#engaged

[sunshineismylifeline]

butchfemme and betrothed / @lavybugphotography

[columbusswift]

so happy for my close personal friends taylor swift and travis kelce

[starksweasley]

not so secret

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: you and bucky were planning to keep the engagement quiet (for like, five minutes), but none of the thunderbolts believe in knocking.

wc: 1.9k+

Bucky woke before the city did. Which was saying something, considering the Avengers Tower usually never slept. But for once, it was quiet. In fact, it was almost suspiciously quiet, and he found himself blinking into soft sunlight instead of being jolted awake by fire alarms, Bob’s screaming, or Walker bench-pressing in the hallway.

You were still pressed against him, warm and soft and exactly where he wanted you. Your hand was splayed over his chest, resting right over where his heart beat steady and unbothered beneath his skin. And nestled on that hand, catching the morning light like it was born to, was the diamond ring.

His diamond ring.

Bucky just stared for a moment, letting his brain play catch-up.

You’d said yes.

The same you who tucked herself into his side each night without fail. The same you who stole his hoodies and slept with your ice-cold feet wedged between his calves like you owned the space. The same you who laughed at his grumpiest grumbles and brushed his hair and told him he was good, even when he didn’t believe it. Especially when he didn’t believe it.

And now you were wearing his ring like it had always belonged there.

He had the gall to smile. A real one. A crooked little thing that crinkled at the corner of his eyes and pulled warmth from somewhere deep in his chest. He reached up to push a wayward strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“Good morning, Mrs. Barnes,” he murmured, voice low and still scratchy with sleep. “Kinda.”

You made a faint noise in response, something halfway between a groan and a chuckle, and blinked up at him.

“That’s not how names work, baby,” you rasped, stretching like a cat against him.

He whined dramatically and buried his face in your neck like the coward he absolutely was. “Shut up, fiancée.”

Your laugh puffed warm against his hair, and Bucky felt you smile even before he heard it. The kind of smile that settled into your whole body, that made you shift closer like you could crawl into his chest and stay there forever. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” you mumbled. “Even after last night’s disaster.”

He peeked up, face scrunched up. “It wasn’t a disaster.”

“You dropped the ring.”

“I dropped my phone. And then the ring. But that was because you gasped. You made that sound like something exploded.”

“I thought the table was on fire.”

“It wasn’t. Just… lightly smoking.”

“And then you read your speech off your Notes app.”

“It was formatted.”

You giggled, sickeningly in love and thoroughly unimpressed. “You had bullet points.”

Bucky grunted and flopped back onto the pillow, hand dragging down his face. “Romance is dead.”

“You set the kitchen on fire with scented candles. You brought romance back and then killed it again. Very poetic.”

Still, your hand found his under the blankets, fingers curling into his palm like it was the most natural thing in the world. Which, for the record, it was.

The quiet stretched between you again, not awkward, not empty—just full. Like your bodies had gone still but your hearts were still talking.

And then—BANG!

The door slammed open with such force, Bucky genuinely thought it had come off the hinges.

“Okay so who short-circuited the kitchen this time?!” Bob’s voice rang out, frantic, toaster in hand, wild-eyed. “Walker’s eyebrows are HALF GONE—OH MY GOD.”

It took Bucky exactly one second to react.

“HEY!” he barked, grabbing the comforter like his life depended on it and yanking it up to cover you so fast it might’ve broken the sound barrier. You squealed under the sheets as the motion sent the actual toaster flying out of Bob’s hands and clattering to the floor like an offended robot.

“Buck—” you gasped, breathless with laughter. “You are so dramatic—”

“I will kill him,” Bucky muttered, already halfway up in bed, hair a mess and eyes full murder. His arm reached around your front, desperately grasping the edges of the blanket to make sure it didn’t slip down your chest. 

Bob, still planted at the foot of the bed like a poorly programmed Roomba, blinked. Then blinked again. And then he saw it.

Your hand, peeking from beneath the duvet. The ring. His eyes locked on it like a sniper scope.

“Wait. Is that—are you—IS THAT A RING?!”

There was a beat. One, long, painful second where the information processed behind his eyes.

