#starfield fanfic

[eridanidreams]

Sunday Snippet

tagging: @bearlytolerant, @silurisanguine, @aro-pancake, @fangbangerghoul, @atonalginger, @aislingdmdt, @fshenkoescape, @ninjaofnaps, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, @thatsgoodsquishy0, @hockeydemon42, @fomagranfalloon, @violenceandviolets, @therealgchu, @staticpallour, @artemis-crimson, and @constellation2330

Tags are friendly, as usual--post if you want, read if you want!

from *stars through my fingers like grains of sand*

Sam swung back and forth in his chair, staring at the two slates lying haphazardly on the console—both needing to be dealt with, and neither one calculated to make him feel good about the world. He picked up one of the slates with the same care he'd give an alien beast with far too many teeth, even though he already knew what it said.

From: Daniel Blake To: Sam Coe You have a good eye. Your friend's shaping up to be a fine Ranger—she's got smarts and guts and her heart's in the right place. Problem is, she's stepped in something that's way too big for her. You know what happened out on Andromas III. Hell, you were there—God knows Pryce was bitching up a storm about you asking for classified information—but the way I figure it, you had cause. Point being, you know someone's gunning for Rangers. Emma tells me you helped take down the First on Montara Luna, so you also know about the bank robbery being just a distraction for something bigger. And Lynch is right in the middle of it. She'll follow that case wherever it leads her—I know the type. Hell, I was the type. And right now, fifty years of experience is telling me that whoever she finds at the end of that trail ain't going to go down easily, and they ain't going to go down quietly. Don't know if she told you, but she made a damned good point about Rangers going off solo after the Mosquera thing. Problem is, that applies to her, too, and right now there's no other Ranger I can peel off to partner with her. And I sure as hell can't rein in the rest of my hotheads if I'm not doing the same to the damn rookie. Which brings me to you. I know why you left. You weren't real happy even before Cora was born, what with Lillian pushing you into all those ugly undercover jobs. Emma told her it was going to backfire on her, but she just wouldn't listen. And you were even less happy sitting behind a desk, even if it gave you all the time with little Cora that you could want. Things have changed, Sam. And it may stick in both our craws to have to admit it, but you're needed. Lynch needs someone who can be the eyes in the back of her head when she's got the bit in her teeth, and someone willing to do what it takes to protect her. You were always good at bringing a partner back home. And hell, you're practically glued to her back already. I won't lie, we lost a good man when you stepped down. And I won't pretend that it wouldn't make me a happy man to see you put the badge back on. But it ain't about me. There's a bigger picture here. Think about it. P.S. Tell Lynch the answer to her question is Diego.

Sam swore under his breath. Anyone else, he'd just wipe the slate and be done with it, but Blake—he respected that old man. The only reason he'd gotten out of the Rangers as easily as he had was because Blake hadn't opposed it. Had quietly unruffled some feathers behind the scenes, most like. He owed the man, whether the Marshal knew it or not. But did he owe him that much?

He tossed the slate back on the console. That one only threatened to upend his life; the other would definitely upend Cait's. Again. He let out a heavy sigh. She tried so hard, but she was struggling under the weight of power and the shadow of her past—Jesus, even his love was a burden on her sometimes, and that broke his goddamned heart every time he saw it happen. He wanted to sit on the news for awhile, until she was a little less overwhelmed—but she'd made it crystal clear how she felt about him trying to protect her from herself. And she wasn't wrong to feel that way, even if it made that primitive little part of his brain gibber in frustration.

He snatched the second slate up, re-reading it to make sure he hadn't missed anything.

From: Ari Miller To: Sam Coe I looked into that matter we discussed last week. Discreetly. While officially we don't have access to UC records, there's always the unofficial channels. Sooner or later everyone asks the Clinic for help, and we keep good records. Thing is, New Atlantis doesn't tend to get hit by xenodiseases. The native microbial life is different enough that it hasn't gotten a foothold in Earth-descended plants and animals—knock wood—and their spaceport's had top-of-the-line biosensors since before the Colony War—well, with all their xenowarfare experiments, that's no surprise. Anyway, according to my source, the Well does have fairly frequent breakouts of disease, but they're mutated Earth bugs. There's nothing that would suggest a cover-up—no unexplained gaps, no data that's too clean, nothing. The records are legit—there was no xenodisease in New Atlantis, in or out of the Well, between 2310 and 2315. Sorry to come up dry, and best of luck in your investigation!

Sam tapped the edge of the slate against his palm, thinking hard, then tucked it into his jacket. The problem was that they had so little to go on—Cait's memories had been tortured into unreliability, and the best guess anyone had was sometime around the end of the war. It looked as if the answers they needed were in Neon, and Sam didn't want to put Cait through that. Not now. Bad enough he was going to have to tell her that one of her foundational memories was a lie—he had no idea how she would take it.

[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.

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Starfield, Pairing: Delgado x OC, CH Rating: M, AO3

Chapter One Excerpt:

Nothing but purple neon and red fluorescent haze. Grease and residual moisture that smells like fish and fuck—he can barely make out the toe of his boot in Neon’s smog. He flicks his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out. Another piece of shit to add to the littered street smelling like piss-fried-fish.

Delgado leans up against the railing and reads the word spleen in pillowy white letters, outlined in black and painted lime green on the inside like it’s a fucking party to sell your organs for snake oil in the dark recesses of the alleys. The back door swings open, slamming against the wall. The draft clears some of the haze and his boots are as black and shiny as ever. He doesn’t startle when his neighbor steps out into the alley too. Cigarette pinched between her fingers and she lifts it to her mouth before she catches sight of him in her peripheral.

“Shit.” A fumble and his reflexes aren’t too slow as he snatches it mid air. “Didn’t see you there,” she says.

“It’s so goddam smoggy, can’t see shit out here.”

“Can’t disagree. Should probably check my surroundings a bit better next time though.”

She leans toward him expectantly and he places the cigarette between the pretty plum stain of her lips. Pulls out his lighter and gives it a flick, lighting up the end in an amber glow.

“Thanks,” she mutters.

“Least I can do.”

“I’m Verity by the way,” she says, the two of them looking up at the smoky air where they both know Neon City locals and visitors alike are wandering the grated walkways high above. Instinctively they press themselves closer to the wall. Never know when someone’s going to spew spit or the contents of their gut from a nauseating Aurora-alcohol combo.

In sync, they cast their eyes to the ground.

“Delgado,” he tells her.

[silurisanguine]

Sunday Snippet

thanks to @therealgchu for the tag. im tagging the Coemancer Crew as usual, plus ANYONE else who'd like to share what they are working on. This is from the upcoming chapter to Chasing Your Star Until I Reach Home.

