#reader x gaby teller

[playbucky]

Poly Headcanon.

Requested by Anon – Heyo, I heard that you have requests open for TMFU, and I was wondering if we could get some headcanons about being in a poly relationship with Illya, Gaby, and Napoleon? Only if you’re comfortable with it though! No pressure and thank you so much!! A/N – Sorry this took me so long!

- You all go on dates together the four fo you, you also go on dates with one person at a time. - But if you go with one of them by yourself, you can quickly spot the other two who are feeling left out and badly trying to blend in and you wonder how they became spies. - Whenever you have a hotel room, Ilya and Napoleon push the beds together so you can all fall asleep cuddling each other. - The guys are always the little spoons. - The guys are also like you and Gaby’s personal bodyguards, anyone looks at you especially men, well they glare right back. - You and Gaby are the same about women, but they don’t seem to notice it since you’re their precious jewels. - Another things, you’d have an abundance of nicknames. - Russian ones. - British ones. -  And German ones. - If anyone comes back from a mission with an injury you better be prepared for the full routine that you got through. - Stitching it, cleaning it, kisses on the wound, comforting words. - Treating you like porcelain for the next week. - Over protective. - Now if you have to attend an event to get information. - Illya and Nap will spend hours arguing over what goes best together. - You and Gaby quickly go around the shops and buy whatever you need before stopping it. - Choosing who’s partner is for the night ends up having to be done through a rota. - You all have the big discussion of moving in together. - They all insist on getting a large apartment that has a room for everyone. - You still spend nights in the same bed together. - Depending which room your sleeping in for the night comes down to a rota as well. - Illya and Nap have many arguments stating they’ve spent to long in the others room, when they actually haven’t. - Everyone has their roles. - Illya is a tinkerer, everything isn’t correct but it is. - Nap is the chef and makes most the meals and does the shopping. - Gaby fix’s the car or the sink to the toilet. - You well, you take on the roll of housekeeper but you don’t mind. - Since they are all so neat and tidy.

[staplegrapes]

A Smile from Home

(Illya Kuryakin x Reader)

Summary: Exhausted and desperate, Illya brings his battered team to your door seeking shelter, doing the one thing he wanted to avoid, risking your safety.

Word Count: 3.0k

TW: Mentions of blood and canon typical injuries

✨Gender Neutral Reader✨

Also, it’s established that the reader is Russian.

Helpful: Babushka is the Russian word for Grandmother

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The crisp night wind seemed to leak through the windows of your small house. Though this valley was blessed with rich soil and plenty of vegetation for livestock in the summer months, the frigid winter nights brought forth by the wind trailing from the hills seemed to temper your love for your homestead. It was the sort of cold that could not be remedied with a cup of tea, rather that chill always sat in your bones. A strong knock on your door startles you from your thoughts.

You didn’t get many visitors to your farm. That being said, not once had someone knocked at your door well past midnight as someone was right now. Who could it be? A distant neighbor? Thieves? KGB? You had your knife if your hand as you reached for the door. Taking a breath, you open the door a third of the way open, just enough to make eye contact. But you don't make eye contact exactly. You're met with a broad chest at your eyeline, leading up towards a familiar face.

“Illya?” You see the tall agent, his features sunken with an exasperated look. It had been at least a year or two since you had seen or had contact with your childhood friend. Despite the cold wind swirling around the door the heat of the three individuals greets you, the small woman in his arms and the attractive yet equally exhausted man behind him.

“We need your help.” Illya pleas breathlessly, his eyes desperate contrasting his stoic and unmoving stance, you can tell he is giving you the option to reject them. You swing the door wider stepping back, letting them into your small home. Friends of Illya are friends of yours. Quickly, the dark-haired man clears your old couch as Illya places the woman on it.

“She’s wounded.” Illya stated, attempting to clue you into the situation. Though that was the one thing you were able to gather this situation from the blood staining her dress and the pained look on her face.

"Uh- There's bandages and cloth in the cabinet in that corner." you state, wracking your brain for any helpful information. The shorter man follows your directions quickly as Illya grabs your Babushka's sewing box, pulling out a needle and thread.

Seeing Illya holding the sewing box send you into a spiral of childhood recollections. The two of you spent much time together after school. Not much alike one another in any sense, it was the simple force of proximity that kept your bond strong. In your teen years, few months after Illya's dad was sent to the Gulag and his mother had since gone off the rails, he came to your door for the first time since the incident. Upon seeing him you were hopeful to help him regain his sense of purpose, but he had already done so. He coldly informed you that he was joining the KGB and was saying his goodbyes.

Lost in your memories, you were pulled back to reality by an unusual sound. English. Snapping your head up, you see the other man talking calmly to the woman in perfectly accented English. You’re not the best with the western language, but just from his mannerisms you can tell he is trying to soothe her. Yet, his caring act brought you distress. This man was not Russian. No way does a Russian speak without an accent like that unless they were raised that way and now this man seemed less and less Russian with every passing second that you continued studying him. But once again, friends of Illya were friends of yours. You weren’t going to attest now.

You wanted to offer help, but Illya and the man seemed quite capable of tending to this woman. With a space so small and such purpose in Illya's actions, you felt as you were in an invader in your own home. Illya was quite obviously well aquatinted with these people. Both he and the English speaker were focused on stabilizing the woman. The two moved in near perfect synchronization. To make yourself less of a bother, you moved into the kitchen and took up a seat on the wooden stepstool. It was a not much of a room but was separated from the rest of the home with a small door frame and a drape acting as a door.

