#simplerthings

“We’re gonna look back on these in a few years and get all sappy, huh?”

AU Izuocha graduation selfie from chapter 2 of my fic Simpler Things 🥰

"All Glittery-Eyed"

Feeling is difficult. Especially for Izuku. It’s been something he’s struggled with for years now. Feeling adequate. Feeling… attractive. Now that he’s hearing those things from someone he loves, it’s difficult not believing it himself.

“Okay! Let’s just—hey! Relax! We’re almost there!”

They fumble through the hallway. His hands loop around her waist as she sways into him, away from him, back into him, and suddenly (with no warning) starts barreling forward with all of her weight. Black Whip nearly launches out to catch her, but at the last moment, her foot pounds into the ground and she pulls herself back. Unfortunately, the momentum from that move also crashes her into his chest, which—thankfully—stops her from falling. She giggles as he holds onto her and tries his best to keep her upright.

Izuku’s never seen Ochako like this.

Never. And, to be fair, there shouldn’t have ever been a reason before tonight. But even with a blood alcohol content of ridiculous proportions, he would have never guessed Ochako would be such a… such a… such a lightweight.

Especially considering how the night started out.

“I am not a lightweight Izuku Midoriya!”

Pity him for ever implying otherwise.

After a long, messy night, Izuku and Ochako wake up haunted. Their first kiss was all wrong, but it’s not even about a kiss. Years of mutual yearning have taught them to close themselves off, to not be honest with each other. Not anymore.

It’s nothing like Izuku imagined.

Soft.

Too soft for the way his heart slams into his ribs. For the way his breath falters and the world shrinks down to a single point of contact. Her mouth, plush, and trembling, sloppily pressed against his. There’s no force to it, only desperation. Need. Longing. Raw and open and messy and tired. It steals the words of protest from his throat, literally. Burns the oxygen right out of his lungs. He doesn’t try to kiss her back. Not at first. He’s frozen in place, scared, worried.

And then he’s not.

There’s no structure or support. Izuku’s hand comes up to fix that, catching the side of her face, his thumb settling just below her ear. His lips part, just slightly, just enough to feel her bottom lip roll between his.

It clicks in that second. Barely there. A breath of a kiss. But finally, a real one. The second they get there, she leans in even more. Her weight presses into him, her chest against his, her thigh shifting over his waist as she deepens it without asking. Rough, sloppy, he doesn’t know what he’s doing, it’s clear she doesn’t either. Not that it matters.

His fingers slide back into her hair. He tries to meet her halfway, match her energy, copy her movements. It’s weird, and all over the place, and still… none of that matters. It’s happening. This is all he’s wanted for years, and it’s happening…

…and it's wrong.

He doesn’t deserve this, not really. Not when every warning bell he's ever learned is sounding in his ears, screaming that he should stop, that this shouldn’t happen, not now. But Ochako is sighing into him, breathing in his air and breathing out hers, tasting faintly of wine and barbeque and a flavor utterly unique to her. She’s breathing so heavily now, putting all of her energy into this, and it’s overwhelmingly difficult to break. Her thumb brushes his jaw. Grabs at his cheek, his hair, tangles in it, holds him in place.

But it’s not like he’s trying to move. Izuku kisses her back as best he can manage, and it’s only when she pulls away, heaving for another breath, a trail of spit trailing off her lower lip, that he realizes what they’ve done.

Between heavy gasps, she begs. “I… I love… I love you.”

Dizzying. “I love you too.” Intoxicating. “Ocha… Ochako, I love you.”

Premature. Drunken. Wrong.

Izuku and Ochako are blindsided when they receive a call from Kyoto Psychiatric Medical Center concerning Himiko Toga.

A blossoming stem rising from a base of frigid soil. Fighting to live. Twisting and turning in every direction to chase sunlight peaking through a window. Limp in the dark. Sturdy in the warm light that for so long now, it hasn’t known. Until the curtains were drawn back. Until Ochako.

Blooming never seemed to be something that would happen for Izuku. Now it does. Now he will. What once felt impossible is now within reach, and it has so much to do with the girl laying in bed beside him. How patient she has been, how understanding and caring. Ochako helped him through the worst of his thoughts, and ever since, the world has become so much clearer.

It’s as simple as that. As of this morning, Izuku Midoriya is on medical leave. For at least the next month, Deku is no longer an operating pro-hero in Japan. Since he has his own agency, and his administrative work is tied directly to central, the process was as easy as informing Arelia and the handful of staff that are allotted to him, filing the medical paperwork, and saying his temporary goodbyes. No more patrolling. No more emergency calls. No hero duties of any kind. Outside of world-ending circumstances… Deku is formally benched.