And then— “BUCKY’S ENGAGED!! HE DID IT! HE LOCKED IT DOWN!” Bob shrieked, honest-to-God shrieked, and then turned and sprinted out the door, toaster smoke still trailing behind him like a tail. 

You groaned and dropped your head into Bucky’s shoulder, laughing so hard you wheezed. Bucky just stared at the door, eyes wide.

“He’s telling everyone, isn’t he.”

“Yup,” you gasped.

“I liked it better when it was our secret.”

“Mmhm. But admit it, you kinda like the chaos.”

A long pause.

“I hate how well you know me.”

And there it was two minutes later: absolute chaos.

Bucky had barely finished muttering a threat to murder Bob “in his goddamn sleep” when the sound of rapid footsteps, multiple footsteps, thundered down the hallway like a pack of wild horses. You barely had time to register the incoming stampede before the bedroom door slammed open again, and this time it didn’t stop at just one uninvited idiot. No, this time the entire squad came charging in like it was a scheduled morning briefing and not your private just-got-engaged-still-in-bed moment.

Yelena entered first, unapologetic and smug as ever. Her face was slick with a green clay mask, blonde hair piled in a messy bun, and fuzzy pink bunny slippers smacking against the hardwood with aggression. She looked like a Pinterest board threw up on her and she was proud of it.

Ava didn’t bother with the door. You shrieked as she just phased in directly onto the end of the bed, landing cross-legged with the grace of someone who did not fear death or your privacy. “Morning,” she said flatly, already regretting being awake.

Walker swaggered in shirtless, the faint scent of burnt hair trailing behind him. His right eyebrow was missing, and his protein shake was dripping down the side of the cup like it, too, was having a rough morning. “What’s all this fuss?” he asked, clearly having no idea and still deeply eager to insert himself into it.

Alexei was last—if you didn’t count Bob, who had re-entered like a returning sitcom character. The Red Guardian stomped in still fully suited up like he’d been waiting for an excuse to wear the damn thing again. He was chewing a bagel with zero urgency and looked utterly delighted.

You didn’t even have time to react before Yelena pointed accusingly.

“I KNEW IT,” she crowed, face mask cracking with the sheer force of her grin. “I knew you two were disgustingly in love. Pay up, Ava.”

Ava, without breaking eye contact or moving a muscle, reached into her hoodie pocket and tossed a crumpled ten-dollar bill at Yelena’s feet like she was making an offering to the chaos gods. “This is stupid,” she deadpanned. “I wanted drama. Not a rom-com with a six-zero war criminal lead.”

Bucky made a strangled sound, equal parts offended and deeply betrayed. 

Walker squinted at you both, then at the bed, then at your left hand, and finally let out a low whistle. “So how long were you gonna hide it, huh?” he asked, tipping his protein shake toward the ring like it was a toast. “You think we wouldn’t notice the rock the size of a mini frisbee?”

You groaned softly (for the umpteenth time) from beneath the blanket and elbowed Bucky in the ribs. “I need your sweatshirt.”

With a muttered curse and some careful one-armed maneuvering, he reached blindly toward the edge of the bed where his hoodie had landed the night before. It took him a full fifteen seconds to find it while still holding the blanket up with a white-knuckled grip like a man defending a fort. You snatched the hoodie the second it was within reach and, under the comforter, managed to shove it over your head in a tangled, slightly humiliating flurry of limbs and curses.

You sat up, dragged your fingers through your hair, and tried to salvage at least one ounce of dignity as you held up your left hand.

“Yeah,” you finally said, voice hoarse but good-natured. “He asked last night.”

A beat.

“After nearly setting the kitchen on fire with candles.”

Yelena turned to Bucky with a smirk like a knife. “You cooked? No wonder she said yes. She probably thought she was gonna die.”

“False,” Bucky muttered, burying his burning face into your shoulder like he could disappear into his your hoodie. “Everything was under control.”

“You burned pasta, Buck,” you said, gently patting his thigh.

He groaned louder.

That was when Walker, always the menace, decided to start playing “Single Ladies” off his phone at full volume. 

