An urban fantasy in which Otabek Altin is a consulting wizard, Yuri Plisetsky is a member of the fae, and together they fight crime have to find the mythical Grand Prix medal before another person dies.
This was meant for Otayuri Week 2017, Day 7: “Fantasy” on 26 February, but I fell behind because of work. Still, better late than never, and at least I caught Yurio’s birthday on 1 March. Happy birthday, our favourite Russian ice tiger!
- calling his date’s friend for help on what to wear
- green sunglasses pink superstar jacket
- facing the world but sinking into an existential crisis when a kid doesn’t like him
- praying he’s not drunk when he wakes up in the morning
- aggressively longing for inner peace
- high key avengers nostalgia
- asking and remembering stark industries employees names
- personally lending a hand in the rehabilitation process of known criminals
- “don’t you believe in dreams?”
- broken mirrors
- divine comedy references
- “malory” and “captain america” passwords
- the “&$&@ it, fire everything” protocol
- waking up in a hospital and, “don’t sedate me, i’m an alcoholic”
- to a little girl “don’t be frightened. i’ll be right back. and one day, you can sing me a song”
- riding on the back of the motorcycle
- using pictures of his girlfriend as a bookmark
- “this is a heist movie”
- stark datashades
- the blonde clean-shaven steve rogers-esque undercover look
- casually owning a captain america costume
- sad post-mortem videos
- growing up as a “sensitive boy” who cried ~too much
- james bond references
- drawing heart shapes on fogged glass
- getting his nose broken trying to defend a woman from harassment
- keeping wedding pictures of happy and pepper on his mantelpiece like an actual grandmother
- having vivaldi play as soon as he steps into the house
- extreme sports junkie
- “the drink or the dream?”
- talking about both “tony stark” and “iron man” as entities separate from each other and separate from himself
- a part of him is dead and the other is screaming in pain
- space fascination
- rollerskates
- being scared of the dark
- feeling bad about killing sewer rats and lizards
- FEAR OF COCKROACHES
- horoscope nerd
- e X t r e M e horoscope nerd
- wanting to die but not dying because he doesn’t think he has done enough even though he also thinks he’s done too much lol “necessary monster”
- weird choices for sleeping places
- the “grinding but hollow feeling” that makes him want to drink
- slipping AA sayings into casual conversation
- tony’s personal christmas shopping = christmas shopping for people at the homeless shelter he funds
- christmas wish: “someone to watch over me”
- hating magic
- hiring anyone who demonstrates valor on the spot (pepper potts, happy hogan, marcy pearson, etc) almost like he’s knighting them 😎
- broken bones and coughing blood inside the armors
- when the suit fails: “don’t be a coffin”
- disturbing medical protocols
- the creepy satanic undertones in several of his nightmares
- not believing in heaven and hell but believing he’d go to hell if it existed
- also high key wondering if he IS in hell
- to be continued
- buying out entire disneyland to go on a lunch with a woman he just met
- making a black woman head of stark enterprises in case of his death
- making RHODEY head of stark enterprises in case of his death
- code names “mother hen” and “papa bear”
- being “uncle tony” to cassie lang
- “damn you for making me do this” when forced to kill a terrorist
- “i hate when you look at me like that”
- basically adopting babyvengers
- being carol’s sponsor
- considering a baby of a woman he lived briefly on the streets with one of “the people close to him” to the point that actual supervillain kidnapped her to get to him
- keeping signed photos of his girlfriends next to his bed like some kind of 40s dweeb
- giant avengers pictures aka tony stark decorating 101
- letting his chestplate battery run out to the point of heart attack on daily basics
- *tony stark jumps into the bushes* *iron man jumps out* ‘i took mr stark to safety’
- being the worst at secret identity, seriously, THE worst
Fastest fic I’ve written, ever, to just meet the Victuuri Week Day 5 deadline. Also much longer than I expected. It’s really just a self-indulgent a love song to two of my favourite fandoms. I hope people like it. :) More information about the “Inception” movie and terminology in the AO3 end-notes, for those unfamiliar with the film.
