#leopold mountbatten x f! reader

[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!

[mysticgalsworld]

a timeless encounter

a/n: this is my first Leopold Mountbatten fic you guys !! i’m rlly excited but disappointed bc i haven’t seen a lot of fics under this tag :( im sad cause he’s my dream man and i NEED more of him (that’s why i made this 😋) anyways lovelies, as always i take requests but lemme know what you think💕

summary: as the owner of a small cafe in New York that you hate, you don’t expect anybody to change your mind. But the strange-dressed man who wonders into the cafe one day may change your mind…

warnings: Leopold Mountbatten x f! reader, southern! reader, not spellchecked

The line in the cafe is piled up. When you hear the bell ding tediously, announcing another customer, you almost groan. You keep your head positioned on the lady in front of you, half listening as she drones on about what she got last time.

You continue conversing, almost forgetting about the person who just walked in, when an accented voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Good day. I am Sir Leopold Mountbatten. How do you do?”

Your head turns to the side as you look to him. Surprised that he has walked to the front of the line, skipping about 10 waiting people, you almost scoff.

When you glance at him more closely and notice the strange clothes he’s wearing, your eyebrows crease. When he introduces himself and asks you, how do you do?, confusion rises to your face.

Keeping a calm, but confused face, you go to respond. “I’m sorry sir, there is a very long line of people waiting. Do you mind going to the back and waiting your turn?”

Leopold looks around, realizing the error he made. He turns back towards you with a sheepish expression on his face. "I apologize, I was not paying due attention."

He glances around, noticing the queue of people waiting. "It appears there are quite a few individuals waiting in line. I shall take my place at the end of the line. Do forgive my oversight."

You nod your head in confusion, agreeing to whatever he’s saying so he listens to you. You watch as he retreats to the back of the line. Shall? Do forgive? You think in your head as you question his strange choice of language. It’s nothing like the people in New York. You were lucky if you even got a thank you, which is nothing like the south, where you were raised.

Meanwhile you continue helping the female customer who’s still gabbing on about what drink she got from the menu last time. Still your mind wonders to the strange man who walked through the cafe doors.

Leopold patiently waits in line, studying the establishment with a mixture of curiosity and wonder, taking in the scents of hot drinks, the lone woman behind the counter.

As he waits, he can’t help but wonder what you think of him, your confusion evident in your expression. He glances at you every now and then, waiting for his turn to approach the counter.

Nodding as the woman finally decides what she wants, you move to take the next customer’s order. You continue this until the line dwindles down, the next person in line being the strange man.

Putting a small smile on your face, you’re sure he can read that it’s not entirely genuine due to your stressed and frazzled appearance.

“Hey sir, what can I get for you today?”

The strange man—Leopold was his name, right?—glances at you with a kind smile. “Good day. I shall have a cup of your finest black tea please, if you would be so kind.”

He glances across the counter to you, taking in your stressed appearance, his expression betraying a hint of concern.

You nod and jot down the order on your frayed notebook before telling him the total. He reaches into his pocket, retrieving a few coins to pay for the tea.

Looking up to him, your mind is baffled with curiosity and wonder. He notices your confusion and gives you a small questioning smile. Your mouth moves before your brain can tell it to stop.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

His eyebrows furrow in surprise before he clears his throat gently. “Indeed, I travel from afar. I hail from the city of Albany originally... Why do you ask?"

Your eyebrows raise in surprise as you turn around to prepare the tea on the counter behind you. Glancing over your shoulder absentmindedly but still curious, you respond.

“The clothes. Oh and the accent. But you do know Albany’s the capital of New York? So that wouldn’t make you a traveler from ‘afar’… Or British.”

Leopold chuckles at your abruptness, amused by your observation. You zone in on his face, the small crinkle of crows feet in the corners of his eyes as he smiles widely. "Ah yes, my attire. I am quite well aware of Albany's status as the capital of New York. I was referring to the era I originate from. I hail from the year...”

He pauses, a little uncomfortable as the next words come out of his mouth. You urge him on silently, turning from preparing the tea to instead lean against the counter.

He continues with a slight gulp, “—1876. That is what I meant by saying I am not from around here."

Your body pauses as you lean against the counter. Hoping to not show a reaction, you go back to the forgotten tea, starting to pour it. Your mind is reeling, wondering if he’s being truthful or if he’s just a strange crackhead that managed to wander in.

Blinking a couple times, you place the pot down once you are finished pouring and turn to him incredulously. “1876. You’re from 1876.”

Leopold stands straighter at this, wanting to see your reaction and more importantly wanting to see if you’ll believe him. He tries to put on an easy smile, boarderline smirk to suppress his nerves. “Indeed, I am. I assume you do not believe me, my lady?”

