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sobeautifullyobsessed · 14 days

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A Khan By Any Other Name

a prequel to Star Trek: Into Darkness

mystery, suspense, danger ~ romance & NSFW material to follow

summary: Seraphina DiPietro is wise in the ways of the world; she has to be, as she travels the California coast as a torch singer in pubs, bars, and nightclubs. She knows how to take care of herself and stay out of trouble--most of the time. When trouble comes, it's usually because she lets her kind heart overrule her common sense. Stopping to check on a handsome stranger stranded roadside in the Mojave Desert, her curiousity is piqued as much by his classic, mint-looking Mustang, as by its driver--a tall, dark, mysterious drink of water, whom she quickly learns is so much more than he appears.

characters: Khan Noonien Singh (aka: John Harrison), Seraphina DiPietro (OC)

words: 1.9k

Chapter Two

“Drop it now,” he repeated, with the sure authority of a man accustomed to having his orders obeyed, “And I promise I will not hurt you.”

Despite his iron grip, Seraphina struggled to pull her arm away, hissing through teeth gritted against the pain, “Won’t hurt me? You’re hurting me now.”

Harrison’s hold on her arm loosened some; she was still tightly caught, but the pressure of his grasp, the pain, had receded a fair bit—although she knew she’d find dark, finger-shaped bruises there in short order. If she even lived that long. “Forgive me,” he told her, his voice low and even, “I’d forgotten how fragile your bones can be.”

What an odd thing to say, she thought, straining for release from his clutch and realizing it was all too impossible; she was no match for his strength, and even if she could manage to trigger the mace, she had no sure way to aim it properly. She felt desperate, frightened tears well up in her eyes, but squeezed her eyes shut against them—for she would not give her assailant the satisfaction of her despair, nor would she beg for mercy.

He must’ve read that quiet resignation on her face, for he tugged her fist close and covered it with his free hand, urging her to see reason, “You cannot win this struggle, Seraphina. Your resistance is futile; surely you understand this?” Harrison’s voice was silk persuasion, rich and dark and seductive—at complete odds with the very real threat he presented. “I could easily break your wrist and prize your little weapon from your fingers—but I honestly have no desire to hurt you. Just let it go.” And then, to her great surprise, he added, “Please.”

Blinking through the tears that fell against her will, tears that betrayed weakness when she wanted to be strong, Seraphina met his eyes again. His beautiful, deadly eyes—and saw in them an unexpected sincerity that matched his gentle “please”. She bowed her head and opened her fist, leaving her key and the can of mace to fall onto the passenger seat.

“There—that wasn’t so difficult after all, was it?” Why was his voice so soothing? Fear of what he might do to her next coursed through her veins, yet Seraphina thought she could easily crumple to the ground, curl up into a fetal ball, and let his voice see her into untroubled darkness. The heat, the fear, the adrenaline, the struggle—all of it had sapped her of the will to face whatever might come next. She’d always believed it wasn’t in her nature to fall apart so quickly, but she felt that way now, all the same.

True to his word, Harrison released her arm, but Seraphina remained in place, braced against the passenger side door, shaking in the aftermath and considering her very limited options. She might try to make it to her hovercraft, but the stranger now held her key; and even if she had the strength to run and the speed to outpace him, to flee into the desert at her back would be equally as brutal as anything he might do to her. She'd have to make her stand right here, then--and though she was no match for his size and strength, she knew enough to leave him hurting before he took her down for good.

Taking stock of her condition--mentally preparing to fight him off as best she could--Seraphina flexed her left wrist carefully, wincing as she explored her tender forearm with cautious fingers. Nothing broken at least, though she felt a bone-deep ache; but it would not be enough to hamper any effort to defend herself.

Strangely, Harrison was ignoring her at the moment; having retrieved her keychain, he had torn the can of mace free with no effort, before hurtling it carelessly into the desert. Seraphina had a vivid image of her own broken, half-naked body flung just as easily and left upon the sand for carrion-eaters to feast upon. She shoved the idea down deep, knowing such fear would only cripple her--and was immediately dumbfounded when he held the key out to her.

"Did I not say I have no wish to harm you?" Harrison's eyes bored into her own, searching for calm and reasoned understanding. "In spite of how it appears, we are equally vulnerable in this place and situation. We must find a way to trust one another. " Sera only continued to regard him warily. "Take this," he insisted, "If I judge you correctly, simple concern for a traveler in need motivated you to stop. And in keeping with your nature, I believe that you will not deny me the help that I need."

Sera studied his face, looking for signs of deception, skittish to trust him but accepting his peace offering nevertheless. "You lied," she said, defiant yet holding her anger at bay, "This car isn't yours..."

Harrison nodded, his full lips pressed together against a small placid smile, "I never claimed that it was..."

"It's stolen," she fumed, irritated with herself for allowing him to so easily mislead her when her first instinct had been correct after all.

"An act of desperation, I assure you..."

"Just as this was," she exclaimed, extending her bruised forearm to him, "I have to wonder what happens to people who truly stand in your way, Mr. Harrison. "

Unruffled by her outburst, Harrison closed his eyes a moment and breathed deeply. When he looked to her again, he was the picture of patience. "I swear I have no desire to cause you--or anyone else--harm. But you must understand, I am in dire straits and as we linger here, my family is in imminent danger." He paused, weighing the effect of his words upon her. "Such a thing will make a man act beyond the measures of polite society."

Seraphina narrowed her eyes, skeptical of his revelation of a family, but suspending her disbelief for the moment, "How then? What sort of danger is your family in?"

"Their very lives hang in the balance, threatened by a powerful man who seeks to manipulate me into working for him." Embers of hate flashed in his eyes, and he gave a bitter huff as he added, "Forcing me to work toward the most nefarious of purposes."

Sera shook her head, clearing the double vision that had crept up on her; she cupped a trembling hand against her forehead, which came away slick with perspiration. It was the heat getting to her, obviously. She felt parched, although the thought of putting anything into her roiling stomach left her feeling even more nauseous, and her head was pounding in time with her racing pulse. She needed to get out of the goddamn heat before she collapsed from heat exhaustion--while the man before her looked completely unaffected by the desert climate. "And...and I suppose this mysterious man is so powerful that you can't seek help from the proper authorities?" Sera leaned all her weight against the car door, wondering if Harrison had noticed her current state of distress.

If he did, he gave no sign of it, a mix of pain and rancor coloring his strikingly handsome features. "So powerful that it would be in your best interest to remain ignorant as to his identity and position." Anticipating her next question, he warned her, "Do not ask--for I cannot reveal that information."

Though stymied by his vague replies--and sensing a much more complicated tale behind what he'd already admitted to--Sera read blunt honesty in his voice and body language. And the fact that he had willingly returned her key while asking for--rather than demanding--her help, seemed a testament to some underlying truth. She realized that she likely had only a few more minutes until she passed out, leaving her completely at Harrison's mercy. "Then how...how did you end up here, stranded in the Mojave," Sera asked, panting softly, "How does any of this help your family?"

He was watching her closely now, so that he had to aware that she was fading fast. "That is a rather long and complicated tale, Seraphina." His voice had again taken on a lulling pitch. "One which I believe would outlast your capacity to remain on your feet."

She held on to the window frame, white-knuckled but determined to remain upright long enough to learn his hidden agenda. "I'm fine...I...I'm just a little light-headed..."

"Step aside now, Seraphina." Again, that tone of a man whose orders were obeyed without question. "You have little time left before you lose consciousness." His hand was already on the door handle, and she stumbled back in time for him to swing the door open.

Then he was looming over her, a tall, cooling shadow, reaching out to brace her. His touch this time was firm, while surprisingly gentle. "We need to get you out of this heat." Unexpected concern in is stunning eyes, calming concern in his voice. The man was a beautiful enigma.

"No...please...tell me. If...if you want me to trust you..." Her world was darkening around the edges, narrowing so that only his face remained in her field of vision. "If you want me to help...I need...I need to know..." Seraphina felt herself going, and as her consciousness fled, so did her fear and curiousity; only one need remained. She sobbed against him as he scooped her up into his arms, "But you promised...you promised not to hurt me again..." Her eyes fluttered shut as she slipped away from awareness.

Harrison strode swiftly towards her hovercraft, cradling her as softly as he could, knowing that the cool, dark interior was the quickest remedy at hand for what ailed her. "Oh, pretty little Seraphina," he murmured, brushing his lips against her dampened hair, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine and honey, relishing how light and easy she felt in his arms. "Hurting you is the least likely thing I have planned."

(to be continued)

If you enjoyed this, please reblog ~ it's the only way others can see this work.💟

tagging: @icytrickster17 @ironstrange1991 @strangelockd @groovy-lady @aphroditesdilemma @stewardofningishzida @battledress @mousedetective @dearmrsstephenstrange @lorelei-lee @mckiwi @shinebrightlikeafanbase @cumberbatchitis @doctorhelm @strangeflashholmes221 @prulock @stargirl-designs @hajile10 @dancingmushu @iloveavengersblog @fireonmybones @osugahunnyicedtea @brayleigh14

(There were a few more blogs that I tried to tag based on the response to chapter one, but tumblr's messed up url search function kept telling me 'no blog found'🤨)

47 notes · View notes

adarkroomandawallflower · 11 months

Note

Hey there! I love your writing so far! I was wondering if you would write a little something about Data and his partner choosing pet names for each other? I think it could be cute :)

Hello, I'm so glad you're enjoying my writing!

This is such a cute idea, and thank you so much for bestowing the honor upon me to write this lovely request!

I had a lot of different ideas for this, and couldn't settle on just one, so I decided to write this in the style of those "5+1" fics. I tried to choose older/more outlandish terms of endearment, in order to avoid potentially discarding a name that someone would actually want to be referred to by. Hopefully, I was successful in this endeavor (but my sincere apologies if not)!

The final nicknames I chose were based on Data's characterization, and what names I think would be most appropriate and fitting for him and his vocabulary. I'm not sure if anyone else will agree with these choices, but I hope they're still enjoyable.

Anyways, without further ado, here's the final piece! I'm so sorry for the wait, but I really hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 😊

5 Times Data and His Partner Tried Out Pet Names (and the 1 Time They Stuck):

Although Data didn't quite understand the necessity for having a pet name for his partner, he did understand the appeal. It was another form of affection that couples demonstrated with one another; something special shared between both parties.

Frankly, Data hadn't even considered having a designated term of endearment for you. At least, not until Geordi and himself had discussed the subject after witnessing a couple in Ten Forward one evening using their chosen pet names.

"Why did Lieutenant Smith refer to his spouse as an overly saccharine pastry comprised of honey?" Data asked, bewildered at the exchange he just observed between the aforementioned crewmembers.

Geordi chuckled, "He didn't mean it literally, Data. He meant it as a pet name."

Data still looked at his friend quizzically, "'Pet name'?"

"Yeah, a term of endearment."

Finally, he understood, "Ahh."

"Don't you and your partner have pet names for one another?"

Data shook his head, "No, we do not."

Geordi raised his eyebrows above his VISOR, "Really?"

"Indeed...I did not realize this was a necessary aspect to couplehood."

"Well, it's not exactly 'necessary', but it is a fairly common thing between couples."

"Hm, I see..."

Later that night, while Data was running an internal diagnostic, analyzing the information he had collected during his Away Mission earlier that day, and reviewing the remainder of the day's events, he considered the conversation he had with Geordi. Should he have a pet name for you? If so, which one should he choose?

After some internal analysis, Data decided that yes, he did want to designate a term of endearment for you. He figured the best way to go about choosing a name would be to use a trial-and-error method of research:

First, he would conduct personal research about pet names. He would pay special attention to their connotations and popularity. Next, he'd construct a behavioral profile for you that he would then use to determine which pet names you would most likely appreciate. He would then test the chosen names by using them to refer to you. Additionally, he'd observe your reactions to each name, and internally record his observations. Finally, he'd compile all his collected data and analyze them to determine which term of endearment you appeared to enjoy the most.

The endeavor would prove to be more difficult than he anticipated.

1. Honeybun or Honeybunch

Since Lieutenant Smith and his spouse had initiated this experiment, Data felt it was only appropriate to test out their preferred pet name first. He tested it out a few days after he witnessed their interaction, one night while the two of you were snuggled up on his couch with Spot.

Data was sitting near one end of the couch, his body oriented straight ahead and away from you. You sat at the other end of the couch, facing Data. Your legs were stretched out across his lap, and one of his hands was draped along the arm of the couch. His other hand was affectionately rubbing your knee. Spot was curled up in your lap, purring loudly as you intermittently stroked her back while you spoke.

You were currently summarizing your day's events for Data, and he listened intently. His gaze was soft and adoring, and he was meticulously making internal notes about the way you gestured certain aspects for emphasis, how your chest shook when you laughed, and the way your lips curved upwards just a little higher when you returned his eye contact. Absentmindedly, he marveled at how beautiful humans and their behaviors were, and he wondered if he could ever come close to emanating that beauty himself.

