#chekov/reader

[perseephoneee]

⭑ FIC RECS ⭑ part II

↳ fic recs part I ↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

it’s been a few months since I’ve shared fic recs, and tumblr won’t let me tag more people in the original post 😭

as a reminder— the kindest thing you can do for writers is reblog and comment :) it’s an exhausting job and they deserve your love

VAMPIRE DIARIES

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ KOL MIKAELSON

miscommunication @captainsophiestark

kinktobers 1 & 2 *smut* @wholoveseggs

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ KLAUS MIKAELSON

spellbound *smut* @shrenvents

OUTER BANKS

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ JJ MAYBANK

linecook!jj *smut* @princessbrunette

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ RAFE CAMERON

bittersweet *smut* @nadvs

MARVEL

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ LOGAN HOWLETT

“you’re not her” @not-neverland06

relationship hcs @corrupt-fvcker

sugar, sugar *smut* @eupheme

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ STEVE ROGERS

watchful eyes *smut* @espinosaurusrexex

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ LOKI LAUFEYSON

as the clock strikes midnight *smut* (series) @cleo-fox

TEEN WOLF

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ ISAAC LAHEY

tell me you want this @fangirl-writes

STAR TREK

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ JAMES T KIRK

aos kirk @asgards-princess-of-mischief

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ LEONARD MCCOY

pining @toboldlygohome

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ PAVEL CHEKOV

heads up @captainsophiestark

SUPERNATURAL

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ CASTIEL

noises @womanhopper

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ DEAN WINCHESTER

better than pie *smut* @hintsofhoney

[aerospas]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍 ; their pet name for you ── tos characters !

𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐒 ; ᶜʰᵃᵖᵉˡ, ᶜʰᵉᵏᵒᵛ, ᵏᶦʳᵏ, ᵐᶜᶜᵒʸ, ʳᵃⁿᵈ, ˢᶜᵒᵗᵗʸ, ˢᵖᵒᶜᵏ, ˢᵘˡᵘ, ᵘʰᵘʳᵃ

( SWEETHEART ) sweetheart ; they'll tenderly cup your face in their hands, their thumb gently tracing the curve of your cheekbone. each glance at you feels like a stolen moment of bliss, as if the universe conspired to bring you two together. in their eyes, you are the embodiment of all things sweet and pure, a cherished gem in a world of rough stones. they'll shower you with affectionate words and gestures, their love for you pouring out in every touch and smile.

kirk, sulu

( DARLING ) darling ; it is a term that dances on their lips with an effortless grace, carrying with it a promise of warmth and tenderness. their gaze holds a depth of adoration that knows no bounds, as though you are the centre of their universe, a guiding star in their sky.

chapel, mccoy, scotty

( LOVE ) my love ; they possess an innate tenderness that envelops you like a warm embrace, their arms a sanctuary where you find solace and comfort. they lavish you with affection, expressing their devotion through every word uttered and gesture made. in their eyes, you are not just a person, but a soulmate a companion in the journey of life.

chekov, rand, spock, uhura

[csint3rlude]

★ WHEN YOU’RE SICK — STAR TREK.

-> characters: jim kirk, spock, leonard mccoy, nyota uhura, montgomery scott, pavel chekov, hikaru sulu, christine chapel, janice rand

-> authors note: this isn’t specifically tos/aos btw you can read it as either (i wrote it with tos in mind but it can definitely be perceived as either). also not directly romantic or platonic but implied reader is super close with the characters

word count: 1.4k || masterlist

⋆｡° ✮ jim kirk

for the most part, he’ll kind of just let you be. he knows that you’re sick and for the most part just want to lay down and try to feel better, and he’s a captain who really can’t get sick in the first place so he doesn’t get to see you much anyway. he leaves the bridge a few times he shouldn’t to check on you or just see how you’re doing. if you ask him to bring you something he’ll kind of roll his eyes and smile a bit in a joking manner, like he can’t believe that you’re asking him but he doesn’t actually really care and brings it anyway. after his shift, he comes and checks on you immediately and stays for awhile at your bedside. he gives in immediately if you ask him to stay and ends up also getting sick over the next few days which drives spock and bones absolutely insane, but he still believes it was worth it.

⋆｡° ✮ spock

spock would be a little avoidant, but for the reason he thinks it’s not worth it for both of you to get sick. he’ll still check up on you however or ask every other hour or so how you’re doing, and occasionally checks up on you on his own a couple of times so he doesn’t feel something akin to worry as well. i think he’d bring you things without you having to ask. maybe he had a feeling or something you were hungry or thirsty, and the next time he sees you, he’s got water and/or food. he does this because while he’s very busy and can’t be around you all day and bringing you things all day, he still doesn’t think it’s smart for you to be walking around on your own so he just brings what he thinks you’ll need. he also does it to subtly show he was thinking about you (he was worried).

⋆｡° ✮ bones mccoy

the second bones has even the slightest inkling you’re not up to perfect health, he’s all over you about it. he’ll quite literally either just find you in the hallway or specifically call you to his office so he can give you shit for working while sick. after that, he specifically puts you under his care almost immediately. for the most part, he’s still kind of bitchy but he does loosen up and gets slowly nicer throughout the day as you continue to be sick. he doesn’t bring you anything himself on his own time but if you asked him and there’s nobody else around, he’ll sigh and go get your water or extra blanket or whatever you wanted. for the most part, he’ll just tell a nurse to do that. he’s by your side most of the day, except he’ll tell you it’s because he doesn’t want you to leave the sickbay and pass out or do something dumb, but it’s really because you’re his top priority to get out of the sickbay. he does notttt wanna see you sick

⋆｡° ✮ nyota uhura

worried, but somehow in the most calmest way possible. i think she’d catch you working while sick rather talk to you immediately when you wake up and realize you’re sick. you’re probably walking around in the hallway with sweaty skin, major fever, on the verge of passing out and she takes you into a room where you guys can sit down and she just says so calmly “you really shouldn’t have come to work today” and then walks you back, tells whoever you work with that you’re sick, and then takes you to your quarters. she doesn’t stay since she has her own job, but after her shift she comes back and sits at your bedside and just like checks up on you and sees if you need anything or for her to give you medicine or water or food or something. absolutely she teases you when you’re not sick anymore

⋆｡° ✮ montgomery scott

lowkey he doesn’t notice at first. he just assumes that you’ve worked too hard for too long and tells you to take a break for a bit. when you come back, still shaken and still sickly, he’s befuddled because he was under the impression you just were overworked. he keeps an eye out for the rest of the day after that, and also makes sure to give you some of the easier jobs until he figures out what’s wrong and the appropriate means of fixing it. once he does (finally) come to the conclusion that you’re not feeling well, he’s really calm about it. he ends up just taking you somewhere you guys can sit down and he’ll get you something to eat and drink and then just like talk to you for a few minutes, he drops you off at your quarters afterwards and lets dr. mccoy now that you’re sick

⋆｡° ✮ pavel chekov

will not leave you alone at all. he genuinely takes the whole day off to look after you and everything. it’s kind of like a package deal, you’re sick so he gets to stay with you. for the most part he’d be really sweet and would fold and do basically anything you asked of him soooo quickly <3 but he can also be really clingy and kinda touchy by accident, but for the most part he really wants to take care of you while you’re sick. he’s perfect for running and getting you things. the second you ask him he stands up and runs away and comes back two seconds later with whatever you asked him for. he’s bad with medicine and regularly checking your condition however, so he gets really annoyed when there’s the occasional nurse/bones himself coming into your room to check on you but also kind of yell at him for not keeping them updated. he’d also 100% get sick after and act like it’s your fault just to become whiny and pathetic within an hour.

⋆｡° ✮ hikaru sulu

he might be the best person to take care of you in this lineup. he leaves you alone when you’re sleeping and does his own thing, brings you soups he made himself with herbs to heal you, and actually regularly checks in and makes sure your not getting worse. he doesn’t fully leave you alone though, he will occasionally come in for a little bit and you guys can hang out while you like lay there and listen to him talk or vice versa until he has to leave to do something else. i feel like he doesn’t necessarily find out your sick from you and more-so hears about it and thinks “oh. i’ll go take care of them cause why not” so you’re under his care for the whole time. typa guy to also lowkey sit with you in bed every night and kinda like gossip and fill you in on anything you missed. but only for a little bit because after like 30 mins he tells you to rest so you feel better

⋆｡° ✮ christine chapel

when you’re dragged into her office looking half dead on a random afternoon she kinda just sighs and lays you down on one of the beds. she’s very sweet while she takes care of you, but you can still see part of her wishes she had something more eventful to do. she’s another person who’s absolutely fantastic to be taken care of (the ranking is: bones, sulu, chapel btw). makes you take the most awful thickest worst tasting medicine ever but it’s after effects are absolutely delightful. while she gives it to you she says “it won’t taste good, but it’ll feel good when it kicks in.” and kinda smiles. you wouldn’t have to be embarrassed to throw up in front of her because she encourages it, tells you that if you don’t wanna be sick you have to throw up. she’d hold your hair back for you and bring you something to drink afterwards before sitting on the edge of your bed just to talk about whatever for a few minutes.

