saltysideblog

[saltysideblog]

✥ Fandom: MCU ✥ TV Series/Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy ✥ Face Claim: none ✥ Full Name: Princess Zverina of Clan BawnBawn, Third of Her Name, Keeper of the Sacred Forge of Making ✥ Other Name(s): Rina, Princess, Reindeer Games ✥ Age: 30 ✥ Parents: King Flavian and Queen Octavianolla ✥ Siblings: she has like 12 siblings i'm not naming all of them ✥ Abilities: blimpian physiology (superhuman strength, durability, agility, etc.), master combatant, acrobat, hammer mastery ✥ Date of Birth: AB 4051, in the Month of Making ✥ Height: 6'2" ✥ Gender: Female ✥. Sexuality: Pansexual ✥ Love Interest: Adam Warlock ✥ Quotes:

none yet

[saltysideblog]

Adam Warlock to Rina

"Show me how to please you."

while...

Action: 1

in...

Location: 12

*gasp* the oc from our dms

They were supposed to be at a feast. A celebration. The guardians of the galaxy had saved Blimpy IV from complete destruction. But Rina wanted nothing to do with it. Her home planet that had banished her for trying to protect it, now worshipping her and the family she had found out in the galaxy.

After her father had given the toast, long-winded and making sure to point out that his own daughter, a princess, had been integral in their enemies' defeat. Enemies. Rina had to stop herself from rolling her eyes in front of her entire home planet as they cheered for her. Enemies. Blimpy didn't have enemies. They had overlords, occupants, the pirate of the month who was allowed to take whatever they wanted because her people were noncombatant. Pacifists to an absurd degree. Allowing themselves to be walked all over, enslaved, and their resources taken for someone else's use. And when Rina tried to save her people? Fight the injustice? She was banished for her acts of extreme violence. Never to return. Until she couldn't stand to see all she had ever known destroyed.

It was completely paradoxical that they would shun her then and praise her now. That her father would embrace her with a smile when he once looked at her with nothing but contempt. That she would be sitting at a victory feast, the first in her people's history.

When the many toasts were finished and the party was in full swing, Rina excused herself from the table quietly. No one seemed to notice. Rocket was enjoying himself and the very fruity Blimpian alcohol. Groot had at least twelve small children climbing on his branches. Nebula and Drax were arguing about who knew what.

The only person to notice, to watch as she stood up from her seat and walked away, was Adam.

No one noticed when he got up from his seat either.

He was sure that someone on the team, probably Nebula, would say what he was doing right then was creepy. Following her around in the dimly lit streets of PomPom City. But he just couldn't help it. Rina had been acting strange since they got the distress call from Blimpy IV. He knew it was her home planet; she talked about it often, but he thought she would be more excited to be back. To be back in the good graces of her family. But she just seemed sad. And Adam wanted to fix it. He wanted to see her happy again.

Rina turned into a garden lane just outside the city limits. At the end of the well-trodden path, there was a temple. Large and ornate and made entirely of metal. It looked out of place amongst the other Blimpian architecture, which was all open and made of stone. Rina went inside the temple without hesitation, and Adam followed reluctantly after.

There was a massive forge in the middle of the big, open room. Lit and burning brightly, casting the only real light. As soon as he stepped through the door, he felt the sanctity of the place. The air was thick with it and the heat coming from the forge, the only place for the heat to escape was way up towards the ceiling; small slits for windows. Inside was beautiful, reflective, like polished steel. There were four altars surrounding the forge, each with a different tool. Rina stood in front of the hammer, looking into the flame as if it were a void.

"Rina?" he called to her, gently as he could, but it still echoed in the hollow space.

She jumped, deer-like ears perked up as she turned on her heel to face him. Her iridescent hair and pink skin seemed to glow in the light. Her silver antlers, three-pronged and arcing from her crown, sparkled. And that dress...Blimpians were all about fashion. The purple fabric hugged her curves as it fell to the floor. It was beautiful. She looked beautiful.

"Adam," she hissed his name with a hand to her chest. "You scared me!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," he replied, taking a few steps closer.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" he asked back.

She sighed. Looked back at the forge. "Fair point. This is...This is the Forge of Making. This temple is technically my responsibility."

"It is?" Adam looked around.

"Yep." She nodded. "Princess Zverina of Clan BawnBawn, third of her name, Keeper of the Sacred Forge of Making. Every craftsman on the planet comes to this temple to get their work blessed. Every sacred item for every other temple is made here."

He hummed in reply, moving to stand at her side, fingertips brushing her wrist. Closer to the burning fire, the holier the very air became. There was a plate screwed into the forges metal side, stating that it was lit around three thousand years ago according to Blimpian years. And it hadn't been put out since; it had been stoked with care by generations of temple attendants.

"I thought you would be happy to be home," he said.

"Me too." She leaned closer to him, never taking her eyes away from the flame. "But I'm not."

"Would you like to...Talk about it?" he offered.

His sentiment, at the very least, made her smile as she looked at him. "No. I just...I think I've finally realized my home isn't here anymore."

"Where is your home then?"

"With you." The natural pink of her cheeks darkened as she bumped her shoulder into his. "With the rest of the guardians."

"Really?" he asked, soft, hopeful.

Rina turned to him fully, reached out, and touched the brightly colored shirt her family had set out for him. "Really."

Their kiss was tender, slow, reverent in a way that seemed fitting for that holy place. Adam, ever eager and so easily lost in her, pulled Rina in by the hips, flush against him. She gasped in his mouth, allowing him to sneak his tongue past her lips. Her hands slid up his broad chest as she lost herself in the kiss. In Adam. In not thinking about this planet or her family or anything except how good he made her feel.

Before she noticed they were moving, she felt the thick stone altar dig into the backs of her thighs. Adam gripped under her knees and lifted her up without a hint of effort. He could have just kept holding her, had done so for hours before, but right now he wanted to touch her. Dig his fingers into the silk of that dress, pass his thumb over her breast, feel her rapid pulse as his hand curled gently around her throat.

The delicate silver chains that hung from her antlers tinkled as her head tilted back, his lips creating a wet trail as he dragged them down her neck and across her shoulder. She sighed, fingers threading into his golden locks.

It felt like the god of making was watching them. But this also felt like a sacrifice. A holy devotion. As Adam pushed up her dress and knelt before that altar, before her. A depraved worshipper so eager to please.

Leaning back on her hands, Rina watched as he pressed a delicate kiss to her ankle, eyes closed as if in prayer. Then he gripped her thighs and dragged her forward, ass on the edge of the stone slab. With her dress bunched around her hips, the altar dug into her bare skin and made her hiss. Adam apologized with a stream of kisses along the inside of her thigh.

He reached for her hand as he gave her a small smile, and she gave it to him willingly. Then he guided that hand into his hair, and it made her chest heave. He had never kissed her down there before.

"Show me how to please you," he told her so gently, so sincerely, it made her very soul ache, as he ducked down between her legs.

She really didn't know if she ever believed in the god that this temple was devoted to, but she swore she saw him for just a moment when Adam kissed her through her panties. Her calves hooked around his shoulders, her fingers tightened in his hair, as a small choked sound slipped out of her. He gave her one more kiss, then another, before finally slipping her underwear down her legs and stowing them in his back pocket.

"Adam," she whined his name when he did nothing but peck at her seam a few more times. "Please - need you to - uh."

She didn't even need to finish her sentence; he knew what she needed. Splitting her open with his tongue, he began to explore. He was mapping her out, learning just where to go, memorizing every little sound she made.

Then he pulled back to look up into her face. She was panting for breath, and a sheen of sweat had broken out across her chest and brow in the heated space. Her painted eyelids were heavy, her jaw slack. She looked even more beautiful than before.

"Where do you need me?" he questioned quietly as he nudged his nose against her cunt.

She gripped his hair tight enough to sting and directed his mouth to her clit. "There. Right there."

Adam gave a tentative lick to the sensitive bud at first. Noting the sharp intake of breath that Rina let out and the way her thigh muscles jumped. Right there, indeed. He flicked his tongue repeatedly and listened to her moan. A hymn to a listening god. His fingers dug into the meat of her thighs as his tongue worked her clit, as he drank everything her cunt was willing to give him.

"Taste so sweet, princess." He broke away to mutter the words like she wasn't even listening before diving back in with a new vigor.

Her free hand gripped his shoulder in a vice-like grip as she whined high in her throat. The chains in her antlers chimed, the forge roared beside them, and still Adam went on with his act of praise. His act of complete and utter devotion. He moaned as more of her juices dripped down his chin in cloying rivulets.

She cried out his name as he used the flat of his tongue against her, thighs tightening around his head like she was trying to pull him closer. Rina was stronger than most people, but she wasn't stronger than Adam; he could get crushed between her thighs anytime and not feel affected at all. But right then, it made him dizzy, to have the heat of her surrounding him as he himself tried to pull her infinitely closer.

