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skyborneveggie · 6 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

(I was not tagged, but I saw @rose-of-pollux post this form a few weeks ago & it looked fun)

How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 38 works under my username on ao3. I also have 17 anon-ed fics from a fandom I no longer wish to associate with, and a handful of fics on ff.net that I didn't like enough to transfer to ao3.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 29,645 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now only feeling inspired to write for The Man from UNCLE TV show. Though I did post a Good Omens fic this year, & I could probably persuade myself to write another oneshot or two for that.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Idyllism (2016) [Rory & 11th Doctor; Gen but pairings if you like]

The Falliable Pillar (2016) [Onesided Kyouya Ootori/Tamaki Suoh]

1991 (2019) [Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo]

Child's Play (2018) [FrostIron; unfinished & probably will remain so]

Me Paenitet (2011) [Onesided Draco Malfoy/Luna Lovegood, Onesided Astoria Greengras/Draco Malfoy]

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do always try to thank the person for reading. I usually only forget if it's a comment on a very old fic.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

This is extremely hard for me to answer. Out of the 50+ fics I've written, probably only 5 of them are not angst. My Good Omens fic Aeternum has the most gutting descriptions, but I have always felt that the absolute sucker punch at the end of Provocation (X/1999) hurt the most to write, & to reread.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oh undoubtedly my MFU contemporary High School AU, The Puzzle.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have never gotten hate, but I have gotten backhanded compliments that I personally find hilarious. I made a post about it before here.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I... have attempted to write smut, but I don't think I necessarily succeeded. I have written several sex scenes with undetailed descriptions, and the one time I did attempt to be explicit the comments and I both agree that it came out sounding rather clinical. So I dunno if either of those situations really count.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I have written several crossovers, but I wouldn't consider any of them crazy.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so, I don't think any of my fics have ever gotten popular enough for anyone to want to steal haha.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I used to translate my own fics into Spanish wayyy back when I first started writing, but I haven't done that in ages.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No but it sounds like fun! Would love to give it a shot some day.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin. I am like Smeagol; I'm "interested in roots and beginnings." And how much closer to the root of contemporary fandom can you get, than with these two silly beans?

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I would love to finish my 2019 Good Omens fic Temporalia because I think there are some good ideas & beautiful passages in there. The problem is that my interpretation of the characters has changed, & is no longer consistent with some of the details I wrote back then. I'd also like to complete my 2018 FrostIron fic someday, just for the sake of finishing it. It was entirely plotted when I quit on it, and I still have all my notes.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I am good at writing turmoil, inner confusion, and despair. I try to wring every ounce of angst out of descriptions, letting the character's distress color their perception of their environment, and I think I'm pretty decent at it. I also think I'm pretty good at expressing complex emotions without being too direct, though sometimes I worry that I'm too indirect & that I'll leave readers confused.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

PLOT, I am extremely impatient when writing scenes where things actually happen. Also dialogue, I always feel that my dialogue either just does not sound realistic, or does not sound like the characters.

Another huge writing weakness is that I am incapable of writing anything longer than short story length, & have abandoned every attempt at a longfic after the 2nd chapter.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I have done this in the past for characters who canonically do this. I know it is standard practice to italicize all foreign language words when writing, but I personally find this VERY jarring. I generally leave foreign dialogue unitalicized & formatted indistinguishably from the primary language dialogue. But I think I may be the only one with this pet peeve, because I have received a few complaints about my lack of italicization from readers.

I could go way more in depth as to why the italics on foreign words annoy me, but I don't think anyone would be interested in hearing that rant 😂

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Suite Life of Zack and Cody. It was 2008. That fic has been scrubbed from the internet lol.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Provocation (X/1999). It was the one and only time I'd ever written something and then thought "Ah. Yes. This is an absolutely perfect execution of my vision."

Tagging @theniftycat, @tenok, & @lunetta-suzie-jewel if you like, or anyone else who wants to do this. (@andorianimpostor I'm not sure if you write fic or not, but I thought I'd tag you in case you do)

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playbucky · 4 years

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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.

#napoleon solo x reader #napoleon solo #reader x napoleon solo #reader x illya kuryakin #illya kuryakin x reader #illya kuryakin #gaby teller x reader #gaby teller #reader x gaby teller #the man from uncle x reader #reader x the man from uncle #the man from uncle imagines #the man from uncle fanfiction

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myriadimagines · 6 years

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Trust Me

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

Pairing: Reader x Illya Kuryakin

Other Characters: Napoleon Solo

Warnings: Violence, torture, death and injury

Request: “A little last minute, but I would really like to request a one-shot with Illya Kuryakin, where the reader is an american agent and they have to work together on a case, and first they don't like each other, but the case goes bad and it goes dangerous and they have to realize they fell for each other and in the end they admit it. Thank you, you are so amazing I can't even describe. Really, thank you for doing all this for us ❤❤❤” — anonymous

Word Count: 3,909

A/N: Oof so I’m sick while I’m writing this and not feeling too good but your little message made me smile so thank you so much lovely 💞I hope you like it! Sorry it’s a little long (I’m pretty sure this is the longest thing I’ve ever written on this blog yikes but I needed ~time~ to develop the relationship from hate to love ya feel) and the technology is not very accurate akjshdkjasd I ended up liking this a lot more than I thought I would

please reblog/leave comments, they’re very much appreciated!

Your name: submit What is this?

You had heard stories about Illya Kuryakin. Former KGB agent now affiliated with U.N.C.L.E.. You had never met him, even after recently transferring from the CIA to U.N.C.L.E., although you had heard plenty from your colleague, Napoleon. However, all the stories in the world couldn’t prepare you for when you met him the first time, and learned you were partnered with him for your first mission with U.N.C.L.E..

Despite knowing he was on your team, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy working with Illya. Back at the CIA, there were only a handful of agents you worked with, although you mostly worked alone. Working with Illya felt like a test you weren’t prepared for, an unknown factor, and you didn’t like the idea of having someone you couldn’t trust watching your back on a mission. Illya obviously seemed to pick up on your distrust, something which quickly created tension in your relationship, even before the mission started.

“Isn’t he supposed to be your partner?” you argued, folding your arms tightly across your chest as Illya’s head snapped towards you, evidently offended that you had reduced him to Napoleon’s partner. The three of you were in the briefing room, where Napoleon was explaining the mission to you and Illya. The mission required you and Illya to go undercover as a couple in Paris, where you would be shadowing your target, Adam Moreau, who was rumored to be purchasing dangerous, chemical weaponry.

“I am not his partner.” Illya clarified, his comment falling upon deaf ears as you and Napoleon ignored him.

“Look, I don’t see what the big deal is. The target and his agency know me already, so the minute I’m spotted they’ll know we’re onto them. Your time in the CIA was mostly covert, and they don’t know you now work for U.N.C.L.E., so they won’t recognize you. Illya will be your backup and part of your disguise, which is essential.” Napoleon leaned against the desk, arching an eyebrow at you as if challenging you to continue arguing with him. “Besides, Peril isn’t that bad of a partner.”

“Fine!” you exclaimed, glaring at Napoleon as he flashed you a triumphant smirk. You looked over your shoulder at Illya, who frowned at you, and you pushed past him to prepare for your trip.

“This is not going to go well.” Illya grumbled, pointing an accusatory finger at Napoleon, who let out a chuckle as he turned to rearrange some files on his desk.

“Really? I think it’s going to go perfectly.” Napoleon replied, his tone laced with sarcasm. “You and y/n make a perfect match.”

