20 Works by Runavik
Listing Works
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"I will admit, Bashir, your performance yesterday was noteworthy. Perhaps you're not entirely hopeless after all."
"High praise," Bashir said, wry but pleased, and Charles felt the scalpel twist in his chest.
He wanted to say more. Wanted to explain that "noteworthy" was a pale shadow of what he actually meant. That watching Bashir work was like witnessing genius made manifest, that his surgical technique was the kind of brilliance Charles had spent his entire career seeking and so rarely finding.
That he was, in point of fact, extraordinary.
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Charles' begrudging slide into admiration, love, and mourning of what he can never have with Julian. Charles Emerson Winchester III's perspective of the events of "Quo Vadis, Dear Doctor".
Series
- Part 2 of Sometimes you hear the fall
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By day four of solitary, the routine was established. The gray walls became familiar. The silence became normal. The isolation became... manageable. His body knew when to expect activity, when to expect rest. His mind knew when to focus, when to drift.
And oh, the drifting... that was where things got interesting.
During meditation, the stillest of the always-quiet hours, Julian found his thoughts inevitably returned to that Cardassian from the theatre. Those sharp blue eyes. That almost-smile. His assessment of Julian, fellow gear in a machine far bigger than either could conceive.
Who was he?
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Julian undergoes his standard Section 31 Solitary Confinement simulation, where his thoughts invariably return to the Cardassian who let him go all those months before.
Sloan does not know. He cannot know.
Series
- Part 2 of Holoi
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"You're a protector," Sloan said. "A guardian. Someone willing to make the hard choices that keep millions safe." His breath was warm against Julian's ear. "Someone strong enough to bear that burden."
"I did what was necessary," Julian said finally.
"Yes." Sloan's hands pressed into him, pulled Julian back against the chair, the word both absolution and damnation. "That's exactly right."
Then Sloan's lips were on his neck, thin and familiar and hungry, and Julian's breath caught in his throat like it did every time.
-Section 31 Operative Bashir is witnessed during his first elimination mission on Cardassian Prime. He does not tell Sloan.
Series
- Part 1 of Holoi
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Garak clasped his hands behind his back, considering his options. The offense in question had been, in his professional opinion, remarkably minor: he had perhaps made an innocent comment about Julian's tendency toward earnestness during their lunch. And Julian, who was normally so willing to let Garak’s words wash down and off his back—Julian, so claimed himself the emotional mature of the two—Julian, who apparently hadn’t told Garak that he’d had a particularly demanding day in the Medbay—had ostensibly decided that this time Garak would have to work for forgiveness.
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Garak tries to earn his way back into Julian's good graces. Julian's determined to withhold more than forgiveness.
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"I had hoped," Garak said, each word carefully shaped, fighting to sound conversational though the gravel beneath was unmistakable, "to remain the master of my own impulses. Alas, hope seems to be a thin armor against biology." A pause, another controlled breath. "I fear soon I will no longer be... entirely myself."
Another pause, longer. When he continued his voice had dropped lower. "And our dear Gul has decided that whatever happens next is fitting retribution for a lifetime of minor disagreements."
Dukat grinned, all teeth, and his eyes lit with amusement—no—anticipation. Waiting, Julian realized, for a delicious unfolding.
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Return from a diplomatic mission presents an opportunity for Dukat to enact revenge that’s been building for decades against Garak. Julian is the unfortunate vehicle of that revenge.
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Garak broke the kiss with a ragged breath, eyes locking onto Julian's with that raw gleam. "You ran so well, my dear," he murmured, that low rumble that vibrated through Julian's chest. "So fast. So agile. And yet here you are. Caught."
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Julian notices the way Garak looks at him sometimes during intimate moments, like he wants to follow him, chase him. It makes sense; Cardassians evolved from a predator species, after all.Who is Julian to deny him the hunt?
Series
- Part 1 of Better, to be Found
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The mug on his desk wasn't where he'd left it.
It was such a small thing. Insignificant, really. The mug—his favorite one, the blue ceramic with the slightly chipped rim that had traveled from Academy to Paris to Deep Space 9—was sitting on the left side of his desk instead of the right. The changeling had moved it. The changeling had been in his quarters, touched his things, rearranged his life by the smallest of degrees, and no one had noticed it wasn't him.
or: Julian has a breakdown in his quarters after returning from Internment Camp 371.
