#triple drabble

[airas-story]

Strange never became a doctor and stayed on the farm (meaning he has the same personality as neurosurgeon Stephen but more snappy and mean because he didn’t want to stay there) and he meets Tony by the other crashing into the farm in his Iron Man suit.

“Let me check on your injuries,” Strange said as Stark’s driver finally showed up to pick Stark up. “Before I let you go off and kill yourself some other way.” 

Stark snorted. “Strange, your stitches were surprisingly damn perfect. I’m fine.”

Stephen stiffened. “What, a farmer can’t do a proper stitch?” he snapped.

Stark blinked. “Not what I was saying.”

Stephen pointed at the table. “Sit, Stark.”

Stark did. 

Despite Stephen’s best efforts, he found himself imagining this scenario in a different world. A hospital room, clean and sterile, a proper pair of scrubs. Except no, Stephen wouldn’t have been doing run-of-the-mill check ups, he’d have—

He shut the thought off. It didn’t matter.

“That the dream?” Stark asked quietly. “Proper stitches?”

Stephen froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“There are a lot of medical books on your bookshelves,” Stark said. “A lot.”

Stephen found himself examining his own stitches. “I’d have been good,” he found himself saying.

“Who says you can’t still be?” Stark asked.

Stephen scoffed. “Three years for med school and then—” He swallowed, imagining that perfect world. “Neurosurgeons need at least seven years of residency. I’d be almost forty-five before I ever got there.”

“And in ten years you want to be forty-five and still miserable here?” Stark asked.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Stephen said bitterly. “You’ve had everything handed to you on a silver platter.”

Stark shrugged. “I don’t know why you’re here doing something you obviously hate, but I do know a little bit about wasting my life.” He met Stephen’s gaze. “Live a life you actually want, Strange. You only get one.”

Stephen scoffed. “Your car is here, Stark.”

Stark jumped off the table. “You have my number, Strange. You decide you want something more than this, let me know. I’ll help.”

[infiniteeight8]

Your writing makes my day better, you rock <3

Tony notices that Strange is always so confident in the Avengers liason meetings and the battle field, yet he cannot hide how his hands shake in tense moments. Tony is too curious - how much of it is emotional? He seeks Strange out to find out, indirectly, experimenting.

Thanks so much! I’m glad I can be a thing to look forward to. 😀

This is less the experiments themselves and more the results.

-

“Tony.”

Stephen’s tone of voice was more severe than Tony was hoping for. His hands had been particularly unsteady in today’s battle, which had only made Tony more determined to find something that worked. But this didn’t sound like success. “Yes?” he responded, meeting Stephen’s gaze as guilelessly as he could.

“What are you doing?” Stephen asked, sitting on the couch next to him.

Tony held up his tablet. “Reading?”

Stephen shot him an exasperated look. “That’s not what I mean. Last week it was hot chocolate and a bath waiting for me after the meeting. The week before that, classical music playing over my comms in the middle of a battle. Today, not only was my favorite incense burning in the conference room, there was a carafe of my favorite tea alongside the coffee. I know you arranged for all of it. Therefore: What are you doing?”

“Trying to help you relax?” Tony said, wincing. “I’m sorry if I drew attention you didn’t want. I know what that feels like.” Having a panic attack in public sucked. Stephen’s tremors didn’t seem to be the same thing, but—

“What makes you think I need help relaxing?” Stephen asked, frowning.

Tony sighed and put the tablet down. Time to come clean. “Your hands shake.”

Stephen’s expression softened. “Tony. That’s not due to stress.” He paused and pulled off his gloves. Tony held his breath. Stephen never went without his gloves. Never. But now he held up his bare hands, and Tony could see that they were covered with scars. “My hands shake because of nerve damage.”

“Oh.” Tony fought down a blush. God, he was an idiot.

Stephen laid one scarred hand over Tony’s. He could feel it trembling finely even now. “Thank you,” he said softly. “For wanting to help.”

[starryeyedjanai]

Steve's sprawled out on the couch with Eddie on top of him when the phone rings.

This is the first time they’ve had time for this in a week, so he’s not surprised when Eddie leans back to say, “Let it ring.”

He trails kisses down Steve's neck and Steve relaxes back into the couch—the loud sound of the phone ringing had made his muscles tense.

Eddie sucks a mark on his neck as he grinds their hips together, the sound of the phone becoming background noise again.

