#DAX WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU

[ensignextra]

Ah yes, my favourite Star Trek species: the Trill

[taya-ki]

I keep thinking about that post that's them having a best bros ds9 radio show...

[chadepitanga]

Ok but does he look at ezri dax like that? He does not

[datasoong101]

Spoilers for DS9 seasons 6&7

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN JADZIA IS DEAD! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN A PAH WRAITH KILLED HER? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I actually cried so much. I'm not okay. I know Dax is still alive, but that's not the same. The whole station loved Jadzia, half of it was in love with her. What about Worf? They loved each other so much. She was such a strong person, and she died in a way that felt wrong for her. Just thrown aside by Dukat, barely an after thought. I'm actually destroyed right now.

[terrifyingstories3]

ya'll i got a practicum!!!!!!!

[daxite]

i'm so fucking tired about how the internet has to dissolve every discussion into some fucking black-and-white "us vs. them" shit

[unopposablethumbsao3]

Med school student and noted old man fucker Julian Bashir taking his daddy issues to get drunk one night and running into noted old man Curzon Dax--Curzon, of course, is like "oh hey, free twink", and fucks him in a bathroom stall before heading out to continue his evening of, I don't know, head butting Klingons and both causing and resolving interstellar diplomatic crises. Julian never actually gets his name, and continues with his hot mess express voyage to salutatorian and Deep Space Nine.

Years later, Jadzia Dax on a ship to her new posting, only half paying attention to the sort-of-familiar twink CMO who's very awkwardly hitting on her. She knows she's seen this guy before, she just can't quite figure out where, like, this is his very first posting, he's a brand new graduate from Starfleet medical, and Jadzia's never actually been to Earth herself, in fact the last time Dax was in San Francisco was ... Oh. Oh no.

And of course, at first this is just a little awkward for her--she doesn't like all the things Curzon used to get up to, but like, they were mostly pretty harmless, and she certainly doesn't begrudge him a quick hookup with a very pretty young med student, even if he was possibly a little drunker than she'd like. And of course, it's not like Julian's ever going to know--he was wasted, and Curzon never even told him his name, so really, it's not a problem for Jadzia to put it aside and just be a professional. He's a colleague! No worries! That's that!

Except then she starts to get to know Julian. And beyond the fact that he's a damn good doctor and, it turns out, a deeply loyal friend, the closer they get, the more she starts to see flashes of how vulnerable he is under all the bluster and bravado--he puts on a hell of a brave front, but there's something wounded about him, and a deep, deep need for other people's approval, especially from potential father figures. All of which adds up to Jadzia feeling worse and worse about what happened between him and Curzon. But of course at this point, it feels like it's a little too late for her to say anything. What would it achieve other than embarrassing him, and adding a layer of complication to what's somehow become one of her closest, most important friendships.

Which is why she instead quietly swears a Klingon blood oath that she will protect this twink with her life if it comes to it--that's her pet twink now and anybody messing with him in any way for any reason is going to have to answer to her.

And yes this also means that when Julian and Garak start dating, Jadzia turns up at Garak's shop at closing time with some very pointed questions and an even pointier knife, and refuses to leave until she's absolutely certain that Garak's intentions are honourable (insofar as he's capable of honourable intentions) AND that he knows that if he hurts Julian, she will in fact be carving out his heart and eating it in the middle of the Promenade. Which of course means that Garak figures out what happened between Julian and Curzon because you can't go off on him like that without him instantly clocking the ulterior motives, so now they're at mutually assured destruction, which of course is how they also start to become very good friends (yes Worf hates this).

Also, Jadzia does NOT die during the war--she's Julian's best man when he marries Garak on Cardassia ten years later (neither she nor Garak ever tell Julian about the whole Curzon thing, or the whole I-will-eat-your-heart thing, though he lowkey knows SOMETHING is up because they won't stop exchanging meaningful nods every time they get a little drunk together).

[quarkfancam]

some trek oc posting!! mostly dr. t'sik... also featuring ensign morris (human) & lt. nul (ferengi). Some elaboration on her under the cut....

Ok so the first thing you need to know about T'Sik is her head gets wider every time i draw her

The second thing you need to know about her is she is having the least severe vulcan identity crisis. My main idea for her character was someone who, while being perfectly able to fit into their society's ideals of what they should be, just cannot feel comfortable in it. She's always felt more at ease interacting with aliens or Vulcans who didn't go through with the Kolinahr, in spite of her being successful in that aspect. She's great at medicinal science. She's also pretty good at being a wife (so her parents say)! But once she's expected to 'finish' her duty as a woman in Vulcan society and become a mother, she kind of just runs off and joins Starfleet.

In that sense, she connects with a freshly-graduated (she assumes) human (she assumes) ensign, who was also a rebel in the sense he was more Curzon than Ezri Dax, a chaotic rogue with ambiguous feelings towards the society he was raised in. They serve together on their first ship for a while before T'Sik is promoted and transferred from ship to ship. She feels appreciated for a while, but she eventually has to admit that the feeling fades.

The people she's always gotten along with more simply aren't the people she really wants praise from. She longs for the people she grew up alongside, the people she was raised by.

It doesn't matter, so she ignores the feeling. She keeps being distracted at work. She gets sloppier. The people grow more distant in her mind. Years pass. Decades pass. She's not exceptional anymore, she's just decent.

She gets transferred to the ship where everyone who's just decent goes: the USS Hawking, patrolling the middle of nowhere.

The people are strange, but familiar. Too familiar — a friendly face greets her, and suddenly she's freshly 40 again. Ensign Morris treats her just the same as back then. It's strange. She doesn't quite know what to do with herself. More time passes.

Her new captain, a cardassian man named Karal, brings new people aboard, one of which is a young ferengi woman named Nul. Unfortunately for T'Sik, she's seen the story of a young woman running away from home into the arms of Starfleet before.

...Which starts us off with the (imaginary) S1, where T'Sik has to navigate a new Captain and a new apprentice who reminds her a bit too much of herself (she will be a bit cold to her at first). And maybe also properly re-befriend her former weird mysterious rebel colleague who never got promoted too.

last doodle was just me having fun but imagine an episode where they're the only ones awake on the ship while everyone's asleep or something and they're forced to develop..... etc

as for morris & t'sik they're kinda weird sarcastic sorta-friends they hook up at one point and it sucks really bad. t'sik's ex husband felt a disturbance in the force (wrong franchise) the day it happened and stuff. Idk i haven't thought about him at All. that's like a s4 episode to me

& also i Forgot to adjust uniforms for time period in the first doodle but my in canon explanation for the voyager era ones (this whole thing would be a bit after the dominion war) is that the ship just never got replicator patterns for the new uniforms. Yup

anyways if you read this whole thing ur a real one & Thank you........ turns into a cloud and floats away......

[indri-on-ao3]

When I checked in to see what was happening on Tumblr, I did not expect to see Lower Decks canon Garak/Bashir.

I watched Deep Space Nine in the Nineties. Back then, you had to read between the lines because there was almost no positive queer rep at all. So, yes, Garak and Bashir were flirting and Jadzia Dax was never noway cishet. Glad to see that sometimes we don't have to read between the lines anymore.

I will raise a glass to the happy, bickering couple and the actors who play them.

[fatalism-and-villainy]

Thinking about this exchange between Jadzia and Arjin in Playing God:

When I found out Curzon was dying, I requested the Dax symbiont.

And Curzon didn’t object?

No. And I’ve never been sure quite why. Except, as I’ve come to know Curzon’s dark sense of humour, I have a feeling the irony might have appealed to him.

Jadzia specifically requesting to take the Dax symbiont after her awful experience with Curzon is genuinely one of the most fascinating insights into her character, imo. It’s a showcase of her gritty determination, but also invites a lot of questions as to her motivations and her internal contradictions.

Because there’s something absolutely wild about choosing to inherit the memories of a mentor who did such a number on your self-esteem. Jadzia didn’t know that Curzon was in love with her (a reveal I have… mixed feelings about). For all she knew, he genuinely was unimpressed with her, and she was incredibly burned by not measuring up to his standards. And yet she chose to inherit his symbiont and his memories of her, to take that perception of her and make it a part of herself. I’ve experienced shitty academic mentorship (although not to that extent, fortunately) and I can’t think of anything that sounds worse than sharing my consciousness with someone I’ve had that experience with. But Jadzia wanted to.

And while we get her conjecturing about Curzon’s motivations in that exchange up there, she doesn’t elaborate on her own motivations for requesting the Dax symbiont. We can make inferences - she did it for the sense of vindication (she says she “tore through the program with a vengeance” when she reapplied), as a symbol of her resilience and her knowledge of her own worth and worthiness in spite of Curzon’s perceptions of her.