"F-Feels so good," she managed to whimper out as he moaned again. "Just like that. Oh, fawn, yes."

Fawn. He had heard her father use that term when addressing the queen before the feast. An affectionate term on Blimpy IV. It made a shiver run up his spine, the blood rush straight to his cock, that she would call him that. And he didn't know why, but it just felt natural and right to take her clit between his lips and suck gently.

Rina went stiff beneath his attention as she keened high in her throat. Her hands scrambled for purchase against his body. Her hips jerked and rolled against his face, trying to scramble away, but Adam just held her down tight. Forced her to take his worship and his praise.

So when she gushed all over his tongue with a final cry, he drank every drop of the sacrifice she made. And he didn't pull away until she was pushing at his head and whispering through her haze for him to stop.

He got back to his feet and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, suddenly looking bashful. While Rina looked wrecked. Her dress wrinkled and pooled at her hips. Legs shaking. Makeup ruined by the sweat. But still she pulled Adam to stand between her legs and leaned up to give him a kiss.

"Do you...Feel better?" he asked quietly.

"I do," she hummed back, straightening his collar. "Take me back to my room, yeah? You can...Keep making me feel better...If you'd like."

Adam nodded eagerly as he scooped her up into his arms, and as soon as he stepped foot outside of the temple, he took off into the air.

[saltysideblog]

John Walker to Juno

"This could be our last night together. I’m going to make it count."

while he...

Action: 20

in...

Location: 10

(stranded on the island... perhaps?)

yes yes yesssssss here's a small preview to the stranded island chapter i've been cooking up

island john cause i say so ^

The tent they rigged up was nothing more than a few sticks and Juno's parachute to shield them from the rain. A quick fix on their first night on the island when the sun was going down too fast for their liking. Now they were approaching their third day stranded, their only hope of contact a tracker John assumed was planted in their suits. But neither of them knew for sure.

It was raining now, a terential downpour that battered against the sides of the parachute. Water was collecting in pockets of the nylon overhead. It wasn't even midday yet, and the storm didn't look like it was stopping anytime soon. There was nothing much else to do but lay side by side in the cramped space.

Juno's fingers had been curled around his wrist since they ducked into the tent. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she grounded herself to him. Her hearing aids had died somewhere on the second day, leaving her feeling vulnerable. They had to get creative with communication, but this close in the tent, she could hear him alright.

"Still going?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah. Think it'll keep goin' the rest of the day," John replied, propped up on his side facing her.

It was fucking hot in that jungle as well. Their suits were ditched upon the first hour, leaving John in nothing but his boxers and a t-shirt and Juno in a sports-bra and bike shorts. So few layers between them as they laid in the dirt.

Her fingers dug into his flesh a little harder. "Gonna make search and rescue a little difficult."

"You think they're coming today?" He grinned down at her, partially teasing, partially adoring.

"Got nothing left but to hope for it."

She looked up at him then with those big brown eyes and he would've done anything she asked. And he watched, a smirk ticking the corner of his mouth, as her chest hitched when he smoothed back the hairs that had become stuck to her skin with sweat. Close proximity. Survival. Forced to depend on one another. John didn't really know which of those things had made his walls come down around Juno. He knew he cared for her, as a partner and friend. He knew that she was pretty, it was hard to ignore that. But laying in that tent with her, the rain pattering against the nylon, he didn't want search and rescue to show up. He just wanted her.

Even if it completely ruined their work relationship.

"This could be our last night together," he agreed with a nod, "I'm going to make it count, then."

Juno's eyes widened as he got up onto his knees and stripped off his shirt. Revealing scars, a chest covered in light hair, and that soft belly he had tried to hide from her. He knelt back over her slowly, giving her all the time in the world to tell him to stop, to back away and make things so incredibly awkward. But she didn't. She melded into him like she was made to. Her hands glided up his chest as he bumped his nose with hers.

"Are you sure?" she whispered, eyes betraying her as they flicked down.

He answered by pressing his lips to hers.

[saltysideblog]

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 | 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐨𝐜 | 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

Summary: A mission at Christmas time - you would think the universe would take it easy on them. Instead, Juno's life changes forever when she gets injured, and John decides to be selfish. (wc: 7350 whoops)

Warnings: fake relationship but only briefly, there is czech in this and i tried my best, another superhuman person, child kidnapping/hostage situation, violence, blood, oc becomes deaf, walker is emotionally constipated about his divorce, thunderbolts spoilers this is so long I'm so sorry

✎……surprise, this character is disabled!

PART TWO | PART THREE

“So where did we get married?” Juno asked as she shrugged on her coat.

“Um…” John thought for a moment as he went through the motions of clipping his gun holster to his belt, then remembering he had a walking armory with him and deciding to leave it at home. “You’re from New York, right? There.”

“Nah. That’s not really her style.”

He looked over at her with an incredulous expression. “Her?”

“Yeah. I’m not, like…Super great at undercover stuff. So having a full backstory helps,” she said, winding a thick scarf around her neck. “My name is Alma Penner. I like hiking, rock climbing, travelling, and white water rafting. Grew up in Tennessee. Dad’s a doctor.”

“You sound rich,” John scoffed, but there was some humor behind it. “What’s my name then?”

“I don’t know…I was thinking maybe Ryan?”

“Ryan? Nah, that’s not him.” He poked fun at her and she rolled her eyes as he grabbed his coat. “How about Cooper?”

“Cooper Penner? It rhymes!”

John put his hand on the door with a huff. “This really doesn’t matter. No one’s gonna ask what our names are.”

“They might,” she replied.

“They won’t.”

He opened the door and they stepped out into the street. 

Prague really was beautiful this time of year. The Christmas trees were up, the markets were teeming with people, there was the perfect amount of snow on the ground. Fine enough to be plowed away and the streets to be cleared, but high enough to leave a light blanket in yards and on rooftops. Juno’s breath billowed into the night air like smoke as they walked to Wencelas Square.

John kept close to her side. Elbows brushing. Never keeping her more than an arm’s length away. Juno looked up at him. He looked…Different out of his suit. Jeans, cable knit sweater, long wool coat. He had changed on her again and she hadn’t even noticed until they were walking along those cobbled streets. He had kept the longer hair and the beard, but there was a trimness to it now. He looked like he could finally sleep at night. His clothes were back to that rigid order she had known him for. A slow change, but a good one. The way he looked down at her as he was bumped closer to her side, he knew that she saw it in him. She supposed she looked different to him too in her plaid coat, bulky scarf, and hat. They just looked like regular civilians. A couple, even. That’s what Valentina wanted all of Prague to believe anyway.

The square was packed with people. Locals and tourists alike — all of them talking, laughing, or singing carols. A band was playing jaunty Christmas music somewhere. The pathways between stalls selling souvenirs, ornaments, and all kinds of Czech cuisine were lined with lights. A fresh snowfall was beginning to start, light and sparkling. It was beautiful, like something pulled out of a postcard. 

She was nearly starting to forget what they were doing, allowing herself to get distracted by a stall selling stained glass window hangings. Until John grabbed a hold of her bicep to keep her close at his side.

Right. They weren’t here to enjoy the market. They were following a target. He quickly pivoted to guiding her arm to loop through his.

“Watch your step, Alma,” he muttered just for her to hear.

When she looked up, a smirk was quirking the corner of his mouth. A tease. A jab. But it just made her grin in her small way, using her other hand to curl around his arm as well. “Will do, Coop.”

He rolled his eyes with a snort that was entirely ungentlemanly. Juno hid her grin, showing slightly crooked teeth, in the softness of her scarf. Another moment to forget what they were doing. Allowing herself to get distracted by how easy it was with John. Too easy. It scared her in some ways. Since that month-long stint in France there had been some kind of open door policy between them. He had never set foot in her apartment, God no. Metaphorically. Emotionally. She let him see and she saw right back. Unspoken but there. Understanding that didn’t need to be voiced. They both had their shit. Their skeletons. Their reasons. And it was enough to let it be. 

 “Come on. We can do recon from there.”

John pointed at a place selling sausages a few yards ahead. A place lined with lights and had a few tables out front for people to stand and eat. She could smell the spices used in the meat from there. It broke whatever spell had been cast over her. She pulled down her scarf and nodded without a word. Right. The mission. The target. He could be anywhere. 

They got in line for the stand, trying to act casual as they scanned the crowd, and when they got to the window the seller grinned at them widely. “Dobrý večer! Co si přejete?”

“Uh, two, please,” John said as he pulled his wallet from the inner pocket of his coat — filled with bills courtesy of OXE. 

“Ah, Americans! What brings you to Prague, eh? Besides our beautiful Christmas markets!” He laughed heartily as he grabbed a pair of tongs and began scooping sausages from the grill in front of him.

