Everytime I See Timeskip Tanaka I Go That Should Be Me

everytime i see timeskip tanaka i go “that should be me 😞”

takeout dinner w/ kiyoko | wc: 344 m.list

    your legs tangle with hers, the couch far too small for the two of you. taking another bite of ramen, you look over at kiyoko, eyes glazed over from the littlest bit of wine, "okay, okay, truth or dare."

  she looks back at you, knee just barely digging into your thigh. her gaze lands on you, sending a flurry of emotions through your head. your heart nearly skipping a beat until you remind yourself that she's tipsy. that that look is purely there from the wine that rests on the table. "truth, i don't trust you with a dare," kiyoko leans her head against the back of the couch.

  "oh come on ki! i can be trusted with dare.." you take another bite of your ramen, foot brushing against her side, chills running down her legs, "but for truth... what's the thing you look out for most in a partner?" 

  kiyoko looks over at you and purses her lips, a slight smile sneaking through. taking in a deep breath, she sets her fork into her bowl, setting it on the nearby coffee table. "well, i tend to like partners who are comfortable to be around me, even in pajamas and with takeout," she sits up, shin pushing against the side of your thigh.

  taking another bite, you move your fork in a nodding movement, "i totally understand that, it's so nice to have someone who loves you unconditionally."

  "yeah it is..." she sighs, grabbing her wine and taking a sip, eyes staying on yours.

  you look back up at her as her gaze stays on yours. and as soon as you do, you realize you’re staring at the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen in your life. she’s sitting there, leaning forward against her knees, and her shoulder length hair is framing her face perfectly. and almost like a primal instinct, you realize that she’s talking about you.

  “oh- oh,” you look over at her, watching as she bites her lip, smiling at your response, “let me set down my takeout, oh my gosh i wanna kiss you so bad.”

huge power move of linguini to have his famous and well respected restaurant shut down because of a massive rat infestation only to immediately open a new restaurant called this

they make me sick

i love making the mini moodboard headers for my works before i publish them

it’s like a little pinterest sweet treat

real writer shit in my notes app

   streetcorner ᵕ̈         akaashi keiji x gn reader ( pt. three ) ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : maybe sometimes you    ⋮⋮  have to take " different " into your ⋮⋮  own hands . that way it ' ll feel much ⋮⋮  better , no ?

📋 content      ♡ # 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 🐄      ♡ # 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 🥛      ♡ # 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 - 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱       ♡ # 3𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴     ♡ # 𝙘𝙬 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 +     𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 , 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧

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💬 kuroppiii ─  " y/n lowkey tweaking but can you really blame them ? "

you were wrong. “different” wound up being quite bad.

two weeks. two weeks.

you haven’t seen keiji— no, akaashi at the drink machine for two weeks.

14 days. 10 work day mornings. two weekends.

that first weekend went by, and you did your chores and errands with what you hate to admit was a little bit of "pep" in your step. because getting through your usual lineup of weekend responsibilities felt like they were leading up to something, knowing they counted down to a first-of-the-week workday—or more specifically a workday morning—spent with your new friend.

but then monday morning came, and you found that although the canned beverage you always get out of the street corner vending machine was warm, by your side at that machine was filled with nothing but the cold winter air.

‘he must’ve partied really hard this past weekend with those work friends. i’ll give him a bit if he’s running late,’ you so innocently thought.

10 minutes passed, and he still hadn’t shown up. not wanting to start off your week showing up late again, you decided to leave the street corner and head to work. you’ll probably see him the next day, anyway. one day without your little morning chat wasn’t going to be the end of the world...

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

tuesday.

you stuck around for 15 minutes. no sign of him or his tan coat or his glasses or those shiny professional-looking shoes.

'god, i hope he's not sick. it's all those cold lattes in this freezing weather. i warned him about that!"

