#yn halstead

In the Absence

Summary: While Jay is deep undercover and unreachable, Y/N suffers a severe endometriosis flare and stays at Matt and Kelly’s house for support. The pain quickly escalates—sharp pelvic cramps, bloating, and full-body swaying lead to vomiting and near collapse. Matt, recognizing the signs immediately, gives her naproxen and buscopan to ease cramping, followed by ondansetron for nausea and a rescue dose of oramorph (liquid morphine) when the pain peaks. Despite the meds, she spirals emotionally, missing Jay deeply. Matt becomes her anchor, staying by her side while Kelly helps with heat packs and fluids. Late that night, a message from Jay comes through—he hasn’t stopped thinking about her and promises he’s coming home. Held safely in her brother’s care, Y/N finally lets herself rest.

Authors note: please read at the bottom of the fic.

Jay had been gone for nine days.

That wasn’t a long time in the grand scheme of things—but when he was deep undercover, it felt like the days stretched into years. No contact, no updates, no knowing if he was sleeping, eating, or safe. Y/N was used to the risks of his job, but this op had hit differently.

It wasn’t just that she missed him. It was that her body had started breaking down without him there.

The flare started two nights ago. A low hum of pressure just above her hips, slowly building into a heavy, cramping drag deep in her pelvis. She’d brushed it off at first—took some ibuprofen even though it didn’t do much, kept drinking water, stayed warm—but she knew better.

This was endometriosis. And when it got like this, nothing short of a war chest could stop it.

You Called the Right One

Summary: A fun afternoon turns serious fast when Y/N feels a flare coming on while out with a friend. Alone and overwhelmed, she calls 911— 51 arrives. Kelly is the first one to her side, and she doesn’t let go. Not until Med, not until Will and Connor. And even then, he stays. Because sometimes, family wears turnout gear.

Y/N hadn’t expected to feel this okay. She hadn’t expected to have enough energy to laugh over overpriced iced coffee or meander through the artisan market two blocks from the waterfront without that familiar pull in her gut warning her she’d pushed it. Her body had been giving her more grace the past week—pain lower, nausea managed, vitals playing nice for once. It was a rare kind of relief.

But flares didn’t ask for permission.

She was halfway to the parking garage after hugging her friend goodbye when it hit. A sharp twist deep in her abdomen, then the familiar hollowed-out dizziness, the feeling like gravity itself had tilted. Her vision blurred around the edges, heart pounding fast and uneven. She stumbled, catching herself against a brick wall, breathing hard.

Her watch buzzed violently against her wrist.

HR: 143. BP: 82/55. Oxygen: 93%.

“Flare suspected. Hydrate and sit. ALERT SENT.”

But there was no one nearby.

Connor was in surgery.

Will had a full clinic block.

Ava and Hannah were across town at a gynecologic oncology conference.

She had no choice.

With trembling hands, she pulled out her phone and hit the medical alert shortcut Connor had helped her set up weeks ago.

911. Medical emergency. POTS flare. Alone. Chest pressure. Rapid heartbeat. Risk of syncopal episode.

She gave the address, then slid down the wall, arms wrapped around her knees, forehead against brick, trying to breathe.

She heard the wail of the sirens before she saw the engine.

Truck 81. Squad 3. Ambulance 61.

“Coming through—female, mid-thirties, conscious, vitals sent via smart device.”

Y/N blinked up at the figures in navy and yellow turnout gear. And then she saw him.

“Kelly…”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Kelly Severide said, kneeling instantly at her side. “You did good. I’ve got you.”

She didn’t answer with words—just reached, gripping the front of his jacket with shaking fingers.

“Vitals are on the tablet,” she mumbled. “It’s in the—watch sent it…”

“We got it,” he said, glancing at the paramedics who were already opening a bag. “Connor trained us up, remember?”

Her pulse thudded painfully in her ears, nausea rising with the heat. “Can’t—feel my arms.”

“You’re just crashing a bit, alright?” Kelly said, voice low, steady. “But we’re going to Med. I won’t let go.”

And he didn’t.

Not in the rig, not when her BP dropped again mid-transport, not when she slumped hard against his chest with a whimper. She gripped his arm with both hands, knuckles white, breath shallow. He just kept talking to her softly, grounding her.