Steve shivers when Eddie runs his teeth over his pulse point.

The phone stops ringing and the answering machine starts going, playing the recorded, “You’ve reached the Harrington’s. Sorry we couldn't make it to the phone,” message out loud.

Eddie’s mouth catches Steve's in a bruising kiss right before the caller’s voice rings out shrill over the line.

“Steve, it’s happening. If you’re home, get to the hospital now,” Robin’s voice says and then the answering machine clicks off.

Fuck. They’ve been waiting for this phone call for over a week.

They immediately spring apart and Eddie hauls him up by the hand. He throws Steve his shirt and Steve pulls it over his head quickly.

“Fuck,” he says. “Robin’s going to make fun of me for the rest of our lives for missing the call that my nephew is being born.”

Eddie’s pulling his pants on with an amused expression. He laughs and says, “You think I’m gonna let you forget? You’ve been wound up about this for over a week now. Baby Buckley has incredible timing.”

Steve glares at him. “Yeah, yeah. The one time I try to let loose for ten minutes to be with my boyfriend is the time that Chrissy goes into labor.”

Incredible timing, indeed.

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes episode 134: Forevermore

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

Ao3!

CWs: noncon; knotting;

A/N: It is late, and I am on the poorly side, so enjoy another nice short one.

#####################################

The night was freezing. You regretted offering to work late to get the project in, but you needed the overtime hours. It probably wasn't worth it. Now you've missed your last train home and didn't even make enough on top to make up a taxi fare. So you walked.

Your heels clacked against the road surface as you clutched your jacket around yourself. Had you known you'd be walking home tonight, you'd have worn trousers rather than a skirt, and probably gone for a thicker pair of tights. As it was, you could feel the wind on your legs as you went, the pace you were keeping the only thing stopping you shivering.

Noise from a rooftop. A dark shape from above. Dank fur and powerful arms. Dizzying acceleration. You made out the group receding, before landing with a thump on a flat roof. The dark shape that grabbed you was hunched over you, glowing red eyes staring as one brutally clawed hand held you down.

Pain. Tears. Clothes turned to rags. Cold night air. The shape panted above your nude body. Heat radiated from it. A sharp-toothed maw closed about your neck. Claws dug into your thigh. It opened your legs, pressing against you. Warm wetness spread onto you. You struggled. It held you.

You screamed as it entered you. The overwhelming smell of damp fur. Claws cutting your shoulders. The thump-thump-thump against the roof as it drove on. Your fists battered against matted hair. It did not relent. Its jaw tightened. A warning. Screams became whines. Panting turned to grunting. A bulbous swelling slapped against you, threatening entry. You twisted and turned to no avail. It pressed on.

It hilted in you. You sobbed. Stretched out. Twitching and clenching. Heat filled you. Spreading inside. Making you his.

Forevermore

#########################################

This one's probably the shortest I'll try to pass off as an episode, at a super tight 300 words. Unless anyone specifically requests a wordcount less than this, in which case I could go lower.

Either way, hope you all enjoyed it!

[disasterbuck]

interlude

married buddie | 300 words

With a sigh and his eyes still closed, Buck stretched an arm out across the bed in search of Eddie. He found nothing but air and a pillow, so he cracked his eyes open to confirm that the other man wasn't there.

Sitting up, Buck looked over to see the bedroom door open. With a yawn, he got out of bed and wandered down the hallway in search of his husband.

Eddie was in the kitchen, leaning against a counter with his head bowed.

"Baby?" Buck whispered as he slipped up behind him, winding an arm around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder.

"Hey," Eddie said, lifting his head slightly and putting a hand over Buck's arm. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"I'm not sure," Buck confessed with another yawn. "I just woke up and you were gone. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just can't sleep."

Buck turned his face into Eddie's neck and began pressing soft lazy kisses to his skin.

"This is not helping me sleep," Eddie said with a chuckle.

"Okay, and?" Buck asked, kissing his way up to Eddie's ear and tugging playfully on the lobe with his teeth. "Maybe I'm done with sleep for now."

"Is that so?" Eddie asked, the words coming out breathy.

"We can have a sleeping interlude," Buck whispered directly into his ear, then spun him around and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "How does that sound?"

"Honestly?" Eddie murmured, winding his arms around Buck's waist. "It sounds amazing."

Grinning, Buck nuzzled their noses together and then stepped back, his hand slipping down to find Eddie's so he could lead him back to their bedroom.

