hereshecomes

[hereshecomes]

★ group grocery run

[hereshecomes]

epic cast is feeding us with these interactions

[hereshecomes]

“... yes, I can track your phone but I don't do that anymore.”

[hereshecomes]

Thunderbolts (2025)

[hereshecomes]

Old Grudged Die Hard p2

https://www.tumblr.com/hereshecomes/786105234983370752/old-grudges-die-hard?source=share

AN: I have way too much time on my hands. Part one is linked above, and I pray it works because I'm terrible with computers.

Includes darker themes like canon level violence, hydra, fighting, foul language, mentions of implied sexual assault and brief nudity.

Siberia- 1976

It was cold, but then again it always was. 

The cement walls and floors gave no comfort to her as she walked, her hands cuffed behind her back and a pulsing collar on her neck. Two large hydra agents held her elbows as they guided her down the hallways. 

“Ya know, we’ve been taking bets all week.” Vicco spoke from in front of her. His white shirt was freshly pressed, his dark hair slicked back and tone casual. “Who will win? The witch or the soldier?” he pondered with a smile on his face. 

“I’m not a witch,” she dared to speak, her eyes on the floor as she was guided through the twists and turns of the facility. 

Vicco just chuckled to himself, his hand coming up to rub his lightly stubbled chin, his olive skin and tattoos peeking from his shirt collar and sleeves. “It doesn’t matter. We’re in for something good either way.”

“Take off this collar and I’ll show you something even better than good,” she snipped back, earning a harsh tug and grunt from one of the men escorting her. She wasn’t supposed to talk, but Vicco didn’t mind. He loved egging her on. She was his toy, and he got to play with her however he wanted. 

“Careful with her boys,” Vicco called back to the men, his Italian accent thick. “If she survives, I’m going to bring her back downstairs. I have a party tomorrow, and she can be my centerpiece.” he chuckled. “Do you know how much money a man would pay to have a crack at a girl with golden eyes?”

Present Day

“Jack- are you seriously still mad about that?” Y/n asked, her arms still crossed as they stood on the balcony.

“Aren’t you?” He asked, his eyes soft. “You begged me to end it, Angel. You begged me to end you.”

“And you didn’t.” she replied curtly, looking away from him and to the trees that surrounded the camp. 

“Of course I didn’t.” Bucky sighed, his eyebrows furrowed, “But you did rip off my metal arm, and that was detrimental in its own way.” 

She knew it would be. She just tore the metal, not wanting to actually hurt him, but the damage had been the same. A brand new arm, all from the beginning.

“I should have kept it as a souvenir.” She spoke, breaking the tension with her harsh words but  small smile curled into the corners of her lips. “You got a better one though, so don’t be a baby about it.” 

He scoffed as a hint of a smile came on his face. “y/n- you tried to beat me with it.”

At that- she couldn’t help but laugh. 

“It’s not funny!” he spoke, but a chuckle came past his upturned lips. 

She giggled, her hand coming to her mouth as she looked away from him. It was odd- to be joking about their shared pain- but it helped. It was refreshing. She turned back to him, a ghost of a smile still on her face, but it faltered and disappeared after a moment as she responded. “It kinda was, if it wasn’t for the whole asking you to kill me thing. And then what came after.” 

“If you don’t want to talk about it-”

“I don’t,” she cut him off. “Can we just-” she huffed, her hands up and eyes closed in almost a surrendering fashion, like she was thinking for a moment. She opened them before she continued, and they immediately found bucky. “Can we just not try to kill eachother anymore? Can we just forget that all of that happened? The fighting, the missions, the pit?” 

“Do you want to forget about Kyiv too?” he asked, his arms crossing against his chest and eyes narrowing. 

“Yes.” she spoke seriously, her eyes holding a split second of pleading before she moved to pick up her belongings.

She shook off whatever false happiness or laughter she held in her and chose to be more direct. She needed to come out of this with her point across. “I just- that’s all in my past, and I’d like to keep it that way. You might have been just finishing a mission or whatever when you saw me, I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t care. I just want to do my job and be done with it, and I don’t want to worry about you trying to kill me in the middle of the night because you're mad I killed your precious Vicco.”

“He helped me.” He said quickly, his expression becoming more firm, his eyes staring daggers into her.

