#star trek tng imagine

[warpfive]

5 - forehead kisses with picard? 💖

jean-luc picard x reader

CW: gn!reader, small mentions of injuries

for a man as private and subtle and gentle and loving as jean-luc, forehead kisses are right up his alley. forehead kisses are his bread and butter. he’s perfected the forehead kiss. it’s a good way for him to show such intimate physical affection without crossing any boundaries that might make him uncomfortable.

the first time he did it was a little bittersweet. after having a very nice but very chaste dinner date, jean-luc was called away and the night was cut short. he apologized, you’d assured him it was okay, that there would be other nights. he smiled softly but he could see the disappointment on your face - it was a look he struggled to keep from his own expression. so when jean-luc leaned over and tenderly pressed his lips against your forehead, it conveyed more than just a kiss goodnight. it was an apology, a promise, and maybe even a bit of selfishness.

kisses became more frequent after that. playful kisses on your hand, tired kisses against his cheek, passionate kisses between heavy breathes. but the forehead kisses remained a special thing - something few and far between to be used when jean-luc has so many things to say but for once, words aren’t sufficient.

it’s a very delicate process for him. a pattern you noticed the more he did it. his hands are warm and gentle when they cradle your cheeks. the lines around his eyes crinkling just slightly when he offers a soft smile. a delicate press of his lips - not too much pressure, or too little. his breath wafts over your hair when jean-luc pulls away, like a sigh that says he’d rather not pull away at all.

forehead kisses are also much more acceptable for him to do in public, at least in jean-luc’s eyes. publicizing the relationship was hard enough without some kind of expectation of PDA, but forehead kisses do allow him to find a middle ground. chaste enough to be done in front of others (though, it’s almost always just the senior staff), but intimate enough to show he cares when he’s in Captain Mode.

he’s comfortable giving, but receiving a forehead kiss is still something that can throw jean-luc off-guard. he is a bit touch-starved, and while regular kisses are something he’s familiar with, the same can’t be said for the extra stuff. he won’t admit how much he really enjoys when you kiss him so tenderly, with no expectation of something in return. but it did make him look at forehead kisses differently. how and when and where he gives them is carefully considered, like all aspects of jean-luc’s life.

i imagine forehead kisses communicate more for jean-luc than any other kind of kiss. it’s neither lust nor playful and that suits him perfectly. a greater example couldn’t be found than the day the enterprise finally located you and your away team after having been lost for days on some miserable, desolate rock in a nowhere solar system. he found you in sickbay, on a bed, weak and dirty and bleeding from a wound on your arm but alive and jean-luc remembered how to breathe again. the forehead kiss he gave you, after brushing back your dirty, messy hair, said much more than he could ever voice - especially in front of the nurse who witnessed it.

and that’s really the basis for jean-luc’s forehead kisses: he’s not great with the lovey dovey stuff, even with all the novels and poetry he reads. but actions have always spoken louder than words for him.

[thehomeofplatonicfics]

Who is in control?

Betazoid!reader x Deanna Troi (platonic!)

Warning: Discussion of mental health and eating disorders contained within.

A/N: I just really love fics where Deanna gets to actually do her job. This is a topic very close to my heart <3

A betazoid never ate alone. Not if they could help it. You had a whole ship of thousands of people to choose as your meal companions… yet you still sat alone, hidden in your quarters, a measly bowl of soup before you. You tried to justify breaking tradition; were you really alone if you could hear everyone’s thoughts? You still rang a miniature gong during your meals, so it didn’t matter, right?

Anger bubbled up within you, your spoon thrown across the room and clattering against the door. Why were you doing this? You thought to yourself as you compulsively grabbed the bowl, it soon meeting the same fate as the spoon.

Such a strong emotion would not go unnoticed for long. The ship’s counsellor, Deanna Troi, was relaxing in Ten Forward when she felt your anger, followed by disgust and fear. She didn’t need the computer to locate you, the emotion was deep enough to immediately track you down.

