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    Summary

    Illya freezes. Her throat closes up and her vision starts to go white as she stares blankly into Solo’s face. She twitches violently away from the gentle scrape of Solo’s nails when they dig deep into her ponytail, but Solo is stronger than she looks. Illya knows this. It’s almost comforting, to have her head held in place by those delicate fingers. To have her head bent down into a bow by such supple strength.

    Language:
    English
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    6,804
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
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    Kudos:
    121
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  2. 19 Feb 2021

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  3. 19 Dec 2020

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  4. 07 Dec 2020

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  5. 29 Oct 2020

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  6. 12 May 2020

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  7. 02 May 2020

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  8. 14 Apr 2020

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    Bookmark Notes:

    Holy fuck. Stunning! The background of these characters was amazing and the way Solo seduced Illya was perfection. Loved seeing how well they work together (even if Illya doesn't totally understand her partner) and how soft Solo can be when taking care of someone she cares about. And Illya, just... beautiful! Commented.

    ***
    This teasing. It is a thing Illya has come to understand as a friendly thing. It is very different from the scathing looks and derogatory comments cast at her by the other, better-parented girls at the Bolshoi academy. It is very different from the thinly veiled disappointment of the Bolshoi teachers when they told her that their predictions of her bone development were wrong, and that she was already too tall for the ballet at the age of thirteen. It is certainly different from the sarcastic encouragement of her KGB trainers, who interwove derisive comments about her boyish body with any praise of her strength, flexibility, and speed.

    With Solo, it was never like that. Instead of pulling Illya apart in order to remove her from the competition, Solo pulls Illya apart in order to see her. She learns her secrets so that she can retrieve stolen silver cross necklaces. Illya spent a long time waiting to discover that Solo retrieved her stolen silver cross necklace in order to weaken and kill her. But Illya just keeps spilling more secrets, and Solo just keeps holding them tenderly, with a sparkle in her eyes.

    The teasing. It feels to be a part of that tenderness.

    Take a walk with your favorite girl, Dean Martin sings. Thinking about how different Solo is than all the other girls Illya has worked with, she says, “You’re my favorite girl.”

    There’s a suspended moment, when Solo holds up a black satin bra in the air, pretending to look at it even though Illya can tell that she’s actually lifting her eyebrow at what Illya said. Illya worries that she has said the wrong thing. She crosses her arms and opens her mouth to take it back, but Solo speaks first. “Funny you should say that.”

    ***

    Illya has had sex before. No woman ever got as far as she had in her program without being touched by men and surviving. She remembers it as a violence. As something done to her. Her body remembers it, similar to how her throat burns up and constricts at the memory of having her fingernail pulled out with pliers, to how her toes twist in tingling agitation at the memory of the brand on her thigh.

    Solo has sex as though it’s something easy. As though it’s something enjoyable. After months of watching Solo do this, Illya is still uncomfortable whenever it happens.

    ***
    “Sexy Siberian handmaiden,” in her smooth, yet simultaneously gravelly, voice.

    Illya’s jaw clenches, her palms curling under the scrape of Solo’s long, deep red nails. Solo has called her sexy many times, and it is always infuriating. Illya decided long ago to never try to be attractive. She wants nothing to do with this American word. Solo using it against her makes Illya feel like a helpless child, like Solo is encouraging her pitiful efforts to attract men, like Solo doesn’t believe that Illya could be good at anything she wanted to succeed at. Like Solo doesn’t respect the fact that Illya doesn’t want to succeed at that.

    ***
    “I bought mistletoe, Kuryakin, it’s not my most subtle work.”

    Illya has to admit she has a point. She doesn’t know what it means that Solo has just—seduced her. But she knows that it felt good. She knows that she doesn’t want Solo to leave.

    “It’s a yum-yummy world made for sweethearts,” Illya recites alongside the singer, hoping the flatness of her tone will make Solo laugh. Will make Solo stay.

    Solo laughs. The lines at the corners of her eyes deepen. They make Illya’s heart soar. They always do.

    Illya is going to need a lot of help figuring this out. And she hates needing help.

    Solo reaches out cautiously, inch by inch, brushing just a single finger over that stubborn lock of hair on Illya’s forehead. “You’re my favorite girl,” Solo tells her.

  9. 14 Apr 2020

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  10. 22 Dec 2019

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  11. 28 Nov 2019

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  12. 23 Nov 2019

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  13. 22 Nov 2019

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  14. 17 Jul 2019

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  15. 17 Jun 2019

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  16. 25 Feb 2019

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  17. 21 Feb 2019

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  18. 18 Feb 2019

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  19. 27 Jan 2019

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  20. 24 Jan 2019

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  21. 14 Jan 2019

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