Blinking rapidly, you turn back around to grab the ceramic teacup from the other counter. Grabbing it and placing it in front of him, your voice almost wobbles as you place your hands on your hips.

“You’re not goin’ through some sort of psychosis or somethin’, right? Or you’re not like a really good street performer in character?”

Leopold takes the mug daintily from the counter, lifting it to his lips and taking a sip as he nods. He hums as he takes his first sip of the tea, almost distracted by how good it is. “No, my lady. I assure you I am neither a person dealing with mental illness nor a skillful street performer. I am very much real, and am not pretending in the slightest. I can provide you with further proof if you require it.”

A teasing scoff comes out of your mouth before you can stop it. A small smile appears on your face as you cross your arms. “I don’t need your whole life story, hon. I just met you.”

Leopold nods a little, the tips of ears ears almost reddening as he almost doesn’t catch your teasing tone. When it registers, he can almost scoff at your comment, but can’t help himself from smiling at your wit.

You glance down at the glass counter, an idea popping in your head before you can stop it. Before your brain can tell your body to stop, you bend down and grab a blueberry muffin. Placing it on a small plate, you hand it to him with a soft smile. “Well I’ve always wanted a man from the 19th century to try my desserts. On the house.”

He accepts the blueberry muffin with a gracious nod. “I appreciate your generosity, my lady. However, I must insist you allow me to pay for it. It doesn’t seem right, accepting something ‘on the house.’”

You shake your head, biting your lip to hold back a giggle. Smiling widely at him, you lean back on the counter. “Please just take the muffin and sit down…”

Leopold takes his muffin, tea, and your instruction to sit down, and finds an empty table in a quiet corner of the cafe. He sits down, taking a moment to examine the surroundings, his eyes landing on you, busy at work at the counter.

Looking down at the muffin, Leopold’s stomach grumbles in response to the delicious scent wafting up to him. He takes a small bite, the sweetness of the blueberry muffin filling his mouth. He lets out a satisfied hum, savoring the taste.

Now wiping down the counters, you watch the customers eat peacefully as the full cafe comes to a lull. You turn to restock inventory and leisurely take customer orders, almost forgetting the strange man supposedly from 1876.

Glancing down at the wall clock that’s nudged in the cozy wall of the cafe, you sigh knowing that you need to clean this entire place before you can go home. While you know working at the cafe may be a dream for some people, you are too busy with the hope for something better.

Owning this cafe was just a enclosed way for your late father to trap you. After he passed, he left it to you instead of your mother. Since they had been divorced for a while it made sense, but it was his last wish to spite her. Now this place is just a constant reminder of the crippling debt, unpaid loans, and quitting employees he left.

Taking out your troubles on the counters as you go back to wiping, you barely notice a pair of eyes on you. Leopold watched you as you work, observing your routine in the cafe. The slight tick of his pocket watch indicates that it's getting late. He takes another sip of his tea, watching as the last few customers start to trickle out of the cafe. Once they're gone, he steps back up to the counter.

"Excuse me, my lady. You'll be closed soon, yes?"

Emerging from around the counter, you pass him and walk to the space filled with tables. You move gracefully, picking up empty dishes and cups that people have left. Leopold walks behind you, watching as you gather the dishes.

His mind urges him to take the dishes from your hands, anything to help make it easier for you. He stills, patiently waiting for his answer while holding his hands out to assist you. Absentmindedly you nod, not noticing his outstretched hands.

“Yep, in about 20 minutes.”

He nods, clearing his throat gently. His eyebrow raises curiously before answering. “I see. And you’ll be closing up and cleaning by yourself? Where is your waitstaff?” You sigh, your chest rising and falling with exhaustion before answering with a teasing lift.

“No waitstaff, I own it. Currently taking applications though if your friends from the 19th century wanna help out…”

A small smile played on Leopold’s lips at your comment as he let out a small chuckle. Your eyes lift to his, listening to the deep rumble of his chuckle. Through his small laugh he responds, “I doubt any of my acquaintances from the 19th century would be able to assist even if they wanted to. Their knowledge certainly won't be up to standard here."

You nod with a small smile on your own lips, noticing as the plates start to get heavier in your arms. You adjust them, wanting to continue your easy conversation with Leopold, but he easily notices your discomfort. He steps closer, his arms outstretched.

"Might I offer my assistance, my lady?"

Your arms, filled to the brim with dishes, quake. Before you even nod your head, he moves to take the dishes from your hands. The huge pile of dishes seem almost small in his huge hands. You have to stop yourself from gawking down at them, instead moving to a small closed door that leads to the kitchen.

Turning slightly to the man with a smile, you try to open the small doorway wide so he can get in easily. The door sticks, giving you a hard time as you try to open it. You speak over your shoulder to him, half embarrassed and half frustrated.

