#starfield fanfiction wip

[zermbie-dergon]

Snippet Sunday

I wasn't tagged but I saw quite a few people posting snippets and figured I would give it a shot.

This is from a rough draft I am writing. Sam and my female oc in the lodge after finding the first temple

Enjoy!

~

“What if there’s someone out there that finds out what we have? And they decide to take it for themselves by any means? Or the powers... what... what if I can’t control them? What if at some point I destroy something or hurt someone? Fuck, what if I kill one of you by-by mistake? I...I... Sam, I am so fucking scared.”   

Tears burned her eyes as she turned away from the flames to look at Sam. The concerned look on his face only made her eyes burn more.

Sam sighed. “Being scared means you’re human, this is... It’s hard to wrap your head around it. I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you. But you’re not alone in this, you know that right?”

Cady swiped at the tears starting to run down her face. “I know,” she sniffled. “My head is just a jumbled mess right now and I wish it would quiet down, even if it was only for two or three minutes. Just to give me a second to breathe.”

“Sounds like you need a distraction.” Sam said, his eyes moving about the room like he was looking for something.

Too exhausted to wonder what he was doing, Cady rested her head on her knees and closed her eyes. She felt Sam get up off the couch and for a moment she thought he had decided to leave her alone until she heard him fiddling with something to her right.

Before she could ask what he was up to, music began to fill the sitting area, a slow strumming guitar and a matching drumbeat. Cady opened her eyes and picked her head up to see Sam walking back towards her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Sam gave her a coy smile. “You said you wanted 2 to 3 minutes and that’s about the length of a song, isn't it?” 

“Yeah I suppose so.”

Cady heard Sam take a breath before he reached out and offered his hand to her. She glanced at the hand for a moment before making her way up to his face. A slight pink flush blossomed across his cheeks as he gave her a small smile.

“May I, uh, have this dance?”

[aro-pancake-writes]

What? Me? Two wips in a row?

Yup! The plot bunnies are breeding like... Well, bunnies! And the Creatikitty that hunts them is doing his job.

So, yay! \o/

Tag list? @eridanidreams @silent-moons-camp @silurisanguine @aislingdmdt @atonalginger

Back to Mars

Mars. Out of all the backwater dreadful places in the galaxy, this is the worst one. Hector spent almost ten years in the deep mines, and then some in Cydonia.

Not that the company wasn't great.

“Why are we here again?” Sam asks as they step out of the trade authority to go downstairs to the Sixth Circle.

“Hadrian needs someone who worked with her before. And he's here.” Hector says, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. “Hope this will be a straight forward job.” He comments, finally on the ground.

As they go around to enter the bar, a familiar voice is hard.

“As I live and breathe.” Hector looks to the source, finding Trevor heading his way, smiling at him. “Thought you said you'd never set foot on this rock again, pet.”

“Didn't really mean to.” He says, crossing his arms over his stomach.

When he left, Hector didn't say goodbye. He didn't want to be held back, to consider staying in Cydonia.

But nothing about Trevor's posture says he holds a grudge.

“So, what changed?” He asks Hector, stopping close to him, with a gentle smile and open arms.

“Some things… a lot, actually.” Hector starts, taking a shy step towards Trevor.

Only to be stopped by a loud cough behind him.

“Oh, right!” He takes a hasty step back, working on how to introduce them. “Sam, this is Trevor. We… worked together here on Mars.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Sam says, cold, before turning back to Hector. “I'll wait for you inside. Apparently you two got a lot to catch up on.”

With that, Sam is gone.

“What stick has he got up his arse?” Trevor asks, making Hector turn back to him. “Not yours, I hope.” There's a sly smile, a small glimmer of hope that things could work out again.

“Too far up my league.” Hector tries to laugh it off. Yet, he can't help but notice the curious glance from Trevor.

“Come on, pet.” He offers Hector his best smile, one he knew to always work. “If anyone's out of someone's league here it's you.”

“And here you go, dragging me back to your quarters…” Hector laughs, leaning closer to Trevor, who hugs him.

“Haven't lost my charms over you, have I, Pet?” Hector trembles as Trevor says the pet name, blood leaving his brain and going to other parts of his body.

His pants are tight, and they both know there's only one way of fixing this.

“Trevor, please…” Hector almost moans, peeling himself from Trevor's arms. “Not now. I'm here on business.”

“You look so pretty when you're all about business.” Trevor smiles, one last attempt at working his charms before turning back to return to work. “If you wanna, Pet, my quarters are still the same and you know what time I leave. Why don't you pay me a visit once you're done with your ‘business’?”

Giggling, Hector fixes his pants, ties his jacket around his waist and heads into the bar.

Lou wasn't of much help. Not with the Trade Authority on top of their mark. Only one small glimmer of hope, but it requires the deep mines.

Killing spacers is often a relief, but not if it means that people will be back to work in this hellhole.

Hector cusses all the way to the entrance, anger taking over as he mumbles to himself.

“So…” Sam's voice cuts off his latest string of curses. “Who was that?”

“I told you.” Hector says, turning his scanner on and off again to have something to do with his hands. “We worked together here on Mars. He was a friend, and then I left.”

“Just a friend?” Hector feels the ice shards on Sam's voice when he speaks, and confirms. “Because last I checked, friends don't call eachother ‘pet’.”

Hector turns back to Sam, seeing red. As much as the former miner found himself fond of the cowboy, that wasn't exactly a subtle question.

“Fine. We used to fuck, ok?” Hector says, a seductive smile playing on his lips. “We would go to his quarters after a long shift, where he'd toss me on his bed and fuck me until we were both too exhausted to move. That what you wanted to hear? Or would you like to do something similar with me?”

[therealgchu]

WIP Wednesday - To the Shore

i have been so obnoxiously busy with work that i've missed updating. but, fall should be quieter.

i finished the new chapter for To the Shore last night, just needs to be edited. but, it won't be going up till probably monday as i'll be at nan desu kan starting thursday afternoon.

so, here's a sneak peek of the upcoming chapter called "Family"

if you want to read To the Shore from the beginning, it lives over on ao3.

my other stuff on ao3.

who doesn't like puns?

Hwa got the joke for once and laughed, “I’m sorry, I’m not good at…” and she gestured with her hands spinning, “this. Conversation. Small talk. Whatever.”

“Nobody says we have to make small talk. We could make big talk. What do you want to talk about?” he asked warmly.

She laughed lightly at the joke all the while searching her head for a topic. Finally, she found her voice, “When did you come to Constellation?” she asked.

“Good question, and my favorite topic, me!” he laughed self-deprecatingly. “Ervin brought me in back, oh what was it, 2305, if I’m remembering right. We’d just gotten married and I had finished defending my doctoral thesis. You want to hear what it was?”

