#he was kinda scruffy and wore his hair in a bun and had a lot of small tattoos over him hands and arms

[throwdownyourheart]

.

[ashwhowrites]

Hi! Can I please request Older! Eddie x Harrington/Hargrove! Reader that’s angst to fluff? Maybe they met at a bar where reader went after a fight with his dad and she didn’t like Eddie at first and was kinda mean to him, but then, she realized he’s actually a good guy and started dating (maybe Reader has daddy issues?? You can also add more about her relationship with her dad!)

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting🫶🏻

Daddy issues

Y/N and her dad butt heads a lot. Her mom likes to say it's because they are the same person, both hotheads. Billy had a massive short temper and he passed that to his daughter. Now he knew what it was like to fight with himself.

Y/N sighed as she sat at the bar. Her head pounded from all the screaming that happened just minutes ago. She ordered a drink and patiently waited for the bartender to make it.

"Rough night?" A voice next to her asked

She rolled her eyes and turned her head. The stranger was attractive, but she was not in the mood to talk to anyone.

"Yes" She kept her answer short and her tone sharp

The drink was placed before her, and she sipped on the strong liquor. She closed her eyes as the drink traveled and released her stress.

"Want to talk about it?" the stranger asked

"Talk about my daddy issues with a strange man? Yeah no thanks." she scoffed, taking another sip. She kept her face straight forward.

"I know more about daddy issues than you think"

She turned her head, eyes slint into a glare. "How old are you?" He didn't look old, but he didn't look that young either. His eyes were mature, his cheeks and jaw covered in a scruffy beard. He seemed to have long hair, but it was pulled back in a low bun. His hands were stained dirty, she figured he had a hands-on job.

"Forty," He said as he sipped his beer

She had to admit he was damn hot for being older

"You are forty, here alone and trying to give advice to a twenty-something-year-old about daddy issues, yeah. You seem like the perfect person to get advice from." She scoffed

The stranger just chuckled to himself

"Bitchy aren't ya?" He said, a smirk on his face that Y/N found attractive

"Sorry, rough night." She mumbled a small smile sent his way

"Eddie," he said as he held out his hand

She raised an eyebrow at his hand and laughed a little. "Handshake? You are old" but she placed her hand in his and her name on her lips.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," he said, and Y/N loved the way her name sounded on his tongue.

For the rest of her drink, she vented about her fight with her dad. Eddie listened and actually listened. She realized how nice it felt to talk to someone who wasn't her mom, someone who wouldn't stand up for her dad. Eddie agreed and stood up for her, and she liked that.

