#star trek discovery x reader

[emeraldsyndicate]

The future, is what you make of it.

Fanfic/ Star Trek Captain Pike, Admiral Vance X reader

(I take no credit for these characters, I'm just playing with them, seeking a happy ending to a muse that sat upon my shoulder and murmured "what if...."

Summary : It was an ordinary day for me, till it wasn't. It's kinda like those zenn gardens, the stones in the sand with the circles radiating outward - but in my case apparently across time and multiple realities.

It's made me introspective. What is compassion and do we ever truly know the effects of one kind act tossed out into the universe till a/the "god" (any sufficiently advanced civilization/technology would appear god like or magical) takes notice. All "god" ever really does, is give choices. Those spoken and more significantly, those unspoken, and with them the possibility of a life and love, worth dying for, and perhaps their own desire, after so much death and destruction for just one "happy ending", not perfect, no one can promise perfect, choices after all, but happy.

warning: Mature, O.C. some spoilers and diverges from the end of season 4 destiny and season 2 of strange new worlds.

I've never posted before, gentle feedback is appreciated....

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Your tired, in fact, truth be told you are way way beyond exhausted and not really too sure how you are managing to function. But its not like there is another choice. Well, technically, you had your choice, made it, and these are the consequences. God knows you were warned…hell that’s actually funny. God knows you were warned…by a "god", and then you went and broke the only rule he gave you. You got offered paradise and now, now you’ve got a ring side seat to exactly what hell is like…complete with a demon. A demon with dead, dark eyes seemingly seething with hate and a hunger that is never, ever satisfied. You shake your head to dispel the image of it circling, slowly, snarling and clicking, growing ever closer, watching for a weak moment when it could pounce. That nightmare was never ever going to go away.

You drag your sorry self up the ladder of yet another Jefferies tube and start the imposed sentence of cleaning it. A horrible, mind numbing and exhausting job – your punishment. You can feel the sweat already starting to trickle down your back severely exacerbating the burning, rubbed raw rash, an allergic reaction to the fabric, of your prison fatigues. The only thing, in the only fabric, the replicator will issue you. The commander made sure he didn’t miss a beat in ensuring you had the “full effect”. You were hungry but knew the “K” rations, again all that the computer would issue you, although they met your nutritional requirements, would turn your stomach and cause severe cramping that made your last bout of stomach flu look like a day at the beach. Still this is better than yesterday. Very little could fail to be better than yesterday with you and the chief trapped with a Gorn.

She’s still in Medlab and your, well your back on “shift” without even 12 hours of recovery time. Everything aches, absolutely everything aches, you swear even the inside of your eyelids hurt, but your lucky to be alive. "Again", you correct yourself, lucky to be alive again, however your starting to wonder if this is indeed part of the consequences for pissing off a deity. You can't suffer if your not alive you think to yourself ruefully smirking.

You want so very very badly to feel safe, just for a few minutes, to be comforted, cared for -it’s a federation ship for pity sake. Their very motto is service, sacrifice, compassion and love – just not for you.

The commander made sure everyone knew not to fraternize with the screw up who cost them the alliance with the Tal when you hadn’t shown up for the reception. The captain, he seemed intent on ensuring your full sentence was carried out to the letter. Neither of them seemed to have any of the empathy for you which they lavished upon others. They had raged at you the next morning when you’d hurried to find them and explain as not one message had gone through. They'd gone one up one side of you and down the other, neither willing to let you utter a single word in your defense, insisting there was none. You kept trying to keep a lid on your tempter as you’d been up all night and knew normally they were far more level headed and fair.

You decided to try and wait till they ran out of steam to explain when the commander had gone so far as to state blithely, when you’d taken a deep breath and raised your hand to try and interject, that if you uttered a single, solitary syllable, ever, to try and excuse your gross, selfish lack of foresight regarding this matter, that he would ship you to the penal colony of epsilon 8. Your mouth had fallen open in shock as he had continued to rail at you, his finger shaking in your face, his own a mask of rage and disgust. This was not the man you knew.

They had both seemed so haggard and tired, after all the war with the gorn was not going well and they had had high hopes for the support this new ally could have provided.

You had started to say “captain, commander” in a gentle voice sure it was just a misunderstanding, as it was apparently far far more severe a situation than you had thought but they were both reasonable men so you were sure that when you explained…

Only to be interrupted by him saying, in a low angry voice with enough venom to have you stepping back “choose your next actions carefully as I swear on my honour as  Starfleet officer if you dare utter another single sound for this inexcusable conduct, I will put you on the shuttle in cuffs personally, I AM the authority in this sector. The lives you have endangered with your self-indulgent, selfish,… primitive…” He had literally spat out.

You had looked in shock back and forth from the captain to the commander with Pike running his hands through his badly tussled hair who had joined in insisting “– show up, all you had to do was show up – can you even conceive of the damage done by your actions. That they wouldn’t know, wouldn’t check where you’d gone instead. The level of insult you’ve caused…”

I still had absolutely no idea what I had done that was so horribly wrong. I agree I wasn't there but there didn't seem to be another option at the time, and how my choice could have been so offensive, given the potential for harm if I had just left and gone to the reception, was seemingly beyond my limited experience with or understanding of interspecies politics.

No one bothered to tell me that, although everyone seemed to know. Which made even trying to defend myself impossible. So I was trying to keep my head down, finish the sentence of hard labor to teach me ”some character, badly needed humility and some small inclination of the meaning of self-sacrifice”, at least until I could disappear.

 Seriously, I had thought as I worked, like I hadn’t wanted the “Cinderella deal” at the Tal reception. I’d gotten to be dressed to the 9’s, as a last minute substitute to ensure the Tal cultural norms were obeyed, as the officers had been dropping like flies due to the virus brought in on the rescued transport earlier that day. While not lethal for most species it would make you damn sick for over 48 hour as it ran its course , along with being highly contagious. Hence everyone, even me, non-starfleet, were moving via the transporters to avoid the possible spread of the virus. I really had felt like I had won the lottery, A night on the arm of a handsome Starfleet officer, dinner with a charming and witty companion, dancing. Even if you were terrified of not using the right fork or upsetting aliens you didn’t know existed 3 months ago, you had really been looking forward to it. It seemed originally like fate had thrown you a bone, given you just one night of what may have been, a wonderful fairy tale night to last the rest of your life after you ensured you disappeared. It was a big galaxy after all and they, they had their whole life ahead of them now.

 Fate however, or the aforementioned "God", had put other plans in place and now you were being punished. Not that you could see any other choice at the time you had thought leaning all of your weight into a particularly stubborn nodule with sweat dripping down into your eyes mixing with the tears born of exhaustion, pain and self-indulgent but not unwarranted, pity. That, was of course, when you slipped.

Now usually the safety measures on a Starfleet vessel would prevent accidents of this nature but not when they hadn’t been engaged. After all no one would talk to you, you had no computer access, privileges or codes so you had no means of knowing they existed or being able to invoke them. That meant that when you slipped and fell you kept going, all the way down to the deck with a rather sickening thud.

You had a moment to register the pain, the sharp snapping sensation in your arm and right side along with the sudden inability to take a breath. Your last stream of conscious thought was that you were going to die, all alone while surrounded by those who but for your refusal to obey a "god" would have welcomed and cared for you.

You could have had a fairy tale life, safe from harm and they, they would have been just as trapped as if they were still fated to end up in those horrible medical support devices. Trapped inside a pain filled shell of what they once were or could be. Alive, because of you, but because of debt and duty to you they would never again truly be able to live. You were going to die having been thrust 1500 years into the future. Sent here purportedly because a "god of time" had deemed it wasn’t fair you had lost everything, every hope, every dream everyone, your very world lost to you forever because of the time war, and the fact you would not let them kill a child.

A child whose name you still didn’t know, but, at least she got to grow up you'd consoled yourself. The time soldiers charging out of the wormhole hadn’t even really wanted the child at the playground you’d been walking past, they were after someone called grayson….in order to destroy someone or something called ….spock.

[ichayalovesyou]

Cool News Guys

Guess who finally has an AO3 Account?! MEEEEEE!

Am I slowly but surely putting all of my Captain Pike x Reader fics on there? YES!

Would it be awesome if y'all checked it out? ALSO YES!!

BEHOLD :D

All of my Star Trek stuff is under IchayaLovesYou as a pseudonym of my main account! My non-trek (BG3 and WIld WIld West) stuff are under my main account.

[dreamy-demons]

Beg to Serve

Pairing: Mirror!Lorca x Reader (could be read as an alternate universe Burnham also?)

Content: Oral (m receiving), boot worship, exhibitionism, name calling, praise, major power imbalance, thus kinda dubcon, hint of stockholm syndrome?

Word count: ~500 words

Lorca gazes down at the woman lounging at the foot of his throne, head on his lap. His queen. His greatest acquisition. He had travelled across universes to find her and it had been worth everything. Lorca loved the version of her from his own universe, but she had been too difficult. No matter how he tried to tame her she would resist him. But this one? This one was perfect. She was so malleable and had become just as infatuated with him as he was with her.

She nuzzles at his thigh, begging to please him. His knees fall open and she positions herself between them. Her eyes never leave his as she strokes her hands up his leather-clad thighs lovingly. The guards lining the walls know to avert their eyes. They wouldn't dare stare, and the thought of their fear only made him grow harder.

She works deftly to free his cock and Lorca brings a hand to her hair in anticipation.

“Go ahead darling, you know how I like it.”

His queen lays a kiss on his head, before wrapping her lips around it. The velvety warmth of her mouth has him drawing in a sharp breath. Her tongue explores him at a leisurely pace and he grips the arm of his throne to stop himself from shoving her head down and taking her throat hard.

“That's a good girl.” He hisses. His grip is white-knuckled now, and he slides her off his cock with a slick pop.

“Look at you, you're perfect.” He traces her cheek with his thumb. “I can't hold myself back, I need to fuck your throat. Squeeze my arm if it gets too much, okay?” She nods and licks her lips as Lorca brings her back onto his cock. His pace is brutal as he grunts above her. A smirk graces his lips when he sees his queen still trying to reach down between her legs despite how hard he fucks her throat.

“Ah ah, no touching yet.” She whines but her hand falls away nonetheless. “When you're finished I want to see you make yourself cum on my boot like the desperate whore that you are.”

Neither of them can stop the eager moans that escape their lips, picturing his matte black boots turned shiny by her slick. The way she would rut against him, clutching his thigh as he reminds her that this is what she was made for. Perhaps he would even let the guards watch her this time. Let the whole empire watch, lest they forget who she belongs to.

