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set-phasers-to-whump · 10 months

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Day 3: Creation Prompt - Stitches & Bandages

whumpee: illya kuryakin

fandom: the man from uncle

hi everyone! here's my first fic for the month :) i imagine this as ot3 (or pre ot3) and it takes place a year or two after the movie. also i cannot decide whether i like this or hate it, i was traveling for most of the day so it's like, a little messy lol.

Illya is sitting on the edge of an exam table in a Viennese hospital, his ridiculously long legs nevertheless not touching the floor. He looks calm, if a bit annoyed, but beneath this Napoleon can see how tense he is.

He doesn’t blame Illya. Hell, he’s tense, too. And from the way Gaby’s tapping her foot, that makes three of them.

They don’t do hospitals. They do stitches in hotel bathrooms and, if it’s serious enough, get checked over by UNCLE doctors when their mission is complete.

But not this time. Because this time, there had been several witnesses to the incident, including a cab driver who had absolutely insisted upon giving the three of them a ride to the nearest hospital, free of charge.

It had fit their cover, Napoleon has to admit. Three Americans on vacation in the Austrian capital are not exactly the type of people to refuse medical help from a kind stranger.

It had all been rather stupid, he reflects, as the three of them wait for a nurse to arrive. They’d been browsing in a high-end jewelry store, establishing their cover as a trio of wealthy American cousins out to see the sights of Europe. Napoleon and Illya had played the parts of dutiful (if bored) older relatives to Gaby, who’d dragged them through the store, pointing out every single item that caught her eye (or, rather, the eye of the young, extravagant wedding planner she was meant to be).

It’d been crowded, stuffy. Napoleon had been sweating through his light shirt, silently hoping for time to speed up. He and Illya had been bent over a counter at Gaby’s insistence, peering with feigned feigned interest at a frankly ridiculous-looking necklace when, from Napoleon’s perspective, Illya had suddenly decided to smash through the glass jewelry case with his head.

Of course, this had turned out to not be the case. Illya, it seemed, had merely been a distraction - while everyone else in the store had been caught off guard, two men who had been browsing through the wedding rings had begun smashing the other jewelry cases, and suddenly the store had found itself in the middle of a robbery.

It was clearly an amateur job, and it had ended very quickly - evidently, the robbers hadn’t planned on the glass cases being alarmed. They’d run off quite quickly after their initial smashings, strings of pearls and diamonds jumbled together in their hands, and that had been that.

Illya had been fine, really. His forehead had collided with a metal edge and the cut had bled profusely - in fact, is still bleeding beneath the towel he’s pressing to it - and various shards of glass had cut up his face and hands, but nothing major. No concussion, nothing broken. Just blood.

Blood had been more than enough to worry everyone else in the store, which was when the cab driver - incredibly kind fellow, really - had insisted upon offering his services. And so the three of them had climbed reluctantly into a car far too small for four grown adults, and they’d been taken to the hospital, free of charge.

And it wasn’t like they could’ve left then, either. The cab driver had stayed parked in front of the entrance until they’d gone inside, giving them a cheerful wave farewell before going off to find another fare.

And now they’re here. The nurse arrives at last and immediately gets down to business, examining Illya’s face and then asking him whether he has ever had stitches before.

Illya nods in the affirmative, and the nurse asks whether he’d been awake.

Napoleon answers for him: “He was unconscious. Had his appendix out when we were in college.” This is not technically true, but Illya does have a scar in roughly the right location. It’s from a bullet, not a surgeon’s knife, but it’s not like the nurse is going to check.

“Excuse me, but I was asking your…”

“Cousin,” Napoleon fills in. “And you won’t get much out of him. He’s mute.”

“Oh,” the nurse replies, looking between the two of them. “But he can hear?”

Napoleon nods. Illya had been given this aspect of his cover the second Waverly had heard his attempt at an American accent. Napoleon had teased him relentlessly for a day or two - turns out even the KGB’s best has an Achilles’ heel.