John wrapped his arm around Juno’s waist and smiled down at her. “We’re on our honeymoon.”

She could feel him through every layer she had on. The weight. The warmth. Professional as she was, it was hard to ignore. He pulled her in tight. Like it was something he had done a thousand times. And maybe it had been, with his wife. His real wife. The one who left him. She wondered if he was thinking about her then. Their own honeymoon. 

Did he wish she was her?

She serpentined her arm around him in return, not as well practiced, almost tentative, and grinned up at him, hoping that it was convincing. Her acting had never been the best. The seller seemed to buy it, at least. John certainly didn’t, as he kissed the top of her head for added effect. She felt it down to her soul.

“Young love,” the seller sighed, placing the sausages in buns on plates. “How long are you here for?”

“Just a few days,” John answered vaguely, untangling himself from her to give the man his due.

“Well, have fun.” He handed them their food and waved. “And Veselé Vánoce!”

They took their sausage and found an empty table closest to the pathway. The perfect vantage point to look for their target. Juno could see everyone as they passed by, hoping it seemed like she was just checking out the other stalls across the way, as she loaded her food with mustard. She took a bite as she took her place across from John and nearly moaned.

“Holy shit, that’s good,” she said, wiping spare sauce from her chin.

He looked at her for a moment. Something caught on his face like adoration or confusion. He settled on shaking his head before taking something small from his pocket and shoving it in his ear. Right. Earpiece. Mission. Valentina waiting in some OXE control room for them to do their job.

“Val, you sure our guy is here? There’s…Thousands of people here. He’s gonna be hard to spot.”

Juno quickly dug out her own earpiece, trying to avoid the mustard on her fingers, to hear Valentina’s reply. “He’s there. He messaged his girlfriend earlier today that he would meet her for a bag of things before heading to the airport. We need to stop him.”

Jesus, how were they supposed to find one man in this crowd? They continued to eat their food in silence, watching the people and hoping Valentina would have more information for them soon. They finished their meal and John took away the trash. Still radio silence. When he came back, he took her hand across the cold metal and it nearly made her jump. As he turned her hand, so much smaller than his own, palm down and ran his thumb over a raised scar on the back of her hand, he glanced over at the sausage stand suggestively. And there was the seller with a lull in customers, looking at them with a smile and a hand on his hip like he was watching his own kid dance at their wedding. For a moment, Juno didn’t know what to do. John ran hot. His skin felt wonderful in comparison to the frigid air. Part of her wanted to curl into it. Some lost little bird finally finding a place to land. Somewhere warm and safe. But the other part felt foreign, wanted to retract and hide and hiss. It was all part of the act. She knew that. But she couldn’t help the way she squeezed his fingers yet sat up pin straight — as far away as she could get without fleeing the scene. John’s eyebrows furrowed, his thumb stopped that repetitive motion that was driving her insane.

“Our guy just sent another text,” Valentina spoke into their ears, suddenly, it nearly made them jump. “They’re meeting at the fish soup stand in the center of the square. Move out, now.”

They tried to keep up the act for the vendor still watching, or at least John did, as they casually pulled away from the table — hands still joined — and back into the ever moving crowd. As soon as they were lost in the noise and bustle of thick coats and wool hats, they disconnected. Juno discreetly created a forty-five, his preferred weapon of choice, and slipped it into his pocket. No need to make her own yet. There was still time. 

They headed back to the center of the market. To the fish soup stand with a giant cauldron over a fire — bubbling away the carp and potatoes and herbs she couldn’t place. It smelled wonderful, something homey and the sea about it. Juno longed to try it but there was no time. No more enjoying the market, even if only for a moment. It was less busy here, people had moved on to other places in the market or filtered out through the exit. And there, waiting at one of the tables by the fire, was the man tehy were looking for. Disheveled, long, thin hair in a ponytail, his clothes looked worn.

“There he is,” Juno pointed out in a low voice to John, who followed her line of sight to their target.

U.S. Agent’s shoulders squared. His chin tilted. A hunter locking in on it’s prey.

“We have visual,” he said.

“Well, take him the fuck down. I want him outta here,” Valentina said.

They shared a look but began to move in on their target. Carefully weaving through the crowd so as not to draw too much suspicion too soon. They could just be two people who really wanted to get to the soup stand. No longer a couple, that was for sure. John now allowed a good distance to come between him and his partner. Juno didn’t mind though. His proximity was beginning to confuse her more than anything else.

But then their target made direct eyecontact with Juno. She stopped dead in her tracks, unsure what to do. Then he bolted. Ran away from the stand and towards the exit without caring who he ran into. Forgetting about his girlfriend and the precious few items she was going to bring him. 

“Shit!” John hissed before he took off after him. 

Juno put her finger to the piece in her ear. “Target is on the run, we are in pursuit.”

Juno followed close behind in the path John created as he carelessly shoved civilians out of his way. She had to bite her tongue to keep herself from apologizing on his behalf. The cold air burned her lungs, each breath felt like pins and needles to her throat. But she kept going, only a few yards behind John. She knew he could run as fast as a speeding car. Had seen him do it on multiple occasions. But they were running through the busy Christmas streets, there were people everywhere. They had to keep some semblance of this missions discrete premise. 

Their pursuit took them out into the streets of Prague, towards the warehouse district, where everything was practically abandoned. John and Juno rounded a corner after their target, only to find a woman screaming and pulling her hair, the man they were after already far up the street carrying a small boy by the waist. She was pointing and shouting for the police. But then she spotted them in their nondescript coats, taking in the scene, she headed for them desperately.

“Pomozte nám! Unesl mi syna! Pomozte mi, prosím!” she wailed, pointing down the road.

John kept on running, releasing his gun from his pocket and silently signalling for Juno to deal with the civilian. Her Czech was better than his anyway. She stopped, panting for breath, in front of the now weeping mother. Listening to John’s footsteps disappear into the distance. They could have just left this woman to flounder in confusion and terror — let her call the police and create that sloppy mess. She knew this plan was better. Her placating the woman while they did their job. But in the back of her mind she couldn’t help but think John didn’t want her around. And it stung.

“Madam, jsme s americkou vládou a pomůžeme vám získat vašeho syna zpět,” Juno said, pulling out her wallet and flashing the inside for just a moment. 

It was partially the truth. She certainly didn’t have an official badge of any kind. But it was enough to get this woman to cry anew, her hands reaching for Juno’s with a tight grip, pulling her closer. There was an open trust in her expression that made Juno’s guts twist up. 

She had to get that kid back. She had to help her partner.

Giving the woman’s hands a squeeze and telling to wait where she was, Juno sprinted after John and their target. 

As she hopefully ran in the right direction, she thought about the file she and John had read over, back at the safe house. Michal Holas. Rogue OXE employee. Has the ability to produce sonic screams with an acute sense of hearing. Caused an explosion in China that killed twenty people. Knew he was in trouble so he was running. But first he needed to go home. See his girlfriend. And according to Valentina that was ultimately his downfall. His sentamentallity. 

She just hoped that John wasn’t doing anything rash. Being sentimental in some way that she didn’t understand.

Eventually, after searching and listening and on the verge of praying, she found John and Michal inside an abandoned warehouse. It wasn’t completely empty. There was still machinery for making who knew what scattered about, tripod lights, and a few tables. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, the particles danced in the moonlight that filtered through the high windows. John was down on the ground, pointing his weapon up at a balcony some twenty feet in the air that led to what used to be the bosses office. Michal was at the top of these stairs with a struggling, crying child in his grasp. A gun pressed to his little temple.

“Let the kid go, Holas!” John yelled, rough and deep, before looking over his shoulder to see Juno join him at his side. “You’re outnumbered!”

“By who, exactly?” Holas called back with a kind of desperate grin as he jerked the child to the side. “Knock off Captain America and some little bitch?”

John rolled his shoulders, corrected his aim. But that wasn’t the thing that made Holas’ eyes widen and his grip on the precious cargo he carried falter. It was Juno — with four spears, thick metal harpoons really, conjured all around her. Suspended in the air by her head, each deadly point aimed right at him. Efforts from years of intense training, being able to telepathically control the weapons she created. But only breifly. Only until they were too far for her power to reach. Out of the corner of her eye, John was looking at her with raised brows.

Holas didn’t need to know that, however. So when she launched the harpoons at him, taking special care to avoid the boy still clutched in his grasp, he panicked. Dropped the child in a last ditch effort to save himself. Scrambled for the office door as his little hands gripped the railing with everything he had. But his efforts to escape her aim were useless — one of the spears lodged in his shoulder and pinned him to the wall. The other three punctured the metal siding of the warehouse with a sharp screech and a thunk. 

But the boy, in his big down-filled coat and cap, began to slip. He cried out as he tried to hang on.

Then he fell.