Yelena immediately joined in, throwing her clay-covered hands into the air and doing a half-committed version of the dance. Bob screamed and jumped in beside her like it was Broadway. Alexei started filming with his tablet and narrating like it was a National Geographic special: “And here, we see the modern American bachelor ritual in full display…”

Ava, still seated at the foot of the bed, stared into the middle distance and muttered, “This is hell.” But she was smiling a little despite herself.

You glanced at Bucky, who was still clinging to you like he might actually combust if he let go, and whispered through your laughter, “Wish we kept it a secret?”

His only response was a long, suffering moan muffled into your neck.

But even with the entire team screaming Beyoncé lyrics ten feet away, you could feel it in the way he held you.

The answer was no. He wouldn’t trade this chaos for the world. Not if it meant getting to love you out loud. But Bucky had his limits, especially when said chaos was standing three feet from your half-naked form and singing (moreso squawking) at full volume.

“Out,” Bucky commanded flatly.

No one moved.

“I’m serious. Out. Now. Before I start naming weaknesses.”

That got them scrambling. Walker tripped over Yelena’s bunny slipper. Ava phased directly through Bob, who screamed. Alexei took his sweet time: bagel first, dignity second. But within thirty seconds, the room was empty. 

Silence.

Bucky exhaled, long and slow, then let the blanket fall from his death grip.

You flopped back onto the bed with a thud, eyes wide and disbelieving, one arm tossed dramatically over your face. “That did not just happen.”

Bucky collapsed right on top of you and stuck his nose into the curve of your left collarbone. “It did. And I want to move.”

“To where?”

“Somewhere quiet. Unmapped. No cell signal.”

You laughed and ran your hands through his dark hair. His hand came up to find yours, fingers lacing gently together. “So… guess everyone knows now.”

“Good.”

Then he leaned up and kissed you. Slow, certain, and smiling against your mouth.

When he pulled back, he smirked. “Think it’s too early to elope?”

You raised a brow. “You trying to skip the party?”

His grin widened. “Just trying to skip Bob’s speech.

[lovecapra]

Five posts ago I talked about how I am now usually thinking of The Love of My Life as Robert's fiancée instead of as my wife. When I read that post aloud after an hour of my bed play with Robert's fiancée, she admitted -- for the first time -- that she now also usually thought of herself as His fiancée instead of as my wife. Then His fiancée and I realized that after she and Robert wed, that we will both think of her as Robert's wife and me as her Ex husband even if not legally divorced. Then we wondered how it would feel to be divorced so that she could become legally bound to Him in a legal marriage ceremony, fulfilling her desires to feel totally owned by Him. Our orgasm together from the combination of thoughts was a huge explosion.

Caption by @hercuntslave.

[callmeawifeorwhatever5]

Maybe another 4 + 1 fic with ilia and his girlfriend, whatever you want it to be. I’ve enjoyed your writing and everything you’ve put out so far!

(So i might have blended them😝😝 Hope the enjoy. )

The perfect proposal

The first time Ilia realizes it hits him, it’s something small.

You’re sitting on his couch, cross legged, wearing one of his hoodies that practically swallows you whole, arguing with him over what movie to watch. He’s barely listening. Not because he doesn’t care, he always cares when it’s you…but because he’s watching the way you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking, the way your fingers absentmindedly trace patterns into the fabric.

It’s quiet for a second, and then it just lands in his chest.

‘I could do this forever.’

The thought is so sudden it almost scares him.

He doesn’t say anything. Just reaches over, pulls you into his side, presses a kiss into your hair.

You complain that he’s distracting you.

He smiles into it.

The next time the feeling comes is at the rink….

Not during practice, he’s sharp there, focused, untouchable. It’s after. When the ice is empty, the lights softer, and he convinces you to step onto the ice with him even though you definitely don’t skate.

You cling to him like your life depends on it.

“THE ICE HATES ME, BABE.” you say almost eating it.

“It does not,” he laughs quietly, hands steady on your waist.

“It does,” you insist. “You’re literally the only thing keeping me alive right now.”

He guides you slowly, carefully, whispering little instructions. You don’t really follow them, you’re too busy laughing at yourself…but you trust him completely.

And that’s what does it.

The trust.

The way you look at him like he’s safe, like he’s home.

