#scared electric hero x telepath villain

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XIX)

The blood of the Covenant

Part one // Masterpost // continued from here

It's a day late but listen I just discovered jujutsu kaisen and wowza - I have never related more to a character than Satoru Gojo and the forced self-awareness I now have to endure bc all the other characters are just constantly criticising him - for good reasons ofc but like, I don't need the personal attack? Anyways! ENJOY

~*~*~*~*~*~

The moment Kit’s eyes lazily fluttered open he wanted to shut them again. There was no haziness to the morning, no brief reprieve of waking where there are no thoughts and you exist in a limbo state: halfway between dreaming and consciousness.

No. Not even the incredibly comfortable bed could provide a respite from his mind.

Kit didn’t get any of that.

The first thing that greeted him when he opened his eyes was Ambrose telling him that there was a telekinetic Villain in the city. And the only telekinetic hero Kit knew of was Mentor. There was Sawyer with his shadows too, but that Villain wasn’t Sawyer. Kit knew the coldness of his shadows.

Not to mention the strange thing happening with his own powers around Ambrose. It seemed like all fucking roads just lead back to Ambrose.

Kit had to get out of bed. He had to go downstairs and face Ambrose. He had to watch the news and see the scale of Ment— Villain’s— destruction. He had to call Superhero and try to ignore the feeling in his gut that told him this Villain — whoever he was — was actually Supervillain making an appearance for the first time.

His stomach turned as his mind linked Supervillain and Mentor together, but he couldn’t stop the thought from forming. He couldn’t seem to stop anything lately.

Kit clenched his teeth as he pushed himself up and out of bed. His socked feet touched soft carpet like a cloud and tension seemed to leave his body at the feeling. Ambrose may be a rich, entitled prick, but if Kit could wake up to these carpets every morning maybe he would be too.

He stretched, his limbs cracking as he woke them up. The exhaustion from yesterday’s overused powers had dissipated overnight, leaving Kit a bit more refreshed than usual. Actually, no. Not refreshed. He felt great! Normal. Aside from a mild headache but there was no bone deep tiredness in his limbs.

It felt strange, but in a good way. He clicked his fingers and a small blue bolt formed between them. Before he could be relieved, the bolt sparked violently, red tongues of lightning forked out of the blue until Kit dropped the charge.

Shit.

Kit walked out of the room, and opened a few doors before he found a bathroom. Ignoring the luxury of the room, Kit froze in the doorway. A mirror hung above the sink and reflected Kit’s bright red eyes back at him.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Kit muttered, half-running to the mirror and pulling his eyelids down. “Stop it. Stop it. Snap out of it!”

Kit slapped himself in the face and checked again but nothing. He turned the tap on, maybe he just needed to splash some water in his face. Yeah. That was it.

The water was cool over his fingertips and refreshing as it splashed his face, but when he looked up again all he saw was red. Kit slammed his hand down on the edge of the sink, glaring at his own face in the mirror.

This was all Ambrose’s fault! Before him Kit’s powers were under control! Always under control, but now… this thing with his eyes it made him sick. His electricity was supposed to be blue not red.

“Fuck!” Kit cried, smashing his fist against the edge of the sink again. “Stupid!” Punch. “Fucking.” Punch. “GAAH!” Punch. Punch. Punch.

Ambrose paused with his mug halfway to his lips in the kitchen, hearing a slight commotion upstairs. Mallory must be awake. Then slow, heavy footsteps not even an elephant would make down the stairs.

Kit got to the end of the staircase and looked right and left. The two halls looked identical, both grand and leading different directions. Kit just wanted a coffee… he trudged to the left, trusting his instincts.

From his right, he heard Ambrose: “in here, Mallory.”

Kit was about to throw a tantrum like a toddler, but instead he walked past the staircase and town the hall to the right. On his left he saw a kitchen from some ostentatious show house, like something you’d see on TV, but he ignored it and focused on the Villain sitting at the kitchen island.

His black eyes glinting with amusement as Kit stormed in, going straight for the kettle. Or well, he would’ve gone straight for the kettle had his knees not hit the floor with an echoing thud.

Kit hissed. “What the fuck?”

Ambrose frowned where he sat and stood, walking around the counter to see the hero on his knees in just his boxer shorts and t-shirt, staring up at Ambrose with wide red eyes glowing.

“Morning.” Ambrose said, then a smile came to his lips which bubbled into a laugh at the hero’s confusion. “Oh, I completely forgot.”

“Forgot what?” Kit snapped, trying to move his legs back and stand but he couldn’t. His knees were glued to the floor as if all gravity had amassed in his kneecaps that now seemed to weigh ten tonnes.

“God it seems so faraway now,” Ambrose murmured, being the cryptic fuck that he was.

Small streaks of electricity cackled from Kit’s eyes. “Forgot what?” He asked through clenched teeth. “In case you didn’t know, Rosey, I’m not exactly a morning person, so if you could undo whatever the fuck you’ve done, I’d appreciate it.”

“But you look so good on your knees,” Ambrose told him, reaching a hand out and ruffling Kit’s hair until Kit slapped his hand away. “Like a good puppy.”

“Oh fuck off, dickhead! Let me up.”

Ambrose’s black eyes danced with amusement. “Only if you ask nicely.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “Oh fuck off. I’m just going to fucking crawl I guess.”

“Ki—it,” Ambrose sing-songed, his voice moving like flute notes through his ears. He recognised the coldness of Ambrose’s powers pulling at his mind, the threat of what he could do.

Kit huffed out a breath. Crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t look at Ambrose as he mumbled: “can I get up?”

“What was that?” Ambrose asked, putting his hand to his ear like a pre-school teacher. “I couldn’t hear you over the coffee brewing.”

Red eyes snapped to black. “Can I get up? Please?!”

“Of course you can get up Kit.”

This time when Kit moved his legs, his knees didn’t keep him rooted to the spot.

“Dick,” he muttered under his breath, forcing himself not to shoulder check the villain as he passed him on the way to the kettle. “Can you undo whatever that is?”

Ambrose hummed. “I’ll have to get back to you on that. It was a measure to teach you manners.”

Fuck off, Kit thought venomously. I just want a coffee. Kit didn’t answer as he zeroed in on the kettle, and plugged it in.

“Oh, I already made a pot of coffee,” Ambrose said. Kit glanced over his shoulder at Ambrose, stare hard. Ambrose gestured to the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen and Kit was about to throw a fit. He wanted to throw the kettle at the man’s head, but he knew he just needed a coffee and then he’d be fine. So he restrained himself and walked to the coffee pot.

The smell of the coffee went straight to his heart. “Is this… drip coffee?” He asked as he poured the black liquid into the cup that was set out for him.

Ambrose scoffed behind him. “I know you’re used to living in squalor, Mallory, but I don’t keep instant coffee in the house.”

“Wow. I’m not complaining,” Kit said, turning to the island and going to sit beside Ambrose. “I mean, I don’t live in squalor, but drip coffee would be nice every morning.”

Ambrose’s black eyes went to Kit’s face as he sat into the stool. Kit was too busy looking at his bare legs to notice. “I forgot my trousers,” he grumbled, feeling the tips of his ears going pink.

Ambrose waved the comment away. “I’m sure you had more pressing issues this morning?”

Kit raised his pained gaze to Ambrose. Black eyes searched Kit’s red ones with a mildly contained annoyance. “I was hoping there wouldn’t be any lingering effects of yesterday.”

“Lingering effects?” Kit repeated incredulously. “Lingering effects?! Oh I’m sorry if my overworked powers are inconveniencing you in any way, Ambrose. I’m so sorry—”

Ambrose waved him away. “Okay, you’re being dramatic.”

While Kit continued speaking over him, sarcasm dripping from every syllable: “so very, devastatingly, sorry that my powers are all out of whack because a fucking sadistic piece of shit just loves to push me until I can’t go further.”

“Apology accepted.”

Kit scoffed, shaking his head and took another gulp of his coffee. Fuck it tasted so good, it almost made him calm down. Almost.

“But the fact of the matter is we have more pressing issues.”

A sardonic smile slid its way onto Kit’s lips, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and gesturing between them. “What is this “we” you speak of?” He asked, red eyes alight with amusement.

“Mentor, Kit. I’m talking about Mentor.”

Kit’s face dropped as he straightened. “What is this we you speak of?” He repeated tightly.

“Mallory—”

“No,” Kit spat venomously, running a hand through his hair. “No, I am not talking about Mentor with the person who destroyed his mind for fun. No. We’re not doing this.”

“Kit— it’s important, we need—”

“STOP SAYING WE!” Kit roared, slamming his hands down on the table. Red sparks erupting around him as his anger grew. He wanted to smile at the look of fear that flashed across Ambrose’s face as the electricity spit and spewed around him, like a thousand hungry tongues hissing at the air around them.

“There is no we, Ambrose.” Kit continued, his voice echoing slightly with static as if he were speaking through an old radio. “There has never been a we. The only thing that joins you and me is Mentor, and that’s a very thin line because you didn’t know about our connection until what? This week?! You have no fucking right to speak to me about—”

“Mentor is my father.”

