#illya kuryakin drabble

[justabigoldnerd]

"January Embers"

By JustABigOldNerd on Ao3

Tags:

Pre-Relationship, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Dungeons & Dragons, Fireplaces, Anti-Tiefling Racism (Dungeons & Dragons), Food as a Metaphor for Love, Worried Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin is Bad at Feelings, Gaby Teller Is a Little Shit, Drabble, Humor, Fluff, Light Angst, POV Napoleon Solo

Characters:

Illya Kuryakin, Napoleon Solo, Gaby Teller

Word Count:

2,840

Summary:

Fireplaces are NOT beds. For most people. Illya is not most people.

Excerpt:

“Then, please, enlighten me. Define a tiefling,” Solo threw open his arms, acutely aware that all other voices had ceased and that the attention was solely on them. “Horned beasts, cold-blooded, with pointed tails and a penchant for stealin’ things.” A few patrons raised their voices in agreement, and the barkeep grinned smugly at him. “Well that clears everything up,” he purred venomously, then twirled around to face the gathered townsfolk. Solo gestured to himself, plucked a mug of ale out of the closest hand, and took a swig of it before announcing, “Behold! A tiefling!”

[typing-catastrophe]

📝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, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Avengers (platonic), Supernatural characters (platonic), Stanford Pines, Neo (Matrix), John Constantine (movie w Keanu Reeves)), Newt (Maze Runner)

fandoms*: marvel (mcu, xmen movies, defenders), supernatural, gravity falls, star wars, stranger things, the magnus archives, marauders, maze runner, sherlock bbc, hannibal nbc * fandoms I am currently in, I won't guarantee that I'll write for all of them tho

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), Newtmas (Newt/Thomas), Napollya (Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin), all the previous listed characters x reader & cherik x reader (at the moment the only poly ship I write for)

no-gos: underage reader and characters (platonic okay), cnc/nc, incest, 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. (unless someone requests that for some reason I guess?) Everything will be written in 2nd or 3rd person. The reader will be gender neutral unless otherwise specified. You will find warnings/content tags, word count and a summary at the beginning of each fic/longer piece.

Explanation Tags:

'typing...' is my tag for basically just yapping about smth

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

'request' is every request I get and answered or anything related to them

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

Updated: 14 september 2024

[kinkynasreadfics]

Alternative ending to the almost kiss scene after wrestling between Illya and Gaby.

The progression of Gaby/Illya's relationship involving bathing, washing, swimming, or just getting wet together ahem

In Vienna, Gaby played Solo’s wife.

Reparation

Illya Kuryakin's birthday gift arrives just before midnight with a lock pick, a grappling hook, and a plan.

MEH I didn't read it all

Weapon of Mass Destruction

Answered Gallyakink prompt #14:Gaby and Illya discover the vibrator

Behind the Iron Curtain, Illya's loyalties are tested.

NAH

Chapter 3: jilted one minute, worshiped the next

Prompt: [anonymous] Ok, they've all just completed a mission successfully and Waverly has commandeered a small military base for debriefing etc. Napoleon is off doing his thing and Gaby disappears off for a shower. Illya, not realising, walks in on her. The cubicles are small but cover enough so he only sees head and shoulders and from her calves down. It's lucky she's so short as otherwise he'd have seen a lot more! Because he moves silently anyway she doesn't hear him come in and he's entranced watching her. She's really enjoying her incredibly hot shower and Illya is cemented to his spot watching her lather up until he sees her use a razor…his! Feel free to go as smutty as you like!

CONFUSING

a collection of my tumblr gallya fics The Chicken Affair: Four mornings in a mission. And a chicken. The Marshmallow Affair: Illya calls Gaby something he shouldn't have and gets his ass kicked. The Blizzard Affair: Snowed in fluff. Part 1/2 The Alone Affair: Snowed in smut. Part 2/2 (explicit) April drabbles May drabbles June drabbles July drabbles

Doing Ok, Comrade?

Car sex is really hard when one person is injured and the other is 6'5.

After their mission in Milan, Gaby and Illya finally break the tension. The missing sex scene from my mission fic, Milan.

You Go Down Smooth https://archiveofourown.org/works/5214191 Gaby thinks that she can take him like a shot of vodka.

The Things His Mouth Can Do https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187746 Gaby needs some quality girl talk and Napoleon and Illya are out of the question. A target on a mission will work just fine for her though.

