Leonardo Request: He And Mc Break Up (he Breaks Up With Her So She Will Go Back To Her Time And She Does),

Leonardo request: he and mc break up (he breaks up with her so she will go back to her time and she does), and now it is her time and she runs into him after she has been back in her time for a while and he has lived through the years until he has finally caught up with her

if it is a happy reunion or painful because she is with someone, I leave up to you!

A/N: Here you go, lovely Bellerose. Thank you for your request!

Leonardo x female Reader

I had to pick a hair color for the reader in this, which I usually don't, so I apologize if that bothers anyone.

Word Count: 3157

You would think there is nothing that can rival the beauty of a moonlit lake, a sky littered with silvery stars, the soft whisper of grass as it's ruffled by a gentle wind. But the enchanting scene surrounding you is nothing compared to the glow of Leonardo’s golden eyes, the softness in his smile, the feel of his hands as they hold yours. His gaze lights a warmth inside you that spreads slowly like honey, sweet and delicious. He leans down and you rise to meet him, lips already parted in anticipation. 

It is not what you imagined. 

It is so much more. 

He tastes vaguely smoky, evoking the comfort of a fire on a cold night. And sweet, but not excessively so. More like chocolate and hazelnuts, rich and earthy and absolutely decadent. As he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to the shelter of his body, you find another word to describe what kissing him feels like: home.

Leonardo extends his hand, helping you up into the carriage. The door closes and soon you are rolling over the uneven cobblestone streets, away from the concert hall. He’s tucked you under the protection of his arm, unable to resist the urge to hold you close. Even at night, when you are curled up in his bed, he needs to touch you. Maybe it’s only his ankle over yours or his hand on your back, but you are his lifeline to finding joy in the endless, weary march of time and he wants every single moment possible to be filled with you. 

Your sigh pulls him out of his reverie and he turns to look at you. Your sparkling diamond earrings swing gently with the swaying of the carriage as you look out the window and at the darkened city that rolls by outside of it. 

“Cara mia? Is everything ok?”

It takes you a moment to tear your gaze away from the glass, shaking your head as if clearing away cobwebs. 

“I’m fine. It’s just….” You trail off and he frowns slightly, nudging you with his lips to your temple.

“It’s just?”

He feels the way you sigh again, with your whole body, a wave passing from you to him. Whatever you’re feeling weighs on you heavily.

“The song Mozart played. ‘Sonata facile.’ My mother taught me to play that on the piano. And she knew it because her mother taught her. And I just always thought….” You lift your shoulder in a small shrug, glancing at the darkness through the window again. “I just thought I would teach it to my children someday.”

His heart feels like it's been dropped with sudden speed into a frozen lake, splintering as it crashes through the ice. Grateful you’re not facing him, he takes a moment to compose himself before speaking, his tone deceptively casual. “Children were a part of the plan then, yeah?”

Your earrings swing, glittering even as you speak in a quiet voice, hushed like dusk as it settles across the sky. “I was an only child with parents that were often away on business. That could be….lonely, sometimes. So I promised myself that I would have lots of children so there would always be noise in the house. And so they would always have someone to play with.” 

It is impossible for him to miss the flash of sadness that crosses your features, subtle like lightning too distant to be bright but unmistakable nonetheless. Long fingers of cold wrap themselves around his heart. What you have dreamed of for yourself is something he cannot give you. Something he will never be able to give you.

Even as you sigh again, nestling closer to him, resting your sweet cheek against his shoulder, he can’t shake it. 

And spends the rest of the carriage ride avoiding the sight of the darkness outside the window. 

The dishrag hits the marble counter with a satisfying whack. Untying your apron, you bid Sebastian a good night as you make your way out of the kitchen, your steps hurried as you make your way towards Leonardo’s room. Worry had been gnawing at you ever since you returned home from the concert last night. 

