Summary: Jay Halstead isn’t a fan of Halloween—until a night of pumpkin carving, candy duty, and a cozy movie marathon with you changes everything. Between teasing, laughter, and a playful kiss, he discovers that Halloween is a little sweeter with you by his side.
Words:
Warnings or A/N: It's been a while since I wrote for Jay but here is a Halloween one!
“Pumpkin carving? No way.” Jay leaned back in his chair, giving you that don’t even start with me look.
You dangled the flyer in front of him. Annual Precinct Pumpkin Carving Contest! “You’ll love it. Team bonding, creative expression…” you grinned, “…a chance for me to totally destroy you.”
Jay huffed out a laugh. “Destroy me? With pumpkins? You can’t even open a jar of pickles without asking for backup.”
“That was one time,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “Besides, I have artistic vision.”
“Oh, yeah?” He smirked. “What are you carving—stick figures?”
You leaned in close, voice dropping mock-serious. “For your information, I was thinking about a bat. Or maybe a cat. Something classic."
Jay snorted. “Yeah, nothing says classy like mutilated squash.”
You slapped the flyer onto his desk. “Admit it—you’re scared.”
His brows shot up. “Scared? Of carving a pumpkin?”
“Exactly. You’ve got combat training, a badge, all that tough-guy energy… but hand you a carving knife and suddenly you’re shaking in your boots.”
Jay gave a slow, sarcastic clap. “Nice try. You really think reverse psychology’s gonna work on me?”
You crossed your arms, smirking. “Worked well enough to get under your skin.”
A few hours later, you nearly choked on laughter when he showed up in the breakroom. He picked the biggest pumpkin on the table and sat down with a scowl, rolling his sleeves up like he was about to interrogate it.
“Glad you could join us,” you teased. “Want me to draw the triangle eyes for you, or can you handle that?”
“Just watch,” he muttered, knife already in hand.
An hour later, your pumpkin sported a lopsided ghost face. Jay’s? A precise Chicago skyline, sharp lines and perfect detail.
Everyone crowded around, impressed. He leaned back, smug. “What was that about me being scared?”
You gave him a long look before smirking. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you,” Jay said, nudging your pumpkin, “are terrible at this.”
“Maybe.” You grinned, eyes catching his. “But I make it look cute.”
For a second, his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Guess you do.”
—
Your porch light glowed warm against the chilly October night, the bowl of candy balanced on your lap as you sat bundled in a blanket. Beside you, Jay leaned casually against the railing, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, pretending he wasn’t secretly enjoying himself.
“I still don’t know how you roped me into this,” he muttered, watching a group of kids march up the walkway in mismatched superhero costumes.
You smiled sweetly. “Because you’re incapable of saying no to me.”
Jay’s eyebrow ticked. “That’s debatable.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” you teased, dropping fun-sized chocolate bars into little outstretched pumpkin buckets.
One of the kids stared up at Jay, eyes wide. “Are you a police officer?”
Jay gave a small nod, crouching down to their level. “That’s right.”
“Cool!” the kid grinned before running off with their friends.
You elbowed him lightly. “Look at you, neighborhood hero.”
He shook his head, but you caught the faint smile tugging at his lips.
A few minutes later, a group of older kids tried to sneak extra candy when you weren’t looking. Jay cleared his throat in that sharp, authoritative way that made even grown suspects freeze. The kids instantly dropped the extra bars back in the bowl and bolted down the driveway.
You burst out laughing. “Jay Halstead—guardian of justice, defender of Snickers.”
He shot you a flat look. “Glad you’re entertained.”
When the rush slowed down, you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders. Without a word, Jay sat down beside you, tugging half the blanket across his lap too. The porch light caught the faint smile still playing on his lips as kids’ laughter echoed down the street.
“You know,” you said, voice quieter now, “you’re not half bad at this whole Halloween thing.”
Jay glanced at you, eyes warm. “Don’t get used to it.”
But the way he shifted just a little closer told you otherwise.
After the last trick-or-treater had gone home, you and Jay retreated inside, a half-empty candy bowl in hand. The faint smell of pumpkin candles filled the room, casting a soft glow as you dropped onto the couch.
Jay followed, plopping the candy down on the coffee table. “So, what now? We grade Snickers versus KitKats?”
You grinned, already queuing up a movie. “Scarier. Movie marathon.”
Jay gave you a look. “Define scarier.”
“Classic horror,” you said, settling in with a blanket. “Jump scares, creepy music, the whole deal.”
He exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “Great.” But he didn’t move away when you tugged the blanket so it draped over both of you.
The first loud scream came ten minutes in. You jumped, clutching the blanket tighter—only to realize Jay had also flinched.
You turned slowly, eyes wide with mock horror. “Did you just jump?”
“I did not,” he muttered, eyes glued to the screen.
