#tmfu fic

[cha-melodius]

2023 Writing Roundup

Thanks to @welcometololaland, @rmd-writes, @kiwiana-writes, and @orchidscript for tagging me for this one. I'm also going to say thanks to everyone who tagged me in the ao3 wrapped or other round up type things; I've been putting off doing my annual writing year-in-review because I always post it on the 30th or 31st. This one is new to me and I figured why not, I'll do it now. I published 31 fics this year (so far!), so safe to say I'm putting this partly under a cut to save your dashes.

JANUARY

How’s About Cookin’ Something Up With Me? (TMFU, T, 4k) Teachers AU, Napoleon helps Illya bake cookies for a holiday party.

Love is a Deserter (TMFU, T, 3k) Post breakup getting back together fic.

True Hollywood Romance (Lokius, M, 8k) Actors AU, fake dating, Mobius and Loki have a PR relationship that turns real.

It's Been a Bad Day Lately (Lokius, T, 17k) Time loop, Loki has to try to figure out how to defeat a deadly Kang variant and save the man he loves all at once.

FEBRUARY

All for a Taste of the Honey (RWRB, E, 6k) FBI Agents AU, Henry goes undercover as a stripper and Alex has a lot of feelings about that.

MARCH

All Comes Crashing (TMFU, E, 5.6k) Illya has one night left to live and is forced to admit the feelings he's been holding back.

Nova, Baby (RWRB, E, 67k) CIA/MI6 AU, forced to work together by their respective agencies, Alex and Henry take on high-stakes missions and fall in love.

APRIL

Kiss Me Like You Mean It (Firstprince, Napollya, Lokius, T) Various T-rated ficlets featuring kisses.

MAY

All the Old Showstoppers (RWRB, E, 20k) Canon-divergent AU where Alex and Henry compete in the Great Celebrity Bake Off.

The Sky is Open (RWRB, E, 5k) 1970s Pan-Am pilots AU (with a twist!).

Just a Shot Away from You (TMFU, T, 4k) Five times Napoleon and Illya were ordered to kill each other, and one where everyone decides they’ve had enough.

JUNE

Tiny Little Movies (RWRB, various ratings) A drabble collection based on drabble prompts from the Brownstone discord server.

JULY

Always Where I Need To Be (RWRB, T, 5k) Alex's new roommate has a puppy with a penchant for stealing his glasses.

AUGUST

Please Don't Let Me Be So Understood (RWRB, E, 20k) Couples Therapy AU, Alex and Henry are workplace enemies and accidentally end up in couples therapy.

Black Moon (TMFU, E, 6k) For All Mankind AU, Napoleon and Illya are astronauts living on moon bases.

That's My Trouble (RWRB, M, 6k) Detective/ME AU, aka 'Rizzoli and Isles AU', Alex shows up bleeding on Henry's doorstop.

Theory and Practice (RWRB, T, 4k) My 100th fic! Grad students AU, former hookups turned enemies to friends to lovers.

Getting Clinical (RWRB, T, 2k) Non-famous AU, Alex and Henry meet at a sexual health clinic.

Cold Light (Lokius, M, 4k) Human AU, Loki and Mobius meet in Norway and their relationship grows under the northern lights.

Step Into My Office, Baby (RWRB, E, 2k) Office AU, friends to lovers, three scenes in a corner office.

The Harrowed and the Haunted (TMFU, T, 3k) Paranormal investigators AU, Napoleon and Illya visit a haunted house.

SEPTEMBER

Will You Brie Mine? (RWRB, T, 6k) Non-famous AU, Henry sells cheese at Harrods Food Halls and Alex is his best customer.

Lessons in Foreign Diplomacy (RWRB, E, 5k) Post-American Revolution AU, Alex and Henry are ambassadors to the court of Versailles from their respective countries.

Something To Be Proud Of (RWRB, M, 3k) Non-famous AU, Alex volunteers at Edinburgh Pride and Henry makes an embarrassing email typo.

Enemies of the Ocean (Lokius, T, 3k) Human AU, Loki and Mobius are stranded at sea on a life raft together.

OCTOBER

Falling Down the Stairs of Your Smile (RWRB, M, 4k) Canon divergence AU, Alex stays another night after the hospital trip and their relationship gets a jump start.

In the Dog Days (RWRB, T, 6k) Modern magic AU, Alex is jealous and suspicious of Henry's shapeshifter boyfriend, David.

NOVEMBER

Taste the Way You Bleed (RWRB, T, 4k) WWDITS AU, the Super Six are all vampires living in the same house, and Alex and Henry still hate each other (until they don't).

DECEMBER

This Hell of a Season (RWRB, E, 21k) currently posting Nova-verse missing scenes and sequels, 3 times Alex & Henry spent Christmas on missions and 1 when they didn't.

[Redacted] (TMFU) My fill for the annual TMFU winter holiday gift exchange.

WHEW. Ok, tagging! @cricketnationrise, @heytheredeann, @mirilyawrites, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @dewdropreader, @celaestis1, @myheartalivewrites, @14carrotghoul, @clottedcreamfudge, @indomitable-love, @dumbpeachjuice, @indestructibleheart, @lizzie-bennetdarcy, @inexplicablymine, @sherryvalli, @iboatedhere, @tintagel-or-cockleshells, @leaves-of-laurelin, @three-drink-amy, and anyone else who wants to play.

#rwrb #tmfu #napollya #firstprince #lokius #rwrb fic #firstprince fic #tmfu fic #napollya fic #lokius fic #year in review #fic year in review

[drinkupthesunrise]

a cambridge marriage

Fanfic, Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo, 27,600 words

A car accident leads Illya Kuryakin back to Cambridge, as he tries to discover whether the woman he once married was put in harm's way because of him, or her own scientific pursuits. Meanwhile Napoleon attempts to make sense of Illya’s unusual relationship with his wife and her close friend.

or, in which Illya married a lesbian during his time at Cambridge, and Napoleon is slow to realise it ... and jealous in the process.

[read on AO3]

hello friends, the man from uncle obsession hit me hard enough I actually wrote fic about it, please enjoy 27k of me getting far too concerned about cambridge sciences and also my fictional lesbians.

#illya kuryakin #napoleon solo #the man from uncle #tmfu fic #tmfu #fanfic #ao3 #myfic #this is indulgent in so many ways #sometimes you have to write what you know? but also have a fic with a million research notes at the end #anyway #i finished a fic #so that's what we're focussing on

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #19

xxx i’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me

Napoleon is awakened by a bucket of cold water being poured over his head. He coughs and sputters and it takes him a moment to get his bearings. Getting beaten into the ground will do that to a man. He’s sitting on a cold cement floor against a post with his arms handcuffed behind him. Every part of him aches--head, ribs, shoulders--but his knee is the worst by far, a sharp and unrelenting throbbing. Illya is standing over him, and the man that had shot at him in the alley, Rostya Makarov. There are three other men as well that Napoleon recognizes from his research: Viktor Nikolaev, Yuriy Alekhin, and the Swede, Edvin Magnusson. 

