Imagine your ex-girlfriend Captain Marvel getting annoyed when you aren't more upset that she's married
You and Carol had a complicated history. Long story short, you met in space when you teamed up to save a planet, you got together, had a wonderful time together before Carol refused to commit and you left. Despite Carol being more powerful than use power-wise, most people said you had Carol wrapped around your little finger and it was true. Around you, she wasn't Captain Marvel but a shy infatuated girl and you loved the effect you had on her, even after you'd broken up. So when you heard Carol was in some trouble courtesy of a mutual friend, you couldn't pass up the chance to stop by and say hello.
"Oh my god it's the love of your life Y/n!" Kamala cried when you walked into the room and you could practically feel Carol holding in a scream. She always tried to have nerves of steel and acted like nothing bothered her but you could see right through that. You smiled and held your hand out to the younger girl "I like you, are you new?". "Yes! My name is Kamala Khan but I go by Ms Marvel". You nodded "oh yeah I heard about you, nice name" glancing at Carol who looked away. "Oh my god Y/n knows my name!" Kamala cried and you gave her a few seconds to fangirl, stepping away.
"Hey" you said to Carol "so Valkarye mentioned you needed me?". "I didn't tell her I needed you!" Carol said "I just...thought this could use some backup". "What could use some backup?" you asked before seeing Monica. "Hey Monica" you waved and she waved back "hey Y/n, thanks for coming. We're definitely going to need some help". You nodded "yeah that's exactly what Carol just said!" loving he way Carol's eye twitched "now just remind me what's going on here again?". "It's probably easier to show you" Monica said and she raised her fist, it lit up and then Kamala was in front of you. You blinked and looked to where Monica was now standing a few feet away "oh yeah, you definitely did the right thing calling me".
After a bit of brainstorming, you worked out how this all started, how Dar-Benn was channelling her power and more importantly what she wanted. "Where would she go to get water?" Kamala asked. "Hmm maybe Borni?" you asked but Carol shook her head "Borni is bigger but Aladna technically has more water on the surface". You thought before nodding "yeah you're right but that's a technicality. Most people assume it's Borni because it's better known, I think she'd go there". "No it's definitely Aladna" Carol said and she gave you that "just go with it, I'm right" look so you shrugged "fine, if you think it's Aladna then let's go". Carol nodded at you and then promptly rushed away which made Monica laugh. "How exactly did you leave things to make her so jumpy around you?". You smiled "let's just say, I was open about how I felt for her and wanted something she couldn't commit to. So I told her to call me when she was ready. Guess she's still working out if she's ready".
Once the ship was set with Aladna's coordinates you went to get changed into your battle gear and Carol knocked on the door. You smirked as she quickly stepped inside "are you really trying to catch me undressed Danvers?". "No of course not!" she cried and you chuckled "well that's a first" before turning back to her "so what's up?". "Nothing I just, I wanted to call you" Carol said "to ask for help. I just didn't want to...complicate things between us. I haven't seen you in nearly a year and it felt unfair to call you to help me after how things ended". You shook your head "Carol I will always be here to help you. You never have to hesitate to ask that of me no matter how things ever are between us. Your safety will always be my priority". Carol stared at you for a few seconds before shaking herself out of her thought. "Thank you" she said, coughing as her voice cracked "that is certainly good to know". You smiled "don't act like you wouldn't do the exact same for me, I know if I called you, you'd come running" and with a wink you stepped away leaving Carol stuttering after you.
There was no point arguing though, she knew you were right.
You spent the next few hours catching up with Monica and learning all about Kamala, who you'd decided you were adopting (she was very happy with this). Carol flitted in and out, and you managed to get her to join in with the festivities for a bit. You got her to smile as you told a story of how you first met and she looked like she actually relaxed for a second...until she saw Kamala was crying and she remembered she was Captain Marvel not just Carol Danvers.
Finally you arrived at Aladna and you all prepared to meet the royalty of this planet. "Y/n have you been here before?" Kamala asked and you shook your head "surprisingly not, there's a lot of planets in lots of galaxies and honest water isn't really my thing". Kamala nodded, understanding your reasons but you noticed Carol was acting more jittery than usual. She was playing with her hands a lot which was her tell for nerves and you were going to ask what was wrong when she looked at you. "Okay just don't freak out" she said and you were surprised to find she was directing this completely at you.
"Me?" you asked "what would I freak out about?". Carol winced and tried to explain before she just made a noise and stepped out the door. You laughed, shooting a "what's with her?" look to Monica and Kamala and then followed.
Aladna was a weird planet but you got into it. You could cope with the singing and found it hilarious to see Carol in the middle of it. She looked so cute in her jellyfish hat especially because she looked so out of place but was doing her best to be professional. It finally made sense when someone called her princess. You all quickly worked out Carol had married into royalty and she looked at you as the crowd swept her up in their choreography. Even as she was twirled around her eyes were fixed on you but you didn't look back at her. You just enjoyed the music and copied Kamala's lead.
When the prince appeared and made a bee-line for Carol, you worked out this was the husband. You didn't love their dance but did love Kamala and Monica's response to it and leaned into their humour to hide your discomfort. Finally Carol let go of that man and returned to you, eyes downcast.
"Nice dress Aurora" you commented and Carol looked up at you. She saw your smile and quickly waved her hands, turning her clothes back to normal. "Or is it Ela?" you asked "she's the one with magical dress-making skills right?". "Oh my god I can't believe you've watched Frozen!" Kamala cried and you grinned "I had to see what all the fuss was about plus pretty much everyone in the universe has heard that song... wait that gives me an idea. Have you guys seen Frozen?" you yelled to the crowd and 40 seconds later Carol watched as you sang Let It Go without a care in the world.
This was not how Carol expected this trip to go. She expected a lot of glares, passive aggression and maybe a few punches. She thought you'd be mad at her or upset. She thought you'd care she had gotten married but apparently not.
"Who is your friend?" Prince Yan asked watching where you were now on a table singing to the people who really seemed to like you, "That's Y/n she's my...ex...well not really..we're...". "Partners" Kamala chimed in trying to help and Carol winced but nodded "yeah something like that, she's helping us too".
"Will she need armour too?" Prince Yan asked. "No need" you said making Carol jump as you appeared behind her "I'm good". You stared at him, a casual cool look on your face and Carol's heart sped up to see the two of you standing metres apart. "Okay then" Prince Yen nodded giving you a smile which you didn't return. "Please...follow me" he said stumbling over his words a little as he turned away from you in a hurry. Carol could've sworn she heard you chuckle but when she turned around your expression was still the same didn't give a shit carefree smirk she'd seen since you got here.
All suited up, you prepared for Dar-Benn...and then got your asses handed to you royally, which honestly you blamed Carol for. She was off the whole fight, wasn't connecting well with Kamala or Monica and almost got herself killed with her stubborn determination to save the city. She got into such a state you had to pull her from the pilot seat and land it yourself. "What was all of that about?" you asked her but she shot away from you "no, I don't want to talk to you" she said and shoulder barged you as she rushed outside.
Of course, you couldn't take something like that so followed her.
"You don't want to talk to me?" you called after her "why what have I done?". "Nothing that's the problem!" she yelled and you blinked "what was I meant to do Carol?". I just thought you'd care that's all!" Carol said calmer but still heated "what have you forgotten all about me or something? You've barely focused on me since you got here and I can't deal with this right now. I'm meant to be responsible, I've got to keep Kamal alive and I'm trying to repair my relationship with Monica...all while trying to save multiple planets but all I can think about is does Y/n still care about me?".
"Do I still care about you? Are you kidding?" you asked "the ball is in your court, how are you the one insecure right now?". "Because it's you!" Carol said "you never get flustered around me, not in the way I get flustered around you and you were the one who walked away from me! I never asked you to leave, you were the one strong enough to leave me and I...I couldn't have done that" she admitted "I wanted to contact you, to tell you to come back so many times but I was terrified you'd say no. I could handle a lot of people rejecting me but not you Y/n and then you appear here, with this speech about you'll always help me but then you didn't give a crap when you found out I was married! You don't care?". "So you wanted me to care about that? To create a fuss?" you asked and Carol shook her head "no of course not...well maybe. I didn't want you to punch Yan or anything but a little jealousy would've been nice. It would've shown you still wanted me".
You shook your head taking a step back from her and as you muttered "that is the stupidest thing I ever heard" Carol felt her heart sink until you finished.
"How could anyone not want you?" you asked.
Carol blinked "what?". "Carol, to me, you are the bravest, strongest most fierce girl in the world and I cannot imagine a universe where that isn't true. So yes, of course I still want you!" you said hugging her and Carol melted into you, shedding the tears she'd been holding in for days.
When you separated and calmed her down you took her hand "so want me to tell you everything I've been holding back the past 24 hours?". Carol nodded "yes" and you smiled "I think I never should've left you, it was unfair for me to leave you alone to deal with everything plus I knew you wouldn't take care of yourself if you had nobody here to witness your lack of self-care and I'm okay with your marriage". "You are?" she asked surprised and you nodded "yeah mainly because I know I could kick Prince Yan's scrawny ass in under a minute and I'd love to show you that sometime". Carol blushed slightly "please don't" and you shrugged "fine but the second you want me to, it's done. Plus I could tell you weren't attracted to him in the slightest so I had nothing to be worried about. I know you're type and he's not me". Carol smirked "you're sounding pretty confident there Y/n, you know a girl can have more than one type right?". "Yeah but not you" you replied and then you finally did what Carol had been wanting you to do for days.
You kissed her.
"You okay?" Kamala called when Carol reappeared on the ship "did you and Y/n sort things out?". Just the mention of you made Carol's heart speed up but she managed to keep a neutral expression. "Yeah everything's fine, let's get going" and she rushed out the front door.
She knew you weren't done with her and the second this all ended you'd get your moment together...and Captain Marvel could not wait.
So guess who saw The Marvels and had to rush home to write about how amazing Captain Marvel is?
The whole film was stunning but I especially loved how human it made Carol and how she realised she needed the love and support of other women in her life.
Her being more mortal and soft made me think of how cute it would be for her to have a super powerful girlfriend she's a bashful teenager around and this was born!
Pairing: Carol Danvers x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1080ish
Soundtrack: Cherry Wine grantperez, Bog down in the Valley-O
NSFW mentions and insinuated smut
You slip your phone into your clutch, ignoring how it relentlessly buzzed with notifications. Carol stood beside you leaning against the elevator wall, a dazzling smile on her face. This was an impulsive decision, possibly a bad decision. Nonetheless, it was a decision you couldn’t bring yourself to regret as she leaned against the wall of the elevator oh so casually, hands in pockets, looking at you like you were the most gorgeous woman she had ever seen. You felt a mischievous smirk crawl across your face as you mused where this night might take you.
