#Wicked Whumptober 2018

[flammenkobold]

got tagged by @kd-heart and @bittercape

no-pressure tags for: @wishflower4, @theallknowingowl, @howshouldiknowboutlife

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason.

First fic published on Ao3: Teen Wolf, Stiles/Peter, The Raven and the Wolf, posted in 2013. It was an lj exchange fic and before that I mostly posted on the pit of voles and lj. I think that was the time when everything on both sites fully collapsed in terms of fandom stuff, so it was a good time to move over to AO3. My earliest fic posted was on ff.net and from 2005 (I think).

Last fic published: The Magnus Archive, Peter Lukas, drabble, Home Sweet Home, written during the tma convention in one of their panels. I'm currently working on an RQ big bang fic which hopefully will be posted soon.

Fandom/ship I only wrote once: uhhhh a bunch? gave myself the challenge for Whumptober 2022 to write a drabble for a different fandom each day and I'm also a filthy multishipper. I hope to write more for some of these eventually but... Anyway lets stick to fandoms only? long list and the rest of the answers under the cut:

Whitechapel (TV) (1) Star Wars - All Media Types (1) Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett (1) Batman - All Media Types (1) The Mechanisms (Band) (1) The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb) (1) Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn (1) The Librarians (TV 2014) (1) Sunless Sea (1) Killjoys (TV) (1) Stardew Valley (Video Game) (1) Kingsman (Movies) (1) The Exorcist (TV) (1) 9-1-1 (TV) (1) Succession (TV 2018) (1) Titans (TV 2018) (1) Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga) (1) Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons) (1) The Silt Verses (Podcast) (1) Halloween (Movies - Green) Malevolent (Podcast) (1) The Cellar Letters (Podcast) (1) The Locked Tomb Series | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir (1) Parkdale Haunt (Podcast) (1) Moon Knight (TV 2022) (1) The Sandman (TV 2022) (1) Cobra Kai (TV) (1) Badlands Cola (Podcast) (1) Eat the Rich - Alexander J. Newall (1)

Favorite fic in most popular fandom/ship: sobs in rarepair and mini fandom shipper I've written for bigger fandoms and ships but I'm going to go with Pacific Rim on this one and it's Chuck Hansen&Angela Hansen + Chuck Hansen&Herc Hansen, Universe Hopping fic, Taking a Shot. (also this is me realizing that tma has more fics than pacrim and how? ok well so if we're going with tma then I'm fond of this little dinghy fic feat. Jared Hopworth called Lover's Rose)

Fic I wish more people read: My last years entry for the Rusty Quill Big Bang! Sasha/Grizzop, class swap fic based on a romance novel blurp, A Wicked Liason. Also The Six Disappearances of Ella McCray fics mostly because I wished there was more content for it and more people who listened to it.

Fic I agonized over: All of them, currently the RQBB from this year (coming soon)

Fic that popped out fully-formed: pretty much all of my drabbles and most fics tbh because I don't like writing without having a clear idea of the story. But the last fic that wasn't a drabble that I remember punching it's way into my brain fully formed and then wouldn't leave was Due South, Fraser/RayK, ace discussion fic, Cassette Player.

Fic I'm proud of: All of my longer fics, because I am not very good at writing longer things. But especially Home Coming (Teen Wolf, Stiles- centric, canon divergence) which is 51,687 words long and the longest fic I've ever written. For reference, this is currently longer than my past RQBB fics combined (new fic not counted).

[kinkykinard]

Whumptober 2018 - Day 26

For @nemesistyche.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Leonard McCoy x Reader. Prompt: Broken Ribs. Word Count: 889. Warning(s): shuttle crash.

You shut your eyes tightly, bracing for impact.  The shuttle is crashing, its engines having lost power due to an electromagnetic wave, and there’s nothing to be done.  Mr. Sulu has instructed you and your accompanying crew to strap into your seats and get ready for a bumpy landing.  You can tell by his tone, though, that it’s more serious than that, and you pray that if you die it’s swiftly and painlessly.

The impact is tremendous.  The sound of rock crumpling the shuttle’s hull, scraping and scratching through the metal, is so loud that you feel like your eardrums are going to pop.  The jolt you get when the shuttle grinds to a halt is fierce, and while your four-point harness keeps you from going very far, you feel your ribs crack and the muscles in your neck flare in agony.

You keep your eyes shut for a few moments after the shuttle falls still.  There’s a high-pitched alarm whining overhead and red lights flashing when you open your eyes again, but the crew looks to be relatively unscathed.

As you unclip your harness, you can hear Mr. Sulu attempting to contact the Enterprise.  The transmission is fuzzy and you can only catch every third word, but at least it’s something.  Steeling yourself, you test your arms and legs for stability a moment, glad to find nothing injured, and then climb to your feet.

You cry out in agony as your rib cage protests with a lancing pain and your breath catches.  Tears sting at your eyes as you steady yourself and you do your best to breathe in small, measured breaths.  Moving is absolute agony but you force yourself to creep around the cabin, helping crewmates out of their restraints and providing what little first aid you’re able to with the limited supplies on hand.

“They’re beaming us out,” Sulu’s voice interrupts your concentration.  “Mr. Spock has deemed the crew’s safety a priority over our mission.”

You curse, hating the thought of having to abandon sample and data collection.  You know there’s no arguing with Spock, though, and so you resign yourself.  Moving around with the other walking wounded, you prepare yourselves for transport, bracing yourself in case of an unceremonious landing on the transport pad.

Moments later, you’re swept away by threads of golden light.  You close your eyes and when you open them again you’re standing in the transporter room, surrounded by a team of medics, nurses, and doctors.  They start forward almost immediately, heading for those most obviously injured first, and you allow yourself to fade into the background and give them some room to work.

The room starts to clear quickly as your fellow crewmates are swept off to med bay and at the end, it’s just you, a couple of red shirts, and a familiar face left behind.  You smile tiredly as Leonard moves toward you, wrapping an arm around you to help support you as you brace yourself to move.

“I’m fine,” you assure him.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he says gently.  “Let’s get you down to medical.”

You groan in protest, shaking your head.

“Can’t I just go back to my quarters?”  You ask.  “Please?  You can scan me all you want, I just want my own bed right now.  The thought of lying on one of those hard bio beds right now makes me want to cry.”

You can tell by the way a muscle in his cheek twitches that Leonard isn’t happy, but eventually he relents.  You allow him to escort you to your quarters, doing your best to make as little noise as possible so he doesn’t get too worried and change his mind.  It thankfully doesn’t take long to get there and he leaves you to get settled once you arrive, rushing off to med bay to fetch a medkit.  

By the time Leonard returns, you’ve managed to strip off your uniform and crawl under the covers in your bed.  You’re lying back as comfortably as you can with the pain in your rib cage consuming your every waking thought, and you wince as Leonard takes a seat next to you, jostling you a little.

“I thought I was going to have a heart attack when we got the message about the crash,” Leonard murmurs softly as he preps a hypo.  “I was expecting the worst.”

“I’m fine, Len,” you assure him, turning your head to give him room to administer the medication.  “Honestly.”

You hiss a little at the sting of the hypo, but the pain fades almost immediately as Leonard gently massages the injection site with his thumb for a moment.  The pain in your ribs starts to ebb away, too, and you take your first normal breath since before the crash.  You let your eyes close as the medication clouds your thoughts, barely aware of the tricorder Len is running over your body in search of injuries.

“Three cracked ribs,” he announces eventually.  “And a lot of bruising.  Nothing some rest and a little TLC won’t fix.”

You smile, your eyes still closed.

“Toldja,” you murmur sleepily.

Leonard chuckles softly, reaching up to gently stroke your cheek.

“Well, you can’t blame me for worrying,” he argues softly.  “I love you, sugar.”

You hum quietly in contentment.

“I love you, too, Len.”

@starshiphufflebadger @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @feelmyroarrrr @ababyinatrenchcoat @alluramc @medicatemedrmccoy @arrowsshootyouforwards @wonders-of-the-multiverse @devanshade @dolamrothianlady @startrekimagines @theonlyparadox @gaeilgerua @itsjaynebird @goodnightwife @thevalesofanduin @distinguishedqueenofbooks @elsa-lost-in-translation @thefanficfaerie @gryffindor9whovian @auduna-druitt @archangels-lollipop @supermoonpanda @bubblegum-star-trek  @the-space-goddess-16 @bkwrm523 @starmission @the-geeky-engineer @startled-seastar @sassmasterqueen @shewolf-2013 @this-obsession-o-mine @littlecarowrites @eyeofdionysus @nasanatmfers @galaxycharmed @emmkolenn @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @kirkaholic123 @viioletdelights @ambie2020 @yallneedtrek @iwillwakeherinthemorning @haveyouseenmymind @sorryallonsy @kriskentia @reading-in-moonlight @mad-girl-without-a-box @itsrandombooklover @all-time-foes @kickingitwithkirk @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @annathewitch @kawaiiusagichansan @garnet-redtailedhero @djisfantastic @ever-faithful-sidekick @killerbumblebee

[kinkykinard]

Whumptober 2018 - Day 29

For @kittycat-cas.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Leonard McCoy x Reader. Prompt: Seizure. Word Count: 702. Warning(s): none.

The sound of metal instruments clanging to the ground alerts Leonard to the fact that something is amiss.  It’s not unusual; trays get knocked down and instruments are scattered on the regular when the ship’s facing a bit of turbulence.  Still, something about the noise is unsettling and so he leaves the nurses’ desk to investigate.

