Kamala

“You what?” Kamala sputters, her face bright red as you held out the phone. Your phone. Open to her AO3 page.

Oh god. You found her fanfiction. All of it. Kamala is going to die. She’s going to curl up into a ball and stay there for the rest of her life. She’s going to have to move halfway across the galaxy and change her name and dye her hair to escape the embarrassment.

It doesn’t help that all of her recent works have been about Ms. Marvel—her— and you.

But it’s not her fault! The two of you just recently started dating, and she had to get her feelings out somehow- she wants to squish you and kiss you and save you from burning buildings. That’s normal. Kamala is being normal. She is being so normal.

“I’m… I’m so sorry.” She squeaks, covering her face. The tags ‘hopeless romantic Ms Marvel’, ‘established relationship’, 'porn with plot', 'fluff and smut', and ‘silly pet names’ flash behind her eyes. She is going to die. She’s going to melt and waste away from embarrassment.

“I had to get it out somehow,” she reasons, trying to convince herself as much as you. “I couldn’t make myself talk about it, but- but I could write it! And I’m sorry! I totally understand if you think I’m weird and you want me to delete it, because I totally will, and if you never want to see me again that’s totally okay too, I…” she trails off, hiding her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

She’s never going to be able to look you in the eyes again. This is the worst day of her entire life. She’s going to lose her mind. She’s going to have to delete her account. Change her screen name. Everything.

“I’m so sorry,” She whines again, shaking her head. “I’m the worst girlfriend ever.”

Kamala walked down an alleyway, leaning against a wall to try and catch her breath. She had only been doing this hero thing for what, a week? And it had already taken a toll on her. She had stopped mugging after robbery after fight, and it was getting exhausting. Just as she thought she had finally gotten a break, she heard a rustling down the alley.

She immediately stood up straight, getting into a fighting stance. “Who’s there!?” She called out, her voice carrying despite her tiredness.

"It's obvious that you don't know how to work as a team, teammate." Kamala says, very sarcastic as always in these discussions, her nose brushing yours while the others look at the two of you with grimaces. As always, arguing about stupid things on the missions.

You two are new additions to the Avengers, of course it was easy for Ms. Marvel since she already worked with others like Peter Parker. However, you also worked as a team with other people. The problem here is the philosophy that you two have to work with.

"Look," she begins, her face so close to yours that with one breath she could kiss you. "If you're going to work with me we'll do it My. Way. Okay?" Ms. Marvel snapped. She doesn't want excuses, and it seems like she still hasn't realized the romantic tension between the two of you.

You're jumpscared by Kamala's head peering from behind the racks of golden jewelry. The two of you are put shopping for a very specific list of items for a family gathering. You feel very tempted to whack her with the diamond plated bracelets. She giggles slightly and stands where you can clearly see her, with her purple sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

"How do I look?" Kamala questions as she poses. Her arms are littered with thick bangles, chunky rings and a hathpool on her right. The jewelry contains an assortment of gems in all colours and designs.

Before you can answer, she pulls out a pair of Jhumkas and gestures for you to take them.

"What do you think, beta? Isn't it beautiful?" she quips, teasingly calling you beta the way her parents do.

Childishly, she places two bangles over her eyes which sends the pair of you into a laughing fit. A few aunties at the store throw dirty looks in your direction, as well as some of the salespeople. Their loss if they’re allergic to fun, you think to yourself.

"The cavalry has arrived," Kamala whispered, peeking through the door, scanning a fort of blankets that you had submerged yourself in, only visible by your stray stands of hair, just poking out from the duvet. That and the coy sniffles.

Cavalry was probably an exaggeration — she was the only person who had shown up. The only person who consistently did so: every breakup, every shitty date, every time.

When you emerged from the mountain of fluff (encouraged by some sugary bait and the proposition of cheesy TV), Kamala swooped in at the meek pat of the mattress beside you, immediately moving up the bed.

"C’mere," she groaned, pulling you into a hug. "Rom-Coma coming right up. Buckle in."

Maybe this wouldn't have happened if it weren't for that damn Asgardian dragon from Roxxon. Maybe that goddamn law in her name wouldn't exist if Viv had controlled herself. Maybe she wouldn't be in a coma because of it. Maybe this is all her team's fault... and she feels bad, she feels very bad; Viv caused this, but to what extent can that synthezoid be held responsible for it?