“So, where to Captain?” You lean against the wall opposing her. Her shoulders relax as she thinks for a second, eyeing the now empty champagne glass still in your hand, hoping you didn’t see her falter as Captain came out of your mouth. How delicious.
“Thirsty?” She questions standing and moving closer to you. Her arm gently slides over your hip. It’s your turn to falter and you wonder if she can see how you drown in desire. Warmth crawls across your cheeks, and you still feel buzzed.
"Yes, drown me."
You think for a moment, that the thought had remained just that, a thought. That is, till you hear stunned laughter, and before you can do or say anything else, you're over her shoulder. You can feel where your dress hugs your curves protesting at the sudden stretch against the material. Laughter rolls off you as you ask where she's taking you, what on earth does she think she's doing, so indecently carrying around Tony Starks niece, and oh, how your PR Team is going to have a field day if anyone catches this.
The more you say, the more you laugh. The more you laugh, the more Carol wants you. All of you, not just your body but your soul. How you could be her everything, she thinks to herself.
Before you know she's gently put you down, your back against a wall, her hands on your hips. Her lips whisper beside your ear, promises, sweet, sweet promises.
"Keep accusing me of indecency and I'll have to paint you, turn you into a true depiction of indecency."
Stunned, you feel light as a feather when she, without skipping a beat, leads you into the fluorescent light of a liquor store. Your head feels empty and your cheeks flushed as she grabs a cherry wine and pays for it. Almost as soon as you were inside the building you're out again and walking. Carol leads you first to a lush park, her hand warming yours. Thinking of it makes you shiver, did you truly only meet an hour ago.
As you go to take a seat beside her you feel her hands on your hips, guiding you to sit on her lap. Her arm is wrapped around your waist as she opens the wine, offering you the first swig. You happily oblige before throwing your arms around her.
For a while, you go back and forth. Trading stories and histories, funny and serious, the wine bottle empties as you find yourself recounting one of your favourite competitions with your uncle.
"It's an Irish drinking song and as they sing, it gets faster and faster and a line is added every verse. So what we do is, trade verses and sing the chorus together. If we fuck up the verse we have to take a shot but if we sing it perfectly the other person has to take two."
"What's the song called?" You think curiosity looks damn gorgeous on her. How the gods have blessed you this night.
"The Rattlin' Bog," You begin to sing it and find yourself misremembering lines quickly. With the bottle still in your grasp you jump up and pull her up with you, starting to sing and dance.
"Ho, ro, the rattlin' bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.
Real Bog, the rattlin' bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.
on that tree there was a branch,
A rare branch and a rattlin' branch,
And the branch on the tree,
And the tree in the hole,
And the hole in the bog,
And the bog down in the valley-o."
Laughing and giggling, you find yourself singing faster and faster, dancing faster and faster. With fingers intertwined, feet moving, breeze running through your hair, and such gorgeous eyes staring at you, you've never felt more alive.
"Where are you taking me," She laughs as you begin to jog, her hand in yours, towards an Irish pub you know is nearby and as if they knew you had entered the building they begin to play the song. Oh how you danced. Maybe not the most romantic, her hand wasn't in yours nor were they on your hips or hovering above the small of your back. Not a part of you was touching her, but her smile settled in your soul.
After dancing till the bar closed, Carol found herself being led again in a direction she didn't know to a destination she was unsure of but in your eyes, she could see, underneath that beautiful joy and elation, underneath the endorphins was that gnawing desire.
Drown me
Your sweet voice repeated in her mind as she pictured you undressing before her.
Drown me
She heard as she imagined how you would feel underneath her caress.
Drown me
She heard as she wondered how you would move beneath her tongue.
She was pulled from her musing as you led her into the apartment you were staying in. Carol left behind her wonderings as you pulled her into you. One hand on her waist, one hand on her cheek, you pressed your soft lips against hers. You felt her hands on top of your ass, grabbing as much as she could, pulling you further into her.
As you kissed, your tongues danced, her hands kneading your ass cheeks as if you were dough, soft and tender.
That night she did indeed drown you in every pleasure you could have ever known and fulfilled every desire that had been hidden from you before.
You woke up in your bed wrapped in a sheet with Carol spooning you from behind. Her arms around you though one hand gently holding your breast. The sun filtered in the through your open blinds and without a thought of the day to come you simply closed your eyes and revelled in the touch of the woman behind you.
Carol Danvers/Yon-Rogg | 145K Words | Rated M | Abuse TW
After being suddenly kicked out of her home by abusive parents, Carol’s senior year at Hala High is off to a rough start. But her teacher and track coach, the ever-charming Yon Rogg, takes her under his wing, allowing her to move in with him in secret. For the first time in her life, Carol believes she has found a safe space with a trusted mentor who cares about her well-being. She has no way of knowing that Mr. Rogg will become one more name on the list of adults who have failed her.
For his part, Yon Rogg feels a moral obligation to keep Carol safe, all the while wrestling with his growing attraction to her. He would never even consider romantically pursuing a student… but Carol is different in so many ways. Feeling tormented by his desires and her reciprocation, Yon eventually gives in, starting down a selfish and disastrous path—one that will leave an innocent girl scarred in its wake.
[Read on AO3]
DISCLAIMER: This fic handles heavy topics of abuse. Links to resources for anyone struggling with domestic violence and/or sexual abuse are provided at the beginning of every chapter. Also, please be aware that Yon-Rogg is the abuser, so please do not read if that will be upsetting to you.
Request: Carol danvers x female reader where carol who has the biggest crush on her friend the reader, gives her hand combat lessons. Then of course flustering and blushing on both ends ensues, due to their very close proximity and physical touch. Please let the reader make the first move when carol is just too close and after they’ve been holding eye contact forever. Thank you, and please make it extra fluffy and romantic. (I loved faking it btw!)
Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader
A/N: Hey there! It’s been far too long since I’ve posted anything! I’ve missed it so much, but also needed the break from it, so I thank everyone for being so patient with me while I took my time getting back into writing. At the best of times, I’m never 100% happy with anything I write, so having this be my first fic in months has me really nervous. I apologise if I’m a little rusty! Any feedback is very much appreciated, and as always, I hope you enjoy it!
Please do not repost my writing anywhere without my permission.
Carol paces the length of the training room floor, her nerves absolutely buzzing. She showed up early in the hopes of reigning in this feeling that she’s had since she offered to help you train the previous day, but to her dismay, luck is apparently not on her side.
It’s a feeling that she’s familiar with, though she is far from fond of it. She’s Captain Marvel. She can’t be nervous, it just doesn’t fit her persona.
Still, she lets her mind wander to the reason why she’s been so uncharacteristically nervous so often for the past few months. You.
The previous evening when you had returned from your mission nursing a bloodied nose and a busted lip, you had walked up to Carol feeling pretty sorry for yourself. She had looked at you with concern, wincing at the damage to your face.
“Son of a bitch got a couple lucky punches in,” you pouted.
Carol chuckled lightly, knowing fully well that you would recover from your injuries in no time, but still studying you carefully anyway.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’ve been relying too much on my powers,” you offered as an explanation, gingerly touching the wound to your lip to check that it hadn’t started bleeding again. “I’ve obviously been slacking with my combat training.”
Carol’s eyes snap up from where they had been watching your fingers touch your lip to meet your eyes. “I could run you through some training sessions,” she says. “I mean, if you want.”
“Really? You’d do that?” You asked, a new sense of energy running through you despite the exhaustion that weighed down heavily on your entire body from your mission.
“Of course I would,” she said, something about her tone making you nervous.
“That would be awesome, Carol! But please just prepare yourself. I’m pretty rusty.” You tried to pull your lips into an apologetic smile, though it quickly turned into a wince at the pain the movement caused to your busted lip.
“Yeah, something about your face right now tells me you might be more than a little rusty,” Carol joked, letting out a laugh at your glare and easily dodging your arm when you threw it her way. “Looks like we’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“Ha ha,” you deadpanned, unable to stop a smile from gracing your lips, however slight it may have been.
Carol is suddenly snapped out of her daydream at the sound of the gym door swinging open. Her eyes fly to the door, hoping to see you walk through the open doorway. When she instead sees Nat and Clint enter the room, chatting away as usual, she visibly deflates.
“Damn, don’t be too disappointed to see us, Danvers.”
“No, sorry,” Carol quickly says. “I’m not.”
“Sure,” Nat says, eyeing her. “You waiting for someone in particular?”
She can tell from the look on Natasha’s face that she knows exactly who Carol’s waiting for.
“I’m training with Y/N today,” she says, trying to pass it off as nothing, but she catches Nat’s growing smirk. “Shut up,” she mutters, her face heating up.
Nat laughs loudly at Carol’s embarrassment, shouting out a “Have fun!” as her and Clint walk off to the other side of the gym to set up for their own training.
Carol watches them walk away, embarrassment now mixing with her nerves. She heads over to one of the punching bags to hopefully release some of her completely unwelcome nerves before you arrive. It actually works for a while and she quickly falls into a rhythm, circling the punching bag and delivering blow after blow, completely oblivious to everything around her.
“I see you got started without me.”
Your voice from behind her makes Carol jump. She turns around in a flash to face you, heaving out a few heavy breaths. You make an attempt to stifle a laugh, though your laughter completes fades anyway when your eyes take it upon themselves to rake over Carol’s body.
She’s wearing a crop top and a pair of tight leggings, not unusual gym attire for her but you don’t usually get to see it up close like this. Her defined abs are on full display, glimmering with sweat and it takes you several seconds too long to drag your eyes from her body to her face.
Carol doesn’t seem to notice your staring, her own eyes taking in your appearance too, before you both meet each other’s gaze.
“Nope, just warming up,” Carol finally says, and it takes you a second to realise she’s replying to you, having almost forgotten you had even said anything to begin with. “I’m ready when you are.”
She leads you over to an empty sparring mat, picking up her towel on the way and wiping the sweat from her face. You watch her with rapt attention.
God, she’s magnificent.
In between this and watching her pick up her water bottle to squirt some water into her mouth, you realise that maybe taking her up on her offer to train with you wasn’t exactly the smartest idea. Sure, you were always looking for any excuse to spend more time with Carol, but this could actually be the death of you. Of course, that thought quickly leaves your mind a moment later when she smiles at you and beckons you over to her.
You unceremoniously dump your gym bag on the floor next to Carol’s and grin at her, stepping in front of her on the padded floor of the sparring area.
“Let’s just ease into this, okay?” Carol says, rolling her shoulders back and shaking her arms to loosen up a little more.
“Okay,” you say absentmindedly, distracted by the view in front of you. Carol looks at you expectantly for a moment before reaching for your hands and lifting them in front of you in a defensive pose.
