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ravenispunk · 8 days ago

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Hank Voight x Reader (Kinda)

So this is just a thing I wrote. Not sure what to call it. It’s not really a love story x reader or anything, it’s just that you’re the reader, yaknow? Anyways, trigger warning for violence cause we see the dark side of Voight in this one.

Have fun, and my requests are open if anyone has any other ideas. :)

“Voight.” The name rolled off his tongue like a hot knife cuts through butter. His demeanor was calm, almost stoic as he looked you over, up and down, reaching a hand out to shake yours. You reciprocated, giving him your firmest handshake, his gravely voice making your knees weak as it rung in your ears.

“(Y/N),” you replied. “I’ve heard your name around. Good to finally meet you.”

He hummed. “Then you know why I’m here,” he stated, his eyes meeting yours, staring into your soul.

“Yes,” you replied, sitting and leaning back in your chair. You were in your home office, with all your files around you. Files of people. You were the person who knew everything about everyone. You motioned to the files as you spoke. “You want to know about someone.”

“Not just anyone. I want to know about you.”

“Me?” You hummed, faking an expression of shock. You knew Sergeant Voight was there to arrest you. You just weren’t sure why he came alone. You hadn’t seen any other cars, undercover or otherwise, outside or around your house. Glancing to your security cameras on your computer, you still found only his vehicle outside your house. You hummed and looked back up to him. “And yet, you’ve come alone.”

He sat down in the chair facing your desk, taking out his pistol and messing with it nonchalantly, as if it weren’t a deadly weapon. He continued to look at you as he did, which made it even more eerie. “I need a file from you, first.”

“You know that my information is extensive, and it certainly isn’t free, Voight. So, the question isn’t if I can help you, but if you can do something for me.”

Hank hummed again, holstering his pistol and looking over you, as if debating two different scenarios in his head. His eyes roamed your figure, which was relaxed, your hands folded in front of you as you leaned to one side of the chair, elbow resting on the arm of it. Just as his eyes danced over your body, yours took their run at his. His arms, hidden by a light coat, were resting on his legs. His hands, tan from the fading summer’s sun, folded in front of him on his knees. He sat now with one leg up on the other, ankle on his thigh as he leaned back to examine you.

You already knew everything about him, and yet, seeing him in-person was so much different than you had expected. Your file on him had become your side project, of sorts, and was very large. Every witness report, every allegation, every case he worked. You had been building this file for months now, and had enough dirt on him to fill a small house. You knew everything about him. Yet, when your eyes came back to meet his, you were looking at someone unpredictable. Someone you couldn’t place.

“What would you want?” Voight asked, bringing you back to reality.

“My charges dropped. That’s the reason you’re here now, isn’t it? To arrest me in case I didn’t behave? I want my record expunged.”

He huffed a bit, putting his leg down so he could lean forward. “Your record expunged? Have you seen your record?”

“In fact, I have. My services aren’t free, Voight. And if you’re after the file I think you are, that’s just the start of my price.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“Yes, I do.” You stood up first, folding your arms in front of your torso. “So, that’s the first thing.”

“That’s going to take time.”

“I’m sure I can find another buyer who will be willing to work faster.”

He stood up to face you, leaning forward on your desk, looking you over again now that you were standing. You wore jeans that fit just right and a tshirt which showed off your chest and arms just the way you liked. Your lips pulled into a smirk as you leaned down on the desk to face him just the same. “So, what will it be, Henry?”

He seemed to falter as you used his birth name, but put his demeanor back the way it was. “(Y/N), we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s up to you.”

“I don’t play nice,” you hissed, walking around your desk to face him, pushing his shoulders. “Now, get out of my house.”

“I still have a warrant for your arrest,” he growled in reply, letting you push him, but immediately reciprocating by using one hand to push you back into the wall instead. “You’re going to come with me.”

“And I’ll spill all of your dirty secrets to your coworkers.” You pushed back against him, but he was strong. Stronger than you thought a man his age to be. He had you pinned against the wall, inching closer and closer with every word.

