — every last one. Made it clear Millie was more than capable, more than enough. That she had earned her place, and anyone who said otherwise would answer to him.

Hank had seen her. All of her. Flaws, fears, fire.

And when the time came, he believed — no, knew — she’d rise.

__

She awoke in the other room, panic instantly rising as her eyes landed on the gun beside her, knives scattered nearby, and a ditch filled with glass shards and jagged, rusted blades.

Her mind raced to the team—knowing they wouldn’t find her in time. Knowing Martin would win, once again.

She thought of the last time she saw them, the last time she heard their voices.

day zero.

Jay had FaceTimed her at Molly’s, Jay had FaceTimed her at her townhouse, urging her to get out for the night. He said she needed a break — She’d said no—buried in timelines and piecing together her dad’s murder.

She had finally cracked the case. Every bit of it.

But Jay’s face had brightened when she picked up. The way his eyes twinkled when she spoke. The way he and the team all said they wanted her there.

Then Jay softened his voice. “We can stop at that French café that just opened down the street... they’re open 24 hours... get crepes on the way home.”

He grinned, teasing, knowing she’d cave at the mention of crepes. She rolled her eyes but glanced down at the manila folder at her feet, and Jay caught her pause.

“Fine. One drink. Then crepes, Halstead,” she giggled.

He saluted playfully. “Scout’s honor, Dr. Evans.”

She smiled. “See you in like an hour—gonna grab the L.”

Jay nodded. “Be safe.”

“Always. Scout’s honor,” she hummed, then hung up—letting the call linger a moment longer, memorizing the curves and nooks of his face. His godforsaken face.

And she thought of her adoration for him, despite the sting of that narcotics meeting—how her heart fluttered at the thought of never seeing him again. Never being near him again. Never finishing that damn kiss he shied away from—the night they had pizza and left the manila folder out for him.

Her gut screamed that something was coming.

She’d made her bed with instinct and knowing.

And Martin was going to force her to lie in it.

She set the case file down on the fireplace and sighed.

Grabbing her black tote, stuffed with photocopies of intelligence files, herself, and related documents, she left the originals safely inside her townhouse.

Then she stepped outside. The gate clicked shut behind her.

And just like that—she vanished.

__

Millie had barely been conscious for five minutes when his gun pressed to her temple, his arm hooked around her throat—her airway slowly collapsing.

She waited. Pins and needles. For the team to burst in, guns drawn, yelling. A chaotic rescue.

But they weren’t coming.

So she calmed herself. Slipped into the rhythm of years of trauma and shadow work. The practices. The breathing. The stillness.

She pictured the lakefront. Sunrise. Coffee in hand. Chicago humming awake. Her city.

Her breathing steadied. Her mind slowed. Peace—before death.

Maleficent "Millie" Evans stood in the middle of a grimy, dim warehouse, a beam of sunlight slicing through a cracked window and catching on her trembling hands. The metal of the gun at her temple stayed cold. Steady. But it wasn’t the steel that hurt—it was the silence. The silence from the people she called family.

The precinct. Radios humming. Boots on linoleum. The places she never truly belonged. The conversations that died when she entered. The dismissive laughter.

“Soft. The book. The brain.”

At her last narcotics briefing, a few officers had laughed. “Smart enough to stay off the line. Not a real cop.” Even some in Intelligence had smirked.

Jay, too. He never meant it cruelly, she told herself. His teasing about her living far from the team. His jokes about coffee over camaraderie. But maybe—maybe he believed it, too.

She swallowed hard. Bitter tears burning.

They’re not coming.

They don’t love me like I love them.

“You see that?” the kidnapper hissed. “They think you’re nothing. Replaceable. Weak. Nimble. The soft one. The book. That’s what they all called you, right?”

Her breath caught. Her fists clenched until her nails dug into her palms.

I’m useless. I’m not enough. I’m not like them.

She remembered the nights she stayed late. The victims she held until dawn. The files she read until her eyes burned. The training. The effort. The trying.

Still... just a footnote.

Then—movement. A shadow in the corner of her eye.

Hank. Jay.

Voight, jaw like stone. Jay, eyes locked on hers.

A flicker. A flame.

She wouldn’t break.

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” she cried to the team, voice tight but sharp.

The negotiator. Always the calm. The steady. Like it was instinct.

The kidnapper’s whisper cut deep, loud enough for them all to hear:

“You’re a fucking coward. Just like your father. You meant nothing. You are nothing. You’ll never be anything.”

She flinched. Grimaced. But no tears.

Just memories. Nightmares. Of laughter behind backs. Of men who questioned her presence.

The book. The one who slipped through.

She no longer looked like the woman Jay had started to love. The one he was going to tell—over crepes, that night.

The night that never came.

Everyone thought she was broken.

The psychologist, shattered.

Let them.

She’d play the part. An actress. The best damn performance of her life. Because she knew: Martin would shrink. Sag. Slip. He always did, when he thought he’d won.

She had rehearsed the line for months:

“I can’t... I can’t keep doing this,” she sobbed, voice cracking with exhaustion. “He’s right. I’m not strong. I’m not like you. I’m not a cop. I just—” her voice hitched, a tear sliding down her cheek, “I just wanted to help people. Understand them. That’s all I ever fucking wanted.”

The gun dug deeper. Her skin clammy. Her breath calm. Her eyes locked forward.

On them.

Shouting echoed.

“Let her go!” “Drop it now!” “Do it and we’ll all walk away!”

And then—

Jay.

“Don’t do anything. Don’t—”

His voice cracked. It cut through her like lightning.

Her body screamed. Wrists bloodied. Knees aching. Eight days. Eight days gone.

And she had believed it.

That they weren’t coming.

That she didn’t matter.

Now?

She stood before them. Half-dead. Bloodied. A noose around her neck.

“If you wanna shoot someone,” she rasped, “shoot me.”

Silence.

She took a raw breath.

“Shoot me. Don’t let him win.”

Her voice cracked. But her eyes scanned them all.

Kevin, furrowed. Kim, trembling. Hailey, pacing.

Voight.

Then—Jay.

She always looked at him the longest.

“Shoot me. Let me die first.”

And then, the kidnapper sneered again.

“You hear that? Nothing. You’re nothing. The soft one. The book. That’s all you’ll ever be.”

She shook her head. Silent tears now.

“Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot—don’t shoot…”

Jay moved.

Voight stopped him with a single arm.

But Millie kept going. Trembling. Collapsing inward.

Then—she felt it.

The shift.

His grip slackened.

Not fear.

Arrogance.

He thinks I’m broken.

Good.

She sagged. Shifted.

He moved to follow.

She struck.

Elbow to gut. Heel to shin. Twist. Downward weight. Wrist locked.

Just like week two in the academy.

The gun fell into her hands.

The team rushed.

Jay sprinted.

Kevin tackled the suspect. Over. Fast.

Jay didn’t stop.

He ripped the gun from her hands. Pulled her in.

“Hey—hey, I got you—” his voice, a whisper.

She collapsed into him. Sobbing. Shaking.

He held her tight. One arm around her waist. One hand behind her head.

“I got you,” he whispered. “You’re okay. I got you.”

Her fingers curled in his vest like she’d drown without it.

Behind them, chaos. Orders. Cuffs. Rage.

But all she heard was Jay.

“You’re not replaceable.”

She lifted her head. Eyes swollen.

He looked at her like she was everything.

“You hear me?” he said. “You’re not the book. You’re the whole fucking library.”

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

For the first time in eight days—

She believed him.

__

It had been three weeks since her rescue. Twenty-one long days.

She’d spent the first three—seventy-two hours—in a voluntary psychiatric hold. The moment she arrived at the hospital, Dr. Charles Daniels was waiting. They greeted each other like old friends—two professionals who’d been through this before.

She didn’t see Jay during those days. He waited anxiously, counting every hour, every minute, until she was cleared.

And when she was—good luck to anyone who tried to pull her away from him.

They were making up for lost time in every sense. But more than that, he was there to hold her when she cried. To catch her when she slipped back into that dark room in her mind.

Above all, he was there to keep her safe.

He didn’t trust the loop. Didn’t trust the townhouse she rented. Didn’t trust the thought of her being alone.

So without questions or hesitation, he took her home—to his home.

He took time off work just to be with her. To help her breathe, readjust, remember who she was beyond the trauma. To remind her she wasn’t alone.

A week into staying with him, she cracked.

She told him everything—her childhood, the good, the bad, and the ugly. The parts she’d hidden even from herself.

She told him about the offer from Quantico. The Behavioral Analysis Unit—BAU.

He asked if she was seriously considering it.

She told him the truth: she was.

She knew she was meant for more than Intelligence. More than the CPD. Not out of arrogance, but quiet confidence.

And he believed her.

He was proud. Happy for her.

Because if anyone was meant for more—it was her.

__

It had been four nights now.

Four nights waking tangled in his sheets, his breath warm against the back of her neck, her hand curled instinctively against his chest—like it belonged there. Like she belonged there.

She didn’t fight it anymore.

Neither did he.

They hadn’t said the words aloud, but they didn’t need to. It was in the way his fingers always found hers during movies, how he’d brush her hair behind her ear mid-sentence, how he made sure her favorite coffee was stocked before she even asked.

She’d let herself fall—and this time, she wasn’t catching herself. She didn’t need to. He was there.

This morning was quiet. Soft. The gray light of pre-dawn filtered through the curtains in his bedroom, casting faint lines over the blanket pulled halfway off their tangled bodies.

Millie blinked slowly, adjusting to the stillness. Jay was still asleep, his arm slung lazily around her waist, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that lulled her even now. She nestled closer for a moment, absorbing the warmth, the safety.

Then—her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She stilled, blinking again. It was early. Too early for anything casual. Carefully, she twisted from Jay’s hold, trying not to wake him as she leaned over and grabbed it.

Unknown number.

But the area code—it was familiar.

She swiped to answer and pressed the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Dr. Evans. It’s Agent Hotchner, from the Bureau,” he said, voice steady but gentle.

Her eyes widened.

“Good morning, Agent Hotchner,” she replied, shifting upright in bed. “How can I help you?”

“I just wanted to check in—see how you’re doing and whether you’ve come to a decision yet. We heard about what happened, and I want you to know, first and foremost, your well-being matters most.”

Her breath caught for a moment. “I’m doing much better now, thank you. I appreciate you reaching out.” She paused, then added, “And about your offer… I’ve thought about it. Right now, there are things I need to take care of here in Chicago. So, for today at least, I’ll have to decline the position in Quantico.”

There was a quiet beat before he responded. “Not a problem at all, Dr. Evans. We’ll keep a desk warm for you in the meantime. And if you’re interested, I know the Chicago office would be lucky to have you.”

A small, genuine smile curled her lips. “I’d love nothing more than that, Agent Hotchner.”

“Excellent. I’ll forward the papers your way. See you soon, Dr. Evans.”

The line clicked off.

Beside her, Jay stirred, his arm still draped over her waist. As he shifted, the brush of his fingers against her skin raised goosebumps.

“Who was that?” he asked, voice rough with sleep as he rubbed his eyes.

“Oh, just an agent from the Bureau,” she said casually, but he gave her a look—half grin, half knowing smirk.

“They offered you a job in Quantico, didn’t they?” he said, sitting up slightly.

She sighed and set her phone on the bedside table. “Yeah. I turned it down. Told them I had unfinished business here. Though... they offered me a spot in the Chicago office.”

Jay’s grin widened. That spark in his eyes lit her stomach on fire.

