#elim garak fanfic

[catboyelimgarak]

Garak lying to a dying Tain that there was no one there but them, and letting Julian be there for Tain’s Shri-tal, was the moment Garak devoted himself to Julian. He told Julian (in a Cardassian way Julian didn’t know at the time probably) that Tain’s death meant he, Garak, was choosing to give his entire being to Julian. Garak lied to Tain — the man he was trained to follow and take orders from since childhood for the protection of Cardassia — as an act of untethering himself to the man, and a bit of Cardassia too. He knew he would be free after that, and he took the initiative of devoting himself to Julian, so he would not have to suffer being without a chain/anchor in the ocean of space for long —even IF he wouldn’t be that lost for long and knew he’d be with Julian soon enough once back on DS9. He was exiled from his home and losing the only other source of direction, but he chose to take the leap and be/have Julian as his new holder. And being with the man he found himself in love with was just his own personal win.

[searchingforserendipity25]

hypothesis of care

afterwards, julian washes garak's hair.

standard procedure, after brain surgery. most saurian bodies tend to be too fragile for sonic washing after being operated upon, and he doesn't know enough about cardassian anatomy to be sure, only to avoid any shifts in body temperatur.

warm water, nearly scalding. there are clusters of blood where garak had pulled strands by the root in his agony on the third day of in internment, older spots and crusts, from different fits of pain - some scarring, where his claws had dug and pulled.

he doesn't heal any of it. garak had resisted medication and care and sedation and pain relief as much as he could stand, every step of the way; he wouldn't appreciate it.

he leaves it be, the same way he leaves a small, fine scar, though it would be the easiest thing in the world to pass the dermal regenerator over the line where he cut upon his friend's skull.

if garak wants to remove it later, he can - well, he may not be able to ask for it, but julian is fairly certain he has a regenerator of his own hidden away. he won't take the choice from him. he wouldn't have, even if he hadn't met enabran tain.

he didn't need to be an expert in cardassian physiognomy to note the similar width of the aural ridges, the same tilt of the chin when speaking in mockery. and the mannerisms, the grooming-tells, the affable malice.

garak wore it better, julian had thought at once, a sharp proprietary surge in the part of him that was not noting his odds of success, odds of survival, noting the vile pride and disdain tain held for garak, as a master to a favored slave fallen to disfavor.

he has rarely hated a person more, with such a clean and potent loathing. it is always easier to hate other people's cruel fathers.

julian bashir could talk anyone's ears off on biology and tennis and medicine, and often did; it could be very convenient, being remembered for that, and not much else.

months and years tending to mostly bajoran patients, working with mostly bajoran professionals most days. he had lunch with the only cardassian on the station once, twice a week, visited him, oh, an unsuspicious amount of times in his shop.

pity wouldn't be tolerated. it wasn't generally; no one wanted that from a federaji doctor. the truth of the matter was that the rot was dug deep, too depth to unroot.

the truth of the thing is that he read the old kardassi classics, and he could see the beauty, the shadow, the shadow of the idea that had once been cardassia, before it sickened to a rot that made sons into owned claims and all the wide sky's horizon too.

garak's medical readings had suffered, in his absence, a little worse than he had expected. not for any lack in the care given by nurse jabara, as much by what julian hypothesizes is a - an awareness of skinship, to some degree.

first, a careful rinsing, then a sterilization soap. careful, careful. he wore no gloves, didn't trust the material not to snag.

garak's hair is much thicker than it seems, not feather-like at all but thick and slick and only slightly more malleable when damp.

careful, with care, he pressed the edge of a soft cloth to the sides of his face to catch the last dampness, and pulled up a thick blanket, folded beneath his chin.

his shallow breathing gains a new ease and a new dimension, not quite a humming sound. even his vital signs improve by small increments, as julian goes about his ministrations - most species do benefit of some baseline level of touch, some level of trust.

now that julian has given him a forgiving grasp, it may be instinct to seek it out again. he doesn't doubt garak will seek to stifle it ruthlessly, when he's awake.

but for now, julian contents himself with a prickling pride, a pet hypothesis proven correct. sits himself down by the familiar bedside chair. close enough to leave a hand near the blanket, not quite touching, only giving heat. that will be a choice, too, though he's not holding his breath on that account.

he doesn't need to, to have lunch with him twice or thrice a week, a smug and sanctimonious and provoking presence across their small feasting table.