The silence would have been deafening if Kit’s electricity didn’t stutter and stop with a pathetic jolts like an old man’s fart. Kit’s mind screeched to a stop with a record scratch, before running ten miles a second because what the fuck did Ambrose just fucking say?!

Kit just stared as Ambrose clenched his hands into fists and loosened them again, repeating the gesture as if he were reaching for something he couldn’t quite touch. It felt as if Kit’s eyelids were torn with how wide they stared at the villain in front of him because this was some fucking sick joke, right?!

“It’s not a joke,” Ambrose said quietly, a wry smile on his face when Kit’s immediate thought was: get out of my head. “It’s not a joke, Kit. I wish it were.”

“You’re—” Kit began, but didn’t have enough breath in his lungs to finish the sentence, his eyes prickling with tears that he refused to let fall. “You… you’re lying. There’s no… you don’t even—”

Kit wasn’t making sense. They were all half formed thoughts spilling from lips as he wondered whether he should kill Ambrose where he stood now, or later.

“You don’t even share the same last name,” Kit settled on, his mind reeling. Ambrose met his eyes finally and Kit wished he hadn’t. He didn’t want to see the vulnerable humanity lingering in Ambrose’s black gaze, the hard tilt to his brows. The confession seemed to strip Ambrose of everything that him, well… Ambrose, and left a man, no a boy, not much older than Kit sitting before him. “You don’t even look alike! You’re not— you can’t be—”

Ambrose sucked in a breath through his nose, burying his face in his palms and rubbing his eyes. “I can show you my birth certificate if you’d like.”

Kit sprung to his feet because he didn’t know what else to do. His body was wired — no alive — with a restless energy that he couldn’t quell or control and the only way he could do something about it was somehow related to jumping off the stool.

“You— you! There’s— you can’t be Mentor’s son! Mentor didn’t— doesn’t have a family!”

Ambrose scoffed, running his hands down his face until they settled around his cup in front of him, his gaze distant. “He would say that.”

“You’re lying.”

Ambrose turned his head to face Kit, though he didn’t really look at him. More like through him. A wry smile pulled at the edges of his eyes.

“Believe it or not, Kit. The fact remains the same.” Ambrose took a sip of his coffee or tea or whatever, while Kit just stood uselessly staring at Ambrose and trying to logic a way to this being some joke, or ruse. “I wish it wasn’t true either.”

“You— you—” Kit stuttered, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Ambrose widened his eyes slightly, raising a placating hand towards Kit.

“Hey, Kit. Calm down.”

Don’t tell me to calm down, Kit wanted to say but he couldn’t get the words out. He couldn’t stop shaking, his entire body felt as if he just drank a vat full of caffeine and it wanted to go, go, go. It was as if someone had just jump-started every nerve in his body, every muscle contracting, every blood cell oxygenated and his body felt far too small as everything seemed to constrict inside of him and there wasn’t enough space and his veins felt ready to burst and—

“HEY! KIT!” Ambrose screamed from far, far below Kit. He wondered distantly what was happening, why Ambrose felt so far away. Why Kit felt like he couldn’t breathe and yet never felt more alive at the same time. “FUCK!”

KIT PLEASE! STOP! Ambrose cried in his mind, but there was no power behind his words. It wasn’t a command, which Kit recognised was strange. Ambrose wasn’t one for allowing free will and all.

Still, there was something wrong. Something very wrong with this picture and Kit couldn’t quite put his finger on what. Every time he tried to narrow it down, the thought ran like water through his fingers and he couldn’t really feel his own body anymore.

Kit crashed down to reality when his head cracked off the tile and he groaned. Ambrose was on the floor beside him, far enough away that the sparks didn’t reach him that were still spluttering from Kit’s body, but why was he on the floor?

“Kit? You with me?” Ambrose asked, black eyes wide with… that couldn’t be concern, not in Ambrose’s eyes. Kit must be hallucinating. Maybe this was all just a dream, a terrible bad dream and he would wake up and everything would be fine.

Instead, Kit groaned in pain, trying to push himself up. His muscles wouldn’t listen though and just shook uselessly beside him, not supporting his weight.

“Kit, talk to me, please.”

“Shut… up… dick.”

“You just thrashed my kitchen, Kit, I think I’m allowed to speak to you.”

Kit blinked, rolling onto his back. “I— what?”

Ambrose didn’t have to answer for Kit to see the scorch marks in the ceiling of his perfect kitchen, or the cracks in the shapes of lichtenberg figures in the walls. Kit winced, glancing at Ambrose who looked to be lost in concentration.

“Ambrose… I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“I know.”

“No,” Kit protested, raising his hands in front of his face. They sparked and hissed like Kit was in overdrive, hooked up to his own nuclear reactor, a steady stream of small bolts charging the air around his palms. “I’m not doing this.”

Ambrose nodded, tapping his temple with his index finger. “I know,” he said again, and got to his feet. “The best thing I can think to do is the power dampeners.”

Kit sat up with an effort, pressing his back against a counter in Ambrose’s ridiculously massive kitchen. “Did they work?”

“No, knocking you out, worked. Though I doubt you want to do that every time this happens.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Well, then. Power dampeners it is.” Ambrose said with a breath. “Does the circuit still close if you wear the two of them on one hand?”

Kit shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t tried it. Usually when you’re catching criminals you want their hands bound too.”

“Hmm, I assume it would work the same. Only one way to find out, right?”

Kit nodded, pushing himself to his feet. Only then did he see the real extent of the damage he did. The stools were scattered around the room, appliances ripped out of sockets. Half of the kettle was melded to the door of the microwave, the microwave itself looked like a crushed aluminium can.

Kit glanced down at his fingers, at the red lightning. Did he really do all this without realising?

His mind went back to his Academy days, when he had first arrived and was only learning how emotions tied to his abilities. It was Superhero who sat down with him and taught him that in order to master his gift, he had to cut off the link between his emotions and his abilities, or he wouldn’t get anywhere as a hero.

This red lightning, it seemed, burrowed all the way down to Kit’s emotions — his negative emotions — anger, rage, hatred, confusion. How could he stop something he could barely recognise the warning signs of?

“Don’t think too much about it, Mallory. Let’s just do one thing at a time. The power dampeners.”

Kit nodded. “Right. The power dampeners.” He repeated, glancing down at his bare legs. “And trousers.”

Ambrose smiled. “Yeah. Might be a good idea.”

Kit walked back out of the kitchen, when by the door Ambrose stopped him again. “Kit, if you want fresh clothes, feel free.”

Kit stopped in the door, glancing over his shoulder at Ambrose who looked mildly embarrassed at the offer. It was a strange thing to see on him. He didn’t quite meet Kit’s eye, his hand wound tight around the back of a chair, while the other brought the mug to his lips.

Kit could tease the villain about it. Usually he would, but he felt gross and shit, so he just nodded. “Cheers.”

Ambrose raised his head, meeting Kit’s eyes and nodded slightly. Then Kit took off down the hall and up the ridiculous stairs and into the first room he found last night. He wanted a shower, he decided when he picked his jacket off the ground, taking the power dampeners from his pocket and tossing them on the bed.

Something to relax his muscles and clear his head. That would be heavenly right about now. Kit grabbed his jeans and threw them on the bed too. He bunched a fistful of his shirt and brought it to his nose, and winced at the smell. Yep, okay. He needed a shower.

He turned in the room, taking it in for the first time. It was huge, as was everything in this stupid house. He walked to the wardrobe that was tucked into the corner of the room, opening the doors. He expected suits and tailored trousers, but was pleasantly surprised when he saw a couple of old hoodies hung up. One of them an old Harvard sweatshirt that had the initials O. Ambrose embroidered into the chest.

It felt like important information, but Kit didn’t really care. His mind racing with the fact that Ambrose was somehow related to Mentor. His son? Why wouldn’t he tell Kit that he had a son? Why weren’t there any pictures or mentions of him ever?

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

Kit sighed, closing the doors to the wardrobe and opening the long door beside it. Inside were shelves of t-shirts and sweatpants and jocks and socks.

Kit took what he needed and walked to the bathroom, searching for towels before he locked the door.

“Mallory,” Ambrose said from outside.

Kit walked over to the door to see Ambrose outside, two towels in his hand. “Oh. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Kit grabbed them and closed the door, locking it and turning on the shower. He ignored the flash of red he saw in the mirror. He stripped and stepped into the shower, and almost gasped at the pressure of the water drumming down on his shoulders and head.

It was so good. Better than a hotel’s pressure good, better than Kit’s shitty apartment shower anyways. He let out a long, soft sigh of relief as he felt the rushing hot water unwind the knots and pressure in his muscles. He could die under the water and he would die happy.

He washed the memories of the last day away. God was it only a day? The stress from work and Superhero’s babying treatment of him after his illness, mixing with the pains of being with Ambrose for any amount of time.