But it is an interesting contradiction, because for the most part her bad experiences as an initiate made her very avoidant of everything to do with Trill and the Symbiosis Commission. She’s apprehensive about having to go back there in Equilibrium, she put off doing her zhian’tara for so long that they had to do it on the station instead of on Trill, etc. And yet, she hasn’t washed her hands of the entire experience, because she actively chose to take on the most intimate possible reminder of it.

And while you could argue that taking on those memories and that perspective could constitute a sort of reconciliation with that experience (since, leaving aside Curzon’s actual reasons for washing her out, a lot of harsh mentorship is less malicious and personal than it feels on the receiving end), she obviously hasn’t reconciled herself to what happened. It’s clear from this episode that she still harbors a lot of anger and bitterness towards Curzon - when Sisko says “you made it through the program,” she replies, “no thanks to him.” It’s only through personal experience that she comes to understand Curzon’s POV (as she sees it) and appreciate the value of having high standards for initiates.

To me, her inheritance of the Dax symbiont is a symbol of both her rising above her insecurities, and the way those insecurities still haunt her. It’s clear in Facets that even though Curzon has very much influenced her behaviour and interests and priorities, she’s still apprehensive about actually “meeting” him, because his treatment of her is still a thorn in her side. And for a while she’s willing to simply let those memories go rather than confront him! So maybe her decision to take Dax was also a desire to keep that reminder of her failure close to her chest, to master it and subsume it into herself and rise above it. But across both Playing God and Facets, Curzon a part of Dax that she has considerable trouble incorporating into her gestalt conception of herself.

There’s maybe a parallel with Verad and Invasive Procedures, too. When Jadzia gets the symbiont back from Verad, she has all of his memories, so she can’t help but sympathize with him despite him committing this massive violation and nearly killing her. And with Curzon, she voluntarily took on his memories, and he’s very much a part of her despite not only having wounded her self-esteem but also, as we find out, committed a massive abuse of power against her. Idk, I’m just so fascinated by the fact that Jadzia not only knew Dax’s previous host, but that he was responsible for what she describes as one of the most miserable experiences of her life.

[mylittleredgirl]

unpopular opinion but i really enjoy "field of fire," the ezri dax "to catch a serial killer" episode. for all the scenery chewing and deep space nine's continued vulcan smear campaign, i'm not going to pretend it's objectively the best of the ezri a-plot episodes, but it's my favorite for what it reveals about her.

jadzia was emotional, headstrong, and sometimes impulsive (as was curzon), but ezri is reckless.

of course she is! she's young! she's unqualified for everything that has happened to her, and honestly, so are all her peers. she ran away from a fucked-up home to starfleet at a time when, as we saw with nog, they're field-promoting cadets at top speed to fill the ranks as starfleet suffers massive war casualties. she's more or less the same generation as the red squad cadets on the valiant who decided to fight the dominion war by themselves behind enemy lines.

and she wouldn't be ezri dax otherwise. the reveal in "equilibrium" is a secret known only the symbiosis commission and the starfleet offiers who were physically in the room. to the medical staff on the destiny and ezri tigan herself, the odds of rejection from an improper trill joining are overwhelmingly likely and fatal. but ezri still volunteers to join with dax! she's probably going to die in this uniform anyway, right?

jadzia was a focused, rule-following, straight-a student before she met the party worm, and it took dax a season or two to loosen her up, but ezri was probably already unhinged.

so of course she's the one who decides to take her inner murderer off the leash at the slightest provocation. sisko asks her to help odo out, and ezri somehow interprets this as feeling like she's solely responsible for finding the killer when she only took one class at the academy in forensic psychology and didn't even like it. odo and o'brien are continuing their own investigation off-screen the whole time! meanwhile, she probably had to look up the trill emergence ritual in a book. she has not read the fine print on ANY of this.

and she sticks with this crazy plan, even when it becomes clear that she's right on the edge of becoming a danger to society. but ezri's whole starfleet career, maybe her whole young life of ignoring and plotting her escape from her emotionally abusive family, certainly her whole joined experience, has been lived right on the edge.

all the scenes she has with joran in and around quark's bar to me are her technique for staying grounded in reality. they often happen after joran pushes her too far, so she uses being public as a distraction from that one-on-one intensity—even though it means she looks insane and everyone's staring at her. even joran is like ".... shouldn't you have told sisko about me?" she is full in dax stubbornness on this deeply dubious plan.

and it works!! and in the final account, i think she liked it a little: the power of playing a killer, the power of being stronger than joran, and the soft ending she has with him during reintegration.

her symbiont, her whole life on the station, her friends, her romantic interests, they were all jadzia's first, but jadzia was afraid of joran and would never have played this game. in this one way, ezri has a closer relationship to her unearned symbiont than jadzia did.

ezri's beta canon trajectory of switching to a command track is okay, but it makes me sad to think she'd ditch her chosen career entirely. i could see her getting into criminal psychology. her brother's a murderer (she hasn't unpacked that AT ALL), one of her past hosts was a murderer... with that backstory, she'd do numbers in a federation law & order procedural series. i'd watch it.

but honestly, in the federation spirit of rehabilitation, she might be uniquely qualified to treat violent criminals as well, rather than hunting them down. she could reach in and heal that part of herself and then use that experience to reach others.

[bonesxbows]

Ghosts of the Void (Arthur Nightingale X Reader)

My Masterlist

You're unsurprisingly plagued by nightmares. Arthur offers to stay with you through the night when he hears you calling out to him, but what ends up happening is more than either of you expected possible in the realm of dreams meeting transference. He doesn't seem to mind though, guiding you through the hellscape of your mind to bring you back to reality.

(WARNINGS) - Character death (in dreams, not in actuality) - Descriptions of panic attacks - Nightmares - Slight spoilers for the hex quest (dialogue spoilers)

I am on a roll with writing about Arthur and not even god himself could stop me at this point

Not 100% if I like how this one turned out, might revisit this idea later. Let me know what you think. Ty for reading :)

Banners by @strangergraphics

You couldn't remember the last time you had slept soundly through the night. The coldness, the darkness, the loneliness in your new surroundings in the backroom felt too suffocating every time you laid your head down. No matter how long you tried meditating or trying to distract yourself beforehand, the nightmares always came flooding back with viper-like speed, swirling in your head in a noxious cloud of inky black abysmal dread until it forced you shooting up straight in your bed, screaming and terrified. You prayed no one else in the Mall could hear you when you did wake up screaming bloody murder, though you doubt your prayers were answered. 

One night it had gotten particularly bad, worse than before. You were back in Duviri, the all-too-familiar execution in full swing. Though it wasn’t your head on the chopping block; no, it wasn’t your body beneath the executioner's sword, the one there now was much more metal and steel than yours should have been. The winds blew his hair and the strands grazed the blade set against his neck. You wanted to thrash against the Dax holding you in place, curse out Dominus Thrax as he began his speech, run to the warframe knelt on the ground and trade places with him, but your efforts were futile. You were frozen in place by an invisible force. And then it was too late; the sword had fallen. You watched in horror as his lifeless body slumped forward, his head severed onto the stone pavement, the lights of his warframe flickering out one by one as his systems powered down. A scream ripped through your throat, you cried out for him, shrieking until your vocal cords went raw. 

That was when you woke up, tears streaming down your face, sweat coating your back, and a sob caught in your lungs. You tried to catch your breath, tried to remind yourself that it wasn’t real, but it all felt so…vivid. Like you had just watched his death happen right in front of you. Again, for that matter. How many times would you have to see it? 

However, your train of thought was cut short when you heard a knock at your door. You caught your breath, waiting for the sound again, making sure you weren’t imagining things, and sure enough it rang out again throughout the room. You wiped your eyes with the back of your sleeves and hurried out of bed to scurry down the steps towards the sound, opening the door to find Arthur, hand raised like he was about to knock again and hair looking less than his usual well-kept look. He looked frantic, like he had rushed to your door in a hurry. 

“Arthur? What…What’re you doing here?” You asked him. His presence wasn’t unwelcome, in fact, you were glad to see him in front of you after the scenes that had just been playing behind your eyelids, but it was still jarring nonetheless. 

“I…heard you calling for me, so I came to check on you.” He hesitated, as if he risked sounding like he was making up excuses to be at your door in the middle of the night, or that he was hearing things himself. You wanted to adore the thought of him caring enough about your well-being to tear himself from his sleep to make sure you were alright, but the mention that he had heard you call out for him made your blood run cold. Had you been screaming that loudly? Or had some other mind link been made during your dream-induced emotional turmoil? 

