#leopold mountbatten x you

[not-neverland06]

hi!! Given my obsession for Hugh jackman I am CRAVING for some Leopold X reader (from Kate & Leopold)! Maybe with some little angst but happy ending??

I love your blog!! Have a wonderful day 😽💐💓

Leopold Mountbatten x fem!reader a/n: I don’t know how controversial this is going to be and I don’t care. I could never finish the movie because I hated Meg Ryan in it so much. It’s so odd, I’ve loved her in everything else she’s been in but she made it such a hard watch. Maybe it’s because she reminds me of my grandma in the worst way lol, but I finished it for you anon sorry this was a little rushed Anyways, hope you enjoy lovelies Summary: Your neighbor went back in time and dragged someone back with him. He's irritatingly polite and far too interested in your way of life. What are you meant to do when you fall for a man who was never even supposed to meet you?

“Hello, madam, please I need your help!”

You’re used to crazies, it is New York after all. But they’re not usually shouting at you through your window. Especially not when you’re on the sixth floor. You look away from your coffee and glance towards the fire escape. 

There’s an oddly dressed man with red eyes waving at you through the dirty glass. You offer him a tentative wave back and he nods aggressively. “Yes, hello, I need your assistance.”

“Um,” you shake your head, “Sorry, I don’t have any drugs dude.”

“No,” he places his hands pathetically on the glass and shakes his head. “Please, I have been kidnapped.” Finally, you take a step closer to him. You can tell now that his eyes aren’t reddened from any medicinal fun, he probably got pepper sprayed. 

Your friend did it to you once when you tried to surprise her on her birthday and you’ll never forget just how awful you looked afterwards. You can see him a bit more clearly now. Whatever odd costume he’s got on, it looks good. Genuine and clean. 

Not like most of the street performers you see in Times Square. Besides, he doesn’t have that maddened look in his eye that makes you worry he’s going to come inside and kill you. Tentatively, you open the window. 

He’s leaping through in a second and you jump back with a yelp. He turns towards you and his eyes widen before he quickly turns away. “My good lady, where are your pants?”

“Uh,” you glance down at the oversized shirt you’re wearing and the tiny shorts underneath. Admittedly, it’s a little skimpy, but you’re not walking around naked. You’ve heard of committing to the bit, but this is a bit much. “On,” you tell him, walking around him and trying to stand close to the phone. 

“Ma’am-” He’s cut off as someone slams their fist on your front door. You keep a weary eye on the man while you unlock your door. 

“Hey,” Stuart smiles at you. His eyes drift slightly past your shoulder and he goes barging into your apartment. “Leopold! What did I say?”

You huff and glare at Stuart’s frantic back. “This is yours?” Stuart nods and rushes Leopold out the door. You don’t miss the pleading, while slightly scandalized, look he sends you. 

You slam the door closed behind them, shaking your head and going back to your morning paper. You doubt you’ll be seeing him around again. 

You know, it’s just your luck that your upstairs neighbor is a scientist, one who happens to dabble in the art of time travel. And it’s just your luck that he had to fall down a damn elevator shaft. 

Now, according to him, you have to care for someone from a different century so he can make it back to his time portal in, well, in time. This is fucking ridiculous. “I’m going to kill you, Stuart.”

“Look, they’re going to take my phone but he really cannot-”

It goes silent on the other end. You shout his name a few times but hear nothing in response. You assume the hospital staff has finally gotten sick of his shenanigans and has taken his phone. You slam your handset down with a huff and look towards the living room. Leopold hasn’t sat down since you walked in and it’s unsettling. 

“So,” you start and his attention snaps towards you. “1876, huh?”

He nods and you roll your eyes with a scoff. “Oh, this is insane. This is insane,” you mutter to yourself, walking towards Stuart’s door. Leopold gives you a concerned look before quickly following after you. There’s a part of you, and you hate that part, that actually believes some of this. 

Stuart is a brilliant, though flawed, scientist. You don’t doubt that he might have actually unlocked the secret to traveling back to the past, but it’s such an insane idea to try and wrap your head around. 

“Come on, we’re leaving.” You know that Stuart doesn’t want him out of the house. Tough. You’re not going to just stay inside and wait until he can supposedly go back to the past. You don’t give Leopold any time to process your answer, already out the door and heading towards the stairs. 

“You know,” he starts as he catches up to you. “You are quite rude.” Your first instinct is to snap back at him. But you take a breath and stop yourself. 

You’re desensitized, ridiculously used to just how awful New Yorkers can be to each other. And whether this man is truly from the past or not is up for debate. But he is polite and earnest, and you have no reason to be a bitch to him. 

“I’m,” the words are hard to come by but you force them out anyway, “I’m sorry.” He looks genuinely surprised by the apology and it only makes you feel worse. “This is just an insane idea to try and grasp.”

He chuckles softly, smiling as he glances down at his feet. “Yes, how do you think I feel?”