'alright,' doctor bashir says, peering down at his tablet left waiting in the same place it had been, before his brief sojourn.

an eye and two ears attentive to every reading animating his medical machines, but not unduly alarmed. the end of the vigil, and there is no reason to believe it would last longer than this night.

'where were we? i can't even tell with these repetitive pieces. alright, so it's the fifth generation of the bedrin family, and shockingly, not a one of them has yet sacrificed their loves and aspirations for the state, they'll get there eventually but i have a good feeling at least one of these witty cousins from lakar will be subversive about it -"

julian doesn't move away, doesn't press, doesn't impose. garak turns towards the warmth. even in sleep, he does that.

[ectogeo-rebubbles]

Now seems like a really good time to recommend the series A Fistful of Julians by @sapphosewrites. Go check it out if you want to see two really well-written and thoughtful fics about prime universe Garak and Julian Bashir meeting various alternate versions of Julian and realizing that if they can be together in an alternate universe then maybe they can be together in this one too 💖💕🥰

[starfleetshrimps]

yall keep writing garak and bashir fucking nasty style in the defiant--HOW????? THOSE BUNKS ARE .007 CM FROM THE CEILING? THE RANGE OF THRUSTING MOTION IS MINISCULE??? IM NOT EVEN SURE YOU COULD FEASIBLY STACK THE TWO OF THEM ON TOP OF EACH OTHER--NOT TO MENTION GARAK'S RAGING CLAUSTRAPHOBIA? the logistics aren't logisticing

i mean keep writing that shit but like. I will be imagining a sensible double mattress for them. with headroom. in my mind palace.

[ineskorth]

I just read on Instagram that someone and their partner 'let AI write fanfiction about Garashir just to see how their relationship could evolve' and I'm like

I have a headache. Do people actually begin to forget that fanfiction archives exist?

[deepeagleknighttoad-blog]

I feel like I've read just about every top work on A03. Anyone have any recs. The filthier the better ✨😌

[cardassianexpats]

Hyping myself up to finally upload my first fanfiction. It's a 40k words Deep Space 9 post-canon Garak/Bashir fic, T-rated, mystery, pining and spy shenanigans that I'm fiercely proud of.

I've been working on it for over three years now, writing, editing, formatting, so I really just need to post it.

What's the worst that could happen, eh?

Edit: I did it!

[bitkahuna]

once or twice a month I get an ask about why I make all my fanfic main characters (Bilbo Baggins, Harry Potter, Julian Bashir (Bashir x Garak not posted yet)) curly haired. It’s cause I have curly hair and deadass no one has curly hair in fanfic or canon.

I had over a decade (not adopted (yes people ask that)) raised by people with straight hair, and having to unlearn and relearn how to care for my hair. So yea, I put a bit of myself into it. That’s why.

Curly hair is a time commitment and it matters. Even if your hair is wavy, it’s something worth committing towards in terms of time and experimentation with products.

[dreamerdrop]

Abscess ‘Verse — Sloan/Bashir (Abusive) // Garak/Bashir (Eventual) // Bashir & Kukalaka & Garak (Very Important Friendship!) Warnings for Noncon & Dubcon, Intimate Partner Violence, Lots of Gaslighting, PTSD, Flashbacks, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms…

Please pay attention to the tags before reading! Julian suffers, a lot. Has a fair amount of Hurt/Comfort too though.

