the surface of a tic tac

Tic Tac Toe (Part-10)

Word count: 2000-ish

Pairing: Sam X Reader

Warnings: Slight Angst, tooth-rotting fluff

Summary: The reader shifts into a new city after being offered a dream job by a big firm. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect after an ugly break-up with a douche-bag Ex. But things turn out not as dreamy as she’d want them to be and the only thing that keeps her smiling is a totally coincidental game of Tic Tac Toe.

A/N: I suck (We’ve already established that fact loads of times) so I used the old summary this time. This part picks up almost directly from where we left off last time. I hope y’all like it! Feedback is really appreciated!

Beta: The forever awesome @sdavid09

Catch up: Part 1, Tic Tac Toe Masterlist

Even if the sight hadn’t registered, the blistering heat would have. It was like everything had been engulfed in the fire, from the entire front façade of his house, to the little shrubbery that she had planted along the porch steps. Sam loved messing with them just to tease her. She loved those plants, and he loved her. Which was why the scene unfolding before him, getting worse with every passing second, felt like one that was out of reality. Like a horror story pulled straight out of his personal hell. He knew with the amount of force he was exerting, he would have pushed over just about anybody. But there were too many hands holding him back, too many voices whispering condolences, urging him to listen to them, urging him to believe that there was nothing left to save… That there was no one left to rescue.

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Sorry this took so long to get out there. I’ve been moving into my house for university this week. Luckily, it’s all gone down fine and I’m moved in with two fantastic [clean and tidy] people. I might upload some more of The Tower today. Enjoy!

Prompt[s]: a Scott Lang/Ant-Man x Male!Reader where the Male!Reader is Clint/Hawkeye’s mutant brother with the powers to make his skin hard & strong as steel. The Male!Reader gets caught up in Civil War and ends up falling for Scott after his brother and him seemingly kidnap him. Scott ends up falling for romantically as well

‘A Small Domestic’ (Part 2)

Part 1

Scott opened his door and froze.
“Uh, hi,” he said, a gentle smile breaking out onto his face.
The two of you hadn’t been dating long, so everything was new and fresh – and still very, very adorably awkward.

Your time in HYDRA had unsurprisingly not been kind. There was so much emphasis put on ignoring any thoughts and emotions towards other people that it was a miracle anything was still left. Until you’d met Scott it seemed like you truly were empty inside. However, there was something about his easy smile and his stupid humour that got your pulse going. At first you’d just thought it was some sort of illness – until Clint had talked about how he’d felt meeting his wife for the first time and you’d recognised similar… ‘symptoms’. Everything after had fallen into place.

“Hi, sorry,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t mean to just turn up but…”
“No, no, it’s… it’s good to see you,” Scott said, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe.s You smiled bashfully and made to enter – but Scott grabbed your forearm suddenly.
“I mean it,” he said, looking at you warmly to assure you, “I’m happy you’re here.”

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thesubordinates  asked:

i love your writing so much and this is probably a really weird request, but can you pls write bellarke + "i thought i was alone and started dancing like an idiot but then i turned around and you were staring at me" or something along those line?

post breakup clarke featuring one very awkward bellamy in a bid to cheer her up, basically. x 


Another day, another breakup.

That’s as much as she tells her friends when they call, anyway.

“Seriously guys,” Clarke sighs, wincing at the crick of her neck when she steadies the phone precariously balanced against her shoulder, “I’m fine. Have fun at the concert for me, okay?”

There’s a low murmur of dissent over the line, the unmistakable sound of Jasper jabbering frantically in the background before Raven goes, hesitant, “I don’t know. Maybe leaving you alone in the apartment isn’t such a great idea.”

Twisting an unfinished bottle of wine open with her teeth, she snorts, letting the cork fall against the floor. “Honestly? What do you think I’m going to get up to in two hours?”

“Drink all the wine,” Raven says without missing a beat, “mope. Possibly devour Monty’s stash of cheetos.”

She pauses in her search for the wine glasses, “those do sound like perfectly appropriate activities on a Friday night.”