You heard her cries as the two did whatever first aid they could to help her.

Your home was just big enough for you. It had a couch, table, two chairs and a bed. The kitchen and bathroom were the only things not in this main room. Four people made the quaint wood cottage feel compact.

So much of what was happening flew over your head. Firstly, why was Illya hiding out in the Russian countryside? Secondly, why was Illya with an American? Thirdly, how had he got so much more attractive in the course of a year?

The sounds die down after a bit. You hear the occasional creak of the floor and shuffling on the other side of the drape. The heavy footsteps identify the person pulling back the drape to the kitchen before you can even see their shadowed figure through the sheer fabric. Illya, with bloody bandages, bringing them to the basin underneath your faucet to clean them.

His long expression tells you he’s no longer immediately worried, yet there is still no reason to celebrate.

“You’re in hiding?” You whisper as he begins to wash the cloth of their stains.

He nods, continuing to wash.

“But you can’t say any more than that.” you complete your thought. He looks at you with a look of true regret.

“I am sorry. This is very important. Otherwise, I would never put you in danger.” His jaw clenches, a tell-tale sign he is angry with himself and with what he cannot do. You stand up next to him at the basin. Your hand goes up to frame his face.

“I know, don’t worry about it, Illyusha.” you say sweetly with a small smile. He should know by now you would always be there for him. He lets out a breath that you can see some of the tension disappear with into the air. You bring a hand to the base of his neck, pulling his head down towards yours to meet your foreheads.

"You will be safe here." You whisper.

He nods.

You two stay there for a moment before you hear the kitchen drape pull back once more. Going back to standing straight, you see the other man in the doorframe.

"Thank you for letting us in." The well-dressed American states in surprisingly good Russian.

“Of course.” You smile with a small bow of the head.

He strides closer, offering you his hand. “Napoleon Solo.”

“Y/N L/N.” American or not, Illya trusted him.

“It’s a pleasure.” he gives a small smile, obviously also troubled by tonight's events, but not one to give up on formalities.

"You weren't followed?" You ask, facing Illya once again.

Illya looks to Napoleon.

"Not that we noticed. We had quite the head start." Napoleon states looking down to adjust the cuffs of his dress shirt.

"No car to hide?" You asked.

"Nope. We caught a ride on an unsuspecting freight train and then caught a ride on the back of a farm truck until about two miles away." Napoleon answers. You stand there still quite impressed with his Russian.

"Anyways, I came to get some water for Gaby." He continues.

You hurry and grab a glass from your shelf and fill it with water offering it to him. He nods as he goes back into the main room.

With Napoleon's absence the space between you and Illya grows quiet. Illya was always a man of few words unless prompted. Watching him continue to wash the bandages you begin to pull a pot from your cupboard.

"What are you doing?" He asks softly.

"You three must be starving. Who knows the last time you had any food? Let me make some stew."

Upon your answer the silence returns. Both of you busy with your respective tasks. Invested in your cooking, you fail to notice that the water had stopped running quite a while ago.

You pull out some bowls and meet the gaze of Illya, wondering just how long he had been staring at you.

"Again, thank you so much." He whispers. You shake your head.

"Of course, now go feed your friends." You extend two steaming bowls towards him.

Though undeniably a bit small for four people, your home seems much warmer with the added company. Illya tends to the fire in the stove as Napoleon alternates between feeding Gaby and himself stew. You take up residence at the table mindlessly staring at Illya concentrating on the crackling fire.

Gaby seems to drift to sleep after a few bites, so Napoleon comes to sit in the chair next to you at the table.

"So, how do you know Kuryakin?"

“We’ve always been good friends.” you say. "We grew up together." You look at the dark-haired man. He seems satisfied with this answer, continuing to eat. Also satisfied, Illya steps back from the stove watching it continue to burn. Finally, begins to eat his food. As happy as you are to see him, you're worried he isn't well from all of this stress. He definitely is not the same Illyusha that would merrily skip down the road in grade school.

“It’s getting late.” You state, seeing Illya’s head lull to the side as he holds his empty bowl. The two share a questioning look before you cut them off.

“Gaby needs a proper rest. She can sleep in my bed. I’ll bring all the blankets I can to make the floor and couch comfortable for you two.”

“What about you?” Illya questions.

“I can sleep in the rafters of the barn.” Sure, it wasn’t the most pleasant place to sleep, but it would be alright temporarily. But Illya's eyebrows snap together in distain.

“No, that is too cold. You cannot possibly.” he says giving you a look of pure disbelief.

“I didn’t ask you, Illyusha.” You retort giving him an equally questioning look.

You hear Napoleon snort as he picks up Gaby and gently sets her in your bed. As he gets here settled, you pull every blanket you own out from under your bed and attempt to make a decent place to sleep on the couch as well as the floor towards the stove. As for Illya, he simply stands there, you're not quite sure why.

When you are satisfied with your work, you help Napoleon dress Gaby in some of your clothes, much comfier and cleaner than her current outfit. Once done, you take one sheet and one quilt as you gather your coat and plan to head out towards the barn.

"Alright, I will see you all in the morning. In the case its needed, there's a rifle secured to the underside of the bed." You note. You catch Napoleon's smile and nod. Illya does not react.

"Goodnight." You smile and shut the door behind you. The two men stand there in momentary silence, before, as always, Napoleon breaks it, in English.