You’re sure it’s not his intention, but you only feel like more of an ass. If this is hard for you, whatever he's going through is a hundred times worse. You weren’t forcefully ripped out of your own time and shoved into another you don’t understand. He’s still trying to comprehend the television.

Though, you’re sure being a scientist has helped him in marginally understanding how all of this is possible. “How do you like the future?” It sounds awkward and stiff, but you haven’t had to talk to anyone in a really long time. 

Your interactions are pretty limited at the book shop considering no one ever comes in. They all order online nowadays and all you really have to worry about is organizing shelves. You’re embarrassingly rusty when it comes to conversing. 

And his propensity towards eloquence only makes you feel worse. “I must admit, some of your inventions have been quite fascinating. I’m especially fond of your showers.”

Your face scrunches slightly at the mention of hygiene and you nod, “I bet.” Before either of you can attempt to salvage this horrible attempt at conversation your phone starts ringing. “Hold on one second,” you tell him. You walk a few feet away from him but you can still feel his eyes boring into your back as you move away. 

“Hello?”

There’s a frantic shout of your name down the line and then the distinct jingling of keys. “I need you to cover the shop. Marcy just went into labor and I’ve got to go!” Paul doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he hangs up. 

Your jaw gapes and you stare down at your phone with shock. You know Paul and his wife had been expecting, but had it really already been nine months? Has your life become so monotonous and dull that nine months doesn’t even register for you?

It’s a depressing thought. One you’d rather not linger on. “What was that?”

You scream, though the people passing by don’t pay you any mind, and jump away from Leopold. “Jesus, where the hell did you come from?”

Leopold flinches away from you and his face is just as aghast as yours. “Good heavens, what is the matter with you? Do you respond to anything as a sensible woman might?”

“I resent that.” You tell him bitterly. Though, he does make a good point. You’ve been on edge constantly. You always seem to be more anxious than you are happy. It’s not a good state to perpetually exist in. “I need to go into work.”

You don’t want to outright say that he needs to go back to the apartment. It feels a little mean, but you’re hoping he’ll catch onto your tone of voice. 

His entire demeanor perks up and he smiles at you. “Wonderful, I am dreadfully curious as to what you do.”

You open your mouth to correct him, let him know he’s not coming. But he’s staring at you with such hopeful eyes that you cannot find it in yourself to turn him down. He seems so excited, you’re sure he won’t be when he gets to your cluttered little bookshop. You let out a weary sigh, “Fine. Okay.”

You walk towards the curb, hoping to hail a cab. But Leopold’s hand gently wraps around your elbow and tugs you in the opposite direction. Your eyes widen in response to his boldness. You thought touching a woman he wasn’t courting would cause someone like him to combust. Seems he didn’t mind breaking the rules sometimes. 

You make a mental note of that for later. You don’t know what you’re going to do with the information, but you find it intriguing. Maybe the modern world was rubbing off on him more than he’d like to admit. 

“We should take this,” he stops you in front of a horse-drawn carriage and you immediately begin to shake your head. 

“No, Leopold, these are just tourist traps-”

He doesn’t let you finish, opening the carriage’s door and gently nudging you inside. “Nonsense! This is far more enjoyable than those yellow monstrosities.”

“Taxi,” you correct. You turn towards the carriage driver and give him directions to your bookshop. “Ink and Tea on Fifth.” He nods and the carriage rolls forward with a lurch. You grip the cushioned seats and pray you don’t get motion sickness. 

“Ink and Tea?” Leopold inquires. “Are you a journalist?”

You smile and shake your head. “No, nothing so fancy. I just help take care of an old bookshop. They were supposed to extend the shop when it first opened. They were going to build a space for people to get pastries or drink tea, but it never happened and the owner was too lazy to change the name.”

It feels a little humiliating to be talking about your minimum-wage job to a renowned scientist. He’s invented or is going to, elevators. He doesn’t care about your stupid shop. But he doesn’t look particularly judgy of you. If anything he seems to be endeared to you the more you talk. 

Normally, you’re oblivious to these sorts of things. But it’s nearly impossible for him to hide. He’s not shy with his attraction, never taking his eyes off of you and hanging onto your every word. You’re not used to such outward attention. 

You look out of the carriage, pretending to take in views you’ve already seen a thousand times. “This city is incredible,” he wonders aloud. His awe is palpable. 

Your nose wrinkles and you shrug. “It’s dirty and the people are intolerable.”

“Must you always be so pessimistic?” You snap your mouth shut and feel embarrassment creeping around you. You’ve never had someone point out when you’re being negative, but he has a point. 

You used to view the city through the same rose-colored glasses. Something’s broken inside you in recent years that has just taken the joy out of life. Everything is grey to you now, until Leopold, nothing spectacular has ever really happened to you. 

The carriage comes to a stop outside the shop before you can respond to him. You want to deny what he says, but you can’t. Your attitude is almost always unnecessary. You think sometimes you might just be trying to see if everyone feels as miserable as you do or if there’s just something wrong with you. 