John reacted faster than Juno ever could. As she stepped forward, he lept. Dropped his gun and jumped at least ten feet into the air. Another thing that that serum did to him, she supposed. She halted in her tracks, heard her boots squeak against the concrete, just to watch as he effortlessly caught the boy midair. Curled up into a ball, child tucked against his chest, and landed with a thud back on the ground. John groaned in pain, face pinched up as he unfurled himself to reveal the child unharmed on his chest.

Juno started up the stairs towards Holas, finger to her ear as she said to an awaiting Valentina: “Target secured. Bringing him into custody now.”

“Fucking finally” Valentina replied.

Holas let out a scream just as Juno rounded the top of the stairs to the balcony. He had pulled himself off of the spear, perched on his knees gripping his gushing red shoulder. Juno had to admire his determination. His will to survive. Because surely Valentina was going to kill him. Clean up the mess they made, using whatever means necessary. And maybe some part of her wanted to see him get away, because when he picked himself up off the floor and staggered into the office, she didn’t go after him immeadiately.

“Shit, he got away. In pursuit,” she said.

“No!” John practically screeched from below, stopping her in her tracks. “I’ll go!”

She looked over the railing. He was already on his feet, the boy sniffling behind him. He took the stairs two at a time and she watched him come up bewildered. 

“I’m already here, what the f —” she started. 

But he didn’t let her finish as he pushed past her. “Your Czech is better, just fucking go!”

There was no room for argument. He stormed into the office after Holas without another word. And Juno let him go. Leaving her alone with the boy who looked at her with wide, tear-filled eyes. Confused and afraid and curled in on himself. She sighed as she descended the stairs. What on earth had she done so wrong that he didn’t want her help?

Then she held her hand out to the boy and said, “Pojď, vím, kde je tvoje máma.”

He immeadiately smiled and took her fingers in an iron-like grip. All the trust in the world she didn’t deserve. They walked back to where his mother was waiting, the air still frigid but pleasant after the sweat she had worked up. Talking about what he was doing for Christmas and what he hoped to receive from Ježíšek. This would certainly be the most memorable Christmas of his entire life, but he seemed in good spirits as he let go of her hand and ran straight for his mother. Juno recieved a hug and multiple kisses on the cheek for returning her son to her.

Then they all ducked as an explosion went off only a few blocks away. The mother pulled her child into his side tight. No fire. Just dust and flying cement blocks. Something capable of being created by a sonic boom.

“John…” she breathed as she turned to the developing dust cloud.

She didn’t need to think twice about running towards the disaster. Her heart pounded in her chest, thumped against her ribs until they ached. A sharp sting was beginning to form in her legs as she pumped them as hard as they would go. Cold air forgotten. Her mind raced. She hated to admit it, but John Walker might have been the only person she cared about in the entire world. He spoke to her in a way no one had in a long time. Like she was a person. Not a malleable young woman he was manipulating into a weapon. Not his own personal armory he could take from without her permission. A person. Not a hero. Not a villain. Just Juno. Even though he seemed to hate her now, she couldn’t help but care about him. And she hadn’t gotten that cat, so where else was her affection supposed to go? There wasn’t anyone else.

Half of the warehouse had crumbled into a heaping pile of broken concrete blocks and twisted metal framework. The wreckage was still trying to settle, metal against metal and shifting rubble. Dust from the explosion still clung to the air, falling slowly back to the ground but getting stuck in her lungs as she tried to breathe. She coughed, raised her scarf to try and act as a filter. It only partially worked. Every breath felt like fire in her chest, her rough cough uncontrollable as she searched the wreckage. 

“John!” she called his name, voice horse already. “John!”

A pile of blocks shifted to her left, a few fell from the pile. Juno ran to it and began to dig, tripping in the process but never stopping. It didn’t matter if this might have been Holas. It had to be him. It just had to be. The blocks were heavy and cut her hands but she couldn’t stop. Lifting another brick, she saw the end of a familiar coat. Tan wool now covered in dirt. A cry of some relief she had never known tore from her as she worked faster. Her hands and arms burned with the effort, fresh gashes added and red seeping from the wounds.

She uncovered his legs first. His jeans were torn at the thigh, showing only a fraction of a deep wound that wept crimson. A slice of bone.

“Oh, God, John! Can you hear me?” she said as she continued to unveil him.

Then his hands appeared just above where she lifted more blocks, coated in a layer of grey dust, his arms raising as more bricks fell off of him. He pushed himself up into a sitting position while she quickly shoved aside the rest of the concrete that covered him. It was the worst she had ever seen him. Covered in dust, hair disheveled. His ears were coated in dried blood. But his blue eyes shone like crystals as he blinked up at her, nearly confused.

“You came back for me?” he asked, loudly, almost screaming it into her face.

Juno flinched at the sudden noise. “Of course I did!”

Then some disappointment she couldn’t understand crossed his face. Just for a moment. Something didn’t go his way. Her heart sank to think that it was the fact she was there at all. 

His eyes widened, his beaten body tried to get up, as he looked over her shoulder. Juno turned, only to get knocked back by a sonic blast. She felt it in her bones first, a low rattling and constant pressure. Then in her ears. A high pitched, loud, screeching that didn’t stop until she was flat on her face yards away from John. Rubble bit into her skin as she practically bounced off a pile of bricks, her eye instantly began to swell. She landed on her back and it knocked the wind out of her. Ten Michal Holas was standing over her. 

The cut on his forehead was bleeding, blood running down half of his face. His breathing was labored. He cradled one arm in the other, most likely broken. 

“You two are becoming a real pain in my ass,” he grumbled.

Then he screamed again. Juno slapped her hands over her ears to try to block out the noise, but it was no use. Eventually all she heard was a ringing, dull and persistent. Even with her eyes screwed shut her head began to spin. That damn ringing. It just wouldn’t quit. Her body felt heavy, forced harder into the ground by the force of the sonic wave. Her ribs began to ache. 

Shit.

He was going to crush her.

She could feel her powers attempting to save her life. Trying to create anything that would make this stop. But she didn’t know if anything was created or if all attempts were futile against this slow agonizing death. What a way to die. On Christmas Eve no less. 

Suddenly, the pressure against her body stopped. She opened her eyes and the night sky danced with more white spots that definitely weren’t stars. Taking her hands away from her ears, she saw her palms coated in blood that definitely wasn’t the cuts from digging out John. Well, that wasn’t good. The world spun even as she lay completely still. Felt the rubble beneath her fingers and the wreckage digging into her spine. Where was Holas? Why had he stopped? How much time did she have before he took another deep breath? Juno rolled onto her front, slowly pushing herself up onto her hands and knees. God, everything hurt. And that ringing…It still hadn’t stopped. That probably wasn’t good either. 

With enough strength gathered, she sat up straight, knees on the ground. 

Holas was still standing before her, but he wasn’t screaming at her. Then she noticed John was standing right behind him. Arms wrapped tight around him like a straight jacket, hand over his mouth. John had big hands. Funny that it took her until this moment to figure that out. But John was yelling something at her. She could see his mouth forming words, definitely loudly from the way his lips parted wide as he held Holas firmly, but she couldn’t hear a thing. 

Oh, right. Their mission: stop Michal Holas by whatever means necessary. 

A gun formed in her hand. Second nature. An instinct. She took aim at Holas, sure that John was saying something about not shooting him. He should have known she would hit her target. She always did, one way or another. The bullet found it’s home in their target’s skull and the mission was over. Holas went limp in John’s grasp, and the super soldier dropped him without another thought.

The gun slipped from Juno’s hand shortly after. She should have been able to hear it clatter to the ground. But there was nothing. She stuck a finger in her ear to see if it was maybe some pressure that needed relief. It wasn’t. The only change was her finger now covered in blood. Her earpiece was missing. The ringing had finally stopped, but in some ways she missed it. Because now there was just…Nothing. A tight panic began to fill her chest as she scrambled to her feet. No, no, no, no — this couldn’t be happening. The crumbled building. The streets illuminated by a few lamps. She should be able to hear something, anything. The sirens going off in the distance but getting closer. The still settling wreckage. Her heart pounded against her sore ribs, forced every breath to be stinted and shallow. She stumbled over the rubble as she searched desperately for some relief from the silence but knowing deep down it would never come. 

Then there was John. She didn’t even know he was coming until he was right in front of her. Until she ran right into his awaiting chest. Tears stung the backs of her eyes and she hated it.

She was fucking useless. Valentina was going to dump her. Leave her with no job and no experience other than this. Would she even be able to deal arms deaf? What would she do? Where would she go? 

John grabbed hold of her face, cheeks cupped in wide palms, and forced her to look up at him. He said something else but she couldn’t hear him. She searched his face for something, anything. Some kind of sign that everything would get back to normal soon. But that sign never came. Instead, he grabbed her hand and placed it on his chest. Made her feel as he took slow, deep breaths. He put his hand to her sternum, pressed in tight to let her feel the weight. Juno clung to him in kind. Gripped the fabric of his coat like stairway railings — the only thing keeping her from falling. His eyes shone like the afternoon sky as she copied his breathing. In and out. 