[myriadimagines]

Characters: Reader x Illya Kuryakin

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Gif credit: harleyqiunn

Spotify Prompt: 25. Cold Cold Man by Saint Motel: “You’re the only one worth seeing, the only place worth being.”

Word Count: 505

A/N: i was going to write this with billy russo but i decided to save him for another prompt. anyway! where is the sequel for this movie!!!! (spotify prompts are not open)

Illya can’t seem to catch a break. Between Napoleon’s antics and Gaby’s refusal to listen to him, Illya can feel his sanity slipping away from him as he struggles to work with the teammates he’s forced to cooperate with. An American, a German and a Russian, all working together? The world must truly be ending.

There is one saving grace to the whole situation, at least, one that Illya is incredibly grateful for. Out of all his teammates, he found himself taking a liking to you the most. Intelligent and incredibly skilled, it wasn’t long before Illya found himself completely captivated by you. Perhaps it was just because you didn’t annoy him as much as the others, but Illya knows that you’re his favorite in the team. 

However, Illya can’t help but wonder if his patience is about to completely run out as he finds you and Gaby drunk in your hotel room while you’re supposed to be preparing for tomorrow’s mission.

He’s quick to usher Gaby out, guiding her back to her hotel room across the hall that she’s supposed to be sharing with Napoleon. He’s not in there, as Illya expected, no doubt seducing some woman at the bar downstairs rather than taking care of his supposed fiancée. Turning back to his own room with his own fake spouse, Illya closes the door behind him as you goofily smile at him from your armchair, waving your glass of whiskey as you remark, “Why must you ruin the fun?”

Illya moves to sit beside you, taking the bottle of whiskey away from you and prying your glass out of your hands. “You’ve had enough.”

You pout at him, and Illya struggles to keep a straight face at your adorable expression. Shaking his head, Illya points to the bed as he continues, “You must sleep. We will deal with your hangover tomorrow.”

You chuckle, leaning your head back as you sink deeper into the armchair. Illya rolls his eyes, the annoyance obvious in his expression, and he remarks, “Do I have to carry you to bed?”

You can’t help but laugh, and Illya’s expression softens. He quickly lowers his head, hoping you don’t see his smile, but you lean forward, teasing, “Is that a smile I see?”

Illya shakes his head. “No.”

“You know, you act all tough and cold,” you settle back down in the armchair. “But I reckon you’re a big softy on the inside.” 

Illya can see your eyelids fluttering closed, and he lets out a quiet sigh. Before he can say anything, you sleepily mumble, “You take the bed. I’ll just sleep here.”

He watches you as you finally doze off, curled up with your head resting on your arms. You looks so peaceful, he thinks, and he finally lets himself smile. Perhaps he may be soft on the inside, he thinks, but only for you. Shaking his head, he gets up, gently picking you up in his arms, careful not to wake you, and carries you to the bed, anyway.

[thatlittlered]

Happy new year!!! How about a Drabble on illya kuryakin spending New Year's Eve with his crush

Happy New Year if it’s already 2018 where you live! Hope you like this!

Illya leaned against the rail of the great big balcony, swirling the whiskey in his hands and focusing on the squeaking of each ice cube instead of the booming music coming from inside.

The city was dressed in light, moonshine and Christmas lights setting the mood for the year to come. There was music everywhere, in every house and every building and he couldn’t help but wonder how easily people could forget.

Solo said that’s the point. To drink. To forget.

Forget what? The pain? The heartbreak?

Not even a glass of Solo’s finest whiskey could make him forget that.

But he drank anyway.

“Why so lonely, agent?” he heard you call and turned but God almighty, did he wish he hadn’t.

You looked absolutely stunning.

Hair done beautifully but falling apart as a result of your dancing - not that he watched you before. Of course not.

The scar that ran across your chin mere days ago was covered with makeup, powdered to perfection but he still knew it was there and that hurt. It only served as a reminder that he couldn’t protect you. Again.

Still, you smiled, taking small steps towards him until you were standing in front of him and his breath almost hitched in his throat.

He gulped at the proximity, but he wouldn’t break. Not yet.

“It’s too noisy inside.” he murmured, still playing with the glass in his hand before downing the rest of the liquid.

“Not a fan of parties, agent Kuryakin?” you swirled your own drink, mindlessly watching the gold-like liquid before bringing the glass back to your lips.