“Nobody will believe you,” he replied, shaking his head, but that notion only made you scoff.

“You’re bluffing. I could think of at least four people who want to tear you out of that position. They would listen to me. I’d give them everything.”

His body pressed onto yours, pushing you further into the maroon painted drywall behind you. You huffed, but his body pressed closer and closer until you felt like you couldn’t breathe. His face was mere inches from yours, your breaths mixing as they expelled from your lungs. Your heart raced, but you could feel the adrenaline pump through his body all the same.

“Sounds like we’re in a stalemate,” he growled again, leaning forward to your ear. “One of us will break, and it will be you. Or, you could just give me the file and this would all go away.”

“I’m not giving you the file, and you’ll never get to it,” you huffed again, moving your hands up to push his shoulders back. He pulled back at your silent command, just a little, so he could see your face again. His deep brown eyes met yours, and you shuddered, seeing his exact intentions in that moment.

“I tried to be civil.”

That was the last thing you remembered hearing before he pulled you from the wall, slamming you down on the desk. Your head throbbed in protest as you felt his weight lean over you again. He pinned your hands behind your back, gripping your hair and craning your neck backward. You cried out at the uncomfortable sensation, whimpering beneath him, but refusing to relent. Pulling you up again, he pushed you backward against the wall. You hit with a soft thud before groaning, trying to catch your breath as you used the wall for support.

Voight moved over to you, grabbing your hair again and pulling you up, pulling you to the kitchen a few rooms over. You fought as much as you could, but your strength was no match for his. His face was stone cold as he pushed you into a chair, grabbing some zip-ties from his pocket and tying down your wrists and ankles. You tried to protest before he could get all of them fastened, but he slapped you hard, then punched you in the gut, making you wheeze as the air expelled too quickly from your lungs. You felt like you couldn’t breathe for a moment, getting a little lightheaded. You looked up at him when you regained yourself, swallowing hard as you realized he had gotten a butcher’s knife from the drawer.

“Last chance,” he said, walking over and teasing the skin on your face with the blade. “Give me the combination to your safe.”

“You’ll never get it if you kill me,” you said, rolling your eyes at him.

He pressed the blade into your skin, slowly moving it along your cheek to draw blood. “Kill you? No.” He leaned down in your ear, pulling the knife away and pressing the tip of it against your thigh. “But you’re going to wish I had.”

Suddenly, he brought the knife up, then stabbed it with full force into your thigh, pulling away and leaving it there, sticking out. You gasped and cried out in pain, hot tears coming to your eyes. You swallowed hard, breathing rapidly. “F-Fuck you, Voight!”

“You wish,” he huffed in reply, getting a steak knife from the drawer. “You’re going to full of holes by the time I’m done with you. I’m sure one of them will satisfy me.”

You could hardly believe the audacity of the man before you. You’d known him inside and out, all of his dirty secrets were yours, but you could’ve never known how horrible he actually was, deep inside. How morbid he was. Yet, he still slept at night without issue. It was something he nearly bragged about.

He raised the second knife, bringing it down in your forearm. You felt it go all the way through and into the wooden arm of the chair. You screamed in pain, in which he hit you again in the face, grabbing your collar and jostling you, making it hurt worse. “The combination!”

You spat at him, growling in protest, and he took a small moment to look at you before pushing his hands into your face, forcing you to crane your neck back uncomfortably, not to mention his fingernails digging into your skin, leaving deep scratches. You cried out again in pain, trying to escape his grasp. When he finally pulled away, he moved around your kitchen, looking for something else.

He emerged from a drawer with kitchen scissors. If you didn’t fear this man before, you sure did now. The way his eyes darkened as he moved toward you, footsteps heavy, had you shivering. Your heart pounded in your ears, louder and harder than ever. Tears rolled down your cheeks from the pain you’d experienced thus far, but he had no sympathy for you. This was survival for him. You had everything. Everything that could burn him.

You watched as he came to you, flinching and wondering what he was going to do, but when he took your pinkie finger between the scissor blades, you panicked. “W-Wait, WAIT!” You screamed, panting. You knew Voight was serious enough to actually do it, which pushed you to break. “It’s 01-25-73!”

