#mcu crossover

While James Hopper Sr. was overseas in the Second World War, he got intimate with a Russian ally. She conceived twin boys out of wedlock, both with gorgeous blue eyes. One son stayed in Soviet Russia, the other was raised in the United States with his father.

When the boys were 17, they were shocked to learn about their twin from the other side of the world. Alexei was brought to Indiana to live with his father and brother. He went by Alexander to fit in, and gained proficiency in English. As adults, Jim Hopper Jr, followed his father by becoming the Chief of Hawkins Police. Alexei worked odd jobs before settling in groundskeeping and landscaping for Hawkins.

You had known the twins for nearly two years now. Jim had dated you for about six months before introducing you to his brother. Alexei was equally as handsome and charming. When Jim fell back into drugs and alcohol, he pushed you away and into the arms of Alexei. He took good care of you, even though it strained his relationship with his brother.

Your heart was confused. It was unclear who you had more affections for. You also couldn’t stand to see yourself break up the two siblings, so you let Alexei go. He was heartbroken, but the split allowed him to help Jim back on his feet and get sober.

Now that he was cleaned up, Jim courted you once again. You loved Jim, but he often disappointed you. He worked long shifts, and would drag your feelings around when he was forgetful or in a depressive state. He also made you laugh and cooked wonderful meals for you. He made you feel safe in his arms and more than satisfied in his bedroom.

Alexei remained steadfast for you, secretly yearning for his brother to slip up again. He drew portraits of you, capturing your beautiful face as he saw it. He would bring you flowers and cut your grass.

Then it happened. After learning one of his army buddies had suddenly passed away, Jim took a little PTSD spiral. He seemed to be coming out of it, but it was a difficult time. One evening, on the way to a date you both were excited for, you both got into a heated conversation about Alexei.

Jim was jealous of how sweet he was on you, and how he was there to comfort you. It made him feel insecure, despite the fact that you actually loved Jim the most and would fight for him always. Nonetheless, you ended up getting out of the Chevy Blazer and walking away as Jim yelled at you to get back in. He eventually gave up and sped off. You headed to Alexei’s place.

Alexei consoled you and let you stay the night. The next day, you went grocery shopping and came home to prepare Alexei a nice dinner. Red wine filled your glasses. Soon Alexei was fucking you right on the dining table.

“Does he fill you up like this, detka?” Alexei growled.

You whimpered and squirmed, clawing at the cutlery on the table as Alexei pounded you with his large uncut cock.

Jim heard your slutty moans as he banged on the front door. Alexei pulled his jeans back on and laid his jacket over you. You were still panting from being fucked silly on the hard wood.

Jim looked at you and Alexei, eyes dark and wild like a stormy sea. You were frozen. Sure you were about to lose Jim for good.

“James I—“ you pleaded.

“I don’t want to hear it. Take that off.”

He began to unbutton his flannel. The following events felt like a wild fantasy come true. Jim shed his clothes and manhandled your nude body over to the couch. He sat right next to Alexei, and they took turns letting you ride on their cocks. Alexei’s mustache tickled your breasts as he suckled at your nipples and left little love bites. The scene looked like it was ripped straight out of a porno.

Jim was circumcised, and had a messier bush. He placed his rough hand around your throat as you made a mess all over his thighs. Both brothers stretched your pussy as you came for them.

Your trio moved to the bedroom, where Alexei stuffed his cock into your throat as Jim fucked you from behind. Your vision was fluttering, overwhelmed by the pleasure you were experiencing. Both brothers using your holes as they pleased.

Alexei withdrew his cock, and your frothy saliva was drooling off his tip and onto your chin. Jim forced himself out of you as well, he couldn’t take much more.

You stepped onto the floor and got on your knees. Two sets of blue eyes gawked at you as you stroked their swollen cocks, covered in your own juices, and let them greedily use your mouth. You released your grip on both men and opened your mouth.

Your pink tongue reaching out as if to catch falling snowflakes. Your hands played with your tender breasts. Jim and Alexei ferociously stroked themselves, groaning as they reached the finale. They ejaculated all over your face and breasts. Thick ropes streamed down your cheeks, tingled on your tongue, and splattered your tits.

Dean flips the page again, frowning. “Yeah, okay,” he mutters to himself. “So either I’m hunting a ghost… or Jason Bourne on demon blood.”

Across the motel room, Sam rubs his eyes. “Dean,” he sighs, “this isn’t supernatural.”

Dean taps the photo. A grainy surveillance image. A man with long dark hair. Metal arm glinting. “You see the part where he doesn’t age?” Dean says.

Sam pauses. “…Okay, that part’s weird.”

Dean stands, already grabbing his jacket. “Monster’s a monster, Sammy.”

The warehouse smells like rust and ocean water. Dean moves silently between shadows, the familiar weight of the Colt in his hand. Something is wrong. Hunters know the feeling. The way your skin prickles when something ancient watches from the dark. But this doesn’t feel supernatural.

It feels…human. 

A sound echoes behind him. Metal shifting. Dean spins— And suddenly the barrel of a gun is pressed against his temple. Cold. Steady.

“You’re not Hydra,” the voice says behind him. Low. Rough. Confused.

Dean slowly raises his hands. “Buddy,” he says carefully, “I got no idea what a Hydra is.”

The gun doesn’t move.

Dean glances sideways. And finally sees him. Bucky Barnes.

Taller than Dean expected. Hair falling into tired blue eyes. The metal arm gleams under the dim warehouse lights. But the thing that stops Dean cold—

The man looks exhausted. Not monstrous. Not demonic. Just… broken. A shell of a soldier. Dean would recognize that stare anywhere. “You’ve been following me,” Bucky says quietly.

Dean shrugs. “You leave a hell of a trail.”

The gun presses harder. “You here to kill me?”

Dean should say yes. It’s what hunters do. Kill the thing before it kills someone else. But Dean studies him closer. The shaking hands. The haunted eyes. The way the metal arm flexes like it’s not even fully his.

Dean has seen that look before. In soldiers. In victims. In himself.

He exhales slowly. “Well,” he mutters. “Was thinking about it.”

The silence stretches.

Bucky’s expression barely changes. “Then do it.”