“Come on,” you tell him, getting out and paying the driver. He wanders towards the shop, eyeing the displays in the window curiously. 

“These are wonderful,” he tells you, pointing to the way you’d made the books look like they’re floating above the shelves. It was just some silly little thing you’d tried to get more people in the shop. It’d worked for about a month. 

“I did that,” you unlock the door to the shop and open it for him. But he doesn’t walk in immediately, instead, he lingers in the doorway. He offers you a soft smile and you can’t help but return it. 

“You’re more creative than you give yourself credit for.”

Your eyes widen as you watch him walk inside. He keeps making these oddly astute observations about you and it’s throwing you off your game. You barely know this man and you’ve always been good at keeping yourself aloof and vague. Yet, he seems to read you like you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve. 

“Feel free to…” he’s already made himself comfortable somewhere in the back and you trail off. “Look around,” you finish lamely. His form is lost somewhere in stacks of books and cluttered shelves. 

You know most of the classics and history books are kept towards the back. You wonder if he’s reminiscing or getting a headstart before he gets back to his time. You smile at the thought and walk behind the counter, sitting on the stool and preparing to finish off the rest of the day.

Leopold is still somewhere lost to you an hour later. Occasionally you’ll hear a page flip or the clatter of a book being reshelved, but there are no other signs of life. Not until the bell above the door rings. 

“Clark,” you smile, sitting up straighter as your friend walks through the door. “What’re you doing here?”

He gives you a crooked grin and shrugs. Just over his shoulder, you can see Leopold’s head pop over a shelf, he looks between you both, eyes narrowing with disdain. “Paul told me you’d be here, figured you might want some company.”

“Actually-” you start, but another voice cuts you off. 

“Leopold Mountbatten,” he comes around the corner, hand outstretched as he comes in between you and Clark. “And who might you be?”

Your brows furrow in confusion at the interaction. Leopold seems oddly hostile and Clark looks strangely caught off guard. “Um, Clark. Nice to meet you, man.” He shakes Leopold’s hand but his grip is weak and it only lasts for one awkward half-second. 

It’s uncomfortable to watch them try and interact and it only gets worse when they turn towards you. Clearly, they want you to tell them who the hell the other guy is. But you feel like that might just make the situation worse. 

Besides, you were pretty content with it just being you and Leopold, you don’t need Clark coming in here and riling things up. “You know, Clark, I’m set here. You can just go home.” Your tone leaves no room for argument but you know he wants to. 

“Alright, I’ll just call you later, I guess.” He throws one last skeptical look at Leopold before finally slinking back out of the shop. 

“Neither of you should be alone without a chaperone present.” Leopold bluntly scolds you without even waiting a second before Clark is gone. It catches you off guard and you scoff. 

You motion between the two of you, “We don’t have a chaperone.” 

Leopold shrugs, “Yes, well, I’m not courting you.” It shouldn’t, because he’s right, but that stings. He is attractive, surprisingly so. You have this odd belief that anyone from his century had to be at least a little ugly. But he’s near perfect. 

Hearing him tell you so bluntly that you’re not courting hurts a little. Though, you can’t blame him. You must be dramatically different than the women he’s used to. From your manners to how you dress, you’re practically an alien. 

You stand up from behind the counter and walk towards the cart of books that need to be shelved. “Clark is a friend. Nothing more.” You’ve never once been romantically interested in your friend. He’s attractive, but he’s not really your type.

Apparently, British men from the nineteenth century are. Which does not bode well for your romantic prospects once Leopold is back home. “It is plain for anyone to see how he wants you. Don’t let yourself be blinded by naivete.”

“Naivete?” you scoff and turn around to glare at him. “Don’t pretend to know anything about me, alright? I’m not some maiden in a frilly dress who needs a chaperone.” You can see that your words affect him. He looks a little taken aback by your anger and so are you. 

It’s misplaced. You’re not mad at him, just mad that you even like him. “Just go read or something, Leopold.” You dismiss him more rudely than necessary and hide yourself behind a few shelves. The rest of your workday is spent in a tense silence that makes your stomach churn. 

You’re nearly ready for bed when something slips under your door with a slight whoosh. You turn towards it, frowning when you see a little envelope with a wax seal on the ground. You pick it up and let your finger slip under the paper, opening it to find a letter with your name on it inside. 

The handwriting is impeccable, with a gracefulness to it that you’ve never seen before. You don’t have to read for very long to know who it's from. Leopold writes poetry about the color of your eyes and the way your lips curl when you smile. And then he ends it with a vague, nearly ominous, invitation to dinner. 

You can’t help but smile to yourself, changing out of your pajamas and slipping into something a little nicer. A few minutes later you’re climbing out your window and taking the stairs up the fire escape to the roof. 

You don’t believe your ears at first, thinking the music must be coming from another apartment. But when you make it up to the roof there’s a violin player there waiting for you. He smiles happily at you as you approach. 