Hwa nodded, “Sure,” she answered and handed him another plate.

“‘Gravitational Waves’ Effects on Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle, or How I Stopped Worrying About Einstein and Learned to Love the Unified Theory,” he answered cheekily.

She turned to him gobsmacked, frozen in place with a dirty pan in her hands, dripping on the floor.

“Pretty catchy title, huh?” he asked waggling his eyebrows.

She opened and closed her mouth several times in an excellent imitation of a beached fish.

“Yeah, made quite the waves,” he chuckled, “see what I did there?” She finally found her voice and laughed at the pun. Barrett grinned broadly, “Sam said you liked good puns.”

“That was a bad pun,” she protested, shaking her head, but still laughing.

“Puns are the perfect manifestation of Schrodinger’s Cat,” he declared, “we never know how it will land.”

“Isn’t that more like the Uncertainty Principle?” Hwa asked.

“Nope. Schrodinger’s Cat says we can’t know, with precision, a pun’s quality, or if it will even land,” he rebutted.

“Whether a pun will land is an element of its quality, isn’t it?” she asked. “So, that makes the quality and if it will land redundant. The only question then is, is it good or bad, and only the intended audience can observe that. Ergo, Uncertainty Pun.”

Barrett peered at her closely, then guffawed, “It’s a good thing you weren’t on the committee for my thesis!” He clapped her on her back as she smiled smugly. “And here you said that you’re not good at conversation.”

Hwa blushed bright red at the compliment and stared at the floor. “Barrett, you trying to move in on my woman?” she heard Sam say coming up from behind her.

“Sam, my man! Wouldn’t dream of it,” Barrett exclaimed, but gave her a saucy wink that he knew Sam could see, which made her blush even more. “Just helping to finish the dishes,” he said and placed the last dish away. “Which, I might ask, where were you?”

Sam put his arm around Hwa and kissed her on her head, “Sarah wanted to discuss some things about Cora and what sort of things to teach her,” he answered.

“Hrmph. Seems a convenient excuse,” Barrett said, tossing the towel onto Sam’s arm. He grinned back at Hwa, “Come grab me anytime you want to talk physics. And, bring Cora. I have far better puns than Sam. Ask her,” he winked at Hwa again, then walked to the living area and sat down next to Sarah. Hwa stood stock still and as red as a cherry, not knowing what to do or say.

Sam leaned over and looked at her face, “Boo,” he whispered.

She jumped as if she hadn’t even known he was there. “What happened?” she asked, flummoxed.

He moved to face her, “I think Barrett was flirting with you,” he said, his voice sounding oddly tight.

“Why?” Hwa asked, confusion writ large over her entire face.

Sam sighed, “Why not?” he replied rhetorically. “It’s Barrett. Does it bother you? If it does, I can talk to him,” he offered in a slightly higher pitch.

“No, it doesn’t really bother me,” she answered, still dazed by the interaction. “I’m just not good at this. Not used to it,” she rushed to finish.

“I know,” he nodded and hugged her with one arm. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“You said I should try to get to know everyone better. I suppose this is part of it, right? she asked.

Again, Sam sighed, his arm getting a tad tighter, “Yes, that it is.”

[fangbangerghoul]

W I P W E D N E S D A Y S

Hello one and all and welcome to my wip wednesday post.

I've been jumping back and forth between a few wips but the one I am sharing below has been calling to me more than the others recently.

(gif credit to @bearlytolerant)

I saw a character authority post the other day and it inspired me to make sure the word was out for Delgado lovers. I have my own Delgado Masterpost that will have more added to it soon.

tagging for wip wed and adding fic recs:

the grandfather of Delgado content:

@spookyspecterino ao3 Check out the fic that inspired Fleeting Pleasures and my unending obsession for the Pirate King: New You also 100% suggested Pieces of Me, Locked Away

the muse of Delgado content:

@bearlytolerant ao3 Not only does she take the best screenshots but she has an amazing series called Split Skin. Not only does it has delicious Delgado content but that was where my favorite OC of hers Valentine Blanche was born.

Even more Delgado enjoyers/writers:

@staticpallour - ao3 Renegade Hearts (on hiatus but worth the read): Starborn choosing a different path with Delgado (she also writes incredible OCxHadrian fic) @toxiclizardwrites - ao3 Love and Rage : Based on the UC SYSDEF quest with a bit of drama (lots of del content on their Ao3) @atonalginger - ao3 The Ranger and the Deputy : Delgado in an AU, "dirty cop" vibes (if long format is for you, they got it)

“Fuck you.” She hissed as she faced him, she noticed how he was leaning in to steal her lips. For her amusement she slipped from him with the smoothness of a cat and continued into the open doorway. She heard him curse under his breath at her impulsiveness before she was 3 steps ahead. His irritation fueled her in a special way. There was something about it that was addictive. Ghoul steps were soft and barely made a patter as she slinked into the room. The occupants had yet to notice her presence even as they talked amongst themselves aware of enemies on their ship and the fact their ship was in disrepair.

Ghoul decided to use the surprise to her advantage before Delgado ruined it. She braced herself before using her left foot to launch herself from a seat and into the air. Her body vulnerable, flying towards the enemy. She landed on the closest of the four and chaos ensued. There were sounds of shots being fired, grunts, shouts, and weak threats as she swung the body over her as she hit the floor with them. The man above her was heavier than she anticipated but she did not let that stop her from using them as a human shield. One of her hands freed and unsheathed a blade to slit his throat before she threw it at the man that was furthest from her. There was a rip at her green tasseled hair as all four were focused on her. Once it seemed they stopped firing shots she used her legs to propel the dying body off from her and sending it away to trip up whoever was in its path.

Ghoul’s side burned and her thigh felt a shatter of pain as one of the men managed a few blows. She elicited a growl and as she pushed herself up the one who ripped at her hair had his arm around her throat before she stood. The constriction around her throat made her insides burn with fury and lack of oxygen. Her hands grabbed for the man’s arm that was around her throat and with precise movement she used his weight to flip him forward. The strain in her own arms stinging silently. He groaned and before the other could come after her again there was a loud bang and the man slunk to the ground, dead. Delgado was now in the room firing shots at those who still moved. Ghoul had successfully distracted them, so they did not expect the Crimson Fleet leader to appear with vengeance.

Everyone was subdued within minutes and even though she was still on the ground her breathing was heavy, feeling the weight of the lack of oxygen on the ship. Ghoul’s head felt light and dizzy, and it took her longer than she cared to realign herself. During this small moment her eyes were closed and once they opened a gloved hand was reaching out towards her. Her eyes stared at the hand and then up into the pirate’s syrup eyes before deciding to give in to his offer. She gripped it with might and as he lifted her up, she felt the tenderness in the pressure he returned. Though they had successfully taken out the last of the passengers, Delgado’s nostrils were flaring.