“Oh…sorry about that…I’m fine, Arthur. You can go back to sleep. I appreciate you stopping by though.” You plastered the fakest smile you could muster onto your face, hoping your defensive walls were tall enough that he couldn’t see over them. Though all it would’ve taken was one good blow to make you crack and crumble. 

Arthur wasn’t fully blind. His experience with Amir had taught him the signs to look for, and he recognized all of them in you. The way you would be the first one awake every day, the discoloration underneath your eyes that seemed to get worse by the day, the weeks you would progressively drag on and continuously get slower on the draw before he would find you passed out somewhere in the Mall fast asleep, the noises that would startle him awake at night that he would tell himself was just the techrot underneath them but in reality was you screaming in your sleep. He had seen it all before, though this time it was even closer to home. “Would you like me to stay with you? Through the night?” 

At first, you thought he was joking, having a laugh and poking fun like the rest of the Hex did with one another, but his eyes were so sincere you were caught by surprise. “You want to? Are you sure?”

“Only if you’re comfortable.” 

You mulled your lip between your teeth, rocking on the balls of your feet slightly as you considered his suggestion. The thought of crawling back to the cold loneliness of your bed seemed daunting; like a trap laying in wait for you, ready to spring another bad dream upon your sleep as soon as you laid down. And he had been the one to offer…

“Okay.” It was barely above a whisper, but he heard it all the same, a ghost of a smile dancing across his face in relief. You stepped back, allowing him space to walk into the backroom, the mechanical door closing behind him as you swallowed your reservedness and threaded your fingers in between his, guiding him up the stairs toward your little loft apartment. He let you lead the way, never once making any signs of objection. The two of you had done this dance a hundred times before; him finding a comfortable spot on your bed, you curling into his side with your head nestled on his chest, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders, a blanket tossed loosely over the two of you. Though this time was different, all of the time the two of you had spent on your bed he had never stayed longer than a few hours, certainly not overnight. You had never asked him to, he had never asked if he could, and it was left at that. 

But now here he was, practically a furnace beneath you, his techrot-induced quickened heartbeat thrumming in your ear. You realized why it had never crossed your mind to ask him to stay; how were you supposed to get any sleep with the thought of him so close to you? But then you felt his hand make its way into your hair, his metal fingers mindlessly threading through the strands, a silent lullaby that calmed your mind enough for you to drift back to sleep, cozied in his arms. 

You felt something cold dripping onto your nose, the startling sensation yanking you from your sleep. Your eyes shot open, your hand coming up to wipe the substance off of your skin. Your fingers came back drenched in thick, sticky red. The rest of your slumber that had held on to the back of your mind immediately vanished. You held your breath, looking up towards where the dripping had been coming from, only to be met with a mangled corpse impaled to the ceiling above you, blood dripping down onto you and the surrounding floor. You had been lying in a puddle of the stuff. You swallowed a scream and scrambled up, almost slipping in the sticky mess in your haste. Your heartbeat was in your throat and it was then that you realized where you were, scanning the area revealed a scene that felt hauntingly familiar. Hallways from your childhood, doused in blood and ghosts and sins of the past. The Zariman. How had you ended up here? 

A piercing scream ringing off of the metal hallways and echoing towards your ears cut off your train of thought before it even had a chance to begin. People were being hunted, the body on the ceiling you had found was proof enough of that. You needed to move. Your feet decided for you before your mind did, picking a direction and taking off. You ran down the hallway, taking a left, a right, another left, screams and void explosions echoing behind you. Closer and closer and closer. 

You came across an open doorway and swung yourself inside, praying it was empty as you crouched down, your heart hammering in your head and your breaths coming out ragged. You sat down, curling your knees into your chest and placing your hands over your ears, your whole body shaking. You could hear them, so close to your hideaway; their screams, their shrieks, the splatter of gore as they tore limb from limb. You breathed, in and out, willing them to Just. Go. Away. You didn’t know how you had gotten here in the first place but you wanted out, you wanted to go back. Back to Arthur, back to the safety of the backroom, back to the chaos of 1999, back to your chosen home. You wanted to go back to him. And maybe, just maybe, if you focused hard enough you could will yourself away from this place. 

He had been sleeping, or at least he thought he had been sleeping, and then suddenly he wasn’t. Or…was he still sleeping? He honestly couldn’t tell anymore but he knew he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Cold, void-touched metal walls surrounded him, hallways of someplace he didn’t recognize. He picked himself up off the floor, how he had gotten down there he couldn’t remember, but he stood up regardless, surveying what laid in front of him. A lounge room of some sort, destroyed as if during a fight and furniture flipped over as barricades. Wherever he was had been, or was currently, a warzone. A switch flipped in his brain that set him on edge, his fingers itching for his AX-52. 

He exited the room carefully, seeing more of the same for as far as his eyes could see; battle-torn destruction and void-damaged metal. He heard a scream and whipped his head around, faced with multiple hallways that stretched in various directions. He pressed his back to the nearest wall and waited. One count, two count, three count, four…but nothing ever came. He heard it again, this time closer, but listening more carefully it sounded more like a strangled sob. It took him a minute to realize it was coming from inside his own head. Then he heard your voice. 

“I’m going to fucking die here…They’re gonna kill me!” you were sobbing, choking on your own words as you screamed them out. You sounded terrified. He discovered he hated the sound. 

“Who’s going to kill you? Where are we, love?” he asked, his voice soft in an attempt to soothe you, but his words fell on deaf ears. 

“I'm going to die and…and I’m never-” you paused, hiccups overcoming you as you tried to speak and cry at the same time. “I’m never going to see him again! Fuck! I’m gonna die all alone in this stupid place! I just-” he could hear you sniffle, gulping in air between ragged breaths. “I just want Arthur back.” 

He could feel his heart wretch. Did you not know he was here? You had to have been the one to summon him here, right? He knew of no one else who could. He scanned the hallways one last time, double making sure the coast was clear before heading back to the room he had originally found himself in. He sat down, closed his eyes, and tried to focus on your presence. You had to be in there, somewhere. “Sweets, can you hear me?” he tried, your cries still echoing around his mind. When there came no reply he tried again. “Listen to me; you’re not alone. I’m right here, love. Can you hear my voice?” he made sure to be gentle, but with a twinge of his commanding-ness that he knew, or at least hoped, would grab your attention. His brow furrowed as he searched for anything in his mind that could be a response from you, anything that showed him you were at least listening. 

“...Arthur?” It was meek and hesitant but it was there. He let out a sigh of relief, the sobs had stopped and you had acknowledged his presence. 

“I’m here, love. By Sol, I’m here. What’s going on?” 

“I…I don’t know!” you burst into tears again, he could practically feel the sobs racking your whole body, your cold tears on his face and the nerves of his fingers shaking with anxiety. He cursed himself for not approaching the subject more delicately. 

“Come now, sweets, you’re alright. Nothing can hurt you now that I’m here, you know that. Let’s start with, where are we? Can you do that?” 

He could hear you try to regulate your breathing, a trick he had taught you the first time he had witnessed you having a panic attack. The memory made him smile, just a little. “I…um…we…we’re on the Zariman and- oh Arthur! The Angels! The Angels are coming! Can’t you hear them?! They’ll find us! We have to run! Right now!” you had stayed calm for all of about two seconds, panic zinging through his nervous system as you tried to will his feet to move. But he held them still, his will over his own body stronger than your attempted control while you were in such a frazzled state. 

“Hold on, love, who’re the Angels? Are they the ones trying to kill you?” You didn’t have time to answer him as a piercing shrill scream rang through the metallic halls, this time Arthur knew for certain it wasn’t coming from inside of his mind. He was quick to his feet, looking for something, anything, to defend the two of you with. The room provided nothing. He cursed, grasping for his exalted blade, hoping his protoframe abilities still worked in whatever nightmarish place this was. Thankfully they did, the sword glowing to life in the palms of his hands. The blueish steel was all he needed. He could hear the shrills becoming louder as it screamed, sharp metal claws clanking and echoing off the walls as it searched. The creature was hunting. He didn’t have much time. 

He knew you could hear the monster through his ears, your presence had retreated to the farthest corners of his mind you could find, trying to escape the horrors that awaited you on the outside. But he could still hear you, could still sense you, crying and shaking and pleading with him to just make the thing go away. 