It’s actually come in handy, though. The three of them have learned, quite quickly, that Illya’s total silence makes people more likely to speak in his presence about things they perhaps shouldn’t speak about. He’s gathered some valuable intel this way, but at the moment is experiencing no particular advantage.

“I have to warn you, this will be much different. You will be numb, but awake.”

Illya nods against the cloth still pressed to his forehead. Napoleon imagines he’d like to say something like, just do it and stop talking, but he’s trapped as the nurse rattles on.

Eventually, though, he does get on with it. Napoleon and Gaby are shooed away from the table and have to watch from a corner as the nurse wipes away the bright red blood and then pushes a needle of anesthetic into Illya’s forehead. Gaby stiffens slightly. Napoleon can guess how she feels. There is something very different about this. About watching someone else, someone unknown, have this kind of access to their partner.

“Can you feel this?” the nurse asks, poking at Illya’s forehead. When Illya shakes his head no, the nurse moves in with a needle and thread.

At least, Napoleon thinks, these medical supplies are completely sterile. They’re not from an ancient first-aid kit found in the basement of a safehouse, not from the emergency sewing kit they’d stolen from a woman’s purse that once. Illya is in good hands, Napoleon tells himself. It’s fine.

Except it’s not fine. It’s not them. He sees the tension in Illya’s shoulders and knows that if it was him doing the stitching, Illya would be more relaxed. He watches Illya stiffen as the nurse ties off the thread and knows that Gaby would’ve been there to squeeze his hand and distract him from that most unpleasant sensation.

The nurse finishes with the needle and thread, applies an antibiotic cream, pastes a bandage over the fresh stitches. And then he grabs a cotton ball and rubbing alcohol and starts cleaning and bandaging the little cuts on Illya’s face and hands, the ones that have already stopped bleeding, and Napoleon actually feels something in his chest tighten.

He should be doing this. It should be him tilting Illya’s face gently up towards himself, one of the only times that their relative heights are reversed. It should be him deftly but gently wiping away the blood, giving Illya the care that they both know he doesn’t need. And it should be Gaby’s fingers on Illya’s hands, scraping blood from under his nails and holding his hands so, so lightly because they both know he won’t pull away.

But it's not.

The nurse finishes with Illya. “Come back in a week, and I will remove these. In the meantime, keep everything clean, and you should be fine.”

And just like that, they’re standing outside of the hospital and simultaneously realizing that there is no obvious method of getting back to their hotel. And then they’re crammed into another cab that’s too small for four fully-grown adults. And then they’re back in their hotel and they’ve all got separate rooms but Gaby and Napoleon hadn’t even hesitated before inviting themselves directly into Illya’s room.

Illya…doesn’t mind. Napoleon had kind of expected him to mind. He’d expected Illya to say I am fine, I am hurt worse than this all of the time.

But he’s quiet, like he’s still playing his role even though it’s just the three of them now. He’s pliant. He lets them check him over, their fingers ghosting over bandages he’d usually have ripped off by now.

When they’ve satisfied themselves, somewhat reluctantly, with the nurse’s job, both Napoleon and Gaby join Illya’s silence. They’re sitting together on the couch, Napoleon and Gaby bracketing Illya between them, and by silent communication they both move closer, until they’re all three tangled together, a mess of limbs that shouldn’t be as comfortable as it is.

“Thank you,” Illya says softly, after a very long time.

Napoleon doesn’t feel that they deserve his thanks. Not for this. Not for today. Not when all that they did was stand there.

“Why?” he whispers back, half afraid of the answer.

Illya shrugs, a movement Napoleon feels rather than sees. “You are here,” he says, like that’s all that matters in the world.