“Oh, you so did.” You poked his side. “The tough detective, spooked by a fake monster.”
He cracked a reluctant smile. “You’re imagining things.”
The next scare had him tightening his jaw, shoulders tense. You couldn’t hold in your laughter.
“Unbelievable,” you teased. “You face down criminals with guns, but show you a creepy doll and you’re done for.”
Jay finally looked at you, amusement in his eyes. “Keep laughing and see what happens.”
“Something like that?” you said softly, leaning closer.
His gaze flickered to your lips for just a moment before he smirked. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”
You felt your cheeks warm, but before you could fire back, the next jump scare blasted from the TV. This time, you both jumped—and ended up colliding, his arm brushing yours under the blanket. Neither of you moved away.
“See?” you said softly, smiling. “Halloween’s not so bad.”
Jay’s arm slid around you, holding you close in the soft glow of the pumpkin candles. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Guess it’s not.”
The last movie ended well past midnight, the credits rolling across the screen while the room sat quiet except for the faint crackle of your candle. You stretched, yawning, and glanced over at Jay.
He was still on the couch, one arm resting along the back, the other hand lazily rifling through the candy bowl like he hadn’t just finished an entire marathon of horror movies.
“You know,” you said, smirking, “for someone who claimed he doesn’t do Halloween, you lasted longer than I thought.”
Jay huffed out a laugh, unwrapping a chocolate bar. “Lasted? You make it sound like I survived a war zone.”
“You basically did.” You grinned, nudging his knee with your foot. “Pumpkins, trick-or-treaters, scary movies. That’s the full Halloween experience.”
He popped the candy into his mouth, chewing slowly before admitting, “It wasn’t terrible.”
“High praise.” You teased. “Careful, Halstead, I might think you actually enjoyed yourself.”
His eyes met yours, steady and a little softer now. “Maybe I did.”
Something about the way he said it sent a flutter through your chest. You shifted closer under the blanket, your shoulder brushing his. “So… you’re saying I’ve officially converted you into a Halloween guy?”
Jay gave a low chuckle. “Let’s not go that far.” He paused, then added, quieter, “But… if it means spending the night like this, with you? Yeah. I could get used to it.”
You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me next year too.”
Jay’s arm slid around you, pulling you in closer. He leaned down just slightly, a playful glint in his eyes, and pressed a quick, teasing kiss to your temple.
“Promise?” he murmured against your hair.
“Promise,” you whispered, grinning.
For once, he didn’t argue—just held you close, the warmth of his presence mixing with the soft glow of the pumpkin lights outside. And somehow, Halloween had never felt sweeter.
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?”
“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🫶🏻
Summary: After a tumultuous relationship marked by Jay Halstead's absences and affairs, you begin to rebuild your life.
Warnings: A smidge of profanity, a bit of humor, angst, anger, fluff, and a lil’ smut👀😆.
Word Count: 5,000+.
A/N: This is my first Halstead fix, but hopefully you lovelies will love it🩵.
Inspired By🩵:
Adam cradled your work bag and purse in one hand, his broad shoulders carrying the weight of your exhaustion. His free hand pressed the down button for the elevator, the soft ping of the mechanism cutting through the silence. You sighed deeply, closing your eyes for a brief moment, letting the weariness wash over you.
“Tired?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.
“Exhausted. I could sleep for days,” you responded, the fatigue squinting your eyes. A massive yawn escaped your lips as the elevator doors slid open. You leaned against the wall for support, stifling another yawn. “Sorry,” you murmured.
“It’s all good. I hope you can get some rest once you’re home,” he said, as his voice comforted your frazzled nerves.
“Thanks, Adam. For everything. You've all been so supportive. Even if it's a bit awkward.”
The elevator dinged, and Adam gestured for you to step out first. He spotted a nearby vending machine and asked, “Did you eat today?”
Not waiting for your answer, he walked over to the whirring machine and purchased a bottle of water and a bag of smart popcorn. You sank onto a bench, grateful for the brief respite. Adam returned, popping open the snack and handing you the bag and the beverage. The two of you continued on your journey to the parking lot.
“Maybe this can give you a bit of energy.”
“Adam, you don't have to make such a fuss. You, Kim, Kevin, and Voight have already done enough. I can't believe she made a time chart so everyone can take turns escorting me to these appointments. She even has poor Dante in on it. That baby has his hands full taking care of himself. Bless his heart.”
“Are you kidding me? You're family. That’s what you do for loved ones,” he assured you, his eyes steady and sincere.
“Is this not awkward for you guys? Hailey’s your friend too,” you grudgingly admitted.
“Yes, but we knew you first. We're not going to abandon years of friendship over drama. We support her just as we do you. J—”
“Adam, please don't. The thought of him is even more stressful. Thanks for the snack. I can finish this in the car. I'm ready to get home to my comfy bed. It's been a long day.”