You spin in a slow circle, taking in the sheer amount of flowers littered around the roof. You don’t know how he managed to afford all of this. He transformed the barren and empty rooftop into your own little paradise. Candles lit and a live musician playing for you. 

You’ve never had anyone do something like this for you, ever. It’s a little hard to accept that someone would be willing to put this much effort in for you. “I wasn’t entirely sure you would come.”

You turn around and Leopold is waiting behind you, that familiar smile playing on his lips. You aren’t aware of the grin forming on your face in response. You don’t have much control over that when you’re with him. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He looks like he wants to respond but at the last moment thinks better of it. He instead pulls your chair out for you, helping you into your seat. “This is nice,” that feels too underwhelming a word for such an incredible gesture. 

You sigh and frown as you try and find the right words. You don’t notice him sitting down across from you. You only look up when you feel him placing his hand on your own. “It’s alright,” he assures you. 

It’s still so odd how he can know you so well after such little time. “This is incredible,” you tell him, undeterred by his attempts to soothe you. “No one’s ever done something like this for me.”

He looks like he takes personal offense to that and it makes you laugh. “You deserve far more than this. Sadly, it seems Stuart’s pockets do have limits and I’m afraid I would have put him into debt if I’d gone any further.”

You have the perfect mental image of Stuart coming back from the hospital only to find his science project has robbed him. It makes you laugh and you squeeze his hand once before drawing it back into your lap. He lets his touch linger on you for a long moment, seemingly reluctant to pull away. 

“No,” you tell him, “this is perfect.” 

You fall into a comfortable silence for a little while. Conversation mostly drifting toward what his life was like as a duke. You don’t have much to say about your own life. It’s been incredibly normal and you’re a little sad to find that you don’t have one good thing to share with him. 

Nothing comes to the front of your mind. 

Inevitably, you drift into the topic you’d both been so adamantly avoiding. “Has Stuart said when you’d need to return?”

Leopold’s grip on the fork tightens and for a moment he refuses to meet your eye. “Monday, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,” your eyes widen and you feel something burning at the back of your throat. Monday, the same Monday that’s two days away. 

“Dance with me,” the suddenness of the demand catchers you so off guard that you forget the tears. He stands, holding out his hand to you. You almost say no, you can’t remember the last time you danced and you doubt it’s going to be pretty. 

But he whispers your name and something about his tone tells you to take the chance while you have it. You slip your hand into his, letting him pull you to your feet. He doesn’t sweep you off your feet and dance the night away. 

Instead, he holds you close and you sway together. Like moving even an inch away from each other would hurt. “You could come with me,” he tells you. And you know immediately what he’s talking about. 

You also know it could never happen. Going to the nineteenth century is insane. Even considering it should be enough to have you sent to a psych ward somewhere. Especially not for a man you’ve known for less than a month. 

You try and tell him that you can’t, but he stops you. “I know, a preposterous idea. I just wanted to think about it.” You look up at him and find that you can’t take that away from him. There’s nothing wrong with imagining what it could be like with him. Even when you know it can never happen. 

You dance like that for a little while longer, swaying against each other while the violin plays in the background. He whispers your name and when you gaze up at him this time, there’s a certain look in his eye that you know is reflected in your own. 

He dips down, lips caressing yours gently before he’s pushing more firmly against your own. The world stops. Cliche, you’re aware. For the first time in years, though, you’re alive. You feel something other than the dull monotony of life. You feel excited and terrified all at once. Because you know you can never have this feeling again. 

You will never meet another man like Leopold who ignites this spark of life and passion within you. Never has a man been able to make you doubt every decision you’ve ever made with just a kiss, but here he is. 

Your arms lift like you might try and draw him in closer. His hands come up, taking yours in his gentle hold and squeezing. He pulls away from you and reality comes crashing back down. You’re not in love, you can’t be. You’ve only just met him a few days ago. 

Yet, here you are, wondering if you might actually want to leave everything behind to be with him like the great romances authors write about. He smiles at you and there’s a bittersweetness to it, a final farewell that you know will break whatever is left of your heart. 

He lifts your knuckles to his lips, pressing his lips against them like he never wants to part. “Goodnight,” he whispers your name and backs away from you. You watch him go, watch him leave, unable to muster up any words for him. 

You can’t think of anything that would ease this gnawing ache inside of you. Nothing to soothe the pain for either of you. You let him go because you know if you asked him to stay he would. And how selfish of you would it be to let history unravel simply because you fell in love? 

Monday. It is Monday. You’ve been coming to terms with that all weekend. You don't want to think about the fact that Leopold will be gone tonight. Your time together was so brief but you feel like you’re never going to get over losing him. 

Before the night was over on Sunday, a note was slipped under your door. This handwriting was messy, it made you think someone other than Leopold had written it down, but you don’t know who it could have been. 

It was a date and time, jump off the Brooklyn Bridge at this time on Monday night. Only an idiot would jump off a bridge because of an ominous note slipped under her door. But you haven’t been able to take your eyes off of it, not since you first picked it up. 