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"When the border conflicts started," Julian kissed his way along Garak's jaw. "You were active as an operative then, weren't you?"
There was a pause. "I was serving Cardassia in various capacities, yes."
"A responsible operative, I'm sure. Sent into dangerous situations." Another kiss, to the corner of his mouth. "Probably appreciating a good glass of kanar in the evenings."
"Among other activities," Garak agreed, wary but intrigued.
"Other activities," Julian repeated. He kissed Garak properly, taking his time with it, feeling Garak's interest kindling. "Like what? Taking lovers?"
"Occasionally." Garak's hands tightened on Julian's hips. "When time and circumstance permitted."
"Mmm." Julian punctuating the hum with a nip. "So there you were. Accomplished spy. Drinking. Having sex. Living your adult life."
"Yes..." Garak's voice was strained now, caught between arousal and confusion about where this was leading.
Julian moved to whisper directly in Garak's ear, smile absolutely sinful. "I was six."
Garak and Julian discover (and mostly appreciate) the differences that emerge from being of different eras. Prompt and summary from amultitudeofdrops
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Garak sat on his bed, half-undressed already. Presumptuous, Julian would have joked months ago. He didn’t joke now. They'd stopped pretending weeks ago that these visits were about anything else.
They didn't talk. They used to talk, used to spend hours dissecting literature and politics and each other's bad taste. Now they just collided in the darkness, rough and urgent, seeking distraction in each other.
Afterward, Julian lay in his bed—their bed, once, though he couldn't remember the last time Garak had actually spent the night—and stared at the ceiling.
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or: Julian witnesses the slow death of his relationship.
or: Julian ridin' and cryin'
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"The truth." Hawkeye’s voice rose. "The truth is we're in Korea. And the future is whatever happens tomorrow, not hundreds of years from now. The future is whether that kid with the chest wound makes it through the night, not whether humanity decides to hold hands and sing kumbaya in space!"
When a transporter malfunction drops Julian Bashir into the Korean War, he trades dermal regenerators for scalpels and discovers three truths: frontline medicine is brutal, homemade gin is terrible and necessary, and watching someone else suffer through possibly requited love makes you determined not to do the same.
Welcomed into the 4077th MASH, Julian befriends nurses who deserve far more respect than they get, flirts with a doctor who’s far too wisecracking to actually be ok, and tries to save as many lives as he can until he’s rescued.
If he’s rescued.
Series
- Part 1 of Sometimes you hear the fall
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The choices we make, or others make for us, change who we become. Or do they?
Julian Bashir was meant to be a doctor. But when his augment status nearly comes to light at Starfleet Academy, he pivots—quietly, strategically—into engineering, hiding among Starfleet's remote outposts. His latest assignment: a contested Class-P planet, where the days stretch to 27 hours and the company is limited to a handful of observers… including one Garak. Charming. Cryptic. Dangerous?
Cut off from the rest of the galaxy by atmospheric interference, Julian finds himself navigating more than the frigid planet surface. As he and Garak find themselves in close quarters—and closer conversations—the outpost begins to fail. Hidden agendas surface, and a fragile alliance may be the only thing standing between survival and ruin.
A ‘butterfly flaps its wings’ AU where Julian and Garak cross paths years before the events of DS9.
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Grantaire drank, and Enjolras watched—helpless not to watch—the movement of his throat, the way his eyes half-closed, the relaxation of his shoulders. When Grantaire lowered his glass, his lips were stained.
"Your turn."
Enjolras drank. He tried to do as Grantaire had instructed—holding the wine in his mouth, attending to its qualities—but it felt artificial. The drink was warm and tart and filled his mouth with sensations he had no vocabulary to describe.
"What do you taste?" Grantaire asked, leaning closer.
"Wine," Enjolras said.
Enjolras receives a lesson in intoxication from a connoisseur of the art. He discovers drinking can be a full-body experience.