As the feeling of impending release hits him, he jerks her head down hard and groans as he pulses deep into her throat. Panting, he collapses back against his throne, watching as she hungrily swallows all of his seed.

When he comes down from his high he looks down to find her already grinding against that boot.

Good girl.

[elen-aranel]

Hold My Hand

For: @youvebeenlivingfictional Winter Writing Prompt 14, Mistletoe / Hands / Fake Dating Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: None! Reader has mild anxiety a couple of times WC: 6k Rating: Teen Notes: I haven't felt like I've had time for anything I want to do recently, least of all writing, but today's prompt really spoke to me, so here we are! <3 Summary: “We don’t like to make a big thing of it, but yes. We’re getting married when we get back to Earth. We’re only waiting so we can be with our families.”

The first time, you aren’t expecting it.

An alien sun is shining down on you as you sit cross legged on the ground in the Syndarch medicine garden. You breathe in a mix of something herbal and something sweet; there are insects buzzing around, trilling birdsong in the distance, and the voices of your fellow officers and your Syndarch hosts.  But all of those are background details; you’re hunched over your tricorder, scanning a tiny green cactus-like plant poking up between two paving stones which is producing a range of interesting-looking alkaloids. You are wondering whether the plant is just a weed, or if it had been cultivated in the past and has somehow managed to survive where it is, when a warm hand grasps yours and hauls you up.

“—is the lieutenant here.” Captain Pike is gazing at you with some kind of sappy, affectionate expression on his face, clearly put on, and you replay the last few seconds of conversation you overheard in your head.

You smile back. Ultra sappy.

“We don’t like to make a big thing of it, but yes. We’re getting married when we get back to Earth. We’re only waiting so we can be with our families.”

The Syndarch Chancellor studies you as Pike raises your hand, gently kissing the back of it. And… you don’t have to fake your pleased little shiver. Which is something you’ll have to worry about later. For now, you try to project that sense of togetherness that established couples you’ve known have had. Like Admiral April and his wife, Sarah.

The Chancellor shrugs, blue slitted eyes suddenly brightening up. “Perhaps, after all, a captain isn’t quite… right for my daughter. You must have to travel a lot. But others may be… more settled? If Starfleet establishes a permanent presence here?”

You glance around as the captain makes some vague reply. You see a question in Spock’s raised eyebrow, and Una is studiously ignoring you; you’d bet she’s working hard to stifle a laugh. You dread to think what they’ll say when you get back to the ship.

“Thanks for the save there, Lieutenant,” Pike says as you step off the transporter platform, falling into step with you as you go through the doors. “I would not want that chancellor as a father-in-law. I owe you— What’s your favourite meal? You’re invited to dinner tonight. You too,” he adds, turning, nodding to Spock and Una. “Good work down there.”

“You don’t owe me. I mean, I’m not stupid, I’m not going to say no to your cooking, but I don’t think I’d have gotten to talk to that botanist so quickly if our host didn’t think we were engaged.”

“I found the ease with which you dissembled noteworthy, Lieutenant,” Spock says. “I know that humans are adept at lying, but you did not hesitate when the captain said you were to be married, even though you didn’t appear to have been paying any attention to him and the chancellor.”

“I was in my high school drama club, sir. I know how to put on a performance.”

You don’t tell him that wishing it were true makes it easier.

The next time is planned.

“Jentiri culture is complex, and the Transit Ceremony has a lot of rules, one of which is that each leader that takes part must be accompanied by their consort.” Pike stares up at you from his desk, and you know you could get lost in those blue eyes, but no. Whatever happens, this isn’t real.

“Why not just use Commander Chin-Riley, Sir?”

“Number one... she said no.” He quirks a rueful smile. “Her exact words were, ’I could better serve you if I didn’t have to act as some sort of decoration.’ But don’t worry,” he adds, reading your dubious expression. “You don’t have to do anything difficult. You just have to hand over our offering, and then enjoy the spectacle. I’m told it’s quite beautiful, and few outsiders get to see it. I’ll owe you a meal?”

“In that case, it’s a yes. Not for the Transit, though.” You grin. “For the food.”

Astrophysics is not your forte, but even so you know how incredibly rare this is: an M class planet with a stable orbit that takes it between two stars.

You are on the flat top of a hill that has been cut into wide terraces, and to the left and right, on the horizon, are the suns, like sunset and sunrise. The sky fades from orange to pink to deep purple and back, but it is lit with hundreds of shooting stars and the occasional bright flare of an aurora.

There are thousands of Jentiri, mostly on the lower levels of the hill, from all six inhabited planets in their system. This planet was traditionally neutral ground between all of them, and although now they have one common hierarchy, their old traditions remain.

You have done your part, giving Starfleet’s offering – an ornate carved wooden box – to the Third King, so now you get to relax and enjoy the spectacle for a while, while the captain and first officer negotiate on Starfleet’s behalf.

“So, tell me more about Captain Pike. How did you meet? How long have you been together? What’s he like?”

Emyn, the consort of the First Queen, leader of Jentiri Prime, relaxes back on her cushion. You never thought you’d be a diplomat, but it’s impressive to see a good one at work. All the consorts, but Emyn especially have made an effort to make you feel included in the group; making sure the silky cushions were comfortable for you, offering you sweet delicacies from each of their planets, and talking, about their partners, about Jentiri, and about your experiences in Starfleet.

You can’t help but feel relaxed around them, which you know is the point. If you think of yourself as one of them, you’ll be candid.

“Captain Pike – Chris – and I met when I transferred to the Enterprise, on stardate… um… well. It was a while ago now. We got together on—on shore leave, a year or so later? It was very romantic, he cooked dinner for me in a cabin by a lake…” You smile at your made-up story; it would be lovely if it had been real. “And Chris is…” you smile, relaxed. You can be completely honest here. “He’s genuine. He’s principled. He isn’t naive – you don’t get to be a captain if you are – but he’s kind, generous. Willing to see the best in people. To do whatever it takes for his crew. That’s why I… why we…”

“Of course,” Emyn returns your smile. “My Adrimyn is the same way. She puts all of Jentiri first. You’re lucky to be consort of such a man.”

You nod. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m glad that it went so well for you, with the consorts. But you two need a legend,” Una says, gesturing with a forkful of Pike’s macaroni cheese as you debrief that evening.

“A legend? Sir this is amazing. Truly,” you add as you take a bite yourself. It’s a delicious balance of creaminess with just the right amount of sharp cheese flavour, and it’s complemented perfectly by the white wine Pike poured you.

“We’re off the clock. Call me Chris. And a legend is a back story. How we met, milestones, things like that. We got away with it today because no one was asking me about our ’relationship’, but if we ever did this again, we may need to get our stories straight.”

“We’re not going to do this again though, right?”

“What, you didn’t enjoy the Transit?”

“I did, it was—it was beautiful. But I’m a biologist. I still have a crate of samples to catalogue from my last mission. And you know the what the chief science officer is like…”

But of course, it does happen again. And this time you can’t even complain.

You’re in the ready room by the big screen, senior officers around the conference table, looks of concern on their faces.

“Starfleet has suspected that Eryran III is a hub for the illegal animal trade for a while now; there have even been reports of a gormagander being held in orbit. We have jurisdiction, in theory, but we’ve never been able to get any evidence; as soon as a starship is scheduled to go through the system, they move everything deep undercover. But a pair of critically endangered Lysisian golden bears have been stolen from the sanctuary at Lysis Alpha.”

You tap a control, and an image of two small bears appear on the screen. They have zebra-like stripes of gold on dark brown fur, and big brown eyes edged in gold.

 “They’re difficult to distinguish from other, non-endangered species unless you’re an expert. The pattern of the stripes, the morphology—” you adjust the display, showing the golden bears alongside the more common Lysisian brown bear, although you know the others won’t see the details you see, in the way the stripes branch, in the shape of the ears relative to the eyes relative to the jaw.

“The Enterprise is close – only a few hours away normally, or a couple at high warp. I could take a shuttle to Eryran IV,” you change the screen to show a schematic of the Eryran system, “which is currently on the far side of their stars. Sensors from Eryran III wouldn’t be able to detect the low-powered Starfleet signature, and I can take a civilian transport from there. If I find the bears, I can signal the Enterprise to secure them. But it has to be me; I’m the only one here who can identify them.”

Pike frowns. “It’s risky. The Eryran system... Eryran III is a pleasure planet, isn’t it? Like Risa?”

“Yes, Sir, but probably more like Casperia Prime. Not as hedonistic as Risa— it’s the kind of place to see and be seen.”

“Hmm. You may stick out alone. And with respect, if it gets to be a fight and you’re by yourself, we wouldn’t be able to get there fast enough to give you backup.” He shakes his head.

“Sir, I don’t enjoy the risks, but an ecosystem is at stake. I—”

“Hold your horses. It’s not ’no’. It’s ‘I’m coming with you.’”

“Damn. There really is a space whale. Look, darling— over there.”

You look past him out the viewport of the transport, trying to control your reaction to the term of endearment. You didn’t realise hearing him call you darling would make you feel all melty inside, even if only for a moment. Even if you know it isn’t real.

The gormagander is there, buoys floating round it which must be forcefield emitters to keep it contained. But at least it looks healthy.

“Wow. I’ve only ever seen holos of them before. They’re so rare.” You raise your brows, just a touch, and Pike nods fractionally. Whatever happens, the Enterprise will have to come for this creature.

Pike leaves you in the lobby of the hotel you booked to make you seem like real tourists, but it’s too nice out to stay indoors. You love space, but you always relish sunlight on your face. Or sunslight, in this case. There are something like palm trees outside, but with blue leaves, and the botanist part of you is wishing you could scan them and find out what specific chlorophyll molecule is in them, when the door opens.

If you weren’t ready to be called darling, you definitely weren’t ready for the sight of Pike stepping out into the street. He’s ditched the sweatshirt he was wearing on the transport and his navy-blue Henley is tight. You knew he must work out to fill his uniform in the way he does, but it’s one thing to know it, and another to see it.

His smile as he catches sight of you is just a little knowing, like he’s seen you looking, and you focus on adjusting your shoulder bag – it looks innocent, but it was shielded by engineering to hide your all your equipment – while you get control of yourself.

“I’ve taken our things up to the room. You ready to go?” He holds out his hand, and you smile up at him as you take it. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but perhaps you see a little admiration in his eyes, too.

It’s a short walk from the hotel along a wide boulevard, lined with trees and teeming with other tourists, to the transport hub. You’re at the zoo in no time.

You try not to hold your breath as your bag goes through the beefy looking security scanner – larger than you would expect for a place like this, and another sign that something illegal may be happening. But the bored looking security guard hands it back to you, and you’re in.