And maybe it is.

thanks for reading!! hope you liked it, love u all <3

#whumpmasinjuly2023 #wij23day3 #the man from uncle #illya kuryakin #stitches #bandages #medical #i say things #my writing #idk i love the thought of like. they can help him they can touch him like this but no one else can #except what if someone else had to #yknow?#idk. it's about the trust bro.#also google docs kept being like 'you put two feigneds there' i KNOW they are faking their fake interest!! there's layers bitch #also i wasn't sure whether the muteness point was like. relevant but i wanted them as americans for some reason (was imagining this fic in #my head on a car ride) and in my mind illya absolutely Cannot do an american accent he just can't do it. and so the plot point was born #idk. anyways. goodnight!!

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ikeepwatchinghelicopters · 2 years

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Look, I have a thing for men with flowers in their hair. I know Illya's hair is not long enough for braiding flowers into it, but imagine him with a crown made out of flowers or just with a flower tucked behind his ear. I think it'd be adorable (and Napoleon'd definitely agree with me). My new life goal is to write a fic featuring Illya with a flower in his hair. End of random short rant.

#tmfu #illya kuryakin #kind of napollya-adjacent #imagine a little child gifting him the flower crown after illya is nice to them #random thought

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justabigoldnerd · 4 months

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Okay okay okay @pippinoftheshire 's fic "The River Of My Blood Is Silver" has me back on my winged people bullshit SO here are what wings I think our Dream Team would have and why.

First on the roster: Illya Kuryakin, KGB

The Blakiston's Fish Owl

IMMEDIATELY, I knew Illya was going to be an owl. Completely silent flier, master killers, etc. But also playful and curious and SUPER FUCKING INTELLIGENT. With Illya being 6 ft 5, I looked up the owl with the longest wingspan, and it was this lovely gentleman. His wingspan can get up to 6 foot across. And get this....he is native to Russia

I picture Illya tucking his wings away as tightly as he can most days to make himself look smaller, but then on missions, they're on full display. He uses them to protect his partners (think that one scene from Lucifer), to silently take out enemies, to just straight up intimate the bad guys by fluffing up his feathers. And I imagine during episodes, they start to slowly bristle and unfurl and shake like his hands. And I also imagine that his attempts at hiding his wing span most of the time leads to terrible muscle spasms that he used to just try and ignore, but after he and Gaby and Solo get together, they help him literally stretch his wings and get the knots out of those fragile but powerful muscles.

• • •

Next is Napoleon Solo, CIA

Obviously, my first instinct was the great Bald Eagle, but then

Then I remembered the fun fact that every time you hear a bald eagle in media, it's ALWAYS a Red Tailed Hawk

And just something about the boy-soldier black mailed into working for the American government and becoming their most effective agent really paralleled the Red Tailed Hawk's voice being stolen for the big USA Patriot Bird. Also, I mean LOOK at that plumage, it's DASHING!!! He'd love it!!! He'd preen CONSTANTLY and keep his feathers in tip-top shape.

I see Solo pretending not to be shy about his wings, flaunting them about and using them to seduce marks and shit, but then when then not letting the people he's close to see them or touch them (erogenous zone???) because deep down he doesn't trust them not to hurt him. UNTIL Illya and Gaby come along and slowly encourage him to let them help him preen hard to reach spots and break up keratin sheaths.

• • •

And last but not least!!! Gaby Teller, British Naval Intelligence

The Peregrine Falcon

Not only the fastest bird on the planet, but the fastest animal alive today! And we've all seen how Gaby drives. She's fast and precise and quick witted and SMART AS FUCK. There was (in my opinion) no better choice for her.

Due to her shorter stature in comparison with her wings, she often keeps them tied to her back as part of her mechanic coveralls. They get oil-stained a lot, and she never minded it, or preened all that often, as a matter of fact, but then the boys caught sight of her wings and immediately went "Oooo honey, make over time" and took dawn to those babies and fluffed them up all nice and now she is deadly in the air, becoming just as feared as Illya in the field.