“So that’s why you haven’t gotten laid since I met you.” He smirks. Illya is nowhere near as amused.

“Shut up.” He storms to the door following you, as he slips into his jacket.

“Your friend made it clear, peril.” Napoleon argues.

“I don’t care. Couch is yours. I am staying in the barn too.” He opens the door with a strong jerk, nearly ripping it from its rusted frame.

Taking a pitchfork, you flatten an area in the hay enough to give you a place to lay down.

“Make it a little wider.” You hear him request in Russian.

“Illya, please.” Undoubtedly, he was exhausted and needed to sleep in the warmth and quietness of the house, not in a drafty barn with odd smells, noisy animals and on a pile of hay nonetheless.

“There’s room for both of us up here. Besides, cowboy snores.” He smiles briefly.

“Alright.” you accept. In your experience it is easier to not argue more than once with Illya. You can tell by the look in his eye that this was now nonnegotiable. You continue to hollow out a side of the mound where you two can rest comfortably. Taking an old sheet, you lay it down on top. He sits down first as you slide down next to him pulling over a quilt on top. With his tall stature, he barely fits in the quilt, but it’s all you brought for yourself, so you would have to make do. He certainly doesn't seem to mind as he pulls you under his arm and closer to him. You're practically in his lap. That's one way to fit under the quilt.

The silence is too loud. The quiet interjections of breathing and shifting in the hay bring some relief to the silence.

“Thank you again for letting us stay here.” He mumbles.

“You’re always welcomed here Ilyusha." you look up to him and see the look of concern on his face as he stares at the wooden barn wall.

"Wish it could have been a less dire circumstance for you to finally visit me though." you smirk leaning your head into the crook of his shoulder.

He chuckles, "I meant to, KGB business never ends." And this is a reasonable answer, still unfortunate in your mind. A small gust of air seems to seep through the siding of the barn, sending a shill down your spine.

“Are you still cold?”

"Just a bit." You mention. He brings you in closer to where you were practically laying on his chest.

“You gave us shelter. The least I can do is keep you warm.” He smiles, kissing the top of your head.

The silence returns but seems much safer and less awkward. You were about to drift to sleep when a thought pops in your head.

“You recognized my Babushka's sewing box.” You state. Without hesitation earlier, he knew the exact place to find a needle and thread. Sure, it was a family heirloom you treasured, but how had he remembered that?

“Somehow I remembered the fabric.” He replies, eyes closed. "It was the same one you were holding when you stood at my door when she passed.”

Of course he recognized it. It was what you were holding the day you showed up on his doorstep crying hours after your Babushka had passed. You cannot even imagine how pathetic you must have looked, but Illya never described it. He simply brought you in and let you fall apart in the safety of his arms. That was years ago at least two years before he joined the KBG. Truthfully, after losing your Babushka and then Illya, you had no reason to stay in the city. Finally, two years ago you made a decision. That is when you chose to escape to the countryside where you made the rules, and the government had a little less worry for your doings. You informed Illya by letter of your new homestead but did not receive a reply back. He obviously did read your letter.

In the morning you woke up stiff. Illya was nice, but still you were quite unrested after sleeping on a pile of hay but it would have been worse if you hadn't been practically sleeping on top of Illya. As you rise up from the hay Illya begins to stir. Slowly he recuperates enough to look up to you, a small smile on his face, nothing out of his limited emotional palate, but enough to make you smile back at him.

The three of them stayed in your home for three more days. Gaby grew stronger and the men rested as well. With this added time, you had a chance to actually meet Gaby as Illya and Napoleon attempted to figure out their next move. They wanted to head towards South-Western Europe. You were able to get them a ride from a trusted neighbor into the forest at the base of the nearby mountains.

"Ok, Daniil will take you to the edge of the forest and from there you should be able to catch the morning cargo train back towards the west." You state, helping Gaby stabilize herself as she steadied herself on her feet for the first time in days. Napoleon took her arm as he helped her outside.

"Thank you, Y/N." the American says before walking outside with the woman who also gives her regards. You smile and wave at them. That leaves just you and Illya in the home.

"Ok, there's food in your bag that isn't much, but it should keep you three satiated for a few days." You hand him the bag. He takes it and immediately lowers it unexpectedly.

"That is quite heavy."

"I filled your canteens with water." His look softens in gratitude appreciating the detail even he had forgotten. He lets the bag sit on the couch as he places his hands on your upper arms, looking down to you.

“I owe you. For all of this."

“Just,” you smiled stopping yourself to think, “stop by again sometime, with a little less worry. Ok?"

“On my own?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Preferably.” You smile with a small laugh.

With that you get a rare, yet classic Illya smile. Not a small one, but a full toothy grin. You see a glimpse of the boy you had known your entire life. Picking up his bag once more and slinging it over his shoulder, he heads to the door. You follow behind him.

He looks at his companions loading onto Daniil's truck. You peer out there from behind him. After a few moments you wonder why he hasn't moved.

He looks down at you, a bit desperate.

"Illyusha?"

He brings a hand to the base of your neck and pulls you into a kiss. The first kiss you two have ever shared. Much overdue, but truly intimate, and everything you imagined kissing him would be like. It seemed like the world slowed down for a brief while to let you enjoy this moment you had dreamed of since secondary school.

"I will come back to you." he smiled brightly again, but promptly turning his back to you to head out the door.

You would hold him to that promise.

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[eefos]

WEDNESDAY 2 DECEMBER, 6 PM EUROPEAN TIME, 12 PM US TIME OR 9/10/11 AM US TIME!