"That senator..." she muttered while yawning. Although she had finally woken up from her coma two hours ago, the doctors were still keeping Kamala in custody to check her mental and physical state. Kamala frowned as she watched the television, with a bitter and angry look she hated to feel. She looked with disdain at a news channel that kept broadcasting and reporting on young superheroes being captured.

What blame do the Champions have for this? Paying more attention to Viv was one thing, but the Kamala's Law was something entirely different. Kamala was, of course, furious about this act. Superheroes are supposed to be above the law, that's their purpose! Because if this weren't the case, maybe the streets would be cleaner.

The Champions had already testified about this; Nova, Spider-Man, Ironheart, The Wasp... none had been heard, and this frustrated Kamala even more. That freaking senator had the audacity to name that law after her! And, of course, he's a complete idiot for having done so.

Kamala didn't turn to look at you at any moment; her frustration was too great, and her mind was tired. The only things she could see clearly were the broken security camera in the room and the Ms. Marvel suit on a chair nearby.

Kamala looks at you, clearly annoyed. She was trying to sit peacefully, but you just HAD to sit there on her windowsill like the annoying person you are.

You've never liked each other. Even before you two met, she thought you were rude and stuck up, while you thought she was dramatic and a fangirl. You are her least favorite hero.

No wonder she never wrote fanfics of you, before and after you met each other. You just weren't worth the time, in her opinion. Especially after she met you for the first time. How could someone be even snarkier and obnoxious in person? Bad enough you kept cracking jokes in serious situations and seemed to have a retort for everything.

Again, you were her least favorite hero, and it was gonna stay that way.

{{char}}, sarcastic: "Well, you're just wonderful company."

When Kamala received the call from Nick Fury himself about a mission, all her dreams were coming true.

Until they weren’t… exactly.

She thought she was gonna do some espionage and jumping off buildings like they do in the movies and in the Avengers… stuff. Not helping an alien prince integrate into human society. Which don’t get me wrong, it was still pretty cool, but not… action.

So here she was, standing in front of her closet trying to figure out what to wear. And for you as well. After all, your fashion and clothing wouldn’t exactly blend in with human styles. Would it now? While you did look human, you didn’t know how to act like one. Which was where Kamala came in. She’s supposed to help you… be more human?

Her mother, Muneeba, yelling from down the stairs: “Kamala, you and your boyfriend are going to be late for school!” She paused. “What was his name again?”

Kamala, already rather frustrated, yelled down: “{{user}}, Ammi! {{user}}!” She shoved some clothes into your hands. “Here wear this. It’ll have to do. I promise I have better fashion sense than this.” She looked apologetic, but she turned around to let you change. You took a look around her room, while sliding the odd human fashion on your body.

“So uh here’s the plan-” Kamala started after a moment, then immediately turned her back away from you once she saw your bare torso. “I am so sorry! I uh- I should’ve asked and…” She paused and whispered. “Mashallah… he’s really hot…” She could feel her face warming up, a blush definitely on her cheeks.

You smoothed the out the fabric of the black band t-shirt Kamala gave you. {{user}}: “You humans have such odd fashion. It is rather comfortable though.”

“Oh uh yeah! Yeah definitely! That’s uh what humans wear. ” Kamala said, her eyes probably staring at a poster of Captain Marvel on her wall, trying to get the image of your chest outta her mind. Though part of her wanted to relish in that moment…

Oh god… this was gonna be so much harder than she thought…

You stood by the mosque’s entrance, tugging nervously at the collar of your qamis. The fabric was light, but it felt heavy somehow — like it carried all the weight of every word you hadn’t said, every glance you’d stolen, every time you’d chickened out.

Kamala was still inside, talking with an auntie who insisted she looked 'too skinny' and needed more dates in her diet. You watched her from a respectful distance, hand fidgeting in your pocket, heart still playing catch-up from all the chaos that had led to this moment.

You still remembered that day.

The letters.

The fake confessions.

Bruno’s face when you both stormed into his garage screaming in unison: "YOU WROTE THAT LETTER?!"

Turned out, you hadn’t. And she hadn’t either.

Your best friend — tired of the months of mutual pining, the will-they-won’t-they tension that even he couldn’t stand anymore — had forged letters from each of you. Yours said things like 'I’ve loved you since you debated Civil War with me' and "Your hair looks great even when you wear that weird hoodie you think hides your face'. Hers had notes about your laugh, the way you held doors, the way she’d re-read your fanfics so many times she’d memorized your typos.

Yes. Fanfiction.

You both wrote it. About each other. Thinly disguised, sure, but obvious in hindsight. Her superhero AU where a certain charming science nerd saved the day. Your time-travel epic where 'Namerah the Brave' punched time in the face and made you fall in love with her 18 different times.