—

You and Illya sat silently in the taxi on the way to the hotel. Illya had an arm around your seat, a stiff gesture supposedly meant to contribute to your disguises. Your hands were folded tensely in your lap as you stared out the window, focusing on the buildings instead of Illya. You could feel him shifting in his seat, his leg lightly brushing yours as he opened his mouth, attempting to make conversation but no words left his lips. By the time your reached the hotel, you had practically run away from Illya in an attempt to escape the suffocating tension in the air.

Your entire travels had been similar. You had barely spoken on the airplane, gruffly exchanging one worded conversations and nodding at each other in acknowledgement when you’d pass a file to him. The both of you stood rigidly beside each other while waiting for the taxi, looking more like business partners than the married couple you were supposed to be. Even the concierge flashed the two of you uneasy smiles as you checked into your room, barely acknowledging each other as you grabbed your backs and headed up to the room, rushing ahead of Illya.

Illya slammed the door behind him as he entered the room, storming out to the balcony where you were standing, leaning against the railing as you looked at the city down below. You didn’t bother to look over your shoulder as Illya folded his arms angrily across his chest, demanding, “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying the view.” you replied curtly, and you could hear Illya scoff behind you. Such a small noise normally wouldn’t have bothered you, but you could feel annoyance rising in your chest as you spun around, shooting Illya a look as you snapped, “Is that a problem?”

“The problem is that you are ruining our cover.” Illya replied, his voice low and venomous as he stepped closer to you. You rolled your eyes, clearly unfazed by the infamous Illya temper, which you had heard plenty about from Napoleon. You didn’t flinch as he practically pressed up against you, his gaze burning down on you as he continued, “You barely look at me, and this is the most words we’ve exchanged in the past twenty four hours. You treat me like the enemy instead of your ally. We are supposed to act married.”

“There’s no need to keep up appearances when we’re not around the target.” you scowled at Illya, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

“Don’t act stupid, y/n, you never know when they’re watching.” Illya pointed out, the anger in his tone still prominent as you jerked back at his insult. “You are being immature and jeopardizing our mission-”

“I’m being immature?” you exclaimed, outrage bubbling from your throat. “You haven’t been the most forthcoming, either!”

Illya opened his mouth, raising his finger as if to scold you, but a loud knock at the door distracted the both of you. You instinctively reached for your gun, noticing Illya had mirrored your movements, before the both of you quickly relaxed as a meek voice called out, “Room service!”

You and Illya exchanged glances, the unresolved anger from your argument still lingering, as Illya called for the maid to come in. Suddenly self conscious about how close Illya was as the maid entered, flashing you a warm smile, you could feel your cheeks getting hot as Illya wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. Improvising, you rested a hand on Illya’s chest as the maid explained she had brought a clean pillow she had forgotten to drop off earlier. The both of you turned around, pretending to enjoy the view as the maid quickly scuttled toward the bed to place the pillow before leaving. As soon as you heard the door click shut, your hand slid away from Illya’s chest as he smoothed out his shirt.

“That looked more believable.” Illya finally spoke, his shoulders tense. You could tell he was still angry, frustration still bubbling behind his eyes, but his subtle comment acted like a peace offering, a chance to make amends. He studied your expression as you debated your response, yet you weren’t ready to so easily dispel the obvious tension between the two of you.

“Don’t get used to it.” you simply responded, moving past him. Illya let out a quiet sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as you paused, turning to narrow your eyes at him. “I only work with people I trust, or I work alone. And I don’t know if I can trust you yet.”

You retreated into the bathroom to change into a different outfit, and Illya shook his head as he leaned up against the balcony railing as he mumbled to himself, “What do I have to do to show you can trust me?”

—

The first few days of the mission were uneventful. Your days were mostly filled with shadowing your target and his associates, exerting minimal effort to upkeep your appearance as a couple. Both you and Illya had warmed up to your covers, getting slightly more comfortable in public, but in private, things were still icy. Illya spent his nights sleeping on the couch, the both of you savoring your nights as they were the only times you could have some degree of privacy. Every now and then, Illya would make some attempt to patch things up, yet you kept your guard up, refusing to let him break it down. The amount of arguments between the two of you had lowered, yet the hostile silence somehow felt worse.

You tried to push Illya out of your thoughts as you crouched behind the crates you were standing behind, making sure not to be seen as two men walked by. Peeking through the cracks, you watched as they loaded two boxes onto an unmarked truck. Reaching for your radio device, you quietly whispered, “They’re loading something into the truck. I’m going to go investigate.”

“There is no sign of Moreau.” Illya’s voice filtered through the radio. While you were in the alleyway, Illya was in the building out front looking for any sign of Moreau, who you predicted would be here to oversee the transportation. Illya needed to take some photos of Moreau with the chemicals for the headquarters, while you needed to stop the chemicals from being transported. You grabbed your gun, preparing to hijack the truck when to your surprise, Illya added, “Be careful.”

You frowned, opening your mouth to come up with a snarky comeback when you heard the familiar click of a gun behind you. You gulped, freezing as someone behind you snapped, “Get up.”

You could heard Illya’s concerned voice from the radio as he asked, “y/n? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Not having time to respond, you quickly spun around, shooting the henchman in the foot. He yelped in pain as you smacked him across the face with your gun, rendering him unconscious. The gunshot alerted the other henchmen of your presence, and they quickly loaded the chemicals onto the truck before signalling the driver to go. You rushed after them, ducking behind a wall as you tried to shoot the tires of the truck. You let out a frustrated groan as you missed, allowing the truck to speed around the corner, out of your view. You turned around to aim at the two henchmen who were firing at you, cursing when you fired off one shot before you ran out of bullets. Just as the henchmen drew nearer, the gunfire suddenly ceased, and you looked up to see Illya standing over the bodies of the fallen henchmen.

“You left your post.” you spluttered, unsure of what else to say. Illya rolled his eyes as he examined the bodied before straightening. “What if Moreau was there?”

“Saving the life of my partner was more important.” Illya gruffly responded before glancing over his shoulder. You were momentarily speechless, taken aback by his answer before he continued, “Come on, we have to go.”

—

The both of you sat in the hotel room, a newfound awkwardness in the air. You still hadn’t thanked Illya for saving you, and it felt like the window of opportunity had passed after you had left the alleyway, and it seemed strange to bring it up again. Neither of you had spoken, and Illya was fixing himself a drink, before you noticed he reached for another glass for you. Before you could say anything, he walked over to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed, offering you the drink.

You nodded at him as Illya clinked his glass against yours before taking a sip. To your surprise, he sat beside you, savoring his drink as the both of you stared ahead.

Illya’s actions had surprised you. The fact that he had come back for you, instead of sticking to the mission, shocked you. You didn’t know how to interpret it, in terms of what it meant for the both of you and what it told you about his personality, but you couldn’t help but suddenly feel closer to him.

“I was betrayed.” you suddenly revealed, and Illya looked up at you in surprise. The words had so easily escaped your lips, and you knew it was too late to go back. You glanced over at him, before quickly looking away as you continued, “By someone I really trusted, too. The mission was ruined, obviously, and I almost got killed. But that… that wasn’t the worst part. That simple betrayal ruined everything for me. I was never able to trust anyone afterwards, because… because if my own partners, people who are supposed to have my back, can turn against me, then who am I supposed to turn to?”

“You have me.” Illya immediately replied, his tone firm as he instinctively reached for your hand. You flinched, looking up at him in surprise, taken aback by the sincerity in his eyes. “You can trust me, y/n, I promise. I will prove it to you as many times as I need to.”