⋆｡° ✮ janice rand

she wouldn’t say something to you directly, but she’d tell whatever senior officer you’re around the most that she doesn’t think you’re feeling well. she visits you later, however. janice is smart, and she knows you’re gonna ask her for something, so instead she tries to think of important things you might ask her for like entertainment or food or water and just brings it all. she’d try to do it in a way where it just looks like she’s taking care of you, but she does kind of make it like a sleepover (where she doesn’t actually sleep over, she stays until you fall asleep peacefully) because she knows it’ll be more enjoyable for you. i think after you fall asleep she’d like tuck you in a little bit and make sure you’re warm and comfy before leaving <3 she never speaks a word of it again and acts so casual about the night afterwards if it’s mentioned

[discoonthegrass]

Finally, no overlaps between the ships! Do you wanna date Bones more than Chekov and Sulu wanna date each other?

If you want to send propaganda of your favorite ship, drop it in my inbox! Feel free to reblog in order to help this poll reach the most people! Remember to vote on the other polls in this round, listed here.

[mybullshitsensesaretingling]

Optimistic

Request:

hi hi!!! i've been reading through some of your stuff and its all just ahh<3 anywho I was wondering if you could write some AOS!Chekov x reader maybe? somethin with either a doctor reader working under Bones or an enemies-to-lovers type? of course you don't have to if you don't want I just though i'd ask

ok love ya bye

A/N: I got this request in 2021. Anon, if you're still out there, I am so sorry. What's worse is that I genuinely wrote most of this soon after getting the request and then just... got distracted. I went with the doctor reader request but tried to put in some enemies-to-lovers vibes. Its more annoyances-to-partners, but I hope you still like it. It's a different side of Chekov than I normally write too. Hopefully y'all enjoy exploring that side as much as I did

ok love ya too bye

“Yes, thank you so much for explaining my job to me,” you said through a forced smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you really must be going.” 

“I must be going? Is it not-” Chekov started. 

“No, you must be going.” You stood in front of the sickbay doors so they slid open. “Goodbye.” He opened his mouth to speak again but you had no intention of letting him and quickly repeated, “Goodbye.” 

Finally, he took the completely unsubtle hint and left through the doors. 

You let out a sigh of relief and let your muscles relax to the point of slouching. 

“That kid drives me nuts.” You crossed the near-silent sickbay to Bones' desk in a few strides. 

“‘Kid’,” he repeated with a half-laugh. “You’re practically the same age.” 

“Maybe he should act a little more like it.” You dropped into a chair across from him and stretched out a kink in your neck. A knot started to form anytime you had to deal with a bright, shiny cadet or ensign. It formed twice as fast when that bright, shiny ensign was Chekov. He was hyper and chatty and over eager. It made your muscles tighten. You were sure that it was all an act to cover up his true self. A self you had convinced yourself you saw peaking out on the edges when the two of you argued or when he got a little two confident.

“He does act like it.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You act like a 75-year-old cynic who's been hardened by a lifetime of troubles,” he informed you, barely glancing up from his computer. 

“That’s why you love me.” You leaned into the back of the chair, letting the sharp smell of antiseptic and tritanium sooth you after your long shift. 

“It could be good for you to spend time with people your own age. Maybe make some friends.” 

“You’re my friend.” 

He grabbed a PADD and scanned the information. “I’m your senior officer.” 

“Are you saying we’re not friends?” You picked up the PADD when he set it down, scanning it yourself. 

“I’m saying it would be beneficial for your emotional wellbeing for you to form bonds with other members of the crew whom you share cultural touchstones with.” 

You raised your eyes to his but they were still focused on his work. “And that’s Ensign Chekov?” 

“It could be.” 

You put the PADD back on his desk. “The only thing we share is a location.” 

“If you say so.” 

You watched him for a second longer, before letting out a sigh and going to prepare for your next scheduled appointment. 

His knowing look that followed you to a biobed made you want to press him, but something told you that was not a path of conversation you wanted to go down. You hoped by dropping the conversation, he wouldn’t push the issue, but that was naive and you knew it. All you were doing was biding your time. 

And you had less of it than you thought. 

A week later when you asked him what he wanted for lunch, Bones had informed you that you weren’t to eat in the sickbay. You didn’t have to go to the mess hall and socialize but he recommended it and was more likely to let you be if you did. The man was like a dog with a bone when he got it in his head that he was doing something good for his crew mates and you would do anything to get him off your back when he did. So reluctantly you went to the mess hall and grabbed a tray. 

You stood by the replicator, scanning the room and weighing your options. Taking a deep breath and gripping your tray a little tighter, you decided that if you were going to do this you might as well go all in and started moving towards the tables that a group of ensigns had pushed together. 

As you got closer, one of them quickly moved his bowl away from the empty seat to give you more room at the table. You gave him a grateful smile as you sat down. He graced you with a smile of his own before turning his attention back to the conversation. For a brief moment, you forgot why you ate with Bones or in your quarters. The crew was so kind and inviting. Then you realized what the conversation was about and you remembered.

“Did you really get to be part of the landing party to Markoddia?” an eager ensign asked.

“Yes,” Chekov answered from the end of the table. 

“What was it like?” 

Half the group leaned forward to better hear his retelling. He glanced up from his soup to check that he had their attention before starting. 

“It was a standard assignment.” A few people leaned back in disappointment and the corner of his mouth tilted up. “Until it wasn’t.” 

He regaled them with the story that you were sure was at least partially exaggerated. Ensigns who got to work with the senior staff were treated like minor celebrities by certain members of the lower decks. Over the years Chekov had learned to love the attention and even occasionally, on slow weeks, play to it. His definition of a slow week was expanding and the mess hall was starting to become his own personal stage. 

You didn’t have much interest in the landing party play by plays when it didn’t have anything to do with your job or furthering medical knowledge. You had even less interest people twisting the truth so they could play the hero. 

“You were attacked by a Markoffian sea lizard?” someone gasped. 

“I could have died!” Chekov answered. 

“Not from that,” you scoffed into your food. You thought that the comment would have gone unheard in all the commotion of the mess hall but when you lifted your gaze you found a dozen pairs of eyes on you. “You barely had a scratch on you,” you clarified a little louder. 

“Maybe I fought them off.” 

“Or maybe they’re herbivores,” you countered. 

“Markaffian sea lizards are omnivores.” He pointed his spoon at you, clearly thinking he had got you. 

“Maybe they just don’t have a taste for show off navigators. I don’t know. I’m not an exozoologist. But I do know that you were not anywhere close to dying.”

“How would you know?” one of his peers asked. 

“I was in that landing party.” 

“On the other side of the city,” Chekov added. 

“Yeah, treating the President, who happened to have a sea lizard as a pet. His two year old daughter was hand feeding it insects.” You raised your brows at him. “Are you saying you were almost killed by the same thing that a toddler was playing with?” 

“What about the pollen from the carnivorous flowers?” he asked. “Even you said it was incredibly toxic.” 

“Okay, sure,” you conceded. “You were almost killed by some flowers. Is that what you want to hear?” 

“Yes.” 

You rolled your eyes and returned your attention to your lunch.

“My throat was closing up!” he started again, a dramatic hand clutching at his neck. “Neither I nor the Lieutenant could breath. I thought it was the end, but luckily the doctor here was quick at finding an anti-toxin.” 

There was a twinkle in his eyes as he looked at you. It seemed like he was throwing you a bone but it felt like he was dragging you into something you didn’t want to be a part of. 

***

“Bones, Stapes,” Kirk greeted as he entered the sickbay. “Slow day?” 

“Not at all,” you answered before turning to Bones and lowering your voice. “If I had known that this job came with a demeaning nickname I wouldn’t have taken it.” 

“It grows on you,” he responded in the same low volume.

“Like a cyst?” You glanced up at him. “That’s disgusting.” 

Bones shook his head and looked back at the captain. “What can we do for you, Jim?” 

“We received a distress call from a nearby planet.” He handed Bones a PADD and you leaned over to look at it with him. “Looks like they could use a doctor.” 