Let’s just write 1k words about superpowers, I said. This shouldn’t be too long, I said. Famous last words, ahaha. Third offering for the Victuuri Week challenge - I hope people like this one too. :) More story and character background in the AO3 end-notes.
There are now spaces in his apartment. When he finally slumps into bed, the mattress suddenly feels too wide, the sheets too cold, and the other pillow beside him still dips in the centre with the memory of someone else’s head.
—
Or: The one in which Yuuri is away and Victor pines.
My second offering for the Victuuri Week challenge, for the prompts of “travelling - long distance & reunion”. In my head, this is set between the first and soon-to-be second season, after Yuuri moves to Russia, but before the European Championships in end-January. I hope people like this one too. :) Still haven’t finished my third yet - eep!
Yuuri turns to regard him. “You look very young for a businessman,” he says.
Victor laughs. “Mine’s a family business, too.”
It’s not exactly a lie.
—
Or: The Mafia AU in which Victor’s an heir to the Russian mob, Yuuri just so happens to be visiting St. Petersburg, and there’s a hitman loose in the city.
Well, it’s been a while since I last posted any writings. The first fic in a new fandom is always nerve-wrecking. I hope people like this one, indulgent as it is. :) With any luck, I should be posting a couple more offerings in the Victuuri Week challenge.
Just watched both the TMFU and Spectre films on a flight, and I’m brimming with fannish feels once again. I feel quite inspired to poke at my unfinished Napollya, 00Q and MalloryQ fics. :D
hey i just wanna say that i love ur malloryq fic 2 death ok (it's legit my fave fic tbqh) and i <3 ur characterisation (esp. mallory's taste in literature) and honestly tht domestic!malloryq fic sounds rly gr10 like thnk u 4 writing xx <3
You’re really too kind, anonymous reader! Thank you so much for your lovely comment. I’m very glad that the fic worked for you. :) I’ll probably revisit this story with a sequel at some point in the future (after I finish at least a couple more other WIPs *cough*), because I feel that there’s so much more of a story to tell. :)
He imagines every now and then that this, perhaps, this is what he likes best about Gareth Mallory. They are both weapons in their own individual ways, questions of life and death reduced to a single alphabet, and Q has always had thing for ruthlessly competent bastards anyway.
Or: A story about crushes, semi-drunken confessions, and gunfire somewhere along the way.
I watched Spectre as a 00Q fangirl, but emerged shipping Mallory’s M and Q after that delicious showdown scene at the end. This fic is the result, with an obvious warning for Spectre spoilers, and I wish I had the time to write more, because I can just picture them being all domestic except for when there are awesome spy shenanigans. Meanwhile, the rest of MI6 secretly fanboys/fangirls about their boss shagging their quartermaster, in between gossiping about the latest stunt 007 has pulled.
All the same, I’ve a 00Q fic and two Napollya (TMFU) fics still in the works, and I had best get on with those, now that I’ve (temporarily) silenced the clamorous MalloryxQ voice in my head. :D;;
So I re-watched the movie last night, and I’ve been thinking about those credit scenes, in which you see glimpses of their confidential files, and in which the rawest, ugliest bits of their characters are laid out (and this is related to why I think Gaby Teller is poorly written, because she is without essential flaws, but that will be a subsequent rant about misogynistic writing in general.) Anyway, Napoleon is a gambler, and addict, a con man, a thief. In other words: a liar. Illya’s chief flaw, of course, is what his file calls “violent personality disorder.” In other words: a psychopath. I’ve talked before about how interaction with Napoleon leads to his first psychotic episode that a) occurs because he does NOT want to commit violence, and b) ends in something other than violence. (We’ll come back to that last point.)
