Shoyou X Reader - Blog Posts

Henlo 🥺👉🏼👈🏼. I really love your writing, and I was hoping that I could request a hinata soulmate!au. I really loved the other ones. Thank you so much!

Tug of War (Hinata x Reader/Soulmate!au)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You had a nervous habit, and to your soulmate, it was a bit cruel. From time to time, you would occasionally tug on your red string of fate. You never really saw the effects… at least, not until now. “Hinata, are you okay?!”

A/N: Haha, had this one planned out for months but never had the energy to do it. Thanks for giving me that extra push, anon! It’s a little short, but I hope you like it!

Word count: 1614

        The sound of balls whamming into the ground split through your eardrums. 

        Wham!

        “Nice kill!”

        Heavy breathing accompanied the noise, along with the heavy stench of sweat as you wormed your way to the front of the crowd. From the second-level balcony, you had a full view of the court, the benches, and most importantly, the greatest decoy. 

        Though his height was nothing to call home about, something had always drawn you to the little ginger bouncing on the tips of his toes right now. Maybe it was the way he faced every challenge head on, or maybe it was the way he would smile after bounding onto the volleyball court. You weren’t quite sure, and that’s exactly what had you fiddling with the ruby string around your dominant pinkie. 

        “It’s up!”

        It was Karasuno’s first home game. On the other half of the court was a teal and white team, Seijoh-- or… maybe it was Aoba Johsai. You never really knew. 

        All that was for sure was that the group of five or so girls beside you were all cheering for “Oikawa” with squeals like a local pig farm. When you followed their gazes, you weren’t really impressed. Sure, he was handsome, but you guessed redheads had always been more your type. 

        “Nice one, Hinata!” At the name, you leaned over the metal railing and peered down on the court, more attentive now than ever. He had just been switched out, replaced with an even shorter male, which… you weren’t really sure how that was possible. 

        While watching from the player’s box, Hinata drank from a water bottle with haste. You had never been more jealous of plastic in your life. 

        Soon, the whistles blew, and he was switched back into the game. Brown eyes glimmering, he shifted into the front row spot near a taller first year with dark hair. 

        “Watch out for that blocker, dumbass.” 

        “Why do you always call me that?!”

        Their yells didn’t exactly reach that far up into the stands, but thanks to the general air around the two, you figured your lip-reading had been more than accurate. 

        A small smile had settled onto your face as the game moved on, and not once had your fingers stopped twisting and twirling the string. Somehow, the energy of the game had seeped right into your own being, and soon you were biting your lip in anticipation. 

        “Bring it to me!”

        Hinata ran around the setter and jumped, and just when he reared back to spike--

        Tug.

         His body flailed and flew through the air like a fish out of water. The cringe from every person in the room was almost audible as soon as he crashed to the ground, the plastic numbers on the back of his jersey squealing in protest. 

        When he finally stopped sliding, he flinched right as the ball that had been set for him bonked his forehead before dribbling away. 

        For a moment, the entire gym was silent. Some’s mouths were gaped with awe, others had brows raised in concern. Luckily, not a single person saw you, watching your pinkie as though it had whispered the secrets of the universe. 

        “AGAIN?!” Hinata shouted to himself, breaking the silence and wriggling around on his back in frustration. “She’s gotta stop doing that!”

        Oops.

        “Hinata, are you okay?!” His teammates crowd around the fallen spiker in a huddle, concerned looks being served left and right. 

        In mere seconds, your face had shifted from ghostly white to rosy red, and it took you even less time to book it out of there. 

        Bad habit, bad habit!

                                ###

        All throughout your life, you had waited to meet your soulmate. Was he tall? Short? Kind? Mean? What if he didn’t even speak the same language?

        Each day, these questions plagued your mind, and somewhere along the way, your habit had grown. A little twist of the string, a small caress of the soft fabric wrapped around your pinkie, and the occasional tug when you got a little too anxious. Evidently, it was just waiting to come bite you in the ass. 

        Hinata was ruthless now. He’d been yanked out of his chair mid-class, toppled over in the middle of the street or hall, and even missed the bowl once or twice while just trying to relieve himself. All of that, he could handle. 

        Though, apparently last night had been the last straw. What felt like every minute, the string on your hand would jerk you around so forcefully you almost flew right out the classroom window you sat beside. 

