This event runs from the 3rd - 9th of September 2024.
The rules for this event are as follows:
1. No explicit material featuring minors, bestiality, or rape/non-con.
2. Dub-con, major character death, and graphic depictions of violence are allowed so long as they are adequately warned for and tagged.
3. OT3s are allowed, as long as the relationship is F/F/F.
4. All works must feature an F/F pairing as the primary ship. F/NB is allowed. OCs are also welcome.
5. As this is an event for celebrating female characters and relationships, we request that you do not include genderbent canonically male characters in works for this event.
6. Written works can be of any length. Art may be of any medium, including graphics and photosets. Playlists are allowed, we welcome them.
7. We will share 14 prompts for the week, including a Free Space. You do not have to participate in every day.
8. If you share your work on Tumblr, tag it #startrekfemslashweek2024 so we can find and share it!
“A lesbian bar,” said Kira, hands on hips. “You want to set up a lesbian bar on Deep Space Nine?”
She had been on the way to the Replimat for her morning raktajino, and she had not welcomed being waylaid.
Quark attempted his most reasonable voice. Some would have described it as wheedling. “Now that Garak has moved back to Cardassia, there’s a free unit on the Promenade. You might not have noticed, but there are a lot of lesbians on Deep Space Nine, Colonel, and sometimes they like to go to bars. It’s good business to provide them with a suitable venue.”
Kira frowned. “Why do I think there’s something you’re not telling me?”
“You did not tell me that we would be going to a bar”, Seven says in that tone of hers that always sounds judgmental, no matter what she says. And, as always, it pisses B’Elanna off.
“I don’t want to be here anymore than you do, alright? I was volunteered.”
“You would think that after all that time in the Delta Quadrant there would be more Klingons in Starfleet to be ‘volunteered’ for this sort of mission”, Seven responds, looking around warily. Her hair is in its usual perfect updo and she’s wearing—well. At least she’s not wearing one of her usual cat suits. But to say that she’s dressed well for the occasion would go a little too far. She looks extremely bland, dressed in a dark sort of suit.
B’Elanna thinks that maybe someone should have briefed her better on what exactly it is that they’re doing down here.
“Open some of those buttons”, B’Elanna says, gesturing at Seven’s button up shirt. Seven raises one perfect eyebrow.
“Excuse me?”
“Your buttons. You look like a business woman who took a wrong turn. This is a Klingon bar. If people in there are supposed to believe that you came here voluntarily you have to slut it up a little”, B’Elanna says. Seven’s eyebrow raises even further.
“’Slut it up’?”, she answers.
“Have you met Klingons? All they do is fight and fuck. So if you want to go in there and not do the fighting, you have to look like you’re there for the fucking.”
There is a pause in which B’Elanna thinks that Seven is going to punch her in the face or simply turn around and leave. Instead, she slowly raises her hand to undo four buttons of her shirt, revealing a terribly perfect cleavage. B’Elanna was never self-conscious about her body—aside from its Klingon features, of course—but standing next to Seven can make even the most confident woman feel a little lackluster.
She nods emphatically and tousles up her own hair while Seven stares at her unblinkingly.
“What?”
“I am simply trying to infer how your clothes look as if you are here to ‘fuck’”, she says. B’Elanna crosses her arms in front of her chest. She’s wearing simple dark pants and a vest that shows off her toned biceps.
“Seven. No offense. But this is a lesbian bar. Lesbians love a good biceps.”
Another pause.
“Lesbian. As in homosexual female Klingons.”
B’Elanna can’t help but snort.
“Yes. Why else did you think they would send you here? Could’ve gone with… I don’t know. Someone who’s not a walking fridge.”
“I assume that many biceps in this bar will be more impressive than yours, seeing as to how you are only half Klingon”, Seven says and B’Elanna could swear that there’s the hint of a smirk beginning to form in the corner of her mouth.
“Yeah, what can I say. I’m counting on being a fuckable novelty. Let’s go. And try not to look so—well. Like you.”
Being back on Earth has allowed B’Elanna many things. Taking a guest teaching job at the academy, getting back in touch with some old friends and also… well. Getting to know some of her new friends better now that they’re back home. She’s spent an astounding amount of time with Harry, seeing as to how the two of them couldn’t be more different. And after a while off from the whole Starfleet thing, she also decided to go back to active duty, ending up more often than not with Seven.
B’Elanna never thought she’d ever help anyone else adept to Starfleet Academy or find herself arguing on behalf of it or going on an undercover extraction mission with Seven to a lesbian Klingon bar. But when the Captain asks nicely, B’Elanna is bad at saying no. She owes that woman so much.
