#star trek oneshots

[reigningqueenofwords]

Leonard "Bones" McCoy Oneshots

Home Perfect Sight

[mikacanica]

Got some new brushes and its giving ~sci-fi /romance manga Spones edition~ I'm giving Spock his magical girl moment realizing love is all that matters. McCoy is just sleeping 😴

[fetch-those-damned-bolt-cutters]

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

[captainsophiestark]

Not A Doctor

Bones McCoy x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written 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

Summary: Bones' SO hurts themselves on an away mission and has to stitch themselves up as well as they can to buy time for a med evac to the Enterprise

Word Count: 1,533

Category: Fluff, Humor, a little bit of Angst

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

"Shit," I hissed, pressing a hand to my side as I slid down the wall. When I finally got up the courage to pull my hand back and look, it came away with a lot more blood than I'd hoped to find. I'd fallen pretty far and managed to avoid any broken bones based on my pain levels, but the wound in my side was gaping and looked concerningly serious.

I could practically hear the extended bridge crew chorusing "I told you so" from here.

As if on cue, my communicator beeped. I grimaced, but managed to take it out of my bag and open it to respond.

"What's up?" I groaned.

"Y/N, where are you?" came the voice of Jim Kirk, one of my best friends and the captain of the Enterprise. "Scotty's reporting he can only find two targets to beam up."

Dammit. That figured.

"I'm... not totally sure. I was trying to follow the signature on my tricorder to that plant I've been looking for when the ground just gave way under me. I'm not sure how far I fell, but I hit something pretty hard on the way down and I've got... quite the gash in my side."

Silence on the other end for a few moments, then:

"Hang tight. We're coming to find you."

The communicator hung up with a click, and I sighed, ignoring the flare of pain in my side. I had faith in Jim's determination and ability to find me, especially with Spock here helping him, but I still needed to do something if I wanted to be alive when they found me.

Thankfully, I'd watched my boyfriend, Doctor Leonard McCoy, stich people up often enough that I felt fairly confident I could do a passable job on myself. I dug some sewing supplies out of my bag that I hadn't removed from my last away mission misadventure, and pulled the hem of my shirt up to get a better look at the wound.

I grimaced, gritting my teeth and trying to prepare for this. I'd been so excited to join Kirk and Spock on this away mission. This planet was supposed to have one of the rarest plants in the galaxy, and I'd been looking forward to finding it since I'd first heard we'd be coming here. And now, I was at the bottom of this pit or cave or whatever, slowly bleeding out, without even a picture of the plant to show for it.

Ugh.

I tried to focus on my breathing as I threaded a needle and put it to my skin. I knew the wound needed to be disinfected before I totally closed it, but I didn't have anything on me to do that with, and I knew Bones would be able to take care of it for me if I could manage to get back to him.

I took a few deep breaths to steel myself, then stuck the needle through. I swore loudly and kept up a steady stream of expletives as I sewed up the wound. I pulled it closed as tightly as I dared, then held my jacket to my waist to try to staunch the remainder of the bleeding.

I sighed, long and hard, then leaned my head back against the wall of whatever hole I'd fallen into. I had no idea how long those stitches had taken me, but it certainly hadn't been quick. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too much longer before I heard Jim and Spock stumbling down some passage towards me.

I focused on deep breaths as the pain continued to throb in my side, completely zoning out to the time and environment around me. Finally, I heard some shuffling movement from a slightly more gradual incline up ahead of me. The voices of my friends echoed out, curious and searching.

"Y/N!"

"I'm here!" I called back, my voice a little weaker than normal. I cleared my throat, then tried again. "Here!"

A moment later, my friends came into view. Jim grinned at me as Spock started scanning the space, probably trying to decide on the best way to get me out of here.

"How're you holding up?" asked Jim. I forced a smile.

"Living the dream."

He scoffed, then moved to crouch beside me and put one of my arms over his shoulder.

"Spock! Come help me."

"We'll need to get around the corner and most of the way back up the incline we came down to reach a spot where Mr. Scott can register us," said Spock as he joined us. "There seems to be some property of this rock that's prohibiting the transporter signal from reaching us."

"Great," I huffed, grimacing as my friends pulled me to my feet. Even resting most of my weight on them, I was still seeing spots. "This is gonna be great."