By the time they wheeled her into the ED bay at Med, Will and Connor were both waiting, badges out, scrub tops half untucked. Both of their faces shifted into sharp concern when they saw how tightly she clung to Kelly.

“Hey, we’ve got her,” Will said, stepping in on one side.

But she didn’t loosen her grip.

“Not yet,” Kelly murmured, quietly enough for the brothers to catch it. “She’s scared. Just let me stay for a minute.”

Connor nodded once, already pressing a cool hand to her forehead. “Y/N. Hey, sweet girl, I’m here now. We’re all here.”

She blinked sluggishly, then finally loosened her hold enough for Will to help transfer her to the bed. The paramedics rattled off her vitals—unstable but not crashing. Severe flare, triggered hard, vitals fluctuating.

Kelly stepped back, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he watched Will place the leads, Connor draw labs, and a nurse start fluids. Ava appeared moments later, scrub cap still on, Hannah behind her. The familiar circle.

“She’s gonna need antiemetics, fluids, maybe a vasopressor if her pressure keeps dropping,” Ava murmured, already reaching for the med cart. “This hit hard.”

Kelly nodded, glancing between them all. “She knew. She called fast.”

Connor looked up at him for the first time. “Thank you for getting to her.”

“She asked for me. I think she saw me first.”

Connor’s eyes softened. “Of course she did.”

A few hours later, she was stable again. Oxygen off. Still pale, still quiet, but resting.

Kelly hadn’t left.

He sat in the chair beside her bed, fingers drumming against his knee until she stirred slightly.

“Hey, firecracker,” he said gently.

She cracked a smile. “You didn’t leave.”

“Told you I wouldn’t. And your husband would’ve chased me down with a scalpel if I broke a promise.”

She let out a tiny, tired laugh. “You’re a good one, Kelly.”

He shrugged, gaze softening. “You’re family. That means we show up—even when you don’t want to call.”

Connor came in a few minutes later, fresh scrubs, clipboard tucked under one arm. He looked between them, then smiled just slightly.

“She’s cleared to go home in a few hours,” he said. “But only if I carry her out.”

Kelly grinned. “Deal. But I get to make her pancakes tomorrow.”

“Only if they’re gluten-free,” Connor quipped.

Y/N exhaled, eyes fluttering shut again. “Boys?”

“Yeah?” they answered in tandem.

“Thanks… for everything.”

And between them, neither would let go again.

I do it a lot nothing aggressive but definitely a “ nicer” way of insulting people without actually insulting someone. 😂 like someone wasn’t acting like an adult and I muttered “at least I don’t act like a raccoon with rabies on meth” 😂 got my friend to spit out her drink though.

Raccoon with Rabies on Meth

Summary: Connor’s wife has a gift—a mouth that spins poetry out of chaos. Her insults are legendary, leaving Will and Jay wheezing, coworkers speechless, and Connor… absolutely smitten. It’s not that she’s mean. No, no. She’s clever. Disarmingly chaotic. And Connor? He wouldn’t change a damn thing.

It was a slow Friday at Med, which meant one thing: the group chat was popping off with shared trauma, caffeine complaints, and memes from Ava that were questionably professional at best.

Connor leaned against the counter outside the lounge, sipping his second coffee, when he heard her voice float out from inside.

“I swear to God, if he tells me to ‘smile more’ one more time, I’m going to staple his name badge to his forehead.”

Connor didn’t even flinch. That was his wife. His wife, who had survived flares, surgeries, and one very unfortunate incident involving hospital jello and a loose IV line—but this? This was her in her element.

Will exited the lounge first, laughing so hard he had to brace a hand on the doorframe.

“Oh no,” Connor asked dryly, “what’d she say now?”

Will wiped his eyes, breathless. “You missed it. This med student tried to correct her on an anatomy chart—her—and she just… she didn’t even blink. Goes, ‘At least I know the difference between a bladder and a spleen, you sentient can of off-brand hairspray.’”

Connor snorted into his coffee.