After you completed your tale, you relaxed back into your corner of the couch, ready to answer the anticipated onslaught of questions from him. Once his queries were satisfactorily answered, it grew silent between the two of you, but comfortably so.

At this point, you were relaxed, and starting to succumb to the call of sleep. As your eyes started to droop, Data spoke softly, "Shall we 'hit the hay', Honeybun?"

Your eyes shot open. Now, you were wide awake, "What?"

"Your respiratory and heart rates have decreased by 3.7% in the last 4 minutes and 51 seconds, and you have been closing your eyes for intervals longer than necessary for blinking. You are demonstrating the initial stages of human sleep," he looked at you sweetly, "I believe it would be best if we went to bed now...Honeybun. You are welcome to spend the night in Spot and I's quarters."

You stared at him curiously for a moment, before you laughed, "Okay, honeybunch; let's go to bed."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise at your unexpected reciprocation of the pet name.

You carefully picked up Spot from your lap before slowly getting up. You and Spot made your way to Data's bedroom, but said android was still on the couch, processing your previous interaction.

Based on your expression and reactions, Data deduced that you did not particularly enjoy that nickname. However, did he enjoy being called a 'honeybunch'?

"You coming, honeybunch?" you called from his bedroom.

Again, Data reviewed the name, considering his perceptions towards it, before he grimaced slightly.

2. Snookums

The next time he tested a term of endearment on you was over a week later, during a double date between the two of you and the O'Briens in Ten Forward.

You and Data had arrived first, and were chatting idly as you waited for your friends to join you. Once Keiko and Miles arrived, you all greeted each other, and caught up briefly before Data got up to get everyone some drinks.

"I'll just have a plain ol' Irish ale," Miles said.

"Some tea would be lovely," Keiko added.

Data turned to you, "And what would you like, Snookums?"

Miles chortled softly, and Keiko lightly kicked him under the table, but she was holding back a smile herself.

Data, who was too focused on you and your reaction, thankfully didn't notice the O'Brien's' interaction. He studied you carefully, patiently awaiting your response.

You blinked, still processing the nickname, "Uhh just some water, please."

He nodded once, "I shall return in a moment with our beverages."

Miles watched Data walk away, waiting until he was out of earshot. Once satisfied with the distance between the three of you & Data, Miles then turned to you with a smirk, "'Snookums'?"

You raised your eyebrows and shrugged, "I have no clue where that came from...last week, he called me 'Honeybun'."

Again, Miles snorted.

"Miles!" Keiko scolded, "Don't be rude!"

He held up his hands in mock surrender, "I'm not! They're just...interesting choices for nicknames."

"I suspect he's up to something," you theorized, "This is probably related to some personal research he's conducting, or something. In any case, I'm sure it's just a phase," you hadn't been too concerned about this seemingly random development in his behavior, but you were curious as to its purpose. It was still a fairly recent alteration, so you figured you'd let him have his fun a bit more before you confronted him about it.

"Maybe he's trying to be more romantic," Keiko offered, "in his own way."

You pondered the thought, as you watched Data gather your drinks. He certainly was romantic, in his own way. You both had lunch together almost every day, something that he had insisted on. After he discovered the ancient invention of "Post-It Notes", he made it a habit to leave you handwritten notes with them throughout your office. Their contents varied, from jokes pertaining to your area of expertise to quotes from his favorite works of literature that reminded him of you. He even enjoyed reading some of his favorite novels and plays to you. These actions may not have been the kind of whirlwind, passionate gestures that most people equated to romance, but you knew they were his way of showing his fondness for you, and you loved them (and him) dearly.

You continued to watch him as he carefully placed everyone's requested drinks on a small tray that Guinan provided. You noticed how he was slightly more careful when placing your drink on the tray, and how he placed it in front of the others. You knew his actions were deliberate and calculated, but it still brought a soft smile to your lips.

"Maybe," you finally conceded.

"And maybe you should take some notes, Miles," Keiko teased her husband.

Miles sighed, "Oh, Hell..."

3. Sweet Cheeks

"Thank you for bringing me lunch, Data," you told him, sitting down in the chair he had pulled out for you. When you had contacted him earlier to let him know that you were going to work late and wouldn't have time to grab lunch with him, he decided to bring lunch to you, in your office. Data had also taken the time to replicate some flowers in a vase and cleared your desk of all clutter, so you could have a proper table setting for your meal.

"You are welcome," he said, as he gently pushed your chair back in.

Your shared meal was relaxed and calm, but the atmosphere changed when Data suddenly dropped his latest pet name for you into the conversation, "I believe your proposed solution to your current work predicament is acceptable, and will prove to be successful, Sweet Cheeks."

You then did what Data recognized from 20th century humor to be a classic 'spit take'. He was surprised, yet somewhat delighted by this, as he had never witnessed someone perform a spit take before. He considered inquiring about it, but decided against it.

You stared at him in astonishment, blushing wildly as you coughed, "I beg your pardon??"

Your reaction was quite unexpected, and Data scrunched his eyebrows in soft confusion as he attempted to ascertain the somewhat scandalized tone of your voice, "Did I say something wrong?"

Before speaking, you cleared your throat, and waited for the shock to subside, "No, Data, you didn't say anything wrong, per say...It's just that 'Sweet Cheeks' is a very old and sometimes offensive term, depending on the context, used to describe someone with a nice ass."

Data looked at you with surprise, and perhaps embarrassment. How had he missed that pertinent fact during his research? "I see...I apologize for offending you; that certainly was not my intent," he considered this new development briefly, before tilting his head softly and returning his gaze to you, "Based on this information, that term would also be inaccurate in describing yourself because you do not have a donkey."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, "Sorry, not that kind of ass, Data. I meant it refers to someone who has an attractive butt."

Realization dawned on him, "Ahh," he raised an eyebrow, "Although it would be accurate to describe your posterior as 'attractive', I would not wish to use an offensive term to convey that fact."

"Data!" you said, astonished and blushing once again.

Data was hopelessly confused anew, "Have I offended you again?"

"No, no, it's just..." you sighed, still flustered. "Nevermind..." you carefully stood up, "I have to get back to work, so I'll catch you later," you tidied up the remnants of your lunch, pressed a quick peck to his lips, and somewhat hurriedly left your office.

4. Dumpling

"Alright, Lieutenant," Dr. Crusher said as she completed healing the large gash that ran along your forearm, "I think that just about does it. Can you wiggle your wrist for me, like this?" you watched as she moved her wrist, and you replicated her movements. Although you were able to repeat her actions, you felt a small pinch somewhere in your wrist, causing you to wince.

Dr. Crusher noticed this, and gently took your wrist in her hand, "Let me take another look," she scanned your wrist with another handheld medical scanner, "Ahh, it looks like the fracture I repaired earlier is applying excess pressure on your radial nerve," she smiled reassuringly, "It's just a pinched nerve, but I'll need to go get a different tool to repair it," she gently released your wrist, "I'll be right back."

As you waited patiently for her to return, the doors to Sick Bay opened. You looked up and saw Data making his way over to you.

Having not seen him all day, you were elated that he was here, "Data!"

He smiled faintly at your enthusiasm for his arrival, somewhat perplexed at how your mood always seemed to improve almost immediately upon the sight of him, or mention of his name. His smile widened just slightly when he reached his hand out to you, and you eagerly took his hand in yours.

After a few moments, his expression became serious, "Commander Riker informed me of the injuries you sustained during the Away Mission," he frowned slightly, "I apologize for not arriving sooner, but the Exobiology team required my assistance in analyzing the samples you and the remaining members of the Away Team collected."

"No apology necessary; I understand."

He performed a quick visual inspection of you, before his eyes met yours again. It only lasted a second, but you could have sworn you saw something akin to concern swimming in his golden irises, "Are you alright...Dumpling?"

You took a moment to absorb the new nickname before replying, "Yes, I think so...Dr. Crusher healed all of my cuts, and repaired my broken wrist. She still has to alleviate a pinched nerve, but other than that and a few scars, she says I'll be just fine."

"I am...relieved to hear that," he squeezed your hand gently, "When Commander Riker explained to the Captain and myself that you had directly thrown yourself in front of an incoming boulder, in order to displace Ensign Diaz out of its path, my mind was..." he paused pensively, as he searched for the most appropriate term, "...uncomfortably preoccupied with the prospects of how extensive and detrimental your injuries could be," his thumb rubbed the back of your hand affectionately, and his eyes appeared almost sad. "The possibility that you sustained serious injuries, or could have lost your life was rather...distracting to me, and made it difficult to complete the sample analysis."

You brought your intertwined hands up to your lips, and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand, "I'm sorry for worrying you," he looked as if he was going to remind you that he was incapable of worrying in any fashion, but he didn't vocalize the correction, "I didn't intend to land directly in that boulder's path. I was only trying to push Ensign Diaz out of the way, but I miscalculated the boulder's velocity."

His expression became neutral, "Regardless, your actions were admirable, and I am pleased that your injuries were minimal," suddenly, he gave you a pointed look. "However, as your partner, I must sternly remind you not to knowingly put yourself in unnecessary danger again," his expression softened slightly, "Dumpling."

A soft laugh interrupted your moment, and you both turned towards the sound, "Well, don't you worry, Data," Dr. Crusher had returned, a new tool in hand, "In a few moments, your Dumpling will be as good as new," you blushed at her use of the moniker, and Data took mental note of this.

Dr. Crusher held the tool against your wrist. It tingled slightly, but otherwise you felt nothing. After a few minutes, she turned it off and removed it from your skin, "Alright, move your wrist for me again?" you repeated the same motions she had shown you before. This time, there was no pain at all. She smiled, "Better?"

"Much better; thank you."

"You're welcome. I suggest you don't put too much strain on that wrist for a couple of weeks," she began to put away her tools and instruments, "If you notice any more pain, please come back to see me."

You nodded, "Thank you, I will," Data helped you carefully hop down from the Bio-Bed, "Do you want to grab some dinner now, Data?" you asked, "I have a sudden, inexplicable craving for dumplings."

Dr. Crusher held back a laugh.

5. Love Bug

"So, Reg will take care of Spot, Keiko will water and watch over our plants, Beverly and Geordi will keep tabs on our ongoing research experiments..." you reviewed the checklist on your PADD for the umpteenth time, "Okay, I think that's it...am I forgetting anything?"

"Negative, Love Bug. It appears you have everything 'under control'."

You peered up from the PADD to look at him, an eyebrow raised questioningly, "'Love Bug'?"

Data nodded, "That is what I said."

You sighed, but smiled softly, "Okay, Data; what's going on?"

"To what are you referring to?"

"In the past month, you've been calling me various nicknames. What's all this about? Are you conducting some kind of research?"

He looked at you, accessing your reaction for any kind of anger or discomfort. When he saw nothing but confusion and curiosity in your eyes, he sighed softly, "It had been brought to my attention that couples tend to utilize terms of endearment for each other," he blinked, "I did not wish to neglect one of my expected duties as a partner, nor did I wish to make you feel as though you were 'missing out' on an aspect of couplehood, simply due to my ignorance."

You softened immediately at his admission, "Oh, Data," he looked away briefly and somewhat sheepishly, "Being in a relationship with you doesn't make me 'miss out' on anything. In fact, I've gained much more from being in this relationship with you than I would from being in a relationship with anyone else."

His eyes locked with yours, and they were noticeably brighter than before, "Truly?"

You placed your PADD down on a nearby table, and took both of his hands in yours, "Truly," you repeated, before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. When you pulled away, you flashed him a reassuring smile, "Everyone else are the ones who are missing out."

The corners of his lips curled just faintly upwards, "Thank you for alleviating my vexations in that regard," he raised his eyebrow in thought for a moment, before he looked back at you with an inquisitive expression, "Based on your reactions to each of the names I chose, I gathered that you did not particularly enjoy any of my selections. Is that an accurate conclusion?"

"I mean, they weren't necessarily bad choices, they were just...a bit dated, and neither of our styles. But yes, you're correct that I didn't particularly like them."

"Hmm," he bowed his head down slightly to better meet your eyes, "Do you have a preferred term of endearment you would like for me to use?"

You pursed your lips in consideration, "Well, I do have specific names that I do like...but I don't think I'd want you to use those, either."

He tilted his head softly, his eyebrows scrunched in slight confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I think that pet names chosen between partners should be somewhat unique, in the sense that they should relate to something only the participants of that relationship are aware of, like an inside joke of some kind," you paused, "I think those names should also match both partners, not just the recipient of the name. I don't think my current preferences fit you because they aren't necessarily terms you're likely to use."

He took a few moments to analyze this new information, before he nodded, "Yes, I believe I understand. In essence, you would like for me to choose a term of endearment for you that is both unique and relatable to you, but also representative of my vernacular?"