Immediately she rushed through the doors, heading straight for a turbolift to get to your quarters. Deanna slightly shook her head to herself in disappointment. She’d noticed you had begun to withdraw in recent weeks and she hadn’t seen you in Ten Forward at all in several days. Perhaps she should have acted sooner. She should have realised that it wasn’t just a bad couple of days at work. As counsellor, she had the right to request access to your replicator records and see what (if anything) you’d been requesting from the computer.

She sighed as she stepped through into the turbolift. “Deck seven.” She called out, before falling back into thought. Deanna didn’t want to have to request the records, she hoped you’d either confide in her or that your discussion would soon disprove her suspicions entirely.

Stepping out onto deck seven, Deanna felt the intensity of your emotion grow stronger as she approached your quarters. The anger was gone though, she noted, replaced by a real sadness. The fear was still there, stronger than before. Deanna raised an eyebrow, her theory seeming more and more possible. But oh, how she hoped she was wrong.

You sat on the floor of your quarters, tears rolling down your face as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Soon you became aware of Deanna outside your quarters. She was simultaneously the last and the first person you wanted to see in that moment. “Go away.” Before she even had the chance to ring the bell you’d telepathically called out to her, warning her against coming any closer.

Deanna sighed again, her hand resting against the door as she bowed her head in frustration. “Let me come in, Y/N. Please.” The counsellor begged, her concern radiating into your mind. It almost broke your heart. She shouldn’t be concerned about you, you weren’t worth it. “I don’t need any help. Go. Away.” You curled up into a little ball, crying harder. Deanna could hear it through the door. “I can’t do that, I know that’s not true.”

Anyone passing by would have perhaps thought Deanna was going crazy, just standing outside your door and shaking her head every so often in silence. “Please,” Deanna tried again, “don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.” She felt your sudden spike of anger that faded as quickly as it arrived. “I’m… I’m not.” You faltered, slowly standing up. Perhaps you realised this confrontation was inevitable, and it would happen with or without your cooperation. At least this way it was still somewhat in your control.

Deanna removed her hand from the door and stepped back, a kind smile already prepped on her face as she anticipated the door opening. She tried her best to school her expression as the door opened to reveal you, looking a pathetic sight. “Come in, counsellor.” You gestured dejectedly, wondering how you we’re going to get out of this situation. Just how much did Deanna know?

As Deanna stepped inside, you realised she’d see the soup splattered all over the floor. The four deities had abandoned you, clearly, you were doomed. To her credit, Deanna merely observed the soup with a sad little nod and then turned her attention back to you as the doors closed. “You know why I’m here, don’t you?” Deanna asked aloud, breaking the silence for the first time.

“Because I threw some soup on the floor.” You replied, avoiding her gaze. Deanna frowned, knowing you’d put up a fight. “No, Y/N. Why don’t you tell me what’s been going on? I’ve noticed that you’ve isolated yourself the past couple of weeks. I haven’t seen you in Ten Forward for a meal in days.” She took a deep breath, processing all that she was sensing from you. “Why, Y/N?”

Wow, you thought, going straight for the jugular. You stood frozen to the spot, your mind battling out all your options. You couldn’t lie, Deanna would know. You couldn’t say nothing because Deanna would still know your thoughts, your feelings… just as you knew hers. But telling the truth, you couldn’t do that either. It would ruin everything.

“What would ruin everything?” Deanna asked, having heard your entire internal monologue. There was no escape. You broke down, raising your hands to your face, your shoulders shaking. “The research project… I feel mistreated by my colleagues. Like I’m just a pathetic little assistant to them to do all the tasks they don’t want to do. I’m not in control of my own research proposal. Not in control of my own career.” You told her telepathically, not trusting your voice to say the words aloud.

“I wanted to be in charge of something in my life, to feel like everything wasn’t spiralling out of control. And this… this I can control. This became my project.” You sobbed at this point, your body jerking in half at the force of the emotion. “You know, seeing how long I could go without any food.” Deanna’s heart broke at your confession, and she guided you to the sofa where you fell into her shoulder as you cried. She wrapped her arms around you, wishing she’d acted sooner.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” The counsellor asked, rubbing your arm soothingly as possible. “I was so embarrassed.” You removed your face from her shoulder, trying to take deep breaths in and out. “I thought that I could… that I could stop anytime I wanted to. But, I couldn’t. I wanted to but I couldn’t stop!” The tears landed in your lap and you looked down at them, not wanting to look at Deanna’s expression. You didn’t need to, you could tell she was horrified.