“I-I can’t — I can’t hear…Anything,” she finally managed to say, unsure if she was screaming or whispering.

He started to say something, she watched his mouth move around words that probably included a curse or two. He pressed his finger to his ear and she gripped him all the harder. He was talking to Valentina. Nodding, John took hold of her hand and began to lead her away from the scene.

“Where are we going?” she asked, lifting her hand to pick at her ear again, to see if that helped now.

She could, at the very least, clearly see him say the word help.

John Walker came into the hospital and he still didn’t know why. He hated hospitals. They made him feel claustrophobic despite the vaulted ceiling lobby and plethora of windows. Like one of the doctors or nurses would come up to him at any moment and deliver bad news. How bad would the news really be anyway — the only person he knew inside was a coworker.

Coworker. Was that what Juno was?

It didn’t help that the last time he was in a hospital was one of the happiest days of his life. The maternity wing’s entrance was to the right as soon as he walked in. He had to duck his head, avoid it like some old acquaintance from high school he didn’t want to talk to. He had never been so proud. So happy. Life — held in his hands, only a few minutes old.

He fucked that up too. Just like he seemed to do with everything lately. It was what he did best now.

The least he could do was try not to fuck up whatever was between him and Juno. A cordial acquaintance. A work friendship. A real friendship. Whatever it was. She was nice enough. Quiet — but could still make him laugh in a way he never expected. Skilled. Always seemed to know what he was thinking. An excellent partner. The best he had had in…A long time. 

The last time he saw her she was thrashing around on a helicopter. Losing her shit because she couldn’t hear anything. Screaming and looking to him for answers that he couldn’t give. Then one of the medics sedated her and John stopped looking after that. They dropped her off at the hospital and took him to the airport after he insisted on getting patched up there. Even now, even though he liked to think that he was above that, he wondered how she was.

So, he was standing in the hospital giftshop, feeling lost and slightly idiotic.

What did she even like? Flowers? No, she hated flowers. At that safe house in Paris she said they never lasted long enough, just another thing she could let die. Balloons? How the fuck would he know her feelings on balloons. Then he spotted the plushies lined up on shelves near the counter. It was mostly bears wearing t-shirts. Bunnies. Cats. Juno said she was thinking about getting a cat. He advised against it, dogs loved more anyway, but she had just smiled and said that a cat would be quieter. He should have expected her to say that. 

He grabbed the cat plush, holding a little sign that said get well soon, and paid for it. The woman behind the counter smiled but didn’t ask questions, and he was glad.

Juno was on the third floor, room 308. He clutched the stuffed animal in one hand as he pasted his visitor’s badge to his jacket. Regret filled him about the gift then. But there was no turning back now. God, why was he doing this at all? 

Because you care what she thinks, some voice and some shame whispered inside him. The words nearly made him flinch. Accurate and piercing to his core. This wasn’t even about her. It was about him. And she would probably be able to see that. Always had been. Because she cared about him. He could see it. In the way she always created a gun or extra ammo before he even asked for it. The way she passed him a granola bar silently when he complained about being hungry. The way she came back for him after that warehouse collapsed. 

You care about her, that voice whispered again. That took him more by surprise than the previous thought. Did he? He did stay up to watch TV with her when she couldn’t sleep, on multiple occasions. He did buy her a postcard in Paris when she said she had never been before. He did go back and save her from that arms dealer when the job was already done, when he could have just walked away. He did try his best to calm her down after she lost her hearing, hand to her chest.

Fuck. He didn’t have time to think about this right now.

He was at her door already.

Turning around and leaving was still an option. He could still bail. Let her deal with this all on her own. Because he knew that no one else was coming. But, fuck, he cared about her and he couldn’t even deny it even if he didn’t want to think about it. So he knocked, stupidly, knowing in the back of his mind she probably wouldn’t even hear it. He saw the bleeding, he knew her hearing was most likely permanently damaged. Then he pushed open the door. 

Juno was asleep. Her bed was still sitting nearly all the way up but she was resting back on a mountain of pillows. The sides of her face were no longer stained crimson, in fact, she was completely clean. Her hair, dark brown and shining, was down for once. Not done up in the usual pigtail braids she liked to sport. She looked so peaceful. John had never seen her like that before. Without worry. Without care. Without that sadness that seemed to cling to her like film. 

She looked…Beautiful.

She moved in her sleep, eyes scrunched up as her head lolled to one side, then her arms raised in a barely awake stretch. Shit. For a split second, John thought about sprinting from the room. Never acknowledging why he had come to visit her or why he had just watched her sleep for at least five minutes.

But then her eyes were open and he couldn’t have moved from his spot at the end of her bed even if he wanted to. He was stuck there, trapped by her eyes like dirt filled graves.

“John?” she questioned quietly as she sat up in bed. “What are you…You came to see me?”

“Well, I, uh — yeah, I did,” he gulped around the words, flashed her a tight smile as his hands fidgeted around the plush.

She stared up at him for a moment, clearing thinking about something hard. Then she sighed and gestured to him. “You’re gonna have to come closer. I can’t hear you.”

God, why hadn’t he thought of that? He quickly side shuffled the end of the bed and came around to stand at her side. 

John swallowed something thick. “I brought you this.”

He set the stuffed animal on her bed and quickly pulled his hand away to hide in his pocket. Juno grinned at the gift, more certain, reached out to take it with gentle hands. He watched, heart racing for reasons he couldn’t explain, as her fingers ran over the soft fur. Traced the letters stitched into the sign. As her smile grew in size and her brown eyes became warmer. Garden beds waiting for something to be planted.

“Thank you,” she finally said, deciding to place the plushie in her lap.

“Yeah, course.” John shuffled awkwardly in his spot when she stared up at him, brows furrowed, some frustration and desperation in her face. Then it hit him. Right. She still couldn’t hear him that well. After another minute of shuffling, he sat down at the edge of her bed. “So, uh, how you feelin’?”

She nodded, glanced around the room. “Better. I’m getting released today.”

“Wow. That’s great. What’d they…What’d they say?” He nodded towards her, towards her ears.

“Got a tympanoplasty. Fixed my…Eardrums supposedly. Still can’t hear shit. Sounds like everything’s underwater. They say I’ll know in a few months if it even worked.” That sadness that hadn’t been there since she woke up returned and it twisted up something inside him.

“You talked to Valentina yet?”

“No.” A simple answer, no details. It was just like Juno and for some reason it made John smile. Then she asked: “Why didn’t you trust me to go after Holas?”

“I don’t — I don’t know,” he replied after a beat of silence, he felt caught offguard by the question but knew it was coming.

That wasn’t good enough. “If you didn’t want me to go on the mission with you, you should have just told Valentina.”

“Hold on —” He moved his hands down to his jean clad knees, all defense. “ — I never said I didn’t want you on the mission.”

“You didn’t have to. It was clear you didn’t want me around. Especially if you want to get yourself killed or whatever you were trying to do by going after him alone. You could have died, John.”

“No I wouldn’t have,” he scoffed.

Anger. That was an emotion he wasn’t used to seeing on her. Juno was calm, collected. Calculated in nearly a cold way. But never angry. He was the mad one. He was the one who lost his temper. She was the one who made him breathe. She was the one who made him step back and think. She was the one who rolled with the punches better than anyone he had ever met. But now here they were in that hospital room, her forefinger and thumb rubbing her stuffed cat’s ear, and she was visibly angry.

“It’s like you wanted to get yourself killed and I was just in the way,” she said, softly — too softly.

John stared at her for a second longer than he should have. She looked away first, but he couldn’t stop. He was thinking, as he laid under that rubble and did nothing to help himself, how much easier it would be if he just died. It would save himself and the people he loved a lot of pain. Would keep him from fucking anything else up. But then Juno had dug him out. Called his name with a desperation that he didn’t want to understand. Not yet.

Suddenly he found himself saying: “The divorce got finalized. She…She got full custody.”

Juno’s face softened. Her shoulders dropped. “I’m so sorry.”

Then a nurse walked in with a smile and a clipboard, pulled back the privacy curtain without warning. John practically lept from the bed, shot away like he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He remembered doing this before too. Her signing all the papers while he hushed the little life in his arms. A little life he’ll never get to see again without spending money on lawyers that he definitely didn’t have. 

“Hey, Juno, we are almost ready to get you out of here. Just gotta sign the discharge papers, then you’re good to go,” the nurse said cheerfully as she handed off the clipboard, then she quickly looked up at John then back to Juno with raised brows. “This your boyfriend? He’s cute.”

“Um, no, just a friend,” Juno replied.

