#elim garak fanfic

[tinyfaust]

I just read an excellent fic yesterday wherein the author fully invented a whole Romulan novel just for Julian and Garak to talk about. Being as invested as I was, I commented on the fic letting the author know how interested I was in an expansion of their ideas of Romulan history or more details about the fictional novel itself.

This beautiful fucking human being replied to be WITH A WHOLE FUCKING ESSAY DETAILING THE PLOT OF THE NOVEL AND THEIR HEADCANONS ON ROMULAN CULTURE IN REGARDS TO ITS INFLUENCE ON THIS FAKE FUCKING NOVEL!!

Im devastated this novel will never exist! I need it so badly! But also like. Star Trek fans? Nobody is doing it like they are. They’re fucking crazy (affectionate). They’re inventing whole cultures, art forms, books, paintings, people, etc.. They’re creating whole Tolkien-esque worlds for a 4k fanfic about a fucking pretty boy doctor and his gay ass lizard homie.

Comment on fics besties! Comment on fics!! Whole worlds of information are waiting to be infodumped on you if you just make it known you liked their work! Everything is yours IF YOU JUST COMMENT ON FICS 💖💖💖💖

[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.

[knivesandteeth]

Bashir falling into deep cover as he starts to pursue Section 31. Tracing their cell webs like only an epidemiologist can. Running from planet to planet like a tachyon, free from the weight of gravities pull. Losing himself beneath layers and layers and layers of obfuscation and paranoia. Who is he, if not a doctor? Did he ever get the chance to find out? He donned masks so early and now he finds himself lost beneath them.

He writes Garak a hundred letters he never sends. All of them murmuring "I love you" in the spaces between the words. The subtext the language of their own; the language they wrote for the words they were never brave enough to say. A coward's cant.

Garak gives up after awhile. Stops waiting for letters. Stops checking the Starfleet aid workers lists. Stops hoping. He was a fool to hope anyway.

He gets on with the brutal, soul- crushing work of rebuilding a planet. A planet that seems more alien now than deep space nine ever did. But every time he traces the shape of the continents he finds a familiar face reflected back, never his own. A face filled with forgiveness and hope and healing.

Until, one day years later, he wakes up a world not filled with hunger and hurt and pain. He wakes to a Cardassia who can face its reflection with pride and it shines. He knows who to thank. He knows who made him capable of this.

So he goes looking for a man supposedly long dead. He traces whispers like shadows and catches glimpses too late and he lives in those moments. He breathes the dust from his footsteps and it tastes like rain.

Until he finds a man.

A broken, brittle thing buried beneath masks. Who cannot trust his face and cannot recognise his words. Who flinches from the kindness in his eyes.

"Take my hand," Garak says, "It is time to be brave."

When he kisses him, it feels like finally coming home.

[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?

[dreamerdrop]

Kukalaka Complex // Julian Bashir/Elim Garak/Kukalaka // Explicit

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62492242/chapters/159936478

Words: 6,161 // Chapters: 4/4

A fic about Julian being a CSA survivor with some weird coping mechanisms and all the messiness that entails.

Also a fic about Garashir having a threesome with a teddy bear.

Julian thought he really should have seen it coming and been better prepared to deal with the inevitable question that arose.

“… Might I ask, Doctor, what exactly is it about that… fuzzy thing over there that you seem to find so… arousing…?” Garak had enquired, his lip curled in mild distaste. Julian had tensed immediately, a well of nausea rippling through him.

Or: Julian has a really weird coping mechanism left over from repeated sexual trauma and he has no idea how to explain that to Garak, because he’s tried not to think about it for the last two decades himself.

Archive Warnings: Non-Con, Underage

Additional Tags: Childhood Trauma, Weird Coping Mechanisms, Hurt/Comfort, Shame, Awkward Sexual Situations, Kink Shaming, Victim Blaming, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Top Julian Bashir, Sub Julian Bashir, Bottom Elim Garak, Dom Elim Garak, Angst and Fluff and Smut.

Also while I realise the whole teddy bear threesome thing makes it sound kind of ridiculous, according to the comments thus far it’s apparently actually pretty heartbreaking and harrowing.

[brainbrokeandrotted-dot-mp3]

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.

[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.

[itsgonnabeasparklingday]

Prescription

Garak/Bashir

213 words, T

Garak strides into the infirmary —with a predatory, half-wild look that makes the Bajoran nurses freeze — and heads straight for Julian. Garak spins him around, cups the back of his neck, presses Julian flush to him, and kisses him possessively.

Julian positively melts. Garak only ever does this after one of his prescribed holosuite visits where he gets to stretch his claws, sharpen his skills, and let out his irritation with the limitations of abiding by Federation mores.

Julian can almost smell the blood and violence on him: thick and rich and intoxicating.

When Garak pulls back, his blown-black eyes are burning. Julian lets out a shuddering breath, glad he's started wearing something a bit more snug under his jumpsuit.

