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hybridfanfiction · 5 years

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Owner Training - 3

Word Count: 2,236

Life with Yoongi was turning you into a master of compromise, admittedly in his favor. He would request all windows and doors were to remain open, you would insist on the bathroom door being closed when you were in there. He insisted on a diet that consisted of meat, cheese, and half & half ( “Milk is basically white water and cream is too thick. It has to be half and half.”). You convinced him to have a salad at least once a week. He demanded fifteen hours of uninterrupted silence during the day for his sleep, you talked him down to ten at night and a five hour nap while you were at work. Basically, you were a pro negotiator now.

This is why it wasn’t a surprise to you that you’d been on the phone with a sick Yoongi for the past five minutes explaining that no, you weren’t going to bring home sashimi for dinner because you highly doubted the story he told about hybrids healing faster if they eat raw meat. You were more than happy to bring home some chicken soup, however. And if he willingly took some vitamin C tablets, you’d even buy some vanilla ice cream to soothe his throat. The promise of the frozen treat seemed to do the trick as he stopped coming up with hybrid health facts that you were certain he was pulling out of his ass and hung up, finally letting you get back to work uninterrupted.

You sigh wearily as you turn back to your computer, but you can’t help the little fond smile that grows as you think about him. Yoongi was a brat, it was true, but he was never really mean or a problem. You were sure he just got a little thrill every time he was able to trick you into doing what he wanted, thinking himself the most clever of cats. Honestly, you weren’t as dumb as he probably thought you were. Some of his victories came from your ignorance, as you were still learning. You wouldn’t deny that. However, you often let him get away with things just to see his little smirk of victory and obvious happiness.

Humming, you get back to work. You wanted to try to get some of the basic office work out of the way so you wouldn’t end up behind if you needed to take some time off to take care of Yoongi.

“Was that your hybrid again?” Your co-worker next to you grinned as she asked, very used to listening to your daily battles with Yoongi.

“Yeah. He’s had a cold for a couple days and he’s even more demanding than usual. It’s cute, but it would make my life easier if he would stop refusing to go to the vet. I’m sure they have meds that would end it faster.”

“Oh, he’s one of those. My girl was like that at first too, absolutely refused the vet. We got her on a rewards system now though. Every time she does a task successfully, like going to the vet without whining or learning a new trick, she gets a star on the board. Once she reaches a certain amount, she gets a treat. Like a trip to the park or a new toy. You should try something like that with yours.”

Something about the way she said it struck you as not only childish but slightly demeaning. Tricks? They weren’t actual dogs. You were certain if you tried to teach Yoongi an actual trick he’d flip you off and lock you out of your own bedroom.

“I don’t know. Yoongi was a stray, so he’s a little more sensitive than most,” you mutter, trying to keep your opinion to yourself. Last thing you needed was a co-worker that hated you because you called them a hybridist.

“Well, at the very least, you should have him trained a little more. My Lola wouldn’t dream of bothering me at work unless it was an emergency. Something like that would mean she’d have to move her mat out of my bedroom for the night and into the living room.”

“A mat? She doesn’t sleep with you?”

“Goodness, no. Hybrids aren’t allowed on the furniture, dear. You have to establish dominance, and letting them onto the couch or your bed makes them think they own the house. This is your first one, isn’t it?”

You nod silently and keep your thoughts to yourself. You felt really bad for this Lola. You know Yoongi would have ran away from this woman in a day. He may be a brat, but he didn’t deserve to be treated like that.

“Well, just remember that you’re the owner and they’re the pet. I’ll email you a few links to some great sites that can help.”

Thankfully, she goes back to work after that. To think, you used to like this woman. She was a great paralegal, but apparently a shit person.

You sigh and glance around your area, wondering what the chances were of Yoongi letting you take a picture of him. You could frame it and liven your desk up a little more. You grin at the thought of the battle you’d have to go through just to get one decent photo. He would put up a fight for sure, but all you’d have to do is compliment and praise him enough for him to think he’d be doing you a favor. The best way to get him to do anything was to make him think it was his own idea. It would have to wait until after he wasn’t sick though.

With the reminder of your sick kitty, you power through your work for the day, anxious to get home to him.

♦

You juggle the multiple bags to the kitchen and quickly stick the ice cream in the freezer before you go searching for your hybrid. After checking the bedroom which turned out to be empty, you realize that the lump of blankets on the couch is actually him when you spot a single ear poking out, moving whichever direction you headed.

A single sneeze came from the kitten burrito, sounding more like it came from a mouse than the usually gravelly voiced hybrid.

“Yoongi, I brought you dinner. You gonna get up?”

“Did you bring my sashimi?”

His poor voice makes you cringe, rough with the coughs and sore throat that he’s been dealing with. You hated seeing him like this.

“No. I brought you chicken soup, which will actually help you feel better.”

He pulled the blanket down to pout at you, still looking adorable as he did so despite the watery eyes and red nose. He sniffed and battled a cough before frowning again.

“I’m not getting up. You’re going to have to feed me.”

You raise an eyebrow which he merely counters with one of his own. Finally, after a few second standoff, you sigh and go grab the bag with his food, along with some water since you doubted he’d had any today. You also grab the bottle of vitamin C tablets, since it didn’t look like he’d even gotten up today so you were sure he hadn’t taken one yet.