“Too much fuss about nothing,” he shrugged.

You gasped and shook your head, “Over nothing? It’s the new year, Ill. A cause for celebration!”

Illya chuckled and turned his back to you, hopelessly trying to ignore your little nickname for him. Empty hope never benefitted anyone.

“What’s to celebrate? Nothing really changes.”

You tutted playfully, following him back towards the trail with a mirthful smile that made him regret ever coming here.

“A lot can change in a few hours, agent Kuryakin.” you shifted your body to look at him, his sandy locks capturing the moonlight and his baby blues hidden in the darkness.

He was staring at you. Wordlessly, curiously. Eyes on you and only you.

And perhaps that’s what gave you the confidence to close the distance between you, keeping no more than an inch of space between your bodies as your hands found shelter on his chest.

His breath hitched then and you thought he might break the glass in his hands from the way he gripped it, his knuckles pale white, but his gaze never wavering.

Pushing yourself on your tiptoes, you challenged him. Your nose brushed against his chin. His cheek. His lips.

And then he leaned in.

[writingruna]

Hii, can I get an imagine for illya, numbers, (you decided which ones), #16 "you're getting crumbs all over my bed" and number 1, thank u❤

Napoleon lounged on the bed, picking at the food that sat on the nightstand beside him and staring at the bulletin board you had set up after Waverly had called you back from the gala. You leaned against the table near the board, having eaten in the hour you waited for them. Illya sat in a chair beside you, his hand resting on your knee and tracing circles as he ate. "I thought the daughter wasn't involved?" Napoleon asked.

"You are getting crumbs all over our bed, Cowboy," Illya said, this thumb momentarily stopping it's motion.

Ignoring your husband, you answered Napoleon's question. "Waverly thought so as well, but her signature is on all the approval forms. The signatures aren't identical, which means it's not a stamp, and they're definitely authentic. It's possible she isn't aware of what she's signing for, but I highly doubt it."

"All the forms?" Napoleon asked, sitting up straight and throwing his feet off the side of the bed. "You're sure?"

"Every one," you answered. Napoleon stood up suddenly, walking from the room without a word.

You rolled your eyes as the door closed, letting Illya pull you from the table and onto his lap. "I hate when he does that," you said, shaking your head in frustration. "Rushing away in a huff without telling us where he's off to. It's starting to get annoying and one of these days it's going to get all three of us into trouble."

"It is not all bad," he said, and you hummed in pleasure when he pressed a soft kiss just below your ear. "It gives me time to tell you how beautiful you look tonight."

"Oh?" you asked, shifting on his lap until you could kiss him softly. "You think I look beautiful?"

Illya chuckled, standing up with you in his arms. "You are always beautiful, but tonight even more so. Waverly sent you away because I could not keep my eyes from you."

[rose-of-pollux]

Can I get #15 for hug prompt with Napollya please? 😍

15. A "just to say I love you" hug--

Illya sometimes wished he was as skilled in the kitchen as Napoleon was, but between the two of them, it was clear that Napoleon would always be the better chef.

It wasn't for a lack of trying--not at all! But Illya's up-til-now-lonely existence and austere-by-choice had made him used to cooking very little, opting to get food from outside rather than waste precious time that could be spent on work.

He regretted that now, especially when Napoleon seemed to get up. early just to put breakfast on the table for the two of them in the mornings.

Nevertheless, Illya would, on occasion, give it a try; his attempt at making sunny-side-up eggs ended with them unintentionally scrambled instead, and there was a bit less bacon than he'd been hoping to put on the table (that on account of the cat running off with a strip of it and refusing to give it up)

Napoleon had walked out into the hall to see the Egyptian Mau run past with her stolen treasure and proceeded to the kitchen, where he found Illya attempting to salvage the meal by brewing some Russian tea.

It was one of those little things that made Napoleon realize just how fortunate he truly was.

As Illya waited for the water to boil, Napoleon drew him into a tight embrace; baffled at first, his partner returned it.

"What was that for?" he asked. "The breakfast isn't going to be anywhere near the caliber of the ones you prepare."

"I know," Napoleon replied, giving his charming grin. "I just want you to know that I appreciate it--and you."

Illya managed to return the smile.

"It should be ready soon," he said. "I would appreciate it if you could keep an eye on the bacon and make sure Baba Yaga doesn't run off with any more of it."

