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heliads · 1 year ago

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Read the pinned post and I'm so glad you're still taking requests for Star Trek!! I was wondering if you could do something for Bones with loads of banter and friends to lovers? Like they work together on the enterprise and are super close. They're always flirting and making fun of eachother, etc until one day R gets hurt and they both confess. I'm a sucker for sick fics/hurt comfort.

'Stay Safe' - leonard 'bones' mccoy

masterlist

There’s never a dull moment when you’re up amongst the stars.

At times like this, when everything is going south, it’s important to remember that you signed up for this. You were the one who decided that a simple life back on your home planet was too boring for you. You were the one who chose to put yourself through the most rigorous courses you could find in Starfleet Academy. You were the one who somehow thought that pestering Jim Kirk (that’s Captain to you) to let you onto the Enterprise would be the best possible career plan.

And now you’re the one finding yourself hurled into danger for what feels like the dozenth time this week. At least you’re not twiddling your thumbs, hoping for something to do, but at least boredom doesn’t get you killed. At this rate, with Jim’s latest half-mad plan to get you all out of the latest crisis, you have no idea if you can say that about your position on the Enterprise.

The Enterprise’s latest incident is going to take place in a few hours. There’s been a situation on a backwater planet where an escape pod from an imploding shuttle was accidentally stranded without any chance of rescue. Unfortunately, the travelers in the pod managed to crash land on a planet with a toxic atmosphere, so they’ve been forced to stay inside their pod lest they breathe in the poisonous gas. They’ve only got a short while before their life support systems give out, which is why it’s time for the Enterprise to step in.

The only problem is that this planet is way more hostile than original scans made it out to be. What was meant to be a one man mission has quickly unraveled into a far more complex plan. More crew members will have to be sent down, and you’ll need contact with the ship so you can quickly beam everyone up before they get hurt.

You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised to receive a summons to the bridge. You’ve known Jim for a while now, and in turn he knows that he can rely on you in dangerous times such as these. You’ve more than proven yourself capable of handling extreme pressure and risks, so your caution and quick thinking pay off by plunging you back in danger again.

Jim wants a group to travel down to the surface and retrieve the pod with its survivors. You’ll go along with Sulu, Uhura, and your captain, as all of you work well together and can handle tough situations like this. Jim gave you the option to stay back on the Enterprise, of course, he’d never force you into something as perilous as this, but this won’t be the first time that you’ve risked your life to save innocent lives, and it certainly won’t be the last.

Jim had known that, but he’d still smiled with obvious relief when you agreed to take part in the mission. “Glad to have you with us,” he’d said, clapping you on the shoulder, “Now, we’ve got to get moving, and fast. You’ll have to swing by the med wing to get cleared for surface interaction. Meet us back here as soon as you can so we can finish going over details before we head out. And thanks again, Y/N.”

You’d waved off his gratitude with an easy smile. This is what you do best, after all. You accept the risks and you take the challenges. All in a day’s work. Still, the more difficult part has yet to come. This planet’s atmosphere is no joke. Even a few minutes of unadulterated skin contact on the surface of that planet could burn away your skin. That’s why you’ll need to head over to the medical wing so they can decide you’re in good enough condition to risk it, as well as give you necessary supplements to provide some protection against the acidity of the atmosphere. Besides, it’ll give you a chance to catch up with a friend, and you’ve never turned that down, either.

Your footsteps are quick as you hurry out of the bridge and down the sprawling corridors towards the medical wing. It’s as busy as ever, with blue-shirted figures darting in and out wherever you look. Still, in all of their chaos and yours, you manage to locate the one man you’re here to see in record time.

Doctor Leonard McCoy, known to some as the most intimidating medical professional on the Enterprise and to his friends as Bones, has just finished sending one patient on their way when he’s confronted with the sight of another one. Unlike most of the invalids to cross his path, though, Bones doesn’t greet you with an unhappy harrumph, nor even a sarcastic comment about what you did to land yourself in the med wing. Instead, he almost smiles.

“Y/N. Good to see you. I don’t suppose you’re here to help out or do something nice for me?” He says dryly.

You grin. “Afraid not, Bones. I need a favor.”

He arches a dark brow, crossing the room to replenish a container of syringes. “What favor? If it’s anything more than verbal, you’re going to have to join the patient waitlist.”

You wince. “See, I was hoping you wouldn’t say that. I need you to clear me for contact with the planet. ASAP.”

Bones actually stops moving for once in his life just so he can stare incredulously at you. “Are you out of your mind? I thought Jim declared any activity on that planet to be a risk to life and resources.”

“He did,” you admit, “but that’s why I’m joining the party. The more the merrier, apparently. Uhura says she wants someone down there with functioning critical thinking skills so she can balance out Jim. We’ll be fine so long as we stick together, but I need you to clear me first.”

Bones folds his arms across his chest. “So all I have to do to stop you from going into a trap this big is to just refuse to check your condition? Done.”

You pull a face. “Bones, I’m not kidding. We have to do this.”

“Neither am I,” he fires back. “This is a stupid move and Jim knows that. I’m not letting him lose half the superior officers of this ship all at once. You’re all going to get yourselves killed. Hate me if you want, sweetheart, but I’m keeping you alive. That’s what the medical officer is supposed to do, by the way, in case you forgot.”

You sigh. “I appreciate you looking out for me, but we have to do this, you know that. Besides, if you won’t clear me, I’ll just find someone who will. Would it make you sleep easier at night if you refused to take a look at me so I made an intern give me the meds I need to breathe down there? I’m sure they’d get the prescription right on the first try.”

Bones blows a sharp breath out, but when it becomes clear that you aren’t willing to back down, he purses his lips and relents. “Fine. You’re too damn stubborn for your own good, by the way.”

You crack a grin. “From you, Bones, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He hems and haws while he runs the necessary scans, but when you walk out of the med wing, you do so with the perfect combination of supplements and injections to enable you to breathe the toxic atmosphere on the planet without dying. You’ll all be in thick suits anyway, but just in case, it’s important to take these steps to protect yourselves now. Hopefully, you won’t need them, but the downsides of skipping them are much worse than the inconvenience of a couple extra shots.

Bones makes sure to remind you of this before you go. He warns you to stay out of trouble, knowing full well that there’s no chance of that, but you nod along anyway. You glance over your shoulder right before you leave the med wing, and catch a glimpse of him staring after you, brow knit with anxiety. At this point, you have to return from this mission intact not just for your own good but his as well.

Jim and the others are finalizing the plan when you get back to the bridge. He feigns surprise when you walk in, although he can’t hide a broad grin. “Bones let you go that easily? Maybe he’s losing his touch.”

You arch a brow. “What does that mean?”

Your captain laughs. “It means he’s very protective of you. It’s cute.”

You make a face. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear you call Bones cute, and now I wish I never did.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “I’m just trying to connect to you, Y/N. I thought you’d agree with that. You two only ever spend time with each other anyway, aren’t you—”

He’s studiously interrupted by Uhura calling everyone to focus so you can get down to the planet as soon as possible. You don’t miss the pointed look she gives to Jim the second they think your back is turned, but you’ve been seeing a lot of those lately, and they only get easier to ignore.

Contrary to what is apparently the popular belief on the Enterprise, you’re not in a relationship with Bones. It’s startling how many people here think you are, but you’re not. You’re just friends. No matter how many times Jim points out that Bones is oddly friendly and warm towards you, and offenses committed by Jim that earn hours of yelling only receive a small frown when you repeat them, the truth is the same. Jim may have a romantic goal for you and Bones, but it’s not happening.

What is happening, however, is the mission at hand. After conferring for a while longer, you have Scotty beam all of you down to the planet surface. The ground underneath your feet is rocky and uneven, so you’ll have to be cautious. One bad spill could leave you with a torn suit, and even with your medical boosters, you want as little contact with the toxic environment as possible.

You and the others quickly make your way to the downed escape pod. Once there, you spread out, spreading a connective net between all of you before setting it on the ground and activating it. A temporary shield forms a dome in the air, sealing off the ground from the poison clouds floating low through the air. Once the life support cycles through, it’s safe for anyone without a suit to breathe. It’ll wear out soon though, especially while taking a continuous beating from the noxious gas outside, so you’ll have to move quickly.

You hurry over to the pod, knocking twice on the side before calling for them to come out. Slowly, a hatch on the side retracts, and five travelers come out, eyes wide and scared. Uhura hands them some suits, urging the victims to put them on quickly. They don’t need to be told twice, hurriedly pulling on the suits while you count down the seconds before you need to move again.

Although helpful when combating the toxic atmosphere, you won’t be able to beam up while you’re in the shield dome due to the energy signature currently keeping you alive. You’ll have to slowly let people out of the dome and hope that their suits stay stable long enough for Scotty up above to lock onto their signatures and safely retrieve them.

One by one, the members of the doomed escape pod leave the safety of the dome. You watch them get beamed up one by one, listening to your earpiece to know when to send up the next one. Finally, the last of them is ready to be sent up, and you breathe a quiet sigh of relief. At last, an Enterprise mission that goes according to plan.

See, you should have known better than to jinx it like that. It’s common knowledge around here that the moment you decide something is going according to plan, you’ll be proven wrong in a heartbeat, and the galaxy likes nothing better than to mess with all of you.

So, of course, not a fraction of a second later than the time you think you’ll be alright, you notice a gap between the dome and the ground. The surface of this planet is rocky, you noticed it when you first landed. One of the escapees must have knocked into the dome generator while you were pulling them out. It wouldn’t have taken much to disrupt the field, not when it’s been fighting the acidity of the environment around you for so long.

And, as you watch with horrified eyes, the toxic sludge from outside has already started to make its way in. All it takes is one drop. One drop, to start to wear away at the protective coating of the generators. One drop, to make its way inside the machinery. One drop, to cause a chain reaction that ends with the energy of the dome cycling back in on itself and exploding.

You have just enough time to shout for everyone to take cover before the thing goes nuclear. The last person stuck on the doomed escape pod is right beside you, and you fling your body over them to protect them from the blast. The impact slams into you a heartbeat later, knocking you to the ground. Your suit can take a beating from the toxic gas, but not a self destructing energy shield generator, and if it wasn’t already weakened from the blast, tumbling over sharp rocks is more than enough to tear holes in the side.

Instantly, the toxic gas rushes in. You scream out, feeling the poisonous fumes eating away at your skin. Everything is metallic and agonizing, the taste of copper radiating through your mouth. Somewhere in the background, you can hear Jim yelling for Scotty to beam you up now, but it’s hard to hear him distinctly when your vocal chords are taut in one constant cry of pain. You manage to endure another few seconds before blacking out, and although unconsciousness is always a bad sign when you’re on a foreign planet, your last satisfied thought before you pass out is that at least you won’t have to feel the pain anymore.

It’s quiet for a long time, dark and quiet. Peaceful, almost. You wake up slowly. It hurts to open your eyes because it’s so bright compared to the hazy blackness behind your lids, but it gets easier after a while. When you’re finally able to piece together the fact that you’re on a bed in the med wing, secluded from the main hustle and bustle so you can heal in privacy, you also realize that you’re not alone. Bones is sitting in a chair drawn up close beside you, head in shaky hands.

Bones. Oh, he must be irate. All those warnings about keeping you safe and then you went and hurt yourself like this. It wasn’t like you wanted to have your skin melted off by a toxic planet, but that’s how it goes when you try to save people. Bones, however, doesn’t care about the rest. He cares about you, as he’s put it plainly several times.

You reach over, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “Everything alright, Doc?”

He jerks up, startled, although the panic in his eyes starts to abate when he realizes you’re conscious. “I think I should be asking you that. You’re the one who came back in a pool of your own blood.”

You wince. “How bad was it?”

“Very,” he says, and that one word contains with it the gravity of a lifetime.

You can imagine how it must have gone for him, then. Bones, biding his time up in the med wing, patching up patients to distract himself from not knowing what was going down on the surface of the planet. He would have told himself it would be fine because you said it would be fine, and just as he got halfway to believing it, Jim would have rushed through the doors carrying your unconscious, bleeding, actively diminishing body. What a ghastly scene.

“You patched me up pretty well, though. I don’t feel anything.” You tell him, mostly to try and lift that desperate look on his face.

Bones lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, well, that’s what a cocktail of painkillers will do for you. You’ll take a while to recover, though. I can’t stop that.”

From the way he keeps shooting nervous glances at your side, though, you can tell that he wishes more than anything that he could stop it. The two of you wait in patient, terrible silence, and then Bones gives in and says what he’s been holding back all this time.

“It’s just– Dammit, Y/N, I thought you were going to die. When they brought you in, you weren’t moving. Your heart was barely even beating. I can keep giving you pills and bandages when you need them, but that won’t be enough to bring you back from the dead. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I could lose the ship, I could lose the rest of the crew, I could lose myself, but I can’t lose you.”

Your breath is shallow in your chest, and not just because of the injury. “Why?”

“You know why,” he says, refusing to look at you.

“I want to hear you say it,” you tell him.

A silence. A drawn breath. “I love you,” he says at last, “I love you, Y/N. More than anything. Didn’t know it until I thought you were dead. Didn’t think I’d have to say it until you woke up.”

Bones is not one to beat around the bush, but he still waits a beat or too longer before forcing himself to look back at you. His eyes cut to you in one clean jerk, like ripping off a bandage. You’re not here to hurt him, though. Not anymore.

“I love you too,” you tell him. “Probably longer than you.”

“There’s no reason to make this a contest,” Bones chides you, but he’s starting to smile at last.

“Why not? Scared I’ll win?” You laugh.

Bones tries to glare, but the corners of his mouth refuse to tamp down into anything sober or serious. “Cut that out.”

“Make me,” you challenge him, and he takes you up on your word by leaning forward abruptly to kiss you.