Dean blinks. “…What?”

Bucky lowers the gun slightly. “Everyone else has tried.”

Dean frowns. “That supposed to make me feel better?”

Bucky stares at the ground. “Would make things easier.”

And suddenly Dean understands something terrible. This man doesn’t think he deserves to live.

Dean sighs and holsters the Colt.

Bucky instantly raises the gun again. “Don’t,” Bucky warns.

Dean points at him.“Yeah, see, that right there? That’s why I can’t kill you.”

Confusion flickers across Bucky’s face. “You hunted me across three states.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Thought you were a monster.” He gestures at the metal arm. “Turns out you’re just another weapon somebody else pointed.”

Bucky stares at him. Long. Searching. “Who are you?”

Dean smirks. “Guy who’s been someone else’s weapon before.” He steps a little closer. Not afraid. Not anymore. “You want a tip, Terminator?”

Bucky stiffens slightly at the nickname. Dean shrugs. “Monsters don’t hate themselves this much.”

The warehouse falls quiet again. For the first time in a long time… Bucky lowers the gun completely.

------

The rain hasn’t stopped since the warehouse.

It drums softly against the roof of the Chevrolet Impala as it eats up the empty Kansas highway.

Inside, silence stretches.

Dean Winchester drives with one hand on the wheel, the other draped over the window. Classic rock hums low through the speakers.

In the passenger seat sits the most dangerous man Dean’s probably ever let into Baby.

Bucky Barnes hasn’t moved much since they left the warehouse.

Back straight.

Hands on his knees.

Eyes constantly flicking to mirrors, road signs, tree lines.

Dean notices.

“Relax, Terminator.”

Bucky glances at him.

“You keep calling me that.”

“Metal arm. Murder reputation. Pretty obvious branding.”

Bucky looks back out the window.

Dean sighs.

“You planning to bolt when we stop for gas, or are we actually doing the whole safe haven thing?”

“…You trust me that much?”

Dean snorts.

“Buddy, I let a demon king crash on my couch once.”

He glances sideways.

“You’re practically a golden retriever compared to that.”

Bucky doesn’t respond.

But his shoulders loosen a fraction.

The bunker door groans open.

Fluorescent lights flicker on beneath the massive underground corridors of the Bunker. Dean strides in first like nothing’s unusual. Bucky follows slowly. Eyes scanning everything. Entrances. Angles. Potential weapons.

Dean notices. “Try not to assassinate the furniture.”

Footsteps echo from the library. And then—

Sam appears from between the shelves, holding a book. He freezes. Dean’s back. Which is normal. The six-foot, metal-armed stranger standing behind him? Not normal. Sam blinks. Once. Twice.

Dean drops his keys on the table. “Sammy, good news.”

Sam stares.

Dean gestures casually behind him. “I found the ghost.”

Sam squints at Bucky. “…Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“That’s a man.”

“Technically.”

Sam slowly closes the book. “Why is there a metal arm.”

Dean shrugs. “Long story.”

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose. “You left to hunt a possible supernatural assassin.”

“Correct.”

“You were gone three days.”

“Sounds right.”

“And you came back with—” Sam gestures vaguely at Bucky. “—whatever that is.”

Dean turns. “Hey.” Bucky stiffens. Dean points between them.“Sam, this is Bucky.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow slightly. “Just Bucky.”

Sam stares. “…Okay.”

Dean grins. “Bucky, this is my brother.”

Sam extends a cautious hand. Bucky hesitates. Then shakes it. Sam immediately winces. “Jesus—”

Dean bursts out laughing. “Super soldier handshake, Sammy.”

Sam rubs his hand. “You brought a super soldier home?”

Bucky quietly steps back. “You can still turn me in.”

Sam blinks. “Turn you in to who?”

Bucky shrugs. “Government. Avengers. Whoever.”

Dean waves a hand. “Pass.”

Sam looks between them. Then back at Dean. Then the metal arm. Then Dean again. The realization dawns. Slow. Painful. “Oh my God.”

Dean smiles.

Sam points at Bucky. “You brought home a stray.”

Dean scoffs. “He’s not a stray.”

Sam gestures wildly. “You picked up a deadly government assassin on the side of the road!”

Dean shrugs like it was a normal, regular Tuesday and they were only discussing dinner plans.“He looked sad.”

Sam stares at him.

Bucky looks… mildly confused.

Dean crosses his arms. “What?”

Sam throws his hands up. “Dean, you can’t just adopt a super soldier!”

Dean tilts his head. “Why not?”

Sam opens his mouth. Stops. Sighs deeply. “…Fine.” He turns to Bucky. “You hungry?”

Bucky blinks. “…What?”

Dean smirks. “Told you.”

Sam points toward the kitchen. “We have food. And a shower. And a library if you’re the reading type.”

Bucky stands there for a moment. Like the concept is completely foreign. Safe places usually come with chains. Or cages. Or interrogation.

Dean claps him on the shoulder. “You’re good here, man.”

For the first time in a long time… Bucky looks uncertain in a different way. Not hunted. Not threatened. Just… unsure what to do with kindness.

Sam watches him carefully.

Then leans toward Dean and mutters: “Please tell me he’s not going to murder us in our sleep.”

Dean smirks. “Nah.” He glances at Bucky. “Pretty sure he’d already have done that.”

Bucky almost smiles.

------

The library of the Bunker is quiet except for the turning of pages. Sam has a laptop open, several old intelligence documents spread across the table. Across the room, Bucky sits stiffly in a chair, watching the floor like a man waiting for a verdict.

Dean paces. Dean hates this part. Research.

Sam suddenly goes still. “…Dean.”

Dean sighs. “Please tell me you didn’t find out he explodes or something.”

Sam slowly turns the screen. “I found Hydra programming files.”

Bucky’s head snaps up.

Dean notices immediately. “Hey, hey—easy.”

Sam hesitates. “There’s… something else.”

Dean squints. “What?”

Sam swallows. “They controlled him with trigger words.”

The room goes completely still. Bucky’s breathing changes. Shallow. Tight. “Don’t,” he says quietly.

Sam immediately backs off the keyboard. “I’m not going to say them. I don’t speak German or Russian.”