“Arms up.”
“Right.” You shake your head to bring yourself back to reality and focus on Carol’s stance. You attempt to copy it, your body moving stiffly, and earn yourself a laugh from Carol.
“God, no wonder you got punched so easily.”
“Hey!” You retort, taking a friendly swipe at Carol which she is quick to redirect, catching you completely off guard and throwing you off balance.
“Oh, you’re in for it now, Danvers!” You exclaim, regaining your balance and going for a straight punch at her.
She easily turns her body out of the way and you lurch forward again. Within a second, she’s moved herself behind you, throwing her arm around you to capture you in a light headlock.
“You sure about that?” She teases.
She’s clearly enjoying herself far too much, smug as ever, and she refuses to budge even as you try to shimmy your way out of her hold. Her smirk is only knocked off her face when your hands land on her arm and she suddenly seems to realise the position she’s put you both in. She glances at your face, mere inches from her own, before she quickly releases you and steps back to let you ready yourself again.
She has distinctively flushed cheeks, which normally you would assume was a side effect of working out. Except for the fact that she’s Captain Marvel, and so she doesn’t generally deal with the common side effects people normally deal with from working out.
You brush it off though, figuring that your cheeks are probably just as flushed as hers.
Carol clears her throat and joins you again, her hands raised in fists.
“Let’s do some defensive work,” she says, getting back on track. “I’m gonna throw some punches at you and I just want you to avoid them, okay?”
“That’s all there is to it? Jeez, I wish I knew that earlier,” you sigh sarcastically. “Could have avoided getting a split lip yesterday.”
Luckily, said split lip had almost completely healed since the mission yesterday. Like Carol, you can also regenerate and heal yourself, although at a slower pace than her.
Carol chuckles. “That’s really as simple as it gets, Y/N. You only need to avoid a punch enough that you can put yourself back into a dominant position.”
You come close to blurting out a joke about Carol wanting you in a dominant position, but think better of it and keep your words to yourself. You’re both already flustered enough without any additional sexual jokes.
“Arms up,” she reminds you and waits until you’re in position before she continues. “I’ll go slow for now, okay?” She says and when you nod she throws a slow punch your way, in line with your chest. You dodge her fist, moving to the left, but struggle to straighten up in time to dodge her next punch from the right and she stops before she makes contact with you.
“Remember to rotate your body. You want to use as little effort as possible avoiding an attack.”
She demonstrates for you a few times, reenacting the movement she wants you to do. You nod, trying not to let your eyes wander yet again as you watch her and try to mirror her movements. When she seems satisfied enough she goes back to throwing slow punches at you, and you successfully manage to dodge them all.
“Good,” she nods, her eyes intensely observing you. “You can try using your hands to redirect my punches, too.” You do as she says, though your actions are more of a swat at her punching hand than anything.
She laughs at your exaggerated movements. “Wow, you really haven’t done this in a while, have you?”
“Rude,” you mumble, letting your arms fall to your sides when Carol stops punching. She takes a step towards you and you almost instinctively step back, but force yourself to stay in place. You do, however, flinch ever so slightly when Carol reaches for your arms and lifts them back up in front of you.
You hope she can’t feel the nervous energy practically radiating off of you.
“Arms up,” she says once more, smirking when you roll your eyes at her.
“Say that one more time. I dare you.”
“Oh yeah?” She says, a playful eyebrow raising. “And what’ll happen if I do? It’s not like you can fight back.”
“Hey!” You exclaim, and she attempts to bite back a laugh when you glare at her. “This is just getting downright insulting now.”
“Okay, I’m sorry.” She chuckles once more before composing herself and regarding you with warm eyes. “I’ll stop. Look, it’s a lot less complicated than you probably think it is. Your hands make the contact.” She touches your hands with her own. “But your shoulders are actually doing the motion for you.” Her hands move to your shoulders.
She leaves them there for a good few seconds, seemingly forgetting what she’s doing before she locks eyes with you and blinks. She clears her throat and quickly steps back. You try not to physically react to the disappointment you feel at the loss of her touch.
She demonstrates what she means for you again, but if you’re being honest your eyes are concentrating more on her blushing cheeks, an even deeper shade of red than they were before. You can’t remember ever seeing her this flustered, and the thought of her acting this way because of you kind of has you beaming on the inside.
Sure, you can admit to yourself that you have had a crush on Carol for just about as long as you can remember, but you could never have predicted that those feelings would be reciprocated, as much as you had hoped.
There were certain moments with Carol where you had wondered if she did have those same feelings for you, but you’d replay those moments over and over in your mind until you’d convince yourself you’d just imagined things.
Now, though, you’re not so sure you had imagined it at all.
You somehow manage to pay attention for long enough that you can grasp what Carol is trying to show you and you get through a few minutes of Carol throwing punches and you deflecting them with your palms, your body mimicking Carol’s earlier movements.
“Great work, Y/N!” Carol says after a while, sounding pleasantly surprised. You’re just as surprised as she is, but only because you’d actually managed to not mess up while your mind had been elsewhere. Instead of admitting that, though, you simply shrug.
“Well, I suppose I should give some of that credit to my instructor too,” you say. “Seems like I’m in good hands.” She smirks in return, drawing closer to you once more. She exudes the confidence you’re familiar with, apparently overcoming the nerves she was battling with only minutes ago.
“Well, what did you expect when you came to the Captain Marvel for help?” She drawls, a cocky tone to her voice, and you roll your eyes to mask the sudden thrill you feel throughout your body at her rich voice.
“You’re name dropping yourself, now?” You raise an eyebrow but her smirk stays in place. “And I’m sorry, but if I’m not mistaken it was actually you who came and offered me that help.”
“Wow, you’re right,” she plays along, a playful glint in her eyes now. “A great teacher and a generous person. Man, I’m really something, huh?”
“So humble, too!” You enthuse sarcastically, though you can’t help but laugh. “Don’t get too cocky, Danvers. So far you’ve only taught me how to avoid punches in slow motion. If I got into another fight right now I think I’d end up in the exact same condition as I was last night.”
“Patience, Grasshopper,” Carol jokes, closing the distance between the two of you even further and touching your arm with her hand, keeping it there. You fight the urge to look at her hand, instead holding eye contact with Carol. “There’s still a lot for you to learn.”
“Like what?” You ask, fixated on Carol. The two of you barely have a foot between you but you still want to be closer to her.
“Like how to catch your opponent off guard.” You raise an eyebrow, a silent prompt for Carol to elaborate, and she chuckles before she continues. “You know. The element of surprise.”
“The element of surprise?”
“Mhm,” Carol nods. “It’s great knowing how to evade an attack, but it’s even better learning to recognise when there’s a potential opening for you to turn the tables and get the upper hand.”
“Right.” You nod along, playing her words over in your mind. Carol’s hand shifts slightly on your arm and this time you do lower your gaze to it for a moment. When you look back up, Carol seems completely entranced and you force yourself not to shift under her intense gaze.
Instead, you let Carol’s now apparent interest in you fuel your growing confidence. How you had never noticed it before, you don’t know. It seems like the most obvious thing to you right now.
Carol must at some point realise that she’s lost herself staring at you again because she eventually drops her hand and takes a step back.
“Let’s go again, this time a little faster,” Carol says and you stand in your defensive pose, waiting for Carol to take the lead. She’s clearly just as distracted as you, her eyes glued to you a moment longer before she stands in her own sparring pose. “Ready?”
Her words replay in your head again. The element of surprise. Your sudden wave of confidence quickly formulates its own plan, and as if to cement that plan in place, you see Carol’s eyes dart to your lips while she waits for your reply, spurring you on even more.
Before you put too much thought into it, you’re surging forward, your lips crashing into Carol’s in a rushed kiss.
She gasps against your lips in surprise and you feel her stumble backwards a little before she becomes more stable again. The kiss is only quick and you break away from Carol, leaving barely an inch between your lips. When you feel her lean towards you, you step back again, a smirk on your face.
“Now I’m ready.” You return back to your defensive pose. She looks dazed, her mouth hanging open as if she was trying to figure out if she’d just entirely imagined what had just happened. You raise an eyebrow at her, surveying her stance.
“Arms up,” you say, your smirk only growing with the absolute satisfaction you feel by throwing her own words back at her. She lets out a short laugh, unable to hold back a wide smile as she shakes her head at you in amusement.
“You’re unbelievable,” she says, not giving you a chance to respond before it’s her turn to press forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that leaves you gasping for breath. A moment later, she does put her arms up, throwing them over your shoulders to pull your body even closer while you slide your own hands around her waist, completely losing your mind at the feel of her bare skin under your palms.
The two of you are so lost in your own world that Natasha’s hollering from across the gym is just barely enough to pull you apart long enough for Carol to shout a few choice words back at her, offering her the middle finger as she grabs your hand with her free hand and pulls you towards the gym doors.
“I think that’s enough training for today. What do you say?”
You’ve never agreed with something so quickly before.
5 Times Monica and Her Mom Have Difficult Conversations About Auntie Carol (+1 Time She Plans A Parent Trap With Her Skrull Friend)
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ao3
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1
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When Monica is five years old, her mom and Auntie Carol don’t come home in time for dinner.
This is unusual, they’re always home in time for dinner. But that day they aren’t.
She’d known something was weird before that, when the phone rang while she was playing Planes and Pilots with her bears Bessie and Jerrie, and Grandma almost dropped the phone and then pulled the cord until she could talk from the other side of the door. But it wasn’t anything that was important.
She’d thought so at first anyway.
But when Monica starts asking for cookies Grandma actually gives them to her instead of making her wait until she’s eaten her lunch. And then she doesn’t start getting ready for her mom and auntie to come home. And then Grandpa comes over to watch her too, and that only ever happens when Mom and Auntie Carol have to work on Sundays.
By then something has started clawing inside Monica, it feels like there’s a cat trapped in her stomach and trying to scratch everything in its sight. Grandma and Grandpa are so quiet.
She spends almost the whole evening just trying to draw but none of the colors look right and even though she’s big now, there’s frustrated tears at the edges of her eyes that she’s holding back by sheer stubbornness.
By the time the front doors finally open, Monica’s eyelids are beginning to grow heavy and her head is tucked into Grandma’s lap. She shoots up straight and is off the couch like a rocket before those doors get a chance to close.
“Mom!” Monica exclaims as she rushes into the hallway but stops short at the sight of her mom.
There’s tear tracks on her mom’s cheeks and she’s clutching at the wall like she’ll fall if she lets go. And she’s all alone.
“Mom?” She asks, suddenly so scared she doesn’t know what to do.