At issue here is how each man helps the other begin to resolve their chief character flaw — or at least, begin to grapple with it. Because Napoleon is a liar, and every iteration of him as a person — art thief, spy, man of the world — is just him being a liar, because that’s what lying liars do. They create a persona and then inhabit it, and Napoleon’s persona is the sophisticated confidence man who “prefers to work alone” and needs nothing and no one, whose sense of personal integrity is elastic at best, and who certainly feels no loyalty to anyone, anything, or any idea other than himself. He is not a nice man. He is not a particularly good man. It is not a particularly good man who ditches Illya in that boat and swims to shore, then sits there — in one of the film’s most hilarious sequences — calmly eating a sandwich and some warm chianti while Illya literally goes down in flames in the background. He even starts to drive off, because of all the victims of his lies, there is none greater than Napoleon himself. He has lied to himself about who he is, because the lie to oneself is the chief and greatest con of all, and he’s mastered it. He is Napoleon Solo, and he doesn’t care about anyone, because that will just weigh you down, and he won’t tolerate so much as a speck of lint on his jacket. So he starts to drive off, leaving Illya to certain death.
Only he can’t, quite.
You can see the moment when it happens: Is this who I am? Of course it is, what you are talking about, just drive! But… it’s not who I am, is it? You can see the moment when he accepts that he has been lying to himself; he is not the person who can drive away, dammit. He wishes he were. But he’s not, and he accepts that, and he drives back, launching himself into the water, because when Napoleon decides to do a thing, it will not be done by halves.
Illya helps him stop lying.
From that point on in the film, there is a realness to Napoleon that Cavill plays beautifully. He has been stripped of the ability to lie to himself, and while he still lies to others with perfect ease — he wouldn’t be much of a spy if he couldn’t — he can no longer lie to himself. He is a person with loyalties, and he does care what happens to other people, in particular this strange and provoking man who has made him start to question every assumption about himself and the world he has made.
And what of Illya?
He does not lie to himself, and never has. He is a person of extraordinary honesty and directness — Napoleon’s true foil. But he has other problems, a lot of them. And for the first time, like I said above, he experiences a psychotic episode because he DOESN’T want to kill, and not because he longs to. But even more importantly: for the first time he has a psychotic episode that does not end in someone getting hurt. Napoleon just quietly ripped the lid off the box he has been trapped in, and he did it by tossing him his father’s watch, by reminding him that a world of actual loyalties, of true integrity, of real connection, lies behind the shadow world of politics and espionage that is their day job. That moment of connection is his way out of his prison of psychosis, like the moment of rescuing Illya was Napoleon’s way out of his prison of lies. And even more beautifully, one moment is the direct cause of the other. When Napoleon stops lying to himself, and allows himself to form connections, then he does things like retrieve Nikolai Kuryakin’s watch for no other reason than it is important to Illya. Seeing Napoleon’s connection, and his willingness to own it, defuses the psychosis in Illya. And that connection — that ability to connect, rather, that willingness to admit the capacity for connection lay within him — that was because of Illya. Illya sets the whole loop in motion.
These two deeply flawed men can only be healed by each other, and can only be whole with each other. That is just basic cinematic exposition. That is exactly what the film is saying. Now, as a fangirl and a queer-eyed reader, naturally I am going to extend that connection sexually, which is my prerogative as an imaginative viewer. I’m not saying the film itself connects them sexually. I am saying the film creates their deepest emotional bond with each other, and makes it perfectly clear that there is ONLY ONE PERSON who holds the key to unlocking each of them from their private hells. Call it a romantic connection, call it a soul bond, call it the deepest form of brotherhood, it doesn’t matter — at the end of the day, they are the piece that makes the other whole.
The whole business about God creating Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve, makes him laugh. For one, he had there, too. For another, pretty much everything back then had been made by God, when the world was still all shiny and new.
He doesn’t think he has ever gone by the name of Steve, though. Not that it matters much. These days, he usually goes by the name of Napoleon Solo.