“Y/N, look at me.” You shook your head, not ready to face the reality of what was happening. “Look at me.” Deanna commanded again, making you flit your eyes up to meet hers for just a moment. It was enough for the counsellor to confirm what she had to do in that moment. “Are you in control?” She asked, already knowing the answer. You knew she knew it too, so you didn’t bother to hide the truth. “No.” You whispered, bowing your head as you gripped either side of it. It felt like it was about to explode.

There were a few moments of silence, the tension cutting through you deeper than a blade ever could. “Lieutenant Y/N L/N, as chief counsellor, I am relieving you of duty as per order 39, section alpha 8, effective immediately.”

You gasped, your eyes as wide as saucers. Everything you’d worked so hard for… gone. Just like that. “No. No! Please!” You begged Deanna, standing up abruptly. The counsellor already knew what you were about to do. “Security, deck 7 section 8.” She tapped her combadge, watching with sadness as you ran out of your room and into the corridor.

Deanna followed, watching the team materialise in the corridor as you ran past a crewman. “Stun them only!” She ordered, pointing at your retreating form. It didn’t take long for a phaser fire to hit you squarely in the back, and you collapsed onto the floor. “Troi to Sickbay, medical emergency. Deck 7, section 8.” She smiled to herself in relief as she heard Beverly’s voice acknowledging. Dr. Crusher was probably the best person to collaborate with to ensure you returned to duty in good health.

Beverly shortly arrived with her team, placing you onto the stretcher and getting you to sickbay. Deanna, in the meantime, walked beside them and explained the situation. “You’re not surprised. Why?” Deanna asked, as they placed you onto a biobed.

“I’ve noticed they’ve been awfully avoidant of me… and the rest of the medical team. Unusual behaviour considering our departments work so closely together. I’ve been thinking of visiting them myself but I just didn’t have the time.” Beverly shook her head as she ran a tricorder over you. “But I didn’t think it’d come to this.” The Doctor fastened your safety restraints, then beckoned Deanna to follow her. “They’ll be out for a few hours. We should discuss a treatment plan now. The sooner we can get them back on duty, the better.”

[captainpikeswoman]

Hello! I really live your writing, and I wanted to ask if you'd be okay with writing something with Data x Vulcan!reader? [Unless that doesn't make sense. I haven't watched TNG in a hot minute-X)]. I just randomly thought about it and found it a funny possibility: Vulcans are notorious for being reserved and logical, correct me if I'm wrong. I kinda feel like an android and a Vulcan would have a higher chance of understanding each other better, but it would be the definition of a slowburn, among other things-- X)

I'd like you to do it in hcs, if that's ok? Either way, have a good day!^^

Definitely makes sense! Hope you like it!

Being a Vulcan and dating Data would include:

•the relationship is absolutely the definition of a slow burn! The two of you are incredibly respectful of each other as individuals.

•other Vulcans are absolutely fascinated by your choice to pursue a relationship with the android, but fundamentally they respected it. But they were curious- certainly there could be no ‘natural’ offspring, which for Vulcans is one of the main reasons to pursue a relationship.

•there’s hardly any difference between your friendship with Data and your relationship with him.

•physical intimacy is rare- especially in public. Data has done a thorough, in depth amount of research into Vulcan dating rituals etc. So he understands everything very clearly.

•he does his best to create dates that would satisfy your desire to spend time with him, AND that would also be considered romantic and interesting by your standards.

•eventually though you have to break- Data has no experience of desire, though he believes his programming responds uniquely to you! But you do have desire, so you’re the one to start initiating intimacy. Data is more than happy to oblige and eagerly reciprocates when you give him a Vulcan kiss…which is swiftly followed by more intimate kisses on the lips.

•it takes months and months and months to get to that stage though. The whole crew are on tender hooks, placing bets, silently encouraging you both to take the next step. The whole Enterprise family are INVESTED in the slow burn of your relationship. It’s very sweet, and you’re very welcome into the intergalactic family as Data’s other half.