A canon divergent AU in which Luther Sloan is assigned to DS9 during Season One for Intelligence and Security purposes. He enters a relationship with a wide-eyed Julian Bashir, and it slowly becomes apparent that said relationship is deeply unhealthy and abusive. Following Sloan’s removal from the station, Julian struggles with putting himself back together after having spent two years revolving himself around the abuse. Thankfully, he has friends who will help try and pick up the pieces with him.

Currently consists of three entries:

Abscess — An outsider POV about the residents of DS9 watching the initial abusive relationship as it unfolds. Drain — The immediate aftermath of Julian trying to adjust to life on the station again now that Sloan is gone. Inflammation — A brief timeskip to the beginning of Season 3, details Garak/Bashir’s first time, and calls back to Sloan/Bashir’s first time.

[fonthoura]

I am down in the gutter of yet another ship, folks.

Give me your recs for Garashir fics, I'm a Sucker for hurt confort, heavy angst and the whole sadness ordeal, but I'm not interested in smut.

Important note: I am autistic - therefore insane about Julian Bashir

Give me something cuz I'm eating ao3 whole right now.

[meya-lily-writes]

Alpha reader/critique partner request

I'm looking for an alpha reader/critique partner for my fic I'm working on. It's called The Perek Flower and the Meya Lily. It's a Garak/OC story.

The link to the first chapter is here if you're interested.

[catboyelimgarak]

Since Alternate/Hologram Julian doesn’t need to sleep, he probably lays there and watches his Garak sleep, and Garak probably at first was kind of not for that, but overtime realized it just makes him feel safer, because Julian is there to keep an eye and ear out for any danger. His guardian hologram doctor husband, the security program he loves and loves him back. Julian likes to pet Garak’s hair, ease him to sleep, trace Garak’s scales gently as he sleeps, think of poetry and story descriptions for Garak’s beauty, and just hold his man gently.

[becauseimaclevergirl]

I am so very new to the world of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine; however, I was hit with a fic idea I have nothing to do with, nor do I know if this is already a narrative:

Setting: station

Characters: Bashir, Sisko, o Brian, Garak, Kira, Dax, odo, quark, etc

Main idea: turbo lifts are malfunctioning and giving miles a headache. Everytime he thinks he’s fixed them, he gets another message that one is down. Cut to bashir and Kira taking a lift together, teasing one another light heartedly, when the lift shudders and begins to fall quickly. The emergency response sparks and catches them, but the doors refuse to open. They are able to com miles about being stuck, but the message is odd, crackling and distant. Miles is able to get the door to open remotely, shockingly, to a dark and humid floor. There is an unknown portion of the station not on the schematics currently. Bashir and Kira are unable to communicate with the others. Kira wants to explore, but Bashir is reluctant to leave the lift, citing that miles might get it working and then where will they be. Kira cajoles him into leaving the “safety” of the lift and look around. Amounts to a lot of nothing, empty stations, quarters what have you. But they find one thing in abundance: confusion. Despite only walking a few feet away from the lift they are startled to look back and see that the lift is no longer there at all.

Cut to miles being able to recall the lift to their spot, only for it to open sans Kira and Bashir. Garak, passing by, “overhears” (very obviously spying) Bashir and Kira being now missing. He resolves that he, miles, and odo will ride to the last lift stop to see where they are, since no messages are getting through to their coms. They ride down but the last spot indicates there is not a floor listed and the doors once again refuse to open. Miles is able to open the doors again and they are shocked to see the same floor Kira and Bashir did.

Then it gets a little scooby doo like, what with them all running around trying to find one another. Ultimately, there’s a toxic pipe leak (hence the humidity issue) of some kind on this floor that’s been previously contained which causes amnesia (forgetting how long you’ve been walking, where the door was, what your job is ???? etc). It was meant to be rectified years before, but everyone forgot about it!!!

Would be sweet if garashir is involved but not the focus.

Odo is the only one not completely affected by it (and gets very snarky before getting concerned that Garak forgot Bashir’s name….) so he is able to take the lead and get everyone to safety. Ends with sisko face palming honestly.