The zoo is large and spacious, and not crowded, which you’re glad about. It has animals from all over the quadrant, and you and Pike— you and Chris wander around, occasionally stopping to take photos of the animals, and even a selfie or two. For appearances’ sake.

There are some species you recognise from Earth, like snow leopards, and a kangaroo carrying a joey in her pouch. You spend too long admiring the horses: a palomino stallion, and a chestnut mare Chris says reminds him of his horse Mary Lou. You manage to drag him away before he has a chance to ask about riding them.

There are a lot of rare creatures, most of which you’ve never seen in person before, like an Aldebran serpent which is a little difficult to see in the sunlight, and even a Drayjin from Dakala. Rare, but legal.

But even though all the animals seem to be reasonably well cared for, like the gormagander in orbit, the more you see – sometimes an empty pen, sometimes animals in an enclosure that looks too new, too pristine, a couple more security guards wandering around than should really be needed – the more you think there really is something going on under the surface.

 “I think that’s a Vulcan sehlat. Don’t you have a friend who had one of those as a pet?” You point at the brown bear-like animal, and Chris quirks an amused half-smile at you.

“Yeah, he had it as a kid. Says they’re very loyal. Though I think I’ll stick with horses,” he adds as the sehlat yawns, exposing those six-inch-long fangs.

“Mmm, I don’t think I’ll be adopting one soon. But maybe one of these bears? They’re super cute.” You work to try to keep the anxiety out of your voice as you approach the Lysisian bears. Now you’re here, the tension is getting to you. Your heart rate speeds up as you begin to feel a little lightheaded. Your stomach is churning.

But Chris picks up on it, of course. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, just for you. “Breathe through it.”

You take a breath, slow, and focus. You are Starfleet. You can get this done.

You look into the enclosure. You can’t see the forcefield but you’re close enough to feel the electric prickle from the generators, which along with a ditch protect you from the animals, and, in theory, the animals from you.

The first bear is slowly climbing a tree trunk, and you get a good view of its markings. A brown bear, not a golden bear. The second one is sitting on the ground, rummaging in the ground cover. You look at the head, and no. Also not a golden bear.

But further along, there is one bear alone, and another on the ground with two cubs. And—

“Look at these cubs, Chris, they’re adorable. I have to get a holo.” You turn to face him, rummaging in your bag. There’s no one else within a few metres of you, but there is an Andorian family nearby looking at some Terran giant pandas. Chris has his back to the nearest security camera, and you pass him the EMP generator, while you get the holo cam out. Hopefully the zoo’s sensors will just read an error in the power grid, but you know you’ll only have a minute or so after he activates it.

When you went into this you had been expecting two bears. But you can deal with four.

You turn back with the camera out, and snap a couple of quick holos. You switch it off, and Chris activates the EMP.

You immediately feel that prickle disappear, and you get out your blow pipe and a handful of tiny trackers so the Enterprise’s sensors can find the bears. You dart the lone bear, glad that unlike when you did this with anaesthetic at the academy it doesn’t matter where you hit. You go for cubs next; you can hear an alarm as you hit the first one you hit cleanly, but the other you only graze. You hit it with your second go but not before it squeaks in pain. The closer parent is on the move immediately, and you can hear running in the distance, but you narrow your eyes and hit perfectly.

“We’re good,” you mutter to Chris, and he gets an arm around you, hustling you along while you re-pack your bag. You feel the electricity in the air as the power is restored.

“Remember when we saw the giant pandas in that bamboo forest? In China?”

A little Andorian girl gazes up at you as you approach, which was Chris’s plan – you couldn’t run, because that would be suspicious, but if you could look like you were associated with another group for long enough…

“That was such an amazing hike. I still can’t believe that they were just there. Eating bamboo in that little clearing.” You feel your heart rate rise again as security runs past, but not as badly this time.

“Yeah, a special memory.” Chris tightens his arm around you a little as you look at the pandas. “I think it’s the Maravel dragon’s feeding time soon. You want to go take a look?”

The two hours you spend waiting for the Enterprise are two of the longest of your life. But you’re lucky – a better security operation would have been on to you, but the operatives at the zoo seem to have grown complacent, and you suspect that you just missed some even more valuable animals. Either way, you’re glad that you’re able to use an EMP again to disrupt their shields long enough for the Enterprise to beam the golden bears aboard.

“Thank you for today,” you say, as you hand your report in to Pike when you’re back on the ship.  “I find it easier to be brave when the people around me are more… nervous… than I am, I guess. Those bears and that gormagander needed you. I needed you. I couldn’t have saved them alone.”

“Given their lax security, you would have found a way. But we couldn’t have anticipated that.” He looks up, catching your eye.

“I’m glad I was there for you.”

The moment holds, but then he smiles, wide and open. “Now we can add pandas to our legend for real.”

After that... it isn’t something that happens frequently. But when a delegate is paying Chris too much attention at a reception aboard the Enterprise, stopping him doing his work, he catches your eye from across the mess hall, and you find your way there to his side, and you stay too close to just be a colleague. When you’re at a party a colony is throwing after your team decontaminated their water supply, and one of the colonists is drunk and won’t leave you alone… You can stand up for yourself, but you don’t want to turn things into an incident, and it’s just… easier if Chris takes your arm and leads you round the dance floor for a few minutes.

Chris invites you to crew dinners, sometimes as a thanks, but more often not. You enjoy spending time with him off the clock. Getting to know him as a friend.

But you try not to think about the sly looks Una gives you sometimes. You try not to lie awake at night, after one of you has bailed the other out, wishing it were real.

The holiday season is supposed to be a time for family. In Starfleet, your crew is your family. But this year, for the first time in a long time, the Enterprise happens to have a stopover on Earth for nearly two weeks around Earth’s Christmas and new year.

The buzz on the ship is palpable – most of the human crew are excited to spend a holiday season at home, and a lot of non-human crew are able to take some leave on their respective planets too.

But your family is on a far-flung colony, and it would take more than a week to get there from Earth. You don’t mind; Earth holiday traditions aren’t very important to you, and you saw your family a few months ago when the Enterprise was mapping a nebula in a nearby sector. A lot of the crew haven’t seen family in years.

You volunteer to stay on board, but you are assigned leave anyway; you don’t have bridge or engineering officer certification, and everything in your lab is safe to leave.

You don’t argue the point. Instead, you make plans. Visit Australia, learn to surf, try a Christmas Day barbecue on the beach, and maybe head into the bush one day to see some marsupials in the wild. The weather net means conditions will be perfect.

You’re looking through a catalogue of swimwear on the synthesiser, trying to decide whether you want a one piece, bikini, or both, when the door chimes.

“Enter,” you say, puzzled about who it could be. There aren’t many people left on the ship; certainly no one you would expect to pop by. You turn away from the synthesiser to see Captain Pike standing in your doorway, that half smile on his face. And you almost feel a little vulnerable, a little exposed – this is the first time he’s been in your space. You try not to let the feeling show.

“Chris, hey, come in. Can I—Did you need something?”

“I wanted to ask a favour. I know you’re getting ready for your leave,” he glances across to the synthesiser screen, still showing swimsuits, “but I wondered if you could delay for a day? My folks are hosting a party, and—” he grimaces. “My mom is going to try to set me up with every un-attached woman there, and I—”

“And you want a ‘date’ to take the heat off?”

“Yeah. It’ll be busy; I can make sure you don’t have to make small talk with my parents. But I…” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to ruin your plans. Australia, wasn’t it? You should have your break— you’ve earned it.”

You glance at the chronometer. “Sydney time is nineteen hours ahead, so really that’s like five hours behind us? I was planning to beam over mid-afternoon local time – my room won’t be ready until then. If I join you, I’ll just be getting there in the evening instead.” You nod. “I’ll come.”

It’s worth it for his relieved grin.

After you’ve packed and taken your holiday luggage to the cargo transporter, you swing by the arboretum for one of the cuttings you’ve taken from a flowing plant that you picked up on an away mission. It will only grow in the medium you prepared for it, based on the soil of the planet it comes from, so there’s no biosecurity risk, and it’s pretty, with glossy green leaves and clusters of red and gold bell-like flowers. Perfect for the holiday.

Then you synthesise a dress. It’s understated, nice but not too formal, and you feel pretty in it. You synthesise a wrap, too, in case you need to spend time outside.

Chris is waiting in the transporter room when you get there, looking handsome and festive in a Fair Isle sweater over a button-down shirt. It’s in shades of dark green, red, and cream, with a couple of bands of small snowflakes among more abstract patterns.

“I told you; you didn’t need to bring a present,” Chris says as you step onto the transporter pad at his side.

“I know, but I would have felt wrong without one. We’re doing this properly, right?”

“Right. Kyle, two to beam down.”

The sun has just set when you arrive, and the light is fading from orange to pink to purple to deep blue, reminding you a little of the Jentiri Transit. Here, though, the stars in the sky are mirrored on the ground by a galaxy of fairy lights, picking out what must be Chris’s family home, some out buildings, and a large Christmas tree. You hear music and voices, and there’s a scent of pine in the air.

There are a couple of groups of partygoers approaching the house, and you’re glad that you transported down a little way away – you can orient yourself before you start meeting them.

“Ready to get this show on the road?”

“Yeah. Yes, I am.” Chris takes your hand, lacing warm fingers through yours.

Chris greets people as you cross the yard, some going into the house, others a big barn where the music is coming from, as he leads you to the front door. He’s relaxed – you’ve seen him in enough tense situations to know when it’s real, and when he’s putting on a show – and you relax, too, smiling at his friends.

The front door is open ahead of you, warm light spilling out, and you step across the threshold into a large open hallway, open to the second floor with stairs leading up on one side. There are garlands of greenery with golden pinecones and fairy lights hanging round the upper floor, and soft instrumental music is playing, different to what you could hear from outside.

“Welcome! So glad you were able to join us.” The woman who comes to greet you must be Chris’s mom; she’s older, with silver hair, and Chris’s blue eyes.

She favours you with a warm smile like her son’s as he makes the introductions.

“Thank you for having me, ma’am. I brought you this,” you say, handing over the plant.

“Oh, call me Willa, please. And how beautiful! Thank you – I’ve never seen anything like it. The mix of the colours of the flowers… It’s not from Earth, I take it?”

“No, I collected it on an uninhabited planet in the Iota Lyrae system. I wanted a sample because the soil there was unique, but I chose this plant because it was the prettiest.”

“So you’re a botanist?”

“Exobiologist, but my specialisms are botany and zoology.”