Kit rubbed his neck and collarbone where Ambrose had choked him yesterday, still feeling a phantom tie wrapped around his throat like a weighted shadow. His gaze trailed down to his arms where the cuts Ambrose had forced him to make were glaring up at him. They had scabbed over at this point, almost healing. The scabs turned yellowish-green under the water, then a purple red beneath it.

All this pain, all this… abuse Ambrose had subjected him too. Was this the price for meeting Mentor? He knew it was too good to be true when Mentor chose him, out of everyone in his year, to personally apprentice under.

The man who little by little, wore down his walled defences while building his strength and magic and confidence. Who made sure he ate everyday, who taught him the value of nutrition and how to make a proper cup of tea…

Kit slammed his fist against the tiles of the shower, hot tears mixing with the water on his face. Ambrose was a monster. He couldn’t be related to Mentor. Mentor… Mentor was a saint. He saved the entire city!

He trusted Kit!

Why wouldn’t he tell him that he had a son? Why keep it secret?! Especially someone as powerful as Ambrose, you’d think he would scream it from the rooftops.

But… but… Mentor was alone when he chose Kit. No trace of a family anywhere in his house, no other heroes mentioned it. He was alone, like Kit, and they made a family together. With each other.

Kit knew it was true, that it was real. It was the only thing he had ever been sure of in his life, so why! Kit banged his fist against the tiles again. Why was there an ache in his chest as if his heart was poisoned?! Why was there a voice in the back of his head that sadly told him that Ambrose wasn’t lying?!

Why!

Why!

Why!

Why!

Why?!

Maybe Mentor was the villain from last night. Maybe Kit never really knew him at all. Maybe Mentor only trusted him with a very small part of his life.

Either way Ambrose had the answers. Kit needed to face them, no matter how painful they would no doubt be, to hear him out.

He scoffed, sniffing. “Listen to yourself,” he muttered to the tiles, his voice uncharacteristically empty. “Hearing Ambrose out? What’s wrong with you?”

Kit sniffed, wiping the snot from his face. “Pathetic.”

He glanced to the shelf in the shower and grabbed the shower gel, staring at the bottle. It wasn’t a 3in1. Kit raised his eyes again to see other bottles in the shower. Kit stared. His brain buffering as his hand reached out to grab another bottle.

Shampoo.

Fancy looking shampoo.

Ambrose just wasted his money on fucking everything didn’t he? Was his toilet paper sheet gold?

Kit shrugged, putting the shower gel back and squeezed out some shampoo onto his hand. It smelled good. It smelled fancy.

Kit quickly showered and dried himself, wrapping the towel around his waist as he walked out to his room. Kit changed into a new t-shirt he borrowed from Ambrose and pulled on his jeans and jacket and runners.

The power dampeners he fastened around his right wrist, feeling his powers immediately diminish. When he locked the second one around the same wrist he snapped his fingers on his left hand. Nothing.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

One problem down.

He pocketed the key and left the room. Ambrose was standing in his kitchen, also dressed, his hair wet from a shower. Ambrose wore a loose sweatshirt that looked soft and black cargo pants that tucked into his boots.

Kit held up his hand triumphantly as he fell to his knees. “The power dampeners worked.”

Ambrose raised his head from an iPad, one eyebrow quirked in amusement. “And you have pants.”

“Mission successful!” Kit beamed, not caring that he was still compelled to kneel in front of Ambrose like some servant to a king.

“Good.” Ambrose said with a nod, sliding the iPad across the counter top. “You can stand, Kit. I have some bad news.”

Kit groaned, pulling himself to his feet. “What now?”

The frustration died in his throat when he saw the headlines: Water Hero kidnapped by new Supervillain, Superhero reports.

“What?” Kit asked with a breath, looking at Ambrose. “What is this?”

Ambrose stood with his arms across his chest, a hand on his mouth as he shrugged with one shoulder. “That villain last night—”

“But why would he take her?” He said “he” instead of Mentor because his brain didn’t equate the two. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“I don’t know.”

“There has to be a reason?” Kit demanded, scrolling through the article.

“I already checked,” Ambrose said with a shake of his head. He waited patiently until Kit fact checked that there was no mention of why the villain took her. Kit turned his sad eyes to Ambrose again, putting the iPad on the counter. “I think we need to go see Mentor.”

Kit deflated at the suggestion. He knew that this was coming. That eventually they’d have to go and see Mentor and check to see if he really is — if he could be…

Fuck.

Kit didn’t want to think about it.

He steeled his expression and his resolve. “Fine. You can explain everything on the way.”

Ambrose nodded stiffly, not fond of sharing his past with the Hero, but maybe, it was time to share everything, especially if that new supervillain is Mentor.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer r @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland @mononeigbour @tippytappytyping @stefaniesblogs @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump

[avengerscompound]

Finding Home - Chapter 6

Finding Home: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist Previous //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x OFC (Daisy Adams)

Word Count:  2258

Warnings:  Angst, mentions of torture, violence, major character death, mentions of sexual abuse/rape, pregnancy, smut (vaginal sex, oral sex, pregnancy sex, Bisexual MMF threesome)

Synopsis:  Daisy Adams has abilities. She can read minds. Force her thoughts onto others. As a child, she is taken by Hydra and raised as a weapon. Daisy finds another and speaks to him in his dreams. He has been taken too. He wants to return to the man he loves. Can she get them back together? Will she even want to once she realizes that she’s falling in love?

Chapter 6

Weeks passed. I started to be able to feel Bucky more and more often. I wasn’t able to push back into him again.  I was afraid to try too hard to be honest. That one time was scary. I had never just been in someone before. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to develop that side of my abilities.

It got to the point that I almost constantly had these feelings that were completely unrelated to what was happening around me. I was having trouble telling which were my feelings and which were his. I kept my mind open for him though. I wanted to find him. This was our best chance.

Steve pulled away from me after that night. He was having trouble being around me at all. The reminder of the connection I had with Bucky just pushed all the guilt he had over losing him, and falling for me to the surface. He was experiencing some pretty strong survivors guilt too. I didn’t know how to help him.

I started spending more and more time around Thor and Natasha. Thor because when I was him it was quiet, and he was kind. Natasha because she understood me. I needed that most of all.

It was late. Natasha, Clint, Thor and I had stayed up well after most of the others. They were drinking and being all melancholy and the baby was keeping me up. I had tried jogging around to put it to sleep, but it was restless. Bucky was up where ever he was, and I was getting a lot of fear from him today. I eventually gave up and lay down on the couch.

“The child still won’t calm?” Thor asked.

“Nope.” I sighed. “Guess I’m not sleeping tonight.”

“May I feel?” He asked. I nodded and he placed a hand on my stomach. “You need to rest little one.” He said to my belly.

“Daisy, can I ask you something personal?” Nat said she was a bit drunk and slurred her words a little.

“Sure. Given you don’t have secrets from me, that’s only fair.” I laughed.

She giggled. “Did you get pregnant the only time you’ve had sex?”

“No. I’d had sex before Bucky. Not exactly a fun late-night story though. I was around men a lot. They started thinking things like ‘I bet she’s fucking tight’ when I hit puberty. I didn’t know what that meant. So I asked one. He showed me.” I shrugged. They looked horrified. “Sorry. That was a downer. My life has been a bit of a shit show, but let’s face it, I’m not the only one in the building that’s true for.”

Clint gave a sarcastic laugh. “That’s true. What a fucking mess we all are. We’re the heroes. I wonder what the villains have all been through?” He got up and took Nat’s hand. “Want to go to bed?”

She got up and said goodnight to Thor and me, and they left the room together.

“It feels like the baby has finally stilled,” Thor said. “You should get some rest.”

I looked at him, wondering what he was thinking. It was strange not knowing. “Will you be okay?”

He laughed. “Of course. Go sleep.”

I went and got ready for bed, and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

They’d caught me. I struggled against them, but somehow they were stronger than I was. I don’t know how that could be possible.  I was being strapped to a chair. How could this be happening again? I need to get out. I need to find Steve.  Where is Daisy? I can feel her. Why isn’t she helping me? Daisy! Help me!

I lash out. Something strikes me in the side. A  surge of electricity courses through my body. My cybernetic arm goes haywire. The pain it causes me is worse than anything I’ve felt before, including when I lost my arm in the first place. It’s like my arm is being torn off and taking my spine with it. I scream.

“Daisy! Wake up!” Steve yelled shaking me. Someone was screaming. Was it Bucky? Did they find him? I sat up and realized it was me.

I looked around my room, everyone was here. “What happened?” I asked my voice raw.

“Was that real?” Steve asked, “Was that happening?”

I blinked up at him and he shook me again.

“Cap, hands-off,” Tony said putting his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

Nat sat down on the bed beside me and put her hand on my forehead like she was checking me for a fever. As soon as she touched me, it was like I got yanked into reality. My head was pounding. It felt like my left arm had been flayed. I held it up to check it was still okay. Nat grabbed a handful of Kleenex from the box on my bedside table and pressed them to my face, tilting my head back. My nose must have been bleeding again. I could taste the blood in my mouth.