“Well to me- he was a monster. He killed Blondie right in front of me. For nothing. He forced me to do terrible, awful, disgusting things.” she quickly replied, her voice cracking as it became hard and desperate. She started  moving to the door with all of her things. “And you tried to get your revenge, and you failed. I’m still alive, much to both of our dismay.” 

He didn’t reply before she made it to the door, sliding it open for her to walk inside. “Honestly, Jack. Pick better friends.” 

50 miles outside Moscow- 1966

It was freezing. Colder than freezing. The suns trapped her eyes couldn’t even keep her warm. 

She wrapped her arms around herself as she walked through the snow covered woods. Water soaked through her boots and socks, her tac pants sticking to her legs as she pushed through. The hood of her coat barely did a thing to protect her from the killing winds that kept sweeping through her. 

It was less than a mile back to the cabin. She just had to make it over this hill. The snow was pelting her, coming up under her hood as she trudged. It was already almost up to her knees, and it was just going to get worse. 

She should have been back by now. He was going to be mad. He would pace and stare and criticize her. She didn’t know it was going to get this bad this fast. She thought she had another hour. She thought she could make it to the watchpoint quicker. 

She could feel her joints tensing, her legs moving slower than she was telling them too. She tried to keep pushing and she was almost there, but as hard as she tried the suns in her eyes wouldn’t keep her warm. 

It was funny how it happened. She didn’t remember much. She remembers looking up the hill to the cabin and seeing nothing, and then blinking and seeing a black figure. The next thing she remembers seeing is the roof of the cabin as she was being carried. Then the water in the bathtub being filled. 

She remembers hearing the soldier talking, but not making out his words. He pulled her soaked through clothes off of her as he spoke, and she remembers the immense pain she felt as he lowered her into the hot water in the bathtub. She remembers screaming, her fingertips pulsing with her powers as her eyes lit up the most intense gold they ever had. Her arms were wrapped around his neck as he lowered her, and she remembers the soft vibrations of his chest as he spoke to her. Soft words and whispers and hushing. 

“You’re going to be okay,” she remembers making that out. He stayed with her until he pulled her out of the tub, wrapping her still shaking frame in a towel before getting her some clothing. 

He laid her in front of the fireplace, and he stayed with her, keeping her to his chest and wrapped in blankets until she unfroze. “T-thank you.” she whispered to him after some time, looking up to his stubbled face. 

He shook his head, “Its fine,” he responded curtly. “I was worried you ran off so I came to look for you.” 

She couldn’t imagine the possibility of that. Vicco would kill her. He would find her. He always did. She simply shook her head and laid back into him. 

Thinking back on it, it was odd. The soldier had never even touched her before, outside of the occasional sparring, and now he was holding her to his chest, blankets wrapped around them as they tried to keep their warmth in the old abandoned cabin. 

She felt a sense of comfort around him. Like a protection she couldn’t even offer. He radiated warmth that not even Apollo could give her, but his cool demeanor ran over her like one of Poseidon's waves. 

It was sometime later, far into that night when they spoke again. “Can I ask you a question?” she whispered to him. They were laying next to eachother at this point, her head still on his chest in front of the fire. 

“Hmm?” he grunted softly, his stormy eyes coming down to meet hers. 

She hesitated before she asked. She eluded raw power regularly, but now she felt like a flittering thing. Something small in the palm of his hand. “They never told me what your name was.” she whispered to him. 

She could see the gears in him turn, a flicker of something in his eye before he looked back to the ceiling. “I don’t know. I don’t have one.” 

It was shocking to her, and she laid back down on his chest. Even she had a name. She could faintly remember her mother calling it to her if she tried. “Do you want one?” she asked after a moment, her voice small. 

He didn’t respond for a while. He had never thought about it before. He was The Winter Soldier. That was his name, but didn’t he deserve a real one? “Okay.”

She thought for a moment, her hand running over his chest. He liked it, she could feel it in the way he tensed and then eased under her. 

“Something good. Something strong.” she said quietly, and she could feel him give a soft nod. 

“Michael?”

“No.”

“Hank?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Nick?”

“No.”

“Jack?”

He was silent for a moment. He was thinking it over. A small smile came to the corners of his lips for just a moment. “Yeah…. yeah, I like that.

