#leopold mountbatten fluff

[rosenclaws]

HIII you don’t know how happy i am to have stumbled on your treasure chest of an account 😭 the way you portray characters is exactly how i’ve imagined them!!! especially leopold ♥️ i’m so glad there’s an active writer for him who writes so beautifully!!

i was hoping to request a fluff fic for leopold where reader teaches kids (5-7 yrs old) and leo visits reader at their workplace. the kids do know of readers few/past boyfriends and they weren’t too fond of any of them, but they really really love leo 🫂 reader does like leo but is unaware the feelings are mutual, so the kids help leo out in trying to win their heart ♥️ (and maybe work in the element of daisies? they’re reader’s/my fave flower lolol)

she/her pronouns are good but you can also do gn! thank ü sm ⭐️ hope you’re having a great day!!!

a/n: Truth be told I've been neglecting Leopold. I've written so much Logan and I love Logan but Leopold is who truly captured my heart. I'm a little rusty but I hope you like it!! Also DAMN HES SO HANDSOME ITS CRIMINAL

Of all the days to be running late today was possibly the worst. You completely forgot about a very important meeting and you could not be late for it. You were scrambling around your apartment when someone knocks at the door.

Not the time.

As you grab your bag you throw open the door to see Leopold standing there. A smile on his face as he greets you good morning. Though he quickly notices your rushed and panicked face.

“Are you ready for coffee?”

“Hi Leo, I’m so sorry I forgot I have this meeting and I’m already late and-“ Leopold places his hands on your arms, getting you to stop moving. You feel a warmth spread through your body from his touch.

“It’s alright darling, we can go another time.” He flashes that perfect smile and for a second you hesitate to move. But you really can’t be late.

“Thank you, you can hang out here if you want. Bye Leo.” You rush past him and he just smiles. He thinks you’re adorable when you’re flustered like that.

Truth be told Leopold doesn’t like coffee. He finds it bitter and gross and nothing compared to the wonders of tea. But when he met you and you had asked him to coffee. He just couldn’t say no.

You were one of Kate’s friends from college and ever since that day he had become entranced by you. So he sat through sipping coffee if it meant he got to speak to you. He notices a bag sitting on your counter. Furrowing his brows he takes it and looks inside. It’s your lunch. He frowns when he sees the processed food and quite unhealthy snacks inside. He knows you’re busy but he’s talked to you about this. You’re a very busy women and he worries about your habits and health. He tosses the bag in the fridge and heads out. Determined to make sure you get your lunch.

”Alright class! Finish up your drawings so we can have story time!” You announce to your students who were very deep into their artworks. There was paint all over your smock and glitter everywhere. Your stomach growls and you groan as you sit down at your desk. You forgot your lunch this morning and you were absolutely starving.

“Miss! I’m finished!” Penny, one of your students, calls. She holds up her artwork with a big toothy grin.

“Beautiful Pen!” You get up and bend down near her desk.

“Why don’t you sign it and we can put it in the back to let it dry.” She nods and messily writes her name in the corner.

There's a loud knock at the door and suddenly one of the admin appears in the doorway. You walk over and see a smirk on her face.

“You have a visitor, a very handsome one.” She whispers that last part as you look over her shoulder and see Leopold.

She leaves and Leopold smiles, you lead him into your class which catches the attention of all your students. He probably looked a little odd all dressed up in his old clothing.

“Leo? What are you doing here?”

“You forgot your lunch.” He hands you a few containers. This was not the lunch you had packed yourself.

“I’ve warned you of the dangers of processed food,” He says with a raised eyebrow.

“I know, I just don’t have a lot of time.” You sigh.

“I am aware, so I made you lunch.” Your heart flutters as you look inside. All the food looks amazing, especially the cookies he knows you love.

"Thank you Leo."

"I've noticed more often than not you don't prepare yourself adequate food," You look down, a little embarrassed at being called out.

"So, I decided I'm going to start making you lunch."

"Oh no you don't have to do that-" You start but he cuts you off. A very determined look on his face.

"I insist, please." The very idea makes your heart burst but its too kind of an offer. But its a really good one.

"Okay fine. But I buy the groceries and only until I can start making them for myself again." He smiles and accepts your conditions.

"I must go, but I will see you tomorrow." He bows his head and leaves your classroom.

He throws you a wink right before he leaves and your heart skips. You feel a tug at your pants and you look down to see one of your students Avery.

"Miss, is he a real prince?" She looks up at him with wide eyes. Avery had been in her princess mood and you can't blame her for thinking Leopold had popped right out of a storybook.

"Uh, no sweetie. He's just a friend of mine."

"But he looks just like a prince! If you marry him you could be a princess and we'd have a princess teacher!" She exclaims.

The class starts to agree with her and you try and calm them down. Thankfully their attention shifts when you pull out a book for story time. You were just thankful they forgot about it, or you thought they had.

Visits from Leopold had become a class staple. He'd show up every day to bring you lunch. When you asked why he didn't just give it to you in the morning he told you that this was much more eventful. The kids became obsessed with him and Leopold fed into their curiosity and imagination with ease.

Eventually you just told the school he was a volunteer so he could stick around more. He became your classes favorite story teller. At first he'd read a book or two but he grew bored of those stories and would retell his favorite stories and plays from his childhood, getting the children to act them out with him. He some how got a room of 6 year old's to give him their undivided attention. That isn't and easy feat.

"Leopold! Can you read this one?" Avery hands him one of her fairytale books.

He's sitting on the ground with the kids all around him. His previous prince like clothing was gone and instead he was dressed more modern. You had to admit you missed the flashy and fancy clothes.

Not that he didn't look good in modern clothing, he looks good in everything. You had a feeling though that Avery and the rest of the class had something up their sleeves. They were far too giggly and had mischievous looks on their faces.

"Of course love. A love story? I do find myself reading these from time to time." As he starts the story he offers someone to come play the prince but no one budges.

"We want you to play him!" Avery says with a giggle. Leopold raises an eyebrow but agrees.

"Alright, now the prince needs to have a princess doesn't he?"

"Miss should be the princess!" One of your other students pipes up.

"Me? I don't know guys I'm not really the best actress." You say but they don't care.

You're half dragged out of your chair and to the front of the room. You sit next to Leo and flash him an apologetic smile. From out of nowhere two kids bring the two of you flower crowns. They must have made them at recesses. It's a little small and Leopold's barely fits on his head but it was cute.

"You know instead of a story we should have a wedding!" Penny pipes up.

"A Wedding? Guys where is this coming from?" You say with a laugh, trying to hide your nerves.

"My mommy said a wedding is what two people who really like each other have!" The kids murmur in agreement and you sigh.

"It's alright darling, why not entertain them for today?" Leopold whispers in your ear.

He seems more than okay with being thrust into a kid planned fake wedding. It was quite amusing watching your students try and figure out what they were supposed to do.

They had cut up some paper and used them as flower petals, which they were going to have to clean up before lunch you noted. It was adorable listening to them talk though, as you sat next to Leo you found yourself unable to hold back your smiles.

"You may now kiss the bride!" Your eyes widen as you shake your head.

"Okay that's enough torturing our friend, its clean up time now." You say, putting a stop before things could go too far.

Not that you didn't want to kiss Leopold, but you didn't want him to feel forced to kiss you because your students put on a fake wedding.

"Awww," A chorus of kids groaned as you sent them back to the desk. Though once the lunch bell rings they all seem to forget their sadness.

"Sorry for all of that, I don't know what got into them." You say as you sit at your desk. Leopold had pulled up a chair right next to you. Your lunch being shared between the two of you.

"It's alright, I enjoyed the wedding." He hums as he picks a daisy from his hair. He twirls it around in his fingers before handing it to you.

"For you, my beautiful bride." You bite your lip as you take the flower from his hand, your skin brushing up against each other.

"Thank you my husband." You stick it behind your ear. Leopold stares lovingly into your eyes and you feel yourself sink under his gaze. It's just so intense, his pretty hazel eyes just make you swoon.

"You know, I would not have been upset if we kissed, for the integrity of the story." He whispers, his hand coming to cup your chin.

"Yeah?" You ask breathlessly as the space between the two of you becomes smaller and smaller.

Could this really be happening? Oh god you hope it was. Your eyes flutter closed as he kisses you. His hand is gentle as his kiss deepens. His lips are soft and he tastes like, like everything fucking perfect.

"I've been trying to court you for some time my love." Leopold confesses as you pull apart.

"Normally I would have given you a letter but, Charlie had told me the sentiment was outdated." You giggle at the thought of a handwritten letter from him declaring his love for you, a very romantic idea you must admit.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice. If I had known, we could have done this a lot sooner."

"That's alright darling, because now we have all the time in the world." Well all the time until 12:30 when the bell rang. For now though, you had him all to yourself.

[nachotrash]

Leopold x PersonalGuard!Reader

A/N: finished this in 4 days based on this thread with the lovely @rosenclaws. Now I have 23 tabs open with Victorian era customs and etiquette and other facts (half of which I didnt even use) so yippieee. Haven't written since august so I'm a lil rusty bear with me lol

Tags: Violence, blood, reader gets injured, Lord Millard, Otis is your dad, the angst is not as angsty as I'd like it to be--might write a seperate drabble based on purely the angst, laundanum (opium) as a painkiller mention, Leo being whipped for you

Wordcount: 3k

“Your Grace? The carriage is ready.”

Leopold nodded, turning back to the richly dressed woman in front of him with a polite smile. “Well, I’m afraid that we will have to cut our time short, Lady Isabelle. It was an honor to be in your radiance tonight. I wish you the best.”

He kissed her hand with a short bow, leaving the hostess giggling before he followed his escort to the carriage at the front gates.

“‘Your radiance’? That’s bardic, even for you.” You commented with a grin, one that only grows wider as he looks you up and down. We’re it any earlier, he’d have replied with more banter.

“Tired?” You open the carriage door for him.

“I am.” He breathes, sinking into the velvet cushions of the cart. You climb onto the perch up front with an understanding hum.

“Try to get some sleep then,” you advised. “It will be just you and me for about 4 to 5 hours if everything goes well. Don’t be alarmed, I won’t be disruptive.”

——

Everything did not go well.

They were maybe an hour or two away from home, the forest seemingly endless while engulfed in the nightly abyss. Leopold had long dozed off to the sound of the horses hooves clip-clopping against the dirt road when he was suddenly awoken by someone knocking on the very window he was leaning on. It was you.

He was immediately wide awake once he recognizes the knocking pattern.

tok tok tok… pause… tok tok

This was the code you two had agreed upon in case you weren’t able to verbally communicate due to possible danger. It was merely just meant to alert the other and you never really thought that you’d need it, but here you are.

Your heartbeat quickened while your gut churned in uneasiness. Something was wrong. Something had changed in the ambiance around them. Someone else is with you in the forest and they don’t seem friendly.

You kept riding, keeping the same pace as you did before. There is no way you could give yourself away. It would be too dangerous.

Just as they were starting to near the edge of the forest and into town, as you were about to sigh in relief, a lanky man leaped out of the bushes in front of your horse. You remain quiet.

“Excuse me, sir? We would like to pass through, thank you.”

He grinned in such a way that made your skin itch. “Sorry sweetheart. Nobody is going past this point any time soon.”

He pulls his sword, and so do you as you hop off the horse. Your gun is tucked safely in your coat, only to be used in emergencies.

The moment your boots hit the ground he lunges at you. You barely managed to parry it before he throws… sand? In your eyes. You stagger back, groaning as you furiously wipe away the sand and try to find him.

He was beside you, grinning creepily before it’s replaced with a yell in pain, blood oozing out from where you had just struck him.

With a furious roar, he charged at you once again, swords beating against eachothers as you each try to take the other out.

You glance back at the carriage every so often, just to make sure that Leopold is okay, until your eyes widen at the sight of him struggling against two more abductors. You knew that Leopold could stand his own ground if he needed, but he’s still no match against two more experienced men. You had to help him.

You thrust the other’s sword to the side, spinning around to get to Leopold when something crashed into the back of your skull. Your vision flickers, going black completely before it returns.

You look around, heart and head pounding.

6 more people have joined the fight. There is no way you can fight them off. You’re gonna have to make a run for it.

BANG BANG

The two men trying to drag Leopold out of the carriage drop limply onto the ground, who now stared at you in pure shock. For a moment, the world went quiet.

Then the adrenaline rushes past your ear again. You parry a strike from the guy behind you and shove your gun back into your coat, motioning for Leopold to grab the horse.

“Leo! We’re going! Get on the horse!”

He nods, sprinting to the now panicked animal with you right behind him. You cut off the leashes tying the horse to the cart with one swing of your sword and just like that you were gone.

You rode in silence for a bit as both of you caught your breath. There is no time to waste though, who knows what else may be waiting for you?