Leopold had invited you to go with him. And while you might not have said no, the insinuation was clear. Your eyes dart to your clock. If you left now, you could still make it in time. What an absolutely ridiculous thought. 

So, why are you running out the door without locking it? Why do you not care who slips into your home now? There’s this sense of finality within you that lets you know you’re never going to see that place again and that’s okay. 

You never truly felt comfortable in your life. You always thought a part of yourself was missing. Or that you were always running late for something. You think you understand what you were feeling now. 

The thing you’ve been searching for your whole life wasn’t halfway across the world, a hundred thousand miles from you. He was on the wrong side of time, or you were, at least. 

You manage to snag a taxi to get to the bridge but there’s a traffic jam. You’re forced to jump out of the car and run through the different lanes of blocked traffic. People shout at you. Your cab driver screaming after you about your fare. You don’t care, the only thing you can think about is the note crumpled in your hands and the clock counting down how long you have to jump. 

You’ll either be on the news tomorrow as an unfortunate suicide. An idiot who accidentally threw herself off the wrong side of the bridge. Or, you’ll see Leopold again. 

You reach the ledge and you can’t hesitate. If you do, you won’t jump in time. You close your eyes, holding your breath like you’re jumping into your neighbor’s pool. Air rushes around you, whipping at your hair and skin violently. 

It’s not until you hear someone shouting down at you that you realize you’re not dead. You’re lying in the middle of a dirt road, a group of people staring down at you with concern in their eyes. 

You only have to take in the clothes they’re wearing to know you’ve made it. Before they can react you’re leaping to your feet and running off. You know you’re near the Brooklyn Bridge, or where it’s supposed to be at least. You know enough about the area to remember where Leopold’s house is supposed to be. 

You’re covered in sweat and red mud. The people you pass by in the streets hide behind their hands and whisper about you. You’re not making a good impression on your future neighbors, that’s for sure. But, honestly, all you care about is making it back to him. 

You see people congregating outside his uncle’s home. You know there’s a party inside, that he’s supposed to be announcing who his wife will be. You barrel through the people outside, shoving through the crowd and running up the steps of the house. 

You can hear Leopold’s voice as you run, “The woman I’m going to take as my wife is-”

There’s a loud gasp as you come panting into the room. You can’t catch your breath long enough to speak but it doesn’t matter. The crowd is parting around you and Leopold is smiling down at you. He says your name and there’s nothing else that matters about the world around you. Not when you finally found each other. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie Kate & Leopold, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[themareverine]

ON GLASS WE WALK ▹coming soon

— Leopold x fem!OC

SUMMARY: Marketing copywriter by day, aspiring Shakespeare by night, she’s been crafting Prince Charmings and glass slippers all her life. Never once suspecting he could actually exist, bone to bone. In New York—her best-friend-in-law’s apartment complex. The stuff of Cinderella, Grimm—but her? “Oh. My. Lanta.” “Who, pray tell, is ‘Lanta?’”

warnings: eventual romance, friends to lovers, time travel, probably really bad era-appropriate utilization, longing, pining, mutual pining, courtship, virginity, religion.

a/n: delulu after watching this movie—I never had a Disney princess phase, but boy do I now. am I gonna ever write this? who knows but it’s here is this anything?

[sh3sa1dwhat]

Yes. Just. YES!

Pride & Prejudice || Leopold Mountbatten x Reader

Summary: You're an actress auditioning for theatre production of Pride & Prejudice and Leopold finds you practicing your lines.

a/n: Okay so, I need more leopold being an actor and cute moments so this was born. Full confession. I have never watched or read Pride & Prejudice so I am very sorry if I messed up anything aksdfhl. Anyways i hope u like it!!!

The fire escape has to be Leopold's favorite place. He sits on the small chair and watches the bustling city below him. Overwhelming is an understatement when it comes to the last couple weeks.

Falling into the future sounds like a work of fiction, yet it was his reality. Adjusting hasn’t been the easiest but he’s lucky to have Kate and Charlie and well, you. 

“Do you think I could have ever considered marrying the man who has ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of my beloved sister?” Leopold perks up at the sound of your voice. 

You’re Kate's neighbor, kind of. You live below her. Leopold has seen you a few times, mostly when you lock yourself out of your apartment and need to climb through Kate's fire escape. He knows you’re an actor like Charlie but in the day time you work at a coffee shop. 

You served him once or twice when he came to visit you. Your knowledge of theater is extensive and Leopold always had an interest in the stage so conversation came easy. You also loved movies, something he was completely unfamiliar with. He remembers your eyes lighting up at the very idea of showing him your favorite films. A soft smile across his face as he recalls your many movie nights. Though he didn’t quite understand every movie, he could care less when you were so passionate about each and every one of them.