It’s bittersweet, but it had to be done, and after the weekend with Ochako, that’s been made even clearer. There’s something wrong, and he needs to heal. If that means taking a month off, if that means changing his lifestyle entirely, then so be it. The people in his life deserve him to be healthy. Izuku deserves to be healthy. Saving will always be at the front of his mind, but he can’t save others if he can’t save himself. As hard as that is to accept, it’s the truth.

Things have been consistent for so long that any change is going to, naturally, feel huge. Hero-work has been Izuku’s life for almost half a decade. It’s muscle memory at this point. Wake up, go to work, listen to the pop-ups on his visor until it gets too late in the day to justify being out. Even on his days off, there’s always something. Some message from Central, some emergency that they need him for, a dispatch he can’t ignore because he’s close enough and fast enough and it’s him. This morning, there’s nothing. No vibrating phone, no flashing alerts, no adrenaline pulling him out of bed before he’s even properly awake.

The world is holding its breath and waiting for him to take one first. That’s not a familiar feeling whatsoever. He sits at the edge of the bed and takes that breath. Ochako shifts behind him, warm and sleepy, her hand finding the space between his shoulders without even looking up from beneath their mound of blankets. He leans into it before he can stop himself.

It’s almost embarrassing how easy it is now.

“You’re up early,” she mumbles. It is early, but even if he didn’t have a good reason, he’d probably be awake. Muscle memory, not just his hero work, but morning runs, his routine. It’s all going to change.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I have to go to UA today.”

“Oh right, talking with Aizawa?” she asks. He nods even though she can’t see him, and her hand lazily rubs a small circle. “Don’t let it scare you.”

A small laugh slips out of him. He’s already a little scared. “I won’t.”

“You leavin’ before me?”

“Think so.”

“Text me how it goes.” CONTINUE READING BELOW

After a difficult night, Ochako does everything in her power to make Izuku feel safe. And loved. Because he is so incredibly loved, and she’ll make sure he knows that, no matter how many times she has to whisper it in his hair. After all, Ochako’s his hero, and even if he can’t see it, Izuku’s her hero too.

She wakes up, and the room is pitch-black.

Whatever moonlight they were relying on before seems to be covered entirely by clouds. The windows are voids, and even without that, the covers are pulled so high over her that light couldn’t reach them. Touch is her only sensation, and with that, all that’s left in the universe is the boy she’s clinging so tightly to. Her boy. Izuku. Clinging as well. Face now pressed between her armpit and the mattress, legs entangled with hers, knee pressed up between her, arms wrapped around her waist. Everything is warm, and heavy, and slow. Worry seeps through the contact so easily. Her first instinct is to check if he’s still breathing properly. She lies there, holding very still, counting each rise and fall of his chest against her ribs. In and out. In, and out. It’s steady and soft. Deep. No hitching, no gasps, nothing frantic or panicked left over from earlier.

Relief is such an overwhelming feeling. It hits her and she sighs alongside his breath. In, and out. Then, she returns to her only sensation. Touch. They’re still naked, completely naked. There’s no gap between them, there’s no point where they aren’t touching. His stomach is pressed flush to hers. Their chests are squished together. His thigh is wedged so high between her legs she can feel the solid line of muscle there every time she inhales. All of him, she can feel all of him.

Embarrassment doesn’t even cross her mind. Maybe it should. They’ve never done this before, laying completely naked, touching as much as they are. But tonight has been a long list of firsts, and after earlier, it doesn’t seem all that crazy of a step. Even as she focuses on it, as she lays still and maps out his body against hers, she doesn’t even feel flustered. Maybe under different circumstances, she would be. Maybe another night, maybe if they’d gotten here through different means. But right now? Right now, she’s never been more comfortable in her life.

Comfort doesn’t stop her from being careful, though. She’s careful not to move in a way that might wake him too suddenly. Careful not to pull away, or loosen her grip, or do anything that might disturb him. She thinks of the way he’d been shaking. The awful, broken things he’d said about himself. The way he’d cried himself to sleep right here in her arms. Ochako will hold him like this all night if it means keeping him at peace. Even if her arm is starting to go a little numb. It doesn’t matter, as long as he’s okay.

She curls her fingers back into his hair to fight the static, gently scratching his scalp in the process. He makes a soft noise, a tiny rumble against her arm, and snuggles in closer. He’s almost underneath her at this point.

Ochako’s heart flips. He’s so cute. Even like this. Especially like this. Drooling a tiny bit against her inner bicep. Hair all over the place. Nose crumpled into her. It’s ridiculous how much love her chest can hold now. It feels overfull. Like if she doesn’t keep her arms around him, the dam will burst, and it’ll spill everywhere. She won’t let it.

CONTINUE READING HERE