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Mila doesn’t just call Garak to bid he help Tain in 'Improbable Cause' —she goes to DS9 to make her request in-person.
Julian witnesses an laden exchange between a daring young Glinn and a woman with piercing eyes that remind him of someone else...
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"Is there anything true in you at all, Grantaire?" Enjolras challenged. "Or are you nothing but falsity and wine?"
"You want truth, Apollo?" Grantaire met his eyes. "Very well. I'll make you a wager. Ten minutes until the bell of Saint-Étienne-du-Mont rings the hour. Ask me anything you like, anything at all, and I will answer with complete, utter, brazen honesty. No evasions. No mockery. Nothing but truth."
Enjolras does not know what to expect when he accepts Grantaire' wager. He discovers ten minutes contains an expanse.
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Nimius: (Latin) excessive; exceeding that which is needed, necessary, or normal,
Afterwards, when they lay tangled together, Garak had run his fingers through Julian's hair and said, so quietly Julian almost didn't hear it, "you're remarkable."
Julian had wanted to believe it. God, he'd wanted to believe it so badly it hurt. But lying here now, feeling Garak's gaze on him, he can't help wondering when the other shoe will drop. When Garak will discover that Julian is just a genetic construct pretending to be a person, that everything supposedly remarkable about him is just the result of illegal modifications made to a child who couldn't consent, that beneath all the enhancements is just the corpse of Jules—struggling, insufficient Jules—who doesn't deserve any of this.
Series
- Part 2 of Insecuritas
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Telum: (Latin) weapon; encompassing a range of armaments used in warfare, primarily offensive instruments.
In the dim light of the stars from the viewport, Garak watches Julian sleep and supposes it is for the best that Starfleet does not realize what a great and terrible weapon they have. They already know that Julian's enhancements make him formidable. But as it is, they do not realize the power that they could wield if they only chose to leverage it.
All it would take is for Julian to ask, and Garak would do anything.
Series
- Part 1 of Insecuritas
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"I certainly hope you don't drag me off to that ready room of yours and... oh, I don't know..." He paused, voice dropped to something that could only be described as pointed, "spank me for being such a naughty omnipotent being."
The bridge went completely silent.
Data's head tilted. Worf's hand slipped off his console. Counselor Troi blinked.
Riker slowly turned to look at Q.
Then at Picard.
Then back at Q.
"Q," Riker said carefully, as if addressing a sentient bomb, "Do you…want the Captain to spank you?"
Crack written (somewhat) seriously. Inspired by dreamerdrop
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Or: Four Times Damar Stuck it to Garak’s Mom, and One Time Garak Traumatized Him Back
What could have been if Mila had not died immediately upon getting her cougar on.
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A Dial to the Sun by Runavik
Fandoms: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo, Les Misérables (2012)
10 May 2022
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Enjolras' breath came out ragged. The memory of the night was supposed to be the only thing to follow him. How was he to have known who that man really was? If news of his folly got out, neighboring kingdoms would scorn him. Weak. Unable to resist his carnal pleasures. How could he be expected to protect Francia if he allowed distraction?
If there had been any hint, any suspicion in his mind, he never would have accepted the man's offer, would have kept walking through the labyrinth of tents until he was back at Musain’s gates.
But—he wondered, the memory of those plump lips, that mess of hair vivid in his mind's eye—would he have?
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Enjolras is the devoted Steward of Francia, charged with maintaining the kingdom until its rightful bloodline returns. A clandestine encounter ends up being anything but simple when the other man, Grantaire, turns out to be a mage assigned to his court. Enjolras' self-denial and kingdom custom deny entanglements, but as time goes on and Francia faces the increasing threat of invasion, the two must discover who they are to each other, where duty ends, and trust begins.
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Julian was walking along the woods by his house when he came across a plain and simple lizard. Well, it seemed like a plain and simple lizard…until it opened its mouth and spoke. Now Julian needs to help the lizard turn back into a man again so he can become a prince…or an heir… or a craftsman… Every time the lizard tells him why he got turned into a lizard in the first place, the story changes! Maybe Julian will eventually get the truth from the lizard, with a little help from his friends.
A retelling of The Princess and the Frog. Inspired by a tumblr post prompt.