Of all the things to make you go silent, that might be your favorite. It’ll take you a while to heal, but maybe it’s not the worst thing to be stuck in the med wing for a while longer. You and Bones have plenty of things to talk about in the meantime.

star trek tag list: @w1shes43

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#bones #bones imagines #bones x reader #bones oneshot #leonard mccoy #leonard mccoy imagines #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy oneshot #star trek #star trek imagines #star trek x reader #star trek oneshot #star trek bones #star trek bones imagines #star trek bones x reader #star trek bones oneshot

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make-me-imagine · 2 years ago

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Truth or Dare: Part Two

(Part One)

Plot: After their game of truth or dare, both Malcolm and Y/n come to terms with their changed feelings. During a ship-wide party, those feelings become less than secret.

Pairing: Malcolm Reed x Gn!Reader (Use of Y/n)

Written for @fandomdancer as a fic commission on my Ko-fi

Warnings: A kiss at the end, but that's it!

A/N: The requested song is linked in the fic at the moment it starts to play.

Words: 2.2k

Ever since your game of truth or dare with the others the night before, your mind had been working non-stop. Had these feelings for Malcolm always been there? Had they just been hidden by your friendship with him?

And the one question that seemed to be plaguing you most frequently.

Did he feel the same?

Or was this just some quickly passing crush that would be gone in a weeks time? Part of you hoped so, but another part of you, a curious part, wanted to know what would happen if your feelings were real. And if they were returned.

Jumping slightly as a hand gripped your shoulder, you looked up to see Trip staring at you.

Chuckling he removed his had "Where's your mind at? I was calling you for a good thirty seconds."

Realizing you had been wandering down the hall without paying attention, you chuckled nervously "Sorry, just a bit tired I guess."

"Not too tired I hope? You better show up to the shin-dig tonight."

You smiled and nodded "I will be there"

"Good."

"Did you need something?" You asked, recalling why he had come up to you.

He handed you a PAD "Just for you to check this over."

"Ah, alright, will do."

"Maybe take a nap before the party tonight, ey?" He smiled as he wandered off.

You let out a small sigh, you really needed to get out of your own head. Sighing again, you headed to your room to take a shower. How could you take a nap with your mind so worked up? It's the reason you didn't really sleep in the first place.

---

The ship was still stuck in the storm, and expected to be until the following day. So, after some discussion among the crew, and encouragement from the Captain there was going to be a party tonight. Food, music, dancing. Should be fun. Though, a heavy weight had seemed to find it's way into your chest.

You hadn't seen Malcolm since the previous night except once from a distance. When you saw him, you felt as though your chest was going to explode, so you turned around and avoided him.

You seriously needed to get grip on yourself and figure out your feelings before tonight. Yeah, right.

Malcolm couldn't seem to stop his eyes from wondering around every space he entered, looking for your presence. He had only seen you once earlier in the day walking the opposite way. He had resisted the urge to follow after you, but regretted it when he didn't see you again.

He hoped he would see you tonight at the party. He wanted a moment to be with you, to see just how strong his newfound feelings were.

He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do either way. He had lingering suspicions that maybe you had feelings for him, and he wanted to know for sure. If you did, then perhaps your relationship could become more. And if you didn't, well then, he would hope to remain your friend at least.

Checking the clock, he realized it was about half an hour until the party was going to start. Deciding to go to his room to get ready, he tried to ignore the twisting in his stomach as nervousness filled him.

--- --- ---

As you made your way into the large room, people were mingling and laughing together, as some danced in the center of the room.

The whole party was themed around old Terra traditions. Old music, food, and drinks. A theme you assumed was devised by the Captain and Trip.

You felt a nervous flutter in your chest as you looked around the room, your eyes looking out for one person. As your eyes settled on him, you felt you heart jolt.

Malcolm stood with some others, smiling about something and you felt butterflies shoot through your stomach.

A few days ago you would have gone up to him easily, with no problem. But now, you walked to the other side of the room, unable to even look at him.

You had come to the conclusion that your feelings for Malcolm were real. As much as they seemed to come out of nowhere, you had a feeling they had been simmering for some time.

Finding Hoshi, you stood and talked with her, wondering if you'd get the courage to approach Malcolm soon.

"Hey, look!" Hoshi whispered to you, catching you off guard.

Following her finger, you looked across the room to see Travis dancing with Hannah, grins on both of their faces.

Your thoughts were distracted from Malcolm as you grinned at the sight. It looked like Travis found his courage after all. And, he wouldn't have to eat a whole batch of southern pear salad it seemed.

Malcolm searched the room for you, his eyes scanning fervently. As they finally landed on you, he felt his chest tighten. You had a bright grin on your face that took his breath away, literally.

Following your line of sight, he saw you watching Travis and Hannah. He smiled at the sight as well before he looked back at you.

Feeling a sudden burst of courage, he walked across the room towards you, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Y/n."

Your heart leapt at the sudden familiar voice as your eyes darted to Malcolm, who had appeared by your side.

Swallowing the sudden surprise you smiled "Hey Malcolm"

He stared at you for a moment before finally clearing his throat and finding his words "Would you care to dance?"

Your eyes widened slightly at the question as your heart pounded. "Dance?"

You could feel Hoshi look between the two of you and you wondered if maybe she could feel the tension as well.

He nodded with a smile, though you could see something in his gaze. Nervousness?

"Alright." You said softly, your voice much quieter than you meant.

But Malcolm heard you fine and smiled brightly at you "Great, come on."

As he reached down and slid his hand into yours, you felt your breath hitch. After giving Hoshi a parting glance, you followed him to the center of the room, butterflies rampaged through your stomach as his hand left yours before gently landing on your waist, the other moving to your shoulder.

As the two of you began to slowly dance to the music you felt as though you had nothing to say. You had never been so speechless around Malcolm.

The song that had begun playing was new to you and you felt a nervous flutter. You weren't used to old music, and you were afraid you'd embarrass yourself.

Malcolm, seemingly noticing your hesitation smiled softly as he leaned a little closer "Just follow my lead."

You met his eyes and felt a warmth in your chest, your eyes seemed to stay locked forever, before Malcolm began stepping in rhythm to the song. You followed along, constantly reminding yourself to keep breathing.

"Have we ever danced before?" Malcolm asked after a moment of silence.

After you thought on it for a moment you shook your head, starting to feel your self relax in his presence again. "I don't think so."

"Hmm. That's a shame."

You smiled, repressing a chuckle "Yeah it is. If I had known you were a good dancer I may have looked for an excuse."

He grinned at you "I'm not the best, but with the right partner..." He trailed off softly, and you thought you could hear a subtle hinting tone in his voice.

After he twirled you lightly, he brought you closer than you had been before. Your face felt warm, but you tried to stay calm.

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, seemingly second guessing himself.

"What?" You prodded softly.

"I just- was thinking about that game of truth or dare yesterday evening."

Your heart seemed to jolt suddenly as you smiled, laughing softly "Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, it's a shame it ended so early. I never got a chance to ask you a truth."

"Didn't you?"

He shook his head in response "I dared you early on in the game to chug some cider, but that's it."

"Oh yeah. Thanks for that by the way." You said sarcastically earning a laugh. You swallowed, butterflies heavy in your chest, before you spoke again "Well was there something you wanted to ask me?"

He smiled softly, and you could see something shining behind his eyes. You had asked the right question.

"It's not something I thought of during the game, but after."

You rose your brow inquisitively and he chuckle softly before straightened himself up a bit and speaking playfully "Truth or Dare?"

You let out a laugh as you rolled your eyes playfully. The playful part of you wanted to choose dare, but the other part of you, the one that recently discovered your new feelings, wouldn't let you. You had a feeling in your gut, that he felt the same. And that this truth would make it real.

"Truth." You said softly with a smile.

Malcolm seemed to take in a breath before he spoke, his voice soft, only loud enough for you to hear.

"Do you feel the same way about me, as I do about you?"

The over thinker in you wanted to convince you maybe he meant friendship, but you knew that was stupid. He wouldn't ask you that. The only reason he would be asking a question like that, is if this was a confession in itself to you.

'Do you love me as much as I love you?' His inner thoughts spoke, but he reworded it, for fear of the emotion being too strong.

"I think-" you stopped yourself before you started over with a soft nod of your head, your eyes filled with fear, surprise, and joy "Yeah, I do."

Malcolm let out a relieved sigh that seemed to bare a heavy weight he wasn't aware he was holding until it was gone. "Oh thank God."

You couldn't resist the laugh that bubbled out of you, allowing him the relief to laugh as well.

You spoke softly "Can I ask... when did you know?"

Was it as recent as your discovery, did things change for you at the same time?

"Well, I think I always knew, in some way. But, I didn't realize it fully, until last night actually, it was like it suddenly smacked me i-"

"-in the face!" You finished, your face showing your surprise "Me too!"

"Really?"

You nodded fervently and he let out a bewildered laugh. "Wait...so were you actually checking me out when I was doing my pull ups?"

He saw the shock cross your face before you smacked him, making him laugh and mutter out an apology.

"I guess it was good that Trip convinced us to play that stupid game. Who knows how long it would have taken otherwise."

"Shh! Don't say that!" You said, causing him to look around startled.

"What why?"

"You really want Trip to have that over our heads for the rest of our lives?"

Malcolm's eyes widened as the thought "Oh God, definitley not."

You chuckled "So let's maybe keep that under wraps huh?"

He nodded and laughed "Just our little secret then."

--- ---

The rest of the party went well, you and Malcolm only left each other's sides a couple times througout the night. But anytime you'd look to catch his eye, he was often already looking at you.

It wasn't obvious to the others, as far as you could tell, what had happened between the two of you. So it would remain your secret for a while longer.

When most everyone had wondered off to bed, you parted ways with Hoshi and Trip before heading back to your dorm, Malcolm trailing alongside you.

You got to your door a lot faster than you would have preferred, and gave Malcolm a shy yet bright smile.

He grinned at you before he looked around and cleared his throat.

"This may come off a bit fast, and I understand if you say no, but, would you mind if I kissed you goodnight?" His eyes were heavy with nervousness as he asked and you almost reached out and touched his face.

Your heart swelled in your chest as the butterflies returned. You were shocked at the question, but far from displeased by the suggestion.

You smiled, and you were sure you face was flushed as you replied "I wouldn't mind at all."

Smiling, Malcolm slowly inched forward, his lips hesitating just before touching yours, before he kissed you. It was gentle, and only lasted a few seconds, but it was special. You felt a shiver run through your body a you felt a giddiness in your stomach.

When Malcolm pulled away, he kept his face close to yours as he looked into your eyes.

His voice was nearly a whisper when he spoke "I was afraid...that might feel weird, but it was..."

"Perfect?" You asked softly.

He smiled and nodded "Exactly."

You smiled in return as you slowly pulled away from each other. You were sure both of you felt the desire to kiss again, but it was best this night end here, with a perfect ending with a promise for more to come.

"Good night Malcolm" You said after a moment.

He grinned down at you "Goodnight Y/n."

xx End xx

Thank you for reading, and I really hope you liked it!

This was a two-part commission fic, so if anyone is interested in getting one as well, you can find he llink to my ko-fi at the top of the fic.

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Star Trek Taglist:@starfleetimagines, @groovy-lady, @asgardianhobbit98, @agent-catfish-kenobi, @starship-argo, @cs-please, @gatefleet, @fandomdancer

#Malcolm Reed #Star Trek Enterprise #malcolm reed x reader #malcolm reed/reader #star trek enterprise x reader #enterprise x reader #star trek enterprise/reader #enterprise/reader #malcolm reed imagine #star trek imagine #star trek enterprise imagine #malcolm reed oneshot #malcolm reed one shot #malcolm reed fic #truth or dare: part two #star trek oneshot #star trek fic #commission fic

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phantomcurses · 7 days ago

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star trek masterlist

updated - tba

drabbles

headcanons

oneshots

series

#star trek #star trek imagine #star trek drabble #star trek oneshot #star trek x reader #star trek headcanon

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fetch-those-damned-bolt-cutters · 1 year ago

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You think you can hurt me? I write star trek fanfiction knowing absolutely nothing about the medical and scientific fields

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spirk-trek · 6 months ago

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headcanon: chekov gets jim to play him in chess and quickly loses despite being a decent player, but he somehow convinces him to let him keep trying until he wins

fast forward a year or so, jim is stuck in sickbay with 84 broken bones or whatever and in comes chekov, board tucked under his arm for their weekly match because "you did not think i would be letting you off ze hook, did you keptin? a promise ees a promise"

#“did you know chess was inwented in russia?”#oh and he moves the pieces for him #constantly putting them on the wrong squares #“ohhhh my mistake keptin i did not think you meant to make such a foolish move”#he still loses btw #anyway idk how to type a russian accent #sorry if cringe #star trek #pavel chekov #chekov #star trek tos #star trek the original series #headcanon #fanfic #i really might write some oneshots like this one day #becuase i have so many ideas it's not even funny #i luv himmm

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geminiwritten · 14 days ago

Text

this means war ; bones

fandom: star trek

pairing: bones x reader

summary: based on this song but incredibly drawn out and long winded (you're reuniting with the enterprise crew for jim's birthday almost six months after leaving for a job at the academy because of a messy breakup)

notes: hey, i'm back! life has been super busy but i was listening to this song a few months ago and decided that i had to write something for it... and then a few months and thousands of words later... here you go! it is a little bit messy, but i can't not post it. let me know what you think! please!

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual references (i promise i am working on writing actual smut and not this fade to black crap), and lots of words i'm sorry if it sucks

word count: 10749 (i have no self control)

The birth date of James Tiberius Kirk is either a taboo subject not to be mentioned or alluded to for the entire month of March, or an intergalactic holiday that must be celebrated for a full two weeks straight. This year, it’s a celebration. The USS Enterprise is docked at Starbase Yorktown after doubling back due to an unfortunate encounter in unfriendly space, but not even a month's setback on the starship’s five-year journey could put a damper on her captain’s birthday. In fact, the party itself was arranged in all its grandeur after the unlucky incident, seeing that shore leave provided the perfect opportunity to drink and be merry in celebration of Jim’s ageing.