You set everything up on the coffee table and he scoots up a little bit so that the blanket is around his shoulders, leaving his head out. You take the chance to reach out and feel his forehead, grimacing a bit when you realize it’s a little warmer than it was this morning.

“If that gets worse, we’re going to the vet whether you like it or not. You can die from high fevers, Yoongi.”

“I’m a hybrid. I have a naturally higher body temperature than a human, so you don’t know what to judge by. This is fine.”

You didn’t like it, but you promised yourself you’d keep an eye on it anyway. Hopefully having a decent meal and plenty of water will help for now. You take the lid off the chicken soup, smiling as the aroma hits you. The lady that owned the restaurant was very fond of Yoongi, as the two of you were regulars there, and she had fussed when you told her he was sick. You could tell that she’d put extra ginseng and broth in the soup today to help him get better.

You take a big spoonful of the rice and broth and tear off a piece of the chicken to place on top before blowing gently to cool it. You guide it to Yoongi’s already open and waiting mouth, the cat resembling a baby bird as he did so. You grin as he chews happily, humming to himself. The bowl is quickly devoured, leading you to believe he hadn’t even bothered to get up and feed himself at all today.

You had him the vitamin C tablet next and let him chew it before forcing him to drink the entire bottle of water. You’re impressed that he went through the entire meal without a single complaint or criticism.

Of course, it could just be because he wants his treat.

You go to the kitchen and dish out a single scoop of ice cream and grab more water just in case. When you bring the treat back to the couch, Yoongi’s face lights up and his eyes are glued to the bowl. He moans when the first bite cools his abused throat. He goes through the entire scoop in mere moments, letting his head fall back against the couch in contentment when it was all gone.

You set the bowl down on the coffee table before reaching over to check his temp again. It still felt pretty much the same, but it hadn’t gotten worse at least. You brush the hair away from his forehead absentmindedly, just hoping to give him some comfort so he’ll fall asleep. He startles you when he shoves his head into your hand, peeking up at you through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Pet me.”

Your jaw drops in surprise. “Really?”

Instead of answering, he butts into your hand again. With a growing grin, you thread your hands into his hair, slowly combing through it and occasionally scratching around the bases of his ears. Soon, the unmistakable sounds of purring fill the room and you quickly decide the sick and sleepy Yoongi was one of your favorite things (although you still wished he wasn’t sick, of course).

Just when you think he’s finally nodded off, his eyes shoot open and he clears his throat.

“Diablo.”

“What?”

“That cat you bought me. I need it.”

You shake your head and you fetch the cat plushie from the nearby recliner.

“You named it Diablo? Why not mittens or socks? Something cute. Look, it has different colored feet.”

He glares at you and pulls one hand out of the blanket to reach for it.

“Fine. Here’s Diablo,” you sigh, handing him the toy. He tucks it near his head, then opens the blankets so quickly that you were unprepared for him to pull you on top of him and wrap them around you.

“Jesus, you’re burning up in here,” you mumble against the warm chest you’re pressed against.

He hums and tangles his legs with yours and wraps his tail around your waist.

“Shut up and sleep,” he orders with a loud yawn, adding his arms to the mix so you were basically trapped in the kitten burrito.

The purring came back moments later, the rumbling as you laid against his chest oddly soothing. He soon started the little puffs of breathing that meant he was nearly asleep, so you closed your eyes and let yourself join him.

♦

There was a rattling sound that slowly woke you from your slumber, but you stubbornly kept your eyes shut until a beam of bright light hit your eyelids, practically blinding you. You opened your eyes and glared at the offender, which turned out to be a smug cat holding the window blinds open so the sun would hit you right in your face.

“Get up. You’re going to take me to the park today. I’ve been cooped up for too long.”

You sit up and observe him with a sleepy scowl that quickly changes to a relieved smile when you realize he’s essentially healthy again. His color looks normal and his eyes are clear, and you haven't heard a single sniffle.

“All better then?”

“Yup. Pretty sure it was the ice cream.”

You roll your eyes and sit up, then take the hand he offers you to help you stand and lead you towards the bathroom.

“Um...thank you for taking care of me. You didn’t need to go all out, but you did, so yeah. Thanks,” he says softly.

Before you can answer he quickly leans over and pecks your cheek, blushing brightly, before he essentially shoves you into the bathroom.

You hold the door, still in shock and feeling the touch of his lips on your skin like a brand. You’re sure the grin you’re sporting is dopey as hell.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

He nods and starts to walk away from the door, only to pause and throw a smirk over his shoulder.

“Though, I could have been better in one day instead of three if you’d gotten my sashimi.”

You adored the brat, you really did.

#bts #bts fanfic #hybrid #hybrids #hybrid fanfiction #hybrid!bts #cat!hybrid #hybrid!yoongi #cat hybrid!yoongi #au #hybrid au #owner training

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jadewing-realms · 5 years

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home is an empty house

Fandom: My Hero Academia Words: 5254 Pairing: Kacchako [Read on AO3]

I wrote this back in, like... September. But as it is now the actual Christmas season, it seemed appropriate to upload it here. Have some fluffy Kacchako Christmas goodness!

[Sent; 7:32PM, Yesterday] katsuki♥ wish i could be there.

Clenching the phone tightly in her hands, Uraraka Ochako sighs onto the screen, fogging it.