Last night this chapter was published! Feel free to check out the rest the series on Ao3! Heavy Metal Lover. Chapter 1: Metal Coffin WC: 2762 Ghoul and Delgado are back! Ghoul is stealthy, aggressive, indulgent, and stubborn as hell. Delgado is rough, creative, intimidating, and a manipulative Crimson Fleet leader. These chapters will be windows into Ghoul's Crimson Fleet life if the ending of Fleeting Pleasures never happened.

[atonalginger]

WIP Wednesday

It is Wednesday and that means a sneak peek of a WIP is in order. I've got a lot of ideas backed up in my head, so what I've got is smaller and rough. Self doubts and all that have been playing merry hell on my ability to consistently sit down and write. I know that might seem odd, considering I've uploaded a handful of oneshots very recently, but I've been sitting on those for a while and just finally decided to offload them.

But we continue on and do our best because that's all anyone can ask for, right?

I'd like to tag @a-cosmic-elf @eridanidreams @staticpallour @aro-pancake and @lisa-and-shadow and anyone else who has something to share. No pressure to post, as always💖

My WIP this week is from the coming Rise of Libertatia series I've been kicking around for a while now. Yes, it's finally happening. Slowly and surely.

--

Things were a mess. One would think someone like Delgado would be used to things falling to shit when he least wanted it to and yet there he was, pacing the floor of his office searching for a solution to the dead man in the middle of his front yard.

The farmhouse was supposed to be a quiet refuge for their growing family. A place for Sophie to play and Bella to raise her fancy chickens with their extravagant crests and dramatic plumage. Where the headaches and drama of stabilizing a criminal enterprise wouldn’t reach. A place where there definitely shouldn't be any dead men face down in the grass.

He just wanted a few months of peace. Bella had been on doctor ordered bed rest and it was everything Rokov and he could do to convince her to relax. Shinya and Jazz were the temporarily in charge of their still unnamed crew, under orders to only come to him if things took a complete nosedive. When Bella went into labor two nights before he even locked the property down to all but a very short list of guests and it was to remain that way until their family had fully adjusted to their newest member. Yet now that damn goon from Neon rested on the grass, feeding the dry soil his worthless blood.

The good news, if one squinted really hard at it, was that Fox witnessed the shooting and, as a ranger, could theoretically clear Delgado and Rokov as neither of them were the gunmen. The bad news was the dead man was Rodney Jenkins, one of Bayu’s personal guard, sent to the farmhouse by Bayu. Shot in the back of the head by another Bayu’s personal guard, Curtis Crawford. Why Curtis felt he needed to wait until they were on Delgado’s property, they still didn’t know. But the ranger was getting to the bottom of it with his deputy in the barn while Delgado and Rokov were forced to wait inside.

[eridanidreams]

WIP Wednesday

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

I'm late to the party tonight, so enjoy!

from stars through my fingers like grains of sand

Lillian agreed, then took a deep breath. "But Sam, I need something. I need to see my daughter more. These messages, they're just a tease."

"And she misses you," Sam countered, before Cait could draw breath to speak herself. "But, Lillian, the last three times we planned something, you bailed twice. Twice." His jaw set, his eyes burned the hot blue of stars, and his anger fueled the embers of her own. Before it could go out of control again (she'd wanted to—what? the memory had gone up in smoke), she leashed it, channeled it into words.

"Cora knows you're not really invested in her, Lillian," Cait said, choosing every word with exquisite care. "She certainly knows that you put being a Ranger over spending time with her. And pretty soon now, she's going to figure out that you aren't actually interested in your reading club. Right now, she just thinks you're a slow reader."

Lillian flushed. "How dare you say that?"

Cait felt a slow, angry smile cross her face. "Life is a storm, my young friend. You will bask in the sunlight one moment, be shattered on the rocks the next. What makes you a man is what you do when that storm comes. You must look into that storm and shout as you did in Rome: Do your worst, for I will do mine! Then the fates will know you as we know you." Lillian still looked confused. "That's only one of the most famous quotes from the book you're supposed to be reading right now."

"Do you have any idea the looks I get when I'm reading Dumas around the other Rangers?" Lillian demanded.

"If you really cared about Cora," Cait said softly, "it wouldn't matter."

"For crying out loud, Lillian," Sam added, "where do you think the whole 'Rangers always have each other's back' thing comes from?" Lillian looked at him in complete astonishment. "I'm not the reader Cora or Cait is—" His anger was dissipating, replaced with a sort of grim amusement that damped Cait's anger like a fire extinguisher "—but I'm not immune to a rousing adventure. Like, oh, The Three Musketeers." He let that hang in the air.

"All for one, and one for all," Cait murmured.

"And books aside, what this all boils down to," Sam said, "is that every time you bail out on Cora, it destroys her. And I'm the one left to pick up the pieces." Now that her own anger was more-or-less quenched, Cait could clearly sense the memory of Sam's devastation as it shivered coldly through him.

"Be honest with yourself, Lillian," Cait commanded. "Do you really think you can put Cora first? Every time? Because if you can't, then you need to stop pretending that you can."

Lillian winced, shaken to the core by Cait's brutal honesty, as Sam added, "Whatever you've got going on with Cora right now, I won't stand in the way of that. But we're not going to make plans again if you can't be sure you're going to make them. Even if there's an emergency."

Lillian sighed. "It's so often a matter of life and death, you know that—" There are other Rangers, Cait thought, but did not say. Lillian needed to make this decision herself. "—but you're right. Maybe—maybe when she's older." When she's older, Cait knew, would never happen; Lillian had just driven a stake through the heart of any hope of a closer relationship with Cora. Unless she changed drastically, and soon, this was the most she would ever have. Cait couldn't find it in herself to be sorry—at least, not for Lillian. Silently, she vowed to do everything she could to make the inevitable easier on Cora.

Sam nodded solemnly; Cait wondered if he'd heard the same thing she had. "Okay. Friends, right?"

Lillian set herself, and underneath all the turmoil, the anger, the resentment, Cait thought she heard a faint note of relief. "Friends." She gave a soft, rueful laugh. "You and me—we were over before we ever began." Cait hadn't expected the turn of conversation, and now she did feel like she was intruding. She took a half-step back, intending to make a discreet exit, but the ice cracking beneath her foot betrayed her. Lillian offered her a soft half-smile, but her emotions had sharpened into something almost—speculative. "No need," she said. "Sam and I—we didn't really choose each other, we just sort of—fell into it. I admire him, and he's one of the few people in the Systems that can make me laugh… but he's right. What we had, was never love. Not then, and not now."