“The Bureau?” he said, sliding closer. “I always knew you were destined for bigger things, Missy.”

Then he kissed her. One of those deep, molten, heart-shaking kisses that made her toes curl and her insides melt.

When she pulled away just a few inches, she whispered, “Really?” Her voice soft, a flicker of doubt hidden in her words.

He chuckled, eyes lifting like he was thanking the universe. “Oh, most definitely. Clocked it the first day we worked together on the Lion’s case.”

She laughed, the memory flickering across her face.

“But you’re staying here… because of us. Because of me,” he said quietly, reading between every word she hadn’t said.

She arched an eyebrow. “Hmm. Seems my little psychology lessons have finally paid off. Reading between the lies now, are we?”

“Very much,” he murmured, pulling her close again as the white comforter fell over both of them.

Giggles slipped from her lips.

eeeeek -- hope u enjoyed! please like, reblog & comment - id love to hear feedback🫶🏻

[starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies]

Officer Down | J.H.

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Summary: Jay takes a hit to the chest during a shootout and gives you quite the scare. Based on episode 6x2.

A/N: I finally wrote something!! (Shocking I know) it only took me 7 months but I’ve finally got a new fic for yall. I’m sorry for being so slow to write but the last 7 months have been ROUGH.

I’ve been wanting to write this fic forever and was finally inspired to finish it after rewatching the episode. I don’t really like how this turned out but that’s what happens after writers block I guess

Warnings: near death experiences, guns and shooting

Word Count: 637

-

This case had been difficult for the team, Jay getting hit his hardest with his dad being one of the victims on the fire. The longer the chase for the arsonist, the more you could see him spiraling. You expected it, all things considered. Jay may have said they didn’t have the best relationship, but it was still his father. What you didn’t expect was for Jay to disobey a direct order from Voight and go after the suspect on his own.

After you took his truck and two way, you thought he would be safe, far away from the action. So when you heard his call come in over the radio, your heart sank to your stomach.

“This is 5021 George. Emergency. Shots fired. Offender down, need an ambo. Lower Wacker and Columbus.”

As soon as you heard his location, you took off running, Kevin close behind. Rounding the corner, you saw Jay unmoving on the pavement, his side covered in blood.

“5021 Victor. Officer down. I repeat, officer down. Lower Wacker and Columbus. Get us an ambulance!” You rushed to Jay’s side, leaving Kevin to take care of the offender.

You tried to stay calm as you ripped open his shirt, panic threatening to override your training. You could see he was bleeding from his side, but you couldn’t tell what the damage was from the other bullets.

“Jay? Hey, talk to me.” Your voice wavered.

Jay was breathing heavily, looking at you with wide eyes. You pulled his vest away from his body, feeling under it for the bullet.

“It didn’t go through. It didn’t go through.” You pressed on the wound at his side with shaky hands. “You’re gonna be okay. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

-

You watched intently as the paramedics patched up Jay in the back of the ambulance. There were officers all around you, blocking off the scene and questioning the other members of the team, but you tuned it all out.

Once the paramedics were done treating him and he had gotten a thorough scolding from Voight, you made your way over.

“Hey.” You took a seat next to him. “You gonna be okay?”

Jay looked at you sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m okay. No serious damage, just a few stitches and some major bruising.”

“Good.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. I just couldn’t stop myself.” He said quietly.

You nodded lightly, giving him a small smile and patting his leg gently. “I know.”

The paramedic came back over and you used the interruption to excuse yourself. You could feel the aftermath of the situation setting in and you needed to get away from the scene.

You heard footsteps behind you and Kevin appeared at your side. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yep, I’m good. I’m fine.” You replied, unable to keep the emotion out of your voice.

Kevin put a hand on your arm, slowing you down and turning you towards him. “Woah, woah.” You couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes as you met his gaze. “Yeah, that’s the adrenaline wearing off. It’s okay.”

“I thought he was dead.” You choked out the words.

Kevin put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. “So did I.”

As the two of you made it back to the cars, he brought you in for a hug. You gripped his shirt tightly, embarrassed by your crying, but soaking in the comfort after the emotions of the past hour. You knew out of anyone, Kevin would never judge you for being human.

“I gotcha.” He rubbed your back comfortingly. “C’mon, Sarge said we’re done for the day. Jay’s in good hands. I’ll drive you home.”

You spared one last glance back towards Jay as you got into the car, only to find him looking right at you, his face etched with concern.

-

Writing Masterlist

[solesommerso]

blacklit paradise au! — aftermath —

“You’re smoking?” Jay startles at Sarah’s voice, quickly taking the cigarette out of his mouth, about to crush it out in the glass ashtray sitting on the small table he keeps on the balcony of his apartment but Sarah shakes her head to stop him.

“Don’t tell Voight.” She lets out a small puff of air, Jay thinks it’s an attempt at a laugh.

“Calm down I won’t tell your boss you’re smoking, your brother on the other hand…” Reese trails off and grins when Jay glares at her.

“Don’t you dare.” He points his two fingers holding the cigarette at her with a serious tone, though the smile on his lips cuts through it all. He’s just happy Sarah’s outside, and smiling.

“Your secrets safe with me.” The plastic chair Sarah pulls to sit in front of Jay makes a scraping noise against the concrete. It sounds oddly like the scrape of the dresser in front of the door the night Jay had to— he shakes the thought away, taking a drag of his cigarette and holding it a little longer than normal.

“Natalie went back to work today, I’m officially the last one left.” Sarah tries to sound nonchalant but Jay can see the hurt written across her face as she plucks Jay’s half drunk soda from the table, looking anywhere but at Halstead.

“You’re allowed to take your time, your stitches haven’t even healed.” He assures and leans his elbows onto his knees, a way to be closer to Sarah, as if some threat is going to pop out of nowhere and he’ll need to jump up to save her. God he feels like he did when he got home from Afghanistan, which is a scary thought he chooses to ignore.

“I know, that’s all anyone’s been telling me. I just- I’m staying in your apartment, waking up either panicking so bad I throw up or start sobbing, I can’t even look at my own clothes so I’ve been wearing yours and- I just feel so fucking broken.” Her chest heaves as she sighs, sipping at the coke in her hands, leg bouncing against the chair under her.

“Hey I haven’t gone back to work either, and I catch myself counting your breaths when you’re sleeping on the couch, and I triple check the doors locked after I come home, and I could keep going. The point is, we’re both going through a lot and that’s okay, we’re gonna be okay.” Their eyes meet and Sarah nods faintly before bringing her drink to her lips again.

“But stop stealing my drinks.”

[flofaiiry]

ultraviolence ; charlie reid x reader

warnings: fem!reader, LARGE age gap (reader is 20, charlie is mid/late 40s), this is really just porn with a teensy sprinkling of plot (i need that old man bad bad), condescending language, charlie is cocky as fuck, nipple play, degradation & praise (one use of slut, many uses of good girl), fingering, spanking, protected p in v sex, big dick!charlie, dirty talk, possessive & lowkey mean dom!charlie. i am so sorry this is the filthiest thing i've ever written in my life i think.

wc: ~2.2k

note: this picks up right where this blurb left off so be sure to read that first for a little bit of backstory on how we got here :p i used to be obsessedddd with chicago pd but i havent been watching for the last few seasons. this season has had a really good plot though (and shawn is a bonus) so i've been getting back into it & catching up :D. no knowledge of the show is needed to read this though! there are no mentions of in show plot moments but there may be going forward if i decide to series this one up 😋

dedicated to the charlie reid girlies in the replies of the teeny blurb who encouraged me to write this into a full length thing!!@aryacoulson @stellamarielu @ovaryacted @erwinsvow @imnez-daydreams & to everyone who liked&reblogged!!

"what's the purpose of the ucr?" he asks, flicking through your notebook, squinting through his reading glasses to find the answer amongst your notes.

"to provide agencies with a streamlined way to report and track crime" you reply.

"good girl." he mumbles, flipping through the next page.

"if you want this to stay productive you're gonna have to stop calling me that." you say, trying to fight off a smile by biting your bottom lip.

he turns his head to you, looking at you from just above the frames of the glasses, "sweetheart, i don't think this was ever just productive"

"no? you don't think so?" you ask, a faked oblivious tone evident in your voice.

he smirks, "no, i don't think so." he puts his hand on your leg, dangerously close to your inner thigh. "i think you know exactly what you’re doing."

your breath hitches when he touches you, "yeah?"

"yeah. think you knew what you were getting yourself into when you offered to come here, to my house, at this hour." he moves his hand further up your leg to grab the bottom hem of your skirt, "and wearing this, too?" he takes a sharp inhale through his nose, "yeah, you knew exactly what you were doing."

there's a heat building between your legs as he speaks. his voice is so low, just loud enough for you to hear above the pounding of your heart in your chest.

you'd been with guys before, sure. but never like this, never like him. nobody had ever spoken to you like this, made you feel like this.

"so are you gonna do what you came here to do?" he slips his hand under your skirt, "hm?" his finger just brushes along the edge of your panties, "or are you just gonna keep playing dumb and leave without getting what you wanted."

oh. my. god.

in a whirlwind you're on top of him, legs straddled over him as you crash your lips together. his hands roam from the sides of your thighs, back to grab at your ass.

you fist at the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to you as he slips his tongue into your mouth. he slides his hands up your body, catching the bottom of your shirt to pull it up over your torso. you break away from the kiss and raise your arms, allowing him to take the shirt off of you.

he sits back onto the couch after tossing the piece of fabric somewhere in the dimly lit room, taking in your almost exposed chest and the black lacy material hugging your breasts just right.

he smirks at the sight of you. "you wear this for me?"

you nod. of course you did. you wore all of this for him.

"good girl." he says again under his breath, the edges of his lips twitching upwards. in a moment his lips are on yours again, hungry as ever, his hands snaking up your body to grab at your breasts now.

you moan into his mouth at the sensation. "take it off," you breathe when you pull away momentarily.

"yeah?"

"please."

you feel him smirk against your lips as his hands slide to your back, undoing the clasp with a single movement of his fingers. you shrug off the material and he sits back again, his eyes moving greedily down your body to rest on your now fully exposed tits.

"god, you are just-" he cuts himself off when he takes your nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and teeth brushing over it ever so slightly.

you roll your head back, the throbbing feeling between your legs intensifying with every touch.

"fuck," you sigh. he takes your other nipple between his fingers, rolling and pinching at it until you're breathless. he releases your breast from his mouth and starts to nip at the skin along your chest, he works his way up your neck and jaw until his lips find yours again. your hands tangle into his hair, gently tugging at the short strands at the base of his neck.

he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, both of your breaths ragged. "lie down." he instructs before kissing you once more.

you roll off of him, scooting back to lay your head on the arm of the couch. you watch as he stands up and starts undoing the buttons on his shirt.

"take your skirt off." he says, not even looking up from his hands on the buttons. you swallow before you do, fingers finding the zipper on the side then pulling it off.

charlie looks back at you right as you're sliding it off your legs, revealing the matching black lace panties. "jesus fucking christ," he groans at the sight of them.

you can't help but smile at the effect you're having on him.

"you wear those on purpose too?" he raises an eyebrow, tossing his shirt on the floor next to him.

you nod, biting your bottom lip at the look of him shirtless.

"yeah? came over here tryna get fucked?"

you nod again.

"yeah? say it."

you take a deep inhale, "yes." you say quietly

"yes what?"

you bite the inside of your cheek, "came here for this. for you."