He had been unusually quiet, almost distracted in a way you were not familiar with from him. You asked him to unhook your gown and there was no provocative curve of his lips, no low sensuous murmuring. He had simply undone your gown and then proceeded to undress himself, the motions perfunctory, almost careless. It was only when you had joined him in bed after removing your jewelry and unpinning your hair, when you had slid your arms around him and pulled him to you, stretching yourself under him like a cat in its favorite patch of sunshine, that he returned to you, lowering his head to claim your lips, his hands coming to life as they slid their way over the curve of your hips, across the span of your ribcage before finally sliding up into the expanse of your soft auburn hair.

And even then, when he made love to you, it had felt….different. He was slow, exploring the entire expanse of your body, deliberately lingering, as if committing every part of it to memory. True, you had only been intimate a handful of times, but the times before this were electric, your body feeling like it might overload and burst like lightning, illuminating the whole mansion with the force of your radiance. But last night you were embers, glowing with the warmth of his slow, tender attention. And when it was over, you lay with your cheek against his heart, its steady rhythm lulling you to sleep.

He’s not in his room. Or the library. Or the dining room. Or the salon. You pause at the bottom of the staircase, wondering if you should go knocking on the doors of some of the other residents when Arthur approaches, a cup of coffee in one hand and a piece of dark fudge in the other.

“Hello luv. A bit late to be wandering ‘bout the place all alone. I’d offer you my company but….” His blue eyes are alight with mischief. “I’m afraid ol’ Leo might not be pleased with it.”

“Do you happen to know where he is? I’ve been looking everywhere for him.”

Arthur pauses, already a few steps up and gestures with the fudge to the top of the stairs. “Last I saw him he was visiting Comte.”

You thank him, pass him on the stairs and hurry towards the sitting room Comte uses on this floor. Your knocking gets no answer so you boldly enter. It’s empty. Disappointment shadows your heart and you are about to leave when you notice the door to the small balcony is open. 

He’s there, alone, forearms resting on the smooth stone of the balcony railing, a lit cigarillo between his fingers. The balcony faces the mansion’s gardens and he’s staring intently out into the dark as if he might be able to find some answers there.

“Leo?”

He turns, startled and then breathes out when he sees it’s you. “Cara mia.”

Frowning, you make your way to his side. “Is everything ok?”

He is silent, wrestling with a decision he needs to make. You wait, letting him battle it out internally, watching the thin plume of smoke from his cigarillo as it rises, twisting and turning as if anxious and unsettled.

“The door to your time will be opening again in two days. Maybe…..you should use it.”

His words are so unexpected you wonder for a moment if you understood them.

“What……why would you say that?” 

You can hear the tremor in your voice, the aftershock of his suggestion jolting you.

His jaw clenches, his gaze still searching the dark and silent gardens.

“Maybe you would be happier there. Could live the life you always dreamed for yourself. See your family again. Your hometown. There are a thousand reasons.”

You reach out, placing a firm hand on his arm. “And one very big, very stubborn one right here.” His breath shudders from his body as you pull, forcing him to turn towards you. “I made a commitment to you, Leonardo. We discussed this. I’m staying.”

He tosses his cigarillo over the railing, its small glow swallowed by the night. When he finally meets your gaze, the conflict in his beautiful eyes makes your heart ache. “Cara mia…..I cannot give you a family. I cannot promise you safety. I-”

Your hands reach up to cup his face, your grip determined. This is no time for gentleness. He needs to understand. You speak slowly, each word carefully weighed and measured.

“I want to stay with the wonderful, funny, intelligent, kind man that I have fallen in love with. For as long as I can. And there is nothing that can change my mind.”

He holds your gaze as you hold your breath, waiting. Finally he nods and you echo his gesture, nodding back in response. “Ok….” you whisper. “We’re ok.” You step into the circle of his arms, burying your face in the soft, rich fabric of his clothing. 

He holds you close, but his eyes remain open, once again returning to the impenetrable darkness of the gardens.

The next day he’s gone again but you try to keep yourself busy and ignore the uneasy feeling that keeps scratching at your heart. The sun sinks to its rest and the moon rises, cold and pale among its nest of stars, and still there is no Leonardo. No other residents have seen him and worry flashes in Comte’s golden eyes when you ask if he knows where Leo has been all day.

