“Forever My Passion”

Take Me Back

hinata shouyou x reader words; 1345 synopsis; breaking up and making up with the one that he couldn't let get away from him.

“Take me back to that summer in Brazil playing beach volleyball.” 4 missed calls.

In a language he doesn't call his own but feels like home he leaves voicemails for her. He clears his throat, and says his piece. He knows he should be loving his girlfriend here in Japan, but he's too addicted to the taste of brigadeiros and pavé in her mouth. Brazil warmed his senses up to a new style of play and a new way to love.

He looks at the clock on his wall, it’s a perfect 12 hour time difference. He’s going to bed, she just had lunch. She never calls him back though. She only texts through Whatsapp when she has the time to properly respond, around midnight her time and lunchtime for him.

“I know it's been a while and I haven’t reached out.” 12 missed calls.

She showed him around Rio when no one else could. She was the one who ended up having to endure him when he underwent his first really bad sunburn. He remembers the way she laughed at him for forgetting sunscreen, “tão burro” she kept repeating while rubbing aloe vera on his shoulders. He remembers whining so much that she poked him in the forehead before putting her hands on her hips and chastising him in her Portuguese that was just way too fast for him to catch any of the words.

He had to meekly apologize with a pout, and she forgave him with a kiss.

Maybe that’s why he still sometimes forgot to put on sunscreen when he was playing volleyball.

“Thought I’d regret you like a teenage tattoo but I miss you, baby what can I do?” 14 missed calls.

In Brazil Hinata only got good at swimming because she loved to swim. And because she wore the best swimsuits, but that’s not his only sole reason for getting into swimming. She could swim circles around him, but he still had fun treading the water.

Sometimes, she liked to duck down into the water and tug on his legs. The first time she did that, Hinata thought he would die and that the tug was a result of a shark. The way she just curled into herself and giggled when she popped out of the water and observed his reaction was unparalleled by any other prank he’d gone through. Her joy at his pain was unusual but also intriguing.

Those little games, sometimes back and forth, but mostly her playing them on him was something he missed when he got back to Japan. When he got back, he went into his apartment expecting her to be dancing samba in the living room to afrobeat music. When she wasn’t there, a pang of melancholy strung at his heart. His home here was less alive.

“Why do I shiver thinking about you?” 17 missed calls.

No matter how much his friends and family compared him to the sun, he still thought that he paled in comparison to her. Bright, loud, and glad to be doing her own thing.

There’s always the possibility that he developed some sort of codependency on her. Despite her free-spirit and slightly loner dependencies, Hinata stuck to her like glue. When she would try and slink off into the night to go clubbing, he would bring her in and make traditional Japanese dishes for her to try. Hinata introduced Oikawa to her, which may have been a problem, but she didn’t seem to enjoy Oikawa’s overwhelming embrace of machismo culture. She liked Hinata’s gentle and silent strength over a boastful, loud power.

A guiding hand on her waist rather than pulling her along by the hand. A kiss to the shoulder instead of tearing her away from her conversations for a breathless kiss. Early morning texts to say good morning instead of late night, ‘you up?’ messages. Hinata was everything she wanted, or so Hinata thought.

Apparently, going on three dates in a row wasn’t considered an exclusive relationship to her. So when Hinata saw her with a different guy on the beach, using his towel that she always lent him, tucking her hair behind her ear the way he was supposed to, Hinata didn’t know how else to react.

Throwing a volleyball at the back of the guy’s head was probably not the right move to make, but it was the move he made. The other man just rubbed the back of his head, saying that ‘estrangeiros’ were always a little too obsessed with fine Brazilian women. She just smacked Hinata upside the head, but when he looked at her with sad eyes and with his bottom lip just a little jutted out, she ran a hand through his hair and brought him into an open mouth kiss.

He did have to apologize to her other date, and he ended the conversation by saying that she was still off limits.

“You're still the one I’m thinking about.” 20 missed calls.

Hinata was tired now. It was one in the morning and he was leaving her messages while he laid in bed waiting for sleep to finally take him. Was he desperate? Likely and affirmatively yes.

She told Hinata that long-distance wouldn’t work out, and that he should enjoy finding other people to date back at his home country. He wanted to argue with her, but she said it was final.

She was just there for a while, embracing him in his time in Brazil, and then since he was leaving, she would become merely a part of his memories. Her ease of farewells ripped his heart out. He wished she would’ve fought for them more, fought for him more. But you can’t ask people to stay who don’t want to stay of their own will. So he left, and she said good luck.

When he went back to Japan, he was worried about her. So he did ask Oikawa to check in on her and make sure she was doing okay. Then when Oikawa would send occasional pictures of them at the beach, with their tongues sticking out and hair wet from the ocean water, Hinata wanted nothing more than to be back in Brazil enjoying life. Oikawa would send other photos too, with her permission, ones where Oikawa caught her surfing a wave with practiced skill and ease of enjoyment for the activity, or when she was just laying on the sand stretching in the warmth of the sky.