“Your Grace, are you hurt? Where have they injured you?” You ask without looking up, making sure the horse was galloping as long as he can. You’d giggle internally at how Leopolds arms tighten around you with every jolt of the horse, but you couldn’t afford to let your guard down now.

“I-I’m… i’m alright. What about you? You were the one actually fighting..” he panted, concern rolling off his words in waves.

“I’m good. Just a cut to the calf and upper arm. Nothing serious.” You replied curtly. Your entire body burned and your head was pounding, but that’s normal with these levels of exhaustion.

——

The sun was already rising as you finally arrived at the estate. The horse was soon taken away by Otis, who appeared at the front gate when he heard the clipping of hooves against pavement approaching.

Exhaustion rolls off your backs once you finally step into the main hall. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, the pain from your injuries slams into you at full force. You stagger, clutching your pounding head while your vision flickers. For a split second, everything goes dark. You feel yourself falling.

Leopold breath hitches as he sees you slump to the floor. He’s by your side in an instant.

“Where are you hurt? Come on, hey..!”

To prevent you from hitting your head in the tiled floor, he reaches down to hold it up.

His stomach drop as his hands meet something sticky.

Blood.

Now that he gets a chance to look at you properly, he realized just how bad in shape you are. Blood seeped through the navy fabric of your coat, smudging onto the cold tiles as you writhed in pain.

He had to help you.

Your body jerked as you feel two arms wrap around your waist and knees and hoist you up, the sudden change in friction causing pain to shoot through your body.

Everything around you happens as if it took place in another room. Somebody was talking to you, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. All you knew was that whoever picked you up—probably Leopold, you think— was really warm and soft. And you’re cold and tired. Some sleep won’t hurt, right?

Meanwhile, it was as if Leopold was in a completely different building instead of his house. He doesn’t remember the last time he went to the physicians himself, but lord, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he lost you because of it. He glanced down as he paced through the hall, fingers clutching your body even tighter as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“You’ll be alright. I-I promise. Just… stay with me, hang on.” He whispered, not sure if he even believed his own words.

He didn’t want this. He never wanted you to get hurt because of him.

Some part of him foolishly believed that as long as he’s around, he’d be able to protect you. That he’s be able to keep you safe instead of the other way around, no matter that you were ‘technically’ supposed to protect him.

The two of you have known eachother for longer than anyone else. He could still remember the day Otis was introduced to him, when he’d just arrived at his uncles after the death of his parents. Millard had taken the terrified boy back to his manor so he wouldn’t have to suffer more than he already had. Yet, it took him weeks to be able to sleep in his own room without crying. In an attempt make him feel less alone, Otis had brought his child with him so he could have some company of his age. And that child was you.

You two warmed up immediately. While he was often ‘disgraceful’, as per his uncle’s words, he has never once made you feel like you’re less important than him. Perhaps that’s what strengthened your silly little childhood crush on him. You’ve always been extremely aware of your difference in social status, having been reminded countless times by your father and Lord Millard throughout your childhood. Maybe that’s the reason you shook off the way Leopold would look at you when you’re strolling in his garden on a summer night. Maybe that’s why you purposefully pretended that you didn’t know from whom the letters were that appeared outside your windowsill every February. Maybe that’s why you slowly stopped calling him by ‘Leo’ and changed to ‘Your Grace’.

You feel like you can read him like a book, yet you can’t seem to be able to figure out what to do with it. On the off chance that he does feel the same, you’d be risking his wrath or even everything that he had should Lord Millard decide to disown him for it. You couldn’t do that to him. So you held back, planning to never tell him the truth despite it slowly crawling itself up your guts.

As you two grew up, you started hanging out less and less, both being obligated to your duties. It would not be before his coming of age party that you’d be reintroduced to him, now as his personal guard. Thankfully, there was no awkward phase, and you quickly became close again.

Except… now that he’s of age, his uncle would get more and more desperate at pushing him to get a wife. You’d nod in agreement when Leopold would complain to you about it and add more snarky remarks to his vocabulary, but deep down you were crumbling. The only positive thing you can get out of this is that he seems like he doesn’t like to marry others either.

Sometimes, you’d reread the letters he wrote you when you were little, which would leave you all giddy yet leave your heart aching because you know that it’s just not possible. However, just being around him is enough.

So you made up your mind. Being no more than his friend and guard is what you’ll stay. And you’d do anything to honor that.

——

Sounds start fading back in and the first thing you notice is how heavy and sore you are. You slowly open your eyes, adjusting to the light in the room as the blurriness slowly fades way.

“How is your vision?”

You turn to the side to see your father standing nearby, his tailcoat hanging off a chair.

“Ah… father..?” You croak out, surprised at the dryness of your mouth. He nods as he hands you a glass of water which you gulp down greedily, wincing at the pain from the sudden movements.

“So? How is your vision?”

“…it’s good, I think? I can see fine.” You take a deep breath.

“Father, I know that it’s not—“

To your surprise, he cuts you off.

“I know. The young master told me everything I needed to know before he… fell asleep.” He motions to the other side of your bed, where you now realize Leopold sat hunched over the white sheets. You open your mouth to speak but was shut off again.

“We’re both very aware of what I have always told you, so I will spare you it tonight.”

He turns around, grabbing his tailcoat again and putting it on.

“Oh, and dear?”

“Yes father?”

“I believe you did the best you could in this situation. I’m not upset. Just glad you’re alright. Proud of you, sweetheart.”

Maybe it was the laundanum in your blood or the exhaustion in your bones, but you feel yourself tearing up. You quickly wiped them away, smiling sincerely back at your father.

“Thank you, papa. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now, I have been called to tend to His Grace, so I’ll be taking the young master with me. Try to sleep, alright?”

You nod, and he walks over to put Leopolds coat over his shoulders, causing him to jolt awake. He glanced around frantically, body physically deflating in a relieved sigh when his eyes land on you.

“Oh… thank goodness you’re awake. I… for a moment I thought..” he didn’t finish his sentence. “Since you hit your head and all and…”

“Your Grace, why are you here? I-I mean, not that I don’t appreciate it.” You added quickly “I just thought you might be in your quarters resting instead.”

Leopold stared downwards for a moment.

“Otis?”

“Yes, young master?”

“Could you please leave us some space?”

“As you wish.”

Once your father has left the room, Leopold immediately turns closer to you.

“I wish you’d told me about your injuries.”

“I apologize, your grace. I—“

“Leo.”

You blink.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Leo. Just… call me Leo again. Please.” The whispered plea sends your heart rate up, and for a moment you had no response.

“Ah.. um.. Leo. Look, I only had one objective and that was to get you to safety. It’s all part of my job, you know?” You can’t meet his gaze, afraid you might break and spill everything.

There is a bit of silence, and you’re scared to have angered him when the next thing you feel is a warm embrace. Your breath hitches before you melt in his arms. Leopolds hands were shaking as he held you, making sure to avoid your wounds.

The comfortable silence stretches on for a while as you hug him back. It’s soon broken by another whisper.

“…Can I… tell you something?” He pulls back and you look at him with slight confusion.

“You can tell me anything?”

His eyes trail over your face, lingering on your eyes before blinking.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The world stops around you once you process what exactly came out of his mouth. In love? With you? The blood rushes to your face and you find yourself scrambling for a reply.

“…What?”

You see him hesitate for a moment, still looking back in your eyes.

“I am in love with you. Will you allow me to court you?”

He’s practically shaking with nervousness, chewing on his cheek for a moment but speaking up hastily when you still haven’t responded, staring at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Please forgive me. I-I’m aware that one should always write a formal letter to their partner prior if he wishes to court them,” the young duke started pacing back and fourth, rambling with a red face. “Worry had overcome me when I started to realize I may not see you again because you injured your head a-and I didn’t get the chance to write you anything. I know! I’ll get Otis to bring me some—“

“Leo!”

He froze at the sound of your voice. Anxiety grips his heart when he realized just how un-put-together he acted in front of the one person he’s been trying to impress all his life. But when he turns back to you, he finds you smiling up at him with glossy eyes.

“Of course I wish to enter a courtship with you. I’ve wanted to for years.”

You swear you’ve never seen him light up this much before. He practically leaps to the sit on the side of your bed and grasps your hand.

“Y-you’re sure about this?”

You nod.

He couldn’t believe it. He’s been convinced that he’s lost his chance to be together with you once you two grew older. The way you stopped calling him by his name, instead moving onto his title. Or how your smile feels slightly off when he’s telling you a joke. That little drawer in his quarters hold at the very least a dozen of nearly sent letters where he’d confess his love, but he always backed out at the last minute, because there is no way you’d reciprocate. He’s blown his chance and he’ll have to deal with that regret for the rest of his life.

But then the last 24 hours has changed his view completely. Leopold has always been scared that he’s going to have to leave you someday, not realizing that there is a chance that you might leave him instead.

Thumb absentmindedly drawing circles on your hand, his gaze flickers between your eyes and lips.

“May I…” he stops himself, feeling his face grow red again.

“May I kiss you?”

You nod, maybe a little too eagerly. He smiles softly.

“I’m afraid I’m going to need a clearer answer”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“You may kiss me.”

Leopold wastes no time, letting go of your hand to cup your face as his lips meet yours. You’ve never kissed anyone before but you do make a mental note of how soft they are. You can feel your heart hammering against your ribs and you’re pretty sure he can feel it too with how close you are. The fingers tangled in his hair, how one of his hands slide down to your neck…

You pull back with a giggle, noticing how he chases after your lips a little with a dazed look in his eyes before he realized that you stopped kissing. You giggle again and he swears he’s about to lose his mind with how sweet you sound.

Then the exhaustion from the past 24 hours finally comes crashing down on the both of you. Leopold takes off his shoes and you scoot over as he slides under the cover next to you. He makes sure not to touch your bandaged body parts as you feel his chest press up against your back and you feel all the tension leave your body.

“Didn’t your uncle need you for something?” You hummed.

“I’m sure Otis can handle it just fine without me.”

[kvntonq]

𖤐 — love sounds like this...

pairing - leopold mountbatten ft. sick!reader

summary - you're sick and feeling miserable until leopold shows up.. being the prince charming in your fairytale.

contents - fluff!! established relationship, gentleman leopold (oh my sweetheart), more fluff!! light teasing and humor. english is not my main language, sorry :)

word counts - 1355 words

zayns note! hii all! ah, i'm so nervous. this is my first time writing. i hope it turns out good. i'm down with the worst fever rn and my weird, poor heart really be craving for leopold's affection, so here we go!!

You totally hate this. What was supposed to be a mild fever is turning into something far worse. A pounding headache, a runny nose, chills that ripple through your limbs. There’s no doubt now—the fever is slowly taking over your body, curling around your bones like smoke.

A knock. Then again—soft, polite, insistent.

You already know who it is. Leopold.

But even the thought of standing makes your stomach twist. The weight of the blankets feels like a mountain on your chest, and the world beyond your bedroom door is a blur you can’t bear to face.

“My dear?” Leopold’s voice filters through the quiet, far too soft for someone as vibrant as he usually is. The silence feels thick, unnatural in your usually lively apartment. His footsteps echo gently against the hardwood floor as he moves through the space, finally pushing open the bedroom door with care.

You're curled up in the middle of the bed, a mess of tangled blankets and fevered limbs, your hair plastered to your damp forehead. The sight stops him cold. His eyes widen, alarm flashing across his face before he crosses the room in a few swift strides. The soft creak of the floorboards is muffled under the urgency in his movement.

“Hey, my love,” he breathes, kneeling beside the bed, one hand hovering near your cheek. His fingers gently press to your forehead, and he flinches slightly at the heat pulsing off your skin. “You're burning up.”

He brushes a damp strand of hair from your face, then leans down to press a kiss to your brow—gentle, reverent. As if you're like a porcelain doll, scattered if he's too rough. “How long have you been like this?”

You blink slowly, throat dry and raw. “Since… yesterday, I think.”

Leopold’s brow draws tight, concern etching deep lines across his features. He leans in closer, his voice dipping lower. “You should have called for me sooner,” he says, already tugging the blanket up more securely around your shoulders, his touch careful and precise. “Are you in pain? Is it your head? Your stomach? Your—what is that dreadful phrase you use?—sinuses?”

You huff a weak laugh. “Congratulations. You’ve diagnosed me with: sinuses.”

“I shall inform the Royal College of Physicians immediately,” he replies solemnly, though the corners of his mouth twitch with the effort of suppressing a smile. “Now, lie still, my ailing enchantress. I shall procure nourishment and potions.”

With a last look of concern, he rises like someone accustomed to giving orders on horseback, and vanishes into the kitchen. You hear cupboards opening, drawers clattering, followed by a puzzled, “Toaster… toaster… ah, the metallic box of fire.”

Minutes later, he returns balancing a tray like he’s serving the queen. You are his queen, though. The soup might be canned and the toast a little overdone, but he sets it down with theatrical pride.