So it was your best friend’s birthday celebrations that finally dragged you out of your dark and comforting office at Starfleet Academy for the first time in four months, all the way to Starbase Yorktown. It was a long journey, which you were thankful for, because despite it being almost half of a year since you left your post on the USS Enterprise, you’re still not sure if you’re ready to face her crew again. Of course you miss them, they were your closest friends long before the Enterprise’s five-year assignment, but when Starfleet made you an offer you couldn’t refuse, well... you couldn’t refuse it. Or at least, that was the story you stuck to when your friends begged you to stay. It most definitely had absolutely nothing to do with a saga of heartbreak and animosity.

“Okay, breathe,” you tell your reflection, watching the colour in your cheeks deepen the more you reminisce. The black dress you’re wearing is perfectly complimentary, accentuating all the right parts and boosting your confidence just enough to get you out the door. The hallway wasn’t too difficult, but the elevator descent awakens the anxious butterflies in your stomach, and the hotel lobby has your heartrate rising with every click of your heels against the polished marble floor.

“This is ridiculous,” you sigh, earning a few odd glances from passersby as you exit the hotel’s main doors. The artificial air outside is warm and the sky mimics a pink and orange sunset that casts long shadows on the pavement. You watch your own move as you head toward the party venue; a Federation building purpose-built for conferences and training seminars that Jim had somehow convinced someone to let him use. You often forget how respected the captain really is.

The walk isn’t long, and before you can even attempt to quell the nausea rising up from your stomach, you find yourself standing in the foyer of the building. The reception desk is empty except for a small sign atop it with an arrow pointing down the corridor, reading ‘Captain Kirk’s Birthday Extravaganza’. You have to force your feet to move in the direction of the music and chatter, despite every fibre of your being telling you to turn around.

The doors to the room are open, so you have absolutely no time to steel your nerves before the first person recognises you. A cadet from the MedBay, of course, you spent enough of your time there for every medical crew member to know who you are. His face is a mixture of confusion and delight as he calls out your name, “Y/N!”

You plaster on a smile, push your shoulders back, and walk into the party.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” the cadet, Trevor, says, “Doctor McCoy said you-” Before he can finish his sentence, another body slams into yours, knocking the breath out of you and almost knocking you clean off your feet.

You stumble back but catch yourself, suddenly wrapped in the familiar smell of wild berry scented shampoo with a ponytail full of brown hair in your face. You hug her back, fighting tears as you mumble into her hair, “Nyota.”

“I can’t believe you came!” she says as she pulls away, her own eyes glassy with moisture, “how long did it take to get here?”

“Not that long,” you shrug, “and it was nice to see the stars again.”

She frowns, “you can still see the stars from the academy.”

“Not from behind my desk, you can’t,” you say through a forced smile, trying to make your sad reality sound like a jest. You truly did hate your dark little office; the only window was facing right at a brick wall of the next building and one of the two ceiling lights had died within a month of you moving in. It was always dark, always cold, and so far from anyone else, you often felt as if you were living in an apocalyptic world.

You only catch a glimpse of Nyota’s sympathetic stare before you’re wrapped in another pair of arms. “Y/N!” Jim exclaims, right into your ear, “you’re here!”

Tears threaten to fall once again as you hug your used-to-be captain back. “I’m here,” you mutter into his shirt.

He pulls back, his blue eyes practically glowing as he takes you in, “you look incredible.”

“Thanks,” your cheeks warm, “not looking so bad yourself, Captain.”

He chuckles, “you can’t call me that anymore, remember. You’re not a part of my crew.”

You know he’s only joking, but the words still cause a small fissure in your already fragile heart. “You’re still a captain, and didn’t you promise to keep my post vacant?”

His previously easy smile falters, but only slightly. “I did, in case you change your mind,” he sighs, “but only for six months.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t hold the position longer than six months,” he puts a hand on your shoulder as if he’s giving you the worst news of your life, “if you decide to stay at the academy, I have to replace you.”

“Wait,” you frown up at him, “is that why you asked me to come, so you could tell me to officially sign off of the Enterprise?”

“No, of course not, I just-” he hesitates before sighing again, “let’s not talk about this now, okay? I invited you here because I miss you.” He pulls you back against his chest and you let yourself relax, allowing the familiarity of your best friend to soothe the fresh wave of anxiety coursing through your veins.

“Now,” as he pulls away, Nyota puts a flute of champagne in your hand, “there are a few people who would really like to see this gorgeous face.”

You roll your eyes as he slides you under one arm and walks further into the crowd. “Even though I know you’re talking about yourself,” you say, “I’ll still pretend I’m flattered.”

It doesn’t take long for the rest of your friends to realise you’re here. Sulu and Chekov are first, each wrapping you in a tight hug before Scotty appears. You didn’t expect him to be that emotional, but you find it difficult to hold back your own tears as he sniffles against your shoulder. Keenser isn’t far behind, holding another full glass for you and taking the empty one back to the bar, no doubt about to retrieve more drinks for himself and Mr. Scott.

The more you watch the grins on your friends’ faces, the more your heart aches to return to them. It feels as if you never left, aside from a few funny stories from the last couple of months that Jim reenacts for you with tipsy enthusiasm. You almost forget about the reason that nearly stopped you from being here; the reason your whole body wanted to turn and run with every inch closer you came to this place.

Almost forgot.

“Bones!” Jim exclaims, throwing his arms up and almost spilling his entire drink, “what took you so long?”

Your heart leaps into your throat, stopping your breath as fire spreads across every inch of your skin. You know your face must be glowing red, but you can’t help that, so you focus on keeping your expression calm as you try to remember how to breathe.

Leonard hesitates, his eyes lingering on you before he clears his throat and turns to Jim. “Sorry, medical emergency.”

Jim scoffs, “I can tell when you’re lying. You’re a very bad liar.”

Leonard takes the drink Sulu offers him and clinks it against Jim’s outstretched glass, “well, we can’t all be talented liars,” he glances quickly at you before turning back to the captain. “Happy birthday.”

His words punch you right in the chest, and you’re sure you can feel another piece of your heart break, but you can’t let it show. You tip the rest of your drink to your lips, sculling almost a full glass of champagne while the others take turns greeting Leonard. When you lower your empty glass, the group is standing in awkward silence, each of them watching either you or the doctor to see who will draw their weapon first.

You take a deep breath before meeting his eyes, offering a tight smile, “it’s nice to see you here.”

“Impolite would only be beneath us,” he remarks, before finishing his own drink in one gulp.

“It’s been what? Like, half a year,” you can barely hear your own words over the thrum of your heartbeat.

He considers you for a moment, his gaze tracing up and down your body before he response, “like nothing ever happened between us.”

Once again, your choke on your breath, his words not only hurting you but throwing fuel on the little flame of anger growing in the pit of your stomach.

“Another round?” Sulu asks suddenly, snatching the empty glass from your hand.

Chekov nods enthusiastically, “I will help you.”

As the two of them walk toward the bar, Scotty and Keenser shuffle away and strike up their own conversation, and Nyota mumbles something about Spock before disappearing into the crowd. You’re left with only Jim and Leonard.

“So,” you clear your throat, “how have you been?”

Like he said, impolite would be beneath you, and you can't let him know how much he hurt you. Even though, if he asked, you would tell him anything he wanted to hear because you can’t help the way you still feel about him. The way you know you’ll always feel about him, even if you’ll never know what actually happened between the two of you.

- 6 months & 2 weeks earlier -

Your boots hit the floor with force as you run down the corridor, narrowly dodging startled Enterprise crew until you reached the rear-most turbolift on the ship. Unable to contain your excitement, you continue mashing the button for the MedBay even as the lift descends, only stopping when the doors begin to open. You slip out as soon as the gap is wide enough and continue your run all the way through the MedBay toward Leonard’s office door.

You swipe your card and the door slides open, and you can’t help the way your heart leaps when you first see him. You’re not sure you will ever be used to the way he makes you feel.

“Len,” you exclaim, gasping for breath, “you won’t believe... I got it... the... the thing!”

He leans back in his desk chair, chuckling, “I gave you access to my office for emergencies.”

“This is an emergency,” you say between breaths, holding your chest with one hand while the other hits the button for the door to close.

“Are you going into cardiac arrest? Because you look like you’re going into cardiac arrest.”

You try to regulate your breathing as you give him your most unimpressed stare, “I just ran over half the ship, I’m allowed to be a little out of breath.”

He laughs again, “a little?”

“Would you stop being a smartass and let me speak,” you say as you round his desk and lean against it.

He pushes his chair back to properly look at you, a devilish grin curling his lips, telling you exactly where his mind had gone seeing you atop his desk.

“I had my meeting with the admiral,” you explain, “about the grant.”

His cheeky grin vanishes, replaced by an anticipatory frown as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees, “and?”

“They said yes.”

“They said yes?” he echoes, standing from his chair.

“They said yes!” you exclaim, jumping into his open arms and pressing your lips against his. It takes a moment for him to respond, but when he does, he kisses you back with fervour.

“You are incredible,” he mumbles against your mouth, “did you know that?”

You pull back giggling, “I know.”

“Did they have any questions?” he asks, “any conditions?”

“Nope, they loved it.”

"They loved you,” he says before kissing you again, muttering against your lips, “I love you.”

You freeze and your eyes snap open, staring up at him as his cheeks turn red. He hesitates before taking a step back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Didn’t mean it?”

“No, I-” he rubs the back of his neck, “I definitely mean it, I just don’t want you to think I expect you to feel the same way.”

You step forward to close the distance between you, “of course I love you,” you stretch onto your toes and press a kiss against his lips, “more than anything.”

His eyes darken and his hands grab your waist as he steps forward. You stumble back until your backside hits the desk, and before you realise what is happening, he lifts you onto it and positions himself between your legs. One hand stays on your waist while the other cups you jaw, “you locked the door?”

Your mind races with filthy thoughts as his thumb traces your bottom lip, and the best response you can must is a soft whisper, “not sure.”

He chuckles, “then we better hope there are no medical emergencies.”

You knew exactly how you looked as you leant against the back of the turbolift – your hair a mess, cheeks rosy, and lips swollen – but you didn’t care; you just had mind-blowing sex in your boyfriend's office. You nod politely at the two other lieutenants in the lift as you step out, unable to hold your giggles at their uneasy smiles once you turn down the hall.

Nyota was waiting for you in the mess hall, tucked into a small booth on the edge of the room with her nose almost pressed to her PADD as she scrutinised its content. You slide into the seat opposite her, “hey, sorry I’m late.”

She takes one look at you before smirking, “have fun?”

“Lots,” you reply with a grin.

She shuts off her PADD and slides it aside, “so, how did it go?”

“The sex, or?”

“You know what I mean,” she says, rolling her eyes.

You laugh before replying, “it was amazing, actually; I can’t believe how stressed I was for nothing. They listened to my whole pitch, asked all the questions that I had answers for, and then said yes.”

Although her smile is still wide, she doesn’t quite leap for joy the way you had when you ended your meeting with the admiral. You frown, “what?”

“I’m waiting for the ‘but’.”

“Who said there’s a ‘but’?”

Her smile turns sheepish, “Jim.”

"Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you sigh, “I told him to keep it to himself, because I-”

“Told them no?” she interrupts, “and you said you want to stay on the Enterprise despite their generous offer?” Her tone tells you that she already knows what you said, which was, in fact, the exact opposite of what she just said.

One tiny piece of information that you intentionally omitted when you celebrated with Leonard was that in order to win the admiral’s approval for the grant, you might have accidentally accepted a job offer back at the academy. In your defence, it was almost impossible not to say yes. You were asking some of the most senior offices in Starfleet for a huge quantity of additional resources in order to run a twelve-month biomechanical programme aboard the Enterprise. How were you supposed to know they would offer you a position at the academy? And how were you supposed to say no?

By the time you finish telling Nyota about your meeting with the admiral from start to finish the mess hall is much quieter, and you’re surprised at how late it really is when you check your communicator. There is a long, awkward pause while you wait for her to respond, and you begin to feel like a child waiting for their punishment.

“I can’t believe you said that,” Nyota sighs, resting her elbows on the table and holding her head in her hands, “you can’t just say something like that knowing you don’t mean it.”

“I know, I just freaked out.”

“Freaked out?” she echoes disapprovingly.

“Yes!” you snap, “it was awkward. What was I supposed to say?”

She rolls her eyes, “I don’t know, maybe ‘I’m flattered, but sorry’.”

“Nyota, seriously.”

“I am serious!” she exclaims, “you can’t just take something like that back.”

You sit back and cross your arms, “yes, I can.”

She mimics your body language, raising her brows, “how?”

“Jim is going to talk to him.”

She scoffs, “oh, great idea. You know everyone already thinks Jim favours you?”

“I know how it’s going to look,” you sigh, “but if it gets me out of this mess, I don’t care what anyone thinks about Jim and me.”

Her scowl softens ever so slightly, “so, you got what you wanted and now you’re just going to back out?”

“Well, yeah,” you shrug, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Your communicator chirps and buzzes on the table, breaking both of you out of the intense staring competition you hadn't realised you were in.

“You better hope so,” Nyota says as she slides out of the booth, “and pray they don’t reconsider the grant.”

You check your communicator as you reply, “it’s going to be fine, Nyota, they’ll understand.” There are no missed calls or alerts, but the time reminds you just how tired and ready for bed you are.