"Let's go have interlude sex," he said with a wink.

Eddie snorted and rolled his eyes, but went with him eagerly.

[firenati0n]

forget-me-nots, breeze, forehead kiss - a triple drabble for @hollivens 💐

It’s a cloudless day, sky an endless cerulean as Henry walks home from the shelter. He’s holding a bouquet of blue forget-me-nots, courtesy of a delivery from Alex. Every year on this date like clockwork, he receives flower arrangements at work—some from shelter staff, a particularly colorful one from Pez, but a striking blue one always from Alex.

His eyes sting as he rounds the corner to the brownstone. It’s been years, but he isn’t ever sure what the morning will bring on this day. Maybe it’s sinking into his bed, watching his father’s movies with memories flickering behind his eyelids, faded with time. Or, it’s a day of courage, spent in the shelter or in a park, David and quiet contemplation keeping him company. 

Today, in the gentle breeze, there’s a whispered affirmation—you can do this, I believe in you, I am always with you, I’m proud of how far you’ve come. 

He wipes at his eyes before rummaging for his keys, a futile exercise—the door suddenly swings open to a beaming Alex. 

“Just in time,” Alex says, before pulling Henry in by the sleeve of his coat. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Between the caress of his father outside and the comforting smell of Alex’s efforts inside, Henry knows—he will be okay. 

Alex carefully watches the flicker of emotions cross Henry’s face before pushing himself up on his toes to give Henry a forehead kiss, tender and sweet. He always knows, because he’s Alex, and his fidelity to Henry’s emotions knows no bounds. And isn’t that lovely? The knowledge that Henry is never alone, that no matter how the day goes, whether he’s cocooned in a blanket or braving through the workday, he always has this to come back to. A bouquet of flowers, a forehead kiss, and Alex’s cooking—home. 

[hayanwulf]

Maybe supreme family having a their first game night.

Stephen stared at the scene in front of him.

Tony and the kids were gathered on the table with Morgan in his lap. At the center of the table sat a Monopoly map. Some D&D dice were scattered on one side, alongwith a neatly placed stack of ...Uno cards?

All in all, it was a monstrosity.

Morgan rolled the dice for Tony, whose shoulders immediately slumped when he realized where he’d landed in the Monopoly map. Peter whooped, pumping his fist in the air. “Ha! Pay up.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at Peter, then a smirk slowly grew in his lips as he produced the hidden stash of Uno cards he owned, and threw a card down at the table. It was a +2 card. “Double and give it to the next kid.”

The next kid in question was Harley. He didn’t even look up from where he was reading something on his phone, and threw down an Uno reverse card. Tony’s jaw slacked.

Stephen was pretty sure that wasn’t even how Uno worked.

“What on Vishanti’s name are you all playing?” He asked, drawing the room’s attention.

“We call it The Convergence of Games!” America answered. “It’s a mix of D&D, Uno, and Monopoly.”

Stephen stared at them like they had spontaneously turned into potted plants. “Why!?”

Tony snorted. “Cuz no one could agree on what to play.” He passed Monopoly cash towards Peter.

“So you just.. decided to mix them all?”

“Why not?” Peter shrugged, picking new cards from the stack of Uno on the table and holding it out towards Stephen’s direction. “Wanna join? It’s fun!”

“He won’t,” Tony said, his eyes trained on Stephen, challenge sparkling there. “He’s a wuss.”

Well then.

Stephen took the offered cards and sat down. “What are the rules?”

[dailyblooky]

daily blooky: if he's still out there

"WE'LL BE RIGHT BACK AFTER THIS COMMERCIAL BREAK, DARLINGS!"

Recently, Napstablook has been spending most of their time watching TV. This show is on almost constantly, and they don't have much else to occupy their time.

That robot on TV—Mettaton. Something about him is comforting, like they could've been friends in some other reality. They can't put their finger on it.

It's not really his demeanor. His confidence is admirable, but they've never been comfortable with such outspoken people.

It's not how he looks, either. He's sort of just a rectangle, and while they don't have anything against that… that just doesn't seem to be it.

Maybe it's the way he talks. That's closer, they think. He's kind of flowery with his words, but in a sort of funny way. He speaks to his audience like they're his friends, and it works.

Oh, his passion, maybe. He seems to really love what he does, something they struggle to capture in their own life. Maybe watching this show will spark some ideas.

