ⁱ'ᵐ ᵃ ᶠᵘᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵘᵖᵉʳʰᵉʳᵒˑ

you  don't  need  powers  .ᐟ      you  just  need  to  be  human  .ᐟ

she can understand.   she misses when she was more like layla.  softer,  more loud in her displeasure over the brutality of the world.  she's too tired to be outraged anymore.      ❝  ⠀  i know.⠀  ❞       she leans her back against the wall, hands stuffed into her pockets as she does.      ❝  ⠀  i wouldn't ask you for help if i didn't believe i needed you.⠀  ❞    they're not going to be able to put homelander down with her, kimiko, and butcher.  they're not enough.  so she's started down her list of godolkin kids.  marie, jordan, emma.  cate's next after this.   she watches her a long moment before she continues.     ❝  ⠀  it won't be you that has to do it, layla.   if you can just help keep him still, for just a few minutes, that's enough.  i'll make sure you don't have to hurt anyone.⠀  ❞     she's become overprotective of the younger supes. she doesn't want their light to be snuffed out, and that's what vought does.  swallows everything good about you and spits you out after.       ❝  ⠀  i'm going to talk to will and warren too. if that makes you feel any better.     ❞ 

she's been caught.   it's easy to sneak around campus with white hoodie yanked over her face to save people.  evil frat boys.  thieves.  vandals.  this time it'd been a man stupid enough to sneak up on her.  there's blood on her sleeve, on her knuckles,  from punching the guy.   he's got a broken nose somewhere on campus and judging by the horror on dean's face, she should've changed before she climbed through his window.    ❝  ⠀  it's okay.  it's not mine.⠀  ❞       she could continue to keep her passtime secret.  she could lie and say the briar angel isn't her.  it'd be easy enough.  but allie knows, and hannah knows,  so why shouldn't she tell him?

❝⠀  don't.⠀  ❞     palms extend between them to stop him.  there's smoke curling up from crimson countess's trailer and god she doesn't know if she even recognizes him anymore.  the band hanging from a chain around her neck suddenly feels like it weighs a ton.    ❝  ⠀  he killed nineteen people this morning.  did - did you do this?  did you bring him here?⠀  ❞       what is she saying?  of course he did.  because when he gets angry it explodes into venom and hatred & there's collateral damages.  that's who her husband is.   she's been playing as nice as fucking vought wants her to to keep him safe and he's brought a breathing weapon of mass destruction into the city to kill homelander for it.   jaw goes tight, clenching so her bottom lip doesn't wobble.  she won't cry right now.   angry tears begin to sting along the waterline of her eyes, pinpricks.  she knew he was angry.  knew he was going to find a way to destroy homelander if it killed both of them, but risking so many innocent people for it?    the moment she took the fucking co-captain job she knew it was about to unravel him more.

he's so fucking pretty like this.   the weight of him pressing her flat against he mattress,  the rippling of shoulderblades beneath her nails,  the hitch in his breath and the stuttering of his thrusts when he gets close.  foreheads together,  her lips parted as she's cresting right on the edge of release.  bucky barnes is so goddamn pretty.  and for the first time in a year,  she can spend her time memorizing all of him.  now they don't have to slip away for stolen moments in hidden hallways or closets,  grody motel rooms that ask no questions and shitty locks.  they have all the time in the world and pinned between him and bedding is exactly where she wants to be.           ❝⠀  c'mon.  come.  ⠀  ❞      she  pleads,  voice hoarse and gravelly as she does,  nose brushing his as she grinds her hips,  gripping harder to his back as she bites down on the inside of her cheek.  when her orgasm hits, it hits hard and fast and a whimper, something close to his name, leaves her.

if  she  has  to  make  apology  baked goods  for  one  more  neighbor  she's  going  to  kill  him.   she  shoots  him  a  glare  as  she  rifles  through  the  grocery  bags.   it's  a  combination  now.   arguing  with  the  husband  next  door  yesterday.   this  morning,  instead  of  letting  her  politely  tell  the  nice  80-year-old  woman  next  door  that  no,  ryan  wasn't  her  brother,  that  she  was  with  his  ‘dad’,  he  had  to  make  it  obvious.   she's  not  opposed  to  kissing  him  but  she  hadn't  expected  him  to  appear  out  of  nowhere  to  do  it.   nor  did  she  expect  the  lady  to  turn  redder  then  the  tomatoes  in  the  bag  in  front  of  her  and  flee  like  she  was  on  fire.       ❝⠀  i  cannot  believe  you.  i  thought  she  was  going  to  have  a  heart  attack  !  ⠀  ❞      she  huffs.   hops  up  on  the  counter,  then,  grabbing  his  arm  to  tug  him  so  she's  level  with  him.     a  come-to-jesus  moment,  as  she's  begun  to  call  them  with  ryan.   they're  both  plenty  aware  she's  the  strongest  one  in  the  house  now.