“I’m here to help, love, but it’s up to you. I don’t know what I’m up against. You don’t have to fight this, but you need to help me. I know you’re still in there, you’re still you underneath all that fear.” he was as calm as he could be knowing that an unknown void horror was about to be barreling down on top of him at any moment. But there was no response. And the newfound ringing in his ears could only mean that the creature had found him. 

He dashed out of the room, sliding across the floor and down the hallway, skirting underneath the legs of the lanky abomination. It shrieked, clawing at him with its metal arms. He rebounded, pouncing off of the floor and using the wall as leverage to jump at one of its legs, slashing at the metal, void energy tumbling out as his blade made contact. 

“Arthur,” you called out, his concentration severed at your sudden words. The creature slashed at him and his momentary surprise knocked him off balance, it missed, but only by inches as he jumped back and landed on his calves.“Arthur, I’m here! Aim for its center!” 

He grunted, ducking down as it swung at him again. He rolled, sliding until he was perfectly underneath the monster. His move confused it, its claws slamming down into the ground around itself as it spun around in a circle in an attempt to claw under itself, screeching the whole while. “Look up!” you shouted in his mind, and he immediately obeyed, being met with a center mass of concentrated swirling void energy, the coldness radiating off of the tip of his nose. “See?” 

“Yeah, yeah I do,” he replied, kicking up off of the floor into a jump straight through the creature, leading with the tip of his sword. He met the ceiling as it screamed, ricocheting off with his hands and landing onto the floor as the monster crumbled, the two severed halves hitting the floor with a resounded thud. All remains of the glowing void energy were gone, dissipating out of the cracks between the metal like wisps of smoke blown away in a storm. 

“It’s dead…” you told him as if you didn’t actually believe the corpse by his feet. He kicked it for good measure, showing you that it was well and truly not getting back up. You breathed in relief and he could sense the smile ghosting across your face. But it was quickly chased away by the sounds of more shrieks echoing down the halls. Again, and again, and again. As if there was more than one this time. You began to pull away again, your heart rate intermixing with his and beating in his throat. “No…no no no. No! Arthur, I can’t! Not again! I can’t! Arthur!” you were panicking, breathing becoming a challenge as oxygen refused to fill your lungs. It knocked the wind out of him. 

He fell to a knee, propping his weight on his sword. If he didn’t calm you down, and quickly, you would send the both of you spiraling into a panic attack. He could already feel his heart rate quickening, trying to match yours. Damn this transference. 

“You can, love. You’re strong enough. I’m right here with you.” he focused on you, blocking out the noises fast approaching. He spoke slow, steady, like a beacon in the whirlwind of your racing mind, searching for you. 

“We don’t have time for this, they’ll be on us any second!” you screamed in his mind, the essence of tears streaming down your face and ghosting down his skin. You were trying to will him to get up, to run, to do anything but just sit here like prey waiting to be slaughtered. 

“Slow. It. Down. Breathe, sweets.” he commanded, but not in a forceful way. The change of tone in his voice made you listen, though. The gruffness from his lowered octave had a way of pulling your attention and he knew it. 

“I…I…” 

But he didn’t let you continue and instead began deliberately breathing in and out, slowly, surely, steadily. Your mind suddenly went blank, the swirling thoughts seeming to calm as you unintentionally started to follow his example. Everything worked better, clearer, now that oxygen was returning to your system, and by proxy Arthur’s system as well. He could feel your mind begin to calm, the whirlwind slowing into a breeze. Relief washed over his nerves as you continued to breathe like he had shown you, your tears drying up and your heart rate returning to normal. He leaned on his sword and fully stood up, rolling his shoulders back and positioning his feet into a fighting stance just as the clicking of metallic claws rounded the corner down the hallway in front of him, the mass of void and twisted metal creatures coming into view, screeching and screaming. 

“What do we do?” you asked him. Your voice was quiet, timid. He could tell you were still frightened, but you sounded more sure of yourself. Your voice was here, in the current present with him, and not lost or trapped in the fears of your mind anymore. You were relying on him. He had asked you to place all of your trust in him at this moment and you had done so without a second thought. Sol above, he would never forgive himself if he bollocked this up now. 

“These creatures scare you.” it was a statement more than a question but he could feel your presence nod furiously in his head. You watched as he stared the approaching void angels down, his sword raised above his shoulder at the ready, his face carved out of stone as their claws clattered and tore down the hallway towards him. “Then we kill your fear.” his voice was low, threatening, dangerous. Sharp as the blade held in his hands and twice as deadly. He sounded so sure of himself you were almost weary to ask if that was even possible, but you never got the chance to anyway, his blade clashing with void-enhanced steel for the second time. 

There were at least three, if not more that could pop out of the walls at any second. Arthur slashed and dashed around the space provided, nicking the metal appendages of the monsters whenever an opening was available, which wasn't often. Claws constantly crashed down around him, threatening to crush and impale him with every move. Worry chewed at your nervous system. He was part warframe, sure, but he could still only handle so much. He was starting to slow down, the constant dodging and bouncing around wearing him thin. Sweat stuck thick to his brow, drenching his hair. He rebounded from a jump and kicked off of the wall with his foot, coming down on one of the angels with the tip of his sword, embedding it into the corroded metal, inches too far from hitting the mass of energy in the center. The creature wailed and tried to shake him off, leaving his sword still stuck in its carapace and throwing him across the room into a different wall, hard. The impact left a noticeable dent in the metal exterior. He heard you groan in his head, his name tumbling from your lips as if to ask if he was okay. Which only left him more confused. 

He had been thrown across the room by a void-born monster, slammed into a metal wall with enough force to dent it, and yet he felt…nothing? He felt fine, if he was being honest. A little tired from all the fighting but certainly not injured, not like he should have been for someone who had just been flung spine-first into a wall. But you were groaning in pain. The gears began to turn in his head just as the angels found where their plaything had escaped to. 

“It’s a dream…” he dashed away from the oncoming threat, now defenseless as his sword was still out of reach. 

You felt the need to cough up blood but doing so was impossible while inside a warframe, the copper liquid forcing its way back down your throat, Arthur’s words not even registering in your head. “What?” 

“This is your dream, love! It’s a nightmare! This isn’t real!” It had clicked; you were tormenting yourself, running through your worst fears, and causing yourself pain in the process. He hadn’t quite figured out how he’d ended up here with you, but this dream didn’t include him, he was never aboard the Zariman. His pain wasn’t a part of your torment. 

“What do you mean this isn’t real?! It fucking feels real!” You didn’t believe him. How could you believe him when your head still throbbed from being thrown and blood still poured from between your teeth? 

He huffed, sliding underfoot of the metallic beasts as claws swung in his direction again. “You trust me, don’t you? Transfer out of me and prove me wrong, love. I wouldn’t lie to you.” 

You hummed aggressively, though it reverberated through his ears as more of a whine. Whether you believed the facts you were seeing in front of his eyes didn’t matter, you believed him, and that was enough. 

“Let’s get out of here. The both of us, okay, sweets?” He asked softly, his hands at the ready as his eyes focused on the void angels stalking towards him, backing him into a corner. The threat was imminent, but his attention never left you, though, in the back of his mind. You were his way out of this hellscape, his only way out of this hellscape of your memory’s creation, if he could get you to listen to him. He didn’t panic as their claws started to swing in his direction, their shrieks piercing his eardrums, and he didn’t flinch either when their metal appendages came to a dead stop mid-air. Their hulking frames had froze mid-stance, outstretched towards him, but now dead, lifeless, their screams coming to an abrupt halt, deafening silence washing over the area.  

“Okay.” You answered, your voice clear as a bell ringing in his head. His eyes forcefully shut, his protoframe body shutting down as his mind drifted back to reality. 

You awoke with a gasp, tears automatically streaming down your face as you bolted upright, clutching and clawing at your chest as your lungs tried and failed to catch up to the rapid racing of your heartbeat. Arthur had woken up at the same time as you, a groan tumbling from his lips as being forcefully yanked from transference turned out to be a very rude wake-up call. He regained his composure quickly, though, sitting up and immediately pulling you into his lap, cradling you in his arms. Moments like this you reminded him of those old porcelain dolls that used to be everywhere before the techrot took over; small, fragile, one wrong move and he could shatter you into a million pieces that he wouldn’t have the first clue of how to put back together the right way. 

“Arthur…” you called out his name, watery eyes staring up at him. 

He brushed your hair out of your face, the strands sticking to your skin due to sweat, likely from you being fitful in bed during your nightmare. “You’re okay, love.” His voice barely above a whisper in your ear. 

“I’m sorry.” You blurted out, a fresh wave of tears falling from your eyes. His hand came up to caress your cheek, his metal thumb gently wiping the tears away as they fell. 