Seren opened her eyes to the familiar sight of her own body being cradled by Vlad as always. ”Barely stepped on the journeyman’s road with us. Cant see another soul off to the void so soon….” She didn’t even speak, just turned sadly, even though she knew what she was seeing wasn’t real. That that wasn’t Vlad and it wasn’t the Eye she stood on. Instead she walked towards the anomaly, leaving the vision of grief behind her. She came out to find both Ren and Sam gripping the rails of the lift in silence and waited till the lift came to a halt at the bottom. Sam turned and looked at Ren who had tears falling down her eyes and closed the gap, pulling her into a tight hug. He let go after a moment, holding Ren at her shoulders for a moment before she nodded to him and he turned to Seren, tears visible in his own eyes. ”I saw myself, lying there dead as you said I would, Barrett holding my body and Ren crying at my side…Cora was cryin too but she was yelling at Ren…saying awful things… Seren's breath came out in a shudder as the memory of her past came crashing back to her, the sound echoing through her helmet into the opening of the cavern. ”That’s what actually happened in yours isn’t it? I’m so sorry” He moved forward when she nodded, pulling Seren into an embrace and for a moment she froze, not wanting to feel that familiar warmth she couldn’t keep. But instinctively her arms came up to hold his oh so familiar body, her helmeted head sagging against his shoulder, losing herself for a brief moment in a comforting feeling. After what seemed like ages, he pulled back, mirroring the same as he did with Ren, holding Seren by her shoulders. She looked up, her visor opaque again and she saw the pain in Sam’s eyes that he couldn’t see her face, but she couldn’t let him see the anguish in her eyes, not with the fight they had to deal with next.

[bokatankryze]

Summary:

While investigating an anomaly for Constellation you and Sam run into some trouble.

Notes:

Mild spoilers for the main quest. Spoilers are only for the quest "Into the Unknown".

Read more

[therealgchu]

WIP Wednesday

look at me, coming in under the wire! i have a WIP today! finally finishing up 7 days. i only have a little bit left of chapter 6, and i'm done! chapter 7 has been written for months, honestly.

if you want to read Seven Days from the beginning, check it out on ao3.

if you want to read my other stuffs, it's also on ao3.

sneakage peekage

He woke to the sound of a tray being slid under the bars. He got up to take the food and looked at it suspiciously. It was a bowl of noodles with julienned vegetables and bits of ground meat. While it smelled really good, he’d never seen noodles like that before. They were transparent and a brownish gray color with dark specks all over. It did not look appetizing to say the least. He sniffed it again cautiously, then looked at the woman.

It was the first time in the six days that he was imprisoned that he saw her with an expression other than confusion, pain, or disassociation. She was eating the noodles with relish, slurping contentedly. She looked up from her food and, seeing him staring at her, blushed. She chewed and hastily swallowed. “It’s one of my favorite foods,” she said with a half-full mouth.

Sam looked at his bowl and poked at the noodles. “What is this? It smells good, but these noodles are weird looking.”

“Japchae. Traditional Korean noodles. Try them. You might be surprised.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, then shrugged. Tentatively, he picked up a single noodle on his fork and took a small nibble. After a few seconds of nibbling, his eyes grew wide, and he started shoveling them in.

She smiled, the first real smile she’d had the whole time, “See, I told you it’s good.” He nodded and continued eating. She sat back in her chair and watched him inhaling the food. “There’s rice, too, if you want it.”

He nodded and handed his half-empty bowl. From behind her chair she pulled out a small rice cooker, ladled some into his bowl and handed it back to him. Sam started shoveling the food in again. “You’d think we didn’t feed you in here,” she said acerbically.

“This is really good. I mean, really good. All the food has been good, but there’s something different about it,” he answered.

“I made it,” she said softly. “Nobody knows how to make it these days, so if I want some, I have to make it myself.”

“Then compliments to the chef,” Sam said, dumping the rest of the bowl into his mouth. He gave the bowl back to the woman and sat back down on the bed. “Did you make this for me?” he asked.

She looked at him quizzically, “Not exactly. I was craving something that reminded me of home,” she replied, looking away. 

“Home? Neon?” he asked.

“No, my home. The home I shared with Sam before the Starborn came. I was the one that did most of the cooking. I got Cora to eat spicy food, but my Sam never liked it. So, I made japchae a lot since it’s not spicy at all.”

[esorydoolb]

Death Star (a piece of Starfield writing)

a/n: dang I just remembered that I'd been writing down my experience of playing Starfield as a sort of personal log of my captain .. unfortunately not all of it, but a nice chunk of the main story up until the encounter with the hunter. 5k words! that I totally forgot about, which is why I didn't continue writing it (I got sucked too much into the game to keep up with it), but now the document resurfaced and I'm baffled it even exists. it's like finding one of your old diaries lol. interesting! to read the adventures of baby-alan (my spacefarer).

Ok I remember why I wanted to write down certain events ... I actually felt really emotional when I played through them. Prime example .. the Hunter encounter. so here's a piece of fanfic that I never intended to publish, but I'm doing it now anyway, raw and without proof-reading because it's literally supposed to be

a journal entry after the events of "High Price to Pay", from Captain Alan's personal log

Death Star

warnings: major character death and spoilers.

My pirating activities were put on hold. I entered the coordinates to grav-jump us into orbit around Jemison, in order to secure the newest Artifact piece at the Lodge. 

Something was entirely wrong. As soon as I stepped foot into the now welcoming familiar place, I took a turn and headed into the basement to clean and adjust my weapons. It took me about a minute to realize that it was eerily quiet around me while I fiddled with the magazine of my Maelstrom assault rifle. Irritated, I made my way back upstairs to see Sam, Noel and Mateo gathered around the Comm Table. Vasco uttered something about Noel sounding distinctly distressed. That's when I paid attention to the feeling in the air. Something big was lingering there. Something monumentally big, like the size of a natural disaster. I joined my friends around the table. The feed showed a frozen image of the Eye – nothing spectacular, since it was usually quiet in space. 

Noel sounded indeed distressed. No reply from the Eye. No new video images. I asked what the situation up there had been, before the communication to the Lodge had been cut off. Then a voice interrupted us. Vladimir's. 

He was in immediate danger. Being hunted, threatened for his life. His words were breathless, even shorter than usual. I wanted to know about the others – Barrett, who had been stationed up there to help fix the computers. Vladimir said something about a lot of blood, sounding horrified, and my own blood froze in my veins. My mind had already formed a decision. Every word that came afterwards became harder and harder to focus on. Only, it was the voice of a stranger who spoke up next, with so much ice in his spoken threats that I involuntarily shrank away, shivers spiking my skin. The Starborn was on its way to hunt us down next – and the Artifacts, right here in the Lodge. Sam had reached for his Coachman, looking more alarmed than back when we were rescuing his ex-partner. Or maybe it was my own perception of the situation that made every alarm bell in my head sound. 

We had to defend the Lodge next, the Eye had already capitulated. At that moment, nothing really registered in my brain. I had already formed a decision, and I was going to go through with it. I told the others that I would rescue our friends. The Artifacts played no role for me! What was a breakthrough in the exploration of our universe worth in the face of saving our loved ones? Sam seemed confused about my choice of priority, his face portraying a mix of determination and concentrated fear. The Lodge didn't have any defenses – save for Coe, Vasco, and some scientists. I looked Sam hard in the eye and told him my final words. I wished them good luck. As I turned around, my stomach formed into hard metal and my fingers gripped my weapon like an anchor, an anchor that could secure the life of my friends and not make me hesitate even in the face of death. Somewhere deep inside, I had the conviction that I could trust Sam to defend his friends just as well as I intended to do, that I could leave things down here in his capable hands. Perhaps it was a thought born out of our recently developed trust and friendship. Or I imagined myself to know him better than he himself maybe did. When the piercing cry of Walter shook me out of my tunnel vision, I bit my teeth together and forced myself to walk away.

