hey, first of all, I really like your writing, go you. And second, if you are taking requests, I’d like to request one Illya Kuryakin one, where you are the daughter of a lord and they (u.n.c.l.e) have to protect you from something and in the middle you and Illya ‘seal the deal’.
AN: thanks for liking me writing!! And the Russian words are swears
“What’s going on,” you asked your fathers security guards as they rushed you down the hall to your father’s office, but they said nothing. You were put into your father’s office and the large doors were shut behind you. “Father, what is going on?” When you looked to the other side of his office you saw him sitting against his desk with four people around him.
A woman and older man sat in the chairs near his desk while two men stood on each side of the desk. “You’re leaving the palace for a short time, my dear.”
“May I ask why?”
You father hesitated and looked down at his feet. “Your father, Lord Y/L/N, has received a threat against his highness and yourself, Lady Y/N,” the older man said.
“A threat? From who? Threatening what exactly, Mr.-?”
“-Waverly. From who is unclear but we do have a strong suspect. My Lady, this threat says that should your Father continue his works towards his trading project and should he deliver his final speech solidifying the matter in three months time he will be target and his empire will be torn brick by brick.”
“You are my only true prised possession, Y/N. If this person is serious about me getting to stop my trading project then they will know the only true way to do so is by getting to you. For your safety I’m sending you away with these agents. They are the best of the best and will keep you safe.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“We didn’t know until a couple days ago that it was a serious threat,” Waverly spoke up again. “Lady Y/N, this is Napoleon Solo and Gaby. These two and I will be watching over you father as he finishes his trade work. Agent Kuryakin will be accompanying you to a secure area, an extreme safehouse if you will. Lady Y/N, please go pack warm clothes and all your necessities. You and Kuryakin will be leaving in half an hour.”
“Half an hour. Why so soon?”
“We can waste no time my dear,” you father walked to you and hugged you. “I love you, you know that. I need you to go back your bags and I’ll see you in 3 months time when you return,” he kissed your forehead and sent you on your way.
“Do you talk? Or is this brute silence some sort of Russian thing?” You cracked a small smile and the smug large man that sat across from you in the car.
“I talk,” he tried hiding a smirk. “Russians are those of few words, Lady Y/N.”
“Please, just Y/N. I save my title name for political and social situations. So,” you looked at the country roads as the rushed passed by your window, “where are we going?”
“Secret place. No one will find you, don’t worry.”
Hours and hours later after lots of driving and a couple flights you felt the large car slow down and saw you were approaching a small cabin in the middle of the snow covered woods.
“We will be safe here,” Ilya said and parked the car. “Hours from civilization, a perimeter set up 30 miles around to let us know if someone’s near, and with all the snow it’s virtually undetectable by helicopter.” He helped you out of the car and carried your bags in the small cabin with his. “This is your bedroom, Y/N. The bath is right across from this room. You saw the small kitchen and living room as you walked in.”
“Where’s your room?”
He chuckled a bit, “Cabin is small. I will take couch.”
“You on that small couch? A rat couldn’t lay on that. Please, have the bed.”
“You are a Lady. I cannot make you sleep on the couch.”
“Fine then we can alternate who sleeps on the couch.” He went to argue but you stopped him. “You have to listen to me; I am a Lady after all,” and with that you walked out into the living room.
*1 month in*
“How is it that you’ve manage to beat me in all but one game,” Illya said angrily and threw his cards onto the table. “Where did you learn to play poker like this?”
“Oh, you know, in between riding lessons and piano and french,” you smiled as Illya laughed. Although you’d never admit it you’d gone extremely found of the man the past month you’d been together.
“You speak French. Why am I not surprised?”
“I speak many languages,” you pretended to be offended. “French, Dutch, Spanish, Manderin, and Latin. And, after our three months together I’ll be proud to tell my father about the Russian I’ve learned.”
Illya’s eyebrows shot up. “And what Russian have you learned?”
“Дерьмо, черт, Бл-”
“Ok, ok, I get it. Let’s not tell your father, or Waverly, that I taught you any Russian. Especially those words,” he cheerfully laughed. “I thought lady of your status could not say words like those.”