So does she. In fact, she’s been wishing that ever since he told her last week that he wouldn’t be able to do any traveling over the holidays.

Yet here they are. Their first Christmas together, and he’s stuck halfway across the world, on a campus in New York. Figures.

Sometimes, she hates hero work. Sure, she’s decked out in her winter Hero uniform and dutifully patrolling the streets because crime apparently doesn’t take holidays (or, mostly dutifully; she just can’t help checking for new messages from him). But that doesn’t stop her from being the least bit bitter against her line of work. With its stupid schedule and stupid pressures and stupid ranking system… and its stupid sense of gratification and stupid fat paychecks.

It’s the industry’s fault he’s in New York. He wants to be the best there is. It’s also the industry’s fault she’s still here in Japan. She has a job now, as a sidekick, at a decent agency and people know her name.

So they keep their priorities in check and every evening, she returns home alone, to an empty apartment drowning in silence. And in the privacy of their message threads, they wish.

It’s almost childish, isn’t it?

Back when she was a kid, Ochako remembers sitting at her window every night, clasping her hands tightly under her chin, and sending up her day’s wishes to her favorite star in the sky. She never asked for much; her family had never been well-off, but she was content. She appreciated what she had. But to this day, there are a handful of things she recalls wishing for with stark clarity.

The earliest memory of her wishes that she has is one in which she asked the heavens for a bike. Big gifts were expensive gifts, and yet she had so desperately wanted to be able to ride around like she saw the older boys at school doing. She’d been enthralled by their speed, the wind throwing their caps and hoods off their heads and whipping their hair back. So she’d knelt at her window and prayed her request to the brightest star up there, because she’d read in a book somewhere that wishes upon stars might come true. Looking back, she’s not even sure how old she was then…

There was another time that she wished for a puppy, back before she understood just how much it costs to have a pet.

Pretty soon though, she started wishing for work for her parents. And now that she thinks about it, it was around the same time she started harboring the dream of making money as a Hero in order to support them. After that, trivial things like bikes and puppies faded into the wind and she hasn’t really thought of them since.

It’s odd, thinking of those wishes now…

She looks up. Her eyes meet crystal blue, not a single cloud spotting the December sky. The stars won’t be out for several hours yet. The forecast even made mention of snow tonight, so the chances she’ll get to test whether or not she can find her Star again are fairly low. Still. The stars are still out there, right?

She clutches her phone tightly in her hands, closes her eyes, and hopes they hear her.

I wish Katsuki was here.

“Ochako—is something wrong, ribbit?”

“Ah—no! Sorry! I’m coming!”

She puts her phone away in its holster on her belt and sprints to catch up to Tsuyu.

Do the stars remember all the wishes?

Is the night sky just like a giant invisible net that drags the cosmos like the cops drag a river when looking for a body?

Ochako pauses with her coffee cup halfway to her mouth, startled by the morbid nature of that thought. She pictures wishes gathering against the stars like a bunch of corpses and then scrunches her face, hurrying to shake the image away. That’s definitely not the direction she’d meant to take that train of thought…

Katsuki’s morbid sense of humor is rubbing off on her. The thought both pleases and disturbs her.

Just thinking his name has her reaching for her phone. He’s been so quiet the last few days… He said last week that he was planning on using the holiday break for cram work. And when he crams, he crams. He never has to, but he does. His scores could be flawless (as they usually are) but he’ll study like he’s about to fail. Not that he ever lets his classmates see that. Back in UA, heaven forbid anyone see him as anything other than perfectly confident in his skill. Time and experience has changed a lot of things, but that’s not one of them.

She smiles to herself as she pulls up the well-loved message thread. He’s always hated being vulnerable…

'...wish i could be there.' His last message reminds her that he’s capable. Capable of letting down the fortress from around his soul and laying it bare—for her and her alone to see. She’s developed a skill for cutting him to the quick anyway, so those walls are kind of pointless. Still. He lets her see what he’d call the weakest parts of him.

She calls them sweet, but he never believes her.

The last message displayed in the thread is her response from last night: three hearts, and the words ‘same here.’

Her thumb darts over the keys, and she takes another sip of coffee before she hits send.

[Sent; 12:14PM, Today] You The books arent eating you alive, i hope

She smiles to herself, wondering what he’ll shoot back and more importantly, how long it’ll take him to respond…

“I’m pretty sure you keep forgetting I’m here. Ribbit.”

Ochako snaps her head up, nearly jumping in her seat before her brain reminds her that she hasn’t been alone all day. Tsuyu, drinking her own cup of tea in the seat across from here, eyes her with a mostly blank face but thinly-veiled amusement in her eyes. Ochako’s mouth gapes in search of words, appropriate words, maybe words that could excuse how horribly she’s been zoning out today. But at last, she must concede that there really aren’t any. And instead, she just slumps against the table in defeat.

“Geez, I’m sorry,” she drawls with a healthy helping of self-depreciation. “I just… it’s Christmas Eve and there are so many other things I’d rather be doing tonight. And nothing’s even happened today! It’s so boring!”

For a moment, Tsuyu just smiles and sips her tea. Then, taking her time, she lowers the cup but keeps it firm between her mittens. “Have you heard from Bakugou today?”

Ochako blinks. A part of her is impressed. The other part just wants to sink into the floor. Is she really that obvious?

Then again, Asui Tsuyu is the sharpest person Ochako knows. So she probably would’ve noticed anyway.