It was the first time in a long while that I was traveling without a companion. Even Vasco would have been a great relief instead of this newfound loneliness. But I couldn't go back. I knew I had to do this on my own. Moara was still guarding the ship, and I got there as fast as possible. Without a word, I sat in the pilot seat and lifted off. The iron kept close to my side, I embarked on the most important mission in my life up until this point. I couldn't imagine the state Barrett was in right now. I had to see it with my own eyes. 

I had never piloted my ship this flawlessly before. The docking module attached like a helping hand reaching out to me. My friends were in need of my help. The space station was quieter than I liked. I couldn't see anything amiss, except the overbearing sensation of everything having gone horribly bad. I headed through the right-hand airlock first, and my breath spluttered. Barrett, sitting half-upright on the floor and grasping his side, faced my way. He had the audacity to joke about his ineffective charms in this situation, and I wanted to close my eyes and breathe a sigh of utter relief that he was alive. I took his shivering hands into mine and studied his condition. He expressed his gratitude for my appearance, and it was clear to me that he could have given up the fight without me showing up in time. I gave him some first aid and watched miraculously as he got up on his feet before urging me to keep looking for the others. 

Sarah, Vladimir and Andreja were somewhat in a stable condition. Their reports matched up, describing a supernatural enemy who took them by surprise and attacked them mercilessly. With every word, I feared more what awaited our friends planetside. I let them know my thoughts and helped Barrett and Sarah board my ship, while Andreja and Vladimir stayed behind to catch their breaths. I would never know if I truly regretted my decision to leave the Lodge in the first place. I had acted on pure instinct, prioritizing my friends before the Artifacts, not realizing that the Starborn was after the very same. And that this monster didn't care what would happen to those guarding them. 

The regret was gnawing at me as I hurried to land the machine safely on Jemison. Everything seemed fine as I saw the front door of the Lodge – and then, nothing was. 

Destruction. Ash and rubble. Something indescribable had swept through the inside of the place. Not angrily, but deadly, like a dying star taking with it the life of anything that had previously blossomed in its light. The first person I recognized was Sam's lifeless form lying in a pool of his own blood. Barrett, even in his hurt state, hurried to pull his friend into his lap, cradling his face, muttering no no nos. Cora, I absent-mindedly registered looking down onto her father, crying in denial. Me, I hastily ran up to Sam, deep regret lodged into my throat as I kneeled to check his vitals. And found none. No matter how much I wished for it, nothing would ever make him move again. This wasn't what I had wanted. This wasn't what he had deserved for his life. 

I registered the movement of Vasco, Mateo, and Sarah, who mentioned that we had no time to stay here and grief. Noel and Walter were still missing. 

But Cora, she was alone and desperate, shouting at her dad to come back to her. She didn't acknowledge my words. And she was absolutely right – it was my fault that it had ended this way. It felt like a sharp knife stuck in my throat. I had done this to her. Sam's life, slipping through my own helpless hands. His corpse, peacefully resting there in his crimson lifeblood. Every dream he had had, every careful effort to protect his daughter – shattered into irreparable pieces. Barrett's pained voice brought me back to reality. We could – we would – mourn his passing later. Right then, I remembered the feeling of cold metal pressed into my hands, a deadly weapon to avenge my fallen comrade. It was the right thing to do, to hunt the one who had hunted us first. 

On the first floor, Walter looked like he had aged a few years more than he could handle. But his voice was as firm as ever, ordering me to follow Noel, who had managed to escape holding the Artifacts. The three of us who were able to fight took the basement exit through the Well. We didn't have to search for long, as Noel had barely managed to move with all the metal weighing her down. There was no time for exchanges. Out of thin air, the Hunter manifested into space, an unidentifiable form of light and body mass. I fought to keep my cool, firing every armor-piercing bullet in the chamber of my pistol, not seeing it have any effect on the alien form. I tried using my powers on him, with the same lack of result. The realization hit me that this was not the moment to let my emotions take over. If I wanted to avenge my friend, I had to make it out of here alive, and that meant to retreat from the enemy that I wanted dead most of any living being in the universe. Fear overrolled me at that moment, leaving me devoid of any rational thoughts except of the instinct to escape as fast as humanly possible. Luckily I was still in full armor wearing my suit and jetpack, and the oxygen meter repeatedly lit up with warning signs of depleted resources. Distantly, I heard the screams of multiple civilians caught by the wrath of the Hunter. The pain in my chest from running away instead of helping to protect them fueled in return my strength, and I swore to myself that this would not be the last time we met. Pure chaos unfolded on the way to the Spaceport. These innocent people had no way of explaining the horrifying events. I still had only one goal in focus. To make it to my ship, with the Artifacts and my friends in one piece. As I fell into my piloting seat and switched on all systems for lift-off, it felt like we were caught in a bizarre nightmare. Space was our escape. The infinite black sea that was Sam's favorite place. 

Barrett confirmed that we should regroup with Vladimir, who could make sense of what to do next. Sense, that was the keyword, because nothing in my own head seemed to add up to form a logical thought. I acted on auto-pilot, racing the ship once more towards the broken Eye. Of course, we were not alone. A huge ship appeared out of nowhere, yet again. This time, the voice coming through the comms sounded like that of a master playing with his toys. Hardly irritated, moreover, like it was enjoying this little game with its surprising turns. It sardonically expressed its amusement in reaction to my confusion and submission. I just didn't want any more deaths on our side. If it meant kneeling in front of the enemy, so be it. It almost came as a disappointment when the Starborn dismissively exclaimed that it would leave us alone, for now. Something was predestined to happen, and I was supposed to play a major role. As if all that had occurred between the Hunter's arrival and now had been completely pointless. Life went on as before, with Constellation still in possession of the Artifact collection, which the Starborn had called the 'Armillary'. Not as if the Starborn had officially waged war against Constellation.

In the meantime we had left Vladimir and Andreja, they had come up with a first damage report. The fact that the Starborn were looking for the Artifacts just like us, implied that they needed us and the Eye to find them for them. Now we had to decide where to keep them so they didn’t have the chance to catch us off-guard again. It was a tough choice. I leaned towards hiding them on a far planet, where there was little civilization and less chances of being tracked down. But that also meant leaving them in a hidden stash, unprotected. Barrett made the decisive argument that on my ship, at least we could always have an eye on them and they were never in the same place. He could also help me improve my ship building knowledge. I needed a proper warship for this. It was not the best solution, I still felt plenty of anxiety about my new job as guardian of the Artifacts, but we couldn’t have the same mistake happen a second time. 

When I entered the devastated city once again, it was raining fire and ash. Every step felt heavy. The recent events had changed everything. I hadn't realized it until it had been too late, but today I had lost a true friend, a respected father and an explorer after the heart of his ancestor. In the end, he had died a soldier who had put his life on the line in order to protect the values he'd been living for, as a part of Constellation. He had worried about his past mistakes. He had worried about the safety of his daughter. He had wanted to do everything better to redeem himself for her. I had appreciated his calmness when we had traveled the vastness of outer space. It had been a comfort that was hardly noticed when it was there, but then, it was dearly missed when it was gone. Every time I would look at the Armillary, I was reminded of him. This feeling of helplessness and guilt. 