Dean walks closer to Bucky slowly.

“Bucky.”

Bucky’s metal hand curls into a fist. “Sometimes… they make you say them. To prove it works.”

Dean’s voice softens. “No one here is doing that.”

Sam closes the laptop gently.

Bucky stares at the table. “…You should keep them.”

Dean frowns. “For what?”

“In case I lose control.”

Dean scoffs immediately. “You’re not a weapon here.”

Bucky doesn’t look convinced. But he doesn’t argue. And that’s a start.

--

Later that week, Dean stands proudly beside Baby in the bunker garage. Bucky studies the car like it’s some sacred artifact.

Dean spreads his arms. “Alright. Rule number one.” Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You touch her wrong, I bury you under the bunker.”

Bucky tilts his head. “…You’re joking.”

Dean stares.

Bucky pauses. “…You’re not joking.”

Dean tosses him a rag. “Wipe the chrome.”

Bucky catches it effortlessly. His metal hand moves with careful precision over the bumper.

Dean watches. “You ever work on cars?”

Bucky shrugs. “1940s Brooklyn.”

Dean’s face lights up. “Atta boy.”

Soon they’re elbow-deep under the hood. Oil on their hands. Dean explaining engines like they’re living creatures. Bucky listens carefully. For the first time since he arrived… He looks calm.

Dean notices. “Feels good, right?”

Bucky nods slightly. “…Quiet.”

Dean grins. “Yeah, you’ll enjoy it here.”

---

It happens three nights later. Dean wakes to the sound of metal slamming. He grabs a knife and moves down the hallway. A door is open. Inside the room— Bucky is sitting on the floor. Breathing hard. Metal arm dented into the wall beside him.

Dean lowers the knife. “Nightmare?”

Bucky stares ahead. “I remembered another mission.”

Dean sits beside him. No questions. No pushing. Just quiet.

After a moment Bucky speaks. “I killed people who were begging.”

Dean nods slowly. “Yeah.”

Bucky looks at him. “You?”

Dean exhales. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”

Silence settles again. Then Dean nudges his shoulder. “Good news though.”

Bucky glances at him. “You’re stuck with us now.”

Bucky almost laughs. Almost.

----

The bunker alarm suddenly screams. A sharp, mechanical wail that echoes through the stone halls of the Bunker

From down the corridor comes the unmistakable shout of Sam. “DEAN!”

Boots pound against the floor as Dean Winchester bolts from the garage hallway, wiping motor oil from his hands onto a rag. 

“Yeah, yeah, what is it—” He skids into the war room.

Sam is already standing at the console, staring at the security monitor like it personally offended him. “Tell me I’m hallucinating,” Sam says.

Dean squints at the screen.

Outside the bunker entrance stand three very distinct figures.

One of them holds a shield.

Dean leans closer. “…Well.”

The man at the front—tall, broad-shouldered, impossibly square-jawed—steps closer to the camera. Steve Rogers.

Behind him stand a red-haired woman with an assessing stare—Natasha Romanoff—and a man wearing sunglasses who seems way too amused for someone standing in the Kansas wilderness. Tony Stark lifts his hand and waves directly at the camera.

Dean slowly leans back in his chair. “Sammy.”

Sam doesn’t look away from the screen. “Yeah?”

Dean gestures vaguely at the monitor. “Think we accidentally kidnapped an Avenger.”

Sam groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Dean, you can’t kidnap Avengers.”

“I didn’t kidnap him,” Dean protests. “He got in the car voluntarily.”

Sam presses the control panel button.

A distant mechanical rumble echoes through the bunker as the hidden entrance unlocks.

“Too late now,” Sam mutters.

“Door’s open.” Dean folds his arms. “Well… this should be fun.”

It doesn’t even take a minute. Footsteps echo down the corridor. Then suddenly Three strangers step into the war room like they just walked into the world’s strangest underground library.

Tony immediately looks around with open fascination. “…Okay, wow,” he says. “Secret bunker in the Midwest. Very dramatic. I’m into it.”

Natasha’s eyes sweep the room in a second, cataloguing exits, weapons, angles.

Steve doesn’t look at any of that. He’s staring at the brothers. Specifically Dean.

Dean raises his hands slightly. “Before you say anything, in my defense—”

Another set of footsteps approaches from the hallway. Slow. Measured. The room shifts. Bucky steps into the doorway. He stops the moment he sees them. His eyes lock instantly on Steve.

Something fragile flickers across his face—shock, disbelief, something painfully hopeful.

Steve’s breath catches. “Bucky?”

No one moves. Not Sam. Not Natasha. Not Tony.

Dean looks between them. Then leans slightly toward Sam. “…Well this just got awkward.”

Tony glances between the two soldiers, then at Dean. “Okay,” he says. “New question.” He points at the Winchesters. “Who are the flannel guys who apparently stole Captain America’s best friend?”

Dean shrugs. “Hunter.”

Sam sighs. “Hunters,” he corrects.

Steve doesn’t take his eyes off Bucky. “You’re safe here?” he asks quietly.

Bucky hesitates. Then nods once. Steve’s shoulders relax just a fraction.

Natasha crosses her arms. “So,” she says calmly. “You want to explain why the Winter Soldier is living in a secret bunker with two men who look like they run a classic rock radio station?”

Dean grins. “Funny story.”

----

The war room of the Bunker is quieter now. The tension that filled the air when the Avengers first arrived has settled into something calmer—something cautious, but not hostile.

Tony is halfway through a beer he definitely helped himself to from the bunker fridge. Natasha leans against the map table, arms crossed but relaxed. Across from them stand the brothers. Sam with his laptop. Dean leaning back in his chair like this whole situation isn’t surreal.

But the center of the room— That’s where the real moment sits.

Steve and Bucky stand facing each other.

For a long moment neither of them speaks.

Then Steve exhales slowly. “You disappeared again,” he says.

Bucky looks down at the floor. “…Wasn’t planning on sticking around anywhere.”

Steve nods slightly. “I know.”

Bucky glances toward Dean.

Dean lifts his hands. “Hey, don’t look at me. You got in the car.”

That earns the smallest huff of a laugh from Bucky.