You caught a flicker of emotion in Adam's eyes, but he quickly masked it. Clearing his throat, he agreed, “You’re right. Let's get you home. Kim’s making me and Mak’s favorite dinner tonight,” he bragged, trying to lighten the mood.
“You bring baby girl next time. I miss her cute wittle face,” you demanded.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The walk to the exit grew quiet and tense. You glanced at Adam out of the corner of your eye.
“You good?”
“Y-yeah. Just thinking about a case,” he lied, his voice unconvincing.
As he opened the door, you started to press about the case. But your words caught in your throat at the sight of a figure standing across the parking lot. Your gaze locked onto the face, shock coursing through you. You spun around, the question about the case forgotten. "Tell me you didn't. What is he doing here?"
Adam scratched the back of his neck, looking apologetic. “Sorry, sis. The moment Hailey found out, she said he deserved to know. It was either she’d tell him, or Kevin and I. Kim was against it all. Voight was neutral.”
“I told you I would tell him on my own time!”
“When would that have been? You've been putting it off for three months now,” Adam argued.
“You don't get it. None of you know the entirety of the situation. I'm not just some home-wrecking whore. If anything, my home was the one that took the damage. You might want to remind Hailey of that, given that she's out here giving an ultimatum based on my life.”
Your gaze fixated on the once-sparkling eyes that had the power to make your heart flutter. Now, those same eyes left your heart in ruins, a painful reminder of what was lost.
“Why are you here? Shouldn't you be somewhere across an ocean or something?”
Jay walked up slowly like he was approaching a wounded animal. He stood a few inches away from you, hands buried in his pockets, looking down. “I just want to talk,” he begged.
“Now you want to have a conversation? Why, Jay? Why are you here? You made your choice.”
“Did I make my choice?”
“Walking—sorry, running—away was a choice. Was it not?”
His eyes locked with yours as he pleaded, “I know you hate me, but please, just one conversation? I took leave as soon as I found out.”
“Are you supposed to get brownie points for that,” you snapped.
“Sweetheart—”
“You don't get to call me that,” you growled.
Adam’s hand rested on your shoulder, the turmoil between two of his dearest friends cutting deep. It reminded him of the trying times he and Kim had gone through. He held out hope that you two would find some resolve.
“You know this exchange needs to happen. Maybe you'll find clarity,” Adam said, looking you in the eyes. “I'm sure he’s come to his senses over the past couple of months. Surely he realizes he could have handled the situation better and that he was being stupid.”
"Thanks, Adam. That's incredibly helpful," Jay retorted with a sarcastic edge.
Ruzek shot him a glare. “As I was saying, this needs to happen. Do me a favor. Let him drive you home. Give him however much time you want to explain himself. Discuss the most important things. Then you can either reconcile or tell him to go to hell.”
Jay threw his hands in the air. Adam cut his eyes to him. “Being my bro doesn't give you a pass. I'm going to call you on your shit. You know that.”
“Reconcile? You must have confused me with Hailey.”
“Damn it, sis.”
“Fine,” you snarled, turning to head toward Jay's truck.
“Thanks! Love you,” Ruzek shouted as you flipped them both off.
Adam shoved your belongings into Jay’s chest. His voice dropped into a menacing, judgemental tone. “Glad to have you back, brother. Try not to leave things as messed up as you did the last time. When are you going to stop screwing her over and flipping her life upside down? You better make this right.”
“I will make it right with everyone involved.”
“No, just her. You've got to choose, and it needs to be her.”
“Who says I hadn't already tried to do that?”
“Yeah, and then you changed your mind.”
“That's not what I meant to do. You know what, Ruzek? I know I screwed up. Can we pause this lecture so I can try and rectify my mistakes?”
Adam paused for emphasis. He needed Jay to listen to the advice he was about to give, to let it sink in truly.
"You messed up, Halstead," Adam said, his voice gruff but laced with concern. "But you gotta fight for her. Show her you mean it this time." Jay clenched his jaw, the truth of Adam's words scraping at his already sore conscience.
“I hear you, brother. Truly. I’ve been stupid far too long, and it’s time I get my life in order. I just–needed to get away. To finish something I’d run from for far too long. I took that time away to figure out how to stop sabotaging the things and people I love most.
Adam nodded his head before laying into him once more, “I swear to God, Jay Halstead, if you mess this up again—if you don't manage to pull your head out of your ass—Kevin and I are going to knock you out cold.”
“It sure is good to be home,” Jay sighed, walking toward the passenger door. He unlocked it and helped you, vertically challenged as you were, into the monstrous truck.
The minute your butt hit the seat, you snatched away from him. He slid into the driver's seat, reaching across to buckle your seatbelt as he had in the past. He jumped back as you slapped his hand away.