Anyway, that's my take! Hope you enjoyed, because I had a blast writing this up!!!!💕💕💕💕💕💕

#the man from uncle #tmfu #illya kuryakin #napoleon solo #tmfu movie #gaby teller #wings #winged people #headcanon

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heytheredeann · 2 months

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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

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roadrcnner · 5 months

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“ 𝚃𝙴𝙻𝙻 𝙼𝙴, 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙳𝙾𝙽𝙴? ”

ALEKSANDR “ ALEXEI ” BREMOVYCH.

NICKNAME(S) pasha, lex ZODIAC pisces AGE / D.O.B. thirty5, march 8th PLACE OF BIRTH kazan, russia GENDER / PRONOUNS cis man, he / him ORIENTATION ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ OCCUPATION bodyguard & inactive mercenary.

PARALLELS illya kuryakin ( man from uncle ) / peter joshua ( charade ) / raoul silva ( skybox ) / david percival ( atomic blonde )

BIOGRAPHY.

TRIGGER WARNINGS abuse, childhood trauma, murder, violence, gun use, mentions of war, mentions of ptsd. tl;dr boy turned orphan is nearly recruited by the same man that killed his mother in her own garden. the man takes someone more willing to work for the knife instead: his sister. boy spends the rest of his sister's life trying to free her from her cage. 01. ▇▇▇▇▇▇ was an odd boy. for an odd boy born to a very odd family, it’s no wonder you grew up sideways. ▇▇▇▇▇▇ can still remember the current of floodwater underfoot as you trudged through the garden. you still remember how mama’s sundress sopped up all the dirt and muck but the daisy print still remained even after the rain washed away her most prominent features. ▇▇▇▇▇▇ always remembered. father ( you've never had a father have you? ) told you that what you saw was just the wild throws of childish imagination. that it wouldn’t happen again. it doesn’t. but, with these so-called falsehoods, mama follows. 02. you were a young thing when your family fractioned that first time. just you, your sister and your small, empty house filled with each other's silence. father comes to you again a short time later, gives you the option to die in that cold dark house like your mother did or to come with him. that man, all those years ago had told you that your mother had not wanted you ⸻ either of you ⸻ which is why she had left the way she had. quietly, out in the middle of the garden. 03. his second arrival is something of mercy, it had been something of a bargain: take my hand and i can take you away from this. could a slaughterhouse become salvation? your sister in time would come to know what you already had, but only after she took the chance that you had not. she was the first to leave, the one to travel across the sea where children could live without bounds. a sterling promise of something new. that strange man gave her a new name, a new life, a new family. you won't see your sister for another twelve years after the fact, you claim that you never stopped looking. 04. you still had not been good enough to be saved ⸻ because even with all you'd lost, part of you would always be free. the same had not applied to your sister. you'd give your life, or at least the very many years to follow, to stand in her shadow ⸻ just to know that she'd go unharmed even as she incited little fires for the organization she'd unknowingly given her freedom to. in time, you too would come to understand what it meant to work for the knife. 05. you and your sister served different gods. you pledge yourselves to manmade horrors, trading one ghost for another if it meant the cause you had served was deemed more righteous than the last. had only you’d known that it would be another thing to sever you. you soar ranks, spit out commands like a morning prayer even when things had become everything but what you wanted. you were no longer fighting the good, noble war ⸻ you, and again your sister ⸻ were the casualties. 06. america, the place your sister was buried, the place you changed, her grave as the catalyst for your second metamorphosis. ▇▇▇▇▇▇ was still missing and your sister was dead, but alexei bremovych was alive. and you would soon find out what else you would become. in time: the things you would do, the reckoning you would bring.

HEADCANONS

served in the military & was permitted leave after 10 yrs; swiftly arose in ranking for his aim as a sharpshooter. called for leave following his a field injury and has since been passed up with several theorized black ops agencies.

the sibling who had the priveledge of becoming prodigal. had a few weeks with his sister during her defection from the red eye before she had been killed. hasn't returned home to russia since.

spent so much time trying to undo his sister's involvement with the red eye that he dipped a foot or two into the criminal cesspool over the years. lots past contract mercenary work, knows too many people still in the biz & hates himself for it.

undiagnosed tinnitus from direct exposure to an implosion; can indirectly trigger ptsd episodes.

indecent and irritable but also charming and a great believer that perhaps there is still some goodness left in him.

a shadow that serves a purpose: sworn to protect and willing to die by the gun he lives by if it means no harm is inflicted upon who he was made to protect; though this was not his initial sentiment.

