#but spock snapping that quickly even under those circumstances

[conflictaverse]

honestly, though, managing to get spock to yell at you and manhandle or try to manhandle you TWICE within so few episodes is a SKILL and sam should get some respect for being that level of irritating

[spockfallsinlove]

@ialwayscomewhenyoucall​ prompt: the word ‘melancholy’ in other words: an angsty fic with amnesiac Spock and Jim pining hard kirk/spock. 1.3k. angst with a hopeful ending, pining, amnesiac!Spock

ao3 link.

Jim wakes with a gasp, his arms reaching, hands scrambling against the sheets. “Spock. Spock—”

His eyes snap open to the soft outlines in his bedroom, illuminated by the dim light from the outside street lights. He stares at the empty pillow next to him while his breathing becomes steadier, calmer.

He scrubs a hand over his face. Pushes himself into a sitting position, the sheets crinkling beneath him.

“Jim.”

The tall figure in the open door makes him pause for a good few moments. Finally, Jim lets out a sigh, shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry, Spock. Did I wake you?”

Spock takes a tentative step forward. “I heard you calling for me.”

“I wasn’t,” Jim says too quickly. “Not exactly. It was just a dream.” He looks away.

“I see.” Spock pivots himself toward the door. “I apologize for my error.”

Putting a hand against his forehead, Jim says, before Spock can leave, “I was confused. I was calling for you because I thought you were gone, and—I was confused.”

“Your meaning of ‘gone’ being when I was temporarily dead,” Spock says, robes settling around him as he stands straight, “correct?”

“Yes,” Jim sighs. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“You called for me in the dream even though you assumed I would not answer.”

“No, it’s just—” Jim can’t even look into Spock’s too-vacant expression. “Sometimes it’s a very human, very illogical act to call out for loved ones in our dreams. A loved one that we’ve lost, in hopes that maybe calling for them will guide them home again.”

Spock nods. “You experienced these dreams during my death, then, as well.”

It’s not a question, but Jim answers anyway: “Yes, Spock, I did.”

“I see.”

Jim stares at his hands. Silence hangs awkwardly between them.

It was Bones’ idea for them to live together after coming back planetside. That maybe dwelling in their old apartment together would spark some sort of memory in Spock, some sort of familiarity as to their previous relationship.

But what’s happened is worse than Spock not remembering. He certainly does remember; Jim can see it in the way Spock grazes his fingers over the armchair where they first made love after moving in together, can see it when Spock looks curiously at their garden in the back where Jim would always read in the sunshine while Spock tended to his exotic plants. Jim can see Spock remember, slowly, through every corner and detail where the both of them lovingly planted their memories.

Spock just doesn’t seem to feel the emotions that accompany these remembrances. The love won’t simply sprout back, even though the memories will.

So it’d better, Jim concludes, that Spock rather not remember at all. The confused glance in his eyes makes him feel as if he’s still lost to Jim.

“Do you still consider me a loved one, Jim?”

Head snapping up, Jim practically gapes at Spock. Their bond severed upon Spock’s death, but it’s like he can still sense Jim’s thoughts. “Of course I do, Spock,” he insists.

“Despite the fact that I do not remember what that love between us accurately felt like,” Spock clarifies.

A new, terrifying thought occurs to Jim. He rises quickly from his bed, foot nearly tripping over his bedsheet in his haste. “Spock, just because you aren’t able to reciprocate or remember our relationship, doesn’t mean that those feelings on my end are gone,” Jim says. “I’m sorry if I’ve ever indicated that to you.”

Spock straightens further. “Negative,” he intones, “you did not.” He minutely shifts his weight to his left side, eyes flickering down to his feet. “However, under the circumstances, it is a logical conclusion.”

Jim takes a step forward. “Spock—”

“My inability to reciprocate your feelings, much less remember them, will inevitably lead you to seek comfort and love elsewhere,” Spock continues. “It is human nature to want to be loved. In the last 3.45 weeks, I have not given you any indication or hope that I would be a source of this feeling to you. Therefore, the only logical conclusion I can draw is that you eventually detach your affections, and seek a mutual romantic engagement elsewhere.”

“Spock,” Jim says, now almost in front of him, hands reaching out but not quite knowing where they will land, “please, stop speaking nonsense, just—”

“Jim, I am still lost to you,” Spock says. He finally makes firm eye contact with him, making Jim pause. “It is why I hear you call out for me almost every night.” He closes his eyes, briefly. “I cannot give you what you need.”