“No, I just messaged him…” Ochako presses her cheek against the cold diner table. She glances at her phone screen—still no response. He hasn’t even seen the message yet. Then she notes they have 15 minutes of lunch break left. “He seems busy lately.”

“Anything interesting?” Tsu prompts.

Ochako shakes her head, wobbling the table. “Nah. Just… the same old stuff. He keeps staying up too late to study though.”

“He’s always been pretty determined in whatever he set his mind to. That includes this long-distance thing, Ochako. He’ll text when he can, I’m sure, ribbit.”

“Yeah…” She absorbs the words, letting them sooth her—that is until she stops and thinks about exactly what was said. Then she sits up and holds a hand out with a frantic wave. “OH, no, no, I’m not… It’s not that big a deal! I’m not thinking… I just miss him, is all…” She admits this with a hang of her head, huddling around her coffee cup like it can save her from sounding like some desperate, lonely girlfriend. “It just… seems really quiet without him around. Him and Deku! Both of them, things seemed… I dunno. Livelier, before they left.”

And Deku’s coming home for Christmas, from what she’s heard. So why can’t he…?

Tsu chortles. “We were in high school before they left, ribbit. That’s always crazy.”

“I guess…” Ochako giggles a little as well before the sound falls flat. She sinks into thought, thoughts she’s not sure she likes, and twiddles her fingers against her coffee.

Back in UA, she thought she knew what she wanted. Finally, after a childhood full of questions, she’d had an answer. A way forward. And then… everything happened. Meeting Deku. The League of Villains. Her fateful match with Katsuki at the sports festival… The one that had pushed her to grow stronger, more confident in herself and what she can do... kinda like him.

He was—is—so loud. Brash and without reservation, feral in a way that makes him seem powerful and dangerous. Uncontrollable. And yet… she’d noticed a vulnerability. A weakness that he had to be all too aware of, but after their match, she’d found she wasn’t afraid of him like the others anymore… To this day, she can’t begin to pin down why.

But she supposes now, looking back, that it was those moments of her reaching out, treating him like just another person because that’s what he was, that helped her see just how… amazing… he really is. Sure, he still has a foul mouth and a hair-trigger temper given the right context, but he’s grown and he’s allowed her to watch him grow, even if it is at a long distance. She’s been privileged…

She’s grown accustomed to his confident, demanding presence. Enough to miss it.

“I guess I’m still adjusting to the way things are now. It’s… the same, but also really different, you know?”

“Mm-hmm. I understand.”

Back then, Ochako never would’ve even dreamed she’d be in a long-distance relationship with Bakugou Katsuki. No way in heck. Back in those days, Deku had filled her life with sparkling admiration and dreams of maybe one day…

She shakes those thoughts away too. Now’s definitely not the time for that.

So instead, she perks up and stuffs her phone away in its holster, and shoots Tsu a beaming smile—hoping maybe she can diffuse the weird cloud that’s trying to settle over her like the storm front blowing in outside. “Hey! Do you have plans tonight? We could do something! Maybe we could rent a movie, make some snacks? That could be fun.”

Tsu’s smile falls a little and she tilts her head. “Oh, sorry. It’s Christmas Eve, remember? I’m gonna spend the evening with my family.”

Oh, right, duh! Stupid Ochako, you space-brain… She palms herself in the forehead. “Right! Man, I don’t know where my head is today; I’m sorry, Tsu…”

The other woman’s mouth tilts back up at the corners. “Across the Pacific, I think.”

A flush heats Ochako’s face, and suddenly, she feels the great need to get back to work. She hops out of her seat. “I’ll finish this swig and then we can get back on the road! Those criminals aren’t gonna stop themselves!”

A blanket of clouds makes the sunset run short and soon, it’s dark, and there are no stars. Ochako sighs again—for the umpteenth time in the past hour—but at least her shift is over and she can go home. Ryukyu practically forced everyone to leave early, despite lingering behind herself. It had all but ended in a war between ‘go home early, you’ve earned it’ and ‘no, we’re staying as long as you do’, until Ryukyu had to admit that her reasons for staying behind were holiday-related.

Ochako, along with everyone else, had relented after that. Ryukyu always left great little surprises for them to find later.

However, that now meant heading home. Alone. In the dark. To an empty apartment.

Ochako sighs again.

Her phone vibrates. She practically rips it out of its holster. She unlocks it and pulls up the message thread as fast as she ever has. Her heart skips when she realizes she’s missed three messages.

[Sent; 12:45PM, Today] katsuki♥ sorry. was out late. still alive.

[Sent; 12:46PM, Today] katsuki♥ the books’ll hafta try harder than that

[Sent; 12:50PM, Today] katsuki♥ Stop worrying about me

That must’ve been when she and Tsu found that lost kid right after lunch. A little boy had gotten separated from his mother in a little shopping district and they’d found him quite distraught. It hadn’t lasted long; they’d found his mother searching the shops for him just around the corner. But it would’ve been long enough to keep her from noticing her phone…

Now, those messages she missed are capped with one that’s much more recent.

[Sent; 9:02PM, Today] katsuki♥ you doing okay?

Despite herself, a smile creeps onto her face. She’s usually the one to keep a conversation going, so her silence must’ve been a little off-putting. She starts typing.