“You arrogantly and unjustly maneuvered Mr. Bingley away from Jane. Can you deny it?” The dialogue catches his attention, you must be practicing for a show. He climbs down the fire escape to your apartment. 

“Your manner…Ugh!” You fall back onto your couch as you throw the sides onto the coffee table. 

“I’m never going to get this right.” You groan helplessly. 

“I thought you sounded lovely.” You let out a small scream as you hear another voice. Turning your head you see Leopold sitting on your fire escape. 

“Leo! What have I said about knocking?” 

“My apologies.” He climbs through the window and walks over to you. He looks at the pieces of paper and reaches down to pick it up. 

“Pride and Prejudice, I had no idea they turned this into a play.” He flips through some of the pages. He remembers reading the book and enjoying it quite a bit. 

“Have you gotten the part?” You scrunch your face as you shake your head. 

“No. Auditions are next week. I…” You hesitate to continue but he smiles softly and you cave instantly. 

“I wanted to audition for Elizabeth but a couple friends told me I’d probably be a better Charlotte.” 

Not that you had anything against the character and a part is a part no matter how small, but you wanted to play more than a side character. Leopold's brows furrow as he sets down the script. 

“Nonsense, do not listen to them. I think you would make a perfect Elizabeth.” He compliments sincerely. Of course you would, he thinks. You’d be perfect in any role. 

“Thanks.” Your eyes drift to the sides on the table. Leopold stands with his arms behind his back, even in casual clothing he radiates this aura unlike anything you’ve seen. 

“You know Leo,” You smile as an idea pops into your head. “I think you should audition too.” Picturing him as Mr. Darcy is easy. After he did his butter commercial, you realized he was a natural for acting and with his background, he’d be perfect for period pieces. Not to mention how handsome he is. You’re sure the director would be tripping over himself to get Leopold a role. Leopold seems uncertain at your suggestion. 

“Here,” You pick up the sides and hand him the one for Mr. Darcy. He skims over the lines and frowns. 

“I do not recognize this.” 

“Oh yeah, they’re from the movie. The director wanted to include his big monologue and the kiss.” You explain, making a mental note to show him the movie later. 

“I understand wanting to take creative liberties and all but…” Maybe he’s a stickler for the classics but he isn’t exactly fond of changing such a well written book. 

“Just give it a try.” He sighs and stands a bit taller. 

“You are too generous to trifle with me. I believe you spoke with my Aunt last night, and it has taught me to hope as I had scarcely allowed myself before.” He looks up from the script and you give him an encouraging smile. 

“If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me forever.” You want to melt under his gaze. It’s not fair how easily the words flow out of his mouth. How naturally charming he is. 

‘“If, however, your feelings have changed…” To your surprise he sets down the paper and walks closer to you, holding out his hand to you. Hesitantly you take his hand, unsure of where he was going with this. He pulls you up, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“I could, I would have to tell you, you have bewitched me body and soul,” His hand gently grabs your chin as he steps closer to you. You stand frozen in complete shock. The script is long forgotten, the pages having fallen from his hands. 

“And I love and love and love you. And never wish to be parted from you from this day on.” He finishes his monologue as a whisper. You part your lips but no words come out, wanting to hold onto this moment for longer. 

“I believe you mentioned a kiss,” He mumbles. 

“It’s uh, towards the end…” He hums and without another word he gently kisses you. 

Your eyes flutter closed as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips are so soft, so gentle yet so passionate. One of his hands snakes to your lower back, guiding you even closer to him. The kiss breaks and you’re left breathing heavily, smiles on both of your faces. 

“You’re really good at this. Maybe you should become an actor.” You say jokingly. He chuckles and brushes his thumb along your cheek. 

“I was not acting,” He admits. 

“You are truly, utterly, bewitching and If you were to accept, I would die a happy man.” Jesus, he knows how to talk. 

“I would be an idiot to say no to you.” You grab his face and crash your lips onto his. He steps back but quickly matches your fervor. 

“Join me for dinner tonight, so I can court you properly.” He says breathlessly, his face slightly flushed. 

“Properly? So you don’t normally kiss a girl before dinner?” You say teasingly. 

“No, But for the sake of theater, perhaps I can make an exception.” That’s as forward as you’ve ever seen from Leopold, an innocent smile on his face but a clear spark in his eyes. Smirking, you glance at the scattered pages on the ground. 

“Good, because I think we need to run the scene again and again.” 

[silverskyeline]

this pic is SO older leopold to me that it genuinely makes me emotional.

[newwavesylviaplath]

hey can anyone tell me what's up with my cat?? he doesn't normally act like this

[wolverinesprincess]

okay but a leopold x reader that’s set in his og timeline and it’s arranged marriage 💘💘💘💘

[pretty-little-mind33]

Miscellaneous Characters

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

main masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

~ REQUESTS OPEN ~

- Robbie Jennings - Angus Thongs and Perfect Snogging

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

- Drover - Australia

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

- Leopold Mountbatten - Kate and Leopold

coming soon…

[ashley-slashley]

Hugh Jackman characters and how I think they'd react to you making them listen to Frank Zappa.

