ONESHOTS ⊳ gavin reed x reader

[Interrogation]

Kindly requested by @Lord_Rozu

In which you are being suspected guilty for contributing to one of the biggest Cyberlife raids in the past 20 years, all by hacking into their systems. You get brought to the DPD, where you have a fateful encounter.

"Silence isn't gonna save your ass, kid, so fucking say something!" Lieutenant Anderson had already reached his patience limit and practically exploded, slamming his fist against the grey table of the interrogation room.

You only smiled at him for the nth time, as silent as a statue, mustering your most innocent expression. He stood up stormily, chair tumbling backwards as he did.

"You little piece of sh-"

"Hank, get out." A voice announced from the speakers, coming from someone that presumably was behind the one-way mirror. It was silky, yet somehow rugged at the same time—bewitchingly paradoxical. "I'll make her talk."

"Don't make me laugh, Reed."

"Doubt it. Haven't seen you smile in years." The voice from the speakers replied.

Sassy. You liked this one already.

The old man had left the room moments later, and, after a few seconds of waiting, in stepped who you could guess had been the guy on the speakers. He was ruggedly handsome in a way you couldn't describe—like the sparks from a campfire. Warm, welcoming, but surrounded by a smug aura that promised trouble.

He walked over to the table, setting one hand on the back of the chair as he picked it up from the floor and put it back in its place. His gaze rested on you, a certain wolfish something in it before his lips pulled back to reveal a devilish grin. He hadn't even said anything, and you were already weak in the knees.

"You'd think hackers have cheeto crumbs all over their fingers and only shower once a month." He began, then laughed through his nose. You sucked in a breath. Fuck, how much exactly did the DPD know?

"Sorry to disappoint." You answered, covering up the fact that you were quite possibly melting on the cold hard chair and showed a fearless smirk similar to his. He rolled up his sleeves, exposing his veiny forearms, muscles rippling and tendons showing when he gripped the edge of the table tightly. You prayed he wouldn't notice the blood rushing to your cheeks.

"Ah, the hacker can talk. We're making progress." The man answered with the same nonchalance, voice smooth and velvety.

"Don't get too excited." You retorted.

"As far as I can tell," He smirked at you knowingly, taking a short pause. "...you're the one getting excited." Shit.

"Shut up." You commanded, hoping you had come off as firm and stern. His smirk only widened. You hadn't.

"Can't." He answered with a subtle shrug of his shoulders. He strode over to the chair you were cuffed in, resting one hand on the backrest, and the other on the table, practically trapping you. He inhaled slowly, dare you even say almost sensually, then leaned down in the slightest, just enough to reach the side of your neck, right below your ear. "Getting you to open that pretty little mouth of yours and tell me what I wanna hear is my job, buttercup."

You balled your hands into fists, giving your handcuffs a tug. Shit. You were quite literally trapped. Trapped to stare at his clavicle, struggling to avoid his piercing gaze.

What color were his eyes again? God, you knew you shouldn't look, but at the same time, you wanted to. Feel the electric sensation of knowing that his gaze was fixated on you and nothing else.

Curiosity got the best of you.

His eyes were...something else. A color you couldn't define—green, blue, gray— colliding, mixing, becoming one, yet not, every little stripe of color from his irises a different shade.

You didn't even realize you had been holding in a breath until he reached out to touch your jaw, and trace it with his middle finger and index.

"Look at you, so tense." He whispered, fingers trailing over your neck, to your chin, his thumb settling on your lower lip. "Scared?"

"Go fuck yourself..." You retorted, mouth brushing against his finger as you spoke, voice nothing but a meek, little whisper which faded into silence.

He ran his thumb over your lip, pressing down on it just enough to slip his finger into your mouth.

"I'm sure you'd rather be doing that right now." The man's voice had changed—it wasn't velvety anymore. It sounded like butter on toast, ice on a hot surface, carnal. Without another word, he moved his thumb over your mouth, almost alluding to a rough kiss.

Heat gathered in your abdomen, and you shifted around on the chair, brows furrowing as you wrapped your lips around his thumb, yet couldn't muster the courage to do more.

Your eyes fluttered closed in shame as he finally removed his hand from your face. God, you had actually enjoyed it. Him putting his thumb in your mouth had turned you on. Were you really that weak?

"Let's talk business, (y/n)." Your name rolled off his tongue in the most perfect kind of way. He moved away from you in the slightest, just enough to pull the file about your case towards you. The man settled behind you, looking at the files over your shoulder, chest bumping against your back as he had been kind enough to reach out to the papers and open them for you. Slyly, proudly, even, he began showing them off.

"This is the timestamp of the exact moment you hacked past Cyberlife's firewall." He tapped his index over the numbers, then proceeded to a string of coding you recognized all too well. "You hid behind a VPN, thought you were being very smart. But you didn't see one thing coming." He sucked in a breath, taking a pause for dramatic effect as he closed the file. "One of your little friends gave you away. Ain't that a bitch?"

You swallowed thickly, pressing your eyes shut as you tried to focus. Who could it have been? A total of five other people had participated in the whole action. All of them equally good friends with you. What if he was just trying to mess with you? Of course he was. That's what they all do.

"I think we can do each-other a service here." He began. "You give me all the names of your friends, and I..."

The detective stopped, looking down at you with a cheeky smirk and hooded lashes. His voice went low, rumbling against his chest like the bass of a song.

"I could do you a little favor."