Your thoughts are heavy, each one hammering a different worry in your mind as you make your way up the stairs and to his room. He’s bound to come back from wherever he is and then you’ll be waiting.

It’s far into early morning when Leonardo returns, pushing his way through his bedroom door and stumbling inside. You sit up in bed instantly, sleep having only caressed you and never quite fully taken over.

“Where have you been?” You can’t keep the frustration out of your voice or block the sound of your thrashing heart in your ears. “I’ve been worried!”

His movements are slow, radiating something unusual. Something that slowly begins twisting your stomach into an uncomfortable knot. 

“A man can go out, yeah? Without a thousand questions.”

His voice is thick, perhaps with drink, perhaps with something else. Either way it sends a cold shudder through you as you slide out of bed.

“Leonardo…..what’s going on? This isn’t like you.”

He turns, his eyes liquid amber, unnaturally bright in the soft orange light of the lamp you left burning low.

“Then maybe you don’t know me as well as you think. Maybe I’m not the warm, intelligent, kind man you have fooled yourself into believing I am.”

Hearing your own words thrown back at you like daggers nearly sends you staggering back to the bed. A hand reflexively rises to cover your heart as if you had really been pierced by some wicked blade.

“That’s not possible. I know you. I know who you are and–”

He growls, closing the distance between you quicker than you can draw a breath. He does not lay a hand on you, instead pinning you in place with the force of his heated glare.

“I am a pureblood.” His voice is low, the words dragging over your heart like plow teeth across the earth. “I am eternal. You are a minute, yeah? A second in an endless succession of days and nights. A blink of an eye.” Your lips part but before you can even see if you are capable of sound, he continues. “I am dangerous.”

“You would never hurt me.” The words slip out, small and unsteady, but born of the conviction that still lives in your aching heart.

His eyes close a moment, freeing you from the pain of his excruciating glare. And then with a snap of his head, his fangs protract and he growls, the sound more primal than anything you’ve ever heard from him. A primordial fear skitters down your spine, sends goosebumps across your skin. He’s changed the framework from lovers, to something much more sinister: predator and prey.

“Get out.” 

You don’t know if you sob or if you simply turn and run. The way back to your own room is a blur of shadows. It is only when you have closed your door, have turned the key in its lock, that your legs turn to water and you sink to the carpet, your breath coming in uneven, painful gasps.

He has never threatened you before. You never thought he would.

Now the only sound you hear is the cracking of your heart as it splinters into a thousand tiny pieces.

The next day, when the door to your world opens, you walk through it.

He is not there to say goodbye.

Epilogue:  21st century London

The vintage bookstore is a popular one. Some people are milling about the coffee bar, deciding how they want their caffeine intake today. A handful of children are sitting on large, oversized bean bags, excitedly flipping through colorful books. There is a low buzz of people’s talking, an undercurrent of appreciation for stories and writing and reading that he is happy to be around. He is somewhere between the New Releases and Staff Favourites bookshelves, thumbing his way through a copy of “Love in the Time of Cholera”, when the small bell above the bookstore chimes, announcing another patron exiting or entering. He still doesn’t know what exactly caused him to lift his gaze from the page. Perhaps the hand of Fate caught his chin and pulled. 

He is not prepared for the sight of you. He has not seen you in over one hundred and thirty years. But now, as if by magic, there you are. For the first time in a century his heart leaps with emotion, hurriedly and haphazardly clearing away the cobwebs of loneliness that had settled there, delicate yet incessant. He steps behind the bookshelf, forcing his eyes closed. They want nothing more than to drink in the sight of you, an oasis in the desert of desolation he himself had created when he pushed you away that nightmarish evening.

The one where he had made the decision that he would not destroy your dreams by selfishly keeping you all for himself, robbing you of the chance to build the life you imagined for yourself.

So he did what he deemed necessary to make you leave.

You had stepped through the door that led back, your heart broken. And he had been the one swinging the hammer.