#⠀ ⠀ A. BREMOVYCH ⠀ ⠀ 〳 ⠀ ⠀abt #lawlessintro #thank you & goodnight

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imagines-all-day-everyday · 2 years

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Archive Trove

Here you will find all my old works written for fandoms that I no longer write for - enjoy!

DC (FILMS):

Clark Kent/Superman: Back to Me , Just An Interview

The Joker: Dating The Joker

The Joker’s Son (OC): Dating The Joker’s Son , Meeting His Parents

Teen Wolf:

Brett Talbot - Open Up To Me , Argent 2.0 , Focus , Too Kind To Soon , Not So Tough

Derek Hale - Drowning , Protector , Work This Out , Dating Derek Hale

Erica Reyes - Love is Love

Isaac Lahey - Flaws , Your Move , Only One I Have , Maybe

Jackson Whittemore - New Girl , Alone , Confessions in the Dark , Drunken Kisses & Stolen Memories

Liam Dunbar - Cinderella (pt 1) (pt 2) , Mine , Monster , How To Love, Devil in a Dress

Malia Tate - Hold Me

Scott McCall - More Than That

Stiles Stilinski - Dork , No Choice , Paralysis , Confident , Amber Eyes , Caught Out , Salty , Poor Babies

Theo Raeken - Fourth Grade , First Kiss

Pack Imagine - Bonfire Night (+ Liam x reader)

The Maze Runner:

Gally - Temper

Minho - I’ll Do The Talking , Thought I’d Lost You

Newt - Glass , My Girl

Thomas - Shy

The Man From UNCLE:

Illya Kuryakin: Jealousy Doesn’t Match Your Suit

Napoleon Solo: Mr and Mrs Denver , Gingerbread , The Other Teller

Riverdale:

Archie Andrews - Not Just A Jock

Reggie Mantle - Hero? No Need , Dating Reggie Mantle

Jurassic World:

Gray Mitchell - Nostalgia

Zach Mitchell - Dinosaur Girl (pt 1) (pt 2) , Runs In The Family , Attention Seeker

The Flash/Arrow:

Barry Allen - I Got My Ion You , I’m Fine , Stay , Show Time , Partner in Justice , Supportive , Fate? , Wait..What?

Thea Queen - Sushi

#masterlist #some from when i was like 15 aweeee #and they were so bad bless #<3

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typing-catastrophe · 1 year

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📝Everything you need to know

characters I write for: tasm!Peter Parker, Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, Peter Maximoff, Matt Murdock/Daredevil, Frank Castle/The Punisher, Poe Dameron, Pietro Maximoff, Bucky Barnes, Loki, Avengers (platonic), Supernatural characters (platonic)

pairings: Cherik (Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr), Steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson), Wolfstar (Sirius Black/Remus Lupin), Destiel (Dean Winchester/Castiel), Stucky (Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes), Obikin (Anakin Skywalker/Obiwan Kenobi), Napollya (Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin)

no-gos: underage reader (platonic okay), cnc/nc, inc.est, pregnancy, real people (actors e.g.) and anything else that makes me uncomfortable

Even if something/someone is not on the list, feel free to ask me about it. :]

💕 = fluff ⚡ = angst 🔥 = smut

There is gonna be no use of y/n. The reader will be gender neutral unless otherwise specified. You will find warnings, word count and a summary at the beginning of each fic.

Explanation Tags:

'typing...' is my tag for everything personal or organisation wise etc.

'my writing' is every imagine, headcanon, fanfic, drabble etc. I wrote

And that's it I think. Let me know if I should include anything else in here.