A disgruntled beat passes, followed by a perky voice that is unmistakably Octavia’s, “hey, I could get Bell to go down to the apartment to keep you company, if you want.”

“Octavia, no.” Suppressing a groan, she settles for scowling into thin air instead, trying not to think of the infuriating, incurable individual in question. “Trust me, his presence isn’t really going to do me any favors.”

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The Lucky One II

Table of Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

Chapter o6. Abandoned Hearts 

One sunny afternoon, as you were helping Youngwoo with his homework, the telephone rang so you got up to answer it. 

“Hello?” you spoke. 

“Hey, ______ah!” Jongin’s wife’s cheerful voice answered. 

“Oh hey,” you replied, grinning when you heard children scrambling around in the background. 

“Oy, Minhyun!  Be careful!  Yoona, get your brother off the dinner table!” she shouted.

“B-but I wanna talk to Youngwoo-oppa!” Yoona’s voice sounded in the background.  The mother sighed. 

“Sorry, _______ah, can you hold on a second?” she asked.

“Sure,” you replied, happily listening to the little troublemakers in the background.  A familiar sour feeling rushed up your throat but you forced it back now so the emptiness lingered in the very depths your heart.

You heard some toppling, static noise in the background before the female came back and apologized again.

“It’s fine.  So what’s going on?” you asked, grinning into the phone when a sweet voice answered your question instead. 

“C-can, I speak to Youngwoo-oppa?” the little girl asked, her voice a lot quieter and demure.  You swore your whole body grew weak.

“Sure, Honey,” you managed to reply even with the lack of strength. 

Turning over to the sofa area, you lifted your arm and motioned for your son to come over.  His short stubby legs scurried over like that of a baby penguin.

“Hello?” Youngwoo chirped into the phone.  Curious, you squatted down and leaned your ear against the other side to eavesdrop on the conversation. 

“Oppa…Omma made sweet potato pie.  Do you want some?  I saved you a slice,” Yoona giggled nervously into the phone. 

You muffled a gasp at the girl’s invitation that confirmed your suspicions of her growing infatuation with your son.   Taking a deep breath, you eyed Youngwoo in anticipation. 

“No, thank you,” he declined politely and you frowned.

Your shipper heart shattered like broken glass into the palms of your hands. 

“B-but…it’s really good,” the little girl spoke, her voice much quieter and less enthusiastic now. 

Youngwoo turned to you for your opinion but you shrugged and sighed at the fact that your son was only six and already breaking hearts.

“Okay then!” Youngwoo surprised you by answering. 

“Really?!” Yoona’s voice excitedly exclaimed, “Ommaaa!!  Youngwoo-oppa said, ‘Yes!’”.

“Really Honey?” her mother laughed then took the phone out of her hands, “______ah, do you want to come over?  Jongin-oppa’s still at a meeting and I have to take care of the kids so I can’t go anywhere”.

“Sure!” you agreed. 

After hanging up, you turned Youngwoo around to look straight into his eyes, “Youngwoo-yah…tell Omma…what do you really think of Yoona”.

“Um…she runs around a lot…” he answered.


“She talks a lot…” he continued.

“Do you like playing with her?” you specified so he’d stop beating around the bush. 

“She’s okay.  But she keeps taking Pinku Pinku from me!” he innocently complained.

Mmm…little one…you’ll soon realize that that is her way of keeping a part of you close to her in case you decide one day that she’s not worth your time anymore…

Throwing him a flat line smile, you ruffled his hair, and suggested, “Okay then, let’s go play with Yoona”. 


You parked the car in front of a large vacation home that took up two lots.  Surrounding the building were gardens of flowers with a heart statue in the center.  One wall of the building was colored with chalkboard paint.  Little child drawings and doodles covered the surface, including tic tac toe games, stick figure family drawings, little hearts and stars, and most attention grabbing of all was a doodle of a little girl giving her heart to a boy.  Above it read, “Y & Y”.  Youngwoo & Yoona.  You blushed realizing the little girl’s infatuation with your son was so much more than you thought.

