souma

he/they 18+ just someone on tumblr

[cupofcappuccino]

hii does anyone know the original artist of this?

🥹🥹 i cant seem to find them

[sirnoblesquid]

I cannot express how much I love these two

[cupofcappuccino]

moree self indulgent than fanart

but the two sketches of spock there is so cute i had to share it

[piglia-mosche]

Sometimes I draw ink/anime Spock, some others I paint blocky pastel Spock-

Bottom line is: there's always a good reason to draw Spock

[cupofcappuccino]

still cant get the hang of snw! spock

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Two points of contact ★ Spock x reader

Based on this post by @moonlightshaiku

Summary: everyone knows that you don't touch a vulcans hands, especially when that hand us connected to the one and only Mr Spock. But what happens when in order to be respectful to a new community that you have encountered you and Spock must dance...

a/n: just a short one-shot as i can't get this post out of my head lol

★・・・・・・★

Everyone on the Enterprise knew the rule, even if no one had ever said it to you outright. You don't touch a Vulcan's hands. You especially don't touch Spock's hands.

Which was, of course, the exact moment the universe decided to test you.

You were on Ferran soil as security detail, full stop — assigned to shadow Spock through the delicate business of negotiating a trade agreement for astrophage, a volatile stellar matter the Ferran harvested and the Federation very much wanted a safe supply line for. Your job was to watch exits, read threats, and get your science officer back to the ship in one piece. Nobody had briefed you on dancing.

The Ferran were a graceful, deeply formal people, and their welcome ceremony for offworld guests came with exactly one non-negotiable requirement: a dance, performed in pairs, palm to palm. Captain Pike had taken one look at their intricate court customs and decided this was a diplomacy problem best solved by volunteering his science officer and the officer assigned to protect him, which happened to be you.

"It is a simple gesture," the Ferran elder had explained, guiding your hands toward each other in demonstration. "Palms meeting palms. It is how we greet those we wish to welcome as friends."

Simple for them, maybe.

You stood across from Spock in the low golden light of the Ferran hall, painfully aware of every pair of eyes on you, and painfully aware of exactly why this was a problem. You'd read enough, overheard enough, to know that for Vulcans, the hands were not casual. They were private in a way human hands weren't. Touching them meant something.

So when the music started and Spock raised his hand, palm out, waiting, you did the only thing that seemed reasonable: you reached out and wrapped your fingers loosely around his wrist instead.

Spock's eyebrow rose a fraction. "A creative interpretation of the form."

"I'm improvising," you murmured, keeping your voice low enough that it wouldn't carry to the Ferran elders watching with polite, unreadable expressions. "I didn't want to— I know hands are a whole thing for you. I'm not trying to make this weird."

"You may find it is a great deal less weird if you simply take my hand."

"I'm good, thanks."

"You can grab my hand," he said, with the particular patience he reserved for explaining obvious things to illogical people. "I do not mind."

"No, it's fine. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I would rather enjoy it if you grabbed my hand."

That stopped you for half a second — not just the words, but the way he'd said them, level and certain, like a data point he was simply reporting. Spock did not, as a rule, say things he did not mean. He especially did not say the word enjoy about anything if he could avoid it.

"You're just saying that so I don't insult an entire civilization."

"I assure you, were that my only concern, I would have simply informed you of the correct hand placement three sentences ago, rather than repeating myself." A beat. The music swelled around you, other pairs beginning to turn in slow circles across the hall floor. "I am aware of what this gesture means to my people, Lieutenant. I would not offer it if I did not wish it offered to me. By you, specifically."

Oh.

Oh.

You felt your face go warm, which was deeply unfair given that he was the one who'd just said that with all the emotional affect of a tricorder reading.

"Spock—"

"The elder is watching," he said, mildly, though you suspected that was not actually the reason he'd said any of it.

Slowly, you loosened your grip on his wrist and let your hand slide down to meet his — palm to palm, fingers curling lightly at the edges the way the elder had shown you. His skin was warmer than you expected. His hand was steady. Something in his shoulders, some near-invisible thread of tension you hadn't consciously clocked until it was gone, eased.

"There," he said. "Was that so difficult?"

"You're insufferable."

"I have been told." But his mouth did the thing it did sometimes, the almost-smile he thought no one could see, and his fingers pressed, just slightly, against yours as the dance turned you both in a slow circle beneath the gold Ferran light. "For what it is worth — this is, by Vulcan standards, a significant thing to share with someone. I would not have suggested it lightly."