“Would it not make more sense to pretend that we are a homosexual couple”, Seven says, pulling B’Elanna out of her thoughts and back into the real world in which Seven’s cleavage is very distracting and the Klingon hard-rock coming from inside the bar is still very loud.
Now it’s her time to pause.
“You want to pretend to be a couple. With me”, she says.
Ah, there’s that eyebrow again.
“It seems the most logical course of action. And I would, in fact, not need to look as if I was searching for sexual conquest if I am already there with a partner.”
B’Elanna can’t help but laugh about that, but she decides that maybe now is not the best time to explain the Klingon love for an orgy or the concept of polyamory to her. Instead she grabs Seven’s arm and puts it around her own shoulder before she loops her own arm around Seven’s waist.
“Well then, Ensign. Are you ready to be a lesbian?”, she asks.
“I do not think—“
“It was a joke, Seven. Loosen up.”
“Right. A joke”, Seven says, not commenting on how she has never loosened up in her life or how ‘I am Borg. I do not loosen up’. B’Elanna thinks it to herself and chuckles quietly, trying not to think about how well they actually fit together like this as they step towards the bouncers—two enormous Klingon women, wearing very little—and push open the doors.
The music thrums inside B’Elannas ribcage as they make their way towards the bar. Most of the women in here are drinking bloodwine, but there are some non-Klingons who carry fancy, colorful drinks that sparkle in the low light. B’Elanna takes note of the brawls taking place over in a corner, of the door to a separate room that probably leads to something Seven has never seen before in her entire life, Borg or no Borg, and she scans the room for their target.
“I have found our target”, Seven says next to B’Elanna. “She is sitting at one of the round tables, playing what looks to be a game involving daggers and three very lightly dressed women.”
B’Elanna doesn’t need much longer to find Sukav Resh after that particular description. She is indeed surrounded by three women who wear barely more than leather underwear and some jewelry that proudly and clearly proclaims their sexual preferences to the entire room. Most people out in these types of bars wear it. It’s not because Klingon’s are too shy to ask, they simply value efficiency. Threatening someone and buying them drinks to get laid only to find out that they’re not compatible with you is a waste of time for everyone.
“Should we attempt to join in this knife game to get the information we need?”, Seven asks and B’Elanna can’t help it. It’s simply all a little surreal.
“Would you say that you’re a submissive bottom looking to be thrown across a room, bitten extensively and spanked all night?”, she asks.
“I am unclear what my own sexual preferences have to do with our target”, Seven says, looking puzzled. B’Elanna wishes it was easier to rile her up. No fun at all.
“The women she has at her table all wear jewelry signaling that that’s what they’re looking for and look at Resh’s chains and the metal piece on her right hand. She’s signaling that she’s looking for someone to rough up, to put it mildly. So I doubt she’d want us there unless we advertise ourselves as such”, B’Elanna says, stepping up to the bar and shouting at the barmaid in Klingon to get her attention and buy her and Seven a drink.
“You have extensive knowledge about these things, Lieutenant.”
B’Elanna hands Seven a drink.
“I dabbled. Back in my academy days.”
“Dabbled”, Seven repeats. “You have had many relations with male crew-members over the course of our journey, but none with female crew-members.”
“Seven, I’m not going to discuss my sexual preferences with you while we’re on a job”, B’Elanna says and Seven opens her mouth, closes it again and sniffs her drink before pulling a face that makes B’Elanna laugh.
“That’ll put some chest on your chest”, she says with a big grin and throws her drink back.
“I doubt that I need more ‘chest’ on my chest”, Seven says and it makes B’Elanna laugh more. She looks at Seven’s cleavage and then back up.
“Yeah. Maybe not.”
Seven sips her drink and looks as if she would love nothing more than to spit it back out. But, like a brave Klingon warrior, Seven swallows her small sip and then turns her back to Sukav Resh.
“If you have intricate knowledge of these… mating rituals. Then we should make use of them to get to the target. What kind of jewelry do I need to—signal all of that. What you said before.”
“You mean that you’re a submissive bottom who wants to be—“
“Yes. That”, Seven interrupts. Maybe her cheeks look a little red, but maybe it’s just the drink or the lighting. Either way, B’Elanna finds herself weirdly charmed by it. It’s not often that you see Seven of Nine even remotely flustered.