“He’s conscious,” Alekhin remarks thoughtfully. “I thought perhaps he would not wake up.” He turns to Napoleon and smiles. “Who knows you are here, American?”

Napoleon smiles back. “Trakhni tebya,” he says in his very best Russian.

Alekhin raises an eyebrow and looks over at Illya. Illya nods once, then drives a fist into Napoleon’s already damaged ribs, driving the wind from his lungs. Napoleon presses his lips firmly together, using all of his effort to keep from crying out. Illya crouches in front of him. 

“You believe in living dangerously,” he says. “I can see that.”

Napoleon’s heart leaps in his chest. It’s a quote from Dr. No. A signal. And suddenly it all becomes very clear. 

What are you doing here? 

Dammit, Cowboy, stay down. 

Illya hadn’t just been trying to drive him away. He’d been trying to warn him. 

“Sitting around with wet hair, I’ll catch pneumonia,” Napoleon says. It’s James Bond’s next line, and Napoleon’s way of saying, I hear you. I understand. 

Illya’s face doesn’t move, but Napoleon could swear he sees a bit of the tension in the man’s shoulders ease, just barely. 

“Pneumonia will be the least of your worries, American,” Alekhin says. “You know, Kuryakin here spent many years with the KGB. You can make this much easier for yourself. Just tell me who knows you are here.”

Napoleon clenches his jaw, fixing Alekhin with a frosty stare. The man just shrugs. 

“Very well. Kuryakin?”

Illya stands, regards Napoleon for a moment. Then he says, “Do not let him sleep. We will ask again in few days.”

Napoleon suspects Illya is trying to protect him, saving him from beatings and other physical punishment at least for the time being. But between the army, CIA, and UNCLE, Napoleon has had hours of training in how to resist interrogation and torture. He’s heard horror stories about those subjected to severe sleep deprivation, men slowly losing their minds. 

He’s always thought he would prefer the beatings. 

xxx 

Two days pass without Napoleon seeing Illya again. The others take turns staying with Napoleon, one or two of them at a time. Napoleon silently observes each of them, storing away any bit of information that might be useful. It’s a welcome distraction from the pain. His shoulders burn from being kept in the same position for so long and his ribs ache fiercely with every breath he takes. His knee is in bad shape, too. He can feel the swelling. 

He doesn’t even notice the first time he falls asleep, about twenty hours in, is only aware of it when he’s awakened by a slap. He does his best to stay awake after that, as much out of spite as anything else, but it proves more difficult than he expected, and as time passes he finds himself nodding off more and more frequently. It’s only ever for a few seconds--there’s always a slap or a shout or a bucket of ice water to wake him again. 

The fatigue grows like a physical thing, an unrelenting heaviness in his body and mind. His thoughts begin to feel foggy and sluggish. He barely even notices at first when Illya appears. 

“Cowboy? Are you okay?” The Russian’s voice is taut with worry as he kneels down in front of Napoleon. 

“Illya. What the fuck is going on?” Napoleon isn’t sure he’s even said it aloud until Illya responds.

“You need to sleep.”

Napoleon frowns. “No. No, you need t’ tell me why you left.”

“I promise, I will explain everything. But we do not have much time. A few hours at best. You need to sleep.”

Napoleon tries to fight it, but the pull of sleep is too strong and everything goes black.

xxx 

It isn’t enough. Illya knows it’s not enough. He does whatever he can to get time with Napoleon alone so that the American can get in an hour or two of sleep, but even that is dangerous. If Illya is exposed, it’s over for both of them. He has to keep his cover intact until he can get Napoleon out of here.

He’d known it was a bad idea to keep Napoleon and Gaby in the dark. He’d told Waverly as much, but Waverly had insisted that in order for him to fully infiltrate the criminal outfit, his ties to UNCLE needed to appear to be fully severed. Illya should have argued, but he didn’t. 

And now Napoleon is paying the price. 

It’s been four days. The cuts and bruises on the American’s face stand out heavily against paper-white skin and there are dark circles under dulled, bloodshot eyes. There’s a vacancy in his expression, and he’s long since stopped making any sort of smart remark. This morning, Rostya had laughed while telling them about Napoleon speaking to someone that wasn’t there.

It had taken all of Illya’s strength not to kill all of them right then and there. 

The day had crawled on horribly slowly after that. Illya’s been lying awake in the dark these past few hours, waiting to be with Napoleon again, mulling over the pros and cons of various escape plans. 

“Illya.”

He turns over on his cot, pretending like he’s just woken up. He looks up at Rostya. “What time is it?”

“Two. It’s your shift.” 

Illya makes his way to the room where Napoleon is being held, dread building in his stomach. He can’t put his finger on it, but something had seemed strange in Rostya’s voice. The anxiety only grows as he reaches the door, and then he opens it and his heart plummets. 

Yuriy is crouched next to Napoleon, a knife in his hand. He looks up as Illya enters. 

“Yuriy,” Illya says slowly, struggling to keep his voice steady. “What is this?”

“Your tactic isn’t working,” Yuriy says. “I am tired of it.” He grabs a handful of Napoleon’s hair, yanking his head up and pressing the blade against Napoleon’s throat. “I say we kill him and get it over with.”

“Don’t!” Illya cries, launching himself forward. 

Yuriy moves fast, standing and turning, the knife held down by his side. By the time Illya sees his mistake, it’s too late for him to do anything about it. 

The knife goes into his side near his left hip. 

“I’m not as stupid as you think I am,” Yuriy says. 

Illya breathes heavily as the rage begins to build, so hot that he barely feels the pain of the knife being removed. 

“How long have you known?” he grinds out through gritted teeth. 

Yuriy smiles. “Since the minute you brought him here.”

Guilt mixes with the rage, now, as realization hits. All of Napoleon’s suffering has been for nothing. His breathing quickens as his hands begin to tremble. 

“I’m going to kill you.”

xxx to be continued…

#whumptober2023 #no.19 #psychological #“i'm not as stupid as you think i am” #the man from uncle #tmfu #fic #sleep deprivation #stabbed #napoleon solo #illya kuryakin #tmfu fic #whumptober #my writing #my fic #whump #whump fic

[heytheredeann]

No clear skies

Tags: Alternate Universe - Magic, Illya's Moods Influence The Weather AU, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Hurt Napoleon Solo, (only briefly LOL), Mostly Napollya-centric, Can be read as Gen or OT3 I'd say, Cuddling & Snuggling, Snippets

Notes: Hellooo, happy birthday @ikeepwatchinghelicopters! Or at least I HOPE I remembered it right loooool If not, it's an early/late birthday present looool Regardless, I hope you will like it, that little AU post you wrote just wouldn't leave me alone, I had to write something for it! Thank you for sharing your ideas with us, I always love seeing you on my dash <3 This is inspired by this post about an AU in which Illya's mood influences the weather. I really liked the idea and look, I wrote something cute! With only a LITTLE BIT of whump sprinkled in! Yay me looool

.

.

Their partnership starts off… kind of rocky.