[hereshecomes]

CAPTAIN AMERICA: BRAVE NEW WORLD (2025) dir. Julius Onah

[hereshecomes]

Old Grudges Die Hard

AN: I lost access to my old account and I haven't posted in a while, so here goes nothing. I'm also really into mythology, so I put that in there for funzies.

Includes: Strong language, Angry themes, canon level violence, greek mythology, reader having powers.

She sat in the meeting room, her hands folded in her lap as she listened to the clock on the wall tick the seconds away. Her arms are crossed, her teeth clenched and legs crossed as she refuses to look at him. 

“You have to tell us what happened, Y/n. This isn’t something that just goes away.” Steve sighs from across the table. His hands and forearms are crossed as he leans into it, his eyes soft and pleading, but also holding a harsh tone of authoritative directness. 

“I don’t want to talk,” she replies, her tone sharp. 

“Well I dont give a shit, because my medbay is smashed to bits and you and Barnes are to blame!” Tony rears from the lines he's pacing in the carpet at the front of the meeting room. 

She lets out an annoyed huff, finally looking at the man of the hour across the table. He sits next to Steve, his eyes burning holes in the table. He refuses to look at her. He hasn't since Wanda and Steve pulled them apart. His arms are crossed almost like hers, but he's more rigid. He always has been. 

“Are you going to tell them, or should i?” she finally asks, her voice directed at the Soldat, or rather Bucky. That what he's called now. 

He doesn’t respond, and somehow that makes it worse. 

“Fucking great,” she mutters to herself before returning her attention back to steve. “We have history.” she says blankly. 

“No shit,” Tony replies, snapping at her as he continues to pace. 

She rolls her eyes, not bothering to even respond to him. “It was a long time ago, we were enemies, and old grudges die hard. Sorry about your medbay, Stark. You can take the money from my paychecks.” she spoke casually, her leg bouncing. 

Tony rolls his eyes and huffs, muttering something about rebuilding and glass doors and contractors as he pushes out of the room, slamming the door behind him in irritation.

She looks at Bucky again, letting out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She scans over his face, and for a minute she sees the man she used to know. The man in hydra who she trained with, ate with and eventually went on missions with. The one she would only see whenever she was unfrozen. The one who she had to work back out of his shell over and over again. The man who didn’t remember her more times than he did. 

“Do you even remember all of it? Or just the last part?” she asked him, her coldness breaking momentarily as she peers up to the man she used to love. 

He finally does it. He looks up to her for the first time since Steve's arm went around his neck to choke and pull him off of her. “I remember all of it,” he spoke, his voice cracking. He tears his eyes away, looking back down to the table almost in shame. 

She's stunned for a moment at his words, but she sighs and looks back to steve. She feels Wanda's hand on her shoulder, and she almost forgot that the other woman was standing behind her. It was meant to be a comforting gesture. A touch that said a million words. 

“Then why did you attack me on sight?” she asked, her eyes locking on his face, taking in his still and tense posture. 

“What did you say earlier?” he almost chuckled, his stormy eyes dark as he looked up to her again, “old grudges die hard?” He basically laughed at her.

She’s on her feet within a second. Her water bottle is reared back in her hand, and she throws it as hard as she can at him. It hits him square in the chest, the metal of the bottle clipping his chin. He goes to stand, about to lunge across the table when Steve is on him, pushing him to the floor and yelling at both of them. 

Wanda is on Y/n in an instant, pushing her out of the doorway, using her scarlet magic to try to force her out, but it isn’t even a fight when compared to Y/n’s raw power. Her eyes glow a burning gold like the sun and she storms off down the hallway, her own powers pulsing at her fingertips, begging to be released and used in her anger.

She storms to her room in the camp, slamming the door behind her. She doesn't let anyone in for the rest of the night, taking comfort in her books, statues and artifacts. The anger and heat from her hate pulses out of her like a flame, but she doesn’t stir. She won’t crack. 

It doesn't take long after the sun goes down that she's at her window, speaking quietly in the wind to Eleos. A minor god in her mythology, but still a Goddess. She sat there for hours, trying to find it in her to forgive him. She thought about the years she longed to see him again, and the feeling of his skin under her fingertips. It almost makes her miss him. He was the worst version of himself back then, direct and cold and unforgiving, but with her after a while he wore down. He was careful and hesitant. He would clean her wounds with gentle fingers, and hold her close under the firelight in the abandoned cabin they once took shelter in. 

