#reader x sam Coe

[thatsgoodsquishy0]

Pairing: F!Reader x Ranger!Sam Coe Rating: M+ Bio: Set during Sam’s younger years working as a Freestar Ranger alongside his wife, Lillian Hart. Whether circumstance, or impossible luck, you're given a second chance at life, ultimately growing close to The Coes. You take a shine to Cora, but the family dynamic is something else entirely, albeit a little overwhelming, as you realize the toll Lillian's absence has taken on the family, but more specifically, her husband. Sam Coe is witty, charming, and ambitious; a man who knows what he wants and stops at nothing to reach his goals, but when his wife seems to prioritize her career over her family, it's hard not to notice the strain growing inside him. Your friendship may be just the support Sam needs, even if the temptations for something more linger, and when your past threatens your future, where will your morals lie? Will you end up back where you started? Chemistry is a cruel mistress

cross-posted to AO3 credit to @seracoe for the lovely Ranger Sam pic & @cafekitsune for the divider & @fangbangerghoul and @bearlytolerant for their unwavering support and feedback. thank you so much!! <3

i. BOUND

Your wrists were bound behind your back. Scratchy twine rubbed against your skin as you wiggled your hands. Alarms blared overhead. Your head rolled as your vision bobbed. Your knees were sore. You remembered the cruelty of your captor’s instructions to never sit or lay down; you could only kneel. Through the slits of your eyes you barely registered the urgency amongst the crew as they bounced around the cockpit, like bugs inside a terrarium.

“Fuck! Fuck! They’re headed towards —- !” a bloodied scream, cracks of gunfire, liquid gurgles over the intercom.

“They just wasted Fredericks!”

“How the fuck did they find us?!”

The rope chaffed against your wrists; a sick reminder that escape was futile.

You looked to your left. Your eyes shot wide and a deep, guttural scream left your throat as you met the endless stare of a dead woman. In refuge, you looked to your right. Another dead one greeted you just as forcibly. You flinched, averted your eyes, but in the darkness behind your eyelids the horror remained; splashes of red staining her hair, the ghostly whites of her eyes, mouth frozen in a permanent scream, the ugly circle in the middle of her forehead.

The kidnapper’s rampant states evolved to a frenzy as they darted their desperation towards you, like a missile locking onto a target. Shots continued past your range of sight, but you heard them; muffled and close.

One of the kidnapper's charged towards you, gun in hand.

Your mind in fragments, you tried your best to stand before they could reach you, but the kneeling rendering your knees useless. You fell forward, sharp pains stabbing your kneecaps as you fumbled up again. A woman delivered a shift kick to your stomach. You groaned and toppled back, your trapped wrists splashing against the puddle of wet blood.

“You did this, didn’t you?! ” the woman bellowed. “Who’d you send for?! Huh?!” She grabbed a fistful of your hair, locking her venomous glare against your quivering lips as you chased an answer on your tongue.

She yanked harder. “Answer me, you fucking rat!”

You opened your mouth and willed yourself to speak, but the words abandoned you. Tears pooled in your eyes.

Fed up with your sloppiness, the woman growled and released her grip. You stumbled back, falling on your side as you caught yourself from landing on your wrists, hair dipping into the red liquid. She cocked her gun. You squeezed your eyes shut. Sweat beaded atop your forehead, its saltiness mixing with the metallic stench of your hair as the tarnished concoction trickled down your face like runny hair dye. You felt the bloodied strands of hair gently brushed aside, making way for the cold barrel as it pushed into your forehead. You thought you heard the trigger click in anticipation. Your heartbeat convulsed inside your chest.

Then — a hatch opened. Two gun blasts. Bam! Bam!

The gun clattered against the floor, followed by a thud!

You popped open your eyes. The woman’s lifeless body lie face down beside your shoes, her brown rats nest a bloodied mess as crimson fluids leaked from her head across the floor. Your breathing blew out in bursts, in and out. Violent gulps of air choked your throat and stung your chest as you struggled frantically to break free from the restraints while hastily hauling yourself to a corner. Your stomach churned as you worked your wrists, the grip seeming to shrink tighter, down to the bone with every pull. The alarm sang like a sick cheer for your escape as you thrashed your wrists against the floor, screaming, wailing, fighting for absolution.

You curled into a fetal position, the pain from the kick resigning in your stomach as you felt your will crumble into hopelessness, like the last survivor on a sinking ship.

There was no direction for your gaze as you shut your eyes.

“Hey – hey -- stay with me now.”

Beneath your trembling, that anxious voice reached you, as if it were coaxing you along a bridge across treacherous waters.

Your mouth fell open, bottom lip shaking as any formation of a sentence betrayed you. You mustered a weak gasp as a man approached. His face was rugged, but determined as he peered down upon you, upon your sanguine soaked forehead. He sported a cowboy hat that seemed to provide a shadow against his face. His brows were thick and furrowed together as his hands attempted to reach the sides of your face. You suspended your gaze and tucked your body away from the room. Away from him.

“Ain’t gonna hurtcha!” he remarked, his voice silent amid the screaming buzzer. “Just wanna make sure y’ain’t bleedin’ a ton!”

Your throat was drier than a vase of forgotten flowers; tongue just as tied as the wrists behind your back — a spot the man captured quickly as he assessed your predicament. You heard the flick of a pocketknife and quickly looked up. A woman stepped into the room. She lowered her gun, but kept her finger above the trigger. A golden glint on her chest caught your eye. Your stomach dropped. Police?

Suddenly, you feared for your life again.

“Sam, don’t untie her just yet! We have no idea which side she’s on!”

“Pretty clear to me which side!”

“It could be a trap!” The woman stepped closer, her gaze fidgeting around the room as they hollered against the ringing. “This could be their ploy!”

“She’s banged up pretty bad, Lillian, and she can’t use her hands. Clearly, she couldn’t grab a weapon even if she tried!”

“I just don’t know about this, Sam!”

“You took a chance on a reckless kid once, and despite how you found him, things turned out pretty damn fine!”

The woman located the gun closest to you and immediately kicked it across the room. The man continued to hold his unsheathed pocket knife. The blade gave a serrated smile.

“Just trust me, alright?!”

She took a sharp breath, a sigh, then removed her finger from the trigger as she lowered the gun all the way. “Alright! Fine! We’ll take her back with us, get her all patched up, then ask her some questions! See what she knows!”

“Yes ma’am!” You caught a glimpse of a tiny smile swathed in success as the man leaned across your body and began to cut into the twine. Your hands trembled.

“Hold still!” he yelled, sawing through the restraints.

Your heart raced. What if the blade sliced through your skin by accident? You remained completely still, patient, until finally, the ropes snapped off.

You instinctively rubbed the twisted indentations embedded in your skin. Despite your hands being freed, you still couldn’t bring yourself to move, or speak. You gazed at your savior, the knife still in his grasp. He considered you with a tilt of his head, his eyes straight-lined with patience as he retracted the knife and slid it back into his pocket. The woman doubled-down on her stance, waiting for your next move. You exhaled, quick and shaky. The man offered his hand, but you didn’t take it, then he slowly crouched beside you, and urged you to stand up, his voice barely comprehensible over the squawking alarm.

You lifted yourself up, unintentionally pressing your hands into the blood of the dead. You withdrew your palms and swung your head around. Splatters of brain matter splashed against the wall and space-viewed windows. Your legs rocked from under you. Vehemently, your head shook in disbelief. You covered your hand atop your mouth and blinked away tears. Before you could look any further out of sheer morbidity, a pair of hands firmly gripped your shoulders and pulled your sight away. The man’s brows etched with concern. His stare linked to yours.

“Don’t look.”

In utter shock, both words swam through your eardrums in smooth, purposeful strokes. and you obeyed, keeping your eyes on him. Your muscles were weak, but appreciative, as you tried again to stand up. The man threw your arm carefully around his shoulder and the woman followed, a grunt passing from her lips as you adjusted to their rescue.

“Don’t make me regret this, okay?” She muttered close to your ear as you exited the cockpit hatch.

Blood rushed from the crown of your head down to the tips of your toes. Each blare of the alarm mimicked the pounding in your head, like thousands of birds squawking as they pecked your ears raw.

You whined as you passed under one of the sirens.

The man yelled something, but his voice remained unintelligible, however, you thought maybe he was reassuring you. You lifted your head and peered to your right – the woman focused forward, aware of the next steps as you moved further down the ship. The man adjusted his hold on you, and you caught the faintest scent of cologne mixed with salt and blood. The pounding in your head grew louder, angrier, as they pulled you past their victims. The air smelt of tarnished pennies. The soles of your shoes dragged along the floor through puddles of red, leaving a evidence of a retreat behind as you exited the ship and entered another one.

You were ushered through a series of rooms, each one more scientific than the last, until your body was gently laid onto a cot. Exhaustion consumed you. You battled with your brain to keep your eyelids open as they slowly began to close; not for the sake of sleep, but for asylum against the ringing in your ears. You curled into a ball — the dead woman from the ship accompanying the darkness that began to swallow you.

“Get her a trauma pack.”

“Sam, we only got one left. Once we get to The Rock, Doc will look her over just fine.”

“Then, I’ll buy another one. Lillian, don’t fight me on this.”

There was a long pause, followed by the decrescendo of footsteps, then you heard the faint sound of an object being placed beside you. After a few minutes you heard voices, but the words were too distant to hear or understand, however the tones were defiant, combative. One of them raised their voice, but you couldn’t tell who. Then, they stopped.

Finally, as your body lulled against the rolling ship through space, your heartbeat steadied. Boots softly thudded into your room as you lay on your side, your face against the cool of the ship’s wall.

“I, um – I don’t know if you can hear me, but there's medicine next to ya, if you need it. I’ll be out on the nav-floor if you need anythin’.” He cleared his throat. “Alright then.”

You were grateful, even if tonight stole the words right out of your blood soaked mouth, you saved. Saved from death, from a fate worse than death, from something you’d never experience again, because you had an idea how you ended up here in the place.

Despite this, you tapped the inner recesses of your mind searching for something, anything, hinting whether or not this was a stroke of luck or if someone knew you would be on the spaceship and called for help.

Was this all part of Anton’s plan?

A sudden warmth encompassed you. You set those worries aside and reached your hands forward feeling a softness draped over you. The fabric blanketed your body as you allowed yourself this moment of vulnerability. Anton didn’t exist right now.

You’d use the trauma pack later. You were in need of a shower, too. You scrunched your face, the blossoms of your cheeks popping as you listened to the sickening way the dried blood cracked. Shudders flowed through your warming body. You pushed your appearance aside, craving the nurturing arms of slumber; at least for a little while.

You pulled the blanket closer until it covered the tip of your chin. You licked the dryness off your lips, careful not to lick off any blood that had slid its way down. You parted them, releasing a low breath, a safe breath, as the blanket melted into your body.

You weren’t sure if the man was still there, or if your voice would even reach him, but you knew the second those words left your parched throat, you’d never forget this day, or this man’s unabridged kindness.

In the dark of the spaceship, as the hum of the grave drive soothed your weary muscles and the pillow held your blood soaked head, you sleepily whispered, “Thank you.”

[cryptidsnackpack]

Sam Coe Pining HC’s:

First off… this man PINES. NSFW under the cut so 18+ intrepid explorers only. GN Dusty/Captain. I have this Dusty having the Neon City Street Rat background in this one (bc that’s what I have and I love it). I just want to take care of this man like DAMN.

When he first sets eyes on you, he has a to take a half-step back. He’s glad Cora swooped in with the assist, babbling about how excited she was to join them on the Frontier. It took him a half second longer than he would have liked to compose himself. He scolds himself… Now is not the time to get distracted.

But hell are you distracting. Sam can count on his hand the times in his life when he has felt taken care of, but damn do you do it well. “Sam are you running low on ammo? Have you eaten today? How much water have you had? That last planet was brutal”. Sometimes you’ll place a chaste hand to his shoulder to check in on him, and that touch almost sends him into cardiac arrest.

It’s not just the way you take care of him either, it’s Cora too. When you happily slapped credits into the little girl’s palm for her book allowance, and then suggested a trip to Sinclair’s the next time you touch down on Akila? He knew he was done for.

You’re always thinking of them, and something long hidden inside him breaks at finally being seen, finally been someone’s first priority. “Everyone okay back there?!Cora? Sam?”. The dogfight had been a hairy one, they’d need to stop at Neon immediately for repairs. The Captain’s voice shook over the comm. They’d check them both over, double and triple check that they didn’t get hurt. “Cora’s walking okay right? She’s not limping, right?” Anxiety punches the words out of the Captain’s chest, like their coughing them out. “She’s alright Cap” he settles a comforting hand on your arm. He imagines he can feel the heat from your skin in his palm all day.

Neon was hell. Usually he liked the city for what it was, but watching you? Watching everyone ELSE watching you? Hell. You knew your way around, and every few steps it seemed some old friend was pulling you away for conversation. You’d slip your hand into his, or wrap an arm around his waist to pull him along, make sure he wasn’t getting lost in the flow of foot traffic. And every time he tried to get a little closer, hold you just a little longer.

You two were meeting an old contact in The Astral Lounge. He was no stranger to the Lounge, but it felt different this time. He was jumpy, felt predatory. You’d donned some Neon City threads, a tight, darkly colored tunic that dipped past your collarbone and accentuated the muscle definition in your arms. And everyone in the Lounge seemed to be fixated on you. He edged closer to you. Thighs brushing. As if you could sense his tension, you settled a hand on his knee. He rested an arm on the back of the booth to steady himself, but you took it as a cue. You wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leaning into his chest. “This alright cowboy?” Your voice is low and rich, he leans forward to catch it and nods.

The glint in your eye, the way your lips curled mischievously up at his dumbstruck expression. You knew he wanted you. Of course you knew. “You know” He’s never heard anything sweeter, “I still have access to a corporate apartment here in the building… we could. Sorry that was ah, maybe-” You faltered, stuttering over your own words. Were you nervous? Why were YOU nervous? He kisses your forehead. It’s quick, impulsive and incredibly tender. It doesn’t necessarily match the mood, but the warm goofy smile you flash his way makes up for it.

You ride the crowded elevator in silence. Your ass pressed into his crotch. You grind back against him and he grips your shoulder in warning, and as a way to steady himself. “Not gunna lose your cool are you cowboy?” You turn to look at him over your shoulder, eyes cat-like. He’s not a man prone to PDA, but he takes off his hat to shield both of your faces from the surrounding crowd. He grips your jaw tightly, pulling you in for a bruising kiss. You moan into it, caught of guard, and he can hear a few people in the elevator tittering with good natured laughter.

You look startled by the intensity of your own body’s reaction, but quickly pull him from the elevator at your next stop. His hands are everywhere. Grazing your sides under the tunic, plucking at the waistband of your pants. “Is this okay? This is okay right?” He whispers against the shell of your ear. You nod frantically, your fingers flying over the apartments keypad lock.

He was being ravaged. He was coming to the realization, that he Sam Coe, had never been ravaged before. The sheets were slick with sweat underneath him, but all he could focus on was your mouth. Sweetly sucking the flesh of his thighs, licking a path from nipple to ear lobe. “I have been dreaming about this since we first met.” Your voice is shaking, your hands are shaking. But your tongue is steady when you guide his length down your throat. Your eyes glint up at him as the golden brown curls around his base tickle your nose.

He doesn’t mean to cum in your mouth. His moan sounds like a sob and he fists his hands into the sheets until he swears he can hear the fibers squeak. “Shit I’m sorry I meant to- I didn’t mean to… so early and I- it’s been a really, really long time”

You’re by his ear again. Whispering, your voice is low and soothing and fingers are lazily dancing across his skin. “You did so good Sam. That’s exactly what I wanted”. Your nails are scratching his scalp and his eyelids feel uncomfortably heavy. “I’ll be right here when you wake up, and I expect you to fuck the shit out of me Mr. Coe”. His barking laughter rouses him up a bit, enough to kiss you. He tastes himself on your lips. “I think I can arrange that Captain”.