“Seems simple enough.” Bones handed the PADD to you. “(Y/L/N) will take this.” 

The captain turned to you. “Report to the transporter in fifteen, Doctor.” 

“Aye, Captain.” Your attention dropped to the PADD as he left. Anxiety bubbled up inside you, mixing with your excitement. “Are you sure?”

“You can treat Chamberlin virus in your sleep,” Bones said without looking at you. 

“You’ve never let me go with a landing party without an attending.”

“Do you want me to change my mind?”

“No!” You said quickly, starting to read the report to prepare yourself. You swallowed thickly and lowered your eyebrows when you got to the short list of officers that would be on this mission. Just two. 

Your head snapped back to Bones. “I want you to change your mind.” 

“Too late.” He handed you a medkit. “Have a safe trip.” 

You shot him a glare before giving him a reluctant “Aye, sir.” 

“Have fun.”

“Is that an order?” you asked. 

“No.” 

“Then I won’t.” You started towards the door. 

“I know. Just do your job,” he said after you.

“Of course, sir,” you said with an eye roll so strong you were sure he could hear it in your voice as you entered the hall. 

You never worried too much about maintaining a perfectly respectful attitude with Bones despite him being your CO. Your eye rolls and complaints and casual demeanor didn’t come from a place of disrespect, but a place of familiarity. It came from the comfort of looking into your mentor and seeing yourself reflected there. He had looked into the same mirror when you were in the academy and took you under his wing. He guided you through your time there and your time serving as a cadet on another ship. Your similarities to Bones had earned you a place on the Enterprise and the nickname Stapes. As the smallest bone in the body, the captain saw it as a natural progression from his original nickname for you, Little Bones. You saw it as silly and a little demeaning, not that you would say that to his face. 

You knew that the reflection of Bones’ cynical but driven personality that shined through you was why he pushed you out of your comfort zone. He didn’t just want you to be the best doctor you could be, but a better person than he could be. But that didn’t mean you didn’t occasionally fight against it. 

You wanted to fight against this, but you didn’t want to miss out on this opportunity even if it meant- 

The transporter doors opened to curly hair and bright eyes. 

-having to work with him.

“Where is Doctor McCoy?” Chekov asked. 

“Sickbay.” You stepped up on the transporter. “He’s not coming. I’m coming.” 

You had hoped that arriving five minutes early would make you the first to arrive. You wanted some time to prepare yourself, both for your partner for this assignment and for the assignment itself. You knew that Bones was right and you were ready for this, but you hadn’t fully convinced that insistent little voice in your head of that fact. But of course Chekov had to get here even earlier. He always had to out do you just a little bit. 

“Oh. Is this your first time on a solo mission?” he asked, joining you on the transporter. 

You adjusted your grip on your kit, watching the hands of the engineer at the terminal. “Yes.”

“Are you nervous?” 

You snapped your attention up to him. “Are you?” 

“I wasn’t.” There was that twinkle in his eyes. It was like he was playing a game you didn’t have the rule book for. 

You narrowed your eyes but decided to let the slight slide. 

“Energize,” you ordered the chief at the controls. 

Within fifteen minutes of landing in the colony, you had set up a make-shift examination room in a small lab and had over a dozen people waiting to see you. You had quietly bickered with Chekov the whole while. Even your tones contradicted each other. His comments were bright and confident, mixing off-handed insults with what appeared to be genuine attempts at helpfulness. Your own words remained on the icy side of sarcasm, giving the impression that you were only partially tuned into your conversation with him. You just wanted to focus on your work. 

Thankfully when you started seeing patients he stopped talking to you. Unthankfully, he started talking to the waiting patients. At first, you figured your irritation over it was due solely to your usual level of pettiness when it came to him. You set equipment down louder than necessary when his voice got louder, causing him to look at you. He would give you a smile but wouldn’t miss a beat in the conversation. When you had finally managed to tune him out mostly, you overheard him explaining that this was your first time working alone so they needed to be extra patient with you. It was amazing the amount of condescension he could fit into innocuous phrases. 

You tried to grit your teeth and focus on your work but a few minutes later his laugh made something rise up inside you. You found yourself unable to focus. You must have read over the readings on your tricorder three times before you gave up. 

“Ensign, if you insist on being this loud, could you at least take the chit-chat elsewhere?” 

He smiled up at you from the seat next to a few patients. “Yes, unlike some people, I can be charming anywhere.”

“How special for you. Please take your charm into the hall.” 

He did as you asked and you were finally able to work in peace. Without Chekov constantly drawing your attention you were able to get through the rest of the patients fairly quickly. It wasn’t until after the last one left the lab that you realized how draining that had been. Bones was right, you could treat Chamberlin virus in your sleep, but the pressure of doing it alone was greater than you had expected and you had never treated this many patients in such a short time. They just kept coming. You must have seen most of the colony. 

You dropped into a chair, letting your head lull back and your eyes slip shut. Your feet ached from standing. Your face hurt from smiling. The mere thought of moving or talking to someone almost brought tears to your eyes. 

The door to the lab swished open and you jumped to your feet, praying you hadn’t missed someone. You were grateful to see that it was only the mayor and Chekov. 

“Doctor,” the mayor greeted, taking one of your hands in both of his. “Thank you. Your help means more than I could communicate.” 

You felt Chekov’s eyes on you while you mustered up what you hoped to be your last smile of the day, “Your people should be free of the virus now, but I have provided the updated vaccine recipe. Everyone who hasn’t been sick in the last nine days should receive it.” You handed him a PADD and he thanked you. 

The rest of the pleasantries washed over you. You knew you participated in them, but if you were asked to recount what you had said you wouldn’t be able to. For the first time, you were actually glad that Chekov was with you. He carried the weight of the conversation and handled correspondence with the ship. As much as you hated to admit it, he was charming. 

When you had made it back to the ship. You let out a sigh and took your time stepping off the pad and into the hall, but Chekov remained behind you. You stopped when you came to the lift, trying to decide if you should go back to sickbay or your quarters. 

“Good work down there,” Chekov said, stepping up beside you.

You eyed him for a moment, before responding, “Yeah, you too.” 

***

After your first solo mission it seemed to have been decided, much to your chagrin, that you and Chekov worked well together. After the third time you were paired up together in a single month, you stopped fighting it, but you still dragged your feet. Now, as your shuttle shook and the lights turned red, you wished you had fought it harder. 

“What’s happening?” you shouted, gripping on to your arm rests for dear life. 

“I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t-” A squealing sound interrupted Chekov’s panicked yelling. He scanned the readouts in front of him before looking over his shoulder at the source of the noise and then at you. “You need to fly.”

“What? I’m a doctor not a pilot! I haven’t flown anything since the academy and you want me to fly us out of planetary rings while we're being shot at? I’ll get us killed.” 

“How long has it been since you have done environmental engineering?” 

You blinked at him then turned to the control panel. “Okay, I’ll fly.” 

The shuttle rocked as you took over, causing Chekov to stumble on his way to the back. 

“Sorry!” you shouted.

Your hands trembled as you tried to remember the flight training you had done five years ago. It felt more like a dream than a memory and you couldn’t recall any of the specifics. 

As you got deeper into the rings the dust filled your view screen and you were forced to operate using the sensors alone. Sweat began to bead on your forehead and your stomach twisted from the jerky movements the craft made while you tried to dodge large chunks of ice and phaser cannon blasts from the assailant ship. Every sway and jolt made your thoughts swim and your heart hammer against your chest a little harder. Behind you Chekov let out a string of stressed noises. 

“What? What’s happening?” you asked without really wanting to know. The view screen started to clear as you flew through the last of the rings. 

“The shields are down and the nacelles are down and-” 

“We only have axillary engines?” You had to force yourself to keep your attention locked on the controls instead of swinging back to the ensign. 

The shuttle rocked again as it was hit. You gripped the terminal to keep yourself steady. The lights dimmed and everything came to a standstill. 

“No, we had axillary engines. Now we have nothing.” 

“Did you fix the environmental controls?” 

“Yes, but we can not fly out of here and emergency power is declining fast.” His anxiety was making his accent thicker and his words stick together.  

“I got us out of orbit, and,” you leaned forward, watching the other ship pass you by, “they seem to think we're dead in the water. They’re leaving. How much time do we have?” 

“Twenty hours.” 

You slumped down. “Not even a day.” 

“No.” 

Glancing over your shoulder, you found him bent over a tricorder. He started to bounce nervously. Watching him made you feel even queasier. 

“There’s nothing you can do?” 

He responded with a series of unintelligible Russian sounds as he started digging through the compartments of the shuttle. He must not have found what he was looking for because he dropped to the floor with a defeated huff. 