"Truth," Sam agreed.

"All right," Cait said, feeling like the ground itself was shaking underneath her. She was teetering on the edge of emotional overload, and she knew it. "Do you think you two can go on from here? Is there anything else you need to address?"

Sam shook his head in silence. "No," Lillian met her gaze without flinching; after a moment, a half-smile curved her lips. "Sam's found himself one hell of an advocate."

Cait shook her head. "Sam didn't need me to support him—he did just fine." Sam's surprised appreciation curled up through her, adding itself to the storm already raging inside of her. "He needed it for Cora." She breathed deeply of the cold air, trying to use the shock to steady her for just a few moments more. "I'll go take a walk while the two of you finish up whatever you need to. Lillian, I presume we're dropping you back at Neon?"

"No need," Lillian said. "I've arranged for pickup. But I will make sure to say goodbye to Cora before you lift off." She gave Cait a long, considering look. "And thank you. You've given both of us a real gift. Not a comfortable gift, but…" she let out a sigh. "Honesty is the best way to go... however painful. As if I didn't owe you already."

"I'm not one to keep score," Cait said. "But I'm glad I could help. If you'll excuse me…" She nodded to them both, then walked away quickly before either of them could draw her back in.

[thatsgoodsquishy0]

I haven't done one of these in a while. With the flood and various fuckery going on, there's really been no time for Tumblr. I mean, no proper time. No sit down, blog, and write time. But here, I suppose there is. I was asked to share if I had something, so here is something I'm re-working on since my hiatus. A snippet from Chapter 3 of my Young! Ranger Sam Coe x Reader fic --- soon to be renamed.

summary: just a father and son catching up + Sam remembering his momma

tagging: anybody who sees this and hasn't participated yet (since I've seen most already)

Sam pushed the door open, leading with his palm against the wood as he welcomed himself inside. Six years. Nothing new. Dust swirled in the dim-light of the living room. Photographs of happier times sat on shelves caked in thin layers of grime. His mother’s vine plants -- Baby Tears --- cascaded down like spotted green waterfalls from the ceiling into the walls of the dining area.

The trance of memory overwhelmed him. His breathing slowed. 

His mother stepped out of the house and his father busied himself in his office, leaving Sam practically home alone. He was about as tall as the counter tops in the kitchen and he liked to grab anything he could, just because he could. Little rebel. He'd grabbed some rocks off a book stand. Played pretend on the floor of his bedroom, when a voice echoed faintly, like the call of a ghost. Sam paid no mind. The voice boomed louder than before.

Sam. Sammy!

His heart leapt. He knew that voice. It traveled from the deck into his room, into his ears, once more. Abandoning his geo-rocks right then and there, he rushed to her. Curiosity and eagerness carried his little legs across the living room as he tumbled outside. The sunlight blinded him immediately, but painted his mother in a golden shadow. Her hand was smooth and warm, like beach sand, as she gently took his own and shared her pride, pointing to the potted plants. He remembers peering up at her. His little eyes wide in awe as she spoke their names. He could hear her now. How the words rolled off perfectly, as if she'd practiced over and over on her way home. Pilea Depressa, she told him. Otherwise known as, Baby Tears, from Old Earth.

As far as Sam was concerned, the planet and the Coe Estate were one in the same. Both lived with color. With life. Once.

Black coffee and eggs permeated his nostrils. Some routines never died. Sam’s nose scrunched as he shut the door.

“Hello?” His voice rang out.

A figure dressed in official’s wear emerged from the kitchen holding a bowl of yellow bits. The man’s eyes were wide, as if he’d been up for hours, expectant. “Sam Coe,” He paused. A sudden chill whipped through the room. “You didn’t knock?”

“I did. No answer.” He traversed towards the table without so much as a glance to the other and settled Cora into her high chair. From out of the corner of his eye, Jacob loomed. Weren’t his eggs getting cold just standing there? 

“Keeping your boots on?”

Sam bobbed his head, sternly. “Can’t stay long,” he added, “They’re clean. I ain’t gonna mud up your floors.”

“Rangers more important than having breakfast with your family, huh? Don’t gotta tell me twice.” Jacob disappeared into the kitchen. leaving Sam in an air that was clogged and stuffy. He felt as though he were on the cusp of a cold.  

God damn. It was too early.

[toxiclizardwrites]

WIP Wednesday

I'm finally finding the time to wrap up Chapter 10 of Love and Rage. It's not quite done yet, but here is an excerpt: ---------------

Jazz paced the ship depot, her arms folded across her chest. Naeva was on her way, and she had run out of excuses as to why the Comspike wasn't ready yet. It was easy enough to dismantle from the prototype ship to transfer to Delgado’s, but building a new one from scratch was a completely different story. She bit her lower lip in frustration and stared at the blueprints that lay scattered on her desk. It would take at least another week to get the design right, and then another to find the right parts to create another Comspike. Some of the tech needed was difficult to get and expensive, and the Fleet’s finances were already in the red. Naeva would not be happy. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the familiar sound of boots on metal as Naeva made her way down the hallway to the ship depot. Jazz took a breath as Naeva’s face came into view. These days, she didn't look like the Naeva that Jazz knew. Her eyes didn't have that cocky look anymore. Instead, they burned with hatred and a constant hunger for revenge. Jazz felt like she had to walk on eggshells around the woman that was once the love of her life, the woman who held her and laughed with her. Tears started welling up in Jazz’s eyes as she longed for the past, but she quickly blinked them away as Naeva approached.

“You know why I'm here angel”

The nickname would have once caused an involuntary smile to form on the ship technician’s lips, but now it sent an uneasy shiver down her spine. Jazz briefly wondered if she would ever feel that smile form again. 

“the design is finalized, but we need specialized parts. Once we get those, I estimate it will take about a week to build and install,” she said, walking over to the blueprints and running her hands over them like they had some secret that would save her from this conversation. 

Naeva scoffed and came up behind her, leaning forward so her mouth was near Jazz’s ear. “See the interesting thing is,” she started, the words causing every hair on Jazz’s neck to stand up, “we shouldn't need parts when the prototype ship had a working Comspike on it.” 

She clicked her tongue and rose to a standing position. “So I think, and by all means, angel, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think you're lying to me.” 

Jazz turned from the desk and opened her mouth to speak, but Naeva held a finger to her lips. “Don't. Don't fucking tell me.” She pushed her finger off of Jazz’s mouth and pulled out her dagger, flipping it around in her fingers. Jazz backed away, but the dagger was at her throat before she knew what happened. 

“To think,” Naeva said, her mouth inches away from Jazz’s face, “my love, my angel, would do such a thing,” her eyes shifted to meet Jazz’s gaze, the dagger still present and threatening at her throat. “Help a weakling. Help a traitor.” She emphasized the last word like it made her sick to utter. 

