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lnarizakis · 4 years

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my name is... (what’s going on?) | a. keiji

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part 3: what’s going on? | my name is...:akaashi keiji x f! reader

Oh no.

Oh no…

(Y/N) was going to have to play volleyball. The funny thing is: she doesn’t know how to. So as she stood at the entrance to the gym that Fukurodani Academy’s volleyball club is currently occupying wearing his practice gear, Suzumeda had to urge her inside.

“Akaashi-kun? You good? Come on, today might not have been good for you but Bokuto-san really wants you to practice with him today. He wants to work out a few plays before nationals.”

(Y/N) turned sharply towards the girl behind her. (Y/N) was in total shock. Nationals?! These guys played on a national level? In high school? What kind of person was this kid, really…

Suzumeda stifled a laugh. She did not know what was going on with Akaashi-kun today but whatever he was on, it was extremely funny.

“Are you fully here, Akaashi-kun? Come on, before I get Bokuto-san to drag you inside.”

Not wanting to be forcefully dragged inside the gym, (Y/N) complied and walked inside. There she fully got to see Bokuto-san, as he leaps up, ready for a spike. He slams the ball down at an amazing angle. A cross. Thankfully she was taught a few terms from her first-year friend Yachi Hitoka as they watched one of Karasuno’s practice matches together. Therefore, yes, she does have some knowledge of the game.

But wow. Bokuto is an amazing player. He landed on his feet, shot his arms up in the air, fists pumping, and shouted at full force, “Hey, hey hey! Come on, guys! Hey, hey, hey!” The surrounding players unwillingly put a fist up as they coaxed on Bokuto with their unenthusiastic cheers.

Bokuto is a wing spiker. (Y/N) wondered what position Akaashi-kun played. Hearing the footsteps of his favorite setter come into his range, the third-year wing spiker turned his head towards (Y/N) and smiled from ear-to-ear.

“Hey, hey, hey! Akaashi! You’ve finally decided to arrive! C’mon, I’m ready for your sets!”

Ah, so he’s the setter. Wait a minute, every time (Y/N)’s friend Tanaka-san asked her to help with his spikes, her sets were always too low or too high. Just how could she be able to pull off playing as a national-level setter when she herself is a terrible setter? Things were about to get very, very interesting.

Evidently she had completely forgotten about the strange text she received just some minutes ago. But the other guy had not.

—

In the now empty classroom, Keiji stared at the phone not knowing how to respond.

XXX: Who are you?

Just how should he respond to a text like that?

???: My name is (L/N) (Y/N).|

No, absolutely not.

???: My name is Akaashi Keiji.|

Wait, but he just asked if—

???: I think we may have switched bodies.|

What a terrible conclusion to come to! Keiji groaned in confusion. He deleted the message he was about to send and turned off the phone. He stood up, smoothed out his skirt, and grabbed his backpack. Keiji put the phone in his backpack and walked out the door. He opened the door and standing right in front was none other than the one and only Nishinoya Yuu. The libero, as he recognized the face, grinned widely.

“Ah! (Y/N)! I was just gonna get my knee pads that I left in there. Mind waiting for me?”

Keiji was not sure if (Y/N) had any plans after school so he agreed to wait. Nishinoya-san skipped into the classroom and went straight to his desk to retrieve his knee pads.

When he walked out with the same energy as he did coming in, Nishinoya-san said, “Alright! Let’s go!”

And so they walked to the gym together. An awkward silence ensued, and Keiji was feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. Shouldn’t the other guy have come up with something to talk about right now? Wait a minute, he knew what to talk about.

“Ah, Nishinoya-san.”

“Yuu!”

“Uh, Yuu. Do you think you could perhaps give me tips on how you receive so well? I’d like to get better before nationals. Wait, I mean, I—”

Nishinoya-san stopped in his tracks. He placed his hands on his hips, and laughed very heartily. For such a short boy he had a very big presence.

“Oh, (Y/N)! You know I’d do anything for you! I’d love to teach you anything about volleyball! I’m so glad you want to learn more! Why don’t you wait for me after practice. I’ll give you a text when I’m done and just come into the gym!”

Keiji smiled and nodded. They continued walking.

When they arrived at the gym, they bid each other a good “see ya!” and went their separate ways. As Keiji decided to find a place for him to get situated for a good few hours, Tanaka Ryunosuke and Nishinoya began to gossip from inside the gym.