He pokes his head into a few of the rooms off the main wing of the med bay, finding nothing amiss.  Eventually he makes his way to the supply room and curses as he finds you on the floor in the grips of a violent seizure.  Springing into action, he pushes aside the instruments scattered around you, clearing the area of hazards.  Dropping to his knees at your side, he leans in close to make sure you’re still breathing through the seizure.  Once he’s sure that you are, he glances at the chron, counting the seconds as you continue to seize.

A minute goes by and the seizure starts to subside.  The jerking weakens until you’re lying still again, your chest heaving from the exertion.  Leonard reaches up to gently cup your cheek, calling for a stretcher over his shoulder.

You wake as you’re being hefted onto the hover bed, but it takes you another ten or fifteen minutes to come back to your senses entirely.  You’ve got a wicked case of brain fog and a gauze bandage around your hand.  Glancing around for answers, you attempt to orientate yourself.  Thankfully Leonard is right by your side, making a few notes on his PADD.  He glances up to meet your gaze when he realizes you’re awake and flashes you a smile.

“Welcome back,” he says softly.  “How are you feeling?”

“Fuzzy,” you reply.  “But okay.  Did I have a seizure?”

Leonard nods, setting his PADD aside.  He perches on the edge of the bio bed beside you.

“Not an overly serious one,” he elaborates, gesturing to your bandaged hand.  “But you did manage to gouge yourself with a scalpel.”

You glance down at your hand again, flexing your fingers experimentally and wincing at the stinging there.  You know just by the fact that it isn’t already healed that the wound is too deep for a dermal regenerator to fix and you wrinkle your nose at the thought of the stitches that are undoubtedly hidden beneath the dressing.

“Do we need to adjust my meds?”  You ask, looking back up again.

“Not yet,” Leonard replies.  “But I want to keep a close eye on you.  If you have another seizure in the next couple of weeks then we can think about adjusting them.  In the meantime we’ll work on the assumption that this was just a fluke.  I’m sure it’s nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head.

“If I could get a good night’s sleep, maybe,” you say dryly.

Leonard frowns.

“You haven’t been sleeping well?”  He asks.

You shrug.

“The switch from Alpha to Gamma threw me for a loop,” you explain.  “I’m sure I’ll be back to sleeping normally soon, it’s just a bit of an adjustment.”

Leonard looks thoughtful for a moment.

“Changes in your sleep pattern can exacerbate seizures,” he murmurs.  “I should have thought of that when I was making up the new rotation.”

“I’m fine, Len, honestly,” you assure him, not wanting him to think you incapable.  “Like you said, I’m sure it was a fluke.”

He ponders quietly for a moment.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says.  “I’m going to give you the rest of this tour off.  That gives you four days to get adjusted to a new sleep cycle.  I think that’ll give you a fighting chance at minimizing the odds of another seizure.  Sound good?”

You breathe a sigh of relief, nodding contentedly.  

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

“What for?”  Leonard asks.

“For not making a big deal out of this,” you say, averting your gaze, feeling bashful.  “For not thinking me incapable.”

Leonard smiles, reaching out to take you hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re just as valued a member of my staff as anyone else in this department,” Leonard assures you.  “Nothing will ever change that, darlin’.”

@starshiphufflebadger @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @feelmyroarrrr @ababyinatrenchcoat @alluramc @medicatemedrmccoy @arrowsshootyouforwards @wonders-of-the-multiverse @devanshade @dolamrothianlady @startrekimagines @theonlyparadox @gaeilgerua @itsjaynebird @goodnightwife @thevalesofanduin @distinguishedqueenofbooks @elsa-lost-in-translation @thefanficfaerie @gryffindor9whovian @auduna-druitt @archangels-lollipop @supermoonpanda @bubblegum-star-trek  @the-space-goddess-16 @bkwrm523 @starmission @the-geeky-engineer @startled-seastar @sassmasterqueen @shewolf-2013 @this-obsession-o-mine @littlecarowrites @eyeofdionysus @nasanatmfers @galaxycharmed @emmkolenn @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @kirkaholic123 @viioletdelights @ambie2020 @yallneedtrek @iwillwakeherinthemorning @haveyouseenmymind @sorryallonsy @kriskentia @reading-in-moonlight @mad-girl-without-a-box @itsrandombooklover @all-time-foes @kickingitwithkirk @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @annathewitch @kawaiiusagichansan @garnet-redtailedhero @djisfantastic @ever-faithful-sidekick @killerbumblebee

[kinkykinard]

Whumptober 2018 - Day 23

For @jonanacoe / @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Leonard McCoy x Reader. Prompt: Self-Sacrifice. Word Count: 713. Warning(s): severe illness, needles.

The soft sound of glass clinking pulls you out of a doze.  You blink a few times to clear your vision as you orientate yourself.  You’re in a bio bed in sick bay, your body is still too warm from the fever ravaging it, and everything aches.  It’s hard to breathe, too, in spite of the cannula that’s nestled in your nose delivering a steady stream of pure oxygen.  You turn your head toward the source of the clinking sound and find Leonard sitting next to you, rolling a small vial with an opaque, white liquid inside between his hands.  The vial clinks every time it rolls over the ring he always wears on his little finger.

“What’s that?”  You ask hoarsely, too weak to raise your voice above a whisper.

Leonard looks up, his tired gaze meeting yours.

“A cure,” he says flatly.

You feel a small flicker of hope at his words, but reserve judgment.  You can tell by the way he’s fidgeting that it’s not all good news.

“So what are you waiting for?”  You ask.

Leonard sighs, running a hand through his hair and regarding the vial.  He makes a show of reaching for a hypo spray, turning it over in his hands before loading the vial into it and readying it.  He meets your gaze again and there’s apology in his eyes.

“The Ziaran doctors assured me that this would cure the virus,” he explains.  “But it’s never been tested on humans before.  Preliminary screenings show there’s a significant chance it would put a human into anaphylaxis, and I’m not sure we could pull you back from that in the state that you’re in.”

You frown.

“That doesn’t sound good,” you murmur.  “But if I take it, I have a chance, right?”

Leonard makes a wordless noise that you take to be agreement.

“Then let’s do it,” you say, your heart rate creeping up and setting off an alarm on the bio bed.

He jumps to his feet immediately, prepared for the worst, but simply reaches over and shuts the alarm off once he’s reassured himself that you’re not in any real danger.  You wait for him to settle a moment before continuing.

“I’ve got nothing to lose,” you reason.  “If I don’t take the cure, I die.  If I take the cure and I react to it, I die.  But if I take the cure and don’t react, I might make it through this.  Giving me that hypo is the only logical thing to do.”

Leonard snarls, practically throwing the hypo onto your bedside table, rounding on you.

“Logical?”  He growls.  “Don’t tell me you’re taking lessons from Spock now.  That’s ridiculous, darlin’.”

You watch him pace next to your bio bed.

“We both know I won’t survive this,” you say softly.  “I might have another few days, but nothing more.  I already feel worse than I did before I went to sleep earlier.”

Leonard curses quietly, shaking his head.

“Don’t talk like that, sweetheart,” he says lightly, his tone strained.  “You’ve still got a fighting chance with the immunity boosters we’re giving you.”

You smile sadly.

“You’re not ready to let me go,” you say gently.  “So don’t let me.  Give me a fighting chance.  And spare me the speech - I know the risks, I’m giving you my informed consent.  You can write articles in all the big medical journals once I make a miraculous recovery.”

Leonard curses again, more loudly this time.  You can practically feel the tension radiating off of him.  You can see it in the way the muscles in his neck are strained, in the way his hands clench and unclench as though they’re itching to do something, anything.

When he breaks at last, he does so spectacularly.  Unable to dam the desperation any longer, he reaches for the hypo, primes it, and presses it against his own neck, injecting its contents.  You watch in complete and utter shock as the milky liquid disappears beneath his skin and watch with bated breath as he drops the hypo and takes a seat.

“Fifteen minutes,” Leonard says shakily.  “If I’m not showing any adverse effects fifteen minutes from now, we can revisit this discussion.”

And so the two of you lapse into silence, waiting.

@starshiphufflebadger @feelmyroarrrr @ababyinatrenchcoat @alluramc @medicatemedrmccoy @arrowsshootyouforwards @wonders-of-the-multiverse @devanshade @dolamrothianlady @startrekimagines @theonlyparadox @gaeilgerua @itsjaynebird @goodnightwife @thevalesofanduin @distinguishedqueenofbooks @elsa-lost-in-translation @thefanficfaerie @gryffindor9whovian @auduna-druitt @archangels-lollipop @supermoonpanda @bubblegum-star-trek  @the-space-goddess-16 @bkwrm523 @starmission @the-geeky-engineer @startled-seastar @sassmasterqueen @shewolf-2013 @this-obsession-o-mine @littlecarowrites @eyeofdionysus @nasanatmfers @galaxycharmed @emmkolenn @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @kirkaholic123 @viioletdelights @ambie2020 @yallneedtrek @iwillwakeherinthemorning @haveyouseenmymind @sorryallonsy @kriskentia @reading-in-moonlight @mad-girl-without-a-box @itsrandombooklover @all-time-foes @kickingitwithkirk @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @annathewitch @kawaiiusagichansan @garnet-redtailedhero @djisfantastic @ever-faithful-sidekick @killerbumblebee

[kinkykinard]

Wicked Whumptober - Day 24

For Anonymous.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Leonard McCoy x Reader. Prompt: Drowning. Word Count: 1119. Warning(s): near-drowning, small spaces, anxiety attack, difficulty breathing.

The first sign of trouble comes when you hear a loud creaking noise coming from the large outflow pipe above the water pump you’re working on.  You do your best to ignore it, though, electing to continue focusing on the gasket you’ve been tasked with replacing.  It’s a big task as it’s part of the pump that supplies the science labs and has a sizeable outflow, and you hope that you don’t screw it up or it’s going to make a huge mess.