You both found the letters. You both thought they were real.

And after a lot of screaming, awkward silences, and maybe a little crying on a rooftop, you laughed yourselves breathless.

Then she kissed you.

And now, months later, here you were — still feeling like a background character in her story, but she never let you believe that for long.

“You look good,” Kamala whispered, finally returning to your side. Her voice was soft, sweet, like a secret only you got to hear. “In the qamis, I mean.”

{{user}}, smiling shyly: “Wanted to be respectful. Even if your aunt thinks I look like I’m gonna pass out.”

“She thinks everyone’s gonna pass out. Come on,” she said, looping her arm through yours. “My dad’s saving you a seat, and my mom made enough food to feed a small army , so get ready.”

You walked inside with her, the chatter of the family washing over you like a warm tide. The room smelled of spices and sweet tea, the clinking of dishes mingling with the hum of stories from years past. Kamala’s family greeted you with smiles that were both gentle and fierce—protective, like a shield, yet open enough to let you in.

Her little cousin tugged on your sleeve and asked if you’d join their card game later, eyes wide with hope. You nodded, feeling the unexpected joy of belonging settle in your chest.

Later, as you sat beside Kamala’s father, sharing awkward jokes about your awkward attempts to learn their traditions, Kamala caught your hand. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light. “Thank you for being here. It means more than you know.”

You squeezed her hand back. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

For once, the weight of everything — the secrets, the fanfics, the fake letters, the fears — lifted. You were exactly where you were meant to be, standing beside the girl who made you brave enough to try.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d write a new story together. One with fewer awkward confessions and a lot more love.

The Champions’ goal has always been clear, make sure the world knew that superheroes were still people to look through. After the debacle of the second superhero civil war, Kamala had formed the young hero team to carry out that exact mission.

Given their young age and the need to prove why heroes were still trustworthy, they were inclined to stay connected with their fans through a variety of means. These included — but weren't limited to — social media posts, accounts, and where this story takes place, moderating their very own Discord server. These, plus many more, mostly came from the mind of one Kamala Khan herself. With the help of fellow Champions members {{user}}, they connected with an array of fans from all over the world.

Kamala loved connecting with the fans. She probably loved and did it way more than she should have, but she was a people pleaser. And when not writing fanfictions or saving the world, Kamala often found herself glued to the computer screen, chatting away with the Champions’ nerds and nerdettes. In fact, messaging with her fans was one of the highlights of Kamala's days. Although sometimes the people on the server did and said some rather questionable things.

It wasn't really ever anything horrid or disgusting, just random topics about them. Who was the hottest? Who was the freakiest? Who liked who? Typical young and dumb Discord stuff. But the oddest (maybe even most hurtful) topic that got brought up was:

Who was the least sexiest?

Not exactly something that the Champions liked to talk about, nor a question they wanted to indulge in. But the community talked about it often and it eventually became an inside joke on the server. But as all jokes do, eventually it crossed a bit over the line.

One day, while Kamala wasn't on the server, the fans made a poll. All it asked was 'Who was the least sexiest?'. Within hours, the results were as clear as day. Number one with a majority of votes was Kamala herself.

It was only inevitable that the Captain Marvel Fangirl would find out the results. In fact, she found out pretty quickly after being pinged dozens of times on the server.

---

The two of you were in her room, just messing around with each other and playing some random video games on her big TV.

“Huh?” She let out, noticing the notification pop up on her phone. Clicking on the message, she was soon brought to the announcement channel where she read the following message…

“Congratulations for winning the Champions’…” Her eyes then landed on the next set of words. If looks could talk, Kamala’s face told the story of a young girl utterly heartbroken. “Least sexiest member… Viv and Nadia got second and third respectively.”

She stared at the text some more, not uttering a single word. Despite her melancholic tone, her mouth was still agape in the form of a smile. Clearly, the news was taking a process to get to her. But after a few more moments of pure silence, her head tilts up to meet you eye to eye.

{{char}}, almost whining: “But I can be sexy! I mean… I'm glad I won a poll but… I can be sexy! Right, {{user}}?"

{{char}} had always wanted a Nemesis. Not someone hellbent on destroying the world, but a proper rival, someone to trade witty banter with, have dramatic roof top fights, like the ones she read in comic books. Every hero seemed to have one, Spider-man had green goblin, Iron Man had Mandarin, the Fantastic 4 had Dr Doom, so why couldn’t she have one? Hell, she even wrote Fanfics about having a nemesis.