Tears rolled down Jazz’s face but anger welled up in her eyes. “He's my captain,” she said softly. “He saved me, took me in when I had nowhere to go…” Naeva growled and in some swift motion, pulled the dagger back and threw it forward so hard that it grazed Jazz’s face, leaving a line of Crimson behind, and with a thunk, stuck in the wall behind her. 

“Oh he saved me” she mocked, “well what about me? I loved you, I gave you everything.”

Jazz tried her best to stifle her sobs as anger and sadness took over. “Naeva, you're not yourself. Just stop,” she begged, trying to reach forward to touch her girlfriend. “You were loyal to Delgado. To the Fleet. It isn't too late.” 

Naeva took two steps forward and looked down at Jazz, their noses almost touching. “I'm going to find him and kill him.” She said with vitriol. “And since you won't help me, it looks like I have no choice but to get you out of the way.” 

A small nod and four hands were on Jazz’s shoulders and hips. “What are you doing?” 

Naeva didn't say a word as the pirates pushed Jazz forward and told her to walk. 

“You're going to the brigg.” Naeva said simply. “While you're there, you can think about who you're loyal to.” 

Jazz didn't bother to struggle as she was led out of the ship depot. “Naeva,” she whispered through tears, but she didn't respond.

[littlelostmabari]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

I spent my whole weekend writing One of the Good Ones and planning out some one shots. Then I got tired and didn't post the WIP snippets

"One of the Good Ones"

(DA2/DAI : Cullen x OC : in progress) Check out the story on AO3! (Rating: M)

This chapter is going to be a little messed up, sorry in advance. You'll want to mind the tags when it's posted.

The chamber where phylacteries were made lay just outside the wards of the vault — wards that only a select few Templars and the First Enchanter knew how to deactivate. It was one of the most heavily guarded areas in the Circle, a thought that only crossed his mind as he realized he was letting a wanted apostate get close enough to the vault to see its secrets. Flashes of a soft smile, a head of wavy blonde hair worn down across her shoulders because he told her once that it looked nice that way. A melody of a laugh at a passing joke. Then a wail as sword met flesh and iron and stone and the last time he let a mage this close to him, this close to a phylactery vault she and Jowan had used blood magic to — He cursed under his breath and stopped Orsino and Antsa before they could round the corner. It took some convincing, and some promises that she would get everything back in just a few minutes, but he relieved Antsa of both her ragdoll and the pocket around her waist before he fell back and allowed Orsino to lead the child towards the chambers. This needed to be over. He needed the Witch out of the Circle. He needed his afternoon ration of lyrium. He needed everything to go back to normal.

Currently Unnamed Starfield Smutty One-shot

(Starfield : Sam x f!Reader) (Rating: E / 18+)

It's date night in Neon.

A pair of eyes, watching. You could always sense his gaze, as if he had called your name loud enough to cut through the music. He was there, at your two o’clock, in the shade of a small booth. A glance confirmed. One hand swirled a whiskey, neat, while the other stretched lazily over the back of the booth, his legs crossed and steady against the vibrations of the music. The brim of his cowboy hat was pulled low, which was good. Meeting his eyes at a time like this inevitably turned you into a puddle — because you knew what you'd find there.  A deep, all-consuming hunger. And you were, as always, the prey. The whiskey glass raises to his lips with a smirk and a nod. The game begins. 

[notyourramona]

When I try to write in Sam's perspective its always with like Nine inch nails, Soundgarden, and that alt/grunge time period of rock. Some light dad rock is sometimes included like Nickleback and maybe a little Van Halen.

I just feel like that 'seduction of sadness' grunge/rock music mirrors well with his inner thoughts.

[aro-pancake-writes]

WIP Wednesday! \o/

And I finally have something to post! Bonus, my new OC!

He's my baby boy, Hector. Yes, like the prince of Troy, because I still have Epic playing on loop in my head.

Anywho, enjoy me breaking my character like a glow stick!

Night was falling as Hector noticed the storm approaching. The Frontier too far to reach right now, so he opened his scanner to look for shelter. And luck was on his side today.

“Got something?” Sam asks, making him startle.

“Yeah. A cave, not far from here.” He says, making his way there. A short comm to warn the Frontier that they found shelter and would wait out the storm, and they're inside.

It's as cold as outside, but at least they're protected from the wind here.

Hector pulls out the sleeping bag and heater from his bag, setting up a makeshift camp.

“Hey, can I bend your ear for a moment?” Sam says, making Hector look up curious and hopeful.

“Sure.” He says, bringing his hands closer to the heater.

“There's something I gotta tell you, about my past.” Hector's hope deflates. “I… uhm… had a really dark spot in my youth.”

“I know.” Hector finally says something. When will they be this alone again?

“No, I mean, it's not like ‘we all did things we regret’ issue. It's-” Sam tries to articulate and explain himself. The new member of Constellation being a riddle wrapped in a mystery to him. “My father set me up with a job and-”

“I know, Sam.” Hector tries again, this time stronger. “I was there. I was born in Neon. Spent most of my life there.”

“But I'm not-” Hector gets up, pacing around the cave.

“You don't remember me, do you?” He says, squaring up to Sam. Upon seeing the confusion in the blue eyes, he chuckles. “Of course not. How could you?”

“What do you mean, Hector?” Sam looks back at Hector's red eyes, a proof of his time on Mars, hoping to find anything. Only to find heartbreak and tears.

“I was nineteen years old back then. Black hair, no tattoos, no beard, and my eyes were green.” He pulls the emerald Sam gave him the other day from his pocket. “You showed me how to enjoy my life, what it felt like to be loved and cared for. And what true heartbreak feels like.”

Sam scours his mind, the deep dark corners of his memory, only to find a spot of light. It was warm, and safe.

“How could I have broken your heart?” He asks, watching as the bigger man falls to the ground in a boneless heap.

“You promised me you'd take me away from that place. That I'd never have to go back unless I wanted to.” His once booming voice now a barely audible whisper. “You said you just had to finish that trip, and then you'd come back to get me, that you'd show me the stars. And I was foolish enough to believe you'd keep that promise, to actually wait, and hope that you'd come back for me.” Hector cleans up his tears on the sleeve of his coat, trying to find anything to distract himself. It's been fifteen years. It shouldn't hurt like this anymore, but it did.

Sam can't bring himself to say anything. Hector had seemed almost unbreakable when they first met. An unyielding tank, strong enough to protect those he cared for. And to now see such man so small and crying on the floor of a random cave…

Sam wanted to run. To find somewhere empty enough he could scream at his younger self.

He made a promise, one that he couldn't keep. There's a small voice on the back of his head, one that he knows too well: Lillian.

