#proposal au

(Context: a la The Proposal, Engie n Spy are getting fake married for citizenship, like in The Proposal, the duo has to tell Engie's family abt. the marriage)

Summary: Leona is allowed to marry whomever he wants. And he wants to marry you.

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Drabble

Word Count: 928

Warning: Leona is OOC but I don't care

Masterlist

It reminds him of too many things. It reminds him of manhunts and abandoned sheds, and no one on the other side of the line. It reminds him of cold, clammy hands, of hunger, of fear. Breaking bones and eldritch horrors he’d thought existed solely in cheap movies, not in real life, until he was brutally made aware of the fact that when people say everything’s possible, everything is possible.

Every time someone doesn’t answer the phone when he calls, panic starts to boil inside his veins and his brain immediately makes at least a dozen painful scenarios for him to dwell on. He knows that technically, they just don’t know that it’s him. But it doesn’t make him worry any less, so everyone’s learned to respect the rule. They just have to pick up. No matter what. Or he’ll freak out, drop everything he’s doing and come unexpectedly to check if everything’s alright.

There hasn’t been a single situation when things were actually bad—people go get groceries, take solid, deep naps, or they’re simply too lazy to pick up sometimes—but he always does that. Always.

Especially if it’s Steve who doesn’t answer. What if he fell? Or someone mugged him? Or he got into a fight? This brain can’t take any more damage. What if he’s in the hospital now, waiting to be anesthetized before surgery, and no one’s called Eddie yet, because to society they’re just some dudes living together?

There are too many options. Eddie doesn’t like taking chances anymore, so he slaps the “I’ll be back in a few” sign on the door, closes the shop and speeds through the town like he has nothing to lose. (And it’s quite stupid, because he has too many things to lose now—but he’s allowed to freak out once in a while.)

When he gets there and sees Steve pacing and gesturing animatedly in front of the window of their tiny but awfully cluttered kitchen, he finds out exactly what it means to have the whole world on your shoulders. Or, rather, to be finally freed from the pressure it creates.

It’s okay. It’s just a stupid phone call. It wasn’t even important, anyway.

Despite that, he takes his helmet off. Won’t hurt to remind Steve of the rule. And maybe kiss his pretty face a little while he’s here.

smosh moodboards: ian hecox/anthony padilla (proposal au)

we'll be holding hands once again / all our broken plans i will mend / i will hold you tight so you know / it is love, from the first time i pressed my hand into yours / thinking, oh, is it love?

oh, it is love - hellogoodbye

ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴇᴡɪꜱ ʜᴀᴍɪʟᴛᴏɴ ᴀᴜ | ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀ + ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀʏ

⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:

ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ

ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏᴜꜱ ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ

ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴄʏ

ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

When Lewis closed the distance between Monaco and London, he felt the weight of their journey together settle around him like a warm, familiar cloak. Over the course of one year and four months, the relationship between Lewis and (Y/n) morphed from tender beginnings into a partnership defined by depth, respect, and unhurried evolution. Their time apart had been invested in understanding each other, understanding the demands of high-performance racing and the call of an artistic heart. They had learned each other’s languages of love, solace, patience, and honesty.

It was in that quiet strength that Lewis found the courage to begin another chapter of their story.

He decided to propose. Not with a grand, public spectacle, though the world knew him fair for such acts, but with something deeply personal, bespoke and meaningful. He had spent months learning from those who knew her best—the small, intimate details that matter most in moments meant for a lifetime.

He found the perfect stone. She loved aquamarine for its clear-blue shimmer, reminiscent of calm seas and open skies, the same shade as her eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses. He worked in secret with a jeweler whose name he sourced from old gossip he’d once overheard at fashion events: a discreet artist who once had made rings for those closest to royal lineage, specializing in vintage gold that had depth beyond sparkle. He gave clear instructions over dinners and late-night calls: “I want something classic, but with a twist. Something she can wear every day and every year.”

He also knew he needed her family’s blessing. So, during one of his breaks, he flew to London. (Y/n) thought it was simply to spend time with his siblings, whom she’d met several times before. He had already introduced her to his younger brother Nicolas, his older half-sister Nicola, and Samantha. The introductions had warmed into evenings spent cooking together in his flat, sharing music, laughter, and stories. They adored her instantly. Every lunch with Nicolas felt like a gentle affirmation, but this time when Lewis sat them down over tea, it held a heavier purpose.