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

wednesday.

the train passed. nothing.

ting! ting! ting!

nothing but the sound of you nervously pulling on the tab of your drink greeted you this morning. your drink was long gone by then, and so was your hope you'd see him again.

you tossed the can in the trash bin, pulled your scarf higher onto your face, and hid away from the waking city with your hands snug in your coat pockets–embarrassed you had gotten your hopes up so high.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

that thursday–yet another day where you faced a solitary morning–your frustration at the whole situation festered and bubbled over in the form of working overtime at the restaurant.

because walking home alone from a shift was one thing, but knowing the next morning you'd be met with the same solitude–when you had just had a taste of what it was like not dealing with loneliness picking away at you every day–made the whole journey back to your apartment that much worse than it ever was before.

you were on your hands and knees, scrubbing away at the hardwood floors until you saw your dejected reflection. you wiped the tables down until they were spotless. you made sure the kitchen was in pristine condition for the old man and woman to enjoy cooking in it the next day.

tick, tick, tick

the aged and rusted clock on the wall by the cash register mocked you as you continued brewing over your situation.

you definitely came off as a creep! bringing him food unwarranted? but he had bought you your drink in return? oh, and had given you that drink with the casual drop of his first name. as if you two were really friends!

but why? maybe he was just messing with you. maybe he sensed how much of a loner you kind of really are. maybe he would seriously opt to take the longer way to work just so he didn't have to deal with you in the mornings anymore.

was he even telling you the truth about his work? was "akaashi keiji" even his real name?

what drove you crazy the most was how easy it was for him to infiltrate your days for that short week, preventing them from droning on by simply showing up at a street corner on your way to work.

'how pathetic', you thought about yourself.

it wasn't until he came along that the reality of your sacred routine became apparent to you. you had been convincing yourself for weeks that it was fine but no, you guessed it was true–you felt alone in this city.

he effortlessly cracked the foundations of the motions you went through each day to stay sane, and what? then he just gets to disappear out of nowhere?

leaving you with nothing but... well, yourself. alone. again.

“different” wound up being quite bad, and painful, and lonely

but so did going back to "normal", apparently.

you sat at the counter of the restaurant, the clock in your hands still ticking away, but now you had cleaned it all up. it looked as good as new.

at least you had the old couple's reaction as something to look forward to the next morning.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

on friday you sat behind the register as you watched the customers come and go. in the small restaurant booths they sat across from each other–some couples here, some suit-and-tie-clad groups of office workers there, maybe the occasional group of friends still in their school uniforms.

you observed as they smiled at one another and laughed together. it was like each booth was its own bubble for the people to escape mundane reality with for even just one meal.

then they would come up to you, your time watching through a window over as your existence at the resister marked a snap back to reality for them. you–standing all by yourself amidst the rest of the lives that continued on in this city, as you took their money and counted out their change before they would leave and never give your existence a though ever again.

when that got to be enough for you, you even tried watching whatever sappy drama channel the old couple liked to keep playing on the old boxy television as it sat on a small shelf high up in the corner of the room. but that didn't really help either, the people on screen were also happily interacting with loved ones and friends.

the workday continued on like that until closing time, when the old couple decided to stick around for a bit, even as you attempted busying yourself with overtime tasks to avoid walking home.

they put on the restaurant's old karaoke machine, and you happily watched as they sang and danced together with the minimal movements that their age allowed them to enjoy on a friday night.

at one point, the old woman even urged you to stop spraying and wiping down the restaurant windows, and you sang and danced to a few songs along with them, too.

the walk home that night wasn't actually too bad–the scenes of you and the owners' little party replaying in your head as you walked down the street, softly smiling to yourself as you didn't even realize you had passed the drink machine on the street corner.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

saturday morning you wake up and stare up at your ceiling. you heard the sound of cars and trains pass by, and small city birds sing to yawning street cats just outside your window.