[Sent; 9:06PM, Today] You yes! sorry, gotta love phone tag, I’ve been patrolling with Tsu.

The ellipse appears almost immediately, and her heart leaps. He’s actually on his phone this time, right now! She holds the screen closer.

[Sent; 9:06PM, Today] katsuki♥ Isn’t it like. 9pm there?

She pauses to do a little mental math. Right, it’s eight in the morning on his end… Time is weird.

[Sent; 9:07PM, Today] You Yeah, it’s christmas eve, I know. No rest for the wicked I guess

[Sent; 9:07PM, Today] katsuki♥ wicked? you?

[Sent; 9:07PM, Today] You when I wanna be ;)

[Sent; 9:08PM, Today] katsuki♥ mrawr. down kitty

She giggles to herself, standing there on the street corner like a dork. She’s pretty sure she’s had the chance to go twice now, but she’s okay being a little preoccupied. Her empty apartment isn’t going anywhere. For now, she just wants to hold the phone close and soak as much of him through it as she can. Like maybe, if she does that and wishes hard enough to the stars hidden behind the clouds, those stars could defy the laws of reality and Katsuki could be here, talking to her face and not through a bunch of pixels on a screen.

[Sent; 9:10PM, Today] katsuki♥ thinking about something?

[Sent; 9:10PM, Today] You maybe. I just

She’s about to finish the thought in the next message when a ruckus raises down the block—someone shouting, and a jarring crash of something metal and glass. Her attention is snatched away from the phone, which goes back into its case, thought unfinished.

I miss you.

By the time she drags her feet up to her apartment door, it’s 10:30PM and she just wants to have some ramen and then go to bed. The audacity of some villains… Who tries to rob a toy store on Christmas Eve? Some moron calling himself Sim the serial thief, apparently.

And it’s not Katsuki rubbing off on her; ‘moron’ is an apt description of the guy, she thinks. After all, if you attempt to rob a string of stores in a busy district just to prove you can get away with it, assimilating the items into your body as you go? You’re pretty much a moron.

Though, he was a pain in the neck to catch, the stupid jerk…

What’s worse is that, once the villain was in police custody, Ochako remembered she needed to finish her message to Katsuki, only to find her phone crunched, and crunched good. She hasn’t panicked like that in a long while. Now that she’s had time to think about it, it must’ve happened when Sim chucked a full-size widescreen TV at her…

Now she has to worry about getting a new one. A phone, not a TV. She might have to dig into her travel savings… which she really doesn’t want to think about. It’s just depressing.

She fishes her key from under her mat and unlocks the door to her place, not looking forward to stepping inside any more than she was earlier. She almost feels bad. Back when she saved up enough to afford to start renting a decent place like this, she’d been over the moon. Poor apartment hasn’t done anything wrong, per se, it’s just… painfully empty. Hollowed out. Silent.

Heat pricks the back of her eyes, so she decides she better stop that train of thought before it wrecks. Switching her mind to other things, she thinks she really ought to take a shower, but the idea of doing anything other than Eat and Sleep just makes her grumble and shake her head. She’ll do it tomorrow. When she feels like it. It’s not like there’s anybody to impress tonight.

Once inside with the door closed, in the dark of her own space, she finally lets the tension drain from her shoulders. Without bothering with the lights just yet, she sags back against the door, taking a deep breath of the familiar scent of home.

Except… there’s something not familiar about it. A strange new smell that wasn’t there this morning… A nice smell. Actually, a strong smell. Cologne, and a hint of something chemical. She cracks her eyes open and takes a good look around her.

Her apartment’s nothing spectacular. Heck, who’s she kidding; it’s tiny and sparsely furnished. Just three rooms—a little hall to her right from which branches the small bedroom and bathroom, and then the main living space and kitchenette. Not much to warrant a break-in. Plus, the sliding door to the petite balcony is still closed and intact, and she’s on the third floor anyway. So then…

There’s a breath—an almost-moan, and the shuffle of fabric. Movement in the shadows by the sofa draws her eye, just before the lamp clicks on. It’s not a bright lamp, but the sudden light to her eyes, which had been adjusting to complete darkness, is enough to blind her just for a beat.

“You’re late,” he says.

For a split second, she convinces herself she’s hearing things. Projecting today’s mood on whoever this is that’s decided she’d be a good person to rob tonight. But in the same second, she’s looking at the sofa and thanks to the lamp, she can actually see who’s there and her throat’s suddenly constricting.

Bakugou Katsuki looks h***a fine in a maroon coat. And he’s wearing the charcoal-grey scarf and Ka-Boom earrings she got him last year. He’s looking at her with heavy-lidded eyes like he just woke up and rubbing his knuckles against one and g** he’s a sight for sore eyes. He rocks to his feet from where he’s sitting on the low-resting sofa and strides across the apartment like he owns it, until he’s standing right in front of her, close in the dim light. She can see dark shadows under his eyes, but the eyes themselves glint with something like snark.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs, blinking and glancing around absently, still looking very much like he just woke up. Had he been just… napping on the couch?

The text messages… had he been…?

She suddenly remembers to breathe. She gulps in air, yanks off her glove and swats him in the arm with it. The fact that he actually flinches, startled, is a testament to his jet lag. She does her best to glare up at him instead of launching into his arms like she wants to so badly.

“A**hole!!” she snaps, and points a rigid index finger between his eyes, which are a bit wider now. More awake. Good. “You lied to me!”