"I know," you said, quieter now. "That's kind of why I panicked and grabbed your wrist like an idiot."

"An understandable, if inefficient, precaution." His hand tightened around yours, just slightly, just enough. "You need not take such precautions with me."

You held on for the rest of the dance, and did not let go until the music stopped.

★・・・・・・★

a/n: i hope you liked it, ik not many people write for spock so u know i doubt anyone will really read this but oh well i loved the OG post so yeah slay. also did anyone cast the not so subtle project hail mary refrence??? lol

[startrekuniverse]

STRANGE NEW WORLDS

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Spock x medic!reader (head cannons)

Spock who begins timing his visits to Sickbay with remarkable consistency before eventually realizing there is no scientific reason for him to require your assistance quite so often.

Spock who initially attributes his desire to speak with you to intellectual compatibility because that conclusion is considerably more logical than the alternative.

Spock who finds your medical observations unusually precise and quietly starts seeking your opinion before making his own conclusions.

Spock who decides your honesty with patience is... admirable.

Spock who has never understood why humans describe someone's presence as "calming" until you begin working beside him during medical emergencies.

Spock who discovers that his pulse appears noticeably faster during treatment when you are the attending medic.

Spock who privately repeats the experiment three separate times before accepting the data.

Spock who finds the result... inconvenient.

Spock who notices your fatigue long before anyone else because the slight slowing of your movements and the subtle changes in your breathing are objectively observable.

Spock who leaves tea beside your workstation without comment because drawing attention to the gesture would diminish its usefulness.

Spock who simply begins bringing tea every morning until your schedule improves.

Spock who tells himself he is preserving the efficiency of the ship's medical department.

Spock who finds your habit of thinking aloud unexpectedly fascinating because your reasoning process differs so completely from his own.

Spock who catches himself looking for you the moment he enters Sickbay.

Spock who becomes acutely aware whenever you enter a room despite making no conscious effort to notice.

Spock who finds that particular observation difficult to explain logically.

Spock who quietly admires your compassion because, unlike many humans, you never allow it to interfere with your clinical judgment.

Spock who watches you make impossible decisions during emergencies with remarkable composure and recognizes a discipline not unlike his own.

Spock who considers you one of the few officers aboard capable of remaining genuinely objective under extreme emotional pressure.

Spock who appreciates silence enough that simply sharing it with you becomes one of his favorite parts of the day.

Spock who finds it remarkable that conversation is not necessary for your company to be... preferable.

Spock who experiences an unfamiliar sense of disappointment whenever another medic is assigned to accompany away missions instead of you.

Spock who identifies the emotion almost immediately.

Spock who chooses not to examine it further.

Spock who quietly fails to examine it every day thereafter.

Spock who begins meditating for longer periods and finds, to his mild frustration, that your smile keeps interrupting his concentration.

Spock who regards this as a significant failure of mental discipline.

Spock who never once considers asking you to change.

Spock who would far rather strengthen his discipline than ask you to become less yourself.

Spock who notices Captain Pike observing the two of you with quiet amusement and decides, quite correctly, that the captain has inferred something he himself has not yet admitted.

Spock who eventually reaches the only conclusion supported by the available evidence:

Spock who has fallen in love with the Enterprise's medic.

Spock who finds that conclusion entirely illogical.

Spock who accepts it anyway.

★・・・・・・★

a/n: hope you like it, i wanna write more spock fics so feel free to send requests

[piglia-mosche]

Here are all the studies I made so far. I don't know if I'll make more in the future, but I really had a lot of fun and learnt a lot.

Cannot stress enough how much I love TOS colours, framing, everything.

[paradosical]

spock sketches cuz i’m figuring out how to draw him

[omg-imstillatotalmess]

Unfair Sensitivities

Vulcan fingers are sensitive, and I can't stop thinking about it. None of these thoughts are in the bible. Enjoy!

Pairing: Spock x Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), sub!spock, finger sucking, thigh riding, frottage, cumming in pants, unedited

Teaching you that Vulcans had sensitive fingers was probably one of the best and worst things to happen to Spock since you'd met him. The sweetest kind of torture. You had grabbed him just as he got off duty, shoving him up against a wall in an unoccupied conference room. Poor thing probably still hadn't processed how he'd ended up there.