—
Or: The one where Illya and Gaby are reincarnated throughout history, but Napoleon still manages to find them anyway. Please be warned that this fic contains liberal reinterpretation of biblical themes and references. If this is not your cup of tea, you may wish to give this fic a pass.
I think the only thing I can say to about this is, what did I even write ohmygod. More author’s notes and fun history facts on the AO3 page. And again, please be warned for the liberal reinterpretation of biblical themes and references (if it isn’t evident from the opening lines)!
I cannot get away from thinking about that last scene with Illya, in which he is ordered to kill Napoleon because Napoleon has the disc.
Now, here’s the thing: this is some clever film-making. Because of course, Illya begins to have a psychosis reaction as soon as he gets this information, right? But which information? In other words, there are two important bits of information Illya is handed in that phone call: a) Solo has managed to snake the disc out from under him, and b) he has been ordered to kill Solo. So… which one is it? Is he freaking out because Solo got the better of him, or is he freaking out because he has to kill this man he has come to respect, to like, and to trust as he has very few, maybe, in his adult life? The film teases the viewer, and refuses to give us the answer directly.
The clue is this: every other time Illya has a psychosis reaction, it is in response to verbal or physical violence, threatened or otherwise. He does NOT have a psychosis reaction because someone has gotten the better of him, or because a strategy has not turned out the way he hoped, or because of a sudden plot twist. It is violence that he responds to, every time. Violence begets violence.
Illya has a psychosis reaction because he is being asked to kill. He knows it is unavoidable. He knows – or thinks he does, until Solo shows him the way out – that he has no choice. It is the imminent violence that is causing his reaction, and for the very FIRST TIME, he is having a psychosis reaction not because he is longing to kill, but because HE DOES NOT WANT TO KILL. This is huge. This is a character-defining moment for Illya. It is his first moment of powerful revulsion at violence, his first rejection of it.
Illya Kuryakin has a psychosis reaction because he does not want to kill; because something – someone – has become more important to him than his orders. I’m not trying to suggest that Illya at this point has a romantic attachment to Solo; I’m suggesting that their partnership, and loyalty to that partnership, has quietly become the single most important thing to him. If you doubt me, check out his foot pressing that pedal on the torturer’s electric chair, the torturer who caused Solo such unimaginable pain.
So this beautiful scene is doing double duty: it is showing us how deep, how powerful, is Illya’s connection to his partner, and it is showing us that maybe, just possibly, with a lot of help from that partner, he will be able one day to emerge from this horrible feedback loop his body is caught in, of pathological desire for violence.
tl;dr Illya loves Napoleon all other interpretations are WRONG WRONG WRONG.
Trying to write TMFU fic - always difficult, because I write so slowly, and real life often interferes - and my draft basically features text place-holders like:
Illya’s voice is husky. Napoleon’s mouth goes dry. They fuck.
I wish fic-writing were so easy as to be able to just leave the text like that.
Napoleon was used to seeing all sorts in his shop: harried office types who knocked back their espressos before grabbing a long black to go, bored housewife types who took their lattes heavy on the syrups and low on the fat, tourists who ordered their coffees topped with whipped cream as they embraced a certain vacation-based joie de vie, college kids simply looking for a cheap caffeine fix while they took advantage of his free Wi-Fi.
Six foot five, blond and leanly muscled, on the other hand, at seven in the morning and with the most delicious jawline Napoleon had seen in days, was certainly a first.
—
Or: The modern day coffee shop AU in which Napoleon makes Illya all kinds of coffee except for Illya’s actual order, and things aren’t all quite what they seem to be.
This started because I had discovered an interesting coffee place near my office two weeks ago, which (naturally, when you’re a fangirl) led to Napollya thoughts along the lines of: “Napoleon tries to woo Illya with coffee. Illya wants something black and simple. Napoleon insists on making him all kinds of fancy drinks to show his ~adoration. Illya despairs.” The original idea was only supposed to be ~1k long. I’m not sure how it became ten times longer than that. While I’m holidaying in London this past week, no less.