“I have prepared a restorative feast,” he announces with a flourish. “Chicken soup—canned, as per modern custom. Toast, lightly singed. And this—” he gestures to the steaming mug, “—is ginger tea, made precisely the way my mother used to prepare it when I had a cold as a boy.”

You blink slowly, touched. “Your mother?”

He nods, placing the cup carefully on your nightstand. “Boiled fresh ginger, a touch of honey, a squeeze of lemon, and just the faintest hint of clove. She swore by it. Claimed it could revive even the most pitiful of her children—and I was a dramatic patient, mind you.”

You smile despite yourself, eyes heavy but heart light. “You’re really something, Leo.”

He sits carefully on the edge of the bed, mindful not to disturb you, and lifts a spoon with the care of someone tending to porcelain. “I am your something,” he murmurs. “And for the record,” he adds, tapping your nose gently. “Next time you feel unwell, you must summon me immediately. I shall arrive armed with tea and unwavering devotion.”

“You make a great nurse,” you murmur, voice thick with sleep.

He raises a brow. “I prefer ‘attentive paramour of noble descent.’ But if I must be a nurse, I shall be a rather dignified one.”

You manage a few spoonfuls before exhaustion overtakes you again. Leopold watches closely, sensing the moment your limbs begin to sag.

“No more,” he says gently, setting the tray aside and adjusting the blankets around you with deliberate care. “You’ve done enough for now.”

“But—”

“No arguments.” His voice is firm but soft, the way sunlight warms a winter room. “You are under strict orders to rest. Doctor’s orders—Dr. Leopold of Manhattan.”

You grumble something incoherent, eyes fluttering. He chuckles, brushing his knuckles down your cheek.

“I’m worried about you. Rest now, my love.”

He fluffs your pillow like it’s a cloud, tucks the blanket around your shoulders with almost ceremonial precision, and folds the edge down just right—like he’s swaddling something precious. It’s oddly sweet, and deeply comforting.

“There,” he says, surveying his work with quiet satisfaction. “Snug as a lamb in a spring pasture.”

“You’re mixing your metaphors,” you mumble, eyes already half-shut.

“And you, my dear, are delirious with fever,” he says with a teasing tilt of his head. “All logic is suspended in favor of comfort.”

He reaches for a small book resting on your nightstand—a familiar red spine. “I shall read to you until you sleep. Something light. Perhaps Winnie-the-Pooh?”

“You know Winnie-the-Pooh?”

“I discovered it on your shelf last week,” he says, settling back with a conspiratorial grin. “A bear with no pants but a heart full of honey and wisdom. Remarkably profound.”

You snort softly, but it turns into a wheeze. Leopold’s smile fades slightly as concern returns to his eyes. He hands you a glass of water with the precision of a man offering a sacred goblet. Once you’ve taken a few sips and settled again, he sets the cup aside and then—without a word—carefully slides onto the bed beside you.

It surprises you, but not unpleasantly. With practiced ease, he arranges the pillows behind him and opens the book with a rustle of paper. He lifts his arm, an unspoken invitation, and you nestle against him without hesitation, your head resting on his chest.

His warmth is solid and steady beneath you, his heartbeat a slow, grounding rhythm. One hand holds the book, the other drapes lightly around your shoulders, fingers brushing comfortingly up and down your arm in slow, absent strokes.

Then he begins to read.

His voice is warm, low, laced with gentle amusement. Each word is careful, as though he’s offering it to you like a gift. The rhythm of his reading blends with the soft thrum of the fan, the faint tick of the clock, and the slow, steady beat beneath your ear.

It’s the safest you’ve felt all day.

...Before long, your breathing slows. Your eyes drift closed, his voice becoming a warm hum in the background, like sunlight through gauze.

You shift slightly, lifting your head just enough to glance up at him. “Hey,” you whisper, voice hoarse.

He pauses his reading instantly, looking down at you with quiet concern. “Yes?”

You reach up weakly and brush your lips against his cheek—just a gentle press, lingering for half a second longer than needed. “Thank you,” you murmur.

He blinks, surprised but clearly touched. “You’re most welcome.”

Then, with a frown, you add, “Sorry if I just doomed you to the plague.”

Leopold chuckles softly, the sound vibrating under your cheek. “If a kiss from you is the price of illness, I shall pay it gladly—and ask for another.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile lingers as your head returns to its place over his heart. He resumes reading, his hand still stroking your arm, his voice soft and patient.

You feel a kiss pressed gently to your temple.

“Rest well, my love,” he whispers, pulling the blanket snug around your shoulders. “When you wake, there will be tea, and a bear who lives in a tree ready to greet you.”

Your lips part in a sleepy smile. Fever or not, you were in good hands.

And truthfully… you wouldn’t mind being tucked in by Leopold again—even when you're perfectly well.

and, that's it!! lmk your thoughts on this! reblogs and likes are very much appreciated! i hope you enjoy!!

headers by @elleisdesigning

tags!! @wchswift @themareverine @flowersforbucky @princessanglophile @lubdubology @mcrdvcks @dimlylittorch @xxladymjxx @briseroyawritingsblog @howlettsangel

[mushynka]

Wolverine I love you but Leopold Mountbatten need more attention. Plsss wehere are my Leopold Mountbatten fellow fans?? 😭❤️❤️✨️

[pretty-little-mind33]

requesting rules - tag lists - emojis - other blogs - main: @g0lden-sky

minors must NOT interact with anything that has a ♥︎ as a warning. if i see an ageless blog doing so, i'll block you. thank you so much for respecting this boundary :)

on this blog i'll post writings for multiple fandoms depending on what mood I'm in lol (currently Marauders (james potter) and anything ATJ related lmao) or what inspires me!

because this has happened, i want to say please do NOT repost my work on any other platforms without my permission! thank you!

- MISCELLANEOUS CHARACTERS

- including Robbie Jennings (ataps), Drover (australia), Leopold Mountbatten (kate and leopold), Conrad Fisher (tsitp), and Kaz Brekker (shadow and bone)

- JAMES POTTER

- TANGERINE

- POLY MARAUDERS

- COUNT VRONSKY

- SERGEI KRAVINOFF

- DAVE LIZEWSKI

- PIETRO MAXIMOFF

- TOM RYDER

- LOGAN HOWLETT

- FRIEDRICH HARDING

PS: the aesthetic pictures on the mood-boards DO NOT reflect Y/n's descriptions! no physical descriptions of Y/n are given at any point in any fics UNLESS given in the warnings! i always want to make sure Y/n can be of any race/ethnicity/size since we humans are all beautifully different and amazing!!

PSS: none of the pictures i use for my blog are mine! i find them all on Pinterest and if any of them are copyrighted, let me know!

[edablair]

Hi!! I know I've been gone for a while, but I wanted to share with you a snippet of my recent dream <(￣︶￣)>

(English is not my first language! There may be grammatical or/and punctuation mistakes)

.•★•.

★ The quiet rumble of the city outside the window, which didn't stop even during the night, accompanied the moon and greeted the dawn. The sun lazily provided its rays through the slightly parted curtains, outlining a thin golden line across the room. As the bright yellow ball rose from the horizon, the golden line moved higher and higher across the bed until it fell on Leopold's face.

★ He grumbled and reluctantly opened his eyes, blotting out his interrupted sleep. His head turned toward the bedside table, the clock that said early hour staring back at him. He tried to raise his hand to run it over his face, but felt a strange heaviness on it. It was only a moment later that he realized it was your head resting on his shoulder.

★ You hummed grudgingly in your sleep, feeling his muscles move under the weight of your head. "Five more minutes." you muttered, burying your face in the hollow of his shoulder, trying to hide from the bright light.

"No no, sleep sweetheart. It's early." Leo's voice reached your ears in a soft whisper as his lips brushed the skin of your forehead, lingering there for a good few seconds. His unsheathed arm wrapped around your body, pulling you closer against his chest.

★ With the same disgruntled groan and sleepy intentness, you settled comfortably on his body, your head now resting on his chest, your ear nestled where his heart beat quietly and peacefully. Leopold grimaced slightly when the blood could circulate unimpeded through his arm again, the tips of your fingers feeling like they had been pricked by a thousand and one needles.

"What time is it?"

"We have a couple more hours. Go back to sleep." his now free hand bent at the elbow, palm resting gently on the top of your head and slowly making its way down to the crook of your neck.

"I didn't even wake up." the corners of your lips lifted in a reluctant smile, only to relax almost immediately as you fell back into sleep, influenced by Leo's warm embrace and his seemingly hypnotizing heartbeat beneath your ear.

★ Leopold lay there for a while, looking at your motionless, snoring body while his fingers played with the strands of your hair, the light of the sun shimmering gold on them, before he sank back into the soft shroud of sleep.

★ Maybe you both won't remember this morning moment, clouded by a drowsy haze. Or maybe you will cherish it like other quiet and intimate moments somewhere in the corner of your heart.

[logaenhowlett]

SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I'M HEAD OVER HEELS - L.H.

Summary: What starts off as a simple favour to watch Laura’s cat sends Logan into a spiral as you continue to make your way into his life.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff - Logan is 100% whipped, Wade

A/N: 4.4k - my longest fic yet! Worst!Logan has my entire soul, I'd give anything just for that pretty smile. Title creds to Tears For Fears. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The familiar burn of whiskey stings the back of his throat. Logan rests his head against the couch, second-guessing his decision to babysit Laura's cat while she's enjoying her night out. Her tireless attempts of pestering him at last working in her favour so he can finally meet his 'copy-kitten' - her words.

A quick glance at the time reveals he should probably head out now. Logan rises, groaning as his muscles protest after weeks of just slumping around the apartment. Even Al had pointed out how lazy he'd become lately. And that unsolicited observation gave him half the mind to consider finding new roommates. But who was he kidding? As much as he also barely tolerated that one incredibly maddening little prick's incessant jibber-jabber, he wasn't going to find anything for what he's currently paying.

Soon enough, he weaves his way through the crowds, swerving past the shoulders of, frankly, one too many people absorbed by their devices to step aside for his large frame. Luckily, Laura's place isn't too far and he really appreciates that detail as the sound of thunder rumbles overhead. A faint ding emerges from his pocket and he retrieves his phone, reading the screen with a slight squint.

His boots soak the welcome mat as he fumbles with the door trim, locating the key according to Laura's text - making a mental note to remind her of personal safety later. Shivering, he shrugs the wet jacket off, tossing it over the armchair. His eyes dart around the room, looking for the damn cat, and for a moment, Logan wonders whether he's being pranked.

The pitter-patter of paws against the hardwood floor has him snapping his head to the little creature in question. The cat, or Leopold Alexis Elijah Walker Thomas Gareth Mountbatten - Leo, for short - he learns begrudgingly after Wade shoved pictures upon pictures to his face one particular day, stares at him with indifference.

Understanding the need to be left alone, Logan trudges towards the kitchen, swinging the fridge open. A small post-it stuck over a box of leftovers, reads "Knew you'd be hungry", has him scoffing, mildly amused that Laura had predicted his actions.

Minutes later, he sinks onto the couch, making brief eye contact with Leo, who's nonchalantly licking his paws. He's halfway through the bowl of pasta when the cat suddenly leaps onto the cushion next to him. Logan watches curiously, he's not terribly experienced around pets, hardly spending any time with Mary Puppins herself despite living under the same roof.

"Alright, here's the deal." He murmurs, "You stay outta my way and I stay outta yours."

Leo replies with a meow to which Logan nods, satisfied by the response. He hopes to god this cat has the same temperament as Dogpool and allows him to simply coexist till Laura returns. Intrigued by the smell, Leo slowly inches forward, gently nudging his head against the bowl.

"Don't think you can eat this, bub."

Leo seems to understand the implication and meows in defiance. With a sigh, Logan gingerly flexes his hand, stroking the cat's head. The act immediately has Leo purring in content, the desire to investigate the food long forgotten. And no one's there to witness the ghost of a smile that teases his lips.

The calm attitude only lasts an hour before Logan's biting back a string of profanities, frustrated by Leo's refusal to take his medication. He's thankful for his healing factor, for otherwise, he'd be covered in a litter of scars. How the hell Laura deals with this devil-of-a-cat is beyond comprehension.

There's no use in trying again. Leo clearly wants nothing to do with him or what he's hiding in his hand. The thought of seeking help crosses his mind, perhaps one of the neighbours is especially skilled in feeding pills to literal hellspawns. Logan tunes his hearing to the apartments on the floor. Old lady already asleep to her TV - no. A family of six attempting to eat dinner in peace - no. Two people about to - fuck no. Now he really wants a word with Laura about her living situation.

Just when he's about to give up, a recognisable melody reaches his ears - one he's unwilling heard Wade jam out to in the shower. This person swaying along to music seems far more approachable than anyone else in this building, and so he steps out, knocking on the apartment across from Laura's.