“I’ve got it. Just drive.”
Half the drive to your apartment was filled with tense silence. Jay couldn't take it any longer. He cleared his throat, attempting to engage in conversation.
“How have you been? You look as beautiful as ever.”
Your head snapped to the side as if you had been struck. Jay kept his eyes on the road, but he could feel your piercing glare.
“Look, I'm trying not to raise my blood pressure these days. Do me a favor and keep the stupid ass questions to a minimum,” you hissed.
“Jesus, Y/N. No matter what I say, it’s going to upset you. I admit it’s well-deserved, but can't we be civil until we at least get to the house?”
“Civil? Are you trying to gaslight me right now? You don't deserve civility. How about we ride in silence? Nothing I say to you is going to be nice, Jay.”
“Silence it is.”
The sight of your driveway eased the tension in Jay's shoulders. He shut off the engine, the rumble fading into the quiet hum of the neighborhood. Stepping out of the dusty truck, his legs ached from hours on the road, but he glided to your passenger door.
"Hey there," he greeted with a hint of breathlessness in his voice. He started to reach out, but you mumbled a quick "thanks" as you slid out and brushed past him, already digging in your purse for your keys.
Jay lingered on the curb briefly, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before the familiar puppy-dog eyes returned. You rolled your eyes playfully, the sound masking the growing unease in your stomach. "Alright, alright. I'll hear you out," you conceded, finally finding your keys. "But I swear if you—"
Your playful threat was cut short by the sudden seriousness in Jay's voice. He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours as he placed the keys inside your pants pocket. "I've got it," he murmured, his gaze dropping to the worn metal in his hand. He chewed his lip nervously a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.
"Why keep my spare key?" you asked, suspicion evident.
Jay hesitated, his shoulders slumping slightly. When he met your gaze again, his eyes were a storm of hidden emotions. Sadness mingled with something deeper, something you couldn't quite place. "I wasn't planning to leave," he admitted, his voice thick with regret. "Not for good, that is."
You sighed, the energy draining from your body like air from a punctured balloon. The weight of his words settled on you, heavy and unspoken. "Right," you said, your voice flat. "Just unlock the door, Jay. My feet are killing me."
As Jay unlocked the door and pushed it open, you stepped inside and felt a wave of relief wash over you. The familiar comfort of home was opposite the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling. You kicked off your shoes and trudged towards the living room, dropping onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Jay followed, lingering in the doorway as if unsure whether to stand or join you.
You looked up at him, the silence between you charged with unresolved tension. "You can sit, Jay. I won't bite your head off. I'll try not to that is."
He nodded and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, his posture rigid. "Thanks."
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet settling around you like a heavy blanket. Finally, Jay broke the silence. "I know you're angry. You have every right to be. But I need you to know that I never meant for things to get this bad. Before I get into all of that. I have to ask. It’s a stupid question, and I probably already know the answer. Why didn't you respond to any of my letters? Did you read any of them?”
“No.”
“Not even the emails or texts?”
“Nope,” you responded, emphasizing the letter p.
“If you had read them. You would've known that I tried to explain myself even if they were selfish reasons. Part of you may have understood why I did what I did.”
“Well, I didn't, Jay. You left without even saying goodbye. You didn't deserve another moment of my time. Be grateful you're getting it now.” You glanced at him, your expression guarded. "Why did you come back, Jay? Really?"
He took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "Because I found out you're pregnant."
Emotions crashed over you all at once. "So that's it? They tell you I'm pregnant and you come running back?"
"It's not just about the baby," he insisted. "I want to be here for you, for us. I realized that running away was a mistake. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just being a coward. I want to make things right, if you'll let me."
"Make things right?" you echoed, a hint of bitterness in your voice. "You think you can just come back and fix everything with a few words? Every time we've faced an obstacle, you've chosen everything over me. Your career, your fleeting moment of weakness for Hailey, even leaving to return to the army. How do I know this time will be different?"
Memories of your tumultuous past resurfaced. You and Jay had started dating years ago, your connection was instant and intense. Things got serious quickly, but Jay's fear of commitment led him to break things off and pursue a relationship with Erin Lindsay. When Erin left for an FBI job, Jay came running back to you, realizing he'd only gotten involved with her as a means to run from commitment as always.
You took him back, and things got serious again. Only that time his career became increasingly dangerous, and your constant fear for his safety caused a rift. He chose his job over you, and the two of you broke up. That time it hadn't hurt as much. You had no right to force him to choose between a career and the woman he loved. You took it as a sign that perhaps you just needed time apart.
After some time, you started to slowly rebuild your relationship, only for Jay to start having feelings for Hailey Upton. Though you know the responsibility lay mostly in your man. You still felt a way about Hailey deciding to pursue him anyway. She knew the two of you were amid reconciliation. Even with that knowledge, she still initiated the kiss and confession of attraction that confused Jay.