“I want to ask her to marry me,” he said. The words were quiet, earnest, threaded with emotion he rarely voiced.

They already knew. Samantha had wiped tears. Nicolas’s voice cracked when he offered his words of approval. Nicola clasped Lewis’s hands between both of hers. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With that, the ring was ready.

During the final weekend before he raced again, he arranged a private dinner in Monaco at a secluded estate overlooking the harbor. She thought the weekend was an escape—just them, a low-key dinner, no cameras, just food, laughter, live music. But after dessert, Lewis rose from the table and guided her to the edge of the terrace.

Their lantern-lit shadows stretched long across polished stone. He took her hand, unwrapped a small box, and opened it to reveal the aquamarine ring cradled in cream velvet.

“(Y/n),” he began, voice steady but soft, “these past months with you have been the most genuine, honest chapter of my life. When I look at you, I don’t see a partner or a supporter or a friend only, but someone who has taught me to soften, to listen, to hold space. You are my peace when everything is racing, and my strength when I doubt. Will you marry me?”

She stared at him as tears welled in her eyes. He didn’t rush. He simply waited, heart pounding, voice silent. Then she nodded, that small tilt becoming a jubilant decision. She reached up, pulling him to her, kissing him like an answer no words could surpass. “Yes,” she whispered into his suit.

He slid the ring onto her finger. It caught the lantern light like a drop of sky.

The next months were spent planning an event worthy of a union that had already transformed both their lives.

By the sixth month of the off-season, the day had arrived.

They’d chosen Westminster Cathedral—a historic church known for its royal connections, marble arches, and echoing lofts—that held grace worthy of their promise. Their wedding would be a celebration of elegance and stones carefully placed in time.

(Y/n)’s dress was custom-made in Paris, a rare take on tradition. Ivory silk satin with a scooped neckline that dipped only slightly, with lace panels at the sides for subtle texture, and an attached cape flowing from shoulder to floor like a promise of flight. Around her neck, a delicate pendant: another aquamarine encircled by gold, a daytime nod to the ring she’d been wearing for weeks.

Lewis wore a tailored tuxedo by Savile Row’s finest, charcoal-black with a satin peak lapel, matching her warmth and devotion. Under his breast pocket was the coordinating aquamarine, a small starburst pin they’d both smiled over in an earlier moment of reflection.

On the morning of the wedding, sunlight filtered into a hushed suite where laughter and nerves braided themselves into one. Bridesmaids tidied skirts and fixed folds. Lewis’s father smiled as he helped straighten the collar. (Y/n) and her mother shared a moment where nothing else existed but memory and pride.

The procession through Westminster’s halls felt surreal—royal tapestries draping the walls, candles shimmering, the scent of florals drifting along the aisles. Guests included their families, friends from F1’s grid, well-known artists (some of whom had performed that night), and a few courtiers from the British Royal Family.

They sat two rows behind, discreetly observing, their presence a quiet blessing.

The officiant, a longtime family friend turned clergy, spoke with sincerity about partnership, trust, and evolving love. Lewis and (Y/n) exchanged vows they’d written themselves. Hers was for compassion and slow alchemy. His bore reflection of promises to stand behind her, beside her, with faith that love could only deepen with effort and grace.

When they said “I do,” the church exhaled. A choir sung Panis Angelicus, voices weaving with organ and the hush of everyone present.

The first kiss as husband and wife brought tears and cheers. Confetti swirled at the steps. Photographers captured moments, her dress silhouette against ancient stone; Lewis’s smile when he lifted her off her feet in celebration.

The evening reception spilled into the cathedral’s courtyard. A white marquee stood by twinkling lanterns and a live string quartet. Tables set in gardens lined with roses. The menu featured heirloom-inspired dishes, the same salmon he first made for her, paired with London-based vineyard’s chardonnay.

Dancing came later—father-daughter waltz, then couples swirling beneath the night sky. Every table raised glasses as Lewis toasted: “To love—that grows, expands, and becomes something bigger than us.” Her mother sang softly into her ear as they danced a slow number.