[steakout-05]

hey wait i just had a thought. what would Data's handwriting look like. do you think whenever he has to handwrite he just perfectly prints New Times Roman in size 14 onto the paper in three seconds or something. wait imagine if he wrote in Comic Sans

[mostly-natm]

Human (Android) shield.

[to-boldly-escape]

Data in Gold <3

Expand for higher qualityy

[gayatticusfinch]

What if the children of an android, a Nagus, a Starfleet captain, a lizard nazi and an incel Klingon were all friends on a space station called ‘Deep Space Nine’?

[marzipanandminutiae]

how does antiquing work in Star Trek?

like, okay, there's no scarcity Because Replicators. great! except you can't replicate an antique, not the real thing. probably some AMAZING reproductions- 24th-century historical costumers must be having the time of their lives, because as great as modern synthetic baleen is, imagine what you could do with a machine that literally replicates the exact molecular structure of the same! or that extinct flax that made medieval linen so great! -but I know antique collectors. there's nothing like the feeling of something you know so many other people have loved for centuries

is it like a barter system? do you go to the antique "shop" with things passed down in your family or found in the equivalent of a Facebook buy-nothing group, and trade what you have for what the history nerd running the place has based on your respective interests?

is Brimfield like a giant swap meet? could I go with, say...a big bag full of my grandmother's chunky 1950s costume jewelry and trade it for 1880s blouse waists because the stall owner wants the former and I want the latter? equivalent value wouldn't matter- what's value, beyond how much you treasure something? nobody's got rent to make or bills to pay, after all

do people become antiques "dealers" just for the thrill of the hunt and the pleasure of matching an object to someone who will love it? you don't have to work, after all; you can spend your whole life searching the world for rare treasures if that brings you joy

this is a nice thought

[spocksocksrock]

guys look at the cool clock i got :)

[elasgottoomuchfreetime]

Nobody:

Me, probably hallucinating: You know, I think the uniform of the security personnel (like Worf) is orange-yellow/a warmer tone, because other people from the security team also have similarly coloured uniforms. Meanwhile the uniforms of the operation/engineering staff (Data/Geordi) are more green-yellowish/murky (?). Maybe it‘s only like that in this episode or this season or they all have different shades of yellow in their closet & just choose by mood or-

[this is a picture from said episode]

[thehomeofplatonicfics]

It Wasn't Your Fault

Deanna Troi x betazoid!reader (platonic!)

You were finally off-duty after a Night Shift, and you slumped down on your bed as soon as you returned to your quarters. Taking a deep breath in and letting it out in a satisfying sigh, you forced yourself to approach the replicator. “Hot chocolate.” You ordered, offering a tired smile in thanks to the replicator as the delicious sweet beverage appeared. You took the mug in your hand, cradling it’s warmth into your chest before taking a large sip. Finally, you could give in to your exhaustion and get ready for bed.

Making your way over to the mirror, you pulled your hair out of its style and into a more relaxed state. Removing the jacket and placing it on the bed, you suddenly saw the flash of an image in your mind, intrusive and unwelcome. You shook your head believing yourself just to be tired and therefore more susceptible to the stronger emotions of the crew. Moving to grab your pyjamas, you suddenly saw another image. You gasped, dropping your pyjamas on the floor in alarm.

You reached to tap your combadge to call for help, but your hand only found the fabric of the undershirt. Your badge was still attached to your jacket. Trying to reach for it, your mind was invaded with so many images and this time they didn’t stop. You collapsed onto your knees, clutching your head and crying for it to stop.

Meanwhile the senior staff were engaged in a meeting in the conference room, Captain Picard was running through each head of department’s status reports. Deanna’s brows furrowed as she sensed your alarm after the first few flashes of intense imagery. She tried to telepathically ask you if you were alright, but she found for some reason that she couldn’t get through to you. “Counsellor?” Will prompted Deanna, clearly seeing that something wasn’t right. “Deanna.” He called again, his hand resting on her shoulder as she frowned up at him.