"mmh." he hums, seemingly satisfied at your answer, "good girl."

every time he called you that it went straight to your pussy and you clenched around nothing, hopefully soon that would change.

he drops his hands to his belt now, undoing the clasp and sliding the brown leather out from the loops. the next thing to leave his body is his pants, leaving him standing in just his boxers. under which he is very obviously rock hard.

you smirk at the sight as he walks over to an end table near where you lie on the couch. he opens the drawer and rummages around for a second, before pulling out a small foil packet.

"get on your hands and knees." he says, voice low and gravelly as ever. if he kept talking long enough the sound alone could probably make you cum.

you obey him quickly, rolling over to prop yourself up on all fours. you feel the cushion behind you sink, presumably from him kneeling behind you.

"you know, when you came over to my office a few nights ago," he starts, two fingers finding the soaked patch of your panties, "i thought about just bending you over my desk 'n taking you right there."

he pushes down on your cunt over your panties, the pressure making your breath catch in your throat.

"but i said to myself, no... this is a girl just tryna learn about the field, she wouldn't like that, she isn't thinking about that."

he finds your clit over the thin material, pressing hard and slow circles into it, you inhale sharply.

"but then you call me again, invite yourself over to my house... come over here all dolled up..." his fingers move under your panties from the side, one finger slipping inside you easily from how wet you are.

"soaking through your fucking panties," he hisses as he adds a second finger, making you whimper, "and now i think, maybe that is what you wanted all along, huh?"

he moves his fingers in and out of you slowly, his thumb finding your clit again and pressing down. you moan when he does it, making him laugh under his breath.

"yeah, i think this is what you wanted hm?" he starts pumping his fingers inside you faster, curling them up against your walls.

"come in to my office acting all good, all innocent... but really," he stills his fingers deep inside you, "really, you're a little slut, yeah?"

nobody had ever spoke to you like this, degraded you, called you a slut. you didn't think you'd be into it, but the way you clench around charlie's fingers says otherwise.

he smirks and pulls his fingers from your cunt, your slick coating over them. he hooks his thumbs into his boxers and pulls them down to his knees.

"where do your friends think you are now, hm? do they know you're here? getting fucked by a man twice your age?"

you shake your head, then feel his hand crack down on your ass.

you didn't know you were into that either, but the way you feel yourself get wetter after he does it, tells you that you definitely are.

"where do they think you are, huh?"

"uh- friend- friend's house." you stutter out quickly. he hums, his hand now kneading the flesh of your ass he just slapped.

"friend's house," he repeats, "good girl."

he has got to stop saying that.

you hear the rip of the foil as he takes the condom out of the packet, then his deep breath as he rolls it onto himself.

"you want this?"

you nod, before remembering how wordless responses worked out for you last time. "yes. yes, please." you add quickly.

"good." he mutters.

you feel his tip press against your clit, before he drags it up to your dripping hole. he eases just the head of his cock inside you, just from this you can tell-

he's big.

he moves his hands to grip at your hips, slowly pulling you back to take more of his cock inside you. "fuck," he breathes out as you whimper.

the stretch feels so good. after a few moments he's fully slipped inside of you. buried to the hilt, you feel his hips meet against yours. he lets out an absolutely guttural sound, fingers squeezing into the flesh of your hips.

he's by far the biggest dick you've ever taken. not even necessarily lengthwise, but just the sheer girth of him. you can feel every vein and crevice of his cock through the thin rubber material, your walls molding to fit perfectly around him.

"fuck, you are perfect." he sighs, "so fuckin' tight and wet, just for me, huh?"

you nod quickly into the couch, he tightens his grip on your hips, a warning

"what'd i say about using your words, huh baby?"

"yes- fuck, just for you charlie, all for you." you practically whimper out.

with that, charlie starts to drag his cock out of you, before snapping his hips back against yours, filling you up again. you yelp, he grunts, and he sets a relentless pace.

the only sounds filling the room now are his breathy grunts, your pornstar-esque moans and the sound of his hips slapping against your ass.

"just like that, take all of me just like that... this pretty pussy belongs to me now, yeah?"

you nod quickly, unable to form words through the pleasure of his cock hitting against your g-spot inside of you. his hand meets your ass again, hard.

"say it," he grunts, "tell me who this pussy belongs to, hm?"

"you! fuck! belongs to you," you manage to squeal out. he smacks your ass again, not as a warning this time, but like an affirmation.

"damn right it does." one of his hands moves down between your legs, quickly finding your clit and rubbing harsh circles over it.

"gonna come for me? gonna show me what a good girl you are and cum all over my cock? huh?"

"god, yes- fuck! 'm so close," you whine, clenching around him now. he hisses at the sensation and drives into you harder.

"come on. come for me, baby."

a couple more thrusts and circles of your clit and you're there, the orgasm ripping through you as you cry out his name into the empty house. charlie's close behind you, pace stuttering as he groans, spilling into the condom.

"fuckin' hell," he mumbles, hips finally coming to a stop as he fucks you through your orgasm. you swear your thighs are quaking as he pulls out of you, falling to sit back on the couch.

your knees give out beneath you, and you roll back onto your back, watching him sitting naked against the couch and catching his breath.

"not bad, huh old man?" you tease. he cracks open one eye and glares at you.

"watch yourself," he says, smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

you look around, spotting each article of clothing you came here wearing throws haphazardly around the room. charlie's still sitting with his eyes closed when you stand up, stepping gingerly around the room to collect your clothes. knees still feeling a little wobbly.

you redress yourself before walking over to charlie, who's watching you now.

you cup one of his cheeks in your hand, "that was fun." you smile.

"yeah?"

you nod, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. it's a stark contrast to the kisses you shared earlier- slower, softer.

"i'll call you." you say when you pull away, walking towards the front door.

"where are you going?"

"home," you reply, "got an exam tomorrow, remember?"

"right." he smirks. "well, you know if you've got any others coming up that you need help studying for, i'm always around, yeah?"

"mhmm," you say, bending down to slide on your shoes. charlie takes one has opportunity to stare at your ass, the smallest remnants of a red handprint still on it.

he grabs his boxers from the couch, slides them back on and walks over to you at the door. "get home safe." he says, voice genuine as he brushes a piece of hair from your face.

"i will." you say, pressing one last kiss to his lips before you're out the door, getting into your car and pulling out of his driveway.

and that's how you began fucking the deputy police chief of chicago.

i already have an idea for a possible part two. someone needs to take this app away from me.

>> part 2 is here!!

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

I believe these may be words that you might be looking for?

He stares at you with deep intent in his eyes. For what, you weren’t exactly sure, but you had a few ideas yourself. His gaze was hardened, like that of a criminal, but as you looked deeper, you could see a soft, broken man. Beyond his calm exterior was a man crying out for help; he was a broken soul who needed a new passion to spark the flame which had nearly extinguished inside him. And you? You were that spark. Within his eyes you could see how brightly the flame of desire burned within him. How he wanted to pull you close and keep you near him, no matter the cost. And you knew, simply by the way his eyes met yours, that he would protect you and cherish you at all costs - even at the cost of his own life.

Oh Lord, Have Mercy....

Look at this face, I am speechless.

Can someone help with words

[runnning-outof-time]

K’s Reading List — FEBRUARY

Hey there! Thanks for stumbling upon this reading list! I figured that as a way to support the lovely writers within this fandom that I’d compile a reading list of all of the stories I read over each month.

February was a wonderful month filled with incredible stories. Below is the list of stories that I read. I hope you will find some that you like as well!

As always, please make sure you heed to the warnings on each fic!!

@lis-likes-fics

Just a Drink - Tommy Shelby x Reader — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

@copinghex

Last night’s kiss with John - John Shelby x Reader

@little-diable

Hot Blood - Tommy Shelby x Reader blurb — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

Greedy - Tommy Shelby x Reader blurb — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

@justrainandcoffee

Happy new y… - Alfie Solomons x OC

@noforkingclue

Consequences - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@lau219

It Can Wait - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@halsteadlover

Unspoken Feelings - Jay Halstead x Reader — contains 🔞 NSFW themes! — from the show Chicago PD

@reiwanwan

Words I Couldn’t Say - May Carleton x Reader - blurb + letter

@look-at-the-soul

Galentine’s - Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader blurb

@darklydeliciousdesires

John Shelby drabble - John Shelby x Reader

@wildrangers

so american - Anthony Boyle x Reader

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Its not a fanfic, but I was watching the 4 episode of the 4 season of Chicago pd...

There's this interrogation moment and the thing that gets In my head is the way Hank Voight said Baby, its soo sexy and warm that I can't stop blushing over the ideia of how will sound in a romantic or sexual moment...not to mention the bright smile in his face...

Just a random thought on this Rainy sunday..

I don't know if you want to check the episode soo you can understand what I write

Hank Voight x Fem!Reader Blurb

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you like this!

Hank pushed open the door to his house, sighing as he pulled his keys from the lock and set them in the dish nearby. He shut the door behind him, finding relief from the cold Chicago winters. Shrugging off his coat, he hung it on the nearby coat rack, along with his scarf. Moving a bit further into the house, he set his badge next to his keys, keeping his service weapon on his hip, just in case. He wouldn't leave anything to chance with his gun, as always. Then, he kicked off his shoes and pushed them aside.

Truthfully, it had been a hard day. They hadn't been able to track down a pedophile they'd been hunting. Typically, that meant Hank practically lived in his office, but it had been weeks and the trail had gone cold. He hated the cases he couldn't solve, and he knew his team was feeling the same way. Morale was low, so he forced everyone home for the night, including himself. He told them to rest, although he didn't plan on resting much himself. He walked into his dining room and to the liquor he had out on display, pouring himself a hefty glass of bourbon. Then, he sank down into a chair at his dining room table, settling in and pulling out his phone.

No new texts or calls.

He hummed and set the phone on the table, sitting in silence as he sipped the bourbon. He stared at the phone, contemplating what he should do. He knew if he went to bed, he would simply lie awake, so it wasn't something he wanted to do. He sat at the table, sipping the oaky sweet liquid until it was gone. Then, he got up and refilled his glass once more.

When he moved back to the table, he sat down and looked at his phone again, sipping once more before picking up the phone. He scrolled through his contacts until he got to the name he was looking for. He didn't call often, but when he did, he meant it. He needed it.

He pressed the 'call' button, then waited for the sweet voice on the other end to answer.

"Sugar, how are you?" your voice rang from the other end.

Hank hummed, giving a small, half-hearted smile. "Baby... I would be better if you came over tonight."

"Sure, I'll be over in a little while."

-

When you arrived, you knocked on the door. It was a soft knock, allowing him to hear without you drawing outside attention to his house. You were his dirty little secret. Even though he only called you once every few months, you were always happy to spend the night with him. Since his wife had died, he sometimes just needed a woman to take care of him.

Hank opened the door after a short moment, allowing you to step inside before closing it. He helped you take your coat off, revealing a blouse with jeans that fit you just right. You kicked off your shoes and set them neatly beside his, then stood again to look at him. You smiled softly, kissing his cheek as he pulled you into an embrace. "Hey, baby..."

You smiled. "Hi, sugar. I'm glad you called." You'd always greeted him like this. You didn't know much about Hank Voight outside of his street representation. You knew he was a cop and you'd seen him around the city once or twice. You also knew that he knew everything about you, and when he needed a favor, you'd be inclined to help him. You'd taken to calling him 'sugar' because he was always so sweet with you, sweeter than he was with anyone else you'd seen him interact with. You always expressed how happy you were that he called, considering you also knew he liked to drink when he didn't have someone beside him.

