eiji-ro

[eiji-ro]

sae watches you curl your palms around the cold, bright fruit, its color vivid and startling against the snow covered porch, daylight cupped in your hands. you make no move to peel it, simply savoring its weight, staring blankly into the distance as his words settle in the air around you.

marry me.

"think about it," he says, and he reaches over to pluck the small orange from your hands, digs his nail in to strip the peel free. "i can wait."

[eiji-ro]

kita’s sitting contentedly on the porch in sweatpants and a t-shirt with sleeves he very clearly cut himself. there’s a cup of cold tea sweating by his knee, moreso lukewarm by now, your bare feet in his lap, and a hummingbird chipping away at the fruit his grandmother spent the afternoon cutting.

the air smells like citrus rinds and fresh-cut grass. his thumb runs along the bone of your ankle, calloused from farm work but soft where it counts.

“you look real smug over there,” you say, squinting at him without lifting your head. “like you aren’t the idiot that spilled juice all over your shirt an hour ago.”

“ain’t smug,” he doesn’t look up, keeps thumbing at the arch of your right foot. “just comfortable.”

you hum. “comfortable with the idea of marryin’ me?”

that gets his attention. his eyes meet yours, adoration immediately settling in them. “that a proposal, or you just flirtin’ to get outta helpin’ with dishes?”

you smile, oh so sugary-sweet, “can’t it be both?”

the bird dips down toward the plate, pecks at a chunk of melon and flits away with it.

kita watches it for a second, then turns back to your feet in his lap. his thumb goes back to rubbing at that same little spot on your ankle — second nature.

“she said you were good luck,” he says suddenly.

you blink. “who did?”

“gran.”

your heart stutters. “she said that?”

“mm.” he shrugs like it’s nothing, but his cheeks are turning pink. “said the tomatoes grew sweeter this year, and she hasn’t yelled at that godforsaken neighbor in weeks. thinks it’s ‘cause of you.”

you snort. “i’ve been here, what, three times total?”

“apparently that’s all it took,” he says, serious now. “she likes you. really likes you.”

you raise a brow. “that surprising?”

kita sits up straighter, suddenly full of conviction. “yes. it is. you don’t get it — gran doesn’t like anyone. she’s sweet to their face, sure, but the moment they’re out the door it’s all ‘that one’s got no sense,’ or ‘he dresses like his mama never taught him how.’”

you laugh, leaning on his shoulder. “she said those things about the twins, didn’t she?”

“whispered it while ‘samu could still hear, too.” he shakes his head, sounding in awe. “but you? she lets you sit in her recliner. she makes you iced tea from scratch, not the jug mix.”

“boiled the leaves herself,” kita says, holding up a hand like he’s swearing in court. “haven’t seen her do that since my uncle’s birthday. not even for me.”

your foot slips off his lap, and he catches it again without missing a heartbeat.

“i mean it,” he murmurs, quieter now. “she loves you. and to me that’s… big. real big.”

your voice softens. “you care what she thinks?”

“course i do.” he looks a little embarrassed now, gaze not-so-subtly traveling down to your ring finger. “the woman raised me. it matters. a whole bunch.”

there’s a short pause. the cicadas kick up louder in the bushes right on cue, and the last bit of sun stretches long shadows across the porch.

“you know,” you say, voice as soft as the dying light, “you keep rubbing my foot like that and i might have to actually marry you out of obligation.”

kita huffs out a laugh, hands working at your calves now. “might?” he echoes. “actually..? even after all the things i’ve done for you today?”

“all you’ve done for me?” you push his face away with your palm, smiling ear to ear despite yourself. “i was the one who peeled the grapefruit. didn’t hear me complain when it squirted me in the eye did you?”

he grins. “my brave soldier.”

“damn straight.”

“but really,” he starts again, thumb pausing at your heel, “you ever think about it?”

“foot rubs?” you deadpan. “dream about ‘em.”

kita chuckles again, the joy you are to be around. “marriage,” he clarifies. “with me.”

“sometimes.”

he leans back onto his elbows, looking out toward the yard where the hummingbird’s darting back toward the fruit plate, stealing a melon slice.

“i think about it,” he confesses. “think about what flavor cake you’d want, if you’d wear your hair up or down. think about you in white. had a few dreams about that last one.”

you look down at your hands, gather them in your lap. “you’re too good at that.”

“too good at what?”

“sayin’ stuff that makes my heart feel all wobbly.”

he laughs, your favorite sound. “think your heart’s wobbly now — wait ‘til i get down on one knee.”

you stretch your toes against the inside of his thigh, playful. “if i was mrs. kita, you’d still be good to me if i hogged the covers, let hair go down the drain?”

“when you’re mrs. kita.” he corrects, palming your thigh now. “ain’t stopped me before.”

“those are boyfriend duties,” you say, hand over your heart. “sure you could handle wife-level chaos?”

“darlin’,” he says, nosing your cheek before he kisses it, “i’d carry your chaos around in my shirt pocket if it meant i got to call you mine.”

you groan. “enough of that, shin.”

his eyes crinkle at the corners. “hmm? of what?”