He looked at you for a moment before pulling back, putting the scissors on the counter. You let out a deep breath as he walked away, letting your chin drop to your chest in relief. “Fuck!” You cried, not knowing what would happen next. For all you knew, he would kill you anyways.

Voight left the room and walked into your office, opening the safe and gathering all of the folders. There were about ten thick folders worth of information. He left anything else you’d had in the safe, only taking what he came for. He came back and put them on the counter, humming and looking down at you. “You didn’t have to make it this hard.”

“Fuck you!” You screamed, pulling against the zip ties. “Fucking psychopath!”

Hank hummed. “Maybe.” He walked over, using the scissors to cut one of your wrists, then leaving them just out of your reach on the counter. He grabbed the files and walked out of the house. You could hear him get into his SUV, start it, and promptly drive away.

“Bastard!” You screamed, having to hurt yourself more to be able to grab the scissors, then cutting yourself loose. You pulled the knives from your limbs, limping to the bathroom to get your first aid kit, collapsing on the floor. As you patched yourself up, you couldn’t help but think of him, and how you’d just given up everything. He hadn’t taken your money, or any of the files on your desk. He’d taken only one.

His file.

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ravenispunk · 8 days ago

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Don't Want Nothing But You

Summary: You and Hank have an argument. You walk out, it's over, but no amount of beer will numb the pain.

Warnings: angsty, (bad writing) like i'm so bad, how do i have any likes 🤣

Word count: 2345

Fandom: Chicago P.D

Pairing: Hank Voight x Reader

You never thought you’d ever be here. You never thought you’d walk away from him. But what could you do? What could you do? How could you continue to invest your heart and soul into a relationship where the lines of communication were painfully one-sided? He never talked to you about what was going on in his head. What he was feeling. He didn’t trust you.

You stare at your reflection in the kitchen window, your eyes bloodshot and red from the tears that have fallen. Your heart felt so heavy you thought it would drag you down any second. The now cold, quiet room that once felt like home is suffocating you.

How did you get here?

You never wanted to be that couple—the one standing on opposite sides, talking past each other. But lately, that’s all you and Hank had been. Two strangers occupying the same space, like two ships passing silently in the night. You’ve been patient, giving him time, hoping he'd open up. But it’s been weeks now, maybe months. And you’re tired.

So fucking tired.

All you wanted was something. Anything. Any shred of fucking emotion from him. Any sliver of hope that maybe he cared about you enough to let you in.

But he didn’t.

"I can't do this anymore, Hank!" you shout, your hands gripping the countertop so hard your knuckles turn white.

Hank paces in front of you, his jaw clenched, "What the hell are you talking about?" he snaps in a tone that would make most people back up, but not you, "You think this is easy for me? You think I don't have enough going on without coming home to this?"

"Coming home to what?!" you fire back, stepping closer, closing the distance between you. "To me?"

He runs a hand over his head, "I’m trying to protect you!"

"Don’t give me that bullshit!" you snap, your voice louder now, “I’m not asking you for every fucking detail, Hank. I’m asking for something real. I’m asking you to trust me, to let me in! But you won’t, will you? You’d rather push me away than admit that you need someone."

"I don’t need anyone. I’ve gotten this far on my own."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. The pain of them wrapping around your heart and squeezing the life out of it.

More tears begin to sting your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall, “You’re right,” you breathed out, not fully trusting your voice to speak any louder, “I can’t keep fighting for someone who won’t fight for me,”

you walked away and headed towards the door.

“So, what? You’re just gonna walk away?” his voice echoing in your ears as you paused for a moment, your hand resting lightly on the doorknob.

Your voice cracks, and you take a shaky breath, “You already did,”

You swung the door open and slammed it behind you. The cold Chicago air didn’t bother you, even if it was biting at your exposed skin.

You ran to your car, chucking your bag in the passenger seat. You couldn’t get away fast enough. Your hands shaking from the cold and all the emotions that were rushing through you as you fumbled with your keys, trying to get them into the ignition. When you were finally able to slip the key in, you twisted it and the engine roared to life.