"I'm glad you came, baby." He called you baby. Of course Hank knew your real name, and you knew his, but the two of you always called each other by these pseudonyms. It was simply just a thing you did. You didn't mind. The way the word 'baby' rolled off his tongue, in his deep voice, it made you shudder. You loved the way he spoke to you and the way he held you.

When he finally let you pull back, he didn't let you go. You could tell he was already two or three drinks in, although he held himself together pretty well. He was a lot softer when he was drinking like this, trying to make the memories of the day go away. He held you softly by the waist, humming as he looked over you.

"How have you been, sugar?" You moved your hand up to his face, stroking your thumb over the apple of his cheek. Hank shrugged and leaned into your touch. He didn't answer, but you could tell he wanted to talk about it. You pushed closer to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He returned your kiss by holding you closer, tilting his head to pull you in deeper, your lips moving in sync. After a blissful moment, the two of you pulled away, looking at one another. He pressed his forehead to yours, sighing softly.

"Pedophile case," he mumbled. "Couldn't catch him."

"Aw, sugar," you whispered, wrapping your hand around to the nape of his neck, stroking at the hair there softly. "I'm sorry... Those cases are always hard..."

Hank sighed softly, closing his eyes as he leaned into your every touch. "We tried for weeks... I've barely slept. We just... We couldn't get to him. He slipped through our fingers with every victim." He sighed shakily, and you could tell he was on the verge of crying.

Your heart ached for the man who was in so much pain. Losing his wife, his son, his best friend, and so many others took a toll on him. Again, he didn't call you often, but when he did, you always knew you had to come. He was dealing with too much pain, and by the time he called you, he was desperate. You let out a soft breath, kissing him again softly, then pulling back to lead him over to the nearby couch. You sat him down, straddling his lap, holding his face in your hands. He hadn't turned on many lights, so the darkness engulfed the two of you as you leaned down, kissing his lips with a sweet, soft embrace.

As he sat with you, he pulled you even closer. He didn't want to cry, but it was coming out. He pulled away, sniffling softly, his eyes wet. You pressed your forehead to his. "It's okay to cry, sugar... It's always okay to cry." He let out a soft sob, holding you tighter by your waist and back, pressing closer to you, as close as possible. "I've got you, I'm not leaving, sugar. I'm right here."

He nodded as he moved to press his head into your shoulder and neck, still crying softly. “These weeks have been so tough… I just… wanted to save them…”

“I know, sugar, I know…”

“I wanted to take them home to their families!” He sobbed, clinging to you for life, maybe a bit too hard. You knew you would come back with some bruises tomorrow, but you didn’t truly care. It had happened before, and people teased you about getting some rough sex, but you never gave in. You never told them what actually happened.

You winced silently, but clung to him as tightly as you could as well, knowing he wanted reciprocation. When you pressed into him tighter, he let go of you a bit, probably realizing how hard he was holding you.

After a few hours, Hank calmed down to a sleep, and you moved to lay him down, laying on top of him for a while. Then, you pushed yourself up when you were sure he was asleep, grabbing a blanket and casting it over his body. You leaned down and gave him a kiss, then grabbed yourself something to eat. It was nearly 4AM now, so you made sure everything was set, including his alarm for 6:45am. You locked his door and left out the back, hoping he would call you again soon, knowing he needed it.

[natti-ice]

Request Rules.

Navigation

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

Requests are open for universal blurbs!

Any requests fulfilled will probably be drabbles/blurbs!

If a character you want isn't listed, please send in an ask! there are some characters I don't write for.

Regular fics:

My only rules are that I won't write anything triggering like SA or SH, angsty themes are fine just please do not request anything gory.

My default writing is fem!reader, I do gender neutral upon request. Relationships can be romantic, platonic, or parental. Also any trope is allowed, as long as it coincides with my rules.

Smut fics:

Must be 18+ to request smut!

All smut fics will be written for fem!reader

I will write most things except for:

Incest (stepcest is fine), dubcon/non-con, age play (age gaps are fine), scat, piss, underage characters

If I am uncomfortable with your request I will deny it, politely of course.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

Fandoms I write for:

Bridgerton:

Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton + others please ask first!

Chicago Fire:

Kelly Severide, Matthew Casey, Christopher Herrmann, Wallace Boden, Stella Kidd, Sylvie Brett, Violet Mikami + others please ask first!

Chicago pd:

Hank Voight, Jay Halstead, Adam Ruzek, Erin Lindsay + others please ask first!

Criminal Minds:

Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Tara Lewis, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Luke Alvez, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan.

The Bear:

Carmy Berzatto, Richie Jerimovich, Syd adamu, + others please ask first!

The hunger games:

Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen, Coriolanus Snow, Lucy Gray Baird, Finnick Odair

Marauders era:

Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin, Regulus Black.

Tom Riddle

The walking dead:

Rick Grimes, Michonne Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Negan Smith, Alden, Maggie Rhee, Glenn Rhee, + others please ask first!

Marvel:

Peter Parker (all 3), Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, MJ, Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova, Kate Bishop, Steve Rogers, Matt Murdock, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner, Thor Odinson, Carol Danvers, Scott Lang, + others please ask first!

Agents of shield characters!

Supernatural:

Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Gabriel.

Stranger things:

Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley, Jim Hopper

Outer Banks:

Rafe Cameron, JJ Maybank, Sarah Cameron, Pope Hayward.

9-1-1:

Bobby Nash, Evan Buckley, Eddie Diaz, Howard Han, Athena Grant, Henrietta Wilson, Maddie Han.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

[pope-codys]

💖 Welcome to my blog! 💖

* about me * hi, i’m Addie! i’m 26 and i’m canadian. i’m a fanfic writer and the main point of this blog is to yap about the fandoms and characters i love

my current fandoms are the pitt, animal kingdom, and criminal minds (with some chicago pd for charlie reid only). if it wasn’t obvious i am very into shawn hatosy atm 🥰

this blog is nsfw. while i might have works/content that is sfw, the blog will have content that is nsfw (usually fics or blurbs). because of this, minors do not interact with my blog. thank you for understanding

due to the content of my blog i will do my absolute best to tag all my posts accordingly so you can search for more of my posts/characters that you like and avoid what you’d prefer not to see!!

inbox is open for: asks, requests, ideas, or thoughts on the about fandoms/characters listed above! i appreciate all asks that i get and i will look at them but i don’t write for every request i get (i really do appreciate the asks tho). i love to interact with people in the above fandoms and talk about the characters, please reach out!

recent works:

~ coming soon! ~

thank you so much for being here! enjoy!

[acewritesficsagain]

Requests are Open but limited.

REMEMBER - I have the right to refuse a request if you've ignored my rules or it makes me feel uncomfortable.

Right now I am only taking request for blurbs (approx 350-1000 words). Posting will be slow to begin with and everything is limited right now.

When requesting...

- Send your request to my ask box. You can request on or off anon but please keep it kind and respectful.

- If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask.

- A small scenario will go a long way in helping me get your request written. Or you can choose something from the prompt list.

- If you request on anon, I do not reply until it's done. That way I can link it to your ask and it gives me piece of mind that you've been notified in a way that it's done and so that you know that it's yours too.

- All my fics are fem!reader, unless stated otherwise.

Who do I write for?

Right now I will take request for a selected few. Just until I find my grove again.

Peaky Blinders: Tommy Shelby

Chicago PD: Jay Halstead (I know he's gone but I haven't watched it since he left - not because I don't like it anymore. It's more kdramas have taken over my life.)

Wrestling: anyone I guess. (I've only just got back into it the last few months so I'm still getting to know the newer roster.)

Sons of Anarchy: Jax Teller

What am I willing and unwilling to write? NO List under cut for trigger warnings.

YES fluff, angst, comfort etc YES established relationship, platonic relationship, FWB, E2L, F2L, love triangle, unrequited love, brothers/sisters best friend YES pregnancy and family fics (mum!reader, dad!idol, single!parent etc) YES main/support character death

NO smut (because I suck at writing it. NO minor reader character (y/n can not be a minor) NO abortions/forced abortions NO stepcest/incest. NO cancer/terminal illness NO child abuse of any kind

[cutielando]

I’ve never requested anything before. Hope I’m doing this right

jay/x

smut /dirty talk

In bed

misbehaving | jay halstead

synopsis: in which he can't take the teasing anymore

warnings!!: 18+, SMUT, p in v sex, oral (female self-inducing), spanking, dirty talk, degradation (only slightly)

pairing: jay halstead x girlfriend!reader

my masterlist

Jay had been itching to get home since noon, when you had sent him some very enticing pictures in lingerie, gushing about how much you missed him.

“Please come home”

“I miss you so much”

“I need your hands on my body so badly”

“I’m touching myself, imagining your fingers stretching me out instead of my own”

He was barely keeping his composure, coughing and rearranging his pants around his crotch every couple of minutes.

Time seemed to stand still, almost going backwards as he desperately waited for the moment he was allowed to go home, to ravage you and take out his pent-up frustrations on your body.

And then, the clock finally struck 5 o'clock, and Jay couldn't get out of the precinct faster. As soon as he got into his car, he was speeding through the city, his only concern was getting home and getting you into his bed.

Meanwhile, you were frustrated that Jay hadn't indulged you in your little game, your cunt aching with need and anticipation. So you did the only thing that came to your mind: you started taking care of the problem.

Settling comfortably on your shared queen-sized bed, your hand slowly traveled all the way down your body until in reached your core, your juices running down your thighs and soaking into the sheets. You slowly started rubbing circles on your swollen clit, shivers immediately ripping through your body.

"Mhm" you slowly moaned, biting your lip as you closed your eyes and continued rubbing circles on your clit, your fingers gradually moving downwards towards your slick opening.

"Oh Jay" you moaned out as you sunk 2 fingers into your hole, imagining Jay's rough and long fingers instead of your slim ones.

Jay had arrived home in that meantime, listening to you playing with yourself from outside the door. His cock grew harder and harder with each moan and breath you let out, making his jeans incredibly uncomfortable on his body.

When he'd had enough, he barged into the room, startling you as you let out a shriek. You quickly took in the sight of your boyfriend, eyes immediately landing on his huge boner in his pants. Instead of greeting him or even saying anything, you inserted your fingers back in your dripping hole, your other signaling for Jay to come to you.

"I need you so bad, baby" you moaned out, biting your lip as your eyebrows scrunched up in pleasure, your thumb swiping over your clit every time you would pump your fingers in and out of your cunt.

"Dirty fucking girl. Texting me at work, getting me hard the entire day and now playing with herself like a whore" Jay panted as he quickly took off all of his clothes, hissing once his cock was finally freed and the cool air of the room washed over it.

You hungrily eyed his leaking rock hard cock as you sped up your movements, your free hand now pinching your nipples hard as you felt your orgasm slowly starting to approach.

"Fuck me, Jay. Please fuck me, baby, I can't take it anymore. Need your big cock so badly-" you were a moaning mess and your words suddenly died in your throat when Jay forcefully removed your fingers from your pussy and instead thrusted his cock all the way to the hilt in one swift movement.

"You're so fucking wet, so ready and willing to be a cock-drunk whore" Jay said, not moving an inch. He reached his hand down to your clit and started massaging it as he stood still, hungrily watching you squirm and try to fuck yourself on his cock.

"Please, oh God, fuck, please just fuck me" your walls squeezed around his cock at the sentence, making Jay hiss and close his eyes.

He had been so pent up the entire day, his boner only growing worse at the messages you had sent him. Now that he had you squirming in desperation underneath him, he had never felt as powerful before.