“I am not a lady here. I am a woman in a cabin with a man who is not a secret agent. I believe that’s how I’m suppose to answer, correct?”
“Correct. Tell your Father I taught you that,” he pointed a joking finger at you.
“Well, Kuryakin, I will be sure to tell him. But first, I think I’ll go to bed.” You got up and started towards the bedroom.
“Where are you going?”
“To bed. I told you.”
“No no no. It is your turn for couch!”
“Oh, no it is not. You slept in the bed an extra night last week because you said you hurt your leg tracking that deer. Therefore, I get an extra night in the bed. Goodnight, sir,” you did your finest and most sarcastic curtsy you could and shut the bedroom door.
*2 months in*
“Are you always such a skilled shot,” you made light of the bleeding wound coming from Illya’s arm.
“It’s been nearly two months since I fired my gun and years since I’ve used an arrow. Give me a break,” he cracked back. “At least I caught us dinner,” he threw the bloodied bow and arrow on the kitchen table. He disappeared into the bathroom, “I need you to do me a favor.”
“Need me to teach you how to use a bow?”
“Ha ha, very funny. I need you to stitch me up,” he threw the kit on the couch next to you.
“You need me to what? Illya I’ve never done anything medical a day in my life!”
“Don’t worry I will walk you threw it. You’ll do fine,” he reassured you when he saw the worry on your face.”
“Ok, I think that does it,” you bit your lip as you finished stitching.
“Great confidence. I feel very safe with that response.”
“I still have a needle and I will stab you,” you muttered and looked up, your eyes locking directly with Illya’s. You hadn’t realised how close you had been to his face as you stitched him up.
“Wouldn’t be the worse thing that’s been done to me,” he spoke hushed and looked between your eyes and your lips.
“And what’s the worse thing that’s happened to you,” you whispered.
“Looking at you everyday for the past two months and not being able to kiss you.” Then his lips were on yours and you were laying under him on the couch.
You woke up the next morning lying with only the bed’s blankets on you. You smiled as you took in Illya looking at you. “How long have you been awake?”
“An hour. You were to peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you,” he grinned.
“Ill, what are we going to do when we get out of here,” you asked with a pinch of sadness.
“Hey,” he lifted your head from his chest, “we have a month together left here, we’ll make it count. And, when you return home we’ll figure it all out. You are mine to protect; now and even after I’ve brought you home.”
Hello! Welcome to this vacation edition of Mollcroft Friday – today posted on Sunday from hot, hot, Rome!
Someone asked for Molly and Mycroft flirting in front of Sherlock and this is what happened.
Sadly my notes are at home as to who gave me this prompt. I promise I will tag them as soon as I can. And I’ll post on A03 when I am near a solid internet connection.
Setting: Thursday, just after lunch in late July. Sherlock and Mycroft arrived in Molly’s lab just under an hour ago.
“That is a nice tie Mycroft. Is it new?” asked Molly innocently.
“No. No it’s not.” Mycroft didn’t even look up from the file he was reading.
Molly shifted nervously and forced an uncomfortable smile.
“Molly. Please open that specimen jar for me.” Sherlock didn’t look up from his favorite microscope as he motioned across the lab.
“Um. Yea. Sure,” Molly answered as she moved to the shelf containing various containers.
Taking the requested jar off the shelf and putting her hand on the lid Molly tried (with a grunt) to open it. The lid didn’t budge.
Her eyes flicked over to Mycroft and with a slightly pleading look issued a soft request, “Please?” as she held up the large jar.
Feeling Molly’s gaze, Mycroft gave an audible sigh, put the file down, stood up and walked directly towards Molly. Taking the jar from her, he wrapped his large hand over the lid, gave a
quick flick of his wrist and the lid gave way with a loud pop.
“Thank you,” whispered Molly as she took the jar back from him.
“Someone is flirting,” muttered sherlock under his breath with an evil smirk.
“I am sure Miss Hooper is not. No one flirts with me,” replied Mycroft curtly.
Molly’s cheeks burned pink, her eyes on the floor.