A small smile flickered onto your lips, and despite every voice in your head, every defensive, skeptical voice in your head which had driven you to distrust others yelled at you to pull away, something inside of you felt like you could truly believe Illya. That finally, there was someone you could let past the walls you had built up around yourself instead of giving you reason to build more.

“Thank you.” you whispered, and Illya nodded. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table, straightening when he realized how late it had gotten.

“We should get some sleep.” he remarked, and you nodded in agreement. He moved to get up, but your hand remained wrapped around his, and he looked at you, a hint of confusion in his expression.

“You… you don’t have to sleep on the couch.” you stammered, and Illya couldn’t help but smile at how flustered you had suddenly gotten. “I mean, unless you’d prefer it-”

“No,” Illya cut you off, already sitting down beside you as you let out a tiny sigh of relief. “I’d prefer to sleep here with you.”

Smiling at each other, suddenly privy to parts of each other neither of you had never known, it felt as if things had been restored, as if things would finally run smoothly from here on out. And as the two of you lay down, and you subtly rested your head beside Illya’s shoulder, you wished that it could be true.

—

Illya knew something was wrong the second he woke up. For one, his vision was blurred, and there was a dull pain coursing through his head. He groaned, rolling over, trying to recall the events of last night. His vision finally cleared as he looked at his bedside table, and he shot up when he noticed a syringe.

He snatched it, yet there was no fluid inside to inspect, as it had obviously been injected into him. He spun around to your side of the bed, reaching out as it to wake you, and his heart skipped a beat when his hand was met with nothing but empty sheets. He jerked the sheets aside, his heart pounding out of his chest when he realized you had disappeared, and despite his frazzled state of mind, he tried to put together the pieces as well as he could.

You had been taken. He had been drugged, explaining why he had no recollection of hearing or seeing anyone after you had fallen asleep. Had he not been drugged, he would most definitely sensed if someone had entered the room or if you had been dragged away, and he would’ve been able to stop your kidnappers.

His hands balled into fists, blaming himself for the turn in events. If anything had happened to you, if you had been killed, Illya would never forgive himself. Especially after how vulnerable you had been to him, finally letting him in instead of pushing him out, Illya couldn’t let you down.

And he loved you. He had finally admitted it to himself after you had been taken from him. You were stubborn and guarded, and frustrated him to no end, but especially after how open you had been to him the previous night, Illya had still fallen in love with you.

Trying his best not to give into the fury that was clawing at him, he took a few deep breaths as he tried to think about how to track the people who had taken you. The two of you had been careful not to make sure you were followed every time you returned to your hotel room. You had not revealed your names to anyone, meaning there was no way someone could’ve checked to see which room you were in at the concierge desk. No one had been in your room either.

Then it hit Illya. The maid from the first day. It was the only explanation, the only link. Frantically searching the bed, Illya practically tore it apart before he finally found what he was looking for — a bug that had been planted at the bottom of the bed frame.

Carefully carrying it over to the computer monitor, he gently pried it apart, honing in on the frequencies with the computer to try and trace where the bug was transmitting. Illya almost threw the monitor aside in frustration when it didn’t work the first time, but knowing your life was at stake helped him try again for a second time, a third time before it worked. Scribbling down the address on a scrap of hotel paper, Illya grabbed his guns and headed out.

—

You gritted your teeth, letting out a strangled groan of pain as you spat out the bitter taste of blood that had formed in your mouth. More blood trickled down your nose, streaming over your lips and down your chin.

“I don’t have your precious little chemicals.” you manage to wheeze through the pain. “The truck drove off before I could stop it. Obviously, one of your people betrayed you because it wasn’t me.”

“Because we have sources telling us you were last seen with the disappeared shipment.” your interrogator returned to his table, his tools spread out. “And my boss really wants those chemicals back.”

You didn’t know how long you had been in here, but you weren’t sure if you could handle any more pain. Despite the fact that you were telling the truth, it appeared you didn’t seem very convincing.

“My partner is going to find me.” you changed tactics, scowling at your interrogator as he strolled up with a hammer. “And you’re going to regret all of this.”

“He’s not coming to save you.” your interrogator mocked a frown, his tone condescending as he circled you. “He didn’t save you before, and he’s won’t now.”

You braced yourself for more pain, cringing as the interrogator loomed closer. The both of you froze as the door was suddenly kicked down, the wood splintering against the floor as you saw Illya standing in the doorway, the bodies of the guards fallen behind him. Guns aimed, he snarled, “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Before your interrogator could react, Illya shot him dead, before rushing over to you. You could barely think of anything other than the pain, but his name finally reached your tongue.

“Illya.” you gasped, unsure if he was truly in front of you, or you were in so much pain you were hallucinating. You could feel the warmth of his skin against yours as he reached around you, untying your hands before his hands flew up to your face, gently holding it as he looked into your eyes.

“Do you trust me?” Illya simply asked, and without thinking, you nodded. Nodding back at you, he continued, “I will get you out of here, I promise.”

Illya hauled you out of the chair, pulling your arm around his shoulders before he secured an arm around your waist. The two of you limped out the the building, Illya easily shooting down any henchmen who had come to stop you. You and Illya burst out of the door, the sunlight burning into your eyes as you buried your face into Illya’s shoulder, cringing. You lost your balance, nearly collapsing onto the floor as Illya quickly grabbed you, resting your head on his lap. His voice sounded muffled as he urged, “y/n, stay with me. y/n?”

“I trust you.” you whispered, reaching up to lightly touch his cheek. Before you fainted, you weakly repeated, “I trust you.”

—

You heard murmurs of a conversation as you began to stir, and as you slowly opened your eyes, you saw Illya and Napoleon sitting by your bedside, quietly discussing something. You shifted, realizing you were in the hospital as you tried to recall everything that had happened.

Torture. Torture. Saved by Illya-

“The mission.” you suddenly said, sitting up in alarm as you gripped the edge of the hospital bed. Illya and Napoleon jolted upright upon realizing you were awake, and Illya was quick to place a gentle but firm hand on your shoulder, guiding you back down. “What happened to the mission? We didn’t finish-”

“It’s be dealt with.” Illya responded vaguely, his tone even, and your eyebrows furrowed as you looked between him and Napoleon, awaiting an explanation.

“After Illya brought you to get medical attention, he finished up the mission.” Napoleon finally spoke. He snickered as he continued, “He went in like a bulldozer, guns blazing. The clean up crew will surely love him for that. Wasn’t the best way to deal with things, but Peril stopped the purchased and destroyed the weapons, which is what matters at the end of the day.”

“Can you give us a moment alone?” Illya suddenly asked, his tone firm, making it clear to Napoleon it was more of a demand than a question. You turned to Illya as Napoleon smiled, raising his hands before he backed out of the room. He quietly closed the door, and the both of you remained silent for a few seconds before Illya quietly said, “After all they had done to you, I couldn’t control my anger anymore. If you didn’t make it, if you had…”

“Hey.” you squeezed Illya’s arm, stopping him before he could finish his morbid scenario. “I’m okay. That’s all that matters.”

Illya nodded, although you could see he still looked troubled. Your hand lingered on his arm, the touch feeling natural instead of forced, and you gently urged, “Talk to me, Illya. What’s on your mind?”

“I fell in love with you.” Illya confessed, immediately feeling a weight off his shoulders as the words spilled from his lips. Even if you didn’t reciprocate the feelings, he needed to tell you. “That was the reason I was so… upset when you had been taken. I almost couldn’t control myself.”

You flashed Illya a small smile. “I fell in love with you, too. More so when you came and rescued me.”

