騎士たち

A   snort   escaped   the   muscle   hunk's   lips   as   he   heard   the   other   man's   words.   Followed   by   a   curt   shake   of   his   head.   “More   like   it's   hot   as   balls   in   here.   Surprised   you   don't   feel   it,   princess.”   The   other   had   always   surprised   Scraplord.   He   didn't   give   off   agent   vibes.   Especially   not   a   front   line   fighter   vibes.   Gave   off   more   pillow   princess   vibes   if   he's   being   honest.   “Besides,   doubt   I   would   need   to   show   off   much   skin.”   He   smirks   as   he   allows   his   biceps   to   truly   flex   as   he   continued   working   on   the   car.   Giving   the   other   a   little   show   as   he   did   so.   Scraplord   may   not   be   on   the   field,   but   it's   clear   that   he's   no   stranger   to   the   gym   or   keeping   himself   fit.   Closing   the   hood,   he   turned   around   to   give   the   other   slightly   more   of   his   attention.   A   look   of   annoyance   flashing   on   his   face. 

“You're   truly   wasting   my   time   for   that?”   Still,   Mak   marched   over   it   and   took   a   look   at   it.   Stitch   not   far   away.   The   ai   drone   did   a   quick   scan. 

“Surface   level   fracture.   Internal   wiring   seems   mostly   fine.   Shouldn't   take   too   long   if   chosen   to   accept.”   The   robotic   voice   came   from   the   drone. 

"No. I've got shows to watch." Glamour scowls, arms crossing over his buxom chest. "I don't know what it would take for you to move this job up to the tip top of the list, but I would appreciate it." He softens, hands moving so he can stand with them on his hips. "You look like you've had a rough day. I know of a few things I can do to help relieve some stress." He offers, winking at Mac. Glamour was no good at tinkering with stuff, but he was good at handling big tools and the men attached to them.

“Touch   anything,   and   me   and   Stitch   will   gun   you   down.”   Mak's   eyes   didn't   waver   from   the   vehicle   he   was   working   on.   Stitch,   Mak's   handmade   little   AI   drone,   hums   around   the   room.   Constantly   scanning   the   vehicle   for   updates   and   suggestions   for   enhancements   as   Mak   did   the   work.   Mak   was   in   his   section   of   the   vehicles   and   weapons   engineering   lab   that   he   had   nicknamed   the   ‘Chop   Shop’   trying   to   do   some   repairs   and   improvements   on   some   of   the   vehicles.   Makoa   had   heard   the   door   opening,   but   didn't   turn   to   see   who   it   was.   His   jumpsuit   was   unzipped   to   his   stomach,   the   deep   cut   showing   glimpses   of   his   sun-kissed   skin.   A   handgun   strapped   to   his   waist.   After   the   invasion,   after   all,   it   never   hurts   to   always   be   prepared   to   defend   yourself. 

“Let   me   guess?   Broke   something   because   you   were   being   careless   and   need   Daddy   Scrap   to   fix   it?”   Mak's   tone   was   somehow   both   teasing   and   annoyed.   As   if   he's   had   this   same   exact   conversation   like   twelve   times   in   just   today. 

"Common misconception. I have a general contempt for everyone. What is an Inu-Ya-Sha?" Except for the exceptions which were few and far between and started with his Mother and ended- well. He wasn't sure anymore and perhaps that scared him. But the realization that Gossamer was just a worse version of him made him really feel bad for him. Max went inside when he was offered shutting the door behind him and looked around. Gossamer was a killer, Max was a thief. Max They were only shifted slightly from the same reality. Max was sure there was some twink slightly less bitter than him in Atlantis he had traumatized who did in fact hate him. Though he couldn't say he hated Gossamer anymore, not with honesty. The guy still scared the shit out of him though.

"I figured you weren't eating. You all are so irresponsible like that. You should eat while it's hot." Max had made a grilled cheese, expertly if he was to say so himself. Along with a thermos of soup he had spent hours simmering. Chicken noodle. It was a safe bet and he could make enough to feed all the agents who kept forgetting to eat.

getting knocked out of combat was tough, but it was his pride that suffered more than his body. he was a lucky bastard, walking out of the fight with the big bosses with no serious injuries. but if overselling his pain could get him what he wanted, he had no problem doing it. 

killshot could count the number of friends he had in atlantis in one hand. real friends. not casual hook-ups or occasional teammates in missions. sanctuary was one of those friends he cherished. he didn't care if the other agents needed medical help. all that mattered to him was sanctuary’s well-being. 