You hadn't even given him a chance to speak before you took one of his hands in both of yours and pressed a kiss to the tip of his pointer finger. The pad was soft under your lips. Much softer than a human's. Much softer than your own. Almost as soft as a kitten's paw. A shaky breath made its way past his lips before he could catch it, and you smiled. He looked down at you with a disapproving look that couldn't quite conceal the desperation in his eyes.

"Lieutenant, this is a highly inappropriate setting for such actions," he said, voice calm and even. You wanted to break that.

"It is," you said agreeably.

"Perhaps we should find a more suitable pl-" You slid your tongue against the pad of his finger, and his whole body jerked. "Lieutenant!"

"You like it," you said, licking his finger again.

Spock looked away, the tips of his ears flushing a soft green. He wasn't going to admit it, but he couldn't lie either. Instead, he started mouthing math problems to himself. Random number sets. The Fibonacci sequence. Anything to distract himself from your hot mouth against his fingers. You had him just where you wanted him. Leaning into him, you pushed your thigh between his legs. His whole body jerked again.

"I do not think you have considered the full spectrum of issues this could pose for us," he said. His unoccupied hand clenched and unclenched like a heartbeat. Just like the one beating between your legs.

"And those are?” you asked without pulling your mouth away from his hands.

"As Commander, it goes against regulations to have-" His breath hitched as you sucked his finger gently, "-relations with someone of a lower rank."

"Okay."

"That makes this unethical." His voice was starting to waver.

"Technically," you mumbled around the finger in your mouth. The movement caused him to buck his hips against your thigh. A thin little whine broke loose from the back of his throat.

"Someone could ca-catch us in the act," he panted.

"Counter point," you said.

"What is that, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"I don't care, and neither do you. You want me," you purred.

"Want?" Spock said the word like he didn't know what it meant. It had been so long since he allowed himself actual desire that the feeling had become foreign. You didn't mind being the one to remind him.

"Want, Spock," you confirmed, "You want me."

Nipping at the pad of his finger, you took a second one into your mouth. You could feel his cock throb at the contact. That's what you were looking for. Swirling your tongue around his fingers, you dropped your hand to his hip to coax him into a slow grind. He let you, a shallow, unsteady breath caressing your neck. You watched as he tipped his head back and let it thump against the wall behind him. Hard-fought control cracked under your pressure.

"Lieutenant." His eyes turned on you pleadingly. Though, for what you weren't sure yet.

"(Y/N)," you corrected.

"(Y/N)," he breathed.

"That's it," you said.

"May I?" he asked almost shyly as he pressed two of his fingers against your lips. Humming appreciatively, you took them into your mouth. The sigh of relief was all you needed. A low, embarrassed whimper followed as you suckled and swirled your tongue over his thin fingers. He jerked again in your grip, his legs beginning to shake like he'd lost control over his body. Releasing the appendages with a pop, you pressed your thumb against the pads.

"Feel good?" you asked. The hand you hadn't been paying attention to pulsed faster.

"Yes," he sighed, rolling his hips.

"How good? Tell me.” Swallowing his fingers again, you watched him with expectant eyes. He hesitated a moment before squeezing his eyes shut and starting to hump your leg in earnest.

“I-I cannot,” he whined.

“Sure you can,” you said.

“I am not in control. I will not choose my words as carefully as I should,” he protested. You smiled wickedly, nipping at his fingers and pushing against his cock. His answering moan sounded like it was being ripped from him.

“I'm in control. Tell me, Spock,” you coaxed gently. He practically sobbed, lanky body curling over you.

“I feel,” he said, stressing the word feel.

“What do you feel?” You flicked your tongue between his fingers.

“Pleasure,” he whimpered. His hips strained. You could feel how his cock pulsed, teetering on the edge. It was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Overwhelming pleasure?” you pressed.

“Yes. It-it is too much!”

“You can take more. Just a little more,” you said soothingly. Spock nodded like his head was only loosely connected to his neck, rutting his cock against you sloppily. You could all but taste how close he was. A pretty green blush bloomed across his cheeks, dark eyes pinched shut, and needy fingers pushing weakly against your lips. You kissed them softly.

“I-I-I am—” he sputtered.

“You gonna cum, Spock? You like putting your fingers in my mouth so much you're gonna cum all over yourself?” you teased. He whined high in his throat, pushing more insistently at your mouth.