“i’m gonna start doodling hearts on my skin around your last name like we’re in middle school.”

he leans in, tucks the stray hairs from your face behind your ears. “go on and do it. looks good on you.”

“what does?”

his voice dips. “my name.”

you reach forward and tug at the hem of his cutoff, an attempt to cover up the shade of red you’ve quickly turned into within the past couple of minutes. “…can’t believe i’m fallin’ for a man who can’t cut even sleeves.”

“can’t believe you’re gonna marry him,” he teases.

you kick at him, yet you don’t bother denying it.

then you pad barefoot into cool floorboards, screen doors clattering shut behind you.

in the kitchen, the fan spins overhead. the scent of old wood and lemon cleaner clings to everything, comforting in a way you never expected a home to be.

you lean against the counter to rinse the peach-sticky plate at the sink, water running cold.

“dry towel’s hangin’ on the oven,” a voice calls.

you glance back.

his grandmother’s at the table, sorting green beans into a big metal bowl. her hands move like clockwork — snap, flick, drop — she’s done it a hundred times before. probably thousands. doesn’t look up, but the corners of her mouth twitch like she knows.

i see you. i’ve seen this before. i know exactly where it’s going.

you reach for the towel, dabbing at your arms.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to drip,” you mumble, guilty while the mess collects on the wood. “i’ll go wipe it up.”

“don’t fuss,” she clicks her tongue. “you’re fine.”

you hover there awkwardly for a second, unsure if you should offer to help or scurry back out. before you can decide, she sounds out again, hushed.

“he’s steadier with you around.”

your hand stills on the wool.

she drops another into the bowl. “always been a good boy. but you — you make him settle, not slow down. there’s a difference, there is.”

your throat goes dry. “that’s kind of you to say.”

“don’t say nothin’ unless i mean it.”

you bite your lip, eyes stinging. “i care about him.”

“i know,” she says simply.

silence settles again, thick like molasses. then she adds, so quiet you nearly miss it:

“and if he does it right, he’ll marry you on that back lawn under the dogwood tree, same as his grandpa married me.”

you swallow, unsure how to respond.

she finally looks up, meets your gaze square. “that sound alright to you, sweetheart?”

you hum, soft and teary. “sounds like a dream.”

“good,” she goes back to her beans. “now go on and tell him i ain’t pickin’ no more unless he gets his lazy behind in here and grabs the second bowl.”

“yes ma’am,” you nod, barely containing the smile.

outside, kita’s still on the porch, bent over the cups, humming under his breath — some old country tune he often falls back on when his hands are full and his heart’s even fuller. (like right now.)

the screen door thwaps shut behind you.

you bump his arm with your hip and whisper, mischievous. “you’re in trouble, shinsuke.”

“what? why?”

“she says you gotta help with the beans.”

he groans dramatically, flopping back like he’s wounded. “throw me to the wolves just like that?”

you grin, sitting next to him. “might be worth it to get in on her good side. gonna be mrs. kita, after all.”

his eyes cut to yours, boyish and in love. “might be sooner than you think. ‘m not just messin’ around when i talk about you bein’ my wife someday.”

“got a ring tucked behind them peach slices?”

“not yet,” he says. “though i do have a down payment on somethin’ shiny. if you’re patient with me.”

you smile so wide your cheeks start to hurt. “good thing your gran says i’ve got that in spades.”

kita’s fingers still on your palm, face softening.

“she’s right,” he murmurs. “always is.”

[eiji-ro]

Hello! Bakugo anon back!

Omg I've got SO many ideas. My brain is just always turning and cooking him like a rotisserie chicken

One that's had me giggling here recently is crush Bakugo. I love when he's yearning and pining for us, you know?

Just him finding out you've got the hots for a fictional character, hearing you refer to them as your husband lmao. Would he get jealous? (He wants to be your husband...)

- 🍡

nonie!!!! the rotisserie chicken imagery is a stroke of genius because honestly, same. 😭 i ended up writing a little something based on your ask, although i kind of made the fictional character come from a game with a certain storyline. anyway, he's still pining in this, so i hope you enjoy it!

c.w. pining bakugou. the bakusquad makes a comeback. secondhand embarrassment lmfao.

bakugou stiffens.

sure, he doesn’t have the world’s best hearing—he has his loud ass quirk to thank for that—but surely you didn’t just refer to someone as your husband?

across the table from him, mina barks out a laugh, punching you by the arm, to which you react by sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck.

…almost like she was teasing you about a special someone.

shit.

before he knows it, the words are out of his mouth.

“what husband?”

at his sudden interruption, the booth falls silent, the chattering kaminari and sero beside him pausing to glance in his direction, just as you two and kirishima’s gazes drift towards him.

suddenly aware of the attention he just voluntarily drew to himself, bakugou flames.

still, he needed to know.

“you said something about a husband,” he clears his throat, staring at you and only you, although he can sense everyone else staring at him.

“uh, yeah,” you answer, eyeing the rest unsurely. “mina was asking me about it.”

a beat.