“Thank you so much—I’m sorry, this ole thing gets stuck all the time and it’s annoying when you carrying a load’a dishes.”

Leopold just nods, a patient smile on his face as he waits. You open the door with a harsh pull as you open it enough for him to pass. He looks to you with a question and you guide him to the sink where the dishes go. After he sets down the dishes, his eyes remain on you, an earnest and determined expression on his face.

"Is there anything else I can assist with? I am at your disposal, my lady."

You almost flush at his words, used to honey, ma’am, and even sugar from your hometown, but my lady seeming completely different. Wiping your hands on your worn apron, you shake your head with a smile.

“My lady, huh? You sure do know how to make a lady feel special… But no, I got it. You should be focusin’ on how to get back to the 19th century. Seems a more pressin’ situation to get back to where you’re from..”

Leopold grins at your response, standing with his hands clasped behind his back as he listens to you. He question softly, his eyes fixed on you.

“Perhaps it is a pressing matter to get back to one’s home, but what about yourself? Earlier this evening, you asked about my own accent, but now I am wondering about yours.”

Turning away from him, you go to the large sink. You turn on the water, starting to wash the dishes, not noticing Leopold coming beside you. You stare down at the dishes as you respond, “I’m from Georgia.”

He nods, humming with sincerity. He goes to open his mouth to ask another question, but you turn to him, holding up a soapy hand to stop him. “Y’know you don’t have to stay here, I can’t pay you. You should be goin’ on your way.”

He shakes his head with a neutral smile on his face. He stands with his hands clasped behind his back as he leans forward towards you. “Perhaps. However, I simply cannot leave you to close and clean the cafe by yourself. It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me.”

You wipe your hands on your apron and they find their way to your hips. Your southern accent slips out heavily, frustration evident. “I assure you, I’m fine. You should be goin’ on your way Mr...” You pause, hoping for him to repeat his name.

“—Sir Leopold Mountbatten.” Leopold raises an eyebrow at your stubborn insistence, amused by your southern character. He continues, his voice lifting with a smile.

“And I have no doubt you can handle closing up on your own, my lady. But that does not mean you should have to.” He pushes off the doorframe, taking a step closer to you.

"Please, allow me to help. I cannot leave knowing you'll be here for the next few hours, finishing up all by yourself."

You almost smile at his insistence, but push it down. You walk past him towards the heavy, brown door which leads to the main entrance. You open the door with a grunt and hold it open for him. With a small smile, you place your hands on your hips. The twang comes out of your voice when you speak softly to him.

“Well, yes you can and you will. Thanks for the offer, hon…” Leopold looks at you with a mixture of disappointment and acceptance in his eyes. He nods, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Very well, my lady. If you're certain you don't need any aid, I shall take my leave then."

He takes an unnecessary large step in your direction before pausing in front of you, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment. Without a word, he lowers himself into a deep bow, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Farewell, my lady."

Your eyes narrow with confusion as he bows, but you nod and laugh softly in response. “Bye-bye Leopold…”

You watch as he hesitantly walks through the door to the main entrance. He turns back to you with doe eyes, giving you another opportunity for you to accept his offer, then leaves when you shake your head with a smile.

Leopold gives a final wave before stepping outside, the heavy cafe door closing slowly behind him. He pauses for a moment outside, gazing at your silhouette through the glass, a hint of reluctance in his eyes.

With a resigned sigh, he forces himself to turn away from the cafe, his footsteps heavy as he starts walking down the sidewalk. He mentally scolds himself for his impulsiveness and foolishness.

While you clean, you think of the strange man. You wish you accepted his offer. Or his telegram number.. you laugh to yourself at your stupid joke as you continue to scrub the counters.

Hours later, you finally finish. Grabbing your purse, you go to your house, and fall into a deep sleep. Filled with dreams of the 19th century and a man who is almost 150 + years older than you, you sleep more peacefully than you ever had before.

For Leopold, as the evening descends on the city, he finds himself unable to sleep. His mind is consumed with thoughts of the lady from the cafe. He tosses and turns in his bed, the events of the day replaying in his mind over and over again.

He wonders what she is doing at the moment. Is she asleep in her bed? Is she also lying awake, thinking about him? The questions plague his mind as he continues to lie in bed, struggling to find rest.

With a frustrated sigh, Leopold finally sits up in his bed. He throws the covers off and gets up, pacing restlessly in his room. The clock ticks loudly in the background, mocking his insomnia. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the thoughts of the lady that seem to be etched in his mind.

As the next day approaches, you continue your routine. You get out of bed, your feet cold against the unwelcoming tile of your small apartment. As you walk towards the kitchen, you continue your morning routine; making breakfast, showering, changing, and leaving.

When you finally make your way to the cafe, your anxious and somewhat excited. Secretly, you hope the mysterious man from the past comes back.