Conversations flowed. Lewis’s friends from F1 spoke with her about sportsmanship; hers spoke with his about drive and strategy. They discovered they aligned across worlds.

The highlight came when a famous soul singer, friend of Lewis, struck a chord and sang Stand by Me, eyes glimmering in candlelight. It was a gift he’d arranged. The night continued with shared fingers, champagne bubbles, countless smiles.

Morning came quietly. But not before their honeymoon.

They flew away the next day—on Lewis’s private jet, bound for an undisclosed private island far from Europe. For nearly ten days, they explored the meaning of togetherness. Days blurred into soft mornings in their lagoon villa, sunlight filtering through bamboo curtains. Evenings drifted into slow candlelit dinners on the shore, water lapping in rhythm beneath them.

There were nights of intense, raw love—bodies tangled, breaths mingling, insecurities forgotten. Others were tender—fingers tracing the curve of a jaw, lips stealing kisses between sleepy “I love yous.” They didn’t think of time or the next race or board meeting or gallery opening. They just existed in one another.

They forwent protection not from recklessness, but from trust, the trust they had grown since that first Monaco meeting, the trust nurtured through distance and quiet partnership, the trust only age and intention have the capacity to forge.

Every sunrise found them closer, softer, more aligned. The sea gave them peace. The night reawakened their connection.

On their final morning, they walked hand in hand along the shore as the smoke of dawn rose above the water. Their footprints marked the sand, and carried them forward.

Turning to face him, (Y/n) pressed her hand to the aquamarine ring, tears in her eyes. “We did it,” she murmured.

“We did,” he replied. “And we’ll keep doing it.”

They kissed again beneath the sky’s gilding, knowing full well that this chapter had only just ended, but everything that followed promised to be theirs.

To be continued...❤️

🕶️ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʟᴀᴘꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʟɪꜰᴇᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 13: ᴄᴀʀʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ🕶️

"WHY ARE YOU WET?!!?"

Sirius awoke to sunlight streaming through the curtains, illuminating the room in warm hues. He stretched lazily, a smile creeping onto his face as he turned to see Remus nestled in his arms, a peaceful expression on his face, the locket Sirius had gifted him for their one year anniversary when they were dating glinting in the sunlight peaking through the curtains. He smiled. Remus hadn’t taken it off ever since Sirius helped him put it on. Today was Sirius’ birthday, and he couldn’t wait to see what Remus had planned.

“Morning, baby,” Sirius said into his ears, his voice still heavy with sleep.

Remus stirred, a sleepy smile blooming. “Happy birthday, love.” He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Sirius’s lips. “I hope you’re ready for a day full of surprises,” he said as Sirius chased after his lips for more kisses.

“Surprises, you say?” Sirius raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “What kind of surprises?” What kind of surprises indeed.

“Oh, just a few little things,” Remus replied yawning , his eyes twinkling mischievously. “But first, breakfast.” He twisted himself out of Sirius’ arms as Sirius tried to hold onto him more tightly,hopped out of bed and began bustling about the small kitchen, rummaging through cabinets and clattering pots.

Sirius got up and watched, his heart swelling with affection. Remus had a way of turning the simplest moments into something magical. “You know, I could get used to being spoiled like this,” he teased, leaning against the doorframe, stretching an arm above his head, causing his shirt to rise.

Remus turned, a smirk on his face. “Just wait until you see what I have planned. But you’ll have to do a little scavenger hunt first.”

“Scavenger hunt? You’re really pulling out all the stops this year, aren’t you? ” Sirius chuckled, already intrigued. Remus turned and handed him a small envelope, gave him a small peck on the lips, then went back to bustling around the kitchen.

“Read it.”

Sirius opened the note, his eyes scanning the first clue: “Where we first met, beneath the moonlight’s glow, find your next surprise where the wildflowers grow.”

“Ah, the lake!” Sirius exclaimed, setting off with a grin.

“ Wait what about breakfast?!” , Remus called after him, laughing.

“ No time ! “, yelled back Sirius.

At the lake, the breeze tousled his hair as he searched. Under a blossoming tree, he found a picnic basket filled with all his favorites: pumpkin pasties, chocolate frogs, and a bottle of Butterbeer. He laughed, settling down to enjoy it.