The two of you leave the mess hall, walking together until you come to Nyota’s quarters where she bids you a good night. You continue in the direction of your own residency, flipping open your communicator along the way and calling Leonard. You listen to the dial tone for almost a minute before giving up and deciding to wait until he calls you back. Once inside your quarters, you shed your uniform and jump in the shower, scrubbing the stress of the day off before wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel. You check your communicator to find no missed messages, so you try calling Leonard again. No luck.

After an hour of flicking through data on your PADD, you begin to worry. You try calling a third time before you realise how late it is and your panic spikes, so you slip into your shoes and shuffle out the door. The halls are empty as you make your way down to the MedBay, only to find it just as desolate with a single nightshift nurse idly sorting different bits of equipment.

Two more unanswered calls and another half-hour of walking through the quiet ship has your heart racing anxiously, but its late and there’s no one else you can call without being a nuisance and waking them up. You make your way back to your room, dragging your feet until you’re close enough to fall into your bed face first and let out a few tears before exhaustion takes over.

You barely sleep, spending most of the night half-conscious worrying about Leonard. By the time your alarm goes off, you’re already dressed and slipping into your shoes. You shut it off before rushing out the door in the direction of the MedBay, retracing your steps from last night.

Relief washes over you when you see him standing in the doorway of his office, but a new kind of worry settles like a stone in the pit of your stomach. He’s not hurt or missing, so... was he ignoring you?

“Len,” you call as you walk through the MedBay, “hey.”

The look on his face is far from familiar; his hazel eyes seem darker and the circles beneath them are a deep purple, “mornin’.”

“Where have you been?” you ask, unable to mask the worry in your voice, “I was looking for you last night. I called a few times, but you never answered, I was so worried.”

He keeps his eyes on his PADD as he turns and walks further into his office, “sorry, medical emergency.”

You follow him in, trying not to choke on the panic rising in your throat, “oh, I didn’t hear about anything. Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he mumbles, “just busy.” He refuses to look up at you, keeping his eyes trained on the device in his hands and moving as if you’re both the south ends of two opposing magnets.

“Okay,” you say, your voice even weaker than before, “well, I spoke to Jim yesterday and he said we should break out the scotch tonight. You know, have a little celebration?”

“Can’t, I’m on call.”

"You could still come and hang out,” you force a smile onto your lips, “come on, don’t make me admit that I miss you.”

He only scoffs, his attention unmoving from his PADD.

You swallow the lump in your throat, “are you sure you’re alright?”

He sighs and finally looks up, his brows knit tight and something akin to resentment behind his glare, “Jim told me.”

“Told you what?”

“About the job offer.”

The stone in your stomach grows three sizes, sending a wave of nausea through your whole body and you have to lean against the wall to steady yourself. “He wasn’t supposed to,” you mutter, “he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone because I’m not taking it.”

“I think you should.”

His words feel like a knife being plunged into your chest, knocking you breathless and turning your voice into a whisper, “what?”

“I think you should take the job,” he says.

You blink back your tears, “why?”

“It sounds like a great opportunity, and you’re young, so you should take it.”

If it weren’t for your shoulder leaning against the wall, you could almost be sure the room itself is starting to spin. You can feel your heartbeat in every inch of your skin, heat spreading like wildfire through your whole body as your heart begins to tear itself in two.

“Just so I’m clear,” your words are soft and unsteady, “you want me to take the job and leave the Enterprise?”

He nods once, opening his mouth to reply but hesitates, as if suddenly deciding not to say whatever was on the tip of his tongue. Only then do you realise that tears are streaming down your cheeks.

“Okay, fine,” you say, wiping your face with the back of your hand, “I’ll take the job, and since you can’t seem to stand the sight of me, I’ll start in three weeks instead of six.”

You can barely see his face through the blur of tears, so you turn sharply toward the door and storm out, trying your best to keep your sobs muffled as you move through the ship and back to your room.

Those three weeks were the closest thing to hell that you’ve ever known. At first you were devastated, locking yourself in your room for four days straight, refusing to talk to anyone and living off half a meal a day. Everyone was worried but knew you needed space, especially after they heard you accepted the job at the academy. After the fourth day of wallowing, you got angry. You finally showered, dressed, and ate a full meal before deciding you would demand Leonard to tell you what the fuck you did wrong.

Jim said he could hear that first ‘conversation’ between you and the doctor all the way from the bridge... you were in the MedBay. You’re not sure you’ve ever yelled at someone so much, let alone someone you love, but it was like that for the rest of your time on the Enterprise. You couldn’t be amicable with one another, no matter how hard you tried.

“Y/N,” Jim nudges you with his elbow, “do you remember that?”

You blink away your daydream to find four sets of eyes on you and one pair intentionally avoiding you, “remember what?”

“When you weren’t wearing underwear and we-”

“Jim!” you smack his arm, “I thought you promised not to bring that up ever again.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulder, chuckling, “I’m sorry but I have a duty to never let that story die, it has to be one of the best days of my life.”

You roll your eyes but still join in the laughter of the captain, Sulu, Chekov, and Scotty. You’re almost positive you see Leonard’s lip twitch, but he quickly lifts his glass and takes a huge gulp of beer. Once the laughter subsides, Jim squeezes you closer and sighs, “you know, it’s just not the same without you on the ship. I actually miss you, like, a lot.”

You gasp dramatically, “did James Tiberius Kirk just admit to feeling something?”

“I’m serious,” he says, “don’t you miss me?” His blue eyes are wide and pleading, tugging at your heartstrings.

“Of course I miss you,” you quickly look around your circle of friends, “I miss everyone. It wasn’t easy to leave, but I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

“Aw,” Jim coos, “do you mean it? You really miss me?”

You roll your eyes again despite the smile on your face, “yes, I really mean it.”

Leonard scoffs, “are you sure about that?”

You can feel the energy shift, everyone suddenly tense as you finally look up at him, “about what?”

“That you mean it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask, pulling away from under Jim’s arm.

Leonard shrugs, “sometimes people say things they don’t mean.”

“I guess,” you frown, “but why would I lie?”

“You tell me,” he replies, his expression unreadable as he takes another sip of beer.

You hesitate for a moment, the tension tangible as you scramble for words. “I’m confused,” you finally say, “Did I do something in the last twenty seconds to piss you off?”

He chuckles bitterly, “you know what? Don’t worry about it.”

The angry flame in your belly bursts into a bonfire, heating you from the inside and bordering your vision with red. “No,” you step forward ever so slightly, “you can’t just call me a liar and then tell me not to worry about it. What did I do?”

“Nothing, just forget about it. I’ll see you around,” he says, moving as if he intends to walk away.

“No!” you snap, taking another step toward him, “I won’t ‘forget about it’ either. This is not what I came here for, but if you have something to say, then say it. Or better yet, if you have something to feel, then feel it and stop pretending to be so fucking indifferent.”

He frowns, his hazel eyes full of an emotion you can’t seem to place. “Would you stop?” he murmurs, “you’re making a scene.”

Jim mumbles sarcastically behind you, “oh, how I miss the war.”

You ignore him, your glare locked on Leonard, “I’m making a scene? You’re the one that started it, but- oh wait,” you pause for dramatic effect, “that’s right; you can’t finish anything you start.”

The blow lands, because you can see the vein in his neck pulse even faster. Neither of you like to play too dirty, most of your ‘fights’ are just petty arguments, but every now and then a carefully crafted comment will remind each of you that if you wanted to, you could really hurt one another. You know Leonard isn’t proud of his divorce, and you know that bringing it up in any negative context can really get to him.

“Maybe you’re right,” his says in a low voice, “but at least I have the decency to walk away before I make a mess.”

It takes all of your self-control not to speak any louder than he did, “oh, you want to talk about making a mess?”

“No, because I’m going to leave before I say something I don’t mean.”

He turns and walks away before you can fully process what just happened. You can feel the red-hot colour of your cheeks as blood pumps through your veins twice as fast as normal, both from anger and embarrassment. Luckily, not many others noticed your little spat, and your friends had to deal with so much of that during your final weeks on the Enterprise that they’re not even phased.

You turn to Jim, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, once again wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “on the scale of Y/N versus Bones, that was like a four.”

You can’t help but giggle as he guides you toward the bar.

“It would have been a three,” you continue, “but I’ll award an extra point for the jab at his divorce.”

“Jim!” you scold, nudging his rib with your elbow.

He laughs again, louder, “what? If I have to deal with my two favourite people at war, then I’m going to make a game of it.”

You spend the rest of the night right beside Jim, trying to ignore the guilt growing bigger and uglier inside your stomach. Leonard doesn’t leave until a few hours later, having been caught by a group of his MedBay buddies who insist on fetching him drinks, and you can’t help from keeping him within your sight. You’re jealous of every single person who gets even a second of his attention or a smile directed their way, and when one of the cute young nurses leans in a little too close to him, you feel your drinks bubbling up your throat.

You decide to say goodbye mere minutes after you see the doctor walk out the door, leaving Jim to his merriment with the rest of the crew who are more than a little inebriated, though he doesn’t let you walk away until you pinkie-promise to join your friends at breakfast in the morning. That should be fun.

The walk back to your hotel feels longer than it did on the way to the party. Your feet are sore and heavy, and your stomach feels like its full of toxic waste that isn’t going to stay there for long. You didn’t even drink that much, you just can’t help feeling sick over your argument with Leonard and the way that nurse touched his arm.

You kick your shoes off the second you step into your room and wriggle out of your dress, throwing it on the floor along with everything else you can remove from your body before falling on the bed. Just as you’ve done for the past five months, you begin to play back every interaction you’ve had with Leonard since he told you to take the job at the academy, starting with the newest addition to the library from this evening. The first time you did this was the first night you spent at your cramped apartment on the academy’s campus; you thought if you dissected enough of the interaction, you might be able to figure out what went wrong. After a while you realised it had become a sort of comfort, simply remembering that Leonard did still exist and he is still out there. You often wonder if he thinks of you just as much, but you try not to feed the hope that still burns at the back of your chest, which is exactly why you’re only allowed to remember the fights and arguments. If you let your mind wander further back than that, you might not ever return to reality.

A chirp from your communicator wakes you, so you rub your eyes until you can read the cheeky message from Jim reminding you about your breakfast plans. You groan loudly as you throw the comforter back and quite literally roll out of bed. You’re not ready for another battle, but you do have unfinished business with Jim relating to your status of employment aboard the Enterprise, or lack thereof.

You hadn’t mentioned it last night because of, well, obvious reasons, but there is another factor contributing to your decision whether or not to forfeit your post as a part of Jim’s crew. Before you left, as if your boss knew this trip would tempt you to return to your friends, the academy offered you another position co-leading a brand-new programme for aspiring mechatronic engineers. It’s not necessarily your strength, but it sounds incredible, and to be amongst some of the most intelligent people in Starfleet would be nothing short of inspiring, but that meant giving up the Enterprise (and her crew) for good.

You quickly shower and change into comfortable clothes before packing most of your belongings into your duffel bag. You do have another night booked, but you’re not sure you’ll want to stay on Yorktown much longer if this morning doesn’t go well.

Unsurprisingly, Jim decided to have breakfast at the Starfleet base where most of the crew would be staying during their time on the starbase. It was just the same as the mess hall on the ship or at the academy, just a little newer with better food because most people passing through Yorktown were high-ranking or dignitaries from the Federation, and apparently, Jim Kirk was also one of those important people. The Enterprise crew were given a private buffet on the mezzanine level of the huge eating area, where two long tables were laid out with all the breakfast food you could imagine.

“I think we might have to warn Starfleet about giving the captain a big head,” Nyota says, falling into step beside you, “or soon there won’t be room for anyone else on the bridge.”

You giggle, “but if there’s no one else on the bridge, who’s going to compliment his luscious hair and his humble courage?”

She laughs too and even Spock cracks a tiny smile beside her.

“Hey Spock.”

“It is nice to see you again, Y/N,” he responds with a nod, “I regret not being able to spend more time with you last night.”

You wave your hand dismissively and continue toward the tables of food. Sulu soon joins the three of you and you chat idly while loading up plates full of food. Jim is standing at the back of the room, leaning against the wall with a coffee in one hand and using the other to animate whatever intriguing conversation he and Scotty were having. You try not to acknowledge Leonard as you approach them.

“Hey,” Nyota whispers, “we don’t have to join them.”

You shake your head, “I’m calm, I’m sure of it.”

She can’t help but snicker quietly at the comically wide smile you force across your face as you reach your group of friends.

“Good morning gorgeous,” Jim greets you as you join them, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m surprised you’re here,” you say.

He rolls his eyes, “please, I have a liver of steel.”

You can’t hold back your laughter, “is that what that was on New Year’s Eve? It was your liver of steel that made you fall off the toilet and page Len because you couldn’t feel your left butt cheek?”

You laugh a little harder as you vividly recall the state Jim had been in that night, but the laughter from the rest of the group is soft and awkward, and only then do you realise what you said. Len. Only you called him that.

Jim clears his throat before it gets too uncomfortable, “uh, anyway, have you thought about your decision?”

“Oh,” you quickly swallow the piece of pancake you put in your mouth, “right into it, then.”

He shrugs sheepishly, “I kind of have to have an answer once I’m back on duty.”

“Well,” you sigh, “then I have to tell you about something else.” You steal a glance at Leonard, noticing his cheeks a darker shade of pink than usual and you wonder if it’s because of your slip up.

You explain the offer from your boss and the programme you’d be running to the group in front of you, trying to keep your voice neutral. You don’t want to seem too resentful of the tiny apartment and dark office you currently have, but you definitely don’t want any of them to think you’re more interested in the academy’s new initiative than returning to the Enterprise.

To everyone’s surprise, Leonard is the first to speak, “it’s a good programme, I’ve heard of it.”

“You’d leave for good?” Nyota asks, “give up your position on the Enterprise?”

“And surrender from the battle,” Jim chuckles, glancing between you and Leonard with a smirk. Nyota and Spock both give him their most disapproving parent stares, and his grin disappears, “sorry, not the time.”