Illya’s eyes widened, and his usual stoic demeanor seemed to melt away as he gave you a shy smile. He leaned forward as if to kiss you, and you leaned towards him until you heard someone clear their throat from the doorway. The both of you jolted apart, and Illya frowned upon seeing Napoleon in the doorway, a smirk on his face.

“I told you so. You and y/n make a perfect match.” Napoleon chuckled, and you buried your embarrassed face in your hands as Illya rolled his eyes.

tags: @melody-of-scream ↳ want to be added to the tag list?

#tmfu imagine #illya kuryakin imagine #reader x illya kuryakin #illya kuryakin x reader #tmfu #tmfu one shot #illya kuryakin #illya kuryakin one shot #imagine #imagines #reader insert #one shot #oneshot #fanfic #fan fic #💜#hope this doesnt flop like how i feel 90% of my one shots do ajkdshkasdjasd

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make-me-imagine · 3 years

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

Link to my Main Masterlist

If you find any incorrect of missing links, let me know!

- - - - - - -

Gif Imagine: ‘Being a spy and joining the team’

- - - - - -

Illya Kuryakin

Headcanons:

Being in a relationship with Illya

Spending Halloween with Illya

Oneshots/Drabbles:

'Pet names’ (cute/humor)

‘Illya does everything for short reader’ (cute/humor)

‘Sweaters and Hot Cocoa’ (fluff)

‘Did you seriously injure yourself carving a pumpkin?’ (humor)

‘Legend says it only goes after virgins..sucks for you I guess’ (humor)

‘You drove four hours just to say hello?’ (bit of angst/fluff)

‘Dance with me’ (humor/fluff)

‘I Got You’ (angst)

‘Sleepover’ (cute/fluff)

‘Picnic’ (fluff)

- - - - - - -

Napoleon Solo

Oneshots/Drabbles:

‘Did you seriously injure yourself carving a pumpkin?’ (humor)

‘Autumn Leaves’ (fluff/pining/confession)

‘In His Arms’ (fluff/cute)

#Man from uncle #The Man from UNCLE #The Man from U.N.C.L.E #Napoleon Solo #Illya Kuryakin #masterlist #man from uncle masterlist #the man from uncle masterlist #Illya Kuryakin x Reader #Napoleon Solo x Reader #henry cavill

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celebrities-imagines · 3 years

Text

The Man From U. N. C. L. E Preferences - Pregnancy reaction

Napoleon Solo:

When you told Napoleon you were pregnant, for once, he was scared but tried to hide his fear. The two of you didn't talk about kids much, so he didn't want any part of the pregnancy at first. He claimed he wasn't ready to settle down just yet, which hurt. A lot. Determined to raise your kid you agreed to part ways, which secretly killed Napoleon, and you started your pregnancy on your own. He regretted his decision to leave you but wasn't quite ready to swallow his pride and face his fears, so you remained apart. He'd often ask Gaby and Illya how you were doing, and constantly spied on you; he would later claim it was only to make sure you weren't in danger. One night he caught a glimpse of you holding your bump, glowing, and he knew he'd made a huge mistake. Napoleon admitted this that night and promised to try and fix what he'd done. He seemed sincere, and for the baby's sake, you allowed him to be part of the pregnancy, as co-parents. But as you progressed through your pregnancy, Napoleon glued to your side, you realized how serious he was about this and the two of you gave it another shot. Your pregnancy softened him up and his smooth demeanor changed real fast when you were around. Napoleon often stole a ticket and snuck you into fancy parties just so he could show you and your bump off. He didn't care that he didn't know anyone at the parties; he just wanted to show you off. It was his way of handling the growing pride he had for this unborn child. This would be a spoiled baby, with the best fashion no doubt. He read all of the pregnancy books, which just made him worry more. He constantly scrambled to do everything for you. Simply because the book said you shouldn't be reaching things on the top shelf at 30 weeks. Napoleon forced you on bed rest the last two weeks of your pregnancy. He was even determined to put the baby's room together, crib and all, instead of just hiring someone to do it. Napoleon wanted the full dad experience. He also read to your bump every night and jumped with excitement every time the baby kicked. In the beginning, he made mistakes, but everyone does, and he spent every day making it up to you and your unborn child.

Illya Kuryakin:

When you told Illya you were pregnant he was terrified. He refused to abandon you, but he was very distant in the beginning. Illya hardly touched you or your bump. He was just so afraid with his strength and temper he'd hurt the two of you in some way. Eventually, after much convincing on your part, Illya did start to relax a little bit. Whenever he was around you he was impossibly gentle. He always controlled his temper. Illya got teary-eyed at the first ultrasound he went to, but claims there was dust in his eye. No matter how angry he was Illya wouldn't raise his voice, even slightly, if you were near. He constantly asked if you were comfortable and bought about a million security systems. He'd do anything for you, even run for fast food at 3 am. If you ever got tired of walking or your feet hurt, Illya would just pick you up and carry you. Even pregnant you weren't too heavy for him. Surprisingly, Illya was a good cook before, but throughout your pregnancy, he learned a bunch of recipes that'd make the baby "a strong Russian boy." The two of you did have arguments about gender sometimes. Your mood swings confused him, and he was scared of them. You once told him to talk to the baby. He scoffed, mumbling something about babies can't hear. Later that night though, when he thought you were asleep, you could hear him whispering to your bump. Normally, he'd whisper things to the baby in Russian. He was just so nervous to be a dad. Illya was so protective. He baby-proofed the whole house a week after he found out you were pregnant. Illya would be a cautious father at first, but you were confident he'd be a natural. You also had faith that he'd always protect you and your growing family from any harm.

Gaby Teller:

When you told Gaby you were pregnant she was nervous, of course, but mostly excited. During the pregnancy, Gaby talked to your bump a lot, convinced that the baby would hear her in the womb. She also sang to the baby. You never had to ask for anything because before you could Gaby already knew what you needed. She never missed an ultrasound, and her normally calm persona faded into a total helicopter parent. Her favorite thing to do while you were pregnant was going shopping for the baby. Of course, she always got carried away. Gaby told every person she met that she was going to be a mother and how incredible you were. She gave you any type of massage you wanted because she felt so bad you were uncomfortable. Unlike the boys, Gaby didn't leave your side for a single second. She was almost by your side too much. Before your pregnancy, you and Gaby loved spending time together but also time apart. However, the second you told her you were pregnant "time apart" no longer existed. If Gaby wasn't right beside you then she knew exactly where you were, at all times. You understood her work was dangerous and she was just keeping you safe, but she was driving you crazy. So eventually she agreed to give you a few hours to yourself a day. You were pretty sure she was still spying on you during your "alone time," but you never brought it up. At the end of the day, the obsessive worry all came from a place of love.

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writingruna · 7 years

Note

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."

#drabble game #illya kuryakin x reader #reader x illya kuryakin #illya kuryakin drabble #illya kuryakin oneshot #illya x reader #reader x illya #illya drabble #illya oneshot #angelpoett

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randomfandomimagine · 3 years

Note

Prompt for Illya from TMFU from list 2 #34 "Are you cold? Come here." Plz & ty

Thanks for requesting, sweetie, I hope you like it!! Here’s some cute tough guy Illya actually being a softie :D

Illya Kuryakin x Gender Neutral Reader

The mission was going as planned. The target was in sight, and you and Illya were in your positions. Everything was like you expected, except for the cold.

You didn’t take in consideration that the mission was going to be outside and in the middle of the night. Being too focused on what you would be doing, you hadn’t realized you should have brought a jacket.

“What’s the matter?” Illya, your partner in crime, was staring at you. Honestly, you were probably quite the sight, pacing and shivering as you were.

“N-Nothing” You tried to hide the problem, but it was hard to pretend like your teeth weren’t chattering or like you could barely feel your hands.