BE THERE!

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Omgomgomg! Can we please get some more of being in a poly relationship with Illya, Gaby, and Napoleon? I adore it so so much💕

* Congratulations, you have now three tops 

* Napoleon is defo the switch in this tho. You might be able to dom him too xD.

* Gaby is the one in charge 100%

* Though you are most likely the Queen of the Castle at home

* Oh three spies coming home to you, where you can love on them

* Gaby and Illya really have to get used to that, but Napoleon is basking in it!

* You love to pamper your three heroes

* And they would do anything to protect you

[persephone-of-tartaros]

Imagine: Beeing Illya's Daughter

Y/N: Dad ? This is my Boyfriend

Illya: *kill Bill sirens*

[fic-rec-time]

Have part of a new chapter for Take My Whole Heart, Too and am looking for a beta! HMU!

[kgb-peril]

Hiya, folks. I’d love some requests, seeing as I’d love to work on some fics. I’ve got one due in a week. (I’ve got an IT GCSE next week which it’ll be that long) but I’ll still be reading my messages and replying!

[puffberries]

A Very Tumblr Christmas: @donttalktomewhenimreading pt. 1

Fandom: The Man From Uncle

Character: Sofia Schwarz - OC

Background: 

Sofia Schwarz was a young German girl, born October 25th, 1939. The daughter of a jailed Nazi politician and his late wife, Sofia and her younger brother took to breaking ties with their wicked father several years after the war, when they were old enough to comprehend what he had done. Whilst Mr Schwarz believed his children were remaining faithful to him and his name, Sofia went about secretly handing files over to the police. 

The wall was built when the girl was 21. This slowed operations and muted contact with the police, but she persisted. This persistence led to her first contact with the CIA. They had come to her home in West Berlin, and confronted her about her father and his history. She happily obliged with telling them everything she knew about her father’s work, which also sparked a new task for her to engage in.

Sofia started engaging in missions to infiltrate the homes of her father’s old work colleagues. She gathered information that would later help lead them to Nazi’s association with Udo Teller, Hitler’s favourite rocket scientist, if you’ll recall, and other various scientists and spies.

With her connection and familiarity with former Nazi officials, Sofia became a very valuable asset to the CIA, and thus began her training as an official agent. She was surprisingly quick on her feet, and thus in months progressed to a field agent.

She began working sharply beside the famed U.N.C.L.E unit not longer after the whole Vinciguerra affair. She built her reputation as swift and frightening, although anyone who knew her well knew the opposite.

Last known Location: Budapest, Hungary

Current Location: Unknown 

Physical Description: (x)

Character Song list:

Sway - Rosemary Clooney (x)

Take Five - The Dave Brubeck Quartet (x)

Take Care of Business - Nina Simone (x)

Compared to What - Roberta Flack (x)

His Name is Napoleon Solo - Daniel Pemberton (x)

Come a Little Closer - Jay & The Americans (x)

24 - Lana Del Ray (x)

Jessica Jones Main Title - Sean Callery (x)

Bang Bang - Nancy Sinatra (x)

The Red Mist - Daniel Pemberton (x)

Feel free to write about the character, but remember to give me credit!

[thebadboyfanclub]

I Got You (Napoleon x Reader)

This is the third time i’m trying to post this fucking thing, tumblr won’t let the posts I do from my laptop under search results but they will show posts I do from my phone. Anyways, enjoy!

“This better be worth it Waverly”

“Ohhh (y/n) dear trust me it will. Let me introduce you to your new colleagues”

As she walked in the room with one big desk and a few chairs, three of them were occupied by two men and one woman, probably in her 20s. Her eyes however focused on one particular man.... The man that was one of the reasons you thrived in the illegal field.

“This is Miss Gaby Teller, the most important person in this case, next to her is mister Illya  Kuryakin, her supposed fiance and-”

“Napoleon Solo. The thief”

She bitterly interrupted Waverly, he was of course aware of (y/n)’s past with Napoleon, it was one of the reasons he requested her to join this case, keeping from her that piece of information of course. 

“(y/f/n), you’ve grown up”

“you got old”

“Right, now that everyone knows each other, (y/n) please take a seat and i’ll explain the plan”

As she took a seat from the other side of the table, directly in front of Napoleon, she tried to focus on Waverly and ignore Napoleons intense stare that almost drilled a hole on the side of her head.

“Ok, so since Illya is here to be the love interest for Gaby and Napoleon is here to just get some Italian legs in the air, what am I here for?”

“You dear (y/l/n), you will be portraying miss Brigitte Richard, an heir to the Richard well know Cigar, he is a close friend of mine and graciously agreed to take his daughters name”

“Won’t they know what his daughter looks like?”

“His daughter has been kept away from the public eye and she had transferred in Britain during high school, that’s also where she went to College and recently decided to stay there. I will give you a file of hers to study. Your goal is to get close to Victoria vinciguerra during the event, maybe even seem interested in mister Solo, of course for show, nothing more”

“Of course, everything is only just for show when it has to do with Napoleon”

-

(Y/n) was dressed in her best attire, her long red dress that hugged her waist so beautifully, of course some silver diamond earrings on her ears and her hair up in a perfect updo, her heels were comfortable at least, but if she had to run the dress would not hold for long until it gives a show to anyone around her, she prays that it didn’t have to happen, or she would be royally screwed,

“Miss Richard , your father was right you do have your mothers eyes”

What a fool, she thought, this is who she was hiding from? a woman that complimented her for the resemblance in her eyes.... she wasn’t even close to being related to this people. However, on the outside, she smiled brightly at the tall blonde lady

“Thank you so much, god rest her soul she at least she was generous enough to pass them down to me, my dads brown eyes are great but a tad bit boring don’t you think?”