The door cracks open slightly, you peek your head out giving him a questioning look, “Um… hi? Can I help you?”

“Hey, sorry to bother you. But, uh… I’m watching Laura’s - your neighbour’s cat.” Embarrassment creeps into his cheeks as he points behind him, “He’s not takin’ his meds and uh do you… can you help me? Please?”

The look of absolute defeat paired with the remnants of red scratch marks on his arms has your heart clenching for this poor man, “Of course.”

When the door fully opens, Logan’s eyes widen reflexively at the state of your undress. There’s nothing evocative about it, yet he feels as though he’s intruding on an intimate side of you. One he’s definitely not privy to.

Your sheepish smile sends a wave of something indescribable through his body. He clears his throat, turning on his heel to lead you inside. Leo flicks his head up at the sound of footsteps, purring as if he hasn’t been driving Logan insane for the past hour.

You knew Laura had rescued the little guy a while ago, having run into her in the hallway the night she brought him home. Every interaction you’ve had presents him as the sweetest kitten in the world, so watching the distinct mark of dread on this stranger’s face has you stifling a laugh.

“What?” Logan asks, feeling a little self-conscious about the whole situation.

“Nothing. It’s just - Leo’s very friendly. Or at least, I thought so… what the hell did you do to piss him off?” You chuckle, kneeling a foot away.

“Piss him off? I was just tryin’ to give him the damn pills. Had no problem with me before that.” Logan’s fingers twitch as you approach the cat, wanting to protect you from the sharp claws the demon would surely attack you with.

Yet, to his astonishment, Leo innocently crawls into your outstretched arms. And Logan swears he saw a flicker of mockery come across the cat’s eyes as he peers at him, relishing your comforting embrace.

“See? He’s a sweetheart.”

The fondness in your tone almost has him believing your words. In no time, Leo’s fully cooperating with your gentle requests, happily taking the medication as if it’s the tastiest thing in the world.

Logan learns three things that night. One, your name. Two, that you have some innate ability to charm everyone around you - human or otherwise. Three, he absolutely couldn’t wait to see you again.

Logan tries to drain out the shouting match between his two roommates, ducking calmly as Al’s miscalculated spatula throw flies in his direction. Laura giggles next to him, entertained by the whole ordeal - Wade had accidentally left his cock ring plugged in the bathroom again, nearly short-circuiting the apartment.

“Hey! Kink shaming is very frowned upon, Althea.”

“You motherfucker! I almost got electrocuted by the toaster this morning!”

Logan grumbles to himself, knowing there’ll never be a quiet, normal day in this household. He turns to Laura, “Kid, you wanna grab some food later?”

“Can’t. I’m going out.”

He nods, not giving it a second thought. But as the memory of you flashes across his mind, he stops bouncing his leg, heart beating a little faster. It had been a whopping seven days since that interaction, yet every little detail has stuck with him since. In fact, he spent many hours pacing in his room planning some way to magically run into you.

“… What about the cat?” He asks, and when she raises her eyebrow, “Who’s watchin’ him?”

She replies with a shrug, “I’ll figure it out.”

The solution to his problem falls perfectly onto his lap. Oh, how his pulse quickens at the thought. And as if to not seem suspiciously enthusiastic, he pauses before speaking, “I can do it.” 

“Why?”

“Better than this shit.”

Laura considers him for a moment then agrees casually - she knows exactly why he offered. You had bumped into her a couple of days ago, offhandedly mentioning meeting Logan that night as you recounted the details of your week. It took mere seconds to put two and two together and realise he was incredibly smitten.

Logan spends a good fifteen minutes messing with his hair. Fuck, did it always spike up like that? The one tiny mirror in his room supposedly taunting him with each look over. A low tsk breaks the flood of self-criticism as he slams the door shut behind him, roughly brushing past Wade.

"Ooh, is that cologne I smell or are you just horny to see me?"

His teasing spirit immediately drops when Logan shoots him a glare, precisely throwing Al's spatula straight at his crotch.

"God - not the home office, peanut! Jim and Pam need protection!"

The walk to Laura's seems a lot shorter this time, some sort of nervous, giddy energy surging through his chest with each step. Logan bites the insides of his cheeks, feeling childish by the stupid smile daring to grace his lips just at the sheer thought of you. He can't remember the last time someone had drawn these kind of emotions from him. A part of him wants to cower in fear of rejection and self-doubt, and other? Oh, it's got your name written all over.

As soon as he reaches the hallway, all his senses are directed to your apartment. Confused by the silence he finds instead, Logan strains his hearing harder than ever. Hm, it's barely seven-thirty, maybe you're not home yet? Disappointment twirls around his mind, he sighs before opening Laura's door, convincing himself it's probably for the better.

To his surprise, Leo behaves quite well this time around - eating his food, taking his medication, and sticking with minimal efforts to annoy him. The black and white movie he randomly chose keeps his thoughts from drifting to you for the most part, though he can't help but wonder where you are at - he checks his watch - 10:38 pm on a Thursday?

Whatever hope he held onto paints him a fool as time slips by. He couldn't blame you, you didn't owe him anything. Logan runs a hand down his face, and despite his wavering relationship with Leo, he's at least grateful for the cat's company on this rather lonely night.

"Was a dumb idea, huh?" He mumbles, gently scratching Leo's ear.

Not ten minutes later, the jingle of something hitting the floor has him sitting up, intrigued. Logan pads over to look through the peephole, his heart fluttering at the sight of you. It doesn't take a genius to note your drunken state with the way you're cursing and fumbling with the keys. His hand rests against the doorknob, a flash of hesitation creeping in. Do you even want to see him right now?

Before he can psych himself out, his instincts make the decision for him. Logan's unsure of how to announce his presence, wanting to avoid any chances of scaring you. In hindsight, that task should’ve been deemed impossible when you flinch suddenly anyway.

"Logan! Shit - did I wake you up?"

He chuckles at that and before he can even respond, you fire off another question, "Wait, what're you doing here?"

"Laura's out. I'm on babysitting duty." Leo purrs from somewhere behind him in confirmation. Logan watches as you nod slowly, the keys once again sliding from your grasp, "Here, let me help you."

The two of you reach down, fingertips barely grazing as he reacts faster than you. He realises he's much closer than he anticipated when your perfume crowds his senses. Logan buries the urge to meet your eyes deep, deep down, instead unlocking the door with a clenched jaw.

He's very appreciative of the fact that you're too out of it to observe his actions. He wanders into the kitchen to fetch some water, a laugh nearly spilling out of him as you collapse onto the couch, "Hey, easy."

"I'm not that drunk."

"I believe you." He lifts the glass to your lips, words ever so soft, "But... how about we get you to bed hm? Doesn't that sound better than this couch?" When you blink at him tiredly, Logan knows it's so over for him - every shred of denial he held within now shattered by your very hands.

"Okay... "

He maintains some distance, assuming you'd stubbornly dismiss his attempts to guide you to the bedroom. Leaning by the doorframe, he doesn't try to hide the fondness in his expression as you settle under the covers.

"Night, Logan."

He hears you murmur beneath the blanket. It's almost natural how quickly he replies as if you've had this exchange hundreds of times before, "Good night, sweetheart."

A groan leaves you as the sunlight eventually breaches the comfort of your dark room. Rubbing your eyes, you blindly reach for the bedside table, hoping to find your phone. Instead, your hand retrieves a piece of paper while knocking over a bottle of Advil that definitely wasn't there earlier.

'Not that drunk' my ass. - L

The party hat lays tilted on his head. Logan hooks his finger onto the string, momentarily stopping it from cutting into his chin. On any other occasion, he wouldn't have been caught dead wearing the stupid thing, but it was Laura's birthday and once she pulled out the dangerous puppy eyes, there was no way he could refuse without being an asshole.

He's been leaning against the wall, thumb lightly tracing the rim of the beer bottle in his hand as he blankly stares around the room. Throughout the night, Logan's eyes impulsively shift in your direction, tuning into the conversations you're having with - what feels like - everyone but him.

Mary Puppins zooms by, stepping on his boots in the process. She must've caught a whiff of whatever Al's cooking. He bends down to pick up the stuffed Wolverine chew toy she dropped along the way, mildly concerned by the amount of slobber coating it.

"Nice hat."

Logan hears you chuckle behind him. He quickly turns around, tossing the toy somewhere far, far away before you could notice. And despite wishing all night for the opportunity to talk to you, he finds himself tongue-tied now that you're actually in front of him, awaiting his response with an amused expression. Get it together, dumbass.

"This thing? Well... it made the kid happy." He says, incapable of suppressing the smile that never fails to make an appearance whenever you're around.

The way your features soften releases a storm of arrows to his poor, old heart. Whatever anxiety he felt earlier increases tenfold, Logan takes a swig of his drink only to realise it's empty. With nothing to divert his energy to, he grips the bottle tighter, hoping the integrity of the glass is enough to withstand the force of his nerves.

"Thank you, by the way."

His eyebrows raise in confusion, "For what?"

"Few weeks ago. When I got home totally wasted." As your cheeks turn a little red at the memory, Logan wants to relive that moment over and over again.

"Oh... yeah." He huffs lightly, gaining a smidge of confidence from your flustered state. It gives him just enough courage to throw in a cheeky comment, "At your service."

He's mighty pleased when you giggle, biting his lip to control the proud smile aching to take over. Logan studies you briefly, and if he didn't know any better, you almost seemed nervous too? That possibility sends his mind reeling in excitement. Perhaps you also feel something here?

The shrieking sound of a party blower has him wincing, the plastic hits his cheek as Wade sneaks up right next to him with a wide grin, "Sugar bear! Don't mind me, I overheard you tell Yukio about your date tomorrow. Now, spill. Who is this mystery man and does he have a twin by any chance? Brother or sister - daddy's not picky."

Logan's initial reaction to harshly shove the man aside dies in an instant when you laugh rather bashfully at the question. He prays to god it's another one of Wade's fucking jokes. However, that hope flies out the window as you hesitantly ramble on about this guy. Excusing himself, he leaves the apartment, ripping the party hat off in agony - not witnessing the guilt eclipsing your emotions.

Droplets of sweat linger at the ends of his hair as he places the last of Laura's cardboard boxes on the floor of her new apartment. After weeks of mulling it over, she decided to move a little further away, complaining about how rent was becoming too crazy. Logan offered to support her financially till she was good on her own, yet she strongly refused just as he expected.

Since she was no longer your neighbour, the chances of running into you dwindled over time. He saw you in passing last month when he came over to help Laura with apartment hunting. The logical part of his brain convinced him to not stick around, desperately clinging to the idea that you're not interested. But catching your expression fall as he dismissed your presence nearly made him run back to wrangle you into his arms, to whisper apologies and beg for forgiveness.

After an especially tiring day, Logan returns home, crashing onto the couch with a sort of emptiness as he stares at the ceiling. Both his roommates are muttering in the corner, afraid to call out his incredibly irritable mood of late - instead, walking on eggshells whenever he's around. It seems that Wade loses the hushed argument, settling a good arm's length away from him.

"Peanut." He drags, slowly, "Al and I are... worried about you. As much as this brooding, tough guy act is really doing wonders for my sexual wellbeing, I just can't let you Debbie-Down-Pour all over this parade."

"The fuck you want me to do?"

"You need a one-way ticket to pound town-" He chirps, and when Logan grunts angrily, Wade shrieks, shielding himself from any incoming attacks, "Don't hurt me!"

The aroma of coffee tingles his senses as he takes an exaggerated sip, ignoring the need to continue such an aimless, one-sided conversation. Across the table is one of Vanessa's acquaintances, Karen or Kira - he can't remember - mindlessly explaining why her previous dates didn't work out. Logan forces a nod here and there, humming in pretend acknowledgement while he concocts some plan to seriously bash Wade's head against the nearest wall.

In all honesty, he didn't know how the hell that bastard persuaded him to entertain this woman for the night, making a note to check his alcohol for any suspicious substances later. What he did know was that this was going as terribly as he thought. And while he might be awfully rusty in terms of dating, Logan's certainly not oblivious to basic body language cues. Deciding twenty minutes of this torture is enough, she hastily rushes out the building and that's the last of Karen he ever sees.

The grocery bags feel like cinder blocks in your hands as you walk down the street. Mentally scolding yourself for postponing this chore till the last minute, you huff in exhaustion, adjusting your grip every few seconds. A woman nearly bumps into you on her way out, you stagger backwards, watching her storm off. Startled by her rashness, you turn to glance at where she came from, gasping when you spot a familiar face.

“Logan?”

He snaps up, recognising that particular voice - your name leaves his lips softly. Mixed emotions swirl around his mind, yet, he can't help the way his heart jumps as you fill his senses, “Wha - what’re you doin' here?”

“I was just passing by... saw you through the window.” Your gaze drops to the half-finished cup of coffee opposite him, “Were you on a date?”