You smiled and squeezed his hands, "Exactly, yes."

"Hmm," he blinked, "I shall take this into consideration, and 'return to the drawing board'."

You laughed softly, "Sounds good," you leaned in, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, "Thank you for being such a sweet and considerate partner."

"You are welcome."

"What about you?"

His look of confusion returned, "What about me?"

"Is there any particular name you'd like for me to use for you?"

He thought about it briefly before raising his eyebrows, "Truthfully, I had not considered requesting a term of endearment for me, from you...Although I do not have a preference for any particular term at this time, I believe I would like for you to bestow one upon me."

You nodded, "Okay. I guess I'll have to go back to the drawing board, too...but for now, let's go enjoy our Shore Leave, Love Bug."

+1. "Dearest" and "Sunshine"

As Data's eyes flickered between his canvas and you, he could tell that you were getting restless. You had remained in your current position for the last 2 hours, 47 minutes, and 13 seconds, relatively unmoving. You had not complained once about your discomfort, but he could tell from your slight fidgeting that the required stillness was getting to you.

He reviewed the state of his canvas one more time, adding a couple more strokes of paint, before gently setting his brush down on his easel, "Would you like to take a break?"

You immediately sighed with relief, "Yes, please," you began to move, but stopped, "if it's not too much of an inconvenience for you?"

"Not at all. In fact, you have been an excellent muse thus far; much better than Spot. You are more than deserving of a break," he set down his paint palette, and tilted his head as he reviewed his progress. He was able to get a good portion of your silhouette and distinctive features outlined onto his canvas. He would only need your assistance for another session or two before he could complete the painting on his own.

"Can I see it?" you asked excitedly as you made your way over to him.

"Please," he said, and stepped aside to allow you viewing space.

You looked it over, and smiled widely, "Wow, this looks amazing already, Data! You're definitely going to get the highest marks from your art teacher for this," the two of you continued to admire the beginnings of his painting in comfortable silence for a moment, before you broke it, "Can I ask you something?"

Data turned to look at you, "Of course."

"Why did you decide to paint me for this assignment?"

"In my art course, we recently discussed the Aestheticism art movement. The core belief of this movement was 'art for art's sake'. In other words, it prioritized the aesthetic value of art, rather than the common belief at the time of the movement's introduction that art must serve a particular, didactic purpose," he paused, and inhaled sharply before continuing, "For this assignment, my instructor desired for myself and my classmates to create a work of art, in the tradition of the Aestheticism movement."

You absorbed all the information he just provided, attempting to determine how it related to you. After realizing you still didn't understand the connection, you asked, "That's all really interesting, Data, but what does it have to do with me?"

He eagerly continued, "After careful consideration, I realized that you embody Aestheticism. Although you can and do appreciate the hidden meanings of not only art, but many aspects of life itself, you also recognize the importance of creativity with no inherent purpose," he looked at you softly, "During one of our thoughtful, evening conversations we shared in the initial stages of our relationship, when I had explained to you my confusion as to my purpose of being, you responded that perhaps my father had no true purpose in creating me. Perhaps the only reason he created me was because he wanted to produce something beautiful, simply because he could. Perhaps he merely wished to add something of aesthetic value to the universe. Perhaps he was an artist, just as much as he was the forefront of cybernetics."

He inhaled sharply again, still looking at you, "I have found myself revisiting that conversation consistently and frequently, as frequently as the rate at which you are a part of my thought processes. This lesson, in particular, had triggered my memory banks to replay this memory 3.27 times more than usual. Thus, I deduced that you would be the most appropriate topic for this assignment."

You blinked, staring at him in complete bewilderment. You certainly weren't expecting that answer! Your brain felt like it was malfunctioning, uncertain how to process all this information.

As your brain melted inside your skull, you felt him gently take your hand, "Additionally, this assignment has also made me realize how...dear you are to me. You are always willing and eager to assist me in my hobbies, activities, assignments, and other endeavors. You have never expressed agitation nor annoyance with me, and always allow me to 'babble' to any length or degree. You have always encouraged myself and my passions, even when they potentially served an inconvenience to you."

He squeezed your hand gently, "The term 'dearest' refers to someone who is: loved and cherished, greatly valued, precious," he exhaled softly, "Although I am incapable of love, I am capable of cherishment, and seeing the value in others and objects. I certainly cherish you, and see how invaluable you are to many individuals, including myself," he looked at you with pure determination, and maybe a hint of pride, "Therefore, I believe the most fitting term of endearment for you is 'Dearest'."

At this point, you were short-circuiting, and your brain was absolute mush. Data was always eloquent with his wording, but this was definitely one of the most eloquent things he had said to you. It made his earlier statement of being incapable of love seem completely impossible. No one could speak in such a way about anyone or anything, if they weren't capable of love in some capacity or degree.

He watched you cautiously and patiently, his eyes moving slightly from side to side as he awaited your response. Your brain was still unable to form coherent thoughts, and no words escaped your lips. As his words sunk in and settled as warmth in your chest, all you could do was beam at him as you threw your arms around his neck, and pressed your lips to his in a deep kiss. He was frozen for just a moment, evidently surprised by your reaction, but gently moved his hands to hold your waist and returned your kiss.

After a couple of minutes of eager kissing, he pulled away, "Based on your reaction, I assume that you find this an acceptable term of endearment for yourself?"

You laughed softly, "Yes, Data, I do. It's perfect."

His lips curled upwards into a faint but bright smile, "I am glad you think so, Dearest."

You played with the ends of his hair that tickled his collar, still beaming at him, "You know, this just confirms my theory that 'Sunshine' would be the most fitting pet name for you."

He tilted his head, analyzing the moniker, "Intriguing. What is your connotation of this nickname, as it pertains to me?"

"Well, ever since I met you, you've brought so much light and sunshine into my life. You're a very bright, and warm person, both literally and figuratively, that you are an embodiment of the sun and its sunshine. I realized I've come to think you of as my personal ray of sunshine," you wished you could convey your thoughts and ideas as refined as the manner in which he just did, but the state of your mind was still too slushy to do so.

At your admission and unexpectedly sentimental token, his expression softened. You could tell he was analyzing and processing your sentiments with a fine-toothed comb, no doubt for further review later.

He was quiet for a long time, or at least, a long time for an android, and you began to shuffle nervously, "Do you find the name acceptable?"

Again, he was quiet as he mulled over your query. Finally, his eyes met yours, "Yes, I believe I do. I never considered the similarities between myself and the sun, but I can understand how you came to those conclusions," he blinked, "Yes," he repeated, "I do 'like' it, Dearest."

Your lips brushed against his once again, "Glad to hear it, Sunshine."

#data soong #data star trek #data tng #data x reader #data soong x reader #data star trek x reader #lt commander data #5+1 things #star trek the next generation #star trek tng #star trek fanfiction #star trek fan fiction #star trek fanfic #noll's narratives #my writing

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creature-of-the-stars · 9 months

Text

A Good Day

For my fic Terrhaha

A little Romulan girl who just walked out of the gift shop at the Ki Baratan Zoo on Romulus. The Terran wildlife exhibits are her favorite, so she begged her parents to get her a stuffed animal of Henry the crocodile, a Zion the tiger bracelet, and a balloon of one of the stegosaurs from the paleontology hologram exhibit. Now, she’s asking her dad if she can have an osol twist.

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indeedcaptain · 6 months

Text

Spirktober 2023, day 23: Married

HELLO HERE IS THE LAST CHAPTER OF ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS! Fluff, kisses, schmoop, weddings, etc.

Also posted on AO3 here!

☆☆☆

“James Kirk, you are not getting married in sweatpants.” Winona stood, aghast and agape, in the middle of the kitchen.

“Mom, we’re on shore leave. I didn’t even bring a uniform home, let alone a dress uniform. And they’re joggers.”

“Absolutely not. I forbid it. Spock’s parents are going to think that you were raised in a barn.”

“This is a farm! You did raise me in a barn!”

Winona threw up her hands and turned her back on him in disgust, peering out through the window over the sink to see how George and Lieutenant Sulu were faring with the barn in question. Nyota sidled in beside him and watched James and his mother square off in the kitchen.

“What did you intend to wear, Spock?”

Spock crossed his arms over his chest. James’s t-shirt stretched across his shoulders. “My uniform.”

She side-eyed him. “You brought your uniform on shore leave?”

“It is logical to be prepared,” he said stiffly. He did not add on the fact that he had not even considered the idea that he would have confessed to his feelings for the captain, let alone acted on, consummated, and committed permanently to those feelings, and brought the uniform in the case that he had to return to San Francisco earlier than planned to avoid discussing them at all.

“That won’t do,” she said. Louder, she said, “Winona, I’ll take them out to get suits.”

“Nyota, as far as I can tell, you are the only sensible person on the whole crew,” Winona said, and James rolled his eyes.

Nyota recruited McCoy to assist, shepherded James and Spock into the backseat of George’s truck, and drove them into downtown Riverside with only minimal grumbling from James.

☆☆☆

Suit shopping was a more complicated affair than Spock had imagined. He had not known that there was a human tradition about not seeing one’s future spouse in their wedding garments ahead of time, so Nyota had sent James and McCoy to one store before dragging them to another. He had allowed James to steer much of the planning process, as there had not been very much to plan, and now that he was being asked for his opinion he found that he did not know what he wanted.

The events of the day, week, month had deviated so drastically from what he could have possibly imagined that he was having a difficult time imagining what came next. He could picture James in a suit easily: dashing, handsome, smiling, an image from several diplomatic missions that he had carefully ensconced in his memory. But he was unable to picture himself in the same attire. Despite the time they had spent over the past month talking, clearly communicating expectations and desires and plans for their shared future, he could not imagine himself in a human suit at the end of the aisle. Somewhere, deep in his mind, the remnant echoes of T’Pring’s disdain and her cruelty during the kal-if-fee iced over his joy.

He very much wanted to be married. He was less sure of how to want to have a wedding.

After the third suit Nyota brought to him evoked no reaction, she took the garment from his hands, laid it down, and sat down next to him.

“This isn’t working for you,” she said. She sat close enough that he could feel the warmth of her arm against his.

“I have never before thought about a wedding,” he said. “A human wedding was never an option for me.” She looped her arm through his and clasped her hands together.

“What are you looking forward to most?” She asked.

“Our bonding,” he said immediately. This answer he knew. “James has agreed to a mating bond--- I believe he desires it as much as I do. That is what I look forward to most.”

“That sounds beautiful, Spock,” she said quietly, and she laid her head on his shoulder. “Wait!” She pulled out her padd and searched for something. “I have a better idea. No suits.” She stood abruptly, hung the abandoned suit on the return rack and strode from the store. Spock followed her, bemused, as she called a thank-you to the clerk and flung the door open.

Nyota followed the map on her padd until they arrived at a small, brick-fronted building. There was no discernable signage, but Nyota pushed the door open. There was a melodic tinkle from a bell above, and they stepped into a dusty room.

There was only one person in the entirety of the store, and they sat on a stool behind the register, shrouded in the dim light. It wasn’t until Spock and Nyota approached and the shopkeeper turned that Spock was able to see that they were not human either, but Andorian.

The woman smiled, and as she sat up straighter her antennae became more apparent. “Welcome to Secondhand Silks,” she said. Her face was lined with wrinkles, and her hands were dappled with dark blue age spots. “Is there anything I can help you find?”

“Yes,” Nyota said confidently. “Anything from Vulcan?” The woman smiled, eyes and antennae flicking to Spock. “Of course,” she said, and she led them deeper into the store.

☆☆☆

It was not logical to be nervous, especially in front of Nyota, and yet he felt a twinge of something in his abdomen as he dressed out of the changing room to face her and the mirror.

Her eyes went wide. “You look beautiful,” she whispered, and she came to stand next to him as he beheld himself in the mirror.

This garment was right, in a way that the suits had not been. It was traditionally Vulcan, in a way that the suits were not. It was deep green, and the front was beaded, and the collar was asymmetrical and created a line from his neck down the left side of his torso. Tails flowed down his thighs and draped against the trousers, which were the same deep green. It fit him as if it had been made for him.

“I would like this,” he said. “This is right.”

“Yes,” Nyota said affectionately. “It is.”

The Andorian woman wrapped it up and Nyota purchased it for him (“it’s a wedding gift, Spock, don’t fight me on this”) and by the time they met McCoy and James back at the truck the sense of overwhelm that had threatened him earlier was gone.

☆☆☆

Apparently humans were not supposed to see each other the night before their weddings either, which Spock did not appreciate, but he had acquiesced when his mother and Winona teamed up to assert that it was important. For the first time since his first night in Iowa he laid in the bed in the guest room by himself.