“Ryu. The funniest thing happened today: (Y/N) called me Nishinoya.”

“Pfft, you’re lying, Noya-san. She would never.”

“Uh, yeah, she did. She even forgot our lil’ handshake! Something’s the matter with her.”

“Oh, damn… there is something wrong.”

—

“Wow! That was crazy, Bokuto! You really went: Bam! and that ball went: Boom! And everything else ‘bout that cross was so good! Great job, Bokuto!”

Bokuto laughed. He felt amazing, basking in the rare praise of his setter. The others, however, were more than mildly shocked at Akaashi’s outburst.

“Thanks for that, Akaashi! Let’s all eat somethin’ later today!”

And with that, their practice ended. (Y/N) ran a lot. Way more than she had before. Who knew the setter had such an important role in the game? It seemed to her that usually it’s all the wing spikers who get all the credit. Maybe she will start to see setters in a new light…

Later, (Y/N) arrived at home thanks to the help of her teammates who had to walk her home. She should thank Konoha-san later for being her neighbor. She trudged herself into Akaashi’s room and fell face-first onto the bed. She was tired.

—

Keiji felt so well-educated in receiving. He was glad that (Y/N) was friends with Nishinoya-san.

However, he was not glad to walk back into a messy bedroom. So he picked up all of the clothes that lay around, trying not to mind the underwear. He placed them in a hamper that he promised, if he were to wake up in the same body, to bring down tomorrow. Keiji grabbed books, closed the open ones, and stacked them neatly all on the desk in the corner of the room.

One of the books he saw was a sketchbook. It was half-filled, and his curiosity tempted him to flip through the drawings. He gave in to the temptation and observed the art. How nice. He placed that book on top of all of the other books and decided to get ready to sleep.

Keiji was unsure what would happen once he fell asleep. Knowing that, he had some trouble sleeping. But slowly, and surely, he did so…

—

(Y/N) opened her eyes to the sound of her alarm ringing. She remembered a face. And hands. And a voice. She hopped out of bed, grabbed the sketchbook on her desk, and drew what she remembered.

Her drawing was of a boy. He had stern eyes and a serious gaze. His hair was curly yet it did not look messy. (Y/N) tore the page from the sketchbook and taped it up onto her wall, hoping to find some significant meaning in it later. Then she took in the appearance of her room. Since when was it so… organized? She was sure that the last time she saw her room she couldn’t even walk properly towards the bed. Wait, she realized, but where was she last night if she must recollect to when she last saw her room?

Ah, that’s right. She switched bodies with a boy. Wait, she switched bodies with a boy? (Y/N) opened her phone to her messages because she somehow recalls that she had some strange conversation with a stranger yesterday. However, when she reviewed the messages, she noticed that the one she received… are the ones she sent. There was just one thing that confused her: the messages themselves.

???: Hello. Is this [REDACTED]?

XXX: I’m sorry, you must have the wrong number.

???: My bad. This must be [REDACTED] then.

XXX: Who are you?

So she remembers everything from yesterday… but not the boy’s name. Just what is going on right now?

—

#thank you everyone for everything!#if you see this i love you #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #cadekagi

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potrix-the-queerschlaeger · 7 years

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A/N: A little while ago, I stumbled across @latelierderiot‘s amazingly beautiful WinterIron ballet/tattoo AU, and instantly fell in love. I promised I’d write something to accompany all the gorgeous art, and half an eternity later, here I am with the first drabble. Enjoy, and please, forgive me for the improvised header; I’m a lot of things, but an artist is not one of them.

skin deep: first meeting

The baby is tiny. It fits perfectly into the crook of Bucky’s arm, stubby little legs not even reaching all the way down to Bucky’s wrist, and when Bucky brushes a careful hand over its dark, downy hair, his palm is big enough to cradle its whole head.

“‘M gonna break him,” he murmurs, never taking his eyes off the baby’s sleeping face.

He runs his thumb over its forehead, and smiles when it makes a quiet sighing noise in its sleep, smacking its lips a few times before settling again.

“You’re fine,” Naveen says, clearly amused, as he leans over Bucky’s shoulder to fix the baby’s little knit hat. “And he’s fine, too. Babies are sturdier than they look, trust me.”

Bucky hums, still skeptical. He strokes the baby’s cheek, glad he’s holding it with his prosthetic arm so he can actually feel how incredibly soft its skin is under the pads of his fingers. “He smells amazing.”

