#blueimagines

[sweetest-florida-blue-peach]

In honor of me turning 25 yesterday, I present you with: Husband! Bakugou: birthday edition.

This man could care less about his own birthday, so in regards to that aspect, he kinda just lumps all birthdays in the same 'lame' category. Not really one to celebrate or make a big deal. But ever since you came into his life, he tries really hard to make an effort for you.

However, you've noticed something. In all the years you've been together, not once has he ever gotten you a birthday card. Or any kind of card for that matter. Anniversaries, Valentine's Day, Christmas: they're all the same to him.

But surely he'd get you a birthday card, right?

Wrong.

Sure, there's the practical but useful gift (because he doesn't believe in getting gifts for the sheer purpose of just getting it) and the amazing birthday dinner he always makes you, but never a card. And it isn't so much that you mind, but part of you wonders why he never bothers with a card.

However, this is the same man who still sometimes struggles to open up and be affectionate and open with his feelings. It doesn't matter how long you've been together. He will always have trouble being 100% in regards to his emotions. Granted, he's gotten much better about it, but if he has trouble being honest and up front in person a good majority of the time, do you really think he'd bare his entire soul in a card?

Kaminari would most likely get a PHD in astrophysics before something like that would ever happen.

But when he sees you at the surprise party everyone got together to throw for you, and watches as you open your birthday cards from friends and family, he can't help but marvel at how soft your expression gets and how your eyes sparkle at the sheer thoughtfulness of them all.

Not one to be left out, this spurs him into action, and he decides to up the game.

So imagine with me that he comes home from a super long patrolling shift. He's tired. He's grimy. He just wants a bath, clean set of clothes, warm meal, and an eight to ten hour appointment with the bed. But he's put all that on the backburner because he sees you bounding up to him to greet him as walks through the door.

And the look on your face when you realize he's holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, along with....an envelope? It's enough to make him forget about his crappy day.

"Happy birthday," he says, all but shoving the items he got for you into your hands. You don't say anything. You just stare at the card, at him, then back at the card.

"You gonna open it or what?" He asks, neatly placing his combat boots by your much tinier shoes on the mat at the entrance of the doorway.

He follows you into the kitchen as you set the flowers down to put in a vase for later. His heart leaps in his chest as you carefully peel back the top layer of the envelope and take out the card.

He got it at the same store he bought the flowers from. They served all the cheesy, gimmicky, run-of-the-mill dumb birthday cards, but he grabbed the one that reminded him most of you. Sure, it had the usual, "Hope your birthday is as amazing as you" nonsense at the front, but what has him nervously tapping his fingers against the counter is what he wrote on the inside.

"(Your name),

I've never been good with this sort of stuff. It's stupid and overrated, but I know you like it because you're a sappy little shit. So happy birthday or whatever.

Another year under your belt, but you're still the same dumbass you've always been. Good thing I like dumbasses.

I would say that I hope you like the flowers but I know you will because they're your favorite and I picked them out.

Happy birthday, again.

Love you.

-Katsuki."

He's pretty proud of himself until he sees thick tears streaming down your cheeks. He rounds the island in your kitchen and is on you in a second.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying? Do you hate it? I'm sorry--" You stop his torrent of apologies with a finger pressed to his lips.

"I love it," you whisper, bringing your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him close. "I love it."

Hesitantly, he relaxes enough to cradle you to his chest. "You mean it?"

You nod your head. "It's perfect." You tilt your chin up to look at him, cupping his cheek. "You're perfect."

He gently thumbs away any stray tears. Pressing a tender kiss to your lips, he mumbles in true Katsuki Bakugou fashion, "Happy birthday, dumbass."

[sweetest-florida-blue-peach]

Southern Roots Series:

This is a series idea I've been playing around with for a while (and by a while, I mean five months). I’ve been debating on sharing but wasn’t sure because I’ve never really written on this website, and I’m honestly still learning how to use all the fun stuff like making banners and pinning masterlists and all that jazz. 

But I was also like, “What if people don’t like it?” and “I’m pretty sure this has been done before; it’s not like it’s original.”

However, life is short, but so is my attention span, so I'm gonna put it on Tumblr and make it everyone's problem. 😂

The basis of this concept is that each day I'll be picking a country song from my 'southern roots' playlist in my Amazon library. I’ll throw in a character and scenario which would best match the scenario and lyrics. Might be only one, might be multiple. 

@thecowboykatsuki-anon I blame you for filling my head with ideas of cowboy MHA characters 😂😂 but thank you for filling my head with these ideas all the same 😘💙

Pretty much all of the characters will be from My Hero Academia, but if you have a character or song request or both, my inbox is open 🙃

So hold onto y’all’s britches ‘cause I’ll be starting tomorrow. 

[sweetest-florida-blue-peach]

Izuku Midoriya is the type of boy that I would have a childhood crush on for years because look at him:

Look at this little bean. He's too precious for this world. How could you not think he was adorable?

However, I think that as we enter high school, I'd start trying to move on because "he'd never see me as anything more than a friend" but then OUT OF NOWHERE HE BE LOOKING LIKE THIS:

AND SUDDENLY I'M THE BIGGEST SIMP OUT THERE.

PUMP THE BRAKES, 'ZUKU. MY HEART CAN ONLY HANDLE SO MUCH.