A friend. Is that what they were? Friends? The thought brought something warm to John’s chest as he watched Juno work the pen over the page — a pink tint to her cheeks that definitely wasn’t there before.

“But he’s not the neighbor that brought you clothes, right?” the nurse went on, sitting at the edge of the bed just like he had been only a moment ago.

“No, he’s not,” she said, not looking up from the clipboard.

“He can speak for himself, you know,” John pointed out, nearly grumbled. 

The nurse looked up at him with a bemused smile. “So he can. Tell me, friend, you’re the one who’s going to drive her home, right?”

His brows furrowed. His hands fitted themselves into his pockets to hide some part of himself. He glanced over at Juno who still refused to tear her eyes away from her discharge paperwork. She needed something? From him? No one had needed anything from him in a long time. Wanted anything he had to offer. Besides maybe Valentina, but he didn’t want to count that. 

“You need a ride home?” he questioned, the words soft but loud enough for her to hear.

She flicked those brown eyes up at him. “I was going to call an Uber.”

“Well now you don’t have to!” the nurse cut in.

She didn’t seem like the type to argue with. Adamant. Like talking to a brick wall.

“Is…Is that okay?” Juno asked him as she set down the pen and handed back 

Before he knew what was happening he found himself nodding. “Yeah. That’s alright.”

“Perfect! You are all set to go! Have a great day, you two.” The nurse hopped up from the bed, clipboard in hand, and powerwalked out of the room with a smile.

Just the two of them alone in the room again, only this time, if felt heavier. Juno swung her legs over the side of the bed and John backed up to make room for her. Scooping up a small totebag, she got to her feet. 

She pointed to the bathroom. “Gonna go change.”

“Yeah. ‘Course.” He coughed as he stepped back further. 

When the door clicked shut, he sighed. How did he go from begrudgingly getting her a gift to driving her home from the hospital? Because you care about her, that voice whispered again and he shoved it to the back of his mind. Undeniable. But he could ignore it for just a little bit longer, just a little longer. He didn’t want to fuck this up too. And maybe that meant keeping her at a distance. Not letting her in. But it was too late for that and he knew it. He knew she didn’t like flowers and wanted to get a cat. He knew her favorite weapons to conjure. He knew the places she wanted to visit most. He knew she was scared, right now, that she would become useless. He had always been a bit selfish, and maybe that was what he was being when he decided to keep her. Close and known.

When he decided to drive her home and pick up takeout. When he decided to watch her favorite movie with subtitles on. When he decided to let her fall asleep on his shoulder and not dare move.

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[saltysideblog]

syril karn x gn!reader - affection hcs 🩶

+ syril is terrible at expressing affection at first. he’ll rehearse compliments in his head and never say them. he’ll stare a second too long, open his mouth, and then close it again.

+ but, finally, when he does speak? it’s honest, stiff, maybe, but genuine. “i find you... admirable.”

+ he shows love by doing. offering you caf, adjusting your coat, making sure your data entries are correct so you don’t get reprimanded.

+ he’ll wake up early to press both your uniforms. he just leaves yours folded, precisely, on the edge of your desk. “i know i didn’t have to. i wanted to.”

+ syril doesn’t half-love. he obsesses: checks in more often than necessary, notices when your mood shifts, quietly stews if someone treats you unkindly.

+ he doesn’t know how to ask for affection, but he melts the first time you touch him without a “reason.” a casual brush of your fingers, a hug, a kiss on the cheek… he thinks about it for hours.

+ he tries to be stoic, but once he’s sure you’re alone he leans into you like he’s exhausted. like you’re the first warmth he’s ever known.

+ he’s so, so starved for validation. if you tell him he’s done well, or that you’re proud of him even for something small, he’ll freeze, stunned, then think about it for the rest of the day.

+ syril memorizes what you like. your favorite type of caf, the cadence of your voice when you’re lying. how you fidget when you’re anxious.

+ you often catch him staring at you, eyes distant, as if he’s seeing a version of his life where things could be good for him. for both of you.

+ being with you softens his edges. not his ambition, but his rigidity. you’re proof that order isn’t everything, that love and purpose can exist outside of sheer control.

[ thanks for enjoying my work!! leaving a like, reblog, or follow means a lot to me. be sure to leave a comment or send an ask as well! my requests are open. - love, diego ]

[saltysideblog]

wookiee time

[saltysideblog]

MY FAVORITE OCS EVER!!!! They’re Jedi sisters <3

[saltysideblog]

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 | 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐨𝐜 | 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐰𝐨

Summary: a long stakeout reveals information john walker didn't want to share (wc: 2291)

Warnings: swearing, walker is a bit of a dick, divorce, losing child custody, mentions of jail/juvi, thunderbolts spoilers-ish

✎……idk if you wanna send in requests for them or something that'd be cool 👉👈

PART ONE

Juno was led from her cell in handcuffs. She was still just trying to process the fact that she had a visitor at all. Who the hell could it even be? Her mother stopped visiting around her fifth year in juvi. But this was real prison. Her first stint in a cell like that actually. She tried to call her father when she first got processed, but all he said was that he hoped prison would at least toughen her up some. He would visit when he found time.

Six months into her sentence, maybe he had found the time.

The visitor's room was one Juno had yet to be in. The walls were lined with windows so the guards could watch them carefully — making sure nothing got snuck in or out. But the room was filled with cafeteria tables. At least it wasn’t plexiglass dividers and phones. 

There was only one person inside. A woman wearing a pencil skirt and a red blouse perfectly pressed. Her dark hair had a single white streak in it. She looked almost too perfect. She was smiling as Juno was led inside. So not her father then.

Her escort uncuffed her as soon as they were inside, but they didn’t take off the collar around her neck. Then, with a nod from the woman, the guards left them alone. The woman gestured to the table in the middle of the room before taking a seat herself. Juno joined her cautiously. 

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“No. But I — I know you.” The woman pulled a file out from under the table. Juno ducked, there was a briefcase underneath. Was she even allowed to bring that in here? “Juno Rivera, born in 1993 to Lorenzo and Paula Rivera in New York. First sentenced to juvenile detention at the age of ten for critically wounding a classmate with a knife. Said to possess —”

“Alright, you don’t have to keep going,” Juno interjected, arms crossed on top of the table. “Who are you?”

“I’m someone who can get that power damper off your neck,” she replied, pointing at the collar.

Juno touched the metal humming gently with electricity. “And if I don’t want to take it off?”

“Then you can keep it on and rot in your cell until your sentence is up. In what…Thirty years?”

She flinched. Swallowed something thick as she looked around at the guards watching her like a hawk — like she might explode at any second. For nearly half her life this was all she had ever known. “My father will come and get me out.”

“Your father?” she scoffed. “Last I heard, your daddy had hightailed it to Mexico with half of his operation and a bullet in his gut. He’s not coming. I am.”

She wanted to ask if her father had sent her. He had connections, shady people who were willing to do anything he asked. He was powerful enough. But this woman seemed different. Not one of her father’s usual puppets. 

“Who are you?”

“I own and operate an organization that has a special interest in people with superhuman abilities. People like you, Ms. Rivera. If you’re willing to agree to my terms, I can get you out of here in a few days and in the world again.”

Juno considered her for a moment. Could she trust her? That streak in her hair. That calm, confident smile that quirked her red painted lips. Her nails tapped idly against the file that held her entire life’s story. Tragedy and loss. Confusion and rage.

“What are the terms?” she asked slowly.

The woman smiled. “The organization, OXE, would hold the copyright to your name, design, and powerset. We would train you on all things physical and public facing. And if we decide you are not suitable for the project we’re pursuing we can drop you back into a more…Background role.”

“What…What kind of project is this?”

“To make the world's next greatest hero.” The woman grinned widely at her.

A hero. Juno gasped lightly at the term. Felt her heart skip a beat. A hero. All of her life it felt like she could do nothing but hurt people. Make things worse. Be feared and loathed by everyone around her. But heroes weren’t feared or hated. They were…Loved. 

Isn’t that what she had always wanted?

“I’m in.”

The place Valentina had gotten for them in Marseille was small. A studio apartment with an old fold-out couch, folding tables and chairs, and a wrought iron-lined balcony. It had a beautiful view of the bay, and that was the point. Some black market dealer had gotten his hands on Chitauri weapons and was selling them from his boat — posing as a fishmonger. They knew what he looked like, what his boat looked like, even. But they had yet to see a deal go through, those illegal alien weapons in his hands, and Valentina wanted solid proof before Armory and U.S. Agent ruined his day.

But two weeks holed up in that little apartment was beginning to wear on them.

Empty chip bags and bottles were scattered about the small space. The sink was full of dishes that no one really wanted to clean. The fold-out bed, at this point, was just left open. The sheets crumpled, and the pillows left where they lay. They couldn’t even eat at the small dining table. That was covered with their recon equipment, parabolic microphones, and cameras ready to catch their target in the act. 