So much had changed since that first night. He remembered the way James had almost reached for him, and had not--- they had not been in the habit of touching each other then. He had been so prepared to keep his hands clasped behind his back for the entirety of the trip, to call James ‘captain’ the entire time, in order to maintain both his professional decorum and the privacy that had hidden his true feelings from James. And all of those shields were gone now. He was allowed to touch James and be touched, to accept the human comforts he had never expected to be offered, and he had discovered an entirely new side of James in the process: one that would allow himself to be cared for by Spock, held and cherished.

He would accept one night apart in exchange for the promise of sharing a bed with James, wherever they may go, for the rest of their lives.

☆☆☆

Some feat of engineering had been accomplished in the barn by George and Montgomery Scott, and when Spock walked in with his parents it was as though he had walked into a cloud of warmth and light. String lights swung between the ceiling beams. Amanda and Sarek walked one step ahead of him, hands gently in the ozh’esta, and he followed them: the Vulcan tradition symbolizing how a parent leads their child on a path of logic. As they entered, his friends stood to look at them, and over Sarek and Amanda’s shoulders he could see their smiles.

They progressed down the aisle. His parents stepped to the side as they reached the front row of the folding chairs that George and Winona had hustled from somewhere, and he bent to accept a kiss on the cheek from his mother before continuing forward to stand beneath the chuppah that his mother had brought from Vulcan. It was the same one that she had used at her own wedding, and it had crossed over thousands and thousands of lightyears over thirty years to be hung in James’s parents’ barn today. Spock thought it was fitting for two such as they, who would spend more time on a spaceship together than they did on any single planet, to be married beneath such a spacefaring fabric.

Then James entered, and all other thoughts vanished. He wore a suit, and he was beautiful. He was accompanied by his parents, and he was beautiful. There was nothing else in the room but James, and the warm golden glow of his eyes and his smile and his hair, and he was beautiful. He glanced around at their friends, and he smiled at them as he saw them all, and then his gaze landed on Spock, waiting for him.

There you are, his eyes said. I’ve been looking for you. He walked with his parents down the aisle, and he kissed his mother and shook his father’s hand and kissed him too before depositing them in the chairs next to Spock’s own parents, and then he turned to meet Spock beneath the chuppah.

“James,” Spock said quietly, taking his hand. “You are exquisite.”

“You look amazing,” James breathed. “I can’t believe we’re here.” Spock pulled him closer until they were chest-to-chest and wrapped one arm around James’s waist.

“Are you ready, ashayam?”

“Hell yes,” James said, and Spock heard a few of their friends laugh at his characteristic eagerness. Spock intertwined their fingers.

“Parted from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched. We meet at the appointed place,” Spock said, and lifted his hand to James’s face.

James breathed in deeply. “Parted from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched. I await you.” He tilted his head, allowing Spock access to his psi-points.

Pressing slightly into James’s mind, Spock said, “I would bond with thee, ever, and always touching and touched.”

He felt James’s mental agreement even before James whispered the words back to him, and then they were both gone.

Golden and midnight blue, twisting together, shimmering into a thousand million sparks until they were both standing before each other, no longer in the barn or on Earth but somewhere for just them. James looked around them. “It’s not usually so clear,” he said in wonder.

“No,” Spock said, watching him, feeling James’s excitement through the air between them. “This is deeper than we have gone before.”

“Dirty,” James said conversationally, and took Spock’s hand.

“Are you prepared, James?” Spock asked.

“I think I’ve been ready for this for a long time. I knew from the moment we met that you were important to me, and every day since then has just confirmed what I already knew.” He squeezed Spock’s hand. “Spock, I’m a better man when you are with me. Even before this trip, I would have done anything to keep you at my side. All I want for the rest of my life is for us to explore together.”

Spock squeezed his hand in return. “James, you have shown me the best of humanity, even when I could not accept it in myself. It was serving alongside you that I finally understood where I fit in the universe. There was and is nothing that could take me from you.”

James’s eyes shone with warmth and tears. “Bond us, Spock.”

Spock raised his other hand to James’s face and placed his fingers on his psi points. “This may be uncomfortable,” he said. “Psi-null individuals frequently find deeper psychic connection to be difficult at first.”

“I trust you,” James said, and he kept his eyes on Spock’s as Spock said, “Ever and always---”

But he did not have time to finish the sentence before James’s mind was opening to accept him. The warmth of James, his optimism and joy, his love and affection and faith, flooded outwards, basking him in sunlight.

“Touching and touched,” James said, and he raised a hand to Spock’s psi-points, mirroring the gesture on Spock’s face. As his fingers brushed the psi-points, the world around them exploded in light.

☆☆☆

For one second, Spock became aware of himself and James, still pressed against each other. His hands were both on James’s face, and as their friends and family watched James lifted his hand to Spock’s cheekbone.

“Touching and touched,” he said, and his fingers found Spock’s psi-points. Psychic energy cracked between them, sparking. Then Spock’s hands, still around James’s face, began to glow. The glow, green like Vulcan blood, grew from his hands and flowed down his forearms to his shoulders, up to his own face and James’s hand. When they were both covered in the green glimmer, Spock felt it erupt between them: a permanent mental bond, deeper than anything he had ever felt. It was deeper than the childhood bond he had shared with T’Pring; it dove deeper into his mind than any healer or elder ever had; and it was anchored deeper within him than even his familial bonds with his parents. James’s eyes widened, reflecting the glow of the psychic energy.

In Spock’s mind he felt every memory they shared flowing down the bond: the first day they met on the Enterprise, every away mission, every time they had put their bodies in between the other’s and danger, every vigil sat in Medbay, chess matches and meals, late nights of paperwork and condolence letters and a thousand of James’s easy smiles. Friends, brothers in arms, lovers.

“T’hy’la,” Spock whispered, and James surged forward to kiss him. Under the chuppah, in front of their friends and family, James held his face in both his hands and kissed him as boldly as if they had been alone. Spock slid his hands into James’s hair and around his waist and kissed him back as the people who loved them most cheered.

☆☆☆

The Kirk family farmhouse had never been so full of laughter and merriment as it was on that day. James remained glued to Spock’s side, with a glass of champagne in one hand and Spock’s hand in the other, basking in the celebration. Joanna hung off his waist and had demanded an introduction to Spock, and she had offered a terrible but endearing imitation of the ta’al and said that she liked his eyebrows.

“I tried to teach her on the train ride up,” McCoy said gruffly, watching his daughter wind through the legs of the adults but somehow always manage to locate James. “Fine motor skills are still developing.”

“Her attempt is deeply appreciated, doctor,” Spock said. “It was considerate of you.”

“Yeah, well,” McCoy said. Spock waited, but the rest of the sentence was not forthcoming. He stood next to Spock and watched Nyota and Christine charm James’s parents and catch up with Captain Pike.

“Funny about them too,” he said eventually. “I told Christine not to pine after the bridge crew, Lord knows the lot of you are heartbreakers, but maybe I was wrong.” He glanced at Spock sideways. “Maybe I was wrong about all of you.”

At another point, Captain Pike and Number One sidled up to Spock, and Una tapped her glass against his.

“So this was the time-sensitive assignment Kirk pulled you off to when you bailed on me? Being wooed?”

“It seems so, captain,” Spock said. “My apologies. I had intended to assist with your cadets, but James has a habit of deconstructing my schedules.”

“No apologies necessary,” Pike said. He and Spock watched James, who had begrudgingly been separated from Spock to have a conversation with Sarek and Amanda across the room. Sarek had yet to indicate his approval or disapproval, but Amanda was beaming at him, taking both his hands in her own. “I can’t think of a single person who would be better for you, Spock. You balance each other.”

“Thank you, captain,” Spock said, and he meant it.

Over the course of the evening, their friends floated through the house and out to taxis that would take them to their hotels in Riverside proper. Winona had offered Sam’s bedroom to McCoy and his daughter with only a few tears shed, and McCoy had embraced her for it. Amanda and Sarek stayed in the guest bedroom, Spock rejoined James in his bedroom, and Nyota and Christine had been installed on the pullout couch in the living room.

James sprawled on his bed, watching Spock carefully remove and fold his wedding garments. “I have one more thing for you,” he said, and he reached into the top drawer of his bedside table.

“Is it more lubricant? That bottle must be nearly empty,” Spock said, placing his wedding garments onto the dresser and coming to lay beside James on the bed. James rolled his eyes at him and pulled out a small, black, velvet box.

“Har, har,” he said. “No, it’s something else. I wasn’t sure, culturally, if this would work for you, but once I thought about it… I had to ask.”

“I would appreciate anything you give me, James,” Spock said, but he beheld the small box curiously. “What is it?”

James opened the box and held it out to him. Within were two metal bands. They were a silver-blue--- Spock estimated tritanium--- with a different metal inset in the middle that he could not identify by sight.

“Wedding bands,” Spock said softly. “You want--- to display that we are married?”

“Only if that’s alright with you,” James said. He pulled one out, with a slightly smaller diameter than the other. “If you want it, this is for you. Do Vulcans wear wedding rings?”

“Vulcans do not,” Spock said, and before the flash of disappointment that he felt though the bond could appear on James’s face, he continued, “But I do.” He offered his hand to James, whose smile was as soft and loving as anything Spock had ever seen. James took his hand and slid the ring onto Spock’s finger.

“I ordered these after the first night you slept in my bed,” James said quietly, running his finger over the band on Spock’s. “They’re tritanium--- like the Enterprise--- and meteorite. I always thought meteorites were a little romantic… that even though so much of space is just a vacuum, a tiny piece of something landed on a little planet somewhere and was noticed.” He looked up at Spock before looking down again, blushing slightly. “Like us. Even though we’re from different planets, we still found each other.”

“James,” Spock said softly, and reached out to brush his other hand across his cheek. “Do not be embarrassed. I would be honored to wear your ring.” He pulled the other band out of the box and lifted James’s hand.

James’s breath caught in his throat as Spock slid the ring onto his finger. “You ordered these the night after we slept together for the first time?” Spock asked.

“Yes,” James whispered, and he threaded their fingers together so their rings clicked together gently. Spock pulled James to him and caught his lips with his own before pulling James down to lay on his chest. James laid his hand over Spock’s ribs, his ring laying over his heartbeat.

“I still can’t believe you agreed to come with me,” James sighed after a few minutes, and drummed his fingers against Spock’s ribs. “You might have stayed in San Francisco and I would still be pining after you and all of this would be a distant dream.”

“I never would have stayed,” Spock said. “The decision was made as soon as I saw you standing at my door. James, I would have followed you wherever you had asked.”

James propped himself up on his elbow, eyes searching Spock’s face. “Honestly?”

“Honestly, captain,” Spock said. James laid back down. Spock pressed a kiss to the top of James’s head, just as James had to him on the first night they made love.

“You haven’t called me captain in weeks,” James said. “I almost missed it.”

“I will call you captain as frequently as you would like,” Spock said. “Captain.”

“It’s our wedding day, Spock. Call me ‘husband’ or something.”

“As you wish, Captain Husband.”

As James’s laughter rumbled against his chest, James’s soft hair brushing the underside of his jaw, and James’s hand with its wedding band resting possessively against his heart, Spock closed his eyes. As he fell asleep with his bondmate in his arms and a wedding ring on his finger, he thought that he was going to be forever grateful for every plan of his that James had ever disrupted, because every disruption had led him here.

#spock #spirk #kirk #tos #my writing #spirktober2023 #spirktober #k/s #kirk/spock #kirk/spock fan fic #k/s fan fic #space husbands #star trek fan fiction

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blackleatherjacketz · 8 months

Text

Find Me After

Kirk x La'an (Strange New Worlds)

Summary: What if Kirk was single when La’an told him about her love affair with his Alternate Self?

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Mature Content, Mutual Pining, Survivor's Guilt, Angst, Longing, Grief, Alcohol, Flirting, Confessions of Love, Kissing, Neck Kissing, Dry Humping, Vaginal Fingering, Finger Sucking, Kirk being his usual slutty self:)

Tags: @bluemoonperegrine @liminal-zone

An entire universe of possibilities flickers in the golden browns of his eyes, blending into olive streaks as he stares at her from across the table. Those deep, earthy tones hold her fast as she tries to convince herself to look away, to look at anything else in her immediate vicinity, but she finds herself helplessly drawn in. Drawn into the same eyes that had longingly studied her face in a world far beyond her own, ones that had once lingered on her lips before he decided to press his against hers. Eyes that will now forever remain shut.

“So what did Sam really do to make you dig through his personnel file, huh?” His smile warms the empty space between them as he takes a sip of whiskey, those lively eyes of his all but twinkling in the dimming lights of the bar.

“Oh, you know Sam,” she reaches for a believable answer to give him as she follows suit, cautiously sipping her espresso martini for a jolt of energy and a bit of liquid courage. “Always pushing the limits of protocol in the name of xenobiology.”

She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that Sam is just as far gone as his own doppelgänger, that both of them are lucky to be alive in this current universe where she gets to enjoy their company in very different ways. That the news that his brother could still be alive in another timeline was enough for him to help her until the very end.