“Uh Wade - he...” Logan stutters for a moment, dumbfounded that you're even talking to him after his childish behaviour the last few weeks. He nods lightly as the unmistakable bullet of regret pierces his insides.

“It’s her loss anyway.”

God, he wants to apologise so badly. Your friendly attitude only serves to make him feel worse, but Logan thanks his lucky stars that you don't hate him. He definitely wouldn't have been able to handle any sign of resentment on your part - no matter how much he deserves it.

“What’s with the eggs?”

You laugh, looking down at the several cartons peeking through your bags, “I’m stress-baking.”

He's so lost in your eyes that it takes him a second to register your reply, nose scrunching in amusement, “Stress-baking?”

“Yes, it’s a perfectly valid activity.”

That draws a chuckle out of him. He raises his hands in defense, “I ain’t judgin’, doll.”

A comfortable silence takes over and Logan realises just how happy he is to see you again - how much he's missed you all this time. He opens his mouth to spill something out of pure impulse when you beat him to the punch.

“Why don’t you join me?”

It doesn't take much convincing and he's already fallen into a steady pace as you walk together - his fingers effortlessly hooking onto all the grocery bags. His chest threatens to explode when you lean towards him, moving aside for people brushing by. Logan wills his entire strength to not drape his arm across your shoulders in an effort to keep you safe.

Time becomes irrelevant when you're around. The frequency of his own laughter shocks him at first, but he's not really thrown off by the joy you bring out of him because - well, of course, you do. It's safe to say that Logan can't bake to save his life, though he doesn't mind this particular weakness as you giggle at his dreadful attempts to mix the cookie dough. Shamelessly, he watches you come closer, breaking into a tangent about proper kneading techniques - if you ask him to repeat any of it, he'd be stumbling over his words like a fool.

Eventually, he makes something that somewhat resembles your example. He dips his finger into the dough and lifts a small piece in your direction, "How's this?"

When you gently grasp his hand to lick the sweet mixture straight off, he thinks he's trapped in some wild daydream. Logan stares at you in surprise, cheeks turning into a telltale shade of red. Your hums of approval fall onto deaf ears as he remains frozen, wondering how you're so quick to move on from that bold gesture.

Every little thing you do stains his mind - from the way you dance around to soft music playing in the background, the way you focus all your attention on him whenever he speaks, even the way you warn him about the oven as if he could get burned.

His expression must've turned serious by how you suddenly pause, peering at him in concern. Bearing a rush of emotions, the words pour out of his mouth without hesitation, "I am so sorry."

"I was an idiot and I... avoided you 'cause I couldn't deal with these damn feelings-"

He stops.

He's revealed way too much. And judging by your face, that was definitely a mistake. Logan shuts his mouth, jaw hardening as he fights something heavy crawling up his throat. His eyes land on the door and all he wants is to escape from this shrinking room.

A whisper of his name fractures the glass cage he's built up around his heart. His boots seem to be cemented to the floor, unwilling to break free even as you still in front of him - a mere breath away. Your hands rest against his cheeks, slowly turning his head so he's compelled to meet your tender gaze.

Not a single sound slips out of him before your lips are on his. His heart pounds in his chest, burning at sensation. Logan leans into the kiss, hands settling on your waist, holding you as close as he can. Relief washes over him, he tilts his head slightly to deepen his movements - his breath nearly giving out when you whimper softly.

The loud ding from the oven has you pulling back with a faint chuckle. Logan smiles too, letting out a sigh as he lays his forehead against your shoulder. He presses his lips to your collarbone, whispering against your skin, "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"The cookies... or us?"

He gently pokes your side at that comment, mirroring your dazed look. Between the quiet exchanges of laughter, he knows exactly what this means - what you mean to each other.

His muscles feel looser with each stride, embracing the breeze tangling with the warmth pooling inside from your touch moments ago. Logan makes his way home with a kind of ease he hasn't felt in forever, chewing on a cookie you insisted he taste.

As he walks through the door, Wade rests his chin on his hands, “So… how did it go? I see you’re enjoying the post-bang baked goods.”

Logan rolls his eyes, not wanting his mood to be spoiled. He grumbles under his breath, your name accidentally slipping out.

"You ran into angel-reincarnate?" Wade gasps, "Oh. Finally putting that horse cock to good use." Clapping excitedly, he follows after Logan, "Wait a second, this fic is tagged fluff. There'll be no fucking on my watch, partner!"

Logan slams the door to his bedroom behind him, blocking out Wade's muffled chattering.

"She had you cosplay as Paul Hollywood all night? Goodness! The power she possesses. I must gain all her secrets."

"Fuck off."

Wade grins to himself, quickly pulling his phone out to shoot off a text.

Wade: Project-Wolvie-Gets-Pussy is a go!

Laura: We are NOT calling it that.

[wchswift]

HABZHSBAH HIII LINAAA (it's me again 😭) gosh i don't want to appear as a desperate but it seems that you're the only who opens your request for leopold 😔😭

just a small request :3 from a prompt that i encountered "... sorry, i talked too much" "no no no not at all, keep talking. i love listening to you."

well, we all know what a gentleman leopold is HABSUSBSH (I NEED HIM SO BAD MY BABY), i don't have any plot in mind so maybe you could create yours based on the prompt?? thank you!! (i love your writings)

Every Word You Say

Pairing: Leopold Mountbatten x Reader Content: strangers to friends to lovers (kind of), yapping, fluff, reader is a bookworm, Leopold is head over heels, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 2.6k (maybe I got a little excited) a/n: HIII ZAYN BESTIE!! I'm so happy you're sending me requests yayy, thanks to you I could write to Leopold my baby again (pls keep going)! okay I have to admit that I loved this prompt and maybe I got a little carried away about the plot... Maybe I've strayed a little from what you wanted (I hope not), but I really hope you like it cause I really enjoyed writing it <3

It was a good afternoon. The store was quiet, as usual, with only a few customers coming and going and not much activity. Afternoons like that were nice—there wasn't much work to do, but sales were enough to keep the place from feeling forgotten. This allowed some time to relax behind the counter and arrange books on the shelves.

The faint jingling of the brass bell above the door broke the comforting silence of the shop. The sound made her look up from the stack of books on the counter, brushing a stray hair from her face as she spotted the man who had just entered.

He was tall and impeccably dressed, with an air of calm that seemed at odds with the frenetic city outside. His coat was neatly buttoned, his shoes polished, and he carried himself with a poise that made her pause. New Yorkers weren’t usually this... composed. It was weird. But most importantly, he was so beautiful.

“Hi, good afternoon,” she greeted, flashing him a polite smile. “Let me know if I can help you find anything.”

The man hesitated for a moment before nodding, his eyes scanning the shelves. “Thank you,” he said, his voice smooth and deliberate, the kind of voice that made even the most mundane words sound elegant.

She went back to organizing her stack of books, sneaking a glance now and then as he browsed. He moved slowly, as though savoring the sight of each title, his fingers brushing over the spines like they were relics. Finally, he stopped at the classics section and pulled out a leather-bound book.

He turned to her, holding the book aloft. “This edition of The Odyssey... it’s rather splendid. Do you recommend it?”

She blinked, surprised at his formality. “Oh, definitely. It’s one of my favorites. That edition has some great commentary in the back, too. Though, fair warning, if you get me started on books, I might not shut up.” She confessed, her tone amusing but gentle.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “I assure you, I regret nothing. Please, continue.”

She smiled genuinely at him, feeling a small flutter of surprise at his response. Most people gave a polite nod or chuckle when she rambled, but this man seemed really interested. Encouraged, she leaned against the counter, her hands gesturing animatedly as she began talking.

“You can’t go wrong with The Odyssey,” she said. “I mean, it’s a classic for a reason, right? Epic journeys, gods meddling in human affairs, monsters… And don’t get me started on Odysseus himself. Brilliant, but also kind of an idiot, if you ask me.” She laughed, then quickly added, “Oh, but you know... I mean that in the best way, of course.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "Hm, Is that so? Fascinating perspective. You find fault with his decisions?”

“Oh, plenty,” she replied, warming to the topic. “Some of his problems are his own fault—like the whole Cyclops thing? That could’ve been avoided if he’d just kept his mouth shut. But that’s what makes him interesting. He’s flawed. Human. It makes the story feel timeless, even though it’s thousands of years old.”

As the words tumbled out of her, she noticed his expression soften. His gaze didn’t waver, his posture relaxed yet attentive, as though he were cataloging every word she said.

So she just kept talking, completely oblivious to him or how he was mesmerized watching her, the excitement and ease with which she lost herself in the topic. After a moment like that, it was like something hit her, realizing how much she’d been talking, she stopped abruptly, her cheeks heating. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go on like that. You came for the books and probably weren’t expecting an impromptu lecture on Greek mythology.”

He tilted his head slightly, his smile deepening. “Not at all. Your enthusiasm is... refreshing. Please, go on.”

Her lips twitched in a smile of her own. “You’re dangerous, you know that? Most people try to shut me up, but not you. You’re encouraging me.”

“I can’t imagine why anyone would wish you to stop,” he replied earnestly.

The sincerity in his tone caught her off guard, leaving her momentarily speechless. She licked her lips, momentarily speechless and lost in him. After that, she just knew she would want to keep him in her life for as long as possible.

After that, it didn’t take long for him to return.

As she rearranged a display near the window the next afternoon, the bell above the door jingled again. She glanced up, half-expecting the usual flow of customers, only to see the same man from the day before.

He greeted her with the same polite nod and reserved smile, his gaze sweeping over the shop like he was committing every detail to memory.

“Back so soon?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

He stopped near the counter, his posture impeccably straight. “I enjoyed our conversation yesterday. And I have a fondness for bookshops.”

“Well, then you’ve come to the right place,” she said, gesturing to the shelves around them. “Find anything interesting today?”

He paused, his gaze flicking to the classics section before returning to her. “Not yet, but I have no doubt you will recommend something.”

“Challenge accepted,” she said, already scanning the shelves in her mind for the perfect book. "Oh, sorry. What's your name again?"

As the days passed, Leopold's visits became routine. He would step into the shop with that same calm air, and they would talk—about books, history, the city, and whatever topic struck her fancy. He never seemed to mind when she rambled, always listening with the kind of focus that made her feel like the most fascinating person in the room. Something she wasn't even a little bit used to, by the way.

Their interaction was so easy and natural. When she talked to him, was always exciting and gave her a feeling of comfort. So it wasn't exactly a surprise when she quickly grew accustomed to his presence. It was strange how easily he fit into the rhythm of her days, even though she knew so little about him.

Each time he came in, she found herself lighting up in ways she hadn’t expected. She would recommend books, tease him about his formal speech, and talk about whatever was on her mind, and he never failed to listen with unwavering attention. She never, not once, felt uncomfortable or unseen in his presence. He was like a prince in a fairy tale.

One rainy afternoon, as she stacked a new shipment of books behind the counter, the man who wouldn't leave her thoughts walked in with droplets clinging to his coat and hair. She glanced up, smiling automatically.

“Caught in the rain, huh?” she asked, setting down the stack.

“Indeed,” he said, brushing water from his sleeves. “Though I find it a small price to pay for the solace this shop provides.” He complimented, in his usual formal way.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You always know how to make the place sound fancier than it is. It’s just a bookshop, you know.”

He tilted his head, a faint smile gracing his lips. “To you, perhaps. To me, it is quite extraordinary.”

The quiet sincerity in his voice made her breath catch for a moment. She quickly looked away, fiddling with a loose thread on her sleeve.

“Well,” she said, her tone lighter, “if you’re going to keep flattering the place, I should at least give you a tour of the neighborhood. There are some other spots I think you’d like—if you’re interested.”

His eyebrows rose slightly, as though the suggestion surprised him. “I would be delighted,” he said, feeling his heart race.

This finally happened two days later.

The city bustled around them, cars honking and voices blending into a constant hum, but she took him down quieter streets, pointing out her favorite spots.

“This café has the best pastries,” she said, gesturing to a small storefront with a faded awning. “And the park a few blocks down is great if you need to get away from all this.”

He listened attentively, nodding at her words but occasionally glancing around with a furrowed brow, as though trying to make sense of his surroundings.

When they reached a crosswalk she stepped forward without thinking, only to realize he hadn’t moved. She turned back to see him standing on the curb, watching the cars zip by with a look of mild apprehension.

“Hey, you coming?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Is it always this... chaotic?” he asked, his tone half-amused, half-exasperated.

“Pretty much. You just have to commit to it.” She grabbed his arm lightly, tugging him forward as the light changed. “Come on—don’t think, just go.”

He followed reluctantly, muttering under his breath, “This city has no regard for decorum—or the sanctity of life.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, I swear you'll get used to it. Well, eventually.”