He spins you once, gently, and you squeal, gripping onto him tighter when you land.

He steadies you, breath catching…not from skating, but from you. That beautiful smile…

‘I want this forever too.’

This time the thought doesn’t scare him as much.

The third time is harder. More intense.

You’re sick.

Curled up in his bed, half asleep, clearly miserable, and still trying to smile at him when he walks in with tea and medicine like it’s no big deal.

“Hey,” you mumble.

“Hey,” he echoes softly, setting everything down before climbing in beside you.

You immediately curl into him, pressing your face into his chest.

“You don’t have to stay, i’ll get you sick” you whisper.

He frowns, pulling the blanket higher around you. “I’m not going anywhere, give me your worst.”

You hum, already drifting.

He stays there for hours. Doesn’t move. Just holds you, brushing your hair back when it sticks to your forehead, pressing soft kisses against your temple.

And somewhere in the quiet, with your breathing evening out against him, it hits again…stronger.

‘I want to take care of you forever.’

He swallows hard, blinking at the ceiling. The emotion hitting him…

That thought lingers.

The fourth time is on tour for Stars on Ice.

New cities, new arenas, everything moving fast like it always does but you’re there. Sitting in the stands during rehearsal, bundled up, watching him like he’s the only thing in the world.

He lands a jump, glances up…

and finds you.

You’re smiling. Not big, not dramatic. Just soft. Proud.

Like you always are.

And something about that, about you being there in the middle of his chaotic, constantly moving life…grounds him in a way nothing else does.

Later, when he comes off the ice, you run up to him despite the cold, throwing your arms around his neck.

“That was insane,” you say, breathless.

He laughs, hugging you tight, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I was just practicing.”

“Still insane.”

He pulls back, looking at you.

‘I don’t want a life where you’re not there when I look up.’

That’s the moment it clicks fully.

Not just forever.

Not just care.

Not just love.

Marriage.

The word sits heavy and real in his chest.

And this time, he doesn’t push it away.

Telling people is… not graceful.

He’s sitting at the kitchen table with his parents, on a night off…fidgeting with his hands more than usual.

“I’m going to… um…”

His mom raises an eyebrow, amused. “Going to what?”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I think I’m going to propose.”

Silence.

Then,

“Oh my god,” his mom breathes, immediately emotional.

His dad smiles, calm but proud. “You’re sure?”

Ilia nods, swallowing. “Yeah. I…I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

Later, with his friends, it’s worse.

They don’t let him live it down.

“You? Nervous?” one of them teases.

“I’m not…” he starts, then stops, because he very much is.

He groans, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t know how to do this. I think i’m going to be sick…”

“Just ask her,” another says simply.

He shakes his head. “It’s not just that. It’s… her.”

And they get it.

Because it is you.

Planning it becomes something he pours himself into.

The ring takes forever.

He stands in the jewelry store longer than he ever has anywhere off the ice, hands shoved in his pockets, staring at options like they’re choreography he can’t quite land.

“It has to be right,” he mutters.

And when he finally finds it…simple, beautiful, something that feels like you…he just knows.

The place is easier.

A park in one of the cities from the tour.

It’s quiet, tucked away, with soft pathways and trees that filter the light just right. You’d mentioned it once, how pretty it was.

He remembered.

Of course he did. Because everything about you he noted in his mind.

This time isn’t a realization.

It’s the moment.

You’re walking beside him through the park, fingers loosely intertwined, talking about nothing important. He’s barely responding…too focused on the pounding in his chest, the way his palms are starting to sweat.

“You okay?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“Yeah,” he says quickly. Too quickly.

You narrow your eyes slightly but let it go.

He stops walking.

You take another step before realizing, turning back toward him.

“Honey?”

His hands are shaking.

Actually shaking.

He pulls them together, then apart again, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. His breathing is uneven, nerves written all over him in a way you don’t see often…not like this.

“Hey,” you say softly, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”

“I…nothing’s wrong,” he stammers. “I just…I need to…um—”

He drops to one knee.

Your breath catches in your throat…

His head dips for a second, like he’s trying to gather himself, but when he looks up at you, his eyes are wide, vulnerable, completely unguarded.