Time is a merciless teacher. Its harshest lessons were taught in the black heart of night, that gaping pit of time when no one could hear the rattling sound of his remorse, the anguished cries of regret. It was then, before the relief of morning’s pale light, that he understood what he had done. While he had, at the time, seen his intentions as noble, all he had truly accomplished was to destroy the chance at happiness you had been so freely and adamantly offering him. 

He breathes out slowly.

He has been given a chance. A gift. He must not squander it.

His golden eyes open and he peers around the bookshelf. You look the way he remembers. A bit older, maybe, but it's the same face that has visited his dreams countless times, the one he has kissed every angle of and traced with devout fingertips. 

The cold of a London winter has left your cheeks tinged pink, your hair dotted with tiny snowflakes that are slowly melting, glistening even in the book store’s artificial light. You look enchanting, like a fairy tale character from one of the children’s books on display. 

A knot has formed in his throat and he swallows against it, trying to ignore the twisting of his stomach and the roaring of his heartbeat. Leonardo da Vinci, for the first time in centuries, is nervous.

He’s about to step forward, to say the name that hasn’t crossed his lips in ages except for anguished whispers in his sleep, when something brushes past him, lightly bumping into his leg, and then haphazardly carrying on, barreling forward towards its destination.

“Mummy!!”

You turn and your face is alight, as bright and warm as summer. Dropping down, you open your arms and catch the cannonball of a little girl, pulling her close to you.

A man with a sleeping baby strapped to his chest brushes past Leonardo, offering a polite “Pardon me” before he stops in front of you, his shoulders dropping in relief.

“I’m sorry, darling. She saw you and took off like a shot.” He sounds slightly exasperated as he approaches you and his wayward daughter who has now thrown her small arms around your neck.

She has your soft auburn hair and bright, intelligent eyes. 

Leonardo’s heart is quietly crumbling in his chest.

You stand, lifting the little girl up along with you, much to her delight. “Did you find a book for the plane ride, Cara?”

This is what he wanted for you. So why does it hurt so much?

She nods, brushing her hair away from her face enthusiastically. “Yes!” She turns. “Show her, Daddy.” Your husband smiles, his warm golden-brown eyes softening at the sight of you two. One hand absently pats the soft baby carrier and its sleeping passenger while the other holds out the book. Your daughter reaches over, taking it.

Your husband looks a bit like him. Same brown hair, same golden eyes. Leo’s heart continues to break.

“Oh, a children’s guide to the most famous paintings in the world. What a good choice.” You slowly set her down and she reaches for your hand. 

“It has all the best ones in it, Mummy. Including your very favorite, the Mona Lisa!”

There is now nothing but dust.

You smile, running a hand over her hair. “I can’t wait to look at it with you.” 

As you wait in line to pay for the book, the small bell above the bookstore chimes, announcing another patron exiting or entering. You don’t know why you glance up toward the door. There’s nothing to see except the receding figure of a man in a long brown duster as he crosses the street, arm raised to hail a taxi.

Your gaze lingers, inexplicably drawn to him, until your daughter tugs on your hand. 

“Mummy?”

Jolted back to the present, you shake your head to clear the strange, momentary fog, offering the woman at the register an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry. How much for the book?”

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @kissmetwicekissmedeadly

Blog Update!

Hello friends! Nice to talk to you again. I hope you have all been having a safe and healthy year!

This will be a quick update of things coming up on the blog. I apologize I haven't been as active in the past few weeks, I have been feeling rather off-color, but plotting this roadmap is giving me a clear goal to work towards moving ahead.

2 New Stories

Some of you may recall I teased 2 multi-chaptered fics back in September. I'm happy to announce that they are now each fully plotted and raring to go! They just need to be written. I have posted the chapter lists for them if you'd like to catch a sneak peek!

First of Many ◆◆ Three's a Crowd

They have each been a long time coming, and I worried that they would be too similar as they both focus on the same characters (Jin, Chevalier, and Clavis), but I wanted to deliver on the results of the polling I did last year. I hope you'll all look forward to them! The first chapters are being written now!