“No.” 

In all the assignments you had had with Chekov over the last several months he had only ever been stubbornly optimistic. Even when he was overcome with stress or complaining he still acted with a firm belief that what you were doing was important and you would make it out alive with a job well done. Not once had you seen him even consider giving up. You had not so secretly been waiting to see his optimism falter, to see what lay beneath his showy exuberance, but it wasn’t the slip of the mask or the peak behind the curtain you’d thought it would be. This defeat wasn’t revealing something about him, it was taking something from him. 

You got to your feet slowly, gripping the back of your seat and closing your eyes as a wave of dizziness passed over you. You didn’t do well in a shuttle on a good day. After being rocked around my phaser fire and ring debris and having to pilot yourself you weren’t sure your stomach would ever settle down. 

You were glad to see that Chekov was staring down at his tricorder and seemed completely unaware of your momentary weakness. 

“Come on. Where’s that trademark pep and sense of adventure?” You sat down on the bench next to him. “Don’t tell me you’ve finally met a mission you can’t glorify into heroic splendor.” 

He looked up at you through narrowed eyes. The corners of his mouth were drawn down further than you thought was possible. Was he actually about to start pouting? Was it actually endearing? 

“Aw.” You puffed out your lip in a pout that was both sympathetic and mocking of his. “What happened to Ensign Chekov, hopeful hero of the lower decks?” 

“He went down with the shields and the nacelles.” 

Rolling your eyes at his dramatics, you grabbed your medpack and pulled out your tricorder. You pointed it at him without bothering to actually look at the readings. 

“Huh,” you said in faux contemplation. “This says that he’s still operational, he's just offline.”

He looked up at you. The twinkle in his eye was starting to return, clearly delighted that you of all people were willing to play this game. “How do you suggest we bring him back online, Doctor?” 

“Oh these things tend to work themselves out.” You replaced your tricorder and leaned back. “When would we be back, if we hadn’t gotten in that chase?” 

He barely had to think about it. “Four to five hours.” 

“How long does it normally take them to suspect a mission has gone awry?”

Chekov spent considerably more time with the majority of the senior staff. He knew their usual patterns. You spent most of your time with the Chief Medical Officer, who tended to assume a mission went awry the moment they left the ship. He was right more often than he was wrong. 

“Between two hours and one week.” 

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Can you narrow down that estimate for me?” 

“In this situation, I would suspect it would not take longer than a day.” 

You didn’t have a day. 

“Doctor McCoy usually pays more attention to missions that have medical staff on them. Something about not wanting us to die because he hates paperwork,” you told him. “And he almost always assumes the worst. That should bring your estimate down by a few hours.” 

The navigator suddenly jumped to his feet and sprinted to the controls. 

“If I could get a message to them, they might get here in time!” 

You rested your forearms on your knees both to steady yourself and to more easily watch him. “Are we close enough for that? I thought shuttles didn’t have subspace communication capabilities.” 

“They do not, but…” he faded off as he fiddled with the screen. His movements had regained that jerky, impatient quality they often had, like his hands couldn’t move fast enough to keep up with his brain. He let out a triumphant sound and spun to face you. 

“If I send out a distress beacon and put all remaining power into transmitting a signal they could find us faster. If I divert all emergency power not needed to keep us alive, I could keep it running for the full 20 hours and the beacon would increase our range by 35%!” He quickly dropped into the pilot's chair and got to work. 

You smiled despite yourself at his returning optimism and moved to the environmental controls he had been working on earlier. Most of the readings were all but nonsense to you, but you had a decent understanding of the most essential functions and an even better understanding of the math needed to calculate how much time you had left. 

“What are you doing?” Checkov turned in his chair.

You kept your eyes on the screen as you spoke, “Say we ran into some minor difficulties on the planet and/or the mission took longer to complete than we thought, then maybe it would take us another eight hours to get back to Enterprise.” 

“Okay,” he said hesitantly, trying to figure out where this was going.

“Given that this was a fairly straightforward assignment and we both have a reputation for working efficiently, those eight hours would already make the more observant members of the crew suspicious.” 

“If there is not another crisis happening on the ship.” 

“That is a major if, but we’re trying to be optimistic here.” 

“We are?” he asked in an almost teasing tone, just as surprised as you were that you were abandoning your cynical ways. 

“Yes.” You pulled up the oxygen output. “Dr. McCoy will definitely assume something had happened if I don’t show up for my shift tomorrow at 0800.” 

“That’s almost eighteen hours away. It would take them three hours to get here unless they’re at top speeds.” He seemed to remember that you were being optimistic and asked, “Could you sedate us?” 

“I could but then there would be no one to respond if we were hailed and no one to deal with the next crisis. Besides, we’d only use about 6% less oxygen, but we could survive with 20% less.” You started messing with oxygen controls. 

“That would give us four more hours.” 

“I could push it to 25% to give them even more wiggle room, but we would start experiencing symptoms of hypoxia.” 

“Will it kill us?” 

“No more than doing nothing will.” 

He made a noise and you turned to face him. “We’ll get sick. Headache, confusion, difficulty breathing, anxiety, tachycardia. But if they find us we’ll recover quickly. And if they don’t find us,” you lowered the oxygen output, “we’ll die either way.” 

“They’ll find us,” he assured you, before turning back to the terminal. “I wish there was more we could do than wait.” 

The temperature dropped quickly as the power that normally went into keeping the shuttle comfortable went to keeping the distress signal broadcasting. It wasn’t cold enough to cause any health risk but it would be soon enough. You wonder what would hit you first: hypothermia or hypoxia. 

You pulled open one of the storage compartments and grabbed two dark gray blankets. They were perfectly folded and soft to the touch. They probably hadn’t ever been used before. 

Chekov was watching you as you placed one blanket on the bench you had been sitting on and held the other out to him. 

“We do what we can to stay alive.” 

He took it and sat down on the other bench. You followed suit, wrapping yourself in your blanket, leaning your head back, and shutting your eyes against a fresh wave of nausea. 

“Doctor, are you okay?” 

Distantly it occurred to you that normally you would have responded to the question with brusk sarcasm or at the very least the truth forced through tight lips. But in that moment you didn’t feel the need to push him away or put on a brave face, and you told the truth freely. 

“Just a little nauseous from the flight. It’ll pass.” It was already starting to pass now that things were calming down. The waves were gentler and no longer crashed down on top of you.

“You get space sickness?”

You peaked your eyes open at him. “Yeah, why do you think I didn’t want to come on this mission?” 

He shrugged. “Because you don’t like me.” 

“I can have more than one reason.” You adjusted the blanket around your shoulder and shifted around on the seat a bit. The benches may have been designed to double as beds for long journeys, but that didn’t mean they were exactly comfortable. 

“You can.” Even though he fell silent, you could tell from his clipped tone that he was biting something back and history had taught you he wouldn’t for long. “But why do you hate me?” 

“I don’t hate you.” 

“You don’t like me.” 

“Not everyone’s gonna like you, Chekov.” 

“Yes, but why do you not?” 

“It’s not like you like me either.” 

This gave him pause. Just when you had thought he was dropping the subject he responded, “I do not dislike you.” 

“But you don’t like me.” 

Again he hesitated. “I did not.” 

You opened your eyes fully and sat up a little straighter. “Did?” 

“What?” 

The blanket slipped from one of your shoulders as you leaned towards him. “You said ‘did’. Past tense. Implying that now you do.” 

“You have grown on me.” 

“Like a cyst.” 

He considered that for a moment before shaking his head. “Like moss.” 

You looked away to try to conceal the smile you were struggling to fight back and a realization settled in your chest. It fell slow and heavy like snow piling up on a roof in the middle of winter. 

You couldn’t have beared being stuck in this shuttle alone. You would have died trying to get off world. Even if you hadn’t, this quiet waiting with nothing to do would have driven you insane. But sitting here, across from the man you had fought so hard to never share a space with, it was bearable. Everything was more bearable with Chekov. He was the otherside of a very high strung coin. You weren’t just growing on him, you were growing to rely on him. 

The temperature fell further and you shivered, pulling your feet up onto the bench to curl in on yourself more. 

“Are you cold?” 

The exasperated look that took over your expression couldn’t be helped. “Yes, Chekov, I’m cold.” You took in the blanket he had draped only across his lap and his comfortable posture. “How are you not?” 

“Russian winters are much colder than this.” 

You chuckled. By the end of your time serving aboard the Enterprise you would be able to write a history book on Russia just from the facts Checkov shared at any given opportunity. 

As long as that time didn’t end tonight. 