"Will do, Tovarisch--but how do you expect me to enforce your decree?"

"I'm sure the Solo Charm will triumph as it always does."

"That's Solo Luck--and don't forget, Baba Yaga is a black cat."

"Which is good luck, Napoleon."

"How do you figure that?"

"She is a cat--that is reason enough. Secondly, you are her co-parent; that makes her a Solo by default, meaning she has Solo Luck, as well. Lastly, I have her and you in my life--if such a thing as luck exists, then I have it, thanks to her."

Napoleon just shook his head in amusement and went to guard the bacon.

Illya did have a point, though--they were very lucky to have each other.

[make-me-imagine]

hi! love your work and the ship event! i was wondering if i could get a male ship for Supernatural and Man from UNCKLE maybe? i’m michelle, female, blond medium length hair, average hight, pretty slim love cinema and knife throwing! and archery. i enjoy very late night walks and a good drink, i’m not really shy maybe anxious is a better word, i like being alone a lot, i also love drawing. for supernatural prompt 14 and form MoU 11 maybe? thanks so much! love you!

Ship Event is now CLOSED

-

Hope you like the ships Michelle! And thank you! :D

Supernatural: 

I ship you with Castiel. He would be interested about all of your different hobbies and would often compliment you on your ability to learn new things. Castiel really enjoys going on long night walks with you. He loves to just talk, or walk in silence, as he enjoys anything in your presence. Even though you both love being around each other, both of you like having alone time, so neither of you are really bothered by the other wanting to be alone for a bit, because you understand the feeling well. 

Prompt 14: Rainy Day (I’m sorry it’s so short :/ )

You tapped your foot absent minded as you sketched in your notepad, the sound of the rain outside making the whole atmosphere around you cozy. 

Glancing up from you sketchpad, you see Castiel looking out the window, a small and fond smile on his face. You smiled at how cute he was before looking back down at your drawing. 

A few more minutes of silence passed before Castiel spoke, while watching you from across the room “I enjoy this”

You looked up at him “The rain?”

“Well yes, that, but I’m referring to all of this” he said while taking a step forward, his arms gesturing to your surroundings “The rain, you, the comfortable silences, the warm room, me being here with you”

Smiling lightly at him you agreed “I like it too. I wish we could do this more often”

He hummed in agreement as he sat on the arm of the couch “Yes. Perhaps we should try too” 

“That would be nice” you nodded, looking out the window after a distant strike of lightning caught your eye

He followed your gaze “The rain is getting harder, the storm is moving this way. It will most likely last the rest of the day”

You glanced at the clock, reading 3:15pm “I’m alright with that. That just means we get to enjoy this even longer” you smiled while looking up at him.

He mirrored your smile as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his hand running comfortingly through your hair. 

Man from Uncle: 

I ship you with Illya. Illya is a bit....intense. But, once you got to know him a bit more, you figured out pretty quickly that he had a soft side. And, something he doesn’t want you to know, is that you make him even more soft. He finds comfort in your presence, and finds that a single word, often his name falling from your lips, calms him more than anything. So when he finds himself in a difficult situation, in which his anger is building, he will stop, take a breath, and think about how you might handle it, or what you would say to him. This always helps him to calm down and be rational. He might never say it out loud often (only during a nice cuddly night in which you both had a few drinks) but he cant see himself without you by his side. You mean everything to him. Often, he lets his actions speak louder than his words.

Prompt 11: Jealous

Illya knew this was for the mission. He knew that it was even HIS IDEA. That he needed your help, and you agreed - god knows why - to help him and Solo. 

But watching you talk, dance, and laugh with their mark made his blood boil. Seeing the mans hands around your waist on the dance floor as you laughed at his jokes made him uncomfortably furious. 

He knew he couldn’t interrupt, even though every fiber of his being was telling him to. He couldn’t, so he wouldn’t. 

“Relax” Solo said from beside him as he took a sip from his drink as his eyes moved around the room, searching for possible threats “This is almost over”

Illya growled under his breath “Shut up Solo”

Solo only smirked at his partners aggressive remark, his eyes glancing down at the drink in Illyas hand. He was almost surprised it hadn’t smashed yet, due to how tight Illyas grip was. 

Solo knew, and teased, Illya about his protective relationship with you, but he was secretly very glad you had each other. He saw how much you softened Illya temperament, and he was grateful to you for it. 

