#dethalstead

[selfprotect-blog]

“We’re not doing it again, so leave it.”

❛    𝐈𝐓'𝐒   𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘   𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓   𝐘𝐎𝐔   𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓   𝐈   𝐖𝐀𝐒   𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆   .    ❜        she   might   have   been   ,   potentially   ,   about   to   offer   breakfast   at   least   ,   but   now   ?   don’t   let   the   door   hit   you   on   the   way   out   ,   jay   .        ❛    i   was   just   going   to   tell   you   to   take   the   stairs   .   elevator’s   a   fucking   nightmare   .    ❜

✎   𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒   »   @dethalstead .

[forjustice-blog1]

❝   I FIGURED WE COULD      play some actual scrabble.   ❞    she emerges into the small living room with a knowing smile and two hands full.    one balances the board game atop her palm,   the other holds two beer bottles around the neck.   ❝   did you think i meant something else ?   ❞    /   @dethalstead

[fierceli-archive]

❝   TONIGHT’S  THE  BIG  NIGHT.      you think you can handle it ?   ❞    /    @dethalstead

[forjustice-blog1]

❛    make yourself at home.    ❜       index finger extended,       she guides his attention first down a small hallway attached to the living room.       ❛    bathroom’s     down there.    ❜       and then toward the kitchen.       ❛    beers in the fridge.       i’ll go get some blankets.    ❜       /       @dethalstead

[agentxiii]

[  SMS: HALSTEAD, JAY.  ]   People don’t usually say no to free coffee. [  SMS: HALSTEAD, JAY.  ]   And pass up the opportunity to check out a totally legit murder board ? [  SMS: HALSTEAD, JAY.  ]   Be there in 10.

                      @dethalstead​ + cont !

[agentxiii]

“What are you doing?”

IT’S TIMES LIKE THIS    that make her wonder what it’d be like to settle down somewhere in the city,   comfortable apartment and a  b o r i n g  9 - 5 job…     But it’s not a lifestyle fit for such a wandering soul.     Still,   she lays across the mattress on her side,   fist tucked under an ear.     It’s a firm texture that doesn’t sink too much with weight,   something an aching back can appreciate after a long day by the docks   (  “we need info on the shipping”,   he’d said.    “it’d be a good day out by the  w a t e r ”,   he’d said…   ).     Sharon yawns   –––––  focusing her attention on the detective only when his voice carries across the room.     It doesn’t take a genius to understand the tension being emnated :   hand close to the holster at his side,   brows furrowed…     Ok,   so maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have jimmied his front door,    but you also shouldn’t leave a girl waiting too long after your designated appointment.          ❛    Can’t a girl ask her cop friend about a creepy guy without getting the third degree  ?    ❜

       * @dethalstead​   /   She’s sleeping in his bed. ( 3 )

[mysterynerd]

❛    𝐈   𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄     𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍     𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒     𝐌𝐀𝐍     𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄   ,        𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘   .    ❜        frown   pulls   taut   on     chapstick  -  smeared   mouth   .           slow   slow   ,              velma   taps   her   fingertip   on   the   grainy   ,               black   and   white   photo   .            with   a   quick   blink   ,            she   is   back   to   looking   at   the   man       looming   at   her   counter   .          ❛    he   came   into   my   bookshop         THREE   TIMES   YESTERDAY   .         why   ?        is   something   wrong   ?    ❜

🔎   @dethalstead  ♡ ' 𝐃   𝐅𝐎𝐑   𝐀   𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑   !

[vyalost-arch-blog]

wound

               BLANCHE  SELIVANOVA’S  JAW  TENSES.  it transforms the frame of her face into something brutalist.  frankie’s closing out the bar and checking inventory in the back.  for all intents & purposes, she’s alone at the bar when halstead – jay, he’d said;  to call him jay – hobbles in, scent of blood – his blood, specifically – winning grin, and all.  the warm glow of fairy lights that pepper the bar cast harsh shadows over the ridge of her brow, in the hollow of her cheeks.

               she hasn’t fed in days, and she’s starting to feel it.

               it uncharacteristically makes her hands shake.  not visibly so, but enough for her to take note.  she stills them in her lap, knocks against the plastic of the first aid kit she holds there.  wrings her wrists.  curiously tilts her head as she examines the wound.  nothing serious, a lot of things considered – he’d likely caught his thigh against the edge of a fence.

                she tucks loose strands of hair behind her ears, as though tethering herself with the motion, with something that feigns a soft sigh.     “  i reckon you won’t need stitches for that.  you’re lucky it’s just a scratch -- bit of a deep scratch, but just a scratch, nonetheless.  ”     it’s too earnest, she thinks, to plainly say, i’m glad you’re safe.  so instead, she tears a pack of an antiseptic swab with her teeth, gaze rising to meet his beneath the thick of her lashes.  the sharp scent of alcohol is almost dizzying, enough to distract from temptation presented bare before her.  no, no.  she has plans, later in the night, to meet at the hospital.  she can hold out a few hours longer.     “  doesn’t mean this won’t sting, though.  ”     and she rests a hand tentatively against his knee, as though to ask:  may i?

meme     /     @dethalstead