You argued over his feelings for the both of you and eventually, you broke up. Jay pursued things with Hailey, and while at first, it was just hooking up, things eventually got serious. Your weakness for him led to the two of you still sleeping together, but when Hailey discovered the two of you were still involved. Suddenly she wanted a committed relationship, Jay chose her. They got married (out of Jay’s perverse sense of loyalty and obligation to the team), and you tried to move on. But Jay's jealousy and selfish attempts to sabotage your relationships made it clear he was still not over you.
He soon realized he made a mistake getting involved with Hailey. You refused to take him back until he was a single man, and after a quick divorce, Jay struggled with wanting to serve a bigger purpose. It was as if he was in the midst of an early midlife crisis. Just as you two had started to rekindle your romance and rebuild, he up and left to rejoin the army.
As you were trying to pick up the broken pieces of your heart, you discovered the pregnancy. Jay found out from your friends and returned home to explain himself, determined to make things right this time. The touch of his fingers gliding across your cheek brought you back to the present. You tilted back from his touch.
“That's what you always do, Jay,” you began, your voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “Run and leave me to deal with the fallout of broken promises and heartbreak. At every turn, you've chosen everyone, everything else, over me. Erin. Your job. Marrying Hailey! Not to mention she's not the first wife, but the second. What is it three times a charm? You’ve already knocked me up. Now all you gotta do is marry me and run. Just like you always do. Hell, you chose the military over me, Jay! So tell me, why? Why should I let you back in and risk you breaking this baby’s heart in the future? Why do you always run, Jay?”
His expression softened, his eyes filled with regret as he listened to your words. He reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands. The pads of his thumbs swiped at the tears rolling down your cheeks.
“Because I was scared, honey,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of messing things up, of not being good enough for you. But I realize now that running away only made things worse, that I can’t keep hiding from my mistakes. I want to be here for you, for our child. I want to make things right, to be the man you deserve.”
Jay met your gaze, his resolve hardening. "No more running," he vowed silently. The fear of losing you forever was a terrifying prospect, but it paled in comparison to the regret of never trying at all. He had to face his demons and fight for the future he longed for.
More tears fell as you looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of sincerity. And there, amidst the pain and regret, you saw it – a glimmer of hope, a flicker of determination.
The weight of your history hung in the air as you sat together, the past intertwining with the present. Jay reached out, his hand gently covering yours. “I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I’ve hurt you more than I can ever make up for. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. I want to be a part of your life, and our child’s life, if you’ll let me.”
“I’m tired of being hurt, Jay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But if you’re willing to try, if you’re willing to fight for us, then maybe... just maybe, we can find a way to make this work.”
Jay nodded, his grip on your face tightening ever so slightly. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes, sweetheart. I love you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”
You looked into his eyes, seeing the pang of regret. “It’s not going to be easy, Jay. We have a lot to work through. But I want to believe that you’ve changed, that you’re here for the right reasons.”
“I am,” he said firmly. “I know I’ve chosen wrong in the past, but I’m choosing you now. I’m choosing us.”
“Okay,” you said, your voice steady. “Let’s take it one step at a time.”
Jay nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “One step at a time.”
As you sat together, the first glimmers of hope began to shine through the darkness. It was a long road ahead, but with determination and love, you knew you could face whatever challenges came your way, together.
But there was something Jay had kept from you, something he had been working on while he was away. As you looked into his eyes, you saw a hint of hesitation, a flicker of uncertainty.
“There’s something else I need to tell you,” he began, his voice hesitant. “While I was deployed, I... I started talking to a therapist.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in surprise, a million questions flooding your mind. “A therapist? Did something happen while you were away? Are you okay,” you rambled as your mind raced with a thousand different scenarios.
Jay took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Honey. Honey, relax. I'm not hurt. I realized that I needed help and that I couldn’t keep running from my problems. I needed to confront my past, to understand why I kept making the same mistakes over and over again.”
“And did it help?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. “Yeah, it did. I learned a lot about myself, about the things that drove me to make those mistakes. And I made a promise to myself – and you – that I would come back a better man, that I would do whatever it takes to make things right. I'm going to continue my journey with therapy. After all the pain I've caused. I think it wouldn't hurt to do couples counseling. Only if that's something you're interested in pursuing.”
Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, a mixture of relief and gratitude flooding your heart. “I'd like that. Thank you,” you whispered, the words barely audible.
Jay reached out, gently wiping away your tears. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. I love you and I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”
You leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. The weight of the past slowly began to lift, replaced by a sense of hope for the future. It wouldn’t be easy, you knew, but with determination and love, you were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, together.
Things grew quiet as the two of you looked longingly at one another. The faintest gasp slipped and you whispered, “Jay, you can't look at me like that.”
