#do u think if i send this to kyle they’ll read it? like they won’t read the actual fic but will they read this….

[milflewis]

loud // track // happy for the wip word ask 💖

ok !! searched my sewis pacific rim au fic for u !! pls i have used loud for many times but track only once. AND the only time i use the word happy is when i was braindumping while high which. ok. i hate how much that sums me up as a person

also. i cheated with some of these and gave u a sentence or two more than i’m supposed to but who cares

send me a word, if it’s in my wip document I’ll answer your ask with the sentence that it appears in

— loud —

“Nothing.” Lewis finds his voice sounds too loud, too jarring for the swirling mess in his head.

His mind is a relentless ache that cannot be soothed; a continuous, threadbare stream of NicoNicoNico that echoes through his very bones, hollow. There's another voice there, too, smoother than his own, but just as desperate, and it repeats back to him--a mirror of his own thoughts: LewisLewisLewis. It gets louder the longer he stays locked inside himself, until, unable to fight any longer, he breaks his silence with one shuddering sob.

His voice is quiet and small, like he's scared if he speaks too loudly it'll break whatever bubble they're in, whatever dream, nightmare, they're in, and they'll be right back there, comms dying, Jaegers falling, MichaelandFernando silent and gone, Daniel —

He doesn't realise he's saying this outloud until Valtteri says, "I know." He doesn't know what's in his head or what's not anymore. "I know."

Mark calls some mornings when Lewis is walking to work, the yelling of cadets loud in the background of his phone.

He doesn't realise he'd been expecting Jenson to say something, to be like Nico, until he calls Michael's name out loud for the first time and no one laughs.

The pub is too loud for Lewis to hear Nico over the noise properly so that's always a plus.

Pierre is singing in the other room, something loud and French. Lewis can just barely hear him over the shower.

— track —

Pierre watches him at work for weeks, eyes tracking him as he climbs, as if he's afraid Lewis will fall.

— happy —

ugh too high rn to keep going but like. mick's there and theres a Moment and a hug and lewis is all !!sad!!happy!! and ur gonna be a pilot. yeah i am. oh thats cool. internally crying but still happy. hes complicated okay. he has the RANGE. and mick walks him out. val had to go. and lewis is like. so. r We gonna talk about callum. mick walks faster

[flintsjohn]

if you're taking prompts how about since kyle is a doctor (and all the crazy stuff going on) he's just used to taking care of people so when he's dating alex and michael he just kind of starts fussing over injuries and checking them over without even thinking about it

im not sure about the ending and it’s not even completely what you asked but i’ve had it in my drafts for ever so i’m just gonna post it before i change my mind ok thank u nonnie i hope u like this

“Sooner or later one or the both of you are going to send me into the ER,” Kyle mutters as he patches Alex and Michael up for the hundredth time this month. Of course, both of his boyfriends point to the other in unison, like the disgruntled five-year-olds that they are. Like he has any time or the strength to put up with their childish bickering.

“At least my line of work is dangerous,” Alex honest-to-god pouts. He’s sprawled on the opposite end of the couch, his wound already taken care of – though, unlike Michael, he’d waved off any attempt at getting an explanation out of him. “He seems to do it on purpose!”

“Hey! I’ll have you know, being a mechanic has its dangers.” Michael frowns back, whining when Kyle cleans the cut on his left thigh with some antiseptic. Damn junkyard and pointy metal scraps, Kyle thinks. Then, Michael adds under his breath, “And you’re on desk duty anyway.”

“You could heal yourself with one finger!”

“Guys,” Kyle sighs, rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he reaches for the gauze. They both ignore him, obviously, not stopping their bickering for a moment. Kyle swears he deserves a plaque or a trophy, coming off of a 12-hour shift and getting home to his two boyfriends bleeding all over his couch, and still putting up with them.

“It’s too much effort for stuff like this,” Michael replies with a shrug, and Kyle feels the urge to punch him in the face because the cut is most definitely not something minor.

“You only do it because you like Kyle’s hands on you.”