I worried about what it meant for me and for Constellation. The first thing I wanted to do was drink myself into a stupor. Just to numb the pain, but I knew I could never forget. The pain of having a comrade taken away from you without warning. It changed my perception of the balance of power in the universe. Who had the right to decide over matters of life and death? Was the unwanted violence in any way justifiable if it meant survival? Could I continue my life unstained by displaced morality, fighting for a system of justice that was easily broken and upended by mysterious, uncontrollable unknowns? In all of this, there was no doubt about the true enemy we were facing. The Starborn were merciless monsters who abused their powers to torture and manipulate us. There was nothing humane left in them, if there ever was. It fostered feelings of undeniable ire in me.

[toxiclizardwrites]

Love and Rage - Chapters 3 & 4

I'm finally on AO3, so I've uploaded my entire work there! It can be found here: AO3 Link to Love and Rage

Tagging: @bearlytolerant @fangbangerghoul @avani-telvanni @eridanidreams @lisa-and-shadow @aro-pancake, @atonalginger and any Delgado fans

Here is an excerpt from the beginning of Chapter 3:

Arriving at the operations center, Delgado was leaning over the nav table. It was a surreal sight to see him looking so serious in an area where they had both been all over each other only a few hours earlier. Naeva and Jazz stood near him.

I hope you all enjoy these latest chapters!

[yvesolace]

need sarah morgan starfield smut rn

WITH FEM READER!!!!!!

[eridanidreams]

Snippet Sunday

tagging: @bearlytolerant, @silurisanguine, @aro-pancake, @fangbangerghoul, @atonalginger, @aislingdmdt, @fshenkoescape, @ninjaofnaps, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, @thatsgoodsquishy0, @hockeydemon42, @fomagranfalloon, @violenceandviolets, @therealgchu, @staticpallour, @artemis-crimson, @genesisarclite and @constellation2330

This is my brain right now...

...and I've been writing in four different fics for three different fandoms. Today's snip is from The Passage of Distant Stars...

Cait braced herself before turning, knowing what she'd see. It still wasn't enough; Sam in one of his relaxed leans against the wall, looking devastatingly handsome in t-shirt and jeans damn near stopped the breath in her throat. "Comfortable?"

"Mmm-hmm. Like they were made for me." He eyed her up and down; she'd expected something of the sort, and managed not to outwardly react. "So tell me, you invite every Starborn that comes in here for dinner and a drink, or am I special?"

"Oh, you're special," Cait admitted, and took some small amusement in his well-hidden surprise. Well-hidden from anyone but her, that is. "And yes, I keep those in there for someone like you." She could smell the paprika now, mingled with the other scents, sharp and just this side of acrid. She grabbed the bowl of chicken and started adding it to the pan. "But I don't invite every person, Starborn or not, in for dinner. Most of them just want to go straight through. Others," she glanced at him as he came over to lean against the fridge, "I want to go straight through. There's usually a few, though. People I've known, one way or another. People who need a little reassurance before making the jump." The tomatoes followed the chicken and she gave the whole thing a vigorous stir, then set a timer.

"I'm in that first group, I suppose," he said, a little whimsically. "Damn, that smells good! What is it?"

"Paprika Hendl," she replied. "Cora ever make you read her Dracula?"

A fond expression crossed Sam's face. "Sure did. In more than one 'verse." He chuckled. "Her and those books."

Cait couldn't hold back a chuckle of her own. "In my universe, I gave it to her." She laughed a little more softly, caught by the memory. "Gave her every book I could find, just to see the smile on her face. It was like to drive her father crazy some days." She caught a shift in his emotions, like a cloud pulling its veil across the sun. She cast him a quick glance, and his smile had turned melancholy. "I'm—"

"Nah," he interrupted. "No need to apologize. That was my—Lila—in a nutshell." Wryly, "I've gotten used to looking at another me from the outside. In a weird sort of way, it's good to know I'm loved, even if it's at a remove." He looked like he was going to elaborate on that, but instead took a deep breath and nodded at the pan. "So what's that have to do with Dracula?"

She accepted his silent request to change the subject. "Ah, yeah. It's the meal Jonathan Harker has before he gets to Castle Dracula. Traditional Central European dish. Supposed to be served with slivovitz—that's a plum brandy—but I'm not much for hard alcohol, so we'll have to make do with wine."

"Works for me," he drawled. "So how come I've never heard of this—Paprika Hendl?"

"Now that's something interesting," Cait said, gesturing him to join her at the kitchen island. (Multiple jumps and she still could not understand why Sam always blocked the fridge when she was cooking.) "Before we jumped, Cora and I had a theory that we wouldn't see a lot of big changes in the universes we went through, at least not the first few times. The idea was that as we started out from our own universe, we'd go through some 'close' universes, where the differences that made them were pretty minimal."

"Right. The—uh—butterfly effect, I think Cora called it." Sam leaned on the island across from her, eyes bright with interest and a sharp-edged curiosity shivering around him.

"Right," she nodded. "We figured it would be hard to change the big events, the ones that had lots of decisions going into them and lots of consequences coming out of them. But small things, things that don't matter much in the long run, or only to a very few people—those we expected to see a wide variety in." She cracked an egg with a flourish. "Turns out, recipes are one of those small things. Someone remembers their grandmother's recipe book, another leaves theirs behind…" A second egg. "Once I figured that out, I started looking. Found this one three, maybe four jumps back." A third egg joined the others in the dimpled flour; she gave it enough of a stir to break up the yolks, then carefully poured in some water and stirred that in, as well. "I thought maybe I could share them across timelines. Restore a little of Terra's lost heritage where I went."

He stared at her in disbelief as she took a heavy spoon and started beating the egg-flour mixture. "Hell, you have got to be the least Starborn Starborn I've ever run into. Most Starborn I've run into don't have the time of day for history. Or the people around them."

"That's the problem," Cait said absently, feeling for that moment when the dumpling batter came together. "In their search for power, they've forgotten everything that makes them human. Unity asks for part of your humanity when you go through, to give to the universe you leave behind. If you don't restore what's left of yourself, what happens when you run out?"

Sam stared at her, mouth all but agape, for several long moments. "Jesus, you're dangerous," he finally said, sounding half-awed. "No wonder they all want you dead."

She lifted the spoon and watched a clump of batter fall back into the bowl. Just about ready. "They want me dead because I don't play their game." She gave him a sardonic look. "Don't tell me I should knuckle under to a psychopath and his enabler."

"Of course not!" he countered. "But the Hunter's bad enough news that I'd pick my fights with him real careful. I ain't going out there punching a—a—terrormorph in the nose, either!"

Cait couldn't suppress a smirk. "Oh, I don't know, some terrormorphs are downright friendly compared to the Hunter and his followers." She moved back to the stove and started dropping batter into boiling water.

"Okay," he said, voice reflecting his bemusement, "You are officially weird."

[fangbangerghoul]

Snippet Sunday!

It is currently 12:07 AM EST and I am going ahead and post this bad boy, so I don't have to worry about it later!

This week has been full of lots of changes and honestly it has helped motivate me to write chapter 9 of Fleeting Pleasures a lot! I cannot believe I am on the second to last chapter of this long fic. It's blowing my mind.

Under the cut will be a portion of Sam Coe's POV after the events of Chapter 8 (which I highly suggest you read to understand the context!)