“ up! before i grab the dart gun. ” a few more pats on his arms before he got up from the couch and stood in front of sanctuary with both hands on his hips. “ i will start counting… ”

Max was finding himself uncharacteristically kind after the last incident at Atlantis. The shock of possibly losing his mom, the trauma of pounding a man's head into mince meat. All of it adding to the story that made the boy the way he ones. And one of those chapters was the very complicated way he felt about Gossamer. He was scared of the other male, and sometimes he was in his nightmares. But he was technically the other person besides his mother he had known the longest in Atlantis. \

Right now though he just- felt bad for him. It wasn't like he had a real childhood, anyone would be fucked up like that. And he got his revenge only for it to be tainted by Legion getting thoroughly fucked up. Max didn't have a boyfriend but he could only assume the feeling was close to what it would be if something like that happened to his Mom.

Steeling himself he took a deep breath and knocked on the door, it was a quiet knock, barely audible but he was sure the assassin would hear it. Clutched in Max's hands was food, carefully made and packaged for him to give to Gossamer. Max was constantly eating, he loved food, food was not just enjoyable but it was life, and it seemed like a lot of agents forgot to eat.

“look at me,” the marksman placed a firm hand on sanctuary’s shoulder and followed his gaze. “you’ve been amazing. the worst is over. take a break. you earned it.”

killshot was not the most sympathetic guy in the world, he’d be the first to admit. when he saw all the injured agents, the first thought on his mind was “damn, it could've been me” instead of “i hope they get better soon”. he didn't waste energy worrying about strangers, but it was a whole different story when it came to his friends. for anyone he actually took the time to get to know, killshot was an extremely protective and caring person.

sanctuary was a genuinely good guy. someone who brings out the best in everyone and puts others first. for once, ricky wanted him to shut up and let someone else do something for him. even after his apartment blew up, sanctuary still tried to fight the archer over sleeping arrangements. the one time he tries to be selfless.

“i will dart your ass with a tranquilizer and carry you to bed if i have to.” he threatened. and knowing killshot, he wasn't bluffing. 

the couch wasn't bad. killshot had crashed there more than a few times himself. but the argument wasn't about the couch. it was about what sanctuary deserved. he sat beside him, slipping an arm around his shoulders, inviting him to rest his head against him.

ziggy had been off during the attack, never one to be on high alert until czernobog attacked, destroying everything in their wake. during the attack on his own quarters, ziggy had been caught off guard as he haphazardly gathered items in his room, valuables that any other person in their right mind would've told him to drop and fight. he didn't, he couldn't. blow after blow he clung onto the items, dashing towards the first person he could spot and handing them off before sending them off with a warning to not damage any of the contents inside. it didn't take long to ignite that fit of rage that was always peeking from the inside. and as the dust settled over their battle, he walked around knowing his room was no more as it had all collapsed behind him as he ran.

as he sauntered back to what was once his room, the sight of perry made his breath catch in his throat. "perry, you okay?" he asked coming up next to the man's side with a pillow case full of every game and every other little thing perry had once given ziggy or left behind in his room. "I got all your stuff out safely, here," he mumbled, before noticing the blood on his friend's costume and his eye widened, the one that wasn't swollen shut. his hands raced to see where his friend could be injured, but he was no doctor. "perry, shit, fuck! are you okay, are you bleeding i have to get you to the med bay, come on?" he said, ignoring his own body now covered in cuts and bruises, his face stained with blood. @leschevalier

When he broke through though, god he wished he could have the time to actually digest it. To hug his mother and never let go- but he'd go for the second best thing. Killing that fuck of a person who dared try to take the only thing Max had left in the world. Emotions on overdrive, it started small, all the little pieces of metal, rattled and lifted into the air and began to buzz around in the a circle, picking up more and more speed, velocity. Power. "I love you Mom." he whispered before hie barraged began.

Like bullets they began to crash into Mesmer one after the other, each one cutting clean through leaving a hole in the man, no larger than the diameter of a marble. Getting loose from Glamour's hold he flung himself at the hypnotist. Blind fury, woe to this man, and unfortunately woe to all the other men who had been hypnotized. They were collateral damage in his crash out. Max gathered metal to his fist and slammed it in Mesmer's head. Again. And Again. And Again.

Soon sound of bone crunching gave way to the sound of wet fist meeting wet ground, all the things between had sprayed everywhere, the library a mess of blood and viscera.

🔞 adults-only prompts for spicy interactions. content warnings for bd/sm kinks, rough kinks, bodily fluids, etc. nsft below! all prompts are written under the context of mutual consent.

" on your ass, count chocula. " ox hopped up to his comrade in arms with a nod of his head and a soft - but solid - tap of the pandora-issued sledgehammer to fangs' rump. least he could do was take some heat from his cold-bodied brother and - failing that - serve as an unmissable distraction.