“Hey, honey.” Mom says, voice hoarse, and drops to her knees in front of Monica. She smiles at her, but it’s small and weak and only makes Monica more scared. “Let me talk to Grandma and Grandpa for a minute, and then- then I have to tell you something. Okay?”
“Where’s Auntie Carol?” Monica says in response, the claws inside her stomach getting sharper.
“Just a minute. Okay?” Her mom says again and leads her up to Monica’s room, sitting her down on her bed. She kisses her forehead and whispers into her hair before she leaves. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” She says back because that’s what she and Auntie Carol always do, and because it’s true.
Then she grabs Amelia from her pillow and clenches the bear against her chest. Waiting for Mom to come back. It feels like forever before she finally does.
And then her mom sits in her bed and pulls Monica and Amelia into her arms.
She knows this means it's going to be a 'serious conversation' - just like the time when Mom told her about how she couldn't tell her friends that Auntie Carol lived in the same room as Mom because some grownups could be really mean about it, even though there was nothing wrong with that. Monica knew that anyway though, the moms and dads of her friends had the same rooms too, and though Monica didn't have a dad she had Auntie Carol, which was the same thing.
"There was an accident." Her mom says, her hands running slowly and soothingly over Monica’s braided hair.
"What kind of accident?" Monica asks, pulling Amelia so close to her chest that her nose dug into her shoulder.
"Auntie Carol's plane crashed and we can't find her." Mom says and starts rocking her in her lap. Monica’s lower lip trembles and she smushes her face into Amelia’s fur to hide it.
"But... you will, right?" She says, voice tiny and quivering, and she doesn’t feel very big at all anymore.
"I don't know, baby," Mom says and squeezes her tighter "I hope so."
Monica looks up to her mom and bursts into tears as soon as she has, her mom is already crying, eyes staring forward out the window and into nothing. She looks just as scared as Monica feels, and something about that is so very wrong Monica has no words for it. Just the inherent certainty that Mom isn’t supposed to be scared.
She falls asleep in her mom's arms that night, doesn’t remember if she ever stopped crying, just remembers feeling her Auntie Carol's absence like a cold river-stone in her chest and somehow knowing there's a stone just like it in her mom's chest too.
----
2
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Monica is eight years old and Auntie Carol has been missing for three years. There was a funeral not that long after the day of the accident but her mom doesn’t really believe that Auntie Carol is dead, Monica can tell because she doesn’t believe either.
She's heard her mom and grandmother fighting about it sometimes, because Grandma can tell too and she does believe that Auntie Carol's really gone. Monica doesn't like it when they fight about it, she's afraid that one day Grandma will win and her mom will start believing it too.
She doesn’t know what wakes her up that night. But when she opens her eyes, the windows are dark. After blinking the sleep from her eyes though Monica grows thirsty and carefully gets up from her bed, pushing her feet into her fluffy panda slippers.
Halfway down the steps though she hears her mom’s voice. She sounds upset so Monica stops to listen.
"Where the hell are you Carol?" Mom says and Monica’s heart starts running in her chest. She slowly takes the last few steps down, avoiding the creaky one by grabbing hold of the railing and very carefully skipping it.
She sneaks a look into the living room and her heart falls with a painful swoop at finding her mom alone.
"I heard your voice. I know I did. I didn't imagine it no matter how much those badge wearing bastards try to tell me otherwise. You were fine after the crash, so where did you go." Mom’s pacing back and forth through the room, eyes toward the ceiling, like that’s where Auntie Carol’s hiding in.
"My mother's been trying to get me to let you go. Yes, I know what you'd say: 'She never liked me, Maria.' And you're wrong, she liked you fine... eventually."
Grandma didn’t like Auntie Carol?
"Maybe... maybe she's right. Maybe I should stop waiting for you to show up like some kind of gift from heaven." She says, sounding frustrated now.
Monica has to bite her lip to stop herself from yelling that Mom couldn’t do that.
"Wherever it is you are, it's not here. And it doesn't look like you're in any particular hurry to come back." Her mom says, and she sounds mad now, but also sad, like she did when Monica spilled ketchup on Auntie Carol’s favorite jacket after she took it without asking permission.
"Where the f-" her mom starts saying but stops mid word as she finally seems to catch sight of her. "Monica?"
Monica steps out of her hiding place, feeling a bit guilty, she knows it’s rude to spy on grownups. But then she remembers what Mom had just been saying and that overcomes the little niggle of guilt. "You're angry at Auntie Carol."
"No, baby. I'm not." Mom tells her, dropping to her knees in front of her.
"You sound angry.” Monica argues and then flinches as a terrible thought crosses her mind. “Do you- do you think she left us on purpose?"
"Of course not. She loved us, you know that." Mom says and her eyes are as wide and honest as ever, so she knows that her mom isn’t lying to make her feel better.
But that just makes it more confusing.
"Then why are you mad?" She asks, not understanding.
"Sometimes it hurts less when we're mad." Her mom says very quietly and wipes away a tear from Monica’s cheek. She hadn’t even noticed she’d started crying.
She looks down and starts playing with the sleeves of her pajamas, it makes it easier to say something she’s never told anyone before. “Sometimes I’m mad at her too.”
“And that’s okay. It’s okay, baby. It doesn’t mean we love her any less, do you understand?”
Monica nods, even though she doesn’t really.
“Did you come down here for something, baby?” Mom asks after Monica doesn’t say anything more.
“I was thirsty.” Monica says through a sudden hiccup. She hates them, they always show up when she gets upset.
“Let’s get you a glass of warm milk then, okay?” Mom offers and wipes more tears from Monica’s face.
“Yeah.” Monica nods and lets her mom pull her up into a lingering hug, feels it as she starts drawing little circles over her back while they move toward the kitchen. It makes some of the lingering pain of thinking about Auntie Carol leach out of her but some of it remains, some of it hasn’t really ever gone away.
----
3
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Monica is ten years old. And lately she’s started to think about something that never seemed like it mattered before but now doesn’t feel quite right. She’s thought about it so much that it finally feels like she’ll burst if she doesn’t ask her mom about it.
"Hey, Mom? I have a question about Auntie Carol." Monica says after she stops in front of her and sits down on the opposite side of Mom’s work table.
They’re in the little hanger near the house. Her mom’s busy working on what looks like a faulty injection pump.
"What is it, baby?" She asks and looks around for a different tool when hers proves too big to ply open the metal covering. Monica passes her the smaller one that’s on her side of the table. “Thank you, honey.”
"Why do we call her Auntie when... when she was... more?" Monica says, jumping straight to the point.
Her mom puts down the broken engine part and the tool she’d just given her, and looks at Monica. Then she lets out a long breath and seems to be steeling herself for the conversation.
Monica doesn’t let herself fidget. She’s not going to be nervous about this, if she doesn’t look like she can handle the answer her mom might decide to tell her she’s too young to understand.
"You loved her." She instead says, continuing to her next point in her mental list of reasons for why something isn’t quite right.
"Of course I did." Mom says but her face tells Monica she’s taking her question seriously.
"And she lived with us. And she made us breakfast because she always woke up so early, and she used to kiss you sometimes, and we were a family. And it doesn't... feel like my aunt is gone.” It’s the truth, because she thinks about her as Auntie Carol, but she's never thought of her as her aunt. Not the way other kids have talked about their aunts and uncles anyway, even though some of them live at the same house as them, just like Auntie Carol used to live with her and Mom. “Laila's aunt left for Minnesota and it doesn't hurt her like it hurts when I think about Auntie Carol. It hurts like it hurt Johnny when his mom died last summer."
"That's because we were raising you together." Mom says but it sounds like an excuse.
"Like parents do. So shouldn't she have been Mama Carol? Why didn't I use to call her that?" She says, trying to drive her point home.
Her mom sighs and gets up to pull her bench to Monica’s side of the table. Then she sits down and takes Monica’s hands into her own.
"Because people can be really cruel." Mom tells her, eyes staring straight into Monica’s. "You remember that talk we had about how you should always tell me if one of your teachers is particularly harsh on you, Laila, Gabriel, Angel and Jordan but not the rest of your class?"
"Because we're black and they're not allowed to do that?" She asks, a low-burning flame igniting in her chest at remembering the conversation Mom’s referring to. The one her mom has had with her more then once because she always says it’s important to have it fresh in her memory.
"Yes, well sometimes there are people who hate us for who we choose to love, like there are people who hate us for the color of our skin.” Here she picks up her smaller hand and pointedly kisses it like she always does during those talks, she says it’s a reminded that Monica’s beautiful and that no one is allowed to make her think otherwise. “And no matter how much we'd like to punch them all in the face, and no matter how much they would deserve it, sometimes when we have something to protect, it's safer to not step in front of those people in the first place."
“What did you have to protect?” She asks, not wanting to but beginning to understand.
“You. Our jobs. Each other.” Mom says with a sad smile that makes Monica feel like maybe she shouldn’t have asked in the first place. She hates making Mom sad.
“Oh.” She says and thinks about this for a moment, feels herself grow angry at yet another unjust thing. “Well, it’s not fair, we shouldn’t have to lie about how much she means to us just because people are stupid.”
“You’re right, baby, it’s really not fair at all.” Her mom says and squeezes her hands between her palms. It’s like being reassured but Monica doesn’t want to be reassured.
She pulls back to jump to her feet and clenches her hands into fists. The flickering flame inside her has been fed a little bit more fuel.
“And you said we should always stand up for ourselves because other people won’t, so isn’t that true here too?” She says, knowing she’s right, knowing her mom agrees, and still knowing that there’s very little she can do about it right now anyway.
“I wish it was that easy, Monica.”
----
4
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Monica is eleven, and yesterday Auntie Carol came home. Monica and Mom had been right, she hadn’t died and she didn’t leave them on purpose.
It’s been a day since then and so much has happened. Mom and Auntie Carol are heroes, they saved a spaceship full of people - they were aliens but they were also people. She’s already prepared to argue with anyone who would say otherwise, even though she knows this is a secret and that there’s no one else who knows.
One of them is her new friend. Her name is Talia, she’s shy but really nice, Monica’s going to miss her.
She’s going to miss Auntie Carol too. That shouldn’t feel like a new absence, she’s been missing her for so long now after all. But somehow the sting is fresh. Even though she’s so proud of her.
They said goodbye to her half an hour ago but Monica and her mom are still sitting on their porch and looking up at the stars, staring at them like if they try hard enough she’ll still be up there looking back. It’s here that Monica finally pulls together the courage to ask the question that has been bothering her for the past two days.
“Why didn’t you tell her, Mom?” She asks, turning her face sideways to look at her.
“What’s that, baby?” She asks, voice sounding far away even coming from right beside her. Monica’s pretty sure it’s somewhere up in the sky with both their hearts.