Jay slowly started thrusting in and out, building a rhythm of pounding harshly into your poor pussy, making you see stars. His pace was unforgiving, his heavy balls slapping against your pussy each time he thrusted in and out of you, hissing and groaning at the feeling of your walls tightly sucking him in every single time.

“My dirty fucking girl. So needy and desperate for my cock, aren’t you? Just desperate to get fucked by my fat cock” Jay teased, his hands trailing upwards until they reached your hardened nipples, pinching at them and making you whine out.

“I’m your good girl, daddy” you moaned out, the feeling of his cock driving in and out of your pussy at a rapid pace making your brain mushy.

Jay chuckled tauntingly, grabbing a hold of your hips and speeding up even more.

“Oh my God, you feel so fucking good” you squealed, your hands wrapping around the roots of your hair as your cunt just took the extreme pounding it was getting.

Jay was as much of a mess as you were. His balls were tingling, anticipation to finally let go of all the steam that’s been building up since the morning.

He could feel your walls starting to flutter around him, signaling how close you were to your orgasm. He knew you couldn’t think or speak because of how fucked out you were.

His hand traveled down until it landed on your clit, immediately pressing down and rubbing rapid circles on it.

“I’m, oh my God, I’m gonna cum Jay, I’m gonna cum” you moaned out, your eyes now wide as you settled back on your elbows, the intensity of the imminent orgasm making your toes curl.

And just like that, as Jay continued to brutally drive his cock inside of your abused cunt, the coil inside of you snapped and your orgasm flowed through your body, your limbs going limp and your legs shaking around his waist.

The orgasm that ripped through your body was so intense, making your eyes roll in the back of your head and no sounds whatsoever to come out of your mouth. Your lips were agape as your face was scrunched up, Jay’s thrusts prolonging the intense orgasm even more.

“Shit” Jay groaned out as his own orgasm hit him like a ton of bricks, burying himself as deep as he can as he shot ropes of cum directly against your cervix.

The feeling of his warm cum inside of your walls made you moan out and bite your lip, your walls tensing around his waist as you milked his cock for all he was worth.

You both remained in that position as you both slowly came down from your highs, his softening cock slipping out of your overstimulated cunt and making you moan.

Jay settled down on the bed next to you, trying to catch his breath.

“That was…” you started, panting still.

“Amazing, as always” he finished for you, making you chuckle and nod.

“Remind me to misbehave more often”

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[equallyshaw]

even after everything | Jay Halstead fic x ex fiance.

warnings: voight being voight and stereotypes.

w.c: 6.8k summary: Years after walking away from the only boy she ever loved, Aria McDavid finds herself across the courtroom from him—this time, on opposite sides of a case that could shatter everything. As a defense team fights to prove the innocence of Carlos Lopez, a man caught in the crosshairs of a corrupt system, old wounds resurface. Jay Halstead, now a detective sworn to protect the truth, is forced to testify—uncovering not only the truth of the case, but the pieces of a love story left unfinished. With a family legacy built on control and silence, and a past full of regrets, Aria must choose between the comfort of loyalty or the danger of honesty. Set against the backdrop of courtroom tension and buried heartbreak, Even After Everything is a story of justice, betrayal, and the kind of love that never really lets go.

They always say if you love something or someone, you should set them free. It’ll come back to you in the end.

They say even in the darkest hours, light can, in fact, break through the tunnel— shining down on the land and its people.

You just have to give it time— for both.

__

When Aria McDavid got the phone call from her colleague—and longtime family friend, 'unce' —Ellis Matthews, she panicked.

“How the hell did my client get picked up for murder?” she snapped into the phone, already grabbing her coat.

There was no way in hell he did it. No way. Not after everything they’d fought for, not after what he’d already been through.

Her uncle’s voice was calm, but clipped. “Get down to the 21st. Now. I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

Aria was already halfway out of her Loop office, the quiet hum of the firm where she worked alongside her father now a blur behind her. Her client, a soft-spoken mechanic who spent years navigating immigration courts, had just gotten his green card. They’d bled sweat and billable hours for it, scraped through bureaucratic nightmares most people couldn’t even imagine.

He wasn’t just a name on her caseload—he was a win that mattered.

And now he was a headline waiting to happen.

The sharp click of her heels echoed through the bullpen, slicing through the otherwise quiet hum of the Intelligence Unit’s office. Only three detectives sat scattered at their desks—and her breath hitched the moment her eyes landed on one of them.

Two looked up as she passed, curiosity flickering in their eyes. But hers were locked, unwavering, on him.

She would still recognize that hair, that posture, that build—anywhere. Unfortunately.

Without a word, she veered toward the breakroom and adjacent office space. Her briefcase dropped onto his desk with a sharp thud.

Jay looked up fast, startled, nearly flinching before his gaze locked on her—his ex-fiancée. His high school sweetheart.

His everything. Once.

He swallowed hard, throat working visibly. Her palms were planted firmly on the desk, eyes molten, nostrils flared; her body leaning forward just a bit.

“Where the hell is my client?” she rasped. The words were low, sharp, and lethal. Jay felt his blood go cold.

From across the bullpen, Hailey Upton stood slowly, exchanging a look with Adam Ruzek, who had already peeked around the edge of his screen.

“I can show you, Counsel,” Hailey offered gently, her tone careful, cautious—like stepping around a landmine.

But Aria didn’t even glance her way. “No. I’d like Sergeant Halstead to do the honors,” she said, voice honeyed with poisonous sweetness.

Jay exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening as he pushed his chair back and stood. He motioned toward the hallway, a silent offer to let her walk first.

“Walk your ass, Halstead,” she snapped, arms crossed, one brow arched high. Both of their minds flashed back to high school.

Jay glanced helplessly at Hailey, who tried very hard not to smile, before he turned and led Aria toward the holding cells.

__

Jay led the way, jaw set, tension rolling off him in waves. He could feel her behind him—sharp and furious, like a storm waiting to strike.

Her heels clicked with precision, every step calculated. Controlled. But he knew her too well. Knew the rage was there to cover the fear. Or guilt.

They turned a corner, and Jay swiped his badge at the secure door, pushing it open.

Blood still crusted around his mouth, one eye nearly swollen shut, bruising creeping down the side of his neck like a handprint. He sat slumped, broken—not just physically, but in spirit.

This wasn’t the man she’d known for nearly seven years.

Not the father of two who had once brought her fresh tamales from his wife’s recipe. Not the man who’d once cried in her office when they finally got his green card secured after three appeals.

This—this—was the shell of someone who had clearly been beaten and humiliated.

Aria’s eyes softened in a blink, the fire turning into something dangerously protective.

“Off,” she said sharply, eyes snapping to Jay.

He hesitated. “Aria—”

“I said off,” she repeated, nodding to the cuffs.

Jay opened the door slowly, glancing back at her once before stepping inside. He undid the cuffs with steady hands, then stepped back to give them space.

“Five minutes,” he said lowly, directing it at her. “Then we talk.”

“Out,” she snapped, not even looking at him.

Jay's jaw ticked, but he left without another word.

The door shut behind him with a click.

Aria took the seat across from her client, folding her hands tightly to hide the shaking.

“Tell me everything,” she whispered.

__

From outside the glass, Jay stood still, unmoving.

Hailey sidled up beside him, arms crossed. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed locked on Aria, his jaw tight.

“She’s always been terrifying when she’s pissed,” he said quietly. “But she’s never looked at me like that before.”

Hailey glanced at him sideways. “What’d you do?”

Jay let out a short breath—part scoff, part sigh. “I left. For Baghdad.”

He paused, staring down at the floor.

“I left a fiancée—two days after I proposed. Came back to a ring… and an empty house.”

Hailey blinked slowly, her expression softening just slightly. “Jay…”

Before she could finish, Adam walked up behind them, coffee in hand, clearly catching the tail end.

“Dude,” he muttered, grimacing. “That’s not just a screw-up. That’s a Shakespearean tragedy.”

Jay shot him a look. Hailey smacked Adam lightly in the stomach with the back of her hand.

“What?!” Adam threw up his free hand defensively. “I’m just saying—Macbeth had less drama!”

"Have you even read the play?" Hailey teased, and Adam scoffed, and the two began bickering with each other.

Jay didn’t say anything. He just turned back to the glass, eyes fixed on Aria, who hadn’t once looked up at him.

And that hurt more than any punch or bullet- he’d ever taken.

__

The second the interrogation room door clicked shut behind her, Aria sat down quickly.

Carlos Lopez looked up, and her breath caught.

Blood crusted his mouth. One eye nearly swollen shut. Bruising spread down his neck like a handprint. He looked shattered.

Not the man she’d known for seven years—the father who brought tamales, the client who cried when they won his green card. This was a shell.

“Jesus Christ,” she whispered, dropping to her knees. “Carlos… qué pasó?”

“They said I killed a cop,” he rasped. “One of them took me downstairs…”

“Did you ask for me?”

“Over and over.”

Her fury snapped to life. “No more talking. I’ve got you.”

As she stood, the door opened again—Ellis… and Voight.

She didn’t blink at her uncle. Her eyes locked on Voight like a blade.

“You put hands on my client?”

“He murdered one of my officers,” Voight growled. “I’m not coddling him.”

She stepped between them. “Touching a green card holder in custody? You want a hate crime enhancement? Keep talking.”

Voight’s smirk twitched. Ellis raised a hand.

“Don’t,” Aria warned. “You beat a man because you didn’t like what you heard. You want to explain that to ACLU, the Tribune, and my father?”

Ellis exhaled. “...I’ll call your dad.”

Behind the mirror, Jay winced. “Oh no. You don’t want that.”

Hailey’s head tilted. “Wait—her dad’s that McDavid?”

Jay nodded grimly. “And Voight just lit the fuse.”

In the room, Voight glared. “You think threats scare me?”

“They’re not threats,” Aria smiled coldly. “They’re legal guarantees.”

Then, gently, to Carlos: “We’re getting you out. I promise.”

And to Voight, over her shoulder: “And he’s going to answer for every bruise.”

__

Aria muttered under her breath in Spanish as she stepped out, Ellis, Carlos, and her dad leading the way. The tension between her father and Voight was thicker than the Chicago humidity—old enemies circling.

Her dad paused, turning to her with a serious look. In Spanish, low and sharp:“Voy a hablar con Voight. No te metas.” (“I’m going to talk to Voight. Stay out of it.”)

She nodded, but her eyes burned with defiance.

Her dad disappeared behind Voight’s closed office door. The heavy thud echoed like a warning.

Jay, leaning casually against a desk nearby, watched her, then smirked. “Well, looks like the family feud just went executive.”

Aria didn’t smile, but her eyes flicked to him with a teasing edge. “Don’t get comfortable. This isn’t a game you’re used to playing.”

Jay’s grin softened. “Maybe. But I know how to read between the lines.”

She folded her arms, voice low. “Sometimes what’s said isn’t the real story. And sometimes what’s not said? That’s where the bullets fly.”

Jay’s gaze dropped to her hands, clenched tight. “Sounds like you and your dad have a few skeletons in the closet.”

Aria’s laugh was bitter. “More like ghosts. And they don’t rest easy.”

Touche.

Jay’s voice was low but steady, carrying the weight of his loyalty. “I’m here to protect my own—that cop deserved that much. But no matter what happens in there, I’m not leaving. I’ll be in his corner, too.”

Aria’s lips twitched into a sly smile, sharp and knowing. “Well, congratulations, Seargant Halstead. That officially makes you an accomplice. But don’t forget—when push comes to shove, you’ll show your true colors. Blue and brass, right?”