“Well, I was kind of hoping my friends would help me decide,” you say, looking to each of them except Leonard.

“But you know what we’re going to say,” Nyota shrugs, “we want you to come back to the Enterprise.”

“I know, but,” you look pointedly at Scotty, “you can also understand that this is a huge opportunity. I just need some advice.” You know that above the rest, Scotty is the biggest advocate for your career, and you knew he would be the most excited about the programme at the academy.

“You’re right, lassie,” he sighs, “and I’d like to say I’ve missed you the most – it’s been hell down there with just Keenser – but I could never tell you not to take this offer. You’re young, and they’ve noticed you. If you go for this now, you’ll have endless opportunities at Starfleet.”

“But you also have endless opportunities on the Enterprise,” Jim argues. “The resources for your programme only just came in and we’re in the early stages of setting it up; you could take over and lead it. It is your baby.

Your pulse quickens with excitement at the idea of running your programme, but it’s been months since you had anything to do with it. “I’d feel bad taking it over from someone else,” you say, “I couldn’t do that.”

He shakes his head, “no one has been appointed to lead it yet.”

Sulu clears his throat, “well, Captain, we do have Mr. Scott and Dr. McCoy who could lead the programme aboard the Enterprise, and the offer Y/N has is huge. There are thousands in Starfleet who would kill for this opportunity. I miss her as much as anyone else, but she could assist remotely if we need her.”

Jim frowns at his lieutenant for not picking the same side of the argument.

“You’re right, Sulu,” you smile at him before countering Jim’s scowl, “Scotty and Dr. McCoy can run it. They’re the brains behind the whole thing anyway. All I did was pitch it, so really, my job is done.”

“Your job is not done,” Nyota butts in, “you have no idea how hard the last few months have been without you.”

“That’s because I haven’t been replaced, the crew is down a man.”

“You’re not replaceable,” Jim states, his brows even closer than before, “no one could-”

“I’ll stop you right there, Captain,” you interrupt, “because there are plenty of incredible people in Starfleet who could do more than simply fill my shoes.”

Jim huffs, failing to find another counter argument.

“If I may, Y/N,” Spock says, taking half a step forward, “but you are seeking advice to assist in making the decision, are you not? Though you argue only with those who advise you to return to the Enterprise, which would suggest that you have already made this decision. Unless you are simply waiting for a better reason to return, or perhaps, for the right person to ask you to,” he pauses and turns to Leonard, “Dr. McCoy?”

The air is suddenly thick with tension, everyone gaping at Spock and wondering if they might have imagined what they just heard.

“Fire in the hole,” Jim murmurs into his cup as he takes a swig of coffee.

Leonard clears his throat, “I don’t particularly care what Y/N does, so I don’t think my opinion should matter.”

Jim coughs, almost choking on his drink, “and take cover.” He pats his chest and turns to Spock, “have I introduced you to our newest cadet in the archaeological research division? He’s amazing. Nyota, Scotty, you too.”

Without so much as a hint of subtlety, everyone disperses, leaving you and Leonard alone in the corner of the huge room.

Somehow, you find enough courage to turn to him and ask, “why did you tell me to leave?”

“I’ve answered this question a hundred times,” he sighs, “it was a great job opportunity. You would have been stupid not to take it.”

“No, this time I want the truth.”

He rolls his eyes, “why do you repeatedly insist on having this conversation, knowing exactly how it's going to end?”

You can only just hear him over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears; rage and anticipation coursing through you as you stand between the doctor and the rest of the Enterprise crew. You’ve already embarrassed yourself last night, you might as well give it one last go before you make your decision.

“Because I want the real answer,” you reply, keeping your voice even, “so we’re going to keep having it until you tell me the truth.”

“Okay, you want my advice?” he says, “take the job and give up your position on the Enterprise so that I can be rid of you and this conversation for good.”

Once again, his words knock the breath from your lungs. You can almost feel the new fractures splitting your heart into even smaller pieces, but the pain moves to the back of your mind as you realise that he did just admit something that he hasn’t before.

“So…” you whisper, searching frantically for your voice, “it was about getting rid of me, not about the job.”

An array of emotions you can’t even attempt to read cross his face in less than a second before he settles on a frown, “look, I don’t have to explain myself to you. If anything, you owe me.”

“I owe you what?”

“An explanation.”

You frown too, “what for?”

“For what you said before you left!” he snaps.

You can practically feel the sets of eyes on your back multiply, more bystanders finding interest in the exchange happening at the back of the room.

“Len, we were at each other’s throats before I left,” you say, lowering your voice, “I’m sure we both said things we didn’t mean.”

You try for a second to remember something deep and personal he’d said to you in your final weeks on the ship, but nothing comes to mind. In fact, all you can remember is petty fighting and childish arguments. It was almost as if neither of you truly wanted to hurt the other, or at least, not acutely. You never brought up the deepest and darkest pieces of pain from each other’s history, knowing it would irreversibly damage the relationship between you. The closest you’ve gotten was last night when you hinted at his divorce, saying he couldn’t finish anything he started, and even then, you felt awful.

“Not that,” he mutters, "what you said after your meeting with the admiral.”

You frown again, “that I got the grant?”

“After that.”

You have to think for a minute, playing back that day in your head as you’ve done a thousand times. Only this time, you allow yourself to remember all of it, without blocking out the parts that made your heart hurt. You gasp quietly when you realise, slowly looking up at him, “y-you’re angry because I said I loved you?”

His expression is the softest you’ve seen it in months, his hazel eyes almost green behind the sadness filling them, “I’m not angry that you said it, I’m angry because you lied.”

Tears begin to blur your vision, but you refuse to let them fall, “why would I lie about that?”

“Don’t bother, alright?” he says before clearing his raspy throat, “I heard you talking to Nyota.”

“When?”

“When you went to meet her, after we- you know, in my office,” his cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink.

You shake your head, as if it should help clear your thoughts, “I’m confused.”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” he snaps again, though this time with a little less bite.

“Well clearly, I have no idea what is going on!” You don’t care who’s watching anymore, this is the closest you’ve ever been to actually finding out what happened.

He sighs, “You called me, by accident I guess, and I heard you. You told her that you only said it because it was awkward, that you were going to take it back because you got what you wanted, and that Jim-”

“I’ll get Jim to talk to him,” you cut him off, realisation smacking you across the face. You feel dizzy as everything hits you at once and a montage of memories rush through your head. The pieces of the puzzle you’d been trying to solve for months finally fall into place, and you finally know why Leonard broke your heart that day.

“Exactly,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

You’ve spent months wondering whether it was because of the job offer itself, or because you got the grant on his behalf, but Leonard wasn’t the type to be jealous of his friends. You wondered if he simply wasn’t ready for a new relationship, or if you’d scared him when you told him you loved him, but he said it first. You even wondered, very briefly, if he’d heard some stupid rumour about you and Jim, since you knew there were some of those around, but you’d spoken about it before, even laughed about it. You never considered that the whole thing could have been one, big, stupid misunderstanding.

Leonard frowns, “You can’t seriously tell me that you had no idea what happened until now.”

“Len, I-”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I really don’t want to-”

“Leonard, please,” you sigh “would you just give me five seconds.”

“You’ve had five months,” he exclaims, “and you still can’t admit it to my face?”

“Because you’re wrong,” you snap.

His frown disappears, “I’m what?”

“You don’t know what you think you know,” you say, clasping your hands over your stomach as another wave of nausea hits you.

"I heard you say it.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves coursing through your veins like an electric current. “Yes,” you begin, “I said those things, but not about you. I-It was about the job, I… when I was in the meeting with the admiral, he offered me the job before he approved the grant, and I said yes... but I didn’t mean it. It was awkward and I needed him to say yes, so I accepted, but I never wanted the job. I didn’t want to leave the Enterprise; I didn’t want to leave you. I was in love with you. Jim was going to speak to the admiral for me, say that he couldn’t let me go, the ship needed me, and I had to run the programme, but then... well, you told me to go, so I-”

“Left,” he finishes for you, his eyes glassy as his mind wanders back to that night.

Your heart is thundering so loud you can’t even hear the commotion of the people behind you over the thrum of your pulse. Neither of you dare to speak, you don’t even know what to say. Six whole months of pain and anger, all because of a misunderstanding. If Leonard had asked you about the conversation he overhead, or if you asked him what was wrong instead of just leaving... you could have avoided the worst six months of your life. You feel stupid.

“You must hate me,” he finally says, every bit of anger gone from his voice, “I’m so sorry.”

Before you can respond, he steps to the side and strides right past you. He passes easily through the groups of people enjoying their breakfast, down the stairs, and out of the building.

“Ye’re barely off the ground for six months and ye already forget how ta solder straight,” Scotty shouts from the deck below.

You put down your tools and take two steps to lean over the railing and glare down at him, “for your information, I was never very good at soldering.”

He chuckles and waves a hand, returning his attention to the open machinery in front of him, ready to remedy your errors from attempting to fix it earlier. In your defence, you weren’t usually on the tools, but you wanted to be able to join in on the practical portion of the new programme when the time came, so you agreed to a month down in the warp core with Scotty to brush up on your skills. It’s been almost a week without incident, which you considered to be a personal record. Though you’re fairly sure it has nothing to do with your skills and everything to do with not wanting to end up in the MedBay.

Jim’s birthday was a couple of weeks ago, and you still haven’t spoken to Leonard since that morning. After he left, you went straight to Jim and told him you’d be back aboard the Enterprise effective immediately. You quit your job at the academy – luckily you were still within the probationary period – and had all of your belongings packed and shipped to the next Federation planet that the Enterprise is due at. You’ll be picking them up in a few days, but you honestly wouldn’t be too worried if they never showed up. You’re just happy to be home; it’s as if you never left. That is, except for Leonard.

You know you have to give him space, and obviously he wants nothing to do with you right now, so you can’t force yourself upon him even if you’d settle for just friends at this point. Your heart aches in a whole new way whenever you hear his name, but you haven’t yet run into him, and you’re not sure what will happen when you do.

“Shit,” you hiss, quickly pulling away from where you’re working to watch blood drip from your hand, “of course.”

“I told Scotty that it wasn’t a good idea putting a pretty girl like you down here,” Jim says as he wanders in from the corridor.

You scowl at him, “I’ll ignore the misogyny because I’m in pain. Can you get me the first aid kit?”

He chuckles, “I don’t think a bandage is going to cut it; you need stitches.”

“I do not,” you argue, despite the blood creating a small puddle at your feet.

“Yes, you do,” he insists, “and as a bonus, you can give Bones a heart attack.”

You take a clean rag and wrap it around your hand, allowing Jim to help as you ask him, “why would I give him a heart attack?”

He shrugs, “I’m not sure he knows you’re back aboard the ship.”

“Excuse me?”

“I haven’t spoken to him since Yorktown,” he clarifies, “I made sure he was okay after breakfast, but I didn’t tell him that you’d decided to return to the Enterprise. It didn’t seem like the time.”

You’re almost positive if looks could kill, Jim would dead on the floor right now. “But he’s the Chief Medical Officer,” you stress, “he has to know everyone aboard the ship.”

“Yes,” Jim says, “and no, there are a lot of crew members.”

“He would have had to sign me back on!”

Jim can’t help but laugh again at the way your voice cracks. “He’s been sick,” he states, “since we boarded. Doctor Gronan has been standing in for him until yesterday.”

“Doctor Gronan signed me back on,” you mutter to yourself.

“Yep.”

“Then why wouldn’t you tell him?” you exclaim.

Your captain laughs once again, shrugging as he replies, “I thought it would be fun to see how long it took him to find out.”

“This isn’t a game!”

“But it is fun.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“After you get stitched up, come on,” he sighs, guiding you toward the corridor by your shoulders, “I assume you know the way?”

“I’m familiar,” you reply, dragging your feet into the bright white hallway.

“Excellent, no detours, but first, where’s Scotty?”

“Deck below,” you mumble.

“Thank you,” he gives you a cheeky wink, “now, on your way.”

Your pulse quickens with every step you take toward the MedBay, which you’re pretty sure is why the rag you’re holding begins to soak with blood. Other crew members watch you hurry through the ship with concern, and by the time you reach the MedBay, you’re trailing little red droplets across the floor. The moment Leonard looks up from his PADD, he goes paper white and his eyes practically double in size. Despite being obviously unsettled, he looks good; you could never get sick of seeing him in his uniform.

“Hey,” you say, stepping closer to him in order to deter bystanders from eavesdropping.

He swallows thickly, “hi.”

Another beat of silence passes because you hold up your injured hand, “um, I’m bleeding.”

“Shit, sorry,” he finally notices the bloody rag, “come with me.”

You follow him into one of the treatment rooms and sit on the bed, legs swinging over the side as he pulls the stool and cart over to you.

“Sorry,” he says again as he arranges the equipment on the cart, “I- um, I didn’t know you were back.”

“I know, Jim thought it would be funny.”

He looks up suddenly, that familiar frown knitting his brows.

“I didn’t know,” you clarify, “I assumed you had signed me aboard and were just avoiding me.”

His frown softens and he opens his mouth to reply but hesitates, instead returning his attention to the bloody rag wrapped around your hand. He nods for you to show him, so you extend your arm and allow him to remove the make-shift bandage. You try not to wince when the material pulls on a dried bit of blood, but you can’t help your hand from twitching. Leonard’s own hand cups yours out of instinct; a comforting gesture that wouldn’t mean a thing to you from any other doctor but means everything from Leonard. He looks up at you, as if asking permission to continue touching you, waiting for you to nod before he starts cleaning the cut.

“Let me know if I hurt you,” he mutters.

Ironic... you think, though choose not to say it aloud. You nod again, “okay.”