Tag List

I will be mostly focusing on those two fics in the coming months, however I do have some shorter one-shots in the works as well. I understand multi-chaptered fics aren't everyone's cup of tea, so if you would like to be removed from my tag list, please feel free to leave me a comment here or via DM.

Alternatively, if you'd like to be added on the adventure, also send me a comment here or via DM, and welcome aboard!

Requests

September was also when I last opened my ask box to fic requests. As a thank you to all the kindness and support you have shown me, I will be opening requests again for a small writing event next week.

I'll be posting details on this soon, so keep an eye out if you're interested!

That's all for now. Best wishes for all your future endeavors and I hope you all have a lovely rest of the day!

Keep rocking on!

- Scorchie

Alfons Sylvatica

☆ put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs. It's time to spread positivity.

=^.^=🐅

Mary Ellen🥺💖🌹 Thank you so so much and right back at you🥺💞

Sending you many hugs and a flowery, blushy Clavis🥺😌💖

☆ put this star into the inbox of your favourite blogs. it’s time to spread positivity.

(To the fella who spreads positivity everywhere she goes)

Scorchie🥺💖💗💞 Thank you so much for the kind message 😭 You do exactly the same with your creations 😌

Hi there I hope not to bother I wanted to request something like that, how Leon, Luke, Chevalier, Clavis, hope they are not too much, would react with a MC that know and use more than one language, easily sliding from one to the other, Please take your time and take care Have a wonderful day :D

A/N: Here you are lovely Julie 💜

Word Count: 1361

Leon

You’ve snuck into town to enjoy a day away from the scrutiny of the palace. Now you and Leon stroll through the town hand-in-hand under a cloudy sky, the hoods of your cloaks obscuring your faces. He’s talking, his voice bright with laughter as he recalls a story from one of his first times sneaking out. You adjust your grip on his hand, grinning back at him as you round a corner and then you both stop, surprised by the brightly colored poster plastered on the side of the flower shop. A traveling circus judging by the illustrations but the words on the poster are not the language of Rhodolite.

Leon pauses, his handsome face drawn in a frown as he rubs his chin with his free hand. “I wonder what-”

You begin reading the words out loud, the sentences flowing effortlessly from your lips. None of the odd vowels trip you up because you fell in love with the musical sound of this language when you were small and decided determinedly you would decipher its secrets. You devoured music and books until you could speak it as well as your own native tongue. 

And now Leon stares, his eyes the sunshine the sky is missing as he listens to you. You pause, then begin translating what you just read. When you’re finished, there is silence and you pull your gaze away from the bright poster to look at him and what you see makes your heart stumble: wonder and respect twined together in expression of absolute love. He laughs softly, a short huff of air and slight shake of the head, before leaning down.

“God, I love you,” he whispers roughly before winding an arm around your waist and kissing you with a tenderness born of his admiration for you.

Luke

You find him in the palace kitchen after hours, when the shadows of dusk are creeping into corners and the light through the windows has faded from warm yellow to pale lavender-blue. Luke is sitting at a wooden table in the corner by the still-warm stove, flipping through a recipe book with an expression of dismay.

Pilfering a vanilla cookie from the ceramic jar on the counter, you slide into the chair next to him. You snap the crunchy treat in half, offering him one and he sighs, taking it and biting despondently.

“What’s wrong?”

“Cook was gifted this recipe book from a merchant travelling from Iolite, but no one here can read it. And look.” He points with a long finger at the pictures on the pages he’s been mooning over: They are clearly from some kind of honey cake recipe but all the text is written in Iolitian. 

You glance at him, then back to the book and then begin reading. “Hmm….you need brown sugar, cold, unsalted butter, and….hmm…vanilla bean paste and–” 

“You can read this?!” He cuts you off, his moss green eyes wide with surprise. You nod, a slow smile spreading across your lips. “I taught myself Iolitian when the bookstore was having a slow day. I never thought it might come in handy but-”

You’re cut off again but this time it’s because you are being wrapped in the biggest, warmest bear hug you've ever experienced. Your smile softens as you hug him back. It takes so little to make him so happy….and you’re grateful you have the chance to see the bright light of joy illuminate those soft springtime eyes. 