Updated: 9 june 2023

#pairings #characters #fanfic #fanfiction #typing...#masterpost #multifandom

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white-bow-tie · 10 months

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This goddamn smile...

b\w version bc why not

#i hate them so much u can't imagine #also i spent forever doing this one bc i tried to experiment a little again #kinda love it kinda hate it #idk #happy gay month #tmfu #the man from uncle #napoleon solo #illya kuryakin #fan art #my art #tmfu 1964 #tmfu tv

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set-phasers-to-whump · 6 months

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warmth

prompt: water inhalation

whumpee: illya kuryakin

fandom: the man from uncle

hiii i am back from my trip and back to beating illya up :) hope you enjoy it!

A human being can survive, in theory, for four minutes without air to breathe. Illya has tested and pushed his own limits, but cannot ever seem to make it past two.

So it is that a clock is ticking at the back of his mind as he struggles with all of his strength against the people holding him under water.

There are many hands on him, and sometimes he feels one move, a small victory on his part, but he cannot do much more than be a brief inconvenience. There are too many people holding him down and struggling makes his lungs burn more and more.

He’s getting lightheaded and the numbers stop ticking along. He tries to go limp, to play dead, to see if they will release him. But he lasts all of twenty seconds before he starts struggling again, his body’s hardwired fight instincts winning out over any kind of logic.

His chest feels like it’s on fire. His limbs are growing weaker, and eventually he once again stops struggling, simply because he lacks the strength for it.

He will lose consciousness soon, and then he will die.

Death through capture, through faulty intel, is a hazard of his work. This is just one of many ways he’d imagined he might die.

He hopes that his capture, his imminent death, will at least allow his partners time to escape. No sense in all three of them dying for this.

The pressure in his lungs is too great. He has to breathe.

The cold water burns as it enters his nose, floods his lungs. He starts coughing and choking and gasping for air that is not there and will never be there again.

The panic is horrific. His eyes fly open and see nothing. He is dying. He is terrified.

Noise and light. Pain and terror give way to numb oblivion.

Crashing water, like being at the beach. Something touching him. Hands, arms, embracing his body, dragging him backwards.

Air.

He breathes and it burns. The coughing and choking begin anew, water spilling from his mouth in painful waves.

It hurts. He does not know what is happening. His body is the only thing that exists, and it is running on pure animal instinct. Air. Breath. Pain. Cold. He thinks of nothing, can think of nothing.

Something touching his back. Solid and warm. An especially harsh cough that brings up several mouthfuls of water. A thumping between his shoulder blades. Noise.

Bit by bit, he comes back to himself. The coughing slows as more and more water is expelled from his lungs. Then the shivering starts, violent and painful.

Two bodies pressed to his. The heat from them does nothing, but their presence is steady and grounding.

He eventually gains enough awareness to know that he is alive and can think. Recalls vaguely what had happened - water, pain, fear.

The fear returns, now that he remembers it. He latches on to the figure closest to him. Gaby or Solo, he does not know. Possibly both of them.

They are speaking, he thinks. Quiet words. He does not understand. But they are nice words. Safe.

The terror ebbs away, and the ache takes over.

His lungs, his limbs, his eyes, his throat. Everything burns and hurts. He doesn’t like it. Cannot do anything about it.

Suddenly, he is lifted off of the ground. An arm beneath his knees, behind his shoulders. A broad, warm chest beside him. He settles against it as they begin to move.

The car. Sitting up, leaning heavily on Solo, coughs tearing their way out of his throat every so often. There is a jacket around him now, Solo’s, warm and smelling of him. He is still cold, but warmer now. The water does not seem so very close.

He dozes, slipping in and out of consciousness as Gaby speeds down streets he does not recognize. She and Solo are talking softly, and he understands their words now, though he lacks the energy to actually listen.

He does not realize they are at a hospital until Solo gently jostles his shoulder and he discovers that they have stopped moving.