Naveen laughs. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d been here half an hour ago.”

“Fair enough,” Bucky allows, chuckling. “He have a name yet? Or are you still fightin’ about it?”

“Your sister,” Naveen huffs, and rolls his eyes, but he sounds unmistakably fond as he glances over at Becca, completely passed out in the hospital bed. “We ended up drawing lots, for the sake of our marriage. Say hi to your nephew, Augustus Kunal Sparrow Choudhury.”

Bucky doesn’t laugh, but it’s a near thing. “They love you, lil’ man, even if it don’t sound like it right now,” he stage whispers at the baby. Naveen snorts, so Bucky turns to stick his tongue out at him. “Becca’s such a hipster sometimes. I can’t believe we shared a womb.”

Naveen levels him with an unimpressed look. “You’re a grown man who calls himself Bucky. I don’t know how much room you have to talk here, buddy.”

“Bite me,” Bucky mouths back cheerfully, but is quickly distracted when the baby lets out the most adorable little coo.

It might be a name combination that needs some getting used to, but it does make the thing Bucky’s got planned much, much easier.

(There’s a break here, mobile readers.)

Bucky’s panting a little by the time he pushes open the door to the tattoo parlour, grimacing apologetically at the women behind the counter as he swipes a few strands of wayward hair away from his forehead. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he says, wincing. “I was teachin’ and my class ran late, but I didn’t wanna miss my appointment, so I came straight over from the studio.”

He adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder, and tries not to feel self-conscious about standing there in a pair of—today thankfully plain black—yoga pants, a loose tank top that’s definitely seen better days, and his flower print Doc Martens. It’s a comfortable and light outfit, perfect for when he’s still buzzing from practice, but the tattoo parlour is high-end enough that he suddenly wishes he’d taken the time to go home for a change of clothes.

The women just smiles, seemingly completely unperturbed. “Don’t worry about it,” she says, tucking a strand of perfectly straight, strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. Bucky watches her hands as she does it, but the movement’s over too quickly for him to get a good look at the tattoos on her knuckles. “I’m Pepper.”

Bucky smiles, relieved. “‘M Bucky,” he offers, crossing over to the counter. “I think we spoke on the phone?”

Pepper nods. “Tony’s five o’clock, yes. He is, as usual, late.” She looks amused and long-suffering in equal measures, pulling a couple of sketchbooks and magazines closer to where they’re standing. “We can look through these while we wait, give you a clearer idea of what you might want. You mentioned having a design in mind, but weren’t sure about the style?”

They’re discussing fonts a good ten minutes later when the bell above the door jingles again, followed by the sound of someone stumbling over their own feet. Pepper, leaning on the counter and actually looking in the direction of the noise, purses her lips, clearly holding back a laugh.

Bucky has to turn around to see what’s going on, and when he does, he nearly drops the pen he’s holding, because holy shit. The man walking towards them is, without exaggeration, drop dead gorgeous; messy brown hair with an intricate undercut, warm honey eyes, tattoos everywhere, a sinful mouth with a delicate ring in his lower lip, and rosy cheeks.

He doesn’t realise he’s staring until Pepper, very pointedly, closes one of the books, making him jump. “You’re late,” she tells who Bucky assumes must be Tony. She glances down at the carton coffee cup holder in Tony’s hands, and raises one eyebrow until Tony fumbles with one of the cups, and hands it over. “Thanks. This is Bucky, your five o’clock. Which, by the way, was fifteen minutes ago.”

“There was a line?” Tony tries, but Pepper just snorts, rolls her eyes, and flicks him in the forehead.

“Go do your job.”

Tony throws her a cheeky grin, and salutes. “Yes, ma’am!”

Then he turns to face Bucky, still smiling, and holds out his hand. “Hi, I’m Tony, I’m the one you’re paying to repeatedly stab you with an assortment of very sharp, pointed needles.”

And that’s a good thing, too, Bucky thinks faintly. Because without that pain, lying still for Tony, half naked, for hours on end would definitely get really embarrassing, really fast.

A/N: I have a general idea of where I’m going with this, but if you have any ideas or suggestions or wishes, message me. Maybe I’ll find a way to include them.

#winteriron #buckytony #ballet au #tattoo au #bucky pov #bucky barnes #tony stark #pepper potts #rebecca barnes #original characters #adorable yet oddly names babies #babies #meet cute #first meeting #drabble #tattooedballetau

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