𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑. 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴

𝘤𝘥 | 𝘢

LIVE FOR ME:
CAROL DANVERS

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 : tezzarino

[𝙩𝙬- 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝]

𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘭

"YOU'RE NOT OF Kree descent."

The words still ring in my ears. Ever since I remembered everything, from Mar-Vell to Maria and Monica, Yon-Rogg has been desperate to convince me that I'm nothing. But I hardly think 'nothing' can conjure a fist of fatal light and blast it at someone. Nor could 'nothing' fly, crash through a space ship and save a race of people from the people who first gave her salvation. I'm not bragging - I'm stating that I know my worth.

And I know I have a life to live.

And a woman to love.

He sits in front of me, Yon-Rogg, panting under the heat of the sun.

"Doesn't that suit boil you from the inside out?" I ask, though I don't care for his answer.

"Doesn't yours give you a headache?"

I scoff, "God, how hasn't anyone killed you yet?"

He looks up at me with tense eyes, but if he's frightened, he's not showing it. Kree law, I suppose. Don't show weakness. But I wouldn't know. I wasn't ever really Kree.

"Why, Vers? You going to do it yourself?"

"Don't tempt me." I hiss. My mind flickers to the one thing I'm missing right now: Y/N's laugh. Safely kept at home, where she can't get hurt, that's where I left her. But maybe it's not so safe anymore. There's bound to be an uprising. A serious imbalance. I clear my throat, "Well, I must get going. I have somewhere to be."

"You're letting me live?" He furrows his brow.

"I'm not a murderer." I chuckle, "but I have dislodged your communications, so you're stranded."

He hisses as I move away from him, letting the sun flood into the darkness of my shadow and blind him. "You'll regret it, Vers. You owe me your life, and I take what I'm owed. You know that."

"Yes, I suppose I do. But I don't owe you anything."

He tuts. "You never learn, Vers."

"Neither do you." I turn away from him, and as my feet leave the ground, I call back over my shoulder, "Oh, and the name's Carol."

His sneer is the last thing I see before I bolt through the air.

𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘢

The planet's surprisingly unharmed, no Skrull attacking the Citadel, or any rebels choosing to stand alone. But the aura's freakishly quiet. With the setting sun and rising stars, the darker it gets, the sharper the edge.

As soon as my feet touch down on the ground softly, my hair stops glowing and drops back down to skirt my shoulders. My heart is unsteady, pounding in my chest so vigorously that I might explode.