You wiped the tears that blurred your vision before pulling away. You didn’t make it far though, You couldn't. You couldn't physically keep the tears back any longer. You pulled your car over, switching the engine back off and letting your head fall forward until your forehead was resting on the steering wheel.

You don’t know how long you were there for. Just crying. But eventually you mustered up the energy to continue home. You weren’t looking forward to the loneliness, but then again, you’d been alone for a long time, you just didn’t know it or just didn’t want to see it.

You loved him so much and walking away killed you but not as much as watching him shut you out, time and time again.

When you got home, your phone started blowing up. You assumed it was Hank so you ignored it but when it kept buzzing, you finally looked at it to see Gabby’s name on the Caller ID.

You answered it with a sigh, the phone nestling between your cheek and your shoulder as you made your way to the fridge to drink whatever alcohol you had left in this place.

“Hey girl,” came her voice through the speaker, along with the background noise of Molly’s, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, grabbing the last couple of bottles of beer you had left. You turned behind you and opened the draw to grab the bottle opener, quickly opening your beer before tossing it on the counter ready for the next bottle, “why wouldn’t I be?”

She sighed, “Well it’s very rare we see Voight here looking like a kicked puppy,”

The thought made you smile a little. He was upset about you leaving? Did he actually care? But then you forced the smile away,

no, bad y/n. you left for a reason.

No matter how much you loved him, how much you wanted the two of you to be perfect. You knew it was never going to happen. If you were going to feel lonely, you may as well be alone, instead of having that one little thought in your mind that maybe, just maybe, one day he’d talk to me. One day, he’d trust you. Hell, he told you he didn’t need you so, fuck him. You don’t need him either. Asshole.

“Yeah well, what do you want me to do about it?” you asked, the tone in your voice slightly harsher than you intended, “Sorry”

“What happened?”

“We’re over,” you said simply as you headed towards the couch, maybe watch some tv and take your mind off him.

“You are? What did he do?”

“He said he didn’t need anyone, including me, so I left,” you took a sip of your beer before leaning forward and placing it on the coffee table in front of you. You picked up the remote and turned the tv on, turning the volume down so you could still hear Gabby.

“Well, clearly he’s regretting saying that, he’s here drowning his sorrows,”

“Look, Gabby, I love you, I do, but I just,” you paused, sniffling slightly, you wiped a stray tear that escapes your eye, “I just can’t right now,”

“Ok, babe, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” and with that you hung up, the call screen disappearing which then shows a picture of an unaware Hank making coffee. It was a simple picture, one that used to bring a smile to your face. Whenever you had a shitty day at work, all you had to do was look at that photo and that gorgeous face would just melt all the stress away.

But now, it only brought you tears.

You lock the phone and chuck it to the other side of the couch. You surf the channels looking for something to cheer you up and sure enough you found Friends, something that always makes you laugh and thankfully, they had a few episodes lined up for you. You let yourself sink back into the cushions and before you know it, minutes turn into hours.

The night drags on painfully slow. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, your mind replaying every word, every moment of the fight. Sleep won’t come—how could it when the space was empty beside you.

You toss and turn, clutching the blanket to your chest, but nothing can lull you to sleep. You check your phone more times than you’d like to admit, hoping for a text, a missed call, anything from him. But the screen is blank.

Tears prick your eyes again. You thought you were all cried out, but the sadness still sits like a lump in your throat. The memory of his words echoes in your mind, playing on repeat.

"I don’t need anyone."

‘I bet he’s fine’ you think, ‘I bet he doesn’t give a shit’

But that wasn’t the case. Just like Gabby had told you, he was moping at the bar drinking beer after beer. One turned to ten, but you were still the only thing on his mind.

But my head is spinnin' with only you in it

No matter how many bottles he drunk dry you were still the only thing he wanted on his lips.