Illya’s staple wardrobe - let’s exclude the suits he wears as part of his cover - is no slouch either. While nowhere as fancy as Napoleon’s, those are still pretty fine classic pieces he wears in the circumstances: turtlenecks from JohnSmedley, jackets from Ralph Lauren and Baracuta.
I only hope that Gaby was not actually using a Hermes scarf to keep her hair back while in the chop shop. Ahahaha.
Mostly, suit lust aside, I’m also lusting over Victoria’s wardrobe. Sadly, the suggested clothingmatches make me weep. I may need to whip out the trusty ol’ sewing machine.
oh god while we're on the topic of napoleon & agency how about how his response to getting fucking drugged is "i'll just lay down & make myself comfortable then, been here before" TALK ABOUT CLINGING TO SCRAPS OF AUTONOMY
(x) Honestly the gender politics in this film is some curious stuff. Reverse the genders and both this scene and Napoleon bedding Victoria becomes infinitely more sinister. Same goes for Gaby slapping Illya. From start to end, Victoria treats Napoleon like a plaything, an object, something to be toyed with.
illya upon seeing the woman he’s attracted to for likely the last time: teary resignation
illya upon being reminded he needs to maybe kill napoleon, the man he spent the whole movie arguing with: LITERALLY DESTROYS THE ENTIRE HOTEL ROOM
YES. Ahahaha.
That said, my take on Illya wrecking the room is more along the lines of Illya feeling ~betrayed, because he thinks that the trust which he and Napoleon had started to share was just a ruse by Napoleon to get the disk first.
Then Napoleon tosses him his father’s watch, and Illya realises that what they have, this indescribable, fragile thing between the two of them, is actually ~real. He feels foolish as he fumbles the watch back onto his wrist, but when he looks up to Napoleon’s indulgent (if understandably also rather wary) smile, he knows that he’s forgiven.
Napoleon will bring this incident up again every now and then, mostly to tease Illya about his temper. Illya will scowl that they wouldn’t be where they are right now if not for my father’s watch , before looking away with the faintest of smiles.
Remember the scene: Napoleon eats a sandwich listening to some Italian song and then saves Illya from under the water. Remember that song.
Peppino Gagliardi - Che Vuole Questa Musica Stasera
I don’t know Italian but my sister’s friend translated this song for me
Here it is:
“I need this music tonight
It brings back something from the past
The Moon was our companion
I felt that you are mine
Only mine
Only mine.
I would like you to be here with me
Now, when there’s nothing between us anymore.
I would like to hear your worlds
The words that I will never hear again.
The whole world doesn’t exist anymore
Because of the happiness you gave me.
What should I do now
When you are gone?
I need this music tonight
It brings back something from the past
It brings back a bit of your love
It reminds me of you”
So this whole song is literally about love and about missing this love.
Got it?
NAPOLEON FUCKING SOLO SAVES ILLYA FUCKING KURYAKIN FROM UNDER THE WATER AFTER HE HEARD THE SONG THAT ACTUALLY TELLS HIM “YOU GONNA MISS YOUR LOVE”
SOLOYAKIN IS THE BEST OTP OH GOD IM SO FUCKING DONE
This is really quite a brilliant touch. Ahahahaha.
The Man from U.N.C.L.E. 2015 - Illya x Napoleon AO3 Fic Recs
For my future reference, after going through all 12 pages’ worth of the same in the past fortnight. (I have become such Napollya trash. Goodness.)
This rec list is current as of 26 September 2015.
Author Recs
title | approx. word count [summary] Comments:
1. Right now, basically anything by manic_intent. Special shout-out to her three completed fics. (Their fourth is presently a WIP.) Excellent plots, wonderful grasp and feel of the boys’ dialogue, and a Gaby who is a spitfire and an absolute delight to read.