“It’s Y/N. Something is… really… wrong.” Deanna’s voice became strained as she began to feel the stress and panic that you were feeling as you cried out for the images to stop. “Beverly, they need our help now.” Doctor Crusher nodded, and Captain Picard gave his consent for the pair to go and see what was wrong. They quickly stopped by sickbay to pick up a medkit, and Deanna urged them to hurry. “I think they’re under a telepathic attack. I can sense a presence in their mind that I can only describe as not belonging to them.” Deanna raised a hand to her temples, struggling to maintain composure. She could tell how much pain you were in.

They reached your quarters and Beverly punched in the code for a medical override. Deanna rushed in to find you on the floor, jerking and thrashing about, mumbling incoherently under your breath. Tears stained your cheeks and you seemed to be fighting with air. Beverly soon joined Deanna, kneeling down beside you and assessing your state with a frown. She realised this was perhaps a betazoid problem best dealt with by a betazoid. “How can I help, Deanna?”

The counsellor remained silent for a few moments, as she probed your mind and tried to read what was happening. There definitely was a force invading your mind, for what purpose Deanna wasn’t sure. She worried that she couldn’t really help, after all if as a full betazoid you couldn’t protect yourself against the presence, then as only a half-betazoid she wouldn’t be any better.

“I need something to lower their psilosynine levels. That should help to decrease their telepathic field and lower the intruder's reach over their mind.” Deanna told Beverly, while she tried to telepathically call out to you. At first, you looked straight past her, clearly unaware of their presence. Then, as Doctor Crusher administered the hypospray into your neck, you looked straight at Deanna.

She tried again to communicate with you, but you lashed out at her, fighting against her in your head. “No, no! Leave me alone!” You cried, your hands balled into fists as you continued thrashing at Deanna. “What’s happening?” Beverly asked in alarm. “It’s helped them, but they think I’m a threat to them. It might be better to sedate them, then I won’t have to fight them to drive out the intruder.”

Beverly prepared another hypospray as Deanna tried her best to calm you and show she was your friend, not your enemy. You were too far gone though to even comprehend anything she was saying to you. All you knew was that you had to defend yourself. Doctor Crusher injected the second hypospray and the pair waited for a few seconds. Your thrashing soon slowed down, then you relaxed completely. It wasn’t more than a minute when you became unconscious.

They quickly transferred you to sickbay, before Deanna got to work driving the intruder from your mind. She sat by your side, holding your hand, while Beverly hovered by your side with a medical tricorder. The counsellor was clearly having a difficult time to overpower the strange presence. Finally, after an hour, Deanna drew back with a tired but relieved smile. Beverly glanced down at the screen of the tricorder, smiling in satisfaction to see all your vital signs were slowly beginning to return to normal.

The pair waited for you to regain consciousness naturally. Beverly continued her work in sickbay, glancing over at your biobed every couple of minutes. Meanwhile, Deanna used her combadge to contact the Captain and inform him of the situation. He decided to wait to have a report from you about what happened before taking any action. Deanna could sense that Picard would be too impatient to wait for the length of time it would take for you to truly recover to produce such a report. However, for now, she didn’t say anything.

After a couple of hours, Counsellor Troi sensed you were slowly coming to. She sat up straighter in her seat and leaned forward, her hand resting on your forearm. “Y/N?” She called out to you, grabbing the attention of Doctor Crusher, who seconds later was hovering over you with a tricorder.

Slowly and lethargically, you opened your eyes. Beverly asked how you were feeling, but you didn’t respond, merely staring into space. The Doctor glanced concernedly at Deanna, a silent plea for help. The counsellor smiled gently down at you, calling out your name again telepathically. This managed to capture your attention, as you turned your head to look at your fellow betazoid.

“Y/N, do you remember what happened to you?” Deanna asked you, quickly sending a comforting smile Beverly’s way as she sensed the Doctor’s unease at being unable to hear the conversation between you. “Yes.” You affirmed, and you felt the wave of relief radiating from the counsellor. “Can you tell me?” You hesitated for a second, a tear rolling down your cheek. “No.” You replied, turning away from them both, though you knew this wouldn’t hide anything from Deanna.