Your breath caught in your throat at the thought. You slipped sideways down the wall until your head hit the bench, but you kept your eyes on him the whole way down. 

“Tell me about it.” 

His grin was brighter than the stars outside and took over his whole face, scrunching up his cheeks and eyes. He launched into a story from his youth that rolled easily into another. His descriptions made the Russian winter sound like a magical fairy land. Again you were sure it was exaggerated. You knew how many people had died from that cold. You knew that it was a dangerous and vicious winter. But you didn’t care anymore. You let yourself enjoy his version of reality. 

When he had to pause to catch his breath and cover himself more with the blanket, you took a turn at storytelling. Your voice was thin and breathless as you told him about the winters of your childhood and some of the nastier cases of frostbite you had treated. Your chest started to burn for more air and your fingers started to ache, growing stiff in the cold. 

The pauses between your stories became longer and longer and your voices morphed into barely audible murmurs until you started to drift into a restless sleep. You knew you shouldn’t sleep and kept trying to claw your way back to consciousness, but you kept sinking deeper and deeper. Until a choking sound came from the otherside of the shuttle. 

You sat up, trying to place your surroundings. The soft hum of the dying shuttle sounded so unfamiliar to you. The deep aching cold sinking into your bones and the harsh roughness that screamed in your throat and lungs every time you took a breath felt all encompassing. Your heart raised and your head pounded as you glanced around. 

Chekov slept across from you. You called out to him as a series of coughs and wheezes racked his body. His face was twisted with pain but he didn’t open his eyes. You wrapped your blanket tightly around yourself and moved to hover over him. Shaking his shoulder gently had no greater effect than calling his name. His coughing got worse and then it stopped. He went still. You shook him harder. His name turned to a wheeze in your mouth. His eyes fluttered but he couldn’t keep them open. You tried to force him into a seated position but he was a dead weight that your freezing arms struggled to manipulate. 

You dropped to your knees, brushing a hand against his face. It was so pale it looked almost gray. 

“Please, Chekov. Just take a breath. Just a small one.” Your hand dropped back to his shoulder and his hand found it. His purple lips parted to let in a shaky breath. It left him in a cough, but it was enough to give you hope. 

You pushed his shoulders up and wriggled underneath them. His eyebrows furrowed and you did your best to pull him up to rest against you. With his lungs more up right, he was able to take a few shallow breaths. 

“Good. That’s good. Just a little longer. Keep breathing a little longer.” You turned your head away from him as a coughing fit hit you. When your breathing evened out, you leaned your cheek against his curls. “The hero of the lower decks doesn’t die like this.” The sentence barely made it out of you before you were drifting off again. A pressure on your hand kept you from drifting entirely. 

“Stapes neither.” 

A smile tried to work its way onto your face. You had no idea he even knew the nickname. 

His hand fell from yours, but not all the way. The tips of his cold fingers remained on the side of your hand, holding you there with him. You would keep breathing as long as he did. It was a silent promise you made. Your old need to out do him mingling with a new need to stay with him. 

Sleep found you again, dragging you down to a quiet but panicked place. An insistent beeping filled your head, but the harder you tried to wake, to identify the noise, the tighter sleep’s grip on you became. 

You had no idea how much time had passed before its grip finally loosened and you swam your way back to consciousness. Your body no longer ached or burned. Your heart was calm, almost still. The panic had faded. For a brief moment you thought you weren’t waking up. You were dying and it was peaceful. But then you sucked in a breath. It was deep and cleansing and filled your lungs with ease and without pain. It smelled like that beautiful mixture of antiseptic and tritanium that meant you were home. You were safe. 

You bolted upright. 

“Chekov.” Your voice was rough and desperate. The bright light above you kept your eyes from adjusting. You looked around trying to find the golden uniform through the speckled static filling your vision. 

Then the light was pushed aside and Bones came into view. His warm hand landed on your shoulder. 

“He’s okay. He’s still asleep. The two a’you had a rough night.” He searched your face. “How are you feeling?” 

“What? I’m- I’m fine.” Your brain was working overtime trying to catch up to now while still piecing together the memories from the shuttle. “Are you sure he’s- because he was-” 

“Chekov is in perfect health,” he told you gently.

Relief filled you and passed through you in a sigh. Your shoulders slumped and you rested your arms on your legs. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until that moment. 

“Heard you were down right cuddlin’ the boy.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him as he stepped behind you to get a better look at the biobed readings. 

“I was keeping liquids from pooling in his throat and blocking his airways.” 

“I bet you were.” 

“I’m his doctor. It’s my job to keep him alive,” you pointed out.

The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Never had to cuddle one of my patients.” 

“Well, I’m more hands on than you.” 

He stepped back so he was facing you again. “You did good, kid.” His hand fell to your shoulder again, squeezing softly like he was making sure you heard him. “I’m giving you a clean bill of health. Go get some rest.” 

You got to your feet and headed towards the door, but you only made it a few steps. Something held you back, rooting you to the spot. 

“Unless…” 

You looked to Bones. Your eyes felt raw with exhaustion, but you didn’t want to close them again. Not yet. 

“You want to stay until he wakes up.” 

“He is my patient. I should make sure he’s okay,” you told him. 

Bones just gave you one of his knowing smiles and pointed you towards Chekov’s bed. You followed his direction and found Chekov laying still in the corner. The blue tinge to his skin was gone, replaced with a slight roseiness. You watched his chest rise and fall, listened to the smoothness of his breathing, and resisted the urge to slip your hand into his. You wanted to touch him, to confirm that he was real and alive and safe, but instead you wrapped your arms around yourself and stood by the end of his bed. 

He moaned softly, turning over. His eyes opened slowly, looking out across the sickbay. 

“We made it. I am alive,” he said to himself like he needed to hear it outloud to be sure. 

“Yes,” you answered. 

He scrambled into a seated position at the sound of your voice. A smile lit up his face when he saw you. His right hand lifted off the bed for only a moment, reaching for you on instinct before his conscious thought took control of it again. 

“You are alive.” 

“It would appear so.” You walked to the head of the bed to check his vitals. You could feel his eyes on you as you tripled checked them, still trying to convince yourself that he was okay and wanting a reason to stay by his side for a moment longer.

“Do you still hate going on missions with me?” 

“Yes.” Your answer came quick, but it was followed by a smile. 

You turned to leave, satisfied that he was indeed in perfect health. He let out a breathy laugh and you stopped at the end of the bed and looked over your shoulder at him. 

“Wouldn’t have wanted to be on that mission with anyone else though.”

[randomwritingss]

Someone send me a number between 1 and 52. I have a jar of date ideas. And i have a muse 😂

It's a valentines gift thing, but I'll write them as long as yall will send them.

My bad...

Characters I'll write for:

Jim Street

Jim Kirk

Donovan Rocker

Leonard McCoy

Tony DiNozzo

Mick Rory

[silversword7000]

Help guys I wrote some weirdly specific Pavel Chekov headcannons and I want to post them but I am also nervous about sharing my writing publicly I hate this😭😭

[illpunchyouintheface]

So I’m still alive but I’m very aggressively hyperfixating on Mass Effect and Star Trek (alternate reality with Chris Pine Star Trek).

So.

Hi.

I love you all

Happy New Year

Also if yall could point me towards accounts with Star Trek fanfics, that’d be fantastic

[generalkenobee]

And I'm asking questions again 😖🎀

[codgod-archive]

x readers just make me think of that time when i was 13 reading a markiplier x reader on wattpad where y/n spent half the fic with her pants off because the author forgot to write her putting them back on

[belle46p]

I think you'd like this story: "Reader Inserts " by Belle346u on Wattpad

You can request any characters from the shows or movies I do using my guidelines.

[aerospas]

hiii can I request some dating headcannons for tos chekov? thanks! :)

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 ; dating tos chekov!

chekov is remarkably affectionate, expressing his love through gentle touches, soft kisses, and whispered words of endearment. he's not one to shy away from physical affection; wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace or intertwining his fingers with yours whenever he gets the chance. whether it's a quick peck on the cheek or a lingering hug, he finds comfort in showing his love openly and frequently.

his idea of a perfect date involves a blend of adventure and intimacy. you'd find yourselves stargazing on the observation deck of the enterprise, wrapped in blankets as he points out constellations and shares stories from his childhood in russia. he might surprise you with a picnic on a distant planet's surface, complete with russian delicacies he learned to make from his grandmother's recipes. he cherishes moments where it's just the two of you, away from the chaos of the ship.

when you're facing challenges or feeling overwhelmed, chekov is by your side. he's perceptive, picking up on subtle cues that indicate when you're struggling, and he doesn't hesitate to offer his support. whether it's lending a listening ear, offering words of encouragement, or simply holding you close, he makes it his mission to be there for you in both good times and bad.