“Whatever you were just dreaming you projected it to all of us,” Nat said.

I felt the weight of the bed shift next to me. I glanced over and Steve had climbed on, kneeling beside me.

“Was it real, Daisy?” He asked.

I shook my head and started to cry. “I hope not. I don’t know. What good does it do to know? I don’t know where he is.” Steve wrapped his strong arms around me and held me to him. I sobbed against his chest.

“Okay everyone, crisis is put on hold. Let’s leave them alone.” Sam said and gestured to the door.

“Will you be okay?” Nat asked me. I nodded and everyone left the room leaving me alone with Steve.

Steve stroked my hair as I composed myself. “That was really scary, Daisy. Everyone saw what was happening.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” I sniffed.

He chuckled softly. “I know you didn’t. That’s part of why it was so scary. You’re much more powerful than you think you are.” He paused for a moment. “Was it just a dream or is that happening to him?”

“I don’t know. My arm hurts like it happened.” I closed my eyes and tried to focus on Bucky. I found him. He felt calm. That’s all. Just calm. “I think it was just a dream, Steve. I can feel him. He’s okay.”

He seemed to relax around me, and he kissed me on the crown of the head. “What happened?”

“I have no idea. Pregnancy dreams are dangerous if you’re telepathic? Maybe I linked in with a nightmare he was having.” I shook my head.

We sat like that for a little while. My nose seemed to clear and I threw the tissues into my wastebasket near my bed.

“I should go,” Steve said, but he made no move to let me go.

“Don’t.” I breathed.

He sighed and shifted so he was lying on his back. I shuffled down next to him and lay on my side facing the wall and pulled my comforter up over us both.

“Daisy …” Steve said.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I know. It’s confusing for you. I get it.” I was sick of hearing it, both out loud and in his head. I shut him out completely. It took more energy than I would have liked, but I couldn’t take it anymore.

He rolled over and draped his arm over me, his hand gliding down my body. It skimmed over my breast, I think unintentionally, sending a little jolt through me, and rested on the swell of my stomach. I shifted back so I was pressed against him, and he pushed his arm under my head so I was resting on his bicep.

He kept stroking his hand back and forth over my belly. The fabric of my sleep shirt pushed up and he trailed his fingers over my bare skin. It sent a little shiver through me and I wriggled against him. His groin was pressed against my ass and I felt his cock twitch.

“Steve. I want you to stay. I need you to hold me. Please. But touching me like that isn’t fair. You know how I feel. I’m sorry if holding me confuses you, but I’m scared. Can’t you just be here for me?”

I felt his breath hot against my neck, I turned my head towards him and he captured my mouth with his. It startled me. I can’t remember ever truly being startled before. We kissed, it was slow and deep. His hand went to my breast, kneading it, rolling his thumb over my nipple. I felt his cock hardened, pressed against my ass. I reached back, tugging at his hair. He broke our kiss with a growl and started nibbling down along my neck. I let my head fall back, my eyes closed.

I opened my mind again. I wanted to relax. I also wanted to see what he was thinking. Thoughts of me on all fours, him driving into me, of me on my knees sucking his cock, of him holding me up against the wall fucking me, filled my head.

I moaned, pushing into his hands. My cunt tingled and I could feel my wetness soaking through my panties. I put my hand on his as he stroked along my belly. Our fingers laced together and I moved his hand down, pushing his thick fingers under the waistband of my panties and between my folds. I worked my fingers with him, guiding him in circles over my clit. He started grinding against me and I let his hand go and reached behind me, slipping my hand into his pajama pants. I stroked his cock along its length using just my fingers and then took him in my hand, pumping up and down his shaft. He groaned and pushed his hips against me.

I pushed the image he had of me sucking his cock into his mind. Offering that to him. He pulled back from me, shaking his head like he was trying to clear it.

“Stay out of my head, Daisy.” He scolded.

“I’m sorry. I – I thought you might like – I’m sorry.” I stuttered.

“It’s okay. I know. Just please, let me have my thoughts.”

“Do you want me to do that? I can give you that.”

He made an angry growl sound and returned to kissing my neck. He pushed two fingers inside of me. I gasped arching into him.

Steve worked his fingers in and out of me as he rubbed his thumb over my clit. My core clenched as the beginning of an orgasm pooled within me. I somehow managed to wriggle out of my underwear. As I did Steve moaned and when they were free, he pulled his hand from my pussy, pushed his pants down and pressed his cock against my ass.

I tilted my hips back towards him and moved one leg forward. He took hold of my hips and shifted me so his cock was aligned with my cunt. Slowly he thrust back and forward, his cock sliding up and down my crevice. I whimpered reaching back to him, leaning my face towards his. His mouth met mine. As we kissed he pushed into me. I clenched around him and we both groaned into the kiss.

He thrust slowly. In and out. One hand moved to my clit and he rolled it under his fingers as he penetrated me. His other hand was at my breast, pinching my nipple, squeezing my flesh. We kissed, our tongues dancing together. I felt helpless, wrapped beside him. I was completely engulfed by his body. I couldn’t catch my breath, and I started making a helpless whimpering sound into our kiss. I clung to the back of his neck, gripping it tightly as his muscles strained against me.

I laced my fingers with his at my breast. My orgasm built, my core spasmed and I came. Every part of me tensed up. He released my mouth, and I cried out.

“Oh god, Steve.” I moaned.

He pulled out, rolled onto his back and then lifted me so I was straddling his waist. I took his cock in my hand and then lowered myself down on it. He put both his hands on my belly and held them there as I rocked against him.

“I’m sorry I took so long, Daisy.” He panted.

I shook my head, lent forward and kissed him. He moved a hand to my cheek and when I pulled away he stroked my jaw with his thumb.

“I want to be there for you. For the baby.” He said.

“I know.” I panted. “You will be.”

He gripped my hips and thrust upwards with a grunt. His body tensed, and he came. His cock pulsing into my core. Spilling inside of me.

I climbed off him and lay down beside him, my head on his firm chest. He ran his fingers through my hair and rested a hand on my belly.

“I’m going to take care of you both.” He said, he sounded angry. Frightened. I scanned him. He kept the thought of me and the baby so close to the thought of Bucky. He was afraid of losing us the way he had lost him.

“We’ll find him,” I said. I suddenly felt really tired. My fell eyes closed. “You’ll be together again.”

// NEXT

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XVII)

Unforeseen Side-effect

Part One // Masterpost // Continued from here

~*~*~*~*~*~

Kit sat up with an effort, his entire body tensing as he moved. Aftershocks still singed his nerves as he moved, eliciting sharp hisses of pain.

What the hell was that thing, that red lightning? And why did he only get it around Ambrose?

“I assume that it’s a wild manifestation of your abilities,” Ambrose said from the kitchen. Kit rolled his eyes, about to curse the villain out if a sudden wave of nausea didn’t hit him and stop him in his tracks.

The world was spinning, lethargically slow, and closing his eyes didn’t exactly help matters. What the fuck was that red lightning? Why did it leave him so… weak?

Kit stopped beside the couch, pressing his back against it while he caught his breath and stifled the whine that threatened to spill from the back of his throat.

“You are as pale as a ghost,” Ambrose told Kit with a smirk. “Except for those eyes of course. And your veins.”

Kit’s eyes widened. His veins? What was Ambrose talking about now? Kit brought his hands in front of his eyes, any colour left in him draining as he saw the same angry, neon red colour had permeated all of his veins. Kit rolled up his sleeves, and there they were. Then the cuffs of his jeans, and the veins were there too.

“You’re like a walking glow-stick.”

“For fuck’s sake, just shut up.” Kit said with a groan, gfalling to his hands and knees and pushing himself to get up. He froze, hitting an invisible wall and plopped back down to his arse again. Red eyes met Ambrose’s black ones. “Can you let me stand up?”

I thought you told me to shut up, Ambrose’s voice sounded in Kit’s mind, the same stupid smirk on his same stupid face.

Kit banged his head against the couch with a groan. “You’re such a dickhead! You can give commands through thoughts! Why are you even here?! Why do you love to torture me?” Kit demanded, his voice turning hysterical. “Is this all part of Supervillain’s plan? To drive me mad too?”

The humour vanished from Ambrose’s face in the blink of an eye. “Do I look like I work well with others, Mallory?”

Kit blinked, his eyebrows pinching together, forming a furrow between. “What?”

Ambrose walked forward, closing the distance between them, stopping in front of Kit’s outstretched legs. “Do I look like I take orders from people?”

“No?”

“Then why,” Ambrose began, his voice darkening. “Would you think that I would throw my lot in with Supervillain of all people?”

Kit bent his knee and pushed himself into a straighter sitting position. He threw his hands up in a helpless gesture. “Then what the fuck were you doing on the docks that night?”

Ambrose’s features hardened. “The night I met you?”

“No, the other night on the docks.” Kit deadpanned.

“That wasn’t my fault,” Ambrose said with a shrug. “You can blame that preppy little water hero, what was her name again?”

“Tides.”