Another few minutes pass as he finishes cleaning the cut, numbs your skin, and prepares to stitch it closed. He holds the dermal regenerator a few inches from your hand and it begins to whir softly, shooting out a blue beam that sews the skin back together. You let your eyes wander from the healing cut to where the doctor is touching you, his warm skin beneath the glove making yours tingle all the way up your arm and into your chest, waking up the butterflies that live in your rib cage. Their fluttering wings make it hard to breathe, and that familiar sense of anticipation and giddiness takes over any feelings of contempt or anger.

The regenerator stops and he looks up to meet your gaze, his pupils doubling their size, “all done.”

You flex your hand, “feels brand new.”

“Give it a minute,” he says, “keep stretching, and I’ll check it over before you go.”

You watch him pack away the cart and dispose of all the bloody gauze. His hands work fluidly, not once hesitating as his muscle memory tells them where to put each tool or piece of equipment. He pulls his gloves off and for some stupid reason your heart leaps; heat flushes through your whole body, concentrating in a tight ball just below your belly as your mind replays all the things those hands have done to you.

“Let me have a look.”

You willingly put your hand back in his, praying your cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. He presses gently around the faint line where your cut had been, glancing up with each new area he pushes on to see if you wince or react at all.

“Looks good,” he lets go of you hand and rolls back on the stool, “you can go back to work, just don’t lift anything heavy and please wear gloves.”

You try to fight the sheepish grin tugging at your lips, “yes, sir.”

His cheeks flush pink and you can’t help being a little proud. He stands up, avoiding your gaze as he picks up his PADD to check off a few more things, no doubt clearing you to return to work. You slide off the bed and straighten your uniform, trying to think of something else to say so you don’t have to leave. Should you make up an illness, or is that too desperate? This is the most amicable interaction you’ve had in months; you don’t want it to end.

“I jus’ want to say,” he clears his throat, “I am really-”

“I know,” you interrupt, “and it’s okay, you don’t have to apologise.”

He frowns, “you’re not angry?”

You sigh and lean back against the bed, “well, I thought about it, at first, but then realised that I gave up on us just as quickly.”

“What do you mean?”

“You told me to leave, and I left,” you reply, “I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t argue, I didn’t fight it, I just left.”

His frown doesn’t move, only his eyes, raking up and down your body twice before settling on your lips and turning that warmth below your belly into a full-blown bonfire.

“Besides,” you continue, your nerves forcing you to fill the silence, “if I honestly believed I'd heard my boyfriend tell someone that he regretted saying he loved me, I’d probably react the same way... or worse.”

He cracks a small smile and your heart races as if you’d just run five miles, but the light-heartedness on his face disappears just as quickly as it had come. “Ex-boyfriend,” he says.

You frown, “what?”

“You said boyfriend, you meant ‘ex-boyfriend’.”

“Oh,” you nod slowly, “well, actually, I don’t think I remember breaking up.”

He actually laughs, only a short chuckle, but it’s the best thing you’ve heard in months.

“I’m serious!” you insist, laughing despite your words, “neither of us actually said the words.”

His smile fades, and he looks back down at his PADD before you can figure out the new expression on his face, “regardless of words being said, I’m sure other things happened that-”

You cut him off, “what ‘other’ things?”

“I’m not naive,” he chuckles bitterly, “I’m sure there were plenty of Starfleet’s finest that were more than eager to meet the gorgeous new engineer.”

“Oh,” you know your cheeks are now glowing red, “thanks, I think, but- uh, no, I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

He looks up again, a mixture of confusion and something else you can’t quite place written across his face. Panic clouds your thoughts as you wonder whether he has slept with anyone in the time you were away. You hadn’t even considered it, hadn’t tortured yourself with that possibility because deep down he was still yours, it was almost as if a part of you knew it wasn’t over.

“Why not?” he asks.

You shrug, “too heartbroken.”

He drops his PADD on the nearest tabletop, sighing, “you have no idea how sorry I am.”

“Len, I told you-”

“Let me apologise,” he demands, stepping forward until his chest is an inch from your nose, “I need to apologise, because I don’t think I will ever stop hating myself for losing my one reason for existing.”

You gasp and then quickly forget how to breathe, holding the air in your lungs as if the slightest movement would wake you up from whatever wild dream you’d fallen into. You stare up at him, unblinking.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, hooking a finger beneath your chin.

You still can’t breathe, and your head starts to spin as he slowly closes the distance between your mouths.

“If you want me to stop,” he murmurs, his lips practically brushing yours, “just tell-”

“Shut up,” you mutter, before pushing up onto your toes and pressing your mouth against his.

His hands find your waist and your bodies snap together, like two magnets alone in their own field void of any other gravitational pull. His lips taste the same, his tongue moves exactly the way you know, and he feels like home.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, your mouths barely parting before his lips catch your breath again.

You step back until your bum bumps into the bed, and with the slightest effort, he lifts you onto it. His hands spread your knees, allowing him to nestle between them as his touch makes its way up your body to your neck, the heat of his skin on yours pulling the knot below your belly even tighter. You slide forward ever-so-slightly, unable to stop yourself from grinning when you feel the hardness of him rub between your legs.

He groans and tightens a hand around the front of your neck, “careful, darlin’.”

Your grin grows wider, “I missed you.”

He pulls back and his hands return to your waist. His skin is flushed and his pupils blown wide, his lips swollen and red, and you’re almost convinced you’ve died and gone to heaven. “I missed you too,” he says, before pressing a gentle kiss against your lips.

“Do you two know there are cameras in here?” Jim asks, appearing at the door and startling both of you, “or do you just have some kinky preference for being watched?” His smirk stretches from one ear to the other, and he attempts to appear casual by leaning against the door frame but his bright eyes are sparkling with mischief.

“Do you watch all the surveillance footage, or do you just have some kinky preference for the MedBay?” you retort, your fingers curling into the fabric of Leonard’s shirt to keep him in place.

He doesn’t even try to turn around for obvious reasons in his pants, but throws an irritated scowl over his shoulder, “really, Jim?”

Jim chuckles, “what’s the matter, Bones?”

“You,” Leonard snaps, “you’re the matter!”

“Why can’t you turn around?” he asks, his voice laced with evil intent.

You reach for the small pillow at the top of the bed and lob it across the room at him, “would you fuck off?”

He laughs again, “no need to be so rude, I just wanted to see my two best friends!”

Leonard rolls his eyes, his grip on your hips tightening, “you’re about to see a lot more than you’ve bargained for if you don’t fuck off.”

Your stomach flips and a warm, tingly sense of anticipation spreads throughout your whole body.

“Fine,” Jim sighs, pushing off the door frame and taking a step back, “I’ll just watch the cameras.”

“Get out!” Leonard exclaims, turning around as Jim cackles and hurries away.

Leonard presses the button for the door to slide shut and another button to lock it.

“You don’t think he’s really going to watch the cameras, right?” you ask.

He returns to the space between your legs, splaying his hands across your thighs where your dress has ridden up, “probably.” His hands slide up under your dress and you instinctively straighten your spine, tilting your head back in a desperate attempt to get your mouth closer to his.

He stays just out of reach, his breath hot on your lips as he speaks, “so you better be a good girl and put on a show.”

END.

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pinkgrapefloyd · 6 months ago

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the spirk "oneshot" is twelve thousand words long and i'm nowhere near done. one day i might learn how to boldly shut the fuck up

#i am so good at oneshots you will not believe it *blinks for one second* what's this multichapter project doing here #spirk #star trek #pinkgrapefloyd

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capan-deveraux2 · 3 months ago

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Why do I get crushes on the most obscure characters?

Like Anthony (the angel of death) on Touched by an Angel

Look at this cutie patooti!! How can I not love him!!

Or Chris Halliwell from Charmed

He’s a smart ass and I love him for it! He just wants to save his brothers soul

Or Ambassador Tos from Star Trek Enterprise

THERE ARE NO GIFS OF HIM!!!!

Why are there no GIFs he’s adorable

Or Judge Harry Stone from Night Court

Or Dan fielding also from Night Court (the second guy in the above gif)

Or Jenkins from The Librarians

But to be fair I might just have a crush on the actor

Or Dr Phlox also from Enterprise

He’s a family man!! He got 3 wives and so much love to give, towards the end of the series when he can’t save T’Pols, and Tuckers baby’s life he cries and says it hurts like it’s one of his own. So much love in this man that when his friends hurt he hurts

And he feels insulted when Tucker doesn’t want to sleep with one of his wives after she pursues him so we know he’s good with sharing lol

Or Ringo Langley from X-Files and The Lone Gunmen

(The blonde one in the middle here)

He’s such a sweetheart cutie pie!! How can one not love him! He plays dungeons and dragons and dresses up like his character when he does and writes for a newspaper. He matches my freak lol

Or Graverobber from Repo the Genetic Opera

He’s so dramatic!! I love him. He sings ! And I love his hair!

Or Odo from Deep Space Nine

WHY CANT I FIND A GOOD GIF OF HIM!!!

And finally (at the risk of being called a furry

Why is the no reader inserts for Skimbleshanks, Mr mistoffles, or Rum Tum Tugger!!!

THERE IS NO GOOD GIFS OF SKIMBLSHANKS!!

But look at my boi mistofflees hop and dance, he’s a tuxedo cat that’s also a magician!!

And look a tugger go! He’s a bad boi stereotype

I ran out of room for gifs but those are the main ones anyway

I’m gonna have to make an appreciation post for each of these guys individually, hell I used to write fanfic for a couple of them before I got locked out of my old tumblr account

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lamelycool · 2 years ago

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𝐵𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑡ℎ 𝐼𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑀𝑒 (𝑆𝑝𝑜𝑐𝑘 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟)

"I'm sorry... This is all my fault I should've payed more attention I should have... I don't know I just wish-"

"There is nothing you could have done to change this. It is not your fault." Spock calmy states.

You begin to notice the slight shiver in his voice, and the growing green tint to his skin that's increasing along side the dropping temperature. It really concerns you. The cold must be getting to him. Gods, all of this because of a shuttle crash. The two of you were luckily this planet happened to be inhabitable. Well Inhabitable... but unpleasantly freezing. There's no telling how cold it must feel for Spock with his Vulcan heritage.

"T'hy'la are you alright?" Spock asks breaking your train of thought.

"Sorry, I just... I just feel useless. Sitting here freezing just waiting for the Enterprise to rescue us. If they even rescue us."

"The Enterprise will likely rescue us do not worry. " The unspoken question of when is avoided. There's not telling how long it will take. Hours, days, or worse... The two of you go silent.

"Are you cold? " You eventually speak up.

"I am adequate. "

"Spock, please don't lie... "

"Vulcans do not li-" you cut him off by reaching out a hand placing it against Spock's cheek. You gasp jolting your hand back.

"You are freezing cold! Why didn't you tell me?!" You panic and quickly shed your emergency blanket wrapping it around Spock.

"I did not want to tell you, I do not want to worry you. Please...keep your blanket you need it." Spock shivers out.

"Spock... please let me warm you? "

Spock paused then reluctantly nods. He uncovers himself holding his arms out for you to crawl into. Seems he already knew what you were planing. You snuggle up into him and cradle him close.

"May I touch your hands? "

"You always may. "

"Thank you... " you take his hands in yours gently holding them and rubbing them. Then you breathe warm air on them, breathing warmth into him like you always manage to do.

#star trek #oneshot #fanfic #comfort #fluff #hurt/comfort #spock #spock imagine #spock x reader #tos star trek #aos star trek #reader #reader insert #mr spock #commander spock #star trek movies #star trek fanfiction #alien x reader

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smbiotics · 3 months ago

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[A little snippet of what I've been working on the past couple of days. This can totally be read as a pre-relationship oneshot all on its own honestly, but I've got it in my head recently that an ensign Jim Kirk accepting an assignment on an entirely Vulcan-manned science vessel with Spock as it's captain would be incredibly compelling. Enjoy!]

He comes to in a room shrouded in darkness, the only hints of illumination from moonlight slanting through lateral steel beams framing the exterior wall like a decorative trim. Aside from this detail, Jim can sparsely make out any other features of his prison, though he does assess that there is another organic lifeform within the confines of the space fairly quickly.

With an undignified yelp, Jim startles backward at the sound of the creature breathing scant inches from him. A confusing jumble of limbs and the ache of joint over-extension follows, further disorienting the near-blind officer, until—

And thank God, actually, because Jim would recognize that voice over his own.

“Ensign,” says the voice, not without its fair share of exasperation.

“Captain,” he breathes, so greatly relieved to find he isn’t about to be eaten by some foreign predator in an undisclosed location. “Oh, fuck. I thought I was a goner for sure. Where the hell are we?”

Spock clicks his tongue, clearly displeased by the vulgarity but also not so much to properly chastise him. “We appear to be prisoners.” He says this in the same way most humans would informally follow up with, duh. Though he isn’t sure there is enough lighting for anyone to witness it, Jim grins triumphantly nonetheless.

Experimentally, Jim tests the feeling in his hands by wiggling his fingers. Above him, Spock hisses out something in Vulcan and one of his legs kick down and jars Jim, yanking on the juncture where their arms are still very, very attached. It’s a wonder his elbows don’t pull right out of socket.

A twinge in his arm reminds him of his rather precarious position. Spock seems to have gotten the better end of the strapped-to-another-person deal, since he has the good fortune to be able to lean comfortably against the exterior wall, legs extended and bent at the knee. Between which, of course (just his luck), Jim lies sprawled on his belly, yellow shirt riding up and exposing a strip of said torso to the cool ground below him. He has never wished he followed regulation more stringently before in his life; at least if he had in this instance, his tucked black undershirt would have saved him a modicum of dignity. Hindsight, twenty-twenty, whatever. Then, his attention is drawn to his hands, which are attached to some terribly tingly arms.