Garak's long tongue slips out and licks the tip of Julian's nose, then he's gone, as quickly as he'd arrived.

"I-I'm sorry. He knows he's not supposed to do that," Julian says, turning back to his patient, trying very hard to control everything flashing behind his eyes.

"Your union has been blessed by Kahless! Why would you hide that?" Martok pats him on the shoulder bruisingly. "But why did he leave?"

"Um, because I'm working?"

"To delay passion is to weaken it! Your office has a door, does it not?"

Julian chokes.

[gardenvarietyhuman]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64188178

Finally had some time to get this one finished after a year (I think?), and I like it!

Garak and the dear doctor share an unexpected, somewhat accidental (yeah right) kiss in the holosuites.

[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.

[doctorhimbeere]

As a whole I thing we dont get more universal translater mailfunktions to be specific not like its not working at all but small misstranslations like

Julian: Yes and then we went to the Aqarium

Garak who is now wondering what the hell a liquid zoo is and trying to piece it out via context but gets more confused at the gelatine water (jelly fish) porkupine ballons ( puffer fish ) and the notion that thy are not like they used to be because now they are accualy good and helpfull to preserving living rocks (corals)

[pon-farr-night]

NIGHT SHIFT

“I'll never see him again if I can help it.” Garak stared at himself in the mirror, unmoving as the ache settled in his chest, the mask he wore threatened to crumble away in an instant. Odo sighed over the comm system,

“Well, that's nearly impossible. Everyone comes to you for clothing repairs, Garak. How do you plan to avoid him?”

Garak stopped for a moment before taking a deep breath,

“Well, that's where you come in, Constable. You see, if you could be on standby anytime I need you, you could turn into me at a moment's notice, and fool the Doctor into thinking he's talking to me.”

An exasperated harumph came from the other side,

“I would think a former Obsidian Order agent could come up with a more effective solution to this problem.” Odo surmised,

“I was only joking, constable.”

Garak smiled to himself at the jest and brushed a non-existent piece of lint off his pants, “I must apologize for parting so soon, but I have other matters to attend to. Pants to hem, dresses to sew…” he trailed off as he laid his finger gently on the comm button,

“Ah yes, of course. I'll leave you to it.”

“Of course, Constable. For now, perhaps, I'll just take the night shift.”

With that, the comm fizzled out and Garak was left alone again.

-

The sewing machine chugged across the fabric as Garak fed it, careful to watch his fingers as he worked. It was late now, no one would be coming by which gave Garak time to work.

He'd done well at avoiding Dr. Bashir thus far, but he hadn't missed the looks from Kira and the others. He simply ignored it, knowing they didn't know the full story and even if they did, they'd certainly never approach him about it.

The comm beside his head buzzed to life,

“Garak, please come to the Infirmary.”

The voice of Dr. Bashir crackled out.

Garak's eyes widened before they rolled, was the Doctor really too nervous to come to the shop to talk? He didn't see himself getting out of this. Julian would probably make up some absurd reason to make Captain Sisko send him to the infirmary himself if he had to.

He turned off the machine and collected himself before leaving the comfort of his backroom for the sterile infirmary.

He found Dr. Bashir taking notes on the computer, staring at the widescreen, talking at it with his usual professionalism.

“Doctor.” Garak interrupted.

Dr. Bashir swung around, not expecting to hear Garak's voice,

“Oh, hello Garak.” He smiled.

Garak looked around the infirmary and back at Dr. Bashir,

“I believe you wanted to talk?” He placed his hands behind his back, feeling his fists clench. He would be damned if he let his anger get the better of him, he still loved Julian, even if he looked punchable at the moment.

Julian looked down as well before grabbing a chair, motioning for Garak to take the one opposite of him.

He moved towards the Doctor and sat, studying Julian closely. He kept looking down, which was uncharacteristic of him, something was on his mind.

“Do tell me why I came here, Doctor. Surely not just to sit here and watch you stare at your feet?”

Julian looked at Garak hesitantly,

“Well, I suppose I should get to the point.” He chuckled nervously, “I'm sorry for all the confusion the past few weeks. I was trying to figure out how to… communicate with you about my feelings. I obviously messed that up.”

Garak widened his eyes in a moment of shock before catching himself,

“Say no more, Doctor.” He raised his hands in peace as he stood, starting towards the exit,

“Elim, wait.” Julian strode behind him, grabbing his shoulder, to which Garak quickly dislodged the other man's hand from, “Can I atleast try to explain without you simply ignoring me?”

Garak spun around, meeting Dr. Bashir's eyes with his piercing gaze,

“Please, just admit what you really wanted, Doctor; to assuage your guilty conscience by shaking hands and pretending that what we had never happened. I hope you and Leeta are very happy together. I will not stand in the way of your relationship.”

Julian was unmoving as he kept his gaze trained on the Cardassian.