[thepedanticbohemian]

Chekov's gun turns up as a plot point in THE OURDERKIRK HOUSE. It plays a tremendous role in the finale of the book.

[snowberriies]

I read this fic years and years ago and lost track of it until now!! my long lost love has been reunited with me

Prompt: "You should write a fic in which Chekov is unknowingly to himself being sexy af by hanging out in his room with his shirt off and some nice sweatpants showin off his bottom half if you know what I mean, and the reader is trying not to make it obvious that they’re attracted to him" - Anon

Word Count: 1336

Author’s Note: I got to research men’s yoga pants for this piece and it was a lovely bit of research indeed. Enjoy my lovlies <3

Cyrillic Key:  За здоровье - Za zdrovye - Cheers

Keep reading

[silversword7000]

☀️Pavel Chekov Pool and Beach Headcannons☀️

Headcannons under the cut! Some are x reader but most are general.

He really enjoys swimming! It makes him feel free. Plus it is so different from the activities available on the ship that it is very refreshing to him. However, he didn’t discover his love of swimming until he was in the academy and one of his friends introduced it to him.

He would LOVE to carry you around in the pool. It is literally his favorite thing ever cause he can carry you for hours on end.

He would absolutely race Sulu and Kirk in the pool, he would lose most of the time

He doesn’t like sitting in the sun for long periods of time cause getting too hot makes him uncomfortable so if he is outside somewhere where he can get in the water, he would prefer to be in there.

Kirk and him have frequent splash fights, sometimes the rest of the crew get in on it too.

If someone (Spock) outside of the pool gets splashed then they will all receive a lecture about disturbing others.

He would also love to carry you out of the pool and back to wherever you are sitting (he can be surprisingly strong sometimes and loves showing off for you!) because he wants you to be treated like the royalty you are <3

If someone is not paying attention, he will dive under the water and then pop up behind them to startle them! He thinks it’s so hilarious.

If you don’t remind him to reapply sunscreen, this boy gets BURNT! He will not reapply unless you remind him so make sure to have some aloe on hand if you know he is going to swim without you.

He likes swimming under water with his eyes open. Sometimes he will go to the bottom of the pool and look up for as long as he can, he finds it very calming.

He would absolutely start chicken fights with other people if there’s enough people swimming, much to the dismay of Spock.

He looks really cute when his hair is wet. <3

He has about 5 different pairs of brightly colored swim trunks, his favorite is the blue ones with the hibiscus flowers on them. It makes him get into the vacation spirit even if he is just there for the day.

Sometimes he enjoys to just float on his back around the pool when there is nobody else swimming. He has accidentally hit his head on the side of the pool many times because he easily zones out while doing this.

He LOVES pool parties! Especially ones that have lots of glow in the dark things.

He cannot dive for the LIFE of him. He is the master of belly flops though.

You will always catch him doing flips in the pool anytime he is bored. He is currently trying to beat his record of 9 flips in one breath.

He definitely enjoys the hot tub but only on some days. Usually he prefers the regular pool because there is more space to move around.

Sometimes if he has lots of energy he will swim laps as fast as he can to tire himself out. It also helps him when his mind is racing.

After spending all day at the pool he crashes IMMEDIATELY! He really tuckers himself out so if you don’t make him go shower and he lays down on the bed he will go out like a light!

He prefers going to the pool over going to the beach because it is much simpler and quicker but he does enjoy a good beach day every once in awhile.

If he is at the beach he will take some time to collect a few interesting seashells that he likes or thinks that you would like.

In the past he gave Sulu a seashell that turned out to be a hermit crab. Sulu thought it was hilarious and named it Pavel Jr. His daughter takes care of Junior for him. She has definitely blinged out Junior’s shell at some point. Sulu thinks this is the funniest thing ever and he has definitely told all his friends about it. After every shore leave Pavel gets an update on Pavel Jr. Sulu secretly thinks this is one of the best gifts Pavel has given him, even though it was an accident.

He has absolutely gotten stung by a jellyfish at the beach before because he is an idiot and wanted to touch the pretty jellyfish since he thought it looked squishy.

Needless to say he would not stop complaining about his sting until it went away.

He’s lost his towel at the beach before. It was not fun sitting on the hot sand that day.

He loves playing in big sandbars if they are around, it’s like a mini pool!

He is comically bad at making sand castles. The last one he made just looked like a mound with a stick coming out of the top. He thinks his sand castles are amazing though.

Sulu is a god at making sandcastles. He only makes them sometimes however. If Pavel is around as well he will invite him to help on the castle. This does not go well at all. Sulu doesn’t want to discourage his friend though so some sections of the sand castle end up looking like wonky piles of sand while the others look like a professional sand castle. They have fun though. Sulu’s favorite part is adding in some shells for extra decor! After the last time he doesn’t let Pavel do this step because he ended up destroying most of the sandcastle.

Pavel HATES getting sand in his shorts. One of the main reasons why he prefers the pool. He feels like he can never get the sand fully out and it bothers him immensely.

Also every time he goes to the beach he gets sand all in his hair. This annoys him less but he still dislikes it.

He loves getting ice cream if he goes to the beach! In a way it’s cold reminds him of home. He usually gets a chocolate vanilla swirl if they have it. Otherwise, he is fine with regular vanilla. He can be picky about the cones though. Cones with no flavor are the worst thing ever to him, it is like eating cardboard. He also gets frustrated at cones that fall apart easily, if he loses his ice cream his day is ruined! (Imagine him frowning like this 🥺 at an ice cream cone that fell, that’s what he is like.)

[toxicanonymity]

Wreck

PAIRING: Michael Myers x fem/afab Reader

ONE SHOT: 4300 words | MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: MM is unconscious and shackled in a broken down bus. Reader takes shelter there and takes advantage.

WARNINGS: 18+ noncon dry humping, oral, & PIV; size kink, size diff, mask kink, manhandling, creampie, forced cum inflation - erotic body horror, (self) cum play. smut goes hard. 😳

NOTES: Reader wears a chekov's dress, no pronouns used. MM never speaks, and his face and hair are undescribed, so you can HC a DILF of your choice under the mask. Even him.

For @megangovier, @aurorawritestoescape , @sofmoth , and the cumflation nation. Thank you for your support and Happy Shaperil, everyone (the halfway point between Octobers). 💙

Hitchhiking didn’t even seem like a good idea at the time. You weren’t kidding yourself. Not only did you accept the risk, but there was something about the risk that made you feel alive.

This time was different, though. You became more uneasy as the ride continued. The man kept looking over and eyeing your legs as you tugged your dress down. This wouldn’t have bothered you much if he were someone else. In fact, if he’d pulled over to fuck you, it wouldn’t be your first rodeo, but there was something sinister about this man, and not in a hot way. As he lost control of his truck, there was a split second where you thought, thank God–until the truck began to roll.

You escaped the wreck dizzy but unscathed. The adrenaline surging through your blood made you so horny you would’ve considered fucking the man after all, if he weren’t staring blankly into space as the life drained from his face.

After climbing out of the truck, you took a few deep breaths and surveyed the surroundings. Bodies were strewn across the road and an orange prisoner transport bus was hissing smoke from the distorted hood of its engine. This was bad. You needed to get as far away as you could.

The problem was, you were in the middle of nowhere, in an unforgiving desert, and you were almost out of water. None to be found in the wreckage of your ride, and you hesitated to approach the prisoner transport bus.

From the comfort of your bed, under the buzz of a toy, this could easily have been another fantasy of yours, but it seemed your survival instincts were kicking in after all.

So you took what water you had and set off on foot in the direction you were headed all along. With any luck, the transport vehicle wasn’t coming from too far away. Keeping a safe distance from the transport bus, you listened for any signs of life as you walked by it, and you heard none, until you were thirty paces away, and something thumped. You thought. Or was it your imagination? Pausing to listen, you didn’t hear another sound, and weren’t sure what you would have done if you did hear something else.

All you could do was walk, but with every step, you became less sure of your plan. You weren’t entirely sure what road you were even on, only that it was long and straight. State route something or other. No shade. Only cacti and tumbleweed. The road ahead faded into a slippery mirage. What do they say to do when you get lost? Stay in one place, right? Authorities would be looking for the transport bus. When they found it, they’d find you. Yeah. With that revelation, you turned around and headed back toward the bus.