You don't need anyone else right now, she said, I'm right here with you, Sam. You don't need to go back to Neon. There's nothing left for you there.

The memory, being in stupor of going cold turkey, the feverish dreams, the tight hand on his…

Only to be replaced by laughs shared in bed, the neon lights coming in from the window of the room, a heavy warm body pressed against his as they rest. There's movement, and he's faced with emerald green eyes and black hair. On his lips, a genuine smile, followed by the scars on his cheeks.

It couldn't be Hector. He's… different. Broken. With turquoise hair and red eyes. And he doesn't have the forced smile scars.

Hector feels a warm hand place a blanket over his shoulders, and dares to look up to find Sam sitting down next to him.

“I didn't want to remember that time.” He finally said, removing his hat. “But there's one other thing I got to know.”

Hector cleans up his final tears. He knows what's coming. The one thing he clearly had as his own defining feature back then.

“I have a beard to hide the scars.” He mumbles, bringing his face closer to the light so he could show Sam the still present smile on his cheeks, before forcefully getting up. “Look, Sam, it's been a long time, ok? I don't want to force you into anything you're uncomfortable with. I don't even know why I'm still broken about this.”

“Hector, I'm-” Sam stutters. Maybe looking to apologize or make up excuses, but he can't go on.

“It's late, and I'm tired. Can we please just go to sleep for now?” Before waiting for an answer, Hector toes off his boots, removes his coat, and lays down on his sleeping bag.

Sam watches him attentively. The way the shirt latched on to Hector's skin, showcasing his strength and power, made Sam's stomach fall.

He wanted to be caught in those arms, yes, but at the same time, he could have had it for years now, if only he kept his promise.

Following in on Hector's example, Sam also goes to bed, finding himself unable to sleep properly. His dreams are haunted with emerald green turning to bright red.

Sam wakes up, guilt eating him up inside as the cold settles on his bones. The light of the heater gone almost out in their sleep.

Across from him, he can hear a sniffle.

“You ok?” Sam asks, hoping to get Hector to turn.

“Peachy.” Hector hisses, curling up in himself. “Just cold.”

Not really thinking, Sam gets up, moving to Hector's sleeping bag.

“Let me in with you.” He says, and Hector finally turns to him. “We can keep eachother warm, ok? Now move, I'm freezing my ass out here.”

Processing, Hector tries to occupy as little room as possible, watching as Sam dexterously enters the sleeping bag with him.

He never thought they'd be this close again, sharing the same air as Sam curls himself against his chest. Unsure, Hector wraps his arms around Sam's waist, pulling him closer.

“How long did you wait?” Sam finally asks.

“Three years, four months and seventeen days.” Hector says, eyes lost in the emptiness behind Sam. “Not like I was counting, you know.” He shrugs it off, like he wasn't a mess about it minutes ago. “But I got out on a contract to mine on Mars. Apparently, my size made me a good choice.” And that explains the red eyes.

“I'm sorry I don't remember you.” Sam whispers, enjoying the oddly familiar warmth and comfort.

“I shouldn't expect you to.” Hector's grip on Sam loosens. “It's been too long. You got married and had a kid since. Not like a fling while high would be of importance to you in the long scheme.”

“It wasn't just a fling, thought. Was it?” Sam pokes the bear, leaning closer and almost brushing his lips to Hector's. “You wouldn't react like that if it was.”

“I was a kid, Sam.” Hector tries to pull away, but is caught in the edge of the sleeping bag, tapping him in place. “Anything is way bigger in a kids head.”

“I'm only a year older than you.” Sam clocks an eyebrow, getting closer to Hector. “And a fling wouldn't hurt so much this long after it.”

Trapped, he does the only thing he can. Use of his size and strength to turn the tables.

“Maybe,” he says, taking Sam's wrist in his hand, “it was the broken promise that hurt.” Hector turns, pinning Sam under him with his weight. “Or the fact that when you didn't come back for me, I spent all my free time waiting for you, wondering if you had said it as pillow talk or I wasn't worth the effort. Can you imagine what it felt like, Sam? To believe you're stuck in your personal hell because you're not good enough to be saved?”

“Yes. I know.” Sam finally spits back, fighting against the hands restraining him. “That's why I allowed myself to fall in Neon. And then I was proven wrong! That's why I never went back!”

That's enough for Hector, feeling as all he had left of his heart breaking. He lets go of Sam's arms, turning his back to the man next to him.

“Good to know it's just me.” He says, cutting off the subject.

He can hear Sam mumbling, before wrapping his hands on Hector's waist.

“I wish I remembered you back then.” He hears, feeling the light caress where his shirt escapes his pants. “I wish I wasn't so high that I could forget about you. But there's nothing we can do about the past, so maybe, we can try the future?”

[therealgchu]

WIP Wednesday - Valentines Style

i'm not a fan of valentines. i'm not a fan of holidays, in general. but, i thought something fluffy and waffy might be nice for WIP wednesday. the coemancer crew did an art dump for valentines (sorry for not being involved, but i have almost no free time. this has been a hell month for me at work), but i'll tag them anyway @silurisanguine, @fangbangerghoul, @eridanidreams, @staticpallour, @bearlytolerant, @a-cosmic-elf, @aro-pancake, @atonalginger, @samcoesclub, and anyone else i'm forgetting.

i'm planning on publishing the next chapter on friday. it's written, but needs editing.

so, a fluffy little piece. i'm not sure if this will be part of the next chapter, or as a stand-alone vignette.

if you want to read from the beginning on ao3.

Valentines fluffy sneak peek

Hwa felt like she was on a cloud, and was grinning from ear to ear like a maniac. As she and Sam walked back to the Razorleaf, she kept looking up at him and found him looking down at her, with the same grin. “I have never really walked much around Akila. Can you play tour guide for me?” she asked.

Sam smiled, “We’ve got time. Sure.” He grabbed her hand and started leading her around, pointing out his favorite places, where he got in trouble for spray painting a wall, where he had his first kiss. She honestly was only paying half attention to him. What was really occupying her mind was him holding her hand. While they’d held each other’s hands many times before, it was always when they were alone together. She had never in her entire life held someone’s hand in public. Public displays of affection were utterly alien to her, and even something as innocent as holding hands was making her feel a bit dizzy. She felt like she was vibrating and wondered if Sam could feel it through her hand.

Hwa realized he must have, as he paused when they rounded a corner in Midtown. He peered down at her, “Are you OK?” he asked. They had stopped right next to a stairwell that was shaded from the sun. Sam pulled her into the shadows away from the pedestrian traffic.

She tried to speak, but ended up emitting a high pitched squeak instead.

“What was that?” he asked, wide eyed and laughing. “I didn’t think I caught that!”

