#izuocha fanfiction

[izupie]

Aww I posted this 5 years ago!! (2019 was 5 years ago!!!?) This was after I posted the first official ending to Beep Beep Beep, before I gave it an epilogue a couple of years later.

I can't believe I called it a "short" story asdhjhgshfj

BBB is officially 5 years old that's so bizarre to realise. It was the first time I'd ever finished a longer project. It took me a year to write and I had never worked on one story for that long. I have so many good memories from that year !

My baby is 5 and I'm emotional about it

[its-f4nf4n-again]

Things We Carry

Ochaco and Izuku don't talk about certain things. But just because you ignore something doesn't mean it isn't there.

AO3 Link Here Word Count:  1433 Rated T; written for @izuochaweek Bonus Day Prompts "Locked Away/Skeleton Keys" .

It starts with something small.

Ochaco finds an old photograph from her childhood. It’s nothing special—just her parents with a chubby toddler between them.  Little Ochaco beams, something vaguely jam-like smeared on one cheek and her stubby fingers, across the front of her father’s shirt.

The Urarakas are smiling.  Laughing.

Looking at the photograph, Ochaco recalls the sweet and tangy jelly on her tongue, the saltiness of the stale crackers she ate it with.  The way her mother and father let her take the whole sleeve, eating nothing themselves.

Her parents don’t regret going hungry so their daughter could eat, not that day and not any other when it was necessary, but the picture awakens something nearly forgotten in Ochaco’s memory; bare cupboards and plain rice for dinner.  Her mother smiling as Ochaco ate her breakfast before classes, saying she’d already had her own to drown out the sound of her stomach growling.  Her father cheerfully calling that he’d pick up breakfast on his way to work.

The sting of tears is unexpected, out of place in contrast to the picture as she slides it into a frame and sets it on the shelf where she and Izuku have decided to keep such things.  It’s a little crowded, but they both like the chaos of it—mismatched frames tipped at odd angles in order to fit between the others.  Mostly, they’ve collected pictures of themselves, their friends.  In and out of their Hero costumes, at UA and even a couple of impromptu celebrations when someone was promoted from intern to sidekick after graduation.

A few family photos have slipped in as well and Ochaco adds the jelly picture wherever she can slot it in, which just happens to be right next to a photo of Izuku and his mother together.  Her eyes flick to the out of place hand in the center.  It’s almost floating, not attached to anything but the dated shoulder pad of Inko’s blazer.

Ochaco bites her lip, knowing what she is about to do is probably not warranted.  Still, she’s curious—always has been—and so she carefully picks the frame out of the messy grouping and turns it over in her hands.

The two Midoriyas she knows so well smile widely back at her, Izuku’s chin tipped up in that child-like way so many kids do when they look at a camera.  He can’t be more than three.

She chuckles, running the pads of her fingers over the glass lovingly before she turns it over and unclasps the paperboard backing so she can pull it free.

She doesn’t even have to take the picture out of the frame to find what she’s looking for.  Because Hisashi Midoriya stares at Ochaco from the interior of the frame.  She isn’t sure exactly what she expected—Izuku looks so much like his mother already, it’s not as if she wondered where his green hair or eyes or easily reddened expression came from.

She is surprised to find that Izuku inherited his freckles from his father, though.  She’s even more surprised that Hisashi looks so happy.  Content, even.  She always expected him to be frowning.

Izuku never talks about his father.  His absence is a hole in his chest he will never quite fill.  One he knows Inko carries with her, too, though hers is wider, deeper than his could ever be.

So he tries to be the best son he can, though he knows he’s fallen woefully short on several occasions.  He bent the photograph back years ago, before he moved into his first real apartment on his own.  There was no reason for it, really.  Doing so, in fact, made it that much harder to find a frame to fit what remained visible of the original picture.

Inko noticed.  Of course she did.  The first time she visited that cramped little efficiency, her eyes wet with happy tears, Izuku heard the faint, “Oh,” of surprise when she found it.  Picked it up carefully, much as Ochaco does now, ran her fingers over the glass in precisely the same way.

It’s funny how some things are instinctual.

“I don’t remember much about him.”

Ochaco jumps when Izuku appears suddenly behind her and she fumbles the picture, only managing to save it from a terrible, shattered-glass fate by slapping her fingers to the frame so it spins harmlessly through the air.

Izuku catches it, pulls the photo free of the frame as Ochaco releases her Quirk.

“S-sorry!” she says, eyes squeezing closed in shame, fists curled against her chest.  “I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” Izuku says softly, “I would be curious, too.”

He doesn’t see much of himself in his father, but he thinks that’s probably because he doesn’t want to.  Doesn’t want to admit he carries the traits of a man who so easily left his family behind.  His analytical mind, though, can trace the lineage easily—the cut of the jaw, the sharp slope of the shoulders, the freckles dusted everywhere.  Even the shape of his uncrooked fingers mirror the man he tries to pretend does not exist.