As you walked by the bus this time, you came a little closer, and you had to do a double-take at one of the windows. An enormous man with a stark white face and dark eyes staring at the ceiling of the bus—no, not dark eyes. A mask. Your breath hitched. That’s when you read the lettering on the side of the bus for the first time:

SMITH’S GROVE SANITARIUM

Your chest went hot with recognition. You didn't feel alone anymore. The desert didn't feel quite as big.

The sun had been fading as you walked, but sunset seemed to accelerate after this revelation.

A crack of thunder told you why.

Fat drops of petrichor began to blacken the dusty road in perfect little circles. As the rain picked up, you cupped your hands together, turned your mouth to the sky for a drink.

You had a few choices, none of them good. Sit on the side of the road in the rain. Return to the wreckage and take shelter with your driver’s body. Flatten yourself under the transport bus like a cat. Or get on board.

-

You approached the open doors of the bus with your heart pounding. Was anyone alive in there? They would've left, wouldn't they? Why would Michael be wearing his mask?

With your first steps onto the stairs, the echo of your shoe made you jump. You took them off after climbing into the vehicle. The driver’s head was slumped over the steering wheel, eyes open. Some of the blood appeared to be dry. If there had been others in the bus, they must have fled before your accident.

The only bodies remaining were two, near the back: That hulking figure and a man in a white coat. Strewn about were an open box marked “evidence,” a ballpoint pen in the shape of a spine, scattered papers, and a box labeled MYERS 10-19-1957

You pieced together the scene: perhaps the doctor himself had provided the mask. People said he wasn’t right in the head. That he revered Michael as a force of nature who belonged in the wild. The scene before you began to resemble the ruins of ill fated plans to return Michael to his rightful state. The psychiatrist had even brought a knife for the killer–a knife that ended up in his own neck, somehow.

As you neared the bodies, you thought you heard what sounded like a quiet ventilator at a slow rhythm.

When you listened closer, you could hardly hear it over the rain and the best of your own heart. But something told you Michael was alive. He was alive, you could feel it. Dark energy radiated from his seat, making you weak, holding you captive. Your legs wouldn't move even if you wanted to run.

Was he hurt?

The sound of the rain hitting the roof of the bus was soothing. More soothing than it should have been.

When you got close enough to look at Michael from a different angle, you really began to feel how large he was. He was sturdy. His trunk was strong and thick. His arms were huge. You couldn't see his neck, but there was a sliver of skin exposed between the front of his jumpsuit and the rubber of the mask, and there was a thick vein there. The jumpsuit stretched over the expanse of his chest, and the rise and fall of it told you he was alive.

As your eyes panned down, your breath hitched at a raised lump on his lower torso.

A phallic lump, in just the right place… Jesus Christ, could it be that big?

Was he hard?

Was he awake?

You were transfixed by this bulge and the promise of its girth. Your body readied itself without your permission, churning slick into your core, opening up, making room for a monstrous intrusion. Your face heated up at the thought. You salivated. Your heart raced.

You looked away and closed your eyes, and felt it even stronger.

You sat down in the seat diagonal from his, but couldn't take your eyes off him. It was self preservation - he could come to life and attack at any moment. Willing yourself to think about anything else, you tried to imagine where you'd be without the crash.

-

Who knows how long you were sitting there, but the rain was heavier, and your loins were hotter. Your thighs stuck to the weathered brown seat as you began to rise. You were tingling, dripping, Throbbing, throbbing for this killer.

Unable to resist any longer, you approached. You watched his chest rise and fall at a steady rhythm. Listened for his breathing, no longer audible under the hard rain.

You inched ever closer, until you were facing him and placed your hand near his shoulder on the corner of the seat, a small slice of brown not covered by his body.

And then, you experimentally grazed the arm of his jumpsuit.

He didn't move.

You ran your fingers over his enormous biceps, and his muscles dwarfed your hand.

He didn't move.

You gave his arm a squeeze.

He didn't move.

He was slumped down in the seat a little bit and his hands were cuffed behind his back.

His feet were shackled.

You began to calculate how badly he could hurt you if he were to react to your closeness.

What kind of weapons could he use?

What would his instinct be?

Part of you was excited to find out.

You progressed from touching his arm to touching his chest. And then…. your hand traveled down his torso, growing ever closer to the telltale shape sprouting from his crotch.

The body under your hand became warmer as your palm slid down his core and swerved to the side of the massive log in its path.

You just barely grazed the side of it, and a shock of arousal seized your body, paralyzing you for just a moment.

You had to remember to breathe.

You were drooling, throbbing for him. Your hand shakily dragged down along the edge of the outline of his cock, the edge of your finger rubbing just hard enough against it to feel the heat of the shape, and the give of the organ.

He wasn't even at full mast. He was semi-hard. You looked up at the mask again. Checked his chest for any changes in breathing. He showed no signs of waking up. So you did it. You placed your hand there, gently, and cradled the shape of his dick.

You’d never been more aroused. It was enormous under your hand. It made you feel small. You were so turned on and also nervous. Could you even take him if you wanted to? Who were you kidding: you wanted to. But it was a scary thought. Who could possibly take a dick like this? Your hand rubbed him lightly, all the way down his shaft, between his spread legs, to feel his enormous balls, which gave you another zap of need.

And when your palms slid back up his dick, you pressed down a little harder. His girth swelled against your hand, twitched, and got firmer.

You slowly moved your hand, slid your palm up and down his shaft, feeling him stiffen into a bold, erect shape until his absurd girth strained the fabric of his jumpsuit.

He still hadn't woken up.

You placed one knee onto the seat, against his thigh. The seat was made for two, but his enormity meant there was barely any room for this. You straddled him with your thighs spread wide. God, the size of this man.

He could wake up at any moment and throw you across the bus or worse. He could probably do it even cuffed, you thought. But at this point, there was no turning back.

You wanted it too bad. As though physically possessed by the desire, nothing would stop you.

You had to feel him with your loins.

With your dress spread between your thighs, you lowered your crotch, and the front of your panties rubbed against his dick outline, making you shiver and erupt in goosebumps before you even came to rest on his warm, hard bulge.

Fuck, you were so wet.

You rubbed yourself up and down his stiff manhood and it made your clit throb and twitch, aching for relief. You grinded against him, bracing one hand on his shoulder, and groping your own breast with the other. Your breaths became heavy as pressure built in your belly. He twitched against your sensitive bundle of nerves and the tension burst, and pulsed, and released, echoing between your legs.You came as quietly as you could, your walks squeezing needily around nothing.

The last twitch of your hole was violent. It told you how bad you had to be filled.

You had to unzip him.

Above a white tank top and under a thin gold chain, his skin was littered with white scars and divots, scant chest hair–pepper with a little salt. Prison tattoos were barely visible through the thin, ribbed fabric. His middle was thick and strong, solid muscle padded by years of confinement.

As the zipper nearly reached his cock, you used both hands to pull on the fabric, trying to get it as far away from the skin as you could, trying to create space where there was none. You didn't want to hurt him. Didn't want to wake him up.

When you unzipped the rest of his suit, his cock bobbed even heavier than it looked.

You could hardly fathom the girth of what stood before you. There was no way you could wrap your hand around it. There was no way you could take it, could you?

There was no way you weren't going to try.

The fat, pink tip of his cock glistened with pre-cum. You gathered the ample saliva in your mouth, and brought your lips close to his cock. You were hit with a wave of his musk that nearly knocked you out, making your nipples hard and your jaw slack.

Next thing you knew, you were squatting between his feet. The ridged rubber flooring dug into the balls of your feet, with your legs folded neatly, making yourself compact between the seats. Your head bobbed forward and your lips engulfed his tip. You let it rest heavily on your tongue, appreciating the warm heft in your mouth. With a gentle suck, you took another inch into your mouth, feeling the crown of the head. Tonguing it. Then you tongued the slit, and the salty precum reminded you of your mission.

You held it in your mouth as saliva gathered in your mouth, then swirled your tongue around the cock head. You let it out of your mouth, connected by a string of spit, and drooled more spit onto it before swallowing and getting into position. You spread your saliva on his tip. Your panties were not a factor - the loose g-string was easily pulled to the side.

Back into straddling him, you held his shaft and almost had to squat with your bare feet on the seat instead of being on your knees to allow enough room for his cock between you. You rubbed his tip against your dripping entrance, up your slippery slit, and nudged your clit with it, then brought it back to your eagerly awaiting hole and lowered yourself. His cock slowly spread you open. The stretch burned and radiated outward - the wide tip seemed to occupy all of you already. But you let gravity take you down further, and really, you hadn't even taken the whole tip - was just the initial curve. Slowly sinking onto him, the stretch intensified as you accommodated the girth of his tip and bit your lip. It was an exhilarating feat.