“That’s it,” Ambrose said with a click of his fingers. “Tides. The perfect foil to your electricity, Kit. Maybe I should bring her over someti—”

“If you touch her, I’ll fucking kill you.” Ambrose raised his brows, slightly taken aback. Maybe it was the vibrant crackle in his eyes or the echo in his voice, but something about him at that moment didn’t feel like Kit. It felt like something else. Something… wild.

“Promises, promises,” Ambrose said with a wave. “You can stand, Mallory. Clearly, we need to have a long overdue conversation.”

Ambrose walked back to the kitchenette, and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet preparing their coffee and tea. Kit slowly, achingly slow, got to his feet, his entire body zapped of energy. He dragged himself to his table and settled heavy into the chair, ignoring how breathless he was from such a light movement.

Ambrose joined him a few minutes later, neither of them speaking to each other. Ambrose set the coffee in front of Kit, and Kit said: “thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ambrose told him lightly. Ambrose stood again and walked towards Kit, reaching out.

Kit flinched back, throwing his hands up, red eyes pleading. “No, Ambrose no more, please.”

“Relax, Mallory. I’m just undoing the tie.” Ambrose told him. He waited until Kit relaxed, his hands lowering, a wary glint in his eyes as Ambrose started forward again. He quickly undid the knot in the tie, Kit refusing to look at him, instead focusing on the wall behind him. He could smell Ambrose’s expensive cologne from the space between them. It smelled nice, but it was deathly silent.

It was awkward, to say the least.

Ambrose finished with a flourish, gently pulling the fabric from Kit’s throat, sending shivers down his spine. Ambrose folded the tie neatly as he sat down again opposite Kit. When his black eyes flicked up to Kit’s he let out a low whistle, his eyes going to the red bruise around Kit’s throat. It would fade in an hour or two.

“What?” Kit snapped.

A ghost of a smirk flashed over Ambrose’s lips as he picked up his steaming mug. “Let’s just say you have a necktie of your own, now.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “Oh fuck right off, Rosey.” Kit took his own mug and took a sip of the steaming black coffee. His arm spasmed as the liquid met his tongue and spilled coffee all over his arm. Kit hissed, cursing as he wiped the liquid off, humming the pain away.

Ambrose’s dark eyes narrowed over his cup. “Aftershock?”

Kit shook his head. “I don’t know what this is,” he said weakly.

“Hmm.” Ambrose set his mug down on the table, clasping his hands on the table in front of him. “In any case, we need to discuss your theory on Supervillain.”

“You said you’re not working for him.”

Ambrose didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely not, but I am interested to hear your theory.”

“That night on the docks,” Kit repeated.

“I didn’t start a fight with Tides on the dock, Kit. She started a fight with me. I was simply defending myself.”

“And I’m sure you forced her to radio for help, right?”

Ambrose blinked. “No.”

Kit scoffed. “Sure you didn’t.”

“No,” Ambrose said again, straightening his spine. “I didn’t. If I did, I would tell you, Mallory. I’m an honest man.”

“She radioed Superhero and I while we were fighting a fire Villain that was threatening to burn down the residential area in seventh.”

“I never told her to do anything like that, Mallory. I wanted a quiet night. Tides somehow recognised me, and then I had my fun with her.” A shadow of a smirk passed over Ambrose’s face. “Though she wasn’t half as fun as you were.”

Kit frowned. “But that night there was— it felt like there were a series of co-ordinated attacks across the city.”

“Except I didn’t attack your water hero. How many times must I repeat myself?”

“Sorry if you’re a little hard for me to trust right now, Rosey!” Kit growled, slamming his hand on the table. The red in his veins pulsed and burned brighter. Even the blood vessels inside his mouth were emitting light, as if he had just swallowed the sun. “All you’ve done since I’ve met you is torture me, use my own powers against me, broke into my apartment—”

“Kit—” Ambrose said, but sparks flew from Kit’s body as he continued, getting angrier and angrier. Burning hotter and hotter, the light getting brighter and brighter.

“Laughed at me while you beat me, terrorised my every waking moment, kidnapped me and tied me up so you could hurt me some more, or shall I go on?!” His voice crackling at the end like static over an old radio that had lost signal.

“Kit, you need to calm down.” Ambrose said softly, eyes weary at the sparks and heat that was coming off the hero in front of him.

“Wow, look at you, Rosey. How far we’ve come. You’re scared of me for once,” Kit said, planting his hands on the table and rising to his feet. “Good.”

Kit raised his hand, pointing his index finger at Ambrose and raising his thumb, curling his hand into a finger gun. Then he lowered his thumb with a soft: “pew.”

Ambrose went hurtling back against the wall to Kit’s room, cracking the plaster on impact. Ambrose groaned as he fell to the ground, forcing his eyes to focus, but his brain was fried. Everything was coming too slowly for him to react.

Kit stepped around the table, following the telepath. Each step sent jolts of energy through his limbs but Kit couldn’t help it. He kind of liked it. This raw power coursing through him. It made him feel in control.

He ignored the voice in the back of his head telling him to stop. That this was wrong, that this wasn’t him. Oh this was Kit alright. This was all of Kit’s bottled up emotions, finally breaking free and showing Ambrose who really had the power in their relationship.

Kit stopped in front of Ambrose, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and yanking him to his feet. He shoved him against the wall, not shocking him, not yet. He just wanted to savour the look of fear in the villain’s face for once. The villain’s disheveled state, where strands of his perfect hair fell over his face, out of his control.

“Mallory, this isn’t you,” Ambrose told him.

Kit tilted his head. “Aww, is that really all you can think of in your defence, Rosey? It’s hard to think with electricity shocking your nervous system, isn’t it?”

“Kit—”

“Kit’s not home right now,” Kit cut in, chuckling darkly. The sound echoing in static across the apartment. “Or, well, he is. He’s me, I’m him. Let’s just say, his compassionate, heroic side isn’t steering the ship at the moment.”

Ambrose clenched his jaw. “Then which part am I speaking to?”

“The one that you created, Rosey.” Kit told him with a threatening purr. His smile widened as Ambrose paled. “The beaten, pathetic, powerless one that gathered every time you told us — not to use our powers. Every time Kit reached for them and couldn’t find them, guess what happened? I was born. A well of kinetic and potential energy, bubbling under the surface, safe in Kit’s subconscious.” Kit laughed and Ambrose flinched. “I liked you, Rosey. You just kept building, and building, and building me up until I spilled over. But y’know what? I like being in the driver seat. It’s fun being conscious.”

Ambrose didn’t know what to do as he stared at the monster in front of him. The monster that he created? Nobody had ever had side effects like this before, well, none that he of. Certainly not enough to make another personality emerge in the subconscious, but then again…

Ambrose set his mouth into a thin line. Kit was top of his class for a reason. Mentor chose him for a reason, and if Kit wasn’t lethal enough with just his skills his ability — electricity — was pure energy, pure force. It would take a lot for Kit to be able to control it, let alone suppress it. Ambrose vaguely recalled studying electricity in school, and all the different types of it.

No, that’s not what he should focus on.

His mind quickly poured over Kit’s words again until he found it, the important information. “Kit’s not home right now. Or well, he is. He’s me, I’m him. Let’s just say, his compassionate, heroic side isn’t steering the ship at the moment.”

Perfect. That meant all Ambrose had to do was reach in and pull the real Kit out to the forefront of his mind. Put him back in control.

Ambrose reached into Kit’s mind, quickly searching the strange cavern until he saw him. Not Kit, but a pulsing ball of blue electricity buried deep in the darkness.

“Mallory!” Ambrose called, his voice echoing in Kit’s mind. “Mallory wake—”

Ambrose screamed as he was pulled out of Kit’s head. It felt as if his body was burning under a stream of molten lava, singeing every nerve and fibre of his being. Every muscle seized and contracted, robbing every thought from his brain before eventually it stopped and he fell forward. His head fell onto Kit’s shoulder, his body riding out the aftershocks with a cry.

“Naughty, naughty Rosey. It’s rude to ask for someone else to join us when the fun’s only beginning! You get to play with Kit all the time, I never get to play with you.”

“Kit—” Ambrose said with a breath, his voice coming out weaker than he had ever heard it.

“Don’t worry. I know how much volts it takes to kill a human, and I only used a fraction of that on you, Rosey. See? We’re still friends! I would be nothing without you.” Kit grabbed Ambrose’s head and straightened him back against the wall. “So, how about we make this party really fun and use half the amount it takes to kill—“”

Kit shut up suddenly, stepping back. Ambrose slid heavy down the wall, mind racing. He had the right mind to glance up at Kit to see a resolute expression grace his lips.

“Ambrose, put me to sleep. Now! Fucking—” Kit dropped to his knees, screaming as red and blue sparks erupted around him. No, not around him. From him. Ambrose looked away, throwing his elbow up to shield his eyes. “AGGGGHHH! NOW! DON’T—”

Ambrose took a sharp breath and slammed his hand out. He reached into Kit’s mind and pulled the plug. Kit’s muscles went rigid, his arms dropping to his sides before he fell to the ground. Ambrose let out a gasp, falling forward to his hands and knees.

