Will You Trust Me? // Connor x Reader

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Fragile Words

Terror. Pure terror blinded your delicate eyes as you stepped through the creaky corridor. This was your second attempt at trying to escape from Alik's house of horrors, and the process of doing so filled you with so much fear. If you were to be caught, who knew what they would do to you? Last time, the result wasn't exactly pretty.

You were so close. The door to the cellar was right there. Past that door was freedom, fresh air, and a whole new world to explore without bond. You were through with being tied back and having to breathe through ball gags; that wasn't the life you wanted to live.

As soon as your hand wrapped around the cold metal door handle, you held nothing back. The door was thrown open, and you stepped outside. Outside, the air was slightly warm. You knew not what month it was for you had been in Alik's capture for what seemed like forever. Freedom... sweet freedom. It tasted so good, but the taste was too delicious to be real.

It wasn't real. That warm feeling you had gotten after stepping outside was the sharp prick of a needle piercing your skin and muscles followed by the rush of chemicals entering your bloodstream. That needle had dripped blue. Not red, not purple, not white... but blue.

"Thirium, acetone, lithium... a whole bunch of other goodness. I won't go into detail."

That voice made you drop to the hot cement in terror; the harsh ground scraped up your knees and caused them to sting as they bled. Your mouth seized open and close as the chemicals raced through your blood cells, your eyes focusing in and out of reality. This wasn't reality. This was a nightmare. A nightmare you didn't think you could ever escape from. The rush of euphoria you were receiving from the dose of A-MO had you trapped on cloud nine-- to some, the rush felt like heaven... but to you, it was prison. It was a horrible reminder of where you really were: in some man's mansion, in some man's bedroom, tied to some man's bed above burgundy, silken sheets.

--

Fragile orbs gazed over the edge of a counter, the dusty sill of an open window, and little droplets of water in the metal kitchen sink. Your hands tightly gripped onto the edge of the countertop, your teeth gritted in pain and utter frustration. You had no memory of how you got to the kitchen in the first place-- you last remembered falling asleep with your head flat against the armrest of Hank's old sofa. Now you were here: eyes wide open and bones aching from the painful lack of A-MO.

Your hands scurried through Hank's various belongings, knocking over numerous tin cans and boxes of grains and powders. Those (e/c) irises were determined on finding one specific thing... the one thing that would hopefully satisfy your terribly hungry addiction.

"Thirium, thirium, thirium..." Your mad ramblings were muffled behind all of your rummaging through Hank's things. Although you didn't really seem to realize it, all of your rummaging was making quite the ruckus in Hank's kitchen. To Hank, however, that didn't seem to be the case. He slept as soundly as a rock in his own bedroom.

To a curious pair of watchful eyes, though, your excavation through Hank's things was too loud for his audio processors to handle. It had woke him with a jolting start and caused him to flick on the dining room light in order to see what kind of mess you were getting yourself into. The sudden light had startled you and halted your actions for but a second.

"(Y/n)?" The android asked, his voice sounding slightly strained. The sound was unusual to your ears, but you thought of it no further for your search for the golden treasure was more important than anything else around you at the moment.

"I need thirium, thirium..." You slowly snaked your head around to stare at the gawking android in sudden realization. "Thirium?!"

Connor was quick to counter you haphazardly rushing him, your forceful, greedy hands nearly pushing the poor android to the ground. Your nails weakly scratched at his synthetic skin in hopes that you would eventually draw out some of that addictive blue liquid, but no avail. The skin would either heal over too quickly for you to be able to do anything about it, or your nails wouldn't dig into him far enough. Connor struggled to keep you at bay, your wildly flailing arms and kicking legs preventing him from taking any means of peaceful action. He had to almost fight you to get you to quit throwing yourself at him.