Hank Voight x Fem!Reader Oneshot (Part 1)
TW: domestic violence, multiple mentions of suicide
Synopsis: Reader is being abused and feels like she has nowhere else to turn to but a dirty cop named Voight.
Part one of however many because I like this idea and want to run with it a little haha.
Maurice Owens. Gangbanger. Scumbag.
Unfortunately, you needed his help.
You walked up to him, about midnight. His bodyguards stood, showing their guns, but you weren’t scared. You’d had worse than a pistol whip or bullet hit your body. “I’m just here to talk. I don’t have a weapon.”
“Alright, and who are you, huh? Never seen you around this block before,” Maurice replied, motioning his guards to sit back down. “You come looking for something, baby? You lost?”
“I heard you’re out there on the streets. I need to get a hold of someone. Think you can help?”
“Depends on what you can give me in return, baby girl.”
You sighed softly as Maurice eyed you up and down. You didn’t think you looked that good, but some men would bang anything that breathed. “Alright, then. What’s your price for information on a cop?”
“Cop?” Maurice huffed. “I don’t know no cops.”
“Look, I’m not stupid, Maurice. Anybody who’s heard your name knows you’re in bed with some dirty cops. I’m not PD and I’m not here to report them. I want to get a hold of one. A cop who can help me.”
“What’re you trying to do? Run game on the streets?”
You shook your head, sighing again, this time louder. “Look, I just need a cop who can help get me out of a bad situation. I’ve heard the name Voight tossed around by some bangers on my block. Get me him.”
Maurice laughed. “Voight, huh? He’s not the kind of guy you find. He finds you.”
“Then tell him to find me.”
“Ambitious, aren’t you? And, what should I tell Voight, should I ever cross paths with him?”
You thought for a moment before nodding to him. “Tell him I’ll be waiting for him. 2PM tomorrow - at Butler Field.”
“Yeah? I doubt he’s going to come just for that. I mean, I wouldn’t.”
“Didn’t I say I need help? Just tell him that. If he doesn’t show, then make sure you catch the news tomorrow night. They’ll be scraping me off sidewalk somewhere in the city.”
Maurice scoffed as you walked away, but whistled to you. “Hey, how are you gonna pay for this info?”
“You only get paid if this works out for me. Otherwise, you won’t have to worry about killing me. I’ll do it myself.”
With that, you walked away, listening to Maurice and his men talk about you.
.
When you got home, you let out a breath before walking around your house and to the back steps, as quietly as possible. Slowly, you moved the knob and opened it. The creak of your back door seemed like a siren compared to the silence in your house. You let out a slow breath, opening it only as much as necessary to slip your wiry figure through it, then closing it just like how you opened it. You bit your lip and turned around, the light turning on behind you. When you turned, he was standing there, arms crossed. You looked up at him like a child who had just been caught in the cookie jar.
“Where did you go?”
“I-I just went for a walk,” you replied, your voice shaking. It was the complete opposite from the way you’d spoke to Maurice just twenty minutes earlier.
“Yeah? At midnight? Without me?”
“You… You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you up. I just needed some time to myself, and-“
Shit.
“Time to yourself?! Huh?!” He moved forward quickly, getting into your face and pushing you against the door. His hands gripped your shoulders to pin you against the wood, squeezing hard.
“Ah-Ah, ow! Please, Jeff! P-Please, please!”
“You bitch!” His hand raised, making you close your eyes and brace just as his hand came down on your cheek.
You cried out in pain, hot tears coming to your eyes. You were exhausted despite your adrenaline pumping. You barely ate, barely slept, and his abuse didn’t help. You had bruises from weeks ago that hadn’t healed because you were so unhealthy. “Please, Jeff! Please, stop!” You just wanted it all to be over. Voight was your last hope.
“Why did you leave tonight, huh?! Who were you going to see?!”
“Nobody! I swear, nobody!” You sobbed as his fist found your ribs, making you curl in pain and collapse on the floor.