Between the three of us, somehow, we managed to get back into transporter range. I almost lost consciousness at one point, but we'd paused, and I'd managed to pull myself back from the brink. When the Enterprise's transporter room finally materialized before me, the relief was palpable, not least of all because Bones was waiting for me.

"Y/N," he said, jumping to attention and rushing onto the pad to replace Jim at my side. With Spock's help, we started moving immediately for the Med Bay. "What happened?"

"I was following the signature of the plant I was looking for on my tricorder. Then all of a sudden, the ground gave way underneath me. It wasn't a straight drop, I don't think, but I fell a pretty long way, bouncing off the rock slide and the walls of the cave I fell into on the way down. I'm bruised, but I don't think it's anything bad besides the cut on my stomach."

Bones nodded. "We'll get you to Med Bay and make sure."

Luckily, my boyfriend was very good at staying calm and focused in a crisis for his patients. He was completely in the zone as he and Spock helped me into a bed once we reached Med Bay, and then Bones started checking my vitals and assessing my injuries. I watched him carefully for any break in his usual bedside manner to tell me if I needed to be worried about something, but none came.

Hopefully that was a good sign, and not just because he was an incredible doctor.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to me, Bones returned from his testing and reappeared by  my bedside. His hands were on his hips, but he seemed calmer, and definitely out of intense doctor mode.

"Alright, the good news is you'll be just fine. But I'm still gonna need to disinfect the wound and stitch you up," he said. I gave him the best smile I could muster.

"Sounds like a plan."

He sighed, then gently lifted my shirt high enough to give him access to the gash in my side. The light touch of his fingertips sent goosebumps along my skin, but I did my best to ignore them, especially as Bones frowned.

"What the hell did you do to yourself?" he asked, not looking away from his work on my side.

"Uh... I slammed into a rock. We covered this already, remember?"

"No, I didn't mean your injury." Bones paused and looked up at me, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. "I meant these stitches. Yikes."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, making Bones chuckle as he got back to work.

"Okay, whatever. I'm a biologist, not a doctor, dammit. I think I did a pretty good job, considering the circumstances."

"Mm, I guess so. Barely."

"Hey!" I laughed, hitting him lightly in the shoulder. "You better knock it off or I'm gonna start practicing my stitches on you."

Bones snorted, but I could see the smile on his face as he continued working. Thanks to the medical facilities of the Enterprise, it barely hurt as he undid my messy job and redid it with a much better one of his own.

"So... what are you doing after this?" I asked after a few long moments of letting him work in peace. He paused to look up at me again, one eyebrow raised.

"Don't tell me you're hitting on your own boyfriend after only the low-level painkillers I gave you?"

"I can and will hit on my own boyfriend whenever I want, no painkillers required. But I was mostly asking if you had other patients to deal with after me, or if you'd be free to come cuddle on the couch and eat junk food with me. I think it'd really help speed up my recovery process."

Bones' mouth quirked into a smile again as he put the finishing touches on my stitches.

"Well if it's for the wellness of a patient... I think Nurse Chapel might be willing to take over from me for the rest of the day."

"Thank goodness for Christine."

Bones and I shared a smile, then he returned to his work and I watched him contentedly. Obviously, life and death situations on away missions were never ideal—but I couldn't really bring myself to be upset about how this one had played out, even if I hadn't managed to get my plant in the end.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[basket-of-loquats]

It’s been a while since I’ve done this so please give me characters!! You can comment them or send them through an ask :))) accepting any fandoms, but check the tags if u want to know what fandom requests I’ll pay most attention to!

[pinkgrapefloyd]

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

[lapseinrecs]

of tornadoes, corn, and missing home

By sharpestsatire @sharpestsatire

On Archive of Our Own (account required)

Status: Complete; Oneshot; 3,527 words

Summary: Turns out the storms in Tornado Alley and Vulcan-that-was can be quite similar. A fic in which Kirk tries to grill corn, Spock finds that Iowa may give more peace of mind than at first glance, and the captain of the Enterprise and his first officer watch storms together.

My thoughts: Based on the Vulcan midwestern dads watching storms post. This is- I don't know the word. There's a longing. Power in that which is not stated. What Jim unintentionally gives Spock idk.