Jay appeared next with paperwork for a prep he brought in, grinning. “Or the one from last week—‘You talk like a motivational poster made by a possum in crisis.’ Possum in crisis, Connor. I almost pissed myself.”

“You did spit your drink,” Will muttered.

Connor just shook his head fondly. “She okay though?”

“She’s thriving,” Jay said. “Unleashed.”

Connor peeked into the lounge and found her perched on the couch, hair in a bun, sipping ginger tea like she hadn’t just verbally dismembered someone with the precision of a seasoned surgeon. Her tablet was balanced on her lap. Her socks didn’t match.

He walked in and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “You feeling particularly feral today, sweetheart?”

Without missing a beat, she shrugged. “Some guy called me ‘kiddo.’ I figured I’d let him know I’m fluent in sarcasm, medical terminology, and verbal takedowns.”

Connor sat beside her, grinning. “I heard about the hairspray.”

“He earned it.”

“You know, most people just say, ‘That’s incorrect.’ You go for ‘sentient aerosol.’”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, sweet as anything. “You married me. That’s on you.”

“Oh, I know what I married.” He kissed the top of her head. “You insult people like you’re quoting Shakespeare from a parallel universe.”

“And yet you’re still here.”

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

There was a ping from the group chat.

Ava: WHO CALLED A MED STUDENT A “RACCOON WITH RABIES ON METH” BECAUSE I AM SOBBING

Will: Guess.

Jay: Starts with “Y,” ends with “Connor’s unhinged wife.”

Y/N: Listen. I was being nice. I didn’t say what kind of meth.

Connor nearly dropped his phone from laughter.

She looked up at him with mock innocence. “I’m still a good influence… right?”

Connor chuckled, pulling her closer. “Babe, you’re the exact reason I sleep with the door locked at family holidays.”

She grinned, wicked and soft all at once. “Love you too, cardiac boy.”

And somehow, as chaotic as she was—insults, sarcasm, mismatched socks and all—Connor knew one thing for sure: his heart never beat steadier than when it was next to hers.

Say Nothing, I’m Here

Summary: A tender hurt/comfort scene where Y/N endures a brutal endometriosis flare, unable to speak beyond soft moans and whispered pleas, swaying in pain she can’t escape. Connor remains steady and gentle beside her, reading her body language and caring for her with quiet devotion, calling her “angel” and never leaving her alone.

Setting: Their apartment, late morning

Connor was already home that day—his shift at Med pushed until evening—so he noticed the change early.

It was too quiet.

The kind of quiet that wasn’t peaceful. The kind that rang with absence.

He hadn’t heard the usual shuffle of her feet, or the kettle boiling like she always did before her vitamins. No groggy greeting. No soft kiss to the back of his shoulder. Just… stillness.

And then he heard it.

A sound so raw, so low, it made his heart seize.

When Everything Spirals

Summary: Y/N, already feeling off, convinces her husband Connor and brother Will to head to work for an important case, promising Jay she’ll take it easy at home. But her symptoms spiral into a severe POTS episode, triggering convulsive syncope that terrifies Jay. When Sylvie and Violet bring her into Med, she crashes again—twice. The aftermath leaves everyone shaken, especially her protective husband, Connor.

It started off with a heaviness in her limbs and a strange fog behind her eyes. Y/N knew the signs, the dull throb behind her eyes, the way her vision tunneled every time she stood for longer than thirty seconds. Something was off today—but she didn’t want to say anything. Not when Connor and Will were scheduled to assist on a high-risk cardio-thoracic case they’d been planning for weeks.

Jay had already picked up on her sluggishness that morning when he dropped by for coffee. He raised an eyebrow as she curled up on the couch with Charlie nestled by her legs and her water bottle untouched on the table.

“You okay, Bug?” he asked, crossing his arms and watching her closely.

“Just tired,” she whispered, giving him a weak smile. “I promise I’ll chill today.”

Jay reluctantly agreed to keep an eye on her. He’d taken the day off, knowing something was up, even if she hadn’t said it out loud.

But things unraveled fast.

By noon, Y/N tried standing to get a drink and never made it past the hallway. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. The room tilted. Her legs gave out. She crashed to her knees, hands trembling violently.