The blonde gave a tight lip smile to her comment. Of course, if she knew that her real parent had never seen this type of luxury, the lady wouldn’t even spare a glance.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, Victoria Vinciguerra”

“Brigitte Richard, my father made sure to keep me away from all of... this, he wanted his kids to be humble”

“I’m really sorry for your brother”

“It’s alright, I miss him but... c’est la vie”

(Y/n) had almost swallowed the file Waverly had given her, she even looked into the cigar company, just in case anyone asked questions. As the two ladies kept talking, she started hearing commotion,she turned her head  towards the direction it was coming from and saw one familiar man falling to the ground.

“What is going on over there?”

“Excuse me dear”

Victoria started walking towards him and of course (y/n) followed. When they finally reached the crowd that was already forming a circle around him, there he was fanning himself the invitation dramatically, in true Napoleon fashion. (Y/n) kissed her teeth in annoyance, he was supposed to discreetly blend in, not cause a god damn ruckus the minute he walks in.

“Thank you, Thank you”

“I wonder what they do to people without invitations”

That is when she decided to take actions. She weaseled her way out of the crowd and kneeled in front of him to his level, offering her glass of champagne to him.

“Are you alright sir?”

“Yes, thank you very much Darling”

“I’m Victoria Vinciguerra, she is (y/f/n). I do believe an apology is in order. I’ll take it from here”

You helped him get up on his feet and took two steps to lean in and talked to her.

“of course miss Vinciguerra... next one is mine”

She giggled as she walked away in triumphant. To be frank the rest of your job was to keep an eye on these two, yet she could still say she completed the most important part.What she didn’t expect was the growing fire in the pit of her stomach that was directed to Victoria, looking at her talking to Napoleon so nonchalantly made her teeth hurt and her breasts ached with rage.

“It’s such a lovely day to be so pouty miss”

“Well sir... there is nothing really here for me to smile about”

“Not even me?”

“I think I am better off being the reason for someone to smile”

“Roberto  Russo, charmed”

“Brigitte Richard”

Roberto was a handsome man, tall, light brown hair, hazel eyes, sharp jawline, full lips and extremely well dressed, no doubt he knew his way around women and money. What a better distraction and cover up than him?

What (y/n) had not calculated was Napoleon picking up at her “strategic” flirt and filling like punching the hell out of this pretentious little Italian boy that grew up spending daddy’s money. He restrained himself from walking over to her and taking her hand, guiding her away from everyone, keeping her all to herself.

“I saw you were talking to my aunt”

“Oh you are related to Victoria?”

“Yes, my dad is her brother. I actually haven’t spoken to her today, come with me?”

“How could I ever refuse?”

As he offered his arm she smiled and linked hers with his, walking over with her head held high as they got close to Napoleon and Victoria

“My dearest Roberto, how are you?”

she kissed her nephew at both of his cheeks and yet no smile was shown. She really was cold, Roberto however smiled brightly, feeling excited to show his knew “catch” to his aunt.

“I’m doing well... who might he be?”

“Jack Devinsky, Nice to meet you”

Roberto looked at Napoleon up and down, almost well not almost... judging him harshly. Napoleons sure looked rich but there were levels to how rich you were, especially when men judged one another.

“Roberto Russo. Well... aunt Victoria may I occupy you for a minute”

“Of course, anything for my nephew”

“It will only take a minute dear”

“I am counting”

She replied at him, he took her hand and placed a gentle kiss as he stared directly in her eyes, winking at her as she left her with Napoleon. They stood there in awkward silence for a few moments, they haven’t really spoken since the case started, (y/n) made sure to avoid him.

“You look stunning if that isn’t obvious”

“Thanks”

She said dryly. She barely even looked him in the eye, all she could see was that damn night, the night she lost everything, the night her heart shuttered, the night he showed her all the cruelty of the world he always talked about.

“You are mad at me”

“Do you blame me?”

“No, it still upsets me though”

“That sounds like a personal issue to me”

-

The event was a success. which meant (y/n) could finally relax and wear her pajamas, pour a drink for herself and lounge in the couch her room had. She still wore his necklace, the gold star necklace he had bought her way back when... she took the charm in her hands and felt the cold metal.

How much more could she take with him around? it took her so much time to heal and now here he was again, scratching the wounds she had closed up all by herself. She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard a knock at her door. She got up to answer it and was met with the man of the hour.

“Napoleon”

“May I come in?”

She sighed before stepping aside to let him in. Even when all she wanted was to punch him in the face, her heart took over her and let him walk into her room and her life once again, even when she had swore to take revenge when she saw him again.

“What do you want?”

“To talk”

“About what?”

She was well aware she was snapping at him, could you blame her? He had swore to protect her, help her when she had nothing and no one, taught her everything and then one night she came home to find all his belongings missing... and that damn letter tore her apart, she didn’t sleep for days, she waited for him to return for months and yet he never did.

“(Y/n) I know-”

“YOU KNOW NOTHING

”her voice booming through the entire room, it was like a glass of emotions was overflowing, threating to spill and make a mess. He saw the pain in her face, her lower lips trembling, her hands forming fists... still what caught his eye was one thing, the necklace. She was wearing his necklace, after all these years she didn’t throw it away. He took a breath through his nose before continuing.