Another creak stops you in your tracks.  You look at the spot where it’s coming from and watch a small trickle of water drip from the junction between the pump and the outflow.  Reaching up, you prod at the gasket there a little bit, gasping in shock as a fissure suddenly runs up the side of the pipe, effectively rupturing the line completely, causing water to spray out.  The spray is under such high pressure that you feel the water bite into your skin as you try to put a hand over the fissure and you quickly pull it away.  

You frantically reach for your comm but knock it off of the pump casing in your clumsy haste, sending it straight into the quickly forming puddle at your feet.  It pops, fizzles, and sparks a few times and blinks out, leaving you without a means of communication.  Cursing, you turn and move to the door of the compartment, attempting to open it.  It’s no use, though; the ship’s security system has already detected the leak and has locked you in.  Without access to an override panel on the outside you’re stuck.  

The room is small and very quickly filling with water.  It’s lapping at your knees as you do the only thing you can think to do and start banging on the walls and the door with a wrench, praying that someone will hear you.  You make as much noise as you can, wading in the water that’s already creeping up your thighs, sending a chill through you, but to no avail.

As the water continues to rise, tears blur your vision.  You panic, shouting, knocking on the panelling, desperate.  As the water reaches your jawline, you swear you hear footsteps just outside the door  It’s hard to tell over the rushing of water, but you continue to hope as the water starts to claim you.  There’s very little head room in the compartment and while you try to keep your face above water, it soon becomes impossible.  You hold your breath, your lungs burning, but know you can’t hold on much longer.

When you can hold on no more, you gasp, sucking in a mouthful of the icy water.  It hurts less than you thought it would, you think, but the anxiety of being unable to breathe quickly coalesces into a knot in your chest and you flail weakly as you feel unconsciousness starting to draw you.  You choke on the water as you fade into darkness, though in your last wakeful moment you swear you feel yourself being pulled along by some sort of a current.

When you wake, hours of dreamless sleep have passed by and you have no idea where you are.  You’re lying on a bed, covered by blankets, and a soft, dim light illuminates the room around you.  There’s a mask on your face - for oxygen delivery, you realize quickly - and something is touching your chest.  Blinking, you look around blearily and find Dr. McCoy standing over you, stethoscope in hand, listening to your breathing.

“Welcome back,” he says warmly, smiling as he removes his stethoscope.  “How are you feeling?”

You attempt to take a deep breath but groan as it makes your chest hurt.  You shrug.

“Alive, anyway,” you reply.

“Well, your vitals are stable and your lungs are drying up thanks to the meds,” Leonard comments.  “Looks like you’re going to make a full recovery.”

You nod.  Feeling winded, you attempt another deep breath but find that it doesn’t ease the discomfort.  You try yet again and come up short.  The feeling reminds you of the claustrophobia of the compartment you’d been trapped in and of the desperation you’d felt when you’d run out of air and had been forced to breathe water.

The monitor on your bio bed starts to wail as you begin to hyperventilate at the memories.  Your heart is racing and skipping wildly as you reach up to claw at the mask on your face, attempting to dislodge it, desperate to take a proper breath.  Leonard’s hand interrupts you, though, gently pinning your arm to your side as he leans in close to you.

“Try to relax for me, darlin’,” he says in a low, soothing tone.  “I can’t give you anything for the anxiety right now because it’ll make your breathing worse, so I need you to breathe through this with me.  Nice and slow, in and out.”

You do your best to listen as he coaches you, following along with the steady rhythm of his own breathing, and eventually the anxiety starts to ebb.  There’s a disconcerting tingling in your fingers and toes but you ignore it as you work to calm down.  Leonard rests a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

“That’s great, sweetheart,” he says with a smile.  “Keep going, just like that.”

You nod, relaxing your shoulders and breathing in slow, shallow breaths.  You slowly start to feel better and you can tell that Leonard is pleased with what the monitor is showing, too.  After a few more minutes, you’re comfortable and breathing easily once again.  Leonard moves to sit in the chair at your bedside, reaching out to hold your hand.

“Scared me to death when they carried you in here and you weren’t breathing,” Leonard admits softly.  “I thought I was going to lose you.”

You smile tiredly, squeezing his hand.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” you tease.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Leonard deadpans, his tone grave.

You avert your gaze.

“Sorry,” you murmur.  “Humor helps me deal with stuff.”

Leonard’s entire posture relaxes, his tone softening as he clutches your hand firmly.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he says with a shake of his head.  “I just got so upset I forgot that this happened to you more than anyone.  I can worry on my own damn time.”

You meet his gaze again, smiling tiredly.

“I’m okay, Len,” you say quietly.  “I’m not going anywhere.  I’ve got the best doctor in the universe to take care of me and make sure nothing happens.”

Leonard chuckles softly - genuinely - and in that moment you know that you’re going to be just fine.

@starshiphufflebadger @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @feelmyroarrrr @ababyinatrenchcoat @alluramc @medicatemedrmccoy @arrowsshootyouforwards @wonders-of-the-multiverse @devanshade @dolamrothianlady @startrekimagines @theonlyparadox @gaeilgerua @itsjaynebird @goodnightwife @thevalesofanduin @distinguishedqueenofbooks @elsa-lost-in-translation @thefanficfaerie @gryffindor9whovian @auduna-druitt @archangels-lollipop @supermoonpanda @bubblegum-star-trek  @the-space-goddess-16 @bkwrm523 @starmission @the-geeky-engineer @startled-seastar @sassmasterqueen @shewolf-2013 @this-obsession-o-mine @littlecarowrites @eyeofdionysus @nasanatmfers @galaxycharmed @emmkolenn @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @kirkaholic123 @viioletdelights @ambie2020 @yallneedtrek @iwillwakeherinthemorning @haveyouseenmymind @sorryallonsy @kriskentia @reading-in-moonlight @mad-girl-without-a-box @itsrandombooklover @all-time-foes @kickingitwithkirk @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @annathewitch @kawaiiusagichansan @garnet-redtailedhero @djisfantastic @ever-faithful-sidekick @killerbumblebee

[kinkykinard]

Whumptober 2018 - Day 9

For @annathewitch.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Leonard McCoy x Reader. Prompt: Stranded. Word Count: 823. Warning(s): severe weather, difficulty breathing.

“We’re stuck here,” Hendorff shouts over the whipping winds, kicking at the sand at his feet.  “This shit’s gumming up the engines.  Until this storm passes, we’re grounded.”

You can hear Leonard curse under his breath even over the howling.  You glance over at Hendorff, shielding your eyes against the onslaught of fine sand and dust, watching him yank on the shuttle door when pressing the button to open it does nothing.

“The gears are jammed, too,” he hollers.  “We’re going to have to hunker down out here until I can see enough to fix it!”

You can see Leonard marching over in your general direction as you stoop down to pack up your sampling kit.  The shift in the planet’s winds had come so suddenly that you hadn’t had a chance to get to safety before the storm hit, and now you’re scrambling to save your samples and your gear.  The dust swirling relentlessly around you is so fine that it gets into your eyes, nose, and mouth in spite of your best efforts to keep it away, making your task that much more difficult.

Leonard kneels beside you, an arm thrown over his mouth to keep the dust from choking him.

“Leave it,” he barks.  “We need to hide downwind of the shuttle.  If you breathe too much of this dust your lungs can seize up, and my med kit’s in the shuttle.”

“I’m not leaving without my kit,” you shout back, breathing in a bunch of the silt.  

You start to cough, your throat burning as the fine particles coat your tongue.  You fight through the paroxysm, though, tears welling in your eyes as you stuff the last of your samples into their rightful compartments.  Leonard’s hand wraps around your bicep, pulling you to your feet as you heft your kit and he starts to lead you in the direction of the shuttle.  The sandstorm is so thick you can scarcely see the craft’s outline through the haze.

You stumble awkwardly through the shifting sands at your feet, bracing yourself against Leonard’s side for balance.  After a few more feet Hendorff’s silhouette comes into view and you can tell he’s waving the two of you over.  Your legs are starting to ache as you continue coughing, your muscles protesting at the lack of oxygen already.  By the time you reach the far side of the shuttle, you all but collapse to the ground.

Leonard drops to his knees next to you, keeping his back to the wind as much as he can.  The shuttle provides a bit of cover, but not nearly enough to keep you entirely safe.  You’re coughing ceaselessly, your breath coming short as your rib cage screams in protest.

“Is there anything you can do to help clear the air?”  Leonard shouts at Hendorff.  “We need to get Y/N’s breathing under control.”

Hendorff shakes his head and Leonard curses.  He rests a hand on your back, curling himself protectively around you as he strokes you reassuringly.

“Try to slow and deepen your breathing,” he encourages you, reaching for the canteen of water clipped to the side of your kit.

He hands it to Hendorff who proceeds to uncap it for you as Leonard leans away briefly.  You attempt to take a sip but end up sputtering, spraying water as you continue to cough.  You shut your eyes, gritting your teeth in a desperate attempt to stop, and jump when you feel something being pressed to your face.  It’s fabric, you realize, and you open your eyes once more, glancing around to orientate yourself.  Your gaze lands on Leonard, now clad in only his undershirt, and flicks down to the tunic he’s pressing to your face to help keep you from breathing dust.

You try to murmur a thank you but it gets lost in the folds of the fabric.  The coughing starts to calm almost immediately, but you find it hard to breathe because of the thickness of the material.  Reaching up, you take it from Leonard and adjust it so it’s not obscuring your airflow to much.  As you fiddle with it, Leonard moves to take a seat with his back against the shuttle, gesturing for you to join him.  Moving slowly so as not to worsen your breathing, you settle in between his legs, leaning back against his chest.  He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in close.