For a second, he just stares at her, meeting her eyes without even a smidgen of remorse. He blinks. Her nerve wavers. But she refuses to give first.

Then he smiles—not his toothy, arrogant smile that makes most people wanna punch him in the mouth, but an actual expression of fondness, familiar only to her and so warm it makes her heart melt and her knees weak. And d*** it if she doesn’t realize right then just how much she missed his stupid face.

“Surprise.” He lifts a hand to clasp it over hers, where it’s still hovering in the air between them, accusatory finger still extended. He tilts his head and makes a show of puckering his lips, pressing a comically chaste kiss to the pad on the tip of her outstretched finger. “Don’t cuss me out when I came all this way to spend Christmas with you, Pink Cheeks.”

Chaste or no, the kiss makes her shiver and she knows she’s close to losing and she hates that but also loves it because at this point, she’s just glad he’s here. With her, in her apartment. The apartment she had been so prepared to find empty.

Lip quivering a little, she allows her frustration to escape in one last defiant ‘hrrmmgh’ before she dives into his chest and secures her arms tightly around his sturdy middle. She soaks in his scent—a new cologne, and that underlying chemical hint of fireworks, smoky and mmm, has she missed that—and his warmth and the way that after a few seconds of hesitation, his arms come to rest tentatively around her shoulders, cocooning her.

“Hey,” he grumbles, sounding caught between perturbed and amused, “pull yourself together. I’m not f***ing dead.”

“Shut your stupid face,” she whines into his coat, holding him tighter. She can hear his heartbeat getting a little faster. “I just… I missed you, you stupid… stupid, stupid… jerk…”

“Don’t call me stupid, stupid! Give me a little credit. I wasn’t about to let my best girl spend Christmas alone.”

It’s enough. She breaks into a smile, her eyes stinging, and she rocks him back and forth, lost in utter ecstasy. It’s weird and childish and he hasn’t really had enough experience with her brand of physical affection yet to be used to it, but he has to adjust some time. Especially since as far as she’s concerned, he’s gonna be stuck with her for as long as she has any choice in the matter.

Her smile only widens when she feels him rest his cheek on top of her head.

Yes. This… this is what she wished for.

Then he sniffs and murmurs into her hair. “You stink. You need a shower.”

Any other day, that would’ve ruined the mood. But not today. She’s not about to let it. So she just keeps smiling and explains very briefly, still speaking into his coat collar. “Mmph, shh. Villain. Had to chase ‘im.”

Slowly, he begins attempting to disentangle her from him. “Well, go take a quick shower and I’ll reheat dinner.”

When he manages to put an arm’s length of distance between them again, holding her out with his hands on her shoulders, she’s staring up into his face with an expression of pure, astonished joy. She’s really not sure how to express how touched she is at this point, so she settles for exaggerating her lower lip and letting a tear escape, which honestly seems to unnerve him more than anything.

To his credit, he just cups her face with one hand and brushes the tear away, while she squeaks out a wobbly “You made dinner??”

Now he smirks, and this time it is the toothy, arrogant one. He’s lucky she can’t find it in her to feel like punching him right now. “F*** yeah, I made dinner. Went all out too, so you better clean up quick.”

She hooks her hands on his neck and brings him in for what’s supposed to be quick, undignified peck on his lips, but when all the tension leaves his body—tension she hadn’t even realized was there—in one big whoosh of breath across her mouth, she figures she might as well stay there a while. Everything else can wait. She’s going to enjoy this to its fullest, and the best way to do that is to take a note from her boyfriend’s book and do whatever the f*** she wants.

The kiss starts slow, which once she thinks about it isn’t so surprising given they’ve only actually kissed like three times, and two of them were quick goodbyes. Whoops. She feels the uncertainty in his lips, the hesitation in the way his hands can’t seem to find a place to rest along her back, and she thinks his clumsy affection is adorable.

She presses closer, as close as she can get, coiling one arm over his shoulder and the other combing her fingers into his coarse hair. He relaxes gradually, finding an easy resting place for his hands and an appropriate angle to tilt his head, giving a little to her experience and the way she guides each kiss from quaint to something a little bolder and infinitely more comfortable. Their lips catch and then part, tongues tripping over each other, and it’s certainly not the most graceful, Hollywood-worthy make-out in the world, but she doesn’t mind and she likes to think he doesn’t either, despite his pride. It’s all she can do to keep from exploding with pure, unadulterated happiness. She’s addicted to his taste.

The cloud of loneliness that’s been hounding her all day—no, all week—has all but retreated with its tail between its legs, dissipating in the face of his presence.

It’s there, while lip-locked with the boy—the man she thinks maybe she’s got a bug for, that her mind brings forth an intriguing revelation. An answer to a question she hasn’t even asked herself, the reason why these days she’s dreaded coming back to this empty apartment every night.

Bakugou Katsuki feels like home now. The spirit that once dwelled in these four walls must’ve taken up residence inside him while she wasn’t looking, so that now, when he leaves, he takes it with him.

And strangely enough, she can’t be sad about it.

When her back thumps against the front door and Katsuki releases a little growl that makes all of her hair stand on end, the little rational part of her brain deems this as Far Enough, and with great effort and a soft, breathless exhale, she pulls away. He hovers, like maybe his brain is taking a few extra seconds to process everything, the tip of his nose and his hot breath feathering across her cheek.