Jim feels his face twist into something complicated. His heart feels like it fell right into his shoes. Damn Bones for thinking this was a good idea, and damn him for not realizing that this is just as hard on Spock as it is on Jim—maybe even more so. Jim’s hands finally make their destination, resting on Spock’s upper arms, tentatively, so that Spock could pull away if he wanted to. He doesn’t.

“I need to make something abundantly clear,” Jim says softly in the air between them. “Something that I irresponsibly didn’t make clear before.”

Spock looks at him curiously, but is silent, lets him continue.

“This… melancholy, I suppose you could call it, that I’m experiencing,” Jim says, “it has no bearing on my feelings for you. I won’t lie to you and tell you that it hasn’t been hard, seeing what little progress we’re both making toward having our relationship as it was again. It’s… quite painful.” He sees a muscle to the left of Spock’s lips twitch, quickly adds, “But it doesn’t mean that it will always be this way. That this isn’t all worth it.”

“Your entire argument is on the hypothesis that I will feel the same love for you again as I did before,” Spock nearly whispers. “It is a hypothesis that could be proven wrong.”

“We found each other before,” Jim says, almost urgently, his hands gripping Spock’s arms hard enough to bruise. “A Vulcan who proclaimed to have no feelings at all and a far too emotional human. You fell in love with me once.”

“I am not the same—”

“Bullshit, Spock,” Jim snaps, but it has no real anger behind it, only insistence. “You still despise sugar in your coffee. You still hate my driving. In the market yesterday, you still picked out all your favorite vegetables. You insist, as you did when living in this apartment before, sitting on the armchair in the east corner of the room instead of the west, because of the sun placement in the afternoon.” He shakes his head, chokes out, “You feel lost to me, yes. But only romantically. The dear friend that I know and love—he’s there. And the rest—the rest can come later. Or never at all. But I will remain here, looking for you, in case it does.”

Spock opens his mouth to reply; shuts it. He tilts his head in that curious way, like Jim is one of his fascinating experiments to fully discover and dissect. There’s something in his eyes, something that Jim hasn’t seen since they pressed hands against the glass in a desperate attempt to feel each other one last time, something that Jim hesitates to name.

Spock’s hand raises, tentatively, and his fingers brush against Jim’s cheek. Jim closes his eyes at the swell of feeling that simple touch elicits.

“You are my t’hy’la,” Spock murmurs. “It’s one determinable fact that I know.”

Jim can feel his eyes well with tears, so he keeps them closed. “Yes, Spock, I am.”

“You are my t’hy’la,” Spock says again, illogically, because repeating oneself is not Vulcan, and it is especially not Vulcan to grasp Jim’s hands and hold them to his lips, “and I will find my way back to you.”

Jim thinks, as he tilts his head down toward their clasped hands, eyes leaking in earnest now, feeling something thrum in the back of his mind where the bond once took hold, that perhaps his dream was incorrect.

Perhaps Spock isn’t so lost to him after all.

[fearlessinspace]

Summary:  My new idea was somewhat angsty like my last one, namely Jim and the reader are a couple and the reader is maybe an ambassador (or whatever) on Vulcan while the planet gets attacked and Jim freaks out while he tries to disable the machine and/or when he sees that it's too late and Vulcan is already breaking down? You can choose if the reader dies or survives and I know that this is probably a tricky request... - @littlecarowrites

Note: I literally cried while writing this one...

Word count: 1007

Tag: @usscomics @youre-on-a-starship @trekken81 @yourtropegirl @enterprisewriting @imoutofmyvulcanmind @starshiphufflebadger @ussimagine @kaitymccoy123 @starmission @outside-the-government @imaginestartrek @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse + @frostedej (you were tagged on my last fic and you said you weren’t sure why you were tagged to idk if you want me to tag you for future fics??)

It was a battle of time. Everything was depending on Jim. And your life was completely in his hands.

Inhale.

Exhale.

And he jumped, aware of the fact that he just might not survive.

5000m. Then 4600. Then 3000. As soon as Sulu gave the command, both he and Jim pulled the chute. Olson, however, met death early by pulling the chute very late, and ended up in flames of the drill, burned to dust, blown away by the winds.