In the first month of being co-opted into working with Illya Kuryakin full time at U.N.C.L.E., Napoleon stoIllya’s father’s watch four times, twice out of spite, once out of drunken curiosity, and once out of sheer boredom. After the fourth time, Gaby sprained one of Napoleon’s fingers and threatened to do worse if he did it again.
“You are not a spy,” she told him firmly, dangling the watch out of reach as Napoleon curled in a wincing, fetal position on his Le Corbusier couch in his upstate apartment. “You are a thief with the self-control of a child. Now give me back my ring.”
“What ring?” Napoleon asked innocently, even through the pain.
“How fond are you of your nose?” Gaby shot back blandly.’
Comments: Deliciously plotty case fic with a good, slow burn. It reads like the Istanbul sequel you’d want, with the added bonus of Napollya goodness and a smattering of Illya angst. Kudos to the care taken with the historically accurate detail.
Ten minutes to go to ground zero and Artyom was still desperately trying to escape. “I have never attended little girl’s birthday party,” he pointed out repeatedly, and actually pouted, big blue eyes wide and pleading.
“Always a first time,” Napoleon said mercilessly, pulling on a charcoal Tom Ford blazer over his loose gray knit. “Mrs Siegfried invited us weeks ago, Artyom, don’t be a baby. You’ve had quite a while to gird your loins. We’re going to a party, not some sort of trench warfare. Smile.”
Artyom scowled, which was admittedly normally an adorable look even for a tall, blonde Russian giant of a man. “I do not like Mrs Siegfried,” Artyom declared, clearly intent on being as recalcitrant as possible.
Comments: Mr and Mrs Smith AU with a twist, modern setting. Again, excellent case fic. The Napollya push-pull dynamic is beautifully bittersweet. The ending - without giving too much away - is well-earned and does the entire set-up justice.
Tiger, Tiger | 7.9k words
Napoleon was about to launch into his carefully scripted spiel of punctuated disdain when he hesitated, hands still cupped over the delicate little Soviet-made devices that he had found in his room. There was a faint but unmistakable sensation crawling under his skin, a prickling, restless buzz, like getting light-headed off good champagne, and Napoleon narrowed his eyes, script forgotten, studying an increasingly irritated-looking Illya with a new light.
Illya, on the other hand, had folded his arms. His bowtie looked ridiculous with his suit, highlighting the far too long expanse between his shirt collar and belly, and he was starting to scowl. “What?” he demanded again, a flat curl of annoyance making his tone harsh, and Napoleon nearly flinched instinctively back before all the enforced training kicked in.
Comments: A/B/O fics are my weakness. A/B/O fics with subversion of stereotypes, as well as gender, political and social commentary? Yes, please! Cleverly done, and I like the touches of historical accuracy.
2. Anything by sosopes. Lyrical writing. Both individual character growth and Napollya relationship development are wholly satisfying. Highlighting two fics in particular:
llya’s really good with dogs. Napoleon’s more of a cat person, personally, but he’s not about to let that get in the way of them living their life together.
Comments: This fic. THIS FIC. One of my absolute favourites in this fandom thus far, bar none. Remarkable character studies, the boys gradually falling into a relationship, domesticity, the harsh realities of spy work, boys growing old together. (Also, a Gaby who is brilliant.) It’s a quiet, beautiful thing you’d want to curl up with, a fic that gets richer with every re-read, like a good bottle of red wine. Gorgeous.
Illya watches Solo work and sees something he was never supposed to see. And then that work follows them all home.
Comments: Lovely mix of action-y bits and character introspection. Boys misunderstanding each other because they refuse to ~talk, but it all works out well in the end. Deals with some themes of internalised homophobia. The entire team are BAMFs too, when the going gets tough.