“You don’t have to do it. I doubt you’d survive two seconds at that table. I can do it. I’ll get the information we need and when I have it we’ll find the backroom they do their business in”, B’Elanna says, opening up her vest and starting to rummage around in her pockets. She finds what she’s looking for and hands Seven a heavy necklace while she puts three metal bracelets on her left wrist.
“You had all of this at home”, Seven says and it’s not a question. B’Elanna does not comment on it. She takes Seven’s drink from her, throws the rest of it back and then tousles her own hair some more before walking over to where Sukav Resh is sitting. She can immediately feel herself be appraised as she approaches and there’s a familiar tingle that makes its way up her spine and back down into her fingertips.
It’s been a very long time since B’Elanna went to a bar like this and what Seven said is true. But it’s surprisingly easy to fall back into old habits, even if those habits have been put away for a long time. She has no idea what Seven is up to, if she’s watching or buying another drink. The dagger in Resh’s hand spins and B’Elanna smiles before she punches one of the women sitting at Resh’s table square in the face, sending her backwards over a chair.
“So. I can see there’s a seat free here”, she says, grabbing the drink of the woman she just hit and throwing it back. Resh stares up at her and then she starts laughing, hitting the table with one hand.
“I can appreciate some healthy competition. You here to play?”, she asks, looking at the bracelets on B’Elanna’s wrist and the chain dangling between her boobs.
“Why else would I sit here?”, she says, holding out her hand for the dagger. Resh’s grin grows sharp as she hands it over.
“Well then. Let’s play.”
*
One of the reasons why B’Elanna stopped going to these kinds of bars is because of her non-existent ability to regulate her own risk-seeking behavior. Getting through the academy days was already shitty enough without running to the medical facilities every second weekend. The looks of the nurses when they saw the bite marks were usually enough to make B’Elanna’s skin crawl with old, internalized issues she never really dealt with.
Being thrown back into it is… weird. And thrilling. B’Elanna likes being rough and she likes it the other way around too, she simply has a preference of roughing up men and being roughed up by women. Seven doesn’t need to know that. B’Elanna might have thought about Seven being just as strong as a Klingon with her Borg enhancements. Usually the people B’Elanna fights—or fucks—can’t hold a candle to her strength. Most of them are humans.
But Seven could probably—well. It doesn’t matter. It’s not a road B’Elanna should go down. She has a job to do and a kid to raise with a husband she’s getting divorced from. Adding sexual desires for her former Borg colleague to the mix would simply complicate things too much.
After half an hour B’Elanna is tipsy bordering on drunk, has three minor stab wounds in her arm and has been promoted to sit on Resh’s right thigh. This is definitely not how she saw the night going. She has the info. But she needs an out so she can reconvene with Seven to find the backroom for that damned business transaction. Resh grabs B’Elanna’s chin roughly and turns it towards her face. B’Elanna maybe licks her lips, trying her hardest to remember that she’s here on a mission and that she’s on duty—but she doesn’t have to ponder this for very long, because right as she’s about to elbow her way out of this situation, she’s pulled out of Resh’s lap and before B’Elanna can say anything to stop it, Resh is thrown halfway across the room.
“The game is over”, Seven says, cheeks a little flushed and hair in slight disarray. It looks really good on her.
“What are you doing?”, B’Elanna hisses, trying not to stare at Seven’s cleavage or to think about how hot it is that Seven can throw a Klingon across a room as if they weigh nothing. Thankfully Klingons love bar brawls, fights and any kind of violence, so the second Resh is thrown over to the dance-floor, three full brawls erupt and they manage to duck away into one of the side rooms.
“Do you have the information”, Seven says, making her question sound like a statement as she’s so often want to do.
“I do. I could have gotten out of there by myself, you know”, she says, feeling a little flustered. Seven raises one eyebrow.
“I am sure you could have. But I was being propositioned by nine different women while you were gone and I was tired of waiting.”
B’Elanna snorts and looks around.
“The backroom is down this corridor. Third door on the right”, B’Elanna says, looking around. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be here—“
Right on cue there’s a commotion at the entrance of the corridor and some shouting about “They went that way!” and B’Elanna doesn’t really have any great ideas aside from the one.
“Follow my lead”, she hisses and grabs Seven by the collar. Seven looks quizzical, eyes darting around to find an out. There is none. So B’Elanna does the only thing she can think of to justify them being in this corridor without immediately being thrown out by a bunch of angry Klingon lesbians.
She tucks on Seven’s collar, hard, pulling her down and forward before she presses herself against the wall, hoping that Seven gets the gist of it. The seconds their mouths collide Seven makes a sound that is half surprise, half something else and B’Elanna finds herself reveling in it, blood boiling and heat rushing through her body.