“I look forward to hearing your stories,” she says with an unmistakeable twinkle in her eye, “but for now, Christopher, I think your dad is cooking up some mulled cider. I’m sure you’d both like a drink?”

She smiles again and gives your arm a little squeeze as she steps past you. “Ahmed, Sara, good to see you...”

There’s a touch of relief in Chris’s eyes as you move through into the large open plan living, kitchen and dining room. It must be full of light during the day with large floor to ceiling windows, and it’s still quite bright now, with holiday lights and decorations all around the place, including a traditional looking tree in the corner, mainly decorated in white and gold, with presents underneath. The room is busy with people, a lot Chris’s parents’ age, but a wide range of younger people too, standing in groups and sitting on sofas and armchairs, chatting, drinking, and eating nibbles.

You feel Chris tense a little, though, as you both catch sight of the man who must be his dad, turning from a steaming pan on the kitchen stove to make a space on the counter. You remember Chris mentioning that their relationship could be a bit strained, and you try to resist tensing up yourself as Chris’s dad catches sight of you too.

“Son, perfect timing. Taste this and see if you think I have the spices right – your mom said the last batch was too heavy on the clove. Then your lovely lady can have a drink. I’m sorry, Chris did mention your name when he stopped by this afternoon, but my memory is not what it was.”

You introduce yourself, as Chris dips a spoon in the pan, and sips, thoughtfully.

“I think that’s good, dad. What do you think?” He offers the spoon to you, and you step in closer and lean in to take a sip, all too aware of his proximity, his eyes. Then the flavours register, fruit and spice and sweetness, and you find yourself smiling. You turn.

“I think it’s delicious, sir. I see where Chris gets his talent in the kitchen from.”

That seems to have been the right thing to say, because Mr Pike smiles. He dips a ladle into the pan and pours the cider into a glass mug, then hands it to you. “There. Now you can enjoy it properly.” He hands the ladle to Chris. “Would you—?”

“Of course.” Chris takes the pan off the stove, still holding the ladle, and brushes past you as he goes to put it on the table.

Mr Pike turns his attention back to you, a shrewd look in his eye.

“So do you celebrate Christmas? Will you be spending it with your family? Or do you celebrate another winter festival?”

 The questions come thick and fast, about your beliefs and those of your colony, and about its traditions and celebrations. You’re surprised to find yourself thinking again about some of them that you had always taken for granted.

“Sorry about that,” Chris says in an undertone a few minutes later, his gentle hand at your back guiding you into the main part of the room. “I know how he gets, but… the mulled cider is popular.”

“It’s fine. He was asking about my home, not— he seemed genuinely interested.” You stop yourself saying not about us. And then you wonder why.

You don’t have time to think about it, though, because you’re being drawn into conversation. Ahmed, it turns out, went to school with Chris, and they spend some time regaling you and Sara with tales of their high school escapades, and the time in a Parrises Squares tournament all four members of their team somehow managed to get knocked out cold on one play. Then you talk to Esther, a friend of Chris’s mom, about her art, and the inspiration she draws from the desert landscape, flora, and fauna.

You continue making the rounds of the room, Chris catching up with old friends and neighbours. The party feels alive around you; people coming in and out, music playing, food and drink being shared, conversation flowing. And through it all Chris keeps you close, and includes you. You find you’re enjoying yourself, much more than you expected.

“You ready for a change of pace?” Chris asks eventually.

“Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“You dance, right? There’s a dance floor set up in the barn, live band too. Would you like to go see?  I don’t usually have a partner,” he adds, soft, mindful of his mother on a sofa nearby.

“That sounds like fun. Lead the way.” You reach for his hand this time, and give it a little squeeze. There is something in his voice... you know Chris belongs in Starfleet, and you know he knows that too, but an occasion like this must make him think of other paths his life could have taken.

Outside there’s a slight chill in the air, and you’re glad you retrieved your wrap from where you put it on a coat stand in the hallway. But it isn’t far to the barn, and soon you’re enveloped in warmth.

There are warm white fairy lights strung along the beams, and another Christmas tree, this one very large, with lots of different baubles and decorations. Of course there is food and drink in here; you smell gingerbread from a table near the door.

There are a lot of people, some who you’ve seen pass through the house, and others you haven’t. There are people standing around the edge of the room, including Chris’s dad, deep in conversation with a group of four Andorians. And there are people on the dance floor, dancing to a jaunty number being played by the band. You don’t know if it’s traditional for the season or not, but it doesn’t seem to matter; everyone is having a good time. As you listen it comes to a stop, and everyone claps.

“May I have this dance?” Chris asks with one of those small lopsided smiles.

You’ve danced with Chris a couple of times before, and it’s always a pleasure. You can relax, safe in the ballroom hold, in sync with him, easily able to follow his lead around the dance floor. And if you pretend to yourself, while you’re in his arms, that this is real… well. You haven’t noticed any Vulcans or members or other telepathic species in attendance.

You dance several dances, until the band takes a break, although the music continues – a singer with a guitar takes over, singing something about a sleigh ride. You’re passing by the Christmas tree on the way to a drinks table when you see it.

“Hey Chris, is that the Enterprise? On the tree?” You step closer to get a better look. “It is! It even has the lettering on the saucer. NCC-1701.”

He laughs, warm. “I think they usually put it on the tree in the house. Bob gave it to my parents as a present, the Christmas after I was made Captain.”

“That sounds like Admiral April. I remember, he—” but you’re interrupted by laughter.

“Chris! Didn’t expect you to get caught!”

You look around to see a group of people all staring at you, expectantly.

“You’ve got to kiss now, guys, it’s the rules.”

“The rules?” You’re confused.

“Look up.” Sara, who you met earlier is there, pointing to some greenery suspended above your head. And you don’t think you’ve seen it before in person, but the way people are talking, it must be—

“Mistletoe.” Chris steps in close. “I’m sorry,” he adds, quiet. “I thought we— never mind. I’ll just—”

He leans over, and brushes a light kiss to your cheek, and it’s chaste but... your breath still catches a little.

“That doesn’t count,” one of the onlookers says, and a murmur of agreement ripples across the group.

Chris looks at you, questioning. And you know he would respect it if you said no, or showed any trace of hesitation. But you give him a tiny nod.

His hand rises up to your face, his fingers warm against your cheek. He leans in slowly, still giving you the chance to change your mind, but your eyelids flutter shut as his lips brush yours. And you’ve been close before. You’ve held hands, walked arm in arm… you’ve been dancing with him all evening. But as his lips brush yours you feel a jolt of energy flow between you, and the party, the audience, the pretence, none of that matters anymore, because Chris is kissing you again. Harder. Sweeter. His hand slips round to the back of your neck and you press against him, kissing back, eager, for a moment suspended together in your own little bubble.

The bubble bursts, though, as you hear cheers and clapping, and you pull away, or Chris pulls away, and suddenly it all feels… too much. The singer is too loud. The people are too close. The barn is too warm. You feel your heart thudding in your chest.

You try to keep it together. You’re here for Chris — you can’t just run out as soon as he kisses you. You nod and smile, make it to the drinks table, and when someone claps Chris’s shoulder, loudly proclaiming that they haven’t seen him in years, you mutter that you’re getting some air, and get out.

You feel like you can breathe again when you get outside. Like you can try to get your whirling thoughts in order. But the door to the house opens and you see Mrs Pike, and your feet are moving before you even think about it, and you’re pushing the door to one of the outbuildings open and slipping inside.

Immediately you feel movement, and smell animals—horses. The stables. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dark, then you make your way slowly past the stalls until you reach one where what could be a chestnut horse with a white patch on its face has its head out, curious to see you. You hold out your hand for it to sniff.

“Are you Mary Lou? I’m sorry, I wasn’t really planning on coming here. I don’t have any apples or sugar lumps or anything.” She nuzzles your hand anyway, and you rub her nose. “I know your owner. I know Chris. Actually, I’m pretending to date him. But then we kissed, and I... I wished...”

“What did you wish?”

You turn, startled. Chris is standing there, holding your wrap, expression unreadable in the dim light.

“I—you—” you stare at the floor.

“Your wrap. You left pretty suddenly; I didn’t want you to be cold. You weren’t outside, and I saw the open door. Should’ve known you and Mary Lou would be making friends.”

You step closer and take the fabric from him, barely raising your gaze, and wrap it around your shoulders, slowly. You hug it to you.

Then you take a little breath, and look up.

“I wished we weren’t pretending. But I know that we are. So—so if you need to transfer me, or—”

He touches a finger to your lips, silencing you.

“When we kissed... I was right there with you. Wanting this. Wanting you.” He shakes his head. “I’ve wanted it for a while, actually, and sometimes I thought... but you—you know how to put on a performance.”

“Not where you’re involved.”

You reach up, still almost disbelieving, almost afraid to make contact. But you can feel Chris’s face stretch into a smile under your touch. His hands settle on your waist, pulling you in closer, and you kiss, lips parting, and it’s gloriously real.

In the end, though, Mary-Lou’s soft whinny reminds you of where you are.

“We should get back. I think Mom saw me head this way, and knowing her, she’ll come looking.” Chris belies his words, kissing your neck, and you gasp as he hits a sensitive spot.

“I—I guess you’re right. We should go.” You miss Chris’s warmth as he finally steps away. He goes over to pat Mary Lou before holding out a hand for you. You lace your fingers together, and he leads you back out of the stables into the night outside, back towards the barn.

“Wait.” A thought occurs to you, and you pull on your joined hands, getting Chris to stop. He turns to you, profile highlighted by the lights shining from the tree. “Is this now our actual first date? And… do you have plans for later this evening? The room I booked in Sydney is a double…”

Chris laughs. “I guess it is. I could join you in Sydney tonight, I know you want to learn to surf… But… have you thought about learning to ride instead?”

[alicebloodborne]

Imagine..

Spock x Fem! Reader

Pregnancy.

You've been having an off day. Snapping at crew, getting dizzy spells, constantly tired. Your feet aching since this morning.

You knew why. Pregnancy. It was surprising. You and Spock had been careful. The crew of the enterprise were on their 5 year mission to explore space.

Spock had yet to find out.

The one thing about pregnancy that you couldn't hide, was the weird cravings. The people aboard knew you were a big foodie but your cravings had people concerned.

Thankfully your craving was...human food.

That said, whole pickled gherkins and ice cream was a sight. You were hungry for it all the time. But because your job was on the bridge with Spock and the captain, it was hard to secretly eat. They didn't catch you. Una did. You could feel her eyes on you.

Then there was silence on the bridge when she asked "What are you eating?". When she realised, she pulled a 'realisation' face.