3. Anything by ignu. They have a sharp, witty way of writing that delights, and the ability to pack so much in so few words. Highlighting these two fics in particular:
Greed, and lust, those were the two sins that defined Napoleon Solo, and Illya Kuryakin aroused the two precise desires in Napoleon he never chose to resist. With his stoic gaze and chiseled jawline, Kuryakin was as beautiful and inscrutable as a Greek statue, and Napoleon had never been one to leave works of art undefiled.
Comments: This pushes so many of my buttons. Friends with benefits tumbling into more, boys being obtuse, boys pining - rendered beautifully with tight writing and characters you can’t help but feel for.
“I need you to help me steal something,” Napoleon said.
“It’s urgent?”
Napoleon considered the question. “More or less.”
There was silence over the line, and then Illya drew a sharp breath. “They’re blackmailing you.”
(Or the one where Napoleon tries to steal back his freedom, only to find Illya had already stolen his heart.)
Comments: AU where there is no UNCLE, Napoleon tries to leave the CIA but is blackmailed into staying, and Illya helps him to break free. It is glorious in its brutal intensity.
Individual Fic Recs
title | writer | approx. word count [summary] Comments:
Five missions turn out all right, and one doesn’t.
Comments: A fic that’s an utter thing of beauty. The writing is masterful, the characters are written so very real, the dialogue is pitch perfect and true to the flavour of the movie, the relationship dynamic between the two boys and their journey to their happily every after are worth every gripping word, and the pay-off is well-earned and satisfying. Definitely another favourite of mine in this fandom.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Waverly says, almost kindly. “No one saw it coming.”
Illya looks down at him, surprised and perhaps a little condescending, because he knows better than to blame himself, and he doesn’t understand why Waverly thinks he would. Solo is good at what he does, one of the best, and Illya has always been more than aware that Solo could trick him if he really set his mind to it.
No, Illya does not blame himself for not seeing the signs. If there is anything he should blame himself for, it is that he let himself assume that he wouldn’t have to look for them in the first place. But socialism is a future-oriented ideology, and there is no point in dwelling on the past. Illya has made a mistake, is all. He is not going to make it again.
Comments: Misunderstandings, presumed betrayals, angst, satisfying resolution. This captures the nature of the feel of the Cold War wonderfully, I find. And the boys, when they finally get there in the end, have me sighing happily.
“Would you like anything else, sir?” The girl behind the counter, (Gaby, her sky blue nameplate reads) smirks, actively smirks at him. “And no, you can’t have his number.”
“What if I simply wanted to give my compliments? “ Gaby considers him for a moment, then the line of women behind him.
"You got 15 minutes?” Technically Napoleon doesn’t, but he’s not about to go rushing back to Victoria’s fits of rage regardless.
AKA the one where Illya is a hot baker, Napoleon is in love and Gaby is entertained.
Comments: A short and wonderful, feel-good fic. It’s as sweet as the sugary-sweet confections I imagine baker!Illya makes, the writing is wry and humourous, and the ending left me grinning for a couple of minutes thereafter.
“Tell her what?” Solo asked. “That we were married and then got divorced, but we didn’t actually do either because the paperwork would’ve led our respective governments straight to our relationship that we’ve been hiding for seven years? That’ll go down well.“
Comment: Most charmingly written. The writer deftly manages the premise without making it feel like it’s been shoehorned in.
Napoleon stops looking at Illya, because that just makes him want to put his foot through the wall, and looks at his gun, which isn’t difficult, because it’s about an inch from his face, and this close he can smell the faint sweet spice of cleaning oil. Instead of looking at Illya — the lines of him held in anticipatory stillness; the bulk of him in the blue half-light — Napoleon looks at the balance of gun and silencer, the heavy slide and the curl of Illya’s fingers on the grip, the angle of his thumb, and waits.
Comment: Gritty writing that does not let you forget for a second that the boys are dangerous spies who live on the edge. The dynamic is delightful.
The age old trope of taking off their clothes and cuddling to preserve body heat.