“You didn’t tell Auntie Carol that you loved her. And that she loved you.” Monica isn’t going to let this go, they’d gotten her back. She won’t let them lose her when there’s so easy a way for them to keep her.
“She doesn’t remember it, honey.”
Monica continues staring at her mom, her mom continues looking up.
“So? You could have reminded her. And she remembered that I was Lieutenant Trouble.” She says and feels a smile crossing her face again, Auntie Carol remembers her. Even if it’s just that one memory, it’s one Monica shares with her and somehow that’s all that matters.
“I know. But... it would have made it harder, and it would have meant making her choose and it wouldn’t have been fair to do that. Talos and his people need her right now.” Mom says, finally looking down and tucking Monica against her side.
“But she left us that communicator, Mom. We’ll be able to talk to her now, and she said she’d visit.” Monica says, pleading for her mom to change her mind about this.
“And I’m sure she’s going to. But you can’t tell someone they love you, they have to figure that out on their own or it doesn’t really mean anything.”
“But-”
“It’s late, baby, you should get ready for bed,” She says, standing up and reaching out to pull Monica to her feet too.
Monica lets Mom take her hand but doesn’t let her drop the conversation. “I think she does though. Love us.”
“Monica-”
“She looked at you just like she did in that photo you took out before we showed her the rest of them.” Mom looks surprised, like she’d thought Monica hadn’t noticed. She had though, and once they started going through them, Monica knew which one she’d taken. It was the one where there were just inches between Mom and Auntie Carol’s faces and both of them were visibly laughing at something. But there was also a strange look on Auntie Carol’s face, like she was completely spellbound by Monica’s mom. “So I think you should tell her.”
Her mom just shakes her head and goes on the offensive, starting to tickle her till Monica yells at her to stop through her uncontrollable giggles.
“To bed with you, Lieutenant Trouble.” Her mom says with amusement.
Monica finally listens. She doesn’t admit defeat though, she just needs to think of a new strategy.
----
5
----
Auntie Carol does call them. She calls them almost every night around dinnertime. And when she hasn’t she always tells them why later, sometimes she even retells the coolest parts of whatever fight had happened. Monica’s pretty sure she skips a lot of the more gnarly details to not make Mom mad though.
But during the nights when Auntie Carol calls on time, Monica pays close attention to how she and Mom interact during them.
By this point Monica’s pretty sure she has conclusive evidence that she was right. Auntie Carol might not remember how it was before, and if Monica’s honest there’s a lot she doesn’t remember either - she was only five after all, - but she’s sure that however it was then, it’s a lot like that now too.
They smile at each other and joke with each other, dryly and occasionally through sarcasm but Monica’s well aware that those are her mom’s favorite modes of humor. And whenever Mom isn’t looking at her, Auntie Carol’s smiles turn all sappy and soft.
Auntie Carol loves Mom, it isn’t even a question.
Besides, there’s also the way she’s started to say goodbye when it’s time to cut off the call.
“Love you, Trouble, Maria.” Auntie Carol says with a smile for Monica that she knows is honest but also only half the story. Because then, like gravity, her eyes would always flicker toward her mom.
And yes, Monica has noticed how Auntie Carol always puts her first. Like a barrier between the sentiment and the other person it’s being directed at. Her moms are impossible - she’s started sometimes to think of Auntie Carol like that, as the second of her two moms, if only inside the safety of her own mind.
“Love you too, Captain.” Monica says and turns significantly towards her mom.
“Goodnight, Carol.” Mom says instead as the hologram flickers off, leaving them alone a second later. It was still enough time for Monica to see that brief half a heartbeat where Auntie Carol’s smile fell a bit.
She glares at her mom. Mom, as is starting to become her habit, pretends not to notice it and stands up to take the empty dishes to the kitchen.
“Grab your plate, honey.” Mom just says, already by the doorway.
Monica does and then stomps off after her.
“You’re supposed to say it back.” Monica says, losing her patience. It’s been happening for months now, this weird thing where they almost say something and then never actually do.
“We’ve talked about this, Monica.” Mom says, placing her stack of dishes in the sink and then taking the ones from Monica.
“No. you said that Auntie Carol had to figure it out on her own. I think she’s figured it out.” Monica says back and then, perhaps rather unwisely, actually says the thing that’s been hiding in her mind for a while now. “I think you’re just scared.”
Then she freezes, she knows she’s not supposed to talk to Mom like that.
“I am.” Mom says, instead of immediately sending her to her room, though the look that comes with the words is stern. Monica’s on thin ice here.
Monica stops in her tracks, - not because she’s one step away from getting in trouble but because she didn’t expect Mom to actually admit that she’s scared. Now that she has, Monica’s not sure how to proceed.
For a minute she just stands there as her mom starts washing the dishes. What finally comes out is: “But you love her. And she loves you too.”
“Maybe. Or maybe she thinks so because one of those flashes told her that she once did.” Mom says back, adding more dish-washing liquid to the sponge.
“But don’t you want it to be like it used to be?” Monica asks, finally feeling lost.
“It’s complicated.” Mom says and continues doing the dishes.
Monica grabs a towel to help with the drying and falls silent after that. Mind busy stewing in frustration over adults and their need to call very simple things ‘complicated’. It’s not complicated, it’s so easy; her mom still loves Auntie Carol and Auntie Carol is clearly either starting to remember or has fallen in love with Mom all over again. Either way the answer to what they should do is very obvious.
Monica has a terrible feeling that if she lets them continue like this on their own they’re never going to figure it out. She can’t let that happen.
----
+1
----
She’s not supposed to call Auntie Carol for anything other than an emergency because there’s no way to predict if she’ll receive that call while on board their hijacked space cruiser, during a live firefight or while on a covert op. It’s all around safer if Auntie Carol’s the one who contacts them.
But Auntie Carol is not the only person Monica uses their holographic communicator to talk with.
Which is why Monica is closing her bedroom door and turning on her radio to cover up the noises from her planned conversation. That done, she goes back to the communicator and enters the - by now familiar - string of Kree symbols.
“Hey, Talia. Are you by yourself right now?” Monica says as soon as the call connects and her friend’s image forms above the device.
“Hi, Monica.” Talia says from her side of the galaxy as they grin at each other. “I’m in my room. What’s up?”
When Monica first met her, Talia might have come across as shy and quiet but she learned really fast that this was true only while Talia hadn’t known her. Now that they’re friends they’ve fallen into the habit of talking for hours, sometimes right up until the point where their parents have to make them stop and go to sleep.
“I think I need your help.” Monica says and starts ruffling through her bag for the book that’s given her an idea. “You know how Auntie Carol plans to come to Earth for a few days next month, because it finally looks like things are going to be quiet for a little while?”
“Yeah, my dad’s going to be free too, he said he wants us to spend some time together while it lasts. Why?” Talia says, looking curious.
“I need Auntie Carol to spend more than a few days home. I’ve told you about how she and Mom have been dancing around each other without ever just sitting down and admitting that they’re in love with each other, right?” She says, knowing she’s kinda whining a bit but after seven months with a first-row seat, she thinks she’s due.
“Only once or twice.” Talia says with a smirk and a heavy dose of sarcasm.
Monica throws one of her stuffed bears through the hologram and gets met by the sound of Talia laughing as the light reforms back into her.
“That wasn’t nice. I thought you wanted my help.” She says, still smirking. This is why Talia is her best friend even though she’s two years younger than her.
“I do.” Monica says and turns serious. “Can you talk your dad into taking you here to Earth too?”
“Maybe?” She says, though she doesn’t sound entirely sure. It’ll do for now, they can throw around some ideas on how to accomplish that part after Monica explains her plan.
“I found this book in the library and it gave me an idea,” she pulls out her copy of ‘Lottie and Lisa’ to show it to Talia, “it’s about these twin sisters who got separated as babies by their parents, and then found each other and decided to switch places while pretending to be each other.”
“But what does that have to do with your mom and aunt?” Talia asks.
“Well, I was thinking. If you were here and pretended to be me and neither of us would tell anyone which of us was which...”
“...your aunt and my dad couldn’t leave before we told them.” Talia says, finishing Monica’s thought.
“And we won’t tell them until Mom and Auntie Carol admit how they feel about each other. I don’t even think we’ll have to do much, they just need to spend enough time together that they forget all the stupid reasons they’ve come up with for why they’re too scared to be together.” Monica finishes by letting out a long, extended, exhausted breath.
“That’s brilliant.” Talia says, her pretty green eyes widening in wonder.
Monica smiles, proud of herself.
“So can you do it? Make yourself look like me?” She asks and bites her lip, this is the one part of her idea she isn’t sure of. If Talia can’t turn into her, then her plan gets unraveled at the seams and she’s back to square one.
“Probably?” Talia says, bending her neck to the side and seemingly taking a new look at Monica. “You’re not that much bigger than me and I’ve been practicing with dad. It’s also a lot easier if we know the person we’re trying to turn into. But I can’t really do the memories thing yet.”
“That’s okay. I’ll tell you everything you have to know and if they ask us something we haven’t covered we’ll both pretend that we don’t know the answer.” Monica says and smiles an exhilarated smile.
This is going to work. This has to work.
----
They step downstairs hand in hand - hand in the same hand, in fact, - it’s time for the show.
“Monica?” Her mom says cautiously.
“Yes, Mom?” Monica and Talia answer in unison just like they’ve practiced, two identical grins on their faces.
“What are you two doing?” Mom says a suspicious cadence coloring her voice and a look on her face like she’s already getting an idea of what they’re planning. And why.
Monica doesn’t mind, as long as her mom isn’t sure which of them is the real Monica there’s nothing she can do about it. Knowing what Monica wants from them might actually hurry this thing along faster.
She does know that as soon as this is over she’s going to be grounded for a very, very long time. But sacrifices have to be made in the name of the greater good of Mom and Auntie Carol getting back together.
“Yes what are you two up to?” Auntie Carol asks looking over the back of the couch. She looks amused and unlike Mom clearly hasn’t yet worked out that Talia’s not about to change back any time soon.
They exchange a look and pull their lips in a smirk, Monica has to admit it feels a bit strange seeing her own face looking back but it’s also kinda... really cool too.
“Nothing, Auntie Carol.” Talia says innocently.
“Nothing at all.” Monica echoes her.
They both look left at the sudden loud chuckle coming from the corner where Talia’s dad is standing, as soon as they do, he sends them a quick wink and continues laughing. Monica likes him. She has a good feeling that he’s not gonna snitch on them even if he does have some way to tell them apart.
Characters: Carol Danvers x Barnes!Reader, Bucky Barnes
Word Count: 1,567
Warnings: fear of being rejected (for being gay), mostly fluff
Summary: Your relationship with Carol isn’t exactly known, and she encourages you to tell your brother despite your fears of being rejected.
