smooth kirk

Pavel Chekov Having a Crush on You Would Include:

- him being a complete fool around you

- a cute nervous fool

- everytime he sees you he walks in a wall or trips over a plant or something

- whenever you two talk his face is literally red

- somehow you were completely oblivious to this crush though

- the crew not being so oblivious

- constant teasing from them

- like literally you walk into a room with him and someone says “I HOPE YOU GUYS WERE USING PROTECTION”

- Kirk giving him advice

- yea… he used the advice

- ‘be smooth’ Kirk said ‘don’t trip or crash into something, just be smooth’

- and of course that didn’t work out

- he would give you compliments in Russian

- “ваш так красиво” (your so beautiful)

- when kirk finally has had enough, he asks you on a date for Pavel

- of course you said yes

- ××

Yea I know it sucks but this was something I wrote for wattpad so I decided to put it on here :)

Originally posted by black-rogue

Spock Imagine: The Ultimate Sacrifice

Sacrifice: to give up for the sake of other’s considerations. Sacrifice is the ultimate definition of love, and boy did you love your space family. When the ship went under attack, you knew you would do anything and everything to keep those you love safe. 

You run around the dark hallways, sparks flying about freely. People are frantically running around trying to find their escape pods, but you had other plans in mind. Snaking down to the control room, you can hear the intruder messing with a computer. Light footsteps are heading your direction from behind your back. As Spock and Kirk come into view, you hold a finger up to your lips to tell them to be quiet. 

You tiptoe into the room, knowing that the only way everyone can escape is if you isolate the enemy. As you work on the panel, Spock is fending off the the enemy with his phaser. You give him one last look, knowing what you are about to do could well mean the last time you see him. Pushing that red button, an ear piercing alarm sounds and the doors separate yourself from the rest of the crew. Spock and Kirk stand in the window watching in horror as you drift away next to the intruder. 

“What have you done!” he cries. 

“Saving my crew.” you say. 

He shakes his head walks over to the manual drive. Once you land on his planet, you are shoved out of the craft with a gun pointed to your head. The barrel is cool against your skin as you walk. He guides you to a dark cave, where large rocks hang from the ceiling. The air is thick and humid, it swirls around you as you continue down the stairs. 

This is the kind of place where reality is altered. You can no longer tell day from night, hot from cold. He shoves you against the ground and you hit the dusty dirt floor. Letting out an ominous bellow, he picks up a pair of rusty cuffs and tightens them around your wrists. Only then is it that you feel the blood dripping down your face, matting in your long hair. Pain works in funny ways and how your body reacts to it is to pretend it’s not there. 

“They will come back for me.” you spit at him

 "For their sake you better home the don’t.“ 

 He saunters away from you, leaving you bound to the wall and helpless. With Every attempt you give to release your hands from the shackles, you can feel the jagged metal dig further into your skin. Dehydration is setting in at this point, your vision decreasing. Sharp lines are no longer distinct but blurred together into an array of dull colors. 

 As the placid moon starts to rise, exhaustion takes over your body. You feel sluggish like you can no longer hold up your own head. The fight within you has waned, but you know you can’t give up. Your eyelids grow heavy, you can no longer hold them up. Just as you are about to give in, blurry figures are rushing toward your side.

 "Oh (y/n). We need to get her out of these things." 

 Unable to distinguish who is kneeling next to you, you reach out blindly for a hand. Panic presses against your chest as you flail around. Then it happens. A familiar hand grabs yours. It feels warm, but not the clammy warm when someone is nervous. The kind of warm you want to cuddle up next to forever and never let go. 

 "Spock.” You rasp out. 

 The other person at your side, presumably Captain Kirk, is able to break off the cuffs from around your wrists. They help you stand, only to have your knees give out from under you. 

 "We need to get her to bones.“ Kirk states.

Off in the distance, guards are rushing toward the scene. Kirk and Spock exchange glances, knowing one of them is going to have to stay behind. 

“Spock, take her and go. I can handle them.” 

“Captain, you know the whereabouts of the ship making you more fit for the task at hand.”

“Are you sure?”

“Get her to safety.” 

Captain kirk takes you into his arms, and you safe again. Curling up into his shoulder, you rely on him to get you back to the ship. Usually you are strong willed and slow to accept help, so when you comply without a fuss he knows that you are hurt. As you are running away from the scene, you realize that your boyfriend is no longer with you. 

“Spock.” you cry. 

“He’s okay.” kirk reminds. 

A light feeling takes over your body as you are beamed back into the ship. A stretcher is waiting for you when you arrive. Kirk sets you down just as Spock beams back into the ship. You can hear him call your name, a hint of worry laced in his words. Unable to distinguish right from left, you let yourself drift as you are pushed down the hall towards Sickbay. 

“Don’t give out on my now kid.” 

The sound of Dr. McCoy’s voice is the last thing you can remember. When you come to again, you hear beeping, endless beeping and the muffled whispers of two people talking. Once you open your eyes, you expect to see Spock, but rather Kirk is sitting in the chair next to you. He looks tired, with sunken eyes and a patchy five o’clock shadow. 

“Hey.” he smiles at you. 

You attempt to sit up, but Kirk gently guides you back to the bed. 

“Take it easy there tiger.” he half laughs. 