“I…” he starts, voice already shaking. “I don’t…I had this planned, I swear, I just…”

He lets out a small, nervous laugh that doesn’t quite land.

His hands tremble as he opens the box.

“I…I love you. I…you’re…”

He falters again, words getting stuck, breath uneven.

And then, finally, the only thing that comes out clearly,

“You actually see me. And I see forever in you.”

It’s quiet.

Simple.

But it’s everything.

Your eyes soften instantly.

And before he can panic further, before he can try and force more words out…

…you drop to your knees in front of him.

“Yes,” you say, not even hesitating.

He blinks. “Wait, I didn’t…I wasn’t fin…”

“Yes,” you repeat, laughing softly now, already reaching for him.

He barely has time to process before you’re wrapping your arms around him, knocking into him slightly as you pull him into a tight, overwhelming hug.

You don’t even let him put the ring on yet.

You just kiss him.

Over and over, breathless and smiling, your hands cradling his face.

“Yes,” you whisper again against his lips.

His hands finally steady enough to hold you properly, pulling you closer like he never wants to let go.

He laughs into the kiss, relief flooding through him, nerves dissolving into something warm and bright.

“Okay….yes?” he murmurs, forehead pressed to yours. “Yes.”

Eventually….eventually…he slides the ring onto your finger, hands still a little shaky, but sure.

You both just stare at it for a second.

Then at each other.

And then you’re laughing again, and he’s pulling you into another hug, lifting you slightly off the ground because he can’t help it.

“I love you,” he says, quiet but steady.

“I know,” you tease softly, kissing him again. “You’re not subtle.”

He smiles against your lips.

“I love you too, so much.”

And it’s a good thing…because he doesn’t want to be subtle about loving you. Not ever.

[applepi-1]

Not her to his mother- Akaashi

You've been dating Akaashi for almost 3 years now and his mom never let go of his ex. At first she was sweet when y'all started dating, then when she realized you weren't going anywhere is when the comments started.

"How his ex just loved family nights." "Oh guess who I talked to today, e/n." "Oh sweety, that's not how he likes it, e/n would've never made this mistake." "She knew how to handle his moods, she would've noticed to leave him alone." "I don't know why they ever broke up."

The snarky comments were only made when Akaashi wasn't around. It was every time he'd leave the room rather it be him going to the restroom, grabbing a drink, saying hi to other people, she'll always lean in close and remind you, she sees you as a place warmer.

His sister though, she always has your back, Ayame would always notice it immediately. She always seemed like she wasn't really listening, appearing just when needed, but she'd always give you a look or apologize when it was just the two of you. She'd always have an excuse ready:

"Mom, didn't you say you needed help with something in the kitchen?" or "Hey, Y/n I rearranged my room again, you wanna come see it?"

You thought at first she'd stop once she realized you weren't going anywhere, but it just got worse.

Then it came, a quiet evening just the two of you on his couch, your legs tangled together, his head resting on your shoulder — he sits up, takes your hand, and says your full name.

That’s when you know something is different.

His voice is nervous. Soft. Earnest.

“I love you,” he starts, “in a way I didn’t know was possible for me.”

You blink, heart pounding.

Then he pulls out a small velvet box — shaking slightly — and says the gentlest, deepest words:

“Marry me? If you want. If you’ll have me.”

You barely let him finish before you’re nodding, tears spilling, and throwing your arms around him.

He laughs into your neck, breath warm, relief overwhelming.

You say yes at least six more times while he holds you on the couch.

He kisses your ring, your fingers, your forehead — like he’s memorizing the moment.

He doesn’t tell anyone yet.

He wants to announce it at his birthday party — with you by his side, your ring shining under the lights.

He’s excited. Hopeful. Happy.

He has no idea what’s coming.

And now, after the engagement? His moms comments got worse.

Much worse.

The first time happens at a small family dinner.

“You know,” she says lightly, stirring her tea, “Keiji was so smitten with her once. I always thought he’d marry her.”

You freeze.

Ayame’s head snaps around so fast you hear her neck crack.

“Mom,” she says sharply.

Her mother waves her hand like she didn’t just carve your heart open. “Oh, I’m just reminiscing. Don’t be dramatic.”