Ambrose sucked in a breath, his muscles trembling to keep him up. Fuck.

He pushed himself back onto his arse, eyes locked on the unconscious hero in front of him. His body still pulsed with energy, but at least he was out cold. Ambrose pressed a hand against his chest, still feeling the burn from Kit’s hand on his chest.

He glanced down, brows pinching together when he saw the char mark in the shape of a handprint on his shirt. Ambrose scoffed. “You little shit,” he said to Kit. “This shirt costs more than your apartment.”

Ambrose got to his feet with a groan. It has been a long time since somebody hurt him like that. Well, not counting all the times when Kit had surprised him. He let out a breath, that sounded eerily similar to a laugh, when he remembered Kit knocking him out and waking up tied up and gagged. Oh, those were the days.

He walked over to Kit’s coatrack by the door and rooted around in his overcoat pockets until his fingers touched the metal rings. He pulled them out and released them with a dull thunk.

He personally preferred not having to use Kit’s power dampeners. They weren’t exactly a tool that Ambrose needed. Besides, it was much more fun to force Kit to inhibit his own ability, but Ambrose had told him not to use his powers. He had done that, and somehow, the other Kit somehow managed to access his electricity to overpower Ambrose.

Ambrose walked over to the Hero, staring down at him with something unreadable crossing his expression. This was the kid that Mentor took under his wing, huh? He could see why Mentor would choose him, of all the heroes in the world, never mind the city, he’s the Hero Ambrose chose too, coincidentally.

Entirely coincidental.

It was strange.

There was something about Kit, something about him that drew people in like moths to a flame, but looking down at him now, Ambrose took in how young Mallory looked.

He was everything Ambrose wasn’t; where Ambrose was pale, Kit had a honeyed tan to his skin, and where Ambrose was dark haired, Kit’s hair was light brown. Not to mention the differences between Kit’s ridiculous haircut and Ambrose’s. Honestly, would it kill him to run a comb through his hair every once in a while?

Then again Mentor always had a soft spot for broken things, and who could ever compete with some scrappy orphan?

Ambrose sighed as he crouched in front of Kit, reaching forward to grab the boy’s wrists. A jolt of electricity passed through Ambrose’s arm and he cursed, yanking his hand back and shaking it.

“Even unconscious you’re still a pain in the ass,” Ambrose muttered, carefully reaching forward again and snapping the cuff around Kit’s wrist without touching him. The brightness in his veins dimmed and went out completely after Ambrose snapped the cuff on other his wrist.

He touched Kit’s hand again, testing the waters, and there was no shock or jolt that ran through him. Good. Ambrose got to his feet, satisfied that Kit wasn’t a live wire anymore and walked towards Kit’s bedroom. He opened the wardrobe and grabbed one of Kit’s sweaters, then paused, stretching the fabric.

God. The boy didn’t look this skinny. Ambrose had broad shoulders, something he was proud of, but at the moment he wished he was the same build as the young hero. He put the sweater back in and pulled out a larger hoodie. It was ugly but it’d do.

All of his insulators were back at his house, which meant he’d have to take Kit back too. He needed answers. He needed to understand why Mentor chose Kit, why he took him, why he raised him to follow in his footsteps.

He needed to know why Kit thought Ambrose was working with Supervillain. Too many unanswered questions for his liking, too many variables, and all of them hinged on the volatile hero in front of him. Well, Ambrose never got to where he was today without a little hard work.

At least, he noted, it was dark outside, so he could throw the unconscious hero into the backseat without too many questions.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie e @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland @mononeigbour @tippytappytyping @stefaniesblogs @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (IV)

Breaking Balls

Continued from // Masterpost

I hope this is coherent, it went under a lot of revisions, but finally it is done! And this part is dedicated to @nameless-beanie because it wouldn’t have been updated as quick without their very kind words :3

Enjoy~

*~*~*~*~*

Kit came to, slumped in a chair. His head hanging forward, almost resting on his chest. Omen was squatting in front of him, curious black eyes trained on Kit as he slowly woke up. His head heavy and groggy from sleep.

“Naughty, Kit. Very naughty. I didn’t say you could wake up yet,” Omen scolded, his voice dreamlike and faraway, as if Kit was hallucinating him.

“Where—”

“Shh, Kit. Go back to sleep.”

Kit didn’t fight the command. He was tired anyways. He closed his eyes and willingly let the darkness take him into a dreamless sleep.

When Kit woke again, he was horribly aware that this was the second time he awoke. The realisation sent every nerve in his body on fire, awareness hitting him like a truck as he forced his Omen induced sleeping body awake.

He was in the same chair as last time, a metal chair, he realised, his hands taped to the armrests at the wrist with thick black tape. Bright red rubber gloves that went halfway up his forearm were tapped in the same black tape as his wrist. Kit pulled at his restraints, testing how tight he was stuck, his heart leaping in his chest when he found a little wiggle room. Kit leaned forward in his chair, yanking at his arms, pulling them back and forward and side to side with all his strength trying to loosen the tape further.

Until light flooded the room and Kit froze in his seat, playing possum, hoping Omen hadn’t realised he was awake yet.

“You just keep surprising me, Kit,” Omen said, a smile in his voice. A hand settled on the nape of Kit’s neck and Kit flinched, moving away but the villain’s hand followed him wherever he moved. Kit couldn’t repress the shiver that ran down his spine as he stayed silent, waiting for Omen to speak again. “I’m still not finished with your new predicament, Kit, so I’m afraid you’re going to—”

“No wait!” Kit cried, panic climbing up his throat and bursting from his mouth without any thought. To his surprise, Omen paused, the pad of his thumb running up and down Kit’s throat, waiting for him to continue. Kit swallowed and said, “please, don’t put me back to sleep. Please. I won’t— I won’t fight I’ll be good I just— don’t put me back to sleep, please.”

Omen let go of Kit and walked around the chair to face him. Kit leaned back in his chair, looking up at Omen’s smiling face as he came around to stare at Kit.

“You promise you won’t fight me?” Omen asked, cocking an eyebrow at Kit. Kit licked his lips, shocked at himself for suggesting to willingly be in Omen’s presence longer than he had to, but he just knew he couldn’t go back to sleep again against his will.

It’s not like he was even getting a good rest from it. Each time Kit woke up his body was more and more sluggish, his brain overrun with fear or panic, and he just wanted to have some idea of what Omen was doing to him while he slept.

“I—” Kit began, swallowed, and looked away from Ambrose nodding. Kit was stupid to think a nod would satisfy Omen in all his sadism, and he barely suppressed the flinch when his hand reached out and took Kit’s chin, steering his head back to look at Omen. Onyx eyes studying him, something Kit didn’t recognise gleaming in their fathomless depths.

“Say it,” Omen commanded, his voice just a bit above an alluring whisper.

Kit swallowed hard, wanting to look away again but knew Omen wouldn’t allow it, so he steeled himself and said: “I won’t fight you, just please, don’t put me to sleep again.”

A triumphant smile spread across Omen’s features as he let go of Kit’s face. “Look at that. So polite, Kit, Superhero must have been teaching you something at least.”

Omen’s smile quipped into a smirk as he stepped around Kit’s chair again out of sight. Kit could hear Omen doing something behind him. With his heart hammering against his chest, Kit couldn’t help the curiosity at wanting to see what torture Omen was creating for Kit to endure.

He turned his head to look over his shoulder, but a firm hand rested on his cheek and turned him back to face forward. “Ah, ah, ah, Kit. No peeking. Can’t have you spoiling my fun now, can we?”

Kit didn’t reply, just chewed on the inside of his cheek, eyes trailing back down to the semi-loose tape that kept him restrained to the chair. It was heavy and bulky, not ordinary tape, but Kit didn’t really care about the type of things Omen was tying him up with, he only cared about getting free from it.

As quietly as possible Kit started turning his arm as much as he could, yanking it forward and back, side to side, hoping Omen was too preoccupied with what he was doing to notice Kit’s struggles.

Kit’s head was yanked back by his hair, craning his neck at an awkward angle until he was looking up at Omen. His black eyes regarded Kit coolly, as he said, “the terms of our deal were that you didn’t fight, Kit. Are you telling me you want to go back to sleep?”

“No!” Kit protested and then let out a small whine as Ambrose yanked his head back further.

“Then sit still, and don’t fight. That is the only warning I will give you. The next time you struggle, you’ll be asleep in an instant and when you wake, I’ll make sure you regret your decision.”

Kit couldn’t stop the anger bubbling up in him at his helplessness. “You’re a sick bastard,” Kit spat, and Omen’s features melted into a delighted smirk Kit had grown used to.

“Thank you, Kit. Now be a good little hero and sit still while I work.”

Omen let go of Kit’s hair then and Kit’s head bobbed back up to stare at the wall in front of him.