Hwa laughed, covering her mouth and turning bright red. She tried again, “Umm…this will sound weird, but…I have never held hands with anyone in public before,” she said in an unusually high, whispery voice.

“Seriously?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes. I mean, I’ve never really been in a romantic relationship before,” she stuttered out. “Not a lot of romance going on in organized crime, frankly. At least, not for me.” She tried to affect an airy, casual voice. It came out sounding slightly hysterical instead.

“Heh, I feel like I”ve been lied to by movies and vids,” he mused. “You’ve really never been romantically involved with…anyone?”

“I told you, all relationships were transactional. I mean, sex is just sex. It has nothing to do with emotions.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s necessarily true, but I can see what you mean,” he interrupted. “So, when we’ve had sex…”

Hwa shook her head, “That was different already!” she said a bit frantically. “I was already in love with you, but I didn’t know how you felt. I mean, the attraction was there, but…”

Sam nodded, “sex is sex.”

“Yes.”

“Ok, so what is it about holding hands that has you…well, you’re kinda physically buzzing. I can feel it in your hands.”

“This feels,” and she held up his hand in hers, “this feels really, really intimate.”

“But, sex doesn’t?”

“Sex is a physical need. Biological imperative, and all. It has nothing to do with intimacy.”

Sam shook his head baffled, “I don’t know if I agree with that, but I can see what you’re saying. How is holding hands more intimate than sex?”

Hwa sighed, seeing she wasn’t making much sense to him. Frankly, it didn’t make a lot of sense to her, either. But, he asked, and she could only respond honestly. “Because holding hands isn’t necessary. It’s a choice. And, it’s a…a public choice. It’s like saying, ‘this is mine’. I’ve never had anyone…I’ve never had anyone,” here she looked at the ground, “I’ve never had anyone who wanted me.”

“Ahh,” Sam said after a moment, “sex is sex.” Hwa nodded, seeing he understood what she was saying. “Oh, Hwa, I love you. I’m madly in love with you. Do you want me to shout it to the stars? Because I will.”

She looked back up into his eyes, “No, that’s not necessary.”

He tilted up her chin and kissed her softly, which made her shake a bit. Sam looked at her critically again, “Let me guess, first kiss in public?” She nodded and blushed again. “Oh wow. Then, like…” here Sam grinned lasciviously at her, “I’m your…first?”.

“Oh my god, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Hwa blushed an even darker red.

“No, no! It’s cute! And, you’re even more beautiful when you blush,” he said, and with his body pushed her against the wall, deeper into the shadows. 

Hwa started shaking her hands again, which Sam grabbed with one hand. With his other, he leaned up against the wall, pressing her body against it, and kissed her more passionately. He broke the kiss, and stared into her eyes, “I want you,” he said throatily.

She involuntarily squeaked again, which made Sam laugh, breaking the mood. “OK, might be a little too much?” he asked, backing off a bit. She nodded, noticeably trembling and shaking her hands. He kissed the top of her head. “What do you think of public displays of affection?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said in another squeaky voice, her eyes wide and confused.

Sam laughed and took her hand and kissed it. “You are the damndest woman,” he said, shaking his head. “Just when I think I have you figured out, you go and blow all of my ideas out of the water.” He led her back out onto the walkway, smirking, “But, I like the idea that I’m your first.”

[fangbangerghoul]

ITS WEDNEDAY! ITS WIPDAY!

I guess I got some stuff for y'all. As mentioned in a previous post I have been doing a lot of cleaning this past week so I haven't had as much PC time as I would like. I will say I have been trying to finish My Demon on Netflix and god damn am I a sucker for the rollercoaster K-Dramas like to put you through. I also really love their supernatural romcoms they are always so good. And this one is sooo *chefs kiss* There are so many feels. So many.

ANYWAY

Tagging: @bearlytolerant @crystal-overdrive @a-cosmic-elf @interplanet--janet @arisenreborn

Under the cut as always:

Snippet into a personal Starfield project!

The door opened at the floor right before Imada’s and they all exited promptly. Only one of them noticed she had not exited with them before the doors closed again to continue up. Her heart pounded in her chest. She knew this was risky even for herself. The hate she felt for her mother still weighed heavily on her but at this point there was no one else that she felt could offer her the security she needed. She killed the wrong person. Which was not uncommon but this time it was a highly decorated U.C officer who happened to be in her way.

The door dinged open again revealing the entry way that led to the room before her mothers. It was odd that the secretary was not present but a bonus for Ghoul. Better not to give Imada any more warning than necessary. She stepped out and her feet drew her closer to the door. Instinctively she checked her knives to make sure every single one was in a place she could reach if needed. The largest blade being sheathed on a harness that wrapped around her torso. It was hidden well beneath her shirt and olive-green worker’s coat. Ghoul took in a deep breath for a moment and placed her hand on the scanner that was there for security purposes. She thought about trying to break it open but there was hope that her hand was still registered. 

[atonalginger]

WIP Wednesday

It's Wednesday, which means it's a sneak peek day! ANd I generally tag everyone who might have something to share :)

this snippet is is from the upcoming Bella fic, Shrouded Certainty, from the POV of Rokov

--

Rokov stopped by the bar to ask for a rag and ice, flashing his bruised and bloody hand at the bartender. Without any questions the bartender pulled a clean towel from under the counter and wrapped it around a frozen bag of fruit meant for a blended drink.

“I’ll toss it on the tab,” the bartender winked, “she’s upstairs, booth 5. Bayu is running a little behind but should be up soon.”

“Thank you,” Rokov held up the frozen pack and towel before heading to the elevator.

The thumping music blaring on the sound system was subdued in the elevator, Rokov’s head grateful the VIP floor did not keep the same energy as the main floor. How Bayu could stand being in the club nightly, with the constant blaring beats, flashing neon lights, and noisy patrons, was a mystery to him. As far as Rokov could tell Bayu did not have the personality to enjoy such things. Perhaps Bayu liked watching the credits flowing into his coffers from his personal suite on the VIP level, keeping a close eye on little BorealUS in the floating booth.

Bella was sitting on the couch on the side wall, watching the bar below through the window, “he gave you a towel and something cold.”

“Mr. Dunbar had a sharper skull than I counted on,” Rokov joked as he stepped around the low table and came to sit next to her. A bottle of good vodka sat on the table with two full shot glasses waiting.

“Let me see,” she turned and reached for his hand.

Rokov waved the injured hand, the fruit in the pack rustling with the movement, «It’s fine sweetheart. Don’t worry your beautiful head over it.»

«Did he put up a fight?» she asked, leaning over and picking up the pair of shots, holding out one for Rokov while cradling the other in her hand, ready to go.

