AMAZING Star Trek turnout for the 2026 WhumpEx Fic Exchange! We’ve got VaRiEtY:
DS9 Sloan-Induced Julian Whump:
Julian-centric: Ant Farm by @respocked (this was a treat to me, and I CANNOT recommend it enough. Everything is excellent because, hello, it’s respocked)
With Garashir: Paramnesia @runavik (yours truly)
TOS Gen:
How They Love Life, To Struggle So by @tildytwo
TOS Kirk/Spock/McCoy:
We’ll Always Come for You
Good ol fashioned torture: To Light the Way Home by @estelraca
Musing Bones: The Bends by @respocked
Making tough choices: Stabilization by @edosianorchids901
Spock perspective: Unlikely Escape by @edosianorchids901
Taking care of Kirk: A Vulnerable Moment by @edosianorchids901 (wow, EO901- you’ve been busy!)
Sloan playing personal space chicken with Julian during his interrogations in Inquisition, and Julian doesn't back down from a challenge and so they keep getting closer and closer, getting into each other faces, until they accidentally crotch bump and Julian realizes that Sloan has a boner
Okay no guarantees I will actually manage to follow through and write anything, but… Could people send me some ds9 drabble/ficlet prompts to help me get out of this writing slump I’m in? A prompt can be like a word or a phrase or a scenario or a song or whatever… And you can suggest a ship to go with it too, or specific character(s), or just leave it vague. Feel free to send in multiple prompts! 💖
Sloan strikes me as the type of guy who would start a Julian Bashir Fanclub to prove he's Bashir's #1 fan, and then get wildly irritated and jealous when whenever anyone has the audacity to show up out of genuine respect and admiration for Julian.
I was tagged by @philosopherking1887. Thank you as always!
This is part of a longer scene from a long-gestating WIP that's been around for over a year (at least two dental check ups) and still isn't more than half-written, so it'll be a while before it's ready to post.
Relevant backstory: This story is an AU set in a small fictional town in Northern California circa 1993. Julian Bashir has just met his new business partner, Dr. Luther Sloan, who is a dentist who owns the clinic where they'll be working side-by-side. They have very few patients (it's a small town) so Sloan decides to give Julian a teeth cleaning as a "welcome gift."
Snippet under the cut. (It’s not fully polished but that’s how I write.)
“Open your mouth.”
Julian obeyed.
Maddie appeared in the doorway with two cups of coffee, but by then, Sloan’s hands were in Julian’s mouth, flossing out particles of buttery scone from in-between Julian’s teeth. Julian tasted latex, felt the warm thickness of Sloan’s fingers between his gums and the insides of his cheek.
“Don’t know if you had a chance to look around some of the pictures in here.”
“Uhhh—”
Sloan laughed. “This clinic’s been with my family for a long time. When you get a chance to look around properly, you’ll see that pretty much everyone who was anyone in my family—and that’s most of them—are pictured on these walls. The fella with the long, gray beard, that’s Ole’ Brandon Sloane. You’ll notice there’s lots of little boys named Brandon in Ravenwood. That’s how beloved he is. He was the youngest of seven brothers—came out to California all the way from New York with nothing but a pickaxe and the shirt on his back. He was one-of-a-kind, a true American. People used to come out from all over to see him, consult with him. The Pinkertons were regular guests here during Brandon’s time. He was a giant…Then he died, his son Samson continued the Sloane traditions, our legacy of service, fought in World War One. After Samson, his son Phineas—that's my father—fought in World War II, went toe-to-toe with Hitler. As for me, as soon as I was old enough, I went to Vietnam. That's where I became a man, Julian. Killed my first goo—uh, guerilla soldier. Met Colonel Fujisaki, my mentor.”
Sloan paused and leaned forward, frowning as if something in Julian’s teeth had caught his attention. Their faces were already very close together, and Julian felt strangely conscious of how close Sloan's lips were to Julian's own. Close enough that he could smell the latex of Sloan’s gloves, the heated metal of his instruments, the odor of stale coffee from Sloan’s breath. "One minute," Sloan mumbled, and then one of Sloan's gloved fingers was inside his mouth, warm and rubbery, probing at the base of his palate. Julian opened his mouth wider, conscious of the drool collecting at the recesses.
“Hold on,” Sloan said, adding another finger.
"Sloan—" he tried to say, but what came out was incomprehensible. His jaw was beginning to ache, a string of drool trailed down from his lip.
Sloan pulled his hand back. "Hmm…nothing," he mused. "Can never be too sure."
"What?" Julian asked, licking back the saliva falling from his mouth. He grabbed Sloan's suction device from the tray to clear the saliva himself. His cheeks still ached, and he could still taste Sloan’s glove in his mouth.
"I thought I saw an irregularity in the hard palate," Sloan said airily. "Turned out to be nothing." He drew a Kleenex and dabbed lightly at Julian's lips.
Julian sat perplexed.
“We’re big on tradition here, Julian. Who we are and what made us. Do you have a strong gag?”
"What?"
Sloan shrugged. "Some people have a strong gag. They don't like having fingers anywhere inside their mouth."
A version of Sloanshir that might appeal to me is if Sloan forced Bashir to torture/interrogate someone else. Especially if it were on their first meeting, and instead of kidnapping Bashir and casting himself as an antagonist from day one, he instead established himself as a seemingly trustworthy figure who shared Bashir's agenda about something and boiling-frog'd him at first into thinking whatever they were doing was necessary and reasonable, and then things escalated more and more until Bashir realized with cold horror what Sloan was pushing him to do, and Sloan put the proverbial boot on his neck and forced him to go through with it. And then he had awful perpetrator trauma. 👍