        Only once in a while would you let it be obvious enough that the teacher had to ask if you were okay. Your notebook was now covered in hasty chicken scratch, eager to get in a line of notes before the next wrench of the string. Random lines of led littered the page from when he had caught you a moment too soon, but you were trying to adapt. There was a moment in between each jerk, and in those moments, you had true freedom. 

        “In nineteen-thirtysev-... ugh, nineteen-thirtysev- son of a bitch! In nineteen-thirty-- you know what, fuck it. I give up,” you grumbled under your breath, slamming your notebook closed amongst the now-constant tugs of your pinkie. There was really no point in trying now; Hinata had traded in his previous pattern of tug-wait-wait-tug for tug-tug-tug. 

        You didn’t even bother bringing your hand back up to your desk, instead deciding to let it flail around and dangle over the edge of the wooden surface. 

        Sighs of relief fill the classroom as soon as the bell rings, and you snag your backpack off the floor in the nick of time. One large rip of the string has you scrambling out into the hallway, crashing into a locker and trying to stabilize your footing. 

        “Woah, watch it!”

        “Yeah, yeah, sorry.” The student seems to either have a stick up his ass no different than a popsicle or maybe the wave of your nonchalant hand didn’t account for much of an apology. Either way, you didn’t get to stick around for long, because soon your soulmate’s pulling is practically dragging you down the hall, bouncing off the occasional student like bumper cars. 

        “I swear, Kageyama, she’ll be here. Just hold on for a second.” 

        Over the hoards of students stampeding in the opposite direction of you, you hear his voice. While you expected a vengeful snicker, you were pleasantly surprised with a giddy smile. 

        Through the bodies moving slower than midday traffic, you saw Hinata, orange hair bobbing up and down in a school window’s gleam. 

        Bob and weave. Bob and weave.

        When you surface is when you see it. Your soulmate’s not simply pulling you toward him in a conventional way. No, rather, he’s reeling the string around his other hand like he caught a fish.

        “YN?” His movements halt and in true ragdoll fashion, you do as well. 

        “Sup.”

        Hinata, the guy you had been crushing on for your entire first year of high school, was your soulmate. Last night, you could barely go to sleep with all your excitement bubbling through your veins. Your smile had been as large as the moon itself as you wiggled around on your bed, kicking your feet whenever the pent up energy came to be too much. 

        Now? That was a different story. 

        No less had it been a small wave of giddiness, but it was more a wave of pure elation. Endorphins swam around your bloodstream enough to make your head fuzzy, but making eye contact with him hadn’t been the only cause. 

        No, because in seconds, Hinata had covered the distance between you two and tackled you like an ecstatic puppy. You were high on the rush of first touch, high on the rush of finally having him hold you in his arms. 

        “I finally found you,” his voice is muffled by your shoulder and he’s got your school jacket bawled up in two fists. There’s a smile; you can almost feel him trembling against you in euphoria, but he’s not alone. 

        Every nerve ending is set on fire when your arms wrap around him too. Unable to hold back your happiness, you release a small giggle that has him pressing you impossibly closer. 

        “Yeah, you found me.”

        With that, he leans back, lips pursed in uncertainty. 

        “Umm, so do you wanna… like, erm, come watch me practice? I promise I’ll take you out after!”

        Seeing just how nervous he could be almost made you relax on instinct. An easy smile works its way onto your face. “Yeah,” you nod, body still abuzz with the tingles of his touch, “yeah, that sounds good.”

        “Great!” 

        Before you know it, Hinata’s encompassed your hand in his own warm one, leading you all the way out the school and to the second gym with a bored Kageyama on your tail. 

        “You gotta promise me one thing, though, before we go in there, YN.”

        “Sure, what’s up?”

        “Swear you won’t tug on the red string, okay? You have a terrible habit, and it always messes me up when I play!”

Home Alone (Hinata x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You should never leave Hinata alone with the responsibility of the chores in the house. Especially when your next-door neighbor is a dick. 

A/N: Fuck shitty wifi, fuck fuck fuckkkkkk. Like seriously, someone please tell me I’m not the only one struggling with editing the fucking tags on posts, pleaseeee. Anyways, I was desperate for an idea, and I didn’t like this one at first, but I swear it’s good. Enjoy!

Word count: 944

        Ah, home sweet home. You were back from a business trip that required you to leave home for a week. Yes, it was only seven days, but a week of your husband home alone without supervision was seven days too many. Although, when you arrived back at your house and saw it wasn’t burned down, you were relieved to know you were worried for nothing. 

