uhura's quarters

Designated Walker (Jim Kirk x Reader)

Prompt: I was wondering if I could request a JimxReader fic where they go to a party and Jim gets a bit tipsy and the reader has to drag him home and he later apologizes? - @imaginenterprise

Word count: 1,790

Warnings: alcohol; possibly language (since I can’t guarantee that I kept that PG ever)

A/N: that took me much longer to write than I thought and the apology is a very, very tiny part of it so maybe that’s not what was precisely wanted? i also feel like it’s a jim kirk piece that’s a little light on the jim kirk? i hope not! i really do hope that you like it!

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M is for Menstruation (13/26)

Fandom: Star Trek (AOS/TOS)
Pairing: 
 ReaderXBones
Prompt: Fic 13 of 26 in the CMO’s Log – A to Z series.  Click here for a listing of all the fics in this series!  M is for Menstruation.
Word Count: 
998
Warnings:
talk of PMS symptoms, slight suggestive theme at the end, fluff otherwise.
Rating:  Teen+.
Author’s Note: This prompt was requested by @yourtropegirl !  Let’s be honest, we could all use this kind of TLC once a month. 

M is for Menstruation

Leonard McCoy is a brilliant boyfriend, and an even better physician.  With the perfect balance of those two traits, he’s been watching you for months, keeping notes on the subtle ways in which you always behave differently under the influence of hormones.

You can feel his eyes on you when you sit down to breakfast with an extra helping of whatever it is you’re in the mood for on that given day.  You know he’s paying attention when you white-knuckle the console you’re bending over as the cramping in your lower back and abdomen gets borderline unbearable. You can tell he’s noticed the swings in your temperament.

To his credit, he hasn’t mentioned any of it. You can tell that he’s considered bringing it up, but his tact has kept him from being forward.  Similarly, you’ve considered bringing it to him, too, but talking to your lover about such intimate issues just feels like it would be too awkward and would take the romance right out of your relationship. So, you suffer in silence.

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In the Library

As she slid the PADD back into its place on the shelf, Nyota felt a comforting wash of heat against her back and shoulders.  Spock had stepped close behind her and was reaching over her shoulder to reshelve another of the tablets she had scattered across the table she’d claimed after exploring all of the library’s darkened corners and tucked away alcoves.  It was the closest he’d been to her since that morning when he’d hovered over her while she sat at his desk studying line after impeccable line of the code he’d written for her research into the Romulan language.

She stood, not moving, her fingers motionless on the spine of the PADD’s cover.   He’d move away from her soon.  Any second, and she wanted to lose herself in the feel of having him so close to her again before he reestablished the careful distance he’d been keeping between them almost all day.  But Spock didn’t move away.  He stayed leaning over her, his hand on the shelf just below her eye line where he’d replaced another one of the PADDs she’d been pouring over, not quite so close that he pressed against her, but near enough that she could feel the brush of his uniform against her hair every time she breathed, as if he were uncertain whether he should reach for her.

Slowly, so as not to push him away, she turned and leaned against the shelves behind her.  The familiar sounds of a crowded, well-used library, the scrape of a chair against the floor, the soft thunk of something solid dropped onto a table, the hushed whisper of a debate too important to put off until later, faded away until all Nyota could hear was the soft rush of Spock’s breathing and an almost inaudible rumble that she thought might be his heart.  It certainly wasn’t hers, which was roaring in her ears, pounding at the base of her throat.

The red cloth of his uniform jacket was thick and almost stiff when she clenched her hands into the front of it and started to pull him down to her.  He didn’t reach for her, but Nyota could see how his fingers tightened on the shelf next to her out of the corner of her eye, and she felt more than saw him brace his hand against the shelf behind her hip.  The expression he wore was as blank and impassive as when he had first found her, surrounded by PADDs, immersed in a text dating back to the beginning of the Earth-Romulan war, but his eyes shone in the artificially bright light of the stacks.  This close, she could see how his irises darkened, shifting from their usual deep brown and becoming almost as black as his pupils, as he stared down at her with an unyielding focus that only a few weeks before would have made her self-conscious and uncertain but now only made her pulse race.   He smelled exactly the way she remembered, warm and rich, with a faint, lingering undertone of smoke and resin.

He didn’t kiss her.  Not at first.  Instead, he leaned in to nuzzle her cheek and then bent his head to the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply.  His lips were warm and dry against the soft skin just behind her ear.  Still not a kiss.  Instead, his mouth moved against her skin, murmuring words she couldn’t hear, raising the baby-fine hairs along the edge of her hairline and causing her breath to catch and stutter as her heart battered against her ribs.

“Nyota?”  His voice was the barest whisper, and she smiled.

“Yes?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t move away, either.  Nyota opened her eyes, which had drifted closed when he’d leaned over her, so that she could better glean what he was asking.  The question was written so clearly in his eyes, she wondered how she’d ever had problems reading him.  

Was this acceptable?  Was this what she wanted?  Was he what she wanted?

Yes.

“Yes,” she repeated, stronger and without a trace of uncertainty.

His smile was small and subdued, but it was a smile.  A real smile.  One of those rare shows of emotion Nyota was already learning to treasure.  And then, finally, he kissed her.

Kissing him shouldn’t have been so familiar already, so the most natural thing she could imagine.  But when his lips moved over hers, soft and careful and so delicate in their exploration, the piece of her that had been missing since she’d pulled her hand out of his and left him standing on the street in front of her flat all those weeks ago slid home.

Until the moment he pressed his mouth against the side of her neck, Nyota hadn’t let herself think about how much she’d missed him.  Which she had.  Missed the sharp, sly humor that had peppered their conversations when they’d been together but were rare when they spoke over the comm and the subtle shifts in tone and voice that sometimes weren’t conveyed electronically.  How the smallest change in his expression could sometimes communicate far more about his mood or thoughts than he’d intended.  And she’d missed the deliberate, methodical way he kissed and the startling heat it kindled deep in her belly.  More than the short time they’d known one another, the scant time spent in each other’s company, could explain.  

But knowing that did nothing to ease the want blooming inside her, and she only gripped his jacket more tightly, using her hold on him to straighten and raise up onto her toes so she could wrap an arm around his neck.  She had only just leaned into him, her fingers rifling through the soft, fine hair at the base of his skull when the pressure of his mouth increased, and she felt herself pushed backwards, the soft thud of her hips and shoulders bumping up against the shelves lost in the mewling sigh she was helpless to contain, and for a few precious seconds, nothing else matter except the needful pull of his lips, the hot slide of his tongue, the heat and weight of his body holding her firm against the stacks.  

Nothing else mattered.

And then Spock pulled away.  Slowly.  Gently, but still leaving her mouth hot and her body burning.  

“I apologize.”  His voice was far too calm and measured given that his fingers were still closed tight around the shelves behind her, and Nyota could only blink up at him, gasping and not quite able to catch her breath.  

“Why?”

“We are still in the library.”

The library.  The Academy library.  Where Spock had left her all those hours ago with her visitor’s pass, the classwork she always seemed to carry with her, and assurances that he would return as soon as he was able.  The library that had been unexpectedly full of red-clad cadets despite the day having grown warm and clear and, because she wasn’t familiar with the ebb and flow of the campus the way she would have been if she were already a cadet herself and not just visiting, might still be well-populated even though it was a Saturday night and probably just past dark.  

Reluctantly, she placed one last kiss at the corner of his mouth and let her fingers slide from the back of his neck to rest lightly against his chest.  “Are you sure your roommate is still holed up in your quarters?”