Jay ran to her the second he heard the thud. He found her slumped against the wall, trying to stay upright, her eyes wide and glossy, skin pale and clammy. She was barely responsive.

“Y/N!” he shouted, catching her just as her body jerked in a seizure-like convulsion. It wasn’t a true seizure—they’d learned that term later—convulsive syncope, a terrifying mix of a fainting episode with seizure-like activity due to her POTS.

Jay panicked. He tried grounding her, checking her airway, cradling her head, calling her name—none of it helped. He immediately dialed 911.

“Please—my sister—she has a heart condition or something—she’s not responding, she’s seizing—I don’t know what’s happening!”

Within minutes, Squad pulled up. Sylvie Brett and Violet rushed into the apartment and found Jay on the floor beside her, visibly shaken.

“She’s got a history of POTS,” he explained hurriedly. “She said she was dizzy earlier and just—collapsed.”

Y/N was pale, still semi-conscious but weak and uncoordinated. They loaded her onto the gurney, fitted her with oxygen, and applied the cardiac monitor.

Her blood pressure was low, heart rate erratic.

“She’s throwing PVCs,” Sylvie muttered, glancing at the screen. “We need to go.”

By the time they reached the ED, Will was already scrubbed out and rushing down with Connor, who hadn’t even waited to hear the full story before tearing off his scrub cap.

The sight of his wife being wheeled in on oxygen with IV lines already running, her limbs twitching subtly from post-syncopal tremors, made Connor’s heart stop.

“She’s had one already,” Violet briefed. “Jay said she seized up and dropped. GCS was fluctuating. We gave fluids, oxygen, and she responded but not well.”

Connor’s hand cupped her face the second they wheeled her into Trauma 2. “Sweetheart, I’m here,” he whispered, brushing her damp hair away from her face.

Will immediately began organizing orders—labs, ECG, CT if needed, even though they suspected it was another severe flare. Connor was more hands-on. He stayed by her side while April hung fluids and ensured the cardiac monitor stayed on.

Jay appeared in the doorway, pale and shaken. “She didn’t make a sound. She just—went down.”

“You did the right thing, Jay,” Will reassured him, voice calm but clipped with worry.

Connor reached across the bed to take her hand, just as her body jerked again—violent, uncoordinated, and terrifying.

“She’s seizing again!” Maggie called, running into the room.

Connor immediately leaned over, securing her airway and shielding her head. “This is convulsive syncope. Keep the airway open. Roll her.”

“Fluids still going?” Will asked quickly.

“Yep,” April confirmed. “She’s crashing—BP’s 80 over 40.”

Connor’s jaw clenched. “Get her on vasopressors. Now.”

They stabilized her after two more episodes. She was confused, exhausted, and unable to sit up without her vitals nosediving.

“We’re admitting her,” Connor said firmly. “And putting her on telemetry overnight.”

“She’s not going to love that,” Will noted, helping adjust the IV line.

“She can be mad all she wants,” Connor replied. “She scared the hell out of me.”

Later, as she dozed under dim lights, Charlie tucked next to her on the bed thanks to a very discreet visit from Jay, Connor stayed seated at her bedside, fingers laced with hers.

“I told you to call me if you didn’t feel right,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“I didn’t want to pull you from surgery,” she murmured weakly, barely audible.

“I’d miss every surgery for the rest of my life if it meant keeping you safe.”

And he meant it.

Just love your writing and love those two and thing a younger sister in your writing and on the show would have been a great addition xx

I really hope you love this sweetheart thank you so much for the request! I really think they missed a good storyline with not having a sister Halstead in this! 🫶🏻

Always on Call

Summary: Y/N Halstead, sister to Will and Jay, is in a traumatic car crash that worsens her chronic POTS and triggers a brutal migraine. While her fiancé, Dr. Connor Rhodes, is in surgery, Will and Jay handle her initial care as emergency contacts. The whole family pulls together as she crashes and requires Step Down ICU care. Once stabilized, she’s discharged under close watch, but the emotional weight lingers—until Connor reminds her that love is strongest when it’s tested.

The screech of tires.

A sickening crunch.

Glass. Metal. Silence.

The city roared back to life in its usual chaotic rhythm, but for Y/N Halstead, time ground to a halt.