As the sun slowly rises, Leopold has still not gotten any sleep. He spent the rest of the night pacing in his room, his thoughts consumed by you. Eventually, he gave up on sleep, seeing as he wouldn't be able to get any.

While he goes about his day, his thoughts still drift back to you. He finds himself missing the warmth and homeliness of the cafe. He knows that he shouldn't, but he can't help it. He decides to pay the cafe another visit, hoping to see you again.

a/n: hey you guys, lemme know what you think pls !! i love Leopold so much so i am so excited to write more (he is my Mr. Darcy) also don’t forget i take requests.. anyways lemme know if u want a pt. 2 💕

[tunatober]

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "You don't need to do that.” "I want to." 🐟✨

✨🐟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!🐟 ✨

"You don't need to do that." "I want to."🪻

leo is just the perfect vessel for fluff. I DON'T MAKE THE RULES

Ship: Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 774

Warnings: periods, possible endometriosis, cursing, nausea

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

You ached all over.

Not just your abdomen, where your willful uterus throbbed with every breath and sent shocks of agony down your spine, but everywhere else. Your breasts were sensitive to the touch, your back was stiffer than a board, and the muscles in your hips gave out a few hours ago.

All you could do was bury yourself in the couch cushions and groan occasionally. Waves of nausea emanated from your stomach, coursing through your body in violent bursts. You couldn't get up and get water because your head hadn't stopped spinning since you woke up.

Periods. Fucking. Suck.

The ice pack you'd grabbed before your symptoms truly set in had long since melted. A puddle of water cradled the ice pack tauntingly where it sat on the rug. You stared at the blue plastic through half-lidded eyes. If looks could kill, the room-temperature ice pack would be nothing but ash.

Jingling keys in the apartment's door drew your ire from the hunk of plastic. You watched the brass knob turn, the hinges catching a bit, as Leo forced his way through the troublesome door. A large plastic bag crinkled where it was gripped in his large hand. Bulging boxes stretched at the thin material.

"Darling?" he called as the door swung shut behind him. One of your loose sweatshirts hung from his broad shoulders. What seemed monstrous on you just barely fit Leopold. The green of the cotton made his bright, hazel eyes gleam in the apartment's ceiling lights.

"In here," you grumbled tiredly. Another throb centered in your abdomen made you wince. You ground your teeth, eyes screwing shut, as you tried to work through the pain.

"Oh, my love. How bad is it?" Leo asked, voice growing closer as he approached what felt like your death bed. Well, death couch. You peered at him through squinted eyes.

"Bad," you answered with a groan. The plastic bag crinkled as Leo set it next to the couch. You just barely caught a glimpse of the pads and tampons he'd bought while he was out.

"How ba- Lord!" he exclaimed. It seemed he'd found the puddle. Your giggle at his misfortune quickly shifted to a strained sigh as the muscles in your back creaked. Leo adjusted where he knelt by your head, "Damned ice. How's your nausea? Any better than before I left?"

You gingerly shook your head, "Nope."

"When was the last time you drank some water?" he asked. A warm palm rested on your oversensitive shoulder. It was soft, strong, the fingers massaging circles into your sore muscles. An involuntary sigh escaped your chapped lips.

"Can't remember. Been a while," you replied, eyes falling closed as Leo smoothed his hand up and down your arm. He always had a way of calming the turmoil inside you. Like a lighthouse guiding a battered ship to shore.

"How about I get you some water, hm? You can rifle through what I've bought while I do that," he suggested with a kind smile. You couldn't help but mirror the expression.

"You didn't need to do all that, hon. I could've ordered it," you said.

Feigned offense washed over Leo's face. His eyebrows furrowed, nose scrunched near the bridge, as a forced frown tugged at his mouth, "I'm shocked that you'd even consider using your telly-phone over your perfectly good me!"

The laugh that shook your chest felt revitalizing in a way. Like the first rays of sunshine after a violent storm. It was easy to forget your pains for a moment.

Leo's charade didn't last. His furious expression broke as he laughed with you, saying "Besides, I wanted to. I like caring for you."

Warmth blossomed in your chest. Petals of kindness and utter devotion floated across your lungs with every breath you took. This man. This out-of-time man, the one who'd completely won your heart, was as infatuated with you as you were with him. The thought helped ease the aches slithering up your spine.

"Pilfer the bag, I'll get your water," Leo uttered quietly. He pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline. You couldn't help the way your pulse involuntarily kicked up at the action. He always had a way of making your heart race.

Having your period was never easy. It fucking sucked. From the agonizing ache rooted in your uterus to the full-body shakes you'd get, that time of the month could be an utter nightmare. But, as you pulled several bars of chocolate out of the plastic bag, the nightmare was starting to look more like a domestic dream. One you never would've expected with Duke Leopold Mountbatten.