“Oh, Y/N…” You heard Deanna sigh out loud as she comfortingly stroked your arm while standing up. “What is it?” Beverly asked, clearly impatient to learn what was going on. Deanna gently held up a hand to Beverly, silently asking her to be patient. She could tell that your mind was exhausted and injured from your experience, and that telepathic communication would be the best way to help you.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Deanna began, walking away from the biobed and towards the replicator. “It was. I should have been stronger. I should have been keeping up with my mental exercises. I’ve let myself grow weak.” Deanna shook her head to herself, a ghost of a sad smile appearing for a second. “You are too hard on yourself. You have had a lot of responsibility here on the Enterprise recently, trying to increase your psionic abilities would have meant you would have no rest period. You know that is not healthy.” She paused in front of the replicator. “Computer, hot chocolate.” Deanna ordered out loud, scooping the mug into her hands as she made her way back over to you.

She knew you were crying before she heard the quiet sniffles and sobs, and she hoped that the sweet treat that you’d been intending to enjoy would help calm you a little. “Beverly, may they?” Deanna gestured to the mug in her hand. Beverly came closer and scanned you again, smiling in confirmation. “I see no reason why not, everything is returning to normal and it may help speed up the process.”

The counsellor stopped in front of you, holding out the hot chocolate for you to take. You slowly shifted to sit up, Beverly rushing to your side to support you as you wobbled slightly. You snatched the mug and cradled it into your chest, the warmth providing some minor comfort. “Thank you, Deanna.” You offered telepathically. “Is it helping?” You took a sip of the sweet drink, smiling for the first time since you awoke as the trickle of warmth down your throat helped to combat the pit of cold dread in your stomach. To finally answer Deanna’s question, you nodded, looking up at the pair as fresh tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but is there anything important that we need to know? Is there any threat the captain should be made aware of?” Deanna dared to ask, with a concerned look. She did not expect the strong wave of embarrassment and shame that radiated from you, and she almost regretted asking as you broke down into shuddering, loud sobs.

Beverly cautiously took the mug from your hands to save you from spilling away, which gave Deanna the opportunity to wrap her arms around you in a tight hug. You leant against her, a hand gripping onto her arm as you let all your emotion out. In this wave of devastation, you projected an image of what happened to the counsellor, unable to conceal it. Deanna gasped, her arms squeezing you tighter as a tear rolled down her own cheek in understanding.

The two of you hugged for several minutes as you let out all your distress, Deanna piecing together the whole story based on all the thoughts and images you shared. Once you had calmed down enough, you gestured to Beverly to regain your hot chocolate, and Deanna let go. “Beverly, Y/N has shared information about what happened to them that I think the captain should know about. But I think a telepath needs to remain with them for now until they have recovered.” The Doctor smiled gently at you, hoping she was providing a comforting presence for you. “Say no more, tell me what I need to know and I’ll go report to the captain.”

The pair moved slightly away from you, though they knew of course you could understand every word. Deanna kept reassuring you telepathically while she was talking to Beverly, and you felt much calmer as you dipped on your hot chocolate. The Doctor soon left sickbay and Deanna grabbed her own mug of the sweet beverage, before hopping up onto the biobed. Together, you began talking about happier subjects in companionable silence.

[captainpikeswoman]

Hello! Can I request Q's reaction for reader being injured because of protecting him from something/someone while he's human. It can happen when they are already close friends or slowly falling in love with each other. And you're works are absolutely awesome and precious! Once they made me enter the fandom, now I can't get out of it and I'm satisfied with it. You have very pleasant style, thanks for all your hard work

Thank you- that’s so lovely of you to say! I hope you like it!

Q finding out you got hurt while defending him when he’s human would include:

•you two had an interesting situationship- as it were. As a God like entity he refused to enter into a ‘primitive’ relationship with you; though that’s where you were both headed.

•and actually when he was human you did both cross that line for the first time…and once he’d tried it, well he wasn’t going back to a touch less existence.

•but it wasn’t until he was quite himself again that he discovered that while he was a human, and entirely at the mercy of the Enterprise crew, you had had to defend him. Physically defended him from a few rouge elements who’d wanted to try and make Q stand trial for his ‘crimes’.