[margowritesthings]

sam coe headcanons (18+ minors dni)

sam is so vocal in bed. he's a fuck baby, what're you doin to me? kinda guy, a low, visceral moan deep in your ear when he pushes into you for the first time. it's a bit of a problem when you're on the ship, trying to keep him quiet enough not to be heard, but when you catch those little glimmers of privacy, it is heaven.

he rarely uses your real name, in or out of bed, preferring m'love or darlin' or baby. he loves it when you say his name, though, caught on a sigh that tickles his ear when he touches you oh so softly.

he acts like a man starved when it comes to your touch. any touch, though you'll never find a more peaceful sam than one cuddling you while you give him gentle scalp scratches. he likes contact with you, tangling you fingers under the table at the lodge during meetings or running a finger up and down your arm when you're sitting together at the bar.

his self appointed purpose in life is to keep his girls safe. you and cora are his universe, and he's fiercely protective of both of you. he's a where is my wife kind of man, a get your hands off her soul. he'll drop 15 spacers where they stand for trying to hurt you, then he'll growl mine into your ear a thousand times over while he claims you body and soul.

sam coe cannot believe his luck. he wakes up to the sight of you sleeping soundly beside him and wonders what he did to deserve you. sometimes he worries that you're too good for him, that he never will truly deserve you, but he sees the way your eyes light up just as bright when your eyes fall on him, and he knows all he can ever do to be enough is keep that light shining forever. it's his offering to humanity, really, being the only one to make you smile like that.

a/n: oh no i've fallen for this man and i can't get up. anyways, i now write fics for sam coe x reader, so if you have any requests send em in! i have a few ideas i'm gonna work on soon, but these headcanons wouldn't leave me alone so i'm letting them loose to bug you guys too

divider by @saradika

[doe-writes-stuff]

A/N - My love for the cowboy space dad, Sam Coe, has eclipsed to the point where I am now writing him fanfic...what a time to be alive, y'all. Anyway, enjoy the results of my brain rot, and let me know what you thought of it >.> More may be to come if he continues to plague my every waking thought

WARNINGS: Some angst on poor Cora's part, thanks to Lillian. Some Lillian bashing, thanks to reader. It's not specified if reader and Sam are fully together at this point in the story, but it's implied. Post 'Matters of the Hart' mission.

The bay of the Razorleaf slowly descended with a hydraulic hiss, finally clanking against the tarmac of a landing pad. From the bottom of the ramp, you watched as the dusty, endlessly sun-bleached landscape of Akira came into view. The first unfiltered breath of the atmosphere hit the back of your throat unpleasantly. How anyone tolerated such a low humidity every single day, you couldn’t guess. Akila was kind enough not to be a sweltering wasteland on top of it all, so…small victories there.

You’d not been much impressed with the sight of the planet the first time you’d landed on it, and it still gave no better impression now. Sand-swept walls and buildings rose from an equally monotone environment. It wasn’t hard to picture the planet might one day just swallow the city whole and leave nothing after to show there’d been civilization there. Perhaps through sheer stubbornness and pride, the Akila City citizens kept their place in the galaxy.

A long-suffering sigh and a set of muted footsteps approach from your right. Sam stops beside you and gazes across his home planet with equal apprehension. His arms cross and he levels his hometown’s ‘Welcome to Akila City’ archway a woeful stare.

“Never gets any easier…”

You’re not surprised by his reluctance to return home. A visit to Jacob Coe was never an occasion to celebrate, and this one would be particularly disappointing, given Sam would also be relinquishing his daughter to Lillian for that long-time-promised week vacation Cora mentioned every opportunity she could. You didn’t fault the almost-teen for being excited to see her mother, but it wasn’t hard to miss Sam’s lack of enthusiasm for the whole affair. He loved his daughter above anything else, and letting her go for such a length of time wouldn’t be easy.

This stop was a ‘two birds, one stone’ of all of Sam’s least favorite activities. His less-than-cheery mood was understandable, and you couldn’t help but share this feeling. After months of the inquisitive girl aboard your vessel, you’d gotten so used to the random questions and cringe-inducing jokes that the impending silence was admittedly quite daunting.

Akila just so happened to be the closest planet to where Lillian had finished up a month-long assignment. With the promise that she had time-off to spend, Sam had agreed to have the Ranger pick Cora up here, and it would ultimately be where you and Sam retrieved her after their time together. It ate the cowboy up inside, you could tell. But he kept quiet and put on a facade of support if only for Cora’s sake.

“I don’t see Lillian’s ship.” He added, sweeping his gaze past the entrance to the city and across to the other landing pads. Concern began to overtake the displeasure of being on Akila, and you could instantly follow where his internal thoughts were leading.

“We did get here earlier than planned.” You finally say, laying a calming hand on the man’s jacketed arm and earning his attention. It’s not like you were were defending the woman, but it was a little silly to assume anything when the Razorleaf had just touched down almost 2 hours before you’d agreed to rendezvous with the Ranger. You might dislike Lillian Hart, but you weren’t that petty. “Give it some time.”

“Yeah, yeah…you’re right.” After an affirming deep breath and a weary shake of his head, some of the tension in his shoulders eases. Some, but not all. “I’m just…not too optimistic about this.”

“I know.”

“She’s flaked before, and this one means a whole lot to Cora.” He went on, as if you weren’t already aware of the meaning behind it all. “I can’t help but worry she’s not gonna show.”

“We’ll handle that if it comes to it. For now, just take a breath.” You say, flashing him your best reassuring smile. Even he could tell it was a little forced, but he did return the gesture with a muted one of his own. At the very least, you made sure he didn’t have to face whatever might happen by himself.

Razorleaf’s airlock releases behind you, and Cora’s beaming smile leaves the ship before she does, her small suitcase of belongings in tow behind her. You’re willing to bet there are more books than there are clothes in there, but hey, you wouldn’t judge. She blunders down the ramp with an energy you’d never seen before, curls bouncing atop her head the whole way, finally coming to a breathless stop next to her father.

“Is she here yet?” She questions, eyes already darting around the spaceport before receiving an answer.

“Not just yet, string bean.” Sam gave her hair a good-natured rustle, smile regaining some of its warmth as he addressed his daughter. “I’ve got some business with your grandpa first, so we arrived a bit early. I’m sure she’ll be touching down soon enough.”

You don’t comment on the edge of uncertainty that accompanies that last part. And thankfully, Cora doesn’t ask to go with her father for a family visit. Sam always preferred her to be as far away from Jacob as possible. At some point, you assume Cora understood why, though she’d never directly voiced it.

Sam pats his daughter’s cheek affectionately. “I shouldn’t be too long. Y/N’s gonna keep you company until your mother gets here. Don’t you go anywhere until I get back to say goodbye, alright?”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

Cora gives an exaggerated little roll of her eyes, but her smile is ever-present. “I promise, dad."

“That a’girl.” He says, leaning down to place a gentle kiss against the top of her head. Then, his attention turns to you. “You two gonna be alright?”

“We’ll be just fine.” Is your reply, promising through unspoken word to keep Cora safe and sound while he was away. The reassurance is what he needed most, and you were more than happy to provide it. “We’ll make sure to have way more fun than you will.”

“Heh. Yeah, well…that won’t be too hard.” Sam’s head tilted a little, eyes squinting, already picturing the impending encounter with his own father. “I’ll comm you when I’m done.”

You wave your companion goodbye, watching him disappear past the protective walls of Akila City, then turn to the girl practically buzzing with excitement beside you. “We’ve got a bit of time to kill. So…where to first?”

This earns you an amused laugh, and the two of you begin walking towards the entrance of the city. “Do you even need to ask?”

“I figured today might be the day you just surprise me.”

You’re not sure how much time you spend standing around watching Cora browse the many books in Akila City’s—woefully small, in your opinion—selection. Seeing her over the moon at each new title, eyes scanning the summaries and even skimming the inner pages never got old. Her enthusiasm for the first new book she’d laid eyes on was just as exuberant as what was possibly the 18th book that afternoon.

The girl was a talker, chatting up the bookstore owners with the passion of a scholar. You could tell the women weren’t used to having someone so forthcoming with their love of literature in their store, but they quickly joined Cora’s wavelength and discussed their favorite volumes at length.

More than content to stand off to the side and let the girl have her fun, you interjected where appropriate, but for the most part just let the conversation go without you. Cora could talk for two people, anyway.

Eventually, even she had her fill of the bookstore, stomach grumbling with the need for food. You walked out of the store only a few hundred credits poorer—a miracle if there ever was one—and headed off to the chunks establishment just down the way. Akila was a maze at the best of times, but for once you managed to navigate the streets with little trouble.

You stood in line and debated with the young bibliophile what the best flavor of chunks was, but couldn’t come to an agreement. Your own favorite was completely out of stock when you managed to get help from the attendant, so you went with Cora’s favorite instead. 

With sated stomachs and a few new books for Cora in tow, you return to the spaceport to wait on the ship until either Sam or Lillian arrive. One glance around at the other landing pads confirms that Lillian’s ship had still not touched down. Sam still hadn’t comm’d you after an hour and a half, which meant his meeting with Jacob probably wasn’t going well. Regardless, you knew he’d make his way back to the Razorleaf in time to see his daughter off, even if it meant leaving business unfinished with his father.

You hid your worry behind a carefully neutral interest in whatever Cora had been talking about while you walked back to the Razorleaf, but that pit of dread began to dig its way into your stomach. Anger simmered right behind it. Cora didn’t seem to notice your rapidly worsening mood, which was all the better. If your fears turned out to be unwarranted, no need to rub it off on the girl.

When the ship’s communicator finally chimed with an incoming transmission, both yours and Cora’s heads jerked up. Being closer to the cockpit, you slid into the captain’s chair just as Cora ran by your side. Immediately, you knew it wasn’t Sam reaching out, and instead the woman you were meant to be meeting in…28 minutes. Cora’s face lit up with the prospect that it was her mother calling to tell them she was almost there.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be that optimistic.

One touch on your control panel accepted the transmission. Before you could even issue the standard greeting, Cora chimed in with a bubbly, “Hi, Mom!”

Hearing her daughter’s voice had caught the Ranger off guard. There was a pause before she responded. “Cora, angel…how are you?”

Her tone of voice made you stiffen in your seat, mouth pressing into a thin line, but Cora didn’t notice. She leaned forward against your chair’s armrest.

“I’m great! Are you almost here? I’ve got my bag all packed, so as soon as Dad comes back from Grandpa’s we can leave.”

“Ah, I was actually hoping to speak with your dad. Do you know how long he’ll be?” 

Figures she’d try to speak with Sam instead of breaking her daughter’s heart directly, you think bitterly. You wondered if she even realized how selfish it was to put the responsibility on her ex-husband to break this crushing news.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon. And I found a few books we can read together while we travel to wherever we are going. I know you’ll like them.”

Your heart broke further with each new word the curly-haired pre-teen spoke, knowing what was about to happen. The taste of your chunks packet earlier was overshadowed by the bitterness of anger as it bubbled hotter under your skin.

“That’s great, sweetie, but…” Lillian’s voice trailed off, guilt or embarrassment or some equally fitting emotion coloring her tone. Perhaps she’d realized that there was no softening the blow she was about to deliver. “…listen. Something came up that I have to take care of. I’m so sorry, Cora. I’m not gonna be able to make it this time.”

A full second, maybe two, of silence passed, Cora processing what her mother had said. Seeing the girl’s face morph from elation at hearing her mother’s voice to something akin to confused betrayal tore at the deepest parts of your heart. If you could have saved her from this, you would have. But Cora being in the ship meant that she’d hear every word spoken no matter where in the craft she was.

“Oh.”

That one word, uttered with such devastating resignation. Cora straightened from leaning across your armrest and stood there with a carefully put together mask. You could see every crack and fracture in the young girl’s facade, but she put up a valiant effort to appear unaffected.

Lillian must have heard the same, and continued again before you could interject anything.

“I know how much you were looking forward to this, and trust me when I say I was too. I’d love nothing more than to take you away to a little paradise together and just spend the days hangin’ out without a care in the world.” Lillian’s attempts at smoothing over the hurt did nothing at all to fix anything about this. “I promise you, we’ll get together and have our week-long vacation, do or die, one of these days.”

Cora didn’t say anything. So unlike the chatty pre-teen. She looked down at her shoes, before quietly taking a hold of her suitcase you now realized she’d dragged with her in her rush to the cockpit.

“It’s alright, mom. We’ll figure it out someday.” Dear God, she barely sounded like Cora…all color was missing from her voice. So little life.

“I love you, you know that?”

“I know.” And with that, she turned and padded her way back to the cot at the back of the ship. Perhaps she didn’t want you to witness her misery, because she went so far as to close the hatch to the cockpit, leaving you by yourself with Lillian still connected. Even with the hatch closed, Cora might still hear the conversation, but given everything that had happened, you no longer gave a damn.

“What is it this time, Lillian?” Your voice is full of barely restrained venom as you lean forward in your chair. You can’t see the woman through the audio transmission, but you were glaring anyway. “What’s so important that you couldn’t keep your promise to your daughter?”

The sweetness present when she’d spoken with Cora was absent, replaced by cold indifference when addressing you. The contrast was so stark, if you hadn’t already known her, you’d say they were two separate women. “You talk like this doesn’t hurt me just as much as it does Cora.”

“Because it doesn’t.” You say, reminding yourself to restrain the worst of your emotions. It wouldn’t do Cora any favors by cursing out her absentee mother from the other room. That wasn’t what the girl needed right now. Your head shakes with a rueful scoff. “If you could only see, Lilian…the way that girl’s face shattered. Then maybe you’d understand just how much more she’s hurting. But no, instead you do this over comms where you don’t have to look her in the eyes. Hell, you were going to put it on Sam to break the news, weren’t you?”

Lillian, perhaps smartly, doesn’t rise to that particular insinuation. “I do what I can, when I can to be there. It’s unfortunately a lot less than I’d like, but my duty is to protect the people of Freestar Space. I have obligations I can’t just ignore.”

“You seem to have forgotten your obligations as a mother in the process.”

“I’d give anything to be there with my little girl. Don’t ever imply I wouldn’t.”

“If that were the case, you’d have found someone else to handle whatever ‘came up.’ When it comes down to it, you don’t give anything, and you need to. Each missed visit convinces her that she’s another step further down on your list of priorities. What do you think happens when she believes she’s at the bottom?” You retort, already exhausted over this whole conversation.

“Cora knows how much she means to me, how important she is.” Funny, you think Lillian almost has herself convinced.

If it kept going at this rate, you were likely to start yelling, and that wouldn’t end well. Besides, Cora needed someone to be with her right now, so things needed to end quickly. 

You let out a heavy, exasperated sigh, voice growing much quieter as you reigned in your fury. “Look, Lillian…Sam already explained this to you. You can’t keep doing this. Cora can’t. She’s already 12. 13 in just a few months. Before you know it, she won’t be a child anymore. At this rate, there will come a point when she decides waiting for you to bother isn’t worth the heartache. There will come a day when you retire, when the need to fulfill a duty is over and done, and she will not be there. Because in the moments when it mattered—really mattered—you weren’t there for her. You realize that, right?”

You hear the woman sigh, and deep down, you know she hates that this conversation ever had to take place as much as you do. You know, really, that Lillian had good intentions with her promises. And that’s what made it all the more frustrating when she failed to deliver. She was well aware of how important this all was. Her damned chronic workaholic personality and inability to set aside the needs of the many just wouldn’t allow her to put anything else above it. Even at the cost of her daughter’s trust and happiness.

“You sound more like her mother than I do sometimes…” The Ranger admits tiredly. “I don’t know whether to be angry or grateful.”

“Honestly, I don’t care how you feel about it.” You say with a shrug. “She needs someone to be there for her. Sam is a wonderful father, and always there when it counts, but that girl needs a mother too. I know I’ll never replace you in her heart, it's not something I'm trying to do anyway. But I’ll fill whatever role she needs me to be, if it keeps her smiling.”

You hear a muffled beeping through the transmission, followed by Lillian’s muttered curse. “Damn it…looks like I’m about to have company.”

“Spacers?” You weren’t really concerned, or even cared, and asked only out of obligation.

“Crimson Fleet, I think.” There’s a pause, and you know that the conversation had come to an end. Nothing had resolved, but you knew Lillian wasn’t likely to change who she was after a short talk. “Listen, tell Cora I love her. I expect I’ll hear from Sam later on about this. He has every right to be angry. I am who I am, and that’s exactly the reason we never would have worked out in the end. I only regret Cora is suffering because of it. But for now, duty calls.”

Always duty with this woman. “Be safe, Lillian.” You bid, already reaching for the console button to end the transmission.

“You too.”

The audio cuts off abruptly, and you lean back in your chair with a slow inhale. Dragging your hands down your face, you release the last of your anger in a harsh exhale. Best to get rid of it now, so it wasn’t obvious when you went to see Cora. Not wasting anymore time, you stand from the chair and open the hatch.

You find Cora sat on your cot, a thousand-yard stare fixed at some point on the floor in front of her. Her smile was long gone, replaced instead by the remains of whatever facade she’d crafted to appear put together and ok. The little suitcase she’d packed with all her belongings sat a few feet away. It was zipped halfway open, as if she’d began to unpack, but then thought better of it.

A sad sigh leaves your lips. For a moment, you just watch her, calculating how best to approach this conversation. Sam was much better equipped to handle something like this, but you weren’t sure how much longer he’d be, and it pained you having to see her in such despair. You couldn’t just sit back and let her stew in whatever thoughts might be dragging her further down.

You slowly approach the still-silent Cora, electing to sit at her side just a few inches apart. Whether she wanted physical comfort, or just someone to be nearby, you weren’t sure. But you were close enough that, should she need you, she didn’t need to go far.