Seven’s lips are incredibly soft and incredibly clumsy.
But despite her obvious discomfort and surprise, she reacts immediately, grabbing B’Elanna’s wrists and pinning them to the wall above her head. B’Elanna tries to tug on them and yes. It would take her serious effort to get out of this. She makes a big show to struggle against Seven’s grip, kissing her hard and with most likely too much tongue and teeth for Seven’s liking, but the second the voices come closer and two people stare down the corridor there’s just loud laughter and some crude whistling before the women disappear to leave them to their make-out session.
B’Elanna almost forgets that this is her colleague and that they’re undercover, because her tongue in Seven’s mouth feels incredible and the tight grip restraining her is making her heart soar. Seven’s boobs are pressed up against her and… yeah. It’s hot. Hot as fuck.
The second they’re alone in the corridor again Seven releases B’Elanna’s grip and pulls back from the kiss. Her cheeks are bright red now and her hair has given up on staying tied up entirely. B’Elanna thinks she should wear it like this more often. They stare at each other, both of them breathing hard.
B’Elanna licks her lips.
“Sorry. That was my only idea”, she says a little sheepishly. Seven swallows visibly, then turns her head away.
“I will live”, she says, deadpan. B’Elanna laughs, a little breathlessly. So they make their way down the corridor and B’Elanna tries to think as clearly as possible through the alcohol and the aroused haze that has taken over her brain now.
There’s a beat of silence as they inch forward. Then.
“Will you explain the jewelry to me after this is over? For… scientific research.”
B’Elanna has to stifle a laugh and presses a fist against her mouth. The mouth that was just kissing Seven a few seconds ago.
“Sure thing, Seven. I can help you do some research.”
This mission definitely didn’t go as B’Elanna expected. But apparently that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.
gaslight gatekeep girlboss (250 words, rated E) - Ziyal/Kira/Winn. At last, the ship that everyone’s been clamoring for! 😂 Anyways, please enjoy this unhinged fic about microaggressions and retaliation. Kira’s just caught in the middle of Ziyal and Winn’s mutual hatred. <3
Written for the Sapphic Summer ‘24 prompt “taste me when she’s kissing you” and for @startrekfemslashweek Day 7 (free space).
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Star Trek: Strange New Worlds (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Christine Chapel/Christine Chapel
Characters: Christine Chapel, Roger Korby (mentioned), android!Christine Chapel
Additional Tags: previous dubcon, that is only realized to be dubcon later, the inherent eroticism of not having to finish your dissertation, yes Christine absolutely would fuck her clone next question, Androids, Sex Bots, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Finger Sucking, Frogs, (Not in a sex way), does being an android and liking sex make you a sex bot, asking for a friend
Series: Part 8 of Kinktober 2023 fills
Summary:
There were a lot of downsides to finding out you were an android created by your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend? Thesis advisor?—to be your grad school self that he fell in love with, but the plus side, at least, was that you didn’t have to finish your dissertation.
--
My entry for @startrekfemslashweek ‘s “free space” day, written with a prompt from Kinktober 2023!
vuv be''e' baj (win the favor of a woman)
(2,469 words)
Chapters: 1/1
Rating: Teen
Relationships: Jadzia Dax/B'Elanna Torres Characters: B'Elanna Torres, Jadzia Dax, Quark, Miles O'Brien, Julian Bashir, Chakotay (mentioned)
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It's marginally quieter by the corner of the long counter, and there's fewer chances of flying objects or being run over by a clashing couple. The Trill woman is sitting on a barstool, dark heeled boots tucked onto a rung. She's taking a drink when B'Elanna comes up beside her.
B'Elanna offers the blue Romulan ale. "Here. Thought you'd like another."
"Thank you," the Trill woman says, amused. "I'm flattered, but I'm not sure how high you think my alcohol tolerance is." Her eyes are mischievous, framed against the dark spots near her hairline.
"I'm Jadzia," she says, raising her voice over the clamor.
"B'Elanna."
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Written for Star Trek Femslash Week 2024
Day 1: Klingon Lesbian Bar
Prompt: For @startrekfemslashweek's "Fuck or Die/Pon Farr"
Description: Everyone thought that the Pon Farr was cleared out of B'Elanna's system at the end of Blood Fever. What if that wasn't true and now it is 7 years later; Tom and B'Elanna have divorced and B'Elanna is living with Seven?