Juno felt like she should talk to her partner. This was, what, the fourth mission they had gone on together? Since their first mission, he had been easy to talk to. Not an open book by any means, but she could say what was on her mind and at least feel heard. Maybe even crack a joke if she thought of one. But instead, there was just quiet. It wasn’t for lack of trying on her part. She had tried to start conversations, ask him questions. But John had dismissed her quickly. Almost angrily at times. She didn’t try again after that.

And wasn’t going to now. He still felt caged up, distant. Like a wall was put up between them that hadn’t really been there on previous missions. He was an asshole, seemed to know it too, but he cared. Gave what he could but took what he needed. Impatient to a point but almost never when it came to her. Played to her strengths but never gave away an ounce of control. Almost to an annoying degree. Valentina could even sense that they worked well together. He was the only partner she had gotten since their first mission. 

But something had changed now. Juno wondered if she did something wrong as the quiet persisted in that dirty studio apartment. 

It was nearly suffocating, the silence. Not being able to leave didn’t help either. They didn’t want to draw suspicions. There was no escape from John Walker with his furrowed brow and the tension that had built between them. It had been nearly two days since the last time they even said anything to one another. Juno’s knee bounced as she tuned the frequency on the microphone.

“It would be easier if we had a bug in there,” she blurted out, almost to her own surprise.

John sighed, set down the binoculars to rub at his eyes. “I don’t wanna do anything unless it’s perfect.”

“I have an easy cover. If that helps.” She shrugged.

“What does that mean?”

At least he was taking the conversation further. At least he was looking in her direction instead of staring out of the window.

Juno took off her headphones. Sat up straighter in her seat. “Valentina…Probably knows this, but I’ve got a side gig. Arms dealing.”

“You — You’re an arms dealer?” he spluttered back, doubt leaking into every word as he really looked at her for the first time. 

It was more than just the quiet, the standoffishness, that had changed about John. It was everything. His hair had grown out. His beard was longer. Dark circles had slowly formed under his eyes. He had always been rigid about his appearance, some military precision in the way his shirts and jeans looked. But now they were wrinkled, fold lines clear. She supposed it was a slow change, but they were all the more obvious now that they had spent so long together in one room. And the way he looked at her now, he knew that she saw it in him.

“Only when I’ve got time. It’s all profit for me,” she said after a beat.

He looked away from her, back to the window. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“It’s easier…When I’m wearing the suit. Mask down. It’s not Juno making the deal, it's Armory.” She resorted to fiddling with the over-ear headphones on the table, unable to stand the silence anymore. “It would be easy. I’m a known name in the underground. I could show up on his boat tonight and —”

 “No. We’re not doing that. Too risky,” he replied. 

Without hearing her full plan. Juno huffed and rolled her eyes, arms crossed. 

“This microphone is shit. Picking up what he’s saying is guesswork. We need a proper bug if we’re gonna hear the intel we need. I can do this.”

“He doesn’t need to know that Armory is here. It could blow our location.”

“Oh, good grief. It’s like you want us to be stuck here forever.”

“No, I want us to be safe. Not running in guns blazing just because you’re tired of listening to the microphone all day.”

“I’m not tired of — this isn’t working!” Juno got to her feet, a natural reaction to the anger bubbling up in her chest. “You aren’t my fucking captain, Walker, I don’t follow your orders. If you don’t trust me then say so, but stop being a dick and just listen to me.”

She could tell that stung, calling him captain, from the way he blinked up at her from his seat before he stood up, slow and deliberate with his fists clenched at his sides. Juno stood her ground, stared up into his face with a downturned mouth and furrowed brows. But it crumbled beneath her feet only slightly when she caught his eye. Bright blue rimmed with red and told way more than he wanted them to. 

Then he finally sighed and whispered, shaky and so quiet: “I do trust you.”

“Then let me do this,” she said, taking a step forward.

“I — I can’t —” he backed away, turned away — towards the kitchen. Got a glass and filled it at the sink, but never took a drink. He just stared into the ceramic basin and muttered. “I can’t lose anyone else.”

Juno barely heard it. But she did. She didn’t go to him. Knew that he would hate it. So she stayed rooted to the spot, staring at his back straining beneath that wrinkled t-shirt, and asked: “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer for a long time. For a moment, she wondered if she should look through the binoculars or pick up the headphones again. But they both knew their target was out for lunch right now. As was his usual. He wouldn’t be back for another hour at least. So she just stood there and waited for him. Waited for him to be ready. She knew he had lost a lot in his life. Valentina had shared the file before they worked together. The role of Captain America. His best friend and partner. His reputation. And even before that, there had been loss after loss. Squad mates. Civilians he couldn’t save. His own parents one right after the other. So she waited. 

“My…My wife filed for divorce,” he spoke quietly, “Handed me the papers a week after our first mission together. She, uh — she wants full custody of our son. No visitation rights.”

“Oh, fuck,” she said without thinking.

John actually huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. My thoughts exactly.”

“I’m sorry,” she tried again.

“Yeah, me too.” He sighed again before turning to face her. “You’ll go tonight. Plant the bug on something stable. Make sure you’re not followed.”

“I know,” she replied.

He nodded, finally took a drink from that glass of water. Juno turned to her bag thrown carelessly into the other corner. 

That information wasn’t in his file. She supposed it didn’t pertain to him professionally so Valentina didn’t feel the need to put it in. He was married. He had a kid. He was getting a divorce. He was losing custody of his son. There was no one he could punch or kill to get out of this. Two more people for him to lose. She looked back over her shoulder at him, wanting to give some comforting word, but so unsure what to say.

Words were coming before she could stop them: “You know, uh…The fact that you care at all means you were a pretty good dad.”

“I don’t think so,” he scoffed from across the room.

“I don’t know, man. When I first went to prison, my dad was happy about it,” she said as she pulled her suit from her bag. “Said that it might make me less of a wus.”

“Jesus.”

“Seems like you fucked up. But there are worse things to be.” She got to her feet and turned to John then who stared at her unblinking. “You could be happy to leave.”

“Juno…”

“I’m gonna go get changed. Get ready.” She pointed to the bathroom. 

And he let her go. Watched as she walked away with something tight in his chest.

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Outfit details for my Tusken Jedi :)

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skip intro

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oh cap'n, my cap'n

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First Mate Grunt

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↻ ◁ | | ▷ ↺ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 | 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐨𝐜 | 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧𝐞

Summary: The first mission Armory and U.S. Agent go on together does not go as well as they would have liked. (wc: 2270)

Warnings: swearing, predivorce!walker, suicide mention, blood mention, weapons and violence, juno is just my little bean, no thunderbolts spoilers yet

✎……john walker...your complexity, scewed morals, and beard have bewitched me....

The mission was a fucking shitshow.

Valentina said it would be easy —  fun even.

Juno stumbled out of the complex with her chest tight and breaths short. Dragged along by a scientist who was stronger than he looked, his arm locked around her throat and a gun pointed at her head. It was hard to breathe, to think, let alone gain control of her powers. She could feel it. Reacting without her consent. A knife there. A gun here. Conjured out of thin air all around her. All out of reach and none of them helpful. 

Where the fuck was Walker?

“Will you shut up!” the scientist hissed at her, pressing the muzzle of the pistol harder against her temple. “Stop struggling! I just…We just need to get to my car. I can figure this out at home. Talk to Valentina…Use you as collateral.”

If only he knew Valentina Allegra De Fontain didn’t give two shits whether Juno lived or died.

She slapped at the arm clamped around her neck. Clutched and clawed, trying to pull it away with her dwindling strength. Her head felt far too light for her liking. More weapons. Each of them fell to the ground with a clang. Her body was trying to help her in any way it could. Self-preservation. 

Where the fuck was Walker?

She guessed he didn’t give two shits whether she lived or died either.

A gunshot went off. Rang in her ears. The scientist's body fell to the damp ground before she did. Propelled by the momentum of the bullet through his skull. Juno landed on her hands and knees, gasping for air. Like from another room, she heard footsteps thunking through shallow puddles. On the fringes of her consciousness, she could feel her power still trying to save her.

Juno heard the knife sink in before she saw it. Heard the wet thunk as the blade found its home. 

“Fuck!” Walker screeched as he looked down at the hilt buried in his shoulder. “What the fuck!”

“I’m sorry! God, I’m so sorry!” she coughed out as she sat back on her haunches.

“You stabbed me!”

“I didn’t mean to!” 

Walker tested the knife, jiggled the handle, and winced. Hissed through his teeth. Then he looked down at her with a deadpan expression. “You can help me get it out once we’re back at the safe house. Right now…We gotta finish the job. Help me get him inside.”