There was going back.

It burned, but it burned so good. You might never feel this stretch again. You sank a little further onto him and failed to stifle a closed-mouth moan, “mmm.”

The burn became a buzzing tingle.

The exhilaration became a hunger for more, and you slid down his shaft like a miracle.

Jesus Christ, you'd never felt so full of anything. Your whole body was spread around him, all of your guts forced out of the way.

You went further still down his cock, taking more than you imagined anyone could fit. By the time you bottomed out, the burn subsided into a feeling that you were gripping him. Spread thin and tight around him, he wore you on his cock. Your walls hugged his shaft, and it throbbed. It throbbed inside you.

You sat there, reveling in the fullness with your watering eyes scanning his torso and beautiful skin. You ran your thumb lightly over two bullet wounds just above his pec and felt him swell inside you.

Oh fuck, He swelled, he grew. Making you fuller than full. He throbbed and twitched, and nudged something in your depths that made you whispered out loud, “Oh, Fuck.”

Oh, God, the fullness was something to behold in its own right. You could have sat like that all day. but he had nudged something else inside you, something you needed to pursue.

And when you tilted your hips, his shaft nudged it again. Something that twitched, something that spasmed, something that had you ready to trip over another edge and freefall into bilss.

You slowly rolled your hips, not letting much if any length out of your cunt. Your insides clung to him right and merely shifted inside yourself, as though you were a fleshlight. That movement inside yourself made enough tension, friction, and pressure to make you chase more release. You moved your hips, barely going up and down on his cock, taking the pleasure you needed. You took and you took from him. Slowly, you had your way, until the pressure was building to uncontainable heights. Your breaths were shallow, and you could hardly take it. You took a deep breath and tilted your head toward the ceiling.

You closed your eyes and relaxed as best you could, with your entire body tense at the edge of your climax.

His dick twitched again, and you saw stars.

Your cunt tightened around his cock as pleasure spasmed through your core, bursting from your

solar plexus. “Oh god,” you breathed, you held both your breasts as you bottomed out again and came on his cock in a series of spasms that seemed to last a full minute. Your body was hugging his massive manhood, possessing it, possessing him. Your bodies were joined so tight, like you were one. Your energy faded as the orgasm rode on.

Your body leaned toward his, your tits pointy through your damp dress, poking against his chest. Your nose brushed his mask, inhaling latex, and then…. your lips found the perfectly sculpted, white rubber of his. You pressed a kiss onto the mask’s distinctive top lip and a different shock spread through your chest. You opened your eyes as you pulled back, and your fingers went to lightly brush your your own lips. Still spread around his cock, you trembed with an aftershock. And just as your climax was ending, a low rumble came from his chest.

His pecs flexed, his body tensed, and your heart jumped. You tried to slide off his cock, but his hips shifted and his cock grew again, making you whimper. Just as your body had grown to accept his size, there was more of him to hold. He throbbed and twitched and grunted. Metal jingled behind his back and at the floor board as you panicked. He growled and moaned, foreboding a seismic eruption in your womb. His hips lifted out of the seat, pushing you up, and if you weren't anchored by his girth you might have flown off and hit the ceiling

Like nothing you’d ever felt, his cock throbbed massively as it shot monster ropes of cum into you, spurting rapid fire, every twitch of the organ felt by your walls, by your cervix. Something snapped and let go in your depths, slick gushed around his cock, providing just the lube you needed to slide yourself up. But before you were off his shaft, the cuffs snapped, and his massive hands flew to your shoulders, broken chains dangling as he held you down on his cock.

He grunted as he filled you up with his seed. Time seemed to stop, but the flow of cum didn’t. It felt he was cumming for so long, but with it possibly being the last moment of your waking life, you were no longer in a hurry for it to end.

A new fullness bloomed in your depths, different than the fullness of his cock. Higher, more spread out. Pressure mounted in your lower belly. More and more pressure with each burst, each massive rope. And then his happy trail, pressed against your lower belly. It tickled your, and you looked down to a sight that made your clit twitch and put butterflies in your chest. His happy trail wasn’t pressing into you. Your belly was pressing into him. Your dress curved outward in a new shape. Not massive, but noticeable. You lifted your dress out of the way to see your belly bloated and round, filling out against his body as he stuffed you with his cum. The pressure was overwhelming. It didn’t feel bad, but the effect on your body scared you.

“No more,” you begged, then realized the bursts ad weakened and he’d already slowed to a trickle. “What’s happening?” You asked, voice shaky.

No reply, but his hands tightened into a bruising grip on your arms when you tried to move. His breath was deep and ragged.

He slowly tilted his head, then looked down at your exposed bloated belly. He moved his hands to your hips and the cool metal of the broken cuffs grazed your hot flesh. You looked down at yourself again, mesmerized. Maybe the shape was exaggerated in this position and might even put once you stood up. It couldn’t have been that much cum. You were embarrassed, worried, shocked, but also turned on. Very turned on.

Your nipples were so hard they were sore. Your breasts heaved under your dress, and the sight of them gave you another wave of humiliation and arousal. You couldn’t be completely certain, but your breasts seemed to look fuller. It could be in your head, you thought. You had gained a few pounds, you told yourself. This just happened to be the first time you noticed. But a different part of you knew some people thought Michael wasn’t human, that he was something from beyond. He was simply the shape of pure evil. His strength was superhuman, and you wondered if his semen might be, too. It terrified you and made you throb.

Your cunt now comfortably hugged his cock, which was no less stiff tha n it had been before he came. You couldn’t be sure if his swelling had gone down or if your body had again adjusted, more elastic than you ever thought possible. Or at least, you hoped it was elasticity. The idea that he could have stretched you beyond repair would be devastating. You might never be full again.

Michael’s hips began to rock under you, and he lifted you effortlessly, slid you up his shaft. He bounced you and wielded you up and down his dick, steadily ramping up the pace until the wind was nearly knocked out of you. It was clear he was using you as a cocksleeve. Fucking up into it as he jacked himself off with your body. It was just a warm, wet tunnel for his cock. Your thighs quivered and your breasts and belly bounced. He held you like a toy, head tilted down, yearning to see your swollen body swallow his unfathomable size, if his view weren’t obstructed by the aftermath of his load. Your insides pulsed with pleasure, you began to gush again, and a third orgasm caught you off guard. He growled as it choked his cock and then he slammed you down hard and erupted once again.

“No,” you pleaded, and held your tummy with both hands. “I can’t, it won’t fit.” He didn’t stop, and why should he? You did this. You put yourself on his cock, you took from him and he was continuing to give. There was barely any time between each rope. The steady pulse of his cock made you swell a little more, overfilling you. Your skin tightened to contain your swelling womb. It was a pleasant stretch and one you had earned. You held your belly and watched it slowly grow as the modest orb bounced with each lift of his hips.

When he was finished, He just sat there, then he lifted you off his cock and put you aside, making you stand next to the seat. He turned to face you, with his legs in the aisle, and his cum-coated cock still out. He lifted your dress and bent forward to look between your legs.

As your body drew itself back together, warm cum ran down your thighs. He huffed. You held your belly, expecting it to shrink. If it did, it was gradual.

Michael reached between his feet and used his hands to break the shackle. He tucked himself away, turned up his collar, and took your face in his hands. His thumb brushed your cheek, then he turned to leave. His boots thumped heavily down the aisle as he slowly exited the bus. He walked off into the rain and didn’t look back.

The drip of cum slowed with your womb still full. You sat on a seat and spread your legs wide, and used your fingers to pull more cum out of you. You were so stretched out that you could use four fingers with no trouble at all. You could have fit your whole hand in, and tried, but the effort of bending to get a good angle left you out of breath.

After scraping as much cum as you could out, you tried putting pressure on your belly. First with your hands, then by bending forward so it was against your thighs. The swelling went down a little, but you were still distended and beginning to cramp.

You tried with fingers again and found you had already tightened up at least a little again, to your relief. You stood up to stretch and caught your reflection in the window. You didn’t look quite as big as you imagined. Not full term, at least, but you probably looked five or six months pregnant. You walked to the front of the bus to look at yourself in the rearview mirror. Turning to the side, you held the fabric to the shape of your belly. It wasn't that bad. You could live with this, until the swelling went down. At least you didn't have to walk around gaping.

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Don't be too sad that he walks away, I HC that he could come back or find reader again 💙

If you enjoyed this, I have a ghostface fic with a similar situation and parts 1, 2, and 3 are my top 3 most popular fics ever. Every Inch

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider leaving a comment if you enjoyed it. Letting me know what you liked helps my future fics. 💙