He cannot go to a hospital. It is not permitted. He tries to refuse, but his body is slow and his movements are uncoordinated and it is easy for his partners to force him into the sterile waiting room.

A nurse speaks to him. The words fly right over his head, technical and complicated and alien. Solo translates, but does not know all of the words. Illya tries to make himself understand the complex English, and together they make it so that he comprehends, more or less, what is happening.

Then doctors. Breathing. Hands all over him. Warmth, but not the kind of warmth that is comforting. Clinical warmth. A bed that is too small and too hard.

And them. Beside him, protecting him. He has not been alone for a second, never left to fend for himself against this foreign and overwhelming environment.

They are warm in the comforting way. They are sitting beside him, now, and Gaby is holding his hand and Solo’s fingers are tangled in his hair, which is finally dry, and even though he is in an unfamiliar place, a place that he knows he should not be in, he feels mostly safe.

They are with him, and he is warm again.

thanks for reading!!! i hope it was alright, love u guys <3

#whumptober2023 #no.14 #water inhalation #fic #the man from uncle #illya kuryakin #drowning #water #wet #my writing #i say things #hospital #comfort #anyway.. i had an absolutely amazing time on my trip truly one of the best times of my life probably #and now i am back! glad to see all my scheduled posts worked as intended lmao

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ikeepwatchinghelicopters · 2 years

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Thinking about young poetry-writing Illya and rebellious Napoleon, I had a very whacky idea. A modern high school AU where Illya and Napoleon are in the same class. Napoleon is this rebellious guy in torn jeans and leather jackets absolutely giving the middle finger to the system. He has a carefully crafted image of infinite confidence and of never being bothered by the consequences of/punishments for his actions, but he actually feels stuff deeply beneath his masks. I'd imagine he's pretty popular and also percieved as cool and brave, because he sometimes dares to do very crazy stuff. Illya, on the other hand, is a quiet student who knows that he cannot get into trouble and worry his mother even more after the scandal with his father. He's keeping a very tight rein on his temper, does super well in sports, occasionally hangs out with the chess people and very, very secretly reads and writes poetry. He doesn't really have close friends. Gaby is probably a class below them, super knowledgable about cars and knowing how to drive like a badass even though she's not old enough to have a full driver's license yet. I image she'd be more likely to be Napoleon's friend, but maybe she lives close to Illya and she's trying to repair this old wreck of a car and sometimes calls Illya over so that she can use his muscles for moving heavy stuff.

Illya thinks Napoleon is an irresponsible idiot and hates his attitude. Napoleon thinks Illya is boring and has a stick up his ass. So, they kind of hate each other even though they've never tried to interact meaningfully before. Then, a sudden Waverly appears (actually, not so sudden, because he's probably the principal of the school) and makes Illya tutor Napoleon, because Napoleon's grades are horrible (not because he is stupid, he just doesn't care). So, Napoleon and Illya are forced to hang out with each other and at first, they absolutely despise it, because Illya wants to do the tutoring properly, but Napoleon just wants to rile Illya up until he snaps. Illya probably goes to complain to Waverly that it doesn't work and never will, but he just gets a pat on the shoulder and "keep it up, Kuryakin". Illya, stubborn and competitive, decides that he'll make Napoleon have good grades even if it kills him. And Napoleon, stubborn and competitive, decides that he's never going to accept any help from that boring Russian and will be as obnoxious as possible to drive him off.

At some point Napoleon starts noticing that those muscles and long legs are very sexy and Illya starts noticing that Napoleon is indeed quite smart and also adorable when he smiles. Napoleon finds out that Illya writes poetry, but doesn't out him and ruin his reputation with Illya's sports buddies, which gains him some level of respect and gratitude from Illya. (Maybe Napoleon plays the guitar, so he composes music to some of Illya's poems secretly). Gaby sometimes shows up for their tutoring sessions when they are doing maths and physics, because she's good at it and wants to learn more advanced stuff. Also, Napoleon is not that good with maths and science, so Gaby gets to tease him when he doesn't understand/know something she does.