They were friendly, sending messages frequently during the weeks of his initial return. Then as the months went on, there was less connecting the two, she didn’t respond to messages that quickly. She didn’t update him on life back in Brazil, and he stopped giving her play-by plays of all the games he participated in and who he had met up with.

He got a Japanese girlfriend, and she was nice. But she wasn’t the girl he wanted to go home to everynight.

“Maybe I still want something about you?” 26 missed calls.

There was a saying, from some American poet, someone he learned about but entirely forgot. The saying talked about the influence of yearning. It is the worst poison, best medicine, and key to so many doors.

He was out and about, looking for some lunch now. His sleep was restless. Maybe a fruit sando would be the best solution to the hunger pangs in his stomach. Exchanging cash for the food, he sits outside on the patio, unwrapping the foil and taking a bite.

She finally responded when the time neared midnight in her timezone, texting him. She asked if he knew what he was doing. She asked if he was inebriated last night. She asked if he was still dating his girlfriend. She said that if he was still dating her then he wasn’t being nice. She said she would never date someone who cheats. Hinata screenshots his text exchange with his newly ex-girlfriend.

She sends an eye roll emoji.

He smiles.

Midnight in Brazil. 0 missed calls. One incoming call.

he truly is something special

every time i get to this part of the manga i remember why hinata is my favorite fictional character. like. he started playing volleyball because of a guy with a cool nickname who encouraged him to play and now HE is the one who motivates other people with HIS cool nickname hes really my son

izuku loves to be as close as possible

izuku was always touching you. he always had his hand on you or arms wrapped around you in some way, wanting to be close to you at all times. he especially loved the touch you gave him as well, whether it was a hand rubbing his cheek, your lips touching his, a hug, or something else.

he enjoyed it because it made him feel so loved. he tried to have skin-to-skin contact with you whenever he could, finding comfort in your heartbeat and breathing.

so when the two of you are in your room and getting ready for bed, izuku thinks about a position he should sleep in. should he spoon you? should you spoon him? what was he supposed to do?

but he suddenly had an idea, and hopefully you would be comfortable with it. he took his shirt off with ease and threw it onto your chair. then, he shyly crawled under your shirt, making sure you didn’t have a bra on. he needed to fully feel you, after all.

you mumbled, “what’re you doing, zu?” and felt his chest and head on your chest, he let out a soft laugh.

“just want to feel you. is this okay?”

“it is, baby. don’t worry about it.” you reassured, rubbing his back as both of your chests were touching.

his strong, muscular arms wrapped around your waist, and his head poked out through your neckline. his soft hair tickled your chin and cheeks, but you played with it nonetheless. he mumbled in satisfaction, loving how your hands were all over him.

izuku’s lips eventually found their way to your neck, kissing the soft skin a few times before stopping. in response, you kissed his forehead, feeling his smile on your collarbone.

it didn’t take long for either of you to fall asleep, and he rested with dreams about you.

haii another izuku writing!! sry if this one was boring

LMFAOJSISHEWKNA

I know Oikawa hates Kageyama and Ushiwaka for being geniuses or whatever but it's just really really funny to me to imagine that Oikawa just hates autistic people

CURLY GIRL KIYOOMI

he said no 😡

MEN AINT SHIT!!

Dad!Bakugou w/ his daughter

𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝 Where your daughter gets her hands on your phone and chaos ensues

A/n: Layout kinda got fucked up but this is exactly how it would go down kids make zero sense and jump topics so abruptly its crazy

Do not plagiarise/copy/post on other platforms. All work is my original works. || Masterlist

deaf!bakugou likes to feel the vibrations of your body.

to paint a clear picture, he doesn’t have his hearing aids in, and you two are in resting in bed after a few rounds of making love (and consoling your fiancée when he started tearing up and signing about how he was fucking pissed he couldn’t hear you moaning his name)

the sun’s orange glow as it sets just outside your window beams a gorgeous light onto you both, glistening with sweat. it’s a comfortable few minutes before you remember a juicy story you’d overheard earlier that day, and you gently tap the space next to your lover (you didn’t have to though cuz he was already staring at you with cheesy adoration).

you slightly pull yourself away from his beefy chest to begin expressively signing your daily piece of gossip. you always speak out loud when you sign, even though you know he can’t hear you. and as you’re signing with speedily, facial expressions big and enthusiastic, katsuki’s eyes dart to your lips every two seconds, nostalgically remembering the sound of your gorgeous voice before the war.

he huffs, signing wait. you pause with confusion before he shuffles forward so two of his fingers could rest on your throat. he feels you swallow and a little grin writes itself upon his face. he gives you a tiny nod to continue. and he smiles at the heavy buzzing against his digits.

did you mean it? 🐈🐈‍⬛

They never go out of style ✨