“What for?” 

“For…for bringing you into all…that. I…I didn’t even know that was possible. I’m so sorry.” you explained, placing your hands on his chest to ground yourself, the warmth of his frame radiating through your fingertips and keeping you from bursting into sobs. 

He tightened his hold on you, silently reminding you that you were here, with him, in your home in Höllvania, no longer trapped within your dream world. “You reached out to me when you needed me, don’t feel like you have to apologize for that.” he kissed you softly on the forehead, the feeling of his lips lingering on your skin. You crumpled against his chest, exhausted and at a loss for words. “You’re safe, love. They can’t hurt you here.” he reminded you, nestling his face into your hair as he gave you another gentle squeeze. 

He held you there in the dark, for how long you couldn’t remember. You cradled securely in his arms and him wrapped protectively around you, chasing away any further nightmares. Neither one of you fell asleep anytime soon, but when you did, you knew he would be there, your swordsman, his steel at the ready to drive away the monsters that plagued your mind. 

[boldlyvoid]

Come Together

18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Summary: Ever since the academy, Aaron and Y/N have been at each other's throats for a spot on the BAU. He got it, She didn't. Now they have to plan the Bureau's Holiday party together without killing each other.

Warnings: angst, fighting, mutual pining, enemies to lovers, Aaron had a crush on her while married. why he and haley broke up, miscarriage mentions, divorced Aaron, flirting, teasing, kissing, fingering, hate sex, p in v smut, rough sex, no condoms used

Word Count: 4.8k

Penelope is usually the one to plan holiday parties… but after last year's spiked punch— that ruined a lot of upper agents' sobriety, which wasn’t her fault at all, the director delegated to having two random people plan it together. He pulled names from a hat that just happened to be Aaron Hotchner and Y/N Y/L/N. 

She was happy to do it, and he was fine with doing it… they just weren’t happy about doing it together. The two agents couldn’t stand each other and it goes all the way back to being in the same year at the academy. 

They were tied for the top of the class, duking it out to be the chosen one for Agent Rossi’s new right-hand man. And of course, it went to a man. It didn’t matter to them that she was fantastic at what she did, or that her final score was 0.2% higher than his. He was a man so he got it. 

She got a job in CARD which, she liked, it was still an opportunity to solve cases and bring kids home to their parents… she just had to work with the BAU more than she liked and take orders from them. And then Rossi left, Gideon stepped down and Aaron Hotchner was the fucking Head of the BAU. 

She was taking orders from him. Him and his goon squad of pretty people he picked over her. 

She would’ve pushed everything aside and dealt with him, she would’ve mended things if he accepted her into the team. But he never did. After 5 applications and being looked over for everything while he hired younger and younger, she finally gave up and started to hate his guts even more. 

Now she’s in the elevator, pushing the button for floor 6 and shaking the thoughts of strangling him out of her head so she can deal with him for half an hour. He’s always so busy that she’s been waiting all week just to talk about this stupid fucking party, and the only time he has is at 8:30 pm on a Friday when she should be at home. 

She walks right into the bullpen, up the stairs and knocks on his door. “come in?” He calls. 

“Hey,” she says with a deep sigh. “Can we talk about the party?” 

“Mhm,” he nods, waving her in. “Come sit, I already have some ideas.” 

“Okay…” she sits down in front of him, ignoring all his plaques and accolades and staring down at her clipboard. “I called around and there are 3 places available that are big enough to hold us, on the 3rd Saturday of the month.” 

“Awesome, I already called a friend of mine with a Christmas tree farm and acquired 3 trees— Douglas furs, all pretty and big, we’ll just need a ceiling over 12 feet to house them,” he explains. 

“And who’s going to decorate them?” She asks. 

He shrugs, “We’ve got a big budget, we can hire someone to do it.” 

“Who did Penelope use?” 

“Herself,” he smiles that devilishly condescending smile. “I’m sure if we ask she’d want to help out again. She loves Christmas.” 

“Did you ever figure out who spiked the punch last year?” She asks, genuinely feeling sorry for Penelope. 

Penny was the only one on the team that she actually liked. 

He nods, “Dax Cooper up in counter-terrorism.” 

“Yeah, he’s an asshole.” 

“Worse than me?” He teases. “Seriously, when are you going to stop being mad at me?” 

“When you admit you hate me!” She fights back. “I did nothing to you. You’re the one who conspired with Dave and got hired here and then you purposely lost all my applications and never let me know why you wouldn’t even interview me.”

“I didn’t lose them, I put them to the side,” he shrugs. “You weren’t ready to be on our team.” 

“But the walking calculator and teen Mrs. USA are?” She laughs.

“Reid and JJ are wonderful assets,” he snaps, jaw tight and eyes full of fury. “This is why I don’t want you. You wouldn’t be a team player. Not until you get rid of the attitude and accept that this job is about more than numbers. Yes, they’re young, yes you beat me by a fraction of a percent, but that doesn’t mean you have what it takes to do what we do.” 

“I look at cases full of missing, dead and raped kids all day, how is that any different?” She honestly can’t believe it. 

“Because you look at a screen all day with facts and witness statements and I go out into the field and I talk to parents and I deal with the cops and I don’t start fights over petty bullshit,” he reminds her. “I have never called you names or signalled you out. All you do, every time we're on a scene together, is whisper and gossip and try to undermine me. You need to grow up.” 

She just shakes her head, holding in a comment that could hurt him because… and she hates to say it, but he’s right. “Whatever. Should I call one of these places and book it tomorrow or what?” 

“Do whatever you want, just give me the address so I can have the trees and decorations sent over,” he honestly doesn’t care. “I trust your judgement on a caterer, I’ll pick a band… what else would we need?” 

“Invitations, which I can handle,” she assures as she stands up to walk to his door. “I’ll cc you on everything and include the director for oversight. I’ll call you if I have questions.” 

“Y/N,” he calls out to her before she leaves. “I’m going to be looking for a new agent in a few months…” 

“And?” 

“If we can work this out by then… maybe things will be different when you apply this time?” He suggests, giving her innocent eyes and genuinely meaning it. 

“Okay.” 

—

“Did you see her last night?” Dave asks, walking right into Aaron's office with two coffees right at 8am. 

He nods, “I did… you don’t have any connections to a band I can book for Christmas, do you?” 

“The Jazz club might be able to lend us some members,” he suggests. “I’ll make a call… but I take it things went well?” 

“As well as they could go, she’s still so mad at me for getting this position over her,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know how to make her realize she just wasn’t ready. Our working together would’ve been awful. It would’ve—

“Ruined your marriage that just ended?” Dave teases. “I know you liked her, I saw the way you two looked at each other and I saw the teasing and the way you talked about her. She was more than a friend to you… I couldn’t have her on the team like that. I couldn’t see you go through what I did with Caroline.” 

“I hate thinking about how different things could’ve been if she was on the team though,” he shakes his head and stares off out the window. “We almost broke up back then, you know? We almost never had Jack…” 

“You know it’s perfectly normal for marriages not to work out, it doesn’t mean you loved her any less, it just wasn’t meant to be forever,” Dave reminds him. “You’re still friends, there’s no ill will. You never cheated, she didn’t either. You just grew apart. It happens.” 

“But now I’m single and I can pursue Y/N… but she hates me,” he sighs. “I don’t think she’ll ever stop hating me.” 

“Nasty hate sex is fun,” Dave teases, making them both laugh. “I’m serious… you wouldn’t believe the women I’ve—

“I know, actually,” Aaron shakes his head. “Strauss can’t look at you the same anymore.” 

“Hey… that wasn’t hate, it was just indifference,” he teases. 

“Whatever,” Aaron can’t help but smirk. “Can you work on the band for me?”

“I will, I’ll get them to throw in some love songs too,” Dave teases on his way out. 

This was going to be interesting. 

—

Two weeks of planning and emails blow by in the blink of an eye. 

He gets ready for the party early, having to be there to check things over and meet the band and shake hands with the higher-ups as they arrive. He has a nice suit on, a red tie for Christmas and dark green socks that no one will ever notice. But he wants to look nice. 

For her. 

He walks up to her where she’s hiding in the corner. Adorning the most stunning golden dress and holding her clipboard, making sure everything gets delivered and set up in time for the start time at 7. They still have 4 hours till then, but she’s an overachiever. And a worrier. She needed this to be perfect. 

She looked perfect. Like the 2000 Holiday Barbie brought to life. He’s absolutely astounded by her beauty he just stares for a moment before he says anything. 

“You know, you look very pretty today,” he compliments but she doesn’t take it that way. 