Y'ALL I'M IN LOVE WITH A FAKE PERSON

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[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!

[wchswift]

ଓ VALENTINE'S DAY WITH LEOPOLD

pairing: leopold mountbatten x f!reader

summary: leopold is an incurable old-fashioned romantic and on valentine's day it couldn't be any different.

word count: 600

note: this blurb was requested by @bettystonewell for headcanon from leopold in valentine's day! this is part of my 125 followers celebration! Join the celebration too!

── english isn't my first language :)

It's all so peaceful—sunlight spilling golden through the curtains, the soft hum of the city blending with the distant melody of birds. The warmth of sleep still lingers on your skin as you shift beneath the covers, reaching instinctively for him. But your fingers find only empty space, the sheets cool where he should be.

A quiet sigh left your lips as you opened one eye, fingers brushing over the soft petals of a single red rose resting on the pillow beside you, its stem carefully wrapped in a silk ribbon. A small, folded note leaned against it, the ink unmistakably his.

"My love, I would rather wake beside you than witness the grandest sunrise, yet I could not resist watching the light paint your face so beautifully. I shall return soon. Until then, know that every moment apart is one I would rather spend in your arms."

A warmth spread through your chest, the weight of his affection settling into your bones. A soft smile tugs at your lips. Hopeless romantic.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

When you finally leave the bedroom, you find him in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a determined crease between his brows. He does not notice you at first, too focused on the delicate art of plating breakfast, arranging things with the precision of a man who believes beauty should exist in all things.

"Ah, you’re awake," he muses without turning, the smirk already present in his voice. "I had hoped to wake you with tea and a kiss, but you remain insufferably perceptive."

You hum in amusement, stepping closer, slipping your arms around him from behind. He stills beneath your touch, then exhales softly, his hand covering yours where it rests against his chest.

"You didn’t have to do all this, Leo," you murmur, cheek pressing against his shoulder.

"Didn’t I?" He turns in your embrace then, eyes meeting yours, quiet adoration woven into every unspoken thought. "If love is meant to be shown, not simply spoken, then I must make every moment count."

And so he does.

The day unfolds in a perfect blend of old-world romance and modern charm. A carriage ride through the park “I refuse to accept that automobiles are the only mode of transportation befitting a proper outing,” he insists, a stop at a bookstore where he selects a poetry collection, slipping it into your hands with a knowing look, his voice soft in your ear as he reads sonnets that have long outlived their authors. He dances with you in the middle of the apartment, feet slow, movements effortless, the world reduced to the space between your bodies. And here, in the warmth of his arms, time moved at its own pace—unhurried, endless. You closed your eyes, sinking into the quiet hum of his presence, into the steady, unwavering love that he carried like it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

You smile, fingers lacing with his. "Every day with you feels like Valentine's Day."

Leopold exhales a quiet laugh. "Then I have done my job well."

And as his lips met yours in a kiss—gentle, reverent, sweet—you realize that love, when given by a man like him, is not simply spoken; it is felt, lived, and cherished in every moment.

Leopold exhales a quiet laugh. "Then I have done my job well."

And as his lips met yours in a kiss—gentle, reverent, sweet—you realize that love, when given by a man like him, is not simply spoken; it is felt, lived, and cherished in every moment.

Indeed, it is a love timeless and true.

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

[wchswift]

✧⁠*⁠。FOLLOWERS EVENT (closed)

hiii, thank you guys sm for the 125 followers!! It means a lot to me to see that you appreciate my writing <3 cause of this I wanted to do some small celebration 🥳

the celebration is open to anyone who wants to join! ☺️

￫ 𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒆𝒃 𝟏𝟕𝒕𝒉, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

⛥ the events!!

🦇 bat - send me this emoji + a headcanon for a character and i'll write a short blurb/scenario about it! ⋆⸻ 🪽 fallen angels - send me this emoji + a character/fandom and tags and I will give you fics/authors recs! ⋆⸻ 🌺 sweet flower - send me this emoji + a song, scenario or a prompt from this list or this + a character and i'll write you a short one-shot! ↳ 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒇𝒚 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝒐𝒓 𝒈𝒏! 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ⋆⸻ 🖼️ aesthetics - send me this emoji + a character/fandom/group + a dynamic, vibe/aesthetic, or something like that and i’ll create a moodboard base on what you send in! ⋆⸻ �� yap time - send me this emoji + any question you want, something you wanna know about me or anything you wanna share!

⛥ characters that I will write for!!

─ supernatural

⦁ dean winchester ⦁ sam winchester (I don't usually write for him but I will for the celebration)

─ marvel

⦁ logan howlett ⦁ loki laufeyson ⦁ valkyrie

─ others

⦁ steve harrington ⦁ soldier boy ⦁ eddie alden ⦁ leopold mountbatten ⦁ beau arlen

￫ ꣖ ີ ꣓ navigation

[wchswift]

𓆩⚝𓆪 leopold mountbatten masterlist .ᐟ

╰► every word you say.