I am going to go ahead and tag my writers crew (if I didn't catch you, please let me know so I can add you!):

@bearlytolerant @silurisanguine @eridanidreams @a-cosmic-elf @staticpallour @toxiclizardwrites @therealgchu @5oh5 @booburry @atonalginger @aislingdmdt @thatsgoodsquishy0 @spookyspecterino @lisa-and-shadow @samcoesclub

Chapter 9: bad decisions

Snippet of Sam's POV:

He heard a knock on the bathroom and it pushed him out the sinkhole of his thoughts. Whenever he thought about it he would run himself in circles and ride a rollercoaster of emotions that always finished with a new kind of despair he wasn’t used to. 

“I’m coming out.” He grumbled, throwing his toothbrush back into the cup that was on the sink and took one last minute to splash cold water on his face. Something to shock his system back to normal. Sam reached to grab the door, ignoring the glimpse of his dull blue eyes in the mirror and when the wood door opened, Barrette was on the other side. He gave his usual awkward grin and did a small wave. 

“Good morning, Sam! Have you been sleeping better since Noel gave you that herbal tea to try?” He asked so casually about a subject Sam had never remembered mentioning to him. Normally he would have shrugged it off but this time it irked him in particular. The members of Constellation were more prone to talk to him in soft voices or speak about his business more openly when he wasn’t around. It made his skin crawl.  

“No.” Sam said plainly, staring Barret down for a moment before relaxing his shoulders. He was trying to get comfortable around those he considered family again. However the transition from consistently raiding and interrogating Crimson Fleet members to having normal mundane conversation was an adjustment. “Good morning though.” 

Sam walked past him, careful not to bump into Barrett as he walked by. He didn’t like it when someone brushed against his left side even after the wound had fully healed. Sam also didn’t like to think about that fact so he just kept on moving. He was ready to eat. 

On his way to the eating area he stopped by his room one more time to grab a mahogany robe to wrap around his loose white tee and baggy gray sweatpants. The elastic sometimes didn’t stay around his hips and would occasionally sag so in order to protect everyone around him from seeing the moon so early in the day he liked to wear his robe. His slippers dragged a bit as he walked like he was taking a sunday stroll through a park. Sam was never in a hurry to get anywhere, to do anything really. 

“Dad!” He heard the young squeak of his daughter from around the corner and Cora ran up to him and hugged him tight. He winced instinctively but tried to catch himself so she wouldn’t think she hurt him. Her curls were bouncing and wild and the smile on her face was brighter than any star he had seen in a long while. Seeing Cora always gave him a little bit of his life back especially after being separated from her for as long as they were. 

“Hey sweet pea.” He rubbed her back gently in the embrace and kept his arm around her as he led them forward. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Dad it’s noon.” 

“Oh, what are you doing up so late then?” He smiled at her teasingly.  

“Daaaad.” She said in protest as she pushed herself away from him gently. “Were you going to come to the meeting later today?”

“Meeting?” He was puzzled at her question. Sam didn’t know of any meeting, not one that needed to involve him. 

“Ms. Morgan was talking to Walter earlier and I heard them say when Andreja and Vlad arrive they were going to have a discussion.” Cora said with a bit of concern in her tone. Sam knew if she had heard that much then she was all too aware that the meeting was about Ghoul. 

“Is that so?” He asked with a cool tone trying not to give away any concern he may have felt. He still didn’t have the heart to tell Cora that Ghoul did this to him. Even though the other’s had continued their recent pattern of talking about his well being behind his back he figured how much further would that subject be? 

“Yeah! Dad, what are you eating for late breakfast?”

“Cheese pizza, if you are asking.” He said with a sly smirk.

[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.

[silurisanguine]

WIP Wednesday

From up coming next chapter of Chasing Your Star Until I Find Home and it's a spicy moment! 🚀🪐

I tag the Coemancer Crew as usual, Plus anyone else who'd like to share any wip.

His touch felt like electric on her skin, she'd missed it so much and she pulled him closer, her nails raking across his back, causing him to growl and lift her off the desk. "I need more than a taste." He whispered huskily in her ear, desire dripping off every syllable and Seren nodded, moving her head around to catch his lips again in a bruising kiss that told him she wanted it too. Sam carried her over to the bed and dropped her down onto it, whilst he stood at the foot and divested himself of the rest of his clothes. Seren matched him, sliding out of what was left of her clothing just as fast, tossing it to the floor to watch Sam admire her for a moment before he crawled up over her, like a predator about to devour their prey. Seren lifted her hands up to touch Sam's chest, but he took her wrists in one hand and pinned them back over her head, making her back arch and breasts push up towards his face. Sam dipped down to envelope a pert nipple with his lips, sucking gently. It made Seren throw her head back as warmth shot down to her core, that ache she'd missed, building fervently as her need for this Sam to fuck her grew. "You can have me." She whispered as she lifted her head again, to see Sam's predatory smile widen. He threw his hat off, where it landed on the chair to the side and dove for her again, his mouth crashing with her lips, tongue delving into her mouth to entwine with hers, greedily drinking down her moans like his life depended on it.

[samuel-coe]

Bare Metal - Extended

It's a Starfield slash fic with a minor NPC! I also posted this on AO3 so check it out and give kudos there too if you like. I wanted this to be like 2k words but it's hard for me to cut things down and then fics take forever, so idk how many more I got in me 😩

Anyway this is an M rated fic that's female player character/Frank Renick from Neon and follows the Bare Metal questline, spoilers for that.

The Captain hadn’t expected much to stand out from each of the shops of Neon. They all seemed to be down on their luck establishments with needy shopkeepers, all asking for one thing or another from her.

It was growing late into the night now, her first day ever in Neon. She’d dragged Andreja along with her as well, not really wanting to get lectured by Sam or Sarah if she decided to do something slightly immoral. She’d already been clubbing at the Astral Lounge for a bit, had some drinks, some food. She even tried Aurora but found she’d hyped the whole thing up a bit too much, even spending 5000 credits on a member’s room at Euphorika to try it out in “peace”. Though the Aurora felt good for a few minutes, it wore off and then gave her a bit of a headache. Or maybe the headache was from the Chimera drink she’d also tried there.

The Captain was still up for more exploring afterwards though, and the shops mostly all seemed open. Not paying much attention to what she was walking into, the tall woman strutted right into Neon Tactical with her companion.

Her first thought when walking in was, oh, the shopkeeper’s cute.

He spoke in a gravelly voice. “If you’re here to buy, take a look around the shop. Just keep your hands where I can see them.”

Her next thought was, oh, the shopkeeper’s a bit of an ass.

This man was tall, in a grey tank top that showed off his muscular arms. He had dirty blond hair and short beard and one, piercing hazel eye. The other was covered with an eye patch.

“I don’t want any trouble,” said the Captain kindly with a small smile, she could tell he was on edge. Andreja, who was behind her, wandered to the side of the store to leave them to talk.

The man went on to explain his store’s current somewhat tumultuous situation in a gruff voice. He pointed out his robot companion, Styx, that runs the “complaints department.” The Captain deduced that dealing with complaints meant a load of bullets. The 8 foot robot did look fearsome, even covered in neon spraypaint. She thought it best to not disparage the robot and instead asked of Styx’s backstory, before then insisting she was there to browse and buy.