As the fancy Victorian gates creaked open, you walked down the path and noticed an art easel with a gorgeous painting on it.  Mesmerized by the perfection of the masterpiece, you halted in your tracks to admire the colorful artwork.  Whether it was the ¾ rule of the golden ratio or the vibrant color palette, the drawing was flawless.  It showcased a female and a male dancing under a rainbow that slowly morphed into swirling cherry blossoms around the couple.  Unconsciously, you lifted your finger to touch it, only to stop yourself centimeters from the canvas when you finally noticed that drips of watercolor were still collecting at the bottom of the easel, which could only mean that the artwork must have been recently completed. 

“Hey!” the painter’s cheerful voice sounded.  You looked up to see Yoona and her mother walking toward you. 

The little girl skipped over and stopped in front of Youngwoo.  In her hands was a dangling panda plush. 

“Oppa…” she greeted with glowing pink cheeks and shifting little feet.

“Hi!” your son greeted back. 

As Yoona’s mom gestured for you to sit down on the patio to chat, Yoona tugged Youngwoo by Pinku Pinku’s arm, into the kitchen, to try the sweet potato pie. 

“_______ah, you want some too?” the female asked but you politely declined. 

“Yoona really likes Youngwoo, doesn’t she?” you sighed, watching through the glass door as the little girl kept pampering your son, but your son paid more attention to his plush bear than to her. 

“Yeah…that silly girl.  She’s super attached to Young-ie,” she agreed with a sad smile then detailed, “Actually…even when she was still in my stomach, she often responded to Young-ie’s cries”.

“I’m sorry…” you apologized for your son’s carelessness.

“Oh…Oh no.  Why are you sorry?  They’re just little children.  Don’t worry about it,” she reassured, squeezing your hand. 

Still you felt responsible for the impeding heart break Yoona would one day encounter.

“By the way…any good news?” she asked with a wink.

You stared at her growing belly and regretfully shook your head.

“Aww…don’t worry.  I’ll happen soon.  Enjoy your married life for now…before you turn into a crazy baby bun maker like me,” she giggled and you smiled graciously for her friendly personality. 


After a few hours chatting up a storm with Jongin’s wife about random things from art to babies to dishing about your Pabo husband’s, Youngwoo and you retreated back to your cozy apartment.  Of course, not without the little girl slipping over an origami heart to your son.  You squatted down and patted her glowing cheeks.  Her big beautiful eyes gazed into yours before she sweetly smiled at you and handed you a paper star from her bottle. 

“Aww, thank you Yoon-ie,” you said, giving her a kiss on the forehead. 



At night, as you did your usual round of cleaning, you discovered the origami heart carelessly discarded onto the floor of the living room.  Swallowing the lump in your throat, you bent over, picked it up, and carefully placed it into a glass jar. 

Because hearts…no matter how small…deserve a home…so that they don’t wander for years taking they’ve been abandoned. 

“Young-ie…time for bed,” you said, popping your head into his playroom.

Toys scattered all over the floor as your son cheerfully rammed a toy car into his large tiger plushie. 

“Vroom vroom vroom!” he sounded. 

Smiling widely, you entered the room and joined your son on the floor, “Time for bed, Sweetbean!” 

“B-but…the evil tiger isn’t dead yet!  I have to save the world!” your son informed.

Laughing at his rationale, you patted his head then poked the tiger over with one finger.  It collapsed onto its side as you exaggerated a gasp. 

“The evil tiger is dead!  Young-ie saved the day!!” you clapped then sternly said, “Now Teddy Bear, time for bed!” 

The little boy thrashed around, throwing a tantrum and commenting on how the evil tiger faked his death to plan a terrifying scheme to kidnap Pinku Pinku when he let his guard down. 

“But Pinku Pinku is crying because he’s sleepy and Youngwoo won’t tuck him to bed, “ you pouted, wiggling his favorite teddy bear in front of him. 

The little boy gasped, hugged the bear, and promised, “Don’t worry Pinku Pinku!  I will tuck you in now!”

You covered your lips to stop yourself from giggling as you watched your son speedily climb up in bed with the bear. 