[sweetest-florida-blue-peach]

When the sadness, insecurities, and loneliness hits, what do we do? We write angsty fanfic blurbs. 

The bright light shining from the overhead fixture was doing nothing to help the aching behind your eyes. Salt and heat stung at your eyelids, but you could do nothing to stop the sudden torrent that was gushing out of you. Your stomach hurt from how tightly it clenched as you cried, doing your best not to wake your significant other. They were most likely still asleep in your shared bed, blissfully unaware of what was happening on the other side of the bathroom door. And you wanted to keep it that way. 

They barely said a word to you when they came home earlier, and you could tell that whatever happened today was taking a toll on them. This wasn’t something you needed to bother them with. They already had enough on their plate without you adding to it.

You couldn’t sleep. Besides being an insomniac, it was always a battle getting your mind to calm down enough to try and make yourself get a few hours of shut eye. But tonight, you just couldn’t get your brain to shut off. Especially not after seeing the news. 

The thoughts got too loud. The emotions got too overwhelming. The loneliness became too much to bear. The insecurity was eating you alive. So you were doing the only thing you knew how to do. You were facing it on your own. Because that’s what you did. You dealt with your problems quietly so that you wouldn’t have to rely on anyone. Because people have let you down your entire life. Your parents. Siblings. Friends. Even your significant other, a time or two. 

All you had was you. You were already a disappointment to yourself. It spared you some of the heartache and mostly prepared you for the expectation of being disappointed by anyone else.

You were curled into a ball, leaning on the tiled wall for support. Your arms were pulled closely to your chest as sobs wracked your entire body. 

Despite doing your best to forget it, the newspaper articles and television broadcasts wouldn't leave your troubled mind.

*Pro Hero spotted with new love interest?*

An out-of-context photo of your significant other with a civilian who was definitely not you had been snapped by a curious passerby.

They were pressed closely together, your partner's hand pressed into the small of the other person's back, guiding them to wherever their destination was. Normally, you would have brushed it off. You would've ignored the feelings of self-doubt and put more effort into cheering your love on from the sidelines. But this time....this time was different. This time there was no way you could.

Because seemingly overnight, more photos of your love and the same mystery person began popping up everywhere.

It wasn't long before the media caught wind of the situation and did what they do best. They made matters worse.

The reporters smeared pictures of your relationship everywhere. They took photos from your Snapchats, Instagram, and wherever else they could get them from, depicting you in a negative light.

*Out with the old and in with the new!*

They made remarks on your weight, appearance, quirk, job, and many other things were nitpicked to the bone, comparing you to the mystery stranger wrapped up in your lover's embrace. The endless hate comments on every platform of social media was enough to make you shut off your phone and toss it in your bedside drawer.

However, what hurt the most is that your partner seemed completely unbothered by all of it. They didn't even offer an explanation. They never said a word about it. They just went through the motions of their daily routine, leaving for another patrol, another mission. Never once telling you they loved you or kissing you goodbye.

These days, it was a rarity if they spoke to you at all.

With trembling fingers, you brushed some stray tears from your cheeks, pressing the heel of your hand against your forehead. Your legs had long since gone numb, pins and needles prickling beneath your skin. Leaning your head against the wall, you close your eyes, willing yourself to breathe.

But the breath would not come. Only more choking cries that you are quick to bury in your hands.

You're not sure how long you sit there. How long it takes for the tears to drain you of everything. All you know is that your body has gone into autopilot. Your arms move of their own accord, pushing you up, hands clinging to the bathroom sink for support. Shaky legs keep you upright, knees weak and unsteady. The cold marble of the sink vanity bites into your hands and your neck aches as you crane your neck to look up.

The reflection in the mirror blinks at you with puffy, bloodshot eyes. A red nose twitches and sniffles, sucking back a flood of snot. Your hair is a mess, clothes disheveled, and you look downright ghastly. Swiping at your cheeks with the sleeve of your shirt, you sigh, chest hollow and empty.

Turning away, you shut off the bathroom light before venturing out again. You tiptoe on the carpet, willing the knob not to squeak as you shut the door behind you. The bedroom is quiet, save for the faint sounds of breathing coming from the opposite, occupied side of the bed.

Your bare feet shuffle to your side, hands grabbing the blankets as you slip under them, pulling the duvet above your shoulders. Your partner stirs in their sleep, rolling over on their side, face turned towards you, but showing no signs of being awake or aware.

The aching feeling returns as you settle further into the mattress, head plopping against your pillow. You turn to face the wall, back to them. You can't look at them right now. Not when it hurts this badly. Not when you don't have the energy or will to plaster on a fake smile and pretend that everything is alright. Not when your honesty clawed at your throat, desperate to ask the questions you were too afraid to voice in the daytime.

Are we going to be okay?

Am I enough for you?

Do you still think I'm beautiful?

Is there something that I've done wrong?

Why don't we talk like we used to?

Why does everything feel so different?

How are you so close to me yet still so far away?

Do you still love me?

A sudden chill creeps up your arms and tickles your feet and it makes you realize that the sheets have long grown cold, making you aware of your lack of warmth from them.

But as you peek over your shoulder at your lover, still victim of the throes of deep slumber, you can't help but wonder if your absence was even noticed.

Or if the bed has been cold for much longer than you realized.