She bid goodbye as she paid the bartender. But Eddie was on her mind all night.

~~~

She waited two days before she went back to the bar. This time, no fight with her dad. She simply wanted to see if Eddie would be there.

She walked in, disappointed when he wasn't anywhere to be seen. She was here so she figured she might as well get a drink.

She sat at the same spot she did when she met him. She ordered the same drink and watched the crowd.

"Back again? What did he do this time?"

She smiled when she heard his voice, his warm body sat next to hers.

"Nah, just wanted to be out of the house" she lied, a friendly smile on her face as she turned to look at him. This time his hair was down, landing a little past his shoulders. He wore a flannel that did wonders to his arms and dark jeans.

"Do you come here often?" She asked, immediately cringing at how it sounded like a horrible pickup line.

He smirked and chuckled at the question

"I didn't mean it like that!" She defended, "Just like how common is it for you to be here?"

"Ah right right," he said as he winked. She felt her face blush as he quickly ordered his drink with his eyes still on her. "I do come here pretty often."

She hated how excited that made her. And how her brain was already planning to come here every week to see a glimpse of him.

"Good to know" she flirted, a small smirk of her own before it disappeared behind her glass

Eddie felt like he was back in high school with a crush on a pretty popular girl. He smiled towards the counter before he sipped on his beer.

"Which is how I know you don't come here often. Does this place make a good impression?" He asked. He was more than glad to walk through the doors and see her sitting there. He cursed himself all night last time for not getting her number.

"Not quite the place, but someone," she said, shyly looking towards him. She wasn't sure where the top-notch flirting skills came from, probably in her blood from her father. But damn was she glad it seemed to work.

Throughout the night Eddie's body got closer and closer. They practically were sitting on the same stool by the end of the night. She stopped after the one drink, knowing she needed to drive home. But she felt so drunk the harder he made her laugh.

"You have a pretty laugh" he complimented, his eyes soft as he took in her face

"Oh thank you" she blushed under the bar lights. "You are pretty in general" she blabbed out.

She closed her eyes in embarrassment as he laughed. Standing up, but still between his legs. Maybe she wasn't as good as her dad was with this flirting thing.

"I am honored that the pretty girl thinks I'm pretty. I don't think I've ever been called that before." He admitted, he made the next move and slipped his arms around her waist.

She felt her heart speed up as she nervously looked at him. She swallowed her nerves and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You're welcome" she whispered, her breath caught in her throat as her face was so close to his. She could smell the beer on his breath and the wetness on his lips was calling to her.

"Can I ask you something?" He asked, his eyes dancing between her eyes and lips.

She nodded, not sure if she could trust her voice

"Can I kiss you?"

Did she want her first kiss with Eddie to be in a dingy bar? Hell yeah, she didn't care where it was. Just as long as she tasted his lips and tongue.

She didn't answer, just leaned in and smashed her lips on his. He moaned at the force and kissed her back. He melted from the confidence she had as she tangled her hand in his hair and kissed him hard.

Now he felt like a middle schooler having his first kiss. The way she knocked the air out of his lungs, butterflies flying in his damn stomach. He kissed her back, squeezing her hips as he tried to gain control of the kiss.

He swiped his tongue across her bottom lip, smiling to himself as she opened her mouth. His tongue slipped inside her warm mouth, he could taste her fruity drink as their tongues worked against each other.

Y/n felt like she was standing on fire, a burning feeling from her toes up to her head. Her knees felt weak as a chill ran down her spine. His hand moved down from her hips to cup her ass. She moaned as he massaged her through her jeans.

She pulled away, panting as she gazed into his eyes. She wanted more but needed to pull away before they got carried away in the public eye.

"Thank god your dad is an asshole," Eddie joked, trying to seem like that kiss didn't take him to another world.

She laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, wanna get out of here? Your place, where we can be alone," she whispered, teasing his lips as hers rested right above his.

"Absolutely" he smiled cheekily, grabbing her hand and walking them out of the bar.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunsonmain @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlx @ineedmentalhelp123

[dorky-bird]

Gift for the Exchange!

Note: Hey Aki! I’m not sure if you ever finished mine, but I thought what the hell and decided to post it anyway. You asked for Shinsou angst and told me to just be creative, and maybe that was a mistake since it ended up being 2,357 words. But I hope you enjoy it and that it’s good enough, I’m not exactly the best writer <3 @akimiithewriter @bnhanewyearsfanfictionexchange

Triggers(Please read all just in case!): mention of verbal abuse, mental abuse, physical abuse, mention of neglect, mention of stealing, successful suicide attempt, main character death, overdose, pills, self-harm, blood, cliff hanger (kinda)

“Goodbye.”

Hitoshi was used to being ignored. It was either be ignored or be yelled at and hit. He’d much rather the first option, even if it meant not talking to people for days on end. He was used to be alone. People in his school either tossed him aside as the creepy emo kid who never talked or was too afraid to speak to him directly. There were very few in the last year that gave him a chance, though they were also verbally abusive. They always had some kind of backhanded comment to make about him or his quirk. It was always the same, he knew nothing different.  