-

“Solo, I swear to god, if you don’t go apologize I will strangle you,” Gaby snaps, trying to press herself harder against the wall in an attempt at evading the rain. Her pants are already half-way soaked, and her efforts prove to be useless when the wind suddenly picks up and blows the rain right on their faces.

“He’s being dramatic,” Napoleon protests, which, honestly, he is! He was just poking a little fun at him, and okay, perhaps he was purposefully trying to rile him up to see if it would get him punched in the face or not, but still, there was no reason to react with a whole fucking storm.

“I don’t care. Either apologize or I’ll improve his mood myself by killing you.”

Rude.

Probably effective, though.

Napoleon huffs, squares his shoulders and prepares himself to brave the elements to go and apologize to their wayward partner.

“Fine, but when I catch my death out there I expect you to cry at my funeral.”

[More on Ao3]

#napollya #gapollya #tmfu fic #the man from uncle #tmfu #illya x napoleo x gaby #not spn #my fanfic #this was fun to write looool

[cardierreh15]

Who wants some Napoleon Solo action? 🥰🍯

#henry cavill #napoleon solo #TMFU #tmfu fic #Napoleon #Henry Cavill x black!female oc #Henry Cavill x black!curvy oc #Henry Cavill x black!oc #Napoleon Solo x black!female oc #Napoleon Solo x black!reader #Napoleon Solo x black!curvy oc #Virgo’s Groove

[napollya-inspiration]

NOT ANOTHER WIP IDEA THATS BASICALLY ME RUNNING WITH A HEADCANON AND EXPLORING EVERY SINGLE ANGLE IN WHICH THIS IS PAINFUL

#*sigh* yes this is about Napoleon Solo #I read a throwaway line about how he cooks bc he knows hunger #and like growing up at the time he did and being sent to war #like having experienced starvation over long periods of time #and like #what if they get trapped or kidnapped and they run out of food #I just- #need to finish the WIP I’m working #napollya #tmfu #tmfu fic

[eggcompany]

Big Baby

Illya wakes up and feels so sad. Luckily his lovers care for him so well. Gaby cuddles and bathes him, Napoleon brings him sweet breakfast pastries and a special present. What will he think when the american brings him a stuffed teddy bear?

“Illya? Darling, why are you still in bed? Are you sick? It’s time for breakfast, come on.” Napoleon said as he walked fully dressed back into the bedroom where the Russian was still laying in bed. He rolled over and whined. 

“…sad…” He said without looking at the American man. 

“You’re sad?” Napoleon asked as he walked over to put a hand on Illya’s shoulder. 

“yes” Illya said in a quiet voice, barely above a whisper. 

“Are you sad because of something or do you just feel sad?” Napoleon asked and rubbed slightly at the cold bicep and shoulder under his hand. Illya answered after a long moment. 

“…miss my mama” He said in a shameful voice. Napoleon's heart aches for the other man. Always acting so tough but still such a poor little boy on the inside. They only yet get to see this vulnerable, soft side to him in such rarity sometimes they forget it even exists. 

“Oh Peril, that’s a big reason to be sad. Do you want something?” Solo asked. He knew the ex KGB wouldn’t ask for anything but he needed to ask. 

“I’m cold too” Illya sighed out and deflated into a big pouty puddle. His shoulders folded forward as he curled in on himself, he drew his knees up slightly too. ‘ How could someone so big look so small?’ thought the american as he plotted a good plan. 

“Do you want Gaby to come cuddle with you? I’ll go get a nice warm breakfast for all of us and we can stay in all today and go out tonight. Does that sound okay Darling?” The American asked and continued to rub and massage at the others shoulder, arm, and back. Illya sighed and nodded, keeping his eyes down and away from where his lover stood over him. 

“… yeah. thanks Napoleosha” he said and glanced up at the shimmering blue eyes looking down at him. 

“You’re welcome” Napoleon said quietly and rubbed down the expanse of Illya’s back before leaving the room. 

“Hey Gab, Illya's sad so I’m going to go get hot pastries and cocoa. He’s cold so go cuddle the ice pop.” Napoleon said when he walked back out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

“Aww poor baby! Make sure to get him extra.” Gaby said with her hand over her heart as she finishes pulling up her stockings. She looked around for a moment and just pulled off her dress and grabbed the shirt she had slept in. 

“Yeah I’ll try and find the sweetest ones. He said he misses his mama so I think you’d be better to cuddle him right now. I’ll be back soon.” Napoleon explained and kissed the German girl's head. She patted his arm and walked toward the doors but stopped abruptly. She turned and looked at the man over her shoulder. 

“You know… I had an idea while we were coming back last night…” 

“Peril! Gaby! I’m back. Sit up, I got something to eat.” Napoleon said loudly as he relocked the door behind him. He had a large bag of pastries wrapped up in papers and a bag of lidded hot chocolate cups.

He toes off his shoes and opens the bedroom doors again. Illya was dreary eyed as he sat up in bed, Gaby rubbed up and down his back and smiled at him with just a hint of pity.  Illya yawned and blinked open his eyes. Napoleon smiled as he walked closer and noticed the blanket marks that lashed across the Russians ribs and side. 

“I got breakfast. Smells pretty good, yeah?” Napoleon said as he opened the bag under Illya's nose. He yawned and sniffed at the bag. 

Gaby stood up and grabbed a bath towel and came back to her spot on the bed. She spread it out for crumbs under them. Illya was still pouting but had his hand down in the bag. He fished out what looked like heaven drizzled in chocolate. 

Soon the pastries were gone, the cocoa was drunk, and Illya was getting his face wiped gently by the American while Gaby turned on some music, nice and quiet. 

“Are you still hungry? Do you want something else?” Napoleon said quietly as he looked at Illya with eyes full of love. Illya shook his head. He always got so quiet when he got in these moods. 

“Do you want anything that’s not food?” Gaby asked and Illya picked at his hands for a moment. He felt too seen under the gaze of both his lovers. 

“Can I just sit and listen to music? I… I might want to bathe too…” Illya said and only spared a glance up at Gaby for a moment before looking back down at his hands. Napoleon kissed his forehead and walked toward the bathroom. 

“Well I’ll fill the tub and add some scents. Perhaps me and Gab will go on a short walk?” Napoleon said from the doorway of the washroom. 

“Oh? What do you think, Doll? Is it okay if we go on a walk or do you want me to stay? I’m sure Solo can handle himself.” Gaby said and looked between the dark haired man and the blonde. Illya looked up at her with his eyes wide and twinkling. 

“I... that would be okay. Good.” He said and looked down at himself. He felt… wrong. Too big for himself. Too gangly and awkward. Too much. Too much. 

“Well then, have fun. I will be back soon. Gaby I’ll get that candy you wanted.” Napoleon said as he put on his coat and stepped out the door with a wink. 

“Hey Ice pop, I got you something.” Napoleon said in a sing-song voice as he locked the door and made his way to the bedroom where he heard hushed voices. 