“D***…” is as intelligent a response as it seems he’s currently capable of. He huffs against her face—something like a stunned guffaw and a harried sigh rolled into one. “Just go take your f***ing shower.”

She giggles again, perhaps with a bit more mischief than she should have because his grip on her hips tightens a little. Moving her own hands over his, fingertips taking in tough, calloused skin while also taking care not to touch him with all five, she begins the arduous task of extracting him from her person.

“I will, soon as you let go,” she whispers in reply before, unable to resist, she presses one last light kiss on his nose.

Or at least, she’d intended it to be the last. He has his own ideas, chasing her mouth with his to get in a few more, which is oddly gratifying. The knowledge that she can make him as weak as he makes her… it’s almost empowering. That’s when she figures screw it, she might as well mess with him. Because as much as this subdued, half-asleep version of him does interesting things to the connection between her heart and her stomach, she can’t deny that she’d like to hear the sound of home just a little before he disappears off to wherever he’s staying.

Even if the neighbors will probably complain.

Lowering her last finger, she activates her quirk on him while he’s busy fitting his mouth against hers and, bracing her hands against his admittedly comfortable chest, gives him the lightest of pushes in the opposite direction.

Without mass, his body moves as easily as a helium balloon. The actual last kiss ends with rather rude abruptness that might’ve made Ochako feel a little bit of guilt, if not for the wonderfully familiar outburst that immediately follows.

“D***IT! ARE YOU F***IN' S***TING ME RIGHT NOW, OCHAKO, PUT ME DOWN! THAT WAS A CHEAP MOVE!”

She grins across and slightly up at him, where his momentum has him drifting slowly upward just shy of the small, round kitchen table. Sashaying with self-approval, she strides by just out of his reach, headed for the bathroom. “I’m gonna take my shower. I hope your cooking’s still good enough to blow me away even as leftovers. You know I have high standards for food.”

“LIKE H***, RAMEN BRAIN! YOUR STANDARDS ARE S***! Now let me down and I’ll do more than blow your f***ing mind!!”

It’s only after she locks herself in the bathroom that she releases her Quirk and giggles to herself at the ensuing rattle-and-thud that results from Katsuki’s however-clumsy landing. He lets fly another string of expletives that trail off at the end, like he’s finally reminded himself of the late hour, or perhaps the fact that there are total strangers just on the other side of the walls. She listens further, with her ear pressed against the bathroom door, until she hears the microwave start humming. Then and only then does she take a deep, staying breath, and release it in another sigh—this one heavy with contentment and not a trace of her previous angsting.

Yes. This was just what she needed. Somewhere out there, beyond a layer of clouds that's slowly sending down fluffs of snow, her Star had remembered her wish.

BONUS:

When the screeching guitar rifts of his ringtone jar him to awareness, the first thought to leap to Katsuki’s jet-lagged brain is ‘S*** I’ll wake Ochako up,’ and it’s enough to send him careening off his borrowed pillow. He twists over the sofa’s armrest, snatches his phone off the end table—which is actually a TV tray—and swipes to answer just to shut the thing up. Then he remembers last night, when she said she had to leave early for a morning shift at her agency and he’s welcome to treat the apartment like home in the meantime.

It’s only after this recollection that he recognizes Eijirou’s profile image on the screen and squints. He puts the phone to his ear.

“Mmmwhat’s the deal, Dumb Hair, it’s early.”

“Dude! You get in. last night. and you don’t even come say ‘hi’ to your bro? That’s harsh.”

“I was busy.”

“Busy? Busy how—Wait… where are you?”

“Ochako’s.” And the moment he says it, he spills a quick “f***” in follow-up because he really should’ve just told his best friend to mind his own d*** business.

A brief beat of silence passes before Eijirou friggin’ gasps like some school girl who just became privy to The Biggest Scandal Evar, and his voice comes over the line sounding far too pleased. “Ohhhhhh, I see, well, don’t let me cut in on anything, man.”

“GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE GUTTER, YOU CREEP!”

“Hey, what happens in your gutter stays in your gutter, bruh, we cool.”

“SHUT UP!”

#kacchako #kacchaco #bakugou x uraraka #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #christmas #fluff #with a side of tsu #and a dash of kirishima

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lascolinaschildrenacademy-blog · 7 years

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How Toddlers Really Think: Understanding and Reasoning 101

The Drama Queen

The scene: Your toddler pinches her finger in a toy. You rush over to find a tiny red mark but no broken skin. You offer to kiss her boo-boo, but she wails, "I need a Band-Aid!" You think: "Get a grip!" She thinks: "Help! I'm broken! Fix me!"

When an infant plays with her toes or studies her wiggling fingers, she has no idea that these body parts belong to her, notes Tovah Klein, PhD, psychology professor and director of the Toddler Development Center at Barnard College in New York. "But toddlers have figured it out: This is me, this is my body -- and they love their body," she explains.

Toddlers make no distinction between the physical, mental, or emotional "me," so every little nick, real or imagined, is an insult to self. That's why a 2-year-old will sob over every hangnail. "It's as if their whole being has been punctured," says Klein. Band-Aids offer concrete comfort. "They're a tangible way of saying, 'I know that you have been wronged, your body has been wronged, here's something that will make it better.'" Your best bet: Skip the reasoning, stock up on an ample supply of bandages, and take advantage while you can of their miraculous tear-stopping powers.