Steve notices. And that tiny sound means everything.

Tony tilts his head. “You kidnapped him with kindness.”

Dean shrugs. “Works on strays.”

Sam groans softly.

Natasha’s eyes move between Bucky and the Winchesters. “You didn’t turn him in.”

Dean snorts. “To who?”

Tony raises a hand. “Technically—”

Dean points at him. “No offense, Iron Man, but we deal with monsters, ghosts, demons—” He gestures toward Bucky. “This guy ain’t one. If anything, he’ got my respect. He’s a war hero, a vet just like my pops.”

The room falls quiet again.

Steve studies Dean for a moment. Something like respect flickers in his eyes. “You protected him.”

Dean shrugs again, suddenly uncomfortable. “Guy needed a couch.”

Bucky’s voice breaks the moment. “…I didn’t know where else to go.”

Steve steps closer. “You’ve got somewhere now.”

Bucky hesitates. His gaze drifts around the bunker. The long library tables. The quiet halls. The garage where the Impala  sits. For the first time in decades… He looks like someone standing inside a home. Not a prison. 

Dean watches him. Then scratches the back of his neck. “Well…” He glances between the Avengers and his brother. “Guess the question is—” He jerks a thumb toward Bucky. “You taking him back, or what?”

Steve looks at Bucky. Not answering for him. Just waiting.

Bucky takes a long breath. “…I think I’d like to stay here for a while.”

Tony raises his eyebrows. “In the spooky Kansas bunker?”

Dean grins. “Hey.”

Sam crosses his arms. “It’s a nice spooky Kansas bunker.”

Steve smiles faintly. “Then that’s where you stay.”

Relief passes through Bucky’s shoulders like a weight finally dropping.

Natasha nods once. “Good choice.”

Tony finishes his beer.

“Well,” he says, setting the bottle down. “This has been the weirdest road trip I’ve ever taken.”

Dean smirks. “You ever fought a vampire?”

Tony pauses. “…I’m listening.”

Sam groans again. But Steve laughs quietly. And Bucky— For the first time since he arrived— Actually smiles.

Later that night. The bunker halls are quiet. Dean leans against the hood of the Impala, wiping grease from his hands. Footsteps approach. Bucky stops beside him. For a moment they just stand there.

Then Bucky says quietly, “…Thanks.”

Dean glances at him. “For what?”

“For not killing me.”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, well.”

He tosses the rag aside and pats the Impala’s hood. “Someone’s gotta teach you how to properly respect a classic car.”

Bucky looks at the car. Then at Dean. “…You gonna keep calling me Terminator?”

Dean grins. “Oh absolutely.”

Bucky shakes his head slightly. But he’s smiling again.

Down the hallway, Sam calls out— “Dean! Tony found the weapons vault!”

Dean groans. “Oh no.”

Bucky snorts softly.

Dean pushes off the Impala. “C’mon, metal arm.” He gestures down the hall. “Welcome to the family.”

You direct your magic around your knuckles, enhancing your strength as you navigate the battlefield. It’s over stimulating. Emotions are at their peak—rage, glory, grief. Not to mention the hum of energy that you funnel towards your body. An ocean of power crashing into you that makes it difficult to control. Sooner or later your body is going to cave in on itself under the waves. 

Fighting became less of a dance and more so a struggle for dominance. You’ve traded elegance in exchange for harder hits and heightened awareness. Your clumsy movements are saved by your manipulation of magic to keep your body balanced. Exhaustion creeps. It settles in the tighten muscles of your abdomen and the throbbing pain all over your body. 

Steve’s voice rings through your ear with a command that makes you falter in your movements. “Someone get to Vision!”

Wanda responds, but you clearly hear the sound of her getting hit. 

You hone in on your senses, trying to filter through the chaos of the battlefield. Near the forest, you feel a powerful pulse of energy. Humming, ancient, and endless. You open a portal to Vision’s location, sliding between Vision and two humanoid aliens. Before the two aliens could realize you were there, you shot a concentrated beam of energy to their stomachs, blasting them away. 

Bruce lands next to you with a heavy THUD, shaking the ground. “I’ll take care of these two, get Vision out—” A large axe hits Bruce’s armored head, cutting him off. 

You sling Vision’s arm over your shoulders, wincing as you feel the throbbing pain of your broken rib. 

“Thank you, Seraph,” Vision murmured. It scares you how weakened he sounds. 

You held onto him tighter, gritting through the pain in your body. “Hold on for a bit longer, Vis. You’re gonna be okay.” 

It was an automatic response that you gave for people in need; the both of you know that he’s not going to make it out of the battlefield alive. As much as you wanted to be empathetic to him as his friend, this wasn’t the time to have your emotions cloud your judgement. Vision doesn’t respond and you’re glad for it. 

It’s likely the last time you’re ever going to see him. The moment he dropped into the battlefield, Wanda was going to have to destroy Vision. It’s times like these where you wished you were able to harness the power of the Time Stone. If not to change your future outcome, but to know what lies ahead.

You bolt through the jungle, trying to find a secluded area to protect. You just need to portal Wanda to Vision and have her destroy the Mind Stone. A circle of magic should be enough to shield the two. Concealment runes should hide them, long enough to not let the hounds interrupt Wanda. 

Vision says: “Over there, a few meters.”

The area that Vision points to looks like a wall of branches, roots, vines, and leaves. Dense enough that you can’t peer through it. 

“Trust me,” he reassures. 

You use some magic to help you pull apart the thick foliage. Vision is pressed tight against your body as you create a narrow passageway. When you see the break of light ahead, you stumble out into a vast clearing. A beautiful, serene oasis, far away from the carnage a few miles away.  

You set Vision down beside a tree and begin working on a protection spell. The sound of magic sparkling in the air is all you focus on. Vision watches you scorch the ground with your fire, marking the earth with geometric patterns and symbols that he vaguely understands the meaning of. Your magic surrounds the two of you and Vision feels comforted by the gentle hum of energy. 

Vision can see the obvious strain your body is taking trying to perform this spell. Your once fluid and dance-like movements are now stiff. Your nose and mouth are curled in frustration as it’s taking longer for your magic to materialize. 