“Another treat? Bear I’m too full, save it for later.” Illya whined as Gaby continued to rub a white towel around his head and neck. Napoleon smiled at him as he held a bag behind his back. He dropped the bag to be hidden by the end of the bed. 

“It’s not food. Me and Gaby wanted to get you something special. If you don’t want it, we can always take it back, okay?” Napoleon said in a serious but caring voice. Gaby pulled back and went to put the towel on the rack to dry. 

“I am… getting nervous. Why? What you get me?” Illya asked and looked a bit panicked. His hands tensed a few times against the blanket that covered his legs. 

Napoleon bent down and revealed a large brown teddy bear with a tan nose and belly. It was nearly three and a half feet tall and had soft sewn eyes and nose. 

Illya stared at the item with big surprised eyes and a blank face. A trained blank face. One that seemed like it wanted to show emotion but years of training kept it blank and void. 

“You bought a toy.” Illya said in a quiet voice, eyes drawn to look at each detail on the plush item. 

“ We bought you a toy. If you really don’t want it I can go bring it back, no harm no foul. It’s okay Peril.” Napoleon offered when Illya didn’t move to touch the toy or make an expression of joy or otherwise. Gaby made her way to stand between Illya on the bed and Napoleon still standing at the foot of it. 

“We wanted you to have something… nice. I’ve got my nice pajamas and Solo has his nice soaps and such. We can always get you something else.” Gaby offered to the blonde as she smiled. Illya looked at her and then back at the bear. 

“You… you got me…detskaya veshch…” ( baby thing ) Illya said quietly as his breathing picked up slightly. He stared at the toy as his hands twitched against the sheets again. Grabbing tightly only to relax a bit and grab up again. Gaby raised an eyebrow at Napoleon and stepped closer to Illya. 

“Do you want to touch it?” The american offered with that dashing heart melting smile he puts on only for the people he likes. With a small nod Illya answered quietly. 

“Please” 

Napoleon extended his hand and watched as the Russian man ran the tips of his fingers gently over the fluffy body of the toy. Illya's eyes were round and sparkling as he looked over the item. He touched the soft tan paws and the embroidered nose. 

They had chosen the bear for this reason. Illya sometimes felt too small for his skin. Too big, too awkward, too much. A regular bear would make it worse. However, a bear that was as long as his torso wouldn’t. 

Gaby moved to sit facing the tall man on the bed crisscrossing her legs. She moved to take the toy and hold it in her lap in front of the man. 

“What do you think of this?” Gaby said quietly. Her eyes were kind and her voice was laced with that warm kind of affection that made Illya feel squishy on the inside. 

 Illya kept his eyes down on the toy. His breaths were long and only an inch away from being sighs. His stone trained face fell and revealed a nearly bratty pout and big needy eyes. 

“It’s soft… and big. I… May I hold it?” Illya said and looked up into Gaby's eyes. His twinkled and shone like a babe looking at a bottle. 

“It’s your toy. You can hold it without asking.” Gaby said with a smile as he held the bear up so Illya could grasp it. She said it in that chest melting sweet voice again. 

“Oh…” Illya whispered as his hands shook as he held the bear under the arms. He squeezed it and moved his fingers around against the fabric. 

He slowly brought the toy forward toward his still bare chest. His eyes shifted around the bed, trying to look at the others in the room. He finally wrapped his arms around the bear's thick middle and pressed it against his skin, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes caught on a knot in the wooden floor and kept them there. 

Gaby and Napoleon smiled as they watched the man hold the toy. Napoleon felt happy and smiled until he noticed the Russians shaking bottom lip. 

“Peril? What’s wrong? What’s wrong sweetheart?” The American said as he hurried to the Russians side, squatting next to the bed. 

“eto rebenok” ( this is a child ) Illya said quietly and cuddled the toy and laid his cheek on the top of its head. His lip wobbled and he rubbed his cheek against the top of the bear’s head silently as the others watched him. 

Gaby kept her eyes on his hands where he was holding onto the toy with such gentleness. As if the toy would break and shatter in his hands. Napoleon watched his face for any signs of anything. He just saw slightly dazed eyes, like Illya was spacing out. 

“Can I go back for sleep? I am tired.” Illya asked before he let out a yawn minutes later. Gaby leaned forward onto her hands and knees and kissed his forehead. Napoleon did the same before  turning off the lights and closing the curtains. 

“Of course. Do you want another blanket or pillow or anything?” Gaby asked as she stroked through the short blonde hair. Illya shook his head and rolled over to lay on his side, arms encircling the bear. 

 Such a big baby, but a baby nonetheless.

#fanfic #egg_company #the man from uncle #illya x napoleon x gaby #illya kuryakin #napoleon solo #gaby teller #tmfu fic #tmfu agere fic #napollya

[terresdebrume]

I've been rereading my TMFU fic and friends, I'm not even gonna pretend to be modest about it

I went hard on those stories, and they hold up Great

#Matt writes #the man from u.n.c.l.e. #tmfu fic

[canardroublard]

so give me a line and take me home chapter 6

I am not dead and very sorry this took so long! Here ya go

#so give me a line and take me home #tmfu #the man from uncle #tmfu fic #tmfu ot3

[cha-melodius]

Thanks to @rmd-writes, @indomitable-love, and @three-drink-amy for the tags to share my winter/holiday-themed fics! I'll be reblogging a couple of these that have their own cover art over the coming weeks, but this is a good excuse to collect them all in one place! I have... quite a few, especially after last year lol.

Red, White & Royal Blue

The Spirit of Giving T, 2.3k; Neighbors AU, Henry pisses Alex off by signing up to make enchiladas at their co-op holiday party.

May Your New Years Dreams Come True T, 3.1k; Office AU, Henry and Alex participate in a competition to see who can bring the hottest date to the office NYE party.

The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

You Must Be A Christmas Tree (You Light Up The Room) T, 20k; Roommates AU, Napoleon agrees to be Illya's fake boyfriend for his design house's holiday party.

The Makings of a Perfect Christmastime T, 22k; 1960s non-spy AU, a screwball romantic comedy of errors based on the 1945 movie Christmas in Connecticut.

In the Morse Code of the Brake Lights T, 18k; Modern AU, Napoleon and Illya are strangers who share a rental car across the country (and fall in love) after their flights are canceled, feat. demisexual Illya.

A Home for the Holidays G, 1.3k; Canon-setting, Napoleon and Illya decorate a Christmas tree (well, Napoleon decorates, Illya complains).

Consider the Price to an Elf G, 3.1k; Modern AU, Napoleon looks after his boss's daughter and gets a crush on Illya the mall-Santa photography elf.

Another Christmas Song (This Time I’ll Sing Along) G, 2.8k; Neighbors AU, Napoleon is extremely crabby about carolers and Illya starts serenading him through the wall.

How’s About Cookin’ Something Up With Me? T, 4.3k; Teachers AU, Napoleon helps Illya bake cookies for the annual staff holiday party.

Lokius

Got My Love to Keep Me Warm G, 1.3k; Canon-setting, Loki and Mobius get temporarily stuck at a German Christmas market.