“Please, you must—I need—want,” he babbled incoherently, but you understood.

Sucking his fingers back into your mouth, you lapped at the soft pads the same way you wanted him licking between your legs. Fast. Relentless. Spock lost rhythm completely. Your hold was the only thing keeping him moving the way he so desperately wanted. With one last hard suck, his back arched up, and he came in his pants with a choked off groan.

“There it is,” you said, gentle pride coloring your voice as you maneuvered his twitching body through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

“(Y/N),” he said as though it were the only word he remembered. He dropped his forehead against your shoulder.

“Good job, Spock. You did so good,” you said. For a moment, he was still, gathering himself again.

“How illogical,” he mused.

“What?”

“Despite not experiencing an orgasm during our encounter, you still praise me for my performance. Illogical,” he said. You snorted a laugh.

“I got exactly what I wanted,” you said.

“Clarify.”

“Vulcans have sensitive fingers. Think of it as an experiment. I wanted to know just how far that went,” you explained. “Pretty far.”

“Indeed.” Spock shifted and grimaced subtly. You had to fight your smile off your face at the sight.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up. Then maybe I’ll let you conduct an experiment of your own,” you teased. Heat flooded Spock’s eyes as he looked down at you. Somehow, you were sure he was going to figure out all your sensitive spots.

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Two points of contact ★ Spock x reader

Based on this post by @moonlightshaiku

Summary: everyone knows that you don't touch a vulcans hands, especially when that hand us connected to the one and only Mr Spock. But what happens when in order to be respectful to a new community that you have encountered you and Spock must dance...

a/n: just a short one-shot as i can't get this post out of my head lol

★・・・・・・★

Everyone on the Enterprise knew the rule, even if no one had ever said it to you outright. You don't touch a Vulcan's hands. You especially don't touch Spock's hands.

Which was, of course, the exact moment the universe decided to test you.

You were on Ferran soil as security detail, full stop — assigned to shadow Spock through the delicate business of negotiating a trade agreement for astrophage, a volatile stellar matter the Ferran harvested and the Federation very much wanted a safe supply line for. Your job was to watch exits, read threats, and get your science officer back to the ship in one piece. Nobody had briefed you on dancing.

The Ferran were a graceful, deeply formal people, and their welcome ceremony for offworld guests came with exactly one non-negotiable requirement: a dance, performed in pairs, palm to palm. Captain Pike had taken one look at their intricate court customs and decided this was a diplomacy problem best solved by volunteering his science officer and the officer assigned to protect him, which happened to be you.

"It is a simple gesture," the Ferran elder had explained, guiding your hands toward each other in demonstration. "Palms meeting palms. It is how we greet those we wish to welcome as friends."

Simple for them, maybe.

You stood across from Spock in the low golden light of the Ferran hall, painfully aware of every pair of eyes on you, and painfully aware of exactly why this was a problem. You'd read enough, overheard enough, to know that for Vulcans, the hands were not casual. They were private in a way human hands weren't. Touching them meant something.

So when the music started and Spock raised his hand, palm out, waiting, you did the only thing that seemed reasonable: you reached out and wrapped your fingers loosely around his wrist instead.

Spock's eyebrow rose a fraction. "A creative interpretation of the form."

"I'm improvising," you murmured, keeping your voice low enough that it wouldn't carry to the Ferran elders watching with polite, unreadable expressions. "I didn't want to— I know hands are a whole thing for you. I'm not trying to make this weird."

"You may find it is a great deal less weird if you simply take my hand."

"I'm good, thanks."

"You can grab my hand," he said, with the particular patience he reserved for explaining obvious things to illogical people. "I do not mind."

"No, it's fine. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I would rather enjoy it if you grabbed my hand."

That stopped you for half a second — not just the words, but the way he'd said them, level and certain, like a data point he was simply reporting. Spock did not, as a rule, say things he did not mean. He especially did not say the word enjoy about anything if he could avoid it.

"You're just saying that so I don't insult an entire civilization."

"I assure you, were that my only concern, I would have simply informed you of the correct hand placement three sentences ago, rather than repeating myself." A beat. The music swelled around you, other pairs beginning to turn in slow circles across the hall floor. "I am aware of what this gesture means to my people, Lieutenant. I would not offer it if I did not wish it offered to me. By you, specifically."

Oh.

Oh.