A commercial for some brand of soda plays on the TV, the colors much too bright and the noise much too loud. They sigh.

They phase through the front door, their cousin still rehearsing diligently.

"hey… █████…"

He turns around, and his eyes light up. "Blooky, darling! My rehearsal is going simply fabulously!"

They smile.

"oh… this… guy on tv, i wanted to show you…."

"Oh?"

The commercial break ends, and they notice the tears welling up in their eyes. The TV screen is a blur of pink.

"Oh, it's my favorite color, too! You know me so well, darling!"

He'd like him, they think.

If he's still out there… maybe he's watching the show too.

Maybe he's watching right now, and…

maybe he's even thinking of them.

[distracteddream]

"Pretending to sleep" and Lokius?

With continued apologies to @in-my-loki-feels for playing in the Unwavering Forces AU again, I cranked out this triple drabble this afternoon because I found myself loathing the other WIP I was working on. I should probably queue this to post next Sunday but nope. No warnings apply.

It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to do, even though Loki had had plenty of practice at it. If anything, it seemed to be getting harder lately, to merely pretend to be asleep as the night stretched on with the soft sounds of Mobius sleeping next to him trying to lure him into slumber as well. Add in the satiated and well-used feeling of his body and Loki struggled to only act like he was asleep and not actually give in.

Somewhere on the prairie outside, a coyote howled, a lonesome, dangerous call.

It hurt. If Loki let himself be still, if he let himself think about things beyond survival and desire and his next score, it hurt. The need to sneak out of the sheriff’s warm bed in the middle of the night. The distance he kept between them for their own good. His nature that wouldn’t allow him to stay. It hurt.

Loki was used to hurting.

Holding his breath, the outlaw slipped from under the covers and smoothed them over where he’d been. Mobius didn’t stir. Padding about barefooted, Loki dressed with well-practiced ease, his clothes doing little to replace the warmth he’d left behind. Gathering his boots and setting his hat on his head, Loki froze as Mobius suddenly shifted.

Moonlight highlighted the sheriff’s messy hair and the broken line of his nose and Loki’s knees went weak as did his heart. He wanted to stay. More than any gold or bank notes he could get his hands on. More than the thrill of another escape or foiling a plot to capture him.

More than anything he’d ever wanted in his unfortunate life, Loki wanted to stay.

And that was why he left.

Somewhere, further out on the plains, another coyote answered the first.

[airas-story]

https://www.tumblr.com/airas-story/785383763091898368/your-writing-is-amazing-my-prompt-for-you-one-of

a continuation please

Continuation to this one.

Stephen murmured quiet comfort as they waited in the hospital room, clearly attempting to keep Tony calm. The doctors had run both a CT scan and an MRI and they were waiting for results. Tony was well aware they were jumping the line in a big way. MRI scans could take weeks to be reviewed.

Tony kept his eyes tightly closed, leaning into Stephen and trying to convince himself that he didn’t want to say anything, because every time he forgot and tried to say something only to realize he couldn’t he’d fallen straight into an anxiety spiral, only kept from a full-blown panic attack by Stephen’s comforting presence.

The doctor stepped in and Tony forced himself to look up. The doctor looked like she wasn’t sure if she had good news or not. “We’re not seeing anything in the brain scans,” she said. “Absolutely nothing that should give anyone any concern.”

Tony swallowed hard, stomach curdling.

Stephen was talking to the doctor, but Tony couldn’t listen now that the basic answer had been given. He had no way to ask his own questions anyways, entirely dependent on Stephen in that regards.

Stephen led him out of the hospital, and Tony wasn’t surprised when they ended up in the Sanctum. If this wasn’t medical then magical was the most likely culprit, even if Tony had already guessed as much. 

“I wanted to check medically first,” Stephen told him. “If there was something medically wrong, it could very easily be urgent, magic has a more flexible timeline.”

Tony nodded in understanding. Stephen had already said as much. Stephen must have picked up on Tony’s thoughts. An unexpected benefit to Stephen’s preternatural ability to read Tony.

“It’ll be okay, Tony,” Stephen said. “We’ll figure this out. I won’t stop until we do.”

[infiniteeight8]

Stiles is a fox charmer or foxes consider him their leader

Since the association between Stiles and foxes is because of the Nogitsune (at least, to my knowledge), I’m using that as an inciting incident.

