Fanfiction Is Art

Author’s Note: There will probably be a second part. Don’t know when though.

You hum as you bake. The night is young, the sun just settling into the horizon. The ceiling lights are off, and the room is lit by the warm glow of faux candles. Erina sits at your desk, patiently awaiting your dish.

Perhaps it's nerves (satisfying the god's tongue was always nervewracking). You didn't doubt that somewhere inside you were nervous. But maybe it's something else, something more than nerves, something a little like love. You're buzzing with excitement, every neuron in your body excited like bolts of electricity beneath your skin.

But perhaps, you are just nervous. Nervous to serve Erina, to receive her approval. Nervous to disappoint your mother, disappoint your mother's dish. 

You're mother was a curious women, in that the dreams she had, she fulfilled, not by achieving them, but by making the most of what she could do. She was a simple woman, lovely because she lived and loved every moment of her life. You wanted to be a gourmet chef, and she wanted to share love through food. This potpie was the perfect amalgamation of talent, passion, and love; you and your mother in a gourmet dish.

You carefully pull the Pot Pie from the oven. It's simple enough, beautiful in its simpleness, a perfect pie, perfect crust lightly browned. Steaming, cooked to the perfect temperature throughout. This was your mother's love, your love, the soul of your cooking. 

It’s about Erina and the reader, but I don’t think they’ll be endgame. 

Like the shortest summary is, You serve Erina a dish that is really good, but visually simple. It’s a pot pie, your mother’s recipe. She insults the dish, which kills your passion for cooking because you’re in love with her. Then Yukihara reignites your passion and maybe you fall in love with Megumi or Alice or Alice and Ryō , or Yukihara.

Requested: No

Tuvok reads by the dim, yellowed light of your bedside table lamp. You hum through your nightly routine, brushing your teeth and putting on your pj's. You climb into bed, ready for sleep. Tuvok reaches over into the drawer of the bedside table and pulls out a blue velvet box. He hands you the box, which you with your curiosity peaked take happily. 

"What's this?" Inside the box was a sterling silver chain with a small black stone. "Oh, you didn't have too" shock laces your words.

"It's your day of birth," He states, simply.

"But Vulcans don't celebrate birthdays,"

"We do not, but I have chosen to participate in the tradition of gift giving. Do you not wish to keep the gift?"

"No, I do." You smile, "Help me put it on?"

You hand him the necklace and turn around. Tuvok clasps the chain around your neck, his fingers brush your skin.

You get up and admire the necklace in the mirror, "It's beautiful Tuvok, thank you"

Request: No

Author’s Note: Title Inspired By Sam Smith

Another glass of alien wine sits before you. Pretty blood red in the crystal wine glasses your mother gave you on your wedding day. You lean back in your uncomfortable lounge chair and rub your temples. The black sky is devoid of the moon, empty and starless night.

Tom comes home late, again. “Janeway asked me to stay late” echoes through the hallways, then the rustling of Tom’s suit jacket and the jingling of his keys being hung up. He doesn’t come into the living room to kiss you, he doesn’t even peak around the corner to see you before heading upstairs.

You swallow down the wine and go upstairs after him.

“How was work, Honey,” You chirp, like a good wife, but bitter on the inside.

Tom hums, “Boring, I missed you all day” He kisses your forehead. He smells like another woman.

You smile, but don’t say ‘missed you too’. How could you miss a man who lies to your face. How do you love a man who smiles as if he does not have another woman's lipstick staining the corner of his mouth. How can he say he loves you when he belongs to someone else - after he’s fucked someone else.

5 years, Gone. Wasted, tarnished, and for what; for another woman’s warm bed and open legs.

“Are you cheating on me?” You say, abruptly, letting words fall from your lips like wilting petals.

Tom takes a step back, looks out of breath, his eyes bulging in shock. “I love you,” He says, like a last resort. It almost hurts; he can’t even pretend anymore.

“I’m leaving,” is your response. You had already packed up, and he hadn’t noticed until you were pulling a duffel bag with your remaining clothes out of the closet. Everything else was at your friend’s house, and had been for weeks.

“You’re acting crazy, I wouldn't, I couldn't…” He couldn’t even finish what he was saying his tongue stumbling over excuses.

“I’m tired of being called crazy and unreasonable, Tom” Your voice broke, the truth unfortunately hurts. “I can’t be with someone like you”

“We can work this out, we can, just give me a chance” is desperate, and for a split second, you can believe it, and then reality comes crashing down around you.

“I know I’m not the only one” You say and pull the wedding ring off your finger, placing it in the palm of his hand and wrapping his fingers around it. “Maybe your new lover will have better use for it”

“(Y/N)…” He says, but there’s nothing for him to say.

Requested: Yes

Author’s Note: I’m probably going to do a part two.

Zeus XII was a habitable planet in the delta quadrant and the crew of the Voyager were searching for more resources to bolster supplies for their unintended voyage.