As they walked through the park, the noise of the streets faded behind them, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the distant chatter of joggers. She led him to a bench near a small fountain, sitting down and patting the spot next to her.

“See? Not so bad, right?” she said, leaning back with a contented sigh.

He settled beside her, his posture as upright as ever. “It is... quieter than I expected,” he admitted. “Rather pleasant, in fact.”

“I knew you’d like it,” she said, smiling. “You know, You're not as hard to please as you seem.”

He gave her a sidelong glance, his lips twitching in a faint smile. “Oh, I imagine this is good?”

She laughed softly, and for a moment they sat in comfortable silence, watching the fountain's water ripple in the breeze. They enjoyed being at peace, simply appreciating each other's company.

That evening, he returned to the bookshop. The streets were quieter now, the glow of the streetlights casting long shadows across the floor as she tidied up before closing.

He lingered by the counter as she talked, her words spilling out in an excited stream as she recounted a childhood memory sparked by a book she’d come across earlier that day.

“So when I was ten, I had this phase where I was obsessed with The Secret Garden,” she said, gesturing as she spoke. “I even convinced my dad to help me plant this tiny garden in our backyard. Except, I was an awful gardener—I kept forgetting to water it, and half the flowers were just weeds I thought looked cool.”

She laughed, shaking her head at the memory. “But I’d still sit out there for hours, waiting for my own magical door to appear. My dad always called it my ‘weed palace.’”

Leopold chuckled softly, his smile warm. “A ‘weed palace,’ you say? Peculiar, but at the same time charming.”

“Well, maybe to you,” she replied, grinning. “To everyone else, it was probably an eyesore.”

She paused, glancing at the clock and suddenly realizing how long she’d been talking. Her cheeks flushed as she glanced at him.

“Oh God... I’m sorry, I talked too much. I really need to learn when to stop.”

Leopold, who has been utterly captivated, loses the humor in his eyes, his expression shifting to something quieter, warmer as he tries to reassure her.

“No, no, not at all. Keep talking. I love listening to you.” he said softly.

Her breath caught at the earnestness in his voice, the way his gaze held hers as though he truly meant every word. For a few seconds, she could only stare, her usual quick wit failing her.

“Thanks,” she murmured finally, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

The warmth in his eyes didn’t waver, and in that quiet moment, the bustling world outside seemed to fade away entirely.

A comfortable silence settled in for a few minutes. Leaving them there, just staring at each other, observing each other. For a moment, she didn't know what else to say. People didn’t usually look at her the way he was now—like every word she said was worth hearing. It was flattering, a little unnerving, but mostly... nice. She blinked a few times, adjusting her posture while lightly playing with her hair, hoping to dispel the warmth creeping into her cheeks.

The quiet between them was the kind of silence that felt full, warm, and fascinating. She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, glancing at him as he remained by the counter, looking as though he had something more to say.

Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke, her voice soft. “You know, you’re a pretty good listener. Most people get bored with my stories halfway through.”

He shook his head slightly, his lips curving into that faint, knowing smile she was beginning to adore. “I find your stories enchanting. They are... a window into a world I often feel I’m only just discovering.”

Her brow furrowed at the odd phrasing, but before she could question it, he stepped a little closer, his hands gently resting on the counter. His gaze softened, the usual formality in his expression giving way to something more vulnerable.

“It’s rare,” he continued, his voice low, “to find someone who speaks with such passion. Most people... say so little of consequence. But you—your words, your thoughts—they breathe life into even the most mundane things.”

Her heart gave a tiny flutter, and she felt warmth creep up her neck again. “That’s... really sweet of you to say,” she murmured, looking down at her hands.

For a brief moment, uncertainty flickered across his face. He took a deep breath, then, with a soft, deliberate motion, tilted his head to meet her eyes. The sincerity in his eyes was unmistakable as he declared, “I speak only the truth.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a spark of something unnameable through her chest, and she met his gaze, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

“Well,” she said lightly, trying to steady her voice, “if you keep flattering me like that, I might start to think you enjoy my company.”

His smile deepened, feeling more real, with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “I should hope that has been apparent for some time.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re kind of a mystery, you know that? But... I think I like that about you.”

“And you,” he said, his tone softening again, “are an open book. A rare and beautiful one.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, she couldn’t look away from him. The faint glow of the shop’s dim lighting reflected in his eyes, and the quiet hum of the world outside seemed to fade entirely. She momentarily dropped her gaze to his lips before his voice brought her back.

“Would you,” he began, his voice careful, almost hesitant, “permit me the honor of accompanying you on another of your walks? Perhaps tomorrow?”

She bit her lip, her heart racing in a way that felt new and thrilling, together with the urge to jump into his arms. “I think I’d like that,” she replied, her voice just above a whisper.

He straightened slightly, a look of quiet satisfaction crossing his face. “Then it’s settled.”

As the bell above the door jingled softly, signaling his departure, she stood there for a moment, watching him disappear into the night. She closed her eyes as a painful smile appeared on her face, she quickly did a happy dance before lightly resting her hands on the counter.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

[tunatober]

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: READING TO EACH OTHER 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Reading to Each Other 🪻

day one of tuna tober y'all!! i'm SO fricking excited! :D

Ship: Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: lots of LOTR, tobacco mention, riddles, kissing, cuddles

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. Rain pattered on your apartment's windows, the occasional roll of thunder booming outside. The spiced scent of your pumpkin candle floated through the living room air. Warm light shone from shaded lamps positioned on either end of your green-clothed sofa. A thick, soft blanket was draped over your lap.

You held your worn copy of The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. Images of a dark cave filled with still water and an eerie sense of calm floated from the yellowed pages. Sounds of whispered riddles and shaking hands holding shining jewelry bounced around inside your head. It was nearly impossible to read Tolkien and not get entirely engrossed.

"How's your book?" Leo asked from the other end of the couch.

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Your head snapped up from where you'd been hunched over your book, eyes wide, as you met Leo's amused gaze. A light laugh filtered through his bright smile.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to alarm you," he said, amusement clearly indicating that he wasn't sorry in the slightest. You shook your head and sighed at his antics.

"Uh huh. Sure," you groused with a growing smile.

Leo was equally curled up on his side of the sofa. Fluffy blanket draped across his lap, glasses fitted over his thin nose, copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen balanced in one of his hands. Hazel eyes trailed over the "grumpy" expression you'd forced over your face.

"Anything interesting standing out so far?" he asked, nodding to the book still clutched in your hands.

"I'm at one of my favorite parts, if that's what you mean," you replied as you burrowed deeper into the couch cushions. Leo tucked his bookmark into his novel, then set the book and his glasses on the end table nearest him.

"Care to elaborate?" he pressed with a cocked eyebrow. You bit your lip as you scanned over the pages again. Hisses and riddles and splashes of ground water leapt from the ink. Hmm. Riddles.

"Well, this part is about Bilbo bargaining, with a creature named Gollum, for his life. They're exchanging riddles as a sort of game," you explained, trying your best to not confuse a man who'd never heard of the Lord of the Rings.

"And what riddles are they?" Leo asked with a growing smile. He crossed his legs under his blanket to give you his undivided attention. You glanced between him and the book in your hands.

"You want to try and solve the riddles, or do you want me to read the whole part?"

"Just the riddles," he specified. You hummed in response.

"Alright, just know that they can get pretty tricky," you said in a singsong manner. Leo stared at you with apt interest as you turned to the correct page in your book. Inked words flew past your eyes, descriptions of swords and hobbits and tobacco and goblins filling your mind, nearly sucking you back into the story, before you found the first riddle. You cleared your throat and read, "What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees, up, up it goes, and yet never grows?"

"Has to be a mountain, isn't it?" Leo guessed almost immediately. He seemed rather confident in his answer, dimples digging into his cheeks with how wide his smile had stretched.

"Yup. Mountain," you answered, already thinking of which riddle to do next. Do you be nice and keep giving him the easier ones, or kick it up a notch? He did invent the elevator, after all.

"Give us a harder one, love," he said. That decides it for you, then.

"It cannot be seen, cannot be felt. Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt. It lies behind stars and under hills, and empty holes it fills. It comes first and follows after, ends life, kills laughter."

Leo blew out a long stream of air, "When I said hard, I didn't mean that hard!"

You refrained from making the obvious joke brewing at the back of your throat. An involuntary giggle leaked from your lips. You tried to play it off by resting your chin in your hand, fingers digging into your lips, to keep yourself quiet.

The room was quiet for a few moments as Leo considered the riddle. Raindrops trailed down the window, rivulets chasing each other and creating long tails that winded up the glass. This Sunday, utterly serene in its quality, was one of many you'd gotten to experience with Leo. Something about him just garnered peace in your life.

"Do I get a hint?" he asked with a sigh. You grinned at him from under your fingers.

"If Bilbo doesn't get a hint, neither do you," you said. Leo groaned, leaning back on the sofa and throwing an arm over his face. You couldn't help the laugh that breezed between your fingers.

"You are undeniably cruel," he grumbled under his arm.

"You wanted a harder riddle," you replied with a shrug. Leo grunted in return, making you laugh again. You waited a few more moments, letting him agonize over the riddle, before you decided to take pity, "What is it when your eyes are closed?"

"The hell are you on about? Is this a part two to the riddle?" Leo groused.

The blanket in your lap pooled into a pile on the floor as you crawled across the couch. Your sweatpants-clad legs framed Leo's hips, your hands running up his sides, as you sat in his lap. He begrudgingly lowered his arm and met your eyes.

"That was a clue. What do you see when you close your eyes?" you repeated as you ran your palms up and down his forearms. Leo's expression softened slightly.

"A spot of mercy," he said, smile returning, "I was wrong in labeling you cruel."

"Yeah yeah, Mr.1876. Just answer the damn riddle," you said as you rolled your eyes. Leo's warm palms found their usual place on your hips.

"You can't see it, feel it, hear it, or smell it. And closing my eyes has something to do with it," he listed, tongue darting across his bottom lip. A few more moments filled with pondering passed.

"For god's sake," you breathed as you clapped your hand over his eyes. The two of you had been together for so long that the action had hardly surprised him. You waited for a moment in hope that this obvious clue would help. Being met with only silence, you said, "What do you see right now?"

"Your hand, for one," Leo quipped back. He flinched with a laugh when you pinched him with your free hand.

"Close your frickin' eyes, Leo."

Silence settled over the two of you. Warm, comfortable, charged with amusement at your situation. Only Leo's smile could be seen from under your hand. His thumbs tucked under the hem of your t-shirt.

"It's dark," he finally said. You gave him a few moments to connect the dots. A gasp shook his chest, "Dark! That's the answer!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!" you exclaimed as you dropped your hand from his eyes.

Pure elation crinkled in the corners of his hazel eyes. He hugged you closer to his chest, a laugh shaking where your bodies met. You couldn't help but join in. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to steady yourself.

"Do I get a prize for so effortlessly solving the riddle?" Leo asked with a hint of sarcasm after the two of you had calmed a bit.

"I'm deducting points for the use of a hint," you hummed, feigning consideration at his question.

"And those points, will they affect the prize I know I've earned?"

You answered his question by pressing your lips to his. Both smiling, both clinging to the other with absolute adoration, the occasional giggle buzzing between you.

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. It was raining outside, your candle had burnt down to the wick, and you were cradled in Leo's lap as you both read your respective books. Your back to his chest, blanket draped over both of your laps, his cheek rested on the crown of your head. Every now and then you'd read a part of your book aloud, garnering the same in return from Leo.

AHHHHHHHHH this is so frickin cute i might CRY!!! happy tuna tober everyone!!!

[rosenclaws]

Hii congrats on 600 followers!!

I was wondering if i could get nr. 12 from the fluff prompts w Leopold?

“I never thought I’d be so lucky, especially not in this lifetime.”

Much love 💜💜

a/n: Its been a while since I've wrote for Leo!!! I miss him sm. I hope you enjoy this little fluff piece <33. I'm so sorry this took forever but Im finally getting to these ahslfd

wc: 602

600 follower drabble masterlist

It's been years since Leopold found himself in modern day New York. An unbelievable story that sounded absolutely ridiculous when he really thought about it. I mean, falling through a time rift? It was outlandish to even think of something like that. But somehow it happened.

He was Alice coming to wonderland, except this time it was all real. He was greatly unhappy back in his time. An Uncle who only cared for money and a looming loveless marriage. He wasn't exactly eager to get back. Kate and Charlie had helped him become acquainted with this world but it wasn't for another couple months that everything really clicked.

It was a random chance, he just happened to have wandered into the library, found himself in a random aisle, and bumped into you. Literally bumped. He was so engrossed in reading that he ran right into you. Making the stack of books in your hand go tumbling to the ground. He apologized profusely, bending down to help you clean when he looked up.

Call it cliché but when he met your eyes something changed. His heart leaped, seeing your adorable smile and kind eyes. You were incredibly kind, telling him that it was alright. He looked like a fool. Not being able to utter a single word as he was taken back by your beauty.