And for awhile, the two of you just…sit there. Words fail you, and try as hard as you might to find the right ones to say that might heal some of the hurt in Cora’s heart, nothing feels good enough. But eventually, you hear the girl sniffle. The first sign that her careful hold on her emotions was beginning to crack.

“Mom is a good Ranger. She’s out there saving lots of lives and making the galaxy less dangerous.” Cora’s wavering voice says, and you nearly want to cry yourself hearing just how hard it was for her not to shed those tears. Perhaps this was something she told herself each day as justification for her mother's constant absence. “I know she’ll make it up to me one day. She always does, eventually.”

You bite your lip. “Cora-“

“But…just once,” another sniffle breaks through, and then the first tear slides down her cheek, “I was hoping that…that it would all go right and we’d be a-able to see each other for a whole week. There’s s-so much I want to show her and talk to…to her about.”

More tears follow the first, and you lift your sleeve to wipe them from her face gently. But they keep coming, now that the floodgates had opened, and Cora openly wept as she sat beside you, her true feelings spilling over in bucketfuls. You did your best to keep up, but it only takes minutes for her to be shaking with the overwhelming sadness.

“I just want my mom…” She sobs, covering her eyes with her hands to try stopping the flow. “That’s all.”

A sharp cry has you reaching for her shoulders and pulling the girl in close, and your heart leaps when she forcefully wraps her arms around your middle and buries her tear-stained face in your shirt. What you wouldn’t give to drag Lillian here by the hair and force her to be here for her daughter…

With soothing ‘shushing’ noises, you gently rock her back and forth, one hand patting her back and the other holding her head close. You don’t know what to say to her, truly. Finding the words to tell Lillian how much you thought she failed her daughter constantly and consistently was easy. Finding the words to tell her child that she deserved so much more than what she was being given? That was much more difficult.

You sat there while Cora poured her heart out. Through the sobs, she mumbled muffled and incoherent sentences into your shirt. You’re not sure what half of them were, but if she just wanted to get it all out and vent, that was fine with you. Your shirt was damp with her tears, but that was alright too. Nothing would pull you away from offering whatever support you could while she worked her way through the many emotions.

Eventually, Cora’s sobbing began to ebb, the shaking becoming less pronounced. Her breathing evens to something less stuttered and shallow, and before too long you realize she’d managed to cry herself to sleep against your side. The poor thing…you continued the gentle rocking motion just in case, not wanting to wake her up.

A dull beeping noise caught your attention, and you look up towards the cockpit where it emanated from. Your communicator, you realized. That was probably Sam, wanting to let you know that he was done with whatever him and Jacob had needed to discuss. Part of you thinks to get up and answer, but the thought of jostling Cora awake was too much. You sat there, figuring that Sam would return to the ship to look for the two of you.

If you had to guess, it was about ten minutes before you heard the footsteps coming up the Razorleaf’s ramp. You didn’t move from your spot, listening as the airlock hissed open. Somehow, the noise didn’t wake the exhausted Cora, who barely moved from her place next to you.

Sam nearly walked past you sitting on the cot, but his peripheral vision caught your presence, and he stopped. He took in the sight of his daughter curled into your side, her posture clearly indicating that she’d been crying. You met his gaze with a stony, cold fury, one he understood wasn’t directed at him personally. That one, silent stare was all he needed to figure out what had occurred while he’d been away. 

The inquisitive expression he’d worn coming in vanished, jaw setting tightly. Clearly agitated, Sam stepped a few paces away, hand rubbing along his jaw in an effort to remain calm in the face of what Lillian had put his daughter through once again. He looked like he wanted to throw something. His breathing was more pronounced, though came through in slow, methodical inhale and exhales through his nose. Truthfully, you don’t think you’d ever seen Sam so angry.

In time, he finds himself again, stowing away the anger for the sake of his daughter. He could vent his feelings to Lillian later, when Cora wouldn’t hear it, but for now the important thing was making sure his daughter was alright. That was something you would never grow tired of seeing; Sam’s absolute dedication to his little girl, no matter what.

He moves to sit on her other side, and leans down to kiss the top of her head. It didn’t matter to him if she was still sleeping. You slowly move to shift Cora’s weight over to Sam, and somehow manage it without waking the sleeping pre-teen. She stirs, but her eyes never open.

Sam takes off his cowboy hat and sets it next to him, leaning back and holding Cora closer to him. He settles in to sit there for awhile, unsure how long she’ll be out for. Then, his eyes glance up to meet your own, holding them with a look so full of…something, that you can’t look away.

“Thank you. You were there for her when she needed it.” He says, his voice raspy and quiet so as not to wake Cora. And while you know he couldn’t have heard your conversation with Lillian before, it’s eerie how similar his words were. “I appreciate that beyond words.”

You give a little shrug, eyes drifting back down to the girl in his arms. “She needs her dad now.”

“And you, Y/N.” He says, drawing your attention back up to him. He offers the smallest of smiles. “She needs you too.”

Unsure of what to say, you simply sit back and make yourself comfortable, waiting for Cora to awaken. Your hand rubs along her back, hoping that the two of you would somehow be able to fix some of what Lillian had broken.

[spookyspecterino]

Grunt Work

Sam Coe x GN! Reader

GN! Reader. No pronouns, no use of Y/N, or reader descriptions used. Reader is referred to as Captain sometimes, like in the game.

Canon typical violence: blood, injury, mentions of death, guns, language, romance, kissing. All PG-13.

Spoilers for the “Grunt Work” Quest

It’s the very first UC Vanguard quest. If you haven’t played it yet, I highly recommend it. Out of my 20-ish hours playing it’s my favorite so far.

No spoilers for the end of game (I haven’t even gotten close to it yet) or anything to do with Sam Coe’s romance questline (I haven’t finished that either).

Non-spoiler summary for this fic/quest:

Reader and Sam Coe go to Tau Ceti II to check up on the settlers in the Tau Gormet Production Center.

More descriptions of the fic with a more specific summary below the cut. I’m being very specific about spoilers because for most people, myself included, we’ve only had the game for a week.

More specific summary of this fic/quest:

The UC Vanguard sends you on a routine mission to check in on a settler colony on Tau Ceti II—it turns out to be anything but routine. With Sam Coe at your side, your first Vanguard mission is a baptism by fire.

Characters: Hadrian, Sam Coe, Vasco (mentions of other characters: Cora Coe and Barret)

“Vasco, do a quick comms check for me. I want to make sure it’s working after it glitched out on the last planet.”

The tall robot makes some beeping and whirring noises. The way it stares into nothing bothered you at first, but after some time you’d gotten used to it—even appreciating how it followed commands without hesitation. Over by the ships on and off-boarding ramp, Sam says goodbye to Cora. A smile spreads across your face as you watch them.

The Frontier’s external lighting illuminates the surrounding landing site. An otherworldly moon hangs in the night sky. You take one more moment to do a last check of your pack’s contents. This was going to be a routine check-in mission, but it never hurt to be safe than sorry.

“Comms are operational, Captain.”

“Thank you.” You wave goodbye to Cora who smiles and waves back before returning to the Frontier. “Comms are good Sam, ready to go?”

Your companion saunters over with that signature ranger’s confidence. “Always.”

“Great. I think I’ve got everything. Vasco, have I got everything?”

“Scanning now.”

Sam shifts from foot to foot. “Storm’s rolling in.” He comments, looking into the distance. “I’d like to get there before it starts raining.”

Sure enough, muted thunder rolls on the horizon and the wind picks up a touch.

“Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses, cowboy.”

“I don’t even know what a horse looks like.” He mumbles.

Vasco beeps affirmatively. “The necessary items are present, Captain. However, you are carrying more than the recommended amount.”

You sling your pack over your shoulder with a grin, ignoring the second part. “Thanks Vasco. You know, for a second there Sam, I thought you were going to say something about your joints hurting.”

“Ha ha. I’m not that old.”

You make a teasing face at him as you start heading toward the compound’s lights in the distance. The trek isn’t bad, mostly flat terrain with a few rocks here and there. The wind continues to pick up, carrying the scent of rain.

Sam hops over a rock, taking his place by your side. “Not to sound too over-eager to get this Vanguard busy work out of the way, but, where’s our next stop after this?”

“I was thinking we could explore the rest of this system. How’s that sound?”

“You know me, no complaints here.”

A radio tower comes into view, red lights along the sides flashing periodically. Beyond it is the main compound.

“Oh, Cora asked to keep an eye out on books specifically about ship reactors. She thinks she can fix ours.”

You hike your pack higher on your shoulder, already feeling the soreness. Blast your incessant need to carry every type of weapon part with you at all times. “I’ll be on the look-out. If she can save me a few credits and fix it herself, she’s welcome to try.”

“She’s a brilliant kid, but let’s do it on a planet with an actual mechanic who can make sure it works after. I have faith in her, but she’s 11 and you can’t learn everything from books—”

“Hold up. Sam. Stop.”

He freezes, noticing your stock-still posture, eyes fixed on the wide-open doors of the radio tower. Bright light filters out into the night.

“Does that look like a body to you?” you ask him, pointing toward a slumped over shape laying against a supply crate.

“Sure does.”

Unholstering your pistol, you both crouch and move closer. The grass underfoot sways in the wind.

It’s a grisly scene. Multiple bodies litter the area. All settlers—dressed in civilian working clothes. Blood splatters dot the concrete, some trail back to a body. Sam whistles, short and low, to get your attention. He’s looking inside. On the table is a settler, face up, arms splayed out and gutted. Clothes stained a vibrant red. Deep claw marks gouge out sections of the floor.

“No bullets, no casings in sight.” He murmurs close to your ear. “And it’s all fresh.”

You don’t need to look at him to know he shares your particular anxiety. “Let’s check out the main compound.”

Moving out of the small building and down toward the tar mac, you’re about to say something about the wrecked ship when an alien scream interrupts you. It sets every hair on end. Never have you heard a sound like that, even on the many planets you’ve explored.

In little to no time after the scream, a sharp static crackles over your comms, making you jump. Sam shuffles closer, crouched low next to you. If the situation wasn’t so tense, he may have chuckled, but he stays frozen and somber faced.

“I am so glad to see you.” The voice, a woman’s, sounds heavy with relief. “I think it knows you’re here. Hurry up to the second-floor office, I’ll unlock the door.”

As you make your way into the compound, it feels like walking straight into the lion’s den. Every sense is on high alert. Lightning flashes, making you see things in the shadows that aren’t really there. Only Sam’s presence behind you keeps you level-headed.

The brightly lit, glass windowed office only makes you feel worse, like a sitting duck on display.

“I’m Hadrian.” The woman introduces herself curtly while holding her side. “Are you my saving grace?”

“Not exactly. I’m UC Vanguard—sent to check in on the settlers.”

“Well shit.” She leans against the table, eyes closed in pain.

“Please don’t tell me we’re dealing with a Terrormorph here.” Sam asks, beating you to the punch.

She sighs. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Shit. That’s bad news, Captain. Real bad.”

“Listen,” Hadrian starts, moving away from the table, “I know you’re just two people, but you have to help me kill this thing.”

“And why’s that? Why don’t we all just leave now?” You ask.

“It’s unique. It showed up way too early. Tau Ceti’s only been colonized for 20 years. If this is a new kind of Terrormorph that matures faster and shows up earlier, we need to know.”

“Damnit.” You hiss. “Terrormorphs that show up after only 20 years of colonization could wipe humanity off the map.”

“Exactly.”

Rain begins to fall on the large windows with a clatter. The rolls of thunder were becoming booming clashes now. Visibility was already reduced at night, but now the storm made things worse.

You relent, giving up any notions of leaving. “Alright. I’ll help. Got any ideas on how to kill it?”

Sam’s eyeing you particularly hard from where he stands.

“Yeah, turrets. But we need to bring them back online and get them powered up. The terminal’s on ground level at the far end of the warehouse.”

Sam grunts. “So, closer to the Terrormorph?”

“I’m not sure where it is right now. My best guess is it’s still around the outer edge of the facility. But there’s a tracking system you can use on one of the terminals.”

You run a hand over your face. “Ok. Tracker and turrets. That’s better than nothing. I can make do”

“Radio me when you’ve reset the system and I’ll calibrate it from here. Thank you for helping and good luck.”

You and Sam sneak out one of the office doors into the warehouse. Fat raindrops fall on the metal roof, amplifying the sound into a loud drumming. It doesn’t come close to the volume of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Vasco, come in.”

“Reporting, Captain.”

“Initiate full lockdown on the ship. Tell Cora we ran into some trouble and are taking necessary precautions. If she seems worried, give her a book from my locker.”

“Yes Captain.”

You shut off comms and sling your pack from around your shoulders, attempting a commanding tone that you’ve always needed to fake. “Sam Coe.”

His usual raspy, low voice is layered with apprehension. “Captain?”

You’re pulling out weapon pieces from your pack for your rifle. They’re big—heavy duty—and add a decent amount of weight to the gun. “Go back to the ship.”

“I had a hunch you were gonna pull something like this. No. No way.”

“That’s an order—”

“Don’t try that with me. You know it ain’t gonna work.”

You pause, just as you’re changing out the rifle’s .50 Cal magazine with a 9x39mm eight round clip. “Sam.”

“I’m staying.”

His eyebrows are furrowed. Mouth slanted in a stubborn, almost angry frown. You’d have to dig deep. “Cora can’t lose you.”

“You always pull that card. It’s lost its affect.”

“…I can’t lose you either.”

You’ve never used that before and quite frankly are surprised to hear it come out of your mouth. Maybe it’s too soon. Up until now, you and Sam have only been flirting—no real feelings or moves have been made. It’s a bit of a jump, but you’re sincere.

His eyes hold yours unflinchingly. The crease on his forehead lessens a little. “Then you know how I feel and why I’m staying right here.”

He’s one-upped you and you weren’t prepared for it. You murmur a “Damit Sam” and go back to modifying your rifle. Fighting is pointless, and his admission has your nerves shaken more than you’d like. “Stay glued to my side unless I say otherwise. If things turn sideways and I order you back to the ship, you’d better listen. Got it?”

“Understood, Captain.”

“I mean it.”

A hint of his familiar smile returns. “I heard ya.”

“And Sam…”

“Hm?”

“No heroics.”

He doesn’t respond, his brows pinch together again. It’ll have to do.

Moving through the warehouse went excruciatingly slow. At all times you wished you could just get up and run instead, but it would signal the monster almost immediately. The whole situation made you feel like you were prey, scared and small. The addition of Sam’s presence put a heavy responsibility on your shoulders and that made you even more careful.

Hadrian was on your comms as soon as the system was reset. She directed you to the tracker frequency tuner in the same room. While finding the frequency, the system went into high alert—detecting the major threat. Your watch begins beeping steadily, and then rapidly speeds up. The Terrormorph was getting closer to your position.

Your eyes met Sam’s just as the alien appeared on the roof of the building outside. Right in sight from the room’s windows you were in. A rough hand yanks you down to the ground. Sam is crouched damn near on top of you, shotgun aimed up at it. However, it doesn’t notice you two in the dark room. You slowly cover the watch face to try and muffle the beeping sound. Maybe it was the rain, or the creature was just playing games, but it moved on past to a different part of the facility. Loud footsteps fading as it leaves. The radar lessens to a low, steady beat.

“Hadrian, come in.”

“I read you. The turrets are going to need their power sources reset with the security system in lockdown.”

“Great.” Sam sighs, lowering his gun. His shoulder leans into yours as he gets closer.

“We’ll find them. Out here.”

Reaching for your rifle, your hands visibly shook. You can feel Sam’s watchful gaze.

“Last chance to leave.” You whisper, aimlessly checking over your gun. You feel his hand squeeze your shoulder reaffirming.

“Not happening.”

The first power source wasn’t hard to find. You took the slow route, keeping an ear out for any changes in the radar frequency. The power switch was like a beacon, a big red switch on a yellow panel—it stuck out like a sore thumb. When you flipped it lights came on, loudspeakers announced to stand back…and the radar went nuts.

“Out, out, out!” You hiss, pushing Sam toward the far end door. He doesn’t need to be told twice as he beelines it.

With Sam leading, you follow him, scrambling up onto the roof of the building near the turrets. Two of the six are online now. Two more switches and you’ll have a fighting chance. Maybe.

Behind you, further in the facility, things crash. For now, it seems you’re safe.

You huff, lightening the death grip you have on your rifle. “Ok, here’s the plan. We’re going to split up.”

“I’m not gonna like this am I?”

“Take the watch. Find the power sources. I’ll create a distraction.”

“No.”

“Sam…” you exhale, closing your eyes. Despite the sheer terror you feel, you manage a chuckle. “We’re not going to get anything done if you keep arguing with me.”

“Let me create the distraction.”

“No.”

“Now who’s arguing?”

“Your shotgun has no range—it’s effectively useless, you’d be dead in two seconds.”

“Fair point. Then give me your rifle, I’m a good shot.”

You’re already unclasping your watch’s band from around your wrist. “I’m not taking the risk.”

“What if I wanna take the risk?”