Though when he got to U.A. it... Semi-changed for the better. He was being talked to in general studies more, even if most still did avoid answering his questions, even teachers. He hadn’t ever done anything with his quirk, but he was still treated as a hazard. As a threat.

Then there was the sports festival, his chance to finally do something with himself, to be in the hero course and be the hero he had always dreamed of becoming. And he lost.

Though, It wasn’t all bad.

After his loss during the sports festival, he was talked to more. People saying how great he did, people congratulating him for making it that far. He was happy for once, though he didn’t let it show. He didn’t want to lose that persona he had kept up this year.

The only time his mood dropped since then was when he needed to go “home”. Back to his foster home, to his foster parents. He didn’t want to… but, it’s not like he had anywhere else to go unless he wanted to live on the streets. Sometimes he felt like that may be a better option to living with the she-witch and behemoth.

Every day, he took his sweet time getting back to that house, making stops every once in a while to look in shops even though he didn’t have a lot of money. The only money he got was when he stole it from his foster parents, and he had to in order to get some kind of meal every couple of days. Otherwise, he wouldn’t eat at all. They indirectly made him a criminal and he hated that.

Every day, it was beating after beating, yell after yell, and comment after comment. The happier he seemed when he got home, the worst they made it for him. They were actively trying to break him, and he could tell. They had fun messing with his mind, telling him he was worthless. They enjoyed hurting his head and body. They must get some kind of sick pleasure out of torturing him this way.

And it only got worse after he started getting closer with two teachers that weren’t even his teachers, Present Mic and Eraserhead. It got worse because he started to feel better and hang after school more often to train with Eraserhead and talk with Mic. He could tell that they were worried about him, but he kept telling them he was fine. ‘Nothing was going on at home,’ he insisted. ‘I fell down the stairs, I’ll be fine though, it’s just a couple bruises.’

All lies. What was he gonna do, tell his teachers the truth? That he was weak and let himself be hurt at “home”? No way. Never would he admit to that.

Eraser and Mic were worried. They worried about their student a lot. It wasn’t hard to tell that something more was going on. The way he acted screamed that he was being abused in some capacity. But they had no evidence other than the way he acted and bruises that commonly littered his arms. Though he always had an excuse and seemed to refuse any help. Their guts told them to act anyway, to get him out of there, but for some reason, they held back. They may have been wrong… maybe Shinsou was just clumsy, they hoped.

They should have done something.

______________________

Hitoshi lay on the tiled floor of the bathroom, his breathing labored and covered in blood and bruises. Another beating with sharped tounges by his foster parents, the people that were supposed to be taking care of him. It was worse than usual. He actually came home smiling. He had a good day until he back to the wretched house. He felt hopeless. Nobody cared about him, and if they said they did, they were probably lying.

He couldn’t move without spasming pain spreading through his body, but he moved into a seated position anyway, his knees curled to his chest as he winced from the pain. He needed to get up… he guessed.

He needed to get up just to do this all over again tomorrow. What was the point? He’d just go to school, feel happy, come back here, and make himself miserable again. It wasn’t fucking worth it anymore. He wasn’t worth it anymore.

“Dammit!” He shouted out, kicking the wooden cabinet that held the sink, tons of objects scattered across the floor due to the impact. He didn’t care. He didn’t fucking care anymore. He couldn’t make himself care anymore. He just couldn’t. It was all way too much.

He looked forward helplessly. He had no control. He wasn’t living anymore. He was just there. He buried his head into his knees, the pain spreading through his body now is almost addicting. He finally let himself sob. It was agonizing. The pain that coursed through his body was almost unbearable, but he didn’t care. He pulled at his own hair, scratched at his skin. He’d rather hurt himself than let them lay a hand on him anymore. It felt horrible, but it gave some kind of control. He just wanted to feel in control of his own life again.

He couldn’t hold back anymore. He just felt so done… He needed to get away. It’d been months of this without rest. He barely slept, he barely ate, he had constant bruises on his skin and no one was noticing! No one at school cared enough to see how he was suffering. Nobody cared!

He only looked up again when he felt something hit his foot. His lavender eyes snapped up to meet the little bottle that had rolled against his foot. A pill bottle.

It was a small bottle, though due to the rattling of the little orange container, there was a lot inside. He reached out his hand and picked it up. His movements were tentative and slow. The label read Oxycodone, he remembered it being a pain reliever of some kind. Maybe… maybe it could help him. Maybe he could stop feeling the pain. This could be his utter control. The one way he has control over his life.

He shakily opened the bottle and shook out two of the pills from the bottle.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

His whole body was shaking as he looked at the pills in his hand. One shallow, that’s all it would take. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore. He brought his hand to his mouth but hesitated. He couldn’t do this… not without…Not without some kind of explanation to the only two people he really cared about.