“Please, stop using my name,” Kit said quietly. He froze like a deer in headlights as he realised, he said that, actually said it out loud for Omen to hear. He heard Omen stop working again and he wished he didn’t say anything at all. Footsteps from the left and then Omen was in front of Kit, staring down at him with his stupid smile. “Forget it.”

Omen tsked, drawing Kit’s attention and keeping his eyes locked on Kit’s. “Is there something wrong with your name?”

“I said forget it.”

“What,” Omen pressed, ticking Kit off. “I just assumed it was your name considering it’s the name that ran through that water Hero’s mind once you showed up. Do you want to be called Christopher or something?”

Kit’s nose scrunched up at Omen. “My full name isn’t Christopher.”

“Then what? –”

“Look, I said it didn’t matter okay!” Kit fumed, unable to control the anger that bubbled up for no good reason. Well, no, a good reason, but misplaced at the time.

Omen stared down at Kit. “You’re annoyed that I know your name.”

“I’m not,” Kit said much too quickly. Omen’s smirk returned.

“Are you upset that I didn’t ask your name?”

“I’m just saying it’s a bit creepy to go around and invading people’s minds and using their name like they gave it to you.”

Omen laughed. “You’re really upset about this, aren’t you?”

Kit huffed out a breath and looked away. Omen’s stupid smirk was doing his head in, and he kind of wished he was knocked out right now so he didn’t have to witness it.

“Hey, Kit,” said Omen, and Kit made a point of not looking at him. “Kit, you have to the count of three to look at me. Thr – good. See, you can learn. You’re so obedient today.”

Kit gave the villain a blank stare. Omen smiled, not his stupid smirk, but a smile that if Kit passed him in the street he would think that he was a nice, normal guy.

“My name is Ambrose,” said Omen. Kit couldn’t help the surprise from knitting his features together. “Nice to formally meet you. Are you satisfied? We both know each other’s name now. Equal footing.”

Kit snorted and pulled his elbows up, showing his tied down arms. “Yeah so equal.”

Ambrose shrugged and walked around the chair again. He wouldn’t admit it, but it did make Kit feel a little better to know Ambrose’s name instead of calling him Omen. Now he had someone to curse and pray to every god to smite before he could torture Kit anymore.  

Restlessness crawled ugly and brutish under Kit’s skin as he stared ahead, fingers clenching into fists, the rubber of the gloves creaking against itself. Only then did it grab Kit’s attention. The fire truck red of the gloves almost comical as he stared down at them. His eyes flashed to the tape, thick and black and heavy.

Kit couldn’t feel the electric currents in his hands from the air, couldn’t feel his power anywhere the gloves were. The realisation settled like acid in his stomach.

Rubber gloves. The bastard used rubber gloves on him. Rubber’s an insulator of electricity, meaning it’s harder to pass a current through it, and Kit only ever used his hands to start a spark. Ambrose had taken his power from him without putting Kit in power dampeners just to prove that he could. To prove who had the real power, how easy it was to take Kit’s power away; put him in metal, in water, make him use his powers against himself then put him asleep and tie him up in rubber and what Kit could only assume to be electrical tape.

Tears gathered behind Kit’s eyes, but he wasn’t upset. Frustrated, yes. Angry, definitely. Not sad. More despairing and hopeless.

What had Mentor ever saw in Kit that would make him take interest in him? Make him his protégé, teach him the ropes of the Hero industry? Kit was a joke. The first villain he encountered solo was Omen, the Omen, and he was completely powerless to stop him; to protect Other Hero, to do anything.

Superhero would have beaten Omen.

Any other hero would have beaten Ambrose, but Kit couldn’t.

He didn’t even deserve the title of Hero.

Kit clicked his fingers anyway, trying to get that spark of friction but nothing happened. The air remained the same. Kit stayed in his chair, trapped and powerless.

He didn’t even notice that Ambrose walked around to his front until the villain crouched to meet Kit’s eye. Fear gripped Kit’s throat and settled at the base of his neck as he met Ambrose’s black smiling eyes. His too red lips quipped into a horribly sweet smile.

When he spoke his voice was gentle, “it’s awful, isn’t it? Knowing that your power is there, sizzling under the surface, knowing that you could still use it.”

“Yeah, I could use it, until you wrapped me up in rubber,” Kit spat, leaning forward in his chair. The side of Ambrose’s lips quirked into a smirk at Kit’s anger.

Ambrose reached his hand out, placing it on Kit’s cheek and Kit, thankfully, didn’t flinch this time. He didn’t pull away, or show that it bothered him, even though Ambrose’s hand was so cold.

“It’s just maddening,” Ambrose laughed, though laugh was a generous word. The sound that came from Ambrose’s mouth was unhinged and baffled. “I could turn your brain to mush like I did to Mentor. Leave you in a pool of your own drool, babbling about true horror and plant shadows in your brain to keep you occupied as you slowly waste away to nothing.”

Kit’s lips curled back into an ugly snarl, glaring at Ambrose as he said, “then how about you make good on your threats and get to it, Ambrose, hmm? Because I feel like sitting here listening to you is a worse fate than Mentor’s.”

Ambrose tilted his head to the side, eyes locked on Kit’s. He must have put up a convincing enough front because Ambrose huffed out a soft breath of a laugh, taking his hand off Kit’s face.

“You know Kit I can see why Mentor and Superhero liked you. When you’re not hanging by your wrists there’s a devil-may-care courage about you that borders on stupidity. I suppose you heroes would call it bravery, though, right?”

Ambrose’s eyes narrowed, his smile staying on his face, unnerving Kit but he didn’t react. “Mentor was the bravest of you all and look what I did to him.”

Kit jerked forward in his chair again, his movements limited by his arms being taped down, but he didn’t care. He was so sick of fearing this fucking Ambrose that he was throwing all caution to the wind.

“Yeah. Mentor was the bravest of us, and you know what Ambrose? As long as you’re around, there will always be brave heroes willing to fight you. All you did with Mentor was put a target on your back and every hero in the city is gunning to take you down.”

“I’m honoured, Kit,” Ambrose said, standing up straight again.

“Do what you want with me,” Kit continued, his words and voice far braver than he felt. He didn’t know where this was coming from, but he didn’t try and stop it. “Torture me, take my powers, talk me to death,” it was Kit’s turn to smile now. “Just know, that Superhero is out there looking for me too, and when he finds you—”

Ambrose let out a small laugh, the melodic sound filling the cool silence, interrupting Kit. Ambrose waved his hand at Kit. “No, no, go on. You were on a roll there.”

“What’s so funny?”

“No, no, Kit. I insist, continue. It’s good to see you brave. Good for your spirits. Keep going, sorry for the intrusion.”

Kit’s hands clenched into fists, the rubber creaking loudly around him. “What?” Kit demanded through gritted teeth, suddenly very aware that he was at a loss to what was happening on the outside world and Ambrose was in the know.

Ambrose rolled his eyes dramatically, but Kit could tell there was something brutal about the glee hidden under his expression.

“I mean…” Ambrose began, but paused for effect, then shook his head, holding his hands up. “I was going to wait until you were more properly secured, but if you insist, I can show you now.”

“Show me what?” Kit all but growled, panic seizing his chest. Ambrose walked behind Kit, and Kit turned his head to follow but Ambrose tsked and said: “eyes forward Kit or you’ll miss it.”

“Miss what?!” Kit demanded, his heart pounding against his chest. The lights switched off and he was plunged into darkness. Kit sat back in his seat, about to ask Ambrose what he was playing at when light flooded the wall in front of Kit and he stared.

Kit felt the blood drain from his face, nausea settling into his stomach and filling the gaping pool of dread and fear that had frozen Kit’s blood in his veins. He was suddenly very cold as he stared at the wall, his hands loosening his fingers from his clenched fist.

It was a picture of Kit and Superhero on the steps of the Hero tower. Superhero had an arm thrown around Kit’s shoulder as he smiled for the cameras. The small podium Superhero did press announcements on in front of them.

The Headline read: SUPERHERO’S SUCCESSOR VOWS CITY IS IN SAFE HANDS. Then a smaller title beside it reads: an insider scoop with the hottest new hero on the block.

The reviews seemed very good, so Kit should be happy that his debut to society was received well, only the article filled Kit with a heart stopping dread.

Kit didn’t debut to society yet.

Kit didn’t do an interview with the City’s Newspaper.

He didn’t hold a press conference with Superhero on the steps of the Hero tower.

That wasn’t Kit.

It was some imposter wearing Kit’s skin and living Kit’s life. Somewhere in the back of Kit’s mind something was screaming, clawing, trying to get free, to warn Kit, to tell him not to forget again.

Forget again?

Kit looked to the date in the corner of the image, and he wanted to scream.

It’s been ten days since Ambrose took Kit.

The image changed and it was another page of the paper. Only this time it was an image of Kit at the docks, wrapping a steadying arm around Other Hero and hauling them away from the docks where… where Ambrose took Kit from.

Kit was going to be sick.

It felt as if every nerve in Kit’s body was clenched, and he couldn’t release the tension from solidifying every part of his body. His breath became laboured, stuttering out incoherent, half formed questions to Ambrose.