“Tell me the truth, bitch!”
He kicked you, over and over and over again. Eventually, you blacked out, bloody and bruised.
—
When you woke again, it was mid-morning. Your body ached and your head spun. You slowly say up, wincing softly at the pain. You couldn’t be too loud, or else he would do it again. You pulled yourself up, stumbling to the bathroom to shower and change.
You peeled off your clothes, whimpering softly at every movement. Dark bruises were on your bony shoulders where his hands had dug into you the night before. Your protruding ribs, similarly, had dark bruises all over them. Not to mention all of the other cuts, bruises and scars he’d laid on you the past ten years. The paper trails were scarce, since he’d always contracted an off-the-books nurse when you got real bad. He’d threatened her to keep her quiet, and always got a different one.
As you got into the shower, you felt the water run over you. It was only lukewarm, since you needed a new hot water heater, but you weren’t going to bring it up to Jeff. You shivered as you watched the blood wash from your hair, suddenly bringing your attention to the cut on your temple where his toe had caught you just right. It wasn’t too bad, but head wounds bled a lot, you knew.
After you finished your five-minute shower, you got out and wrapped a towel around yourself. You took care of your dirty clothes right away, then went to your room to find some clean clothes. When you got dressed, you let your hair stay down, to cover the cut on your head, and you wore a long sleeve and pants despite the summer heat. You glanced at the clock - it was nearly 11:15. That meant you had an hour before he got home for lunch to check on you. Despite working a nearby construction job, he always came back to check on you, making it difficult to go anywhere or do anything without him knowing. You sighed, then decided to get lunch together for him.
.
When he arrived at home, you’d already made him lunch and cleaned the evidence from the night before. You ran the wash to get the blood out of your clothes and mopped the floor near the back door. He walked in, sitting down at the table without a word. You put the sandwich and chips in front of him, allowing him to eat while you did dishes from the night before. When he was finished, you took his plate and put a list in front of him. “I’m going shopping this afternoon. Can you write down what you’d like me to get, please?”
Despite your sweet voice, he huffed. “No, just get what you usually get.”
“Okay,” you whispered in reply, walking with the paper and pen into the kitchen to start writing down everything you were low on. “Can I use the debit card, or should I put it on my credit card?”
“Put it on your card. Not mine, bitch. I make the money. Go out and get a job if you want your own money.”
“Okay…” you mumbled again, deciding not to push it.
.
After his lunch hour was over, he got up and left without a word, allowing you to get everything together to go out. You had about thirty minutes to walk to the baseball field, which you knew would take you twenty. You decided, if you were coming back, to simply make your store trip quick.
You walked as fast as you could, your movements slowed by the pain in your body. You’d only eaten a small meal that morning, one egg and a piece of toast, not really hungry in the first place.
As you approached the baseball field, your adrenaline began to pump in a new way, one you hadn’t felt in a long time. There were people all over, seeing as there was a little league game going on. You breathed shakily, sitting up on the bleachers, away from everyone else, pulling your sleeves down over your wrists. You weren’t cold, seeing as the sun was still high in the sky, but you were shaking. The shade provided some shelter from the suns rays which made you look like a ghost because of how pale you were.
You scanned the park, paranoid he would somehow find you there. When a stranger walked up and sat near you, you nearly jumped from your seat. You looked to the man, who had sunglasses on, his hair greying. He was probably around your age, or a bit older, late 40’s. You bit your lip, looking down at the sidearm on his hip, then at the star clipped beside it. You let out a breath. “Are you Voight?” You asked quietly, your voice meek.
“I am. Who are you?”
“(Y/N),” you replied. “I need help.”
“With what?”
“Look, my husband, he-“ You choked up. Suddenly, it was hard to admit. You looked away as tears blurred your vision.
Voight let you have a minute before moving up to sit beside you. “What about him?”