Anxious to see our boyfriend, you look around the room until you spot him. He is standing in a corner, propped up against the wall. He looks as if he was dragged through hell and back, but without any scratches. His lips no longer turn up at the corners, as if he is on the verge of a smile. Instead they turn down, just shy of a frown. 

“Spock, come here.” you gesture out with your hand. 

He reluctantly takes a few steps toward you. Unable to understand why he is acting so odd, you pat the bed next to you. Kirk smooths out your hair and steps out for a minute. Now standing at the side of your bed, Spock can only concentrate on the discoloration on your face. 

“Earth to Spock?” you say patting the bed once more. 

Sitting down next to you, you can heel his warmth again. The familiar in a time of distress is the only thing you need. Your hand slowly reaches out for his, fingertips entwining. He makes sure to hold on lightly, avoiding the thick bandages that dress your wounds. You want nothing more than to hold on tight and never let go. 

“I’m okay.” you breathe. 

“Why did you sacrifice yourself like that?” 

“Wouldn’t have you done the same Spock?” 

“I am a commander, it is my duty to provide for the crew.”

“Commander or not, it’s my job too. It’s everyone’s job. “

“You risked your life.”

“Aren’t you the one who told me the fear of death is illogical?” 

“You seem to misdirect my intentions (y/n).”

“Look I’m okay. C’mere.” 

He scoots closer, still hesitant. You knew that he was hurting just as much as you are, but in a different way. Pushing yourself back up off the bed before Spock could interject, you bring your lips up to his for a moment. This action, although brief, grounds him. He knows it will be a long journey, and that sometime we have to make sacrifices for the ones we love. He just never thought it would be the one he cares for the most whose life was on the line. 

James T.(otally in love with Spock) Kirk

James T.(remendously smooth) Kirk 

James T.(ribbles are annoying) Kirk

James T.(rying to not so subtly get Spock’s attention) Kirk

James T.(omatoes and salads suck) Kirk

James T.(ake that hypo away from me Bones) Kirk

Pangea | Nickurt

Kurt smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of his jeans, rubbing his palms nervously across his thighs. He was sitting in the back of a cab with Nick on their way to Pangea for the night, still unsure if he had made a smart move or not. He glanced over at Nick when the submissive turned to look out the window briefly, taking in the younger boy’s appearance.
Kurt couldn’t deny Nick looked good- the boy had had several articles in his closet that Kurt had played with, finally finding something that accented the sub’s form nicely. He still didn’t get where Nick’s fascination with eyeliner had come from, but had managed to find a way to make it work. He had little fear that his friend would end the night alone.
Kurt had found himself dressed rather casually himself, a pair of dark wash jeans, black v-neck, and a leather bracelet. It was tame by his standards, but safe because Kurt didn’t want to bring a lot of attention to himself. He was still at a loss as to what he wanted out of the night– he couldn’t deny a part of him that hoped for something but also didn’t want to send the wrong message. Taking a moment to focus, Kurt noticed they were almost to Pangea and spoke up. 

“So tonight, it’s gonna be fun. Right? I can’t remember the last time I went dancing, I’m really looking forward to it.” He gave Nick his best smile, hoping he looked less nervous than he felt. 

anonymous asked:

Oh but what about a blind pianoplayer!Bones who teams up with smooth Sinatra-voice Kirk?


The accident was early enough in Leonard’s life that he has no memory of the sky, the grass, the color of his own eyes. Blue is a vague term and he likes to think of it as light, windy, the feeling of a cool breeze on an otherwise melting summer’s day. Yellow is trickier- he’s been told lemons are yellow and so it’s a sharp, tangy color. The color of a major third. Dark purple is the color of an E flat minor chord.

He doesn’t need eyes to play the piano, to feel the smooth wood beneath his fingers, hear the crystal intonation of every note, the creak of music in his bones.

In some ways, he thinks, the darkness makes it better.

He plays in smoky lounges, in quieter bars where they give him free drinks and lipsticked woman leave him their numbers on business cards he can’t read, in retirement centers where he feels more at home than he should at the age of twenty-nine.

But when he meets Jim Kirk, he’s not sitting at the piano. For once, he’s squeezed shoulder to shoulder at the bar, nursing a drink that smells like brandy and tastes nothing at all like brandy that the bartender keeps topping off. There’s occasional jazz on Friday nights, but the stage is empty tonight.

Or so he thinks, until he hears a ragged cheer starting up near the back of the bar by the band platform, and he hears a rallying brass chorus, the deep thumping of a string bass.

And the voice.

Oh God, if there’s a color for that sound, Leonard doesn’t know it, and it’s like gold and violet and blue all at once, and the alcohol in his system burns all the hotter as he tilts his head, listening the opening strains of Come Fly With Me.

Come fly with me, let’s fly down to Peru….

“Good, huh?” the man beside him says cheerfully, and Leonard can feel his breath against his cheek.

“Who is it?” he asks, turning towards the stage.

“The kid? Kirk, I think. Jim or Jimmy or something like that. Been coming here for a few weeks now, doing free gigs.”

“Yeah?” Leonard murmurs, already losing interest in the conversation. He loses himself in Kirk’s voice instead and can’t help but think that he’d like to play with a voice like that.

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