╰► petals for a heavy heart.

𓆩♡𓆪 comment if you want to be added to the taglist .ᐟ.ᐟ

[a-leg-without-fear]

Leg's Tuna Tober

this is the masterlist post for all of my tuna-tober posts!!! starting october 1, expect either a fic or a drawing almost EVERY DAY of the month :) here's the link to the prompt list if you'd like to participate!!

🩸= set in the NFW universe, in which the reader is a blood bender born in 1905 🔥= SMUT 18+ 🌧️= angst 🪻= fluff 🎨= drawing 📖= writing

Day 1: Reading to Each Other🪻(Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!reader) 📖

Day 2: Threesome🔥(Worst!Wolverine x f!reader x Deadpool) 📖

Day 3: Insomnia🩸🌧️ (Logan Howlett x mutant!fem!reader) 📖

Day 4: "Are You Blushing?"🪻(Jack Clancy x f!reader) 🎨

Day 5: Begging🔥(Logan Howlett x f!reader) 📖

Day 6: "You Can Sleep Here Tonight."🪻(Gabriel Van Helsing x f!reader) 📖

Day 7: Nightmare🌧️(Worst!Logan Howlett x f!reader) 📖

Day 8: Overstimulation🔥(Robert Angier x f!reader) 🎨

Day 9: "You Don't Need To Do That." "I Want To."🪻(Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!reader) 📖

Day 10: "I'm Not Good Enough."🌧️(Charlie Kenton x gn!reader) 📖

Day 11: Sharing an Umbrella🪻(Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!reader) 📖

Day 12: Sneak Peek🩸🌧️(Logan Howlett x mutant!fem!reader) 📖

Day 13: Playful Kiss🪻(Wolverine x Deadpool) 🎨

Day 14/15: Break Day 🎃

Day 16: Scent Marking🩸🔥🌧️(Worst!Logan Howlett x mutant!fem!reader) 📖

Day 17: "I'm Not Leaving You."🌧️(Gabriel Van Helsing x f!reader) 📖

Day 18: Pillow Fort🪻(Charlie Kenton x f!reader) 🎨

Day 19: Gags🔥(Robert Angier x f!reader) 📖

Day 20: "Who Did This To You?"🩸🌧️(Logan Howlett x mutant!fem!reader) 📖

Day 21: Flustered🪻(Gabriel Van Helsing x f!reader) 🎨

Day 22: Aphrodisiacs🔥(Wyatt Bose x f!reader) 📖

Day 23/24: Break Day 🎃

Day 25: Playing With Their Hair🪻(Logan Howlett x f!reader) 🎨

Day 26: Under The Desk🔥(Frank Tassone x m!reader) 📖

Day 27: Sneak Peek🩸🌧️(Logan Howlett x mutant!fem!reader) 📖

Day 28: Hair Pulling🔥(Gabriel Van Helsing x f!reader) 📖

Day 29: Forehead Kiss🪻(Jean Valjean x f!reader) 📖

Day 30: Road Trip🩸🪻(Old!Logan Howlett x mutant!fem!reader) 📖

Day 31: SANGUINE🩸🌧️(Logan Howlett x mutant!fem!reader) 📖

hope you all are as excited for tuna tober as i am!!!!

Want to be on the taglist? Fill out this form!

[a-leg-without-fear]

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!!!

taglist: @just-a-nightdreamer @venomqueen2002 @c1eepypas1a @www-interludeshadow-com

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[a-leg-without-fear]

Sharing an Umbrella🪻

leo my love...

Ship: Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 499

Warnings: cursing

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

The New York City streets were bathed in swathes of neon lights, refracted by rain pelting the asphalt. Deep puddles lined the sidewalks like coursing streams. Small waterfalls leaked off rooves and gutters onto the pedestrians going about their business on this dreary day.

You and Leo were walking, hand in hand, from your shared apartment to your favorite bakery a few blocks down. A royal purple umbrella was held in Leo's hand to shield the two of you from the downpour. At one point your head had landed on his shoulder, the two of you huddled under your shelter.

Easy banter flowed between you. Talk of which coffee is the best, the correct way to cook an egg, and other menial discussions passed in clouded breaths. A dull chill had settled amongst the raindrops. It clung to your jackets in gusts of humid air. The cold burrowed through the wool material of your coat and started to seep into your bones.

Luckily, the bakery was in sight, the comforting glow from the windows shining on the pavement just on the other side of the road. You and Leo waited at the corner while the crosswalk sign flashed red. A small crowd of disgruntled New Yorkers gathered around the two of you.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" Leo asked a shivering woman to his right. She threw him a squinted glare, crow's feet deepening as she narrowed her eyes. Her disdain was met with Leo's signature, bright smile.