However, when you had yet to answer. You heard a distinctive voice pull you from your frozen position. "Y/n?"

You turned around to this.

"Errrrh..."

[unknownfacelessfanfictions]

Workerbee

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery Pairing: Jett Reno x fem!reader Words: 1.8K Summary: Jett overworked herself, so her girlfriend really needs to take care of her. A/N: Since no one else seems to be interested in Jett Reno ( since I couldn't find any x reader fanfiction featuring her anywhere), I took matters into my own hands. Only something small, but so that at least something is there.

Sighing, she sat up. "Zora? What's the time?" In within seconds, the familiar female voice sounded out of nowhere. "It's just 0034 hours, Lieutenant." She heaved another sigh. "Thank you Zora." "My pleasure." As quickly as her voice had sounded, it died away and she sat alone in her quarters.

She was aware that fatigue was written all over her face, however, she couldn't possibly sleep, not as long as the space at her side was empty. Dejectedly, she put aside her personal PADD, on which she had been reading until just now, flipped the covers aside and swung her legs out of bed so that her feet touched the floor.

As she got up, she grabbed the robe that was lying on a chair next to the bed and put it on so that she wouldn't just be scurrying through the halls in her pajamas. Quickly, she slipped on her shoes and was out the door a few moments later. Her destination: engineering.

While she leaned against the wall in the elevator, waiting to arrive at the right deck, she rubbed her eyes and had to stifle a yawn. It was already the third time this week that she had to drag her girlfriend to their quarters to sleep, and it was only Friday night. Of course she had been aware that it would not be easy to be in a relationship with a workaholic, but it was getting ridiculous in her opinion.

Silently, the elevator doors opened and as she exited, a small group of ensigns came up to her, nodding with smiles. She could only half-heartedly return it.

If she was honest with herself, she was really starting to worry about Jett. When they had entered into this relationship, she had known that the engineer often worked longer hours than was good for her. Especially when she had been bickering with Stamets again and the two of them had their unspoken competition in 'who can last longer until they pass out', which they both claimed not to. Nonetheless, it drove not only her, but Doctor Culber crazy as well.

She had also known that Jett had not had it very easy. She knew what had happened to her wife and that she still mourned her to some extent, even if Jett refused to admit it. She also knew that Jett, unlike herself, had fought in the Klingon war and she knew very well that it had left scars. And finally, she also knew that Jett preferred to bury herself in her work rather than talk about her feelings, a reason why it took them two eternities to pull themselves together, and liked to bury herself in her work, often for hours.

Still rubbing her eyes, she walked down the hallway when a person joined her from one of the side corridors, looking just as tired and exhausted as she was. "You back here too?" Hugh's voice sounded even more exhausted than she felt. "I wouldn't skip our nightly meetings for anything in the galaxy," she joked rather poorly, but elicited a weak smile from Hugh. "And how long is Reno working now?" "About eighteen hours. Stamets?" "Likewise."

Wearily she looked up at her friend. "She's driving me crazy Hugh." "I understand that." He smiled at her with what she liked to call his 'counselor smile'. "But they're worth it, aren't they?" "Still up for debate." Grumpy as she might sound, however, she had to agree with Hugh. Jett Reno was worth every hour of lost sleep and every minute of worry.

Side by side, Hugh and she entered Engineering, only to see the image that had greeted them both for the past few nights. While Stamets stood at his console with sleepy eyes, swapping one hologram with scientific information for the next with rapid movements, Jett was up to her elbows in one of the walls of the ship, repairing God knows what.

Hugh and she gave each other one last tired look before separating to collect their respective partners. As Hugh thus set to work pulling Stamets away from the holograms, she squatted on the floor next to Jett and regarded her gently for a few moments.

Her slowly graying hair fell lightly into her eyes, which were so fixated on the work that they didn't even notice her. At some point during the day, Jett had loosened and opened her uniform collar and rolled up her sleeves, presumably to work better.

In the background, she heard Hugh gently talking to Stamets, though she tried to tune it out. Gently, she put her hand on Jett's shoulder, hoping not to startle her. "Hey." Engrossed in her work, she didn't even seem to recognize her properly. "Not now, I'm busy."

Slightly amused despite the circumstances, she shook her head and gently shook Jett's shoulder. "Don't you think it's about time to go to sleep, darling?" At the sound of the last word, Jett paused and slowly pulled her arms out of the shaft so she could lift her head. As soon as their eyes met, she frowned.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at your station?" Her gaze slid down her, which only deepened the frown. "And what the hell are you wearing?" Gently, she smiled at her and touched her gently on the elbow. "I'm wearing my pajamas. Jett, do you have any idea what time it is?" The other woman dropped onto her butt and stretched her legs, groaning slightly. " I was actually going to say 1900 hours, but somehow I have a feeling that's not quite the truth."

"Honey, it's almost one in the morning." "That would explain why I'm starting to get a little tired." "Come on now," she tugged gently on Jett's arm. "Off to bed with you." Jett, however, merely pointed to the opening in the shaft in which she had been engrossed until just now. "I still have to-"

"No." Her voice was sterner now and she looked admonishingly at the older woman. "Someone else can do that for you. Jett, you've been up for almost eighteen hours. It's a bigger risk to keep you working here than to wait for someone else to come." For a few moments, Jett returned her gaze somberly before rolling her eyes in defeat and rising. "All right. I do think you're exaggerating, but - woah."

Jett swayed, and had it not been for her, the engineer would have slammed headfirst into the nearest console. With difficulty, she managed to hold Jett up by the arm and make sure she didn't instantly fall to the floor. "What were you going to say? Jesus Jett, when was the last time you ate something?" Jett narrowed her eyes, so strained she had to think. "When did we have breakfast?" "Oh my God!"

If she'd had her hands free, she would have rubbed her eyes in weary frustration. "You're coming now." Jett seemed about to protest, but one look at her girlfriend told her it would be safer to keep her mouth shut. Reeling with fatigue, Jett was pulled across the room, and even though the engineer seemed annoyed, she remained silent.

Hugh threw them a tired smile as he continued to try to get Stamets to leave the room before they left Engineering.

Silently, they walked side by side to the turbolift, in which they rode side by side, also silently. As soon as the turbolift stopped, she pulled Jett along, still not saying a word. The silence was only broken when they arrived in her quarters and Jett was stowed away in one of the armchairs. "I'm sorry."

She could see how much of an effort it had taken Jett to say those words, and her expression softened instantly before she knelt down in front of her. "It's okay." With an affectionate smile, she stroked Jett's arm. "I'm starting to worry, though, Jett. I've had to drag you out of the engine room more than twice this week because you've lost track of time. And to make it worse, you're refusing to do basic things that the human body needs while you're engrossed in your work. That's not healthy." Concerned, she stroked Jett's hand. "Promise me you'll try to work on it. I don't care how. Set an alarm, program the replicators next to the engine room to program your food at certain times and let you know. Anything. Please."

Jett grumbled softly to herself before sighing. "I guess I could set some kind of reminder for myself. So you don't have to worry too much." A smile spread across her lips and she pressed a tentative kiss to Jett's cheek. "Thank you." Jett didn't reply, though she could detect a hint of a smile. She got up, scurried into their bedroom, and returned with Jett's pajamas in hand, which she pressed into Jett's hand.

"Can you manage to change and wash up? Then I'll see about getting something to eat." Jett mumbled something to herself, but actually managed to get up and stagger into the bathroom. After a few moments, when she still hadn't heard any muffled noises that might suggest Jett had fallen or hurt herself, she exhaled calmly and began putting the shoes Jett had taken off earlier next to the door next to hers.

She then went to the replicator and replicated a small portion of chicken soup. She knew Jett didn't eat much anyway and didn't want to strain her stomach unnecessarily, knowing that Jett slept poorly if she did. When she emerged from the bathroom, she didn't have time to do anything, as she was instantly shipped to one of the chairs and her plate was pushed over to her. "Eat up." "Yes ma'am.

For a few moments she watched Jett eat her soup before getting up and going to the bathroom. There she collected Jett's dirty clothes and uniform and put them in the basket, which was picked up daily for cleaning, and turned the shower down completely to zero, since Jett, as usual, had not turned it down completely.

While she was gone, Jett had finished eating and put the used plate back in the replicator. The moment she returned from the bathroom, Jett nibbled on a small piece of licorice. "What?" she defended herself. "Blood sugar was low." "Of course."

Lovingly, she stroked Jett's hair. "Come on. Time for bed." Surprisingly willing, Jett allowed herself to be led into the bedroom, where she dropped into bed without much ado. Her girlfriend just shook her head in amusement, pulled out the covers and gently laid them over the engineer. Only then did she slip out of her robe and shoes and slip under the covers as well.

Slowly, she slid over closer to Jett and wrapped her arms around the woman, pressing her chest against her back. "Always so clingy," Jett muttered, half asleep. "Shut up, you love me," she returned, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Mhhh. Your luck."

[captainpikeswoman]

okay dont take this one serious but how would pike react to you saying '' i lied, i don't actually like sex. now put your clothes back on i'm going to explain the entire plot of *insert your favourite show/series/movie* to you''

As if this would ever happen…

But

On the off chance that it did happen, I imagine he’d be a) a little bit sexually frustrated and have a raging hard on the whole time that he’d have to deal with at some point later on, and b) he’d actually be rather amused that you went to the effort to seduce him simply to explain something like this, it’s cute and endearing.

Still, best watch out for revenge. Chris is a bastard, a lovely, lovely bastard.

[vulcanhello]

no one’s more powerful than the ao3 authors who write michael centric fic. i’m naming my children after you

[starryeyes2000]

Where’s an All-Night Pharmacy When You Need It - Part 27

Read on AO3 or FFN

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Pike & Child!OC (Noah), Pike x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Chapter Summary: Flashback to the weeks after Noah's birth. The reader meets Chris' parents.

Story Summary: Chris’ adventures in fatherhood.

Excerpt: Five Years Ago

Chris is changing and dressing Noah when the notification chimes signaling the arrival of his parents. After double checking the clothes I put on this morning are, in fact and miraculously, still clean, I pause at the door, too nervous to open it. First impressions are important, can’t be retracted.

And I am not at my best.

I am still standing there, frozen, when Chris enters. He brushes my cheek with a kiss, places his hand on the small of my back which calms and comforts, and promises, “They’re going to love you.”

As he greets our visitors I shrink back, angling my body slightly behind my husband who beams with pride when introducing his parents to six-week-old Noah. And I silently thank the gods my thoughtful partner is centering the attention on their grandson giving me time to settle.