“(y/n) you have every right to be upset-”

“Damn right I do”

“Will you just listen?”

“listen to what Napoleon?! What?!What?!What?!”

Next thing that was heard was her glass smashing at the wall, Vodka dripping down and small pieces of glass going everywhere. Napoleon was shocked, he should have known this wouldn’t be easy, he had wanted to reach out to her over the years, he had even went through with finding her, yet every time he chickened out last minute and walked away from it. Now, here she was in pain, yelling and smashing things... she had become his enemy

“I’m sorry”

“You are sorry? Sorry? for what Napoleon? for leaving me? for doing it in such cruel way? for lying to me?”

“I never lied”

“You swore to me that you loved me, that you... cared”

There it was, tears. She couldn’t even control it, as her voice cracked and the waterfalls started, she didn’t also want to cover them, she wanted him to see what he had done... to hell with being the bigger person. He wanted to hug her, comfort her, make her feel loved but now all he could do was to try and reason with her.

“I had to leave”

“Why? What could possibly be the reason... money? paintings? women?”

“You know I would never cheat on you”

“Oh yeah, cause leaving our house in the middle of the night is so much better”

She tried wipe away her tears, silence falling between them once again. As a way to calm and hide her emotions, she kneeled and started picking up pieces of glass, her back turned to him. Napoleon went to her side and even when he wanted to pick her up and kiss her, he controlled his desire

“(Y/n) stop, you’ll cut yourself”

“I’m fine Napoleon”

“(Y/n) the maid can do it”

“I said I’m- FUCK”

a piece of sharp glass had cut her as she accidentally gripped it a bit too hard. Napoleon saw the blood and got up immediately to find some tissues, while (y/n) got on her feet and brought her hand close to her chest, closing it to a fist as a way to stop the pain. When Napoleon approached she turned her back once again

 “I said I’m fine”

“(Y/n) you are bleeding, let me care for you”

She had started crying again. As she turned around and opened her hand to him Napoleon gently placed the tissues on the wound, dabbing away the blood carefully.

“Why did you leave?”

“I thought I was protecting you, a way to keep you away from all of the things I was doing”

“Yet... here we are”

He looked up at her. Her lower lip was in between her teeth, tears freshly running down, her beautiful eyes were now red and puffy, her nose was running and he still found her heavenly.

“You kept the necklace”

“I tried throwing it away, or ponding it... I couldn’t find the courage... it’s too pretty”

“I tried coming back to you... multiple times”

“Why didn’t you do it?”

“I don’t know, I just didn’t”

She finally kept eye contact with him, getting lost once again in those ocean blue eyes, the eyes she looked at when they were laying naked on their bed, the eyes that looked at her when she woke up. With his one hand Napoleon slowly reached over and wiped a few tears with his thumb

“You are too pretty to cry over me”

“I missed you Napoleon”

She whispered looking down on the ground in embarrassment. She was everything he ever wanted, a woman that loved him and had his back and he tossed that all away, his intentions were pure yet the damage was gigantic. He hesitated for a minute, before taking her in his arms for a hug, her head nuzzling on his neck as she held on to him for the first time in what felt like centuries. Napoleon kissed her head, smelling her shampoo that was always the same, lavender.

“I missed you too munchkin”

She giggled at the nickname. Napoleon had met her when she was struggling to survive, she was this delicate little thing that looked everyone with kind eyes, yet once he got to know her he saw the passion, the fire, the potential she had to become something great, he didn’t want all that potential to go on illegal things that could possibly get her in jail or worse kill her. So from the beginning of the relationship he called her munchkin.

“Will we be alright?”

“I got you munchkin, I got you”

[cinebration]

Cordial (Napoleon Solo x Reader) [Part 1]

Premise: Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin, and Gaby Teller are assigned a new mission—one that requires a fourth to round off in “married” pairs: you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Epilogue

Warnings: none

Gif Source: dianahprince

“I work better as a bachelor,” Solo said.

Waverly smiled patronizingly in his direction. “While I admire your ability to seduce your way through rough situations, the target is expecting one Sofía Rosales and her American businessman husband.” He looked pointedly at Ilya and Gaby. “Can you feign an American accent, Kuryakin? Ms. Teller, are you fluent in Spanish? No? That settles it, then.”

Solo frowned, looked away as he gathered his thoughts. Being partnered with Kuryakin had been bad enough, but at least they hadn’t needed to pretend they were married. That allowed him to continue with his serial womanizing—mentioned in his file, to his amusement—which more often than not helped in a pinch. It may have gone sideways in the Vinciguerra affair, but he didn’t have a perfect record.

“It isn’t the end of the world, Solo,” Waverly assured him.

“If Ilya could play pretend, so can you,” Gaby quipped.

Solo shot her a nonplussed glance. She smirked in response.

The intercom on Waverly’s desk buzzed. “She’s here, sir.”

“Excellent. Send her in.”

Sighing through his nose, Solo turned toward the door, an uninterested look on his face.

You stepped into the room, not quite confident so much as bored. Solo stared at your flat expression, lips curling up into a smile of disbelief. The last thing he had expected was to see you matching his disinterest.

Your gaze swept the room, landing on him almost immediately. He waited for the inevitable head-to-toe sweep that all women seemed to give him. He was, after all, classically handsome and dressed to the nines in a $1,000 suit.