Inko is his mother.  The person who raised him, championed him.  The one who protected him to the best of her ability.

The rest is irrelevant.

“You never talk about it.”

Izuku flicks his gaze up to meet Ochaco’s.  Her cheeks are still flushed in embarrassment, bottom lip trapped tightly between her teeth.

He shrugs, replacing the picture and the paperboard over his father’s smiling face.  “There isn’t much to say,” he says, “He left to make money for us.  He never came back.”

There’s much more to say, of course, but opening wounds means you must be prepared to live with the scars.  And Izuku is not sure he is ready, yet, to tear those sutures away, poke around at the gooey insides until he finds the part that hurts most so he can press against it like the exposed nerve of a rotting tooth.

His eyes stray to the new addition to the picture shelf—the smiling Urarakas.  A similar expression tugs at the corners of his mouth—unbidden, automatic.  Ochaco’s parents embraced him immediately when she introduced them, their warmth a balm against all his anxious uncertainty.

“They look really happy, right?”

The question surprises him.  Of course they look happy, they always do.  But when Izuku turns, Ochaco’s brow is pinched strangely together, her eyes as wet at his mother’s when he told her they were moving in together six months ago.

“They were always so good at hiding it,” she whispers.

“Hiding what?” he asks, though he thinks he already knows the answer; it’s written in the way Ochaco still sometimes hoards non-perishables, the militance of her monthly budget.  He remembers her simple room at UA, her outdated cellphone.

Ochaco doesn’t answer his question, knowing he won’t push her if she makes it clear she no longer wants to pursue the top.  Instead, she wipes her palms against the corners of her eyes and says, “I’m really glad I can help them so much, now.”

Izuku swallows down what he wants to say—the impulse to offer reassurances that she will never have to worry about money again.  Not with her job.  Not with him.

It sounds too much like the last letter his father sent before he stopped writing at all.

Instead, Izuku thinks of his mother.  Of the Urarakas.  Their similarities—the warmth and love that flows so easily from them.  Ochaco thinks of it, too, the tight hug Inko dragged her into when Izuku introduced her as his girlfriend—the tears that soaked her hair.

Izuku opens his arms and Ochaco dives in, tucking her face against his neck.  She feels the soft thrum of his pulse against her cheek and he smells the honey almond scent of the shampoo she keeps at the Agency so she can shower before she comes home.

“What should we do for dinner?” he asks, “Anything you want.”

Ochaco pulls only far enough away so she can kiss his chin, smiling when his face stains crimson all the way to his hairline.  A hairline she now knows he inherited from a man she will probably never meet.

“I don’t care,” she says, ��as long as I don’t have to cook it.”

Izuku laughs.  “Katsudon it is, then.”

Ochaco laughs, too, the sound bright and hopeful as they make their way toward the kitchen, knowing they will both go to bed with full bellies, wrapped in arms loving arms that will always be there when they need them.

[lucidheart3]

“You have always been so full of fire,Kacchan, ıt burned so brilliantly that I couldn’t help but get close, forgetting that it was also scorching hot . And it burned me, and now it’s burning you up.İsn’t it enough for you, still?”

From my izuocha fic, Wake Up, Sleepy Angel.

[thegoddamnhat]

after years of being in fandoms, has anyone gone from being super strict about ships (physically shuddering when a character is shipped with someone other than who you ship them with) to becoming a very chill multishipper? like, you think everyone should just date each other now and are just cool with everything? is it just me?

[whimzl]

this is so genuine but i have never been a fanfiction person until recently... so i am going to ask with as much sincerity i can muster. do you guys have ANY fanfiction reccomendations. i mean from anywhere but ill also put stuff in tags that i already know and am interested in... please... it can be just friends or theyre kissing or more i am in it for the plot. im so real. HELPP!!

[theythedisaster]

I was talking with one of my friends about the rumors from the MHA epilogue leaks. He says that people speculate that Katsuki is married to a woman. And I want to make something very clear.

That man is either:

Gay or Aromantic

What about his character during the whole ass series would make you think he is somehow straight material? Nope, I refuse.

[celestialspiritbabe]

so I did a thing...

MY VERY FIRST MHA FANFIC IS UP!💚🩷

[leahfrog]

This is like, the first time in my life I had art done way before I wrote the chapter.

Growing Pains, Chapter 15 is up.

[rekddisclaimer]

alrighty yall—im searching for another fic. its izuocha, and it takes place after chapter 324. basically its right after deku comes back and its a lil oneshot of ochako basically cleaning deku up and its so soft and intimate and ive been looking forever but i cant find it. please help!!!

[gocatchagoose]

Look, they’re on a date💚🩷! Commissioned art from @reishichi for Chapter 12 of Go Catch a Goose,  An IzuOcha Rom-Com FanFic.

After graduation, Pro Heroes Deku and Uravity remain good friends. That is until Deku falls for a vicious prank text and a rom-com ensues.