You felt your face go warm, which was deeply unfair given that he was the one who'd just said that with all the emotional affect of a tricorder reading.

"Spock—"

"The elder is watching," he said, mildly, though you suspected that was not actually the reason he'd said any of it.

Slowly, you loosened your grip on his wrist and let your hand slide down to meet his — palm to palm, fingers curling lightly at the edges the way the elder had shown you. His skin was warmer than you expected. His hand was steady. Something in his shoulders, some near-invisible thread of tension you hadn't consciously clocked until it was gone, eased.

"There," he said. "Was that so difficult?"

"You're insufferable."

"I have been told." But his mouth did the thing it did sometimes, the almost-smile he thought no one could see, and his fingers pressed, just slightly, against yours as the dance turned you both in a slow circle beneath the gold Ferran light. "For what it is worth — this is, by Vulcan standards, a significant thing to share with someone. I would not have suggested it lightly."

"I know," you said, quieter now. "That's kind of why I panicked and grabbed your wrist like an idiot."

"An understandable, if inefficient, precaution." His hand tightened around yours, just slightly, just enough. "You need not take such precautions with me."

You held on for the rest of the dance, and did not let go until the music stopped.

★・・・・・・★

a/n: i hope you liked it, ik not many people write for spock so u know i doubt anyone will really read this but oh well i loved the OG post so yeah slay. also did anyone cast the not so subtle project hail mary refrence??? lol

[fallennike07]

13

Next

Previous

Masterlist

Spock tapped his fingers on his desk in his room. A bad habit perhaps but his room was far too quiet. The dinner was not as… bad as he had thought it would be. After nearly drowning in feeling—-he didn’t realize that so many people would make such an emotional minefield. Though in retrospect it made sense. Humans were so much more volatile in their emotions than Vulcans were, so of course the atmosphere would be saturated in their thoughts and feelings. Though he regularly shielded his mind, he had never encountered such a large volume in such a small space. If it wasn’t for your presence…

Spock stiffened, deciding not to finish that thought. It was a culturally enlightening experience, nothing more. Spock perhaps understood your underlying loneliness these past few days and he could see why his mother had been so attached to the earthen holidays. His eyes drifted to the console that connected to the intergalactic web. He had never made a point to call his mother since he left for academy… then again, he had never been far enough from home for it to really matter.  

Did you call home? Spock wondered. Humans seemed likely that they would attach such sentimental value to calling. The touchpad sat there tauntingly. He resumed his tapping fingers, if only for the melody to track his roaming mind. It would be logical to call after a staple human tradition, Spock supposed.

There were other things to do, he knew. The project was finished, but there were other classes and tests to study for, especially given that there was a month left in the semester. There were notes he could make for his pet project of observing humans, there were holochess or 4D chess practice rounds he could simulate, there even was the prospect of running through practicing his presentation. His eyes drifted to the console again.

Reluctantly, he decided to open a channel for a long-distance interstellar transmission: Recipient Amanda Grayson.

***

The call went… surprisingly better than he thought it would. Not that it would have gone wrong—logically speaking, his mother was human and extremely supportive of Spock studying at Starfleet instead of Vulcan. The probability she would not have responded positively was 12.3%, and the percentage there is due to not calling sooner. Sarek is another story, the probability of him being upset was 87.7%, but he didn’t show on the call so Spock couldn’t confirm whether his prediction was correct.

Nevertheless, when classes started back the next week, Spock felt illogically lighter than he had in a long time. He hypothesized it must something to do with Amanda, as illogical as it is to receive comfort from the fact his mother is well and cheering him on. Humans tended to spread their illogical sentimentality even over holocall it would appear. Spock strode into the class early as usual, taking the far left seat on the third row. He set up his PADD at the optimal incline of 30 degrees and then waited as other students trickled in. 

The classroom filled with the usual hum of returning cadets—laughter, greetings, the clatter of gear being stowed. Spock remained still at his desk, undisturbed by the noise, mind busily noting patterns and routines. You were not present yet, and as the professor entered, Spock hypothesized you would be arriving late… as usual. Just before the class actually began, you slipped through the door, flashing a bright grin at Spock as you took the seat next to him. 

Your hair was slightly damp again, Spock noted, but there was an umbrella now tucked under your arm that brought an odd sort of satisfaction. A triumph of logic over human carelessness. You were wearing that scarf you had borrowed him a while back. You appeared lighter as well, perhaps the dinner was helpful for you indeed, Spock observed. 