She looks at him like he just insulted her mother. “What?” 

“That dress, it looks nice on you,” he looks her up and down. Smiling like he has some tricks up his sleeve. “What? Can’t I think you look nice? Haven’t we spent enough time talking this last month to let me compliment you?” 

“Don’t you have a wife?” She asks, disgusted he’d hit on her. “And a kid?” 

“We got divorced back in April,” he shrugs. “And you say you want to be a profiler, yet you haven’t looked at my hands in months?” 

She looks now, noticing that he doesn’t have a ring and the tan line that should be there is long gone, which means he’s telling the truth. “Oh… sorry.” 

“It’s better this way,” he nods, giving her a sweet smile. “Is everything going to plan?” 

She nods too, “Yeah. Just waiting on your band… please tell me they’re good?” 

He laughs, “They’re great. Dave’s got this Jazz bar he basically owns with how much money he’s spent there so they owe him one… You’ll like them.” 

“Jazz, at Christmas?” She can’t believe it. “Hotch—

“Aaron,” he corrects her. “Please, for the love of god, call me Aaron again.”

“Why?” She laughs, “We’re not close.” 

“Oh, come on,” he teases. “You can’t tell me that before everything went down, we didn’t have something going on? We were friendly, I almost thought you had a crush on me?” 

She looks at him with a brow raised, “You thought I had a crush on you?” 

He nods, “And then you found out I was married.” 

“So you’re saying if you weren’t married we could’ve hooked up at the academy?” She asks. “Sounds like you liked me too, regardless of the wife.” 

“No—

“Be honest,” she begs, stepping into his space even more. “If things were different- if you didn’t have a wife and we fucked back then, would you have screwed me over for the job?” 

“I didn’t screw you over, I simply already knew Dave,” he finally admits after 10 long years. “I knew he was about to leave, he knew Gideon didn’t want to be in charge. He wanted someone to run the whole unit who wouldn’t choke— not saying you’d choke, he just knew I was already hard on the inside, I wasn’t going to lose my mind with all the shit we see.” 

“You could’ve put in a good word for me, Aaron, I would’ve been fine working under you. I would’ve loved even just an office job in the BAU, I want to work with more than just missing kids,” she begs. “I’ve done it for 10 years, now. You know that makes me strong. You have a kid of your own, you know it’s not easy to think about them missing, let alone deal with it.” 

“I know… and I was serious, I have a new position opening up and I want to give this another try,” he admits. “I want you on the team.” 

She shakes her head, “how can I be on the team when this—” she points between them. “This, whatever this is, is going on?” 

“The sexual tension?” He teases and she swats his arm. “We’ll be fine.” 

She shakes her head. “Just, give me some time to think about it?” 

“I can do that…” 

—

She watches him from afar most of the night. Talking only when they needed to, like in front of the director or on stage while introducing the band and thanking everyone for being there… she was having a very hard time being in the same room as him with all she knew now. 

She was still mad at him. 

Mad because she’s wasted so much of her life hating him when they could’ve been happy together… but at the same time she was sad for his ex-wife. She wondered how long the marriage was loveless. Did she know? Did she suspect? Who broke it off? Does he see his son? She knew he was a good man back then but, what kind of good man has a crush on someone else while married? Would he just do that to her if they got together? 

She had so many questions in her mind and they wouldn’t shut up. 

He approaches her again while she’s deep in thought, staring at the floor while she sips on a drink she doesn’t even like. 

“Having fun?” He asks. 

She shakes her head, “No.” she puts her drink down on the table just behind her and turns back to him as he begins to speak.

“Something not going according to pl—

“Why the fuck did you have to tell me you like me?” She snaps. “I was so okay with hating you for the rest of my life because I couldn’t be on the team I always wanted to join and then you tell me you like me? That if you didn’t have a wife you’d want to be with me back then?” 

He steps more into her space so they can keep their voices down and between each other, “because you deserve to know.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” she fights back. “You were never worried about me being too immature for the team, you were scared you’d end up cheating on your wife with me. I didn’t even know you had a wife until I developed feelings for you. You never wore your ring to class, we spent every day sitting together in class or at the library and you came back to my dorm a few times… you pursued me as much as I was pursuing you and then you made it my fault.” 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he bows his head, ashamed. “My wife and I weren’t in a good place, we were talking about getting separated… then she got pregnant.” 

“I thought Jack was only—

“We lost a couple babies before him,” he admits. “I didn’t want to be like my dad. I didn’t want to knock her up and leave her so I stayed. I stayed but I wasn’t a good dad anyway. I was always at work, I missed important things with my son and she was the one to end it because she deserved someone who wanted to be home with her and my son deserved to grow up knowing his dad wasn’t always going to be there but loves him enough to be as present as possible when he is home. I couldn’t be that when I was with his mom. we’re so much better apart, I love having weekends alone with my son and doing things we like and not worrying about fighting with his mother in front of him. And she’s happier now with her new boyfriend and Jack's happy with the prospect of a stepdad who can step up in all the areas I lack.” 

“That’s a really mature thing to do for him,” she manages to give him a small, press-lipped smile. “Still doesn’t make me feel better about what you did to me.” 

“I’ve wanted to tell you the truth and that I’m sorry for so long, but when we’re together it’s always a fight. I can never get an honest minute with you, you always just come in guns blazing and my instinct is to tease you back,” he admits. “I am sorry. I wish things were different. I would like to start over if you’d allow me to.” 

“I don’t want a job on your team,” she says, stepping in even closer. Close enough to kiss him. “I can’t work with you like this.” 

“Why?” He smirks. 

“Because Strauss hates you enough as is without you fucking your subordinate,” she whispers. “I’m not throwing myself under the bus… just to be under you.”

He lunges for a kiss, pressing his lips against hers as he cups her face. She backs up slightly in surprise, bumping into the table behind herself. Aaron’s instincts are sharp, he reaches behind her and steadies it so the drink doesn’t crash against the floor and draw more attention to them. She knows the few people in this corner are already looking at them, but she doesn’t care. 

This is a kiss she’s waited a decade for. 

Her hands go inside his suit jacket, she reaches around to grasp his back and pulls him flush against herself. They break the kiss just to breathe, going in for another and another until their tongues meet and they’re the odd couple making out in the corner of the party. 

His hand slips from her cheek to her jaw, along the side of her neck and then she pulls away, “not here,” she reminds him they’re in public and he can’t touch her anywhere he wants to. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “How long do we have to stay here?” 

“I have to stay for shutdown tonight,” she sighs. “But…. Come with me.” 

She pats his side and moves past him, leading him out of the little corner they’re in and towards the main room. He follows her up a staircase, past people they both know and respect and they catch a few eyes but, she puts on a fake pissed-off look and they think she’s leading him somewhere to yell at him… cause that’s what they do. 

“Hey man, where are you going?” Derek asks as they pass him and Penelope sharing a plate of hors d’oeuvres. 

He’s quick on his feet, “One of the vendors fucked up, we have to chat with their boss and discuss how they can make it up to us.” 

“Oh, damn, well… have fun,” he teases. Letting them go on down the small corridor towards some offices. 

She leads him to the only open office she has access to, flicks on the light, lets him in and locks the door behind them. He’s quick to crowd her space, press her up against the door and grip her chin to tilt her attention up toward his eyes once more. She’s back inside his suit jacket, he’s so toasty-warm in there she can only imagine what it’ll be like to be naked with him.

“What were you saying about fucking up and making up for it?” She teases him. 

He smirks, “I will… but first we need to find a way to release all that pent-up frustration we have against each other.” 

She tries her best not to laugh, just shaking her head with a smile as she lets out a little huff, “Ah yes, fuck me like you hate me so we can restart fresh.” 

He cups her face with both hands, eyes darkening with lust, “you’ve been such a brat for so long.” 

“And I’m sure you know the cure for that?” She teases, pulling him in closer. One of her legs slips out of the slit of her dress and she brings it up to wrap around his hip, he’s quick to drop one of the hands from her cheek to grip her thigh. 

“I do,” he whispers, his voice so deep it makes her stomach drop with anticipation. 

He kisses her abruptly, she grips his back pulling him as if they could possibly get any closer but they can’t. Not yet. He grinds against her as their tongues meet again, his hand on her leg goes a little higher until he’s gripping her ass. The hand on her cheek starts to slip again, caressing her chest, she lightly moans into his mouth at the feeling. He’s everywhere, boxing her in against the door, but she wants more. She wants him buried deep inside of her, pounding her against the table over there, letting her know just how much he’s wanted her this whole time. 