“Breathe nice and slow for me,” he coaches you.  “You’re doing great.”

You lean your head back against his shoulder as he continues to instruct you, finally feeling the tightness in your chest start to lessen.  Breathing more easily, you relax and focus on Leonard’s comforting embrace.  With him by your side you feel safe, and while the sandstorm continues to rage around you, you’re content to hunker down and allow the steady rhythm of his breathing against your back soothe you through it.

@starshiphufflebadger @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @feelmyroarrrr @ababyinatrenchcoat @alluramc @medicatemedrmccoy @arrowsshootyouforwards @wonders-of-the-multiverse @devanshade @dolamrothianlady @startrekimagines @theonlyparadox @gaeilgerua @itsjaynebird @goodnightwife @thevalesofanduin @distinguishedqueenofbooks @elsa-lost-in-translation @thefanficfaerie @gryffindor9whovian @auduna-druitt @archangels-lollipop @supermoonpanda @bubblegum-star-trek  @the-space-goddess-16 @bkwrm523 @starmission @the-geeky-engineer @startled-seastar @sassmasterqueen @shewolf-2013 @this-obsession-o-mine @littlecarowrites @eyeofdionysus @nasanatmfers @galaxycharmed @emmkolenn @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @kirkaholic123 @viioletdelights @ambie2020 @yallneedtrek @iwillwakeherinthemorning @haveyouseenmymind @sorryallonsy @kriskentia @reading-in-moonlight @mad-girl-without-a-box @itsrandombooklover @all-time-foes @kickingitwithkirk @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @kawaiiusagichansan @garnet-redtailedhero @djisfantastic @ever-faithful-sidekick @killerbumblebee

[kinkykinard]

Whumptober 2018 - Day 28

For @bsotstory and @exiledtime.

Fandom: MCU. Pairing: Stephen Strange X Female Reader, appearance by Loki. Prompt: Severe Illness. Word Count: 849. Warning(s): none.

You’re only vaguely aware of the voices in the bedroom around you as you shiver, your body wracked with chills from a wicked fever.  You’re so weak and tired that you can barely lift your head, let alone get out of bed.  You’ve been feeling terrible for a couple of days, but you’ve never felt as sick as you do in the moment.

“What happened?”  Stephen asks, rushing to your side as he lays eyes on you.

“I don’t know,” Loki replies.  “We were supposed to meet today for a little sparring practice.  When she didn’t show I came by to check on her and found her like this.”

Stephen swears under his breath, reaching out to cup your face in his hands.

“Y/N, can you hear me?”  He asks.

“Yes,” you answer, slurring slightly.

You try to open your eyes but it’s almost impossible to fight the complete and utter exhaustion you’re feeling.  You cough weakly, groaning as it makes your ribs ache.

You can feel Stephen’s hands move to examine you.  He touches your forehead and his palm feels delightfully cool against your heated skin.  He gently pulls your eyelids apart to check your pupils, and you try your best to turn your head and push his hands away, but you’re weak as a kitten and he easily resists you.

“Just lie still, save your strength,” he murmurs uncharacteristically reassuringly.  “Let me take a look at you.”

You make a wordless noise of agreement, relaxing into the bed as much as you can with your body aching everywhere.  Stephen continues his examination, his fingers skillfully pressing into the column of your throat, checking your pulse at the wrist, palpating your abdomen.  He moves to pull the hem of your shirt up and you groan as the cool room air licks at your skin.

“Damn it,” he growls, running his fingertips over a few patches of a pinprick-type rash on the side of your flank.

He glances at Loki over his shoulder.

“Why didn’t you call a goddamn ambulance?”  He barks.

“You travel a lot more quickly and efficiently,” Loki answers lightly.  “Besides, I thought you might like to be apprised of the situation, which I did not realize was so dire.”

Stephen rolls his eyes, reaching up to gently cup your cheek, stroking a thumb over your cheekbone.

“We need to get you to a hospital, Y/N,” he explains.  “I’m going to open a portal and Loki’s going to carry you, okay?”

You make a noise that you hope he understands as consent and whimper softly as you feel arms wrap around your shoulders and under your knees.  Loki apologizes softly as he hefts you into his arms and you sag into his hold, closing your eyes.  

You can see the golden light of Stephen’s portal even through your closed lids and you brace yourself for the weightless feeling that comes with traveling by portal, hoping you don’t get any more nauseated.  As Loki carries you into the light, you find quite the opposite to be true.  The travel, though brief, places enough of a strain on your body to knock you out, thankfully relieving how horrible you’re feeling.

When you wake some time later, it’s in a hospital bed with Stephen at your side.  His gaze keeps flicking back and forth between you and the monitors above your bed until he notices that your eyes are open.  He gives you the smallest of smiles.

“Welcome back,” he says softly, reaching out to grasp your hand.  “You gave us quite a scare.”

You shift around in bed a little, stilling when you feel a tug on your other hand and realizing you’ve just absentmindedly attempted to dislodge an IV line.  You wrinkle your nose as you realize you’ve got an oxygen mask on, too, and you swallow thickly.

“What happened?”  You rasp.

“You’ve been incubating a nasty case of pneumonia,” Stephen explains.  “You didn’t catch it in time to start treating it and you went septic.”

You frown.

“That sounds serious,” you say quietly.

Stephen nods.

“It is,” he replies.  “But we caught it early.  A few days on IV antibiotics and you’ll be good as new.”

You groan, reaching up to push the oxygen mask off of your face, feeling reassured by the fact that you’ve got some of your strength back.  It’s still not much, though, and Stephen intercepts you, pushing your hand back down.

“That stays on until your oxygen levels come up,” he admonishes softly.  “Besides, if you behave yourself and your lab work looks good, I can probably spring you out of here sooner as long as I promise to keep an eye on you at home.”

You smile, squeezing his hand and nodding.  The thought of a little bit of TLC from your own personal physician sounds like a dream come true and you reach up with your free hand, drawing a little X on your chest.

“I’ll behave,” you promise.  “Cross my heart.”

Stephen smiles briefly and you can see the affection in his eyes.

“That’s my girl.”

[kinkykinard]

Whumptober 2018 - Day 27

For @mlleecrivaine.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Montgomery Scott x Reader. Prompt: “I can’t walk.” Word Count: 711. Warning(s): angulated fracture.

A knock on your bathroom door startles you even through the haze of agony that’s engulfing you.

“Are you in there?”  Scotty’s voice calls from the other side.

You swallow thickly, wincing as even shifting enough to take a proper breath sends a wave of agony through your leg.  

“Yeah,” you call back.  “I’m here.”

A few moments of silence pass.

“Are you alright?”  He asks.  “It’s not like you to be late for breakfast.”

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly.  “Something came up.”

Another pause.

“Can I come in?”  Scotty calls.

“Yes,” you reply.

A few moments pass as Scotty overrides the lock on the door.  He glances around as he steps inside your small bathroom, his gaze eventually landing on where you’re sprawled on the shower floor, your towel thrown over you for some modicum of modesty.  He rushes forward, kneeling at your side.

“What happened?”  He asks.

“I slipped,” you reply.  “Did something to my ankle.”

He glances down toward your feet, his expression turning shocked as he takes in the swelling and disfiguration around your right ankle.

“We need to get you to medical,” he says quickly, biting his lip as he considers how best to move you.

“I can’t walk,” you say flatly.  “I was going to call for a medical team but I left my comm in the bedroom.”

Scotty nods in understanding, reaching for his own comm.  He flips it open and calls down to sick bay in a matter of moments.  With a team on its way, he turns his attention back to you, holding his hands out helplessly, looking lost.  In spite of his own first aid training, seeing you injured has stunned him.

“What can I do?”  He asks.  “How can I help?”

“Prop my foot up a little,” you reply thickly, shivering a little from the chill of being completely naked save for your towel.  “And then just hold my hand.  Please.”

He jumps into action, reaching for another towel a short distance away and wrapping it carefully around your injured ankle to help stabilize it.  It hurts more at first as he touches and moves it, but after it’s settled it feels a little better and you breathe a sigh of relief.  Finished, he returns to your side, reaching for your hand and clasping it in both of his.

“You’ll be alright,” he murmurs, reassuring himself as much as he is you.

“I’ll be fine, Monty,” you assure him, squeezing his hand.  “Really.”

He smiles, though the concern in his eyes never wavers.  Even as the medical team arrives, stabilizes your leg, and spirits you off to med bay he stays by your side, anxiety radiating off of him.  It’s not until you’ve gotten a dose of pain medication and a reassurance that everything will be taken care of from Dr. McCoy that Scotty finally calms down and stops pacing by your side.  As the doctor departs, he sits in the chair at your bedside, never once letting go of your hand.

“I think it’s really sweet that you thought it was out of character for me to be late for breakfast,” you say, slurring your words slightly; a side effect of the pain medication.  ‘You probably saved my life.”

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

“You would have been fine for a while longer,” Scotty teases.  “You’re tough as nails.  I couldn’t just sit there missing you, though.  Who else would sit around and listen to an old windbag like me go on about the warp core?”

You giggle, shaking your head.

“Everyone down in engineering loves you,” you argue.  “But not like I love you, so you  might be right.”

Scotty swats your arm playfully, bringing the hand he’s holding up and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.  You make a soft noise of contentment, relaxing into the bio bed beneath you as sleep starts to cloud your senses.  Scotty sets your hand back down at your side, still holding on as you start to drift off.

“I love you, Monty,” you murmur, slipping into a dream.