Squares Filled: date night jar for marvelfluffbingo (1st card) // drugged for @hc-bingo // siblings for @ladiesbingo // if you want a thing done well do it yourself for @as-the-saying-goes-bingo // carol danvers/captain marvel for @ladiesofmarvelbingo // tucking their hair behind their ear for @fluffbingo // grocery run for buckybarnesbingo (1st card) // boarding school for @marvelbingo
Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.
Feedback the glue that holds my writing together
Tags at the bottom
Your mother and father were never there for you like your brother was. He’s the one you can always count on to be there. He’s the one who took care of you since he’s ten years older than you. Your parents often told you how you were not planned and a surprise, but James treated you like family. When he turned 18, he was out of the house and left you with your parents. You were 10, and since their star child was gone, it wasn’t a good time for you. They neglected you so much that they thought sending you to boarding school was a good idea.
To them, it was. To you, it was one of the worst things they could have done. By then, James was already getting enlisted into the army, and you were left to defend yourself against every single person at your school. Students, you could handle just fine. It was the teachers you had to be worried about… especially the Dean of Students.
She was the meanest of them all and would often humiliate the kids if she saw something she didn’t like. She’d go around to the different classrooms and observe for a while. If she saw something a kid was doing and she didn’t like it, they would be in a world of pain. You bet she just liked to pick stuff out on the spot just to get at these kids. You were miserable there.
When you finally had a chance to write to your big brother, he took you out of the school immediately. When you enrolled, you put your brother down as your emergency contact instead of your mother. He saved you from three and a half more years of hell. He let you stay in the apartment he was staying at while he went off to active duty once more. Whenever he got off, he’d come back into your arms since you missed him so much.
It broke your heart when you found out he died. Your whole world shattered around you. It’s how HYDRA was able to find you in the first place. You became reckless and got yourself captured. Yes, it was your fault you went through worse hell than the Dean of Students. You’d take her over the torture you endured while with HYRDA. When you found out they were keeping your brother and what they did to him, you were enraged. They wanted him to fight and kill you, but he took one look at you and he was able to beat whatever mind games they had over him.
That’s how strong your bond is with him. It’s been like that ever since you could remember. It’s even stronger now since you and James were free of HYDRA and everything else. The only thing you had a problem with is new enemies trying to take over the Avengers and break them apart. Recently, you had to go save your brother from a drug lord who wanted to use his abilities for his drug cartel.
It’s one thing to mess with James, but it’s another thing to bring you into it. People should be more afraid of you if they mess with him and vice versa. You lost him once, you weren't going to lose him again.
“James!” you screamed when you entered the place he was being held.
“Yeah, scream louder. Make sure they know we’re here,” Carol scoffed.
“He is my brother. I am not going to let anything happen to him. You find the men, I’ll go save my brother,” you decided and left on your own. Carol knew there was no getting through to you when your brother was involved. She left in the opposite direction since she can handle every man that threw themselves at her.
Luck was on your side since the first room you looked into contained James.
“James!” you rushed over to him.
“Y/N?” he muttered.
“I’m here. You’re okay. God, what did they do to you?” you muttered.
“I’m okay, it doesn’t hurt,” he whispered. The serum inside his body prevented him from being affected too much. HYDRA’s drugs were way worse than whatever these drug lords had with them.
“Still, come on. We’re going to get out out of here.”
“We?”
“Carol’s with me. Come on,” you huffed and got him to his feet.
He and Carol didn’t get along at first, but it’s important to you that they do now. Carol is the love of your life, and it would be a shame if your brother didn’t like her. He’s very protective, and he often imagined you being with a nice man and settling down. He doesn’t even know you’re into women. You and Carol started dating only a few months ago, but still. He should know who’s in your life.
“He’s going to take it well,” Carol says and grabs your hand.
“I hope so,” you sigh.
“Where is he?”
“I sent him on a grocery run. I need more time. I panicked.”
“Would this get your mind off it?” she asks and pulls out the date night jar you two made a long time ago. You never got to use it since there was mission upon mission to keep you busy.
“I forgot about that,” you chuckle.
She reaches into the jar and messes with the wooden sticks before pulling one out. On one side it reads, “cook dinner”. Carol knew nothing of the sort, but luckily you learned at a young age. The skill never left you even after all these years.
“You can’t cook to save your life,” you laugh.
“Yeah, but you can. Show me. I’m a quick learner,” she smirks.
“This is going to be a disaster,” you smile.
You and Carol walk into the kitchen to get food started. Actually, it’s not a bad idea to cook dinner since James could join you when he gets back. You did give him a pretty long list and Tony’s credit card. He might not be back for a while which gives you more time to tell him of your girlfriend,
While you are busy overthinking, Carol gathers the ingredients for something simple: spaghetti. You give her the simple task of boiling the noodles while you start on the meatballs. This is something you often made for you and James whenever he came back from the war.
“Let me help with that,” Carol states.
“You sure you can handle it?”
“I can handle it just fine,” she scoffs playfully and grabs chunks of meat in her hands.
You watch with a smile since it’s clear she doesn’t know what she’s doing. She skipped a few steps and went straight to making the ball.
“Carol, sweetie?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re doing it wrong.”
“I had a feeling I was,” she laughs. “Show me?”
Instead of doing it for her, you wrap your arms around her waist from behind to tell her what to do. After mixing the breading that is going to be used to coat and hold the meat together, you intertwined your fingers with hers to begin mixing everything together.
“If this is what cooking is, I kind of like it,” she smirks.
“Y/N, I’m home!” James calls out.
You immediately stake a step back away Carol and grab a towel to clean your hands of the meat and other gook. He walks in the kitchen with bags in his hands with most of them resting on his metal arm. He can’t feel how heavy it is, plus, he knows it can hold a lot of weight. T’Challa made sure to make him a sturdy arm.
“Oh, hey Carol.”
“Hi,” she nods.
She catches your eye and motions them to your brother. This is the time to tell him about you two. If you want a thing done right, then do it yourself.
“Look, James, I have something to tell you, and I should have told you when it happened, but I didn’t know how you were going to react. Carol and I are dating. We have been for a few months. I know what you’re going to say. I know you’ve always wanted me with a nice man, but Carol is something special. We just connected in ways I didn’t realize were possible. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you sigh.
“Are you happy?” he asks after a while.
“So happy. She makes me very happy,” you say while looking at her.
A piece of her hair fell in front of her eyes, and you reach over to tuck it behind her ear. She gives you a wide smile when you cup her chin with her thumb.
“Then I’m happy for you.”
“What?” you ask, turning to face him.
“I’m happy for you. It’s not a secret you’ve been smiling more, and now I realize why. You should have told me when it happened, but I’m glad I know now.”
“Thanks, James,” you whispered.
“Do you want to have dinner with us?”
“It’s spaghetti.”
“I’d love to,” James hugs you tightly. “Plus, I need to know if she’s suitable for my baby sister.”
“James!” you whined.
He is only teasing, but you’re glad he knows. There is nothing you can tell him that would make his opinion of you change. He loves you with all his heart and can learn to love the person you do.
If you want to be tagged, add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!
Summary: Ships and planes and weapons of war named after women and dubbed she, her. Powerful, deadly. Yet, the real thing, the real body is demeaned and made less than man. When you and Carol are up in the sky and screaming through the air in your metal birds, they will see just how fragile you are.
Following Carol and Reader throughout their training in the Air Force.
Word count: 4.6k+
Warnings: smut, mild violence
A/N: It feels so good to post again! I’m so sorry I haven’t written anything in a bit, my finals this semester have been c r a z y, I’ve written 20 pages worth of papers and I still have one more left before I’m fully on winter break :’) but almost there!
I’ve had this idea for a while and....I honestly had too much fun with this. I did a lot of research and watched some documentaries on what trainees experience through basic training and I find military uniforms more attractive than I should so I didn’t hold back on this one.
Please enjoy my girl Carol!!!
“Wake up! Wake up! Open that day room door! Lights on! PT uniform of the day, PT shorts and shirt!”
The piercing voice of Dorm Chief Williams shatters the air. Fluorescent white blinds you, pulse thundering as you’re jerked from sleep, kicking off your covers. Your muscles scream, vision blurred and swimming and you stagger to your feet.
Cadets around you are already making their beds and changing into their gear. You reach for your own combat uniform, pull on the deep navy tracksuit with the reflective insignia of the U.S. Air Force glowing over your left breast.
You turn and see your bunkmate starting to stir. You feel your heart hammer in your throat and push at her shoulder.
“Carol. Get up. Hey, let’s go, Warbird.”
Williams, a tall and intimidating woman personifying dread itself, marches over to your bunk.
“Danvers, am I keeping you from your beauty sleep?” Williams barks with the most intensity you’ve ever heard from her at 0600. “Should I call the canteen and have them bring you breakfast since you’re so busy slowing down my whole squadron?”
Carol jolts to attention. “No, ma’am!”
“Then get the hell away from me and into gear. Now.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Williams scowls, watching Carol fly to her post to dress before she turns on her heel and makes her rounds through the rest of the dorm. Finished with your own tasks, you help with Carol’s bed, smooth out her uniform, secure her hair in a tight bun. She gives you a tired smile.
“Fall out!” Williams calls.
You’re out the door in a minute flat. The short, sharp blasts of Reveille drive motion around you as you fall in line with the male recruits.
The morning is brisk, stimulating, turning your breath into puffs of steam as sweeps of indigo crack open the sky like the pearly, iridescent insides of seashells. It’s pretty, the color reminding you of waves and ocean.
Maybe you should have joined the Navy instead, Carol would say, a quick quip about how you would make such a charming sailor girl bobbing away on a ship. She always likes to tease you for your love of beautiful, superficial things.
From the moment you shed your civilian status, the Academy taught you to appreciate the little things in life; the glow of morning that tints the clouds with amber and cream as you watch the world from your cockpit. Chirping birdsong, a sort of secret you like to think that exists only between birds and Airmen, the few humans capable of sharing the sky.
You loathe how much Carol affects you, since day zero, the very start of BMT. How you can hear her voice in your mind this goddamn early.
Your MTI picks up a cadence and you match your step to the young men and women beside you, your wingmen. You feel unity, harmony beating through your bloodstream as you jog in time with your sergeant’s calls, the crisp air making you feel well rested and energized despite getting your usual four hours of sleep.
Moments like these that give you purpose, the indescribable excitement of being a part of something bigger than yourself. Of belonging.
“Lookin’ good and feelin’ good! Who are we?” Your drill instructor booms.
“USAF! Aim high! Fly, fight, win!” The squadron sounds off in unison.