“Will you just listen to me for one moment, Garak?”

Garak nodded, encouraging Julian to continue,

“Go on then.”

Julian floundered for a moment trying to find the words.

“It just wasn't working and I didn't know how to tell you.”

Julian was lying. Garak held back a laugh; Of course! He should have known earlier. Julian was always such an obvious liar.

“So you just ignored me and took up with Leeta instead?”

Julian stared,

“Well, that's not exactly-”

Garak didn’t have the energy to poke holes in Julian’s lies,

“I think that's exactly what it is, my dear Doctor. We can forget all about our little affair. You obviously don't have the capability to deal with me at my best or worst. Saying you love me then neglecting what you tried so hard to nurture. I'd expect you to deal with the end of our relationship with much more tact, what with your constant need to be on the moral high ground. I'll be going.”

Garak regretted what he had said the moment he saw Julian's face; the hurt he had imposed flashing across it as the Doctor unconsciously created space between them,

“Goodbye Garak.”

Garak stood there for a moment before he turned and walked away. He walked until he heard the infirmary doors close behind him.

Silence engulfed him as he walked down the corridor to nowhere in particular, the constant thrumming of the station his only companion. How could their relationship have ended this badly?

The stars shone in through the windows as Garak ascended the upper level of the promenade, a dazzling display of beauty which Garak tried to ignore as thoughts of all the times he and Julian admired them together came into focus. Did his mind have to do this to him now? Did it have to bombard him with thoughts of his Doctor?

He tried his best to push them away as he entered a more secluded hallway, not even stopping to think of where he was going.

-

The doors of his quarters slid open, darkness and long shadows meeting him in the foyer.

Tired and long done with the day he had had, he swiped the bottle of Kanar he had been nursing from the counter and dragged himself to the couch,

“Computer, what is the time?”

He rolled his head back to study the ceiling,

“Twenty three hundred hours”

Garak sighed and closed his eyes

“Did I really walk around this damned station for four hours?” He asked aloud, cursing himself for his sentimentality. He was only met with silence from the computer and the usual droning hum of the station.

Four years of growth and trust just for it to end like this? Garak knew that sleep wouldn't reach him now, not when Julian was so heavy on his mind. He sighed and heaved himself up, and made his way over to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass, and quickly twisted off the lid of the kanar, pouring the blue liquid into the cup and chugging it down before pouring a glass once more. It burned in his throat as it sank into his stomach, the sensation welcome as it distracted him from the emotional pain he was feeling. He closed his eyes a moment, balancing his hand on the counter before the comm buzzed and frustration flashed hot through him. He grabbed the kanar from the counter and marched over to the wall, driving his index finger into the button,

“What is it?”

Couldn't he be left alone to mourn his relationship with Dr. Bashir for five minutes?

“It's Odo. I… Heard what happened between you and Doctor Bashir today.”

Odo hesitated. Garak rolled his eyes,

“Please Constable, if you're going to ask me why I talked to him, rest assured he asked me there first.”

“That's not it at all, I just wanted to express my apologies that your conversation went the way it did.”

News spread fast on a space station; Garak shouldn't have been as surprised as he was that Odo had heard what had happened so quickly, yet there he was, wide eyed and unable to move his mouth or anything else for that matter.

“Garak?” Odo’s gruff voice came through the comm once more, shaking Garak out of his stupor.

“Yes, thank you Constable, I'll be alright. I do appreciate you checking in on me, though.” He attempted to sound sweet, even though his annoyance at being bothered in the middle of his pity party was aching to break through.

“Of course, is there anything I can do for you?” Odo asked, prodding a little,

“No, breakfast tomorrow will be enough.”

Garak reassured, not willing to bring Odo into his problems more than he was already in them. They were almost closer than Garak was willing to let in, other than the doctor, of course, but with the ending that relationship just had, Garak felt uncomfortable bringing Odo closer than he already was.

“Well, if there's nothing else, I'll see you tomorrow.” Odo replied a bit hesitantly.

“Yes, yes of course. I'll see you then.”

Garak was still reeling as he pressed the comm button, ending the transmission. He was barely thinking about much else other than Julian and how Odo could have found out so fast. Did he have the whole station bugged? If he was as smart as Garak perceived him to be, he wouldn't doubt it. Sure, he'd checked in the past, but it couldn't hurt to look again. After all, it had been a couple years since the last time he'd checked.

Looking around, he eyed the most inconspicuous places in his room, but his tired mind pushed it away for tomorrow. He supposed he could live in a bugged room for one more night. As he made his way back to the couch, he considered maybe it really was just word of mouth. His arms fell to his sides, dejectedly. He traced the fabric before circling around front and sitting wearily, bringing the kanar up to hold in his lap.

“Oh Julian…” he sighed. The name hardly ever left his mouth, but he had to feel it and the way it came out as he thought about the younger man. He took a swig of it, the sweetness only half of what Julian was, but it would have to do.