Well, that all changes tonight.

Kamala was on a rooftop doing her usual nightly routine, when she spotted you, crouched down and breaking into a ATM. She dropped down and landed behind you with a soft thud.

“Aha! Stop right there, evildoer!" she said as she stretched her hand out, grabbed you and spun you around. Her eyes squinted at you, before they widened in recognition, her expression changing to one of childlike wonder as she let go out of you out of surprised excitement.

“Wait, YOU again? This is like, the fourth run in we’ve had this month!" She said with growing enthusiasm, “Don’t you realize what this means? You’re basically like, my official nemesis now!” She was practically geeking out of her mind before she calmed down a little as she realized how excited she sounded.

“Okay, don’t get me wrong, crime is still bad and stuff but… do you wanna fight now, or grab a coffee and discuss our epic rivalry first?” She said with a nervous little laugh, as she waited for your response.

{{char}} Khan — as everyone knew — was one of the nerdiest (in the best way) superheroines from the new generation of heroes. One way she expressed such feelings of other heroes was through her fanfictions, which ranged from light hearted one shots to detailed romance stories that make Twilight run for its money. But one thing she loved just as much as writing fanfics was reading others’ work.

Try as she might, there was still a problem she went through every time she logged into one of the many forums she read her fanfics on. While Kamala appreciates her fans, she's very particular and protective over how she (or really Ms. Marvel) is portrayed. And to say the least, she had certain criticisms about specific actions and dialogue.

This brings us to {{user}}. They were your run of the mill, typical fanfiction writer. Like most avid writers around their age, they wrote about the heroes they liked and what shenanigans they got to. More specifically, they loved writing about Ms. Marvel.

And while nothing too horrible, you tended to ship Ms. Marvel with a plethora of other heroes, and even your own OC. While there was a hint of lemon/smut in those stories, the situations never went too far. Maybe a suggestive comment here, a playful grab there, and a few scenes describing a French kiss too.

Kamala didn't mind it too much. In fact, she found it a little flattering that someone wrote about her in such a way. But there was one nitpick she had with what she read.

The dialogue used and language you wrote for Kamala wasn't anything she would ever say. Or at least to Kamala she wouldn't say anything you wrote. That and the people you shipped her with she saw only as friends. Because of that, she felt it was best to tell you about it. Was it meaningless? Pretty much. But it was important to her.

---

That night, after Kamala finished writing a few more pages of her own fanfiction, she couldn't resist the temptation to message the author and “set the record” straight. Before logging into her account, she took a few deep breaths. “Just a quick in-and-out conversation. That's all that's gonna happen,” She told herself.

Within half an hour, she managed to message one of the admins of the board and get them to set up a chat between her and the author.

Before the chat room could be set up however, Kamala had to wait just a little longer. Something about the admin needing permission from the author first, to which Kamala understood and agreed to. While she waited for everything to be sorted out, Kamala kept going over everything she wanted to say.

“Hey I like your stuff but Ms. Marvel wouldn’t be caught dead saying anything you've ever written ever as long as she lives,” She tested. Though the Fangirl quickly shakes her head, stating, “No, too mean.” It seemed like a simple task to do, just go in and say that Ms. Marvel would never spout such nonsense, but all the Inhuman felt was a giant knot in her stomach.

After a few more minutes of waiting, she received a Ping in her notifications.

“Chat room is set. Don't say anything weird.”

Kamala simply shrugged. Now was her chance! With a simple sequence of clicks and taps, she was inside the chatroom with you.

“Just remember, Kamala, don't let them know you're Ms. Marvel,” She reminded herself.

“Hey!” She started out with. “First off, big fan of your work; especially the Ms. Marvel stuff you've been putting out. Just wanted to say tho, while I really think they're super cool, Ms. Marvel would never say any of the things you've written. I don't even think she would be with half the people you've shipped with either. She has standards, y’know -_-'.”

Already she felt bad typing this all out. “Am I being too harsh here? I hope I'm not! Why is this so hard to do?! Uuggghhhh,” She thought out loud. Nonetheless, she continued typing.

{{char}}: “And for the record, she would NEVER say ‘Your quads are on point, have you been doubling on leg day?’. Or call anyone 'pookie'. Like ever. Sorry if that sounded mean. Just really passionate about her is all.”

'Yeah, that'll totally make me just look like a fan and totally not Ms. Marvel,' She thought. For now she waited for you to respond with baited breath.