It was now, or never. “He hurts me…” you mumbled, turning your head back at him as tears rolled down your cheeks. “I need help.”
“You ever make a report to the police?”
“What the hell do you think I’m doing?” You huffed, frustrated.
“Look honey, you seem nice, but you should go to the district and make a report.”
You huffed. “Fuck off. I knew this was a mistake.” You got up, wincing in pain as you stumbled off of the bleachers. “Don’t be surprised if you find my body tonight, officer. One way or another.”
You walked away, shaking your head as tears streaked down your face, letting hair fall down to hide it. You heard footsteps behind you, making you stop and whip around, eyes wide. You thought maybe someone would come to put you in your place for talking to a cop, paranoia setting in.
When Voight approached, he put his hands up. “Easy, easy. I’ll help you.”
“What made you change your mind?” You wiped your face, looking up at him.
“Look at you,” he replied softly, pushing the hair behind your ear and taking your chin softly to maneuver your head, examining the cut on your temple. “What else has he done?”
You started to sob, Voight leading you to his car to sit and talk with you for a while. You explained the last ten years to him, which took nearly an hour. When you realized the time, you looked at him. “Please, are you going to help me? Because… if not, I need to get to the store. If-If I come back without groceries, he’ll have a reason beat me again.”
“Let me get you to the store, then,” he said softly. “I can help, but you’ve gotta give me a few days. I got some other things to deal with.”
“Okay…” you mumbled. “Please… don’t abandon me.”
He gently held your chin to look you in the eyes. “I won’t. I promise.”
When your glassy eyes met his deep, brown ones, you nearly got lost for a moment. He made you feel safe and warm, like hot chocolate on a cold Chicago night. You nodded slowly, reaching over to grab his free hand. “Thank you…”
.
Hank drove you to the store, then dropped you off at home just in time. Your husband arrived about ten minutes later. You put the groceries away quickly, starting on dinner. He brought home beer and some friends, like he did every Friday night. You sighed softly, but knew at least he wouldn’t abuse you too much that night until his friends left.
-
You held out hope, for days, that one day cop cars would just show up and take care of your husband. When a week passed by, you snuck out to see Maurice again, walking up to him around eleven at night this time.
“Hey baby girl, you come to pay?”
“I need to get a hold of Voight again.”
Maurice laughed, shaking his head. “You ain’t heard? Nah, baby, he got put in jail.”
You stopped, looking over Maurice again for any sign that he was lying. “No, don’t lie to me.”
“I don’t have no reason to lie, especially when you owe me.”
You huffed, shaking your head. “What did you do? Did you report him?”
“Hell no, I didn’t. Me and Voight, we had a special relationship, baby. Mutually beneficial. Now that he’s in jail, I gotta groom another dog cop into looking the other way.”
You frowned, looking at him intently. “Where is he? Statesville?”
“Yep. Got sent away for a long time, I heard.”
You couldn’t help the tears that had welled in your eyes. Voight had promised you. Was that even still a thing? You debated going to the nearest tall building to jump from, but you just wanted out. “I need another favor.”
“Baby, you ain’t paid for the last two I just gave you.”
“I’ll pay. I’m good for it. You just gotta distract somebody for me. Make sure he can’t come home for the day while I catch the bus over to statesville.”
“Are you insane? That’s a big ask, baby. I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s (Y/N). I need you to keep my husband busy tomorrow. Jeff Greyson. Don’t let him come home for a few extra hours. He likes to drink, and he even used to shoot up when he was in high school. I’m assuming you’re drug runners. Dangle a free sample in front of his nose. I’ll pay you off after this.”
Maurice cocked an eyebrow. “What’s going on that you can’t tell him? You having an affair with Voight?”
You scoffed, looking at him intently. “My husband abuses me. I’m trying to get out. Voight promised he would help. Does he make good on promises?”
Maurice slowly nodded. “Every time.”
“Then I need to see him.”
“Fine, but my rate just doubled, baby.”