[capan-deveraux2]

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

[lamelycool]

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.

[reigningqueenofwords]

Oneshots

The Boys

Crossovers

DC

MCU Misc Polyamorous Sons of Anarchy Star Trek Supernatural The Walking Dead

[smbiotics]

[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.

[make-me-imagine]

Time to Kill

Request: Jim Kirk + “Cozy Autumn day watching Halloween films”

Requested By: Anonymous

Pairing: Jim Kirk x Gn!Reader (established relationship)

Warnings: None, just some cute autumn fluff.

Words: 632

You smiled with contentment as you finished laying the soft blankets on the bed. Lying down, you checked that the projection screen was set up just right before you dimmed the lights and turned on the fake fire nearby. The windows showed beautiful fall trees swaying in a light rainy breeze, and for a moment, you really did forget you were on Starship deep in space.

Halloween was approaching on Earth, and the whole ship buzzed with ideas of Halloween parties and costume contests. As you traveled to a distant area of space, you had time to kill, so the crew was allowed to do as they pleased.

Time to kill, also meant, the two of you could relax and have a cozy evening all to yourself. Something Jim was more than happy about.

Hearing a buzz at the door, you looked over to see it slide open, revealing Jim, clad in a cozy outfit, holding a tray brimmed with various foods and snacks.

You grinned as you locked eyes and you felt a warmth fill your chest as he walked over to the bed.

"Wow" He smiled as he looked around, noting all of the various changes you had made to give his suite the perfect autumn vibe.

"You like it?" You asked a bit uncertainly.

He smiled at you as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I love it, its perfect."

You smiled in relief, before your eyes widened a bit, seeing all of the food he had brought. You recognized old Earth Halloween candy, as well as some of your favorite sweets. There were small cakes, chips and dip, and hot chocolate complete with mini marshmallows.

"And how did I do?" He asked with a smile.

You grinned up at him, "Perfect."

He clapped his hands, "So we ready then?"

You nodded happily as you gingerly moved the tray to the middle of the bed, allowing Jim to climb in next to you. He let out a relaxed sigh as he leaned back.

Looking over his shoulder he quirked his brow. "Where did you get all of these pillows?"

You grinned, "I'm a comfort hoarder, you know this."

He chuckled, "Right."

He reached out his arm as you settled in to lean against him, hot chocolate in hand.

Grabbing a PAD he started to flick through the various movies you had downloaded for the evening.

"Ooh, we have to watch this later." He smiled as he pointed at Beetlejuice.

You nodded, "Of course."

"Hmm, but first." He stopped on a movie in the list and your eyes widened. You had not downloaded that one.

Immediately you shook your head, "Absolutely not."

He scoffed, "Why not? IT's a classic!"

"I don't care if it's a classic, I hate it!"

"Oh come on, it's not that bad!"

"IT is that bad" you chuckled "I watched it as a kid and it gave me nightmares, and it made me hate clowns."

"If we aren't watching IT then we aren't watching Hocus Pocus."

You gasped as you sat up, setting down your hot chocolate before you spilled it. "Those movies are not comparable! And Hocus Pocus is so much better!"

He shook his head stubbornly and you pouted at him, your eyes glaring playfully. He glared back, but you saw his resolve failing as his eyes drifted to the pout on your lips.

He finally let out a sigh and rested his head back. "Fine, we can watch Hocus Pocus, BUT, we have to watch a different horror movie if we can't watch IT."

You thought for a moment before nodding "Okay, fine, but nothing with clowns!"

He chuckled, grabbing you and pulling you back into his chest. He pressed a kiss to your temple "Okay, nothing with clowns."

xx End xx

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[captainsophiestark]

Irregular Heartbeat

Bones McCoy x Reader

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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."

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

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[nixii-sabre]

have i talked about how unwell i am about tom paris

[dontaskchaosandco]

drawing poll backlog time again (part 1)

[secretsoftheuniverse1987]

my sun, my moon, and all my stars is quite possibly my favorite thing I've ever written because I wrote it in a daze with so little knowledge of the source material and in the months since I've written it, I've oscillated wildly between "this is absolute slop, the likes of which I do not wish to be associated with" and "this is perhaps the most impressive feat of writing I've ever accomplished and I want it on repeat"