“Youngwoo-yah. It’s a little chilly tonight.  Wear these, okay? You said, holding out a pair of tiny socks. 

“No, it’s okay Omma.  You can wear them.  Youngwoo is a big boy and can take the cold!” he said in a deep voice. 

Touched by his willingness to sacrifice for you, your eyes grew semi-glossy. 

Instead, you kissed his forehead and replied, “But Youngwoo, Omma’s feet can’t fit in them.  And Omma has a pair for herself”.

You held out a matching pair that was bigger in size.  The little boy narrowed his eyes as if trying to decipher whether or not you were pulling a prank on him.  Seeing that your son was determined to give his socks to you, you slyly challenged him to a race to see who could put their socks on faster.  Youngwoo’s eyes beamed at the proposed competition.  Eagerly, he plopped upright in bed and took the socks from your hands.  You sat down next to him. 

“Ready…Set…Go!” you announced. 

As you watched your son obediently roll his socks up his small feet, you pretended to drop yours onto the floor to stall time. 

“I’m done!  Yehet!  Youngwoo won!  Hehe!” he giggled.

Sending him a wink and a kiss on the temples, you exclaimed, “Wa!  Youngwoo is such a pro!”  

“No, it’s just because Omma’s feet are pwetty so they don’t need to hide in sockies!”

You threw your head back laughing as you tucked your son in.  Oh you little sweet talker…are you flirting with Yoona like this? 

“Sweet Dreams, Honey,” you whispered, stroking his temples. 

“Goodnight…Omma…” he slurred, already half asleep. 

Contently sighing, you sat still for a while to admire the innocent, angelic features of your son.  He had grown so much already in the past year you spent with him.  With a sad smile, you stroked his little forehead, a part of you regretting not being by his side through his younger years as a toddler.  Of course, Sehun had shown you pictures and videos of Youngwoo during the five years you were gone but it wasn’t the same. 

When his breathing evened and he was deep in slumber, you slowly got up from the bed to clean the sprawled out toy collection on the floor.  Grabbing his toy chest, you began to toss his action figures back into their cases.  When your fingers grip onto a toy car, you did a double take.  You held the car up to your face and narrowed your eyes.  Something about it was just off to you.  Frowning, you held it closer, examining every corner and small detail but after a while, you shrugged and brushed it off, concluding that you were once again being overly paranoid for no apparent reason. 

Quietly, you leaned in and kissed your son once more before exiting his room to reunite with your husband.  As you passed by the hall, you saw that his office lights were on.  He must be still working…You popped your head in. 

His eyebrows came together in seriousness as he tackled the problem detailed on the piles and piles of papers in front of him.  A pen sat captive in between his teeth as he ran his long fingers through his dark locks.  Frustrated, he knocked at his temples to ease the tension.  Soundlessly, you tiptoed into the room, halted behind him, and placed your cold slender fingers on his temples.  Sehun threw his head back and groaned as you massaged his tensed muscles in a circular motion.  He spun his seat around to acknowledge you but you stopped him mid-way.

“Don’t mind me.  Just continue working…” you hummed, moving your hands down the crook of his neck.  

Your husband opened his month to protest but seeing your look of sincerity, he obediently turned around to stare at the piles of paper in front of him.

“That’s why I said I’m the lucky one,” he spoke and you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. 

Gradually, after an hour, you removed your hands from him.  You contemplated going to bed first but you wanted to keep Sehun company so you plopped yourself onto the nearby sofa. 

There, you admired your handsome lover.  He wasn’t the same teenaged jock you fell in love with over a decade ago.  No, he possessed this sense of maturity and security – especially when he was focused in his work.  But for some reason, at that moment, you felt your body morph back into the little twelve-year-old fangirl, who idolized him from afar.  Your gaze didn’t leave him even when the clock struck midnight.  A ray of moonlight beamed through the window, casting a spotlight that highlighted all of Sehun’s captivating features.  His jawline was exceptionally chiseled while the mirrored arches above his eyes, framed his face perfectly.  His hair appeared a little greasy under the light but you still wanted to sniff in the scent.  Little stumbles popped out on his cupid’s bow and under his chin.  You held up your two hands and with your index fingers and thumbs pretended to take a mental picture of it.  It felt so surreal but like that, you slouched against the couch and fell asleep.  