—
You finally got into Statesville and were sat at a booth with a phone on either side. Voight was brought in on the other side of the glass and sat down across from you. You picked up the phone, and so did he. “What the hell happened?”
“You knew I was a dirty cop when you met me.”
“Maurice says you’re a man of your word. Is that true, or should I go looking for a tall building for a solution?”
“You need to report this to somebody.”
“I can’t. The investigation could take weeks and if he finds out, he’ll kill me first. I’d rather go out after seeing the city skyline one last time.”
Hank sighed on the other end. “Can you make it to the 21st district?”
You frowned. “I just told you, I-“
“Trudy Platt. Remember that name. I’ll have her find you.”
“Platt… okay…”
“I make good on my promises, (Y/N). It’s just going to take a little longer.”
You sighed, looking back up into his eyes. He was genuine. “Alright…” you mumbled. “Fine… who is she?”
“Trudy Platt is a sergeant in the 21st district. I’ll have her find you and work your case, personally.”
“Okay.”
“Just hold out. Has he hurt you any more?”
“Every day, Hank. Every fucking day.”
Hank sighed a little, but nodded. “Trudy will take care of you.”
—
The next few days went by without event, your hope dwindling with every punch, hit, and cut he put on you. One night, as you sat at home, straddling his lap at his request, a knock came to the front door. You jumped at the sudden knock, looking down at him to see what he wanted to do. He pushed you off him and got up, opening the door. “Can I help you?”
A man looked at him through the door, which he had only opened enough for him to be seen. “Detective Dawson. This is Detective Willhite. Can we come in?”
“No,” Jeff growled. “Do you have a warrant?”
The two detectives looked at once another, then back to Jeff. “Look,” Dawson said. “Some neighbors have called in complaints about a girl screaming here multiple nights in the past few months.”
You furrowed your brow. If that were true, wouldn’t the cops have shown up already?
“I guess the neighbors don’t realize we can still be active even though we’re in our mid and late forties.”
Willhite scoffed. “Oh yeah? Can we talk to your wife? We need to corroborate your story.”
“Sure,” Jeff said, motioning you forward. “Here, (Y/N), tell them.”
“Actually,” Dawson said, looking at you. “Standard procedure is to separate the two of you for questioning. Ma’am, could you step outside?”
“Maybe you should talk to our lawyer, then,” Jeff said with a huff, putting a firm hand on your shoulder. “Have a nice night.”
“Let the girl speak. We can’t go anywhere until she tells us what’s going on,” Willhite replied.
You let out a shaky breath, looking at the two detectives, nodding. “Yeah, uh, it’s… it’s all good… we’re just…” You cleared your throat. “… Active.” You blinked three times rapidly, three times slower, then three more times rapidly, hoping they’d catch on to it.
Dawson and Willhite looked at one another again, then each drew their guns. “Sir, we’re going to need you to step outside with us,” Dawson said.
Jeff scoffed. “This is completely unjustified. You came to my house and forced me to talk, and now you’re going to arrest me? This is not based in law. You’re going to have a six figure lawsuit on your hands now. Both of you, individually.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dawson said as he pulled Jeff out of the house, making you yelp as his grasp pushed you into Willhite on accident.
She caught you, taking you out of the way and onto the grass. “Hey, it’s okay now. My name is Jules. That’s Antonio. Platt sent us.”
You started to cry, shaking. You were barely able to breathe because of your injuries as your body convulsed with sobs. Jules helped you lay down on the grass and breathe until the ambulance arrived. Jeff was taken away in a car, while you were taken to the hospital in an ambulance. Jules sat by your side the whole time as they checked you out. Turns out you had multiple broken ribs from a few weeks ago as well as several other ailments from the past ten years that never healed correctly. You cried until you couldn’t cry any more, slowly falling asleep as Jules held your hand, Antonio and Trudy Platt talking to one another in the hallway outside your room.
