Way Back Home

Darker Still

It's been yet another two months, my stomach is at full size and little Timothy wants to sit right on my fucking bladder.

"Be right back," I carefully get up out of my rolly chair, holding my belly as I do.

I waddle to the restroom for the ninth time today.

"You're killing me, bubby," I say as I rub my stomach.

I relieve myself and head back to my desk.

I stop by Milo's desk on my way.

"Figure it out yet?" I ask, leaning against the dividing wall.

"Yes actually," she grin at me, "but I'm not telling you cuz I don't want to risk it not working."

"Okay," I furrow my brows at her, "well hopefully it does."

She just nods and goes back to her work, and I waddle back to my desk.

She's been off lately, clipping answers short, and almost brushing me off. What's with her?

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????? POV
I keep reading the stupid book, watching y/n get everything I wanted; the man, the happy ending, the fucking kid.
Everything.

"Not this time bitch," I murmur to myself, "you get to hurt like I did."

I swipe away a treacherous tear quickly before I get to my feet and head to the common room of the multi-tower.

I spot one of the Steves sitting on the counter, hatchet in hand, with his y/n sitting beside him.

She was allowed to stay, only reason being that she's insane and just wants to kill anyone she can. He was allowed to stay for pretty much the same reason, and because axe murderer Steve is fucking hot.

"I finished that suit up for you."

I turn to find my favorite Tiny walking towards me with one of his data pads that has.

"Good."

He looks up at me with his red, glowing eyes and gives me a small smile that reveals his fangs.

He got to stay for obvious reasons. His y/n, however, is locked up for him to use as a blood bank until she dies.

I head for the kitchen and find one of the Bruces there as well. He flinches as I reach for some thing next to him and I can't help but smirk.

"I'm not gonna hit you, Brucey," I coo before grabbing the collar of his shirt, "but things would go a lot easier for everyone if you would just stop being a stubborn ass and help me."

"I'm not gonna help you ruin the stories and hundreds to thousands of people's lives," he says, his jaw set, "you won't win this, there are too many people against you."

"Yes, there are," I yank him closer, "but Incase you for got. I'm the one writing it this time. I choose how it ends."

"Then why not end it now and just give yourself everything you want?"

My words falter for a second and my eye twitches.

"Because the one thing I truly want, I can never have, not anymore," my voice isn't has harsh as I want it to be as I push him away, "get out of my sight."

He hurries away as I lean against the sink. I catch a glimpse of my hands and see the dark swirls that invade my pale complexion. They inch farther up my arms, growing darker still as my anger and hatred builds within me.

Gods I hate them all.
Every last one of them.

I turn away from the sink and spot one of the Lokis.

Why not?

"Come with me," I order as I walk by him, grabbing the tie of his stupid black suite.

I drag him to my room and push him towards my bed. He says nothing as I remove my top and he removes his.
He knows the drill.

Once undressed, I push him back on the bed and climb on top of him, straddling his lap and grinding against him. I feel him grow hard beneath me, and I raise myself enough to sink down on him.

A moan escapes the both of us, though his is strained like he's trying to fight it.

There's no kissing, no passion, as I use him for my release. My hands press on his chest for support as I ride mine, soft moans escaping me as his fingers dig into my thighs.

I move my hand to rub my clit as I feel myself growing near. I squeeze around him, making him moan again, as I cum.

He follows shortly after, painting for breath, and I climb off of him.

"Get out," I say as I head for my bathroom.

I hear him collect his clothes and put them on before leaving as I lean in my bathroom sink.

I look up at my reflection and as always I hate what I see.

My short, red and black hair, the dark rings under my steel blue eyes, the hollow look of my cheeks, the ghost white complexion, and worst of all, the grey-black swirls coving most of my body.
I look dead.

"Why can't I be beautiful like her?"

"You are beautiful."

I look behind me in the mirror and see him.

"Why won't you come back to me?"

"You know I can't."

A tear escapes my eye as I look at him.

"I miss you," he wraps his arms around me in the reflection and I can almost feel it, "the old you."

"She's gone," I say thickly, "she died the day you did."

"No she didn't," he rests his chin on my shoulder, "she's still in here," he places a hand over my heart, "you just gotta bring her back to the surface."

I huff a sigh as I look down again.

"I can't."

"You can," his hold disappears, "I love you."

I can feel that his presence has left and I break down in tears.

"I love you, too."

Why did he have to go?
Why did he have to be taken from me?

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😔