ONESHOTS ⊳ gavin reed x reader

[With you]

Just a little something for mcvibe007 's birthday.

In which you, an art student, and Gavin, a cop in the making, are best friends. He can't help but want more than that.

They had been friends since highschool. Gavin still failed to remember the circumstances of their first meeting, no matter how hard he tried. It was like melting chocolate in a pan, you couldn't exactly tell when the chocolate had started liquifying, only when it had already stopped being a bar of chocolate altogether. That was the only worthy metaphor for his friendship with (y/n) (l/n). He didn't know how it started, but he knew it had been a natural process, a slow one, but over the years, and now in the second year of college, she had become his best friend. Like water seeping through sand, she had seeped into his everyday life. Unnoticeable at first, a mere background presence in his friend group, until he found himself spending not only most of his breaks with her, but his free time as well.

(Y/n) (l/n) had been the most magical, natural experience of his life.

They had been through so much: (y/n)'s first heartbreak, where she ugly-cried on Gavin when that asshole of a boyfriend she had back then broke up with her through a fucking text. Gavin had been there, bought her ice cream, watched TV with her, listened to her bitch about him, helped her do her hair and makeup afterwards(which, in case you were wondering, turned out to be a complete disaster), watched her laugh at herself in the mirror after catching a glimpse of his failed attempt. He had been there when (y/n) told her parents about her decision to become an art major, defended her in front of them as if his life depended on it, and damn well succeeded too.

And (y/n) had been there. When Elijah came up with his first robot at 16, and Gavin had been kicked out of the spotlight for most family members (even by his mother), when he had gotten frustrated over how little him mom seemed to give a shit about him, (y/n) was there to tell him that she'd be there, no matter what. When Gavin had gone through a punk rock phase at 17, (y/n), in spite of not exactly being a fan of it, still stuck with him, helped him style his hair and taught him the basics of eyeliner, had accompanied him to all the concerts he had gone to, regardless if she liked the music or not. When Gavin had gotten his motorcycle, and learned how to drive, she had been there, sitting behind him, arms wrapped around his waist the first time he took it out in town, squealing in happiness along with him.

And there were the little things too.

Watching countless dawns, talking about his fears, his aspirations, his wants, what he thought, what he didn't think, everything. She knew every emotional nook and cranny of him, and he knew all of hers. It was almost...terrifying, he supposed.

Here he was now, in a cafe, sitting at one of the tables, cold coffee rested beside him as he was staring at the blank screen that was supposed to hold his 3000 word essay about crime history. Meanwhile, (y/n) was scribbling away in her notebook, shapes and textures, along with small notes on the side of her sketch. Typical for an art student, she was always busy, or thinking of something, or drawing, or all three of them at a time. A very fine example of multitasking, Gavin concluded with an amused smile.

She was beautiful like that, smudged, hastily drawn eyeliner on her lids, fingers white from the pressure she was gripping the pen with (something she tended to do subconsciously) brows furrowed in concentration, hair tucked behind her ears, slowly slipping out.

So messy, but indescribably captivating, Gavin was mesmerized by the scene in front of him, in spite of having seen in hundreds of times before.

(Y/n) had taken note of his staring too, it seemed.