Zeus XII was surrounded by an unstable asteroid belt, simply beaming down would be near impossible. The away teams would have to take shuttles down to safely reach the surface. You and Harry were sent to acquire viable resources, or report the lack thereof to Janeway.

You and Harry landed your shuttlecraft in a clearing. The planet was rugged, unforgiving jungle terrain. Hot - no, sweltering. Heat rolled up from the ground in thick, muggy waves.

“This weather is brutal,” said Harry, who had begun to sweat before you turned the shuttlecraft off.

“You can say that again” You said.

The planet rumbled beneath your feet. Thick, towering trees shook ominously. You and Harry began your trek across the planet. Wild plant life was in abundance. You made sure to grab samples for further examination back on the starship.

Harry did the same.

You reached a ledge and decided to head back, but the ground gave way beneath you and you tumbled downhill.

Harry raced down after you. He checked you over, brushed dirt from your face, and gently checked for any wounds or blood.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“3”

 “Are you dizzy?”

“No”

“Does anything hurt?”

“My leg”

At first glance there was nothing wrong with your leg, but as Harry pulled up your pant leg, a grotesque bruise had blossomed across your calf and it had swollen.

“It’s probably broken,” said Harry, acknowledging the hideous bruising and puffiness.

“We still have to get back to the shuttlecraft” You replied 

“You won’t be able to walk, I’ll carry you”

“You don’t have to do that, I’m fine. Just help me up”

Harry lent you a hand and you stood up, putting pressure on your calf - it hurt. Fire like pain shot up your entire leg and you bit back a scream.

Harry helped you back into sitting position.

“That didn’t look fine.”

You sighed, “Okay, it might be broken, but carrying me will just slow you down, and it’s like 500 degrees out here. You could get heat exhaustion”

“(Y/N) I care about you, I’m not going to leave you out here alone to go get the medical kit. You could get heat exhaustion too”

You reluctantly let him carry you. “Why do you care?”

“I care about my friends” He said.

“And that’s what we are…friends?”

Author’s Note: It’s Kinda short, but I think I’ll just right another imagine about him instead of trying to lengthen this one cause I like it the way it is: short and sweet.

You hum as you flip through the annual physicals. Being a nurse on the Enterprise was hard, but fulfilling work and you enjoyed every minute you were helping patients. Yet, you were exhausted and there was still work to be done. It's dark on the ship to simulate late evening, but you work by the light of the lamp on your desk and the glow of your computer. 

You sigh and rub your temples. 

The office door slides open and Kevin steps in and knocks on the wall. You look up and see the communications officer and a small smile graces your lips. 

"What can I help you with?" You ask. 

"Oh, I haven't been feeling well," Kevin smiles, cheeky. "Nurse, I think I might be lovesick"

"Lovesick?" You say, coyly. 

Kevin takes a seat on the side of your desk, amusement and adoration twinkling in his eyes. "Yes, and there's only cure." 

"Oh and what's that?"

"A kiss from the prettiest girl on the entire Enterprise."

I might redo this, I don’t know how I feel about it currently. Let me know what you think.

"Resistance is futile"

You wake up gasping for air, your face damp with sweat and tears. Crying, you had  been crying in your sleep. You need fresh air, as much fresh air as you could get on a ship out in space. 

It was late, but you couldn't really feel it. Not tired, no, just scared. Seems like you'd been scared a lot these days. You had nightmares; of wars you'd never been in, of people you didn't know. Did borg have nightmares? No these were probably just fragmented memories.

You walk to an empty hallway, one of the many. Most of the crew was on standby, it was late and people needed their sleep. That was better for you anyway, you didn't want to talk to anyone right now. You were looking for something stolen from you, something called peace.

You peer out one of the many windows on the Starship Voyager. Watching the stars as the ship passed by . 

"Ahem. Mind if I join you?" Captain Janeway, your mother, asks.

"Mom, what are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same thing"

You sigh. "Can't sleep."

"I can't sleep either"

"Is it the stress" You both ask, simultaneously.

A smile graces your mother's face, and a smile graces your own face. But your smile quickly falls.

"What's the matter" Your mother asks, but you get the feeling she already knows.

"I'm having nightmares"

"Have you talked to the doctor"

"Mom, I…" You hadn't really talked to anyone. Hadn't even give yourself the chance to process this trauma. You had been assimilated by the borg, and had wanted to forget about it. Yet, you couldn't. When it stopped haunting your waking thoughts, it haunted your dreams. So you pushed it further down, convinced it would go away and you wouldn't have to work through anything.

"I wish we had a therapist aboard, but—"

"—The original mission didn't call for one" You finished, you'd heard it before. When you were struggling to regain your sense of self. Your mother whispering to Tuvok, hoping you wouldn't hear her worry. She wanted to be strong for her crew and most importantly you.

"I feel like I failed you," Your mother says. Her eyes trained on the vast space outside the ship. 

You spare a glance at her, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. "You couldn't have." You choke.

Your mom pulls you into a hug. "I love you, you know that"