After the protection spells comes the concealment. The runes were sloppy with how fast you conjured them. At best no one would notice the obvious light warping if they’re preoccupied with fighting. At worst you’ve made a beacon to locate the most important being in the universe.  

The completion of the meager circle of spells gives you a second of reprieve. Your feet are unsteady, suddenly aware of how much energy has been sapped from your body. You wipe your nose, unsurprised to find blood caking the back of your hand. 

Vision grunts trying to sit up, catching your attention. “Promise me something?”

A spark of anger flashes at the sound of defeat lacing his voice. Not at him—but at the reality of what’s about to happen. Wanda was hopeful with Shuri’s ability to carve out the Mind Stone, but now she’ll have to face her worst nightmare. And you’re going to lead her to it. 

So many what ifs crash into your mind. Maybe if you stayed by Shuri’s side. Maybe if Wanda left for battle earlier and left you behind with Vision. Maybe if you sought out Bruce and Thor to check up on them before their ambush with the Black Order. 

There’s no changing the past, so the least you could do is swallow the guilt and face him. Your chest is tight as you weakly replied: “Anything.”

Vision smiles, thin but still bright. The glass of his eyes catches the warped light around him, fooling your mind that he’s making tears. “I figured out what the Mind Stone has been telling me.” His smile falters and you feel the weight of his grief on your shoulders. “‘Whatever happens now is not the end.’ Promise me you’ll tell Wanda. Let her know that everything’s going to be okay. I’ll be with her always.” 

Your jaw is tense as you mull over his words. You feel unworthy to bear the weight of your friend’s last wishes. So, you don’t. 

“Tell her yourself.”

Your sling-ring burns on your fingers as you conjure a portal. Wanda tumbles through as you exited the pocket you created just for them. 

— — —

The forest is eerily quiet. Still, save for a subtle breeze. War continues in the distance as you sit idly by the warped dome of light. 

A balance sways back and forth; life or death of those you love should you win or lose. 

Your family has probably heard the news by now. The attack on New York with Stephen and Wong fighting with glowing magic. Grainy surveillance videos of you fighting alongside Wanda and Vision have most likely spread across the Internet and onto your younger brother’s phone. Your sister is most likely huddled with your mother in magical prayer. Your father is probably watching the news with a furrowed brow and the remote clutched in his fist. 

One of the Wakandan soldiers gave you updates of what transpired in New York the moment you touched ground in Wakanda. Stephen, Spider-Man, and Tony had left Earth a few minutes after the Black Order’s attack. Their alien ship blasting off into space with a trajectory towards the outer solar system. You had to constantly reassure yourself that your friends were going to be okay. Stephen was more than capable of protecting the Time Stone. You were needed to protect Vision. 

Fighting in the midst of battle left no room for thinking. It’s all action, reflexes, and willpower. Now you’re alone with nothing but the subtle changes of the wind, buzzing energy, and your rampant thoughts.

Mostly of your loved ones. Partially about the fact that there’s a chance you’re going to die. 

You’re not unfamiliar with the concept—or rather the being. Death is erratic and unpredictable. You see her darkened robes in your peripherals when you bleed out in foreign lands. In the eyes of the corpses you’ve made. Her form is more pronounced in your dreams where the line between reality and beyond is worn thin. Her laughs haunt you. She’s crazy, but only because the universe is chaos. 

Should Thanos win, there’s a fifty percent chance that you will die. If she doesn’t come for you, she’ll certainly come for someone dear to you. 

A buzz in your ear interrupts your thoughts. 

“Seraph, do you have eyes on Vision?” Steve asks. You hear the squelch and shriek of an alien dog getting torn by his shield.

“Both Wanda and Vision are protected,” you reply. “Try to keep the dogs out of the forest.”

Bruce answers: “Copy that.”

The hounds should be the least of your worries. It’s only a matter of time before Thanos shows up. 

A few minutes pass and the dome of light emits no powerful shockwave of gamma rays nor the loud sobbing of Wanda. The concealment runes block your heightened senses from reaching your friends inside. The only way to know is for you to check inside; a mystical Schrödinger’s box. You occupied the time by reinforcing the magic circle. Containment spells that are virtually unbreakable, but you don’t know how well they will fare against a Titan with more than one Infinity Stone. 

As powerful as you are, you are nothing against the concentrated forces of the universe. The best you can do is lock Wanda and Vision in the Mirror Dimension the moment Thanos shows up. Provide as much distraction as possible so that Wanda will have enough time to destroy the Mind Stone.

You sit on top of a rock, keeping the warped dome in your line of sight. No hounds have sniffed you out yet. You twist a small blade in your hand, keeping your nerves occupied. 

It’s quiet. 

A suspicious type of quiet. Unsettling rather than serene. Something in your body stirs. A sickening mixture of dread and adrenaline. You slowly rise to your feet, feeling the air still to an almost suffocating degree. The roaring ocean of energy is receding, fast and hurried. Like air rushing to fill a vacuum.  

Then comes the tsunami. 

Your senses are so tuned to the environment that it stretches throughout the entire battlefield. Thanos’ portal is on the other side of the forest, yet it felt as if he opened it right beside you. The shock of energy coming from his gauntlet ripples through the air. Normally it would’ve been imperceptible to most people, but you feel energy resonate with your soul. Calling to you, beckoning you to seek their power. 

You rush to the dome, pulling apart the magical veil until you hear the sound of Wanda crying. She’s hunched over Vision, nuzzled in his neck, pulling his body against her own. Vision notices your panicked face, his mouth set to a hard line.

“Thanos…he’s here,” you say with a tremor. The magic of the concealment spell is fighting against you, trying to seal itself. “I’ll put you in the Mirror Dimension. Wanda, do you have your sling-ring?”

Wanda lifts her head with tears staining her cheeks. “I-I do.” She pulls the brass ring from her pocket and shakily slides it onto her finger. 

“Thank you, (Y/N),” Vision says. “You’ve been a great friend.”

There’s a guilty look on his face. His stare—all human and purposeful—tells you that he didn’t tell Wanda his last message. 

You swallow hard, not ready to say goodbye. The magic is straining against your hand, your hold is starting to weaken. “You’re not bad yourself.” You let out a shuddering breath as you spoke your farewell to Vision. “May your journey to the stars be a peaceful one.”