Anywho, for anyone who would like to discuss this more let me know. Can find me here or as @werberthest on ao3

[gardenvarietyhuman]

Let’s all give thanks to @iowacornfarm for creating this art! It’s so beautiful! ❤️

[onwhatcaptain]

I posted my first Garashir fic on AO3. It's my take on why Garak never noticed the changeling had replaced Bashir. It's some of my best writing yet, and I'm quite proud of it!

A Partition of Oaths (10561 words) by onwhatcaptain

Chapters: 1/2

Fandom: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak

Characters: Julian Bashir, Changeling Julian Bashir, Elim Garak, Tora Ziyal, Miles O'Brien, Mila Garak, Enabran Tain (mentioned), Original Bajoran Characters

Additional Tags: POV Elim Garak, Julian Bashir and Elim Garak's Book Club, Cardassian Literature, Cardassian Culture, Bajoran Culture, Bajoran Gratitude Festival, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Angst, Pining, Garak is desperate for love and attention, My take on why Garak doesn't notice the changeling, The ending is resolved through canon and not in the fic

Summary:

Deep Space Nine is hosting its fifth annual Peldor Festival. Garak, still struggling to accept the loss of his own home, despises the sound of joy and celebration. All he wants is to be alone.

He fails to notice how thoroughly the changeling that replaces Bashir deceives him.

-

The Federation reached its long limbs across the ink of space, unendingly planting itself with shallow roots in a thousand worlds. A Cardassian needed nothing outside of the nourishment of the homeland. They sustained the motherland, and in turn, she sustained them. Humans could not truly know isolation, for should they try hard enough, it seemed they could create a home anywhere, fickle creatures that they were.

[dusty-cobweb]

Julian realizes that Garak is still hurting weeks after the incident with the wire. He intends to help.

tw // mention of suicide, animal death (not explicit)

Garak lied. He knew how to mold his face, suppress the suspicious lilt of his voice and stim of his hands. Yes, Garak was a very good liar.

However, today, merely a few weeks after the wire incident, his facade trembled. It wasn’t obvious, not at first. But Julian knew Garak, or at least knew how he acted.

He would smile coyly, maybe move the replicated flowers from the center of the table, press his hands together politely while Julian got his meal. Afterwards, they would exchange barbed words, meant not to hurt but to puncture holes in the other’s argument. It was fun, for the most part. One they equally enjoyed.

Now, Garak still smiled, but his lips pressed flatter than usual, painting a thin line against dull scales.

“Doctor? I do hope I’m not boring you?” Garak’s voice fluttered in, almost amused at his lack of attention.

“No! No, not at all Garak. It’s just…” Julian tried to find the words, tried to place what was so wrong with the picture in front of him.

“Just..?” Garak questioned.

“Your scales— they’re not shiny like they usually are.” Julian ended up saying, cursing himself as he did. Garak seemed just as surprised as himself, his brow ridge shooting a bit higher than usual.

“You know how work goes. Lots of commissions make for not much time for scale treatment, you understand,” He says, “Now about the Mirabal sisters; I can see what you were trying to say with the story, but in Cardassia a leader such as Chujillo”— his accent slithered out—“would never have taken power in the first place. Our peer-reviewed system prevents this.”

At any other time, Julian would’ve jumped at the opportunity to dissect what peer-reviewed meant (he suspects that’s why Garak said it), but right now all he could think about was finding out why Garak was so evasive.

“Garak,” He needled in what others have said is his “doctor’s voice”. “Do not try to avoid the subject, not with me.”

For a moment, Garak’s eyes darkened. Not in anger, but something more soulful; a bone deep exhaustion that settled heavily on armored shoulders. It was like all the life had left his body, leaving only the aftermaths of the wire in its place. And then— just as quickly as it came— it left, leaving only Garak’s saccharine sweet smile.