usually by now, you would be done grocery shopping and would be moving onto meal prepping for the week ahead. but your thoughts kept swirling around that stupid soft spoken guy, the one who always pressed the vending machine button for a cold latte in the middle of winter.

akaashi keiji. akaashi keiji.

before you knew it you were tapping away at your phone's keypad.

a-k-a-a-s-h-i...

you looked him up on every social media app you had downloaded on your phone.

k-e-i-j-i...

but damn, all the accounts you came across were either definitely not him or were privated.

you huffed and let your head sink back into your cool pillow. why were you still trying? you had to accept your one week of mornings with him was just some spontaneous and cruel string events the universe just tossed at you for its own amusement, one to come in and change the trajectory of how you felt about your whole life–that's all.

outside, you can hear the screech of a cat and the beating of bird wings, assumably after being scaring off by the cat. softly, you laugh to yourself picturing the scene in your mind.

then your thoughts drift to the stray cat that used to linger around your childhood home. it was grey and had a white belly. you and your friends would coddle it after school, or would give it a brief petting as you would stumble onto the back porch after a night out in-between semesters during university.

this was all before you moved away, that is.

god, you were homesick. but it wasn't like you could simply move back in the blink of an eye. you worked hard to get a place for yourself in the city. you've worked hard as you figured out what you want to do with your life. you just wish figuring it out wouldn't have to be so lonely.

but then, you thought of an idea.

you looked at your bank account to check the costs. it was definitely an expense you'd have to make up for, but that old couple was generous in that they always paid if you went overtime. more late nights meant you'd probably make back the money–and blow off even more steam–fairly quickly.

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

the next day, sunday, you decide to get a cat...

you recalled in your contract that your apartment allows it, so why not?

who needed a good-looking stranger to keep you company on a daily basis, anyway?

you set out on getting it the basics (treats, food bowl, a bed, a litter box, etc.) since you could always get more later depending on what your new feline friend might be like.

during that first half of the day, you drifted from store to store, picking out the perfectly humble items to greet your cat as soon as it arrived in its new home. your eyes always ended up glancing over any display rack of magazines you could find in the stores, maybe subconsciously searching for a certain combination of kanji on the covers' credits–but you never spotted it.

upon finally arriving at the pet store, the worker warmly greeted you at from the front desk and you asked if he could direct you to the cats. now you find yourself standing in front of a tall cat tree, a dozen or so cats of different colors and patterns jumping from one perch to another or adamantly scratching their claws at parts of the tree's fluffy material.

you didn't want an exact copy of the one from home, per say (it undoubtedly would've made you even more homesick), but then your eyes landed on one particular cat. it was a calico, and it was peacefully curled up a little ways away from the chaos of the cat tree. sunlight beamed through the pet shop's big front window and fell straight on the cat, making it and it's white, orange, brown, and black patches almost appear luminescent.

finding yourself crouching down to look at it closer, it sensed your new presence, and lazily opened one of its eyes amidst it's nap. you felt a familiar warmth stir up in your chest at how cute the calico was–a sensation you last had felt a long, long time ago.

"that one's a boy," you hear the worker pipe up behind you, seeing your interest, "he likes to keep to himself, so he's not a troublemaker or anything, either."

"i'd like to give him a home, then," the words fall from your lips as you stare directly into the glowing hazel iris of the calico's eye staring back at you.

once you and your new cat made it back to your apartment, you didn't even really food prep or finish the laundry for the week ahead like you probably should have. instead, you became enamored with just observing your new friend–one you hope wouldn't ditch you like the last one did.

smiling, you watched him as he sauntered around to survey the furnishings of your living space, you spent time with him as you gently ran your hands along his fur.

you thought to yourself as you grew fonder to the cat more and more by the second, 'you'll can keep me company in the mornings for now on.... or and at night when i get home from work... and even the weekends!" (something your last "new friend" would never have been able to do, anyway.)

it took a bit to decide on a name in your head, but finally you cooed at the calico as it hopped next to you on the couch where you were sitting, "it's you and i now, yamato!"