She didn’t remember the impact — only the moment right before it. The traffic light had been green. She’d looked down for a second, reaching for her water bottle in the passenger seat. She never even saw the truck.

The paramedics who pulled her out of the car recognized her immediately. She was, after all, a regular face around the hospital. Not just as a brilliant OB/GYN resident, but as the younger sister of Will and Jay Halstead — and the fiancée of Dr. Connor Rhodes.

The fact that she was barely conscious, with blood dripping from her temple and an arm twisted at an unnatural angle, didn’t sit well with anyone on that ambulance crew.

Chicago Med: Trauma Bay 2

“Trauma incoming. Young female, early 30s, restrained driver, T-boned driver side. Brief loss of consciousness, possible concussion, left arm deformity, heart rate hovering in the 130s. Known history of POTS and chronic migraines.”

Will Halstead had been halfway through a consult when the trauma alert came through.

He heard the words “young female,” “POTS,” and “concussion” and was already moving.

Then he heard her name.

“Y/N Halstead — transport ETA 2 minutes.”

Everything inside him stopped.

Jay was already calling his cell when he sprinted out of the exam room. “You heard?”

“Yeah. Meet me in Trauma 2.”

Y/N was barely conscious by the time they wheeled her in, hair matted with blood, skin pale and clammy. Her heart monitor beeped frantically.

Connor wasn’t there — not yet. He was scrubbed into surgery, and protocol meant that Will and Jay were still listed as her emergency contacts. Just in case.

Will’s voice was tight with panic, but his hands were steady. “Get a liter wide open. BP’s soft—90s over 60. She’s tachy. GCS 13, pupils sluggish. We need a head CT and arm films.”

“Will,” she rasped.

He leaned closer. “I’m here, Y/N. You’re okay. Just hang in, alright?”

She blinked slowly, clearly trying to orient herself, but then she flinched and curled toward her side.

“My head—” she whispered, tears slipping down her temples. “It hurts.”

Her pulse spiked to 144.

Jay arrived seconds later, breathless, gun and badge clipped to his belt.

“What do we know?” he asked Will, jaw clenched.

“Possible concussion, broken arm, and she’s in a full POTS flare from the trauma. Her system’s crashing. Connor doesn’t know yet. He’s still in the OR.”

That’s when the watch on her wrist — the custom-integrated wearable Connor had designed for her care — started blaring. Her vitals were broadcasting live to his secure tablet in the OR, and the alert had just gone off.

“Bet he knows now,” Jay muttered.

Twenty Minutes Later – Post-Imaging, Trauma Observation Room

Connor Rhodes came down like a storm.

He hadn’t even changed out of scrubs, still in his sterile booties and surgical cap tucked into a pocket.

“Where is she?” His voice rang sharp and steady.

Will looked up from the vitals chart. “Back here. We stabilized her. Concussion’s mild-to-moderate, arm is a clean break, but she’s in a full autonomic spiral. BP’s still dipping. She’s trying to sleep but keeps vomiting from the migraine.”

Connor’s jaw clenched. “Any triptans?”

“She threw up the oral. We’re holding until neuro clears injectable.”

Connor walked into the room without a word.

Y/N looked so small in the bed. Her engagement ring was still on, a little blood crusted around the band. Her arm was splinted, her skin pale and shiny with sweat. The monitor blinked high heart rate warnings. Her eyes fluttered, dazed.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Connor whispered, crouching beside her. “I’m here.”

Her lashes trembled. “Bubba?”

“No, not Will,” Connor said softly. “It’s me.”

She let out a whimper and instinctively reached for him with her good arm. He took her hand and pressed his forehead to hers. She felt like a furnace.

Jay stood outside the glass, arms crossed over his chest, eyes a little too wet. “She shouldn’t be this sick.”

Will rubbed his eyes. “It’s the perfect storm. POTS flare, shock, and a migraine she already had brewing before the accident. You know how she hides symptoms. This was gonna hit, with or without a car crash.”

That Night – ICU Step-Down Room

They moved her upstairs once her vitals dipped again. Her IV cocktail had stabilized her for a while, but she was still unable to eat or stand, and the vomiting hadn’t stopped. Neuro signed off on emergency Ativan and triptan protocols, and finally—finally—her nausea eased enough for her to drift.