“Are you cold?” Illya reached out to touch your arm. When he felt how cold your skin was, he frowned and pushed you against him. “Come here”

You had no time to complain or squirm as he pressed you against his chest and trapped you with his arms. As soon as you felt his comforting warmth, you knew you didn’t really want to complain.

“What are... you d-doing?” You still asked, surprised that he would embrace you like that.

“It will help our cover” He gravely said, keeping his eyes on the target. “We are but two lovers snuggling”

“Is that the only reason that you’re hugging me?”

“You won’t be of any help if you’re too cold to move either”

“So you’re not worried about me then?”

You peered up at him, finding a surprisingly concerned and tender expression in his features. His piercing blue eyes watched you attentively. Still, Illya shook his head, quickly averting his gaze once again.

“R-Really?” You nuzzled his chest, trying to gather as much body heat as possible. “Because your heart is racing”

Illya paused, noticing your hand pressed against his chest. He went to squeeze it, but ultimately retrievedf his hand.

“Quiet” He resolved to say. “Focus on the mission”

You were about to reply, but you violently shuddered when a cold shiver traveled up your spine. Illya’s arms immediately tightened around you, and he put his chin on your head as he pushed you further into his chest.

“Do you need my jacket?” He asked, now rubbing his hands up and down your back.

“I thought y-you didn’t care” You chuckled, patting your hand over his heart.

Illya didn’t reply, only moving your hand off his chest. You smiled to yourself, knowing him well enough to realize how much he was struggling to hide his concern for your wellbeing.

“The target is moving” Illya finally said after a small pause.

“How convenient” You muttered, reluctantly pulling away.

You were about to thank him when you felt a soft weight on your shoulders. When you turned to him, he was already going after the target.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn / @wonderlandfandomkingdom / @maellem / @skellyagogo // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

#illya kuryakin x reader #illya kuryakin imagine #illya kuryakin #the man from uncle #faves #the man from uncle imagine #tmfu #tmfu imagine #rfi writings #prompt #illya kuryakin prompt #the man from uncle prompt #tmfu prompt #reader insert #requested #skellyagogo #non anon request

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staplegrapes · 2 years

Text

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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#illya kuryakin #illya kuryakin x reader #tmfu fanfic #tmfu 2015 #tmfu #the man from uncle #reader insert #napoleon solo #gaby teller #fanfic

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spidersbane · 3 years

Note

Hello! Can I get MCU, The Hobbit, and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. ship? 💚

Appearance: She/her. 179,5cm tall, rectangle body shape. Fair skin complexion with quite a few birthmarks. Dyed brown with honey-red highlights, shoulder-length, straight hair with bangs. The left eye is a mix of two colors – a smaller portion of (darker) greyish-blue and a larger portion of hazel; while the right eye is just a (lighter) greyish-blue. Heptagon face shape with two dimples on the left cheek and one on the right cheek (only visible while smiling). A gap between the upper front teeth.

Personality (good and bad traits): Ever since I was a kid, I was always quite mature for my age – I identify myself as an old soul. I come off as polite and well-mannered to strangers, yet I tend to keep it to myself by being reserved. But, that’s because I have social anxiety and I’m nervous and shy when meeting/talking to people. The only people I’m comfortable with being with my inner circle – closest friends and family. I am usually more “open” with my friends than with my family. With my friends I can be my “truest-self” – I smile more, I laugh more, I feel more accepted and understood. I am the mom and the fashionista of the group. Don’t get me wrong, I am fiercely protective of my family, especially of my mother and younger sister. But, lately, I’ve been feeling like the “black sheep” of the family, Cinderella who’s been taken advantage of. I express my affection for the people I care about in little, but practical, ways. I can be a little stiff when it comes to open, gushy displays of affection. Others turn to me for help and advice. I’m kind-hearted and generous, always ready to help a person in need. Always have been motherly towards children. Very awkward at keeping small talk (usually with people that I’m not that close with). Absolutely, hate speaking in front of a public, and if I do, because of my nervousness, I tend to mess up my words and/or I practice whatever I’m about to say in my head at first. I appreciate the simplicity and am often most comfortable when I’m not getting too much attention from the world. I am sensitive – both to criticism and to others’ feelings (I sponge up the feelings and moods of people and the environment around me). Have a hard time saying no or expressing my true thoughts, feelings. I get influenced by other people’s opinions/thoughts quite hard (I take everything to the heart), that is why I tend to keep a lot to myself (may come off as a little bit tense, secretive, mysterious). I avoid the harsh reality by daydreaming (almost every day) – imagining myself in situations far from my current circumstances. Sort of like a self-escape. I worry a lot and overthink almost everything. I am easily distracted and my attention span can be quite short. I have an internal struggle between my needs and wants. I can lack focus and be indecisive as a result – when I decide on one route, I am pulled in another direction at the same time (“But what if…”, “on the other hand...”). That is why I’m having a bit of a struggle with deciding what I want to do in the future (career-wise). I am easily overwhelmed by pressure and stress. There is a self-destructive side to me (self-critical, lack of self-confidence) that I’m working on by confronting my fears (coming out of my shell). Don’t like taking pictures, or other people taking pictures of me. I feel most content when I’ve straightened out all the details of everyday life. I have a routine, that I follow by mostly every day, and if something small changes in that routine, I start to have a small internal anxiety attack. Also, I like to do things my own way, like, when it comes to cleaning the house or organizing stuff, etc. I get triggered even if people don’t do the laundry the way I do. I guess you could describe me as a perfectionist, clean/control freak. In triggering situations I can be impulsive, spontaneous, quick to act. Quick flare-ups of anger/annoyance when being provoked on my patience. Even when I’m feeling low, I manage to find humor in life and have fun with whatever I do have. Although I tend to bottle things up, I am an emotional person and my emotions are genuine – I love and care deeply and passionately and wish no ill will upon anyone, yet it hards for me to imagine someone falling in love with me or just liking me.

Hobbies, likes: My hobbies are cleaning, writing (re-writing song lyrics, making small notes, writing stories), listening to any type of music, catching up on my favorite films and TV shows, hanging out with friends, going to the cinema, or the club, being out in nature, reading, traveling. I like history, cooking, fashion magazines (or fashion in general), road trips, spirituality, mythology, books, orange juice, previous decades, cottage-core, dark academia.

Overall: Hufflepuff. INFP-T. Bi-sexual. Pisces-Aries cusp sign. “Looks like could kill you, but is actually a cinnamon roll.” A feminist, support LGBTQ+ community. That’s it, thank you!

hey @pataim ! thanks so much for sending in your request, and thank you so much for your honesty about yourself. like it takes a lot to air yourself out like that, and I admire your strength for it. but also fINALLY a 'Man from U.N.C.L.E' ship! I love that movie and attempt Illya's accent all the time, so this will be fun :)

For the MCU/Marvel - I ship you with Steve Rogers/Captain America !

no one can tell me that Steve doesn’t have a set routine honestly, so let me just get that out there

he seems intimidating at first, esp as a public figure and Avenger, but Steve is nothing but passionate about what he does. so it may clash w your lack of direction, but I could honestly see him envying that a lil bit, like it’s not that you don’t have direction, it’s the fact that you still have a choice in the matter.

your love of history put you in a museum, here you bumped into Steve in a horrible disguise. he struck up the conversation first, and once you got past the whole “holy crap that’s Captain America”, you could actually engage with him in the material and boi was he smitten

he would love to join you when your rewatched your fave things, bc not only is he catching up on more media he missed out on, he’s also getting to know your interests in a way that’s comfortable with you. it avoids all the small talk, but leaves room for discussion after the film/show !

since you tend to sponge up a lot of what other people believe, it’s totally Steve who actually tries to question what you think and what you feel about things. he’s someone who encourages you to have your own opinions and to stay true to those thoughts. so while with him, you can rely on him to learn about yourself, you also gain skills for independence

overall, Steve is super patient, and despite his chaotic job as Cap, he takes comfort in his routine, and would find comfort incorporating a partner’s routine into his life. and as you grow in a relationship with him, he’s patient about teaching you how to be your own person, and helping you learn more about yourself. and while it’s uncomfortable, you grow stronger throughout being with him :)

For The Hobbit - I ship you with Bilbo Baggins !