The Bargainer

The scene: Your 2-year-old watches as you deposit two scoopfuls of ice cream into his small plastic bowl, then two equal-size scoops into a larger bowl for his sister. As you place the bowls on the table, he wails, "I didn't get as much!" You think: "But I gave you both two identical scoops!" He thinks: "She has more ice cream than me!"

Toddlers can't comprehend that containers of different shapes and sizes can hold equal amounts of stuff. Kids don't develop this cognitive ability, known as "conservation," until age 6 or 7. If you show a younger child two tall glasses filled equally with water and let him watch as you pour one into a shorter, wider glass, he'll invariably say the taller glass has more water. That's why it's pointless to try to convince your toddler that he has the same amount of juice as someone with a taller cup. "To the toddler, bigger is more," says Klein. You'll avoid tears of (perceived) injustice by recognizing that with toddlers, equal servings aren't enough: similar containers are also required.

The Independent & The Tough GuyMiss Independence

The scene: You have 30 minutes to get your 2-1/2-year-old dressed, fed, and in the car. You start to take off her pajamas, but she insists, "Me do it!" You watch as she struggles to get the top over her head, her frustration mounting. She refuses your offer to help: "No, me do it!" You think: "Aaaaargh!" She thinks: "I know I can do it!"

Whereas infants have no sense of themselves as separate individuals, toddlers are newly aware of, and eager to test, their autonomy. "This push for independence is a good thing, though it can be frustrating for the parents," assures Pamela High, MD, director of developmental and behavioral pediatrics at Hasbro Children's Hospital, in Providence, Rhode Island. "You want your child to become self-sufficient, even though in the moment you want to get them out the door," she observes. If you can surrender to the reality that everything takes longer with a toddler -- bathing, dressing, eating, walking -- you'll take pressure off yourself and your child. "Try to start a little bit earlier," advises High. "Let your child do the parts she can do and help her with what she can't." Boost her chances for success by choosing slip-on clothes (no buttons, snaps, or zippers) and Velcro-fastened shoes. "What toddlers really want is the pride of accomplishment," observes High, "so look for ways to let them experience that."

The Bully

The scene: Your 20-month-old whacks another child on the head with a plastic shovel and grabs the pail out of his hands. The child erupts in tears, while your little bruiser happily sets to work on a sandcastle. Mortified, you rush over, reprimand your child, and insist that he return the pail and apologize. Instead, he clings to it and wails, "Mine!" You think: "Is 2 too young for reform school?" He thinks: "I want the pail!"

Toddlers are intrinsically egocentric, explains Klein. Until about age 3, children believe that they are the center of the universe and that everyone else thinks so too. "It really is all about them," says Klein. "Toddlerhood is the celebration of me."

Fortunately, by age 3 most children will develop greater sense of empathy. Meanwhile, if your tot insists on grabbing for another child's toy, it's probably best to remove him from the situation. Don't ignore aggression. If your toddler strikes another child, get down on his eye level and say something like, "Look, he's crying, it hurt when you hit him," advises Klein. This is how to teach children about feelings, so that by the time they're 3, they won't want to hurt others."

The Copycat & Miss ImaginaryMiss Follow-the-Leader

The scene: Your toddler sees her big sister playing with her Barbie and cries because she wants to play with Barbie. You persuade your daughter to give your tot a turn; she nobly hands over the doll and begins playing with her toy ponies instead. Your toddler drops Barbie and reaches for a horse: "I want pony!" You think: "I give up!" She thinks: "I want to do what she's doing!"

Toddlers learn by mimicking, explains High. "At this age, there's a whole lot of watching and copying, which is why toddlers want what others have," she explains. "It's through imitation that they learn language and social skills and how to manipulate their world." The next time your toddler melts down because she doesn't want her tricycle, she wants her brother's Big Wheel, try to interpret her tantrum as a yearning to learn. It may help you to weather the storm with more understanding and less irritation -- even as you hold your ground against unreasonable demands. You may avert some tantrums by keeping doubles of favorite (less expensive) toys, especially if you have close-in-age children or you regularly host play dates.

The (Un)Realist

The scene: Your 22-month-old, who used to love her bath, now refuses to sit in the tub and becomes hysterical when you open the drain to empty the water. You think: "The terrible twos are here!" She thinks: "The drain is going to suck me down!"

Toddlers engage in "magical thinking," meaning they're unable to distinguish the real from the imaginary and frequently attribute living characteristics to inanimate objects: The moon follows them, trees wave to them, the car "sleeps" in the garage, and the bathtub drain swallows whole tubs of water -- so why not them too? You can try reassuring your child that she'd never fit, but it may be more persuasive to cover the drain with a "magic" no-skid bath mat that "keeps drains from opening."

Magical thinking also partly explains why toddlers have trouble taking "no" for an answer, notes Klein. "Toddlers think that if they wish or imagine something, it will happen," she adds -- whether it's having Corn Pops for breakfast (no matter how many times Mommy says there are none) or wearing the pink mittens that have been lost for a month.

The good news is that you can use your child's magical thinking to deal with fears, which may set in at this age. "Create a ritual of blowing away bad dreams, or let your child sleep in Dad's T-shirt, or with a family photo, to ease fears of the dark or monsters," says Klein.