**
You’re three weeks into BMT. Twenty-one days of primal shock, verbal abuse, blood, sweat, tears. Four weeks, twenty-eight more days until you graduate from the ranks of cadet, four weeks until your MTI awards you your dog tags and the title of Airman. The start of your career as a fighter pilot.
But until then, you’ll have to survive the next twenty-eight days.
You’ve learned more about yourself in these three weeks than you have in your entire life, your mind and body hardened with discipline. Broken down psychologically and physically and molded into the young woman your squadron needs you to be.
You and Carol are reminded of your womanhood every day. You and the others have to push yourselves harder, faster just to prove you can keep up. O’Neill, a petite little firecracker of a girl and fresh out of school, had gotten her period last week. You’d watched her wretch up bile after morning drill, the exertion and stress and cramps too much for her body to handle. The MTI had screamed at her, blue in the face, ordered her to drop on her stomach right there and crank fifteen pushups.
You cannot separate your femininity from your body, even in a military unit that declares that all are treated equal as soldiers. You are not an equal by default.
It’s belittling. Exhausting.
But you’ve shown that you can hold your own against the boys. You’ve learned how to shoot clean and fight with your bare hands, how to assemble, disassemble, and repair your M-16. You could do it in your sleep, the sharp click-click of a reloading magazine heard in your dreams.
This week, along with your usual physical conditioning, you have CBRNE training, MOPP training. You’ll be exposed to CS gas and simulations of biological warfare, your leadership skills put to the test.
You can do this. With Carol by your side, you feel like you can do anything. Little fledglings earning your wings, pushed from the nest, learning to fly when the ground is rushing up to meet you. Make or break.
Twenty-eight more days.
**
The gas is meant to simulate suffocation, they tell you.
“Masks off! Break the seal! Break, break, break!”
You’re already dizzy, head spinning from the chamber exercises when you stick your fingers in between the small space of your mask and pull hard.
The seal breaks with a sharp hiss.
Fire floods your eyes, your sinuses, down your throat, constricting tight like smoke and flames and hellfire. You taste fireworks, poison. Your eyes instinctively shut, blurry with tears and you cough hard, sputter, hear the echoes of other cadets hacking and gasping.
The simulation is meant to put trust in your equipment, to make you vividly remember that your mask and gear will save your life. And as you stand there with your lungs struggling to expand and the MTIs rounding on each of you in the hazy, cloying smoke, you believe it.
“Airman Recruit Danvers, Division 164!” You hear Carol pant somewhere in the fumes, along the walls of the chamber where you’re all lined up. You keep your mask raised above your head as instructed, waiting, suffocating in silence until it is your turn to state your name and division number. The MTIs move down the line with their masks still fixed. Haunting, weaving through the gas and toxins like plague doctors. The image of death. Vultures tearing fledglings apart with pointed beaks and white bone as you watch cadets choke on their own breath.
The primal impulse of fear trickles from your hypothalamus as the minutes tick on, until your lips and tongue buzz like fire ants, until you can no longer feel the tips of your fingers. You’re sweat-slicked and gasping when an MTI turns to you, screams for your identification.
You sound off. Your entire body is shaking, fevered. You are the last in your row.
You burst through the doors and out into the afternoon air with a stream of cadets behind you, taking flight as you thunder on the asphalt to the open courtyard.
You all cough, spit, clear out your lungs with curses and muted laughter as your squadron stands together beneath cotton clouds and blue sky.
Carol finds you in the mix, the few precious seconds where you’re not forced to fall in line. Seconds to catch your breath. Her skin is flushed and wisps of hair fall to frame her face, her bun messy. She grins and the two of you bump fists, playful.
Your cheeks redden, lungs tight with something other than CS gas. It’s strange seeing Carol disheveled when you’ve been so hardwired with self-control, down to how you’re expected to wear your hair, present yourself.
You like seeing her like this.
“Do we have confidence in that gear?” MTI Galloway emerges from the chambers and asks of you all.
“Yes, Chief!” You roar.
**
Carol calls you Phoenix after that, running so fast out the chamber and looking like a fire had been lit up your ass.
The nickname is fitting for a duo like you. Raptors, birds of prey, fierce and skilled and yet simultaneously embracing and shielding your femininity with unfurled wings.
Have women not been compared to birds in art and literature throughout history as a means to show fragility? Fleeting beauty?
Why not strength? Why ever not for sleeker attributes, or as hunters?
It’s curious. Ships and planes and weapons of war named after women and dubbed she, her. Powerful, deadly. Yet, the real thing, the real body is demeaned and made less than man.
When you and Carol are up in the sky and screaming through the air in your metal birds, they will see just how fragile you are.
**
You hit the ground so hard that the air rushes out your lungs in a loud wheeze. You can’t breathe. Your face burns, ears ringing. You can hear the screams of your MTI. You’d rather die of embarrassment right here.
The rope dangles in front of you, fifteen feet straight up, still swaying from where you’d fallen, taunting. Physical conditioning for your Basic Expeditionary Airman Skills Training examination next week, fittingly dubbed the BEAST. Rope climbing and complicated field obstacle courses after you’ve crawled through miles of sand and dirt, navigated through tactical drills with your full pack of gear.
Your arms tremble, your entire upper body drained of all strength, skin biting from the sand. Weak, exhausted. Your palms raw from the rope. Tears of frustration sting at your eyes as your MTI screams out your surname in another bloodcurdling roar to get your ass up out of that dirt.
Yet, the low scoff of a nearby cadet is what piques your attention.
Dalquist. A boy a few years older than yourself with an ugly, crooked grin and sandy hair. A show-off, a boy who thinks himself a man. He smirks again with crossed arms, tuts his tongue as his eyes flicker over you.
“They’ll never let you fly.” He snickers.
Then, Carol is there beside you. She grips your waist strongly, shifting your weight and the two of you slowly rise together amidst the swirling dust. You draw in a shuddering breath.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe they’re all right. Maybe you don’t belong here.
You feel Carol’s muscles tense and manage to squeeze her arm in a silent warning. The entire squadron watches the three of you. The last thing you need is falling to Dalquist’s level and getting punished for it.
So she hits him with a reply quite enough only for the three of you to hear.
“You better hope not.” She rasps.
**
Your time in the classroom is a welcome break from the stresses of field training. You meet Dr. Wendy Lawson, an incredibly gifted and terrifying brilliant quantum physics scientist when she’s brought in to give you post-deployment training. She teaches you flight mechanics, squadron resources and financial management. You learn about her research on quantum energy.
Lawson is especially kind to you and Carol upon hearing your aspirations to take to the skies as fighter flyers. Her standards are higher for you and she encourages you to speak out when you’ve been too timid to respond to the whole class, the twinkle in her eye giving you courage, a voice for the first time in your life.
Together, Lawson and Carol work to coax you out of your shell.
**
The days trudge on. You throw Dalquist’s remark behind every new simulation you’re given, every mile, every pushup of your physical conditioning.
And it shows.
Your endurance and stamina have nearly doubled, bringing out new muscles in your back, your arms. You’re stronger than you’ve ever been, strong enough to grapple an unsuspecting Dalquist to the ground during field training. He stares up at you in humiliation and horror and you push him harder into the dirt, until your MTI snorts and tells you to let him up.
The mile and a half lap you take known as the Airman’s Run the week of your graduation is a breeze. Your body is familiar with the motion and exertion, the rest of the cadets who’ve made it through BMT with you dressed in new uniforms of pressed blue shirts and the trademark navy garrison cap.
Family and friends watch as your squadron marches in a parade of waving flag and timed step. Your heart swells with pride, with unparalleled accomplishment.
You’re finally presented with the Airman’s Coin and your dog tags. You’ve completed Basic Training. You are no longer a cadet, a trainee, but an oath-sworn member of the Air Force. Next weekend, you’ll be moved into dorms and officially begin your pilot training.
And then you’re free. For the first time in seven weeks, you are dismissed after the ceremony and to spend the rest of the weekend however you please.
Free time. Privacy. Privileges you took for granted as a civilian. You feel giddy, excited.
“We did it, birdie.” Carol’s voice sounds from behind you. You turn, her smile radiant as ever and mirroring yours.
She looks like she was born to wear the uniform, her shirt crisp and cap perfectly straightened atop her pinned back hair. Your pulse stutters, you find it difficult to swallow.
“We did it.” You laugh, a little too breathless with the way she’s looking down at you with that mischievous glint in her eyes. Her gaze catches your lips, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
God, so self-assured. So confident.
Honestly, you could use a little of that confidence.
“What do you say we get out of here? Go see what this city has to offer aside from base?” She says.
Your knees nearly buckle. You have a feeling that you know what will happen off base, at least, what you hope will happen.
Technically, you wouldn’t be breaking protocol.
And with the two of you buzzing with adrenaline and boosted egos, how can you even think of saying no? You deserve to celebrate.
You leave Lackland Base and head to downtown San Antonio for the rest of the weekend, for two whole days all to yourselves.
**
You visit the River Walk and explore as much of the fifteen-mile long city park as you can, strolling along the banks and gorging yourselves on street food and local cuisine. No curfew, no officers screaming orders, just the two of you leisurely enjoying a Friday night beneath a soft sunset and twinkling fairy lights.
You have dinner and drinks at a quaint little steakhouse with a live band and music, the musicians donning cowboy hats, boots, chaps and all. It’s corny. It’s absolutely perfect.
The lime juice is sharp and bitter on your tongue as you throw back your third shot of tequila, lap up the salt you’ve sprinkled over your knuckles. Carol isn’t far behind you. Pretty soon, the tavern lanterns swim pleasantly before you and you sway gently to the music in your seat, blissed out, flushed, content.
Carol’s fingers fondly brush your cheek and she laughs, her eyes crinkling and you think it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. You grin back, a bit too eager and lopsided, lean across the wooden table to grasp her hand.
You drag her to the attached karaoke bar next door and slide a few quarters into the jukebox before she can stop you. The two of you belt out your renditions of Nirvana, Heart, Elastica. Your blood is warm and Carol dances beside you with wired microphone in hand, laughing so hard you’re both crying, pulse pounding behind your temples until finally the jukebox clicks with the last of your change and the next requested song is queued up.
The hotel you check into is just down the street and you practically fall through the doorway trying to get each other out of your uniforms. It’s jumbled and chaotic as you slip out of your combat gear, tripping over boots and pants as you finally touch overheated skin, giggling like children.
Disorderly when your lips meet, her hands coming to cradle your face, holding you still with a low groan, a grip that surprises you. It heightens the flush of alcohol sitting in the pool of your lower belly as you kiss her back, wind your arms around her.
You gasp when she tightens a hand in your hair and pulls, mouth ravaging the skin of your neck with tongue and teeth. She walks you blindly until you’re flush against the wall, turns you around with her frame pressing hard against your back.