You gave him the sweep, but the look in your eyes when you met his gaze surprised him once again.

You were unimpressed.

“Ah, yes,” Waverly said, standing and introducing you to everyone in the room. “This is Gaby Teller, Ilya Kuryakin, and Napoleon Solo.”

Gaby smiled and extended a hand. “It’s nice to have another woman around. I’m tired of being the only one with common sense in the group.”

You smirked. “Consider me your reprieve.”

Ilya nodded curtly to you, though he smiled warmly. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

At last, you turned to Solo, your expression suddenly flat again. He extended a hand. Shaking it primly, you let your lips pull back in a cold smile. He cocked his head but kept mum, amusement glittering momentarily in his eyes.

“Good, now that everyone has been introduced,” Waverly said, “I have for you here the dossier on the mission.”

You reached for the file, only for Solo to snatch it from your reach. Suppressing a smile, he turned away and flipped open the slim folder. His eyes scanned the first page.

He immediately turned back to Waverly. “Biological warfare?”

“Quite a threat, I’m afraid, and certainly more insidious than a nuclear bomb. At least you can see those coming.” Waverly flashed his teeth, chuckling to himself quietly. Gesturing to you, he asked, “Do you have any questions?”

“Yes,” you said. The crisp tone of your voice drew Solo’s attention. “How would you like me to deal with his philandering?”

Waverly exhaled a tense chuckle as Solo faced you, lips pulling into a thin line. “Philandering.” Not a question. A simple statement, delivered in an almost accusatory tone.

You met his stare. “Your reputation precedes.”

“And yours does not.”

Your gaze swept over him again. “I prefer subtlety.”

Solo clenched his teeth, feeling something almost like genuine anger rising up the back of his spine.

“I like her,” Gaby declared.

“She is a most refreshing addition to the team,” Ilya quipped.

Solo’s curdling mood turned sour. Tucking the folder under his arm, his back ramrod straight, he smiled thinly and said, “If you’ll excuse me, I would rather enjoy my last hour as a bachelor before I tether myself to a deadweight.”

He swept out of the room. As the door closed behind him, he heard Ilya’s low chuckle and Gaby’s light laughter. He felt your eyes boring into his back. It only made his hackles rise higher, bunching his broad shoulders. He had been insulted before, but there was something different to this. There had been something in your eye, despite your flat expression, that had irked him.

At least, he thought venomously, this fake marriage doesn’t have to be cordial.

He resolved to find out all he could on you. The thought hastened his long stride.

[ao3feed-themanfromunclemovie]

Guilty as Charged

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/34pW3uU

by pleasehelpmeimstuckinthefandoms

Their mission was simple: shadow their pregnant target for a week and gain information on your husband through various methods that wouldn’t cause any direct contact between any of the members of U.N.C.L.E, yourself or your child.

Napoleon was always one to find a loophole.

Words: 1305, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English

Fandoms: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin, Gaby Teller, You, Reader

Relationships: Napoleon/Reader, Napoleon Solo/Reader, Napoleon x Reader, Napoleon Solo x Reader, Napoleon/You, Ben Solo/You

Additional Tags: Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Napoleon is a Little Shit, Sweet, Romance, Family Feels, Family Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, its v cute, i wish it were real, henry cavill is a snack and nobody can change my mind, hes also a darling and i love him, I hope you enjoy this, i really wanted to write something and this came up, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Domestic Fluff, your son is a cutie pie, so is napoleon, i cant think of anything else to tag, I'm Bad At Tagging, Secrets, Secret Identity, Secret Marriage, Hiding in Plain Sight, information, neglecting to share important information

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/34pW3uU

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Distraction - Illya Kuryakin

Pairing: Illya Kuryakin x Reader

Characters: Illya Kuryakin, Napoleon Solo, Gaby Teller

Warnings: N/A

Request: Anon: “Can I request an Illya Kuryakin imagine where Illya and the reader have secret feelings for each other and during a mission where they pose as an engaged couple Illa gets angry and beginning to have one of his episodes so the reader is trying to calm him down but it isn’t really working so they kiss him?”

Word Count: 650

Author: Hannah

Your job wasn’t exactly a conventional one and that didn’t leave much room for some form of social life.

Well, you weren’t one to go out anyway but Napoleon took every available opportunity to go out and get drunk.

That usually left you and Illya to figure out your evenings together.

You weren’t one to turn down time alone with Illya. A lot of people always perceived him as brutish and difficult to handle, but you rarely dealt with that side of him.

It had been a while since you had come to terms with the fact that you had feelings for Illya, but you’d never said anything about them due to the fact that you two were colleagues and he was never likely to feel the same.

Most recently U.N.C.L.E had been sent on a mission in Italy.

An arms dealer was making big waves out there, and your bosses had decided that U.N.C.L.E needed to interfere or at least gain some more intel on the inner circle and workings.

Gaby and Napoleon had been paired up, same way you and Illya had been – but Napoleon and Gaby were posing as siblings, whereas you and Illya were posing as a couple who had become engaged recently.

Whilst Napoleon and Gaby were trying to get on the inside of the dealer, Illya and you had been tasked with his associates.

It was difficult to be ‘engaged’ to a guy when he didn’t even know you genuinely had feelings for him.

You and Illya had gone out for lunch, partly for something to eat but also because Napoleon had mentioned that an associate frequented the little café.

The café was right on the riverfront, meaning you and Illya had a table by the sidewalk and looking like nothing more than a couple enjoying their time together.