•well, you weren’t going to allow that! So you fought the crew off until Worf could arrive to disperse them and help keep you and Q safe. And in the line of that defence you’d gotten injured- your arm had been broken, and cuts were littered all over you- they hadn’t fought nicely!

•Worf saw you safely to Medbay, and in that time as Dr Crusher healed you, Q’s powers were returned! He snapped into existence beside you, just as Beverley was about to work on the worst injury- the broken arm.

•Q is outraged! He’s about to go and wreak havoc and agony on the ‘puny primitives’ that had dared to lay a hand on you- he was so angry! But instead you grabbed his hand and made him stay.

•he took one look at your sad face and promised he’d stay with you- he did offer to heal you with a click of his fingers…but Beverley put up an argument, she wouldn’t allow it. So Q reluctantly allowed her to heal you. And he held your hand the whole time.

•you had to use your best puppy eyes on Q to make him promise not to punish the people that had hurt you. And soon enough his initial anger does blow over.

•and then he’s left feeling utterly touched…after his mortal experience he’s more aware of the weight and significance of your actions- to help him, you’d let your own life become potentially endangered. It was sweet, and it was very telling of your emotions.

•Q understands know how you feel, and what this is between you. And he makes a silent promise to himself to keep you safe, one day he’ll return the favour and help you as you’ve helped him.

•but he was never going to stick around just because your situationship had evolved into an odd sort of relationship- and he’s eager to go cause mischief elsewhere! But he doesn’t leave immediately- he sees you safely to bed and watches over your dreams before he goes.

•Q presses a kiss to your forehead, and leaves a note saying he’ll be back in a few weeks- so keep an eye out for him.

[spookyshoosh]

illustration of data and the archeologist from chapter 40 of @dataentryspecialist ao3 fic “electric excavations”

please go check it out!

[40cleverways]

Intrusive Thoughts are tricky, especially when they’re not yours.

[steakout-05]

ok so i was in the shower one time and my brain trailed off and i just started imagining what if the Enterprise got a distress signal that has been sent from the 21st century and when they look at it it's just stupid ancient meme shitpostery. like they think they've come across a really weird time-travelling anomaly and they put it on main viewer and they just get colossally rickrolled from 300 years in the past. it hasn't left my head for the past few days so now you must witness my vision

Data: Captain, it appears we are somehow receiving an unusual distress signal originating from the ancient year of 2024.

*Picard and Riker exchange looks*

Riker: 2024..? That's impossible.

Picard: Hm... Unusual indeed. Put it on main viewer.

Data: Aye sir.

and then the viewscreen activates and it's just this

[writingsfromstarfleet]

[TNG] Worf - All Along

♫ Thousand Years - Christina Perri

Klingon culture has long since been recognised as one of the most violent cultures to the outside. In every aspect, it seemed some form of shouting or fighting was at the heart of everything they did. To outsiders, perhaps it seemed that way. There was always a softer side to Klingons, however, one not many people saw in some. 

On away missions, it was handy to have a Klingon with you, and Worf was the perfect one to go along. He was knowledgeable and cautious, and always willing to protect should danger occur. However, he could fight too, far better than anyone you had ever seen. His skill in battle and in leadership made for a great away team leader.

His leadership and skill was also the reason you started having feelings for him, and that made you very uncertain. You were a human, and he was a Klingon. Interspecies romance was not uncommon, particularly now in the universe where infinite diversity in infinite combination was at the heart of most of the galaxy. But, you weren't sure of how Worf would react. He hadn't shown any interest in anyone, let alone yourself, and it left you wondering just how awkward these feeling were about to make the rest of your engineering career.

"Lieutenant Y/N? Are you alright?" A voice snapped you out of your daydream in Ten Forward, your drink long since watered down as the ice had melted. It was your friend, Data, and you shook your head at him.

"Yes, of course, thank you Data. Please, have a seat."

"Are you sure? You do not seem it. You have been staring at Lieutenant Commander Worf for five minutes. I am sure he will start becoming uncomfortable soon."

Your put your head in your hands and sighed. You hadn't even noticed you were looking right at his table the entire time you were zoned out. Laughing to yourself, you sipped your watery drink.

"Ahh, I didn't even know, I guess I'm hung up on a few things, Data. I can trust you, can't I?"