“Nah, that’s typical,” he interrupts her morose thought pattern with a slight, barely noticeable lean forward; but La’an notices everything. “You know, when I asked him about the Enterprise’s chief security officer, the person that I pictured was more gruff, stern and cold…” He pauses his cruel description of her to gently place his hand on top of hers, his half-cocked smirk reminding her of the familiarity he once shared with her. “Not someone nearly as warm and beautiful as you.”

La’an freezes at his touch, his warm fingertips brushing over the fine hair of her knuckles as the space between them grows smaller with his blatant compliment. Is it possible that the instant connection she’d felt with his alternate is somehow still there between them, here and now as the blood rushes to warm her cheeks? Or is she merely projecting her own desires onto this unknowing version of a man she barely knows, a man who only looks like the first person who’s ever seen that side of her?

“You don't mean that.” She leans in just enough to mirror his level of interest, a smile curling at the corner of her lips as her hand happily remains under his. She figures it couldn’t hurt to play into it, after all.

“I’m a Star Fleet officer, Lieutenant,” he reassures her with a wink. “I always say what I mean.” He smiles before swiftly pulling away, leaving her hand cool and empty as he leans back in his chair to take another swig of his drink. “So why don’t you start with the truth.”

“Excuse me?” She leans back in unison, taking offense at his tone before removing her hand from the table.

“So, why don’t you tell me why you really called me that day about Sam’s record,” he prods, a knowing smile crossing his lips, contradicting the consistent warmth of his friendly stare. “I may not always get along with my brother the way that I should, but I know he isn’t one to break protocol or get into trouble.”

He knows. The Jim that she’d gotten close to was always two or three moves ahead of everyone else on the chessboard, constantly thinking his way out of any problem that might come across his path, and saw no reason for this version of him to be any different.

“Lieutenant?” He attempts to bring her back to reality.

Uh-oh, she panics.

This was a mistake. She should have known better than to have tempted fate like this, than to have said anything or brought him here as if nothing had ever happened between the two of them. She should have never thought that she deserved something more than that brief glimmer of hope… than that fleeting flash of love she chose to share with him. She should have known that all she was destined to experience in this life was the heavy grief and painful heartache of survivor’s guilt.

“I should go,” she whispers under her breath, standing up from her seat to disguise her obvious embarrassment.

“Please don’t.” He grabs onto her wrist, eyes wearily aiding him in keeping her near as he silently pleads for her to stay. “You’ll waste a perfectly good martini.” He points to her half finished cocktail with his opposite hand as nearly every eye in the bar begins to watch them, their collective conversations hushed into a dull whisper.

La’an watches his features soften, that mask of performative flirtation seeming to melt away entirely as flashes of the other Kirk, of ‘her Jim’ begin to break through. She takes her time sitting with the obvious discomfort of her crew’s heated glare, weighing the pros and cons of berating him in front of them for touching her in such a flippant manner. They all knew that if any other person had grabbed her like that, they’d have been met with a quick elbow to the nose or shoulder… or something worse. Only he wasn’t any other person.

“You can finish it for me, if you’d like,” she suggests, gingerly taking her arm back from his longing grasp as the crowd slowly begins talking amongst themselves again. “But if you really want to know,” she clears her throat and adjusts the top half of her uniform, pulling it taut down her torso. “Meet me in my quarters in twenty minutes.”

————————-

“So what was so important you couldn’t tell me at the bar, huh?” He waltzes into her personal quarters after she opens the door, turning around to face her once he’s halfway into her living room. “Did Sam tell you about all the bar fights I got into back in the day or…?”

“No,” she cuts him off with a shake of her head. “Nothing like that.” Instead, she points to her coffee table adorned with an ancient tea set, silently inviting him to sit and stay a while.

He follows her gaze over to the couch, nodding before casually sitting down on the stiff sofa with his arm slung across the back rest. “Is there another reason you invited me back to your quarters late at night?” He smirks, “People might talk.”

“Right,” she hadn’t really thought of that. “Well, I just didn’t want anyone else to hear what I’m about to tell you.”

“Okay,” he leans forward with piqued interest. “I’m listening.”

“It’s just that I know you.” She bites the bullet and confesses the bulk of the bitter truth right away, not allowing herself any room for retreat. If she doesn’t tell him how she feels right here and now, she fears that she won't ever be able to do it again.

“Yeah, and now I know you. That’s hardly a good enough reason to invite someone out then leave your guest all alone at the bar after only one drink.” He relaxes a bit and sits back in his seat. “Half of one, actually.”

“No, that’s not what I'm saying.” She follows suit and sits down next to him, his scent somehow more intoxicating at this close proximity. Are those notes of sandalwood and citrus she’s smelling? How had she not noticed those before?

Focus, La’an, focus!

“What I’m trying to say is that I really know you… romantically.” She picks up the handle of the teapot and begins pouring the piping hot liquid into both of their cups, glancing up quickly before setting it down and looking away. “Or at least… a different version of you.”

“A different version of me?” His eyebrows all but disappear into his hairline before falling back down, only to furrow in between his eyes. He swallows hard, scooting in closer with genuine curiosity as she maintains her stoic posture. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

She nods, mentally urging herself to continue. “I know that I’m supposed to ignore it, to pretend that it never happened, but whenever I see you here on this ship…” She takes the chance to stare into his eyes, ready to be ridiculed, only to be met with solemn understanding. “Whenever you look at me like that, it reminds me of the other version of you and it’s almost the exact same feeling I get when he looked at me on Earth.”

Jim tilts his head before placing his hand onto her knee, holding eye contact as he studies the pieces on the board in front of him, trying to plan out his next move. He allows his thumb to gently rub the inside of her thigh, to change that worried expression on her face into a relaxed smile as it brushes over the dark fabric of her uniform. “Do you like the way I look at you?”

“More than anything,” she confesses in a stifled whisper. “And I know it wasn’t you, but a part of me can’t help but wish that it was.” She takes in a deep breath, turning her body towards him as his knee slowly slides between her thighs, his hand all but guiding her into him. “Look, I know it’s a lot to take in, that it’s unfair to compare you to someone who made me feel so happy and free, but there was an alternate timeline and he…”

Jim’s lips press against hers just as easily as they had before, soft and gentle as the warmth of his kiss intensifies, magically relieving all the tension she held in her neck and shoulders. That faint scent of his cologne mixes in with the hint of whiskey still on his lips as she parts her own to embrace this welcome connection. Somehow all of that grief and sorrow she’s been carrying with her has been lifted, the sensation of his mouth now all she can think about as her hands find their way onto his chest.

“What was that for?” She can’t help but ask as he barely pulls away.

“You were about to tell me the secrets to an alternate timeline,” he pecks at her lips again, an amused smile wrinkling the skin around his eyes as he runs his fingertips over the grooves in her braids. “I’m just trying to save your ass from the time police.”

“Oh, is that right?” She laughs, nudging her nose against his as her hands smooth their way up his neck into his hairline. “You know about the time police?”

“I thought everybody did.” He kisses her again, more fervently this time as his tongue brushes against hers, parting her lips with a more passionate hunger than the other version of him ever had.

La’an allows herself to feel that hunger, too, that need she always heard about but never quite understood until now. It pulses in her core, growing in warmth the more he touches her as he practically breathes new life into her lungs. She inhales this new yet familiar feeling, remembering flashes of it with the other Jim before it increases her desire to taste every inch of him, that primal urge to feel his skin flush against hers. In an attempt to do so, her teeth practically clash against his as she pulls him in even closer, her breath quickening as she feels the shock of his palms against the bare skin beneath her uniform.

“Did the other Me make you feel anything like this?” He shifts his weight so that he’s practically on top of her, his thigh rhythmically rubbing against her needy center as his hands survey every supple peak and valley of her chest beneath the fabric of her shirt.

“Yes,” she gasps as he continues kissing a blissful trail down her jaw and neck, his tongue doing wonders to her sensitive, untouched skin. “I mean no, nothing like this.”

He smirks against her throat as he feels her match the slow, hypnotic rhythm of his knee, thrusting her hips up into him as the sporadic pattern of her breathing eventually mirrors his own.

“How about this?” He slides his hand down the front of her pants and watches her face change, those dark brows of hers knitting together in pleasure as his fingers dip down between her folds before the deafening sound of a hail echoes against the walls, halting his progress.

“LA’AN, YOU’RE NEEDED ON THE BRIDGE.” Una’s authoritative tone brings them out of the moment and into the present as they both hold their breath in unison, looking up at the speaker on the wall. “LA’AN?”

“Yes,” she finally responds as Jim brushes his fingertips over her swollen bud a few times, spreading her growing moisture up and down her length before freeing his hand from her wasteband. She watches him coyly suck her juices off his digits as she attempts to finish communicating with her superior officer, clearing her throat in order to sound more professional. “Yes, I’ll be there soon. Umm… acknowledged!”

“Damnit.” He laughs before his head drops onto her chest with a defeated sigh, his auburn locks now resting against her chin as he listens to the pounding beat of her heart. He smoothes his hands up under her shirt as her back instinctively arches into his embrace, kissing the fabric of her shirt before laying there in silence. He wonders just how lucky his alternate had to have been to find her in an another universe, especially one that ended up bringing them both together in this one, here and now.

“I’d better go,” she sighs, weaving her fingers through his hair as her chest rises and falls in utter disbelief. “Even if I don’t want to.”

“I don’t want you to, either.” He lifts his head to look her over, to really take her in as he caresses her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “But I’m pretty sure Captain Pike would have something to say if he knew I was keeping you.” He leans down to kiss her lips one more time. “Come find me after?”

#strange new worlds #james t kirk #la'an noonien singh #la'an x kirk #kirk x la'an #star trek #star trek: strange new worlds #star trek fan fiction #paul wesley #christina chong #la'an noonien singh x james t kirk

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sgtwhiskers26 · 2 months

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Older obscure Star Trek fanfiction

Due to the previous recommendations being super long, here are two stories that are only a few chapters by the same author as always, please don’t hesitate to PM me if you want to discuss the work and enjoy

The first one is

Almost Home by Alelou

Published, November 23, 2007

Angst, a mysterious, alien device, and saying please is all you need to do to win your man back.

Second story is

Coming Home by Alelou

Who knew Scrambled eggs taste better outside a simulation and gaslighting the history books is the best way to maintain a work-life balance, and it's always fun messing with Archer.

#star trek #star trek enterprise #trip x t'pol #older obscure star trek fanfiction #star trek fanfiction #star trek fic #st ent #ent #trip tucker #trip #t’pol #enterprise #star trek ent #star trek fan fiction

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spockbag · 4 months

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As people around me are recapping their 2023 I’m wondering… how can I tell them I’ve spent the whole year writing fanfic and smut for a 50 year old TV show… y’know like a normal person would. -Or do I just keep it a secret until I’m on my death bed then give everyone irl the link to my magnum opus ??

#fic writers #help me #spirk #star trek #star trek tos #fanfic #star trek fan fiction

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ensignsimp · 3 months

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This Blog is Made Possible by Viewers Like You, THANK YOU!

Computer, how do you give someone a hug on the internet?

I just woke up to a huge bombardment of requests and asks! And I love it! It makes me so happy! I'm so glad so many of you were able to find me again and I appreciate your support as I rebuild my page! Thank you all so much!

#star trek #star trek x reader #star trek x reader requests #star trek x readers #star trek headcanons #star trek headcanon #star trek fan fiction #requests open #thanks for the ask!#thank you #love you guys #ensignsimp blog #ensignsimp #ensign simp #star trek tos #star trek tng #star trek ds9 #star trek voyager #content requisitions open

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strangenewwords · 5 months

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Chapter Update!

One morning, Admiral Kirk's unbreakable bond with his husband is suddenly severed. The cause? A temporal anomaly that has turned the 55-year-old Spock into his 31-year-old self. Now, they find themselves on an uncharted path, facing an uncertain future where their shared journey hangs in the balance, teetering between continuity and divergence. Jim figures out how to fix things. There's sex, quelle surprise.

#star trek #star trek fan fiction #spirk #spirk fanfiction #the premise #k/s #k/s fanfic #spock x kirk

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stra-tek · 5 months

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Two rare unfinished fan films, watch them before they'll pulled (again)

youtube

Origins: The Protracted Man's working title was "Star Trek XI Done Right", and tells a flashback story about Cadet James T. Kirk, his father George Kirk and Pike's U.S.S. Enterprise

youtube

Torment of Destiny features the late Richard Hatch, and returns to Yonada.