Note: this is only like a very small list of characters.

Logan: glares at you and asks why do you like such bullshit music

Leopold: hyperventilates and has to sit in the corner for a while because he doesn't know how to deal with such explicit and absurd concepts casually being sung about

Gabriel Van Helsing: probably just confused by the shitposting, not really phased by it considering the weird shit he sees on a daily basis

The Drover: finds the dirty songs quite amusing

Eddie Alden: absolutely Vibing, especially to his dirtier songs

Roddy: y'know that part of Mars Attacks when everyone gets turned into skeletons and dies? Yeah, that's how he feels about it

[logaenhowlett]

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

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

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

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

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

MASTERLIST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See? He’s a sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t. I’m going out.”

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

“Better than this shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm not that drunk."

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

"Okay... "

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

"Night, Logan."

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

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

'Not that drunk' my ass. - L

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

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

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

"Nice hat."

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

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

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

"Thank you, by the way."

His eyebrows raise in confusion, "For what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The fuck you want me to do?"

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

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

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

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

“Logan?”

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

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

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

“It’s her loss anyway.”

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

“What’s with the eggs?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why don’t you join me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stops.

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

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

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

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

"The cookies... or us?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck off."

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

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

Laura: We are NOT calling it that.

[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!!!!

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[mushynka]

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

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

【Ｓｕｃｈ　Ａ　Ｄｒａｍａ　Ｑｕｅｅｎ

Ｐｒｉｎｃｅ？】

Sick Leopold Mountbatten x Caretaker fem. reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leopold sneezed once again.

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

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

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

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

[rosenclaws]

rainy days | Leopold Mountbatten x reader

summary: You run a small bookshop and expect a slow day when a storm rages through New York, until a very handsome stranger walks through your doors.

a/n: I watched Kate and Leopold and I am certifiably obsessed and totally normal. I apologize if any of his dialogue sounds off I'm not used to writing the way he talks. Anyways please indulge my new obsession and I hope you all like it!!

part 2

You sigh as you listen to the rain hit the windows of your little book shop. A hot cup of tea is sitting by your side as you flip through one of your books. You love your bookshop but today is definitely a slow one.

Though you do see people hustle past with their umbrellas, clutching their bags and dressed too nice for the rain. So for now you settle down for a quiet day. That is until the little bell rings, a sign someone has ventured through the storm to your little shop.

"Hello, Welcome in!" You say cheerfully as you look up from your book.

Your eyes widen as you see a man, a very handsome man, standing in the entrance way. His clothes soaked by the rain. Still he looks as put together as ever as he stands tall at your door. You notice the weird clothes he's wearing. It almost looks like a costume. His wet hair sticks to his forehead and you wonder how he got stuck out here without an umbrella.

"Forgive me, I am still unfamiliar with my surroundings and I appear to have gotten lost." You clock his accent immediately, a tourist perhaps? Though he smiled kindly you could tell he was confused.

"It's no problem, here come in." You hurry around the counter.

He silently shivers as he tries to stay away from the many books you have around your store. Fearing that he may ruin them with how much water was dripping off him.

"I have a few towels upstairs if you don't mind waiting." You offer, taking pity on the man.

"Not at all." He bows slightly as you leave the room which you think is a little weird but polite nonetheless. You grab a towel and rummage through your drawers before finding a pair of sweatpants and an old hoodie an ex boyfriend had left a while ago.

"Okay, I have a towel and some clothes that I think will fit you..." You trail off as you look up and see that he has taken off his jacket as well as his shirt.

Your brain short circuits for a moment as he turns around and it takes everything you have not to gawk like a creep. Water drips down his chest as he shakes his head to try and rid some of the water from his hair.

He meets your eyes and you both share a look. You can only hold his gaze for a moment before looking down at the ground, attempting to save yourself from any more embarrassment. You hand him the towel and clothes and gain the courage to look him in the eyes again.

"I apologize profusely, I did not hear you come down." He quickly grabs the clothes and you cough awkwardly, stealing a look at his bare chest.

"Bathroom is down the hall, you can change in there." He thanks you again and leaves you alone.

Oogling strangers isn't exactly polite or great for business but god was he handsome. Handsome and polite and an accent? It's almost too much. You hear a loud rumbling of thunder and watch the sky grow darker. Looks like the storm isn't going away anytime soon. You hear the bathroom door open again and you quickly try to busy yourself, choosing to go back to your book.

"I must apologize again, It was highly inappropriate for me to be," His neck turning a slight shade of red as he scratches the back of his head. The clothes fit him and it's almost a crime how nice he looks in a shirt and sweatpants.

"In such a state of undress."

"It's okay, you were probably freezing in those clothes so.." You smile warmly which he reciprocates.

"I truly appreciate your kindness." He glances around your shop, admiring the collection of books on your shelves.

"So, are you a tourist?"