Comment: The boys sound delightfully like an old, married couple in this. Sharpy, snappy dialogue and writing all in all. Loved the characterisation too.
Comments: Dreamy, lyrical writing that introduces an unexpected element of fantasy into the series. Illya’s increasing desperation and slipping control tugged at my heartstrings in all the right places. I am very glad that this fic exists in the fandom.
“I’m going to regret asking this but for the sake of my sanity…are you by chance ill?” Napoleon queried taking a cautious step closer. He kept himself out of striking distance because Illya’s temperament was legendary for a reason and it wasn’t a good reason either.
“If you do not leave, I will skin you alive,” Illya managed and Napoleon would’ve attempted to act suitably scared if Illya’s voice hadn’t cracked in the middle of his threat. As it was all he managed was something that sounded suspiciously like a coo.
Comments: Sick!Illya is adorably reminiscent of a grumpy kitten in this fic, while Napoleon is wonderfully patient and long-suffering. I definitely grinned as I read this.
Tumblr prompt: Illya used to think Napoleon was just a thief and he didn’t know how to fight cause he could almost choke him to death the first day they met. But one day when the trio stayed in their safe house and Napoleon was cooking in the kitchen, some robbers broke in. Napoleon seemed like he was not gonna do anything and just let them take what they want. But when Illya fight back and one of them shot him, Napoleon held up a kitchen knife and sliced it through that guy’s hand, started taking down every single one of them with just that knife. After that, Illya never underestimate Napoleon again. Especially with knives. Kitchen knives. P/S: “And they said I was scary”, Illya muttered when Napoleon took the bullet out for him that night.
Some intruders shoot Illya. Napoleon does not approve.
Comment: Boys being BAMF-y, with some pretty good dialogue.
He tosses and turns for a while before Illya becomes too annoyed to ignore it. "What now, Cowboy?” he growls.
“I can’t sleep like this,” Solo states and Illya is sure that the other man is pouting, but he can’t bring himself to care. There is a long silence and a few more turns from Solo before Illya decides that he will take the bait.
“Why?” Illya asks with a huff and without much interest.
Solo is bound to have slept with other people in one bed before, given his reputation as a playboy, so what is the problem right now?
As they wait to go on their next mission, the team splits up for some rest. Napoleon and Illya end up in the same apartment, which leads to some misunderstandings, some reflections, and later, some sleep.
Illya yawned again, his stern face relaxing. “Your country has a saying about that…”
“It’s British. But satisfaction brought him back - that’s American.”
Comments: Another pre-slash, bed-sharing delight. I loved the careful dance between the two boys, and the writer’s way of writing Illya’s voice.
There’s a tattoo on everyone that states a phrase your soulmate will tell you. Not always your first words, but you will recognize them.
Comments: I first came across this variation of the soulmate trope (which is in and of itself a surefire kink of mine) in the Avengers (Marvel Cinematic ‘Verse) fandom, and it has since grown on me quite. This piece may be really short, but it is also thoughtful, and quietly lyrically in a way that steals your breath all the same.
“You know,” Napoleon offered, “that first night you chased us in East Berlin - we weren’t sure that you were human. Not then.”
Or: A Man from U.N.C.L.E. / His Dark Materials fusion fic where everyone has daemons, moving from the end of the Vinciguerra affair in Rome, through Istanbul, and on to what happens (happily ever) after.
Well, that’s done. First fic I’m posting since 2011, first fic in a new fandom, first time making a proper stab at this whole tumblr thing. That feels like a lot of firsts and newness. Frankly, I’m terrified.
TMFU film character profiles, compiled by a kind person on AO3. So much love for all the tiny little details. I mean, backgammon, Solo? Really? And Illya, an Oedipus complex? (Just when you think Illya’s backstory can’t get even more angsty.)
Speaking of Solo, if he was born in 1929 and joined the army in 1945, he would have been 16, not 18 (per Illya’s research), at the time of joining. Did he lie about his age when he enlisted, I wonder.