Though you miss his reply in your slumbering state, you sleep deeply and dreamlessly as he keeps vigil by your bedside, keeping you safe from anything else that might threaten your safety.

@starshiphufflebadger @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @feelmyroarrrr @musingsongbird @ababyinatrenchcoat @medicatemedrmccoy @wonders-of-the-multiverse  @devanshade @dolamrothianlady @startrekimagines @theonlyparadox @itsjaynebird @goodnightwife @thevalesofanduin @elsa-lost-in-translation @thefanficfaerie @gryffindor9whovian @auduna-druitt @archangels-lollipop @supermoonpanda @bubblegum-star-trek  @the-space-goddess-16 @starmission @the-geeky-engineer @startled-seastar @littlecarowrites @eyeofdionysus @emmkolenn @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @kirkaholic123 @ambie2020 @iwillwakeherinthemorning @haveyouseenmymind @this-obsession-o-mine @kriskentia @reading-in-moonlight  @mad-girl-without-a-box @itsrandombooklover @gaeilgerua @kickingitwithkirk @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @kawaiiusagichansan @garnet-redtailedhero @djisfantastic @ever-faithful-sidekick

[kinkykinard]

Whumptober 2018 - Day 31

For @musicmandy1991.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Characters: Leonard McCoy, Spock, Reader. Prompt: Showdown. Word Count: 850. Warning(s): phaser battle, blood, phaser wounds.

There are three of you and three of them.

Three aliens armed with weapons just as advanced as yours, with their phasers pointed at you and your crewmates. Three aliens ready to capture or kill you for trespassing on land you didn’t know was protected.  Three aliens with the ability to communicate and reason, but without the desire to listen.

Your hand is shaking as  you hold your phaser aloft.  A quick glance to either side reveals that both Leonard and Spock’s hands are completely steady and you hope that they’re quick enough to save the three of you, too; you know you won’t be able to shoot if necessary.  You’ve never killed anyone before and you’ve never imagined having to, either.  Your heart beats quick and heavy in your chest.

“Just let us go,” Leonard says eventually, unable to bear the silence and tension any longer.

“Our people do not suffer trespassers lightly,” one of the aliens snaps.  “You have come here without regard for our culture, our history, and now you ask for pardon?”

“It was not our intention to do harm to your people or any objects of cultural significance,” Spock explains.  “If you lower your weapons, we will withdraw without any further disturbance and make amends for any upset we have caused.”

The alien who had spoken moments before fires off a warning shot that narrowly misses your shoulder and you whimper softly, flinching.  Leonard glances over to ensure your safety while Spock continues to attempt negotiations.  You can tell the aliens are becoming increasingly more agitated the longer Spock tries to smooth things over.

“Mr. Spock, status report.”

Your gaze flickers to Spock as his communicator goes off, the captain’s voice echoing in the clearing.  The aliens’ expression grow more severe and they step in closer, each one pointing a phaser at one of your people, aiming for the heart.  You grit your teeth to keep from begging for your life, knowing it would only incur more of their ire.

“Mr. Spock, do you read me?”

One of the aliens, unable to hold back any longer, lets off another shot.  It catches Leonard’s arm, singeing the sleeve of his tunic and making him recoil and fumble his weapon.  The leader of the trio before you mistakes Leonard’s movement for threat and you watch in horror as the events unfold before you.

Phaser fire fills the air.  Zaps and flashes go off all around you and you duck instinctively, dropping your weapon.  You cover your head, tears prickling at your eyes as your crew mates and the aliens scuffle around you.  You feel a phaser bolt graze your back as you try to crawl out of the way, and guilt weighs heavily on you as Spock and Leonard attempt to wrest control of the situation.

“Mr. Spock, do you read me?”

The captain’s voice is nearly lost in the cacophony of noises all around you, but it gives you hope.  Protocol states that a mission is to be aborted and personnel are to be beamed out after three failed communications.  Another minute and you’ll be back on the Enterprise, safe and sound.

Your heartbeat roars in your ears as another bolt grazes you, catching your hip.  You want desperately to look up and see what’s become of the situation but you know it’s not safe yet.  Instead, you blindly grope around for your weapon, all the while praying you find the gumption to use it along with the phaser.

Your hand makes contact with your weapon just as familiar golden threads wrap themselves around you.  You shut your eyes tightly as you’re spirited away, relieved that the conflict is over.  Before you know it, you’re materializing on the transporter pad, deck plating solidifying beneath your knees and elbows as you appear in the same huddled position as you’d been beamed up in.

“I need a medical team, now!”  Jim calls, rushing forward.

You glance up just in time to see him mount the transporter pad.

“I’m fine, captain,” you assure him.

But he’s not heading for you.

You follow him as he rushes to your left where two crumpled bodies lay in a heap.  Your hearing grays out, your vision tunneling as you take in the sight of blood and phaser wounds.  Leonard is breathing harshly, a gaping wound in his thigh trickling blood steadily, but Spock is worse.  As the captain rolls him over, you notice the soot-rimmed hole in his tunic, right where a human heart would be.  You watch him, sitting back on your heels in horror, searching for signs of life.

A flurry of activity disrupts your focus and you struggle to see around the medics that are swarming the platform.  Hands come to rest on your arms, guiding you to your feet, pulling you toward a waiting stretcher.  Your gaze remains locked on Spock, though.  You watch desperately as his body is loaded onto another bed and you fixate on his chest as you’re wheeled toward the exit.

You see his chest rise, once, shakily, and then he’s out of sight.

@starshiphufflebadger @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @feelmyroarrrr @ababyinatrenchcoat @alluramc @medicatemedrmccoy @arrowsshootyouforwards @wonders-of-the-multiverse @devanshade @dolamrothianlady @startrekimagines @theonlyparadox @gaeilgerua @itsjaynebird @goodnightwife @thevalesofanduin @distinguishedqueenofbooks @elsa-lost-in-translation @thefanficfaerie @gryffindor9whovian @auduna-druitt @archangels-lollipop @supermoonpanda @bubblegum-star-trek  @the-space-goddess-16 @bkwrm523 @starmission @the-geeky-engineer @startled-seastar @sassmasterqueen @shewolf-2013 @this-obsession-o-mine @littlecarowrites @eyeofdionysus @nasanatmfers @galaxycharmed @emmkolenn @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @kirkaholic123 @viioletdelights @ambie2020 @yallneedtrek @iwillwakeherinthemorning @haveyouseenmymind @sorryallonsy @kriskentia @reading-in-moonlight @mad-girl-without-a-box @itsrandombooklover @all-time-foes @kickingitwithkirk @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @annathewitch @kawaiiusagichansan @garnet-redtailedhero @djisfantastic @ever-faithful-sidekick @killerbumblebee

[kinkykinard]

Whumptober 2018 - Day 3

For @herestoodthelettuce.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Montgomery Scott x Reader. Prompt: Insomnia. Word Count: 621. Warning(s): none.

You stare at the rivets in the bulkhead above your bed, nuts and bolts nestled securely in each one and holding the ship together around you.  You’ve been lying awake in the near-complete darkness for so long that your vision is as sharp as it is in daylight.  Even the familiar, distant hum of the warp core isn’t a good enough lullaby to help guide you into sleep.

Turning your head, you stare at the small pill bottle on your bedside table.  The first dose of the sedative has failed you and you ponder taking a second one.  Dr. McCoy’s voice comes back to haunt you, however, talking of side effects and addiction, and you quickly think better of it.  No sense in tempting fate; what’s one more sleepless night?

Minutes go by, your frustration mounting.  They turn to hours and your upset claims you, tears streaming from your eyes and soaking into the pillow under your head.  You toss and turn in a desperate attempt to get comfortable but it’s to no avail.  You kick the blankets away, overheated from all of the commotion.  A noise beside you garners your attention.

“Are you awake?”  Scotty asks quietly, his tone laced with some amount of confusion.

You consider staying quiet a moment as not to worry him, but a soft sniffle escapes you.

Scotty’s instantly at your side, propped up on one elbow, squinting at you through the darkness.

“Are you alright?”  He whispers, clearing his throat.  “What’s wrong?”

You sigh, meeting his gaze.

“I can’t sleep,” you say flatly, trying and failing to keep the waver out of your voice.

He gropes blindly through the darkness, his touches hesitant and careful until he’s sure he’s cupping your cheek properly.  He strokes a thumb gently just beside your eye, wiping away some of the tear tracks there.

“This isn’t the first night, is it?”  He asks gently, shifting so he’s closer to you.

You shake your head and feel Scotty press a kiss to your temple.  His arm wraps around your waist, his fingertips absentmindedly stroking your hip.

“Have you been to sick bay?”  He queries further.

“The medicine isn’t working tonight,” you reply.  “I feel like my skin is crawling, like I can’t lie still.  I’m never going to get to sleep.”

Your tone gets increasingly more hysterical with every word and you can feel yourself trembling.  Your chest feels tight, like you can’t breathe, and you start to panic a little.  Scotty is right there, though, shushing you softly, reaching up to smooth a hand down along your arm in easy, rhythmic strokes.

“I’ve got you,” he assures you.  “I’m right here.  You’re alright.”

It takes a few minutes, but soon his soothing touch starts to ease your anxiety.  Your trembling begins to subside and your breathing comes easier.  He continues murmuring wordless reassurances against your temple and you feel the tension start to leave your body.  Eventually you find yourself starting to feel sleepy.  The thought that morning must be near still looms over you, but you figure that some sleep is better than none at all and you let your eyes fall closed.

As slumber starts to claim you, softening the edges of reality, you hear Scotty start to hum a soft tune.  It’s unfamiliar but distinctly soothing and you sag into the mattress beneath you, letting go of the last of your frustration.