#star trek #star trek the original series #star trek fan fiction #fan film #star trek fan film #star trek new voyages #richard hatch #Youtube

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 30 days

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A Khan By Any Other Name

a prequel to Star Trek: Into Darkness

mystery, suspense, danger ~ romance & NSFW material to follow

summary: Seraphina DiPietro is wise in the ways of the world of world; she has to be, as she travels the California coast as a torch singer in pubs, bars, and nightclubs. She knows how to take care of herself and stay out of trouble--most of the time. When trouble comes, it's usually because she lets her kind heart overrule her common sense. Stopping to check on a handsome stranger stranded roadside in the Mojave Desert, her curiousity is piqued as much by his classic, mint-looking Mustang, as by its driver--a tall, dark, mysterious drink of water, whom she quickly learns is so much more than he appears.

characters: Khan Noonien Singh (aka: John Harrison), Seraphina DiPietro (OC)

word count: 2.4k

Chapter One

Her first mistake had been slowing down to have a second look. Three plus years with a vintage car enthusiast (her ex now, thank god; three months gone and good riddance to him, her mantra whenever he crossed her mind) had ingrained the habit in her. The habit, frankly, plus an appreciative eye for the sweetest of rides. Thanks to Simon (and his obsession), she could distinguish in seconds between the genuine article and that which easily fooled the masses, a cunningly detailed replica—and the sleek ragtop that looked to have skidded to the side of the road, leaving a spray a gravel and black, burnt rubber in its tracks, was absolutely the real thing.

So she’d slowed down, only half meaning to, cataloguing the fine details and quickly estimating its worth, while admiring its classic lines and the bright flash of its chrome detailings. Seraphina couldn’t keep from grinning, thinking about how instantly covetous Simon would be in the face of such a find, and how jealous he would feel to know that she had stumbled upon it with no effort whatsoever.

The man bending over the open hood

straightened as she passed, arresting her attention with a commanding, steely gaze that left her feeling like a marked woman. As though he not only saw her, in her every visible feature, but somehow inexplicably knew her—and needed her. Vitally, and immediately. Despite the lick of common sense apprehension that fluttered through her vitals, simple curiosity and a deeply embedded tendency to act the good Samaritan had Seraphina making her second, even bigger, mistake of the afternoon--pulling over to park her hovercraft several feet in front of his stalled vehicle.

She looked into her rearview mirror; he had turned to watch how she would proceed, holding his hands up with his fingers splayed wide, surely his way of expressing she could approach him safely. “Not so fast, buddy,” she murmured, “I wasn’t born yesterday…and I’ve seen your kind before.” Sera cut the engine, pulling the keys from the ignition and flicking the lock mechanism off the small can of mace dangling from her keyring. She wasn’t so foolhardy as to face the tall, well-built stranger unprepared; nearly a decade of travels up and down the coast of California, performing in seedy, small town dives, then upscale pubs and bars, and finally city nightclubs, had taught her well to be ever on her guard.

And she’d learned a few tricks in the course of her career, for if the mace should fail; she could—and had—flipped a drunk onto his back a time or two, who’d tried to cop a feel when she passed across a darkened dancefloor; and she knew all too well how much force was necessary, knee to groin, in order to incapacitate those pigheaded brutes who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer when they followed her out to the parking lot at the end of a gig. Handsome he might be (decidedly so, she mused, angular features, piercing eyes, thick, dark hair, an errant lock strayed upon his brow; such a striking combination!) but she was not fool enough to ever judge the book by it’s cover.

The stranger stood motionless a moment more, the light breeze ruffling that wayward lock until he brushed it back, a swift yet languid move that spoke of cat-like grace and an elegance that didn’t fit the setting or the way that he was clothed. He was straight-backed, slim-hipped, long-legged--and poised with a confidence befitting a prince, and not the work-a-day posture of a blue-collar joe or road-weary drifter. Yet the smile he gave her did not reach his eyes; Sera found it a little feral, and felt her pulse increase as a taste of adrenaline—that trusty “fight or flee” response—hit her system.

But she was already committed, having left the safety and cool comfort of her two-seater; if he was an actual threat, the worse that she could do was show the weakness of timidity now. Sera left her sunglasses in place, determined he would not read a bit of doubt in her eyes or bearing, the can of mace tucked neatly in the palm of her left hand, and walking forward into the dry, baking, Mojave Desert heat.

Sera gave a low but audible whistle, advancing as casually as she could, finally calling out to him, "She's a real beauty--and someone's taken serious loving care of her too." The 300-year-old Mustang appeared as close to mint as any vintage vehicle she had ever seen; given its obvious value, she had to wonder why the hell he would even have it on the road--especially in desert conditions. That instinctive voice of warning sounded an answer in her head: that's because it's not his.

Okay, Sera, she cautioned herself, give him the benefit of the doubt; he could have come by that automobile in any number of ways. She stopped a half-dozen steps from where the stranger stood, aiming to read his reaction as she asked, "Early 21st century, right?"

The man smiled--more sincerely this time--and nodded. "That she is," he replied, sparing a brief look at the stalled car, "Unfortunately, she's not going anywhere, anytime soon." His smooth, deep voice was as pleasant to the ears as his form was easy on his eyes, and his accent distinctly British, leaving Sera to ponder how and why he'd found his way into the midst of the Mojave. "I believe it's the transmission," he added.

In an instant, his eyes flicked downward, as though he registered that small, innocuous movement. She rushed to fill the vacuum of silence that hung between them, hoping to distract him from whatever suspicions her little move might have awakened. “I know collectors,” she told him, running her right hand through her hair, fluffing it a bit, hoping to draw his eyes upwards again “…fanatical ones, who would pay a small fortune to make such a treasure theirs.” She leaned toward him, adopting a confidential tone, honest in her curiosity, “However did you manage it?”

Sera could hear the tick of the internal combustion engine as it cooled, informing her he hadn't been stranded long. Surveying the area behind the Mustang, she spotted several telltale puddles of transmission fluid in the car's wake. "Looks like you might've blown a hose," she speculated, indicating the fluid spotting the back trail. "Those kind of parts are few and far between these days...but I bet we can find a mechanic who might be able to juryrig something enough to get you on the road again."

She turned back to find him watching her, his exotic-looking eyes narrowed. Appraising her in a way that made her feel...exposed. Unnerved. Vulnerable. Sera squeezed her hand against the reassuring weight of the small, defensive weapon cupped in her palm.

He inhaled sharply, a fleeting look of calculation crossing his face. “It was an unexpected…” he paused, studying her carefully, “…but well-timed acquisition of…convenience.” Such a reply was far too vague to answer her question—but didn’t surprise her in the least.

“Then you must be a man of remarkable luck, Mr…” Sera let her voice trail off with the question, fully expecting there would be little truth in his answer.

And then he was moving past the safe cushion of space between them, extending a large, powerful looking hand towards her, as way of introduction. “Harrison. I’m…John Harrison.” His grip was firm, not too tight, but Sera sensed—felt—a strength restrained that fit his bearing perfectly. Intimidating, but not frightening; confident—and intriguing her beyond her good sense should allow; and his eyes were locked on her, regarding her with such curiosity and healthy appraisal, that she slipped her sunglasses atop her head without a moment’s hesitation, meaning to meet his gaze directly.

Sera hadn’t realized she was staring until he cleared his throat. “And you are?” he asked, smiling warmly, surely feeling the advantage now of having gotten past her bravado. Her mouth felt dry—it had to be the arid atmosphere and not embarrassment over her awkward reaction to him--so that her tongue actually stuck a moment before she stammered out her name. “Seraphina.” She said it rather breathlessly, then bit her lip against revealing her surname.

Harrison had not released her hand, although his grip was gentle, and the warmth of his skin pleasant against her own. “Seraphina,” he repeated, the small smile creases bracketing his mouth deepening, and a hint of his true smile finally reaching his eyes. “Lovely name, Seraphina. Exotic in its way, and as rare and fetching as a desert rose.”

Ordinarily, Sera would laugh off such obvious flattery; she’d had enough of it--and insincere at that--throughout her years as a torch singer. This stranger—John Harrison—looked a better class of man than those who usually tried to ply her with compliments. That was no reason, of course, to take him more seriously than any of the others. And yet she felt a sort of…solemnity…about him; a dignity and self-assurance that spoke of a far more purposeful life than those of plain, ordinary men. He was damned attractive too, enough to have her a bit flummoxed at so dear a distance.

"Seraphina,” he reiterated, teasing the syllables along, the depth and richness of his voice making her shiver a little despite the desert heat. “A derivative of seraphim, the highest order of celestial beings in religious myth. Heavenly, fiery, winged immortals, tasked with surrounding and praising the throne of god.” He leaned nearer, well past that unspoken barrier of personal space, closing his eyes while inhaling deeply through his nose, seeming to seek her essence by scent alone.

Such unexpected intimacy left Seraphina speechless, every instinct she had telling her to give ground a step or two—yet she remained still, for when he opened his eyes, she found herself fascinated by their changing hue. Seraphina had never seen such striking eyes on a man before; and she’d have sworn that they were blue. Pale blue when she’d seen them from a distance, in the bright, unfiltered sun; then a surprising, piercing, azure when she met him face to face. Now they seem to shift unpredictably from purely blue to nearly green with however the light played upon them, with flecks of gold speckling around the pupils.

“I wonder,” he mused, almost to himself, while Sera remained entranced and silent, unable to look away despite knowing she must look utterly foolish, “Might you be the angel of mercy I’m in such desperate need of?”

Befuddled, Sera sputtered back, "I...um...what?", finally taking a step back and pulling her hand from his grasp.

"I mean to say how fortunate I am, you came along precisely as you did. " Harrison shrugged and took a step back as well, his manner self-effacing enough to lend sincerity to his words. "And that your nature is a kind one--I imagine most women would have cruised by without a care for my predicament, given this isolated location and the potential threat I could embody."

Regaining her composure, Sera lifted her chin proudly, "I've managed to look after myself for many years now, and in dodgier situations." Her usual insoucience restored, she asked the most vital of questions, looking him squarely in the eyes to read the truth before he even answered, "Do I have reason to fear for my safety, Mr. Harrison?"

His eyes widened and he grinned, and then he began to laugh. Heartfelt, and deep in his throat; the rich sound of melted, dark chocolate--the rare sort of sweet that was supposed to be healthy for one, but only if consumed in moderation. A woman could lose herself in such a laugh, she realized, and I'll bet he knows it too.

"If there was any reason at all, you've quite disarmed me already." Now it seemed he was sizing her up beyond first impressions--and liking what he saw, by the look of satisfaction on his face. "I promise you, Ms..."

"It's just Seraphina for now please, if it's all the same to you. " Sera pressed her lips thin against the smile that wanted to break forth, enjoying both his unspoken surprise at her overall boldness--and what she dared to believe was an appreciation for her physical charms.

Harrison acquiesced with a tilt of his head. "Then I promise you, pretty Seraphina, that I harbor no ill intent towards you. And I would be deeply indebted to you for the aid I am sure you intend to offer me."

She felt her cheeks flush at his easy compliment--not taken in, but happy to accept it nonetheless. "Well, it's a shame to have to abandon her here, but the closest hope you have for a spare part--and a mechanic with working knowledge of antique cars--is at least a hundred miles away."

"Alright then," he affirmed, moving past her to slam shut the Mustang's hood, "We should probably be on our way."

"Of course." Sera turned to follow him, wanting a closer look at the rare vehicle before they drove away. "You should put the top up too; you may not make it back here until tomorrow at least."

He nodded again, striding to the driver's side door to start the car and raise the top. Something not quite right here, she thought, frowning; I could swear that this model and the ones that followed, had a remote on the key fob to control the mechanism. It reminded her that she'd initially thought the car did not belong to him--and that somehow she had allowed his charm cause her to lower her guard.

She stepped to the passenger side, hoping for a peek inside to confirm her growing suspicion. "You ought to raise the windows, too," she told him, leaning close enough to peer inside the passenger side window, "No telling what might find its way inside here once darkness falls. It gets pretty cold here at night..." Sera swallowed hard when she got a look at the ignition cylinder; it had been removed from its place beneath the steering wheel and hung down by several wires. The wires themselves appeared to have been rearranged.

Her heart in her throat, Seraphina searched her memory for the word to describe exactly what she was seeing. Hotwired. That's what they called it; a quick and easy way to boost a car. Simon had educated her, marveling at the skill of those he'd read about who could do do in under a minute. She'd never dreamed of seeing something like it up close. Yet there it was, and the man who'd done it clearly hadn't wanted her to see it. Which meant...

He was faster than her by far; almost preternaturally fast. Harrison had grabbed her left arm ( --- damn, he had noted she was carrying something there! --- ) through the window opening, his iron grip digging into her flesh painfully. "Drop it," he ordered her, "Drop it now. I can explain everything if you just remain calm, Seraphina."

She didn't mean to, but she whimpered softly, not only at the discomfort he was inflicting, but also for the cold menace in his eyes. Had she thought them beautiful, compelling, alluring, just moments ago? Now it seemed to her they were the deadliest eyes she had seen in her life.