Bilbo is the definition of introvert, and you're right there with him

not that introversion is ever a bad thing, bc it isn't. but Bilbo is quite content to sit in his little hobbit hole and vibe. like Gandalf had to come find him, ya know. dude disappeared from his own bday.

but anyways. it's not that Bilbo lacks purpose, it's just that he's more content with a quieter life. and it seems like his quiet life would balance you out well! like the Shire is so so chill, and there doesn't really seem to be a lot of pressure on the hobbits to pick a profession. like they just genuinely do what needs to get done.

similarly, Bilbo is the type who seems a little bothered by mushy displays of affection. exhibit a: disappearing from his own bday. like he's much more the type to refill your tea when y'all are reading by the fireplace, which he would totally do w you

it will probs take you a little while to warm up to each, given just how introverted you both are. but when he explains that he has set ways of doing things, then if they're compatible w your ways of doing things, then it doesn't take you long to open up to him

like it'll be a little jarring, but he takes comfort in his routines too. and it'll be an event trying to incorporate both of your ways of life together, but he's willing to do it

overall, yours is a very quaint partnership, built on deep respect for one another. neither of you are going to push the other to do things you aren't into. and y'all just live your best lives together tbh :)

For The Man From U.N.C.L.E - I ship you with Illya Kuryakin !

I love my big Russian spy so much, so this is fun for me

so Illya is the epitome of reserved and generally quiet, so it might take a while to really break down his walls and talk to him. and he's not quite sure what to do with you once you join the team

but, he's playing his game of chess alone, and when you sit down and ask to play with him, he opens up a little more after that

if you're one who get sent out on mission with the team, get ready, bc sometimes those missions require a lot of improvising. but you'd probably be at whatever 'base' was, helping run operations from a more secure place. but Illya and Napoleon improvise a lot, leading to a lot of headaches for you and Waverly

Illya has small bursts of anger, but similar to Gaby, most times, you can intervene and he doesn't get violent. or when he does, he tries to make sure it isn't in front of you. but bc you care so deeply for him, you're there for him in the aftermath. and that's how you show your love for him.

by patching him up if he gets cut, by talking him down when he's angry. and just generally trying to take care of him. and he totally does the same for you, especially if you get sent out into the field

and much to Illya's dismay, Solo doesn't refrain form making jokes about you. but if you can take them in stride, then Solo welcomes you into the team just as well :)

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eefos · 4 years

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Okay so I just made a WE NEED THE MAN FROM UNCLE SEQUEL on change.org, can you please share share and share it? And obviously sign 😊

http://chng.it/dRZk972t

#the man from uncle #tmfu #tmfu imagine #henry cavill #armie hammer #napoleon solo x reader #napoleon solo #illya kuryakin #guy ritchie

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thatsarcasticgemini · 4 years

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Soft mornings

Illya Kuryakin x reader

A little ray of sunshine fell on the bed and on Y/N’s face. The yellow and warm light made it’s way in between the pale beige bedroom curtains. The woman stirred a little, trying to get a few more minutes asleep. She turned around, trying to find her husband’s body on the other side on the bed, but her soft fingers only touched the sheets. The tall and strong man wasn’t there anymore. She finally opened her eyes and tried to search for him around the room. Illya was nowhere in sight. She sat up, rubbing her eyes softly and let out a small sigh. The room was a little cold in the morning and Y/N loved cuddling Illya in these chilly moments. She swung on the edge of the bed and shivered a little when her toes made contact with the cold floor.

She passed by the bathroom and living room, but still no sight of her Russian. As she got closer to the kitchen, Y/N smelt coffee and eggs, signalizing her husband was in the kitchen, cooking. She entered the room and saw Illya facing the stove, turning fried eggs. She went ahead and wrapped her arms around his middle from behind. He instantly turned, hugging back, putting his chin on top of her head. Y/N inhaled his all too familiar scent, tightening her grip on his waist.

“I couldn’t find you in bed. Figured you had something to do. You know it gets cold in bed without you there, Illya.”

“I wanted to make you some food. That’s a gesture of affection, is it not?”

“You don’t have to tho.”

Illya sent her a small smile, kissing the crown of her head and turning his attention back to the stove. Y/N let him go, turning to go to the table, sitting down on it. She admired her lover’s face, as he concentrated to make the eggs perfectly for his her. The coffee was almost boiling and ready to be poured in the small hand painted cups Y/N free-styled on weeks prior. Once the eggs were done, he put the eggs on two plates, sprinkle some salt on them, than took the boiling coffee, pouring it in the cups. He set the table and looked at his wife. He absolutely loved it when she used his shirts as night gowns. Being the protective man he was, anytime she wore his clothes made him feel special and empowered. He placed himself between her legs, picking her up. Y/N didn’t miss the opportunity to nuzzle her head in the crook of his neck. He held her close to him, as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She smirked gently, feeling his hands gently squeezing her ass. She moved mouth closer to his ear.

“The food will get cold.”

“I can heat it up again.”

“What about your work hm? Won’t you be late?”

“I’ll tell Waverly I didn’t hear the alarm clock.”

“We don’t have and alarm clock, love.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

And with that, Illya tightened his grip on his wife’s bum and began walking back to the bedroom. These were the soft moments they shared with each other, when nothing else than the other soul mattered to either of them.

#illya kuryakin imagine #Illya Kuryakin #illya kuryakin x reader #the man from uncle

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bonniebird · 3 years

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Illya x Reader

Requested by @skellyagogo

Christmas 2020 Masterlist

Christmas 2020 event rules

Christmas Prompt List

Illya and Napoleon had been assigned to protect you. Napoleon had gone off to follow a lead while you had been left alone in the garment watching the snow storm that had ripped up outside.

Illya sat silently, playing chess again. You watched the snow fall harder and rise higher. Soon the small balcony outside the window was so high it started to build up and block the window. “Illya? Shouldn’t you check with someone about the snow? It’s pretty bad and…”

“This is nothing. Just a bit of snow.” He muttered to you. He didn’t look up until the phone rang. He glanced at you then left for the other room.

“We’re snowed in…” He said when he came back.

“Like. Stuck here? But we’re supposed to keep moving. I thought you were supposed to keep me safe from being kidnapped. How are you going to keep me safe if I’m stuck?”

“If we are stuck then nothing can get in.”

“I don’t like that logic.” You muttered to him and he sighed.

“The American says you should be taught to defend yourself. Perhaps he is right.” Illya muttered.

“Yes! Let's do that!” You said quickly and he sighed. When you playfully punched him he sighed again before correcting how you’d struck out at him. Practising defending yourself had sounded better when Napoleon had offered. Illya took it so seriously that by the time he decided to stop for dinner you were exhausted and had forgotten all about the snow that was still falling and almost didn’t finish your meal.

“We’ll probably have to move rooms every few days until it’s clear enough for us to leave.” Illya said. He glanced at you to see why you hadn’t answered and realised you were asleep. Rather than leave you on the sofa he picked you up. He set you in your bed, pulling the covers around you before heading back to his chess game.