Will stayed until after midnight, pacing and then dozing in a chair.

Jay came back with coffee and Thai food no one ate.

Connor never left her bedside. He curled onto the narrow bed beside her, his hand wrapped gently around her pulse point.

She woke once in the early hours, crying quietly, breath hitching.

Connor didn’t even open his eyes when he whispered, “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“You were in surgery…”

“And now I’m here. Always.”

48 Hours Later – Discharge Plan

“Okay, slow steps, sweetheart,” Will said as he helped her sit up. “Connor’s waiting in the car.”

Her vision swam, and her legs felt like spaghetti, but she managed to nod.

A nurse handed her the discharge papers. “You’ve got full support at home. Monitoring, meds, everything. But if anything changes—”

“Back here,” Jay said from behind them, arms crossed. “Immediately.”

Connor helped her into the backseat of his car, blanket already warmed, pillow waiting. Her favorite playlist was on low volume.

As they pulled away from the hospital, she leaned her head against his shoulder and whispered, “I hate that you saw me like that.”

He kissed her hair. “That’s what love is, Y/N. Not just for the beautiful parts.”

“And the brothers?”

“They almost killed the intern who called you ‘Halstead’s sister’ like you weren’t your own person.”

She chuckled, then winced. “Ow. Okay, no laughing.”

“I got you,” Connor whispered. “Always.”

She’s Sweet… Until She’s Not

Summary: At Molly’s, Jay and Will reveal to a stunned but amused Connor just how petty and chaotic his wife can be when crossed—complete with stories of sabotage, strategic revenge, and a grudge notebook. Connor is both horrified and proud, realizing he married a tiny war general.

It was a rare Friday night where nobody was on shift—no code blues, no emergency surgeries, no last-minute warrants or patients crashing. Just a couple beers, too many fries, and good company at Molly’s. Connor sat at the high-top with his arm slung around your shoulder, your fingers absentmindedly picking at the salt on the rim of your glass. Jay and Will were across from you, deep in a debate about which of them had suffered the most public embarrassment courtesy of one petty, vengeful, and infuriatingly clever you.

Connor, completely unaware of what was coming, sipped his beer and tilted his head. “Wait—what are you two even talking about?”

Jay leaned forward, smirking. “Oh, we’re talking about your sweet wife and how she turns into a petty little war general when someone pisses her off.”

You gave Jay an innocent look, blinking slowly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please,” Will snorted. “Connor, I’m not exaggerating—she has a grudge journal. An actual notebook. Labeled. With color-coded sticky tabs.”

Connor nearly choked on his drink. “She what?”

“It’s adorable,” Jay deadpanned. “And terrifying. She’ll smile at you in the hallway while silently plotting your downfall.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. Connor slowly turned to look at you, now very interested.

Jay pulled out his phone. “You wanna see receipts?”

Connor blinked. “You have receipts?”

“Oh, do we,” Will said, sliding his phone across the table. “Remember when that nurse kept passive-aggressively moving her wheelchair bag out of the staff bathroom because it ‘took up too much space’? She got mysteriously assigned to every single code brown for three weeks straight. Weird.”

“She said it was coincidence,” you shrugged innocently. “I mean, staffing rotates…”

Jay leaned in. “And remember that paramedic who said she was too dramatic about endo pain? A week later, someone sent in an anonymous complaint about his parking violations, and suddenly he’s getting ticketed every shift. Wild how the system works.”

“I believe in accountability,” you said, sipping your drink with zero shame.

Will grinned. “She had a full PowerPoint ready when Med tried to cut her department’s supply budget. Literally titled ‘Congratulations, You Played Yourself.’ With memes.”

Jay added, “And don’t forget the iced coffee situation.”

Connor raised a brow. “What iced coffee situation?”

Jay and Will shared a look. Then Will smirked. “Okay. One time, Connor, someone at Med kept ‘accidentally’ drinking her labeled coffee from the fridge.”

“Which is sacred territory,” Jay added.