The shopkeeper seemed to exhale a bit at her interest in the robot, and she was glad she didn’t say something offensive about it. It was becoming clear the man was attached to the rainbow robot.

“...Look at the graffiti they sprayed on his chassis. If I could find the asshole that did that I’d make them pay for a paint removal.”

The Captain nodded along, knowing immediately she’d help him. She asked the man more questions about himself, found out his name was Frank Renick, he was a veteran that fought in the war and that’s how he lost his eye. He found Styx in storage and fixed him up, he talked to the robot like it could understand him, though the robot had limited response capabilities. The whole thing touched the Captain’s heart, she was deep down a big softy and empath, and she let Frank vent his whole story. Plus, she was still a bit buzzed.

“I could track down the person that defaced Styx, if you like,” she told him, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

Frank raised his brows and the gruff exterior faded, “You’d do that? Huh, okay. Maybe I misjudged you.”

The Captain smiled and rested her elbows on the counter, “I can’t allow an assault like that to go unpunished.” She was half joking, but she could also see how much this bothered Frank.

Frank agreed, saying that she could go “scare the crap out of this punk.” Frank already knew it was a Disciples gang member named “Warlord” that did this to Styx, and the the Disciples had it out for Frank and Styx ever since they tried to rob the shop a few years back. Styx shot at them, injuring some and even killing one of the members. It was a dangerous even now for Frank and Styx.

The Captain had heard rumbling about the Disciples gang and the Strikers gang, she’d heard the Disciples were the worse sort but so far she’d stayed out of both of their ways. That wasn’t going to last long though it seemed.

She asked one last question before she set out, trying to understand them even more. “So do people give you a hard time about Styx?”

Franks shook his head, “I know you’ll be surprised, but thanks to my sparkling personality, I don’t really have the easiest time making friends. Styx isn’t programmed to have casual conversation. So most the time I end up looking like I’m talking to a machine and I’m out of my mind.”

That was enough to melt her heart a bit. “Aw,” the Captain replied sympathetically. “Well, I’ll take a look around and then I’ll go track down Warlord.”

With that, she walked over to where Andreja was, with her arms folded with a raised brow. Moments later Frank could be heard talking to Styx about something and the robot errored out and asked him to rephrase. The Captain then went over to the colorful Styx as well and tried to talk to him about what happened, and had similar error filled results. Sighing, she and Andreja left the shop, with Frank talking at Styx and seeming agitated again.

“Well,��� said Andreja, “I suppose it’ll be nice to give that poor man some peace of mind.”

The Captain cupped her mouth with her hand, “Can I be honest? I’m so attracted to the broken puppy dog guys. That broke my heart.” Andreja raised her brows, definitely judging her. “I see. Well, he’ll certainly appreciate it if we help him out with this situation.”

The two had already been to Euphorika, out on the Ebbside of Neon. The first time they’d gone though, there weren’t any Disciples there. Now, there was.

A young man in a colorful full body suit and mask was talking to a similar looking person on the couch. The Captain walked up to them and the standing one, presumably Warlord, struck up a conversation. 

“You like art?”

 The Captain cocked her head, “Sure. I like art.”

She could hear the grin on his face behind the dark mask, “Then you should see the tag job on the robot at Neon Tactical! It’s my best work.”

The Captain frowned, this was definitely the guy. “Frank Renick wants retribution for what you did to Styx.”

Warlord snorted, “Hmpf. That cyclops should be thanking me! I dressed up his toy real nice, gave him a total makeover. He’s lucky that’s all I did after what that thing did to my crew.”

The starfarer’s chest squeezed at the cruel name he’d given Frank. She wanted some more answers, asking why he’d done it. Warlord in turn proudly admitted how he wanted to humiliate Frank and Styx as payback.

“...Now every time that cyclops opens his eye, he’s gonna see MY art on HIS buddy!”

The Captain gritted her teeth and asked one more question, asking if Styx really did kill members of the Disciples, which Warlord confirmed. 

“...Lost some good Disciples in that group. If anything, that freak should be paying me!”

Normally, the Captain kept a cool head, tried to talk her way out of unnecessary violence, but her cheeks were burning hot with anger. This punk asshole was a real menace to society.

“So you admit to the crime?” she growled, fingers itching.

Warlord seemed disinterested, but maybe under that a little nervous. “Yeah, I do. And I’ll make art out of your guts if you step out of line.”

She could persuade the thug, but in honesty she’d run out of patience. What use would be keeping this asshole alive anyway? It’d be better for everyone if he was just gone. “Give me the credits for the repairs. I’m taking them from you dead or alive.”

Warlord seemed shocked and then tensed, “Well, if that’s how you want it, we can get messy!” The Disciples reached for their guns, and the Captain pulled up her pistol fast, shooting 3 bullets into Warlord’s mask. Beside her, Andreja unloaded her rifle into the sitting Disciple, who only managed to shoot and miss two bullets before dying. Warlord’s blood sprayed on the Captain’s face and clothes before he collapsed, and she quickly knelt to pick up his ammo and getting out of Euphorika, which was now filled with panicked customers. She hoped that membership she’d gotten there earlier would still be good after this.

When they’d hurried back to Neon Tactical, Frank was there, telling an incredibly bad joke to Styx, who wasn’t understanding. Frank perked up at the sight of them coming through the door.

“Warlord isn’t going to bother you anymore,” the Captain said a matter of factly.

“Good work,” replied Frank, pleased. “I hope you made him squirm.”

The Captain inhaled. “He was actually pretty calm. I had to really try to get him to fight me.”

Frank’s smile turned to surprise. “Oh, you killed him?”

The Captain looked him in the eye and nodded. “Yes. He’s dead. He was a real menace and I didn’t want him causing any more trouble.” It was better that way and they both knew it. Frank thanked her for the credits and told her he planned on getting Styx fixed up and repainted. With a genuine smile he gave her some credits back for a job well done.

The woman hesitated before leaving, she knew the job was done, yet she wanted to spend more time with that lonely man. Other matters pressed her however, and with a wave and a nod they parted.

The next few days, the Captain and Andreja stayed on Neon. They’d solved murders, found stolen music slates, and joined Ryujin Industries to name a few things. She even seemed to transform the culture of the Ebbside by teaming up with the Strikers gang to take down the rest of the Disciples. It’d gotten bloody but was smoothed over with Security. All that and it was seeming like time to leave Neon soon.

However, every time she passed Neon Tactical, the Captain felt the need to go in. She held back though, not wanting to be overbearing to Frank, but realizing she was likely leaving Neon the next day, the starfarer went inside. She’d told Andreja to spend the evening doing her own thing.

“Hey!” How’s Styx holding up?” she asked cheerfully.

 Frank returned a wide smile, “He’s great! Had the paint cleaned up, some dings smoothed out of his chassis and even upgraded his firmware. All thanks to you.” He paused and looked sentimental. “Look, I know it’s ridiculous to be this excited about having that big old tin can around, but he’s still the only friend I got. Come to think of it, after you took the time to help me, I’d say I’ve made a new friend… and you’re welcome here anytime.”

So he was really a softy at heart, wasn’t he? The war, this city, things hadn’t been easy on Frank. The Captain had to admit, she was attracted to this man. She didn’t want to just leave it at this.