When your dance was finally over, and you successfully got the location of your marks hotel you made the excuse to use the bathroom. Signalling to the boys you had gotten the information for the later kidnapping, abduction, apprehending of the target and his men. 

Illya almost bolted from his seat as he made his way to the exit, glad that you could be out of this situation, and glad that he no longer had to suffer through watching it.

As you exited the building Illya places your shawl over your shoulders as he leaned down “Are you alright?”

You could practically smell the anger and jealously on him “I’m fine Illya” you said, giving him a reassuring smile “I promise”

He nodded, and breathed heavily out of his nose before turning to Solo, who was a few paces behind “Ve’re never doing this again”

“Copy that” Solo said, as you turned to look at him, both of you sharing an equally amused smile and roll of the eyes.

[muiiitos-arc]

PERMANENT STARTER CALL FOR MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E'S ILLYA KURYAKIN.  AS PLAYED BY ARMIE HAMMER.

by liking this post it gives me permission to tag you in starters from illya kuyrakin at any point in time. as well, it gives me permission to send you memes, etc. at any point as well. // muse  info & tags.

[jadedstormsong]

Napollya Prompt

Written a while ago as a request for a friend, who wanted some good old angsty pining 

——————————–

“You really like him, don’t you.”

Gaby watches carefully how her words seem to pull Napoleon into a different direction against his will. He tenses up, posture going rigid as he shifts his eyeline away briefly from her piercing gaze, instead focusing on the closed door at the far side of the hotel room. His mouth drops open slightly for a brief second until he slams his mask back down into place, cool indifference slipping across his features.

“That brute? Really Gaby?” He scoffs, turning his attention again to inspect his cufflinks nonchalantly. “I think you’re horribly mistaken about that. The word you’re looking for is tolerate.” He smirks at her and places a hand on his hip, smug.

“Besides, I prefer long legged brunettes” he adds as after a moment, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he winks at Gaby and looks her up and down thoughtfully. He holds his hands up playfully as she huffs and rolls her eyes at him.

She knows Napoleon is trying to deflect the heavy conversation, his body language has completely closed off and the female spy feels even more irritated as the minutes drag on. But the more he pushes her away, the more she pulls back. Walking over to the table between them, she pours two fingers of vodka into her glass and downs the liquid, her chest burning. Napoleon raises an eyebrow but watches her cautiously, wary or her coming too close and snapping her jaws around his pulse.

She sets the glass down and rubs her chin thoughtfully, leveling him with a knowing look. 

“That’s funny, considering your last five dates have all had blonde hair and blue eyes.” She catches the very subtle flinch at those words. “I think I might have to call bullshit on that, Solo”.

She notices how his hands begin to tremble very slightly, and he shoves them in his pockets, irritation etched across his features. “Keeping track of my latest fucks, are you?”

The words come out sharp, but there is no real sting behind it. She sees the unease swimming behind his eyes as he heads to the table to fill his glass.

Napoleon raises the vodka to his lips, eyes diverted. “What else would they be hmm?“ He laughs, hollow and forced. “Just warm bodies to pass the time”. Gaby feels the white anger bubble up through her chest, a sudden surge of protectiveness for the Russian squeezing her ribs open. Rounding the table towards him, she bares her throat and digs her finger into the American’s chest, pushing against the fabric. He freezes at the motion. 

“So is that all Illya is then? A simple conquest to fuck and forget about? Her voice raises, fury brimming under the surface.

Napoleon gapes at the outburst, horror twisting his features. “No! I would never use him like-” 

“And the other girls? Is he to be just like them? A notch added to your belt?“ 

“Christ, no. I-”

She can’t read the American when he is like this, when all of the half-spoken truths are impossible to identify. The lines between reality and fabricated lies intertwine too tightly, and she struggles to pick them apart. He is a complex puzzle hidden behind layers of ostentatiously expensive fabric, and Gaby has had enough. The two men have been constantly at each other’s throats over the last few missions, and she needs to put an end to it before they actually endanger each other on the job. "So what then, Solo? What is he to you? Because it sounds like you couldn’t give less of a shit what happens to him as long as you’re satisfied. If you really cared- ” 

His knuckles are white against the glass. He feels something snap and he finally breaks, voice raised to a thunderous yell. 

“He’s someone I could fucking love!”

They both freeze. 

A beat, then two, then three. Silence engulfs the room, and the thief eventually turns away, shakily carding his hand through his hair. 