Although Vision’s database has no record of the language you spoke, the Mind Stone provided the meaning to him. 

With a tight nod, you removed your hand and the concealment spell sheltered the two once more. A flick of your wrist encased the entire clearing in the Mirror Dimension. Hidden from reality. A rhythmic pulsing came from the dome as the magic tried to contain the energy radiating from Wanda’s Chaos magic and the Mind Stone. 

It takes a great effort to shift the Mirror Dimension. Trees shift to cover the warped dome of light, pulling it farther away from you. You move the entire forest, ensuring that the rapid movement of foliage would take the attention away from the small cluster of trees. The large wave of energy that the gauntlet created gives you a boost, though your weakened state makes the energy harder to control. 

You drop to your knees, panting. A harsh cramp emanates from your side as your body is desperately trying to heal itself. But it’s not enough. Proper healing through magic requires another set of eyes and hands, of which you do not have. The magic in your red robes did enough to stop most blunt force attacks, but the magic gets weaker with each hit. 

There’s no shot in hell you’re winning against Thanos. Bruce’s recall of his encounter back at the Sanctum told you all you needed to know. Thanos is proficient in controlling the Infinity Stones. After the initial struggle of putting one on his gauntlet, he would roll his shoulders and command the powers of the stone as easy as breathing. 

All you need to do is slow him down. Keep him occupied. Parry each attack. Use up any remaining energy if you have to. 

The sounds of fighting are getting closer. Shouts from your comrades and the screeches of the alien dogs. The ground shakes, the air is swirling around you, the feeling of terror overtakes you and for a moment you think about running away. 

You keep your feet locked on the floor. The traitorous thought is fleeting as you remember that you’re the last line of defense. If Steve, Bruce, T’Challa, and all the others don’t slow him down, the responsibility of the entire universe is on you. 

In your very bones you had carved out an oath to humanity. When the time comes, there will be no hesitation to keep fighting until the fire in your eyes is blown away. You’ve always kept your oath in the back of your mind whenever you fight, but now it seems…real. 

This might be the last time you’re ever going to think about it. 

Should you die, at least there’s freedom in it. 

— — —

Flies. Useless, feeble things.

Thanos doesn’t flinch at any attack that comes his way. Not with five out of six stones in his possession. A simple thought in his mind is enough to bend the universe to his very whims. With the space stone he is able to bring a hulking machine that matches him in size to a floating gust of wind, phasing it into a stone wall nearby. He uses the Power Stone to immobilize the swarm of humans. 

Their efforts are laughably futile. Pitiful, even. 

Earth had been a planet born of legends and valor. Myths have been forged on the ground he steps in. But Thanos doesn’t see such power or grace in the humans’ attacks. A mild inconvenience at best. 

One thing is troubling, however. Thanos had used the power of the stones to warp him to the location of the last stone—the Mind Stone. If there’s one thing for certain is that the stones are the closest thing to truth; incapable of deception when it is only he who wields them. 

But where is it?

He closes his eyes and concentrates on clearing his mind. The power of the Space and Soul Stones surges and he feels the energy pulling his body. 

When he opens his eyes again, he is in a different part of the forest. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Much like his vision for the universe once his plan is complete. That thought only spurs him more. 

The clearing he finds himself still doesn’t reveal the last stone to him. When he flexes his hand once more, calling on the powers of the stones is when he feels it. The gentle hum of power just beyond his reach. And sight. 

The gauntlet gives him the temporary ability to be attuned with the universe. He feels it. The subtle veil of magic that surrounds him. Disgustingly familiar to the magician he had fought moments prior. But it’s not quite the same either. Where the magician’s magic was refined and streamlined, this magic feels alive. Angry, hot, scalding. 

It wasn’t a veil of magic that kept Thanos from the stone, it was another world. One that was nested inside of this one. The Space Stone glows and Thanos rips open the border that separates the two worlds. It took no more effort than tearing a piece of cloth. Thanos steps through the crackling tear and is met with a dizzying sight. 

Space is contorted in geometric patterns that disorient him. The movement of the world is unnatural and without any pattern, rhyme, or reason. The trees zig through on another and the ground caves in on itself and spits back out again in waves. 

And at the center of all this chaos is a stationary red figure. With threads of light weaving through the red fabric, Thanos momentarily believed that he was met with Asu-kala—Titanian god of judgement and karma. No terror strikes in his heart for Thanos knows that his actions are ultimately for the good of the entire universe. 

But this figure is no god. Just a human with a bright light in her eyes that rivaled the stars. 

“Your tricks will do nothing to stop me,” Thanos says with a calmness that only comes with a clear conscience. “If you reveal to me the last stone, I will absolve you of your wrongdoings and let you experience the birth of a new universe.”

“I have a duty to protect the lives of this planet from any threat.” Your voice is deceptively calm, but Thanos sees the sea of rage on your face. “Out of all the possible solutions to solve deplenished resources…genocide? Really?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

You shake your head. “Oh, I understand perfectly. You could increase the amount of resources. Increase the empathy of sentient beings so they can help each other. If you kill off half the population of the universe, at some point the population could return right back where we started. And then what?”

The few seconds of silence was deafening. 

Thanos flexed his armored hand, feeling the power of the universe at his beck and call. For the first time, a seedling of doubt crossed his mind. Fleeting like a bug caught in the powerful winds of a hurricane, but the thought still passes. Decades of planning, of conviction, of killing all culminating to this moment. Not once had he doubted his plans for change because he is different. He sees problems for what they are and the problems that infect this universe is that of greed and overconsumption. 

Yet he sees you. He notices you. Small and puny as you are. A bug that takes up as much space in this universe as a grain of sand does next to the ocean. 

“Too much of any substance is a poison.” Thanos brings his gauntlet up, shining the power stone. “I am merely balancing the scales—”

“So make an anecdote!” you exclaim, frustrated and hopeless beyond belief. “You act like the only solution is to remove the poison, but it’s never that simple, is it? We make anecdotes because removal can make problems worse. You act as if you have no other choice, but you can make any choice you want. You can inspire change without the need for death. You’re the most powerful being in the universe right now. What’s stopping you from doing that?”