The metal cuffs—if they can rightly be called such—cover his arms to the elbow and cross at his wrists, entirely encasing every inch of skin between. Spock’s cuffs mirror his. At the palms, the cuffs wrap around only the backs of their hands, pressing their palms pretty snuggly together, right to right and left to left. As if the discomfort couldn’t get any worse, the connection of their cuffs extends to the wrists, leaving very little room for finding any position even remotely comfortable.

“Son of bitch,” Jim curses into the cement flooring with a regulation boot digging insistently into his side. Spock seems to shake out whatever the hell had briefly possessed him, because the foot retreats quickly after that.

“So,” he asks after several long seconds of breathing unevenly into the ground. “Is this the new normal? Will we have to learn to cohabitate? I’m kind of a slob.”

“Your incessant witticisms are unwelcome,” Spock states emphatically.

“They’re welcome everywhere, Captain. It’s a universal fact.”

“I do not doubt that you believe that.”

“Aww, you know me so well,” Jim coos, though the faux flirting does fall a little flat when he can’t flash his big ol’ doe eyes at Spock. “Look at us! We’re practically married already. Fair warning: I’m a high-maintenance gal.”

Spock doesn’t respond for a moment, and for a second Jim wilts, assuming he won’t rise to the bait. Then, as if the Vulcan just can’t help himself, he says, “Strictly for clarification purposes, I am compelled to ask: does your self-identification as a ‘high-maintenance gal,’” (Jim can sense the air quotes. They aren’t physical ones—he would feel them against his own palms—but they’re there, all the same.) “extend past impromptu quips, or does it, like most of your other unsolicited narrations, serve only to disarm?”

“Oh, now we’re flirting? The Captain thinks I’m disarming,” Jim sing-songs, then wriggles around inelegantly on the ground in an effort to ease the ache in his joints, trying to ignore the fact that Spock’s crotch is about half a foot from his face. After much uninterrupted shuffling, he lets out a frustrated grunt. He may not be claustrophobic, but anyone would be greatly agitated by the sheer lack of mobility being chained up from elbow to wrist creates. “Listen, I hate to be the kind of guy to complain, but I gotta get out of these cuffs. And, barring that option, I at least have got to sit up or risk needing a double amputation of the arms. Or insanity. Whichever comes first.”

Spock stays quiet, but he does shuffle backwards a touch before carefully raising their joined arms. The leverage allows Jim to get his knees up under him, then from there he sort of–pauses.

He’s got options, for sure, but none are exactly inspiring.

Up on his knees like this, fingertips pressed to fingertips, Jim realizes just how close their bondage forces them, especially in the search for comfort. He could sidle his knees up to press flush against Spock’s thighs. Fuck.

“Ensign?” Spock addresses drily, perhaps curious as to why Jim has stopped both his incessant speech and his restless wriggling all at once. He still can’t see much, not with the hailing dark of the room, but his eyes have adjusted enough that he can pretty clearly make out the milk chocolate of Spock’s eyes, and for fuck’s sake, that is doing wayyy too much for him.

But he’s gotta talk, or risk being caught staring like a creep.

“Hnngh,” he manages, then wishes he could smack a hand to his face. “Sorry. Something stuck in my throat. Dry. Dry mouth, ‘cause I’m thirsty.”

“You have been unconscious throughout the duration of our stay.” Like it’s some sort of vacation. “In this time, I have calculated that we are monitored every two-point-two-three hours. As they have each time before, I am certain that, during their next patrol, our captors will provide necessary sustenance that will reduce your discomfort.”

Jesus, like wading through shallow water every time he opens his mouth. “Wonderful.” Then, before he can think better of it, he asks, “Permission to straddle your lap, Captain?”

Although his expression does not technically change, Jim imagines it might take on an even more bored look. “Permission denied.”

“But Captain. Caaaaptaaain. Please. My knees are falling asleep.”

“Permission considered. Permission pending.” Spock pauses as if actually thinking, but neither his expression changes nor do his eyes even waver from boring directly into Jim’s. “Permission denied.”

Spock’s eyes widen practically microscopically, but Jim catches it because he’s not just looking; oh, no, he’s fucking searching.

“Don’t make me wiggle my fingers again.” It’s a pretty hollow threat in the scheme of things, yet they still drag a greater reaction out of Spock than anything else he’s said yet as his eyes dart down at their joined hands and back up again. Those brown eyes assess his, as if trying to pin down just how serious he is, so Jim (curious; always too curious for his own good…) allows juuust his pinky to barely, barely shift to the left.

“Permission granted,” Spock finally allows, a strange but unidentifiable quality to his voice.

Gleefully, Jim pushes higher up onto his knees and sways his balance back and forth to individually swing both legs over Spock’s. After some minor adjusting, Jim finally settles back onto Spock’s strong thighs and thinks (because he can’t say it out loud without probably being murdered), damn. Probably the first motherfucker to sit here, huh?

Spock says nothing, but it is clear he could be more comfortable, for sure. Which is totally fair, because sitting in his ship captain’s lap isn’t Jim’s first choice for leisure. Sure, he’s thought about it in more recreational settings. This exact position, even, though maybe without the excessive bondage. It's suuuper taboo—but that just makes the idea of it that much hotter, ‘specially for Jim.

And, fuck, for the life of him he cannot get those eyes out of his head; the eye contact is so focused that it bleeds everything to the wayside… to be fucked with those eyes looking right into his soul—

“James,” Spock interrupts his rumination, sounding strangled. Jim’s instantly on high alert, certain there is an immediate threat that he hasn’t caught onto yet, so he leans this way and that to look around. He doesn’t sense anything—a pin drop would be deafening in the still quietness of their cell. With furrowed brows, he returns his gaze to his Captain’s, and kind of freezes in place.

Because Spock is—no. Surely it isn’t possibly, but newly gathered evidence would certainly argue with him. In the dimness of the room, Jim can just barely make out a tinge of green dusting Spock’s face. He’s blushing. No fucking way.

“No fucking way,” Jim repeats aloud. “Vulcans can blush?”

It doesn’t occur to him, in this exact moment, to really consider the why.

Spock averts his gaze. Well. His eyes shift from making direct eye contact to looking at the space marginally to the left of Jim’s eyes. “No,” he admits. Then, just as quickly as he had noticed the distinct coloration, it dissipates like it had never been there at all.

“You totally made that go away. How did you do that? Do you just—suck it back up into your body, or something? Like breathing through gills?”

“A wildly inaccurate comparison,” he says thinly. “And assumption, for that matter.”

What Jim wouldn’t give to jab him in the cheek right now, superior officer be damned. He’d risk it all right now just for some good ol’ fashioned slapstick. (It’s been far too long since he’s yucked it up with another human in person.)

“Ain’t you cute,” Jim adopts a seriously terribly southern drawl. “Blushing ‘cause you got a hot piece of ass in your lap.”

Oh, and thus appears the eyebrow of death: Spock’s always so good at looking greatly disappointed without a drop of emotion altering his expression.

“What, hit the nail on the head, did I?”

“As there are currently no implements within our reach to carry out such an activity, I should say not.”

Jim leans forward conspiratorially. “Was that a joke, Captain? A–what’d you call it? Incessant witticism? Careful, sir, I think your fondness is showing!” He can tell that Spock is physically preventing himself from reacting in any way that could be considered emotional, which is so thrilling. If just a little teasing can get him riled up like this, Jim wonders what Spock would do with a mouth wrapped around his—

“Jim.” Uh-oh. That’s a, you’ve been caught watching porn on the school desktop, ‘Jim.’ Like a deer-in-headlights, he blinks innocently down at Spock. “I can only assume that you did not attend a culture sensitivity seminar regarding Vulcans prior to your assignment to my ship.”

Oh. That’s not exactly what he was expecting. “Sure, I did. It was required. I mainly slept through it, though. Memorized enough to pass the exit exam.”

Clearly frustrated and mad about that, Spock shutters between furrowing his brows and smoothing them to their neutral position. Very carefully, very slowly, like Jim is a child: “Vulcan telepathy is limited to touch.”

Jim blinks. Then, blinks again. And once more as he glances down to where their hands rest splayed palm to palm.

Oh.

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

Abruptly, Jim’s face flames up, a perfect parallel to his Vulcan counterpart just minutes ago. “Oh, fuck,” he acknowledges blandly. “Captain, I’m so sorry. God. That’s… well. That’s unfortunate, is what it is, that I didn’t know that like ten minutes ago. I woulda kept my, erm, impulsive human thoughts under tighter lock and key.” He drops his head backwards, staring unseeingly at the pitch black ceiling. “I’ve violated like… fifteen sexual harassment regulations.”

“Surely only fourteen,” Spock states in his typical monotonous tenor, and Jim bursts out laughing, leaning a little more into the Captain’s space.

“God, I bet you’d get crucified telling a joke like that to another Vulcan,” Jim teases, and he doesn’t really notice but their foreheads nearly brush with their renewed proximity. Any closer and the strain on their arms would probably snap Jim back into awareness, into how wildly unprofessional and inappropriate he continues to be with his fucking captain, but Spock has been nothing if not receptive to the attention—the flirting—the touch…

Their noses brush. Jim can’t tell if he’s the only one leaning in, but he can tell that Spock’s eyes have sort of gone half-lidded, that they continue to dart between Jim’s eyes and his lips, and if that isn’t an invite in and of itself—

But of course, this is the precise moment when the door swings open, and two large lifeforms enter with an imposing Vulcan woman trailing behind them. First Officer T’mock salutes Spock, and the hiss-and-click between his and Jim’s body precedes the dull thud of their cuffs coming loose and releasing them.

After that, well. It’s a whirlwind of labyrinthine prison cells and heated negotiating with the locals, but then they’re being beamed aboard the Duhal’im once more where they belong, and Spock doesn’t even look his way once.

Despite everything else that happened in that room, it’s Jim’s fingertips that tingle for hours after their hands separate.

#smbioticswrites #star trek #spirk #au #fic idea #fic snippet #oneshot #pre relationship #ficlet #captain spock #ensign james t kirk #fic

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captainsophiestark · 2 months ago

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Irregular Heartbeat

Bones McCoy x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober, and for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Star Trek

Day Eighteen Prompt: "You always have a plan."

Summary: Bones's SO has a Valentine's Day surprise planned for him that's fit for the CMO of the Enterprise.

Word Count: 1,295

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Jim!"

My best friend, Jim Kirk, whirled around at the sound of my voice, one eyebrow raised. He was incredibly used to me and my shenanigans, so he didn't even look phased as I charged towards him while he waited for the machine to fill his cup with caf.

"I need you to distract Bones for, like, half an hour. Preferably today. And within the next hour," I said, only slightly breathless as I reached him.

"So... you want me to go distract Bones as soon as I get my caf?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Jim grinned at me. "You know I'm in. But care to tell me why?"

"I've got a Valentine's Day suprirse I want to put together for him. It's the first time we've been a couple for the holiday, and I want to do something special."

"And I take it you already have a plan?" I gave Jim a withering look and he just laughed. "Of course. You always have a plan."

"Damn right I do. Now come on, take that caf to go and get out of here. I've got things to do today."

"Alright, alright, I'm going. But next time you pull me away from a rare break to help you with something, it better be for a prank. Not a date."

I grinned. "I think I can commit to that deal."

Jim smirked back at me, then raised his cup of caf in mock salute as he strode out of the cafeteria, off to distract Bones. I paused, letting him get a little bit ahead of me so there was no chance of running into him or my boyfriend on their way out of medical, then quickly made my way through the familiar hallways of the Enterprise.

Luckily for me, when I made it to sickbay (after one brief stop in my quarters), it was almost completely empty. Jim must've been doing as I'd asked in getting Bones out of here, and now, I had exactly the window I needed to pull off my Valentine's Day surprise.

I made my way to one of the heart rate monitors and popped open the back panel, then got to work breaking it the way I wanted to break it. Althought Starfleet Engineering hadn't covered exactly this kind of change to equipment on a starship, it had been a thorough enough course that I had the skills regardless.

Once I finished, I tested my handiwork, then grinned and made everything look like it had before I'd showed up. Finally, I snuck the bouquet of fresh roses I'd managed to secure on our last shore leave out of my bag, tucking them behind the pillows of the bed. I paused to take one last look at my setup, then took off out of sickbay with a grin. Not a moment later, I heard Jim's voice echoing loudly down the corridor, clearly trying to give me a heads up about his return with Bones.

I hid around the corner while Bones and Jim said their goodbyes, then waited for Jim's footsteps to fade in the opposite direction before turning the corner and reentering sickbay.

"Hey," I said, a small smile on my face as I found Bones just outside his office. "Happy Valentine's Day."

He'd had a slight frown on his face when he'd first turned around, but it dissolved the moment he saw me.

"Hey yourself. Happy Valentine's Day." He took a few steps closer to me, a faint smile growing on his face as he approached. "What brings you in? I wasn't expecting to get to see you until tonight."

"Actually... I'm feeling a little rough. I was hoping you could check me out."

Bones narrowed his eyes. "...Is this a bad pickup line?"

"What? No!"

He held up his hands in surrender, then gently stepped forward and took my elbow.

"Alright. Valentine's Day and all, I had to check. Let's get you on a bed."

"And you're talking to me about bad pickup lines?"

Bones snorted, and I grinned. I didn't wait for him to direct me to a bed, and instead I headed straight for the one I'd just finished modifying. Bones didn't even bat an eye at my decision, instead following me over and carefully getting me hooked up to the various monitoring machines.

"Do you want to tell me about your symptoms?" he asked as he worked. I sighed.

"I don't know, I just haven't been feeling well. A little lighthearted, a little fluttering in my chest."

I expected Bones to make another bad pickup line comment, but clearly, he'd switched into doctor mode. He just hummed as he continued to work.

"And what's been your food and water to caffeine ratio so far today?"

I grunted. "Food, water, and no caffeine so far, thank you very much."