Everything finally clicks into place, all the fighting, staring, goading. The puzzle fits. She takes a step forward, curiosity getting the better of her. “How long?”

When Napoleon finally turns around to look at her again, she fully sees how tired he is for the first time. The carefully constructed mask that he worked so hard to maintain has been ripped away. He downs the remaining vodka in a few short gulps and scrubs a hand across his face. 

There’s a hopeless look, and he tears his eyes away to stare at the glass in his hand. He answers in a small voice. “Morocco”.

God, she thinks. That long? 

“You should talk to him”. 

A cruel laugh rips out of Napoleon, and he visibly deflates. “Why? All I would get is a broken nose and more heartache.” His jaw clenches and he swallows thickly. “No thanks. I’d rather not fuck it up more than I currently have.“ He starts to retreat, to put as much distance between them as he can, and Gaby can feel her heart breaking in two.

“Oh, Solo…” She crosses the room in three quick strides and wraps her arms around his torso, resting her cheek on his shoulder. She feels an arm curl weakly around her waist in response.

“I still think you should talk to him, Napoleon”. She tightens her grip. “This is hurting you both too much”. She leans over and kisses him on the cheek, a sad smile on her lips as she pulls away.

[justabigoldnerd]

"Ravens Love The Snow"

By JustABigOldNerd on Ao3

Tags:

Alternate Universe - Wings, Ficlet, Drabble, Humor, Snow, Pre-Relationship, Scarves

Characters:

Illya Kuryakin, Napoleon Solo

Word Count:

485

Summary:

While working on my winged people anthology, I saw a video of a raven playing in the snow and got inspired lol

Excerpt:

Then they crossed a bridge. And the sparkling, sugar-soft snow that was still falling was just– it made his feathers itch like his fingers did when they passed something valuable. Solo paused at the edge of the little overpass, little more than decorative, and without any railings.

[el3anorrigbyworld]

Napoleon shakes his head as Gaby leaves the room. He has been wondering a lot about Illya and her lately, and somehow, that afternoon, his curiosity finally gets the better of him.

“Will you ever make a move on her?” he asks Illya, unable to stop the words from spilling out of his mouth. Not that he wants to, because the uncertainty is like an irritating itch on his skin he couldn’t get rid off, grating and driving him a little mad. “It’s rude to make a lady wait this long.”

“Yes, definitely rude.”

Illya’s face is obscured behind the newspaper he is reading so Napoleon couldn’t tell what he’s thinking. And judging by his nonchalant remark, Illya obviously isn’t treating the conversation seriously.

“Peril.”

“I heard you, Cowboy,” answers Illya, and when Napoleon clears his throat loudly, he finally lowers the newspapers in his hands and looks at his partner.

His mouth twitches into a smile at Napoleon’s frown. “And to answer your first question, no, I am not.”

“Why? Don’t you want her?”

Illya just shrugs halfheartedly, going back to his newspaper. And when he doesn’t say anything else Napoleon sighs. It’s so damn hard to break the Russian open and it’s so annoying to think that is all that Napoleon wants to do. Maybe if he shoots him with an assumption, something that might just make Illya admit what he wants to hear, he’ll finally have the answers to the questions swirling in his head.

“You don’t, do you?” he asks again, rubbing his jaw, “You don’t feel anything towards her.”

This time Illya places the newspaper aside and leans forward from his chair, arms on both knees. “Finally you are getting it right,” he says with a nod. “Although why have you come to this conclusion?”

“Anyone with eyes would find Gaby attractive. And the way you both batted eyes at each other in Rome, anyone would think the relationship was going somewhere. But it’s been six whole months now and nothing has happened. Nothing that I know of, of course,” Napoleon says.

A very small smile lights up Illya’s handsome face. “Yes, you are right. Nothing has happened.”

“Why?” Napoleon asks again. The questions in his head won’t stop now that the floodgates have opened. “Illya?”

“Because it’s not her that I want, Napoleon,” he says in answer, eyes lighting up, speaking to Napoleon, and finally Napoleon gives a small noise of understanding.

Oh. Oh!

Napoleon understands with clarity now, the implication of Illya’s answer, and of what it means to the both of them. The Russian’s already on his feet, and before Napoleon’s aware of what’s happening, he has knelt in front of him. Napoleon narrows his eyes at the man, reaches out to to touch Illya, but Illya is faster, catches Napoleon’s hand in one swift move.