Don We Now Our Gay Apparel G, 1.9k; Office AU, Loki and Mobius flirt at the ugly holiday sweater-themed holiday party.

Cold Light M, 3.7k; Modern AU, Loki & Mobius' lives become inextricably entangled when they meet on a deserted Norwegian road (truly just a winter fic and not a holiday one, but I'm including it anyway).

Not sure who has holiday themed fics who hasn't done this, but tagging @clottedcreamfudge, @dumbpeachjuice, @cricketnationrise, @14carrotghoul, @celaestis1, @welcometololaland, @everwitch-magiks, @myheartalivewrites, @leaves-of-laurelin, @nicijones, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @mirilyawrites, @heytheredeann, and literally anyone else who has written a holiday or winter-themed fic of any kind, please share the love and tag me!

#rwrb #firstprince #napollya #tmfu #lokius #red white and royal blue #rwrb fic #firstprince fic #the man from uncle #the man from u.n.c.l.e. #tmfu fic #napollya fic #lokius fic #holiday fic #holiday fanfic #'tis the season

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #28

This is an AU based on the 2009 film Push. So, The Man From UNCLE but with super powers!

xxx we might not make it to the morning 

“Ah, there you are. I was wondering if you’d come.” One corner of her mouth is upturned, and there’s nothing in Victoria’s tone, in the way she speaks, that’s out of the ordinary. And yet…There’s something there, something that tickles the back of Napoleon’s mind and then disappears the moment he reaches for it, like grasping at smoke.

It unsettles him, even as he puts on a false smile of his own, calm and full of charm. “How could I not? When a stunning woman such as yourself extends an invitation, one would be a fool not to accept it. I brought champagne.” He lifts the bottle slightly, and she steps out of the doorway so Napoleon can enter the suite, closing the door behind him. Napoleon sets the champagne down and turns to Victoria with one eyebrow quirked. “So what is it you wanted to discuss? An art deal, perhaps?”

Victoria grins broadly, showing pearly white teeth that remind Napoleon of a wolf’s, and she lets out a laugh. “Come now, Napoleon. Neither of us is that naive, so let’s not pretend.”

Napoleon’s stomach ties itself in knots at the use of his real name, but he’s careful not to let his shock show. His cover is blown, but he has to keep his head. “Damn,” he says. “I thought I was doing so well.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, Agent Solo. You were doing very well!”

“What, so you found a Watcher, then? A Sniff?”

The woman watches him out from under heavy, dark lashes. There’s something predatory in her gaze, and Napoleon feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His strategy shifts immediately from gathering what intelligence he can to finding a way out of here, now.

But then…she speaks. And realization barely has time to hit him before her words crash over him and into him, entangling her lies with his reality.

“You really shouldn’t trust that big Russian ape, you know.”

Napoleon frowns. She’s only barely started to Push, and the contradicting thoughts in his mind confuse him. Surely she can’t mean…“Illya?” 

“Kuryakin, yes. He’s still working with them. It’s dreadful, really, the way he’s using you and dear little Gaby. Playing you for fools.”

Confusion slowly turns to anger, and Napoleon feels his hands curl into fists. “I’ll kill him.”

He doesn’t notice Victoria’s amused smile, or the blackness of her eyes. “Now, there’s an idea. He’ll see you coming, though. The man is tracking you, after all.”

Napoleon’s thoughts are heavy and plodding, like there’s weights around their ankles, and it takes him a long moment before he says, “That’s impossible. I check my clothes, and my shoes.”

Victoria sighs, walking past Napoleon and to the nightstand next to the bed. He turns to watch her. “No, no darling. You misunderstand me. He didn’t place the tracker on you, did he? He planted it in you, in your belly.” 

Napoleon’s heart rate picks up, hands breaking into a sweat. His head hurts. This doesn’t seem right, but she’s said so and--

“The bastard,” he says.

“Indeed.” She opens the nightstand drawer and pulls something out, lifting it to show him. A small paring knife. She places the point against the tip of her finger and looks at it thoughtfully. “If you want to kill him, which you do, you’ll need to get that pesky tracker out first and destroy it.”

A tracker, a Russian tracker inside him all this time, Kuryakin and the fucking KGB aware of his every move, his every secret…All of it lies. His trust given to the enemy, to a man who’s needled his way into his life and used him. 

He needs to get the tracker out and smash it to pieces. And then he needs to find Illya and smash him to pieces, too.

Victoria closes the space between herself and Napoleon and reaches up with one hand, gently running the back of her long fingers down his face, lingering at his jaw. 

“I’d love to stay and watch, I really would, but unfortunately I’ve more important matters to see to. Much less entertaining, though. Pity.” She sighs wistfully and holds out the knife. “You’ll need this. A bit short, but it’s sharp enough.”

Napoleon takes the blade from Victoria and she plants a kiss on his lips, lingering a long moment before she pulls away with a smile. 

“Goodbye now, Napoleon. We shan’t be seeing each other again, I don’t think. And do be quiet, we don’t want anyone coming in here and trying to stop you.”

Napoleon nods idly, staring down at the small weapon he’s been handed as Victoria leaves the suite.

The agent turns the knife in his hand so it’s pointed toward his belly. His body’s instinct to survive is shouting at him, trying to seize control of his limbs. But there’s a tracker inside him, put there by a man who has lied to him, violated him, betrayed him. And he needs to get it out. He has to. Mind overrides body and he drives the knife forward, plunging it into the right side of his torso, halfway between ribs and hip. The pain pulls the breath out of him and the blood is instant, welling up around the blade and soaking his crisp, white shirt. He’s on the floor before he knows he’s falling, sitting on the carpet against the settee, his legs outstretched before him. His heart pounds in his chest, in his ears, as he starts to pull the knife to the left (the woman wasn’t lying, the knife is sharp) and his hands begin to tremble as more blood spills from him. His body shakes as he continues, quaking with the effort of containing the screams that want to erupt from him--screams of agony, of hurt, of rage. He doesn’t let them out though, he can’t. Only the occasional whimper or groan slips through his lips, though the sounds are quickly stifled. Mostly he gasps, rapid, sharp breaths through flared nostrils, his mouth drawn into a thin grimace.

He wants to stop.

But then Victoria’s voice again, and her words push every other conscious thought aside so that he’s focused only on his task. To get the tracker out. 

He’s shaking so badly he can hardly hold the knife, so he wraps his left hand around his right and then he keeps moving. He doesn’t think about the fact that his lap is becoming increasingly wet and warm as blood spills from the lengthening split in his belly. Doesn’t think about the fact that, despite the sweat on his forehead, he’s growing colder. 

He has to get the tracker out.

And then he’s going to kill Illya Kuryakin.

xxx 

They don’t wait for the girl at the front desk to give them a key. They don’t have the time, and Illya can blast the door open anyway, and does so with more strength than Gaby has seen in a while, nearly knocking it from its hinges. He bursts into the room and then freezes so abruptly that Gaby runs into the back of him. 

“Illya!” she gripes, and steps out from around him and then she freezes, too. “Mein Gott.”