Will nodded solemnly. “So she replaced it with a decoy. Same cup, same label. Filled it with a very specific laxative and oat milk blend. Waited. Watched. Then walked by the nurse’s station the next day, sipping her real coffee, and went: ‘Hope that tasted okay. It was a trial batch.’ And just walked away.”

Connor stared at you. “That was you?! That was you?! I remember that week! The whole floor had a hydration station set up!”

You bit your straw to keep from laughing.

“She’s an icon,” Jay said, raising his glass to you. “And she keeps that same energy in every aspect of life. Like that one guy on Insta who kept flirting with her in DMs? Instead of blocking him, she kept sending him unsolicited photos of your surgery textbooks. Nothing but blood, muscle, bone. He ghosted himself.”

Connor looked at you with a mixture of awe, amusement, and just a little fear.

“I married a chaotic mastermind,” he muttered.

“You did,” Will confirmed.

“She’s our tiny war general,” Jay said, clinking his glass with yours.

You raised your glass with a cheeky smile. “To justice.”

Connor just laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You terrify me.”

And you? You just leaned into his side and murmured, “Good. Keep it that way.”

Chicago Med Masterlist Pt 2🚑:

Connor Rhodes x Halstead!reader featuring appearances from the Halstead Brothers, Med characters and Fire characters.

Coming with another masterlist as the requests are too good and you can only have 100 links in one 😂

Every Time

I Didn’t Mean to Scare You

A Loaf of Love

Instincts and Ice Packs

Fighting the Darkness

Charlie’s Alert

Flour Power

Mid-Shift Surprise

Cramping Her Style

Heartbeat

More Than Her Body

Code White & Delirium

Sunshine & Savasana

Run, Scrub Nurse, Run

Quiet Thunder

Starter, Sweet Things & Soft Plans

A Rhythm Unraveled

Under Control

I Should’ve Been There

Though His Eyes

Love In The Time Of Norovirus

Just Heartburn... I Think

We Were Doing So Well

Old Friends, New Stories

The Look In Her Eyes

Never Having Spicy Food Again

No Second Chances

Charlie’s Warning

The Heart Check-Up

Radio Silence

Stay with me - Part Two of We Were Doing So Well

She’s Home - Part Three of We Were Doing So Well

Glitter & City Streets - Part two of Old Friends, New Stories

Just In Time

Blue In His Arms

Held And Healing

Head Over Heels

Babies, Braids and Boredom

Little Wins & Lipstick Swatches

Ruptured Lines

The Drawer and The Key

Leash, Love, and a Shopping Cart Full of Chaos

Warning: May Stop Traffic For Goose

Scrubbed In, Shut Out, and Done Being Quiet

Lost in London, Found the Tube - Part Three of Old Friends, New Stories

Directionally Challenged

The Breaking Point

More Than a Diagnosis

When The Anchor Drifts

More Than Blood Pressure

Low Battery Days

More Than Enough

A Different Kind of Help

Her Face Said It First

The Nightstand Kit

Stubborn Streak

Built for Two

Cough Rest & Code Words

The Space Between Us

Built In Shelter

A Cup of Something Steady

The Quiet Before

Between Midnight and Morning

For You, Always

Hard Conversations and Soft Hearts

What Would It Be Like?

Flare Of Red

Every Little Thing

Not Ready Yet - Could be read as a Part Two of Radio Silence

In The Quiet After - Part Two of Stubborn Streak

The Rhythm of Watching

One Sip at a Time

The Line We Can’t Cross Again

She Lets Karma Handle It Now

Collapsed Between Pages

What She Took Back

Surviving Isn’t Thriving

The First Step

What the Routine Carries

The Way He Listens

When Home Isn’t Enough

Show Turner

How Long She Stays

Chapter Thirty-Swoon

Waves Of Fire

Golden Heart

A Little Piece Of Control

When Everything Fails

Therapy Dog, Unauthorised

Smut, Siblings, and a Surgeon

Code Grey

Tonight, She’s Just Okay

The Bark and the Beacon

Can’t Catch My Breath

Anchors

Sharp Eyes, Steady Hands

Though The Line

Coming Back - Part Two Of When Everything Fails

Back Where She Belongs - Part Three Of When Everything Fails