Spock acknowledged you simply with a nod as the professor began, though something in his posture shifted subtly—a relaxation only someone who knew Vulcan body language would notice. Logic suggested this reaction was residual from shared project success and emotional exposure during Pike’s dinner…

Spock chose not to dwell on those thoughts. They were just small notes he’d add to his file on you later. Irrelevant, logically speaking.

As the class drew to a close, the professor announced presentations would be starting next week. Excitement and dread rose in the room as students reacted. Spock observed the class’s reactions with mild detachment—Presentations were inherently stressful for humans due to their reliance on emotional validation during performance. But not for him. The professor dismissed them with a reminder to sign up early if they wished specific time slots. 

“Nova,” he said without turning his head, voice low but clear enough to carry just to you. “We should claim our time now before optimal slots are taken.”

There was a signup sheet posted on the PADD to fill out. Spock turned to you, to see you looking at him expectantly. “I suspect you’ve already calculated the most optimal time to present, so I’m good with whatever you pick!” You smile calmly at him, perhaps a bit more relaxed than he would have expected. Though your calmness didn’t surprise him.

He pulled up the sign-up sheet, scanned available slots with clinical precision—no wasted motion—and immediately tapped his selection:  Thursday at 1400 hours  

Midweek. Late enough in the cycle that other presentations had been given and reviewed, but not so late that fatigue would interfere. Optimal scheduling for retention of audience focus and it was after lunchtime (when blood sugar levels peaked). Human cognitive performance favored postprandial states. Logical choice all around. Spock said as much to you and you simply nodded in response as you both packed up to leave.

“You nervous at all?” You tease slightly as you and Spock walk out.

Spock raised an eyebrow at you. “Negative,” he stated flatly. “Our preparation has covered all contingencies: data accuracy at 98.7%, presentation flow optimized to within 2% margin of error, and we have rehearsed sufficient times to account for variable audience engagement. …Are you nervous?”

“I’m… not thinking about it. Like you said, we’ve practiced and got it down to routine. Optimized to a 2% margin of error!” You shrugged.

 Spock absorbed your response with quiet approval. Suppression of anticipatory anxiety was an efficient coping mechanism—one he himself employed regularly before high-stakes missions or examinations.

“Good,” he said simply, though internally noted the way you’d mirrored his phrasing back at him. The mimicry was not lost on him as you appeared to use his logic for stability. And… that pleased something deep within his logical core. Not emotionally, but operationally, especially this partnership functioned better than any other he'd experienced. It would be put to the test next week, and that would be the ultimate demonstration of his hypothesis.

~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

@andriannag

[make-me-imagine]

Sensory Prompt: Being so close that you can feel your lips brush when you whisper

Requested by: Anonymous

Note: This is my first time writing for Spock, so hopefully it’s enough in-character :)

Pairing: Spock x reader

Gender: Any/Neutral      Triggers: None

You waited impatiently as Spock contacted the Captain, this was the second stealth mission you had done, and the firs with Spock, which only made it worse. Your feelings for Spock were, confusing, to say the least. You weren’t even sure how much he could feel, and if he would feel anything for you. 

Shaking yourself our of your thoughts, you tried to concentrate, this was not the time to start day dreaming, especially about one of your commanding officers. You turned and looked back at Spock, hearing the Captain speak to the two of you through your coms one more time.

“Okay guys, just get the weapon, get back to the storage bay and we’ll beam you out of there, we wont be able to communicate with either of you until then, try to get in and out before they detect you” Jim’s voice was quiet in your ear as you and Spock hid behind large crates.

“Yes Captain” Spock returned before looking at you, giving you the signal to move with him.

Staying crouched you hid behind a wall, listening and checking for any enemies, hearing nothing, you quickly, and quietly made your way down the ship corridor. At the end of the hallway you were faced with two separate hallways “Which way is it?” you asked checking behind you.

“I’m not sure” seeing you give him a questioning look he looks back down at his scanner “There is too much interference from their engines, I can’t get a clear signal”

“Okay. You take right, I’ll take left” you suggested.

“No, that would be too much of a risk, we should stay together” he thought to himself for a moment “I believe the weapons bay is on the right side of the ship, we’ll go there first”

As he continued down the hallway you followed quickly behind, a short time later finding yourselves outside the weapons bay. Carefully, you headed inside, looking for the weapon. A small bomb these aliens had been devising, small enough to go undetected, big enough explosion to destroy a large ship. Luckily there was only one so far. After finding it you made you way back out and down the same hall.

