would you save community

anonymous asked:

Could you write one with Chekov based on the song "Hands Down" by Dashboard Confessional? I think that would be super adorable and fluffy, and I've been having lots of Trek Feels lately! 😊

Chekov X Reader - Hands Down

A/N – I kept changing plots then deciding I didn’t like it and re-writing.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T


Originally posted by despairingfever

Chekov perched on the edge of the bed in the quarters he shared with you, relieved that you were still working. It gave him time to think about how he would ‘pop the question’. There was no guide book on how to propose, instead there were trillions of stories ending in either acceptance or rejection; Chekov feared what would become of him if his proposal ended in the latter, he couldn’t imagine going back to a life without you.

“Ugh,” He groaned aloud. “How do so many people do zhis?”

A dozen or so methods cropped up in his mind, each creating more problems than solutions. Should he be traditional and go down on one knee or was that too boring? Would you like being asked in public or was that too much pressure? Would it be better to wait until shore-leave? Were you even in the same proverbial place that he was?

There were so many damned questions, the last of which terrified Chekov the most. After two precious years spent as a couple, Chekov could say, without a doubt, that he loved you and wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. However, although you’d already told him so, Chekov had to wonder, did you truly love him or were you just going through the motions?

“Nyet (No),” He whispered, “(Y/N) wouldn’t have stayed if (s)he didn’t love me.”

He jumped up, grabbing the ring box from its hiding spot inside his pillow case, “I can’t stand this waiting – I have to know now.


Chekov ran chaotically around the labyrinth that was the Enterprise, checking everywhere he thought you could be. If he had paused to think about it, he probably would have used his communicator and called you, saving himself a lot of time and energy; however, with such a life-changing decision distracting him, there was no time for stopping.

While Chekov searched, various ghosts of you appeared in his mind’s eye, each playing out a memory; the way you sauntered down the halls, how you hunched over microscopes, the night the two of you got locked in the store room… The last memory lingered, causing Chekov to pause outside said store room as if you would magically materialise there.

At the time of the memory, you and Chekov had only been on three dates; that night was supposed to be your fourth. You were in the store room, checking stock when he came to surprise you since he’d finished early; the plan was for him to help you finish your work so you could leave with him but there was a ship-wide power outage and the two of you had got locked in. The auxiliary power came on fairly quickly, allowing a dim light into the room but the doors remained stubbornly shut and something was interfering with the communicators.

“I guess we’re stuck.” You stated nonchalantly, the situation not bothering you at all after some of the more unusual events the ship had faced.

“Yes…” Chekov swallowed, trying to stay calm. Outside the storage room he had plans in place for your entertainment, conversation topics set up, places where his confidence would show; alone in a room with you though, he couldn’t be prepared for that.

The reason that Chekov was so nervous around you as opposed to his previous dates was that you had a reputation on the ship. The other crew mates had noticed that you didn’t tend to date. Ever. As such it had become a challenge to get your attention, various people attempting to wine and dine you like you were a prize.

Chekov had been utterly repulsed by the idea, you were a person, not a game. It was with that in mind that he first spoke to you, informing you of the indecent way the crew spoke about you. Most surprising to Chekov was your reaction, you had laughed until you were doubled over with tears streaming, when you finally calmed down you thanked him, stating you already knew about the unbecoming way you were brought up in most conversations. That’s when you asked Chekov if he wanted to go for a coffee and he accidentally suggested dinner in its place, making it an unofficial first date.

With your reputation in place, everyone constantly congratulated Chekov, making him uncomfortable around both them and you; if he was to spend even a little time alone with you in the store room, he knew the kinds of rumours that would spread and he couldn’t bare it if you got hurt as a result. Despite all of that though you spent the entire night talking to him, making him relax enough until he could freely reply without having to worry or care about anyone else.

By morning, just five minutes before the two of you were released, Chekov found himself staring at your lips, unsure of how you would react if he kissed them. Would you assume that he was just like everyone else and that your time together had been just another game or-

You kissed him, running one hand through his curly hair, the other cupping his cheek. He froze up, unable to react no matter how much he wanted to.

You pulled away with a grin, “I could see the look in your eyes. It’s okay, I know you’re not like that.”

After that, Chekov couldn’t hold back any longer, he kissed you until the very moment the doors opened, savouring your taste as if it was all a dream.


“Sweetie?” Your voice brought Chekov rapidly back to his senses.

He turned to face you, suddenly feeling that there wasn’t enough air on the ship at that moment. His skin turned an ashy white, his breakfast was threatening to make a return journey, and to top it all off, he was fairly sure that he’d never been the victim of so much sweat in his entire life.

He opened his mouth to speak but the words dies, turning into a strangled squeak .

“Pavel.” You prompted, concern etching its way onto your face, creasing your usually smooth brow.

Just the way his name rolled off your tongue made Chekov all the more hopeful in his endeavour, at the same time that it made him quiver nervously; something which he tried desperately to stifle.

“(Y/N)…” He gave a cursory glance around to make sure that nobody was behind him; it seemed that now he was about to ask the question he should do so in private.

“Is something wrong? Do you need to see Doctor Mc-”

“NO! Uh… no. (Y/N), I need to ask you something… something important.”

“Oh, okay.”

“It’s um- (Y/N), when people fall in love zhey- It may be crazy but-” With each failed attempt, the ring box in Chekov’s pocket got heavier; he briefly wondered how you didn’t notice it because it felt heavy enough to be a bowling ball instead of the tiny band it was.

You waited patiently, sensing that Chekov had to say whatever he needed to without interruption.

He took a deep breath, listening to the millions of speeches in his mind and hoping to piece one together that would work; then, as if by magic, he knew exactly what to say, “(Y/N), my life has become richer vith you in it. I love your sense of humour, zhe vay you show me zhe things zhat excite you, your vay of curling into me on a night. Everything. I tried to plan zhis but… Today and forever, my heart is yours to break or bury,” Chekov got down on one knee, holding the ring up like an offering, “Vill you marry me?”

You stared at Chekov, then at the ring, going back and forth between the two, mouth agape. You knew the answer but it still didn’t stop the overwhelming rush of emotions rushing through you: joy, love, admiration, adoration. There was too much happiness to be described with one mere word.

“Pavel Andreievich Chekov, I…” You fought to control your breathing, “I think we have a lot of plans to make. First of all, we have to tell the bridge.”

“You’re saying yes?” his expression was one of disbelief and elation.

You threw yourself on the ground crushing him into a tight hug and peppering him with kisses, “Yes, yes, one million times yes.”