“My dear, there is no need to worry.” He said simply. No further explanation, no more platitudes, no lies. The worry in Julian’s heart turned desperate.

He was losing Garak.

Julian sat quietly with that thought. Garak sipped his tea. Finally, “I had a cat when I was younger.”

Garak looked at him over his tea.

“And here I thought I knew everything about you, my dear doctor.” Garak smiled lightly. Smiled as if Julian wasn’t plunging down a rabbit hole of what-ifs.

“She was the cuddliest thing— a calico, meaning she had all these multicolored spots on her fur. Gosh, she was beautiful. And wherever I went, she followed. Always my little shadow. If I sat down, she jumped onto my lap. If I showered, she would wait in the sink. Every night, she would find a way to sleep on me, even if I turned over.” Julian smiled sadly at the thought— it had been so long since he thought of Mu’izza.

“While that’s quite touching doctor, I don’t know how that’s related to totalitarian dictatorships of Latin America.” Garak once again took up his teacup.

“One day, she just got up and left. Jumped out of an open window, maybe. I don’t know.”

Garak frowned, “I’m sorry my dear, that must’ve been heartbreaking,” After a few moments of considering pause, “If she was fed well, taken care of—loved— then why did she leave you so suddenly?”

“Because cats hide when they go off to die, Garak. They don’t want to be vulnerable in front of others.”

Julian looked at Garak, really looked at him. And Garak saw his desperation, his pleading for him to understand. And of course Garak understood; the doctor was hardly ever subtle with his metaphors.

“Ah,” Garak said simply, tea cup placed gently back into its plate.

“Sometimes I think if Mu’izza stayed and let me take care of her, that maybe I could’ve saved her.” Julian’s voice got softer at the end, cushioned by a long standing sadness.

“Or maybe you couldn’t have. Maybe you would have just prolonged her suffering by helping her. Doesn’t she deserve to die when she wants?” Garak retorted. He was angry, he realized suddenly. He was so angry. Garak wanted to snarl, to bear his teeth and swipe their meals off the table, watch his delicate tea cup shatter. He wanted to throttle the doctor, make it so he could never breach his psych again.

Through his newfound fury, Garak heard the doctor’s voice flutter in again, “You’re right. Maybe she would’ve been miserable. But we’re peddling hypotheticals again. The fact of the matter is my little Mu’izza was still vulnerable when she died. It didn’t matter where she went to die, she always would’ve been powerless. At least with me, I could’ve had her in my lap, could’ve shielded her from the cold, could’ve—“ Julian’s voice wobbles, just slightly. It’s enough for him to pause, take a deep breath, and look away. Garak notices the barely there shimmer of tears in his eyes.

Oh, my dear Julian, Garak realizes. The anger at the doctor ebbs, turning into an aching love that moves him to wrap his hands around the doctors’. Julian looks back at Garak, surprised. For a moment all he does is look at their enjoined hands and Garak worries he miscalculated. Then, slowly, Julian squeezes.

“I just… I just wish I could’ve said goodbye. That’s what I really want.” Julian whispers, just for Garak to hear.

“I see that now, my dear. I’m sorry if I brought up bad memories.” Garak returns the squeeze.

“Are you sorry enough to not make more bad memories?” Julian asks. His voice was like a molten sword dipped in oil, fiery words hidden beneath a tempered tone.

“You cannot ask that of me, my dear. Please do not ask that of me.” Garak pleads. Julian frowns, worrying his lip between his teeth. Finally, he nods.

“Then, I only ask that you let me say goodbye. Will you allow me that?”

“Of course, my dear doctor.”

Julian squeezes his hand and makes to let go, but Garak holds on. Perhaps it’s selfish of him to cling to the doctor. But now that he’s felt the warmth of his hand and the breadth of his care, Garak can’t imagine letting him go now.

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yeah this is bad but idc. no beta, no thoughts, just pure procrastination from finals.

good night everyone ! sweet dreams to me (i will be playing solitaire until 3:30 AM)