She cocked her head and spoke in a husky tone. “Friends, huh? Can I… be blunt?”

Frank’s brow furrowed, “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

The Captain leaned across the counter and tentatively ran her fingers across Frank’s forearm. “Do you possibly… want to get to know each other better? Because I would.” She had to be honest, she was extremely pent up. It’d been months since she’d gotten any action. She found her occasional companion, Sam Coe, pretty hot but the fact he was such a goody two shoes and had his twelve year old daughter with him all the time was a buzzkill.

Luckily, slowly, Frank’s brows raised. He got her drift.

“Oh! S-sure.” His cheeks were turning red.

“Okay,” the Captain continued, playing with the light hair on his forearm. “When do you close?”

Frank checked the clock, “10– er, but I mean I can close now, it’s cool.”

The Captain smiled, “That works. You have an apartment? All I have for now is a Sleep Crate, but I’m sure in a couple months I’ll be able to afford a high rise.”

Frank chuckled, “Oh really, a top floor loft? Yeah, I have a place.” He looked her up and down, perhaps just now taking her in. “I can lock up and we can go now.”

“Lead the way,” the Captain smirked, following him out.

“Keep the place safe, Styx!” Frank told his robot companion.

“Affirmative.” answered Styx, and the Captain was surprised it understood for once.

Frank’s place was right upstairs, a sparsely decorated but tidy place that was definitely bigger than her Sleep Crate. She almost felt bad she let Andeja have the night off but she still had to sleep in that cot.

“Sorry, it’s not the prettiest,” Frank apologized, sounding sheepish. “Do you want a drink?”

“Sure,” the starfarer answered. “Boxed wine is fine, or anything you have.”

Frank rustled around his cabinets, “Yeah, I have one of those.” He held a beer in the other hand, “I don’t drink much nowadays but now seems a good time.”

The Captain took the wine and cheers-ed him. “I agree.” She took a long sip and as did he. Taking a step closer to him she cocked her head. “So, I take it you don’t take ladies back to your place often.”

Frank took another long swig. “No. No, it’s been awhile. That’s for sure.”

The Captain ran a light finger through his beard. “You’re so handsome, though. That’s the first thing I noticed.”

Frank blushed. “Really? That’s sweet. You’re… very attractive as well.”

Taking that as a good cue, the Captain, slowly leaned in and Frank met her lips for a kiss. It felt good, two humans connecting like this. Soon they were kissing deeper, hands in each other’s hair, hands pulling at each other’s clothes. The Captain was down to her underwear, a trendy leather-like green garment set she’d picked up in Neon. Frank’s shirt was off, he had a nice physique though a little stomach pudge, and multiple scars scattered across his torso from the war.

The Captain ran her hands up his sides and Frank followed suit, grabbing her hips and then giving her ass a squeeze. She squeaked and grinned, glad that this was likely to be fun.

They backed into a wall of Frank’s apartment, the Captain pushing him against it while moving her hands down to open his fly. From what she could feel, he was already hard. With a little pull of the zipper he sprung free, and the starfarer leaned back to see what he was packing. Lucky for her, his dick seemed a good size and rather pretty looking too in her opinion. Wrapping a hand around his length she slowly began to stroke while staring him in the eye.

“Wait–” whispered Frank, and then he grunted. The Captain looked down and gasped as Frank came, his dick spurting a thick load of cum onto her bare, muscular thigh. “Fuck!” he grunted, gripping her shoulder hard and the other hand moving to his cock.

“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “Oh, you’re eager, huh?”

“Shit,” he swore, breathing hard. “Goddammit, sorry. It’s been a while.” 

“It’s fine, I swear!” The Captain insisted, taking a step back. “It’s been a while for me too. Let me just wipe this off and we could play around a little differently until you’re ready again.”

Poor Frank’s face was beet red. He slipped away from the wall, apologizing and getting her a paper towel to wipe her skin.

“I’m not upset,” she insisted, wiping off the jizz. “I still want to have sex,” she added bluntly. “Come on, let’s move to your bed.”

Frank's bed was neatly made with dark blue sheets. The Captain led him over to it and kissed the man again, her hands around his face half pulling him down with her on the bed. A calloused hand made its way to her breast, the action seemed ready to be restarted.

The Captain reached for the clasp of her fashionable bra and pulled it off, revealing her somewhat small chest. Frank’s hand went back to her breast and lightly squeezed the nipple, which she answered with a soft hum. The Captain wrapped her legs around Frank's back as they kissed, drawing him closer.

“Touch me,” she encouraged. She didn’t expect much from him but some pleasure on her side would be nice. As if he read her thoughts, the veteran shifted and moved a hand down between her muscular thighs, applying pressure to her crotch over her panties.

“Like this?” Frank asked in her ear in his low, gravelly voice.

She bit her lip and pushed against him. “Mmhmm.”

His hand slipped under her panties to her lower lips, finding their way around until his middle finger found a way inside. “How about like this?”

“Yeah,” the Captain gasped, loving the way his rough hand felt on her sensitive area, gripping his shoulder as his hand worked her in and out. As his beard scratched her cheeks though, she found herself wishing he’d put that head between her legs.

“You want more, don’t you, Captain?” Frank teased. “You’re a wild one.”

“Yes,” she breathed, her skin prickling where his cheek touched her.

His hand turned to more of a rubbing movement, “Would you mind if I used my mouth on you down there? It’s been a while but I liked doing that for beautiful ladies.”

The Captain chuckled, “Aren’t you polite? Who would have thought. Yes please, Mr. Renick.”

He lifted off of her on his hands and knees and moved down to her lower half, planting some kisses on her abs along the way. Carefully he pulled her panties down and off of her, and the Captain lifted her legs up and wide so Frank would have a good view.

She hoped she wouldn’t get his eyepatch dirty, and her chest was tight as the shopkeeper lower his face to her skin, his mouth kissing her folds slowly. His mouth moved methodically, as if looking for cues that what he was doing was working. The Captain responded in turn, guiding him in what felt good.

“Use your tongue like that yes, yes…”

Her eyes had been squeezed shut but she lifted her head to look at the man beneath her, his shaggy dark blonde head bobbing slightly as his mouth lapped at her clit.

Fuck, she thought, the pleasure growing. The Captain tried to relax and enjoy the sensations, the feeling of this connection with this man. His mouth suctioned around her and his tongue explored her up and down, his warm tongue feeling so good she was getting closer and closer.

“Like that, like that, I’m gonna…” she propped herself up on an elbow and moved her other hand to Frank’s hair, firmly keeping him there. Her heels dug into his back clamping him in, the orgasm was coming in quick and hard.

“Fuck! Ahh…” a wave of pleasure hit her and coursed through her body, the suction and the feeling of his tongue on her prolonged the feeling for seconds more. The woman squeezed her eyes shut and cried out. Even as the orgasm had come and gone, pleasure still coursed through her.

Finally she let the man go, and Frank lifted off of her, his beard damp from her juices. The Captain giggled and wiped a bit of it off with her wrist. Looking down between them, Frank’s manhood seemed to be ready for more.

“You look like you’re ready to go,” she pointed out with a glance of her eyes. 

