gracefulackerman

[gracefulackerman]

can you label/tag the gender/pronouns for the reader in your inserts? ^^

ahh yes — apologies that i forgot to do this!

i’ll make sure to from now on. :D

[gracefulackerman]

on the house

jotaro kujo x !barista reader

being the cold and composed man he is, jotaro kujo never showed much interest in relationships. he valued his independence and solitude he had built up for himself, rarely letting anyone too close. yet recently, he’s noticed a foreign feeling that ignites within him whenever you serve him his daily coffee. it’s subtle and not so strong, but it is there and it confused him slightly.

on this particular day, he was rather stressed. dealing with everything happening in morioh right now with josuke and his grandpa has for sure made him frustrated. In a desperate attempt to relax, he came to the coffee shop you worked at.

the bell above the café door chimed softly as he stepped inside. he entered like always — precise steps, white coat crisp, expression unreadable. his brows were bent slightly, giving him an intimidating look. the bell jingled just enough to make you flinch, just like usual. he approached the counter, already rehearsing the words in his mind: “large black coffee, no sugar. and… maybe a blueberry muffin today.”

before he could speak, you looked up from the register, you — black apron slightly crooked, eyes bright — smiled sweetly and said softly, “one black coffee coming right up, mr. kujo! and, don’t worry. i saved you the last blueberry muffin - that’s if you want it of course.”

he paused, — just for a second — caught off guard not by the mistake (there was none), but by being seen in such a quiet, unexpected way. he cleared his throat, “yeah… that’s it. and sure, i’ll take it.” for someone who liked solitude and silence more than conversation or connection — he found that this small moment warmed him in places he’d forgotten were cold.

the morning light spilled across the counter in soft golden stripes as y/n moved with quiet care — measuring, pouring, wiping. she knew his order off by heart: a large black coffee, specifically NO sugar (you learned the hard way), cup warmed just right. no splash of milk, no hint of honey. just strong and simple, like jotaro himself. you placed the mug on a small cylinder tray first — steam curling gently from its surface — and then reached for the glass case. there it was: one last blueberry muffin, its top dusted with sugar crystals that caught the light like shiny stars. with delicate hands, you lifted it onto a porcelain plate and set it besides the coffee. you carried it to the ‘pick up’ counter, gently setting it down in front of him.

jotaro stood quietly, watching as the barista prepared his drink with practised ease. he waited quietly, his frame leaning against the counter, whilst his gaze roamed around the coffee shop’s interior without much interest. “here is your coffee, mr. kujo!”

when his coffee was ready, he picked it up with one hand, your hands brushing over each others for a brief moment. that strange feeling again grew inside of him. “thank you y/n,” his rough voice spoke, saying the name that had been engraved in his mind since the first time he saw it connected to your apron. — which was currently still crooked— “and, please. call me jotaro.”

your lashed eyes widened slightly. and… just for a moment, you blushed like sunrise through pink curtains. “of course. by the way, mr ku- i mean jotaro! it’s… on the house.” you whispered, eyes downcast but lips curled in a fragile smile. “you’ve been coming here every morning for the past three months now… i thought you deserved something sweet.”

jotaro’s brow twitched slightly at the slip — ‘mr kujo’ again, then the quick correction. ‘what is this, charity?’ he thought as he held back a scoff. “no.” his deep voice spoke. his expression didn’t change — it never really did — but something in his stance softened. just a fraction.

“you shouldn’t give things away for free,” jotaro rumbled, voice low but not unkind. “especially to repeat customers like me.” then — the tiniest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, which took you aback. ever since jotaro had began showing up here, you could never catch any emotions on his face. he reached into his coat pocket and placed a small stack of 1000 yen notes on the counter, deliberately overpaying.

“keep it… as a payment for your kindness towards me. i appreciate it.” jotaro’s gaze held yours for half a second longer than necessary before turning to leave, hat tilted just enough to hide how his pulse had slowed — steady now, where it had been racing since you smiled and called him by his first name. he opened the stores door, whilst you stood dumbfounded. “b-but… mr. ku— jotaro!” your soft voice spoke, yet he had already exited the coffee house. you felt your face heating up once again.

the café hummed with quiet chatter and the occasional clink of spoons, yet you stood frozen behind the counter — eyes wide, counting the crisp stack of notes, far too large for a single black coffee and a muffin.

12,000 yen.

a small, folded piece of paper hid behind the notes. you hesitantly opened it, your heart fluttering like a trapped bird beneath your ribs. when you opened it, a number rested in the middle, written in a sharp, clean script. you turned it over, not expecting anything on the back.

‘mr. kujo — please, call me sometime, y/n.”

[gracefulackerman]

AOT is the first anime to ever make me sob on full out. i didnt even need like. to push out the tears bc they're sitting there. no. full out running down my face and im ugly crying and half screaming because oh my fucking god. the fucking ending. even thinking about it makes me a little sad. isayama when i catch you

[gracefulackerman]

hairy chests. you agree. reblog