"Oh, I have yet to introduce myself how rude. My name is Leopold, I grew in England but moved to New York." So that explains the accent, the ridiculously charming accent.

"Well Leopold, it's nice to meet you." You introduce yourself and hold out your hand. Instead of shaking it he takes it and kisses your knuckles. You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face.

"What a beautiful name, Is this your store?"

"Yeah, I bought it a couple years ago and well, I'm still here. All my friends think I'm crazy for opening a bookshop but I love it."

"Books are a wonderful thing, as a child I relied on books to occupy my time. Such intricate and beautiful worlds created from words on a page at the tips of our fingers. I think it's a very noble profession." He speaks so eloquently, his eyes filled with passion.

You rarely meet a man who has such an appreciation for books. He notices the book sitting on the desk.

"May I?" You nod your head and he picks up the book.

"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," He smiles fondly as he flips through the page.

"I picked up a copy myself when it released before I left England. I thought it was one of the most imaginative and fantastic stories I had ever read." He flips through the pages, admiring the colorful drawings that adorn your copy. Gently, he closes the book and sets it down.

"Though I must admit, I have a new found respect for the book myself." There's humor in his voice though you don't quite get the joke.

"When it came out?" You question. The book came out in the 1800's, unless he just means a new release.

"Yes, It was quite difficult to get my hands on one but I managed."

There's something more to this man for sure. Even the way he talks is unlike anything you've heard before. The pieces start to fit themselves together as you take notice of every oddity surrounding this man. The clothes, the way he speaks, claiming to have been 200 years ago.

"You're not from here are you Leopold? Like 21st century here " You ask, he seems surprised at your question. He's surprised that you aren't calling him a lunatic. He admires how quick you are to accept the unknown. It's admirable.

"Quite the perceptive one, smart and beautiful." He flashes a smile and you swear you almost melt on the spot. He doesn't deny your claim and it makes you want to know more.

"I must admit it is a long story but seeing as there appears to be no end to the rain, perhaps I could tell you." You lean on the counter and rest your chin on your hand. He mirrors you, his brown eyes not shying away from yours.

"Tea?" You ask playfully. He stands up and offers you his hand. A spark electrifies your whole body as your hands touch.

"It would be my honor."

[silverskyeline]

i'm so glad people are finally loving on leopold!!!!!! i neeeeeed to see him flustered by acts of affection so bad

im ngl anon im a little (a lot) extremely obsessed with leopold to the point where i have his picture in a locket i wear almost daily... <3 im normal i swear!! (on the other side of the locket is logan (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ )

and AUGGHHHHH yes oh my god, cause i bet he's maybe used to just like, kisses? but reader smooching his cheek and then his jawline and then neck, i just know he'd be a giggling mess... i NEED to write a drabble for this <3

[edablair]

Hi!! I'm edablair or just Eda★

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

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

✯⁠ Masterlist ✯⁠

★ — fluff ★ — smut

★ — things in my first language (Russian)

Leopold Mountbatten (Kate & Leopold)

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

Pheromone perfume (Leopold's reaction to pheromone perfume)

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

A little jealousy (yeah)

Logan Howlett (MCU X-Men)

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

Weight problem (fucking adamantiun)

Train of thought (to satisfy my ADHD nature)

Good and bad omens (you're fucking weirdo)

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

Cold season (fuck the winter, fuck the cold)

Uploading new writing...

[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 💕

[pretty-little-mind33]

requests - WIPs - about me - tag list - emojis - other blogs

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

on this blog i'll post writings for multiple fandoms depending on what mood I'm in lol (currently Marauders (james potter) and anything ATJ related lmao) or what inspires me! I'll also post recommendations for characters because it's super important to support other writers on here!

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

- MISCELLANEOUS CHARACTERS - including Robbie Jennings (ataps), Drover (australia), and Leopold Mountbatten (kate and leopold)

- JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST - Harry Potter/Marauders era

(here are some James Potter/Marauders Era writers I really recommend = @moonstruckme, @ellecdc, and @ddejavvu)

- POLY MARAUDERS MASTERLIST - Harry Potter/Marauders era

- TANGERINE MASTERLIST - Bullet Train

(here are some of my absolute favorite Tangerine/Bullet Train writers = @little-miss-dilf-lover and @msmk11! They're amazing!)

- COUNT VRONSKY MASTERLIST - Anna Karenina 2012

- SERGEI KRAVINOFF MASTERLIST - Kraven The Hunter

- DAVE LIZEWSKI MASTERLIST - Kick Ass

- PIETRO MAXIMOFF MASTERLIST - Avengers Age of Ultron

- TOM RYDER MASTERLIST - The Fall Guy - LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST - X-Men

ps: aesthetic pictures on moodboards DO NOT reflect y/n's descriptions! no physical descriptions of y/n are given at any point unless stated in the warnings! i always want to make sure my y/n's can be of any race/ethnicity/size as we humans are all beautifully different and amazing!!

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