He kisses the side of her mouth, her jaw and down her neck, letting her catch her breath just to knock it all out of her again when he starts to lightly suck on her skin. “Aaron, don’t you fucking dare,” she scolds him. 

“I won’t,” he speaks against her, just lightly nipping and sucking at her skin on his way down to her cleavage. 

She pulls her hands out from inside his jacket to roam his shoulders until one hand ends up at the nape of his neck to play with his hair. Her head is tossed back against the door, and he kisses every inch of available skin on her chest. 

He reaches down and gets both of his hands under her ass, making her jump up so he can carry her. Still kissing her neck, he moves them over to the table and sets her down. She’s just the tiniest bit taller now, he kisses her cheek again, looking her in the eye once more as he spreads her legs and runs his fingers along her thighs, realizing now she has nylons on. His hands go further, towards her aching cunt, he grips her thighs while both thumbs play with the seam of her nylons. 

“I’m gonna rip these,” he announces, finding the weakest part of the seam and tearing it open enough to fit his cock through, without completely ruining them. He moves her thong to the side and drags his index finger over her clit. “You’re fucking soaked…”

She tosses her head back, both hands gripping the table like her ice depends on it when two of his fingers plunge into her. “Oh, fuck,” she moans a little too loud. 

Attaching his lips to her neck again, he sucks on her pulse point while fucking her on his fingers. It’s hard and quick, covering the palm of his hand with her slick as his thumb rubs her clit. She’s always known his hands would be good for this, if nothing else.

“Please, Aaron? Oh my god,” She starts to beg.

“Words, princess,” he teases against her neck, teeth grazing her skin, his breath hot, it sends a shiver down her spine. 

“Wanna cum,” she whispers, breathy and so close. “On your cock.” 

“Okay,” he pulls out, bringing his hand to his mouth and licking his palm up to his fingers. He sucks them into his mouth with a groan. His cock twitches between them, jumping with excitement. 

She whines again while he undoes the zipper and tugs his cock out, “please?” 

“Hold on,” he spreads the excess wetness over his cock, stroking himself twice while biting his tongue. It clearly felt so fucking good but she knew her tight cunt was going to be better. 

He slips in slowly and her grip changes, letting go of the counter, she wraps her legs around him and grips his back with her fingernails dug into the skin. “Better?” He whispers into her ear. 

She whimpers when he doesn’t move, feeling so full, “fuck me, please? Fuck me the way I deserve.” 

He hums, kissing her cheek before looking into her eyes, all watery and blown out, her mascara started to run a bit. He tilts his head to the side, “how hard?” 

“Hard,” she looks him dead in the face. 

He slips out, pulls her off the table and turns her around so her chest is against the cold hardwood table-top and flips her dress skirt up and out of the way. He rips her nylons even more, all the way up the back so her ass is exposed. He takes her ass cheeks in his hands and spreads her apart, amazed at how her pussy clenched in anticipation. 

“Please,” she whined, almost stomping her feet with desperation. 

He slams into her without warning, making her gasp loud enough to be heard by anyone wandering the hallway outside.

He pulls out a bit and slams back into her again and again and again until the noises she’s making are complete nonsense. She whines and moans and leans against the table for dear life while pushing back against him. He slaps her ass a few times, making the sound reverberate around the room like an echo. 

He needs more friction, so his thrusts get less powerful and more rhythmic, he uses her like a toy bouncing her on his cock like a rag doll. She felt like her main purpose in life was to be fucked by him like this, it felt so good, it felt incredibly right, and she loved every fucking second of it. All those years of fighting paid the fuck off.

He slams into her cervix over and over, the head of his cock kissing the puckered spot inside again and again. Her hungry cunt sucks him in so deep, never wanting him to leave, and he can tell she’s close just from the way she clamps around him like a vice. He reached around to her stomach and drags his hand down her mound to rub her clit with his middle finger. The rhythm barely matches, but she loves the way it feels. It’s unpredictable, it’s all under his control, she just sits there and takes it like the good girl he’s raised her to be. 

“Cum on the cock you hate so much,” he insists, “I wanna feel it. I want you to cover my cock in your cum before I fill you up to the fucking brim.” 

Too fucked out to really respond she reaches one hand behind her back so he’ll hold it. He intertwines their fingers and leans forward to kiss her shoulder as his hips snap against hers with force. She starts to shake, her legs barely able to keep her up as her orgasm hits her and rattles through her body. He feels the spasm from the inside, her cunt flutters as she releases all the built-up tension in her body She’s so fucking tight he’s barely able to register his own orgasm approaching when he topples over her on the table. 

He fucks into her as deep as he can go and then stills. She can feel rope after rope of his cum pump into her, they can hear the dribbles on the floor between them as it overflows and drips out of her, along with her own. 

He kisses her back, breathing hard against her. She’s just trapped there under him, legs quaking in her heels, “holy fuck?” 

“Sorry,” he pulls back and out of her, “shit… we didn’t think this through.” 

She sighs, holding her dress up so she doesn’t make a mess. “Are there any tissues in here?” 

He looks around, “Yeah… but it’s just that brown paper towel roll like we have at work.” 

“It’ll do,” she shrugs. Watching him walk over to the dispenser near the sink in the corner of the room, he takes a bit out and cleans himself up quickly, putting himself back in his boxers before her gets some more.

He leans her forward again, kneeling behind her, he cleans her up to the best of his ability and then he repositions her thong. He even wipes up the floor before tossing the paper out. “I can’t believe there was so much…” 

She laughs, dropping her dress back down and fluffing it so it looks normal again. “10 years worth of—

“Okay,” he shakes his head with a smirk, stepping back into her space, he wraps her up and kisses her forehead, “you did so good.” 

“Thank you,” she smiles sweetly, she feels so different. There’s so much affection in her chest as she looks up at him once more. “I’m glad we got that out of the way.” 

“I’ll stay with you here while they’re cleaning up,” he assures. “And maybe later I can show you how sorry I am for keeping secrets all these years?” 

“I’d really like that… but I’m still not working for you,” she teases. 

“I guess I’ll just have to take on more CARD cases so you’re forced to see me,” he teases right back, smiling at her. 

This is going to be fun. 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Jak and Daxter

Loosely based on the song "God Games" from Epic: the Musical

It would have been so easy to leave. The subrails were right there. They could just step in, find out how far onto the mainland it went. It should have been so easy.

So why couldn't Jak do it?

"Uh...Jak?"

Daxter waved a hand in front of his face.

"Earth to Jak! What's the holdup, buddy?"

Just step down. That's all you have to do. It's so simple, Jak, why can't you do this one simple thing?

Jak stared at the tunnels for the space of three breaths.

And then he took a step

Backwards.

"Jak?" Concerned, Daxter leaned around to examine his expression. "What's the matter? C'mon, don't you want to get out of here?"

Shame slithered up his throat, but it couldn't stop the confession from slipping out.

"...no."

Dumbfounded, Daxter scurried to Jak’s other shoulder.

"No?! After how long it took to get down here, you wanna go back? We ain't gettin' a warm welcome, you know that, right?"

"I...can't leave. Not like this." Jak took another step back, then another.

"They'll think we're just, just weaklings who ran back to Haven because they couldn't cut it."

"They don't gotta know we went to Haven!"

"Dax, we barely escaped getting kicked out as it is! I- I can't go AWOL right now, what would Damas think of us?"

That was the wrong thing to ask. The ottsel's fur puffed up, and he bared surprisingly sharp teeth.

"He didn't think we could cut it anyway!" Daxter snarled, "Who cares what he thinks?"

But he knew the answer before he'd even finished the question. It was that sickening guilt in Jak’s eyes that drove it home.

I do.

Even after the man turned on them, called Jak "newcomer" like he didn't belong, Jak still wanted his approval? Daxter didn't understand.

But then, he'd never understood why Jak couldn't see right through Samos, either.

"I...I want to talk to him. Before anything else."

Jak prayed for some kind of perfect sentence or phrase to explain to Daxter why he needed to go back, but none were forthcoming.

Jak swallowed and added, "Sig should know about these tunnels anyway."

Daxter grimaced, but relented. "Fine. Fine. But I am not talking to Sandspurs unless he has one heck of an apology waiting."

No one was waiting in the vehicle pit. In fact, no one seemed to notice them come in at all. Jak told himself that was better, that he didn't have to explain himself if there were no witnesses. It didn't keep the whisper out of the back of his mind.

They wouldn't miss you if you left. They'd barely notice.

They were almost all the way past the forges when someone called out to them. Jak almost ignored them. But-

"Hey kid, you okay?"

But that wasn't a question he was usually asked.