His voice low and husky, he responded, “How am I looking at you, sweetheart? I haven't seen or held you in quite some time. Admittedly, I'm the one to blame for that, but there isn't any other way I could look at you right now.”
“Please,” you begged. “Damn it, Jay. Look at me like I disgust you. Just, anything but the way you're staring at me now.”
“You want me to look at you with disgust,” he questioned, already shaking his head no. “That's not possible, honey.”
“Listen to me, Jay Halstead. I'm very pregnant and hormonal right now. I need you to be the bigger person and say that what I'm thinking is a bad idea. You need to be strong for both of us. Go home, Jay. If you don’t, we may give in to temptation. Why did you have to wear that damn uniform?”
He gave you a megawatt smile, slightly nibbling at his lips as if he was embarrassed by your compliment.
“Why, Mr. Halstead, are you blushing,” you questioningly teased.
N-No,” he spluttered.
A brief silence was followed by laughter. Once it ceased, Jay spoke in a soft, warm voice, “To answer your question. This is home, sweetheart. It is in my heart.”
And then, in a moment of weakness, as the pregnancy hormones surged through your body and desire flared between you, you found yourselves giving in to the longing that had been simmering beneath the surface. In each other’s arms, you found solace, comfort, and a renewed sense of hope for the future.
Jay didn't want to ruin things, but if something were to happen. He'd not only need consent and for you to set things in motion. He'd been given a chance to make things right. Jay wouldn't risk it all by making you believe this was the only reason he had come to talk.
“Don’t make me regret this, Jay.”
Before he could answer, you surged onto his lap, kissing him with all the pent-up passion you could muster. You both sighed and moaned as your lips met. Pulling away briefly, you pressed yourself into him. "There's no time for foreplay," you murmured.
Jay groaned as his eyes snapped closed. He grabbed hold of your waist, anchoring you to his lap. Slowly, his eyes peeled open. They were filled with hunger and uncertainty. “Are you sure, honey? I'd understand if you wanted to wait.”
Your hand trailed up his back, sending shivers down his spine as it glided sensuously up his neck and into his hair. Your fingers tangled gently in his light brown locks, tugging playfully. Your other hand encircled his throat in a delicate caress, “That depends. How badly do you miss me riding your thick, veiny, co-.”
Jay's growl silenced you abruptly, shattering his composure.“Ever the little tempting brat. Aren't you, sweet girl?”
In a feverish rush, you tore at each other's clothes. Pushing Jay onto the sofa, you straddled him, reclaiming your dominance. You descended slowly, savoring the sensation. Your pants joined his symphony of groans as you moved your hips. Alternating between rocking and moving in a circular motion. Pleasure washed over you both, leaving Jay breathless.
“F-fuck. Baby, if you squeeze me any tighter, this won’t last long.”
Being the petty brat you are. You allowed your muscles to contract around him again. Jay couldn't help but shake his head from side to side and chuckle. His eyes found yours, turning dark as they simmered with heat. Jay’s hand collided with your soft, ample, flesh. He reveled in the half moan, half whine it pulled from your lips.
His hands pawed at your hips possessively forcing you up to his tip before quickly pulling you back down. You both cried out and you begged him to do it again. Jay repeated the motion as he freed one hand to toy and pinch at your bundle of nerves. With every pinch and circle of his fingers, you climbed higher. The closer you came to falling over the edge the more your walls gripped his flesh.
“Let go for me, sweetheart. Can you do that for me, sweet girl? Hmm? Yes, you can. Can't you, baby? Come for me, sweetheart. Soak me and this damn couch just like I know you can.”
Jay slammed you down one final time locking you into place as he circled your nub. Your face buried into his neck as violent shakes paired with sobs. You ground against his lap riding out the orgasm. Jay held you close as he left kisses against the side of your head. He talked you down from an intense orgasm. “You’re okay, honey. You're okay. You did so good for me.”
He tensed hearing sniffles muffle into the side of his neck. “Baby? Are you okay?”
“Promise you won't leave me again, Jay.”
He lifted your head, his eyes filled with reassurance. “I promise, baby. Never again. Okay?”
You nodded in agreement as he wiped your face. He stole a quick kiss before pulling you back against him to cuddle again.
“Jay,” your question muffled against his neck again.
“Yes, baby-.”
His response caught in his throat as you clamped down on him once more. Your lips trailed from the side of his neck up to his ear. You playfully bit his ear and moaned, “You didn’t get to come.”
“Keep doing that and it won't take long, sweetheart,” he groaned.
The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room as you stirred in Jay's embrace. The events of the previous night played like a dream in your mind, a mixture of vulnerability, longing, and desire. You glanced at Jay, still sleeping peacefully beside you, and couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you.
As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your shared moment of weakness, you couldn't shake the feeling of hope that filled your heart. Despite the challenges and uncertainties that lay ahead, you knew that you and Jay would face them together, united in love and determination.