Shuffling over while still crouched, you bring his arm closer. The watch slides on and you make sure to fasten it tightly. “You already know I won’t let you. At least now you can radio Vasco if…”

It didn’t need to be said.  

He looks at the device and back to you. “Why is this startin’ to feel like you’re on a suicide mission?”

You can’t look at him or you’d lose the last of your nerve. “I’ll be on that walkway over there. It’ll have to run through the turrets to get to me and they’ll still have a shot when it tries to climb up.”

The way Sam chews his cheek really underlines how unhappy he is with this plan of yours. “Remind me to have a word with you about your savior complex when this is all over.”

“Hm. I’m looking forward to it.”

A gentle hand wraps around your arm. His eyes are soft, pleading. His other hand cups your face, it’s rough and calloused, but warm. “If you need to run, then run. You don’t have to die for some Vanguard that sends you on a ‘routine’ mission they were too lazy to check first—or for a colony full of dead settlers. Ok? I want you back, with me, alive, and in one piece.”

You don’t trust yourself enough to speak, something sappy or cheesy may decide to come out, so you simply nod.

It isn’t enough for him. “Please, say you’ll come back to me. I need to hear you say it.”

If he wasn’t so close, he may not have heard you through the pounding rain. “I’ll come back to you.” You pretended that you meant it, that you believed it.

“Thank you.” His hand falls away to hold his shotgun. “Now let’s kill this thing.”

“Be safe.” You manage before turning and heading toward your position. The chill of the rain creeps through your spine, but the warmth from Sam’s hand lingers on your cheek. You try to hold onto that feeling.

The steel walkway is sturdy and grated, giving you a good vantage point of the surrounding area. Once in position, you set up your rifle and lay flat, adjusting the scope. Lightning flashes, the crash of thunder isn’t far behind it. Water runs down your face and you wipe it hastily to keep it from your eyes.

The bright fire of the flare casts everything in red. With a good toss, it lands directly in the middle of the kill lanes. Bringing out your pistol you shoot once, twice, up into the air. The alien screams and the sound of wrenching, tearing metal draws near.

The hulking creature appears at the far end of the kill lanes, focused on the flare. It’s huge, big enough to fill your scope’s sights. You breathe deep and exhale slowly as you take your first shot.

The round hits the Terrormorph square in the back leg, crippling it for a moment. Blood leaks out onto the ground below. It lurches before regaining balance on its five other legs, letting out an enraged roar.

More lights come on in the facility. Sam’s already found one power breaker. Two more turrets begin to flash and come online.

The monster’s head swings in a different direction. Toward Sam, no doubt. The realization fuels you with a cold fury. You crank the rifle’s bolt-lever, a long bullet casing flies out of the chamber with a cling. Sliding the lever back with a heavy clunk you even your breath and prepare to take another shot.

You take it, aiming for its other back leg, but miss—the shot glances off the ground. Six shots left.

The thing’s giant head swings back to stare at you directly. Through your scope it’s as if you’re staring it directly in the eyes. Its front legs stomp the ground, and it roars. It ambles forward right into the kill lanes. Four turrets open fire, knocking it off balance and sending it sprawling momentarily. You take another shot, this time severing its thinner front limb.

The thing howls, ear splittingly loud and shrill, but claws its way back onto its feet. The turrets are doing damage, but it isn’t enough. It lurches toward you with surprising speed. The turret fire follows. You take a shot and miss. You exhale and your breath comes out shaking.

It's at the base of the building your walkway is on as Sam flips the final switch and the last of the turrets power up. The Terrormorph slows down a little, struggling to climb the building with two of its limbs missing. You have another 130 seconds, maybe, before it reaches you.

Your fifth shot hits it in the back, effectively doing nothing. The thing is bloody and losing steam from the constant onslaught of all six turrets. You start to feel hopeful. There’s movement to your left. It’s Sam on one of the rooftops. You’re about to give him a thumbs up when lightning flashes—some of the facility machines spark, an alarm sounds, and all lights except for auxiliary backups flatline. An unlucky power surge from the storm.

The Terrormorph has reached the base of the walkway below and is trying to make its way up, now free from turret fire. This would be your chance to run, but something holds you there. A false hope maybe.

You hold your breath, take a shot, and hit it square in the face. It doesn’t stop, clawing at the thin metal for purchase. Pulling the bolt lever and sliding it home, you fire again, chipping its other back leg and causing it to stumble. Metal rails groan and collapse under the monster’s weight. It falls to the ground with a metallic crash. You don’t fire, yet.

Sam is still on the other roof. You wave him off, pointing to the ship. Trying to make it clear that this was the order to run. A clashing sound below snags your attention back to the monster. It’s testing out the strength of the rail supports.

You’re aiming again as it springs up and begins throwing its weight at the steel rods. The vibration of the metal groaning and shifting with each impact reverberates through you. This is your last shot.

You fire and miss entirely as a section of rails to your right collapse and bend, tugging your section down. You’re forced to let go of your rifle to hang on. It clatters to the ground below.

More support beams collapse and you can feel the structure groan before you even hear it, vibrating hard enough to numb your hands. Trying to climb up the tilting walkway was a mistake as the shift in weight caused the whole thing, with you attached, to fall entirely. The feeling of falling was short-lived, something sharp sliced at your leg as you fell into the railing and walkway debris below.

For a moment, you lay dazed and in pain. The sound of rain patters around you on metallic surfaces. The whole walkway and railing fell over, the area was littered with jutted angles and metal parts. Something shifted under the debris. Something big enough to toss heavy metal away with ease. Any hope of the Terrormorph getting crushed by the impact was gone as it reared back and screamed. Its eyes, all six or seven of them, landed on you.

There was no way of escaping, debris had fallen over you. A particularly large beam held you in place on your back. Your pistol, the last line of defense, dug into your hip uncomfortably.

Sensing it had you trapped, the creature took its time closing the distance. Your leg was devoid of all feeling except a vague sensation of warmth spreading around it. The rails on top of you pinned you down, but you managed to free your measly pistol.

Only three or four of your shots made contact, others glanced off the Terrormorph’s armored shoulders or missed entirely. Either way, the low caliber did nothing to it. With an empty mag, and nothing else to defend yourself with, your arm fell to your side. You just hoped Sam was smart enough to listen and go back to the ship.

A loud blast caught the monster on the side of its head, snapping it away from you, and causing it to stumble.

Apparently, he wasn’t.

Sam emptied three more shells into the creature before reloading with cool, practiced ease. One blast dislocated the Terrormorph’s other back leg. Chunks went flying.

It howled and thrashed as he kept unloading shells into it. When he was completely out, he dropped the shotgun and picked up a long rod of metal with a jagged, broken end. The sharp tip sliced clean into its ribcage. When the alien still tried to pull itself up on its remaining two feet, Sam pulled it out with a yank and drove it home into the thing’s head, right above the mandibles. It gave one final spasm and finally fell dead.

At last, the only sound around you was the rain.

Sam dropped the crude spear with a clatter, eyeing the body a few times as he rushed over through the debris.

“You ok?” he panted, kneeling down. His hands cupped your face, bringing the familiar warmth with them.

“Holy shit.” Was all you were able to say.

It made him laugh with relief as he moved to check you over. “And you said a shotgun wouldn’t do anything.”

His hands moved debris from your legs, and he hovered as you yelped in pain. “You’ve got a nasty gash here. We need to get you back to the ship for medical attention. Let me see if I can get this off you.”

With a grunt of effort, he pushed the beam up enough for you to pull yourself out. Your leg was bleeding badly, but nothing you couldn’t fix with some TLC and bed rest. The pain hadn’t set in yet, thankfully.

Near you was a chunk of the Terrormorph’s leg. Feeling oddly disconnected from yourself, you grabbed it, staring at the gross thing, and put it in your pocket for Hadrian.

Sam started taking out bandages and doing what he could to wrap your leg. You could see his hands were shaking now.

Against all odds you both were alive; you started to laugh.

Sam gave you an odd look. “Don’t go loopy on me.”

A giant smile broke across your face. “Wasn’t expecting to live. There goes my chance at a cool memorial or bragging rights.”

“Going face to face with a Terrormorph and only losing a chunk of your leg gets bragging rights. Believe me.”

“Nah. All the credit goes to you on this one. That was just badass.”

He grunted, throwing more debris out of the way, and trying to clear a path. “Wasn’t thinking about how cool it looked when I did it. I was just trying to save you.”

“You know I’ll be telling this story forever, right?”

He chuckles, helping you up, slinging your arm over his shoulder and wrapping his around your waist. “I can see Barret’s expression now.”

“‘Sam Coe, my hero’ is how I’ll start it.”

He groans playfully. “Please don’t.”

“It’s true.” You looked at him as your feet touched even ground. Your faces were close. You could see the rain drops clinging to his hair and beard. “You saved my life.”

When he looked over, his nose nudged yours from close proximity. He didn’t shy away from the contact. Your paces slowed to a stop. “I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again, either.”

Your grin was slow to spread as you glanced at his lips more than once. “Would you prefer a quippy one line as thanks?”

“Mm—no. Maybe something else though.”

You feigned ignorance as his eyes trailed down your face. “Oh? And what would that be?”

“I’ll let you think of it.”

“A hero’s song?” you joked, voice softening.

“Nope.”

“How about a poem?”

He faces toward the room Hadrian’s in with a low laugh and begins to walk again. “You know, if you were as much of a smartass to that Terrormorph as you are to me, it would have keeled over on the spot.”

You put your good foot down and hold it, halting any forward progress. “Ok, ok. I think I’ve come up with something.”

He’s still smiling as he looks at you. Your noses nudge again. “If you suggest a book or a short story—”

His surprised breath as your mouth presses to his is an award in itself. He stays motionless for a moment, as if his brain had short-circuited, before his lips move and mold to yours. Slow and tentative at first, exploratory. Soft and gentle as if he’s afraid of hurting you. His hand on your waist moves to your lower back, gripping your clothes. He leans into you, beard scratching the skin of your face. Your fingers slide through and tangle in his wet hair. It makes him pant into your mouth before kissing you again, more eager this time.

Breaking apart, you both linger close, hot breath mixing together. His forehead leans to yours, eyes still closed.

That raspy voice of his you love so much is the first to break the silence. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting you to do that.”

“You could have made the first move. I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Was never sure if you were just being quippy and flirtatious for fun or not.”

“It is fun, but it’s also because I care for you.”

He hums, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Good to know, we’re going to have to find time for this more often.”

You close the distance enough to ghost your lips over his. “We have time now.”

He hesitates, so tempted with the offer, but exhales instead. “You’re hurt and bleeding all over the place, I need to get you some medical help. Plus, Hadrian needs her damn samples.”

“Pshh. I’ve got plenty of blood left—and she can be patient.”

He starts walking again, bringing you with him, and pressing the gentlest kiss you’ve ever felt against the corner of your mouth. “Just wait until you’re healed. You won’t be able to keep me away.”

[mintsalsa]

relationship hcs — sam coe (starborn!mc)

a/n: this post may contain spoilers, please skip if you haven't completed starfield's main story and come back later!

sry fallout peeps im in space cowboy dreamland rn 🤒 if anyone's interested i'd be down to write a non-starborn mc version too, so if you'd like to see that lmk! now buckle in losers bc i am feral

(nsfw below cut!)

★ ! sfw

he's going to be somewhat wary of you at first

you don't divulge the nature of your relationship with "the original" sam coe at first, but he can tell there's something pulling at your heartstrings every time you look at him

so after a while and some getting to know each other, he decides to ask

he's a little wooden and awkward about it, but it still almost manages to make you tear up

when you admit to him that you and him were lovers in your universe, he's caught off guard

he doesn't really know how to react, so he just reaches out to touch your shoulder in comfort as you try not to cry

he liked you, of course - you were strong and dependable, and your dry sarcasm never failed to light up his eyes in amusement - but lovers?

you assure him that you don't expect anything from him

it's the strangest feeling for you as well - it's him, but at the same time it's not really him, after all

sam tries to ignore what you've told him as best he can

there's no obligation to make you feel comfortable, you've told him that much

then why could he not stop thinking about what it must've been like to kiss you?

he'd rather die than admit it, but he grows significantly more observant of your behavior, more attached

he thinks about this other sam, this other him, and that there must've been a reason why that guy ended up falling in love with you

if he did it once, surely it could happen again, right?

and before he even realizes, he's absolutely smitten - once again, he can't deny that his souls seems to yearn for yours

you're conflicted when he awkwardly stumbles over a confession one night

but then you think of the other sam, your sam - and all of a sudden you're convinced that he would've gone to find you again, too

it almost breaks your chest when he kisses you again for the first time

he's warm, safe, and he feels so, so much like home

that night he holds you in his arms as your tears soak the fabric of his shirt

dating sam coe is chaotic in the best way possible - not even the slightest chance of boredom

he loves to tease, and you're no exception

the way you are with cora makes his heart swell inside his chest - it makes him want to marry you right then and there, on the spot

he's always dreamt of a partner like you, and there's nothing he wants more than to explore the entire universe with you, all over again

yet, his favorite thing is to hold you in his arms at night after a slow evening at the lodge, feeling your chest rise and fall under his palms while you quietly poke fun at each other

his kisses taste like cherries and spice, and he's so, so good at it that you sometimes fear you might lose your head

now you know no matter when, no matter where, you'd always fall back into each other's arms

★ ! nsfw

this man is a tight bundle of unbridled passion and sweet words of affirmation

sometimes it's hard to catch a break from everything and find the time for intimacy, but that doesn't dwindle his burning desire for you

much like with kissing, he's definitely spent the odd night wondering about what sex with you must've been like, what you might look like underneath your clothes

and when he sees you and the tips of his fingers touch your skin for the first time, it almost feels like the revival of a distant memory

he loves being teased, but he might love being in control even more

it always feels like his hands are everywhere at once - your face, your hips, your neck

he goes absolutely crazy whenever you push your hands into his hair and pull him closer

i see a bit of breathplay with him

he just loves feeling your body whenever his chest is pressed against your back, with a gentle hand on your throat and sweet, filthy words spilling past his lips

if you submit to him fully you can expect a lot of praise, too

you make him the happiest man in the world, in the universe - and if you had to do it over and over again, then he knows he'd let you

© 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘢 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳

[onomatopoetic101999]

Chapter One: Imbroglio

Chapter Two: Incorrigible

Ignis Fatuus Masterlist

------

Imbroglio: an intricate and perplexing state of affairs; a complicated or difficult situation

------

"Wonderful, you're awake! We found our next lead." Sarah pulls you to the side the second you come down to the main room of the Lodge, and you smile. Her determined enthusiasm, as always, is infectious.

"It's on Paradiso. We don't want to raise suspicion for any of the higher ups there," you nod, Paradiso's leadership was notorious for commodifying everything they possibly could, "so you and Sam are going to go under cover as newlyweds!"

You blink. Newlyweds? As in married??

As Sarah explains the details of the mission, specifically where they believed the Artifact to be, you glance over to your proposed companion, who is currently in an animated debate with Mateo. Going under cover with Sam Coe seemed like an idea that would inevitably end in disaster.

It wasn't that you two didn't get along! You adored Sam, and little Cora was one of your favorite people in the galaxy. It's just that... you also weren't blind; everything about Sam Coe screamed "Heart Throb," from his saunter, to his physique, to the deep rasp of his voice. He's the complete package! Who is going to believe he was married to you? You aren't ugly by any means, but you're also nowhere close to Sam Coe's level of attractive.

You take in his features and sigh to yourself. Oh yeah, they're definitely going to believe that this gorgeous, mature, athletic, bombshell of a man was married to you. Mhm. Not suspicious at all.

As if he feels your eyes on him, Sam looks over at you to raise a questioning eyebrow.

You don't respond to the unspoken query, and instead decide looking back at Sarah is easier than unpacking why meeting his baby blues head on is suddenly unnerving.

"Why can't I go as a single vacationer? And why can't you do it? Or Andreja? Where's Cora going to go? Maybe Barrett could come!"

The idea of doing this with Barrett seems like a walk in the park by comparison. You teasingly flirted with each other constantly. You usually would pick Sam's company over anybody's, but for some reason this mission just didn't sit right with you. Sarah nips every idea in the bud.

"The readings that match our previous Artifacts' are coming from the couples' section of the retreat, Barrett and I are off on another lead in the morning, and Andreja can't lie to save her life. There's just no way around it. It has to be you two. Sam has already dropped Cora off on the Eye to stay with Vladimir."

She leans in slightly and puts a consoling hand on your shoulder.

"Is everything okay? I thought you'd be excited; it's basically a week long vacation. Besides, you and Sam have always been so close! He won't let anything happen to you, you know."

You nod as if that comforts you, not being able to explain that your belief in Sam's capabilities wasn't the problem. You probably trusted Sam more than anyone else in Constellation; he was your best friend. He accompanied you on nearly every mission you went on. You knew very well he would put his life on the line without hesitation if it meant protecting yours.