       “Shoyo, I’m back!” You closed the front door and kicked off your shoes, only to crash into the wall behind you from the force of a hug. 

       “I’m so glad you’re home, YN! I missed you so much!” His voice wavered with excitement as he smiled into your collarbone. 

       “I missed you too.” You pull away and smile at him brightly, giving a small peck to his lips. He whines at its duration before pouting.

       “YN, I need cuddles, it’s been too long.” Shoyo snatches your arm and leads you toward the bedroom, only to groan when you wriggle out of his grip. 

       “I know, I know,” you laugh, “but I’m thirsty. I’ll just get a drink real quick then I’ll join you.” His reaction worries you.

       “No!” he shouts anxiously, brown eyes wider than dinner plates.

       “Excuse me?” Your eyebrows furrow in utter confusion.

       “I’ll get it for you! You just go up to the room, I’m sure you’re tired!” He nods his head affirmatively at his own statement and places his hands on your shoulders, driving you towards your shared room. You plant your feet and stop his movements, all while giggling at his abnormal actions. 

       “Shoyo, don’t worry. I’m not that worn out.” You step into the kitchen while your husband seems to choke on air behind you. “Trust me, I’m awake enough to get myself a glass of water.” He stays suspiciously silent behind you while you peer into the empty sink on your way to the cupboards.

       “Aww, babe, thanks for doing the dishes before I came home!” 

       “Yeah sure, of course.” His voice is higher than normal, but you don’t mention it. Looking into the cupboards, you’re puzzled to find them completely empty. 

       “They’re in the washer.” 

       “Oh.” You step over to said appliance. “Well, just so you know in case I have to leave again, you can’t put too many dishes in here, otherwise it’ll-”

       Suds. Everywhere. The opening was overflowing with blue and white bubbles as soon as you pulled on the handle, and now your kitchen floor was soaked and stunk of bittersweet dish soap. Your lips draw into a firm line and you turn around to look at your ashamed husband, who avoids your gaze and rocks back and forth on his heels. He’s innocently whistling a tune with his hands held behind his back. Wonderful. 

       “It’ll do that,” you finish, chest tight with stifled frustration. Shoyo halts his actions and stares at you with shame.

       “Should I-”

       “Yeah, mop’s in the closet.” You nod your head towards the hallway. He follows your orders, until….

       “On the left,” you remind him impatiently. Your jaw aches from the constant clench.

       “Right, right.”

       Your mouth is still dry as a desert and you peer into the leaking dishwasher for any usable cup, only to smack your palm against your forehead at the sight. 

       “Shoyo, is this the laundry?” 

       “Umm, sort of?”

       “Sort of?” You reach in and retrieve his favorite shorts, waving them around in his face with a raised brow. 

       “Yes.” You huff and toss the clothing at him before rubbing your temples. A terrible, awful idea decides to smack you in the face at that moment, causing you to pause and slowly glance up at your husband. The veins in your forehead are having a field day while the rest of your body remains still.

       “Honey, if these are our clothes, where are our dishes?” Your voice is soft and patient. It’s a lure, and he knows it. 

       “W-well, they’re not in the clothes’ washer if that’s what you’re asking!” Shoyo laughs uproariously and you sigh in relief. 

       “Thank God,” you giggle softly, “‘cause for a second there I was like ‘Please tell me I didn’t marry an idiot.’” After you give him a small smile, your husband’s eyes widen and he squeaks out an “mhm!”

       You shake your head with a relieved chuckle and give him a small peck on the cheek.

       “I’m just gonna go hang up my coat, I’ll be right back.” 

       “O-okay.” He dashes into the kitchen with his requested mop and you make your way into the laundry room, dropping your jacket on the coat rack.

       Clink clink.

       What.

       The smile falls off your face instantly. Your eyes squint, and you’re not exactly sure what you’re hearing, but you know for a fact you don’t like it. 

       Clink clink.

       Oh God, please don’t tell me. Your shoulders tense as you step closer to your dryer, pausing the machine and whipping it open with tightly-shut eyes. The clanging has stopped, so you hesitantly take a peek.

       “Shoyo!”

       Silence.

       “Shoyo Hinata, why the fuck are there glass shards in the dryer?!”

       Your house rattles with the force of a slammed front door. Son of a bitch.

       Distantly, you hear a muffled, panicked shout from your husband followed by the devious cackles of your neighbor.

       “Kageyama, you lying bastard! You told me the dishes needed to dry!”