When I'm at the bottom the buzz and the bottle

Just ain't what I want on my lips

Three hours later, and he’s lost count of how many beers he’s drunk and you’re still on his mind. The only other thought in his head was ‘what the fuck am I doing here’

Can't drink you off my mind

What the hell am I doin' here?

I don't even want this beer

He slid off the stool and reached into his pocket, grabbing a few notes to pay for his drinks. He then grabbed his jacket off the back of the stool and headed out to his car. He had to see you. He couldn’t lose you. This couldn’t be over.

I'd rather be drunk on your love

I'm thinkin' it over and I know we're over

But I'm comin' over because (whoa)

You gave up trying to sleep. You chucked your covers away and swung your legs off the side of the bed. Your stomach started to rumble slightly and you remember that after everything, you had forgotten to eat. And damn did a sandwich sound really good right now.

You padded your way downstairs, making a beeline for the fridge. You grab the handle, opening it and pulling out your ingredients for your sandwich. You then reach over to the drawer and pull out a butter knife, but before you can begin to butter your bread, there’s a knock at the door.

You head to the door, thinking it was probably Gabby coming over to check on you after her shift, but when you open the door, you see the very face you’d been trying to forget all night.

“hey baby,” he said.

You sighed, resting your head on the door, “What do you want, Hank?” you asked, exhaustion and slight annoyance littered in your tone. Even though perhaps your heart had wanted him to come over, your mind said differently.

“I can’t lose you,” there was a slight crack in his voice, one that made you want to launch yourself into his arms, but you couldn’t. You had to stay strong. You’d just be going back to where you were. Alone, isolated, with a man who shut himself off from you.

“You were the one who said you didn’t need anyone,” you reminded him, “Or did you just mean, emotionally? Cus I’m not just going to be there for you when you want a fuck,”

“You know damn well you mean more to me than just a quick fuck,”

“Do I? How the fuck would I know that?”

He sighed, “I know,” he pointed behind you, a silent request to come in. You step aside, opening the door slightly wider, he steps in and you shut the door behind him, “I know I haven’t told you everything, or anything. But it’s not because I don’t trust you,”

“Then why?” your voice reduced to a whisper as tears start to form once more.

“Because you’re the best thing in my life. I see a lot of shit, some really dark shit at work and the only thing that gets me through it is knowing that at the end of it, I’m coming home to you. I don’t want to talk about it because I don’t want you to think about it, or worry about it. And some of the shit I do. Baby, if you knew, you’d never look at me the same,”

“Why do you think I’d run?”

“Because i-i… I don’t always do things by the book,”

“You don’t think I know that?” you asked him, taking a couple of steps closer until your chests are lightly pressed against each other. Your arms find their way around his neck, your thumbs resting on his cheeks, “I’m a lawyer, Hank, I’ve seen the bruises, heard the complaints, and prosecuted half the guys you’ve put in the hospital,”

“So you know that I,”

“Get a little rough?” you finished for him, you look up at him, your bottom lip tucked between your lips, “Yeah, I know,”

“And you’re okay with that?” he asked. He was completely baffled. He had spent endless hours thinking you’d leave him the second you found out just how dirty his hands were but, you knew? After all this time, you knew.

“I’m okay with that,” you replied, and you were, the people he was hurting were bad people. Evil people. They completely deserved it. You’d never think less of him for that, “Will you talk to me from now on?”

“I’ll do whatever you want, baby. Just don’t leave,” his arms wrap around your waist, tighter, pulling you closer to him. He pressed a kiss to your forehead then rested his head on yours.

“Anything?” you replied, your lips quickly turn into a pout, “How come you’re never rough with me?”

“What?”

“You know, you’re always so gentle with me in bed,” You start to blush slightly, looking down at your feet, “I mean, I like that, but sometimes, I want you to be, I don’t know, rougher with me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible despite the dead silence of the night. That caught him off guard. Of course he was always gentle with you, he didn’t want to hurt you.

His finger hooks under your chin, bringing you to look up at him, “You really want that?”

“I want everything”

@unhappy-hannah (i'm sorry it's bad 🤣😭) btw now obsessed with this song.

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