Y/n - Fanfiction but you're the main character. Play fics, write your own romance novels, or discover 1M+ interactive stories.

    Behind a Closed Door - Jay Halstead

    For the past year, everything had felt… easy. She had been part of Intelligence for almost three years now, but she’d known most of them long before she ever became a detective. Firehouse 51 had practically adopted her. Chicago Med knew her well enough to save her a seat whenever they all got together after a difficult shift. Intelligence wasn’t just her unit. It was her family. And somewhere along the way… Jay Halstead had become home. Their relationship had never been complicated. After everything he’d been through with Hailey, the last thing she wanted was to rush him into something. There was no jealousy. No resentment. Hailey and Jay had ended things on good terms, and somehow, all three of them had managed to become close friends. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t forced. It just… worked. Jay was different with her. He laughed more. He slept better. He told her things he’d never told anyone else. Stories from his time as an Army Ranger. The nightmares. The guilt. The men he couldn’t save. And she trusted him with the parts of herself she’d spent years hiding from everyone else. For the first time in a long time… They were both happy. Which was exactly why she wanted to surprise him. Jay had the day off. She finished her shift early, picked up dinner from his favorite place, grabbed a bottle of wine, and drove to his apartment with a smile she couldn’t hide. She didn’t bother texting him. The whole point was for it to be a surprise. Using the spare key he’d given her months ago, she quietly unlocked the front door. “Jay?” Silence. She smiled to herself. “Really?” Setting the takeout on the kitchen counter, she walked farther inside. The apartment was strangely quiet. No television. No music. No footsteps. Only the faint sound of voices coming from the bedroom. Her smile faded. “Jay?” She walked down the hallway. One step. Then another. The bedroom door was slightly open. She pushed it gently. And the world

    The Things She Never Said

    The house was alive with laughter. Firehouse 51 had claimed the backyard. Herrmann argued with Mouch over the grill while Cruz laughed loud enough for the entire block to hear. Stella and Severide stood nearby, teasing Ruzek about losing yet another bet. Burgess and Atwater were talking with Brett and some of the Chicago Med doctors who had joined them for the evening. Inside, detectives from Intelligence mingled with friends from across the city. Even a few familiar faces visiting from New York—including Captain Olivia Benson and Sergeant Odafin Tutuola—had stopped by while in Chicago. It felt less like a gathering of first responders and detectives… …and more like family. Or at least, it did until she woke up. ⸻ Upstairs, another nightmare dragged her back three years. She sat upright with a gasp, her heart pounding so violently it hurt. Not Chicago. Not home. Not safe. She could still hear screaming. Still smell damp concrete. Still see blood. Her hand moved automatically toward the Glock resting on her nightstand. Loaded. Always loaded. Her breathing didn’t begin to steady until her fingers wrapped around the grip. Three years. Three years, and she still couldn’t convince herself she was completely safe. Most days, she was okay. She worked. She laughed. She protected people. She was one of the best detectives in Intelligence. But certain dates never stopped hurting. Her friends’ birthdays. The anniversary of the mission. The day she was taken. Those days always brought everything back. She wiped away the tears she hadn’t realized were falling, secured the pistol beneath her hoodie, and headed downstairs. The entire room noticed. Because everyone knew her. They knew the confident detective. The woman who walked into dangerous situations without hesitation. The woman who always had the answer. The conversations quieted the moment everyone saw her. “You okay?” Brett asked softly. She forced a smile that fooled no one. “I’m j