He spotted the name tag, you worked here. He introduced himself and took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he did so. You clamed up, at first he thought he had done something wrong as you squeaked out a thank you and practically ran away from him. He'd learn later that he had just flustered you until you couldn't think.

He kept going back and each time he'd find you there. Flirting with you until the day he finally asked you out. One date turned in to another which turned in to more and more.

In a blink of an eye Leopold life had been forever changed. Instead of the life his uncle wanted he's here. Married to the love of his life and working in a small antique shop. He loves it. He really does. Getting to tinker with oddities and finding homes for trinkets. Coming home to you every night. It was a dream.

"Leo? Are you alright?" He looks up from a book he had found at some shop, an old first edition. Though he really hadn't been reading anything. He must have spent too much time reminiscing. Your apartment was right above his shop so you must have been waiting for him.

"Apologies my darling, I was just thinking." He hums as you walk over and kiss him.

"What were you thinking about?" You ask as you brush his hair back, staring into the gorgeous eyes of your husband.

"It's just, I never thought I’d be so lucky, especially not in this lifetime.” He confesses.

When his parents passed he believed he was doomed to a life that was governed by others. His own happiness was an afterthought. But then he found this time, he found you. Now everything is changed and he sees himself growing old with you. Every day is better than the last.

"You're such a romantic Leo." You say with a smile. He stands up and kisses you gently.

"It's late my love, go to bed I'll be there soon." He hums.

He steals one last kiss before shooing you off. He takes a look around his shop before turning off the light. Ready to spend another night with you in his arms.

He really is the luckiest man alive.

[kvntonq]

𖤐 — his royal high(hair)ness

pairing - dad!leopold mountbatten ft. reader's daughter

summary - who would expect that even a Duke can become a Prince in his princess' eyes?

contents - fluff, soft and domestic, brief Disney-like storyline, humorous

words count - 1450 words

zayn's note - hii! first of all, I'm so sorry for being inactive these past few days, things were a bit rough for me, but all good now! soooo yepp!! this is my gift for y'all and I hope you enjoy <3

The clock ticked softly in the hallway, marking the late afternoon with unhurried grace. The day had wound down gently, as it often did in your household—dinner cleared away, toys scattered like colorful confetti across the living room rug, and the scent of soap and warm towels lingering in the air from your daughter's evening bath.

Upstairs, in the nursery, all was quiet—until a muffled giggle broke the stillness.

You padded barefoot across the floorboards, drawn by the familiar sound: a little girl's laughter, high-pitched and bubbly, like sunshine captured in a sound. As you peeked around the doorway, you had to press a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing too loud yourself.

There, seated with a kind of noble composure on the soft cream carpet, was Leopold—your Leopold—legs crossed, waistcoat off, sleeves rolled to the elbows of his linen shirt. His golden-brown hair, usually so carefully combed, was now being overtaken by a miniature stylist.

Your four-year-old daughter stood behind him, tongue poking out in concentration, holding a mint green bow in one hand and a comb in the other. Her curls bounced with every movement, and her small brow furrowed in the exact same way her father's did when deep in thought.

She was unmistakably his.

From the proud tilt of her chin to the deliberate, meticulous way she chose each hair clip from tin beside her—she was every bit a miniature Leopold. Precise. Focused. Entirely unaware of how disarming that seriousness was when it came in such a tiny package.

"Hold still, Papa," she whispered dramatically, pushing his head slightly to the left.

Leopold, for all his impeccable standards and old-world elegance, did not resist. He sat perfectly still, like a statue under royal command—his back straight, his hands folded primly in his lap as if he were awaiting a portrait.

"I remain at your service, m'lady," he replied, his voice deep and warm, tinged with amusement and boundless patience that only surfaced in moments like this.

You leaned against the doorframe, heart blooming quietly at the sight.

This was the man who once hesitated to hold her, afraid of doing it wrong. The same man who read parenting manuals by candlelight and took notes like a university student studying for final exams. And now—here he was, allowing his daughter to turn him into a living doll, complete with tiny pigtails and butterfly clips.

He glanced up, and caught your eyes. And you swore there was a bit of sparkle in his eyes—a kind of soft surrender that had taken root since fatherhood entered his life.

"She's very committed to her craft," he said with mock-seriousness.

"She gets it from her father," you said with a smile, walking in slowly and sinking onto the edge of the rocking chair near the window. "You make a very graceful subject."

"She said I'm being made into a fairy prince," he added, raising one brow. "Apparently that comes with... hair accessories."

Your daughter huffed behind him. "You said I could pick any kind of prince."

"And I stand by that promise," he replied, bowing his head slightly under her comb.

A quiet hush followed—the good kind, the kind only a peaceful home can carry. Outside the windows, the sun drooped low behind the trees, painting the nursery walls in gold. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting it all soak in—the quiet hum of a sleepy house, the gentle clink of metal hair clips, your daughter's voice humming as she worked.

Leopold didn't move once, not even when she tugged gently at his hair to fasten another bow in place. He let her take her time, let her create her masterpiece on the canvas of his patience.

It wasn't just sweet. It was sacred.

And when she finally finished, she scrambled around to face him, clapping her hands with a proud nod. "Done!"

Leopold blinked with exaggerated seriousness. "May I see the result of your artistry?"

She handed him the small hand mirror from her dresser and he turned it over with care. His reflection looked back at him—pastel bows, a lopsided center part, and a single bright yellow butterfly clip dangling precariously over one temple.

"I must say," he said, adjusting the mirror slightly, "this is the most... whimsical hairstyle I've ever worn."

“You're magical, Papa! You look beautiful.” She insisted, climbing onto his lap and resting her small hands on his shoulders. “You look like a prince from the woods.”

Leopold wrapped his arms around her, a slow, secure gesture, not daring to deny her little princess, not when she looked so bright like this. “Then I am honored to serve in your court, my dear.”

You watched from the side, heart full. This man—once so reserved, unsure how to navigate the messy, bright chaos of parenthood—now allowed himself to be covered in glitter bows without blinking.

She nestled into his chest, thumb going into her mouth, her eyes starting to droop. “I think that's the last one,” she murmured sleepily.

“Then,” Leopold said, brushing a curl from her face. “I am complete.”

You rose and crossed the room, kneeling beside them to press a gentle hand over your daughter's back. “Ready for a story?”

She shook her head sleepily. “Papa tells better ones.”

Your smile faltered for the briefest moment.

You hadn't expected it to sting quite so much.

It was silly—she was four, and he was her favorite playmate, her protector, her prince. But for years now, storytime has been your quiet magic with her: your voice guiding her gently into dreams, your stories laced with love and softness. You'd woven fairy tales with her curled on your chest, just like this.

And now… she wanted him instead.

You let out a quiet breath, brushing a hand over her back, the ache blooming gently, playfully in your chest. “Oh,” you said, feigning a small gasp. “I've been replaced.”

Leopold looked up, the corner of his mouth twitched. “I believe this is a temporary coup. I'm sure the rightful queen of bedtime stories will reclaim the throne tomorrow.”

You shook your head and chuckled softly, letting Leopold take over for tonight. Leopold smiled at you. “Shall I attempt another original tale? Or would the Royal Highness prefer our sixth retelling of The Honey Moon Princess?”

“Sixth,” you whispered and he chuckled.

And so he began—right there on the nursery rug, in a crown of mismatched bows and the arms of a sleepy little girl. His voice dropped into the cadence of storytelling, rich and rolling, spinning a whimsical tale of a woodland prince, an unicorn friend, and a very brave little girl—a fairy tale he'd invented just for her.

As the story wound down, her eyelids drooped. You reached over and took her gently from his lap, cradling her close. She was heavy with sleep now, head tucked beneath your chin, her curls smelling faintly of apple shampoo and childhood.

Leopold stood carefully, brushing imaginary dust from his trousers. “Shall I… remove the adornments?”

“No,” you said with a grin. “You should leave them in.”

“You find this amusing, I gather.”

“I find it beautiful.”

He paused, something unspoken softening behind his eyes. Then he bent down, pressing a kiss to your daughter's forehead and another to your temple.

“She has your will,” he murmured.

“She has your heart,” you replied.

And with that, you carried her to her bed, tucking her on beneath the quilt she insisted kept nightmares away. Leopold straightened the stuffed animals at the foot of the bed, an old habit of his, precise and sweet.

After she was asleep, you both stood at the door for a moment longer, watching her chest rise and fall in that perfect rhythm of peace.

Then, quietly, he took your hand and led you back down the hallway.

You both ended up in the living room—a single lamp casting soft light over the furniture. You curled up on the couch while he poured two cups of tea, his hair still scattered with pastel bows.

“You're not taking them off?” you asked, amused.

He looked over his shoulder with an air of false dignity. “A prince must wear his crown.”

You laughed, head falling back against the cushion, warmth blooming in your chest. He joined you on the couch and passed you a cup, then leaned back beside you, one arm slipping easily around your shoulders. You rested your head against him, your fingers finding his, weaving together the way you always did.

Outside, the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. Inside, the warmth stayed. For a long time, you said nothing.

There was no need to.

You had everything you needed—right here.

tags!! @princessanglophile @themareverine @mcrdvcks @wchswift @briseroyawritingsblog @howlettsangel @dimlylittorch @flowersforbucky @lubdubology @xxladymjxx @sweetverine @tezooks @loganismybodyguard [lmk if you wanna be added or removed!!]

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!!

dividers by: @dollywons

[mushynka]

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ. ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴘᴏꜱꜱɪʙʟᴇ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴇʟᴇᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ!

Yeah another sick-fic this time with Leo bc I'm living my best life in sick-fluff-care fantasy. Don't wake me up, please! I tried my best to make it look good. Using "old" english while writing Leo's dialogues was exhousting fr... 😮‍💨

【Ｓｕｃｈ　Ａ　Ｄｒａｍａ　Ｑｕｅｅｎ

Ｐｒｉｎｃｅ？】

Sick Leopold Mountbatten x Caretaker fem. reader

Leopold, the Duke of Albany, was sitting on couch inside your apartment, surrounded by a growing mountain of crumpled tissues. His impeccable posture was slightly slouched, a telltale sign of his dire condition—at least according to him. He sniffled dramatically, clutching a woolen blanket around his shoulders like a royal cape.

“Y/N” Leopold croaked, his voice tinged with a blend of aristocratic gravitas and pitiful despair. “I fear the end is near. This malady, this plague—shall be my end.”

You just returned from the kitchen with a steaming mug of tea, rolling your eyes as handed it to him. “Leo, it’s a cold. You’re not dying.”

“A cold?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “Do colds cause such unrelenting misery in your era? This is far beyond the sniffles. I must have contracted some modern pestilence brought upon by your... technological age.”

You smirked, sitting down across from him. You watched as Leopold held the tea gingerly, as though it were a potion from some dubious apothecary. He sniffed it suspiciously, then took a tentative sip, his face scrunching up.

“Chamomile” You said before he could complain. “It’ll help you relax. You need rest.”

Leopold set the mug down with exaggerated delicacy. “Rest, you say? How can I rest when my body is besieged by this infernal ailment? My head throbs, my throat burns, and my nose refuses to cease its treacherous leaking.”

“Treacherous leaking. You’re so dramatic. Honestly, I’ve seen toddlers handle colds better than you.”

Leopold glared at you, though the effect was somewhat diminished by his red, puffy nose and the tissue clutched in his hand. “In my time, we would not mock the afflicted. We would offer them respect and sympathy.”

“In your time, people probably thought sneezing was a sign of plague and death.”

As if on cue, Leopold sneezed violently into his tissue, the force of it startling even himself. He groaned dramatically, slumping further into the couch. “You see? This is no ordinary affliction. This is surely a punishment from the heavens. Or perhaps it is your climate—so polluted and unwholesome—that has ravaged my constitution.”

“Right. Because the world you were living in was such a bastion of clean air and hygiene.” You said, leaning over to grab a stray tissue from the coffee table and added it to the growing pile in the trash bin. “You’re not being punished, Leo. You’re just… adjusting.”

“Adjusting?” he echoed. “To what? A world where one must endure such indignities as this?” He gestured vaguely at his blanket-swaddled figure. “I am a Duke, Y/N. A man of noble blood. This... this indignity is beneath me.”

You couldn’t hold back laughter anymore. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

Leopold frowned, clearly not appreciating your amusement. “Adorable? I am not a puppy, madam. I am a man in the throes of mortal peril.”

“Mortal peril. You’re going to be fine. Here.” You reached for a fresh tissue and held it out to him. “Blow your nose.”

He took the tissue with an air of reluctant dignity. After a hesitant moment, he complied, the sound rather un-Duke-like. You bit your lip to keep from giggling.

“You find my suffering amusing,” Leopold accused, though his tone lacked real venom.