Napoleon is on the floor, slumped against a settee, his face shiny with sweat and a sickly shade of gray and there’s blood, there’s so much blood all over his front and his hands and the white carpet beneath him and she’s seen a lot since working with Waverly but this…Bile rises in her throat and she has to turn away, doubling over and clutching her stomach and waiting for the moment to pass. This seems to rouse Illya from his daze and her charges forward. 

“Cowboy!” he cries, and Gaby looks up in time to see the Russian fall to his knees beside the agent. He’s muttering in Russian, words too low and fast for Gaby to understand but she thinks he may be praying as he puts two fingers to Napoleon’s neck, searching for a pulse. 

“Is he--”

“He is alive,” Illya says. “Go find clean towels, we must try and control the bleeding.”

Gaby nods, hurrying off to the bathroom, and she’s grateful to have a moment to herself, to collect herself as she collects the towels. She’s strong and Napoleon Solo is strong and it’s going to be okay. 

That’s when the shouting starts. 

She hears Illya first. “Solo, what are you--You are badly injured you must--”

And then Napoleon, and the tone in his voice sends ice in her veins. 

“Get the fuck off me, I’ll kill you!” There’s a tiredness in his voice, a slurred quality to his words that she knows comes with being badly hurt, but even so the words are laced with fury and hatred and she hurries back to the two agents. 

Napoleon has a knife in his red-with-blood hand, holding it up in front of him, and Gaby can see it shaking. Illya is a step back, hands up in a gesture of retreat, face twisted in hurt and confusion. 

“Napoleon!” 

Gaby’s cry gets his attention and he looks over at her, then down at his belly. “I have to get it out. Gaby, I--I have to get it out!” 

And then he’s aiming the knife at himself, moving quickly but Illya is quicker and grabs both his wrists. The knife clatters to the ground and Napoleon’s face darkens with rage. 

“Cowboy, it’s me!” Illya cries. “You’re badly wounded, we have to get you to help, do you understand?”

“You’re a liar,” Napoleon snarls, jerking slightly as he tries to free himself from the Russian’s grip. The action is quickly followed by a sound of pain and his eyes squeeze shut.

“Illya, let him go,” Gaby says, barely keeping her voice from shaking. “He’ll hurt himself more trying to fight you.”

“He will hurt himself anyway if I let him go.” There’s desperation in Illya’s voice, written on his face and in his body, in the uncertainty that is as plain in his grip as the strength. “It--it is bad, Gaby. The towels--he needs the towels.”

Gaby nods, kneeling beside the two men and it’s only then, with the blood on the carpet soaking through the knees of her trousers, that she fully takes in Napoleon’s injury. It’s nothing short of ghastly--a long, ragged cut running from one side of his belly to the other. It's hard to tell but she notes that there doesn't seem to be anything other than blood spilling from the gash. It offers some comfort, but not much. 

She’s seen what a powerful Pusher can do, and Victoria is obviously not short on power. It’s plain that Napoleon doesn’t have much strength left in him, but whatever she’s planted in his mind is compelling him to use every ounce of it acting on whatever she’s told him to do, even if it kills him. 

She positions herself next to Illya, who’s still holding Napoleon’s wrists, and presses a towel to the long gash, and another, and it’s obvious that he’s in agony but he doesn’t scream, just writhes weakly and lets out small, hair raising whimpers.

“We can’t move him like this,” Gaby says. “Maybe if he were calm, but he is bleeding too much and there’s no way he’ll let you get him out of here. He needs a Stitch. You know one here in Rome, don’t you? Go make the call.”

Illya’s jaw works, eyes growing watery, and he shakes his head once. “I will give you the number. I won’t leave him.”

“You have to!” she snaps, then sighs. “Illya, you have to.”

He reluctantly releases his hold on Napoleon, who immediately reaches for the towels Gaby’s holding against his wound. He’s weak, though, and Gaby easily stops him, taking his bloody hands in hers.

“Go!” she barks, and Illya hurries away. 

“He--he--” Napoleon gasps, looking at Gaby with eyes wide and wild.

“What is it, Solo?” she says gently, hoping that she can coax something out that will help her deal with whatever lies Victoria has forced on him.

“He lied to us. The--the--the bastard! Put a tracker in me…I have to get it out.”

So that’s what Victoria told him. She has to think quickly.

“You did!” she says, and his brow furrows in confusion.

“What?” His hands relax in hers, just slightly. 

“You already got it out,” she says, slowly releasing one of his hands and waiting for a moment to make sure he doesn’t try and hurt himself again. Then she reaches into her pocket and draws out one of the beads from her broken bracelet and holds it up. “See? It was on the floor, you must have missed it. You already got it out.”

He still looks slightly bewildered, but he nods slowly. “I got it out,” he murmurs, and lets out a long sigh, and as he does his eyes drift shut and his head dips down toward his chest. 

“Solo!” Gaby puts her hand on his face, tilting his head upward. Her already hammering heart beats so fast that it aches, with fear, with desperation. A Stitch can’t help a dead man. “Solo, come on. You have to stay awake until help comes. Napoleon!”

She almost weeps with relief when she hears Illya’s voice in the hall, and he appears a moment later, a short, harsh-looking older woman in tow. 

“Christ, that’s a lot of blood,” she says in a thick Dublin as she sets eyes on Napoleon. “Is he still breathing?”

Gaby nods. “He’s alive.”

“Alright, help me get him onto his back.”

Illya and Gaby move quickly and carefully, shifting Napoleon so that he’s lying flat on his back on the blood-soaked floor. The woman places her hand on Napoleon’s belly, one on either side of the wound. She glances up at Illya. 

“Your friend is about to make a lot of noise. Might bring some unwanted attention.”

“I will deal with it, Brigid,” Illya practically growls. “Just help him!”

Brigid nods and slowly starts to move her hands. Gaby watches in fascinated horror as the torn flesh deep within the wound begins to knit. As it does, Napoleon stirs, just a little at first, a pained whimper escaping his lips. Whimper becomes groan, and he writhes under Brigid’s hands, and then his back arches and he screams and the sound makes Gaby’s stomach churn. Brigid doesn’t seem phased, barely even seems to notice, just continues her bloody work. Gaby has to blink back tears and she looks up to see Illya doing the same, the big Russian’s jaw tense as he stares up at the ceiling while Napoleon cries out. 

And then it’s over and Napoleon’s body goes limp, sweat beading his forehead as his head lolls to one side, his breath coming in high, breathy gasps.

“Boy’s just been through hell,” Brigid says, standing. “But he’ll be back on his feet in a few hours.”

“Thank you,” Illya says. “Thank you.”

Brigid just nods. “You owe me one, Kuryakin.” And she leaves the apartment without another word. Illya watches her go, then turns to Gaby. 

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Are you?”

Illya sniffs once, looking away, then looks back at her. “The way he spoke to me…He was so angry.”

There’s a noise in the hall and Gaby swears under her breath.

“Illya, we need to get him out of here.”