“I’ve wanted us to happen for a long time,” he admits after some long seconds.

“B-But how come you’ve never said anything…haven’t done anything about it?“ Napoleon manages a question despite his heart racing at Illya’s admission.

Illya shrugs. “I wanted to be sure you wanted it. I needed to be sure.”

“But if I hadn’t asked, you wouldn’t have made your move. It’s like you’re contemplating. Perhaps you’re worried that you’d make a mistake.”

“In this case, I do not like to play games, Cowboy,” Illya says firmly, forcing his point, but Napoleon’s left thinking of all the flirting, all the tension, all of the lingering glances between them. Damn, it hadn’t been Gaby. It had been him all along. And he sees it, sees everything; from Rome right up to Cairo. Everything flashes by his eyes. He sees it now. And he smiles.

They had definitely played the dangerous game. And Peril knows it despite what he might have said.

“I’ve wanted us to happen for a very, very long time too,” Napoleon confesses in the end.

“I know,” Illya says quietly, eyes bright on his partner as he finally leans up to kiss Napoleon.

[myriadimagines]

Can I request a drabble for Illya Kuryakin with the prompts “How much time do we have left?” "I can't lose you"? Thank you very much! You are doing amazing!!

Characters: Reader x Illya Kuryakin

Warnings: violence, mentions of death

Prompt: 65. “I can’t lose you.” & 83. “How much time do we have left?” & 

Word Count: 499

A/N: thank you so much :’) 

NOT TAKING ANYMORE REQUESTS!

Illya presses the button to activate the bomb just as another spy sneaks into the room, entering so quietly neither you or Illya notice. By the time you do, he’s already shot you, and Illya whips around just in time to shoot him dead before he can aim again, and Illya collapses by your side as you fall to the ground, eyes wide with shock as you whole body tenses up.

“No—” Illya chokes out, cradling you in his arms as he can see the blood spreading through your shirt, your hands feebly pressing over the wound. Trying to hoist your arms around his shoulders and lift you to your feet, Illya insists, “I will carry you. We can make it.”

“Illya.” you stop him, seeing his chest heave with panicked breaths. You reach out, gripping his hand in yours, and you urgently continue, “There’s no time. You have to get out of here before the building blows. I’ll stay here to make sure no more come to deactivate the bomb.”

Illya furiously shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you.”

He tries to sit you upright, and you let out a loud groan, face contorted in pain as you’re clearly in no state to move, let alone walk. Looking around the room, desperately trying to come up with a solution, Illya continues, “There has to be something—”

“Illya—” you start again, trying to calm him down as you reach out to touch his face, and tears glisten in Illya’s eyes as he looks down at you.

“Please.” Illya begs, begs you to at least try for him. “I can’t lose you.”

You offer him a small smile, your own eyes welling with tears as you try and stay strong for the both of you. Illya turns his face into your hands, closing his eyes, ignoring the stickiness of your blood on his skin as you softly ask, “How much time do we have left?” 

Illya shakily turns to look over his shoulder, sees the digits of the bomb counting down with two minutes left. He turns to you, refusing to let you go, as he insists, “We still have time—”

“You have to go.” you interrupt, not wanting the man you love to die with you. “Please, Illya, you have to go.” 

The timer starts to beep more rapidly now, the numbers passing by quicker and quicker as Illya has less and less time to escape. He doesn’t budge at first, and you let out a small sigh of relief as you finally feel him relax, reluctantly letting you go as tears stream down his face. He cups your face in his hands as he kisses you, mumbling, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” you shake your head, caressing his face one last time. “I love you.”

Illya can barely manage to get the words out as he gets to his feet, takes one last look at the love of his life as he whispers, “I love you.”

[chasingmusesrp]

Only One Time // Napoleon & Illya

“Solo!” Illya’s voice echoed through the hotel as he barged into the American’s suite with his face a mask of rage, “Cowboy!“

Napoleon was in the shower and he quirked an eyebrow at the din but made no move to get out nor to even acknowledge the other man. Sometimes, one had to take the high road and not feed petulant displays of childishness, especially when said displays were exactly the reaction he’d wanted. Instead, he continued to wash his hair, working up a nice lather as Illya stomped into the steamy bathroom.

“You!” he growled, pointing at Napoleon who, for his part, looked over his shoulder to see if there was anyone else in the shower he hadn’t known about.