“Miss Hooper has no reason to flirt with me. She only has eyes for you Sherlock.” Mycroft didn’t take his eyes off Molly as he spoke. “Isn’t that right Molly?”
The question was met with a small shrug of Molly’s shoulders.
Only due to many years of repressing his emotions was Mycroft able to hide his surprise.
Mycroft pondered this curious situation for a few moments.
“To what end are you doing this? As I have highlighted I do not flirt,” he explained with an air of exasperation.
“It’s just,” Molly slightly hesitated as she considered Mycroft’s reaction to her upcoming confession, “you have been coming to my lab once a week for the last five years. I thought it might be nice to meet each other somewhere else for a change. Maybe get a coffee sometime.“
"Should we enjoy the outting, then what?” Mycroft’s tone was bordering on bored. He was now standing in front of Molly with his arms crossed.
“Ah … well … probably dinner,” a nervous smile appeared on Molly’s face.
After a bit of contemplation Mycroft flicked up his left eyebrow questioningy and continued, “Following a successful dinner?”
“I would think the cinema or theatre would be next,” replied Molly confidently.
“How do you feel about subtitles?” Mycroft had moved his hands to his hips and was looking down his nose at Molly.
“I’m fine with them. But actually my French, Italian and Manderin are fluent enough that I don’t need them,” answered Molly proudly.
Mycroft made what can only be likened to a purring noise. “Obviously a short holiday would follow to ensure we are physically compatible.”
“Obviously.” Molly blushed again.
“Preference?” asked the British Government, his tone considerably softer.
“Perhaps somewhere warm. I would buy a new swimsuit.”
“One piece or two?”
“Two,” replied Molly with a cheeky grin.
“I will admit that is a very pleasent thought,” hummed Mycroft his mind elsewhere.
“Aviators or wayfarers?” asked Molly.
“Wayfarers,” replied Mycroft instantly.
“Trunks or speedos?” This brazen question effortlessly tumbled from Molly’s lips.
“Speedos.” Mycroft lent down and whispered in her ear, “Red.”
Molly’s breath caught in her throat as her body shivered.
“Mummy will insist on you coming to Christmas dinner. Tedious as it is.” Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Boxing Day at my brothers,” Molly gently added.
“If we must.” A small smile crept across Mycroft’s face.
The pair stood staring at each other for a moment.
Turning towards his brother Mycroft spoke with authority. “Sherlock. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Sherlock looked up from his experiment. “You could do a lot worse. At least Christmas will finally be bearable, especially when then the children arrive.”
“Children?!” squeaked Molly.
“Two obviously,” came Mycroft’s quick response.
Sherlock murmured absentmindedly once again focusing on the microscope slide. “Three. She will want a girl.”
“I beg your pardon. Three so you can have your girl.” Mycroft politely bowed to Molly.
“Oh. Um. Thank you."
"So it’s settled then,” Mycroft looked hopefully at Molly. She found herself unconsciously nodding.
While gazing affectionatly at Molly, Mycroft casually pulled out his phone from his inside jacket pocket.
“Anthea please book the Marleybone Registry Office for the soonest possible wedding. And clear my schedule two … no make that three weeks following for the honeymoon. No idea yet, but somewhere warm.” Mycroft returned his phone to his pocket.
“Did we just get engaged?" The expression on Molly’s face was one of complete astonishment.
"Yes my dear we have,” announced Mycroft proudly. Taking her hand he raised it to his lips and gave it a lingering kiss. "Now would be an excellent time to get that coffee you suggested earlier. It seems we have a number of things to discuss.“
On a more serious note, yes they have indeed been mating, yes Leon started it, and yes this is normal. Most of the other beasts have recently begun copulating as well, even if they are incompatible species and genders! Leon has even copulated a few times with the Guitar Fish and the Manderin during group meetings! However, Leon does mate very frequently, and I am quite surprised that Souda has managed to keep up with his libido.
We apologise to all the Chinese people in the world for ruining their language. Once when we were dubbing some dialogue this Chinese language coach came in and she looked at me and asked whether I was reading from the same page as she was, it was that bad.