You didn’t get far before a loud siren sounded “They’ve detected us!” Spock yelled. The sound of running and shouting could be heard behind you.

When you got back to the split corridors, you heard more men running towards you from the way you needed to go. Looking at each other, you both silently made the decision to run down the left side hallway. About halfway down the hall you were suddenly pulled by your arms to the left. 

“Wha-”

“Quiet” 

Spock had pulled you into a small open space hidden just enough by storage crates. Hearing the aliens running by shouting, you both held your breath, fazers in hand, prepared to fight if needed.

As a large group passed, you turned to ask Spock what to do, but you were silenced when you realized just how small the space was. Your bodies were pressed against each other, so close that when Spock turned to speak to you as well, your faces were so close you swore you felt his lips brush yours. Such a faint feeling, like a light breeze touching your face, you weren’t sure if it actually happened.

Spock was silenced by the sudden realization as well. You two stayed in this position for a moment before you choked out a whisper “Should we move?”

Spock swallowed, unsure of why he was being so affected by the close proximity of your bodies, and lips. “No” he answered quickly “I hear more coming”

You turned your face slightly to listen, as well as to not be so close to your commanding officer, hoping he didn’t notice the red flush crawling across your face. You could hear a group slowly coming closer. As you waited, breath hitched, for them to pass. Spock was staring at the side of your face, unsure of why he couldn’t look away. He had never been this close to you before, he had never seen the imperfections on your face, the small freckles and scars, unnoticeable from afar. 

After the second group passed you turned to look at Spock again, forgetting briefly how close your faces were, startled again by the closeness as your noses brushed, your lips too close for comfort. 

“We go on three” Spock whispered, trying not to react to the fact that as he spoke, his lips brushed ever-so-lightly against your cheek, right next to your lips. He desperately tired to ignore the sudden urge to kiss you, something he had never thought of doing before, well, never thought of doing so fervently. He had always been attracted to you, but tried to ignore it, afraid that he might become emotionally compromised getting involved with you. 

He could feel your heart pounding against his chest, unaware that it was because of him, not the fact that you were on an enemy ship. His lips were so close, part of you was waiting for him to kiss you, something you had found yourself day-dreaming about before, but the other part of you knew that he wasn’t going to, he probably didn’t want to, and now, in the midst of an enemy ship, was not the time to begin day dreaming. 

“One” your heart began pounding harder, his lips brushed against your cheek “Two” your grip tightened around your fazer, his lips moving ever so slightly brushing lightly against your own “Three” you both slid out, much more gracefully that would seem possible, before running down the hall, towards the beam point.

Hearing shouting from behind you, you knew that you had been seen. Both of your turned firing your fazers down the hall at the oncoming enemies. Rushing into the storage room, you turned, firing your gun at the door pad, stopping it from being opened.

“Spock to the bridge two to beam up!” he shouted through his coms as the aliens began pounding and firing at the door.

“Do you have the weapon Spock?!” Jim asked.

“Yes!”

You and Spock looked at each other as you began to beam, your eyes locked. As the enterprise appeared around you, you looked around, seeing Scotty clap, glad you were successfully beamed out without trouble.

Looking back at Spock, you stared at each other, an almost knowing look in both of your eyes.

“That was a close” Jim said as he entered the room.

“What?” you asked slightly startled, turning and looking at the Captain “Oh, uh, yes I suppose it was”

Jim squinted slightly, looking between the two of you. Something obviously happened while you were out of com range.

Looking back at Spock he was looking at you with a curious look, one you’ve never seen before. Quickly, you left the platform and made your way out of the room, a smile forming on your face.

Spock watched you leave, unaware that a small smile formed on his face as well “Spock?”

Turning to the Captain he rose his brow “Yes Captain?”

“Did something happen down there?”

“I’m not sure what you are eluding to Captain” Spock said as he walked past the captain, leaving the room and a curious Captain behind him.

I could possibly do a part two to this if enough people want it.

[nsainmoonchild]

Spock 🖤

And yesss part 2!

[aenslem]

#he is asking nicely

[notyourblogkeeper]

Heroes s3e16

[hypersfixation]

Zachary Quinto as Sylar Heroes s4e16