You couldn't explain why the idea of pretending to love Sam bothered you so much. It really did seem unbelievable, but you could tell it was something more than that. You couldn't put a name to it, so you ignore the feelings of reservation.

"Okay, fine. What else do I need to know?"

After fully briefing you on the details, she waves Sam over to you.

He tips his hat to you both in greeting, and is entirely unfazed when she hands you each a wedding ring. As he slides his onto his finger and winks at you, you connect that he knew about this assignment ahead of time. Why are you the last to know?

The blush you feel creeping up your neck leaves you shocked, and you slide your own ring on quickly. Sam has winked at you before! Why are you suddenly so affected by it? He nudges you with his hip, and smiles when you look up at him in response.

"Ready to go, Darlin'?"

You nod. As ready as you'd ever be, you supposed.

------

The woman at the front desk smiles as Sam holds the door open for you, his other hand gently pressed against your back to guide you through. His palm is warm through the fabric of your shirt, and he puts just enough pressure to direct you.

Your stomach swoops against your will, and you just manage to keep your facial expression consistent. What was wrong with you? It was just Sam! It isn't as if him touching you was new. You've hugged more times than you could count.

You reach the front desk and the woman glances between the two of you.

"Welcome to Paradiso! Do you have a reservation?"

Sam nods, pulling you into his side. Your hands come up to rest on him instinctively, one on his chest and the other around to his back, while his palm slides around to press into your waist. You smile at the woman and nod as well.

As Sam's husky drawl comes out, you feel his broad chest shift under your palm. "It's under 'Coe', ma'am, for the Couples' Package?" At the use of his real last name, you turn to look at him sharply. He meets your shocked eyes and his smile widens. He leans down to whisper against your ear.

"They'd all recognize me anyway. Relax, Darlin'," his thumb sweeps along your waist, "I've got it all handled." Your fingers tighten to grip his shirt at the feel of his breath against your cheek, but you force yourself to take a deep, calming breath. It's Sam. He's got this. Sam nods in approval and whispers a quiet, "Atta girl," before straightening up again.

Your stomach swoops a second time, but you focus on what the woman is saying as she looks up your reservation.

"So! The Couple's package includes complete access to all of the amenities in the Lovebird Section of our resort! That includes our full size swimming pool, which is found outside, our sauna and nightclub, both of which could be found on our Lovebird exclusive basement level, and our many romantic restaurants." She begins to walk away, and Sam keeps you close to his side, this time guiding you with the arm wrapped around your back as he follows. When you reach the elevator, the woman gestures through it's door with a flourish.

"Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Coe! Your suite is on floor three, and don't you worry," the woman winks, "it's sound proof!"

Mrs. Coe? Sound proof?? Your surprised steam isn't coming out of your ears with how hot you feel your face burning.

The second the elevator door closes, Sam lets out the bark of laughter you just know he had been holding in. When you smack his chest in protest, he covers your hand with one of his own to keep it pressed there while he wipes a tear away with the other. You try to tug your hand away, but he doesn't let you, instead pulling you gently closer to him with a hand on your waist.

"I'm sorry for laughing, Darlin', I won't do it anymore." He doesn't look sorry in the slightest, and he when adds a teasing "even in our sound proof room," you feel your face start to heat up again. Your reaction starts up a whole new round of chuckles, and while you try to keep a smile off your face, his joy is infectious.

You're still in high spirits when you get to the room, but when Sam puts your bags down, the sleeping arrangements come into view. There was only one bed. One very romantic, king sized, heart shaped bed. Paradiso hadn't been exaggerating when they called this area of the resort the "Lovebird Section". You realize you should have seen this coming, but you hadn't thought about it. What were you going to do?

Sam's breath hitches at the sight of the red covers and the rose petals strewn across the floor, but the pause is so short that you think you might have imagined it. He saunters in and sits on the edge of the offending furniture, taking his hat off and resting it on the covers next to him.

You follow, in a bit of a daze, and sit on his other side. Your mind is running a mile a minute. You were going to have to share, weren't you? Sam would offer to take the floor, you were sure; that's just the kind of man he was. But would you be able to sleep comfortably knowing he was suffering on the floor? No, you decide, you wouldn't. You'd have to share.

Just when you open your mouth to speak, Sam stands, offering you a hand to help you up.

"C'mon, Darlin'! I believe that kind lady mentioned 'many romantic restaurants'." He mimics the woman's voice as he quotes her, and you can't help but laugh at the horrible rise in pitch.

His smile widens victoriously, and he pulls you out the door with him the second you grab his hand.

You'd figure out the sleeping details later. Everything was going to be fine. It was just Sam.

------

Chapter Two: Incorrigible

[notyourramona]

I need a one shot of Sam x reader having very aggressive smutty times that involves a wall of a cave, feral vibes and end with soft lovely aftercare

[fangbangerghoul]

photo used for banner by: @labelle-fleursauvage Below is a masterpost of my Sam Coe centered fics, all links lead to Ao3 all fics MDNI, 18+, heed the tags please

Starfield Fanfiction, Sam Coe edition:

One Shots/Reader Fics:

Capacity Limit (Sam Coe x fem!reader) TW: Bondage, Cannon Violence

Reader and Sam Coe are on a mission to eliminate Spacers and Reader keeps picking up too much shit.

Tear You Apart (Pirate Sam Coe x fem!reader) TW: CNC, Facefucking, bondage, light forced voyeurism, it's very explicit and it's a pirate being a pirate so just be wary. This isn't your Sam Coe from Kansas anymore.

You are now Starborn in search for the remnants of what you have left behind in your new current universe. You rush to be reunited with a new version of those you cared deeply but things go awry.

soft leather and spurs (softdom!Sam x fem!reader) Tw: praise kink, soft breeding kink, language?

You are leaving the bar for the night after playing a game of let's meet like strangers with your favorite cowboy.

gameshot by me (one of the few I have ever taken lol)

Ghoul series: The fics chosen from the Ghoul series are ones that heavily include Sam Coe. (will be updated in the future)

1. Neon City Delights (completed)TW: Drug use, SA, Cannon Violence

Walter Stroud has finally decided to talk to you (Main character) like you are a person at Constellation. So, to prove to yourself and the companion the association has assigned to you as of late, Sam Coe, you now get to walk the streets of your hometown to complete a mission with your lead. What happens at the Astral Lounge doesn't need to be told, right?

2. Settling with the Stars(completed)TW: Cannon Violence, Alcohol

Being grounded to a planet is worse when you know you could be out doing something better with your time. Sarah Morgan wants our main character to lay low while others have been out doing quests of their own. How has our main character been settling with their down time since their near-death experience at Neon City?

Bonus story:

Ghoul Adventures (Halloween edition, on hiatus)

This Halloween edition of Starfield tales takes our Main Character and some of the crew of Constellation on a spelunking adventure in search of what is causing all of the spooky rumors at the local citizen outpost.

[lady-ashfade]

Yep, I think I’m be making fics about my single daddy, andddd the girl who just screams “You like me because you have mommy issues” Sarah.

Ahhhh! I love this game so much.

[thatsgoodsquishy0]

Pairing: F!Reader x Ranger!Sam Coe Rating: M+ Bio: Set during Sam’s younger years working as a Freestar Ranger alongside his wife, Lillian Hart. Whether circumstance, or impossible luck, you're given a second chance at life, ultimately growing close to The Coes. You take a shine to Cora, but the family dynamic is something else entirely, albeit a little overwhelming, as you realize the toll Lillian's absence has taken on the family, but more specifically, her husband. Sam Coe is witty, charming, and ambitious; a man who knows what he wants and stops at nothing to reach his goals, but when his wife seems to prioritize her career over her family, it's hard not to notice the strain growing inside him. Your friendship may be just the support Sam needs, even if the temptations for something more linger, and when your past threatens your future, where will your morals lie? Will you end up back where you started? Chemistry is a cruel mistress chapter i: Bound cross-posted to AO3 credit of course to the lovely @seraaphiel for keeping the Ranger!Sam spirit alive & @cafekitsune for the divider. special thanks to @fangbangerghoul and @bearlytolerant for literally hyping me up every day to write this fic. your endless support and love inspire me more than you know. and THANK YOU to the readers who've enjoyed this journey so far!! <3

i listened to this song from the Red Dead Redemption II soundtrack pretty much on repeat while writing. it fits the vibe of the chapter, and if you'd like a little extra immersion, feel free to play it whilst reading.

ii. MAN OVERBOARD

You stood beneath the torrent of water, your skin gently scalding as you waited for your body to adjust to the temperature. When it did, you sighed and stared at the shower wall, gaze blank. Your hair felt heavy, weighed down by the stream and caked with blood that was slowly breaking away. You looked down at your feet. Grime and gore snaked through the grout of the tile floor, slipping into the holes of the drain, gurgling as steam enveloped the shower.

Minutes passed. You waited for the water to run clear. Streaks of diluted red flowed down your chest, past your stomach, and in between your legs, reaching the bottom. You lifted your hands, eyes glaring at the bracelets of purple and black wrapped around your wrists. You turned your palms towards the ceiling assessing the rest of your injury, only to find your hands trembling; inflamed with anger. A scream simmered in your throat, ready to boil over. Whether the heat of the water or justified wrath seething within, your face reddened and nostrils flared. Your lips curled as you parted them, ready, but then, you drew a steady breath instead; a warning to yourself to behave, be civil, because this was not your space. 

You were a trespasser. 

You quickly grabbed for the nearest shampoo bottle and squeezed a handful into your palm, lathered it up, then rocked your hands back and forth against your scalp. Frothy bubbles of red poured down and settled between your toes. You swiped your foot towards the drain, flicking away the bubbles, splashing your soles against the floor. You shivered as the water devolved to luke-warm, and frantically, you scrubbed your skull raw. You closed your eyes. Rinsed. Grabbed another handful of shampoo. Lathered. Scrubbed. Rinsed. 

By the time you finished, you felt as though the nerves in your wrist might snap. Your vision blurred by a mix of water and tears, your legs buckled as if they were jelly. You slid back against the wall and curled your legs into your chest as you rested your forehead against the fresh bruises on your kneecaps. Underneath the water with your lips locked, you allowed yourself to cry, tears streaming into the rushing cool. If no one heard you, it would be okay. 

You were owed this, and with time, vengeance against him would owe you, too. 

Sam 

The mission was straight and narrow, albeit improvised, but when it came to the badge, Sam was no stranger to unscripted moments. Hell, he enjoyed spontaneity most of the time, but when an innocent’s life entered the picture, there were strict rules he followed – a code to adhere to; be on the same page. Disagreement was a form of arguing, and arguments led to distractions, and distractions got you killed. Sam lounged back in his chair, his feet propped on the desk and arms crossed against his chest as he waited for Lillian to finish her debriefing with the Marshal. He knew this was coming, still he bit the inside of his cheek. He had every right to that conversation, yet she kept him on the sidelines, as if he were a witness, but maybe it was best that way. Lillian’s memory was exceptional and she’d have a thoroughly combed-through report for Marshal Blake, all the while Sam brushed past details he thought were trivial, like what time the ship was ambushed.

But there was nothing in that report about Sam recognizing the rescued woman.

Weeks ago, he was sitting at the bar nursing his second thumbs worth of whiskey, his attempt at unwinding from the day proving idle as he drank. His hat was warm against his head, the beginning thrums of a migraine settling in. He shut his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. Cora was just getting over a fever, which meant she’d spent more than enough time with Jacob. 

He counted — four days. Four days without her. He was stir-crazy, his father’s intuition scratching at his bones as every waking thought flashed to the Coe Estate, little Cora putzing around and Jacob’s manipulative eyes beaming upon her as he planned her entire future. Bet that just got his bastard heart beating with pride thinking she’d carry on the legacy someday -- the dreaded Coe legacy, at least, the one Jacob twisted to fit into his narrative. 

Sam’s lips grimaced against the rim of his glass as he took a sip.

His absence was justified (warranted, at least, by his leaders), but one day without his daughter was tough enough. Four days was agony, and Lillian wasn’t much comfort considering the only conversations they seemed to share were Ranger-related. 

The Rangers could wipe out every single drug lord in the Settled Systems and Sam still wouldn’t sleep a wink – not without twinges of guilt stabbing him through the night.

He signaled for a third glass of amber liquid, and for a fleeting second imagined the opportunities of fatherhood and marriage away from the Freestar Rangers.

As soon as his drink manifested in front of him, he tabled the thought, thanked the bartender, then lifted the edge of the glass to his lips. He took a burning swig, familiar heat landing in his stomach as he wiped his mouth, and then, he saw her; face plastered on the tv screen, a lifted curve to her lips and a gleaming kindness in her eye —  a complete departure from the woman Sam would later carry out of a fried spaceship filled with dead bodies. The camera focused on a plaque sandwiched between her and another adult, some official maybe, outside a storefront.

… but which store was it again?

Sam shook off his recollection, his focus turning to Lillian’s chestnut brown ponytail as it swung to the side as she spoke. Her hip jutted out just a tad; one of the few mannerisms Sam picked up on over the years. His gaze lingered with anticipation, tracing modestly all the ways the ranger’s outfit hugged her body. Some days, he couldn’t believe they were a young married couple fighting the good fight, and other days, it was suspicious; this future he never conceived for himself, laid out by a woman who shared his last name, and was the mother of his child. 

Sam guessed she was wrapping up her conversation; the body cue being a slight turn away from the other Ranger, as if her mind were there, but her body was ready to leave. She caught his stare, but offered little more than a cocked eyebrow and neutral gaze. Sam gifted a smile, teeth and all, to his wife as she traveled closer. 

“Feet down,” Lillian said, her southern drawl popping out. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Sam uncrossed his arms as he sat upright in his chair, adjusted his hat. “So, what’d the Marshal have to say?”

“You’re gonna love this. Turns out that ship we ambushed? Stolen. Reported weeks ago. We’ll have to notify the owner of its condition and locale, which unfortunately means more paperwork on our end.”

“I don’t think they’re gonna want it once we tell’em, well, whatever it is we’re gonna tell’em.”

“That won’t be our problem. Marshal said if that woman was found on that ship alive, chances are she’s involved.”

“You don’t think, wrong place, wrong time? Sort of thing?”

Lillian shook her head. “I get the sick feeling they were keeping her for something.”

“Which means there was some serious illegal shit happenin’ on that ship,” Sam stated, his mind recalling what lined the path to the cockpit; dead bodies, ecliptics, … cases of harvested organs.  

His stomach churned. 

Lillian grabbed a slate from her pocket, pushed a few buttons, then brought the screen closer to Sam.“These were the ship’s last inputted coordinates. I had them downloaded before we left. Once we crack this, we’ll know where they were headed. Hopefully that, plus any information this woman is willing to spill, should give us enough of a lead.”

“You really went the extra mile, Mrs. Coe.” He stood from his chair, closing the distance between them. He traced the outline of her lips, his eyes noting the divot on the top in the middle. He could kiss her now, hell, he wanted to, if not for the active duty reminder on her chest.

“Oh, Sam. I’m just doing my job.”

“And you do it so well,” he replied. 

Her smile beamed, as if that was her favorite compliment to hear from him. Sam leaned his palms against the desk, and dropped his head forward, stretching out his neck. “Should I grab us some Terrabrew?” A longing in his heart guided him closer, practically breathing her own air as the gravel in his voice barely whispered. “Could be a long night.”

“I’m alright, thanks.” She grabbed his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Shouldn’t be a long night if she cooperates,” Lillian said.

Sam’s hands itched to grab her waist, but his restraint knew better. “And if she doesn’t?” 

“Then we’ll have to use oppressive measures.”

He pressed his lips together immediately, words backpedaling against his tongue.“I — um, I thought we weren’t gonna go that route. She’s been through enough, don’t you think?”

“That was before she became a possible suspect, Sam. Don’t go soft on me now.”

“Ain’t going soft on you, but we gotta look at it differently. If we go in there yelling and screaming at her, she’s gonna clam up, then we’ll absolutely get that long night.” 

Lillian paused, grazing over his innuendo as she pursed her lip. “If that’s what you think we should do.”

Instinct nudged at Sam’s subconscious. He’d done this before; hell, he was an expert at this point. The only achievable method towards controlling the unattainable was befriending the impossible; becoming a false ally. The Coe name wouldn’t work in this scenario, he knew that, but the skills collected throughout his years as a rebellious adult taught him a thing or two about word play, specifically, verbal disguise — manipulation. 

“I mean … if that’s what you think would work,” he double checked. “I just think if we get her to trust us, she’ll lay her cards out on the table.”

Lillian cocked her head, arms crossing in front of her chest as she stifled a frown, leaned back against the desk. “It could work, and it could not. We can’t risk this plan failing. What if she refuses to tell us anything at all?”

“She won’t.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Cuz even if she was involved, nearly getting shot by ecliptics wasn’t part of the plan. If we didn’t show up when we did, guns ablazin, she’d be dead.” 

“But how can you be so sure?”