(to be continued)

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adarkroomandawallflower · 11 months

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hey there! nice to see another active star trek blog 😃 could you do some relationship with Data hcs if that's okay? what it would be like?

Hello! Welcome to my blog, and thank you so very much for taking the time to pop this request into my inbox! I agree, it's always nice to find other active Trek blogs 😊

Yes, that's absolutely okay!! I think we all know that being in a relationship with Data would be so wonderful because it would be a very happy, healthy, and exciting one, but I think the specifics of the relationship would vary, based on one major factor: whether or not you both were stationed on the Enterprise together. Thus, I split these headcanons up to sort of compare and contrast this factor. As a result, this response got really long...😅

I hope that's okay, and I hope you enjoy!

Being in a relationship with Data if you're not stationed on the Enterprise with him:

Data is very detail-oriented and enjoys following a routine (or at least as much of a routine as he can follow when living on a galaxy class starship that runs into unpredictable problems several times a week), and I think he'd be even more detailed and routine-oriented if you were posted somewhere other than the Enterprise.

Because Data loves the older, more traditional aspects of humanity, I think he would love writing letters/messages. I like to think that every M-class planet has a post office-esque space station next to it, so people can "mail" things to each other (maybe every quarters in a starship has a little mailbox-like transporter where they can receive mail from these stations?). Whenever Data visits a new M-class planet, he would try to pick something up for you, and drop it off at the mail space station nearby.

Despite his love for handwritten letters, I don't think he'd do that very often if you weren't on the Enterprise (he'd definitely include one whenever he sends you a "package", though), but he would send you subspace messages via your PADDs fairly frequently.

He'd try to send you messages almost daily, depending on how busy he is and what nonsense the Enterprise is currently involved in.

The messages would probably be similar to his personal logs, but with a more jovial and romantic touch:

Dearest,

It has been quite a day! An accidental virus was created in Sick Bay this morning, which later became airborne, causing the entire ship to de-evolve into ancestral life-forms. The Captain and I were on an Away Mission during this time, and did not succumb to the virus (the Captain was infected upon on our return, but he did not fully succumb to the infection nor de-evolve). With the Captain's help, I was able to create a remedy for the virus, and all of the crewmembers have since returned to their normal, humanoid forms.

Meanwhile, during all that 'excitement', Spot birthed a healthy litter of kittens! She had five kittens in total: four males and one female. Strangely, one of the kittens elicits thoughts of you in my neural net. I am uncertain why this kitten seems to 'remind' me of you, but I believe that is something which you would find endearing.

Has your day been equally or comparably exciting? How is your current project progressing? Did you receive the 'package' I 'mailed' to you last week? (I shall reserve the extraneous details about said 'package' until our next correspondence, so as not to ruin the surprise, if you have not yet received it.)

I anticipate your response, and look forward to our next 'meeting'!

Your 'Sunshine',

Data

In addition to frequent subspace messages, Data would also schedule weekly video calls with you!

Those calls would be more personal and less clinical, but still professional and sweet.

Spot would also make frequent appearances in your video calls!

You always end your video calls by blowing each other a kiss (sometimes, Spot steals your kisses, and Data will teasingly scold her "Spot, that osculation was not intended to be received by you!")

Data probably has years worth of Shore Leave racked up, which comes in handy for you because he can almost always take his Shore Leave at the same time as you.

You're able to spend nearly all of your scheduled Shore Leaves together (except in the few instances where a last minute emergency happened on the Enterprise, and you weren't able to reschedule your Shore Leave to accommodate this). You usually try to visit a different planet each time, but if the two of you have a favorite or preferred planet, you would also schedule multiple Shore Leaves on that planet.

I think that Data is a very private person, in the sense that he doesn't offer personal information unless he feels it can be used as a helpful anecdote or example, or someone directly asks him about it.

Thus, I think he wouldn't mention you to his friends for a while, but when he does mention you, it would probably be seemingly random, as a somewhat relevant afterthought:

Riker: I don't know how couples stationed on different ships or stations make it work. Our current technology is great and makes it much easier to keep in touch than in previous centuries, but I just can't imagine not waking up next to the one I love every day...

Data: It can be difficult, in that sense, but my partner and I do not see it as a difficulty or challenge. In fact, in some aspects, it is more rewarding, as it makes our physical encounters more 'passionate' and meaningful.

Riker: I guess you're right, Data. It would be more pass---wait, did you say, "my partner"???

Data: Indeed, I did, Commander.

Riker: Data!! You have a partner, and didn't tell us??

Data: *soft, confused look* No one has inquired about my partner thus far, and I did not deem it a relevant aspect of my personal life to discuss, until now.

Riker: *shocked Pikachu*

Of course, once the rest of the crew finds out, they practically beg Data to meet you, which leads you to scheduling your next Shore Leave to be a trip to the Enterprise.

Data is so excited for your visit, but he'd never admit it.

He spends weeks planning everything he wants to show you, what activities he wants to do with you, and updates his quarters a bit to accommodate a second person temporarily living there.

Although he's not quite worried or anxious about the crew meeting you, he is a bit concerned that they might overwhelm you. So, he makes sure that he's the only one in the Transporter Room (aside from whoever is manning the Transporter at that time) to greet you when you beam aboard.

The first thing you see when you materialize on the Transporter Pad is his sweet, gentle smile, and his arms stretched out completely in front of him for a hug, "Welcome aboard, Dearest!"

The rest of your trip is spent doing date-like activities (i.e. holodeck adventures, trips to the Arboretum, painting and/or reading with him and Spot in their quarters, etc.). Overall, it's a very relaxing and sweetly domestic/mundane time, which both of you enjoy greatly.

He gives you a tour of the whole ship, which ends in you meeting his friends for a small celebration in Ten-Forward. The celebration is very chill, and mostly involves them telling you stories about their adventures and funny things Data has done or experienced during his time on the ship.

They also tease Data relentlessly, much to his chagrin. It's all affectionate taunts, like how he could have kept you a secret for so long, how he managed to "snatch you up", whether his romantic subroutine was "effective", etc.

While Geordi proceeds to tell the story of when Data let him "borrow" Spot, you move a hand under the table and take Data's hand softly but firmly into yours. Data blinks and turns his head to look at you in soft surprise, and when you return his gaze briefly, you flash him a warm smile.

Realizing this was likely a sign that you were feeling comfortable in the presence of his friends, and despite the jesting of his friends, you felt an enhanced desire to express romantic affection with him somewhat publicly, he softened his expression and posture, and entwined his fingers with yours as his lips curved upwards into a faint smile.

Troi, who's sitting beside you but angled in such a way that she can see slightly underneath the table, catches this and beams happily.

The evening ends with lots of warm welcomes and words of acceptance into their little Found Family. Everyone already loves you, and Data is so pleased!

After that first trip, whenever Data is unable to schedule a Shore Leave at the same time as you, you schedule yours to be on the Enterprise (much to Data's delight).

Being in a relationship with Data while being stationed on the Enterprise:

As mentioned in the previous set of headcanons, Data is very traditional and old-fashioned (in the best way!), and would enjoy older forms of romantic affection, such as handwritten letters, surprise gifts, etc.

Since you're on the same ship, now he can give you handwritten letters more frequently! They would come in the form of daily/routine notes, such as leaving a little sticky note on the replicator with a silly scientific joke on it, and formal love letters. He'd also leave you a little note on his pillow, if he had to unexpectedly leave during the night/earlier in the morning, and won't be able to join you for breakfast (more on this a little later).

As far as his penmanship goes, I think he would write in perfect, beautiful cursive, and probably use a quill and ink when writing a full letter. When writing official/formal love letters to you, he'd also probably use melted wax and a stamp to seal them (both as an additional security/privacy measure, but also because he's so delightfully extra like that). For his little notes, he'd probably just use a regular pen, but it would still be written in neat cursive.

You return the favor by leaving him little notes written in binary code around your shared quarters or his work areas, which he absolutely adores. He's very pleased to have this sort of inside joke, although he finds it difficult not to discuss it with others (he knows this defeats the purpose of an inside joke, which is why he refrains from doing it, but he wants to share this amusing tidbit with someone else so badly sometimes).

One of the things I think Data would covet in a romantic relationship is spending time together in a very literal/strict sense (especially because he knows that this part of a relationship is always threatened when serving on a starship), but also keeping in mind personal space.

He does this in two ways: First, he'd have scheduled, formal dates with you, probably once or twice a month. These dates would typically include holodeck adventures and trips to the Arboretum. Second, he'd have routine, daily "dates" with you. These would include having meals together, doing your individual work separately but in your shared quarters, and having philosophical/intellectual conversations.

Because Data enjoys traditional romance, he would want to share meals together, even if he decides not to eat himself. He tries to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner with you every day. Of course, this is not always possible when stationed on the flagship of the Federation, so he's a bit more lenient about missing breakfast and dinner.

However, he is very strict about lunch. In all your time stationed on the Enterprise together, you can count the number of times Data had to cancel lunch with you on one hand. All those cancelations were due to extreme circumstances (i.e. him being kidnapped for several days).

He (almost) always makes sure that you both take an official lunch break together. It's never anything fancy or formal (usually just the two of you in one of your offices or in a quiet corner in Ten-Forward, chatting about how your days have been so far), but it's very special and important to both of you.

Data also likes to end these little lunch dates with a literal "treat", like a cookie, tart, or whatever other sweet treats you enjoy, that he'll share with you.

He doesn't do this every time because "the element of surprise can make the reward even more pleasurable", but you do somewhat expect it. Regardless, it always brightens your day and makes you smile!

He insists on eating it with you, and always lets you have the last bite.

He'll also try to be extra cute every once in a while by attempting to do the classic Lady and the Tramp spaghetti moment (it doesn't work very well for desserts, but it always makes you laugh because he ends up getting some of the dessert on his face) or by feeding you a bite or two.

Lunch dates always end with a soft little peck, exchanged smiles, and gentle farewells.

You'd be very perceptive of Data's love for routine, so I think your main form of love-language for him is to incorporate a little routine into your romantic affirmations and affections with him.

One of the major ways you'd do this is by sort of scheduling your kisses. I strongly believe that cheek kisses are his favorite/preferred form of physical affection, so you'd always start your days with him by giving him a cheek kiss. You'd likely do this right after your shared breakfast/before the two of you part to start your days.

Once this becomes routine, he'd be a little cheeky (pun completely intended 😈) about it. For example, if you're running late one morning and try to leave without giving him his morning cheek kiss, he'd give you a very pointed look and extend his cheek out towards you, "Are you forgetting something, Dearest?"

If one of you isn't there in the morning due to work, don't think he's letting you get out of his promised daily cheek kiss! He'll make sure to squeeze one in during your lunch break later that day.

I think he'd also enjoy nose kisses, both a little peck to his lovely snoot and bunny kisses/nose nuzzling. I think Data considers sharing deep conversations in private together to be a very intimate activity. So, this would typically trigger his intimacy circuits, if you will, which would make him want to cuddle, bunny kiss/nose nuzzle, etc. These moments are likely when he'd be most physically affectionate with you.

In general, he considers these kinds of kisses to be more intimate and not "appropriate" as PDA, so these would be shared exclusively in your quarters.

Knowing his love for routine, right before you both go to 'sleep' each night, you'll kiss his nose softly (and just like the morning cheek kiss, you can expect him to remind you about it, if you ever forget).

Speaking of PDA, I don't think Data particularly enjoys PDA. Personally, I think he would only want to hold hands (especially on your Arboretum walks/dates), and share an occasional cheek kiss. That being said, if you'd prefer more PDA, then he would consider displaying other forms of affection with you in public (he'd still never do anything he deems to be 'too intimate', though).

Sometimes, when Data is really busy but you aren't, you'll just sit near him and his console while he works, with Spot curled up in your lap. He especially enjoys and appreciates this, although he can't explain why. Something about sensing your proximity and your relaxed vitals is very comforting and soothing for him.

I think Data's main love-language for you is sharing time/moments together. In particular, he enjoys moments where both of you are doing your own, individual work/things in each other's company. Usually, this involves Data softly tapping away at his console while you're on the couch with your PADD.

Spot also enjoys these moments, and will go back and forth between the two of you to get her desired amounts of affection.

However, he sometimes feels a little guilty about those moments because he's concerned that you're bored or that your free time could be better spent elsewhere.

You always reassure him that you're never bored and the activity is equally soothing and enjoyable for you, and that usually brings that cute little smile onto his face.

I think both you and Data would also have a bit of magpie instincts, so another one of your love-languages for each other is exchanging surprise and nuanced gifts with each other.

Data would definitely hand-make gifts for you, but those would be very meaningful and reserved for special occasions (i.e. birthdays or anniversaries). For other occasions, the gifts would be seemingly random, but actually quite personal. For example, on one Away Mission, he found a little rock that was the exact color of your eyes (and I mean exact, his positronic net calculated a 99.9999917% match). He can't explain why, but he had a strong urge to bring it back and give it to you, so he did (after intensive testing to ensure the rock didn't harbor any biological or chemical dangers, and was safe to keep aboard the quarters of a starship).