Jay met her gaze, the challenge and unspoken history hanging between them like a thick fog.

__ The three lawyers were back three days later to speak with Voight and to get some more files for the case.

The tension in the bullpen was thick.

Jay looks up from his desk as Aria, Arthur, and Ellis walk back in. Tension walks in with them. Arthur eyes Jay with that you ruined my daughter’s life, and I haven’t forgotten it glare. To Ellis, in Spanish but loud enough:

Arthur- dryly, “¿Él otra vez? Pensé que habíamos fumigado.” Him again? I thought we fumigated.

Jay’s brow twitches. He gets it. Her Spanish lessons during high school still clung to him.

Aria, snapping under her breath: “Papá, basta ya.” Dad, stop already.

Arthrur with his back to her: “Deberías agradecerme por decir lo que él no se atreve a decir.” You should thank me for saying what he won’t dare say.

She mutters something that almost sounds like a threat, but she walks off with Ellis. Jay watches, jaw clenched.

They walked back out, thirty minutes later, with two threats from her father about some lawsuit and Tribune article, and one from Voight, about an old case.

Aria walked behind her father and uncle, texting away on her phone, to the client's wife - Martha, telling her that she was on her way to meet for coffee.

"Watch out, Counselor, we wouldn't want you to trip down the stairs in those heels," she heard to her left, as she paused at the top of the steps. Her head raised, then twisted towards the voice: Officer Ruzek.

She gave him a forced thankful smile, before stepping down the stairs, with years of practice- in heels and continuing to text away.

As she walked out of the bullpen, and out the gate, she heard steps behind her and a voice: We've got a lead.

She locked her phone, and as she was walking out, she heard behind her: "City's really scraping the bottom defending his kind, huh?"

She froze, blood already boiling - now molten, as she turned on her heel - her uncle and dad turning around quickly.

Ellis tenses. Arthur curses under his breath.

“You want to run that back with a badge number attached?”

She steps toward him like a storm breaking its tether. That fuego puro rises up hard.

Jay, just exiting from upstairs, sees it unfolding — rushes down the stairs just in time to catch her by the waist, her just a few feet from Officer Kessler.

Jay urgently spoke, “Aria—hey. No.”

Officer Kessler grinned, “You sure you want to grab her, Halstead These days, guys like us aren’t allowed to call it what it is. You cuff her, blink twice — we’ll get it handled.”

Jay’s blood ran cold. He’d heard locker-room filth before. But this? This was a code. A quiet way of saying: She’s ours to break. Just say the word.

And Jay Halstead didn’t break women. He protected them. Even from his own. Especially from his own.

Jay snaps. Wrong move, buddy. “What did you just say?”

Kevin ran down the steps, settling in between him and Kessler, “Jay, don’t—”

Jay didn't bluff, “No. Say it again. Say it in front of IA this time.”

Jay lunges — Kevin grabs him from behind.

Aria tries to twist free from Adam, who’s got a hold on her wrist now.

Even more cockier - Kessler spoke again, “Touchy. Must be something in the blood.”

Aria nearly bites her own tongue in half. Almost steps on Ruzek with her heel. Ellis steps between them, cool but seething.

“Officer, if you want to be anywhere near this case, I suggest you back off. Otherwise— The Tribune loves a good old-fashioned meltdown. I’ll make sure your name’s spelled right.”

Seargant platt appeared behind her perch - now, “Officer Kessler. My office. Now.”

Kessler tries to defend himself. Trudy cuts him off with a single stare.

“You just got real close to pissing off the wrong lawyers. And me. Move.”

Kessler storms off.

Aria exhales, tension still high.

Aria to no one in particular, under her breath, “A cop protecting me and my client? Who’d’ve thought.”

Jay leveled with her, “Not protecting. Just picking a side.”

Trudy over her shoulder, “Enjoy it while it lasts, Counselor. You’re still a thorn in my ass.”

Aria nodded.

They all walk out — leaving the station charged in their wake.

__

Her and her father had been arguing for over two hours now, elbows deep in charges, case files + personal history.

The glass walls do nothing to contain the storm inside. Aria stands stiff across from her father, arms folded, the city behind her flickering like a warning.

“You’re compromised,” Arthur says, quiet but firm.

“Excuse me?”

“I saw you. In the bullpen. The way you looked at him. Jay Halstead’s not just a name on a file. He never was.”

She exhales through her nose.

“And you think I can’t separate the two?”

“You didn’t. Not then. You ran—from him, from this city, from everything.”

“I ran because I had to.”

“Because he left. Two days after slipping a ring on your finger. Left you here with—”

He stops himself.

“Say it,” Aria snaps. “Say what you really want to say.”

Arthur’s voice lowers. “You were pregnant.”

Silence drops like a hammer.

“You gave up my first grandchild without a word.”

The silence lands like a gunshot.

Aria’s jaw tightens. Her arms fall to her sides.

“Don’t you dare put that on me,” she says. Her voice cracks. “I was 18. Freshly graduated. Alone. Engaged to a man in a war zone. I’d just buried my mother, and you were drowning in your own grief.”

A pause. Her voice drops.

“And yeah. I gave up my child. My choice. Because I couldn’t give them anything. Not stability. Not certainty. Not him.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“And what? You’d drag me into court? Called Jay back from the Middle East? He never even knew. Still doesn’t.”

Arthur stands, slow and deliberate. “He’s not worthy of knowing.”

Aria stares at him, breath stuck in her chest.

“I don’t get to hate him, Papa,” she says quietly. “Not for what I did. We were supposed to be married. Raise a child together. And I took that from him.”

Her throat tightens.

“If anyone gets to be angry — it’s not you. It’s not even me. It’s him.”

Arthur doesn’t speak.

“This case has dug up everything I buried under law books and trial prep,” she adds. “And no, I can’t- will not recuse myself. Because there’s a family depending on us.”

She swallows hard.

“If I feel anything when I see Jay, it’s not resentment. It’s regret. Guilt. It’s wondering what we could’ve been if life hadn’t ripped the floor out from under us.”

A long beat.

“I didn’t come back for him. But maybe… maybe I’m supposed to finish what we started.”

Arthur’s shoulders shift, tension giving just slightly.

“You always did love lost causes,” he mutters.

“They’re not lost,” she says, turning for the door. “Just the ones no one else bothers to fight for.”

She’s gone before he can argue.

__

15 days later.

Aria approached the witness stand slowly, heels echoing across the courtroom like clock hands ticking down. She stopped a few paces from Voight, then set both hands on the edge of the stand, posture firm but calm.

“This city—this department—has notoriously upheld racist techniques and behaviors,” she said. “Put in place to protect you. The white male saviors.”

Voight’s expression didn’t flicker. It never did.

She went on, pacing just slightly, letting her words hang. “Over the past decade, tactics have shifted. Strategies have changed. But not you. You’re what they call ‘old school,’ right?”

She turned to face him head-on.

“Wouldn’t you say that, Sergeant Voight? Years of misconduct allegations, use-of-force complaints, lawsuits—your file has its own cabinet at CPD, doesn’t it?”

He didn’t answer.

She leaned in just enough. “So what makes this case different? What makes it believable that you didn’t put your hands on my client, that you didn’t escalate because of the color of his skin? Because he wasn’t white-passing, wasn’t fluent, wasn’t ‘safe’?”

Her voice sharpened. “Because he was at the wrong place, wrong time—and you had no one else to blame?”

She gave the jury a moment to absorb that.

“I’ve known Carlos for eight years,” she said, turning slightly toward them. “He was my first client. I sat with him through interviews, paperwork, and the day he got his green card. I was there when his daughter was born. When he married his wife, Martha. He worked years to get here. What, in your expert opinion, Sergeant Voight, makes you think he’d throw all that away?”

Still, he said nothing.

She narrowed her eyes. “What training, what background, what education gives you the authority to determine that? What certifies you as an expert on immigration status, racial identity, or asylum culture?”

A small tick appeared in his jaw.

She tilted her head. “What exactly gives you the right?”

Voight finally snapped, “Are you trying to get me to say I’m a racist? Or a bigot?”

Silence dropped like a curtain.

Aria froze for half a second, then turned to face him fully, arms folding slowly across her chest.

“Well,” she asked coolly, “are you?”

A rustle swept the room.

Before he could reply, she stepped forward again.

“There was a complaint filed in 2001, wasn’t there?” she asked. “Just weeks after 9/11. A fellow officer of color reported you for using racial slurs, aggressive profiling tactics during a routine stop near Little Village. You remember that, don’t you?”

Voight opened his mouth, but the judge’s gavel slammed.

“Ms. McDavid,” the judge warned.

She held her hands up lightly, like surrender. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

Voight, ever defiant, called after her as she walked away. “You think you know me, Counsel. But I’ve been doing this job longer than you’ve been alive.”

She stopped.

“I’ve made mistakes,” he said, his voice steadier now. “Plenty. But I don’t make them based on skin color. That’s not who I am.”

She turned just slightly, saw something shift in his tone—not guilt, but conviction. And for the briefest second, it gave her pause.

The flicker passed.

Aria returned to the table, her silence as powerful as anything she’d said.

But Voight kept talking.

To the jury. To the judge. To himself.

Trying to explain who he was.

But Aria had already made them question it.

And that was the whole point.

__

The courtroom emptied on the judge’s call for recess, murmurs trailing Aria’s exit like smoke. She didn’t wait for Ellis. Didn’t wait for her father. Her heels echoed against marble as she pushed through the heavy doors and into the hallway.

The Intelligence Unit stood at the far end, arms crossed, expressions locked. She didn’t stop.

But Jay did.

“I’ll catch up,” he murmured, already moving.

She felt him before she heard him — his presence familiar, his steps intentional. His hand brushed her arm, gentle. She didn’t flinch.

He guided her behind a marble column, just out of view.

“That was a hell of a move,” he said quietly.

“It was overdue,” she replied, eyes fixed forward.

“You alright?”

“He tried to bait me.” A pause. “Almost worked.”

She finally looked at him. “But I’ve studied that man for years.”

Jay nodded. “You held your own.”

“I always do.”

Silence lingered. A shared breath.

“You know where I stand,” he said.

Her gaze softened. “I hope you remember that—when this is all said and done.”

A beat.

“Don’t fall in line with them, Jay,” she added. “Don’t mirror their beliefs just to survive.”

He didn’t respond. Just listened.

She looked down the corridor, then back at him.

“I’ll see you later,” she said.

And she was gone.

Jay stayed rooted, the words ringing in his chest.

He didn’t know if it was a promise or a warning.

But he prayed it was the first.

__

Aria tugged her coat tighter around her shoulders as she stepped into the hallway, purse slung over her arm and exhaustion clinging to her bones. The hum of the office had finally died down—most lights off, the cleaning staff starting their rounds.

Her father stood just outside his office, tie loosened, jaw tight.

“We’re putting Halstead on the stand,” he said flatly.

She froze mid-step. “¿Qué pasa?”

“We’re putting Jay up there to testify,” he repeated, voice like a stone dropped in still water. “And you’re going to question him.”

She blinked at him. “The hell I am.”

“You are,” he snapped, stepping toward her. “Because you’re the one who knows him. You’re the one who—”

“No.” Her voice cracked sharp. “The only reason you’re doing this, Papa, is because you can’t stand him. You can’t stand what he did.”

He didn’t flinch.

“Just admit it,” she pushed. “This isn’t strategy. This is a personal vendetta.”