Akaashi, in the kitchen getting drinks, doesn’t hear.

Ayame shoots you an apologetic look. She knows exactly what that comment meant. Exactly where it hit.

And it doesn’t stop.

Every time the engagement comes up, his mother brings up the ex.

“When his ex planned family parties, she always did such a nice job.” “She really understood him.” “You two look… different together.”

Ayame interrupts when she can. Akaashi’s sister becomes your quiet little guard dog.

But you tell no one. Not yet.

Because you don’t want to ruin his birthday.

You don’t want to ruin his joy.

And truly — he’s glowing. The ring on your finger makes him glow.

But you carry the comments like stones in your pockets.

"Y/n, come with me, we should talk." You looked up from your ring looking at Ayame then at Keiji.

"Go, love, it's probably just wedding stuff." You smiled kissing him quickly before he goes back to talking to his grandmother, on the way out you hear her squeal over you two. You just wished his mother was the same way.

"So what's up? Why couldn't we talk in front of Keiji?"

"It's not just Keiji, I don't want to upset my grandmother. I'm sorry for everything you've heard from my mom. You should know about their relationship." Ayame sat you down as you looked at her confused, but curious cause no one would tell you the story and you were scared to ask Akaashi.

"What about it?"

"She was awful to him." Your breath catches as she continues. "He wouldn't say anything bad about him, that's just Keiji, but when he was with her. I didn't recognize my own brother. She played so many mind games with him. She'd twist everything he was saying to make him the bad guy. Make him paranoid on what to say or do next. And mom..." Ayame hesitated.

"You can tell me, Aya." She looked at you and sighed.

"Mom loved her, still does from what you can obviously see. She's hoping he'd take her back, because she thinks that she changed, gotten better. She just ignored everything we tell her. I see how uncomfortable she makes you, and I don't want you to feel like I'm ignoring what she says. I'm not. But, we've tried shutting her down and gotten nowhere with it. I'm sorry you're going through this alone."

Your eyes began to sting. "I'm not entirely alone. I have you. Thank you for telling me, and for having my back."

“Don’t thank me,” she says. “Just… please don’t think this is about you not being enough. That girl wasn’t some perfect angel. She hurt him. Badly.” Then she adds, “And he’s happier with you than I’ve ever seen him.”

But you still keep everything from Akaashi — because you don’t want to ruin his relationship with his mom.

Not yet.

You never thought his mother would take it to the next level, the comments stopped but now his ex was everywhere, family dinners, a cousins graduation party, small family gatherings.

Always by 'coincidence'

Always with a different excuse:

“Oh, she was in the area!” “She’s practically family!” “She wanted to say hi!”

Ayame was always by your side, pulling you and Keiji into conversations, blocking the ex from getting too close, rolling her eyes every time her mother claims it's 'just being friendly.'

Akaashi never noticed it, the shift in the air when he'd come back from a call, or outside the room. Because when he is around, she has a fake smile on, sweetness dripping from her tongue at every word.

Then came his birthday. You were so excited to tell everyone your big news cause the only ones who knew was his grandmother and Ayame. He had asked his grandmother blessing for her ring, and she was so happy to give it to him.

The party is at his parents’ house — decorated beautifully, music playing, people laughing.

Akaashi is radiant.

He squeezes your hand every few minutes, excited to make the announcement.

But walking in, your smile falters.

Because she’s there.

His ex.

Getting a drink in the kitchen like she belongs.

Ayame mutters under her breath, “I knew it. God, I knew she’d invite her.”

Akaashi’s smile fades seeing the tension on your face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly.

“Nothing,” you lie. “Just… nerves.”

He kisses your cheek and heads off to greet guests.

Ayame stands close to you, glaring daggers at her mother.

Your heart pounds painfully. A couple of hours go by before Akaashi makes his way back to you, you were talking to his sister when he appeared kissing your head.

"Hey, pretty girl, my dad needs help getting gifts out the car, I'll be right back."

"Okay, love, I'll be here." His mom conveniently stood next to you two and talked with no other than his ex.

“You know,” she says lightly, stirring her tea, “Keiji was so smitten with you once. I always thought he’d marry you.”