As you drift off, Scotty continues the humming in hopes that you stay asleep.  Once you start to snort softly, he reaches for your comm and disables your alarm.  As brilliant as you are at your job, Scotty knows that you need the sleep more than the Enterprise needs you for a day.

@starshiphufflebadger @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @feelmyroarrrr @musingsongbird @ababyinatrenchcoat @medicatemedrmccoy @wonders-of-the-multiverse  @devanshade @dolamrothianlady @startrekimagines @theonlyparadox @itsjaynebird @goodnightwife @thevalesofanduin @elsa-lost-in-translation @thefanficfaerie @gryffindor9whovian @auduna-druitt @archangels-lollipop @supermoonpanda @bubblegum-star-trek  @the-space-goddess-16 @starmission @the-geeky-engineer @startled-seastar @littlecarowrites @eyeofdionysus @emmkolenn @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @kirkaholic123 @ambie2020 @iwillwakeherinthemorning @haveyouseenmymind @this-obsession-o-mine @kriskentia @reading-in-moonlight  @mad-girl-without-a-box @itsrandombooklover @gaeilgerua @kickingitwithkirk @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @kawaiiusagichansan @garnet-redtailedhero @djisfantastic @ever-faithful-sidekick @mlleecrivaine

[kinkykinard]

Whumptober 2018 - Day 4

For @thefanficfaerie.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Jim Kirk x Reader. Prompt: “No, stop!” Word Count: 724. Warning(s): mirrorverse, torture. 

He looks just like your Jim, but that’s where the similarities end.  He smells like copper, like the rivers of blood he’s undoubtedly spilled in his lifetime.  His hands are callused and too-hot, his hold on you firm and forceful.  You toss your head as his face looms closer, desperate to keep as far away from him as you can.  His palm wraps around your neck, fingers pressing firmly into your carotid arteries and making your head ship.  You gasp in an attempt to breathe through his grip.

“No, stop,” you beg, your voice reedy.

You avert your gaze from his as if it’ll help you out of your current situation, your focus falling on the insignia of the Terran empire on his chest.  You’ve only ever seen it in history books before and the stories you’ve read about its people are horrific enough that there’s no room for rational thought in your frightened mind.

“And why would I do that?”  Captain Kirk asks, his expression cruel, his voice cold.

You swallow thickly but the saliva gets caught in your throat, the pressure on your larynx too much for you to be able to swallow.  You cough and sputter, a fine mist of spit wetting the captain’s face as it hovers near yours.  His expression turns to disgust and before you  know it you find yourself being thrown unceremoniously to the floor.  You gasp as a white-hot shock of agony goes through the wrist you land on and throw an arm over your head in an attempt to prevent any further attacks.

“Please,” you beg as two security officers pull you to your feet by the back of your tunic.  “Stop.”

“I asked you a question,” he says flatly, clearly bored of your refusal to answer the first time.  “Answer me and I won’t have any reason to hurt you.”

You shake your head.

“I don’t even know how I got here,” you say shakily, pulling against the hold the guards have on you.  “I just want to go home.  I want nothing of you.”

You watch as the Jim look-alike pulls a small device off of his belt.  You recognize its shape from the textbooks, too, and you press backward against the hands holding you in an attempt to get away from it.  The captain closes in easily, though, and holds the agonizer up in your line of sight.

“Last chance,” he says icily.  

You shake your head, tears welling in your eyes as you watch his expression darken and become frustrated.  He steps into your personal space, reaching up and pressing the agonizer to the skin of your neck.  

The pain is instantaneous.

The sensation of agony that goes through you is so acute and all-encompassing that your vision whites out.  You can feel yourself trembling as you hit the floor, every muscle seizing up as each nerve ending buzzes with an intense electricity.  Everything around you slowly fades away as the pain becomes your entire world, and though you hope you’ll lose consciousness soon to escape the pain there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight.

You’re not sure how much time goes by; the pain has caused the minutes to blur and blend in to one another.  Eventually, though, the agony stops.  At first you think it might be your imagination as your synapses continue to fire from the sensory overload, but eventually you slump to the floor in a limp, exhausted heap, your vision fading to a dull gray.  

There are hands on you.  

Soft, familiar, warm.

“Jim,” you croak, your voice barely a whisper.

“I’ve got you, sunshine,” he says softly, though his tone carries an undercurrent of urgency.

His voice is nearly indistinguishable from that of his counterpart and you tremble a little, your heart racing furiously.  You listen to him bark orders to his crew, your crew, and try your best not to flinch as he gathers you into his arms.  Though limited, your experience in the Terran empire has left you shaken and though you trust your Jim implicitly, a part of you remains detached, unable to feel the same comfort and familiarity in his embrace that you once did.

As golden transporter tendrils wrap around you, you reach up and palm the now-defunct agonizer still embedded in your neck, just in case.

@starshiphufflebadger @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @supermoonpanda @bubblegum-star-trek  @the-space-goddess-16  @the-geeky-engineer @startled-seastar @sassmasterqueen @littlecarowrites @eyeofdionysus @emmkolenn @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @kirkaholic123 @ambie2020 @yallneedtrek @iwillwakeherinthemorning @haveyouseenmymind @sorryallonsy @this-obsession-o-mine @kriskentia @reading-in-moonlight @mad-girl-without-a-box @itsrandombooklover @goingknowherewastaken @gaeilgerua @kickingitwithkirk @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @kawaiiusagichansan @garnet-redtailedhero @djisfantastic @ever-faithful-sidekick @killerbumblebee

[kinkykinard]

Whumptober 2018 - Day 15

For @abeautifulandterriblemind.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Jim Kirk x Reader. Prompt: Manhandling. Word Count: 770. Warning(s): phaser fire, manhandling, mentions of inappropriate touching.

The ship is on red alert and while the sirens cover the sounds of your boots on the floor nicely, the strobing red lights make it hard to see anything.  Your crew is under attack and as chief of security it’s your job to ensure their safety.  Biting your lip and focusing, you grip your phaser tightly and creep through the halls, looking for any signs of intruders.

It’s eerily quiet aside from the klaxons.

Creeping around the corner, you spy one of the enemy soldiers pacing at the end of the hallways.  Cursing, you duck behind the corner again and hunker down.  You try to even out your breathing as you decide on a course of action.  You’re so lost in thought that you fail to hear the creak of another boot on the deck plating behind you, and the next thing you know you’re being pitched toward the floor as a brief but intense shock of agony goes through your whole body.

“Look what we’ve got here,” a voice says just over your head as boots appear in your line of sight.  “Another hostage.”

You curse inwardly, groaning as you feel yourself being hauled to your feet by the scruff of your neck.  The brief stun has made your muscles weak and thrown off your coordination and you stumble awkwardly down the hall as your captor pushes you along.  When you don’t move quickly enough for his satisfaction, he grasps you by the wrist, pinning it high against your back for a better hold, making you whimper.

“Oh I’m sorry, is this too much for you?”  He asks, pulling even harder on your arm, keeping you close as he pushes on.  “Keep walking.”

You do as he says, knowing you’re too weak to resist.  You trip over a small lip on the floor, nearly toppling the both of you, earning yourself another harsh tug on the arm.  Your captor wraps his other arm around your waist, throwing you up against the nearest wall with a sound thud.

“I’m not carrying you,” he snarls.  “So we’ll stop until you can get your shit together.  In the meantime I’m going to make sure you’re not carrying anything else, if you don’t mind.”

You mind, of course, but you’re helpless to do much with your muscles still loose and uncoordinated.  Your strength is starting to return, but not quickly enough.  You gasp as he wedges a knee between your thighs, pushing your legs apart, and places your hands on the wall over your head.

You feel anger well inside of you as his hands run up your legs, your sides, and your arms, searching for other weapons.  His hands reach your butt and he gives it a little squeeze before finishing the pat down, making you see red.

“Let’s go,” he says a moment later.  “I think you’ve had more than enough time to recover.”

You grit your teeth as he grabs you by the arm again, leading you further down the hall, past other members of his crew.  They laugh as the two of you pass and you want to spit in their faces, but instead you bide your time.

Before long, you reach a door.  Your escort reaches out and pushes it open, shoving you inside.  You trip over yourself, landing hard on the floor, feeling the ache of bruises already starting to form as you grope around in the darkness.  The room is warm and you can hear breathing; you’re not alone.

In the light from the hallway beyond, you see another figure approach held by their side.

“How many does that last one make?”  The new woman’s voice asks.

“Fifteen,” your captor says.  “Look like we’ve got them all.”

The lights come to life moments later, blinding you, and you glance around the room.  The rest of your teammates are bound and gagged through the room and Jim is standing over you with his usual thousand-watt smile firmly in place.

“Looks like I win again, sunshine,” he says brightly, holding out a hand to wake you up.

You roll your eyes.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you mutter.  “Your ass is grass next simulation.”

Jim chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead as you rub at the scrapes on your palms from where you hit the ground.

“That’s what you always say,” he teases playfully, holstering his phaser.  “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.”

You roll your eyes and can’t help but smile as he holds an arm out for you to take.

“You’d better kiss all of my bruises better, too.”