“i thought you were single,” bakugou finds himself croaking—voice cracking embarrassingly midway—despite himself. at his statement, your eyes widen in surprise, but before you can open your mouth to say something, mina’s already leaning in, partially obscuring his view of you.

“why?” mina smirks, the same way that always indicates trouble, “does hearing her talk about a husband bother you?”

“mina,” you chastise the acid hero, elbowing her this time, just as bakugou shoots her a warning look, one that she immediately catches, and the pink-haired girl nods, miming the act of zipping her lips closed, a gesture you thankfully don’t see—gaze downcast in what looks like embarrassment.

“i am,” you clarify, struggling to meet his eyes—evidently flustered. “i was just—uh—referring to a game i am playing.”

“…where you have a husband,” bakugou finishes skeptically, brows furrowed in confusion.

somehow, this doesn’t make him feel any better.

“yeah,” you squawk, much to his chagrin. “it’s part of the storyline,” you explain.

to that, bakugou only nods stiffly—not knowing what else to say—and the conversation shifts to something else.

the minute he gets home, though, the topic’s back in an instant in the form of a gajillion text messages from a whopping four different people—namely: mina, kirishima, kaminari, and sero—all varied, but united by the same central message.

and it’s how the ash-blonde should change his hero name to ‘captain obvious’.

a/n. i'm currently playing story of seasons: pioneers of olive town so the whole thing about having a fictional husband can't be any more true lmfaoooo. i got married to ralph yesterday, in fact. definitely adds to the delusions but hey, as long as we're having fun?

[eiji-ro]

NOVA!!! hello!! how are you!! it’s been a while since i’ve popped in to send a message but i hope this half of the year has been kind to you 🥺 i am bringing fresh flowers and cookies! 💐🍪 for a sel question, i’m wondering—what are you most grateful for this past half a year? 🥺

I miss ya!!

sel!!! hi honey!!! it's been a while since i've properly been on this account but i hope you're doing so well!!! i'm sending you a dozen congratulations by the way and i hope life has been as beautiful and kind to you as you are on here!!!

ohhh this is such a lovely question!! i think i'm most grateful for the endings and changes of the past half year, some which have been better than others but ultimately i'm excited for the space that's been made in my life for new things!! i miss you!! i'm sending you the biggest hug and oranges from my backyard!! <333

[eiji-ro]

hi hello ro this is so completely random but I think you should watch a movie called look back (2024) by tatsuki fujimoto.

hi hello nonnie!! oh em gee thank you for the rec!! i just looked it up and am so intrigued!!! love u hope u r having a wonderful day or night!

[eiji-ro]

[eiji-ro]

shatterings

tip jar

[eiji-ro]

once again imagining clinging to bakugou's bicep as he rescues you and think im getting the vapors

[eiji-ro]

₊·͟͟͞͞➳❥ i made an uquiz where i sent you on a blind date with a haikyuu character and if you're reading this you're obliged to take it and share your result!! also rate my matchmaking service 5/5 ✭ and tell your grandma about it please thank you

[eiji-ro]

when katsuki slips into bed beside you and raises his arm so you can fit right against his body, it means he wants to be a little gossip.

and so you do, in quiet little whispers in the dark, like the atmosphere in your bedroom is too precious to break. your sheets feel smooth and cool, and you rub your legs together beneath them like a little cricket, and katsuki is warm from his shower and smelling like his sharp bodywash.

he absentmindedly touches you, skims the tip of his finger down your arm as he tells you little shit about his day: what happened with the new sidekick, that his dad called about having dinner on thursday, some new theories on who kirishima is dating from the agency.

you don't know what you say to make him laugh; you never do. katsuki isn't all that easy to amuse and you talk without thinking most of the time, and somewhere in between there, a ridiculous comment comes out that makes him smile. you see it in the moonlight filtering through the window—the lines around his mouth and the curl of his lips and the roundness to his cheeks.

it feels like a little reward and you laugh, too, before snuggling in closer, reaching across his bare chest to fiddle with the soft skin of his earlobe. he says something about toshinori. breathes deep and slow and nods wordlessly to something you ask him. he turns his head to rest his cheek against your temple and his hair tickles your ear until you fluff it away and you don’t know if he falls asleep first or if you do, but you hold each other through it all, anyway.

[eiji-ro]

[eiji-ro]

"the older pro heroes tend to dote on him" about post-time skip bakugo is absolutely leveling me

from mid-first year where it was only aizawa who saw bakugo's true heart and his heroism, where every single other adult in his life held him at arm's length and saw him as unmanageable and dangerous and a liability for his temperament, to now, as an adult, having the people he respects so damn much SEE HIM and LOVE HIM and RESPECT HIM for who he truly is is just

i'm gonna cry it's fine it's fine it's good

[eiji-ro]

all grown up

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snoopuru

[eiji-ro]

you ask kaiser for a kiss or something before he leaves and he's so overcome with the like...enormity of what he feels for you that you now have to come with him. it doesn't matter where he's going or what he's doing you will be accompanying him

[eiji-ro]

Katsuki never let him skip proper sunscreen routine

[eiji-ro]

Time skip La real Rin? Yes 🤭✨