He slammed his hand on the doorframe, voice rising. “Because he ruined your life!”

The words echoed, louder than the walls could hold.

Aria stood still. Her eyes searched his face, but it was unreadable—just a father, caught between fury and heartbreak.

Then, softly, like a confession:

“No,” she whispered. “He never did.”

She stepped back, pain blooming in her chest like something sacred.

“I ruined his.”

And with that, she walked past him—head held high, but heart breaking all over again.

__ Flashback — Sunday family dinner: Freshman year of high school.

The McDavid family sat stiffly around the table. Arthur’s eyes burned into Jay. He couldn’t stand him—not because Jay wasn’t good enough, but because Jay was everything Arthur wanted for his daughter, just not yet.

Kind. Respectful. Sweet. Funny. Caring. From a good family, too.

Arthur’s eyes burned into Jay. “You know, high school girls ask for a lot of things they’ll regret later.”

Jay blinked. “That… might be the worst thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Charlotte’s voice cracked as she slammed her hand on the table. “Arthur, be nice! Don’t talk to him like that.”

Aria shot a glance at her mom, surprised by the outburst.

Arthur ignored her and turned back to Jay. “A baseball jock? Passing grades? That’s not the future I planned for my daughter. She’s on the debate team, headed to New York for undergrad and then law school. That’s been decided since she was a baby.”

Charlotte reached across, squeezing Jay’s hand, her gaze never leaving her husband. “You’re making this harder than it has to be.”

The tension thickened, but Aria knew better than to step in. This wasn’t just about Jay. The fights had been going on for months—since Jay started coming around. But what she didn’t know was the real reason: her mom’s cancer had come back. They were fighting about that too—something Aria wasn’t ready to be privyed to.

After dinner, Aria pulled Jay outside, her voice soft. “That was the first time I really saw them fight in front of me… it started around the time you started coming around.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, smirking. “So you're saying I ruined your family? That’s… honestly, that's a first. Wanna say it again for the people in the back?"

Her lips twitched despite herself.

Her voice dropped. “But to hell with what they think. You know that.”

Jay nodded, his smile gentler now. “Yeah. I know.”

__

Aria stood in front of the brown apartment door, a white bag of tamales and rice in hand, debating whether to knock. Stir up a conflict of interest—or walk away. Pretend they never crossed paths again. She sighed—and knocked.

A minute passed. Then the door opened.

Jay stood there. He must be hallucinating. He swallowed hard, eyebrows knitting.

“May I come in?” she asked softly.

He stepped aside, pulling the door open wordlessly.

The Loop apartment looked exactly how she imagined it would. Modern. Sleek. A man cave through and through. It stung a little, how familiar it still felt. She set the bag down on a chair near the door, along with her winter coat.

“You okay?” he asked quietly. She turned to him, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Your face does that scrunch when you’re upset,” he added gently.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You still know me that well, huh?”

“Like a book, Ari,” he murmured. He stepped beside her. “Still remember my favorite?”

“Lucky guess?” she teased, pulling food from the bag.

She took her place on the brown leather couch, feet tucked beneath her. Jay sat across from her. They ate in silence. Tension, angst, grief, and anxiety clung to the room like thick fog.

She set down the container—two tamales gone, rice and beans half-finished—and took a long sip of the cold beer he’d placed beside her.

“So... why’d you come, Ari?” Jay finally asked, setting aside his own food.

She sighed, wiped her lips, and turned to face him. She couldn’t tell him the truth: that he might be on the stand tomorrow. That they were dragging him into something he didn’t deserve.

“I wanted to apologize,” she began. “For leaving. After you left for basic.”

His chest rose with a deep breath.

“I left because I was scared—of everything. The future. What could happen. My dad was grieving my mother, and I... I felt trapped. Without you, I didn’t have my anchor. My light at the end of the tunnel.”

She looked up at the ceiling, blinking away tears.

“And don’t think I was mad you left to serve. That’s not it.” Her voice broke. “It’s just... I was alone.”

She sniffled, fingers fidgeting in her lap.

“Two days after you left for basic... I found out I was pregnant.”

A tear slipped out.

Jay froze. His blood ran cold. His mind stopped. She was—pregnant?

She looked at him. He was unraveling in silence.

“I told my uncle. I couldn’t tell my dad, I was too scared. And when my uncle... said a few cruel things, I fled. I stuck to the plan—New York for undergrad, live with my aunt and uncle, go to law school, come back to Chicago...”

She wiped her cheeks.

“But there wasn’t a place in that plan for a baby. Not even for marriage. And we were just kids, Jay.”

He swallowed, his throat thick with emotion.

“Right before the end of my first year... I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.” Her voice cracked. She saw the way his eyes glossed over.

His beautiful blue eyes—full of pain.

“I met a couple through my uncle’s law firm. A well-off couple—both lawyers. She’s a federal judge now. They love my aunt and uncle, and I knew they’d love her. I gave her up for an open adoption. They gave me mercy. And our daughter... she knows about me. She’ll always know. At their discretion.”

Aria stood, pacing. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“What’s her name?” he asked, voice low—hope flickering through her like electricity.

She smiled gently, freezing in place. “Leona Simone,” she said. “It means Lioness.”

A softness crossed his features. “Do you have a picture?”

She nodded and pulled out her phone, swiping to her favorite album.

“She goes by Leo,” she whispered, chuckling under her breath. That sound alone made Jay’s chest ache.

She sniffled, wiping her eyes as she turned the phone toward him.

In the photo, Leona sat behind her mother’s judge seat in a courtroom—Second District Federal Circuit. Her adoptive father sat on one side, her adoptive mother on the other. Her smile was wide, radiant.

She looked like she belonged there. Even at ten.

Jay didn’t notice the detail right away.

The sticker covering the judge’s nameplate: Leona Halstead-McKnight.

His breath stilled. His eyes met Aria’s, then flicked back to the photo.

Shock. Disbelief. Heartbreak.

He wiped a tear and stared at their daughter.

“I know. It’s a lot,” Aria said gently, taking the phone back. "Even with the adoption, she knows her birth name. The full one, uses it as her middle name sometimes," she hummed. She searched again, swiping to one of her most treasured photos—the day Leona was born.

“She was pressed to my chest, just before I signed the papers.”

Jay took the phone, hesitant. The picture said it all—her smile wide, but full of pain. Her eyes glossy with tears.

She motioned for him to swipe.

The next image: Leo at four, beaming at Navy Pier in Aria’s arms.

Happy.

He could see her features—hers, and his. A perfect blend of two people, who once thought they had all the time in the world.

“Do you regret it?” he asked, voice trembling.

She shook her head. “No. They gave her what I couldn’t. What we couldn’t. If it had happened later... maybe. But back then? I wasn’t ready. You weren’t ready.”

She clasped her hands, grounding herself.

“I’m sorry if that’s not how you feel. I understand if you hate me. But I was eighteen, Jay. And so were you.”

He nodded slowly.

Then, he asked, “Did you ever stop loving me?”

Her phone screen went black. She didn’t need it anymore.

“No,” she said simply. “Never. I... always believed we’d cross paths again. That we weren’t finished.”

Jay stood as she slid the phone back into her pocket.

“I’m sorry, Jay,” she added, meaning every word. “For how this happened. I never envisioned us reconnecting this way.”

He knew she wasn’t trying to hurt him. She was following her principles. Protecting her client. Doing the right thing.

But still—

“Don’t go,” he whispered as she walked past. “Stay.”

She turned.

He cupped her face, just like he did the night he asked her to marry him.

“I let you leave once,” he murmured, eyes searching hers. “I’m never letting you leave again.”

And then he kissed her. Hot. Heavy. Desperate.

Clothes shed quickly—too quickly, maybe. But Aria didn’t care. One thing echoed in her mind.

She prayed the words he once said were still true:

That he’d love her, no matter what.

Especially, if her father threw him to the wolves; especially then.

__

The courtroom buzzed low with tension. Aria sat poised, every thread of her suit starched and perfect, but her insides churned. She’d spent the night tangled in memory and skin, in regret and old wounds. She hadn't told him. Not fully. Only a whispered, "I’m sorry, Jay. Whatever happens today... I’m sorry."

She thought maybe he knew. She hoped.

She wasn't expecting her uncle to get up and announce what he did, everything stilled.

"The defense of Carlos Lopez calls on Detective Jay Halstead to speak on behalf of Seargant Hank Voight."

She was throwing him to the wolves, pulling the rug out from underneath him for the second time: her leaving after he left, and now.

Jay’s head jerked slightly, like the air had been knocked from his lungs. He looked toward her, confusion bleeding into betrayal. Everyone in the courtroom followed his gaze—to Aria.

And they saw it.

The shared history.

The devastation.

He stood slowly. Walked past her like she didn’t exist. Like she was just another lawyer.

But she felt it. That cut.

The way he didn’t look back.

He took the stand, hand raised, voice flat as he swore in.

Aria now stared at Ellis, her jaw tight. Her mind flashed to all the years before this case—how her father hated Jay from the start. That boy who showed up uninvited, proposing without asking permission, forcing Aria to flee after her mother’s death, pregnant and alone.

She had trusted Ellis once. Now, she felt completely exposed.

She clenched her fists, the betrayal cutting deep. He said he wouldn’t question Jay. He promised.

Ellis’s gaze was hard as steel. He wasn’t just trying to break Jay as a witness—he was trying to get under the skin of the entire CPD unit, and under Aria.

Jay briefly looked over at Aria, a tight set to his mouth. He caught her eye from across the courtroom.

For a moment, the noise around them faded.

That look he gave her—the same one he’d given just before he proposed that spring break night years ago. Quiet, unwavering, full of promises.

"Forever.” it said.

__ Flashback: Spring break - Senior year.

Jay and Aria lay tangled in the quiet stillness of his childhood bedroom. The clock read 2 a.m., the faint sound of Jay’s brother snoring from the next room the only other noise.

Aria’s eyes searched his face, vulnerability bleeding through. “Promise me you’ll always love me,” she whispered, her voice barely steady. “No matter what happens when you leave for basic training.”

Jay’s hands found her face, his touch gentle, grounding. “I promise, Ari. Always.”

A heavy silence hung between them, thick with the weight of the unknown.

Then, slowly, Jay’s lips curved into a soft smile. “Will you marry me?”

Aria’s breath caught in her throat—hope and overwhelm crashing into one fragile moment.

They held each other tighter, a quiet vow forged in the shadow of uncertainty.

__

Jay took the stand, hand raised, voice steady as he was sworn in.

The courtroom held its breath—until the CPD counsel rose abruptly, a cold smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Your Honor,” he began smoothly, “the prosecution was made aware, thanks to Detective Hailey Upton's diligence, of a prior engagement between Detective Halstead and Ms. McDavid.”

He paused, letting the weight of the revelation settle. “Given this, alongside the longstanding animosity between Sergeant Voight and Mr. McDavid, we must question the impartiality of this testimony. It appears this is less about justice and more about personal vendettas.”

Whispers filled the room.

Aria’s heart sank. This had been a trap laid weeks ago — Hailey had quietly passed the engagement details to the CPD counsel, who had patiently waited for this exact moment to blindside them both.

Jay’s eyes flicked to Aria’s, a flicker of frustration and hurt there. She clenched her fists, knowing this wasn’t just about the trial anymore — it was a twisted game to get under their skin.

__

The courtroom seemed to shrink around them, the air thick with expectation and old wounds barely covered. Jay Halstead sat rigid, his jaw tight, eyes flicking once toward Aria before fixing ahead. The weight between them was almost physical—years of memories tangled with pain, betrayal, and what-ifs, all swirling in that sterile space.