«Not with fists,» Rokov accepted the small glass and tossed back the clear liquor with ease, Bella following suit and taking the glass from him as he continued talking, «but his looming death made his mouth run wild. Nothing I couldn’t handle, darling.»

Bella leaned into his side, resting her head on his chest with a hand slipping into his jacket over his heart, and pulled her legs up onto the couch. Rokov draped his arm around her, his hand coming to rest comfortably on her hip, and hugged her closer.

«What’s wrong?» she asked, her fingers tracing circles on the fabric of his dress shirt.

«What do you mean?» he asked with a low chuckle.

She sat up slightly, her soft green eyes searching his face, «usually when we’re like this your hand locks onto my ass like a magnet.»

«Am I not allowed to enjoy other parts of you?» he asked.

She continued to study his face, lightly chewing her lower lip as she considered what to say. Before she could find her words their expected guest walked in, flanked by the two guards that had been at the edge of the platform with Rokov.

[eridanidreams]

WIP Wednesday

Tagging the usual suspects:

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

From the upcoming chapter of stars through my fingers like grains of sand...

Sam had picked a landing site far enough from the complex that the Spacers didn't bother coming out to take a look. Instead, they were dug in around the outside of the station. He and Cait came under fire from the moment they crossed the perimeter, and while the Spacers weren't particularly good shots, there were a lot of them.

He'd gotten himself tucked in at one end of a massive resource container; he laughed softly, watching his breath plume out in the cold air. "You know, darlin'," he said—

"If you tell me that my blood should be pumping," Cait replied drily, peeking around her side of the container and ducking back into cover, "I will shoot you myself."

Sam chuckled. "That's not very nice," he mock-chided. "Whatever happened to my sweet Cait?"

"All the sweet froze up and fell off," Cait retorted, "because she keeps getting dragged out onto iceballs to get shot at by a bunch of murdering sociopaths."

And speaking of murdering sociopaths—Sam rocked around his corner and fired. He chanced a quick look over at Cait—she was looking pretty green. "You okay?"

She let out a long breath. "Told you I can handle it," she muttered, then rolled out—catching the one on her side by surprise—and took him down with a carefully-metered burst, then ducked behind a giant forklift.

Sam bit back an irritated reply—did she really have to put herself in harms' way just to prove a point? He took a deep breath and did his best to tuck his irritation away. "I hear you," he said crisply. "Clear on my side."

"Clear here." She leaned her head briefly against the frame of the forklift. "Sam—" She sounded like a dog that had been kicked about ten times too many, and it took the wind out of whatever annoyance was left to him.

"I know," he sighed. "I know." Now it was his turn to edge out and make the dash to the next cover. He couldn't keep from grumbling under his breath, "But I don't have to like it."

She glanced in his direction; she was mostly hidden from him by a spill of smaller containers. She tilted her head, and her expression got that weird, distant look that told him she was looking at something no ordinary person could see. Her head swiveled slowly, like she was doing a careful scan of the area; finally, she looked back at him with a shake of her head. "Activity inside, but nothing else out here right now but some animals back behind the station," she reported.

Sam let out a little huff. "Leave 'em be, then; if they're hostile, let 'em go after the Spacers." He relaxed his grip on his Magshear and headed up to the station entrance, then turned to cover her approach. Cait stepped out of cover, but paused, her attention drawn by one of the bodies sprawled across the plascrete near her. She knelt next to it, flipping it over.

"This one's a UC Marine." Of all the things he'd been expecting her to say, that was not on the list. Carefully, she checked the Marine's weapon. "Shot herself dry, too."

Sam shook his head in confusion. "The hell is going on here?" he asked rhetorically.

She didn't bother to answer; just took a second to check the Marine's neck, then rose back to her feet and joined Sam at the covered entrance. "Someone took the dog tags," she said.

"Huh," he muttered. "Weirder and weirder." He hit the button to start the hatch cycling. She still looked downcast, and he couldn't just leave her stinging from his annoyance. "I'm sorry for giving you grief, Cat." He met her gaze as he spoke, meaning every word of it. "When you warned me about how all this killing hits you, ain't that I didn't believe you could deal with it; it's just…" he let out a sigh, "harder than I thought to watch it happen." He cupped her cheek gently in one hand for a brief moment—then the door clicked open, and the moment passed.

"I'm used to it," she murmured in what he thought was supposed to be reassurance. "It'd be worse if you weren't here." She pushed through the door, rifle at the ready; Sam followed.

The next several minutes were a blur of gunfire; they'd managed to surprise a couple of Spacers who were occupied looting the dead, but the shooting alerted those deeper in the complex, and they were dug in like particularly malicious ticks. Finally, the echoes died down and they were the only ones left breathing. They both had bruises where their body armor had taken hits; Sam had a bleeding graze along one arm and Cait looked more than a little shocky. She leaned against a nearby wall, breathing heavily, while he bandaged up his wound. Not for the first time, he fought down the urge to ask her to go back to the ship so he could keep her safe, just like Cora. She ain't Cora, he reminded himself. She's a woman grown and your partner. Only thing changed since last time is a few words.

A few words. He snorted to himself as they picked up and moved on through the maintenance hall, keeping a sharp eye out for hostile movement. The kind of words that change a man's life. He was about to kick open a closet when she waved him off. "Open it slow," she said, quietly. "Whoever's in there doesn't feel like a Spacer, but they're scared." She managed a half-hearted smile for him. "Rather have you non-perforated."

Sam chuckled uneasily. "Oh, I am one hundred percent on board with not being perforated," he agreed. "Whoever's in there," he called, "friendlies here, don't shoot!" At her look, his grin widened, turned real. "What? Now if they shoot at us we know to shoot back."

Cait blew out a harsh sigh. "What if I'm wrong, Sam?" She shook her head. "You have too much faith in me sometimes."

Sam echoed her sigh. "Or you ain't got enough."

[thatsgoodsquishy0]

this is how I keep track of the days now lmao tagging: anybody, anywhere, anytime, that means you!

a snip snip from chapter 3 of a Sam Coe x Reader fic; There Is A Light (That Never Goes Out)

Your head settled against a lumpy pillow, pain straining up your neck as you tossed and turned in bed, a dizziness shaking behind your eyelids. Your mind was agitated, seething as frustration stewed inside your chest, the tips of your toes and fingers fidgeting under the blanket. Time antagonized you as you laid there for minutes, (hours?) staring at the ceiling of your new apartment. Your thoughts were suspended, wavering above the abyss of uncertainty. You hoped, prayed even, that against the perilousness, there was a bottom, and maybe once, just once, you wouldn’t find yourself desperately digging your nails into the dirt as you clawed your way to the surface for a fucking breath. Just once, you hoped you would float.