“No, I find your over-the-top reaction to a cold amusing. If you’re this dramatic over a runny nose, I can’t imagine what you’d be like with the flu.”

Leopold’s eyes widened. “There is something worse than this?”

You sighed, reaching out to pat his knee reassuringly. “Don’t worry, we’re not there yet. Just let me take care of you, okay? You’re going to survive this… plague.”

Leopold sniffled again, looking up with an expression so pitiable that it tugged at your heart despite his theatrics. “You are certain of this?”

“Positive. Besides, if you were really on death’s door, I don’t think you’d have the energy to argue with me so much.”

For a moment, Leopold simply gazed at your face. “Your care is… most appreciated, Y/N. Truly. Even if your bedside manner leaves something to be desired.”

You reached for another tissue, dabbing at the edge of his nose with a tenderness. Leopold’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and when he opened them again, there was a warmth in his gaze that made your heart skip a beat. “You’re welcome, Leo. Now drink your tea before it gets cold.”

Leopold sneezed once again.

"Bless you" you said, then a look of contemplation appeared on your face. "Hey, Leo. Is it true that saying "bless you"comes from the belief that every time you sneeze, the devil try to enter your soul-"

You stopped mid-sentence when you realized what you had just said. Leopold's face was pale. "No, no, no..Leo! I was just-"

"Oh my god... call an exorcist!"

Thanks for every reblog/like/comment - means world to me. Lemme know if you liked it ❤️ Have a good day/night and stay healthy ❤️

[pretty-little-mind33]

fluff ✿ angst ✮ hurt & comfort ✷ smut (nsfm) ♥︎

main masterlist

- Conrad Fisher - The Summer I Turned Pretty (discontinued character)

STARLIGHT ✿✷ - You've always felt inadequate compared to Belly, but it's possible you never had a reason to.

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET ♥︎ - When Conrad Fisher catches his secret girlfriend masturbating, he loses his mind.

- Kaz Brekker - Six Of Crows/Shadow and Bone (discontinued character)

WEAKNESS ✮✷ - Kaz Brekker isn't insecure...

~ REQUESTS OPEN ~

- Robbie Jennings - Angus Thongs and Perfect Snogging

DAYDREAMIN' ✿ - You have the most embarrassing crush on your brother's friend.

MY BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND ✿ - Your brother causes a misunderstanding between you and Robbie.

- Drover - Australia

COWBOY CASANOVA ✿✷ - Drover doesn't take it too kindly when men disrespect your innocence.

[edablair]

Hi!! I'm edablair or just Eda★

Writing some silly stuff and enjoying my hyperfixations (^ω^)

Requests are open!! Feel free to send them!! (although I don't promise to fulfill every one of them, sorry ಥ_ಥ)

✯⁠ Masterlist ✯⁠

★ — fluff ★ — smut

★ — things in my first language (Russian)

Leopold Mountbatten (Kate & Leopold)

Leopold headcanons (Something small and silly. My first work!!)

Pheromone perfume (Leopold's reaction to pheromone perfume)

Cockwarming (he just wanted to help you with your work)

A little jealousy (yeah)

Warm morning (A cold apartment and hot coffee)

NSFW Alphabet (yeah ×2)

When the world seems too much (you're tired)

Through the diaper of sleep (small but important moment)

Logan Howlett (MCU X-Men)

A bike ride (You almost fell off the bike lol)

Weight problem (fucking adamantiun)

Train of thought (to satisfy my ADHD nature)

Good and bad omens (you're fucking weirdo)

Батя coded (something that's was in my mind for a long time)

Cold season (fuck the winter, fuck the cold)

Uploading new writing...

[rosenclaws]

thank u for the tag!!

Let's start with Logan!

I was late to the Logan party but now that I'm here I don't ever wanna leave. Logan as a character is so complex and interesting. He's got a long history of trauma and loss that makes him a very compelling character. The protective instincts/girl dad in him is just too cute. Also theres a lot about the way he views himself that I can relate to so he means a lot to me.

Leopold Mountbatten

I mean how could you not fall for Leopold. He is the perfect man. Kind, smart, caring, and handsome. He's a gentleman and so adorable and ugh. Watching Kate and Leopold just made me feel all soft and gooey inside lol

Eddie Alden

Oh Eddie I love you, he's a womanizer with a tragic backstory lmao. I think he's been hurt by the world and his heart was just too fragile to try again until he met Jane. He's got that cocky attitude and flirty nature that I love. Also the New Years Eve scene, the way he chases after Jane I mean come onnnn.

Newt Scamander

Newt was my first massive fictional crush I'd say. I loved everything about him. He was soft spoken and awkward but also kind with a big heart. I really related to him at the time and he was just the embodiment of fighting with kindness and proved that being soft spoken didn't equal weak.

Joel Miller

Joel reminds me a lot of Logan and that's a good thing. He too has been beaten down by life and I really love both game and show version of Joel. I think Pedro's performance was amazing and he brought a lot of vulnerability that game Joel doesn't have until the second game low key. Watching him go from hardened and uncaring towards Ellie to trying to make her smile was just so good.

tagging: @ashley-slashley @heartthrobcinema @lubdubology @fluff-lover and anyone else who wants to!

Show your blorbos

Thank you for the tags, my loves @milla-frenchy @tateypots @sunshineispunk @sawymredfox @schnarfer @joelmillerisapunk @bonezone44 @itwasntimethatdidit40 💞💞💞

I feel like I’m doing everything ages later these days, when everyone’s already done with a game. But better late than never, right?😅

I’ll start with my favourite Pedro boys😍

Don’t glare, Joel! You’re always my number one😁

Joel Miller. He’s not my first Pedro love (it was Din) but the biggest one for sure❤️ (52 fics prove my obsession😅) I think we all feel the same about him so I don’t need to explain why I love the man. I don’t wanna start crying🥺 He deserves everything best. The love of my life❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Din Djarin. He’s such a cunt lol but also soft, kind, brave, caring!! he’s the best dad🥹😍 His armor is super hot, his voice makes me weak but I lost my mind when he took his helmet off. He was so miserable and bloody, just my type🥺🥵 and Din brought me to fanfic so he’ll forever be in my heart🥹❤️‍🔥

Javi P. Do I even need to explain myself?🫠🫠🫠

Frankie Morales. When I need comfort, I write Frankie. My perfect teddy bear😍❤️

Tommy Miller. Gabriel Luna played him so well! he’s gorgeous and his kind eyes and sweet smile won my heart🥹❤️‍🔥

Dean, Sam, Cas. I put these three together because I love them equally (ok, I love Dean a liiiiittle bit more)❤️‍🔥

Jeff and Britta (Community) She’s a beautiful mess, he’s a lovable asshole, I wanna be their third❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Love Quinn (You) I love her so fn much! She’s passionate, she loves hard and just wants to be happy🥹 She’s never done anything wrong😤

Chandler Bing. What an amazing character! Desperately looking for love and then being the absolute best tv husband😍 and his sense of humor is everything!! My favorite Friend for sure❤️❤️❤️

Kylo Ren. My baby😍 He’s just a hurt boy inside who wanted to be loved🥺 I’m pretty sure I was conditioned to love him harder by all amazing fics I read about him bc the movies left me disappointed tbh. Thank gods for fanfic and our talented writers❤️

Ahh I had so much fun thinking about my loves😍

Npt💞 @iamasaddie @toxicanonymity @604to647 @huskyfox5 @ellasinnombre @magpiepills @corazondebeskar @princessanglophile @evolnoomym and you🫵

[wchswift]

hiii, it's me again 😭 oh God i'm sorry, i feel a bit pathetic here 😭 but i have another request :3

can you do modern day leopold (HE'S SO BAE I LOVE HIM SM) picking out flowers for his s/o cause he noticed his s/o is a bit down lately? (i took this idea from your prompt!) hope you don't minddd hehe

Petals for a Heavy Heart

Pairing: Leopold Mountbatten x Reader Summary: When Leopold notices that you haven't been looking well lately, he decides to pick out a bouquet of flowers to make you feel better and loved. Content: established relationship, feeling down, comfort, fluff, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 932 notes: hello!! whatt no need to apologize I'm glad you sent me another request! And omg I'm so so happy it's for Leopold, I've been wanting to write something for him so much :3 I loved that you choosed the idea of the prompts, I ended up following your request more than the prompt itself, I hope I wrote it as you expected <3

The delicate chime of the flower shop bell rang as Leopold Mountbatten pushed open the glass door. A faint blush of winter lingered in the air outside, but the shop was warm, bathed in sunlight streaming through the large windows, illuminating rows upon rows of vibrant blooms. The soft fragrance of roses, daisies, and lavender mingled together, wrapping around Leopold like a comforting embrace.

His brows furrowed slightly as he scanned the room. He hadn’t stepped into a flower shop since his days of royal ceremonies—occasions when arrangements were chosen for him, not by him. But this time was different. This time, it was for you.

You’d been quieter than usual the past few days. The sparkle in your eyes had dimmed, and your usual wit had softened into something wistful. Leopold had noticed—how could he not? And while he wasn’t the type to smother with concern, he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

Flowers, he thought. Flowers could bring a little light back into your day.

“Good morning,” a cheery voice broke through his thoughts. A petite florist with a warm smile stood behind the counter, hands dusted with pollen. “Looking for something special?”

Leopold adjusted the collar of his cashmere coat. “Yes, actually. For… someone important to me.” He paused, feeling oddly self-conscious. “They’ve been feeling a bit down lately.”

The florist’s smile softened knowingly. “Ah, I see. Let’s find something that speaks to them. Do they have a favorite flower?”

Leopold’s lips curved into a small smile. “Orchids, I think. They’ve always had a fondness for them. Which symbolize purity, prosperity, and good health… So I guess might be appropriate.”

Her eyes lit up. “You know your flowers.”

Leopold’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I do. They’ve always been a subject of interest." Stepping closer to the flowers, he added smoothly, "We could also add some peonies. Symbolic of healing and happiness., an apt choice for the occasion.”

“Good choice,” the florist said, leading him toward a vibrant display of blush-pink blooms. “How about colors? Warm tones are uplifting, while softer hues can be calming.”

He considered this, his gaze lingering on the rich reds and delicate whites. He thought of how your laughter once filled their apartment, how it now felt like something fragile and fleeting. “Something warm but soft,” he decided, pointing toward the pink and coral-colored peonies. “They’re understated but still… hopeful.”

As the florist began assembling the bouquet, Leopold found himself wandering through the aisles, his fingers grazing petals and leaves. Each bloom seemed to hold its own personality—vibrant sunflowers, gentle baby’s breath, elegant lilies. He plucked a sprig of lavender from a nearby basket, its scent reminding him of the evenings you spent curled up on the couch, a lavender-scented candle flickering nearby. Lavender is also for tranquility. He hummed and added it to the mix.

Back at the counter, the florist held up the arrangement. “What do you think?”

It was perfect—beautiful orchids with peonies in soft shades of coral and blush, accented with sprigs of lavender and tiny white asters. The bouquet was cheerful yet gentle, a reflection of everything he wanted to say without words.

Leopold nodded. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

As he handed over his card to pay, the florist wrapped the bouquet in delicate paper and tied it with a ribbon. “I hope they feel better soon,” she said warmly.

Leopold smiled faintly. “I think this will help.”

When he arrived home, you were curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your shoulders. The soft glow of the afternoon sun painted your features, but your eyes were distant, lost in thought.

“Darling,” he said, his voice breaking the quiet. You glanced up, a flicker of surprise crossing your face as you noticed the bouquet in his hands.

“What’s this?” you asked, sitting up as he approached.

“For you,” he said simply, handing you the flowers. “I noticed you’ve been feeling… off. I thought these might help.”

Your eyes widened as you took the bouquet, fingers brushing over the soft petals. The fragrance enveloped you, a gentle blend of peony and lavender. A smile, small but genuine, tugged at your lips. “Leopold, this is… really thoughtful.”

He sat down beside you, his posture casual, but his eyes intent on your face. “I'm not the best at expressing what I want through words,” he admitted. “But I wanted you to know I’m here. Whatever’s on your mind, you don't have to go through it alone.”

Your gaze softened, and for the first time in days, the weight on your chest felt just a little lighter. “Thank you,” you murmured, leaning your head against his shoulder. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

He smirked, Leopold’s hand rested lightly on yours, his thumb tracing small circles over your skin. “It’s hardly a grand gesture,” he said, his tone lightly self-deprecating. “But if it brings even a fraction of your smile back, then it has served its purpose.”

But as he felt you relax beside him, your breath evening out, he knew it wasn’t about being amazing. It was about being there for you—in every small, quiet way that mattered.

And at that moment, surrounded by the soft glow of the afternoon and the delicate fragrance of flowers, he was content with the room feeling a little warmer, a little brighter—a reflection of the unspoken love between you.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!