Green illuminated the gloom as you dragged your partner away. You sighed, shaking your head at his antics. He knew exactly what he was doing. Leo just relished in messing with people in inconsequential ways.

"I think she liked me," he mused, rainboots splashing in the curb's puddles. White stripes lined the crosswalk between you and your destination.

"Uh huh, yes dear," you returned with an air of sarcasm.

Leo answered your remark by dumping the rain that'd collected on the top of the umbrella over your head. You squealed, darting away and across the street, now thoroughly drenched. His boisterous laugh followed you as you hopped up onto the curb. Rainwater dripped from the hem of your coat onto the slick pavement.

"Asshole!" you called over the crowd. A few sideways glances were directed your way at the shout. It was only a few moments before the much drier Leo joined you on the sidewalk.

"Apologies, my dear. The handle must've slipped," he said through a knowing smirk.

"You're buying me coffee for that," you grumbled, not truly mad at him. How could you be? Even just being in his proximity made your brief annoyance leak from you into the puddles. And he knew it, too. That mischievous glint never left his hazel eyes whenever he was near.

"I'll even throw in a pastry," he added lightly. His warm hand brushed a trail of rain from the side of your face. You leaned into the touch, every trace of tension sapped from your body.

this is short and sweet :)

taglist: @just-a-nightdreamer @www-interludeshadow-com @lemurianstarship @venomqueen2002 @c1eepypas1a @amphitrite-5 @yarrystyleeza @theestorm @being-worthy

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[namikyento]

leo my baby ISSA CUTE

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! feel free to join the tag list ☆

[a-leg-without-fear]

"You don't need to do that." "I want to."🪻

leo is just the perfect vessel for fluff. I DON'T MAKE THE RULES

Ship: Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 774

Warnings: periods, possible endometriosis, cursing, nausea

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

You ached all over.

Not just your abdomen, where your willful uterus throbbed with every breath and sent shocks of agony down your spine, but everywhere else. Your breasts were sensitive to the touch, your back was stiffer than a board, and the muscles in your hips gave out a few hours ago.

All you could do was bury yourself in the couch cushions and groan occasionally. Waves of nausea emanated from your stomach, coursing through your body in violent bursts. You couldn't get up and get water because your head hadn't stopped spinning since you woke up.

Periods. Fucking. Suck.

The ice pack you'd grabbed before your symptoms truly set in had long since melted. A puddle of water cradled the ice pack tauntingly where it sat on the rug. You stared at the blue plastic through half-lidded eyes. If looks could kill, the room-temperature ice pack would be nothing but ash.

Jingling keys in the apartment's door drew your ire from the hunk of plastic. You watched the brass knob turn, the hinges catching a bit, as Leo forced his way through the troublesome door. A large plastic bag crinkled where it was gripped in his large hand. Bulging boxes stretched at the thin material.

"Darling?" he called as the door swung shut behind him. One of your loose sweatshirts hung from his broad shoulders. What seemed monstrous on you just barely fit Leopold. The green of the cotton made his bright, hazel eyes gleam in the apartment's ceiling lights.

"In here," you grumbled tiredly. Another throb centered in your abdomen made you wince. You ground your teeth, eyes screwing shut, as you tried to work through the pain.

"Oh, my love. How bad is it?" Leo asked, voice growing closer as he approached what felt like your death bed. Well, death couch. You peered at him through squinted eyes.

"Bad," you answered with a groan. The plastic bag crinkled as Leo set it next to the couch. You just barely caught a glimpse of the pads and tampons he'd bought while he was out.

"How ba- Lord!" he exclaimed. It seemed he'd found the puddle. Your giggle at his misfortune quickly shifted to a strained sigh as the muscles in your back creaked. Leo adjusted where he knelt by your head, "Damned ice. How's your nausea? Any better than before I left?"

You gingerly shook your head, "Nope."

"When was the last time you drank some water?" he asked. A warm palm rested on your oversensitive shoulder. It was soft, strong, the fingers massaging circles into your sore muscles. An involuntary sigh escaped your chapped lips.

"Can't remember. Been a while," you replied, eyes falling closed as Leo smoothed his hand up and down your arm. He always had a way of calming the turmoil inside you. Like a lighthouse guiding a battered ship to shore.

"How about I get you some water, hm? You can rifle through what I've bought while I do that," he suggested with a kind smile. You couldn't help but mirror the expression.

"You didn't need to do all that, hon. I could've ordered it," you said.

Feigned offense washed over Leo's face. His eyebrows furrowed, nose scrunched near the bridge, as a forced frown tugged at his mouth, "I'm shocked that you'd even consider using your telly-phone over your perfectly good me!"