#illya kuryakin #illya kuryakin x reader #bonniebird #the man from uncle #christmas2020

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myriadimagines · 7 years

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I Think Joining The KGB Is A Far More Interesting Story

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

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

Warnings: theft

Request: “Oneshot request: Illya x female reader I wondering if you could do an extended imagine about the art theif x illya and how they met” - anonymous

Word Count: 2,123

A/N: related gif imagine is here [x], hope you like it !

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“It’s a beautiful piece, isn’t it?” a man suddenly appeared by your side, slipping an arm around your waist. Your first instinct was to swat his arm away, but you resisted it. You turned and gave him a dazzling smile, playing along.

“Gorgeous.” you agreed, and the man laughed. You were at an expensive art exhibition in Russia, and you had your eye on at least three pieces. You already had a plan formulated in your head. You were going to steal the two smaller pieces in a few moments, and for the larger piece, you were going to wait until the exhibition was closed to take it. Smoothing the skirt of your dress out, you turned back to the man.

“Excuse me, I think I see my sister over there.” you said politely, vaguely gesturing to the next room. You quickly slipped out of the man’s arms before he could protest, and strutted down the hallway and rounded the corner. You suppressed a smile as you began to formulate a plan in your head.

Your brother, Napoleon, had been a thief for as long as you can remember, and he passed on a lot of his tips to you. But now, your brother had someone gotten himself involved with the CIA, while you continued in the theft business. Napoleon stole whatever he pleased, but you were a much more focused thief. Focused on art, specifically. You stole pieces from all over the world and either sold them on the black market or collected them in the basement of your secret home. And now, you were in Russia.

Your finger hovered over the fire alarm, and you looked over your shoulder to make sure no one was watching. Biting back a smile, you pulled the lever.

You impatiently watched from the back of the van for Illya and your brother to appear, along with a woman called Gaby Teller who had been recruited for the team. You were now in Rome, waiting to join the three others in their mission to stop Nazi sympathizers from making a nuclear weapon. You would’ve joined them earlier, but you had other missions to finish up. You were now working for the KGB, alongside Illya, and the two of you were often assigned missions together.

“They should be here by now.” you grumbled, and your coworker from the front seat laughed.

“Patience, young lady.” he chuckled as he peered out the window. “They will be here.��

From what Illya had told you before he had boarded the plane for Rome, him and your brother had gotten into a huge fight before they realized they had to work together.

“Typical.” you snorted, balancing the phone between your shoulder and your cheek as you packed your bag. “I hope you didn’t hurt him too bad. He is still my brother, after all.”

“If he wasn’t your brother, I would’ve hurt him worse.” Illya responded. Smiling to yourself when you recalled the conversation, you looked out of the window to see Illya strolling down the steps, his arms linked with some woman. You stiffened, and you coworker snickered.

“Calm down,” he said, judging your expression from the rearview mirror. “Your boyfriend isn’t cheating on you. That’s Gaby Teller.”

“It better be.” you snapped, but you relaxed. Your coworker handed you a headset, his eyebrows raised.

“Wanna hear their conversation?” he asked, a grin on his face. “Napoleon should arrive any minute.”

You put on the headset, and the both of you laughed as you listened to Illya try and make up some stories about architecture and the stairs. Your chuckled at Gaby’s responses, liking her more and more as the conversation progressed. Napoleon suddenly pulled up on a scooter, and you handed your headset back to your coworker.

“That’s my cue.” you said, pulling open the car door and confidently strolling out. You strolled towards the crew, people rushing past you without giving you a second glance.

The exhibition was engulfed in panic as people began to hurry towards the exit, the sounds of the fire alarm blaring in every room. You calmly worked your way through the crowd, slipping into the room where the first art piece was displayed. You looked up at the first security camera, which was in the left corner of the room, and angled your face away so the camera could not see you. You watched as a large family rushed in your direction, and waited for them to be in front of you to take down the artwork, carefully slipping it into a large bag you were carrying. By the time the family had passed, you were walking besides them, the first art piece already taken.

You headed for the next room, eyeing up a bust which was on display at the opposite end of the room. The room was mostly empty now, which was going to be a bit of a problem. You slowly looked over your shoulder at the security camera behind you, which rotated around the room. If you timed it correctly, you would be able to would be able to snatch the bust before the camera panned across the room.

As the camera turned away, you rushed across the room. Right when you were about to take the bust, a guard appeared.

“Excuse me, miss,” the guard said, his eyes wide as he stood between you and the bust. “We’re evacuating the museum. The fire alarm went off.”

“Of course.” you said hurriedly, glancing over your shoulder to see the camera pan over the room. 5 more seconds, and you would be out of the camera’s view. You had to think fast. “I’ll, uh-”

You took a step forward and tripped on your long skirt, and the guard reached forward to catch you. Behind his back, you knocked the bust over into your bag, breathing out a quick sigh. Straightening yourself, you gave the guard a sheepish smile.

“Still trying to get a hang of walking in a long dress!” you laughed airily, and the guard smiled. Before he could say anything else, you quickly thanked him and scuttled out of the room. You squeezed your hand into a fist, waiting for him to notice the missing bust and call out, but there was nothing. Smiling triumphantly to yourself, you exited the exhibition, already formulating how you would steal the next piece.

“Hi!” you called out, and the three of them turned to look at you. Gaby looked at you in confusion, tilting her head, as Napoleon’s eyes widened and Illya grinned. You wanted to throw your arms around your boyfriend, but resisted the urge, knowing you were being watched. Instead, you were in disguise as Napoleon’s colleague, who was also an antiques dealer.

“y/n?” Napoleon lowered his voice. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“And who is this?” Gaby asked, looking you up and down. Not in an unfriendly way, but you could sense her wariness.

“This is my little sister.” Napoleon raised his eyebrow at you, still unable to comprehend what you were doing in Rome. You could see a small smirk appear on Gaby’s face, and you grinned back.

“Of course, he tries to distance himself as much as possible from me.” you shrugged, and Gaby snorted.

“I like her more than you already.” she looked at Napoleon, and you smiled. Turning your attention back to Illya, you grinned.

“Miss me, Illya?” you asked, and Illya smirked.

“Of course I did.” he responded, and you could see the confusion wash over Napoleon’s face.

“We work together.” you explained briefly, and Napoleon shook his head.

“Now just hand on a minute, little sis.” Napoleon raised his hand. “You know Peril? And you work with him?”

“Yes.” you nodded, a small smirk on your face. “Oh, and we’re dating.”

Napoleon turned to look at you in disbelief as Illya continued, “I met her while she was stealing some expensive art. I expect she learned from you, Cowboy.”

You hefted the frame into the backseat of your car, tossing your black jacket. It was close to midnight, and you had just stolen the last piece. You slammed the car door shut and was about to move into the front seat when you suddenly heard someone clear their throat behind you. Whipping around, you gulped when you registered the tall shadow looming in front of you.

“And what are you planning on doing with that fine piece of art?” the man asked, his voice low with a thick Russian accent. You rubbed your hands on your jeans, trying to think of something.

“I’m relocating it to another museum.” you lied, trying to compose yourself.

“I think we both know that’s not quite true.” the man replied, stepping out of the shadows. He had dirty blonde hair and round, brown eyes which stared straight into your eyes.

“Well, what are you going to do to stop me?” you grabbed your pistol from your handbag and held it up. You tightened your finger around the trigger, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t take a step closer to me.”