Doubt is a feeling that Thanos does not engage with. He never has any need for doubt. Doubt is what stops progress. It’s an extension of fear, a means to falter confidence, a way to manipulate others. The thought of killing half of the universe to save sentient life had fueled him for a thousand years. Everyone called him crazy—mad for his idea. Thanos knew that everyone didn’t have the courage to see the vision through. 

You are not the first person to question him. You are small, insignificant, ignorant. 

But nestled in his brain, that seedling burrows itself deeper. 

An inkling of doubt falls through the cracks of his conviction and Thanos feels it. Hesitation is never good, not for a plan like this. 

You knew you could never win in a game of strength against Thanos. You’d hoped that you could stall long enough for Wanda to break the mind stone and aid you. Best case scenario Thanos would face his idiotic dogma and realize just how stupid his whole plan was. Worst case…you are ripped apart at the seams. 

Thanos’s gauntlet glowed, leaving you little time to prepare. 

You learned two things in the seconds that follow.

One, you should've known that one conversation alone would be enough to deter Thanos.

Two, blocking a direct attack from Thanos is the equivalent of stopping a freight train with nothing but a trash can lid. 

You managed to hastily put up a shield before Thanos runs towards you at a harrowing speed. The ground shakes with each step and you feel that vibration from the ground travel up from your legs and into your spine. The might of the Power Stone easily overwhelms your shield, shattering it. 

You dodge between Thanos’s legs before you cast a fast-acting decay curse—Necromata as you named it—straight towards his knees. The giant collapsed, shaking the ground beneath you. Your victory was short-lived when the red glow of the Reality Stone encased Thanos’s legs. 

The pulsating red energy was fighting against the rapid deterioration of Thano’s bones, muscle, and tendon. His roar of pain reverberated in your ear; a monstrous, bellow that reminds you of a war-cry. You scramble out of the way, finding shelter in the moving forest. You portal on top of a tree, gripping onto the branches for dear life. 

You don’t have much energy left. The injuries you’ve sustained from the alien dogs were slowly catching up to you. Necromata was a prototype that you were working on, meaning you haven’t worked through how to cast it without draining your energy too quickly. You were hoping to use Thanos’s limited knowledge of the arcane to your advantage. The only way to break the curse is to restrict magical energy flowing within the body. Thanos would be too preoccupied with using the Reality Stone to realize that it’s only going to feed Necromata.  

Thanos’s rage-filled cries grow distant as the tree you are perched on whizzes away. The dizzying forest overwhelms you. The pain radiating from your side is making you light-headed. There is no telling how much longer you can stay awake. 

A bright flash of green radiates from Thanos and you feel bile rise in your throat. There’s no way in hell that Stephen let the Time Stone out of his grasp willingly. 

You look down to see your hand shaking. Your heart beats faster, faster, faster. 

I’m going to die here. 

The oath carved in the bone of your spine burns painfully. You are sworn to protect humanity until your dying breath. You made that decision when you were eighteen and you have fulfilled that promise and then some. The burden of that oath weighs heavily, suffocating you day in and day out. 

You haven’t been afraid of dying before. You’ve dived into fatal danger without hesitation a hundred times over. But it’s different when the entire universe is at stake. It’s different when there’s a chance that your siblings will have to live the rest of their lives without their parents. Or your parents living out their centuries knowing that they outlived their children. 

You don’t think you can survive in the world without them. Your family, your friends, your students…

What good is your oath if you couldn’t protect the people that you care most about?

— — —

Another ear-piercing roar vibrates throughout the forest. 

Thanos clenches his fist, trying to reverse the deteriorating curse that’s ravaging this body. He can feel each nerve in his legs igniting as muscle and blood leak onto the ground in hot bursts. The smell of his flesh sliding off of his bones makes his stomach churn. It’s only when he uses the combined force of the Time and Reality stones that the curse finally erodes. Thanos heaves painfully as he rebuilds the lower half of his body.

He feels the stretch of muscle and skin, worse than any pain he has ever felt. His extraordinary durability meant that he doesn’t feel pain very often. Whatever magic you put on him was the most vulnerable he’s ever been. 

“Damn you wretched girl!” he bellows as the Space stone glows brightly. 

Thanos raises his hand before striking the ground. The Mirror Dimension buckles under his immense power and the tree’s momentarily stop moving. He brings his hand out, imagining your body flying towards him. He can visualize your delicate neck in his grasp, your legs kicking in the air frantically as he slowly closes his fist. 

The stone obeys his very thoughts, tearing through the forest with their energy. Thanos sees the smear of red in the sky. Your body flies through the air and lands into the cold metal of his gauntlet. Thanos’s crazed smile falters. 

You’re not moving. 

In a split second, Thanos feels his body lurch forward as a powerful force crushes his spine. His soul ejects from his body, tumbling into the Astral Dimension. Thanos’s movements are sluggish as he tries to regain his balance. 

You hover his body, your own soul burning brightly to the point where Thanos has to cover his eyes from the sight. Leaving Thanos momentarily stunned, you used the opportunity to slip back into your physical form.

With a strained gasp, you return to consciousness. Though Thanos had not yet gained control of his body, his hand is still locked tightly around your neck. You writhe in his grip, trying your hardest to get air into your lungs. 

Focus, focus, focus—

You bring your hand outwards, trying to expend the last of your energy to one last spell. 

Neuron Burst is a sub-category of your experimental decay curse. While Necromata is a long-lasting curse that persists until all living tissue has burst, Neuron Burst specifically targets the entire nervous system for less than ten seconds. A highly unethical and morally egregious spell that you haven’t tested before. You don’t even know if it works. 

Thanos’s grip on your neck gets tighter and you feel like the world is caving in on you. From the Astral Dimension, Thanos gains control over his soul. He rushes towards his body as you move your arms.

Sparks of energy appear as your magic materializes. You weakly move your hand, directing the energy until a series of sharp patterns hover above Thanos’s head. With a strangled cry, you clap your hands together, bringing down your spell. 

Just as Thanos enters his body, your magic materializes. It feels as though his brain is exploding inside his skull. He can’t speak, he can’t move, he can’t think. 