Senior Mr. Pike advances in my direction looking as if he is about to envelope me in a bear hug. Caught off guard, I step away. Chris’ mother tugs his arm whispering, “Boundaries, dear.”

Continue Reading on AO3 or FFN

Story Masterlist | Pike x Reader Masterlist

OC Masterlist  | Author Masterlist

Taglist: @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciation @ocappreciationtag @bardic-tales @themaradaniels @chickensarentcheap

[labrats-and-clonetroopers]

(Please) Choose the next Star Trek X Reader Drabble

Options:

Michael Burnham x Reader

Platonic; S1 era

“Someday you’re going to have to accept that this war wasn’t your fault. You were Starfleet’s perfect scapegoat, and the fact that even you believe them is shockingly illogical.” 

Travis Mayweather x Reader

Romantic

“You’re so good at telling ghost stories. Would you tell them mine? If you did, no one would suspect there’s any truth to it.”

Captain Picard x Reader

Platonic; TNG era

“You’re the philosopher. You of all people should be able to understand why I betrayed the uniform I wear.” 

[buckets-and-trees]

"You are nothing but a toy for me to fuck, little lamb. Now open your mouth for me, or I will break your jaw opening it myself."

👀👀👀

Well... as you know, this escalated quickly.

Title: Sacrificial Characters/Pairings: Minotaur!Bucky x Botanist!Female!Reader Word Count: 3.5k Summary: If it seems too good to be true, it always is. Always. Too bad you had to go to the remote jungles of South America to learn that lesson.

Content/Concept Warnings: DARK, lulled into a trap, human sacrifice, dubious consent/fuck or die, public sex/exhibitionism, size kink, monster fucking, face fucking/oral male receiving, vaginal fingering/fisting, breast worship, rough fucking, possessive/pet, praise kink, dirty talk, cum play, marking, cream pie, choking

Additional Notes: Thoty time with @rookthorne... she's only responsible for enabling me when my monster thirst reared its head. Wicked entry for @buckybarnesevents WEEK ONE of Hot Bucky Summer: "What Should I Wear?" and my third square of @buckybarnesbingo K1 "Fuck or Die."

When you told your friends, family, and former colleagues about the research grant and fellowship you had been awarded in the weeks leading up to your departure that it was too perfect, clearly somewhere deep in your bones you had known.

Eighty thousand dollars a year for three years, travel covered, visa approved, fully furnished accommodations provided, and a book deal for the discoveries and research studying flora in a largely undocumented and remote part of the jungle on another continent.

No scientist got a deal like that.

The only downside was the isolation of the location. They had electricity and running water, but you would only be able to go into town for internet every few weeks.

But the part of you that had grown up watching Indiana Jones, Jurassic Park, LOST, and the deep space missions of Star Trek who had far too many plants in your apartment and in your tiny office at the university had beat back that downside. It was only three years, and after living through the strange isolation of the pandemic, you knew you could manage this where you wouldn’t be isolated from people, just for short stints from your old life.

And though you had good pieces and good people in your life, you were desperate to get away from the suffocating societal expectations you felt like you weren’t living up to while so many others around you were – marriage, kids, white picket fences, career accomplishments, tenured professorships, promotions, raises, overnight influencers, travel vloggers.

This was something no one you knew had ever done.

Everyone raved about the adventure ahead of you.

Everyone had been impressed.

You had conquered in the accomplishments department with this for the year, no question. Your older sister with her third child on the way and your younger brother and his Premiere League football contract could wallow in your shadow.

This was a golden opportunity for a research botanist still in the early years of their career.

Kneeling on the ground in the middle of the jungle with your hands folded in your lap, head bowed, surrounded by a village of people who all should have known better than to follow ancient superstitions, with a dozen or more guns trained on you in nothing more than lingerie, you were living a nightmare.

All of it had been a baited trap.

No one would even question you falling off the grid before it was too late, and even if they did, these villagers could say one day you never came back from the jungle.

And it would be true.

One afternoon and evening, a good dinner, a sleep you’d yearned for thinking it was the jet lag, and then you’d awoken screaming as the first strip of wax had been ripped from your skin to discover you were naked with a half dozen people attending to all aspects of your grooming, preparing you to be their human sacrifice for the beast that lived in the jungle.

You were past the crying and pleading.

The no WIFI had been a lie, too.

Everyone in this small village looked and acted like they lived in the present day except for this one thing.

The belief that if they did not provide the beast his human sacrifice that they would not survive his terror.

“Then why don’t you just leave?” you had implored.

“This is our home, our loved ones are here, our ancestors are part of this place, and,” their leader and the head of the research foundation paused – almost faltered before continuing to explain, “the sacrifice of one stranger will guarantee us safety for many, many years.”

Everyone else had been instructed not to speak or listen to you from that point on in the preparations.

Nails trimmed, buffed, shined. Luxurious oil that smelled delicate and heavenly rubbed over every inch of your skin from the neck down. Hair partially braided to stay out of your face with the rest left natural. Color applied to your lips. They didn’t bother with eye makeup. No jewelry.

You had been wrapped up in a linen garment that was not quite a robe but not quite a coat to be transported to the ruins of an old stone dais in the thick of the jungle but deprived of it and then pushed onto the sacrificial area, left only in the sapphire silk of a bra and panties delicately lined with lace.

After hours being poked, prodded, and prepared by strangers in a strange land in a state of dread and disbelief, you thought you were numb.

You had endured too much to think you were hallucinating, but that you now all waited illuminated by literal torches with fire made this seem almost like a season of Survivor gone horribly wrong.

But then you heard the hushed wave of whispers at the rustle and rumble of something approaching through the thick vegetation of the jungle and adrenaline shot through your veins. It didn’t inspire fight or flight. You were frozen, fixated on the beast that would finally appear and seal your fate any moment now.

It made no attempt at arriving quietly, and when it finally appeared, there were collective gasps and cries from the people gathered to watch the sacrifice, though no sound fell from your lips.

The reaction was more than warranted, and a whisper of a thought flashed through your head that you were surprised no one had screamed. Maybe they were too terrified to scream, worried they would draw the beast’s attention. You wanted to scream, but your chest was gripped in fear.

The thick, furry legs of a bull, down to the cloven hooves, and a girthy tail with a tuft of dark hair at the end, swishing slightly as he walked. There was a loincloth tied at his waist that – rather than providing modesty – inspired anyone whose gaze lingered there to imagine the bulge nudging conspicuously beneath. Not that anyone’s gaze would linger there for long, for the rest of him was altogether imposing. Only the tallest of the villagers might hope to measure up to the base of his sternum – the sternum that anchored the torso of a man with shoulders more than twice the width of a human. Skin golden from the sun stretched over muscles that burst and rippled over his chest and shoulders, extending down his arms. You could see a litany of angry scars littered up and down his left arm.

Great bull’s horns rose and curled out of his head, possibly longer than your own arms. He had a mane of long, glossy but mostly unruly brown hair, with a couple of braids, that fell past his shoulders. Though the rest of his physique inspired fear, the true terror was perhaps the face of this man beast – it was terrifyingly handsome. Strong jaw, stubbled beard, a crease between his brows, and piercing blue eyes. His expression was drawn into an ominous grin.

He was in no rush as he walked into the ring of the villagers.

“Weapons down,” he growled.

There was almost no hesitation – their purpose had been to keep you in place anyway. Though the fear in the air was palpable, the tone of it seemed to be turning to some sort of reverent fear now for everyone else.

What inspired this unquestioned obedience from an entire people? People you’d seen with smart phones as abundantly among them as any other place on earth, though you’d been advised to shut yours down and leave it behind since it would be of next to no use to you in the jungle. They were right – but had left out the true reason and made it even more believable for you to seem only cut off to those back home, not lost and gone forever.

His enormous legs took the step easily up onto the dais, and his eyes were now fixed only on you. He stopped at the foot of the altar where you were presented for him.

“Well done,” this was meant for the people and their leader.

Then he reached out and the fingers of his large hands traced the strap over your left shoulder, then along your jaw, tilting your chin to look straight up at him. “And your choice is set?”

“My – my choice?” your voice cracked, but you felt it was a miracle you even found it.

Your confusion must have been evident, as his eyes flashed with anger and her rounded on the man who had facilitated all of this. “You did not tell her anything, did you?”

“I thought it best if –“

“It is not your job to think. The thoughtlessness of your people is why we’re here at all,” he snarled. Then he turned back to you.

“No time for stories now. I’m a minotaur called Bucky; a lost soldier cursed long ago to this state. Suffice it to say II must be satiated or the village will be subjected to bloodshed and desolation in the face of my wrath. They’ve chosen you, but you can choose your fate: fuck or die. I’ll take your throat, or I’ll cut it and drink your blood in front of everyone.”

Your chest heaved in trepidation. “How is that a choice?”

“Is it not clear to you?”

“Have others chosen death?”

He nodded. “Or they refused to choose.”

You opened your mouth then closed it again.

“Do you wish to die?”

You thought your tears were spent, but you could feel them welling in your eyes. “No.”

“Then claim your choice.”

You took a shaky breath.

“Say it!” he barked.

You flinched, but managed to spit out, “Fuck.”

“Perfect. Open up.”

“In front of everyone?” your voice was barely above a whisper.

He nodded. “They will remember and mark this sacrifice. It will be the reason they continue to breathe.”

You spread your knees a part so you were still kneeling and sitting back on your heels but his to take like this.

“That’s nice but not what I meant.” He tugged his loincloth and dropped it to the ground. You whimpered, afraid of the enormous size of his cock and ashamed at the lick of heat that flared in your core at the sight of him. He leaned down closer, put a hand at the back of your neck, and slapped the side of your face with his rigid length. “You are nothing but a toy for me to fuck, little lamb. Now open your mouth for me, or I will break your jaw opening it myself.”

This drew a handful of muted gasps from the onlookers. You saw a spark of something new in his eyes at this reaction.

He was pleased at their reaction.

You dropped your mouth open for him, nervous knowing you could not take all of him, embarrassed to be on such display in front of these strangers, but wanting to please him.

Wait, you thought, wanting to please him?

He shoved his cock into your wet mouth, shoving any other thoughts immediately out.

“Suck.”

You did.

“Just like that,” he said. The hand on your neck moved up to cradle and command the back of your head. He slowly began to fuck your mouth but with only a small motion, encouraging you to continue sucking just that first bit of cock as it was in your mouth. He still was in no rush. It felt like a power play – not wanting to show impatience or lack of restraint in the onset of this sacrificial claiming.

As he continued to speak now, his voice was low, intended for you. “Get ready for more.”

