depressed rose writes fanfiction

Welcome! This is a blog solely dedicated to my fanfics, although I'll repost stuff here and there

I plan to post some fanfics on here, but mostly updates for fanfics you will find on my AO3 account!

꩜ྀི｡ My completed fanfics:

~ Look at me, look at you, we were so different back then, baby ~ My Hero Academia, Bakudeku

~ Match with her. Match with him. ~ Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonadow

~ Better Than a Book Confession ~ Haikyuu!!, Tsukiyama

꩜ྀི｡ My ongoing fanfics:

~ Shouldn't Have Done That ~ BBC Merlin, Merthur (1/2)

~ The dead are your friends, let the living be too ~ My Hero Academia, Dadzawa, Bakudeku (14/?)

꩜ྀི｡ Fandoms I plan to write fanfic for:

~ My Hero Academia ~

~ Haikyuu!! ~

~ BBC Merlin ~

~ Sonic The Hedgehog ~

~ Saiki K ~

~ Avatar: The Last Airbender ~

~ Honkai: Star Rail ~

~ Moomin ~

~ FNAF ~

And more importantly, this is a safe space, for me and you!!

He had been there only last week, when she had asked him to grab her phone for her, because she left it on her bed but was too busy in the kitchen to get it herself. The room couldn’t have changed in a week.

But he hesitated, losing all of that bravery that had carried him forward until now. His mind flashed back to when he was younger, quietly knocking on his mother’s door, worrying the hem of his shirt between his fingers, because he’s had a nightmare.

Chillingly, her room was precisely as he remembered it. The bed with a painted-white frame and dusty-pink sheets, and the darker pink rug beside it. The similarly white wardrobe and a dresser to match. Above her cluttered desk hung a cheap painting of Mt. Fuji Izuku remembered her buying second-hand.

However, going off the assumption that they weren’t just classmates, they likely knew each other’s parents. Paired with the fact that Bakugou had just called Midoriya’s mother auntie, Shouta underestimated how many of his kids were grieving.

They didn’t stay on the floor for long. After only a minute, they started untangling themselves. Like a practised dance, Bakugou unclenched his fists – which were gripping the other’s shirt like a lifeline – pulling his arms away. Midoriya followed suit, releasing his bruising grip around Bakugou’s waist.

They stood up as one, neither holding a hand out for the other. Bakugou smoothed his shirt out, scowl back on his face as he looked anywhere but Midoriya’s face. For his part, Midoriya looked just as reluctant.

Shinomori, the fourth, patted him on the back, “You’re not doing the training,” he chided.

“Ah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it all the same!” he exclaimed, fist flying to punch Shinomori is the sternum.

Yoichi shook his head in amused disappointment, “Let’s give Ninth some quiet.”

Izuku stood at the centre of the room, Aizawa a few metres in front of him, All Might to the left. The right side of his head burned, so he diverted his attention from the holders bickering to Aizawa, who was staring at him questioningly, eyebrow raised.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he forced down the nervous chuckle that was threatening to bubble out at being caught out. He swallowed around the lump of nerves and met Aizawa’s eyes with a determined smile, moving into a battle stance.

Aizawa’s eyes widened minutely, but not for long, as he began, “Now, activate One for All Full Cowl to the maximum percent you can.”

“And don’t turn it off, unless you feel like something is wrong. Pain, or slipping control,” All Might added.

Nodding, Aizawa continued, “Then you’ll spar with me, at my mark. Keep One for All active, I’ll make sure not to use Erasure.”

Izuku gave the affirmative, and evened his breath out. He had sparred with his teacher countless times over his months at UA, this was something he was familiar with. The seven ghosts posed a new challenge, a new variable so wildly unfamiliar, yet one Izuku was determined to overcome.

He felt the welcome electricity pulse through his veins, warming his skin with power. The static electricity that made the hairs on his arms stand up, the crackling in his ears. Whispers from the past holders reached him, but Izuku was adamant to ignore them.

All eyes were on him, calculating and observant. He made eye contact with All Might, smiling at him and nodding, then he looked at Aizawa, giving his teacher a triumphant grin. The small win was short-lived, however, as Aizawa signalled for the spar to start.

Yet, there he was, in a dingy, dimly lit bar with no windows, strapped to a chair, arms held together by sturdy quirk-cancelling cuffs. His body was sore from the fighting, eyes stinging with sleep, and limbs stiff from the chair.

Katsuki’s mind was reeling. In his mind’s eye he could still picture Deku, right before Katsuki disappeared from his sight. Arms in make-shift splints, shirtless and bruised, face contorted in a swirl of emotions Katsuki could only understand as negative.

He was fucking ashamed of himself. For letting himself be kidnapped, for making Deku believe he had to be the one to stop the villains from capturing Katsuki. Deku looked truly desperate in that moment, and Katsuki knew his own face mirrored that.

Fuck, Katsuki still felt desperate. He was brought in hours ago, and he had not seen any of the villains since. The only other presence in the room was Kurogiri behind the bar, but the man hadn’t glanced in his direction once.

“Why are you actually here?” Kouta spat.

“Well, I do want you to eat, I know it’s not fun going to sleep hungry.”

Kouta scoffed, “And will you leave if I eat this?”

“Maybe,” Izuku offered.

With another scoff, Kouta forcefully took the bowl out of Izuku’s hands. He didn’t start eating it right away, just looking down at it, brows drawn together. One hand picked up the spoon, slowly swirling the vegetables around.

“It’s stupid. You all try so hard just to show off your stupid quirks.”

Izuku hummed, waiting for the boy to continue.

“What’s so special about them? All they do is make people kill each other. It’s stupid.”

Kouta stabbed his spoon into the curry, a thunk resounding as it hit the wooden bowl. Some of the curry splattered out, but neither of them paid it any mind.

After a moment of silence, Izuku risked asking, “Your parents are Water Hose, right?”

Kouta looked up at him, shocked but still angry, “How did you know?”

“I overheard,” Izuku lied, smiling nervously.

He hesitated, “I remember hearing about their deaths. That must’ve been hard for you.”

“And what would you know?” Kouta snapped.

“I don’t. But I could imagine.”

Kouta huffed, continuing to play with his food. He bowed his head further down, fully hiding his expression from Izuku with his cap.

“So, tell me, hero,” Shigaraki’s voice scratched, “What is it about Stain that people like so much.”

Izuku kept silent. He feared his own voice. Was he even expected to answer?

“What do they see in him? Why aren’t they focusing on me?”

Shigaraki snapped his head towards Izuku, forcing their eyes to meet. He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching. A blunt nail scraped against the skin of his throat, and it took Izuku all his will not to flinch.