“He does not trust me.” Illya’s voice is small. Broken.

“We’ll figure it out,” Gaby says softly. 

Illya nods, his expression darkening. “And then we find Victoria.”

“And then we find Victoria,” Gaby agrees.

It doesn’t matter how powerful Victoria Vinciguera is. She’s going to pay for this.

xxx 

#whumptober2023 #no.28 #bloody knife #the man from uncle #fic #blood tw #violence tw #self harm tw #self injury tw #brainwashed #magical healing #painful healing #napoleon solo #illya kuryakin #tmfu #tmfu fic #tmfu au #super hero au #push au #whumptober #my writing #my fic #whump #whump fic

[heytheredeann]

Not a love song

Tags: Post-Canon, Mentions of Gaby Teller, Misunderstandings, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Alterous attraction, Asexual Character, asexual illya kuryakin, Aromantic Character, Aromantic Napoleon Solo, Angst with a Happy Ending, Internalized Acephobia (only like one line of dialogue), Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sharing a Bed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt Napoleon Solo (only a little bit - to make him TALK loool)

Notes: This fic exists because with the new year I figured I'd try to be change I want to see in the world, and I definitely would love to have more aspec fics to read LOL. Sidenote for those who don't know: the term "alterous attraction" indicates a feeling that is not necessarily platonic but is not romantic either, it's something in-between that doesn't fit into either label or that is not easily identifiable as one or the other, and that's what I imagine Napoleon is experiencing (I struggled to pick a relationship tag, I wish Ao3 had a third option LOL). He's just there like "I WANT HIM" "Like a boyfriend?" "DUNNO, I W A N T HIM *grabby hands *". Illya's feelings could be straight up romantic or platonic or alterous as well, his POV is not shown so *shrug *. I tend to headcanon him as biromantic, but if you want to read aro Illya into this I definitely won't complain LOL. That's all, I think, enjoy!

.

It’s possible that Napoleon might have—misread the situation.

Though really, how is this his fault? Illya is the one sending mixed signals all around.

First he gets all cozy with him, always finding an excuse to touch him, be it with a hand on the small of his back, an arm around his shoulders as they sit close together or even his hands on his hips as he leans to look over his shoulder, and then, when Napoleon starts flirting back, he closes up like a clam.

Perhaps Illya is just confused about his feelings. Maybe he’s never been with a man before, and though he very obviously started indicating that he wants him close he wasn’t sure what to do once Napoleon started responding.

It would be understandable, and Napoleon should perhaps just talk to him about it, but—Illya has been steering clear of him for a week now, since when Napoleon got tipsy and impatient and he straight up tried to come on to him, and he isn’t sure what to do about it now that he might have completely ruined everything.

He was stupid, he shouldn’t have jumped the gun like that, he should have tried to ease Illya into it, but—he missed him. The most concerning part of the whole thing wasn’t the insistent pull of want that began growing in the pit of his stomach as Illya started freely touching him, that deep-seated desire to be held in his arms, tangled together under the sheets and allowed to relax skin to skin after a good fuck, that was acceptable, normal, but—

What he wasn’t prepared for was the panic that would overtake him the moment Illya started pulling away from him.

[More on Ao3]

#napollya #napollya fic #tmfu fic #ace illya #aro napoleon #the man from uncle #napoleon x illya #tmfu #not spn #my fanfic #this has been ready for ages tbh looool #but that's it i'm done re-reading it BYE #i'm probably not completely happy with it because it's so self-indulgent but THAT'S THE DEVIL TALKING. IF I DON'T INDULGE MYSELF WHO WILL #so here i'm finally posting it looool

[ikeepwatchinghelicopters]

Random thought: (I apologise if this has been written already.)

Napoleon tries to seduce Illya with food. He starts bringing food or baked goods to work. He tries to cover it up by sharing them with Gaby/Waverly/other UNCLE agents too, but he always makes the food primarily for Illya. He starts inviting Gaby and Illya over for dinner more often. However, he always comes up with some excuse why he is giving Illya food. Like: "Hey, Peril? Wanna come over for dinner? I made way more food than I can eat and Gaby already turned me down because she has some other plans."

His excuses get more and more flimsy with time and everyone, literally everyone around them realises that Napoleon is trying to seduce Illya with food. Everyone except Illya, who is so deep into believing Napoleon could never like him back that the thought that the food is something else than food doesn't even cross his mind.

At some points it crosses from being amusing to watch to being frustrating, so Gaby (and probably even Waverly) start dropping very not subtle hints about Napoleon's intentions.

#tmfu #napollya #napoleon solo #illya kuryakin #gaby teller #alexander waverly #fic idea #random thought #feel free to write the fic #kind of himbo illya

[napollya-inspiration]

atomic blonde au

I kind of want to start a series about writing this fic just because I can. I make no promises of finishing it. I just think that my process for this will be so different - as I mostly adjust the process to each fic that's pretty normal for me - but this has been baking for the past 6 years.

A big part of why I want to write this is to explore something I kind of touched on in Tangled Up, which I wrote in 2017. That fic needs some heavy editing from my perspective today, but I started to deal with the dynamic of Gaby being East German and getting mixed up with Napoleon as an American and Illya as a Russian and what that would mean for her. How do her sentiments differ from theirs as someone who got into the spy business to get out of the GDR?

“He’s a Russian.” She said like it explained things. “What do you mean?” “I am from East Germany.” She looked around for a moment and stopped. “Look, they say Russia is our big brother. But not in the way big brothers can be protective and super cool. More in the way big brothers can be oppressing and authoritative. Maybe even abusing.” She said in a hushed voice but with a stress that convinced Napoleon she meant every word. It made sense. Very few of the East Germans loved the Russians or what they had done to their country. The fear of the Stasi at all times and the propaganda education didn’t help. “Are you afraid?” He asked, honestly concerned. “No, no.” Gaby started walking again. Her tone lightened. “Illya is incredibly soft, although he may not look like it. Excerpt from Tangled Up

Again, I would improve a lot of things about this fic today, but this was me scratching the surface of a dynamic that I know from growing up in what used to be East Germany. Don't get me wrong, the wall had been down for ten years when I was born, but I felt ripple effects even as I was growing up. My mom was 18 when the wall fell. I had a history teacher who used to patrol the border. My parents hadn't ever eaten a kiwi until they were 20 and had no clue how you ate one when they got it from the store. My grandpa's brother escaped to the West and doesn't talk to my family anymore.

It's very much a reality of growing up German.

This is what I love about Atomic Blonde. Sure, the plot is awesome, but you can see the country being reunited as a backdrop. While all countries continue to hunt and kill each other, the Cold War "ends."

It's definitely something I want to bring into the fanfic. The surreality of the divided city. I already posted this snippet from the WIP, so I don't feel bad about it, but the way I start to introduce this dynamic is through Napoleon's musings as his plane descends on Berlin.

