Chicago Fire [x Reader]

☞Hatred and fatherly love PT. 1

"Justin what you did was wrong," You fumed, handing him the last of your boxes to load into the truck. He took them without saying a word, letting you take out your frustration on him. "I can't believe dad would do that."

"Oh come on," Your older brother groaned. "Now you're acting like Erin."

"Damn right I am," You agreed. "Unlike dad, Erin and I want you to learn from your mistakes. Obviously, that's not gonna happen if dad keeps babying you."

"So what?" His words came out immaturely, making you punch his shoulder. "Ow! What was that for?"

"For being an asshole! That little boy is paralysed from the waist down because of you!"

"You're overreacting."

"You know what, I give up." Your hands curled around the car doors before they released when you shut the door closed. Anger took permanent residence in your chest.

You shot your brother a glare before jumping into your car. "Thanks for helping me pack."

And with that you sped off to your new home.

***

The apartment complex you moved to was considered to be a jackpot. With that being said, if there was one thing that you liked about having Hank Voight as your father, it was the very comfortable lifestyle you could afford with just your name.

Of course, you were mad at your father right now. What he did to get your immature brother out of trouble was all kinds of wrong, and you didn't support it at all.

"Do you need help with that?" A cool voice told you in passing. You had your hands filled with boxes, and you could barely register what was in front of you.

Before you could say anything hands were already easing the weight in your arms. You smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck shyly.

"Thanks. I just moved here," You explained quickly before looking at the man who offered his help to you. He held the two boxes in his one hand, the other one free for you to take in a greet. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

"Matt Casey. You can call me Matt."

Inside, you were panicking. The firefighter who currently hated your father and brother with a passion was standing in front of you.

You smiled shakily before a voice called out. "Miss Voight. There are some papers you need to sign."

The way Matt's eyes narrowed at you looked sinister, almost as if he was ready to swallow you up in flames or maybe even leave you in a burning building to die if it ever came down to it.

You didn't know what to say, only mumbling apologies to him before scurrying over to sign some papers.

And when you came back to where Matt once stood, you found your two boxes down on the floor.

Great. My new neighbour hates my guts.

***

Over the next few days Matt and you had managed to establish a routine. You'd both see each other in the hallways very frequently but never actually greet each other. By Tuesday, you were already used to the icy glares and the feeling of being the most hated woman on earth.

You even managed to make a game out of it. What does he think I do for living, it was called. Your number one guess was that he thought you were a dirty cop. Like your father obviously.

But then again, you swore you could see his eyes linger on your legs in passing every time you wore a skirt or a dress. So yet again, another one of your guesses was that he thought you were a stripper.