"Absolutely." He nodded and seated himself, sitting curt as always, ready to listen.

"Somethings changed between Worf and I these past couple of weeks. We started off merely away team companions, and it was fine that way, but now I feel like I want to know him better, even court him, as it were. But, I wouldn't even know where to start with that. I mean, just last week, he was reciting a poem he wrote to me before we said goodnight after a shift."

"Perhaps you should try throwing a vase at him, Y/N."

Your eyebrows shot up, utter confusion on your face.

"I.. I- huh?"

"Allow me to explain. When Lieutenant Commander Worf was reciting his poetry to you, he was expressing an interest in courting you. When Klingons find someone of which they would like to court or marry, one recites poetry whilst the other expresses interest in a violent manner, such as scratching, fighting or throwing things at them. This way, the intentions are clear for both parties."

You stared at Data, dumbfounded. "That is in no way, shape or form, clear. But, that is interesting to know, thank you."

Data stood, nodding. "Should you need me, I will be in the science bay. Good luck with that, Y/N."

As he left, you were left with much to ponder, and your eyes drifted over to where Worf was sat, and as you did so, his eyes met yours too. You smiled and nodded, and he nodded all the same. You noticed him leaving, and quickly jumped up to do the same. 

"Hello, Worf, uh.. would you care to meet me tonight in my quarters? I have some music I wish to show you, I think you would be interested. It's okay if not, I-"

"I will be there, your company sounds desirable. Until then, Lieutenant." And with that, he hastily made his way back to work.

The night rolled round and you were in your quarters, pacing. Nerves weren't your sort of vibe, and being a Starfleet officer meant they were pushed back on the job. But tonight, you were making up for all of that by experiencing every bit of nerves you could at the exact same time. The door chimed and your heart jumped, but you opened the door nonetheless. 

"Good evening, Worf, thank you for coming." Your voice was shaky, the uncertainty jumping right out. Worf wasn't fazed, and strolled in, awaiting the music.

"Good evening, Y/N, thank you for inviting me for the music display, I am looking forward to it."

A solitary voice in your head comes out. 'Ahh, fuck it.' 

As Worf turns to find a seat, you pick up the vase closest to you, one that stood on your tableside, and launched it in his direction, and it smashed right by his feet. As the security officer turned, you jumped at him and started to fight him. Worf swiftly changed the playing field and switched you around, and you dodged his attacks with surprising ease. The fight grew more tense as the two of you made it to your feet, his batleth out and you defending with a stick. Nimble and small, you manage to swoop round and trick him every now and then, and when he thought he had you, your legs took his out and you knelt down over him, sitting on his stomach almost, with your phaser at his neck.

"Y/N... that was incredible." Worf was slightly out of breath, but did still sound impressed. 

"Likewise, I hope Data was right about this," you started to look nervous, as you helped Worf up from the ground, a hand he graciously accepted. 

"Right about the vase?"

"Yeah, he-" you stopped. He knew? "How do you know about the vase?"

"I told him to tell you about a vase. I had a feeling you were interested in me, as you humans might say, and so I knew that if you were, you would go to him for advice because you are very good friends. The vase was rather specific, so I realised the moment you threw that at me tonight you had an interest in me."

"That was a very intelligent move, Worf. How did you know?" you inquired, puzzle on your face. You couldn't believe this was happening, no more than you could believe that Data had been playing cupid and wingman for Worf. 

"I can sense it, Y/N. You look at me differently, and when you are around me, you act different, too. It is not hard to tell."

You raised an eyebrow. "Am I that obious?"

Worf sighed. "No, Councellor Troi told me."

You laughed aloud, shaking your head. "And here I was, thinking you knew all along."

"I knew I was interested in you," he started, taking your hand and sitting you down with him on your chair. "But I did not think you would be interested in me."

"Why wouldn't I be? You're sure of yourself, strong, and you're great company. Gathering feelings for you was easy, dealing with them was the hard part, and the outcome has been the best."

You shot Worf a a smile, and he gave you one back, to the best of Klingon ability. He brought your hand to his head, pressing his lips against your hand. 

"Will you have me, Y/N?"

"I've wanted you all along."