“Not too shabby, huh?” Remus said, appearing behind Sirius, wrapping his arms around his neck with a knowing smile. “But there’s more. On to the next clue!”

Sirius followed Remus through the woods, stopping occasionally to admire the scenery( the scenery being Remus ) and bumping shoulders with him to steal a kiss. Their laughter echoed as they navigated through the clues, each leading them to a new little treasure: a handwritten letter from Remus, a small photo album filled with memories, and finally, the last clue.

“Where our hearts belong, beneath the stars so bright,” Remus read aloud, his gaze fixed on Sirius.

“Back to the house, then?” Sirius asked, kissing his forehead , a gleam in his eyes.

“Exactly,” Remus said giggling, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Once back, Remus led Sirius hand in hand to their cozy living room, adorned with fairy lights and photos of them together. In the center sat a beautifully decorated cake, and the air was filled with the scent of vanilla.

“Make a wish!” Remus urged throwing his hands around Sirius’ neck, his own eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Sirius closed his eyes, wishing for nothing more than this moment to last forever. He wished for his surprise for Remus to work. He blew out the candles, and Remus clapped enthusiastically.

“Now, for the final surprise!” Remus announced after cutting the cake , pulling out a small, wrapped gift.

Sirius tore into it, revealing a beautiful leather-bound journal. “Oh, Remus, this is perfect!”

“I thought you could fill it with all our adventures,” Remus said quietly, his cheeks slightly flushed.

Sirius beamed. “I love it. Thank you, Moony.” He wrapped his arms around Remus, pulling him close and kissing him for a long time.

The day faded into evening, and after a cozy dinner filled with laughter, Sirius felt a flutter of nerves. He had his own surprise planned, but he wanted it to be perfect. He fished the small box from his pocket and hid it in his palms,heart racing. It was time to put on a show.

“Remus?” Sirius started, his voice a little shaky. This had to go right. “I have something to show you.”

“What is it?” Remus asked, his curiosity piqued.

Sirius got down on one knee, the box open in his hand. “I—”

As Sirius reached for the ring, he put his plan into motion. He had been waiting two years for this moment.

“Wait, where’s the ring?” Sirius fumbled, trying his best not to laugh , looking around as if it might magically appear. “I swear I just had it!”

Remus’s expression shifted from shock to confusion. “Sirius, what are you doing?”

“I think I’ve lost it,” he said dramatically, scratching his head. “How could I misplace something so important? What kind of a fiancée misplaces the engagement ring?”

“Sirius!” Remus exclaimed, half-laughing, half-worried and yet so close to tears cause he can’t believe it’s finally happening.“Are you serious?”

With a playful sigh and a big smile, Sirius stood up. “Okay. Fiiiineeeee. I’ll come clean. I’ve had this ring for two years.”

“What do you mean?” Remus looked bewildered.

Sirius stepped closer, and knelt in front of him, carefully taking the locket from around Remus’s neck, the one he had given him on their first anniversary. “You’ve never taken this off, have you? ,” he said softly, looking into Remus’ eyes. “I knew you’d always keep it close.”

He opened up the locket, revealing the glimmering engagement ring nestled inside.

“Soooooo……technically, we’ve been engaged for two years now.”

Remus’s eyes widened in shock, tears welling up. “You—what? SIRIUS! It’s been there for two years?!? Oh my god, what? I love you so much. How on earth were you able to keep this from me for TWO years?!” He wrapped his arms around Sirius, sobbing into his shoulder.

Sirius couldn’t help but grin through his own tears. He kissed Remus on his neck and hugged him back tightly. “But you can’t say no, because it’s my birthday!”

“Are you joking?” Remus’s voice was thick with emotion, disbelief coloring his words.

“No, Moony, I’m dead serious. I love you, and I want to spend my life with you. Will you officially marry me?”

Remus blinked, tears streaming down his cheeks as he moved to look at Sirius, his palms holding Sirius’ face delicately. “Yes! Of course, yes!” He threw his arms around Sirius again, laughter and sobs mingling together.

As they held each other tightly, the world around them faded, leaving just the two of them, their hearts intertwined under the stars.

“Happy birthday, Sirius,” Remus whispered, and Sirius felt like the luckiest man alive.