-

It takes Stiles a while to notice. Things are so fucked up after the Nogitsune that odd wildlife behavior doesn’t register. But eventually it calms down enough that his eye for patterns notices them. The foxes. Whenever Stiles is within a hundred yards of the Preserve, at least one fox can be found in the brush, watching him. Usually more than one.

He tells Deaton, who brushes him off, and the pack, but Scott just shrugs and says to let them know if the foxes do more than follow him. Peter seems more interested than the others, but he doesn’t speak up. 

For weeks, nothing changes. Then a witch kidnaps Peter.

No one can track him, the witches have gone to ground, and Scott seems like he’s looking for an excuse to stop searching, though he goes along with the plans the others propose. Stiles is furious, and maybe a little scared, when he storms out of a pack meeting and into the Preserve.

The foxes come boiling out of the bushes as if summoned, at least a dozen of them. “I need to find Peter,” he tells them. Really he’s just venting his frustration. How could the foxes do anything if werewolf noses can’t find him?

But they draw closer. The underbrush continues to rustle as more join the gathering. “I need to find Peter Hale,” Stiles repeats, heart pounding. This is stupid He doesn’t even have anything of Peter’s with him to share with them.

Apparently, it doesn’t matter. After a breathless pause, the foxes scatter into the Preserve.

Stiles waits.

Sixteen minutes later, one of them returns. 

It leads him straight to Peter.

“Aren’t you full of surprises,” Peter murmurs.

“Secrets,” Stiles corrects. This doesn’t feel like something he should share. Not yet.

Peter smiles. “Of course.”

[jedi-order-apologist]

Life is a task and scary as hell

A Jedi discusses his worries over becoming a General. Written for Fandom Empire Fortune Wheel - Week 4: Faith vs Doubt and Jedi June 2025 - Prompt: Survive and Star Wars 100 - Prompt: General and Lyrical Titles Album Challenge 2025 - Song: "So Long, Mother Earth" - Chevelle - NIRATIAS

READ ON AO3

He took a few sips from the teacup, then sighed as he lowered it, looking back at his former master. She waited patiently for him to speak.

“I thought I was prepared to be knighted,” he said. “And you must have thought so, too. But I… this wasn’t what I was trained for. I was prepared to go out into the world being called ‘Master Jedi’, not… ‘General’.” His voice was even, but his distaste and anxieties pooled around the word in other ways. Even the least Force-sensitive stranger could probably have picked it out, and his former Master knew the currents of his emotions far better than that.

“You’re afraid,” she said. “What are you afraid of?”

Isn’t that obvious? he was tempted to say – in his younger years, he often had. But he wasn’t a padawan anymore, and he’d absorbed the truth that teachers didn’t ask you to perform sums because they didn’t know the answers themselves, they asked so you’d learn how to do it and to show that you could.

“The war,” he said. Too broad, too nebulous and unhelpful. “Being responsible as a military commander – all the men whose lives will be in my hands.”

She nodded, and sat back as she thought for a moment.

“Our missions have always put lives in our hands,” she said. “People depending on us to resolve disputes and crises that have far-reaching consequences. Maybe not so immediately as in battle, but no less critical.”

“That’s true,” he said, looking down. He could think of such missions he’d had as a padawan. He’d been able to overcome his doubts then, but now...

“Have faith in yourself,” his former master said. “Have faith in the Force, and in your men. Have faith that many more will survive because of you.”

[rarepairjokers]

I don't know if you do ships including the crew as well, but if yes I would loveee Jure/Mark based on this picture with them in the background because I am starved

I thought it through and had an idea, so I decided to go with it😁 They’re in their own little world back there.

(sfw text)

Mark had a job to do. He knew that. He had a job to do, and that job was not standing around staring longingly at a bent over Jure, who, in turn, was staring longingly at Kris striking poses for Vita.

It’s not even as if Mark’s starved for Jure’s attention. During their break Jure had first stolen his cap, cackling as he legged it until Mark had given in and set off in pursuit, much to Jure’s boisterous enjoyment. After that he’d had endless questions about the camera, questions Mark was fairly sure Jure knew the answers to already, yet he’d still been more than happy to give them.

Mark fidgeted with the buttons on his camera, none of which needed fidgeting with. He should be chasing objects, motions, lights, and those objects shouldn’t primarily be Jure’s hips, the motions shouldn’t only be those hips gently swaying from side to side and the lights shouldn’t just be the way the sun’s rays hit the curve of his a—

No.