With a soft smile, you pressed a gentle kiss to Jay's lips, feeling a surge of warmth and affection between you. The kiss pulled Jay from his slumber. Blinking a few times to clear the sleep from his vision, he rubbed at your small but noticeable bump.
“Oh, I see put me back to sleep so you can nap some more,” you teased. “Fine by me, Halstead.” Jay smirked and continued rubbing in circular motions. Just as you were about to drift off to sleep, there was a loud knock on the door, causing you both to jump.
Jay chuckled, planting a kiss on your forehead before pulling away. "I'll go see who it is."
As he made his way to the door, you heard familiar voices on the other side. "Come on, man. We gotta make sure Jay's still in one piece," Adam's voice rang out.
"Yeah, and see if they've reconciled yet," Kevin chimed in.
With a grin, Jay swung open the door to reveal Adam and Kevin standing on the doorstep, wearing matching grins and teasing expressions.
"Hey there, lovebirds. Just making sure Jay survived the night," Adam quipped.
Jay rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the concern, guys."
Kevin nudged Adam with a smirk. "Did y’all kiss and make up, or do we need to start planning your escape route? Blink twice if you need help bro."
You couldn't help but laugh at their antics, shaking your head in mock exasperation. "We're working on it, okay? Now, if you don't mind, we were kind of in the middle of something."
Adam and Kevin exchanged a knowing look before raising their hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. We'll leave you two lovebirds to it. But just remember, we're always here if you need a referee," Adam teased, earning a playful swat from Jay. Kim told me to say she expects a full run down over lunch tomorrow. She kept saying she wanted all the tea. What does that even mean?”
Kevin shook his head in disappointment. “Come on big dog. I'll have to teach you some new lingo on the way back to the precinct. Jay? Voight said you always have a job where he's concerned. Before you decline. Hailey is joining the FBI,” he finished with a wink toward you.
As they turned to leave, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the friends who always knew how to lighten the mood, even in the most awkward situations. As you snuggled back into Jay's arms, you felt a surge of passion coursing through your veins, igniting a fire that had been smoldering between you since the moment you first met.
With a mischievous glint in his eye, Jay turned to you, his gaze filled with desire. "Well, that was unexpected," he whispered, his voice husky with longing.
You couldn't help but smile at the intensity of his gaze, feeling a rush of heat spreading through your body at the thought of being so close to him again. "Unexpected, but not unwelcome," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.
As Jay leaned in to capture your lips in a searing kiss, you melted into his embrace, the passion between you igniting like wildfire. In that moment, all the doubts and uncertainties melted away, leaving only the burning desire that had brought you back together.
“I’m insatiable, sorry.”
“No need to apologize. That makes two of us, sweetheart,” he responded, brushing curls from your face. His heart warmed that he was able to hold you this way. Jay had missed the feel of your skin and moving the hair from your vision. “You might want to put your bonnet on this time. I don’t want to get in trouble for ruining your hair, love.”
“Smart man, Mr. Halstead,” you giggled, leaving feathery kisses along his jaw.
And as the passion between you intensified, you couldn't help but joke, "Maybe it's just the pregnancy hormones," eliciting a laugh from both Jay and yourself, knowing that the truth was far deeper than a mere hormonal surge.
How y’all feeling about this one? I hope I did Mr. Halstead justice. Be sure to comment and reblog lovelies🩵.
Can you do a Jay Halstead x reader where they are married and the reader is like really pregnant about to have their baby and she works with Jay and is having a hard time not being able to work. She’s in pain from the pregnancy and doesn’t like not working so when Jay gets home and tells her how the job goes she just starts crying because of her hormones and Jay just comforts her and they end up talking about the baby and cuddling until the reader falls asleep!💙
HI!!
First of all I want to apologize for taking so long to write this but here it is, I hope you like it! Thank you so much for sending me this request you know how much I'm a sucker for Dad!Jay 😩
In my head, if Jay Halstead has a full name it would be James Alexander Halstead since 1) it rolls way better off the tongue, 2) I like the idea of Jay being short for something and 3) Jay is Irish American and I want you to find a better sounding name for an Irish American boy from Chicago than that!
I’m also of the opinion that Jay could just be his name and not short for anything. We’ll see! 😉
Also, I headcanon that Will’s full name is William Patrick Halstead ✌🏻 bye 😝
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 of 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.