You looked up at him and tried to nod your head ever so slightly. He smirked, then he brought his other hand up under your jaw and to your throat, wanting to feel himself using you. He groaned and briefly closed his eyes. His tip hit the back of your mouth, and you spluttered. He pulled out slightly, giving you half a moment to recover, then forced the point again, holding himself there while you adjusted. He opened his eyes again, locking back onto yours, and a thrill of terror shot through you again. That was only the preliminary.

Now he would truly begin.

That look was all you got. Keeping the one hand at your throat, the provided the anchor to begin truly fucking your throat, not in a rush, but he picked up the pace. You placed your hands on his thighs to steady yourself. Your muscles initially gagged in protest, but he persisted, stroking your throat with his fingers as well, coaxing you to relax. Tears spilled down your cheeks. You concentrated on breathing through your nose and the steady gaze he kept trained on you. Soon you were taking more of him than you thought you could. He quickened his thrusts into your mouth. Your fingers stretched into the fur on his hips, mewling as he continued to use your mouth.

A few short grunts with the last thrusts were the only hint before he came, shooting his hot spend in your mouth with an unrestrained howl that shook the crowd to their core. There was no way for you to swallow everything, but, if anything, seeing his cum spilling down your chin made him grin.

Then he raised his head to address the villagers. “Remember that you gave this human to me. I will do with her as I please, and you will never see her again. Hope that you never see me again in your lifetime,” his voice carried, his power unquestioned in the clearing. “If you are lucky, the children you left home today will not see me in their lifetimes either. All of you go now. What happens next is not for your eyes.”

They followed his instructions without hesitation, all of them eager to be gone from this cursed place and their collective and ignored shame.

They left the torches – no desire for a souvenir.

And now you were alone with him, the light of the flames flickering over every inch of your exposed skin – which was almost all your skin, the lingerie only for show.

With the hand that was still anchored at the back of your head, he roughly angled you up sharply to look directly up at him, and tipping his own head forward he loomed in all his height above you, a truly searing heat in this look. “I meant what I said: you are mine, and I will never allow those vile villagers to see you again. You’re mine to do with as I please.”

He stooped down to claim your mouth in a kiss. His large thumb brushed the remaining spend from your chin and then moved down your throat to brush it over your collar bone, rubbing it in. He pushed his tongue between your lips, and you opened your mouth for him again. His tongue was too big for your mouth, too, but the more he subjected your body to the largeness of his being, the more you seemed to seep into him. He used his tongue to wrap around and tangle with yours, stroking it with his, now and then slipping it further down your throat, teasing, choking, mimicking the actions of his cock not long before.

When you were truly gasping, he chuckled darkly and pulled away, you leaned forward, lips chasing his, and then you shook your head, trying to restore some logic.

Failing.

Bucky easily tore away your bra with his brute strength. “Lay back for me, lamb.”

You shifted, legs aching from resting on them in that kneeling position for far too long. He noted the care you took in moving your limbs and rubbed the muscles up and down a few times. Then he pulled your hips to the end of the alter, flush against his cock, which was already semi-hard again. You hummed as he pushed against your still-clothed core.

His hands moved from your thighs up your sides, stoking the desire surging through your body, moving up your waist, thumbs brushing up against the underswell of your breasts, then flicking over the nipples, bringing them to little peaks before diving down to lave one of them with his tongue and suck, rolling, twisting, and pinching the other with his hand. Then he moved his mouth, and as he latched on to the other nipple, his hands worked the lace and silk panties off your hips and down your legs before tossing them away. He rutted up against you again, slow but persistent pressure against your core again, but now with no barrier he felt your arousal slicking up your entrance. When you began working your hips against him, seeking more friction, fisting your hands into his hair, he moved a hand between your legs, stroking over your labia and pushing one of his fingers right into your cunt, making you keen immediately from the force and fullness.

“Going to ruin you, lamb, but don’t want to hurt you.” He was brutal, but only because he was a monster by nature, not because he was heartless. “Gotta work your tiny pussy open so you can take me like you were meant to.”

As before, he was patient, making up for the impatience mounting inside you as he worked his fingers into you, circling, questing, stretching, twisting. When he pushed three fingers in he could tell it was a lot, but he knew he needed you to easily receive four if he was going to get to fuck you on his cock the way he wanted. All through it, he was relentless in overwhelming you in other ways, continuing to worship your breasts, but also murmuring praises against your skin, and threatening and promising filthy things that you couldn’t even respond to.

When you were thoroughly primed, aching for him, a mess with tears and begging for him, he finally realigned his hips between your legs, forcing your thighs wide to accommodate him. He bumped the head of his cock against your throbbing clit a couple of times, making your whimper repeatedly. You were lost as you lay splayed out above him, eyes tightly shut, hands reaching for him, desperately pleading his name over and over. He bent down to you again, relishing the feel of your breasts brushing against his chest for one more moment before sinking his cock into your cunt with a brutal thrust, pushing clear to the hilt, making you scream. It was wicked, and he knew it, but also knew how much he had worked up your body and your mind, and he was rewarded as you arched beneath him, and wrapped your arms around his neck, adjusted your hips, and then rocked against him, clearly seeking more.

Holding you at the precipice of pleasure for so long meant you crashed into your first orgasm very quickly as he pushed his cock in and out of your, “tight heat, little lamb, taking me so well,” he cooed. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, shuddering as he fucked your through it, groaning at the feel of your walls around him. “No one else will ever have this cunt now,” he vowed. “You’re mine.”

“Mine,” you echoed without thinking, not knowing it was exactly how he wanted his pet to feel about him. He pushed you over the edge into another orgasm and then spilled his hot seed inside you not long after. You were beyond spent, at that point, and less than a minute after he scooped you up, tucking your legs around his waist, you dropped out of consciousness, and went totally limp. He kissed the top of your head, then shifted you to sling you over his shoulder for the trek to his lair – your home. He’d secure you there, then go back to the get the wooden crate of the belongings you had shipped ahead of you and the bag you had traveled with – both were supposed to be deposited and waiting in a cave, the final part of his negotiations for acquiring his new human from that village and their foolish leader. Humans were delicate creatures with peculiar needs, after all, and he was determined to keep you content and fucked out until you were devoted to staying with him until the end of your days.

But the last hour had exceeded even his own expectations. He suspected he wouldn’t have to try very hard to keep his little lamb.

NEXT PART: Do You Remember

"haunting thoughts" on Sacrificial for the Dark Forest Fest

brief insight into what reader's life is like now

physical appearance of Minotaur!Bucky

easy and challenging parts of writing the fic

the writing of the story from concept to completion in one night

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

So could you do a Star Trek one with Spock (or whoever you write for as I can’t find that post now😭) with an SO who is visiting home on earth and keeps on bringing him interesting rocks she finds?

Stones and Stars

word count: 940

Pairing: Spock x human!reader

Summary: Y/n visits her home on Earth with Spock, enthusiastically collecting interesting rocks and sharing them with him, while Spock patiently admires her fascination and offers scientific insights, deepening their bond.

______________________________________________________________

Y/n stood on the quiet shore of her family’s lake house on Earth, her bare feet sinking into the soft sand. The sun was setting, casting a warm, amber glow over the still waters, and the air carried the scent of pine trees from the nearby forest. It was a moment of peace, of home, far away from the busy corridors of the Enterprise.

Behind her, Spock stood observing the surroundings, his hands clasped behind his back. He had agreed to accompany Y/n on her visit to Earth, a rare chance for her to reconnect with her roots and for him to experience the human world outside of Starfleet’s structured environment.

Y/n bent down, running her fingers over a small, smooth stone nestled in the sand. She smiled, picking it up and turning it over in her palm. Its surface was streaked with tiny veins of quartz, glimmering faintly in the fading light. She approached Spock, holding it up for him to see.

“Look at this one, Spock,” she said, a playful grin spreading across her face. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Spock raised an eyebrow, taking the stone from her hand with the precision of a scientist inspecting a specimen. “Indeed,” he remarked, turning it over slowly. “The mineral composition appears to contain a significant amount of quartz, likely formed by years of pressure beneath the Earth’s surface.”

Y/n chuckled softly. “You always know how to make things sound so... scientific.” She watched him closely, enjoying the subtle curiosity that flickered in his dark eyes as he studied the rock. It was a small thing, but seeing Spock’s fascination with something as simple as a stone warmed her heart.

After a moment, Spock handed the rock back to her, inclining his head. “It is an interesting specimen. However, I do not believe it holds particular significance beyond its geological properties.”

Y/n laughed again, more at the formality of his response than the words themselves. “It’s not about the science, Spock. It’s about the beauty of it. Sometimes, things are worth appreciating just because they’re nice to look at.”

Spock’s expression softened, a subtle shift that only Y/n had learned to recognize after all their time together. “I see,” he replied, his voice thoughtful. “You derive pleasure from observing the aesthetics of natural formations.”

“Exactly.” She beamed, slipping the stone into her pocket. “It’s a little piece of home.”

They continued walking along the shoreline, Y/n occasionally stopping to inspect another rock or shell. She collected a small handful of them, showing each one to Spock with the same enthusiasm as the first. Though he did not share her penchant for collecting seemingly random objects, he never dismissed her excitement, responding to each discovery with patient interest.

As they reached the edge of the forest, Y/n bent down again, this time retrieving a larger, rougher stone. Its surface was jagged, unlike the smooth pebbles from the beach, and it seemed to carry the weight of ancient time within its weathered surface.

“This one feels different,” she murmured, brushing off the dirt. “It’s heavier… older, maybe?”

Spock took the stone from her, his long fingers tracing the irregular contours. His eyes narrowed in contemplation, and for a moment, he said nothing.

“You are correct,” he finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. “This rock likely originates from deeper beneath the Earth’s surface, perhaps pushed upward by tectonic activity.”

Y/n leaned in closer, intrigued. “Do you think it’s volcanic?”

Spock’s lips quirked, the closest he ever came to a smile. “It is possible. The rough texture suggests it may have been exposed to intense heat.”

Y/n couldn’t help but marvel at the way Spock could transform an ordinary rock into something extraordinary with his explanations. She rested her head against his shoulder, content in the silence that followed.

“You know,” she began softly, “I used to collect rocks like these when I was a kid. I’d bring them back to my room and pretend they were treasures from some distant planet.”

Spock turned his head slightly to look at her, his gaze thoughtful. “Your fascination with these objects seems to persist.”

Y/n smiled up at him. “Maybe it’s just nostalgia. Or maybe it’s because now, with you, it feels like I really am collecting treasures from other worlds.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, his expression softening further. “An intriguing perspective.”