The CPD counsel rose smoothly, breaking the silence like a sharp knife.

“Detective Halstead, please describe your role in the investigation of Carlos Lopez.” His voice was polite but cold, carefully calibrated.

Jay cleared his throat. “I responded to the scene after reports of a shooting. I assisted with securing the area and gathering witness statements.”

Carlos Lopez—the bakery owner, with a family, facing the impossible charge of shooting a police officer—had been Aria’s first client, years ago, when she was still just finding her footing as a lawyer. She knew the truth: Carlos was innocent. The real threat was the tangled web of bias and power closing in.

The CPD counsel’s gaze hardened. “You’ve been known to clash with Sergeant Voight over his... unconventional methods. Would you say that’s accurate?”

Jay’s voice didn’t waver. “We don’t always see eye to eye. But I respect his commitment to the job.”

A flicker of something—regret, maybe—passed in his eyes as they met Aria’s for a fraction of a second before he looked away.

The counsel pressed harder. “And your prior engagement to Aria McDavid—does that complicate your judgment in this case?”

Jay’s hand clenched the edge of the witness stand. “My personal history has no bearing on my duties as a detective.”

There was a charged silence.

The counsel leaned in slightly. “The McDavid family has long held disdain for Sergeant Voight. Arthur McDavid’s influence is well known. Do you believe this case is being used as a personal vendetta?”

Jay’s voice dropped, heavy with contained frustration. “I’m not here to speculate on politics or family grudges.”

Across the courtroom, Aria’s heart hammered—memories of better days crashing into the cold reality. The way he’d looked at her once—full of quiet promises and unspoken dreams—felt like a ghost haunting this room. Now, they were forced into roles neither wanted, pretending the cracks didn’t show.

When it was her turn, Aria rose, every step deliberate. Her voice was calm but resolute.

“Detective Halstead, in your experience, do Sergeant Voight’s tactics sometimes cross ethical or legal boundaries?”

Jay’s eyes met hers, and for a moment the courtroom seemed to disappear. He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Sometimes. His methods are aggressive—maybe too much. But he believes it’s necessary to keep people safe.”

She pressed on. “Have you witnessed him target individuals unfairly, based on their race or background?”

Jay swallowed. “There have been times... actions that made me uncomfortable, especially toward minority communities.”

Aria’s gaze didn’t waver. “Do you believe that bias has influenced the investigation into Carlos Lopez?”

He looked down briefly before meeting her eyes again. “There are factors that need deeper scrutiny. Bias can be hard to see, but it’s there.”

The words hung between them, heavy with everything left unsaid.

Aria closed her notebook. “No further questions.”

Behind her, Ellis’s voice was barely audible, a sharp warning: “You pivot this case right, or I’m pulling you. Your father will be sitting next to me.”

Her hands trembled just slightly, but she nodded. This was far from over.

__

The verdict came quietly but carried the weight of thunder.

“Not guilty.”

The words echoed through the courtroom, disbelief and relief mingling in the air. Carlos Lopez, the man Aria had fought for from the start, was free.

But freedom felt hollow.

The real killer—a disgruntled confidential informant from narcotics, the one whose bitterness festered into violence—had slipped through cracks in the system. The officers had known, yet the case had become a battleground far bigger than the truth.

Jay and Aria sat opposite each other, the buzz of the courtroom fading to a murmur. Their eyes met, and everything unsaid hung there: the sleepless nights, the whispered apologies, the fractures left raw by this trial.

They both knew this case had marked them—not just professionally but personally. It had torn open old wounds and exposed every fragile piece of what once was.

Still, stubborn as ever, their love lingered beneath the surface, unspoken but undeniable.

Jay’s voice was barely above a whisper when he finally spoke that evening, “We’re in deep, Aria.”

She met his gaze, her own voice trembling with a mix of fear and hope. “Maybe. But we’re not done. Not yet.”

In that soft exchange, amidst the chaos and the scars, one truth remained clear: no matter how far the world pushed them apart, they still fought to hold onto each other.

Because some bonds—broken, battered, and bruised—refuse to fade.

They say if you love something, you set it free. It’ll find its way back in the end.

Even in the darkest hours, light breaks through— shining down on the land, on its people.

You just have to give it time.

And so, the love that Aria set free all those years ago - did in fact, find its way back to her.

Strong - steady - unwavering.

Even through her darkest months, following the court case, navigating the ending of her professional relationship with her father & uncle - light broke through.

The light that was once in her life - Jay, came back with fierce and bright- lighting up her days, as they fell into step, side by side.

All they needed was time - and time, was finally on their side.

[starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies]

I know I haven’t posted any fics in a while cuz the writers block has been blocking but I want to write some blurbs to try and work through it so

Please send me blurb/drabble requests for any of the following characters:

JJ Maybank- Outer Banks

Rafe Cameron- Outer Banks

Kiara Carrera- Outer Banks

Chris Alonso- Swat

Jay Halstead- Chicago PD

Ace Hardy- Nancy Drew

Toni Shalifoe- The Wilds

Anthony Bridgerton- Bridgerton

Jackson Avery- Greys Anatomy

Nicholas Scratch- The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Nikolai Lantsov- Shadow & Bone (show version)

Guy Thwarte- The Buccaneers

Laka Hanohano- Rescue Hi Surf

(I’ll consider other characters if I like the request)

You can send me any idea or prompt (no smut pls) but here’s some lists if you want to take a peek:

Angsty Prompts

Hurt/comfort Prompts

Rival Prompts

Injury Prompts

Blushing Prompts

Late Night Call Prompts

Smiling Prompts

Misc Drabble Prompts

[metaldeputy]

Cherrybomb by hyperrbolic_orange

@hyperrbolic-orange

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationship: Eddie Munson/Gator Tillman Additional Tags: Crossover Pairings, Organized Crime, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings(eventually despite their best efforts), Hurt/Comfort, gator tillman has trauma, like a lifetime of trauma, dont worry were going to solve it with the power of That Dick, and also Talking About Our Feelings, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Service Top Eddie Munson, Bottom Gator Tillman, Sub Gator Tillman, Mean Dom Eddie Munson, Under-negotiated Kink, Happy Ending, despite the subject matter not a very angsty tone, sometimes humourous, well I think I'm funny, more trigger warnings in notes, Extremely Dubious Consent, consent becomes more enthusiastic as we progress, but the premise itself is super dubious so like, again this is a fic not real life so thats all okeydokey, Gator POV

Summary:

Munson just shook his head. “You’ve got nothing I want,” he said bluntly. Even as he said it, Munson looked back down at the polaroids still clutched in his hands. And then, watching him stare like he just couldn't help himself... it suddenly clicked. Bullshit, he had nothing he wanted. He sure as fuck did. “I do,” Gator said, his voice shaking just a bit. “I got something you want.” *** Bad things have happened to Gator Tillman. He’s had some not-so-good run-ins with some not-so-good people. Knowing it’s all just karma, reaping what he sowed, doesn’t make him feel better about it. And it won’t stop the nightmares, either. Two years later, Gator is working for the Chicago PD, trying to put the past behind him. But old habits die hard. After his partner sells him out, Gator finds himself in the hole with notoriously sadistic crime lord Eddie Munson. With no money and nothing to bargain with, Gator offers up the only he has left: himself. One week; that’s the deal. Gator belongs to Eddie for one week. But what starts as nothing but a deal to satisfy a debt quickly turns into something neither of them expected... but maybe something they both needed anyhow.

Note from mod: PLEASE MIND THE TAGS AND ADDITIONAL WARNINGS THE AUTHOR PROVIDES IN THE NOTES ON AO3

Additional little blurb from Chapter 1 under the cut!

This needed to work, ‘cause if it didn’t... he had no more cards left to play. Munson’s eyes were wide. Not angry anymore, but not excited either. They flicked from Gator’s face to the picture he was holding up and back again. He chewed his lower lip, then wet it with his tongue. “What are you offering?” He spoke quieter now, his tone almost hesitant. Like Gator might be pulling the sort of shit he’d seen in those old cartoons, offering him a football to kick only to yank it away at the last second. Gator lowered his own voice to match. “What do you want?” he asked. Eddie gave him a hard stare, wheels and gears clearly turning in his mind as he did some kind of mental math. Two hundred thousand dollars taken out of his flesh was one whole hand. Gator wondered what it added up to, if he took it from his flesh this other way. “One week,” Munson said.   “Huh?”   “You heard me. One week. You’re mine for seven whole days, Deputy.” His eyes drifted down Gator’s body, still backed up against the dresser. That smile was back again, the one that made Gator think of hungry monsters. “One week to do whatever I want with you. Deal?”  Gator gulped. “Deal,” he said.  

[flofaiiry]

★ ‣ smut | ♡︎ ‣ fluff | 𖦹 ‣ angst | ❀ ‣ suggestive ✎ ‣ personal favs

⋆·˚ ༘ * the pitt

dr. jack abbot slim pickins ★ | ✎ how he shows love ♡︎ fifteen minutes ★

[blurbs, thoughts, asks, etc.] morning sex ★ ♡︎ first time ★ breeding kink ★ | ✎ domestic!jack ♡︎ size kink ★ jack & younger gf!reader ♡︎ ❀ house hunting ♡︎ jack & taller gf!reader ♡︎ ❀ jack & shy!reader ♡︎ eye contact ♡︎ taking care of him after a long day ★ body worship & breeding ★ shy!reader & praise ♡︎ sub!jack abbot ★ "keep your eyes on me" [prompt game] ★ "louder. let me hear you." [ prompt game] ★ "tell me what you want" [prompt game] ★ breeding kink pt2 ★

dr. michael robinavitch sick day ♡︎ the little things ♡︎ ★ it's a garden life [series masterlist]

[blurbs, thoughts, asks, etc.] "you can take it." [prompt game] ★ "you taste so good" [prompt game] ★ florist!reader moodboard [series/story coming soon!!]

dr. frank langdon haunted 𖦹 ❀

dr. samira mohan sue me ★

⋆·˚ ༘ * animal kingdom

andrew 'pope' cody why him? ♡︎ show me ★

[blurbs, thoughts, asks, etc] munch!pope ★ breeding kink ★ | ✎ pope & nurse gf!reader ♡︎ ★ fake boyfriend ♡︎ stalker!pope moodboard [fic coming soon!!] scars ★ | ✎ first night back from prison ★ conjugal visit ❀ sundress ★ "you can take it" [prompt game] ★ "you take me so well" [prompt game] ★

⋆·˚ ༘ * chicago pd

deputy chief charlie reid ultraviolence ★ wanna be yours [ultraviolence pt2] ♡︎ ★ | ✎

[blurbs, thoughts, asks, etc] uni student!reader ❀ your house gets broken into ♡︎ pre law!reader ★ "hands behind your back" [prompt game] ★ "do you want my fingers?" [prompt game] ★ "spread your legs wider" [prompt game] ★

⋆·˚ ༘ * southland

detective sammy bryant

[blurbs, thoughts, asks, etc] morning sex ★ "show me how much you need me" [prompt game] ★

⋆·˚ ༘ * marvel cinematic universe

bucky barnes washington's finest ★

[blurbs, thoughts, asks, etc] florist's son 40s bucky ♡︎

⋆·˚ ༘ * the west wing

josh lyman

[blurbs, thoughts, asks, etc] intern!reader moodboard

[ divider creds ; @uzmacchiato ]