“What?”

“How—”

“Who…”

One word is all Kit could manage on the exhale; his ribs felt like he were trying to inflate an accordion with a hole in it. As soon as he got enough air to pump through, to breathe, it was gone, ripped from his lungs by Kit’s quick panicked breaths.

He wanted to look away. He wanted so badly to look away from the wall, the article, the image of them helping Other Hero, but it felt like his eyes had been stapled open and he was forced to take in every detail.

The Headline: SUPERHERO’S PRODIGY: THE HERO FOR HEROES.

Kit’s eyes scanned his face, over and over and over – looking for a flaw, for the catch. For the thing that was wrong so he can catch Ambrose out on a lie because this was just too much.

Still that voice in his head screamed and begged Kit to remember this time.

Kit’s eyes went to the date.

It was published the day after Kit fought Ambrose on the docks, so how? Kit wanted to scream and cry and thrash in his restraints and curse Ambrose, but he just stared, trembling.

“The people love you,” said Ambrose, his smug charm lacing his tone and Kit shuddered. “You’ve made quite an impression, Kit. You should be happy! Celebrating.”

“Yeah, I’ll celebrate as soon as you let me go you fucking psychopath!”

“Hmm,” Ambrose replied, putting a hand on each of Kit’s shoulders. Kit flinched and instantly regretted it, but he didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t know what to do. “Resorting to anger when you’re scared isn’t very healthy, Kit.”

“Shut up!” Kit snarled, yanking at his wrists, and throwing his head back trying to catch Ambrose off guard.

“That’s not very nice Kit.”

“Who is that?!” Kit demanded, turning to look at Ambrose over his shoulder. Furious eyes met the smiling abyss of Ambrose’s and narrowed at the villain’s silence. “WHO IS THAT?!”

The scream that tore from Kit’s throat was desperate and raw. He was crying and he didn’t care, he just needed to know. He needed Ambrose to tell him what he already knew, somewhere, in the furthest, darkest corner of his mind.

“I think you already know,” Ambrose said, smile coy.

“Just tell me,” Kit cried, struggles weakening the longer it took for Ambrose to just answer a simple question. Kit was exhausted, and he wished he’d never stayed awake. He wished Ambrose would have put him to sleep forever and never have him wake up.

There was a reason there was no sign of the imposter in the pictures. Kit knew that as sure as he knew his own face, because… because…

“It’s you, Kit,” Ambrose said, voice soft and deadly. The knowledge went through Kit’s ears like a sweet whisper and plunged into Kit’s heart faster than snake venom.

Kit looked back at the image on the wall, his body heavy, sunken, tired on the chair. Kit stared into the image of him helping Other Hero through bleary eyes, mouth parted slightly because he couldn’t close it. He was crying silently now, the tears flowing freely down the curves of his face that was looking at them on the wall.

Ambrose came around to stand in front of Kit, blocking his view of the paper. Kit didn’t even fight it when Ambrose took his chin in his cold hand and tilted his head. He probably looked horrible, tears and snot flowing freely down his face and chin, eyes hollow and hopeless.

“Nobody is looking for you, Kit,” Ambrose told him softly in his voice that was like sweet honey. Everything he said sounded so lovely, and everything he meant was so horrific. “Superhero’s not looking for you because you’re not missing. At least, in his eyes anyways.”

The sound of the rubber creaking filled the room as Kit clenched his hands into fists because he couldn’t do anything else.

Ambrose tilted his head to the side, as if trying to measure a new angle on Kit’s suffering.

“If I took you and didn’t cover my tracks, well, then, yes. Superhero would be knocking down my door right about now, probably scorching the Earth trying to find you, but as it happens,” Ambrose’s grip tightened on Kit’s chin, his eyes lighting up at Kit’s grimace of pain. “I do cover my tracks, and I cover yours so beautifully that no one knows you’re not you. The world thinks you’re just Superhero’s new hero and why would he need to look any closer?”

“You—”

“Go on,” Ambrose cooed, releasing Kit’s chin, and instead putting his hands on Kit’s forearms, leaning his weight on Kit and relishing in how Kit squirmed in discomfort, but Ambrose didn’t care and kept leaning down until his faces were nearly touching. Kit could feel Ambrose’s warm breath on his cheek as he spoke. “Call me a name again and see where that gets you.”

“He’ll find out,” Kit tried, though the excuse sounded desperate even to Kit’s ears. “He’ll know it’s not me, Superhero—”

“Superhero, Superhero, Superhero.” Ambrose echoed, rolling his eyes before a deadly, charming smile broke across his pale face, stretching his too red lips into a beautifully gruesome smirk. Ambrose reached his hands up to cup Kit’s cheeks, fingers digging into the flesh. “How about you be selfish for once and worry about you, Kit, hmm? There’ll be plenty of time to mourn Superhero once we’re through with the heroes.”

Fear gripped Kit’s heart in its cold, unyielding grip, as if it was pierced with ice, or Ambrose’s vile freezing fingers.

“You can’t—”

“Oh, I know I can’t. But you and me, together, oh, Kit. There isn’t a thing that will stop us, and the best part is, your heroes will never see you coming,” Ambrose said, then booped Kit’s nose and stood up straight again.

“I’ve got some arrangements to make, some evil plans to pour over, and since you beg so beautifully, I am giving you your wish, Kit. I won’t put you asleep again. You can just wait here and stew on things, it was a lot of information to throw at you all at once I realise,” Ambrose said, already walking out of Kit’s sight.

“Wait! Ambrose!” Kit screamed, thrashing like a wild animal in his restraints. “Ambrose! Don’t! Ambrose—”

“It’s okay, Kit. I can be reasoned with. You don’t want to sleep so don’t sleep, relax here. We’ll have plenty of time to chat later.”

“Ambrose!” Kit screamed, his voice cracking. He heard the door open and shut and a lock click into place, but Kit didn’t stop screaming for hours. He pulled and pushed and tore and bit and gnawed and tried to get the tape off his arms so he could stop Ambrose’s heart the next time he saw him.

The tape didn’t relent.

The rubber still insulated Kit’s powers.

The tears still fell.

And eventually, mercifully, Kit fell asleep, slumped in the chair, staring at the wall with his face watching over him.

*~*~*~*~*

continued here

Tag-list (pls lmk if you wanna be added or removed) : @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whatwhumpcomments @whumpasaurus101

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Haiiiii !!! Do u have character descriptions for the characters in intoxicating fear?? Would LOVEE to draw fanart if that’s chills ^_^

Intoxicating Fear Introductions

Hello yes I do!!! It is absolutely chill to do fanart for them!! PLEASE TAG ME IN IT I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE!!!

I can actually do a little reveal now for this of my boards for Hero and Villain WHO HAVE NAMES NOW.

Hero — Kit Mallory

Hero’s name is Kit Mallory and he has not been having a great time… his description?

This kind of vibe, like a golden retriever but make it suffer. He’s tall— like 6ft, this kind of floppy light brown hair and his smile used to be so bright before Villain. He just turned 20 a month before Villain took him, and he wears oversized clothes and layers to make himself appear bigger and bulkier because he is a self-conscious little bean. Especially next to Superhero who seems to dwarf him.

Kit is look wise based off of Andrew Garfield in the Spider-Man movies. He is determined and always wants to do good and help others more than beat the shit out of bad guys, that’s why he didn’t debut for so long. However he has no trouble fighting when he is defending someone like Other Hero or trying to defeat a Villain, he holds nothing back.

Villain— Ambrose

Then of course we have Villain, my boy.

Villain’s name is Oscar Ambrose, but Hero only knows him as Ambrose.

His looks are mostly based off of young Tom Riddle in Harry Potter, but with more ✨style✨ For example in the top left is his casual outfit and the kind of thing he wears around Kit’s house. He loves his suits and his shirt and pants combo because he can intimidate people dressed like that.

I think Young Tom riddle just captures Ambrose’s charisma and malice perfectly, because he is very boy-next-door, someone your mother would approve of you bringing home but there’s just something off about him.

He, of course, adores this. That he is unapproachable and he likes to show it off with how he dresses, speaks and presents himself. He lives off of fear day-to-day but having someone to satiate it around the clock is simply Christmas for him. Ambrose is older than Kit, he’s around 25, 6ft 4, towering over Hero and broader too. He is cruel and his eyes are dark and look into your soul, his lips just a little too red. My favourite sadist.

His hair is dark and almost silky looking, closer to black than dark brown but brown nonetheless, and he has his own board for his hair because he is meticulous about it. He also has a slight stubble that has been growing ever since he brought Kit back to his own house to torture him.

I must stress this is huge for him because he is so well groomed but he is just having too much fun with Kit to shave. His hair is more like the two top pictures below, perfectly styled and curled just behind his ears, but the same kind of cold perfection of the bottom two as well as a more similar colour.

And that is it!!! I was going to just drop in the names on the next update but this ask gave me an excuse to fangirl for a bit over my boys!!! Again please tag me in whatever art you make!!!