Frank looked sheepish, “I mean, if it’s alright with you…”

She adjusted herself on her back, getting herself ready. “Of course. And I’m on FertiNix. I like it raw, so…”

FertiNix was the current most popular birth control, a yearly shot that even prevented against STI’s. She hadn’t gotten much use out of it lately, but she was glad her luck was turning around.

“Ah, okay.” 

Frank still seemed nervous, so she brought him back into kiss. Taking a hand down, she wrapped around his hard again length and guided him into her hole, then both gasping as he pushed himself inside. After that, Frank seemed to remember his bodily instincts, thrusting up into her first slowly and then getting into a stronger, more confident pace. His size squeezed her wider, it felt big especially after not doing this for a while. She let out a gasp and moan with nearly every thrust as he set the faster pace, her pussy was slick and still throbbing from cumming earlier.

“Fuck, yeah like that,” the starfarer figured he was a guy that would need a bit of encouragement. It wasn’t all for show, she was enjoying herself too. Frank got up on his hands and thrust into her missionary style, some sweat beading off his lightly haired skin. She stared at a little heart shaped burn mark on his chest, all his scars were so appealing to her, she just wanted to kiss them.

After a minute more of thrusting, she had the urge to move more. She was a strong woman who could handle her own, and she knew she could ride this guy into oblivion.

“Let me on top,” she purred.

“You want to go on top?” the poor guy seemed half out of breath, the front of his hair sticking to his forehead.

“Yes, sir.”

Frank smirked and grabbed her by the hips, rolling them over while keeping her firmly around his cock. The Captain giggled and then adjusted, sitting on top of him. “I like this seat,” she teased.

“I like this view,” Frank answered, giving her small tits a squeeze. She smiled back, putting her hands on his strong, yet soft stomach and using her thighs to move back and forth on his crotch, keeping him inside. Back and forth and round and round, his cock squeezed tight inside her and his big hands clutched her thighs, this is what she’d been missing. She wondered who she’d get to do this with next after this.

She began to bounce, the springs in the bed aid her as she plopped up and down on his length, the bounce of it causing her body to shake and their skin to make slapping sounds fill the room. This was extra fun she thought, and she liked the view, beneath her the handsome, one eyed man completely taken by her. This was better than the credits.

Frank’s chest was turning red, it didn’t seem he’d hold on for much longer but that was fine. “Cum for me big boy,” she purred, touching her clit at the same time. “Fill me with your cum this time.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, Frank’s muscles contracted and he grunted, his cock pulsing inside of her and ejaculating his second thick load inside of her. She gasped at the feeling, having a mini-orgasm herself as she put pressure on her clit. Sweat dripped down their bodies and melted into one.

They breathed heavily for some moments before the Captain found the strength to come on off of him. Frank’s sheets seemed a bit of a mess but the Captain didn’t mind getting dirty. She settled into a cuddle with the veteran, putting off cleaning until later as their sweaty bodies began to cool.

“I liked that,” she told him. “Thanks for the fun.” Frank chuckled, “No, thank you.”

“It was no problem. And I needed this.” She snuggled her head under his, into his neck and sighed, putting a hand to his chest and tracing over one of his scars. “I’m leaving Neon for a bit tomorrow. But I’ll be back. It’d be nice to see you again then.”

Frank put a hand around her and gave her strong tricep a squeeze. “Yeah! Yeah, when your travels take you back to this shithole, be sure to come see me. And Styx.”

She smirked. “And Styx.” She sighed. “Soon enough I’m gonna be known throughout this galaxy. I’ll be able to buy a penthouse apartment and my ship will be almost too big for the landing platform.”

Frank chuckled, “You know what? I believe it. Just remember you have a secretly soft, PTSD-suffering one eyed veteran who’s always willing to fuck, back here in Neon.”

“Oh, I will.”

[silurisanguine]

I'm grabbing No 7!! Seren was busying herself in the small kitchen of her home in Akila when Sam silently came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Resting his chin on her shoulder, his hair free from his hat, tickling her ear he looked down at what she was doing. "Can i help you with any of that?" Seren tilted her head as she wiped the last dish to look at his smiling face. She'd finally been able to make her grandpa's famous meatloaf dish after finding the missing ingredient and it had gone down so well, Cora was now fast asleep on the sofa, a blanket draped over her after eating two portions. Now she' was cleaning up after Sam had cleared the table. "Grab a tea towel and dry this." "This what domestic bliss feels like?" Sam said as he complied, wiping the suds off the plate Seren handed him. "Maybe...Two weeks into married life and we're already doing this. I can't complain." Seren turned in his arms after he'd placed the plate down with the others and draped her arms over Sam's shoulders. "But...I want to know something. Tell me how you fell in love with me." Sam softly laughed as he looked at her with amused confusion. "I literally told you that again...yesterday when we were alone in your cabin." Seren nuzzled Sam's cheek, her lips against his ear so that her voice would only be heard by him and not wake Cora up. "I don't care...I wanna hear it again. I love your voice and I love the way you tell the story." She felt Sam smile against her cheek, pulling back to plant a kiss on her lips before looking at her with gentle blue eyes. "As you wish. It was the day a certain miner walked through the doors of the Lodge and swept my heart into her hands. I didn't know it then how hooked I was, but I learnt fast."

List of established relationship prompts

Requested by: Anonymous Request: “heey! i love your prompts and i was wondering if you could write fluff/romantic prompts about a long lasting/established relationship” 

“So… Do you actually like me—” “We have been together for seven years. We’re getting married next year. What the hell do you think?”

“You… You learned to cook my favourite meal?” 

“You always know the exact temperature I like my baths at.” 

“It’s weird that you know me better than I know myself.”

“Life would suck complete testicles if it weren’t for you.” “Oh love, I really wish you weren’t always so vulgar when expressing your affections.”

“So… I heard from the grapevine that I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” “Stupid, you hear that from me every day.” 

“Tell me how you fell in love with me.” “…I literally told you that again yesterday—” “I don’t care, I wanna hear it again. Plus, I like hearing you speak.”

Picking up little quirks from each other over the years. 

“My love, why don’t you just use the whole closet instead of three quarters of it?” 

What’s Character A’s is also Character B’s, and vice versa. Sharing isn’t caring, sharing is the norm. 

[esorydoolb]

ugh .. hey. sometimes writing a thing can be uncomfortable, and I feel the same way about posting it. so, maybe I need to put my personal feelings aside for a bit.

I got a smutty fic for you. [ohhh nooo] well, I wanted to write it, otherwise I wouldn't have, right? it's an escapade from my main Starfield series, Rebirth, which apparently I don't have the capability to write at the moment. I seem to like writing short one shots much better, anyway.

So, Lyle enjoyers, rejoice, finally there's a sexy fic under his tag. it's a weird one though, sorry..

Estranged, like our touch [link to ao3]

Rating: Explicit Fandom: Starfield Pairing: Lyle Brewer/Starborn!Spacefarer Word count: 1,797

Summary: After witnessing them commiting a crime, Lyle lets out his pent-up frustration on an emotionally distant Starborn, whom he seems to be in a relationship with? An alternate universe scenario from the storyline of Rebirth, without the slow-burn and plot.

These very hands … they had killed innocents. Pulled the trigger even though they were normal people who didn’t know better … All because of some measly profit. Not even that. It had probably been a decision made on a whim, without fearing the consequences.

That’s precisely what makes them so dangerous.