Thanos releases you as you crumple to the ground, gasping for breath. Thanos topples over, nearly crushing you beneath him. You managed to drag yourself away, but you are too weak to stand up. Thanos heaves himself up, staring at you with murderous intent. 

You then realize the grave error you’ve made. You didn’t anticipate the sheer durability Thanos’s cells have. If you weren’t so weakened, your spell would be much more effective. 

“You…are weak!” Thanos roars. “I will tear you apart. Atom by atom. You will not know Death even if you beg for it.”

You couldn’t move out of the way fast enough. Thanos brings his armored hand up and smashes it into your abdomen. Blood rushes into your throat, choking you. He yells with each continuous hit. The magic in your robes is flaring as it tries to protect each impact but you feel it’s power getting weaker. 

Thanos doesn’t stop until he hears your bones crack. He hates how resilient your body is. Your eyes are still bright with life, staring at him wildly. He grabs you by the neck, hauling you up before slamming you down into the ground. You let out a shriek of pain as your spine is shifted in your body. Blood coats the entirety of your mouth. When he finally lets go, it doesn’t offer any reprieve as you try to cough out all the blood out of your mouth. 

With a thunderous laugh, Thanos activates the stones in his hand. The forest stills around you and with sickening realization, you watch as the Time Stone shines brightly. Everything around you reverses leaving you and Thanos free of the influence of the stone. You watch helplessly as a familiar dome of light materializes next to you. The pulse of energy of Wanda’s magic and the Mind Stone just beyond your reach. 

“No!” you sob. 

Thanos ripped apart your spell with nothing more than a swipe of his hand. He pulls the veil of magic, revealing a sobbing Wanda and the body of Vision. Her green eyes widened in horror at your broken body. 

“Wanda—!”

Thanos interrupts your warning with a blast from the Power Stone aimed at Wanda. She flies several feet away, hitting a nearby tree. The Time Stone glowed once again, bringing Vision up and with it the Mind Stone lodged in his head. 

Vision blinks to life, staring at your blood soaked face. You can barely make out the worry in his face as tears pooled in your eyes. You reach out with a shaking hand, crying uncontrollably. 

It all happened so fast. Thanos plucks the Mind Stone as if Vision was made of paper. The vibranium caves away from his fingers, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of Vision. 

“VISION!” Wanda screams. 

The Mind Stone clinks into the gauntlet, resting in the middle of Thanos’s hand. The immense power of the stones is overwhelming, but Thanos takes it with a pleased smile. The gauntlet is burning as he grips onto your neck once more. You are raised out of the dirt until you are at eye level with him.

Everything you’ve done up to this point didn’t matter.

You failed. 

“With one snap of my fingers, my plan will be realized,” he says calmly. His hold on you is tighter, threatening to pop your head from your shoulders. “But first I will see to it that your atoms will be erased from this plane of existence entirely.” 

You grip onto the metal fingers around your throat, thrashing in his grip. All at once the power of the stones enters your body.

Skin bubbles beneath your hands where your point of contact is. Everything is hot. The fire of your magic was nothing more than a candle flame compared to the sheer magnitude of pure kinetic primordial energy. You scream out in pain, watching as multi-colored light splits your hands, traveling through your bloodstream. You feel like you’re going to be ripped apart from the inside out. 

I don’t want to die.

You see your life move in front of your life. The laughter, the joy, the pain, the heartbreak. Birthdays, funerals, your friends, your family. 

You see your mother holding your baby brother with a tired smile on her face. He looked so fragile and small. Your father pats your head softly, saying: “Protect your little brother for us, yeah?”

You see Peter talking excitedly about joining a robotics club, his mask clutched in his hand as he enthusiastically retells the story. 

You see yourself attending a funeral for your mentor. The Ancient One’s picture is kind and elegant. Grief shakes you to your hands and knees as you cry out. Master Rokda kneels beside you, rubbing your back. The only time you’ve seen her show any modicum of warmth towards you. 

You see the Avengers greet you at the compound. You see your first kill and the warmth of their blood caking your hands. You see your first kiss, the first broken bone, the first argument with your parents. 

All of the love to the utter shit you went through. The various worlds you’ve visited. The lives you saved and those you’ve left behind. 

I want to go home. 

You think of how scared your mother must be right now. How angry you’ve been for years and how in this moment, you wished to take everything you said back. 

I want to leave. 

Just like that, you were gone. 

— — —

All was well within the TARDIS. The Doctor, Amy, and Rory had just gotten back from their planet-hopping trip on the planetary system 56-Acesari. The couple, upon returning to the TARDIS, immediately crashed into their rooms. The Doctor didn’t mind. The trio had spent their whole day running through the beaches and stopping a band of pirates from taking over a small village.

Once Amy said her goodnights and shut her door, the man began his tinkering with the TARDIS once more. It’s a ritual for the both of them; a ritual to soothe The Doctor’s psyche. For hours, the time lord would pull apart wires, rearrange panels, and modify controls within the TARDIS. There was silence in the control room. Save for the quiet hum of the machinery. It wasn’t until 4 hours later where a sudden alarm shocked The Doctor out of his trance. The soft orange light of the control room changed to a flashing red.

“What’s going on?” Amy’s worried voice carried through the blaring alarms. Rory came into view not too far behind with an equally worried face.

“Don’t worry! It’s nothing to worry about.” The Doctor whizzed around the control panel turning knobs and pulling levers. The couple exchanged a knowing glance. Rule #1, The Doctor always lies.

“If there’s nothing to worry about then why is the TARDIS freaking out?” Amy gestured to the room around them. Said man kept mumbling to himself. Typical Doctor, his brain working faster than his mouth. Amy never failed to catch the man’s worried gaze towards the screen above the control panel. Walking over to the other side of the room, the couple saw the screen showing a familiar planet.

“It seems as though a portal in space-time opened up just now…” The Doctor whispered, wasting no time to start up the TARDIS.

“Wait, is that…Earth?” Rory asked with heavy worry. On the screen displayed the blue and green planet with data all around it which Amy nor Rory would interpret.

The Doctor wastes no time setting their destination to the watery planet.

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