@starshiphufflebadger @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @feelmyroarrrr @musingsongbird @ababyinatrenchcoat @medicatemedrmccoy @wonders-of-the-multiverse  @devanshade @dolamrothianlady @startrekimagines @theonlyparadox @itsjaynebird @goodnightwife @thevalesofanduin @elsa-lost-in-translation @thefanficfaerie @gryffindor9whovian @auduna-druitt @archangels-lollipop @supermoonpanda @bubblegum-star-trek  @the-space-goddess-16 @starmission @the-geeky-engineer @startled-seastar @littlecarowrites @eyeofdionysus @emmkolenn @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @kirkaholic123 @ambie2020 @iwillwakeherinthemorning @haveyouseenmymind @this-obsession-o-mine @kriskentia @reading-in-moonlight  @mad-girl-without-a-box @itsrandombooklover @gaeilgerua @kickingitwithkirk @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @kawaiiusagichansan @garnet-redtailedhero @djisfantastic @ever-faithful-sidekick @killerbumblebee

[kinkykinard]

Whumptober 2018 - Day 25

For @musicmandy1991.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Leonard McCoy x Reader. Prompt: Restraints. Word Count: 801. Warning(s): mirrorverse, restraints, nudity, mentions of surgery/vivisection.

You wake with a start, roused by a metallic clanging noise.  It takes you a moment to realize the clanging was of your own making.  Heavy steel cuffs encircle both of your wrists and ankles, attached to the table beneath you by short chains.  The metal under your back is as unyielding as the cuffs and your heart rate quickly starts to climb as you wonder what’s happening.  

The last thing you remember is a nurse’s face above you, holding an oxygen mask over your mouth and nose and instructing you to breathe and count backwards from ten.  You were having surgery, a routine procedure, and Leonard had promised he would see you on the other side.

He’d said nothing about shackles.

You pull experimentally on your restraints and find that you’re stuck fast.  The bio bed you’re on starts to screech as your heart rate continues to soar, your predicament sinking in.  Is it some kind of prank?  A sick joke?  A fever dream?  Whatever it is, it’s not the least bit funny and you start to scream, calling for help.

The door across the room slides open, admitting a familiar face.  Half of it, at least, until the man you thought to be Leonard turns to face you entirely, displaying a dark red, angry scar running through the other eye, its pupil milky white and unseeing.  The door slides closed in his wake and he stalks toward you, a sinister grin pulling up the corners of his mouth.

“You’re awake,” he says lightly, his eyes flicking up to the monitor on the bio bed.  “And stable.  Mostly.”

“Who are you?”  You ask, trying and failing to pull away from him as he reaches out to trace the faint scar from your surgery, his hands cold against the skin of your abdomen.  “Where am I?”

He ignores your queries, instead pushing up the fabric of your gown to expose more of your midsection.  His touch is so unlike Leonard’s that it makes you sick, and you gasp as you take more of him in, spotting the insignia on his chest.  You’d always thought the Terran Empire was a thing of myth, but the more things sink in, the more you realize that you’re in a living nightmare.

“Looks like someone’s already started in on you,” the man - whom you refuse to refer to as anything even close to your beloved - says pointedly.  “No matter; the things I have planned for you will leave much prettier, more lasting marks.”

“What are you going to do to me?”  You ask, your voice shaking.

“I hate to say this for fear of sounding tawdry, but trust me, I’m a doctor,” he drawls.  “I just want to examine you; see what makes you tick.”

You tug at your restraints again, earning no reaction from him.  Instead, he continues to touch you methodically, palpating, examining.  You feel bile rise in your throat as he presses a stethoscope to your chest, listening to your racing heartbeat.  You fear he’s going to choke you as his hands come up to your throat, but his touch remains clinical.  

“You’re a fine specimen,” he comments, finally removing his hands.  “You’re in perfect health; ideal for my experimental work.”

Tears sting at your eyes as you wonder what kind of experimental work he’s talking about.  You turn your head, following him as he reaches for something on a cart next to the bed that you hadn’t noticed before.  A scalpel, stainless and glinting, catches the light as he raises his hand again and you start to struggle in spite of the fruitlessness of it.

“No, please,” you beg.

He takes no notice of your pleading.  Instead, he reaches for the neckline of your gown, grasping it firmly and slicing through the fabric effortlessly, allowing it to part and bare your chest to him entirely.  Tears roll down over your temples, dripping onto the cold metal beneath you.  

“Computer, create new entry in the Chief Medical Officer’s log,” Leonard dictates, leaning in over you, casting a shadow across your torso.

You can barely hear him over the rushing of blood in your ears as your heart races away.  He dictates notes about your body, your vital signs, and his proposed experiment.  You can’t understand half of what he’s saying, but you make out enough to know that unless rescue is imminent you won’t be walking away from the procedure.

“Preparing to dissect the subcutaneous tissues to expose the sternum,” he dictates.  “Patient’s heart rate remains elevated but within acceptable limits.  Making the median sternotomy incision now.”

The last thing you feel before letting out a guttural, primal scream of agony is the searing pain of the blade being pressed firmly into your skin and pulled along the length of your sternum.

@starshiphufflebadger @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @feelmyroarrrr @ababyinatrenchcoat @alluramc @medicatemedrmccoy @arrowsshootyouforwards @wonders-of-the-multiverse @devanshade @dolamrothianlady @startrekimagines @theonlyparadox @gaeilgerua @itsjaynebird @goodnightwife @thevalesofanduin @distinguishedqueenofbooks @elsa-lost-in-translation @thefanficfaerie @gryffindor9whovian @auduna-druitt @archangels-lollipop @supermoonpanda @bubblegum-star-trek  @the-space-goddess-16 @bkwrm523 @starmission @the-geeky-engineer @startled-seastar @sassmasterqueen @shewolf-2013 @this-obsession-o-mine @littlecarowrites @eyeofdionysus @nasanatmfers @galaxycharmed @emmkolenn @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @kirkaholic123 @viioletdelights @ambie2020 @yallneedtrek @iwillwakeherinthemorning @haveyouseenmymind @sorryallonsy @kriskentia @reading-in-moonlight @mad-girl-without-a-box @itsrandombooklover @all-time-foes @kickingitwithkirk @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @annathewitch @kawaiiusagichansan @garnet-redtailedhero @djisfantastic @ever-faithful-sidekick @killerbumblebee

[kinkykinard]

Whumptober 2018 - Day 16

For @abeautifulandterriblemind.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Jim Kirk x Reader. Prompt: Bedridden. Word Count: 730. Warning(s): severe illness.

You moan softly as your fever soars, your entire body wracked with an alien virus that’s slowly trying to destroy you, cell by cell.  The medication dripping into your IV line is helping the fight in your favor, but the road ahead of you is a long one.  You ache everywhere, so much so that even Christine’s gentle touch as she cools you with a wet washcloth is too much for your sense to handle.  You feel like your skin is on fire.

“Jim,” you croak weakly.

Christine smiles sadly, shushing you gently, humming wordlessly to soothe you as the illness takes its toll.  She glances over her shoulder in time to watch the captain come barreling into med bay, heading straight for the isolation room in which you lay.

“What happened?”  He asks, heading toward the door.

A firm hand on his shoulder stops him.  

“You can’t go in there,” Leonard says grimly, glancing away from the monitor displaying your vital signs and down to his best friend instead.

“The hell I can’t,” Jim argues.  “That’s my girlfriend in there, Bones.”

Leonard isn’t cowed by Jim’s tone.  He sidesteps the younger man, placing himself between Jim and the isolation room door.

“And Christine’s taking care of her,” Leonard assures him.

“I need to be with her,” Jim says firmly.  “Get out of my way, Bones; that’s an order.”

Leonard shakes his head, his expression apologetic.

“You don’t get to pull rank on me in here, Jim,” he counters.  “If I let you in there, you’re putting the whole crew at risk.”

Jim shakes his head, finally tearing his gaze away from you long enough to look at Leonard.

“What are you talking about?”  Jim asks.

“You skipped your last physical,” Leonard explains.  “Which means your immunizations aren’t up to date.  You’re not protected against what she has, and if I let you in there, I can’t let you back out until the incubation period passes.  If I can’t let you out, you can’t lead your crew.”

Jim curses, throwing up his arms in frustration.

“Give me the hypo,” he implores the CMO.  “Please, Bones.  Just give me whatever shot I need so I can be with her.”

Leonard shakes his head.

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy,” he says softly.  “It’ll take your body two weeks to mount a proper immune response to the vaccine.  You won’t be fully protected until that time has elapsed.  No can do, Jim.”

Jim curses again, running a hand through his hair.  Leonard can practically feel Jim’s fear radiating off of him.  He steps closer, putting a hand on Jim’s shoulder.

“Christine’s not going anywhere,” Leonard assures Jim.  “We won’t leave Y/N alone for even a second until she’s well enough to rejoin us out here.  Once she’s come around a bit you can talk to her, but for now it’s best if you leave her to rest.”

Jim sags and Leonard steps in closer, putting an arm around the younger man’s shoulders.

“I can’t lose her, Bones,” he says quietly, as though even saying the words aloud might seal your fate.

“Not on my watch, you won’t,” Leonard assures him.  “She’s a fighter, Jim.  I know it looks pretty bad right now, but she’s going to be just fine.  She’s hanging in there.”

Jim steps closer to the isolation room, pressing his palm to the glass separating the two of you.  He heaves a heavy sigh, dropping his head and taking a moment to steel himself.  He glances up at Leonard again.

“I’m not leaving her,” he insists.  “I’ll sit here around the clock until I can go in there and hold her hand.  If I can’t go in there, then that’s my best offer.”

Leonard nods.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he says sympathetically.  “I’ll have a cot set up for you.  In the meantime, since you’re here, let’s get that physical out of the way.  If you get your shots now, then we can make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

Jim nods in defeat, his shoulders sagging.  He turns to follow Leonard to a private exam room, but hesitates as he watches Christine tend to you.  He holds onto the glass for another moment, tears stinging at his eyes as he turns away from you at last, praying that nothing happens to you in the time that he’s gone.