“I can tell by the way you’re holding your gun you’ve never shot a pistol before.” the man tilted his head, a shadow of a smirk on his face. You faltered, trying to appear unintimidated, but damn, this man was good. He stepped towards you, wrapped his hand around yours. He repositioned your fingers and lowered your arm, using his other hand to square your shoulders. “Better.”

“Who are you?” you blurted, putting the gun down.

“Illya Kuryakin,” Illya raised his hand up, and you hesitantly shook it. “KGB.”

“What the hell?” you spluttered, jerking your hand away. You backed up against the car as Illya raised an eyebrow at you. Raising your hands above your heads, you quickly said, “I only steal art, buddy. I’ve never done any sort of terrorist act. You can turn me into the police, but I swear I’ve never messed with the government. I’m not a spy.”

“I know you’re not.” Illya responded calmly, taking another step towards you. “But the KGB have been watching you for some time, y/n, and they want to recruit you. You’re a very skilled thief, and good at getting in and out of places when needed, and they think those are good skills to have.”

“Hang on,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. “You do realize I’m American, right?”

“You’ve spent more time around the world than in America.” Illya responded without hesitation. "I think it’s safe to say you don’t have many ties to your country."

After a pause, you straightened. “Alright then. Where do we begin?”

“Damn right she learned from me.” Napoleon said, a little smugly. He turned back to you, still in disbelief. “Alright, y/n, I want to hear about everything. First off, how you started dating the Peril.”

You flopped onto the cheap hotel bed brushing your hair out of your face. You heard Illya slam the door behind him and move to sit on the edge of the bed, smiling as he looked down at you. The two of you were staying here for the night as part of a mission, and you were exhausted from a day of travelling. You had been part of the KGB for a few months now, and you were proving yourself to be a good agent. Not as good as Illya, of course, but not far off.

Clutching your grumbling stomach, you sat up and said, “I’m starving. What should we do about food?”

“Actually,” Illya said as he nervously ran his hands over his pants. “There’s a restaurant I saw on our way here, if you want to get food together.”

“Of course I want to get food together.” you snorted, already on your feet.

“And I know due to circumstances, this isn’t the best time to ask, but…” Illya nervously trailed off. “Do you want to make it a date, y/n?”

You turned to look at him, making sure he was being serious. A wide smile appeared on your face as you nodded.

“A date whilst we’re on a mission? Doesn’t get more exciting than that.” you joked, reaching your hand out for Illya to grab. He took it and you pulled him to his feet. “I’d love that, Illya.”

“You’re not interested in how I joined the KGB?” you snickered, and Napoleon shook his head. He gestured for Illya and Gaby to continue on their way, which they did after nodding at you and Napoleon. You hopped onto the scooter with Napoleon, straightening your jacket. “I think joining the KGB is a far more interesting story. But whatever, I ought to start there anyway…”

#illya kuryakin one shot #illya kuryakin #illya kuryakin imagine #reader x illya kuryakin #illya kuryakin x reader #reader insert #imagine #imagines #one shot #fanfiction #fan fiction #the man from uncle #the man from uncle one shot #the man from uncle imagine #tmfu one shot #tmfu imagine #tmfu

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make-me-imagine · 4 years

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🦇 13 Days of Halloween: Day 13

Headcanons: Spending Halloween with Illya

This is the last thing being released for Halloween! I hope you all enjoyed what I put out!! :)

Prompt Request: “I’ve never celebrated Halloween before” “Well you’re going to now”

Requested by: @chellestrash

Pairing: Illya Kuryakin x Reader

Gender: Neutral Triggers: None

Notes: I hope you don’t mind me just using the prompts in headcanons! I already wrote for these prompts as a drabble, and I wanted to do some more hc’s to mix in for my event :)

🦇 As you walked through the shopping center, you stopped to look at the various Halloween candies offered on the shelf

🦇 Illya stopped next to you as you asked him “Which of these do you like?”

🦇 “I could not say, I’ve never had any”

🦇 “What? Why?”

🦇 He glanced around the store, his eyes raking over all of the various Halloween decorations “I have never celebrated Halloween before”

🦇 You stared at him for a moment, somewhat shocked before you had an idea “Well, you’re going to now” turning you grabbed a bunch of various bags of candy and tossed them into your basket

🦇 Illya stared at you in confusion, watching as you turned, heading for the holiday section

🦇 “What are you doing?”

🦇 You stopped, turning back to him “I’m getting decorations”

🦇 “Why?”

🦇 You smiled at him “Because, we are going to celebrate Halloween” turning back around, you headed down the decor isle, grabbing various items.

🦇 Watching as you kept placing various things in your shopping basket, Illya’s heart beat a little faster, a small smile playing on his lips as he saw determination and excitement light up your face as you looked though the decorations

🦇 You learned later on that Illya’s family never had time or the need to celebrate Halloween, especially since it wasn’t a Russian-created holiday.

🦇 He insisted that he didn’t care, but you knew him better than that.

🦇 After making it back to your shared apartment, which you only recently moved into together, you laid out all of the decorations on the kitchen counter

🦇 You smiled excitedly at him “This is gonna be fun, you’ll see”

🦇 He smiled down at you “If it is fun for you, it will be fun for me”

🦇 You ended up decorating the apartment for the next couple of hours.

🦇 You decorated the tables and lower areas, while Illya hung webs, banners, and other decorations higher up and in the doorways.

🦇 At first Illya was seeing it as a chore, but as you excitedly explained where he should put things and talked to him about various Halloween traditions, he started to get excited, and even began to enjoy it. Especially the whole domesticated feel to it.

🦇 Though he would not necessarily make his enjoyment visible.

🦇 That evening, you and Illya tried various types of Halloween candy, up until both of your stomachs got angry with you.

🦇 The next day you both went out and got costumes.

🦇 This was harder to get Illya to participate in as he refused to dress up as an “imbecile” as he stated.

🦇 But you managed to convince him to wear a black tail-coat suit, secretly buying a cape you’d later force him to put on to complete his vampire costume

🦇 Buying more candy for the trick or treaters, the evening was coming closer, so you got ready in your costumes, much to his annoyance.

🦇 After much complaint and playful fighting and refusal from Illya, you managed to do his makeup to make him appear “dead”, even forcing a pair of fangs into his mouth and a cape around his neck.

🦇 Looking at himself in the mirror he looked back at you with pure disdain, his voice came out in a gargled lisp due to the vampire teeth “This is ridiculous”

🦇 You covered your mouth as you tried to repress a giggle, only making him glare at you as he took the teeth out of his mouth

🦇 “Oh, but you’re so handsome as an un-dead vampire”

🦇 He rolled his eyes before pointing at you “No jokes, or I take this off”

🦇 You laughed, audibly this time “Okay okay, no jokes”

🦇 Throughout the night, as you handed out various candy to the families and kids that came buy, Illya sometimes took the opportunity to scare some of the children as they came by

🦇 You’d smack his shoulder or reprimand him, which he would only reply to with a smirk.

🦇 When all the candy was gone and you had gotten undressed and cleaned up, you sat on the couch, an older horror movie playing on the tv

🦇 Throwing yourself onto llya as he lied down he let out a groan of surprise as you chuckled before looking into his eyes “So. Apart from the annoying makeup and costume. How was your first Halloween?”

🦇 Staring at you for a moment as he stroked the side of your face, he smiled “I actually quite enjoyed it, but mostly because I was able to celebrate it with you”

🦇 You grinned at him as you pressed a quick kiss to his lips “I’m glad”

🦇 He smiled before making one last comment “Next year, no stupid cape or fake teeth”

🦇 “Deal” you’d agree, with a chuckle.

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