Bones just gave me a look, which I couldn't really argue. Too much caffeine and not enough other, better fuel had been the cause of me not feeling good before, and we both knew it.

"Well, let's see what we can see here, hm?"

I barely managed to fight back a giddy smile as Bones turned to look at the monitor read out, including the heart rate monitor. What he found, instead of the normally reading beeping line, was the green line tracing the shape of a (non-anatomical) heart. I snuck my hand behind my pillow to retrieve the roses while Bones blinked at the display in shock.

"My god... what is..." He glanced from the monitor to me, then got halfway through turning back to the monitor before stopping to stay on me and my roses. His wide eyes and slightly-open mouth were instantly replaced with a squint and a frown. "What did you do to this monitor?"

"I made it cute for Valentine's Day!" I replied. I held out the roses to him, but before I could get through another word, he'd crossed his arms and fixed me with a glare.

"I thought something was seriously wrong, either with you or with my highly-sophisticated medical equipment, which is essential to the health and safety of this crew. What if we'd had an emergency situaiton before you could fix this, or even tell me about it?"

I sighed.

"I hear you, baby, but come on. I made sure the odds of that were crazy low, it's one monitor, and I made the whole thing easy to fix."

"Easy enough that a non-engineer who didn't know the machine had been tampered with could fix it?"

"Yes."

Bones raised an eyebrow, so I sighed, and used my free hand to give the machine a nice hard whack. Theoretically, the same one a stressed and confused medical professional would give it in the heat of the moment.

It beeped, then the readout changed back to the normal, boring heart monitor readout. I turned back to Bones with a look.

He sighed. "Fine. But you still scared me when I saw that coming up as a readout of your heart beat."

"Just take the roses and get M'benga to cover the end of your shift. This is just the first Valentine's surprise of the day."

Despite himself, a smile clawed its way onto my boyfriend's face. I grinned back at him. I knew he couldn't hold out here much longer.

"Alright, fine," he said, taking the roses out of my hand and leaning in to give me a kiss. I leaned up and into it, bringing one hand up to rest at the nape of his neck. After a long, sweet moment, he pulled back. "I'm all yours until dinner tonight."

"What happens at dinner tonight?"

"Then it's my turn to take over with the Valentine's planning. I put together a nice dinner for the both of us, and as a bonus, it won't give either of us a heart attack."

I laughed and leaned up to kiss him again.

"Sounds perfect to me."

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

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heliads · 2 years ago

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Hey Lisa! Just wanted to get a request in before it gets full 😂

I just thought of the idea of a Star Trek fic for Bones Mccoy but grishaverse au? I feel like he would be a heartrender. He would LOVE to use his powers against people to make fun of them or something! The reader likes Bones and is a human. Obviously, reader likes bones = heart palpitations and everytime they talk about or to Bones their heart is racing. So bones knows this and can tell that reader likes him so he's just smugly happy about this but doesn't tell reader he reciprocates the same feelings as he wants them to tell him first and be like "oh yeah it was obvious I could tell you liked me" and it's just fluff afterwards!!

Thank you so much Lisa <3

your ideas are ALWAYS top tier!! grishaverse au my beloved

masterlist

The Little Palace may get its power from the Grisha, but its secrets– its secrets it gets from the otkazat’sya. They’ll never tell you that, of course. The practitioners of the Small Science have enough of an ego to act like they can do everything themselves, but no one can. That’s why need the ordinary folk. That’s why they need you.

The rationale behind it all is surprisingly understandable. People who don’t have gifts, who can’t make the ocean sing or their kitchen fires dance, these are the sorts of people who can get behind locked doors without alerting suspicion. You swear people can tell Grisha from otkazat’sya just by a single glance. They walk differently, know they’re different, and then other people know, too.

You, though? You are a woman born without something else. You are just you. It hurts at times, walking through the Little Palace, surrounded by all these people with a great gift in a great place knowing that it is never truly yours, but it doesn’t have to be. You are Y/N. It is fine.

Besides, they can’t make you feel too terribly about yourself without admitting that they need you more than anyone. You’re one of their best spies, a liaison from beyond the walls that can tell them everything they need to know about anything. You have more audiences with the King of Ravka than any of the regular Grisha stationed within the very walls of the city, and you don’t even have the Small Science to back you up.

You have a knack for knowing things, that’s all. You find the people with the secrets, and you discover the ways to make those secrets come alive. Half the time, your targets don’t even know they’ve blabbed away everything they should have kept dear until you’re already gone. What they think is an ordinary conversation is actually rife with spilled clandestine information, they just haven’t realized it yet.

That’s what happened two towns south, actually. A First Army captain was drunk and hanging off his barroom stool, you were there to ply him with rounds and figure out just why his regiment’s been having difficulties keeping to the directions given to them by Ravka’s king. Turns out he’s the head of an anti-monarchy group, and now you have names and locations for future meetings. All in a day’s work.

You’re headed back towards Os Alta now, ready to hand over another successful venture’s information and help plan out the next move. You used to fear every audience with the king, too afraid of saying the wrong thing and being laughed out of the palace, but he’s more of a friend now than a source of apprehension.

James Kirk is yet another one of dozens of bright, blond princes who become kings, and he’s more fond of a joke than a threat, or at least to you. They say he’s capable of piloting his country out of any crisis, and for his sake, you hope they’re right. Ravka needs all the help it can get.

If you’re going to be afraid of anyone, you’d be afraid of his right hand man, the general of the Second Army. Spock’s not aggressive, per se, or at least not physically so, but his biting wit isn’t exactly as approachable as Jim’s charm.

Still, they make a good team, and that’s what matters most. They’ve become your friends by now, and as you draw closer to the gates of Os Alta, your heart warms with the thought of meeting up once more with what you’ve come to appreciate as the regular crew of Ravkan governmental elite.

It’s not just Jim and Spock, after all. There’s Nyota Uhura, the best damn Squaller on this side of the Unsea, Scotty and Chekov, beloved Fabrikators, and last but certainly not least, Hikaru Sulu, your favorite Heartrender. All of them have become your close friends as of late, and you look forward to swapping stories with all of them.

And then, of course, there’s the one person you’ve conveniently left out, the one man who makes you terrified and excited and mainly just eager all at the same time: McCoy, obviously. Bones is, well, Bones, and he’s been the same deadpan sarcastic Healer since the day you met him, but he’s also something else. Someone else. Someone you could love and do love and probably shouldn’t love, but do anyway.

Loving Bones was easier than it should have been. He was one of the first people you ever met in the Little Palace. That was years ago now; you’re a different person than you ever were back then, but even at the start of it all, you knew your life was going to change the second you got the summons from the then-prince Kirk.

Jim’s king now, his father dead, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less invested in your professional skills. You were a First Army soldier then, involved in Fjerdan espionage and the like. You quickly rose through the ranks thanks to your superior skills in getting people to trust you, and that’s how you ended up on Jim’s radar.

The first time you received a note saying that you were to report to the Little Palace as soon as possible, you thought you were in trouble. Sure, there had been a few minor spots of fisticuffs with other soldiers in your past, but they were talking badly about you, and you just wanted to convince them that you were worth your salt. Physically. You won, anyway, and they shut up, but that was no reason a prince would want to see you in person, right?

Your record wasn’t in question, though, or at least not like that. It turned out that Jim wanted to see you so he could have a spy under his directive specifically, such that you could report not only on the enemy but on the dissenters in his own troops too, but you didn’t know that at the time. All you knew was the crisp cream stationery between your fingers, watching that fine paper smudge with the dirt on your fingertips. Soldiers have to get their hands a little more dirty than kings, but you never minded that. It’s what made you good. It’s what made you the best.

So you rode to Os Alta, marveling at the high gates and proud elites just like any tourist in town. You remember wandering through the Little Palace in an attempt to find the so-called War Room, and that’s where you met your friends.

Technically, you met Scotty first of all of them, and you couldn’t be more grateful for it. If there was anyone in the whole business who could calm your nerves with one bad joke and a witty grin, it would be him. Most Fabrikators end up holed away in their labs, but Scotty was out and about for the same meeting you would be attending. He offered to lead you to the proper spot, and you quickly accepted his offer.

Along the way, Scotty greeted the people he knew, one of them being Bones. Bones was the one who paid you the most attention even after your group of three grew as you were introduced to Sulu and Uhura and more. You hadn’t thought that a Grisha would really care all that much about the backstory of an otkazat’sya, but Bones, for some reason, listened.

His gruff attitude was off-putting at first, but, as Scotty told you in a stage whisper and you later learned for yourself, Bones isn’t exactly the most outgoing of your friends. He usually sticks to his medical tent and his patients. The fact that he was asking you questions about yourself in the same clinical tone as if asking about past prescriptions was, in Scotty’s eyes, a sure sign that the two of you were going to be the best of friends.

You have to say that the Fabrikator was right. When you were inducted into Jim’s circle for real, and your espionage reports started becoming more and more frequent, you had a greater chance of running into Bones.

He usually stuck by your side during the meetings, turning towards you whenever you spoke and leaning over so he could whisper sarcastic mutterings against your hair whenever someone else said something ridiculous. You’ve long since learned to develop a poker face when he’s around; otherwise, you’d end up laughing at your own king, and that’s sort of frowned upon around here.

It really should have come as no surprise that you’d go all the way and fall in love with Bones. Maybe it’s just you deluding yourself into thinking that nothing is something, but you swear that Bones treats you differently from the rest. He actually smiles when he sees you, and he talks more to you than anyone else. He’s kind, and he cares, and if you just let yourself imagine it, you could convince yourself that it’s because he loves you just as much.

He has yet to say a word on the matter, though, so you suppose you’re damned to eternal silence on the subject. The two of you will continue dancing around the subject until one of you gets killed in Ravka’s endless wars, and then an end will finally be put to it all. Wonderful.

Today, though, you are happy to see him, and you walk to the Little Palace with an extra pep in your step. This latest mission of yours took you away from Os Alta for longer than usual, so you’ve been missing him even more than the normal amount.

The halls of the Little Palace are no longer the labyrinth they had seemed upon your first visit, and you hurry over to the Healers’ station as quickly as you can. Bones’ back is turned when you first approach, too busy organizing supplies to notice any newcomers.

You rap your knuckles against the threshold of the door. “Surprise.”

Bones’ back straightens, and when he turns around, his lips are quirked in something that might almost be a smile. “Y/N. Good to see you.”

“I know,” you grin, “It always is.”

He rolls his eyes, but his expression is fond. “You were gone a while,” he remarks, “two weeks longer than last mission. I thought I would have to patch you up or something. You know death is the only acceptable excuse for tardiness around here?”

You laugh. “I’m glad to hear you were worried about me. I’m fine, by the way.”

Bones gives you a once over as if double checking this statement, but he seems satisfied when he continues. “What took you so long, then?”

You lift a shoulder. “Trying to root out corruption, not exactly the easiest thing in the world. Also, I’m not supposed to be around here all the time, remember? I’m not Grisha, I don’t belong in the Little Palace.”

Bones gives you a disgruntled look when you say that. “You’re kidding, right? ‘Course you do. You may not be able to do weird things with a wave of your hand, but you’re one of us. That means you should stay longer.”

You smile to yourself. “Well, I’m happy to be wanted.”

“You know that,” Bones remarks, “The others say it all the time, why does it matter to hear me say that?”

You swallow, look away. “It’s just different with you, that’s all.”

He arches a brow. “Why?”

This is not where you wanted the conversation to go, but with Bones’ stare fixed firmly on you, you don’t think you’ll be escaping it anytime soon. “You’re more important to me than the others.”

There’s no one else in the room, no one else to hear the way Bones’ voice goes quiet when he hears you. “And why is that, Y/N?”

You glance at him beseechingly, but Bones doesn’t seem willing to back off. At last, you sigh, and prepare yourself to bear the weight of his disapproval. “Alright, alright. I– I like you. I love you. Happy now?”

It’s silent for a moment, then:

“I know.”

You gape at him in shock. “You knew?”

“Of course I did,” he says smugly, “Any Heartrender worth their salt can sense when someone’s heartbeat speeds up when they’re around, and despite what Jim says, I am quite worth my price.”

You have enough sense to swat him playfully on the shoulder, even as your mind is reeling with the weight of this revelation. “That’s King Jim to you, remember? Saints, no respect for royalty or for me.”

“I do respect you,” Bones frowns.

You arch a brow. “You respected me enough to listen to my heartbeat day in and day out, being perfectly aware of how I felt, but making me be the one to say anything? You could have told me how you felt and ended all of this much sooner.”

A sudden, terrible thought occurs to you that perhaps he doesn’t feel anything at all and that’s why he didn’t say anything. All Bones told you was that he knew you loved him, not that he loved you back. You had thought you were friends, but would a friend toy with you like that?

Your heartbeat must betray your panicked musings, because Bones’ expression softens and he puts a hand on your shoulder to bring you back to reality. “I love you too,” he says firmly, “and I don’t want you thinking anything else. I just like giving you a hard time, that’s all.”

“I know,” you say teasingly. “Who wouldn’t love me?”

He gives you a look. “That doesn’t explain why you were so nervous a few moments ago.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “That was different. You were intentionally withholding information.”

“I apologize,” he says, and draws closer to you. He pauses when he’s just a few breaths away, and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you until he opens the door again. “Jim is waiting for us to start the meeting. We shouldn’t keep royalty waiting.”

You glare at him in indignation, but you’re too happy to keep your spirits down for long. “You’re awful, you know that?”

“I do,” he hums proudly, “and don’t worry about that, we’ll have time after the meeting.”

Time, yes. A lot of time. Maybe you should pay attention to how Bones said this place should be your home. And maybe, just maybe, you should ask Jim for more of a break in between missions. You think you’d like to explore your role here just a little more.

requested by @w1shes43, i hope you enjoy!

star trek tag list: @/w1shes43

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