Seeing how quickly both of the survivors returned to the task at hand, it might’ve seemed like they weren’t touched by the death of their comrade. On the contrary, inside they were ripping themselves apart. Grief, rage and sadness built up in both men and was carefully distributed and released through each punch at the Romulan guards that came through the gate of the drill.

Each second he had free Jim spent on throwing glances down at the collapsing red surface of the desert planet. And each second he had free he allowed fear to build up.

It’s obvious that nobody wants casualties, and everybody (or at least those who were sane) were sad if they found out innocent lives had been lost. But the burden Hikaru carried and the one James carried were drastically different.

True, Sulu had a husband and it would never be easy for him to sacrifice himself, knowing that if he died Ben would be severely affected.

But what if the life of somebody you love was in your hands and your hands alone? Constantly thinking about whether or not you acted correctly, knowing that any action might have fatal consequence – how would you handle it?

That was constantly on Jim Kirk’s mind, never ceasing to throw him off or make him lose his focus.

If you die, she dies. He’d say to himself. So you’d better not die.

Just when they took care of the guards and stood there it occurred to them that Olson had the charges for the drill’s motor. In the corner of his vision James spotted that one of the now dead guards was carrying guns, so he and Sulu agreed that shooting at the damn thing would be a valid method to complete the mission.

What worried Jim, though, is that despite the fact that it truly is effective, it’s also time costly. Charges would’ve taken care of the issue immediately and they would’ve been beamed up and they’d have more time to rescue the Vulcans. To rescue you.

Instead, they shot at the drill and disabled it. Naturally, the Romulans noticed, yet didn’t care. They sent something flying down, and before you know it the drill pad was leaning to the side and suddenly there were Starfleet officers falling from the sky.

Jim tried everything. He jumped after Hikaru, grabbed him and pulled his chute – but the thing ripped off. He screamed frantically at the comm, hoping that somebody would beam them the hell up before they turn into a stain on the ground. But despite the panic and certainty of death, slipping through the clouds and towards the ground at an inhumanly speed felt almost like slow motion. Jim was sure he and Sulu would end up as human pancakes, Starfleet officers K.I.A, but he also felt calm take over. He enjoyed the view of the sky and spaceships floating around. He enjoyed the wind, the weightless feeling of his body. They were almost at the ground. Soon, it would all be over.

But as soon as he noticed golden lines envelope him and his partner, he snapped out.

And a moment later, instead of kissing the dry red surface of Vulcan, his face hit the transporting pad aboard the Enterprise.

“Shit.” The two survivors said in unison.

Groaning in pain, Jim picked himself up from the floor and walked off the pad, happy to be back on solid ground (even though they were all technically still floating in space). As soon as they cleared the pad, Acting Captain Spock took position on one of the transporter points, phaser in hand.

“What, are you going down there?” Jim asked.

“Energize.” Spock replied flatly.

“Wait!”

Spock held a hand up and turned to face his first officer, eyebrow arched and slight hints of confusion showing on his lean features.

Sheer determination in his voice, Jim replied simply

“I’m coming with you.”

By now everybody had figured out that both the captain and first officer were leaving the ship. In usual circumstances, it would be prevented by a fellow officer. In this case though, the crew was aware of the stakes, both personal to the pair and objective.

The pair beamed down only to meet the ancient Vulcan construction cripple under the unknown Romulan forces. They ran inside and found the remaining ambassadors and elders, including yourself and Spock’s own mother.

While Jim had trouble getting words out of his throat, Spock spoke as calmly as ever.

“We only have minutes left. We must hurry.”

With his words, Jim grabbed your hand with pressure, afraid you might just slip away. Spock took his mother’s hand and led everybody out to the edge where they waited for Ensign Chekov to work his magic.

Over the comm, Jim could hear the young man speak. “Don’t move, just a minute more” and golden lines began surrounding each of you.

As your eyes were focused on Jim, you failed to notice that the ground under you began to crumble. Jim’s eyes widened and he was about to move when he heard Chekov yell into his ear.

“I’ve got you! I’ve got you! Don’t move!”

But just as the lines were about to cover you completely, the ground under you slipped. Jim momentarily rushed towards you but his action was intercepted as the world went dark. A second later, he was back on the flagship, hand extended towards open space, space where you were standing just moments ago. He froze.

“I had her” Chekov almost whispered. The entire room went silent.