However, you could tell that Illya was on edge but not because of the mission, more so because of the fact that an Italian waiter constantly kept hitting on you.

Illya had already made a point of holding your hand across the table and angling your hand so that your, albeit fake, engagement ring was visible.

You could recognise the signs of one of his episodes coming on so you were beginning to get worried.

“Illya?”

He looked over at you, his hand still holding yours but said nothing.

You sighed slightly and got up from your chair before crouching down next to Illya.

Placing your hand on his leg, he turned to face you.

“Please, you need to calm down.”

He began to shake more, and your words weren’t having any form of effect on him.

You decided on throwing caution to the wind as you stood up and pressed a kiss to his lips, feeling him relax almost immediately before he responded to the kiss.

With the two of you being lost in the moment, you both forgot about the fact that you were supposed to be observing the patrons of the café – however the kiss was helping your cover.

Once you pulled away from him you wanted to panic but you knew you couldn’t.

Despite this, a look into Illya’s eyes and the reassuring squeeze he gave your hand made you smile.

The rest of the afternoon passed smoothly and without any more incidents.

As the two of you got up to leave, Illya tucked your arm through his and threw some money down for the bill.

“Can I ask you a question?” Illya spoke up after a few moments of silence.

You turned to him with a smile on your face. “Of course.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

“You were in the beginning of an episode, and nothing I was doing was helping so I went for a straight distraction.”

He smiled at you, leaning to press a kiss to your temple. “It was a distraction that I very much enjoyed.

[eefos]

Ok so Jacqui Ritchie just DMs me, cause I sent a lot to her, and watch she said was this: ‘A petition always helps’.

So please, reblog my pinned post. Do it again or if you haven’t done it yet, please do. Please don’t like it, because a lot of people can’t see it that way. WE NEED AS MUCH SIGNATURES AS POSSIBLE.

Do you want this duo back together on the screen? Then sign it.

Link to the petition is on my page where I pinned it!

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Sexy Sunday with Napoleon Solo!

Sexy Sunday requests are now closed. Talk Dirty to Me requests are still open

Napoleon is legit perpetually horny

Is never not at least 30% hard

Finds so many simple things arousing

The way you sip your drink / how you eat your soup / Illya’s flat hat / the way Gaby bats her lashes / ect ect ect

The world is Napoleon’s oyster and fuck is he going to eat it the heck out

[myriadimagines]

Napoleon Solo 71/95/154

Characters: Reader x Napoleon Solo + Gaby Teller & Illya Kuryakin

Warnings: none

Prompts: 71: “I never imagined myself in a wedding dress.” 95: “Hold my hand, we have to make this look convincing!” 154: “Are you sure you two aren’t married?”

Word Count: 484

A/N: yoOOOOOO just wanna give a mini shoutout to the person who requested this for choosing these prompts they work so well together omg. and i have no idea how weddings work so sorry if this is inaccurate

NOT TAKING ANYMORE REQUESTS!

You sighed as you straightened out the skirt of your dress, struggling to find a comfortable position to sit in the cramped back seat of the car. Beside you, Napoleon smirked as he looked you up and down, and you defensively asked, “What?”

“Nothing.” Napoleon chuckled, shaking his head. “You look nice.”

“Yeah, right.” you snorted, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ears. “I never imagined myself in a wedding dress.”

“It’s almost over.” Napoleon shrugged, and you breathed out a sigh in relief. The two of you were undercover as a married couple as part of a mission. You didn’t exactly know why you and Napoleon had to be the ones who were undercover, while Illya and Gaby were just posing as a bridesmaid and a groom. 

The car pulled up to an expensive hotel where the ‘reception’ was being held, and you were about to get out of the car when Napoleon quickly grabbed your arm. You snatched it away to glare at him, and he rolled his eyes as he said, “Hold my hand, we have to make this look convincing!”

You groaned loudly as you reluctantly laced your fingers with Napoleon’s, and the two of you stumbled out of the car together and made your way to the building. You lifted up your chin and confidently strolled through the lobby and into the main hall, where the reception was being held. You could see Gaby and Illya on the other side of the room, and Gaby smirked as she nudged Illya and pointed to you. You felt your cheeks flush as she walked over, excitedly waving her hands.

“How is the happy couple?” she teased, winking at you, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. Napoleon looked around, and Gaby playfully shoved him as she said, “Don’t look so excited.”

“Have you got eyes on the target?” he asked, lowering his voice as Illya walked up. Illya shook his head slightly, and Napoleon sighed. 

“What, you don’t like being married to me?” you joked, and a small smile lit up Napoleon’s serious expression.

“Oh, I love it.” Napoleon wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him, and you blushed again. As reluctant as you acted about this whole undercover disguise, you secretly had a huge crush on Napoleon, and felt secretly happy to be with him. 

“Are you sure you two aren’t married?” Gaby suddenly piped up, and the both of you looked at her. “The two of you are giving each other heart eyes.” 

“Shut up, Gabs-” you laughed, before Napoleon suddenly leaned down to kiss you. Gaby smacked Illya’s arm excitedly, since she was fully aware of your crush, before she pulled him away to give the two of you privacy. As Napoleon pulled away, you breathed out, “What was that?” 

“Just thought we needed to be more convincing.” Napoleon winked at you. 

[eefos]

So... are there already people who kind of made ideas/script for the The Man from UNCLE Sequel and sent it to Armie Hammer? 😭😭😭