Out of all the places, Berlin is one of the dirtiest to spend your time as a spy. Nowhere else is the density of spies per capita this high.  And it shows.  Napoleon despises it. The desperation of the West German Citizens holding onto their city and being fed by the West like a helpless infant with spoons that are literal airplanes. And then there’s the desperation of the East Germans, fenced in by their own government and longing for the American dream like it was going to fix anything. And above all, every fucking government trying to profit from their collective desperation.  When a hundred and sixty yards-wide missile field divides a city, you know to be rather careful where you step.

Fun fact: you can see how Berlin used to be divided to this day if you look at it from above at night:

Let me know if you are interested in this kind of behind-the-scenes content!

#napollya #tmfu au #tmfu fic #atomic blonde au #who won (and what was the fucking game anyway) #nici writes

[eggcompany]

Napoleosha has a back ache

Napoleon was so sore. So tired. Thank you Peril, and you magical hands.

After a particularly normal mission Gabby, Illya, and Napoleon were all getting settled in. Gabby had her own room and the boys shared one.

Napoleon was sore. God, he was sore! He didn’t even know why. His arms and hands and back and legs and neck and everything that could hurt did.

Illya had gotten a shower and put on his sleep pants and a t-shirt that yeah maybe Napoleon tossed into Peril’s bag because he hated that the Russian wore button downs to bed. Napoleon however was still in the shower because he was gonna try everything to help his aches.

Illya was almost worried. So he walked over to the Americans side of the room. He stepped close the bathroom door a spoke loudly.

“Cowboy? Did you drown yet?” Peril waited to hear a response or drowning noises.

“I’m fine, Peril. Just aches and pains ya know.” Napoleon said in the most cheerful voice he could muster but it came out sounding forced as hell.

“Oh okay. Well maybe I can help when you are done in shower.” Peril thought he could help his friend.

Peril was turning away from the door when he heard the water turn off. A few minutes later the American walked out of the bathroom in a pair of boxer briefs.

Peril watched him dry his hair a bit.

“Oh how cute! Curls!” Peril though as he saw the cutest curls appear on Cowboy’s head.

Peril cleared his throat and walked over to the American.

“What hurts? Muscles? Sick?” Peril looked Napoleon over. He had a few bruises here and there and a few small half heard cuts, the usual.

Napoleon looked exhausted and tired.

“My everything hurts but I’m not sick.” Peril nodded and thought for a moment.

“Lay down on bed. I’ll message you. Try to relax. Look stiff.” Peril started to rub his hands together to warm them.

Napoleon complied without a word. He laid on his back but Peril just said,

“Flip. Back first. Back, legs, feet,then arms. Hands too.” Peril listed and oh that sounds heavenly to Napoleon.

At the first contact of still a bit frigid hands onto his mid back, Napoleon jumped a bit.

“Sorry, run cold.” And then -oh holy god- Peril was so good with his hands. Napoleon practically melted. Illya knew exactly what to do and by the time he had rubbed down the Americans legs Napoleon was half asleep and a big pale pile of butter.

“Feel any better, Cowboy?” Peril said in a rather soft voice as he started on his arms.

“Yes, much much better. Gonna sleep...” Napoleon spoke in a slurred sleepy voice.

“That’ll be okay, sleep as needed.” Peril kept quiet and Napoleon was almost to sleep but then a rumbly noise filled the air. Peril humming. Sounds like a tune Napoleon should know but he’s far too tired.

Peril noticed that Napoleon had relaxed completely and his breathing slowed and evened.

“Good. Sleep well dear Solo.” And peril pulled a blanket up over his sleeping companion.

#fanfic #egg_company #the man from uncle #napoleon x illya #illya kuryakin #napoleon solo #napollya #tmfu tv #tmfu fic

[welcometololaland]

Fic Rec Friday Round Up

Thanks to everyone who participated this week - the theme was: a fic with a great twist and / or a fic that surprised you. I have a list below, but I only included ones people tagged me in or ones I could find from the #fic rec friday tag. If I've missed any, please let me know!

Please read at your own discretion. Heed tags and ratings on each individual fic. Keep yourself safe, friends!

911

Chaotic Energy (series) by @dancer-me

Family Feud: First Responders by @princessfbi

911 Lone Star

as if you were a mythical thing by @strandnreyes

Blood on the tracks, fire in the hills by thenorthface

call my bluff, call you babe by @strandnreyes

can we hold out for summer again? by whataboutateakettle

coming down by @taralaurel

Detective AU (series) by @strandnreyes

disaster point by @iimpossible-things

Get Feeling by @Mari_Marie

Just The Four Of Us by destimushi

I'm in this for life by @marjansmarwani

Listing by tarlost

Love Game by Lolaland (me)

Magnetic North by paperstorm

of past and present by @strandnreyes

Secret Moments In A Crowded Room by @strandnreyes

Sometimes Things Just Fall Apart by @howtosingit

The knave of Hearts, he stole the tarts by @liminalmemories21

The knave of Hearts...he said he'd steal no more by @liminalmemories21

The Watcher by @ladytessa74

time, curious time by @strandnreyes

wait in the fire by @reyesstrand

With love, your soulmate by @chaotictarlos

your first string by @strandnreyes

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Boomerangs and Rainbows by mindbending

Loki

Low-Key Coffee by sir_not_appearing_in_this_archive

The Hardest Cut by @cha-melodius

Red white and Royal Blue

A little off the top by @clottedcreamfudge

Count The Stars and Constellations by @everwitch-magiks

Ghosted by tintagel

Keep Most of Your Heart in London by @torvagatai

The Cost of Anything by @clottedcreamfudge

The Perils of Midsomer Residency by @clottedcreamfudge

The Sky is Open by @cha-melodius

to the victor, the spoils by @rmd-writes

you're all that i need by @rmd-writes

Schitt's Creek

(He) was a fast machine by @lizzie-bennetdarcy

A Whole Lot to Gain by @yourbuttervoicedbeau

Burn Out the Night by @madlori

Come Here Often by @doublel27

Dracontine (series) by @a-noble-dragon

Ernesto by @weathereyehorizon

Fish and Chips by @tyfinn

Headed West by another_hero

If I Could Melt Your Heart by @weathereyehorizon

If I were you by pine67

If Music Be the Food of Love by asoftplacetoland

Natural Selection by ICMezzo

Pretty Paper by @five678patty

Red Sky at Night, Killer's Delight by @madlori

Say the Words by mindswindowsdoors

She Sees You When You're Sleeping (with your husband) by @weathereyehorizon

Shoot and Score by @mostlyinthemorning

The Fundamental Things by @goodiecornbread

There is definitely, absolutely, positively only one bed by @mostlyinthemorning

Three's Company by treepyful

Winning the Game by @ladyflowdi

Smallville

A Handful of Dust by @seperis

Star Wars

The Lotus Eater by @stolen-pen-name23

Teen Wolf

Anchor by @thedegenerateasexual

The Man From U.N.C.L.E

This War Against Your Faith by Ingu

#fic rec friday #fic rec friday round up #911 #911 lone star #avatar: the last airbender #loki #red white and royal blue #rwrb #schitt's creek #star wars #teen wolf #TMFU #the man from uncle #smallville