Focus on the job at hand.

Speaking of hands, Mark glanced over Jure’s shoulder and saw a phone resting in his. Realizing he’d been looking down at the screen this whole time and not at Kris, Mark contemplated simply walking over to casually lean on the half wall next to him and strike up a conversation. Literally any topic. Jure was a chatty guy. He’d done that hundreds of times in the past, why was today so difficult?

Flashes from Vita’s camera pointed at Kris contrasted the inactivity of his own. He could either stay frozen in place or approach the leather-clad drummer.

Should he?

“Hey!” Jure turned, waving him over. Eyes rimmed by smudged black eyeliner lit up when Mark returned his smile. “Wanna share a smoke?”

He should.

[starkstrangesorcerer]

Title: Worry Wart Tags: this is more comedic/fluffy then angst, protective Tony, scolding, beta!Tony, alpha!Stephen, domestic

Stephen stumbled through the door, his robes torn and bloodied, a bruise forming on his temple. He gritted his teeth as he tried to steady himself, only to have Tony appeared out of nowhere, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in frustration.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?!" Tony exclaimed, his voice almost high-pitched with anxiety. "What the hell were you thinking, Stephen? You can’t just go around fighting multiversal threats like it’s a stroll in the park. You’re supposed to come back in one piece, you know!”

Stephen raised an eyebrow, trying to keep his posture dignified despite the state he was in. “Tony, I’m fine—”

“No, no, you’re not fine!” Tony cut him off, walking up to him and patting him down like a mother inspecting her child for injuries. “You’ve got bruises, cuts! And don't get me started on your arm that literally has a gash in it! You think I’m gonna just stand here and pretend that’s normal?”

“I’m a grown man, Tony,” Stephen muttered, wincing as Tony prodded his ribs.

“A grown man who’s apparently allergic to common sense,” Tony shot back, his voice softening as he noticed the fatigue in Stephen’s eyes. He sighed, pulling the taller into his arms, the beta letting his arms loop around Stephen's neck, “Look, I know you’re the Sorcerer Supreme and all that, but you’re still my mate. And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t give me a heart attack every time you go on one of your ‘heroic’ adventures.”

Stephen chuckled weakly, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder, hands placed on the brunettes hips. “I’ll try to keep the heart attacks to a minimum.”

Tony huffed. “Great. Now, sit down. We’re having soup, and you’re not leaving until I’ve fixed whatever the hell that multiversal thing did to you.”

Stephen grinned a faint one. “Yes, dear.”

[drabbles-mc]

🛁 any character you like!

the way that every single character i like could definitely use a nice lil bubble bath 😂 my mind instantly went to sydrichie, though. so that's what we're rocking with 😌 triple drabble be upon ye!

“This is fuckin’ stupid,” Richie said as he stood by the tub, hands on his hips.

“It’s pretty life-changing, actually,” she corrected as she stood from where she’d been seated on the edge of the tub.

He frowned and shook his head. “I’m not doing this.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Why not?”

He motioned to the bathtub, which was currently topped with a coat of bubbles, candles in the corners. “Because it’s fuckin’—” He stopped himself, remembering that he was a self-actualized kind of guy now. Taking a deep breath, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Because I don’t take bubble baths, Sydney,” he said, almost sounding like he did at work. Like Syd wouldn’t know better.

“And maybe that’s the problem, Richie.”

She was out the door with the lights turned down before Richie could try to argue the point further. He huffed, half a mind to turn on his heel and leave like she did. But then he took another look. It did seem inviting, and he could feel the heat radiating off the water without even touching it. She said she used some sort of salts or oils or whatever so that it’d smell nice, and he had to admit that it worked.

One more look at the door and he knew that he wasn’t going to leave. He grumbled to himself as he pulled his shirt off. “So stupid.”

He’d lost track of how long he’d been steeped in the hot water and bubbles when he heard Sydney’s light knock on the door. “How’s it going in there?”

Eyes closed, he still tried to posture a little bit. “’S alright, I guess.”

Her laughter through the door let him know that she wasn’t going to be fooled. “Happy to hear it.”

Send a character and an emoji for the Comfort My Character ask game!

[twistthescript]

June Doe 2025; Day 2: What The World Needs

A triple drabble for the books! TW: Survivor's Guilt/Bullying

What The World Needs... Isn't Me; Rated T; It's a hard adjustment for Ocean after the accident...

@june-doe-2025