This somehow got crazy long, but you get the gist. Illya gets to release his more mischievious side with Napoleon, and Napoleon finally gains someone willing to look and understand what is beneath all the masks. Napoleon probably stops acting out so much and Illya gets to experience a more crazy youth. They start dating, of course.

#tmfu #au idea #napollya #napoleon solo #illya kuryakin #gaby teller #alexander waverly #feel free to adopt the au #i kinda wanna read it #probably won't write it though #such is life

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justabigoldnerd · 3 months

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"In Summer We Can Taste The Rain"

By JustABigOldNerd on Ao3

For @huggiebird

Tags:

Alternate Universe - Wings, Fluff, Rain, Light Angst, Ficlet, Pre-Relationship

Characters:

Illya Kuryakin, Napoleon Solo

Word Count:

903

Summary:

Illya tries very very hard to ignore the urge to go out and use the warm summer rain to preen. He fails.

Excerpt:

Illya is triple checking the lock on a window when he hears it. The sound is so small and faint that for a moment, he thinks he imagined it. He closes his eyes and focuses his senses, listening closely for repetition. The second splat is much louder, and he jolts, eyes flying open to see a large droplet of water snaking its way down the glass.

#the man from uncle #tmfu #tmfu movie #illya kuryakin #napoleon solo #napollya #fanfiction #fanfic #ficlet #winged people #ao3

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heytheredeann · 6 months

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Whumptober 2023, Day 15 - "Suppressed suffering"

Tags: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Zombie Illya Kuryakin, Movie setting with supernatural elements basically, Undead, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Hurt Illya Kuryakin, Protective Napoleon Solo, Introspection, Non-Linear Narrative, Dehumanization, Referenced/Past Non-Consensual Body Modification

Notes: WELL, apparently the Zombie Illya AU is a thing now LOOOL. This is a combination of ideas I had written down when I first started writing this verse and things @ikeepwatchinghelicopters commented under the first fic, thank you for the inspiration! <3 Fair warning that Waverly doesn't come across too well in this fic, because as much as I like loving dad Waverly I love myself a messy agent/handler relationship, but I promise he does care and he does feel bad, it's just that, you know, when you have an immortal asset it would be stupid to NOT use him at all. Anyway. I like this verse, lots of suffering. might write more if I get inspired looool enjoy!

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Solo says, loud and clear, going off with the same subtlety as a bomb.

Waverly doesn’t betray any irritation at the interruption, but he swiftly closes his mouth and his attention switches to Solo, the calculating look on his face making Illya shudder. He fights the instinct to shift in his partner’s direction as Waverly calmly asks: “Excuse me?”

Solo doesn’t even blink. “He’s going to get caught,” he says, tightly, and if his anger is seeping through he can only imagine just how strongly he feels about it.

It’s—warming. Illya still isn’t completely used to it.

“Yes,” Waverly says, placidly. “As I was about to mention, I don’t think there is a way to pull this off without getting caught, not without pushing this back a few months, but I’m confident in Kuryakin’s ability to slip away.”

It isn’t misplaced confidence either: Illya has barely escaped with his life multiple times, back when he was still a living and breathing thing and he would be sent on missions that were nearly impossible to complete.

He was young and eager to prove himself, yet he still doubted, sometimes, that that was a complete coincidence. Oleg never seemed to like him much, always so stingy with praise and almost annoyed when he’d started pulling off mission after mission without much of a hitch, and if the timing of the near-impossible tasks could be attributed to an attempt at challenging him, since he was so good, Illya suspected he was trying to make him fail.

It didn’t really matter, it only drove him to try harder.

[More on Ao3]

#whumptober2023 #napollya #napollya fic #tmfu fic #napoleon x illya #illya x napoleon #the man from uncle #tmfu #zombie illya au #my fanfic #this WAS actually ready for the 15th but then i just kept Not Posting It loooool #ah well here it is #not spn

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