It is pitch black and icy cold.  Every moment, every crawl connects with another in a succession of echoes.  A little female toddler swings her baby legs back and forth creating chilling “bangs” along glass.  She looks around, blinking her delicate eyes as if lost in a cave populated by nature’s bloodsuckers. 

“Omma…” she calls as her baby bottle slips out of her hand and rolls down onto the wet ground beneath. 

An older woman, dressed in only a silk lingerie nightgown, runs passed her, ignoring her cries for her bottle. 

Her long nails scratch along a man’s muscular arms as he flings her away to head for the door with a large black leather bag in his hands.  His feet kicks the baby bottle further and further away, causing the baby to sob while flailing her limbs out to reach for her lost source of energy. 

Curses spurted from both their mouths.  The young woman desperately thrashes her arms, landing a few weak blows on the man in front of her.  But it is enough to anger him.  He turns around and glares at her with eyes that threatened to kill and teeth that threaten to maul her flesh from her skin if she tried to stop him again. 


You jolted up in bed with your chest heaving up and down uncontrollably.  The echoes of the little girl’s cries were still so clear and crisp against your ear.    


“Jagiya!  Jagiya!” your husband shook your body.  You jolted upright, shaking in fear. 

Immediately, Sehun wrapped his arms around your trembling body.

Wiping the cold sweat from your forehead, he asked, “D-Did you have a nightmare?” 

With your hands cupping your mouth, you tried your best to take deep breaths while nodding.  Grimacing at your confession, Sehun hugged your head into his chest protectively.  You continued to shudder, shaking your head to delude the high-pitched screams that continued to ring in your ears.  It didn’t make sense.  You haven’t had a nightmare in the last five years…why…now?  

“Shh…it’s okay.  I’m here,” Sehun cooed, “Let’s go to sleep”. 

Clinging onto your husband, you nodded into his chest as he stood up with both of you to walk to the bedroom.  Your body continued to shake in absolute fear. 


a/n: Youngna ship gahhh ῍̻̩✧(´͈ ૢᐜ `͈ૢ)˖῍̻̩

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I Won’t Let Go

A/N: so @fitzsimmonsaf and I were talking about all the awesome story lines Jemma COULD have had in 4,722 if they did literally anything besides the romantic plot, and this happened. Kind of an abridged fic built of our explosion of headcannons, so we thought we’d share. 

~2,000 words

About a month into her exile on Maveth, Jemma discovers that she is not, in fact, the only human on this planet.

It is hard to tell how old Cody Daniels is. She thinks he’s about eight or nine, but even he has no idea, without any way to track the passage of earth time. He is the son of the last two surviving astronauts of a doomed NASA mission sent through the portal in 2001, born here several years after their arrival.

Jemma doesn’t know what happened to the NASA team, but by the time she meets Cody he’s alone. He’s wild at first. His hair’s matted and tangled and falling over wide, pale eyes. Every inch of him is covered in filth and he will not speak or look at her, scampers barefoot over the sand, tries to snatch food or some of the meager possessions she has when she isn’t watching.

Yet no child so young could have survived very long in this place by himself. Someone has cut his hair in the last year, has sewn together scraps of clothing to fit his small body, has taken the time to give him reading lessons if the scrawls she notices on the walls of his cave-like home are an indication. Where his parents are now and how long they’ve been gone is a mystery, but they definitely aren’t here now.

Their relationship is slow to start. Cody keeps his distance, watching her always with a wary, mistrustful gaze. He only allows her down into the cavern where he lives and sleeps a couple times and brandishes a homemade weapon whenever she gets too close. She keeps sleeping outside in her little camp by the water. But Cody comes, both for water and because he’s entranced by her phone. And eventually he starts asking her questions.

The tipping point is the sandstorm. 

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