The laugh that shook your chest felt revitalizing in a way. Like the first rays of sunshine after a violent storm. It was easy to forget your pains for a moment.

Leo's charade didn't last. His furious expression broke as he laughed with you, saying "Besides, I wanted to. I like caring for you."

Warmth blossomed in your chest. Petals of kindness and utter devotion floated across your lungs with every breath you took. This man. This out-of-time man, the one who'd completely won your heart, was as infatuated with you as you were with him. The thought helped ease the aches slithering up your spine.

"Pilfer the bag, I'll get your water," Leo uttered quietly. He pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline. You couldn't help the way your pulse involuntarily kicked up at the action. He always had a way of making your heart race.

Having your period was never easy. It fucking sucked. From the agonizing ache rooted in your uterus to the full-body shakes you'd get, that time of the month could be an utter nightmare. But, as you pulled several bars of chocolate out of the plastic bag, the nightmare was starting to look more like a domestic dream. One you never would've expected with Duke Leopold Mountbatten.

Y'ALL I'M IN LOVE WITH A FAKE PERSON

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[bettystonewell]

Oh wow! So I said I haven’t seen this movie in forever, but just reading your words takes me back. It’s SO him and his style(?). Even from the readers perspective, it just blends into the era that Leopold is from so beautifully - someone’s influenced.

sunlight spilling golden through the curtains.

The day unfolds in a perfect blend of old-world romance and modern-charm.

I’ve never been to New York, but damn I’d love to take a carriage ride with him there ❤️

ଓ VALENTINE'S DAY WITH LEOPOLD

pairing: leopold mountbatten x f!reader

summary: leopold is an incurable old-fashioned romantic and on valentine's day it couldn't be any different.

word count: 600

note: this blurb was requested by @bettystonewell for headcanon from leopold in valentine's day! this is part of my 125 followers celebration! Join the celebration too!

── english isn't my first language :)

It's all so peaceful—sunlight spilling golden through the curtains, the soft hum of the city blending with the distant melody of birds. The warmth of sleep still lingers on your skin as you shift beneath the covers, reaching instinctively for him. But your fingers find only empty space, the sheets cool where he should be.

A quiet sigh left your lips as you opened one eye, fingers brushing over the soft petals of a single red rose resting on the pillow beside you, its stem carefully wrapped in a silk ribbon. A small, folded note leaned against it, the ink unmistakably his.

"My love, I would rather wake beside you than witness the grandest sunrise, yet I could not resist watching the light paint your face so beautifully. I shall return soon. Until then, know that every moment apart is one I would rather spend in your arms."

A warmth spread through your chest, the weight of his affection settling into your bones. A soft smile tugs at your lips. Hopeless romantic.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

When you finally leave the bedroom, you find him in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a determined crease between his brows. He does not notice you at first, too focused on the delicate art of plating breakfast, arranging things with the precision of a man who believes beauty should exist in all things.

"Ah, you’re awake," he muses without turning, the smirk already present in his voice. "I had hoped to wake you with tea and a kiss, but you remain insufferably perceptive."

You hum in amusement, stepping closer, slipping your arms around him from behind. He stills beneath your touch, then exhales softly, his hand covering yours where it rests against his chest.

"You didn’t have to do all this, Leo," you murmur, cheek pressing against his shoulder.

"Didn’t I?" He turns in your embrace then, eyes meeting yours, quiet adoration woven into every unspoken thought. "If love is meant to be shown, not simply spoken, then I must make every moment count."

And so he does.

The day unfolds in a perfect blend of old-world romance and modern charm. A carriage ride through the park “I refuse to accept that automobiles are the only mode of transportation befitting a proper outing,” he insists, a stop at a bookstore where he selects a poetry collection, slipping it into your hands with a knowing look, his voice soft in your ear as he reads sonnets that have long outlived their authors. He dances with you in the middle of the apartment, feet slow, movements effortless, the world reduced to the space between your bodies. And here, in the warmth of his arms, time moved at its own pace—unhurried, endless. You closed your eyes, sinking into the quiet hum of his presence, into the steady, unwavering love that he carried like it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

You smile, fingers lacing with his. "Every day with you feels like Valentine's Day."

Leopold exhales a quiet laugh. "Then I have done my job well."

And as his lips met yours in a kiss—gentle, reverent, sweet—you realize that love, when given by a man like him, is not simply spoken; it is felt, lived, and cherished in every moment.

Leopold exhales a quiet laugh. "Then I have done my job well."

And as his lips met yours in a kiss—gentle, reverent, sweet—you realize that love, when given by a man like him, is not simply spoken; it is felt, lived, and cherished in every moment.

Indeed, it is a love timeless and true.

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

[namikyento]

my babie is so cute :(

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.

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