Juno nodded, adjusted her mask before rising to her feet. Each of them hooked an arm under the scientist’s shoulders and dragged him back inside the complex. Tossed him inside his lab where he was making who knew what. Something dangerous, volatile. Something that Valentina didn’t like. Hence why Juno and Walker were there in the first place.

Cleaning up yet another of OXE’s messes. Overglorified janitors.

After that, they started setting up the charges. Juno made them as they went around the room. Handing them to Walker who secured them on the walls. Packs of C4 with a synced detonator set to each one. Walker complained the majority of the time. Groaning about his shoulder. Muttering about how he couldn’t believe she stabbed him. Which only served to make her feel worse. And part of her thought that was his goal in the whole thing. She didn’t say a word as she created the detonator itself, and they left the building.

Once they were inside their vehicle, some nondescript little hybrid, Juno set off the explosives. They barely heard the boom and the sounds of crumbling concrete before they took off in the direction of their safe house. 

Juno pulled down her hood and ripped off her mask as she drove. Pushing back her hair and the sweat from her eyes. She glanced over at Walker, sitting straight in his seat, poking at the knife handle again.

She wanted to tell him not to touch it, but the words got caught somewhere in her throat. Tangled up on her tongue. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish once or twice. He didn’t seem to notice. 

“Can’t believe you stabbed me,” he grumbled, and when she didn’t respond, he went on: “I was curious why Valentina said you didn’t get partnered up very much, but now I see why. What’s the point of an Armory if no one gets to use it without being knifed? I told her I didn’t need a partner on this one and —”

“I didn’t mean to,” Juno whispered, timid and soft.

That shut him up for a moment. “When does it…When does it get out of control?”

“When I’m not…When I’m not in control of myself,” she answered, adjusting her grip on the steering wheel. “My emotions.”

“Like when you’re being choked out by some desperate nerd?”

She hated it, but that made her grin. If only a little bit. “Yeah. Like that.”

Walker hummed. And the rest of the drive was silent. They heard silence in the distance, but they wouldn’t be suspected for the crime. Evidence had already been planted in that scientist’s apartment that he was planning on killing himself along with all his research. It would be an open and closed case. Good thing for them and a good thing for Valentina. 

The safe house was nice. A penthouse with a view of the Bengaluru skyline and tropical trees. It was all wood and glass and modern and surprisingly well decorated. Brightly colored sofas. Abstract art. Plants. This one was luxurious in comparison to other safehouses in OXE’s portfolio.

As soon as they were inside, Walker dropped onto one of the sofas. Not really caring about the dirt and grime all over him. Juno made a beeline for the bathroom where she knew a well-stocked first aid kit would be stashed.

“Can you hurry up?” he called loudly, almost whining.

U.S. Agent had to be one of the more confusing partners that Valentina had ever assigned. One moment he was being a controlling asshole and the next he was…She wouldn’t call it kind. A crack in his facade — he cared on some level. Like when he asked about her powers and losing control. Or like when she came out with the first aid kit and he smiled at her. Smiled. She couldn’t remember the last time someone did that.

She set down the kit at his left side, where the knife was lodged, and he coughed. “So, uh…I can’t move my arm without feeling like it’s on fire. Could you help me get my helmet off?”

Juno did as he said quickly. Probably a little too quickly. Sitting down beside him on the couch, she reached for the strap under his chin and undid the buckle.

“I…I really am sorry,” she spoke quietly as she lifted the helmet off his head.

Blond, nearly red hair flopped onto his forehead. Wet with sweat. He had a cut on his lip from a guard who got a punch in — right before Walker kicked him into the nearest concrete pillar. Juno could still hear that man’s bones cracking. 

“It’s alright,” he replied with another grin, “Not my first time.”

“Getting stabbed?” 

“Yeah. Happened a few times. You ever — ever been stabbed?”

She nodded as she opened the kit. “Mostly by myself.”

“You might wanna get a towel from the kitchen. Can’t exactly cut me outta this suit — gonna have to stop the bleeding at least a little before I get the jacket off.” She got up and did as he said, even though she was already thinking about doing it. “You given someone stitches before?”

“You don’t exactly make knives out of thin air without having to give yourself stitches,” she said, dropping back into her seat with the aforementioned towel.

“Fair enough. Now what you’re gonna do is —”

Without letting him finish, Juno ripped the blade out of his shoulder. Walker let out a short but powerful yelp before she covered the wound with the towel, pressing in as hard as she could. He glared at her, jaw set, and she looked down into her lap. 

“It’s better — when you don’t anticipate it,” she muttered.

“I know that,” he gritted out.

She held the towel to his shoulder for a few minutes. And those minutes were filled with silence. No words. Just Walker staring at the wall and Juno’s heel bouncing on the floor. She watched as his gloved hands squeezed his knees, some rhythm she couldn’t quite make out. Once she felt the bleeding had stopped enough, the towel was set aside, and she helped him get out of the jacket of his suit. At least OXE was nice enough to make his suit a two-piece — hers was one big body suit with a blacksmith’s apron that was a pain to get off.

Underneath, Walker was wearing a white t-shirt, now with a red patch at the shoulder. This too, they pulled over his head with him hissing in pain. Juno got to work on patching him up after that. Stanching the last of the blood flow, sterilizing the needle, and threading it with some of the polymer fibers used in hospitals. And Walker didn’t feel the need to give her instructions.

“I thought you were a super soldier,” she spoke quietly as he took over holding the towel to himself. “Don’t you like…Heal quickly or something?”

“Well, yeah, but — still takes me a few days. It’s not instant,” he said.

“Huh.”

Then she began the stitches. Her hands were steady and worked quickly. A benefit from years of practice. And Walker was steady beneath her, too. He even reached over and grabbed the remote, and started surfing for something to watch. His skin was warm. She could feel an old scar just below this wound that would become a new one. Mottled at the edges but smooth. From the shape, probably a bullet. Or maybe shrapnel from a grenade? It was hard to tell.

Juno glanced down at his torso as her hands continued to work. Grenade shrapnel then. He was more scars than skin. All white and sunken in, and telling a story of sacrifice and pain. But underneath was hard muscle and some softness around his edges. Her eyes snapped back to the nearly finished stitches.

“What’s your real name, Armory?” Walker asked quietly.

She looked up into his face then. He wasn’t looking at her. He was paying attention to the basketball game he was watching on the TV. 

Right. She hadn’t given him her name. Just Armory. The title that OXE had given her, along with her suit and her first mission. The name she liked to hide behind. 

“No one’s called me by that name in a long time,” she answered truthfully, more openly than she had since she was small.

It nearly took her by surprise that she said it. Hit her in the chest like something soft but deadly. Her heart picked up its beat as she glanced up at Walker’s face again. He still wasn’t looking at her, and she preferred it that way. He didn’t need to see her when she was ten and still trusted the world to be kind.

“No one at home then?”

“You don’t get to know that.”

Walker raised his hands in surrender. Flinched only slightly when she tied off the last stitch and cut the fiber. He tried to get a look at her handiwork, but he could barely see it where it was located. She thought it was some of her best work. He gave her a thumbs up before he rose to his feet, muttering something about a shower. Watching him retreat down the hallway, shirt in hand and tentatively touching his shoulder, her heart flipped. Walker was an asshole, but he was also kind — in his own way.

“Juno,” she finally decided to say, quietly, like a secret. “My name is Juno.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m John.”

Her studio apartment smelled musty. Closed up. Barely lived in. The place needed dusting desperately. But that could wait until tomorrow. It was a good thing she didn’t own a cat. 

Juno dropped her duffle bag on the floor with an unceremonious thunk. She closed the door behind her and switched the deadbolt. At least it was a shorter mission this time. At least her partner had actually talked to her like a person instead of a weapons vending machine.

A shower. A takeout order. Sweatpants and a comfort movie on the TV. Maybe she should get a cat. It would be snuggled up on her lap right then. Purring and nudging her hand with its soft head. Telling her without words how much it missed her. It might be nice…To be missed.

Halfway through her Thai, her phone vibrated next to her on the couch. 

Valentina.

Every comfortable feeling she was beginning to have drained from her.

“Yes?” she spoke quietly, roughly.

She coughed. Tried to clear the phlegm and disuse.

“You sound awful. How was the mission?” Valentina replied.

“I already called in with my brief,” Juno said, setting her takeout box on the couch beside her.

“God, you really don’t know how to do small talk, do you?” Valentina sighed, and when Juno didn’t respond, she went on, “I have a new job for you.”

Juno’s face pinched up, fingers pressed into her temple. “I just got back.”

Valentina nearly laughed. “Do you really think that I care? Or — Or the guy who’s screwing my day cares? No. We do not. Besides, this is a really juicy one. Argentinian jungle. Sleeping outside…”

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galaxy's okayest pilot

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new star wars ocs incoming, let's fucking goooooo

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just two people having normal human conversations