He put the pills down on the floor of the bathroom and stood up on aching legs to leave the room, coming back into the blood-soaked bathroom with a piece of paper and pen. He leaned against the wall with a shaky sigh before sinking down to sit down again. It was a few minutes of writing while trying not to make it look like chicken scratch, and crossing out things on the letter. If this was the last thing he was gonna say to them, he needed it to be perfect…

He finally finished the letter and sighed, folding the piece of paper in half and writing on the front, ‘To Eraserhead and Present Mic’. He then picked back up the pills that had been discarded on the floor.

And this time didn’t hesitate to swallow down all six of them.

______________________

A police officer walked down the street, coming up to a house with pale yellow wood on the outside and white shutters. The air was quiet and filled with dread as she held her hat in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. She took her time walking up the paved walkway of the quite house before she knocked on the door with a heavy heart.

There were muttering and footsteps from inside the home before the door opened and a very tired eccentric blond opened the door. Present Mic, or Yamada Hizashi, was out of his hero costume. A white t-shirt and yellow plaid PJ pants are what he wore instead of his usual gimmicky leather-clad outfit. His usual sky-high blond hair was down in a half up half down bun and he had glasses on his face. He looked like a normal person like this instead of a pro hero.

As soon as he saw her, his eyes lit up. “Ah, Yoko-san! What brings you here at 9 O’Clock in the morning?” He asked patiently with a smile.

Yoko didn’t smile back. “I have a letter for you and Eraserhead… and some bad news.” She said shakily. She couldn’t stand the fact that she would be the one to tell them. She had been working with the pair in the past year, and they had expressed their concern and worry for the boy… the boy that was now…

“...Do you mind coming in to tell us?” The hero said, now with a frown on his face as he opened the door a little wider for the police officer to step in. She agreed and stepped into the warm home. It was such a contrast to the bleakness of the outside morning, she almost wished she had denied the request. She felt as though the news she was about to tell the two would ruin the sanctity of this wonderful home for the two married hero’s.

On the couch was a just as tired-looking Eraserhead, or Aizawa Shouta. He didn’t look much different than when he did in-hero uniform except for his clothes. Same scruffy five o’clock shadow and mess of black long hair. He wore a black t-shirt and some godawful pink sweatpants. Did he put that on half-asleep or was that a conscious choice?

Yamada closed the door behind Yoko before heading to the couch to sit next to his sleepy husband. “Yoko-san, what is the news?” asked the blond, worry shining in his eyes. He was growing nervous.

Yoko took in a breath as she looked at the two heroes. “I’m afraid that a student of yours has… passed away.”

That was able to grab the attention of both the hero’s now. “Passed away?” The raven-haired hero asked, his usual monotone voice with a slight sense of disbelief. Yamada felt himself freeze and his hands start to shake.

“Who?” Yamada asked hesitantly.

Yoko felt herself tear up. “Shinsou Hitoshi. Suicide.” She said. It sounded resighted. Like she had to practice saying it the whole way here.

Both heroes found themselves unable to speak. Shinsou was… “There’s no way… This is got to be some kind of trick!” Yamada denied, looking on the verge of tears. There was no way that this was real. He couldn’t be…

Aizawa couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His student… His protege… The kid who he started seeing like a son to him killed himself. He was gone.

“You can deny all you want… but as I said before, you also have a letter.” She managed to get out without getting choked up. She held out the semi-crumbled up piece of folded paper to the two. “This is his suicide note. It was addressed to the two of you, so we thought it would be best for you two to read it first before anyone else.”

Yamada was too in shock to even move to grab it. Shinsou was… gone. Shinsou Hitoshi, the brightest kid in all of General Studies. The kid with a great future as a hero in front of him… gone. Tears rolled down the blond’s cheeks as he stared forward with a disbelieving look.

Aizawa reached up and grabbed the note from the police officer, trying and failing to hide the shake in his hands. He usually could keep himself composed, but this was a very different situation entirely. He placed a hand on his husband’s back, unsure of how to comfort him.

“We.. got to read it, Zashi.” He murmurs to his shell shocked husband, not even bothering to hide the slight tremor to his tone. Yamada blinked and slowly turned back to Aizawa, letting out a shaky breath and nodded.

Aizawa let out a shaky breath before he began reading the note from their student… Well, former student.

“Dear Aizawa-sensei and Mic-sensei,

I hope you were able to get this, in all honesty. Don’t trust the police much anymore to get shit done. Anyway, I wanted to say that I’m sorry… I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you wanted me to be, that hero that you both somehow saw in me. And I’m sorry for doing this.

I just couldn’t keep going. Not with all the abuse that no one seemed to see happening every. Single. Day. I would wake up, be screamed at or slapped then go to school and feel happy for a little while, before going on and getting beaten and broken down for being happy. I’m done. I’m sorry.

I don’t know how you two thought I could be a hero… I mean, I couldn’t even stop or save myself, could I? What kind of hero gives up?

I don’t know… I just hope you two don’t take this too hard. I’m not worth crying about. See ya hopefully not soon. I wouldn’t want people I viewed as parents to die so soon after me.

                                                     Goodbye.”