I found a fic in my drafts that I was writing months ago and decided to finish it instead of letting it rot. It’s a smut Jay one (just pretend to be shocked pls) and the way it’s almost 5K words and I’m just halfway through it 😭
I’m just incapable of writing short fics I’m sorry y’all 😭
Pairing: Jay Halstead x Female!Reader; Kelly Severide x Platonic!Reader; Stella Kidd x Platonic!Reader
Warning/s: Mentions of Divorce, Anxiety and Alcohol Consumption
Request: No
Word Count: 979
A/N: This is based off of the song, How do I do This? by Kelsea Ballerini. You don’t need to listen to the song to get this by any means but I recommend you do! It’s a song that’s been on my mind for a while and I just love Kelsea’s music as a whole! It got a little away from me so apologies for that! I’m also still working on requests and some more chapters of my Jay Halstead fic so please be patient with me.
Enjoy!
***
Are you free Saturday?
I know a spot
Those two texts come in rapid succession as you finish cleaning the store up. You’d usually try to avoid checking your phone so often in front of your manager, but by this time you were usually the only one left.
What did you have in mind?
You erase the message in-between organizing the new book shipment.
Saturday? That’s a little too close for me.
You erase that message while balancing the books for that day.
By the time you lock up the store and head home, you had thought up a couple million ways to respond before erasing them. Putting your key in the lock and you finally respond with a simple Yes.
Your next thought was right before you slid into bed for the night. Where the hell is your dress?
Specifically, your little black one that showed off all of your curves. The one that was probably lonely from being unused for so many years.
Having split from your husband over a year ago and trying to start fresh back in Chicago, you were worrying yourself into a spiral. You hadn’t been on a date since you were 22 and you were feeling out of place, getting back into the dating scene at 29.
You and your ex had grown apart from the moment your marriage started. You had done everything you could to keep everything together. You—being the one who made more money—had bought a big house. One that had room for you two to grow a family and have a backyard for a dog. It felt right at the time, maybe it would be enough so the walls didn’t seem like they were closing in.
You and your ex had been fine. But that’s all you were…fine. You finally convinced him to do therapy with you and, unfortunately, the final straw for you was when you realized that he loved you more at 23, then at 27.
You had filed for divorce not long after that. He claimed he hadn’t seen it coming, and fought you for the house. You gave into it, wanting him to just sign the papers and be done with it. In the end, when you signed your lease back in your home city of Chicago you finally checked the box “divorced.”
It had been quite the change, getting used to being back in the city. You contacted one of your oldest friends, Kelly Severide, to hang out and catch up.
It was at one of those meet ups that you met Kelly’s girlfriend, Stella Kidd, and the two of you hit it off instantly.
Now a year later, Stella and Kelly were getting ready to get married, and you voiced your thoughts to them about dating again. Stella said that she had a friend who was your type.
You had no idea what that meant, but after a few failed attempts at signing up for one of those awful dating apps, you gave Stella permission for her to give her friend your number.
The day after the first two texts were sent, he texted you again saying: Great! I’ll pick you up at 7.
You remembered at 22 being a little more cautious about a man picking you up for a date, but you trusted Kelly and Stella so you tried trusting this guy too.
It was hard, everything you’ve ever known about dating, relationships, and love had been ruined with the breakdown of your marriage. Now you wished it wasn’t affecting your thoughts this long after.
So is it any wonder that it’s 6:52 on Saturday and you’re trying to reassure yourself by saying you got this during your last looks in the mirror.
“You’ll be fine,” Kelly was saying over the speakerphone as you contemplated taking a shot to calm your nerves, “Do you think we don’t have your best interest at heart?”
“Kelly,” you say plainly, “It’s been years since I’ve been on a date. I’m gonna look so stupid stumbling over myself and what if he brings up my marriage? You told him about that right? How do I fucking do this? Is it wrong if I take a shot of something?”
“Stella,” you hear Kelly call from his end, obviously feeling like he needed backup, “she’s freaking out.”
“Yes I am.” You almost growl in confirmation, “I blame you both for this. What was I thinking?”
“Relax, girl,” Stella’s voice says over the line in a reassuring tone, “I got you. Look, I’ve known Jay for a while okay, and I’m sure you’ll charm the socks off of him.”
“Oh god,” you say, slapping a hand to your forehead almost dramatically, “I know he’s too good to be true. What have you done, Stella.”
“Breathe, Y/N,” Kelly says, his voice clear and unyielding.
There was a knock on the door. You jump slightly, looking up at the clock on the stove. 7:00 on the dot.
You curse, telling Kelly and Stella that he was there. They told you to have fun and they’ll call you later for details before immediately hanging up on you.
Cursing your friends once more, you open the door, and your breath lapses. You were going to kill Stella for understating his looks by saying he was “good-looking”.
He was much more than good-looking. He was gorgeous. His dark hair was cut evenly. His eyes were a mix of blue and green and freckles littered across his features. He was dressed for a date, his outfit lining the structures of his body. You feel slightly better about choosing your black dress for this, you may even want to wake up tomorrow with it on a floor that isn’t yours.
I’m ready, you tell yourself in your head.
And for the first time since this whole thing started, you believe it.