Read it here: Beginning: https://zamashi.wordpress.com/go-catch-a-goose-prologue/ Chapter 12: https://zamashi.wordpress.com/go-catch-a-goose-12/

[theotherpacman]

LEGIT does anybody have a GOOD izuocha fic

[izupie]

>> Selkie--- (1)An oceanic creature of North Sea folklore, said to seldomly transform from seal to human by shedding their magical seal skin. Selkies never part from their seal skin.** **Except this Selkie. This Selkie gave up her coat to save someone. Which would be fine if he then hadn't taken the seal skin with him, not knowing the true nature of what had saved him, and accidentally left Ochako trapped in human form. Now she has to get her magical coat back without revealing her true identity... but Izuku is making it very hard to leave, and being human has its perks.

Collab fic between @izupie and @encyclopika

---Read on AO3---

Word count: 43,089

Status: Completed

Rated: G

Tags: AU , Selkie!Ochako , Fisherman!Izuku , Secret Idenity , Fish Out Of Water , Mutual Pining.

For Izuocha Week 2023: Prompt: Storm

---------

Cold winds clustered over the ocean to the cusp of the horizon. They pushed and pulled the surface into a mosaic of white-tipped waves over the deep blue-gray depths. As the cold breeze rode the waves up to the shoreline, they made it clear that winter was still clinging to the sea. 

Izuku could taste it - the heavy, dense water saturated with salt. The taste stung his throat harshly. Swallowing did little for his poor throat, the burning climbing up into his sinuses. He could feel winter’s selfish winds, always there to spoil spring when the sun wasn’t looking. He shivered, and tucked himself under something soft and warm and heavy on top of him.

The minute his brain registered that couldn’t be right, he coughed harshly. He found he could taste the ocean mostly because it was in his mouth. 

Literally.

Not only that, but he’d been lying on the sand, face down with his head turned to one side, his cheek now sore from the pebbles mixed in the sand. Putting his hands under himself, he lifted himself up. On his hands and knees, he spit onto the beach, feeling harsh little grains mix with the last bit of moisture he had left in his mouth. He coughed again, the sand and dust having reached his throat at some point while he was unconscious. By the gods, what he wouldn’t do for a whole pitcher of water!

As the coughing subsided, he leaned back on his knees until he was sitting on his legs. Ahead of him were the dunes and rock that separated the beach from the grassy hills upland. Thankfully he knew where he was, but the question that eluded him was how he got there.

The warm cover gave way in this position, and fell from his shoulders onto the sand in a lump. Right. He hadn’t dressed too warmly for his fishing trip - the sun had been bright upon his leave yesterday, beckoning spring. He didn’t have anything that heavy with him - not enough to hit the ground with such a heavy thump like that. Izuku twisted around and grabbed it from behind, catching a handful of soft fur.  

He held it in front of him to get a better look. Deep, cool grays melted into creams and white as a backdrop to a smattering of perfectly circular black dots across the pelt. The fur itself was dense, soft, and just a tinge oily. Really, there was no better pelt to be wrapped up in on a cold night, and Izuku recognized it immediately.

“A…seal skin…” he muttered to himself. “But what…?”

-------

Read the rest on AO3

[its-f4nf4n-again]

Is It Real Now?

It is easy to take the lives we build for granted; to believe what we have today will be the thing we carry with us tomorrow and tomorrow and every day after into infinity.

One morning, Izuku Midoriya wakes up next to a strange woman.  What should be nothing more than a fluke occurrence waved away as a mistake soon unfurls as a quirk of destiny and lost love.

Who is Ochaco Uraraka?  Why is she sleeping next to him?  And if she's supposed to be so important, why can't he remember who she is?

Happy Holidays, my friends.  Here is my contribution to @eventsizuocha‘s Big Bang!  I was extremely lucky to be paired with two very talented artists, Yshean and veverka.  Their art is so much better than this fic could ever hope to be, and I hope you will take the time to go shout at them about how talented and wonderful they are.

Thanks for reading if ya did.  Take care of yourselves and have a safe & happy New Year.  <3

See Yshean’s Piece Here

See veverka’s PIece Here

Read Is It Real Now? on AO3

Word Count:  12,598 Rating:  T Warnings:  quirk accident, experimental style, video game au, some swearing

[lucidheart3]

He looked at her with stars in his eyes, in a gratitude that made her wonder if she was the one to hang that stars over the forest that was his eyes.

From my izuocha fic, Wake Up, Sleepy Angel

[princesadejesus16]

Katsuki Bakugou as a Wingman

Katsuki gets sick and tired of Izuku's and Ochaco's ceaseless pining over each other, so, with the help of Yaoyorozu's initial idea and excessive resources, he decides to take matters into his own hands and plan their first date himself! by: Xylveon Principal pair: Izuocha. Second Pair: Bakumomo.

[stephen-25]

Hika-chan's First Steps Pages 3-4