On your side, this would usually include artwork, either something you made yourself or purchased from other artists. Another common gift you'd give him is flowers/plants. I think Data absolutely adores plants, and almost nothing brings a smile to his face as easily as you surprising him with a lovely flower bouquet during his shift (note: I think Data would consider exchanging gifts in public as a form of PDA that he appreciates)!

Eventually, this leads to Keiko joking that your quarters is the Arboretum 2.0 of the ship because "your plant count comes very close!"

When he presents these kinds of gifts to you in public areas, nearby eavesdroppers would find it a bit odd, but you know what a deep and endearing sentiment it actually is, so you always appreciate it very much!

Whenever he'd get a questionable reading, he'd contact you immediately, make sure you're in a private area, and double check you're okay:

On busy days, especially ones where you don't get to see each other as often, he makes sure to check on you through the use of your Communicators. I think Data would keep tabs on you throughout the day, checking on your physical and mental well-being, this way.

Additionally, if you have a chronic illness, he'd also keep track of that (with your permission and approval). For example, if you wore some sort of device that monitors your condition/relevant vitals, he'd adjust that device so that its readings were shared instantly and constantly with his positronic net, especially in case of an emergency.

"Data to Lieutenant Y/L/N."

"Lieutenant Y/L/N here."

"Are you in a private area?"

"Not at this time."

"Are you able to relocate to a private area momentarily?"

"Yes, one moment."

"Acknowledged."

"Okay, I'm in my office now. Is everything okay?"

"That is the inquiry I have for you. I just received some questionable readings from your health monitor, and wished to 'check in'. Have your slightly elevated vitals been reduced? Are you hydrating properly and frequently? Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, my elevated vitals have been dealt with, and are currently on the path to returning to normal. Yes, I just had some water about fifteen minutes ago. And yes, I'm feeling okay. Thank you for checking in, Sunshine. Are you doing okay?"

"I am...relieved to hear that you are alright. Please refrain from straining yourself excessively for the remainder of your shift, if possible. Yes, I am fine. Thank you for also 'checking in' on me."

"Will do, and of course. I have to get back to work now, but I'll see you at around 21:00 hours for dinner?"

"Yes, I anticipate that my shift will conclude in time to keep our shared dinner arrangement at 21:00 hours. I will contact you immediately if this changes."

"Sounds good...good luck with the rest of your shift, and I'm fond of you very much."

"Likewise, Dearest. Data out."

A/N: Okay, I think that's finally it...I really hope this response was satisfactory for you, anon! These were really nice and comforting to write 🥰 Thank you again for the request, and please feel free to add on to these ideas and/or send in more requests!

#data soong #data tng #data star trek #data x reader #star trek the next generation #star trek tng #star trek fanfiction #star trek fan fiction #star trek headcanons #headcanons #noll's narratives #my writing

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sourb0i · 6 months

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Wrote a short little Data one-shot

#my writing #my fanfiction #star trek #star trek fan fiction #tng data #tng geordi #fluff and humor

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indeedcaptain · 6 months

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Spirktober 2023, day 29: Promotion

Happy NaNoWriMo :) I'm on a writing trip with some friends so I've had lots of time to think about finishing these prompts, and I think I'm going to wrap them up in a multi-chapter fake married adventure :)

Also posted on AO3 here!

☆☆☆

Kirk pulled his hands behind his back and accepted the call in his ready room. “Admiral April,” he said, smiling. “What can I do for you?”

April frowned at him, no niceties present. “You can stop blocking Spock’s promotion.”

Kirk’s stomach dropped away from him as he swayed on his feet. Spock? Promotion? Blocking? Spock’s leaving? He heard a rushing in his ears as he said, “I’m sorry, Admiral--- I’m not sure what you’re referring to. Spock’s…?”

“Yes, Kirk. Your first officer? The only man to turn down acceptance to the VSA? Who has been following you around and cleaning up your messes for years? Does that ring a bell?”

“I know who Spock is, Admiral. His… promotion?”

“With the retirement of Captain Bergara, he’s the obvious choice. We haven’t been able to get a hold of him at all, Ambassador Grayson is giving us the cold shoulder, and your padd has been bouncing back all messages referring to Spock from admin for two weeks.”

“My padd?” Kirk was not following this conversation at all, and not only because he was blindsided by the idea that Spock might leave. As far as he knew, he hadn’t received any personal messages from the admin at HQ in months.

“Stupid doesn’t suit you, Kirk. I know you rely on him, and Lord knows you might be the only human being in the universe that he actually likes, but he’s too talented to be a first officer forever.”

Kirk blinked, rapidly trying to clear his head and only somewhat succeeding. “Admiral April, I swear--- this is the first I’m hearing of this. I haven’t received any messages about Spock being promoted.”

“I know. Because they’re blocked on your padd. As I said.”

Kirk spluttered as April continued, “Your reputation as a computer genius precedes you, Kirk--- don’t play dumb with me. Read my messages. Talk to Spock. Convince him to do what’s logical and take his own captaincy. April out.”

April broke the connection and Kirk was faced with his own reflection on the black screen. Dumbfounded, he stared at the console as he played over the conversation in his head. The admiralty wanted Spock to be a starship captain. That made sense. Kirk had thought for years that Spock was sometimes a better strategist than he was. But he hadn’t received any messages about it, and Spock was playing hard to get, and apparently even Amanda was refusing the calls from her home planet about it.

“Computer, where is Mr. Spock?”

“Mr. Spock is currently in his quarters.”

Kirk killed the lights on his way out and headed there immediately.

☆☆☆

Kirk knocked on Spock’s door after only a few minutes of agonizing about what to say. As he had strode down the long hallway from the turbolift to Spock’s door, he had realized that, though he might be a whiz with computers himself, Spock’s knowledge far outpaced his own. If Amanda was neglecting her duty as an ambassador from Earth to Vulcan, she would likely have a damn good reason. And Spock himself was playing coy with the admiralty.

The door opened and Kirk stepped inside. Spock’s room was warm--- he always set it hotter than the rest of the ship--- and smelled like his meditation incense. God, the idea that, soon, there would be no more Vulcan incense filling their bathroom and the hallway with its smoky sweetness made his heart ache. The Enterprise without Spock?

“Captain,” Spock said, standing next to his desk. “With what can I assist you?”

“Mr. Spock,” he said, entering the room. The lights had been dimmed, and the sweet smoke of the incense floated from a recently extinguished firepot. Spock’s Vulcan instruments hung from the walls, and the shelves were filled with both Vulcan artifacts and the other accoutrement he had collected on their travels. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

“Certainly, captain,” Spock said, and he clasped his hands behind his back. His face was perfectly impassive. Whoever said Vulcans couldn’t lie had never known one for more than a few days--- or never knew one who had spent significant time with humans.

“Have you heard from the admiralty recently?”

“No, sir,” Spock said. He held Kirk’s gaze, and then Kirk knew he was hiding something.

“Is that because they haven’t reached out, or because you personally haven’t seen the messages?”

Spock closed his mouth, and Kirk knew that he had him. He walked further into the room and set himself halfway on Spock’s desk, crossing one leg over his knee.

“Did you hack my padd?”

“Not yours specifically, captain.”

“Will you tell me what you did?”

Spock’s eyes flashed in the dim light, but Kirk held his position. He had to at least know what Spock had done and what he wanted before he could make any further decisions. Finding out that the admiralty wanted Spock on his own ship without Kirk had thrown him off-guard, but the knowledge that Spock had been avoiding the request soothed the sting. He would make his peace if Spock wanted to leave. But if Spock didn’t, and the upper brass was trying to force him out… well, Kirk had gone to war with them before for less. To keep Spock? He would do anything.

“I would apologize if my actions have put you into a difficult position, captain.”

“I don’t care if you broke my padd or hacked the ship. But I just got off a call with Admiral April, asking me why I was blocking your promotion. The promotion I didn’t know about.”

“Captain, I---”

“Spock. What’s going on?”

Spock sighed, and his posture slumped minutely, and he braced himself against his desk with one long-fingered hand. “The admiralty has requested that I leave my position as first officer and take command elsewhere.”

“But you’ve been avoiding their calls. And your mother has too.”

“I am not interested in talking to them. And my mother knows what I intended for my career,” Spock said.

“So you don’t want to leave.” The fist of tension that had clenched Kirk’s heart since April’s call was slowly releasing its grip.

For the first time, Kirk saw shock in the set of Spock’s face. He squared his shoulders, facing Kirk, and said, “No, captain. I do not want to leave.”

Kirk slumped on Spock’s desk, bracing his hands against his knees, and smiled at his first officer. “That was all I needed to know.”

“You will not… discipline me? For interfering with the ship’s messaging system?”

“Oh, is that how you did it? No, Mr. Spock. I wish you had told me first, but I’m not going to court-martial you. I had just feared…” He trailed off. “I was afraid that you wanted to leave but did not want to tell me.”

“I did not want you to endure any hardship or disciplinary action on my behalf. I thought that if I prevented you from having to respond to the admiralty, you would not feel obligated to obey their commands.”

Kirk gaped at him. Spock’s eyes were trained on the ground by his feet, his hands clasped behind his back, and his face revealed nothing. “Obligated? Spock, if you did not want to leave, the admiralty would have to take you off the ship over my dead body.”

Spock’s eyes flicked to him, covertly, hopefully. But then he broke eye contact and pointed them towards the wall over Kirk’s shoulder. “I hope it will not come to that, captain.”

“I would prefer that as well.” Kirk laughed. “But I’m serious, Spock. You can tell them no. There are other captains. I’m not going to let them take you if you don’t want to go.”

Spock inhaled through his nose, closing his eyes, and for the first time Kirk registered the stress in the lines of his shoulders. He reached out, closing his hand around Spock’s upper arm.

“We’re a team,” he said, as Spock’s eyes opened again. “I don’t want you to leave either. We’ll figure out something. They can’t take you if you don’t want to go.”

“I wish I shared your faith, captain,” Spock said, but he gestured to their abandoned chessboard from a few nights previous and, when they sat to complete the game, a little of the tension had left his posture.

Spock wiped the floor with him, but Kirk couldn’t complain. He would let Spock win every game they played for the next three years if it meant he wouldn’t leave.

☆☆☆

“I’m sorry, but I’m breaking up the band. We need him on this science vessel, and you can have anyone else you want for first officer.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” Kirk said, trying very hard to keep the child-like petulance from his voice. He kept his hands clasped behind his back to prevent them from shaking on-camera. “And First Officer Spock doesn’t want to leave.”

“It’s not about what you want. It’s about what Starfleet needs.”

“He told you. He doesn’t want a captaincy. He doesn’t want command. That attitude does not exactly make for a stellar captain. You’re going to make him do it anyway?”

April glared at him, and even over the hundreds of thousands of lightyears between them Kirk felt his disapproval. The other admirals behind him avoided Kirk’s eyes. “Change his mind, Kirk. Or we’re sending someone out for him. April out.”

The screen between them went black and Kirk slumped back against his desk. He had thought--- after April’s first call--- that Spock saying no would have been the end of it. But Spock wanted to stay, and Kirk wanted him to stay, and he was going to lose him anyway.

He dropped his head into his hands, running his fingers through his hair as he thought desperately for a way to make this work in their favor. Then his padd dinged.

>CPike: I don’t envy the position you’re in. I would have felt the same way.

>CPike: How well do you know Fleet regs?

>JTK: As well as any captain. Why?

>CPike: [Attachment: StarfleetRegulationManual.pdf]

>CPike: You’d do anything to keep him?

>JTK: Yes

>CPike: I don’t mean to make any assumptions. But take a look at the regs about who can and can’t be separated.

>JTK: I’ll take a look. Thank you, Chris.

As the hint of an idea percolated in the back of his mind, Kirk tapped on the attachment and the familiar document opened on his padd. He scrolled past all the introductory monologues about the values of Starfleet and searched for “separation.”

He flipped past all the entries about being fired, losing limbs, and getting lost in space, until he landed on the entries about crew fraternization and inter-crew relationships.

The next entry that came up in his search read:

Married Partnerships; on ships, on starbases, at the Academy.

Starfleet regulations prohibit the separation of legally bonded couples while serving on the same ship, starbase, or at the Academy or Headquarters.

Kirk read the simple paragraph three times. He chewed on his lip as he re-read “legally bonded couples.” If they were married, they could not be separated. He thought about marrying Spock so that they could not be separated. He thought about them being able to serve together for the rest of their careers, regardless of who was placed where. He thought about not being able to marry anyone else for him and Spock to pull this off.

"Computer, where is Mr. Spock?"

#spirk #kirk #spock #spirktober2023 #my writing #kirk/spock fan fiction #k/s fan fiction #star trek fan fiction

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