"Oh, m/n." His ex laughed it off but you can tell she thinks about it too.

Ayame’s head snaps around so fast you hear her neck crack.

“Mom,” she says sharply.

Her mother waves her hand like she didn’t just carve your heart open. “Oh, I’m just reminiscing. Don’t be dramatic.”

“Mom,” she says flatly, “stop.”

Her mother blinks. “I’m just talking—”

“You’ve been talking about her nonstop for months.”

But before her mother can reply, Akaashi walked in with his dad and the cake. You quickly snapped out of it grabbing your phone, everyone began to sing happy birthday to him. He looked at you with that goofy smile you love, then it wiped off so quickly at his mother's request:

"Oh, e/n! Go help Keiji cut the cake!" Ayame chokes on her drink, you lower your phone looking at his mother in disbelief. The ex steps forward, Akaashi's looking in your direction, mortified, not sure what to do. She reaches for his hand, but he immediately jerks it back.

His mother laughs, pretending to be oblivious. "He's just shy!"

You shake your head at her and frown, placing your phone back in your bag. Akaashi notices and steps down immediately, grabbing your hand and leading you to the next room over.

"Y/n. I didn't know she'd do that. I swear."

"Its okay, Keij."

"No-listen to me," he cups your face, forcing you to look at him. "You look hurt, talk to me."

"I'm used to this, Keiji." That's when he drops his hands and backs up.

"Used to what?"

You finally tell him.

All of it.

The comments. His mom’s comparisons. The way she’d whisper things when he wasn’t around. The invitations she extended behind his back.

You don’t raise your voice. You don’t cry.

You just speak.

And Akaashi listens — every word seeming to hit him like a punch.

"Then she tells her... she always thought you'd marry her and not me Keiji."

When you finish, he’s shaking with anger he never expresses.

"She said what?" You stand taller as he gets angry, your eyes wide as he leaves the room.

"No, Keiji, this isn't the time or place." But he doesn't listen to you, walking like a man with a mission straight to his mother. "Keiji, please, baby, let's just go home and you can talk about this tomorrow." You sigh stopping in your tracks next to his sister as he continues to walk toward his mom.

Ayame rubs your arm asking what's going on, you break down telling her everything. She grabs your hand after and leads you to Keiji as he began to talk.

"Why is she here?” he asks flatly.

His mother blinks. “It’s her too—”

“Why did you tell (Y/N) you thought I’d marry someone who hurt me?”

A murmur ripples through the room.

His mother stiffens. “Keiji, I didn’t mean—”

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” His calm is razor-sharp. “Or did you hope I wouldn’t care?”

She tries to defend herself. Justify. Play innocent.

He doesn’t budge.

“You will not invite her again. You will not compare them again. You will not disrespect the woman I’m marrying.”

He says it clearly. Firm. Unshakable.

His mother opens her mouth to argue.

He cuts her off.

“If you do, I don't want you in my life.”

Silence.

Ayame stands behind her brother like she’s finally proud.

"This is your fault." You felt the crowd look at you as she points. "You couldn't just keep your damn mouth shut. This is why-"

"MOM! That's it, what is wrong with you? Can't you see I'm finally happy? I'm finally back to be me, 100%. And that's thanks to Y/n, not e/n. You will apologize or I'm never speaking to you again." He turned back to look at you only to find you gone. "Shit."

When Akaashi finds you in the hallway, still shaking.

He cups your cheeks, forehead pressed to yours.

“You should’ve told me,” he whispers. “I would’ve believed you. I would’ve protected you.”

Your voice breaks. “I didn’t want to hurt your relationship with her.”

“You’re my relationship,” he says quietly. “You’re the person I chose. The person I love. The person I’m marrying.”

You swallow hard, tears filling your eyes.

“I didn’t want to make you choose between me and your mom.”

He kisses your forehead.

“I already did.”

Soft. Steady. Certain.

“I chose you the moment I bought that ring.”

Then he pulls you into his arms — warm, grounding, safe.

And he stays there as long as you need.

[pennymations]

June 19, 2026 💍

We’re Engaged!! I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, @maxine302 💕