Twice. She disagreed with him twice, now, which was conventional and always came from a place of concern, but even something as routine as administering a trauma pack to a survivor shouldn’t have been a slippery slope, yet the argument steamed up a train of thought that chugged at his brain. Comparatively, Lillian’s motives centered around the heart of what it meant to be a Ranger; Frontier Justice — protecting and preserving the best interests for the Freestar Collective, but her experience with the seedy Underbelly of the black market was only surface level. Sam didn’t write the book when it came to smuggling, but he definitely had his hand in a few chapters. He recognized his talents, beyond piloting a ship. Lillian was due for that reminder. 

Down the hall, the woman waited in the room. Confidence swelled inside his chest. He was capable of making Lillian and The Rangers proud.

He met Lillian’s eyes, speaking directly into them as not only her partner, but her husband as well. 

“Let me talk to her.”

The Ranger’s interrogation room consisted of three gray walls with an accent brick wall mixed in, a table and a chair, and a single two-way mirror. Sam had listened to many culprits inside the square asylum, a place he’d heard justifications ranging from misunderstandings in a bar to cold-blooded murder. Innocent until proven guilty was an old earth law, but credibility lurked within the ancient rule still, even if the Ranger’s didn’t out rightly practice it. He’d give this woman the benefit of the doubt until his morals persuaded him she was liable enough for arrest. 

But that’s if he could get her to speak. 

Lillian’s focal point consisted on cracking the coordinates for the ship’s final landing, as well as finding the owner of the stolen vessel. Sam knew she preferred to have her hands full rather than empty, sometimes taking on more than he thought she could handle, but he respected his wife’s decisions, knowing her ambitions meant new leads for the Rangers to follow, and he snatched up any opportunity to assist where he felt the most helpful. 

A rush of adrenaline pumped through his veins as he took a breath, remembering the mission, remembering what Lillian expected, what The Rangers expected. The door creaked mildly as he pushed it open.

If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought he entered the wrong room. 

She appeared human; a near perfect clone of the woman he’d caught a glimpse of on TV. The air smelt of dust and earth, but there was a trace smell he could only describe as the planetside scent of a descending waterfall. Sam met her anonymous stare, his own nameless as he sat down and cleared his throat.

“Do you remember me?” He asked.

She nodded her head. A flatness to her eyes.

“How are you, uh, feelin?”

“Fine.”

Was she already lying? How could he be so sure? What answer did he expect to hear the moment the question left his lips? He asked out of courtesy, a spark to break the ice, but it felt out of place, like forced small talk, but fact of the matter was she didn’t weep or fold into a blubbering, nonsensical mess, like he predicted.

Strangely, a sense of reverence led Sam forward. 

“Can I get you some water?”

“No.”

Her composure remained as stiff as her back against the wood slats of the chair. Whatever her angle, he had to play his hand logically. Stamp the obvious on the forefront of his brain; she was here for a reason.

“Alright. I’m gonna ask you some questions. I know you’ve been through hell and back, but I need you to answer them honestly, okay? We want whoever did this to you to face severe punishment. I’m sure you want that, too … you do, right?”

In that moment, it was as if the gears stuttered within the mechanism of her brain as her face hid any indication of an answer. Sam waited, greatly anticipating her response, his elbows propped on the table and folded hands inches away from his chin. He tilted his head, and when she still didn’t speak, he verbally poked her. “Ma’am? Do you want justice against the one who did this to you?”

Her face shot up, eyes cold. “I do.”

“Alright then,” he began, leaning forward, his hands dropping onto the table. “We’ll start from the beginning, ease ya into it. What do you remember before the events of last night?” 

Her hardened persistence remained, but he noticed the small lax in her shoulders as she took a breath. Her eyes closed. “I was at my friend’s apartment, just needed a box of my things that I’d forgotten,” she recalled, opening her eyes, her hues connecting to Sam’s. “I couldn’t just leave it there, but I thought about it. I thought about turning around and going back home, but I didn’t.”

“Must have been important to you — whatever was in that box.”

“I – I like to collect old Earth books. Sinclair’s pays me to refurbish them as best I can, and then I donate extra copies around the Settled Systems.”

Sinclair’s. That was the storefront she posed in front of on TV. 

He leaned back against his chair, his cowboy hat tipped gently, shadowing his forehead under luminescent ceiling lights. “My daughter? Loves books. She just goes crazy for them. Of course, she can’t read them yet, but when I read to her, she giggles her little head off.” He offered a lightness in the room, sharing something normal, something friendly, something … definite, as the real questions simmered on the tip of his tongue.  “Did you ever get your books back?”

“No.”

Sam frowned. “I imagine those books took some hard work to find. When this is over, would you like us to help track them down for you?”

She smirked, thinly, neither coy nor aggressive. “You won’t find them. They were jettisoned into space. Besides, it’s not that important.” She averted her eyes. “Not anymore, at least.”

He could hear the subdued ache within her words, but he still wasn’t pushing her enough.   

“How did you find out your things had been scrapped?”

“I just … sort of assumed.”

“You assumed?” Sam repeated.

“Well, I … I really don’t remember.”

“Could you try?”

“I am trying, sir.”

“It’s Sam. Just Sam is fine.”

“Okay, Sam,” she said. “It’s all just … I don’t know. Blurry.”

  “It’s common for foggy gaps in the memory when you’ve gone through … everything you’ve gone through.” He switched directions, like a sly fox cornering his prey. “Those assumptions you felt, they came from somewhere, and you didn’t leave the apartment. Did your friend ever come back?”

“No, I never saw him,” she said, an unusual rise in her vocal tone. 

“If you never saw him and you don’t remember what happened last night, then how did you get on that ship?”  

“Sir — Sam, I – I don’t know –”

“ – cuz that’s a large chunk of time not accounted for, and suddenly you just, don’t remember?”

“Like you said, brain fog and —”

“No, your selective memory’s not adding up, and I’m willing to bet credits you've been lyin’ for some time now.”

“No I’m not lying it’s just — fuck,” her voice cracked on the swear, her hands quick to cradle her head. Sam stared at the deep purple and blue bruises bound around her wrists. His throat burned. He twisted his focus elsewhere. “Look,” she started, “It’s not that I don’t want to help you, okay? I’m just – so fucked.” Her breaths shortened, raspy and thin as her forehead met the table with a thunk, arms barricading her face. 

Inside the small of the room her confession lingered. The air was flexible now, much to Sam’s chagrin, knowing that whatever, or whoever, possessed her to lie to his face still controlled her thoughts even after all the nightmares she endured. 

But lying to a Ranger — that was a punishable offense. 

Muffled sobs clogged the room. An ache of sympathy lumped in Sam’s throat. He knew his duties, abided by them each time he fastened his badge to the uniform, but something about her confession pulled on his judgment. No moments of clarity graced this woman as she continued to wail, her pain amplified by what Sam could only imagine was the threatening fear of fate now that she’d confessed. 

He swallowed. “I, um, uh … well, I appreciate your honesty, and if you could continue to give me that, I’ll … I’ll try and help you as best as I can.” He paused, quickly adding, “I can’t promise anything, but, if you tell me the truth from here on out … you have my word that I will try. Alright?”

She sniffled, her eyes slowly poking out from the crevice of her forearm, cheeks dampened and lips swollen. She considered him with a long pause, and finally, as silence embraced the room again, he watched her sit up. “I don’t know how you could help me.”

“We’re reasonable,” Sam encouraged. “And what we do holds alotta weight, being the law and all.”

“No, you don’t understand. There’s nothing the law can do.”

He stifled a chuckle. “You’d be surprised.”

“I would be, actually, considering — fuck, okay.” She inhaled, long and purposeful, as if bracing herself. “I just don’t know, Sam. I’ve backed myself into a corner here and —”

“Then let me help you get out.” He tugged his body forward, catching uncertainty in her eyes as her gaze shuffled around the room, before finally attaching to his. “What are you scared of?” 

“Everything.”

The room seemed to shrink. A sparseness filling Sam’s lungs as he breathed the gravity of her response, and the strain of it all – organs, murders, human smuggling, unbridled fear. His morals never disobeyed him, but the law … the law had its limits.

The Ranger pored over the suspect sitting across from him, and for a moment, her visage morphed to the woman he regarded on TV. The brightness in her eyes, her strong posture, and a smile that stretched across her face. No blood. No bruises. No tears. 

“You were on SSNN, weren’t you?”

“Yes .. I was.”

“I saw you. In front of a store – Sinclair’s maybe? You were smilin’ and holding a plaque of some kind.”

Her eyes bulged, almost as if she’d forgotten as she touched her throat. “My citizen’s award.”

Sam nodded, a thin smile of respect growing on his lips. “Tell me how you got that.”

“... I traveled to a LIST settlement that specializes in fostering families affected by the Colony War. On my trip back, a reporter for SSNN took a seat next to me and … I guess the rest speaks for itself.”

“That’s really amazing. I’m sure those families really appreciated your doing that.”

She gave a half smile; humble but acknowledged. 

Sam continued, “So, how does someone like you end up mixed in with the garbage of this mess?”

She faintly shrugged, shaking her head. “How do any of us end up in the messes we make?”

“Dumb decisions, not thinking about the consequences, … trusting the wrong people.” Sam observed her cadence, gauging any type of reaction that might reveal the rest of her; a twitch of the lip, an averted gaze, something.

“Was your friend involved?”

Nothing. 

“Maybe they bit off more than they could chew? Ran into the wrong, very wrong, crowd? And now you’re payin’ the price because you … you stuck your nose where it didn’t belong, too?”

He caught the clench of her jaw. 

“Hell, maybe your friend doesn’t even exist.”

Her face flushed a bright red. “No that’s –”

“Not what? The truth? The truth that’s gonna be your saving grace if you just cooperate with me?”

“Fuck! I’m trying! Okay?!” She slammed her palms on the table, alerting Sam’s trigger finger as his hand flinched to his sidearm, but he didn’t retrieve it as she bellowed. “You think this is easy for me? Huh?! My life is on the line here. Again! And he’ll do much, much worse to me now than whatever those ecliptic fucks were paid to do!”  

Sam raised his hands, his voice calm and diffusing. “Easy. Just — take a breath, and tell me about this he.”

She laughed, a frown etched across her face as she ran her fingers through her hair and held her head. “Might as well, right? I’m as good as dead.”

“That ain’t gonna happen,” Sam said. 

“You have no idea what you’re up against.”

“I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with death. Try me.”

His challenge left her rigid, or so Sam thought, until she regarded him earnestly, the whites of her eyes growing pale as she spoke. “How can you be so sure I’ll be safe?”

That damn question again; poking and prodding at his abilities as if his intuition was nothing but a fluke, as if his experience was nothing but fictional. For god sakes, he wouldn’t be alive if it were and he wouldn’t be the man he was today without it teaching him, guiding him, encouraging him. 

As long as this woman revealed what she knew to Sam and The Rangers, he would do everything in his power to make sure she didn’t suffer at the hands of this — this tormentor. Sam was a man of his word.  

“I just am.”

The woman lowered her head, eyes low as if reflecting on what’s to come. Defeated, but not hopeless. 

“Now, can you tell me who he is?” 

“He is … a plague. A disease. The cause of so much suffering across the Settled Systems, and he is … everywhere.”

Sam cocked his eyebrow. “Who?”

“Медведь. The Bear.”

[margowritesthings]

MARGO'S 1K CELEBRATION I - TROPE BINGO

Y'ALL. I can't believe this. 1,000 is such a mind boggling number to me, considering these weird word children would otherwise just be sitting in my brain on their own. I can't thank you enough for your support over the last year. this blog is one of the best things that has happened to be, and now that i'm pursuing my dream of becoming a published writer i truly believe it has changed the course of my life. YOU have changed my life. thank you for being there to read and support. i love y'all.

soooo reading and writing romance is basically my only prsonality trait, so why not celebrate 1k followers with the thing that got me here! im putting you guys as the star role in your own romance- follow along the steps below and send me an ask with your trope and character selection + any extra info.

STEP 1 - PICK A TROPE (please pick up to 3 tropes!)

➼ friends to lovers ➼ enemies to lovers ➼ s/he falls first ➼ one night stand ➼ grumpy x sunshine ➼ small town ➼ billionaire ➼ mafia ➼ forced proximity ➼ marriage of convenience ➼ fake dating ➼ second chance ➼ one bed ➼ childhood sweethearts ➼ surprise pregnancy ➼ why choose? (send up to 3 characters for a reverse harem ship) ➼ random!- i will use a generator ➼ writer's choice- i will choose based on your profile (mutuals only)

STEP 2 - PICK A SHIP there are 3 ways to get your ship:

➼choose a fandom (or multiple fandoms) from the below list and I will choose for you (the more info about yourself you provide the better this choice will be) ➼choose a specific character from the fandoms in the list (or multiple and I will choose) ➼(mutuals only) tell me your fandoms and I will choose for you based on your profile/what i know about you/what you provide me with (even if the fandom ISNT on the list below)

FANDOMS PARTICIPATING IN THIS CELEBRATION: ➼ red dead redemption ➼ bridgerton ➼ marvel ➼ starfield ➼ fallout ➼ skyrim ➼ stardust ➼ star wars ➼ doctor who ➼ daisy jones and the six ➼ mad men

STEP 3 - EXTRA INFO

IMPORTANT- INCLUDE YOUR GENDER AND SEXUAL ORIENTATION IF LETTING ME CHOOSE THE SHIP. Add anything about yourself you want me to know. If you're on anon, this is very important!! I cannot make anything personalised for you if I do not know anything about you. Any icks, anything you want me to include, turn ons, etc. Basically provide me with anything you think might help me make the best gift for you!

RULES

➼ Followers only please, I cannot police this as I have asking on anon enabled, but this is a celebration for my followers so if you are gonna enter please do ensure you are following me

➼ Likes and reblogs are really appreciated! if you do enjoy my work you can also check out my masterlists which can be found here or buy me a coffee here!

➼ At the least, I will be able to make a moodboard for your ship + tropes, but if the inspiration strikes me I will write headcanons and drabbles too. These are a bonus and should not be expected with every entry

➼ 18+ - some of these tropes will include explicit detail, so 18+ only please

➼ Please grant me patience! i am doing this alongside a full time job and have some personal stuff on, but i do want to celebrate so im trying to fit this in as best i can. please be kind and respectful of my lil internet space :)

➼ all posts will be tagged #margo's 1k celebration

tagging my frens to say THANK YOU cause i couldn't do it without ya <3: @inkandbloodbound @cowboydisaster @musicallisto @saradika @sickvictorianangel @alottanothing @twola @photo1030

[doe-writes-stuff]

A/N - More of the cowboy space dad, because honestly there is never enough of this fictional man. <3 This is just some of reader having a moment to just...acclimate after being pulled into everything that is Constellation. Sam's there to provide some much-needed company.

WARNINGS: None, drinking of alcohol. Tiny hints of flirting before relationship?

The ornate tumbler of whiskey burns like nothing else on the way down your throat, but damn it was much needed after the week you’d had. The glass gives a dull clunk as you set it back down on the Lodge’s bar top with a wince and a hissed ‘ahh.’ The first of the night, and likely not the last.

The headquarters of Constellation, for once, is silent. Well, save for the ever-present hum that the three artifacts emanated down below in the library. Even with the door to the library balcony shut, you could still hear and feel its looming, distinct presence at the deepest part of your subconscious. Some part of you is comforted by this, but the other shivers in a muted sort of horror at this ‘connection’ you seem to share with the damned thing.

Sitting on the stool with your elbows propped up on the counter, your head falls into your hands, fingers massaging slowly at your throbbing temples. As you waited for the alcohol to kick in and give your turbulent thoughts some respite, it was unfortunately impossible not to dwell on the very thing you were trying to forget about.

One minute, you’d been stuffed into a too-big mining suit and strapped with a cutter to mine on the little nowhere planet of Vectera. Argos Extractors. A simple contract. An easy paycheck. The perfect place to keep your head down, not make waves, and just…earn a living that wouldn’t draw the ire of the many powers that be. Trade Authority, Ryujin, GalBank, it didn’t matter who. Better to be a nobody and just…coast through your lonely little life and retire someday with enough for a decent ship all your own. That had been the idea, at least.

And then the vision had knocked your breath away, both literally and figuratively. The moment your suit had brushed against the metallic surface, colors and feelings and sounds you’d never imagined had assaulted your brain. There’d been vibration across your skull, what felt like a blindingly white-hot swelter of heat, but accompanied by a chill so icy you thought yourself frozen. All at once, you’d gotten the sensation of the galaxy expanding in size and scope tenfold. But when you’d come to, Heller and Lin standing over you with marked concern, the world had looked exactly the same as before. 

You could never quite convince yourself you hadn’t been yanked from one reality, given a glimpse of something incredible beyond words or comprehension, and dropped back where you’d come from with little regard for the consequences to follow.

Maybe that’s exactly what it’d been…in which case, a shiver ran down your spine again.