“Me?” came the calm retort, paired with an innocent expression that he knew would get under Illya’s skin even more.

“Ohhhohohho, no, you do not get this look on your face, Cowboy, you know what you have done!”

And maybe the smile that came after the rebuke was a tad more mischievous than it needed to be but who could blame Napoleon? After all, it was true, he did know why Illya was upset and it was rather amusing that he had been so spot on with his prediction of the man’s reaction.

“Would you mind coming back lat-…”

“I mind very much!“ Illya cut him off and grabbed a towel and thrust it towards Napoleon in the angriest way possible, “Get out of shower. Now.“

Napoleon sighed, shaking his head very slightly before quickly rinsing the shampoo out of his hair and turning off the water. “You know, Peril, this is terribly rude, I hav-…”

“I do not care!” Illya interrupted again, shoving the towel against Napoleon’s chest. That done, he left the bathroom and went to start pacing in the sitting room so that the man could get himself decent.

Napoleon took his sweet time drying off and came out in a hotel bathrobe. He watched Illya for a moment before shaking his head, “Illya, it was only one time.”

Illya turned on Napoleon and walked quickly up to him. The American didn’t even have time to react before the bigger man was grabbing him and jerking him forward by the front of the robe with one hand while the other went to the back of his head to keep him close as he kissed him. It was a rough, possessive thing, and Napoleon was sure his knees were going to fail when he heard the low growl coming from deep inside the Russian somewhere.

He looked rather dazed when Illya finally broke the kiss and glared at him, jaw working a bit, “Do not ever take man home unless it is absolutely necessary for mission. Yes?“

“Yes.. yes, I understand.” Napoleon couldn’t help but smile even as Illya gave him a completely exasperated snort, “You know, Peril, you’re cute when you’re jealous.”

And that, my friends, simply proved the point that Napoleon was a master Kuryakin Whisperer. Five simple words to get exactly what he wanted: another searing, dominating kiss this time after being shoved up against the nearest wall.

There was nothing better than manipulating the giant of a man for his own good (mostly) and for Napoleon’s benefit. Sooner or later, he was sure Illya would catch on, the man wasn’t stupid of course, but for now, Napoleon was content to play his little games to get them the satisfaction they both wanted. 

That they both needed.

[writingruna]

Hey can you do #62 for illya kuryakin :)

He was hunched in a chair, staring at his chess board. It was the same position he’d been in an hour before when you had told him it was time to sleep – not even the pieces had moved. You crossed the room and leaned against the armrest of his chair.

“Illya, darling,” you said quietly, resting your hand on his shoulder. “It’s past midnight. Come to bed with me.” He didn’t acknowledge your words or your touch.

You sighed, sliding off the armrest and kneeling on ground beside the chair. The ornate wooden box that housed the chess board sat on the floor and you began to carefully pack away the pieces. Illya didn’t move to stop you, instead watching with unfocused eyes. It didn’t take long for you to finish and you stood, setting the box on the couch and leaning against the armrest once more. “What are you doing staring at a chess board if you’re not playing chess, Illya?”

“I can not sleep,” he admitted.

“If you can’t sleep, we could have sex?” you teased, and Illya laughed softly. He wrapped an arm around your waist and you let him pull you off the armrest and onto his lap. You rested your head against his shoulder and he buried his face in your hair, closing his eyes. “Illya, darling, what’s wrong?”

He sighed, his hold on you tightening. Although he didn’t answer, you didn’t ask again. You relaxed against him, resting your hands on his chest. “I saw a man point a gun at my wife tonight,” he finally said quietly, “and was too far to stop him.”

Understanding washed through you and you ran your hand up his chest, resting it on his shoulder. “Our work is dangerous, Illya,” you said, speaking as softly as him now, “but you taught me well. I can defend myself if the occasion calls for it.”

Pulling away as you tilted your head up to look at him, you saw him smile sadly. “I know you can, my love,” he said, gently tracing his thumb across your cheek. “No man has ever been so close to hurting you, and I could not think when I saw tonight.”

“If there is one thing I believe,” you said, pausing long enough to kiss him, “it is that you and I will come home together each night. I will never leave you, Illya.”

[rose-of-pollux]

Title: Jinxed (1/1)

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

Rating: G

Summary: That last escape did not go as planned...

For @summer-of-whump, Day 24, Prompt: Accident