،   そ   ✧   の後    🌱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 ...

the second week without akaashi, you purposefully avoided the drink machine. you figured out a different route (granted, the first time you tried it on monday, you were late to work because you got lost). subsequently, you kind of gave up on coffee for a while (granted, you felt a tad bit more tired on the day-to-day if you had to be honest).

but each morning instead of caffeine, you were met with the lovely presence of yamato sauntering around as you went about the apartment getting ready before heading out to work. thankfully what the pet shop owner said was tried and true: yamato never gave you any problems the first week he spent with you in your apartment.

you had to account for the chores you didn't get to on that weekend, when you were moping around and getting a cat. but again, yamato was there to keep you company as you were sweeping the floor around the couch, or leaning over to hang up laundry on your tiny balcony, or tossing together whatever you had in the fridge to constitute as small dinners for one to greet you on the nights you came back from long days at work.

busy, busy, busy is what you made yourself.

the old couple at the restaurant were a great help in this, as well. the months you've spent with them meant they grew more comfortable having you around, they'd always subtly complain about something breaking or in need of renovation, and of course you would offer to help to stay longer. (you always loved seeing the delight that radiated off of them when you would stay to help, and sometimes you would wonder if they ever had any kids or grandkids of your own. you never bothered to ask though, maybe that was a bit too personal.)

one particular day, however, was especially grueling. the restaurant got much busier than usual because of a festival that was being help nearby. one hungry festival-goer after the other popped into the small establishment–every seat would be taken up, dishes continuously were being served out, and there was barely any wiggle room to do it all because the customers opted to wait inside to dodge the cold weather outdoors.

your employers urged you to go home and rest as soon as it was all over, and though you'd usually find an excuse to work overtime for not just the pay anymore but to spend more time with the old man and woman, tonight you found yourself happily obliging to depart early.

a night spent watching tv with yamato curled in your lap didn't sound too bad, after all.

as you walk through the streets, you feel your eyelids physically giving up on you. your efforts of the past week trying to make your life work out in at least some way was finally catching up to you. but you thought of yamato, and how bad you felt he'd been left alone to his own devices at home on the long days you've been working late.

you owed it to your new furry friend to stay awake for that movie tonight.

caffeine. that should do the trick, you thought. but you didn't want to enter a 7/11. you always hated how the the lights would be too bright, and tonight they would probably give your waning brain a headache, when you just wanted a calm evening to yourself and your cat.

but the only other way of obtaining some form of liquid booster at an hour like this would be some kind of vending machine. there were none on your new route back from and to work, though. it was a fact that's been great in avoiding thinking about the events of two weeks ago, but not when you were actually craving your usual latte right now.

it was what, almost midnight? what harm could there be visiting that old warm-and-cold-option vending machine on the street corner near your apartment building, anyway? at least you wouldn't have to be seeing it in the daylight–a handful of remiss memories attached to a scene like that.

so you make some turns and you're nearing that exact spot. you rub your eyes in exhaustion as you round the corner, but as you look up, you see a figure already standing there, swiping their card at the machine.

the faint lights from the vending machine display illuminate the front of them, and you notice a pair of glasses blocked out by the display's light reflecting off of them. the light forming little shapes on the top of the person's shiny shoes. a tan coat.

"keiji?"

the figure, startled, turns to face you. you still can't really make out their face in the dimness of the street corner alley. they don't say anything for a moment.

you idiot, you think to yourself. part of you wants to book it, because there's no way that could be him–he has no business being here so late.

but the other part of you keeps your feet in place on the pavement. you feel it again, a small ounce of hope, that a friend has returned into your lonely little life.

"y/n?"

that voice. that's definitely him.

clunk!

you hear his drink tumble into the vending machine's slot, and the familiar sound brazenly fills the street. but the two of you don't flinch.

what was he doing back here?

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