Whatever it had been exactly, everything had been upturned in that one moment. Pirates and a fire fight; adrenaline had coursed through your body as bullets whizzed past your helmet, all while still reeling and trying to make sense of the vision. Your hands had shaken for hours after the fact.

Then meeting Barrett—a man like no one you’ve ever met before—who’d practically thrown you onto his ship with his robot companion, sent off to bring the artifact that had given you such boggling visions to begin with to the rest of his team back on New Atlantis. As if you’d just waltz into some science club with that hunk of metal with little explanation for why you were there.

And that hadn’t even been the end of it…

Vasco had analytically drawled at you in its robotic voice that you must destroy the pirates that’d been on Barrett’s tail, and so you’d entered their base of operations, weapon in hand and senses surely left somewhere behind on Vectera, and taken them out. Pure luck had you walk out of there alive. Most of that day was coming back a little fuzzy. Hell, maybe it was just your whiskey at this point…

Speaking of, you pour another finger’s worth of the stuff into your glass, marveling at the amber liquid. This one was easier to knock back, throat already having experienced the sting and now anticipating it. Smoky with a hint of honey, according to the salesman. All you could taste was the burn.

At first, you think you just imagine it. The sound of distant footsteps. But the longer they went on, growing more pronounced the closer they came, you realized someone else was up just as late as you were. Odd. You contemplated getting up to leave before you had unexpected and perhaps unwelcome company, but knew it was too late. Whoever it was would hear you making your exit by now, and that little niggle of curiosity was wondering who might be coming your way. Presumably for a drink as well. Half a dozen more steps and your late-night visitor appears in the doorway. 

Sam, you think his name was. You’d only just met him and his daughter today, but the brunet cowboy had made an impression. Not many people outside of Akila chose to wear attire that resembled something in those antique western movies. By appearances, you’d expected some stubborn, prideful smart-ass typical of the planet’s residents. Instead, he’d been remarkably humble and charming. Definitely not the worst person that could have stumbled upon you at this late hour.

Surprise registered on his face when he spotted you already occupying a seat at the bar. Obviously he hadn’t been anticipating anyone else being awake. Then, his eyes flickered to the glass and bottle of whiskey you’d clearly already broken open with a little smile. “Long day?”

Your laugh is nothing more than a huff of breath. “Long week.”

He nods, gaze drifting around the room. You see the moment of hesitation, where he stays standing by the entrance, unsure of if he would be welcome to join you. Ah, a gentleman as well. Figuring his company wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, you give your head a jerk to the stool beside you, already reaching for one of the upturned tumblers further down the counter.

He sits with a long sigh, gratefully accepting the glass and nodding when you lift the whiskey in silent question. You eyeball a finger’s worth into the tumbler, but he clears his throat and gives it a tiny jostle.

“Better make it a double.”

A wry, curious smile curls its way onto your face as you look up at him, but you do as he asks. “Long day for you, sounds like.”

“Not really.” He brings the glass to his lips, downing the contents with little more than a wince in response. “Just a…long conversation.”

“At this hour?” You hadn’t heard anyone else speaking when you crept off to the bar by yourself earlier, but then again, you weren’t exactly sure where Sam’s room was. He gave a slow nod.

“Ex-wife.” There’s some sort of emotion in his tone, but it’s impossible to tell what. He doesn’t give much away with his expression, just stares down into his now-empty glass. “Work takes her all over the systems, so…our talks are often at odd hours.”

“Ah.” You’re not sure how else to respond to that, and decide that a simple acknowledgement of his statement was enough. He doesn’t continue, and you don’t pry. Based on his behavior, the topic of ex-wives was most certainly not a can of worms he was eager to open with you. Hence his trip to the bar. And truthfully, you weren’t in much a mood to listen to that right now.

Figuring more alcohol was the solution to both dilemmas at hand, you pour another round of whiskey in both of your glasses, which Sam doesn’t object to. The glasses are knocked back simultaneously, and thunk only a second apart back onto the counter. That warm, familiar buzz tingles your fingertips and chest. Wonderful.

Hearing your own sigh, Sam suddenly gives a low chuckle under his breath, before turning his head to face you. “So, first week. I take it Constellation’s been a bit more than you bargained for?”

“You have no idea…” The admission is accompanied by a weary shake of your head, which only caused Sam’s grin to widen further. “If you had asked me a month ago what I’d be doing with my life, I’d say something like…wasting away in some dark, dank cave on a planet no one’s heard of. Something boring. Forgettable. Hunting down unexplainable artifacts to unlock the ‘mysteries of the universe,’” you say with air quotations, “was nowhere on the list, believe it or not.”

“Quite a career change.” He posited with amusement, then crossed his arms and leaned on the counter, interest plaguing his expression. “What we do, it…ain’t for the faint of heart, sure. I mean, meeting Barrett is an experience all its own. But come on, do you really miss mining of all things?”

“It’s not that I miss it, exactly. It’s…” You drift off, eye rising to the ceiling as if searching for the right words to explain. Accompanying it is the slightest sensation of spinning, so your hands grips the edge of the counter. “It’s more like…I had already prepared myself for a few decades of boring, inconsequential work. And all this,” you gesture at the Lodge around you, “is nothing at all like that. I’ve…lost my footing, I guess.”

“Yeah, but…” Sam grimaces a little, eyes narrowing as he shakes his head, unable to understand, “…mining?”

You get the impression your career choice—former career choice, you remind yourself—was somehow especially bewildering to the cowboy, and can’t help the grin. “There’s routine. Familiar people, familiar terrain. You wake up each morning, and do the same thing you did the day before, and the same thing you’ll be doing the next day. Mine, lunch, mine some more. If you’re trained, then you work some equipment. Boring. Easy. A guaranteed paycheck for as long as the vein is plentiful. It’s…comforting, in a way, to always know what will happen next. Go in, get the job done, extract. Then, it’s off to the next mine and it starts all over again.”

You think you see the man shiver in his stool beside you, and laugh at the reaction.

“Sorry, but I ain’t seein’ the appeal in anything you just said.” Another laugh from you. Sam seems to be very good at getting you to do that. “You’ve just described a nightmare to me.”

“It’s definitely not for everyone.”

“Honestly, you don’t strike me as the type to want something like that either.” He goes on, and this piques your interest.

“What gives you that impression? We just met today.” You point out, and he concedes the point with a tilt of his hat. “You can hardly know me all that well.”

“Fair enough.” Sam inclines his head in understanding, then reaches over to grab the bottle of whiskey, pouring himself another. He flashes you an easy-going smile as he lifts his glass. “Just thought that…well, maybe I’d like to.”

It’s easy to blame the whiskey when you start questioning his meaning behind that. He just continues looking at you, and it’s somehow difficult to look away.

“Once you find that footing again, I get the feeling you’ll really like it around here. And, uh…between you and me?” After a conspiratorial glance around the empty bar, he leans in a bit closer. “The Lodge, the others…don’t get me wrong, they’re great. But there’s something about  being out there, on a ship, among the stars that feels right at home. Never knowin’ what you might find at your next destination, that sense of adventure and freedom.” He shoots you another smile. “Discoverin’ the mysteries of the universe is a bonus on top of it all.”

You find yourself nodding along, mesmerized. Some part of you thought you could listen to him talk for hours. Mining had seemed like the most secured and consistent source of income available to you at the time. But it wasn’t your passion. It wasn’t what you wanted to do. It just…seemed like the correct decision to make at the time. You’d resigned yourself to being stuck deep in the rock for years to come, and now? That distant and foolhardy dream of having a ship all your own to travel across the stars was beating against the box you’d stuffed it in up until now.

Whether it was the alcohol or just Sam himself that kept him talking, you could’t be sure. He leans back a little, with a rueful shake of his head. “I know I’m ramblin’ at this point, but…there’s too much beauty in this universe to just…sit back and let your life go by without seeing it all. You know?”

“Yeah.” And you do. Or, maybe this buzz was making you nostalgic. “I think I know what you mean.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He seems happy with that admission, and you feel pride at having earned his favor somehow. You liked Sam. From what little you knew about him, he was a good person to have around. Not bad company, either. Having had this talk with him just solidified those positive traits you’d initially seen.

Which, speaking of…

“You mentioned having a lead on one of the artifacts earlier, right?”

“Back in the day, Solomon Coe, the founder of Akila City drew up some maps that I think should point us in the right direction. They’re locked up in the GalBank vault there.”

Mulling over that information, and taking a few seconds longer than you’d like to admit to put the family relation part of it together, you finally nod and offer a smile. “Then…what would you say to traveling together?”

“Heh.” Sam’s expression brightens a little at the proposal. “Up for adventure already, huh?”

“I think so.” It seems strange to say after having been overwhelmed by the past week alone, but with a pleasant buzz and someone as charming as Sam to help you into this new life of yours, well…it was easier than you anticipated to shed the anxiety and embrace the anticipation of not knowing what awaited you with Constellation. He could be real convincing.

Then, you give a little laugh. “That’s as long as the hangover isn’t too terrible in the morning, of course.”

“Trust me. We’ll both be feelin’ it tomorrow. This stuff’s no joke.” Sam says, picking up the whiskey bottle and reading the percentage of alcohol. Then setting it down, he pins you with another look that you think peers right into your soul. How the hell did he do that so easy? “To answer your question, I’d love to travel with you. Oh, uh…as long as you’re alright with me bringing Cora along.”

Cora? Right, his daughter. “Isn’t she 12?”

“She goes wherever I go. We’re sort of a package deal. Non-negotiable.” Sam explains with a shrug. He must see hesitation in your expression, uncertain if bringing a child along would be all that wise, so he adds, “She’ll stay on the ship if we’re somewhere safety might be a concern.”

“Under those conditions, then I accept.” You say. If anything, Vasco could lock down the ship and protect her while you were away.

“Great. She’ll be thrilled to hear that.” His smile is wide and infectious.  Then, glancing at his empty glass of whiskey, he sighs and sets it downwards on the counter. “Better call it for the night. We’ll be sorry enough as is in the mornin.’”

“Yeah…” You agree, feeling more drunk now than tipsy. A deep, drunk sleep was exactly what you needed now. It was sad to have the conversation come to an end, however.

He peels himself out of the stool, then hangs back to make sure you were steady on your feet. You flash him a grateful smile, but gesture that you’ll be fine making it back to your room. It’s a short walk there, and you turn to your companion. “I’ll see you and Cora in the morning then.”

“Bright and early.” He promises, then chuckles. “Or late. Whichever the whiskey allows.”

Your smile widens. “Goodnight, Sam.”

“You too, Y/N.”

[spookyspecterino]

Gentle Promises in the Dark

Sam Coe x GN! Starborn! Reader

GN! Reader. No pronouns, no use of Y/N, or reader descriptions.

Spoilers for Starfield's endgame content.

No warnings. There's just a pinch of anxiety, but it's all fluff and happiness.

Sam asks what your future plans are. Will you leave him in search for another universe or stay behind?

This was a lovely request! I'll be closing them for now, just because I have more to catch up on and I've been getting distracted. Thank you to everyone for supporting my work! This fandom has been so welcoming and lovely to interact with!

Sam lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It must be late by now. But he isn’t tired, his mind turns over and over with endless thoughts.

A faint ray of light draws his attention, it’s the bedroom door opening just a crack for you to slip in. It shuts right behind you, returning the room to its inky blackness. His thoughts halt with the sound of your quiet footsteps.

Sam feels you slide under the covers, your feet are cold, as usual, and you snuggle up to him. Instinctually he’s moving to let you lay on his bare chest—your favorite spot.

“Hey.” You whisper, sounding content at last.

“Darlin’.” He drawls back in greeting, wrapping his arms around you.

“You doing ok? You’re not usually awake this late.”

“Just thinking.”

“Hm. About what?”

“Just about…” he sighs. “Everything.”

“Sounds like a lot.”

“Yeah…”

An uncomfortable silence lays in the air. Instead of passing, it lingers until Sam sighs again.

He decides to ask the question that’s been on his mind for a few weeks now.

“Are you going to go back into the Unity?”

Are you going to leave me behind?

You don’t answer at first. Memories surface of all the other times you traveled through the Unity. And all the times you came out of the other side. Feeling empty.

Out of fear or nervousness, you may have brushed the question off any other time, but now you answer honestly. “I don’t know. A long time ago I thought it was my purpose. Finding artifacts, fighting the Hunter, passing through the Unity… but…”

Sam hesitates, waiting on the edge, he wants you to continue. But he’s afraid of your answer.

“This universe…it’s different than the others.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked this, but how many universes have you been to? How many years have you been doing this?”

You chuckle. It sounds pained. “Too many to count and too many for one lifetime.”

Sam tries to laugh, to alleviate the anxiety he feels bundled up in his chest. “You tellin’ me you’re older than I am?”

Groaning playfully, you nuzzle into his neck. Your smile against his skin makes his heavy heart a little lighter.

“Let’s not talk about that part.”

He pulls you closer. “Ok deal.”

The silence lingers again.

“Are you looking for an opinion?” he asks, his voice very quiet.

“From you? Always.”

“I think you should stay here. With us—with me. We could…” He clears his throat, swallowing the words his heart wanted him to say.

“We could what?”

After a few beats of his pounding heart, “It’s gonna sound sappy, but…we just keep going. Grow older together. Watch Cora grow up. Live out our golden years exploring the stars.”

“You really want that?”

“Hell yes I do.”

You fall silent. Sam stares into the dark. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down into a deep abyss with no end. He wished you’d just spit it out, give him the bad news so he could start preparing himself to lose you—

“I can’t think of anything I’d want more.”

Sam’s whole body relaxes with a long-winded exhale. Had he been holding his breath?

“Did you think I was going to say no?”

“Honestly…I was kind of expecting you to. How could I compare to the life—or lifetimes—you’ve lived traveling to new universes? How could I compare to the power you gain every time you cross over?” He looks away, shrugging. “There’s an infinite number of me out there. You could do this again in the next universe.”

You pull back, propping yourself up to look at him in the dark. He can see the faint outline of your face. You’re frowning.

“There’s only one of you that’s like you. I have never met another that comes close.”

“You’re just trying to flatter me.”

You take his chin in your hand, forcing him to face you and preventing him from turning away. “Out of infinite universes, you’re the only one I’ve ever loved.”

“What about the one in your original universe?”

“If I loved him, I wouldn’t have left.”

“Huh…so that means…?”

“Yes.” He can see you smile. “I choose you. I’m staying.”

He laughs, pressing a light kiss to your lips. “Well, I guess first things first.”

You lean your forehead to his, he can hear the smile in your voice. “And what would that be?”

“I’m gonna marry you.”

[ninjaofnaps]

Through the Star Field for You

OK! Here is my first attempt at fanfiction. Hopefully, it's enjoyable. I'm using it to warm up and dust off my writing skills. I also posted this on A03

I've enjoyed reading all the great fanfictions out there from people like @aislingdmdt @eridanidreams @bearlytolerant @spookyspecterino

I'm definitely looking for prompts, so feel free to send any my way.

Through the Star Field for You

The blackness gradually faded as she heard indistinct voices, far-off sounding as if from the other end of a tunnel. Where was she? The world was fuzzy as she tried to open her eyes. Oh wow, that was a mistake; her head hurt. Actually, her whole friggin body hurt. Where was she? The voices became intelligible, and Ves closed her eyes again, trying to focus on their words through the pain.

"And this new Dusty was the miner you sent in there?" a lilting English woman's accent.

A stronger female voice clips back, "No, that is not the new Dusty I sent in there. That's what I'm trying to tell you. My Dusty went in, and when we lost communication with him, we went to see what happened and found… her."

There was a pause, like the woman with the accent was trying to understand what had just been said. In the background, Ves heard a faint clicking and beeping of what she thought to be medical equipment. "So let me understand this. You're saying you let a new miner go in there to dig up the priceless artifact Barrett hired you to look for. You left him alone, and when you saw fit to finally check on him, he wasn't there, but she was? Have you found the other miner? Is that Argos suit she's wearing the same one the miner wore? You have to understand how utterly bizarre this sounds, correct?"

A sigh of exasperation from the other woman before, "I know how crazy this sounds; I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it myself. The new Dusy went in after the thing, "artifact," whatever, that Barrett wanted. We lost coms, went to see what happened, and the Dusty was gone! She was lying there in the Dusty's suit with that odd metal thing in her hand, out cold. So we called Barrett."

"So you lost your miner and could have lost the artifact in the process? Why was a miner in training looking for an item of this value to begin with? Could you be more incompetent? Exactly what kind of outfit are you running here?"

A deep male voice jumps in. "Hey guys, calm down. We'll get answers soon enough. Her vitals are shifting, Sarah. It looks like she's waking up."

Ves blinked and opened her eyes one at a time; her sight was clearer now but still not normal. A man in a spacesuit without a helmet creeps into her vision, "Hey there, sleeping beauty. How ya feelin'?"

"Everything hurts, but I'm alive, I think. Where am I? Who are you?"

