Addiction // Gavin Reed x Reader

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(Y/n)'s POV

The clinking of her fork against her plate was the most excrutiating sound she'd ever heard. Every one counted every other second-- each second that went by since she set her plan in motion. She felt sick. Not able to find the will to eat any longer.

All she wanted to do was go home. Not to the house she shared with Deacon, but to a place she could find peace and solace. No screams of anger, no bruises, no demands.

I can't help but love you
Even though I try not to.

What was I thinking? Falling in love with an android, of all things. I thought I would find happiness in him, and now I'm miserable.

She never wanted this. Sure, she wanted love. She didn't want abuse. She didn't want pain. And she surely didn't want him any longer. Not after what he'd done last night at this very same bar. Making her for a fool in front of that man? The look in his green eyes portrayed terror; not of her, but of Deacon. She wouldn't have known what do do either, if she were in his situation. She didn't blame him one bit.

After all, now he was saving her.

Hopefully.

(Y/n) saw the bartender talking on the phone when she rushed by on her way back to her and Deacon's table, causing a flood of relief to wash over her like a tidal wave. Except now, that wave continued to soak her stomach. She was too nervous to speak, to eat, or to even look at the android that sat across from her.

His brown eyes were intimidating. She wanted to swim in that man's green eyes again, even it meant she would sink. Anything but this.

And when she finally heard the sound of freedom calling in, she feared her lover more than ever. What he could do to her... what he would do if he found out that the police were here because of her. His own girlfriend.

No longer, Deacon.

--

Gavin's POV

Thank God, they're finally fucking here. Took you long enough, Fowler.

Gavin set his third, empty glass of sweet whiskey onto the countertop, rubbing the bridge of his nose in some kind of attempt at relieving the headache he was starting to get from all of the stress. Unnecessary stress. He was really starting to question Terrance's words from earlier. He barely even knew this female, yet he was going totally out of his way to help her.

And so what? Gavin from the past would have cared less if a figure came up to him in dire help.

"Send someone else to deal with it!" He used to say when he worked at the precinct.

But something about (Y/n) called to him; told him that if he would've just stayed put and had done nothing, she would've had a bullet hole stuck through her brain by the end of the night.

The thought unnerved him to no end.

Gavin handed the first responder (who thankfully was neither Anderson nor that plastic pet of his) (Y/n)'s scribbled note as he walked through the door, decked out in full armor and ready to lay siege at any given moment. His lackeys entered after him seconds later, also sporting the same heavy gear as the first man.

Guns in holsters with the safety unchecked, and thick bulletproof vests underneath heavy windbreakers that displayed the unit's name and DPD's emblem across the heart of the left flap and boldly down the back. The jackets still beared that same geometric pattern the department implemented during Gavin's time there on the backside, but they replaced the material with one that reflected with a black-to-silver metallic sheen. Certain shapes turned blue at a certain angle; the same blue donned by androids across the city.