“That I do,” Michael agrees easily, ignoring Alex’s accusing tone. He relaxes in a sprawl under Kyle’s hands to prove the point, though it only earns him an eye-roll and Kyle tugging at him to stay put. The doctor interrupts Alex before he can retort, “Well, you should stop. If you go on this way you’re gonna end up developing some sort of Pavlovian response and become a full-fledged masochist.”

Michael snorts at that, running a comforting thumb over the crease that’s formed in Kyle’s forehead. It gets batted away, but Kyle hums at him nonetheless, so he smiles as he watches the doctor wrap his leg with gauze. The frown doesn’t leave Kyle’s face until he’s done, his eyes moving tiredly between his two patched-up boyfriends. The scene makes him shake his head and move from under Michael’s hands before the alien can grab him and coax him into their usual post-intervention activity. Not tonight, he tells himself. He’s bone-tired, they’ll have to wait.

He orders them to stay on the couch instead while he moves to the kitchen and puts the kettle on. It’s almost funny that this is a habit they’ve fallen into, three grown, mostly grumpy men drinking herbal tea like they’re eighty. But it’s soothing for Kyle, reminds him of when he was little and couldn’t sleep, and his mom would put some water on and read to him. He drops the tea bags in three cups when the water’s ready, and presses each cup carefully into Alex and Michael’s hands. They hum in gratitude, and for a few minutes they just settle into the silence, sipping quietly, their eyes lost in the distance.

When Kyle joins them on the couch with his own cup of tea, sitting between the two, Michael immediately curls into his side, careful of his gauzed leg. Kyle lets him, knowing how physical Michael gets when he’s hurt, whether it’s with sex or just cuddling. He runs his free hand through Michael’s curls, as much a soothing motion for himself as it is for Michael. On his other side, Alex shifts closer so that he can rest his head on Kyle’s shoulder. Kyle’s almost completely relaxed, anger and worry from earlier almost forgotten, when Michael mutters, “I know it gets you going, too, y’know.”

Kyle is sitting up straight in a second, almost sending Michael tumbling to the ground in the rush, and jostling an almos asleep Alex on his other side. It’s only Michael’s telekinesis that prevents all of their cups from spilling, floating them gently to the coffee table. Kyle ignores them, ice in his voice when he asks, “Excuse me?”

“Relax, babe, it’s ok.” Michael tries to grin, but it fades as he’s met only with Kyle’s silence. “Look, I love it. I love you taking care of us, and yeah, I love having your hands on me. So what if that’s the response I have? We have fun after, don’t we?”

“Fun?” Kyle repeats in disbelief. “Fun. You think it’s fun for me to watch the two men I love get hurt, over and over again? Jesus, Michael, how much of a dumbass are you, exactly?” He’s breathing heavily with restrained anger, pushing to his feet with his hands threading wildly through his hair. It takes him a moment to go over his words in his head and realize what he said, when the only response he gets is disbelieving, awe-filled silence. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, once, twice, before he turns to face the couch once again. He’s met with wide-eyed stares from both Alex and Michael, and for a moment he thinks about taking it all back, waving it off with a laugh and chalk it up to the day’s events, but the thought’s gone as soon as it passes his mind. He shakes his head and presses on, “I love you, both of you, and it kills me that you either can’t or won’t see it. Just,” he swallows, shrugging helplessly, “Stop treating this like it’s a nice little hobby that we have.”

It’s Alex that finally reaches a hand out to draw Kyle back to the couch. He goes willingly, burrowing himself in Alex’s embrace as the man whispers sweet nothings in his hair. It takes Michael another couple of minutes to shake himself out of his stupor, and then he’s reaching for Kyle, almost frantic in his need to touch him. Kyle smiles weakly, tugging at the alien and shifting until they’re pressed together, chest to chest, and Kyle’s back to Alex’s chest.

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” Michael mutters from where his face is pressed against Kyle’s shoulder. They’re tangled together so tight that none of them is able to move, and Kyle can feel himself drifting off already thanks to the warmth of his boyfriends’ bodies, so he just hums in reply, knowing Michael will understand it for the acceptance it is. What he doesn’t expect is to hear Michael whisper, just as he’s closing his eyes, “I love you, too”.