The man's face splits into an award-winning smile as he says, "I'm Barrett, and you're on Vectera. Let's start with something simple. What's your name, and how'd you end up on this rock?"

Vectera? Ves has no idea what country that is and blinks dumbly at him, replying, "I'm a U.S. citizen." The curiosity in his eyes deepened as he pushed for more specifics. "The U.S? I think you really must have bumped your head in there. I think you mean U.C. as in United Colonies?" With a touch of exasperation, Ves responded, "No, I mean U.S., I'm a United States Citizen. I've never heard of the United Colonies. I was in South America on an archeology field project, a new temple discovered underground in Sama, Peru. I assume you're with search and rescue? There must have been a cave-in or something. I remember reaching for an object in the temple when things just went…" Ves trailed off, trying to make sense of the things she remembered, the lights, the sounds, the feeling like she'd been pulled through the universe, but the pain in her head increased the more she tried.

His dark complexion paled a bit as shock registered on his features, and he glanced over in the direction of the female voices she'd heard. With tentative concern lighting his eyes, he turned back to her and asked, "What year is it?" She slowly, painfully sat up and responded, "It's 2025, obviously." Her response met silence. The air hung with a hint of mystery, as if her words had woven an unexpected thread into the room's atmosphere. Using a hand to shade her eyes from the glaring overhead light, she glanced around; Ves noticed 3 people besides Barrett staring at her like she'd grown an extra head. "What?" She asked.

The shorter blonde woman with the English accent spoke, her stern expression softening a bit, "Barrett, have you given her a Med Pack yet? She may actually have taken a blow to the head in there. Let's try that before we ask her any more questions. "

Before applying the Med Pack, he asked if she would be okay with it, explaining that the medicine within the pack would help ease and heal any pain or injuries her body might be experiencing. Hesitant, she weighed her confusion with the current situation against the throbbing ache in her head. Eventually, her body's discomfort won out, a sense of uneasy surrender creeping in. It surprised her that she was willing to trust these people at all; it must be the bizarre circumstances that demanded a level of acceptance from her she wasn't usually willing to give.

In a flash, the Med Pack chased away any lingering pain and fatigue, leaving Ves wondering what exactly was in that little injector and if it was addictive. Feeling better than she had in years, she was torn from her internal thoughts by the stiff blonde woman; she thought Barrett had called her Sarah, who repeated the question about the year. Annoyance flared in Ves to this stupid line of questioning. Just as she began to respond, a sudden commotion erupted outside. The distant sounds of people yelling, a popping that sounded like gunshots, and chaos filled the air. Before worry could take seed in Ves, someone burst into the room shouting in a panicked voice, "Lin, the Crimson Fleet is here!"

Things happened so fast; it was all a blur to Ves. Everyone was racing to put on their helmets and started arming themselves. Vest jolted as a helmet was shoved into her hands; looking up, she saw Barrett giving her a smile that could charm the skin off a snake. Grabbing a pistol and holding it up, he asked, "Know how to use one of these?" She nodded a yes, and his smile grew as he said, "Good. Feel up to a little firefight? Those are pirates out there, and they aren't exactly known for taking prisoners." Pursing her lips, Ves looked at the gun again, then responded, "I've never been one to shy away from danger." "Good," he said, handing her the pistol and an extra clip. She checked to make sure it was locked and loaded before grabbing his arm. She pointed at the helmet and said, "I'll need help with this, though." Laughing, he mumbled something about her definitely not being from this time because even a 5-year-old knows how to get a spacesuit helmet on.

As the airlock door swung open into the dark night of an industrial setting, she stepped out into the heart of chaos. Instinct took over as she ducked into cover, her fingers quickly assessing the grip's texture and the gun's weight. Adrenaline kicked in, and she was in motion in a heartbeat, responding to the threat with an innate fluidity that felt almost meditative. Without thought, she swiftly dispatched three pirates, moving with a practiced killer's precision and skill. Swiftly sliding from one cover and rolling to another, making critical shots as she did. By the time she'd made it halfway across the platform, she managed to pick up a combat knife by sneaking up behind an unwitting pirate, grabbing the knife from his thigh sheath, and using his own weapon against him in a swift, fluid motion that spoke of ruthless efficiency. He was dead before he knew she was there and before his body even hit the ground. The edges blurred for her as she seamlessly incapacitated one adversary after another, dropping spent weapons and picking up new ones as she went. The actions seemed strangely natural, like she'd done this before, been in this exact situation before. Movement and survival overtook her until there was nothing but an eerie silence. In the aftermath, a mix of shock and disgust at the skill she didn't know she possessed overtook her as she stood there, gun in hand. The red-clad bodies of the Crimson Fleet littered the tarmac before her.

The silence was palpable as people came out from their cover, all eyes on her. Ves felt strangely embarrassed as the last of the adrenaline left her body. Barrett and Sarah approached her. The skin near his eyes crinkled in a knowing smile as he glanced at the gun in her hand, then back at her, saying, "Boy, you weren't kidding when you said you could use that. I knew I sensed something special in you when I saw you. And I think we may just be seeing the tip of the iceberg." Sarah looked less thrilled and more cautious than before. "Where did you learn how to do that? Ex-military?" Ves shook her head no. "I… I'm not really sure. I learned self-defense and guns a bit over time. I mean, I travel for work, to remote places as a woman alone. It always seemed smart to know a bit of self-defense." Looking back at the bodies, she said, stumbling over her words, "But… this… I, I didn't know I could do this." A slight tremor started in her hands as she dropped the gun she was holding. "We need to get you somewhere safe before figuring out exactly who or what you are. I say we head back to Constellation and get you some rest and a medical workup before we figure all this out." Numb to the overwhelming situation at hand, you nodded your acquiescence. A brief conversation with Barrett and Sarah followed; the former decided to stay behind and assist Lin, who seemed to be in charge of the mining camp, with the remnants of the pirate attack.

Questioning her reality, Ves followed Sarah to the ship. A starship. Her mind stumbled across the thought as she tried to believe what she was seeing, a fucking starship? Directing her to a cot on board the small ship, Sarah advised her to get some sleep on their short trip. Clumisly removing her helmet and stumbling out of the space suit, she collapsed into the cot, squeezing her eyes shut against the tumbling thoughts. When Ves finally opened her eyes, her breath hitched. Directly above her was a window out into the star field. A swirling mass of galaxies on an endless black highlighted with greys, twinkling whites, strokes of soft blues, and pinks that twirled in an infinite pattern that could only have been crafted by a master artist's hand. She'd only ever seen photos from NASA like this, yet here it was before her, real as could be and more beautiful than she ever imagined. As the soothing darkness of sleep overtook her, the last thoughts drifting through her head were of the frightening and extraordinary reality she had found herself in.

[bearlytolerant]

Sooooo, are you still taking writing prompts? What about a Starborn PC (aka Shephard) heading into Nishina station and Sam can’t figure out what the hell she’s so worried about? I’m heading in there NG 6 and it’s just such emotional whiplash, depending on how you play. Sweet Jesus, the angst/comfort/smut potential….😁

Love your fics so much, thanks for sharing!

Fandom: Starfield

Pairing: Sam Coe x Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 2135

🌟Note: Contains Main Story Spoilers🌟

the world can wait

You’ve done this before. More than once. It’s not complicated but it is tedious. Worth it to save both realities again and again. Shifting between the sterilized facility with robot defenses and its survival horror counterpart, complete with alien monstrosities. You make quick work of it all, overriding the obstacles blocking your way to get to the lab. To the artifact.

Only this time, Raphael’s body in the sterilized reality doesn’t contain the slate that’s needed to save everyone. Padding him down, you check every pocket, sleeve, boot, anything you can find. But there’s nothing.

“Shit, Raph, where’d you put the damn slate?” The search spreads wider.

You rifle through lockers and under desks and chairs. You even check the bathroom. Maybe he dropped it behind the toilet? But it’s nowhere to be found and time is ticking. Shifting back to the reality colored apocalyptic horror, you find Raphael, alive and well.

“Hey, do you have the slate?”

“What slate?” he asks and his confusion has your stomach in knots.

“The one with the degaussing instructions.”

“I don't have that.”

If only you’d taken time to memorize it. The regret pools in your gut. Learning the hard way, again.

With a sigh, you thank him and head back to the sterilized reality. At the very least, you can save this version. But new questions arise in your head with the turn of events. Is it a mercy to leave Raph, protecting him from the crushing weight of being a sole survivor? Or will he slowly starve to death, coming back for you in another universe, angry and vengeful?

There’s no time to dwell. You make your choice. Scientists over Raphael.

You disengage every power interlock as quickly as you can. Power down the central control and grab the artifact.

Spinning and swirling and swimming in a sea of stars, the unity touches your mind, showing you the latest thread spun in your particular tapestry of fate.

You wake up, only one thing on your mind.

Sam.

Did this new decision cause a disruption or a disconnect? Will you leave Nishima and find him standing just outside the facility where he said he’ll be?

How badly is this world fucked?

Panic rises, festering and oozing out through your sweating palms. You fret and fumble, stumbling your way back to the main entrance. You don’t even bother to check up on the scientists. They’re obviously fine. Their thank yous roll off your back as you pass them by. You see the exit.

The door hisses and it feels like an eternity before they pull apart enough for you to squeeze through, eyes searching for the place he should be.

“Sam?” You call, your voice dry, rough and cracked.

But he’s not where you left him.

Your heart races. You’re mumbling “no” under your breath, over and over again, like a penitent sinner. Pleading with the heavens, and bargaining with the stars.

“Sam!” You scream.

His name is a choked back sob burning at the back of your throat.

“You better be here,” you croak, eyes searching the horizon and all the places around you.

He shouldn’t be back at the ship but what if he is? What if he’s safe? A glimmer of hope. You need to see. Need to know.

You take another step forward, the tears drying as you tell yourself that he’ll be there.

But then that little worm named worry inches in, whispering to you, what if he isn’t? Then you’ll have to explain to your crew mates. Explain to Cora.

Oh, no—Cora.

You slump to your knees, the voice of worry growing louder. A cacophony of horrible what-ifs brings your heart rate up so high your hands are shaking. You can’t go back to the ship without him. You can’t—you won’t. You know you haven’t searched everywhere. There's one last place before you’ll give in and go to the ship, to face whatever might be waiting there. So you turn around, retracing your steps back to the facility, heading up the stairs and toward the cliff edge. You pass by a tree on the right and pause to watch as the sky awakens in an ambient peach glow. It’s beautiful but it’s not Sam. You hang your head, hopeless.

“Oh Sam,” you whisper to yourself. “Where are you?”

A hand on your shoulder has you reeling around, gun in your hand.

“Whoa, whoa! You alright there, darlin,?”

Sam.

He’s okay. He’s okay! The weight lifts off you and just one look into his baby blues is enough to carry you down from that panic driven high.The air is breathable again as you toss your gun aside, throwing your arms around Sam’s neck. You cling to him, fingers grasping at the bare skin of the back of his neck, tears flowing freely down your face. “Where were you? I looked everywhere and you weren’t—you weren’t—“

Then your hands are on his cheeks, fingers to his lips as your eyes map out the entirety of his face. You wrap your arms around his midsection and squeeze, ear pressed against his chest. His heartbeat is a steady thrum inside your head.

He holds you tight, smoothing his hand up and down your back. “Shh, I’m right here,” he says. “I’m right here.”

“I thought I’d lost you.” Again.

“You haven’t lost me,” he says. “I’m here.”

He gently removes your hands from his neck and holds them, studying your face.

You grasp his hands tightly, and bring them to your lips. One kiss for each knuckle and one kiss for each scar. Then you flip his palms over and kiss those too.

The lines of his eyes crinkle when he smiles at you. “You okay? Need to talk about what happened in there?”

You shake your head. You’d rather forget it all.

“I just—I need you.”

“Okay,” he says in his familiar and calming drawl. He presses his lips to your forehead. “Okay.”

You lift your chin, searching his eyes. Drink up his soft and gentle smile. Then you kiss him. Deep and devoted. His tongue slips into your mouth, hands roving your body, urgent and insatiable.

You back him against the nearby tree, out of sight for anyone that might come along. No one will, though. You’re confident of that. It’s just you and him and the wide expanse of land meeting sky embracing the two of you in a morning haze.

Your fingers are undoing his belt buckle and his hands slide up your back, to your shoulders and then cup your face. His eyes are askance of your audience.

“We don’t—you don’t have to do this.”

“It’s not a matter of obligation. But of want. Of need,” you tell him.

It’s a matter of finding some solace in the sighs you can invoke. You want to hear him, revere him, touch him. Immerse the entirety of your essence in him.

“Who am I to protest then?” he says with a chuckle.

How you’ve missed that. Missed him. Those few moments without him were just minutes but felt like days—no millennia.

His belt buckle loosens. Button unsnaps.

You relish in the soft zip mixed with the quiet hush of wind at your ear, kneeling before him as the supplicant pilgrim. He’s already shirking out of his jacket, tossing it on the ground beside you. Your fingers inch under the hem of his shirt, exploring the skin of his body and brushing over the hair of his belly. Sprawling hands out to his sides, finger pads pressing into the black inked tattoos, you rest your forehead against him.

Three deep breaths and you’re grounded for a moment.

One of his hands pets your head, soothing and calming before you press your lips to his belly button. Plant a plush path of kisses down to the elastic of his boxer briefs. Then you dip your hand past the band, tugging, and freeing his cock. Gently you massage his balls, while wrapping your other hand around his length. You pump once, careful not to pull the sensitive skin.

He murmurs something sweet, calls you darlin’ as you slide your hand down his shaft. You lick your lips as you eye his excited cock, bobbing slightly and eager. You kiss the veins and make use of your tongue, testing and tasting. Having a bit of fun.

With satisfaction, you envelope him with your lips.

He shudders under the sudden shock of warmth from your mouth; a flood of sensations to his nerves. You draw him in deeper, massaging him as you delight in his tip touching the back of your throat. You pull free, with a smack of tongue to lips while releasing his balls. A string of saliva catches fractals of light as you swipe it from your bottom lip, glancing up to meet his adoring eyes.

“You’re a sight to behold,” he says, voice deep and gravelly.

He doesn’t realize that he’s the true sight to behold. But you will show him. Show him that he’s all that and more.

You close your eyes, those words washing away all that worry. Lips pressed to his tip, you open your mouth wider to be filled with the entirety of him. Your cheeks hollow out as you suck. Your other hand, snaking around his ass and gripping, steadies you as he hisses a profanity.

His hand has slipped from your head to the back of your neck where he holds you tenderly. Though his cock twitches and hips jerk, begging to thrust, he remains self-controlled.

Your own arousal heightens under his strained moans and self suffocated cries. And you take more of him. More of those muffled sounds and praises that keep tumbling out of his mouth with every lick of your tongue. Every languid drag.

You quicken the pace, driven by the urge to please him and a bit of precum spills. You withdraw, lapping it up with a lewd swipe of your tongue.

Stealing another glance up at him, his eyes are closed, head falling back against the tree bark and that self control wavers with a desperate, “please,” and squeeze of your neck.

You oblige happily, losing yourself to his shudders and sighs. Ravishing his length in your mouth, setting a rhythm that pushes him to the precipice, guides him to the edge. His nails dig into your shoulder as you draw him in and out of your mouth. One great sigh and the grip of his hand loosens. Salt and warmth slide down your throat and you still your lips, gently sucking the remainder of his spend.

You swallow each and every last drop. With one last suck before release, his hands pull you away, drawing you up to his lips as he bends over you. Kisses you, urgent and besotted. After a few moments lost in the taste of one another, you break apart. Breathless. Come together again in a desperate embrace. Suspended in time, the sky brightens to almost blinding within the next hour. You never want to let him go. But the others will start to wonder. Unless—

“We should get back,” you say. “We need to check on the others.”

“Why?” Sam asks, tucking himself away and adjusting his pants. He buckles his belt.

“I had to do things differently this time—in Nishina. It’s why I was so worried I couldn’t find you. I was terrified something happened and—what if that something happened to the others—to Cora.” There’s that little flutter of panic again.

“Shh,” he says, pulling you back against his chest. “They’re alright,” he reassures.

“How do you know?”

He pulls away, placing his hands on your shoulders and squeezes. “I’ve already checked in on them through the comms. They’re okay. We’re all okay.”

You can feel the moisture in the corner of your eye but you wipe it away.

“I love you,” he says, kissing your forehead, then your cheek. Finally your lips. “Immensely and totally.”

And you know this in every fiber of your being but it is a relief to have it spoken. After everything.

You snatch up his jacket from the ground and dust it off. Hold it open as he stuffs an arm in, shirking it back on. Taking his hand in yours, you squeeze it once.

“I love you Sam Coe, and when we get to a quieter place, I’m going to spend a whole day showing you just how much.”

“Holding me hostage for a day, then?”

“Make that a week.”

With a chuckle and squeeze of your hand, he says, “I’m all yours, darlin’.”

And together you find your way back to the ship.