They stood there for a moment, the quiet of the forest around them, the distant sound of water lapping at the shore. Y/n reached for Spock’s hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

“I’m glad you came with me,” she whispered. “It’s nice to share this part of my world with you.”

Spock squeezed her hand gently. “I find it… agreeable to observe Earth through your eyes, Y/n.”

She laughed softly, knowing that was as close to romantic as Spock would get. And that was more than enough for her.

As they walked back toward the house, the last light of day fading into twilight, Y/n tucked another rock into her pocket. This one was small and round, polished smooth by the water, and it sparkled faintly in the moonlight.

“I think I’ll keep this one,” she said, holding it up for Spock to see. “A souvenir of today.”

Spock tilted his head, his dark eyes reflecting the silver of the moon. “You seem to have acquired quite the collection.”

Y/n grinned. “I’m just getting started.”

And as they walked hand in hand beneath the stars, Y/n couldn’t help but feel that every rock, every moment, was a little treasure they shared in their own universe, one that Spock, in his own unique way, understood perfectly.

[space-helen]

Sore

Words: 588

Pairing: Captain Pike x Reader

A/N: Short but I think it's cute

Request: could ypu possible do something cute with Captain Pike from Star Trek Discovery and his wife who is an officer on the discovery and they just have a slow day together after she got injured on a mission? - @perasperaadastrawriting

______________________

You were sore, your abdomen radiating pain as soon as you sat up in bed. Taking a breath you braced yourself. The away missing had gone slightly wrong and you’d ended up in the cross-fire. On the whole, relatively uninjured but you knew you’d be sore for days and had been told to take it easy.

Swinging your legs out of bed you let out a small noise of discomfort and stopped once again. Yeah it was definitely worse after sleeping.

Chris was returning to you as you tried to move out of bed. Rushing quickly to you when he realised what you were doing, forgetting the breakfast he’d been carrying.

“Y/N what’re you doing?” he stood next to you and cupped your cheek in his hand as you looked up to him. 

“I just wanted to get something to eat. I didn’t realise you were still here.” you said truthfully, thinking the man had gone back on shift.

“I’m definitely not going back on shift when my wife can’t entirely move around freely on her own.”

You huffed “I’m fine. I can move, the ship is way more important than me.” you tried to stand again but winced. “Alright, maybe I’m not entirely fine.”

He nodded “See. The ship is perfectly under control and I’d much rather be here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid that’ll see you off duty for longer.”

“Ah I see.” you nodded “You just want me back working again for full ship functionality.” you teased.

He playfully rolled his eyes and a smile pulled at the corners of his lips “Sure Y/N, sure.”

You smiled up at him again before bringing your eyes back to the ground. “Can you help me back into bed?”

“Of course.” Moving the covers back fully he helped you move back into bed comfortably. Whispering words of reassurance as the pain hit, eventually you were settled and he pulled the covers back over you before leaning forward and placing a kiss to your forehead.

The forgotten breakfast on the floor caught your eye and you smiled “Chris.”

“Yes?” he pulled away slightly.

“You might want to clear that up.” you pointed in the direction of the doorway.

He closed his eyes and smiled as he turned, letting out a laugh. “I really was worried you’d hurt yourself more you know.”

“I know.” you felt a slight pang of guiltiness over it but knew Chris would hate it if you felt guilty for even a second.

Walking over to the food he quickly picked it up and went to collect some supplies to clean up the rest of the mess. You watched as he got to work cleaning up the mess flawlessly.

“You’re amazing you know that?” you commented from your spot on the bed.

He turned back to look at you with his million dollar smile. His eyes beaming “Says the woman who’s the personification of the word.” Standing to his full height he made a gesture to the items in his hands “I’ll take these back and then make you some breakfast. Maybe I’ll get someone to come check you-”

“No.” you shook your head “I’m fine. If it gets worse later then sure but at the moment I just want to relax.”

He nodded “Alright, but promise me that you’ll let me get Doctor M’Benga before dinner tonight if it gets worse.”

You nod in response “As long as we can cuddle before then.” 

“And how could I turn that down?”

Tag List: (open)

Star Trek: @heyitsaloy  @angel-with-wings-castiel @starfleet-imagines @captainsophiestark @perasperaadastrawriting

[frozenmemories1987]

Fanfic Writer Ask Game

Tagged by @jencsi <3

1. How many works do you have on ao3? 182

2. What's your total ao3 word count? 318.659

3. What fandoms do you write for? My top fandoms are CSI, Spartacus, MacGyver and The 100

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Learning to Fall - MacGyver Eternal Tethers - Spartacus Unspeakable Beauty - Spartacus Red Handed, Red Rimmed, Bare Skinned - Spartacus Soft Kisses and Whispers of Love - Spartacus

5. Do you respond to comments? Mostly

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I prefer fluff and smut but I guess Absent Heart (Spartacus)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of my fics have happy endings, really can't tell. One of the fluffiest might be Five Weddings (CSI)

8. Do you get hate on fics? I've gotten a strange comment about MacDalton being platonic but that was on a piece of art and not an actual fic

9. Do you write smut? Absolutely

10. Do you wrote crossovers? What's the craziest one you've ever written? My Mandy/Jill series (Mandy from CSI and Jill from MacGyver) And I've done that odd little The 100/Spartacus crossover once

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not that I know of 

13. Have you ever co written a fic? Yes, multiple times and it's always been a blast

14. What's your all time favourite ship? Nick x David (CSI) and Lugo x Auctus (Spartacus) and actually all my ships from Spartacus

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Well there's the sequel to Savages East of the Rhine, my Spartacus Brothel AU, Duro adopting Varro & Aurelia's kid after they die and a number of Star Trek Discovery wips... and then some 

16. What are your writing strengths? Tough. I think I'm good at getting into a character's POV, making the reader feel like they're right with the character. I also consider myself a fairly decent smut writer. I've been praised for my canon language skills in Spartacus fic, which I pride myself on. Generally dialogue, I always put great effort into making the characters sound in character and close to canon.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? World building, plot, getting from a to b. I tend to visualize scenes but then I need to get the characters there and I often struggle with "greater picture" parts.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I've used some German phrases in a fic where there was a German character. I don't feel comfortable using a language I'm not fluent in (English is already my second language) but if the show has a conlang or a character uses phrases in their native tongue a lot I'll try to incorporate that. Might wanna try to find a native speaker to proof read though.

19. First fandom you wrote for? CSI

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? Please don't ask me that, there are so many. I'm probably most proud of Savages East of the Rhine though

Okay, that took forever. Tagging my friends @telltaleclerk, @stormkpr, @kallisto-k, @guggi04 and @obscureenthusiast in this

[alicebloodborne]

... I want to sit on his face... 👀

[ghost-king-kai]

The Requesting Hall Guidelines

Welcome to the request guidelines! Here you can be informed of my dos & don'ts, characters & fandoms available, and rules in The Requesting Hall.

Please review (or at least skim through) these rules prior to sending a request to the hall.

Request Rules

Be sure to keep asks and requests respectful.

Make sure the request is detailed enough for me to write for.

Anons are welcome! (if you'd like a specific designation, feel free to ask)

The Dos & Don'ts

These are the types of requests I do and don't do.

I Do...

x Male!Reader

x GN!Reader

x Transmasc!Reader

x NB!Reader

Fluff Fics

Angst Fics (Heavily dependent on the topics)

Platonic Fics (Familial, Teammates, Colleagues, Crewmates, Etc.)

Character Concepts for Reader (As long as the idea is feasible)

Oc Requests & Asks

I Don't Do...

x Fem!Reader

x Transfem!Reader

NSFW/Smut (Besides implications)

Triggering Topics (Sexual Assault, Rape, Abuse, Self Harm, etc.)

Fetish Requests

Character Ships

Characters Available For Requests

The listed characters and fandoms are the ones I am usually inspired to write on the regular or as of right now but that doesn't mean you can't ask if I write for a specific fandom or character that isn't on this list, especially if it's from the list in the Kingdom Directory.

Marvel

Specify Timeframe

Available for Romantic Requests: Peter Parker (Only Tom & Andrew Portrayals)

Platonic Only: The Avengers (Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Thor Odinson, Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker, The Vision) [All Together & Individually] The Marvels (Carol Danvers, Monica Rambeau, Kamala Khan) [All Together & Individually] Etc. (there are literally so many characters-)

DC

Specify Adaptation & Timeframe (I mostly do DCAU & Young Justice, though)

Platonic Only: The Bat Family (Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown) [All Together & Individually] Jon Kent (Supersons Comics Series Version) The Team (Dick Grayson, Wally West, Kaldur'ahm, Artemis Crock, M'gann M'orzz, Connor Kent) (Young Justice TV Series) [All Together & Individually]

Persona 5

Specify Timeframe

Available for Romantic Requests: Ren Amamiya

Platonic Only: The Phantom Thieves (Ren Amamiya, Morgana, Ryuji Sakamoto, Ann Takamaki, Yusuke Kitagawa, Makoto Nijima, Futaba Sakura, Haru Okumura) [All Together] Futaba Sakura Zenkichi Hasegawa Goro Akechi Sophia

Criminal Minds

Specify Timeframe

Platonic Only: The B.AU. Team (Aaron Hotchner, Jason Gideon, David Rossi, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Alex Blake, Luke Alves, Tara Lewis) [All Together & Individually]

Star Trek

Specify Timeframe

Strange New Worlds

Platonic Only: The Crew (Christopher Pike, Una Chin-Riley, Hemmer/Pelia, Joseph M'Benga, Christine Chapel, Erica Ortegas, Nyota Uhura, Jenna Mitchell, Spock, La'an Noonien-Singh, George Samuel Kirk) [All Together & Individually] James T. Kirk

Discovery

Platonic Only: The Crew (Michael Burnham, Saru, Sylvia Tilly, Adira Tal, Keyla Detmer, R. A. Bryce, Joann Owosekun, Hugh Culber, Gen Rhys, Paul Stamets, Jett Reno) [All Together & Individually] Cleveland Booker

Kelvin Timeline

Platonic Only: The Crew (James T. Kirk, Spock, Montgomery Scott, Keenser, Pavel Chekov, Hikaru Sulu, Leonard McCoy, Nyota Uhura) [All Together & Individually]

Resident Evil

Specify Timeframe & Version

Available for Romantic Requests: Leon S. Kennedy

Fair Warning: Fandoms and characters will be added and removed a lot over time. Apologies in advance if a character or fandom you would like to request disappears overnight. Inspiration comes and goes and this section just reflects what and who I am gladly willing to write for at the time.