#reader x illya

[writingruna]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[writingruna]

Can I please request Illya from TMFU for #48? Thanks! 💕😊

You lounged on the couch, your legs stretched across the cushions as you read the newspaper. Napoleon sat at the desk, reading over the file Waverly had delivered that morning. Illya had left your hotel room early that morning, promising to meet you in Napoleon’s room at lunch. “Illya’s late,” Napoleon said, both of you turning toward the door as it opened.

“No, I am not, Cowboy,” Illya said, smiling as his eyes met yours. He crossed the room, letting the door close behind him, and sat on the couch beside you. “Anything important in that file?”

“A few names and pictures, but you’ve already read the file, haven’t you Peril?” Napoleon said, closing the file and turning his attention to you and Illya. “Are you ready for the gala tonight?”

“Are you, Solo?” you asked.

Illya’s hand rested on your knee and you turned you attention to him, a soft grin on your face. “I found something for you.”

“Yes?” you asked, and he took your hand, laying your palm flat and setting a small rock in the palm of your hand. You smiled at him, your eyes lighting up with excitement.

“I didn’t think the you could get any less romantic, Peril,” Napoleon said from the opposite side of the room and you rolled your eyes.

“More romantic than you are, Solo. I haven’t seen a woman in your room for weeks,” you countered, and Illya choked on his laughter in an attempt to hide it. You stood up and left Napoleon’s room, crossing the hall to the room where you and Illya slept.

Tucked beneath the sheets in the top drawer of the dresser was a box and you traced the intricate pattern on the lid as you sat down on the foot of your bed. You opened the box as Illya opened the door. “That’s six, Illya,” you said, looking up at him with a sad smile.

Joining U.N.C.L.E. had been a far more difficult choice for you than it had been for Illya or Napoleon because it meant leaving your younger sister behind. Waverly had – of course – offered to provide a guardian and a safe home for her, but not having her by your side every day left a hole in your life. When you’d left, she’d made you promise to bring a stone back from each city you visited for her fairy garden, and when you’d told Illya of your promise, he had helped you keep it.

“We will be back in London next week,” Illya said, sitting by your side and taking your hand softly in his. “You will see your sister soon.”

“Napoleon was very wrong, Illya,” you said, closing the box and setting it gently at your feet. “There is very little you could have found for me that was more romantic.”

Send in a number and character for a drabble

[writingruna]

Hey can you do #62 for illya kuryakin :)

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

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

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

“I can not sleep,” he admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

[writingruna]

Could u pls do one with illya kuryakin, #s 9,, 24, 32, 28, 34 and 64 tysm ❤❤❤❤

“It is six in the morning, darling, you are not having vodka,” Illya said, taking the bottle from your hands. “Cowboy should not have let you stay out so late.” The mission had been hard, and a young boy had died. He hadn’t protested when Napoleon offered to take you to the nearest bar and you’d happily accepted, although he would have preferred to have you home and in his arms. Napoleon had been the witness when you had eloped, and Illya knew there were moments when you needed a drunk friend instead of a concerned husband.

“Just a little bit, Illya,” you slurred, reaching for the bottle that he held just out of your reach. “We’re married so you work for me,” you mumbled. “You are my slave and I demand you give me the bottle.”

Illya ignored you, setting the bottle on a shelf and lifting you into his arms. You reflexively wrapped your arms around his middle, holding tight as he carried you through the hotel room and to the bed. He laid you on the mattress, carefully pulling your clothes from your frame and redressing you in the pajamas you had packed.  "It’s cold, Illya,“ you murmured, drifting closer to sleep as you grabbed his hand and pulled him down beside you.

He held you softly and crawled toward the head of the bed, pulling the covers aside and tucking you in beneath them. ”Here, take the blanket,“ he said, pressing a kiss to your temple as your breathing evened out and you gave in to sleep. You rolled into his chest as he slid under the comforter beside you, and he rested his arm across you. The night had gone as either of you had wished, but with you back in his arms, it ended the way he wanted each night to end.

Pounding woke you the next morning. Your entire body was sore. You moaned as you rolled over, reaching out for your husband. "Illya?” you asked, opening your eyes carefully when you found only rumpled sheets.

“Yes, my love?” His voice came from the other side of the room and you sat up slowly, smiling when you saw him. He was putting in cuff links, leaning against the dresser in the suit he saved for special meetings and undercover operations.

The drums in your head distracted you from admiring him and you moaned, cautiously standing and walking across the room to his side. “How drunk was I?”

“Drunk enough,” Illya answered, a small smile on his lips. “I must go meet Waverly. Where are the keys, darling?” he asked as you leaned against him and he wrapped his arms around you in response.

“I think…I think I locked the keys in the car,” you said, running your hand through your hair. “Remind me not to try outdrinking Solo again.”