 She lets out a heavy breath, opening her eyes in the moonlight and looking to the large rock in the sky, and she doesn’t see Bucky again until she’s doing her sun-salutations to Apollo the next morning on the balcony. 

.................

It was calm. The early morning summer breeze washed over her like a cool wave as she stretched. The sun was just starting to come up the horizon, and she already felt better. For better or for worse, he was her prophett, her divine god and light. She basked in his presence, whispering words of thankfulness of this light, and the drops of sun he put in her eyes all those years ago for her to protect herself. 

In front of her sat her water bottle, (that she had found that morning sitting outside of her bedroom door with a sticky note on it that read ‘stop throwing this at people’) her phone and a book. She stood on a mat, bending down into some yoga stretch she could never remember the name of when the door behind her opened. She didn't open her eyes for a moment, continuing her stretches and mutterings of appreciation until the intruder cleared his throat for her attention. 

“No,” she said blankly from her chest, moving into a different position entirely. 

“Come on, Y/n. We need to talk. We have to.” Bucky spoke almost softly, his demeanor calm. 

She sighs, glancing at the rising sun on the horizon as if to say she was sorry to Apollo for cutting their time short. She moves to stand and she turns to face him. 

He's wearing a white tank top and sleep pants, and his long hair is pushed back out of his face, messy from how many times he has run his hands through it. 

She doesn't look much better. Her hair is tied back in a rough looking bun, and her shirt hangs off of her like it belonged to someone else. Her shorts are old and ripped, and she only has two black socks on her feet. “You look like shit,” she says with a chuckle, crossing her arms loosely, “but honestly I’ve seen you worse.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence and approval, angel.” he almost smiles, trying to keep a light tone. 

There it was. What he always used to call her. She told him years ago about her eyes and Apollo's gift, but he said he didn't believe her. As they marched through the jungles in wherever they were all those years ago, he said her eyes weren’t the sun, but her halos. “I don't know anything about mythology or whatnot, but your eyes aren't sun drops or whatever.” he spoke as they walked, cutting down hanging vines as they went. “They’re your halos, because you’re an angel.” he smiled at her.

The word hit her like a gust of wind from the east, but she refused to let it show. “Believe me, you don’t have it.” she replied, trying to keep her cool. The last thing she wanted was for him to think he still had an effect on her. She was a Hydra espionage agent, for crying out loud. She had worked over and used so many men before, she lost count. She could fold them like a sheet of paper all those years ago. Why was he actually getting to her?

He let out a breath, looking her over before speaking again. “I- i wanted to talk to you. Smooth things over.. For the sake of the team.” 

She could see him clenching and unclenching his metal hand, like he was nervous to speak. Good. 

“Did Steve question you about us?” She asked, her gaze ripping away from him as she looked back to the horizon.

“Yes,” he spoke. 

“What did you say?” she snapped back, eyes going to him quickly. 

“That we’ve known eachother for a long time.” He said almost hesitantly, taking another step towards her. “That we cared about eachother, and then we were taken away from eachother, and then years later we were supposed to kill eachother.” 

She didn't look at him while he spoke, her eyes transfixed on the few rocks that somehow made their way up to where they were standing. “Did you tell him how you left me to die in the middle of nowhere?” she questioned, her tone sharp but eyes unmoving. 

He took another hesitant step. “No,” he spoke softly. “And I didn’t say anything about Blondie or the nightmares.” 

Her eyes shot up at the mention of the nightmares. “You know about that?” she spoke almost hesitantly. 

“Who else would send a Greek god to haunt my dreams?” he almost laughed. 

She smiled almost triumphantly. She never knew if her prayers to Hypnos worked, but it seems they had. She let out an amused chuckle. “Is that why you tried to kill me?” she asked, her eyes coming over to meet him again. 

“No,” he responded, his small smile faltering as he spoke. “I tried to kill you because of the other thing.”

AN: Let me know if you want another part!

[hereshecomes]

making bucky a politician is one of the most insane choices the MCU has ever made but you know what. sure. i'm here for it

(commission info // tip jar!)