Thirst (Connor x Reader)

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Taking your best friend to work wasn’t exactly the best idea you’d ever had. A police station could be a dangerous place, and she could be disruptive at times. But with 10 minutes left in your shift, and the snow building on the pavement outside, you weren’t inclined to just leave her out there.

Yes, it wasn’t a good idea. But not for the reasons you thought.

You’d been filing a report, finishing off your work before you could leave to go and drinks with her when you were distracted in the only way you ever were at work.

Connor came in. And that was normally enough to make you abandon all efforts with work immediately. But this time, this time you could not stop your mouth from hanging open. It was Connor, looking like a mess. His hair was every-which-way, clothes ruffled but not damaged, the top buttons of his shirt open. If he could sweat, you were sure he would be right now. He seemed to have run inside.

“Uhh.” You blank as he stops by a desk near to you and your friend, setting down papers and running his hands through his messy hair, giving you a small caniption as you sat in your chair. There weren’t many people left in the office, and you thought for a moment you may have gone through your spasm without notice when you notice a painfully familiar, cheeky smile in the corner of your eye. No. Oh no, she wou-

“You’re so thirsty Y/N.” Your friend snorts loudly, not making a single effort to lower her voice. You gave her a sharp look, side-eyeing the room nervously. Again, nobody had seemed to of overheard as you looked subtly around, swivelling slowly in your chair. You thought you’d actually gotten away with it, when your eyes locked with Connor, standing up straight, staring. His LED flickering. Oh no.

“I overheard that you were thirsty, but after having conducted a scan, I believe that you are not in need of hydration.” You cringe and lower yourself into your seat as you nod, trying to keep a polite smile on your face as your friend promptly lost her shit in her chair, prompting a head tilt from Connor. Your cheeks flushed, and oh God, as your eyes trailed to his chest, you noted that he still hadn’t buttoned his shirt up.

"Not that kind of thirsty.” She tells him, smirking at you with a raised eyebrow. You give her no satisfaction. You don’t say a word. You’re already shutting down your computer and standing up, ready to leave this situation and continue your breakdown somewhere else.

“I have not been informed of any other form of thirst.” Connor, bless him, seems so very interested in what your friend has to say. Today, however, was the day his questions would be left unanswered as your hand clamped around your friend’s wrist, physically removing her from the precinct.

“Sorry, Connor, we gotta go! See you, bye, bye-bye! See you!” You spluttered out before either he or your friend can say anything else. Quickly darting off with your bag and your friend to the safety of outside, aching to freeze the burning feeling in your cheeks with the freezing Detroit air.

“That was great.” Your friend tells you as you get outside. The nip of the cold bites harsh, and you’re quick to cover your cheeks with your hands.

“Screw you.” You shoot back, powerless to stop your mind from reeling. The windy winter did nothing to cool the heat in your face as your mind replayed that beautiful, wonderful image over and over again in your head. You let out a long groan.

Stupid, sexy Connor.

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