MHA Oneshots!

💔Midoriya × Suicidal Reader💔

A/N: This story contains suicidal ideation, self-harm, and other possibly triggering things. Please proceed with caution, and if you or a loved one are suffering from suicidal ideation, I urge you to tell someone. ❤ (This is based off of personal experience, the self-harm and thoughts. If there are any found typos or things that need correcting, please DM me.)

Title: Natural Progression

People all around me smile. They all laugh, and tell jokes. And when I'm with them, I join in. I can fake a smile.

What I can't fake is real happiness. And to my dismay, nobody can seem to notice that.

I've tried numerous times to explain to people that I just don't feel like trying anymore. And I either can't find a way to approach the conversation, or they'll brush it off, saying it's merely temporary.

Mr. Aizawa dismissed the class tiredly, not paying much mind to the noise level. An angry Bakugou shoved past me, not noticing or caring I was in front of him. Suddenly, Midoriya rushed to me.

"Y-Y/n! Hey! Um, wanna maybe walk home t-together?" He asked, running the back of his neck anxiously. Honestly, all of my energy was drained, and I'd really just like to go home and sleep. But he was the nicest kid in the class, and someone I admired as a little more than a friend, so I hesitantly accepted, sighing in defeat. His face lit up, and I couldn't quite grasp why, because being with me wasn't remarkable.

We walked outside of the school campus side by side, our footsteps falling in step. I noticed he kept on looking over at me, and opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he bit his lip.

"My house is just down here," I mumbled. He nodded, before stepping in front of me, blocking my way.

"I.. Are you okay?" He asked. I shrugged, not feeling like explaining I experience suicidal ideation daily. He bit his lip yet again, before wrapping his arms around me. I felt my face flush, and I allowed him to hug me, gently returning it. "I'm here if you need me," he muttered under his breath. I thanked him, before walking into my house, shutting the door slowly as to hear the soft 'click.'

My mom wasn't home yet, but I guess she never was. Being a nurse required her full attention, and time, so she was rarely ever home. My dad? Forget about it. He'd left this household the minute I was born, as if a declaration of my worthlessness. He used to occasionally visit us on the holidays, until he announced he had other children he'd rather attend to. His words specifically.

I walked into my room, slinging the backpack on my shoulder onto the floor. However, my frame still felt weighed down. Before I knew it, wet, hot tears were streaming from my eyes, causing my eyelashes to feel thick and heavy. My cheeks warmed up from my sobbing, and I helplessly trudged to the bathroom, slamming one of the drawers open. There it was. My mom's spare razors.

Carefully, I dissected the razor, until the blade laid on my hand, cool and sharp. However, my arms were shaking, and my entire body seemed to be trembling. My stomach seemed to constrict at the thought of what I was about to do, and my chest ached so badly.

I slowly, hesitantly dragged the blade down my forearm, watching it nip at my skin, before the small beads of blood collected and dripped down my flesh. The tingling, burning sensation was oddly comforting, and within minutes, the cuts littered my arms, all neatly horizontal. Tears still fell down my face, but I felt slightly numb having done this. All I knew was that I wanted to do this more. It was growing nearly addicting.

My sobs caused my body to heave, and I heard a clatter downstairs. I figured it was my mom, but at this point, I didn't give a shit if she saw. I'm tired of hiding. In fact, I'm tired of living. With all my luck, I'd bleed out.

Footsteps grew closer, until the bathroom door swung open. I hung my head low, eyes averted to the ground and back shaking. I expected my mom to scream, but what happened surprised me.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" A voice yelped, sounding rather familiar. I looked up, and through my watery eyes I could see the distinct blur of Midoriya. The sight of him, shocked and taken aback, made me cry more. I'm a terrible friend for not telling him. I'm a terrible daughter for not telling my mom. I'm a terrible person for putting myself through this.

Midoriya rushed over to me, lifting me up off of the floor and staring lifelessly at my arms, before he slammed open all of the drawers until he found gauze and antibiotic cream. He dabbed the cuts with tissues, before whispering "This may hurt."

He rubbed the cream over my arms, making sure each cut was smothered in cream. It took me a second to realize, but I discovered there were other sobs in the room, not coming from me. Midoriya rubbed his bloody hands over his shirt, before grabbing the gauze and carefully wrapping it around each arm.

Once he finished attending to my wounds, he picked me up and carried me to my room just down the hall.

"Are you dizzy?" He asked through hiccups. I shook my head, and sat up, cradling my head between my arms over my knees. He sat beside me, tracing abstract designs on my back with his index finger. It sent soothing tingles spreading around my body, and I felt my tensed muscles relax ever-so slightly.

Finally, my eyes were dry, and I couldn't bring myself to cry anymore. Midoriya, on the other hand, was still silently sobbing. I sighed before murmuring a small, "I'm sorry."

He looked up at me, his face splotchy and red, before reaching up to wipe away a tear. I saw his bloody red hand go towards his eye, and I batted it away, using my own hand to wipe his cheeks clean.

"You... Could've told me," he muttered, leaning into me so his head was resting on my shoulder. "I know exactly what you feel like."

"You do?" I asked, shocked.

"Yeah. My whole life, I was told I couldn't. I was told I had no potential, and was about as useless as a toy car. Kacchan has made that pretty clear," he shrugged. "I told my mom, and started going to therapy. With other people's help, I realized my true potential."

"Midoriya," I frowned. "I don't have anyone. Even my dad knew better than to stay with me!"

"You have me. I- I was going to tell you when we were walking earlier, but I.. I got scared. Y/N, I love you," he whispered, closing his eyes softly and cringing. "If you killed yourself, I'd be so depressed. Fuck, I'd be suicidal myself."

I was still frozen in place. He loved me?

"I love you too," I blurted out, feeling awfully bad he had to see me like this. Then, without warning, his warm and soft lips pressed against mine.

"We can work through this... Together," he said, looking me directly in the eye.

-Four Months Later-

I sat at the dinner table, watching the flame of a candle flicker in the dim lighting. Faces I'd learned to appreciate surrounded me, and I felt extremely grateful.

Izuku was right. We could work through this together. We did.

My mom sat beside me, on one end of the circular table, holding my hand and rubbing it gently with her thumb. That night, after Izuku found me, I told my mom how I really felt. She was, of course, devastated, but offered me unconditional love and support. She found me a therapist, who was very kind and understanding, and I began taking antidepressants.

Izuku sat on the other side of the table, to my right, holding my other free hand. He gripped it gently yet firmly, as if he were telling me he wasn't ever about to let me go.

His mother, Inko, was sitting across me, wearing the sweet grin Izuku wore quietly. She was like a parent at this point. Whenever my mom was at work, she'd invite me over to their house, offering me support and love. She was amazing.

We sat at the table, basking in the comfortable silence. I'd found my pack. My people. My support. I'd found that I'm loved, and that I'm needed.

It really does get better.

A/N: I've been feeling really shitty lately. Um, yeah. Anyways, love you guys, and again, if you struggle with depression, please tell someone. I'm not a mental health professional, but if you're lonely, I'm always here to chat. Love you ^^.

Song of The Day: Feels Like We're Dying - Johnny Goth