#avengers endgame imagine

Imagine reuniting with Carol after disappearing during the snap.

requested by: @patrick-stumps-thighs !! thanks for requesting my love <3
warnings: a bit of injury, battle, peter parker being precious (as always)

Peter couldn’t quite hold it. The ships’ blasts were smashing everything, and clearly someone was aiming for the boy - he was hopping all over the place, dodging as far as he could, clinging to the gauntlet, but it wasn’t enough.

The blasts kept coming, and coming, and the ground beneath your feet shook so much that your ankles stung. You had to fight to stay on your feet, pushing yourself towards the Spider kid as he crumpled to the ground beneath the sheer heat and vibrations of the guns. But they were coming for the gauntlet, and you’d be damned if you let them have it now that you were finally back.

Your knees trembled from the fatigue, the shaking ground making it only more impossible to stumble towards it, so you dove for the gauntlet.

You strained your body, soaring through the air and making a grab for it, your fingers only just grasping the edge-

A searing pain through your side. 

Your fists clenched and your body curled around your prize, restricting from the white hot pain.

You hit the ground hard, the side of your face scraping along the dust and rubble until it landed in Peter’s side. The gunfire drowned out Peter’s worried ramblings and crying, and he curled around your screaming, writhing form, trying to protect you from the rest of the blasts.

Until suddenly you could hear Peter’s tear-soaked mumblings in your ear. The gunfire had stopped.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to look. You clutched at your side which burned beneath your touch, crimson slipping from the gash in your suit, and your face stinging from the tears in your open graze.

But Peter’s words, terrified though they were, trembling with his body, gave you something to focus on. “We’re okay, Miss. We’re alive, we’re living! It’s good!”

You grit your teeth, forcing your cries to stop. You distanced yourself, put the pain aside the best you could. It was only pain; you’d had it before. Never quite like this, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

You breathed, clutching the gauntlet, feeling the cold against your hands. You focused on it, let that calm coolness take over your body. And then-

A hand on your shoulder. No, not Peter’s. Firmer, stronger.

You turned your head, prepared to kick them to shit if they tried to take the gauntlet from you, but there was no need.

You looked up to meet the eyes of your love. Carol.

“Hang in there, soldier.”

You choked on a gasp and scrambled out of Peter’s hold, the gauntlet lay forgotten beside him until he gathered it into his own arms. You cried out in a mix of pain and relief as you threw yourself at your girlfriend, who you hadn’t seen in - well, you couldn’t be sure. But it was far too long.

Your arms fixed firmly around her shoulders and she held your waist delicately, making a mental note of the mess on your side. A hand found its way to your back, rubbing up and down in soothing motions, and you were sure you could feel her shaking a little.

You brushed your eyes dry and pulled back to look her in the face, and were greeted with a glimmer of liquid happiness in her eyes, a sincere curve to her lip.

“Wow, you…” You held her shoulders, and gave them a squeeze as you looked for the words. “Hair. Good.”

She gave a teary laugh and nodded, her lips landing repeatedly over the uninjured part of your face before they pressed to your own lips, wistful and tender. You could swear the warmth of her kiss pushed the pain all over your body away, until you felt nothing but gentle tingles where it used to be.

But nonetheless, she broke away and set you gently back down onto the ground, though her hands grasped yours for a little while. “Stay out of this now, that’s gonna hurt tomorrow,” she gestured to your side. “I got your back.” And with that, she squeezed your hands and let go, straightening up to full height again and blinking her tears away.

She cleared her throat, looked at the boy in blue and red on the floor, who’d been beaten black and blue, clutching a golden glove. His voice was scratchy and tired, but ever sweet. “H-hi, I’m Peter Parker.”

“Hey, Peter Parker. You got something for me?”

written by: archie