Jak turned with a questioning expression to the gunsmith. He looked oddly concerned.

"You didn't show up yesterday. We were startin' to wonder a little. You didn't breathe in any of that gas, did you?"

Jak looked away.

"No."

"Good." The smith shook his head. "Poison gas-! They've never done that before. Sorry kid. Damas wouldn't have sent you out there if he knew."

"What would he have done?"

Jak didn't mean for it to come off aggressive. But he was just...tired. Tired of everything always happening to him. Tired of everyone else always having excuses.

If he heard the anger under the words, the gunsmith didn't let on. He picked up his tongs and shrugged as he got back to work.

"First offense, and you're a cadet- no, wait, two amulets, you're a scout. So scouts on punishment detail get either the 'pede larva cleanup or manual fishing net repair. Cadets have to clean the stables for three days."

Punishments that actually made sense?

Jak needed to talk to Damas. And at the same time, he did not want to talk to Damas.

At the elevator, Jak paused awkwardly.

"Da- Daxter? Can I- um. Can I do this...myself? If- if it goes south, I don't want you in the crossfire."

"If it goes south, you'll need me watching your six," Daxter retorted. But he reluctantly agreed.

Damas wasn't there, and that was somehow worse than finding him on that throne, glaring down at the intrusion. The water wheels creaked and groaned in an otherwise unnaturally silent chamber. Jak almost lost his nerve. What if Damas really didn't believe he belonged in Spargus? What was he going to have to do to prove him wrong?

Jak paced the lowest stair for several minutes, trying to rehearse his question. Trying to plan for every worst case scenario. If Damas got angry and threw him out, did they have a place to go? If Damas just shut him down, did he want to defy him again?

He didn't hear the elevator lowering down the shaft again. He didn't even notice it coming back up until it locked into place loudly.

Jak paused mid-step. His eyes flicked over to the elevator, but he didn't turn.

Damas was staring at him.

He didn't look angry, he looked surprised.

"I...did not expect to see you this soon," said the king in lieu of a greeting.

Jak couldn't quite make himself turn to face him.

"Why?"

"Ah." Damas sounded chagrined. Almost pained. "Because I...did not handle the debacle two days ago very well. I wouldn't have blamed you for wanting to put some distance between us. I put you and Sig in harm's way because I failed to fully read the artifact runners' brief."

Sounded like what the smith had said. Like Damas hadn't known about the poison gas.

"So you...weren't trying to kill me."

Damas’s ears stood almost straight up, and his shoulders stiffened.

"What? No! No, I wasn't trying to kill you!"

Jak nodded, but kept his eyes on the stairs and resumed pacing.

"Had to make sure."

Damas took the long way to the throne, along the outer edges of the pools. He didn't speak, letting the oppressive thickness of the air settle over them again. When he'd almost disappeared behind date palms in ceramic planter pots, Damas stopped to look out the windows, down to the sea.

"Is that why you came?"

"No."

"I see."

Jak thought he imagined a hint of hope in Damas’s voice.

"I don't have any work for you."

Damas glanced back down at him.

"It's not because of the...incident, you understand. You've just come after work has already been assigned for the day."

Jak glanced up. "I know."

courage. You can do this. And even if you can't, you have to.

"Well," the king sighed, "if you're here to lambast me with Sig for taking things too far, you just missed him."

Taking things too far. That was certainly...simplifying things. Jak clenched his fists and forced down acid in his throat. Don't get angry. Don't let him get under your skin. Remember why you're here.

Jak folded his arms across his chest and watched Damas’s face carefully.

"I...needed to- to ask...you. For something."

It was like pulling teeth to get even that out.

Damas turned immediately, eyebrows raised.

"It's not like you to ask for favors. Or help. What happened?"

He couldn't outright say that he'd met with Ashelin Praxis. Damas would probably shoot him on the spot.

"Got a call out there from-" Jak paused. "From a friend still stuck in Haven. It's- there's barely any city left. People I still care about are in danger."

"And?" Damas asked coolly.

Clenched fists and gritted teeth. Jak had to fight to force out the words.

"And I'm a- asking. You. For- for permission to go back."

Any pretense of calm fled Damas in an instant. His eyes darkened, and there was a promise of danger in his stride as he came to the edge of the dais.

"You're what."

"Just until they're safe. Just until I can destroy the new metalhead nest."

Damas flung out an arm as if gesturing to the offending city.

"You're asking me to allow you to leave Spargus, to give aid to our enemies. You want me to deal with Haven again. You want to go back to the people who betrayed you, again."

"If Haven falls, Spargus is next!" Jak argued.

"Spargus is not weak like Haven!" Damas snapped. "I had thought you had been among us long enough to know that by now."

"Apparently not, since I'm just the newcomer who doesn't deserve mercy!" Jak shot back.

He felt a tiny twing of guilt for throwing the words back in Damas’s face when the king lurched back like he'd been struck. But Jak couldn't stop now.

"The metalheads will raze Haven to the ground. Everything Mar built, they'll have access to. Even the subrails to the temple."

"The what?" Damas asked softly, almost threateningly.

"There are catacombs under the temple." Jak gestured sharply. "Daxter and I found them last night. Oracle says they have a subrail that goes right to Haven. How long do you think that's going to stay hidden if the city goes down?"

"We will fortify the temple." Damas turned away to march to his throne.

"You will remain in the city."

As he sat, he leveled a harsh glare at the boy.

"I strongly recommend that you heed instructions this time. I prefer not to revoke your gate pass."

Keira's life was on the line. Tess's life was on the line. And Damas was going to confine him to the city out of spite. Fury rattled in Jak’s lungs and loosened his tongue.

"I almost left," he growled at the king, "I almost went anyway without telling you."

Be grateful I told you anything at all ran unspoken under the statement.

"Then why didn't you?" Damas challenged him.

"You already think I haven't earned a place here yet. Well I'm not going to prove you right."

Jak's anger didn't burn hot enough to evaporate the lump in his throat. He should have known it would be useless.

"Jak-"

"This was a mistake." Jak turned his back on the dais and throne and stormed down the pathway.

"Shouldn't have asked."

He heard Damas stand in a rush, but ignored him. Why did he think this would go in his favor? Stupid. Stupid to hope.

"Stop."

He didn't.

Damas’s voice rose, bouncing off stone and water.

"Put one foot in that elevator and I put this tower on lock down."

He probably thought Jak was going to go to Haven to spite him. Jak weighed his options before pivoting on his heel to glare at Damas.

"What."

Damas was pretty fast for a man in armor. He had one arm outstretched like he'd been about to grab Jak by the collar. He settled a hand on Jak’s channeling ring -- not pulling, not yet. Just keeping him from leaving.

"You. Belong. Here," Damas said sharply.

"Not in Haven. Do you not know a trap when you hear one?"

You belong here.

Don't crack.

Jak cursed the catch in his voice. "You dropped everything to send rescue missions after just four scouts. You can't ask me to leave my friends behind enemy lines after that. Either you're a hypocrite, or I'm just doing what you taught me to do."

If Damas wasn't angry before, he probably would be now. Jak knew he shouldn't have called him a hypocrite point blank. Damas’s face went still, expressionless. His fingers tightened around the channeling ring, but his face was blank.

Jak closed his eyes.

"Sorry," he grunted.

"Convince me."

"What?"

Damas leaned closer.

"If this is that important to you, you'll have to convince me. You find five Wastelanders willing to go with you or support your mission, and I will consider letting you go."

Five?! Jak wasn't sure he could fine one!

"And if I don't?" he asked warily.

"Then you don't leave home, simple as that." Damas released him and stepped back.

"You have one day."

[respocked]

Trill pregnancy is kind of an insane concept. We know that human fetuses bond with the parent carrying them throughout the pregnancy, and after birth can be soothed by their voice etc. Does the fetus carried by a joined Trill form a connection to the symbiont as well?? I mean they are just hanging out in the host's body basically on the same terms. Roomates.

What about the situation in which the grown up fetus receives their parent's symbiont? That's what happened in the Children of Time episode. The Dax symbiont is passed through the line of Jadzia's descendands. Which means Jadzia carried a child that later got Dax. Do you think they recognized each other? Was it familiar?

Actually the more I think about it the less I like it. The child also got Jadzia's memories. Can you imagine the situation in which after your mother's death you literally partially become her?? I don't want this identity crisis! And suddenly you have a copy of your shared memories from her POV? And you know what it was like to be her? And you can summon her to talk to you? I feel like based on your relationship with her this can be either amazing or horrible.

Also what if there were multiple Dax siblings in one generation. Custody battle? The parent host chooses?