@starshiphufflebadger @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @feelmyroarrrr @musingsongbird @ababyinatrenchcoat @medicatemedrmccoy @wonders-of-the-multiverse  @devanshade @dolamrothianlady @startrekimagines @theonlyparadox @itsjaynebird @goodnightwife @thevalesofanduin @elsa-lost-in-translation @thefanficfaerie @gryffindor9whovian @auduna-druitt @archangels-lollipop @supermoonpanda @bubblegum-star-trek  @the-space-goddess-16 @starmission @the-geeky-engineer @startled-seastar @littlecarowrites @eyeofdionysus @emmkolenn @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @kirkaholic123 @ambie2020 @iwillwakeherinthemorning @haveyouseenmymind @this-obsession-o-mine @kriskentia @reading-in-moonlight  @mad-girl-without-a-box @itsrandombooklover @gaeilgerua @kickingitwithkirk @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @kawaiiusagichansan @garnet-redtailedhero @djisfantastic @ever-faithful-sidekick @killerbumblebee

[kinkykinard]

Whumptober 2018 - Day 30

For @kjs-s.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Montgomery Scott x Reader. Prompt: Caregiver. Word Count: 640. Warning(s): none.

“Really, Monty, you don’t have to do this,” you insist.  “I’m perfectly capable of walking myself to my quarters.”

Scotty keeps pace with you as he escorts you from the med bay to your quarters, keeping an arm around your waist to support you even though you don’t need the help.

“Dr. McCoy gave me strict instructions to keep an eye on you,” Scotty recalls.  “And that’s what I’m going to do.  I’m not letting you out of my sight for so much as a second.”

You roll your eyes as the two of you approach your quarters, pausing to let him type your entry code in.

“I’m fine,” you assure him.  “He also said it was nothing a few days of bedrest wouldn’t fix.”

“Aye,” Scotty agreed.  “And that you should keep an eye on your temperature to make sure the medication is working.”

You’re about to continue arguing as you allow him to lead you into your quarters but you gasp instead as you notice a few homey touches that weren’t there before.  There’s a mountain of blankets and cushions waiting on your couch, a PADD and a stack of old fashioned board games on the table, and a few strands of softly twinkling fairy lights hung up throughout the room.  You turn to look at Scotty as the door slides closed behind you.

“Monty!”  You exclaim.  “What did you do?!”

He beams as you turn to look at him.

“Do you like it?”  He asks.  “I figured if you’re stuck in your quarters for a few days it might be nice to liven them up a little.”

You nod enthusiastically.

“It’s beautiful!”  You reply.  “Thank you.  You really didn’t have to do this.”

“It was nothing,” Scotty says softly.  “And it kept me occupied when Dr. McCoy wouldn’t let me into isolation to see you.  All that ‘dangerous, highly contagious unknown pathogen’ nonsense.”

You chuckle as he leads you over to the couch, letting him guide you down onto it.  You recline against the cushions on one side as he swaddles you in blankets, leaving just your head exposed.  He tucks them in all around you, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

“Can I bring you anything?”  He asks.

“Just a glass of water, please,” you reply.

You smile, watching as he rushes off.  You can tell he’s worried about you in spite of your favorable prognosis, and you know keeping him busy is the best way to keep him from getting sick with worry.  He disappears into the kitchenette and reappears moments later with a glass in one hand and a thermometer he’s pilfered from medical in the other.  You watch him approach and set down your glass.

“I just left med bay,” you reason, eyeing the thermometer in his other hand.  “I really don’t think you need to check my temperature so soon.”

“Humor me,” Scotty says lightly.  “Better safe than sorry, and it’s not hurting you any.”

You shrug, sitting patiently still as he reaches out and scans your forehead, watching him as he analyzes the readout on the instrument’s screen.  He makes a wordless noise of approval and sets the thermometer aside, perching on the couch next to you and pulling your feet into his lap.  You sigh contentedly and reach for the remote, flicking on the holoscreen and tuning in to an old-time movie.

“Are you comfortable?”  Scotty asks, absentmindedly stroking your shin through the blankets.

“Very,” you reply with a tired smile.  “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, love,” Scotty says softly.  “Though I do draw the line at sappy romantic movies.  If we don’t watch something with substance I might just have to move on out of here.”

You roll your eyes, reaching for a cushion, hucking it playfully at him as the opening credits on the film start to roll.

@starshiphufflebadger @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @feelmyroarrrr @musingsongbird @ababyinatrenchcoat @medicatemedrmccoy @wonders-of-the-multiverse  @devanshade @dolamrothianlady @startrekimagines @theonlyparadox @itsjaynebird @goodnightwife @thevalesofanduin @elsa-lost-in-translation @thefanficfaerie @gryffindor9whovian @auduna-druitt @archangels-lollipop @supermoonpanda @bubblegum-star-trek  @the-space-goddess-16 @starmission @the-geeky-engineer @startled-seastar @littlecarowrites @eyeofdionysus @emmkolenn @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @kirkaholic123 @ambie2020 @iwillwakeherinthemorning @haveyouseenmymind @this-obsession-o-mine @kriskentia @reading-in-moonlight  @mad-girl-without-a-box @itsrandombooklover @gaeilgerua @kickingitwithkirk @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @kawaiiusagichansan @garnet-redtailedhero @djisfantastic @ever-faithful-sidekick

[kinkykinard]

Whumptober 2018 - Day 20

For @supernaturallymarvellous.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Jim Kirk x Reader. Prompt: Concussion. Word Count: 678. Warning(s): head injury, angst.

You watch in horror as Jim overbalances, his body pulling away from the rock wall he’s climbing.  He tries desperately to hold on but can’t get a good grip on the few and far-between hand holds along the side of the canyon.  Your heart nearly stops as he falls, plummeting the twenty or so feet to the ground and hitting the rock with sickening thud.  

Even from a distance you can tell he’s unconscious.

You curse as you rush forward, adrenaline spurring you, and drop to your knees at his side.  Reaching out, you’re tempted to tap his cheek to wake him up until you realize that might be bad news if he’s got a neck injury.  Taking a breath, you do your best to remember what you learned in your first aid classes.

Doing your best not to move him, you reach out and feel for a pulse.  There’s a strong one present, thankfully, and you breathe a sigh of relief.  Holding Jim’s head still with one hand, you reach underneath him to feel for any signs of injury.  Your fingers come away slicked with blood and you fight a wave of nausea as you wipe it away.

“Jim, wake up,” you call, squeezing his shoulder firmly.  “Open your eyes.”

No response.

Cursing again, you pull your emergency beacon from  your belt.  You don’t want to give up so soon, but you have no other choice.  You’ll just have to complete your survival training some other time.  Pressing the button, you watch as the beacon comes to life and you stay by Jim’s side, awaiting rescue.

Within moments, tendrils of light wrap themselves around the two of you and you’re spirited away to a waiting cruiser orbiting the small planet on which your class is training.  As you rematerialize, a medical team rushes forward to take Jim off to medical, leaving you still kneeling on the platform.

It takes you a few moments to gather yourself.  When you finally do, you’re led to crew quarters to clean yourself up a bit, and then you make your way down to medical.  By the time you arrive Jim has come around, though he’s still not quite cognizant.  You move closer to his bed, reaching out to take his hand.  Your touch startles him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you murmur softly.  “It’s just me.”

He mumbles wordlessly and falls back into an uneasy sleep.  Your heart aches for him, but you’re distracted as a doctor comes to join you at his bedside, taking in your condition with a quick top-to-bottom glance before turning his attention to Jim.

“He’s suffered quite a severe head injury,” the doctor explains.

You lose yourself in all of the medical terminology as he talks, not really understanding most of it.  Something about swelling and bleeding, medications and procedures and recovery times.  Your attention is caught eventually, though, when the doctor brings up a complication of the injury.

“He’s got some amnesia,” the doctor continues.  “It should resolve once the swelling goes down, but only time will tell for sure.”

Your chest constricts and your heart thuds heavily, making you feel sick and dizzy.  You nod numbly, barely feeling the doctor’s gentle, reassuring squeeze to your shoulder.  As he leaves, you move even closer to JIm’s bed, gripping his hand tightly and reaching up to brush some of his wayward hair away from his forehead.

“You’ve got to hang in there for me, Jim,” you say softly.  “Come back to me, you hear?”

His face scrunches up as he wakes again, his forehead wrinkling as he turns his head toward the sound of your voice.  He opens his eyes, taking in everything around him, and settles his gaze on you.  You smile hopefully, feeling your anxiety start to mount as his expression turns from neutral to confused.  

No amount of explanation in the world could have prepared you for his words.  Expecting his reaction doesn’t make it any easier to hear and you can feel a lump forming in your throat as he speaks.

“Who are you?”

@starshiphufflebadger @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @feelmyroarrrr @musingsongbird @ababyinatrenchcoat @medicatemedrmccoy @wonders-of-the-multiverse  @devanshade @dolamrothianlady @startrekimagines @theonlyparadox @itsjaynebird @goodnightwife @thevalesofanduin @elsa-lost-in-translation @thefanficfaerie @gryffindor9whovian @auduna-druitt @archangels-lollipop @supermoonpanda @bubblegum-star-trek  @the-space-goddess-16 @starmission @the-geeky-engineer @startled-seastar @littlecarowrites @eyeofdionysus @emmkolenn @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @kirkaholic123 @ambie2020 @iwillwakeherinthemorning @haveyouseenmymind @this-obsession-o-mine @kriskentia @reading-in-moonlight  @mad-girl-without-a-box @itsrandombooklover @gaeilgerua @kickingitwithkirk @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @kawaiiusagichansan @garnet-redtailedhero @djisfantastic @ever-faithful-sidekick @killerbumblebee