Her fingers are sure and true when they cup, caress your heated flesh, not an ounce of hesitation in her. You keen, circle your hips hard into her as she works at unraveling you, forearm circling your neck, leaning to put her lips at your ear, breath hot.
“So pretty. My birdie is so pretty.”
It’s been so long since you’ve last been intimate. The military discipline over your physique has made you forget what it’s like to treat your body with love, to feel pleasure, to be touched by a young woman you’d do anything for.
“Let’s see you fly high, hmm?” She breathes. “You want it faster? I wanna see my little birdie soar. Can you do that for me?”
It’s so easy to let go.
Your flesh clenches around her and you sigh, your entire being quivering. Carol braces you, holds you close as you tremble with aftershocks, burning and burning.
Your world is hazy, melting when Carol leads you to the bed and hoists you on top of her, thighs straddling her lap. The liquid courage returns, coy when you grasp the cool metal of the dogtags between her breasts and yank her forward for another breathless kiss.
Her arms are strong, hard with muscle and hands splayed against the naked skin of your back as she coaxes you to earth shattering heights again and again. Until the grey light of day.
Sunday morning, you sleep in until ten o’clock, roused by streaming sunlight and birdsong. Peaceful quiet, a treat in itself with Carol’s arms lazily draped around you.
**
Your stomach drops when the sergeant cracks open the C-17 door and the atmosphere shrieks into the aircraft. Your gear is heavy, you’re sweating hard, and your Airborne Division is about to jump. You find it hard to breathe and try not to lock your knees, try not to faint. Gut wrenching, everything inside you screaming that this is suicide. Leaping from a roaring aircraft with nothing but a kevlar sac to break your fall.
You see the Airman in front of you subtly cross himself, pretending to scratch his chin.
You feel like you’re going to be sick.
Fingers grip your waist. Carol stands beside you.
It’s too loud for conversation, the air and engine pressing down on your eardrums with tight pressure, but she gives you a nod, another squeeze of your hip. Her lips mouth a single word.
Fly.
Then, the men in front of you are rushing towards the yawning mouth of the plane and you and Carol are running together, side by side, fearless. And then you jump, spreading your arms, dive like hawks.
The sky is a dome of robin’s egg blue, sun shining and tipping the edge of your gloved fingers with liquid gold. You fall fast, hard. Wind rips through and around you, weightless as gravity pulls you to earth.
Pulse ramming, pure adrenaline, ten agonizing seconds of freefall. You pull the pin and your parachute deploys, rocking you backwards as the fabric unfurls and catches the air. You grip your harness tight, float through the heavens and watch as dozens of parachutes dot the horizon around you.
You whoop, shoot Carol a “hang loose”, smiling wide, goofy and vibrating with excitement.
Her laughter carries across the sky.
**
You’re there beside her when the two of you are promoted to officer rank. First in your class, looking out over a sea of grim, bored looking faces that stare back at you with quiet hostility.
Your officer uniforms are sharp, handsome. Crisp navy suits decorated with shining medals and visible proof that you have fought tooth and nail to be on the stage where you stand now. You wouldn’t want anyone else here with you but Carol. Your wingman. Your everything.
Your names are called and you rise together in unison as Senior Airman Dalquist pins your new patches to your uniforms.
**
Weeks later, you learn that Dr. Lawson’s plane has gone down. It punches a hole straight through your chest, wrenches up your insides when the news is broken to you.
After BMT, you’d lost contact with her. You wish you could have told Lawson that you’ve done it, that you and Carol are dominating the skies.
And now she’s missing.
You’re in the hangar and up in the air before anyone can stop you.
**
The crash site is still smoldering when you touch down at a hidden lake surrounded by a halo of pine and sand. You and Carol rip off your helmets, jump out of the cockpit as soon as your wheels are on solid ground, racing towards the wreckage of an eerily familiar F-16 Fighting Falcon.
Lawson lies slumped forward, still strapped into her seat. The glass of the cockpit has exploded all around her, leaving her open and exposed. It looks grim.
“Doc?” You say. Your voice shakes a bit, but you quickly will all fear out of your mind, take a deep breath and allow your body, your muscle memory to take over. Let your training come back to you.
You push back at her helmet visor, sit her upright. Press three fingers against the artery of her neck.
Cold. No pulse.
Then, you see the smoking hole in her chest, where plasma energy has burned through her jacket and blood drips bold and blue onto her lap.
You exhale hard, ignore the strangeness of the latter to check Lawson’s dashboard for any working electrical machinery. No luck. All fried, all scrambled from the crash.
“Carol, we need pararescue stat. Get them here.” You order.
Carol nods wordlessly, composed, turns on her heel to radio them from your own plane.
You brace yourself against the frame of the cockpit, hang your head in shock. You can’t bear to look at Lawson like this. You don’t want to remember her like this.
In those tense moments of silence, a soft, strange humming reaches your ears, seeming to emulate from the F-16 itself. You take a step back to fully survey the wreckage.
The crash has exposed most of the plane’s wiring and paneling, including the engine. Though, this is no engine like you’ve ever seen.
Monstrous, pulsing with blue light and an aura that draws you closer, pulling at your curiosity. It distracts you long enough for you to almost miss the approaching silhouette of a man from behind the suffocating smoke.
He’s dressed in a bizarre emerald jumpsuit with a blazing yellow star in the center of his chest. His step is charismatic, unfaltering.
And what scares you most is the unholstered gun in his hand.
Carol calls your name in a frantic shout.
You put two and two together. Lawson’s killer.
“We have no interest in hurting you.” He tells you, finally pausing at the crest of the crash site. His voice is surprisingly charming and it sends a chill straight down your spine.
We?
You’re afraid. Your old commanding officer, one of the strongest women you’ve ever known, lies shot and killed with blood the color of toxic waste. Her engine looks foreign, otherworldly. Your mind begins to race.
“The energy core. Where is it?” The man asks and brandishes his gun. You force your breathing to steady, to find a sense of calm. You have to focus. Questioning will make him irritable, panicking will get you killed.
Intuition is enough to tell you that the core is not to leave in this man’s hands by any means.
You catch sight of the glinting handle of a pistol resting between Lawson’s knees. You flicker your gaze away and to the proximity of the engine. Then, you look to Carol.
Her eyes shine with tears in the shimmering heat. Her body is tense, drawn tight like a bow, fight-or-flight. You fear she’ll run to you, that she’ll get herself killed trying to protect you. If the roles were switched, you know you would do just that.
So you act before she has the chance to. In one fluid motion, you draw Lawson’s gun and fire a single shot at the exposed engine.
It explodes like heat and magma. Azure energy engulfs you in a millisecond. Like lightning striking your bones, fire that scorches through your entire being and condemning a blazing death of unbearable, burning power, collapsing like a supernova reborn.
Your nerve-endings detonate, a fusion of flesh and skin and pyro that incinerates you to your very core, destroys you from the inside.
You scream, high and horrible. You’ve never felt such pain.
Your eyes ignite in crimson, red hot, flaring with light. Everything inside you rushing upwards and expanding until your mortal frame can no longer contain this threshold and you burst, combust with starfire.
The blast hits Carol next, lifting her up and dissipating, coiling like mist through her skin in synergy. She glows like an iridescent comet, blue light rolling off of her like water and waves, her own eyes flaring turquoise, then white.
When the two of you hit the ground, trees and sand bend and blow around you, knocking the man unconscious as the inertia from your combined energy throws him backwards.
You cry out as you try and hold yourself, crumpled. You are charred, your body humming with poison, radiation and flame, eager to crackle out of you at your slightest impulse, eyes still flaring powerfully.
“I-It hurts..” you gasp weakly.
A true phoenix. Broken and born from ashes.
Carol is there cradling you as tears leak down your face. Wisps of magenta and teal ripple around her with every movement, glittering with cosmic potential, like she contains her very own galaxy. Achingly beautiful.
“I know, birdie.” Carol murmurs as you choke, sputter from the pain. “Fight it. Give it to me.” She says and reaches for your hands.
Carol yelps softly when you push a bit of your glowing gold into her, as she trades starpower for fire and you watch the cage of her chest bloom like a lantern, veins and eyes rimming with ember. She does the same, giving you the moon and stars and the gleaming, lavender milky way.
You let go and Carol gasps as she absorbs a new piece of you. Your mind clears, the pain nothing more than a dull ache.
Exhaustion and shot nerves finally set in as the two of you lie there, quiet enough to hear the wind whistling through pine. You throw your arms around her, your kiss tasting like tears and sand and flushed sunlight.
Carol braces you against her, hoists your arm around her shoulders and lifts you upright. Side by side until the very end.
Then, you take to the skies, blazing like comet streaks and crimson hawks.
Hi! I forgot to post this. It’s a little on the short side but it’s for Carol! I hope you enjoy, I was a little nervous about writing for the ladies.
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You looked up at Carol, the glow from her hands fading as her feet touched the ground. You both sized each other up, waiting for the other to make a move but neither of you did. After a few moments of tense silence, you finally spoke up.
“Welcome back.”
“Thanks,” she said, smiling.
“I’ll go grab Scott, he’s been kind of in charge lately.”
“I’m not here for Scott,” she mumbled, grabbing your arm to stop you.
“Then why are you here Carol?”
“For you, for us.”
You scoffed, pulling your arm away from her.
“C’mon Carol, there never was an us.”
“There could have been!”
“No!” you yelled. “No. There couldn’t have been. You left without a word.”
“You know why I had to leave. Everything that happened on Earth-”
“Happened everywhere else too. I’ve heard the speech.”
Carol let out a groan as she ran her hands through her hair.
“Then why are we fighting?!”
“We aren’t fighting,” you countered. “We aren’t anything.”
Carol opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by another voice calling out for you. She narrowed her eyes at the approaching figure, the confidence in her walk making it obvious who it was.
“Y/N?” Sharon questioned. “You’re late for our run.”
“I was on my way,” you said, smiling as she slid her arm around your waist. “But Carol landed just a bit ago. I was gonna grab Scott for her.”
You looked back at Carol, her jaw clenched and a faint glow coming from her hands.
“I’ll find my way,” she said tensely.
“Then running we go,” you said, nudging Sharon with your hip.
“It won’t be that bad!” she replied.
“Get a head start, I’ll catch up with you.”
Sharon shook her head and nodded at Carol before jogging off towards the track.
Carol watched you closely, waiting for you to say something, anything.
“Scott is somewhere in the compound. Once you get inside, FRIDAY can help you. See you around.”
Carol furrowed her brow and watched as you jogged off after Sharon, smacking her ass when you caught up to her, making you both laugh. She let out as a sigh as she walked towards the compound. She had lost you, but then again, she never really had you.