“So what do you say? Up for a little evening baking?”

Chevalier

You scan the library shelves, your fingers walking their way lightly along the leather-embossed spines of the books, wandering over the soft ridges, hoping to find the one that just screams “Read me tonight!” So engrossed are you in all the titles that you miss when the door opens and Chevalier enters.

He already has a book in his hand which he returns to exactly the right spot on the shelf. You feel the way he is ignoring you, the force of his disregard for you rolling through the room like waves in an ocean. You grit your teeth and ignore him right back, dropping down to read the titles of the books further down the bookshelf. 

Blue eyes, annoyed by your sudden movement, narrow and he turns his head. He watches the way you are intently reading the titles and one royal brow lifts. “Those are all foreign language books. I doubt you have need of them.”

Oh, his tone does things to you. The words roll across your skin, catching like little burrs. You reach for the first book in front of you, an epic poem written in the native language of Benitoite. Pointedly you rise, march over to a nearby table and sit, opening the book. Perhaps a tad dramatically.

He turns and then addresses you in perfect Benitoitian. Clearly he believes you've just grabbed any book at random and are pretending to read it in order to prove him wrong. But he knows nothing of your education. And of your passion for language. You straighten your spine, turn, and answer him in the same language. Your accent flawless, your pronunciation perfect. 

And you are rewarded by something as rare as the moon eclipsing the sun: surprise flashes for a moment in the depths of Chevalier’s sky-colored eyes. And suddenly your heart begins beating harder. And you want to see it again. So you switch, asking him "Would you prefer to speak in this tongue?" this time in the native tongue of Obsidian. And you ask him the same question again in Iolitian. And Tanzanitian. And Tourmaline.

You could go on but he raises his hand, stopping you. His gaze holds yours and now your heart is practically thundering in your chest because what you see those blue depths now isn’t surprise….but interest.

Clavis

A hand settles on your shoulder and a handsome, curious face is suddenly next to yours. “What has captured your attention so thoroughly when I am in the room?” You laugh, reaching up with one hand to affectionately cup his cheek. “I’m reading about the linguistic history of this area.” You point at the page you are on which has a list of all the different languages historically spoken throughout the kingdom as well as its neighbors and examples of how to say “hello” in all of them. He begins reading them out loud and finds himself stumbling when he gets to the language spoken in many parts of Obsidian.

You helpfully correct him and he blinks, brows raised in surprise as he stares at you. “Wait….you speak Obsidian?”

Nodding, you see delight suddenly sparking within the depths of his golden eyes. “Can you say…..’Clavis is amazing’.” Now you laugh, and repeat it back to him in Obsidian. His grin grows as he reaches for both your hands, pulling you up and away from your desk.

“And now can you say…..’Clavis is the most wonderful man in the entire kingdom’?” Your fingers interlock with his as you look up into the face you love so much and repeat it back to him, slowly, speaking ever so slightly below your normal register. A faint pink colors his cheeks as he listens to your voice, the one he is so familiar with, the one he dreams about, suddenly producing new sounds, sounds that twist and turn in ways he doesn’t know, can’t expect. His heart begins a heavier, excited beat in his chest.

“Can you…..” He gently pulls your locked hands closer, escaping your grip in order to slide his arms around your waist and pressing you close to him. “Say…..’Clavis….’ His head dips, his forehead touching yours, eyes glowing like golden stars. “....’I love you….’?” 

Your heartbeat echoes his, drumming loudly in your ears. Your gazes lock and you feel a cascade of sparks tumble down your spine, igniting something warm and exciting inside. When you speak, it’s in a soft, almost breathless voice. “Ich liebe dich, Clavis Lelouch. Ich brauche dich. Ich will dich…..”

His kiss stops the flow of Obsidian and as he lifts you into his arms, striding towards your bed, you understand that while spoken language is important, there are some things that require no words at all.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart