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banjjakz · 1 month

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Seven Days at Granny Orimoto's Flower Shop ; Yuuta x F!Reader

My name is Okkotsu Yuuta. I am a recent graduate of a martial arts vocational school. I just completed a year-long internship abroad in Africa. Due to my recent re-entry into Japan, I am still in the process of setting up my phone and internet. I apologize for the inconvenience and I am extremely sorry for the burden. As a supervisor and business, you may benefit from the set of skills that I have to offer. I can lift upwards of 25kg. I am neat and detail oriented. Due to past life experiences, I am a fast learner and quick to adapt to new surroundings. I am accustomed to taking orders and delivering results. It is my utmost goal to ensure the comfort and satisfaction of those around me. I am eager to be of service. Please think of me kindly.

Or: An odd boy shows up every night begging for a job offer. Did you mention that he gives you handwritten letters? Do you have to report a workplace romance if the only other employee is your boss, who is currently dying? Asking for a friend.

notes: commission for the lovely mielle! thank you very kindly for 1) commissioning me!!!!!! and 2) putting up with my compulsion to surpass any and all word count specifications

warnings: general off-putting vibes, casual discussions of child death, implied stalking (at the very least), unethical(…? maybe ethically gray?) necromancy, etc. y'all know what's about to go down

♡‬ read on ao3 ‪♡‬

Life as a florist is every bit the dream that you’d hoped it would be.

The thought of working from nine to five in some cubicle for the rest of your life was enough to drive you out of university before even completing the feeble attempt you’d half-assedly made at a degree. While the path to your current state of employment had not been linear, easy, or even recommended, you cannot imagine ending up anywhere else.

You’re lucky enough as it is that Granny Orimoto was willing to take you on – perhaps, at first, out of pity – as a shop-hand. That day, all those months, is still as clear as unmarred waters in your mind. What a pitiful image you must have made: underfed, poorly clothed, with roving, vacant eyes.

Nevertheless, you adjusted quickly and gratefully to your new place of employment. Within months, your sense of self and purpose in life had been restored, watered and nurtured underneath the guiding light of Granny Orimoto’s flower shop. Like a corpse risen again, your days were once more filled with hope and aspirations.

Eventually, Granny Orimoto began bestowing upon you more and more responsibilities. You tend to think of your daily tasks as privileges more than anything else. You’ve graduated far beyond merely ringing customers up on the till – at this point, you’re somewhat of a budding horticulturalist. Or, at least, that’s what you’d like to think on your good days.

Recently, Granny Orimoto has even begun to entrust you to manage the shop on your lonesome for several days out of the week. It used to be the case that she would require you to work only hours that coincided with her own availability, so that you might fall under her constant supervision. Of course, this was back when you could barely keep a plant alive. Nowadays, things are quite different.

Quite different, indeed.

On this slow, Monday evening, managerial status finds its way to you once more. Closing the shop used to feel weird, without Granny Orimoto there to lay into you about your posture, or your clumsiness, or your naturally shy, stuttering nature. Now, it’s starting to feel eerily more and more like business as usual.

When the bell above the front door rings, you don’t think too much of it – this town is a bit of a tourist trap, so there are quite a few out-of-towners who aren’t used to respecting closing times. Usually, you’re too nice to shoo them out, but the weight of the day bears heavily upon your apron-clad shoulders.

But when you spin around on your heel, the polite-yet-firm “we closed four minutes ago” withers on your tongue like dead leaves crumbling away upon the unrepentant, earthen ground.

The most disturbing thing is not that he’s exactly your type of handsome: tall, gaunt, malnourished, with a strange, lost look in his wideset eyes. It would be easier, somehow, if your immediate and arresting attraction to the gangly stranger was the most of your worries.

Perhaps what unnerves you so, is the fact that you are powerless to do anything but devote the entirety of your attention to the odd young man. The terra cotta pot once in your grasp has suddenly been placed on the nearest shelf. The gardener’s gloves on your hands have now been stripped away and flung carelessly to the ground, the delicate flesh of your fingers on display for the world to see.

“Are you hiring?” He asks. The lights flicker. Granny Orimoto should really stop fighting you about calling an electrician – they aren’t that expensive.

No, is what you should say, because you don’t have the authority to answer this question and also the thought of having to train someone else when you are just barely getting the hang of your newfound managerial status is a terrifying prospect.

And yet, what ends up leaving your mouth is:

“Yes.”

His black hair is overgrown and in dire need of a trim. The bangs are in a liminal state: too short to part, too long for comfort. It dangles limply in his eyes. Those eyes. Big and glassy and dark, like a dead doe gazing up, unseeingly, at the sky.

“Okay,” he says. “Is there an application that I could fill out?”

Is he not cold? The weather chills significantly at night, and his layers look rather thin. Or maybe that’s just the way the clothes hang off of him. “No, it’s alright. You can just – um, you’re good.”

“I’m…?”

“You’re good,” you repeat and then you have to fight for control over your own body, so that you can turn around and break eye contact before it actually kills you. “When can you start? Do you have a phone number? Um, so we can get in touch with you about scheduling and training and verify your location and such and so forth.”

Okay, that last sentence was hastily tacked on. You’ll be the first to admit that much. But what kind of girl would you look like, asking a random stranger for his number out of the blue?

You hear more than you see him shuffle his feet, still lingering awkwardly in the doorway. “Um, no, sorry. I don’t have a phone.”

“E-mail?”

“Ah..no…would communication via letter be alright?”

What is his problem?

He shows up, four minutes past closing, poorly dressed and clearly in poor health, as well, to inquire about a job opening, and doesn’t even have a phone or any form of contact to provide other than handwritten correspondence?

Is this a prank? Are you being pranked, right now? You pause your fastidious, frustrated handling of today’s arranged bouquets just to surreptitiously scan your surroundings for any hidden cameras.

It’s like the man of your dreams has walked through the door. It’s almost too good to be true. You know you have eclectic tastes—and this is exactly why you’ve never had a boyfriend, before.

Because what living man could possibly compare to the fictional freakshows you stay up late at night reading about? Who would be worth fawning over, when you are already well equipped with a wealth of off-putting – and, quite frankly, disturbing – characters of ill-repute? Never has there been a living, breathing vessel capable of catching your jaded, heavy eyes.

Until now, that is.

“Sure,” you say, allowing the brain-rot to take control of your faculties. “Give me one second to write down our mailing information.”

But before you can cling desperately to another excuse to evade his magnetic presence, the strange boy speaks up, alluring you with the unsettlingly tranquil timbre of his voice: “That won’t be necessary. I can hand deliver the letters every day, around this time.”

You blink, sizing him up once more. Any normal human being would find this situation incredibly odd and even worth of a police report.

However, you’re comfortable in your own skin and are able to recognize that the screws you’ve knocked loose over time have, for better or worse, permanently altered your threshold for “red” or “green” flag recognition. For all you care, the flag could be purple. You aren’t thinking about flags right now. You’re thinking about his murky bangs, dark and deep, a rich obsidian, metastasizing over the smooth expanse of his alabaster forehead like a natural disaster.

“Okay. I’ll be waiting at this time every night, then.”

For the first time this evening, his gaunt face split into a tender grin, pink lips parting like spliced flesh. Somehow, he’s able to make the act of smiling something gory, something haunting. Your eyes are glued to the bone-white of his teeth. It’s like watching a car crash. You want, desperately, to look away. You cannot.

“I’m glad,” says the strange boy. “I’ll be here every night, right on time.”

A soft breeze stirs outside, just restless enough to tickle teasingly at the windchimes which dangle from the shop’s awning. Usually, the barrier of the front door dulls the melody. Tonight, you can hear the bells loud and clear.

Before you can think to demand (beg) that he reveal additional identifying information about himself – like, say, his name – the boy has all but disappeared from sight. Incredulously, you whirl around on your heel, scanning every visible inch of the shop for any possible clue as to where he went. But your searching is all for naught. It seems that he is, both in presence and absence, a complete mystery to you.

Well. There are certainly worse things that have happened to you. At least you got to chat with a cute, creepy guy for your trouble.

;

The next day, Granny Orimoto abstains from work yet again. Her modest apartment sitting atop the flower shop has kept her out of sight for many days, now. You’re no stranger to her fits and bursts of ill health, but you cannot recall the last time the brusque, full-hearted old lady has been bedridden for such a prolonged length of time.

You almost consider trying to drop by unannounced to bring her some soup and vitamins, but the thought dies immediately upon arrival. Memories of the last time you’d tried to caretake for her and were subsequently thrown out with indignant, irate gusto are enough to curb your momentary sympathy.

This means that you are effectively head of shop, once more. Over time, it gets easier to deal with the random accidents prone to any small, self-run business: leaks, clogs, jams, flickering lights, disappearing items, strange sounds at odd hours with an unlocatable source. All of it, you handle with def improvisational methods.

Even the spontaneously shattering bathroom mirror is no match for your handywoman capabilities! Really, Granny Orimoto should be lucky that it is you who happened to show up on her doorstep just as her health began to take a dive.

These are the kinds of thoughts buzzing around your skull as twilight descends upon the horizon like flies to a carcass. The death of the day is, as usual, a bloody affair: hues of bright vermillion spill across the sky, setting everything in the shop a brilliant, flagrant shade of fresh-burning red. The terracotta pots seem almost to be radiating with internal heat.

Night comes soon enough, bringing with it a brisk chill in the air. The wind rustles the windchimes, a forewarning of what is to come.

And sure enough, at 8:04 P.M., there he is, lingering in the doorway, daring to take not one step past the threshold, just as he’d done yesterday, that first night.

“Good evening.”

Clutched in his fingers is a wrinkled letter, wrapped in plain stationery. He offers it to you with both hands, politely.

The space between the both of you evaporates in the fraction of a second it takes for you to cross the shop and greet him back, accepting the letter with greedy hands and a greedier heart. “Good evening. Thank you for the correspondence.”

“Thank you for receiving it,” he replies, scratching the back of his head in a stupidly endearing self-conscious gesture. “I know the manner of communication is a bit unconventional… sorry about that…”

“It’s okay.” And it really is. You, of all people, are no stranger to unforeseen and harrowing life circumstances. That the young man does not possess a phone or email address is not so uncommon, anyways – you’ve had time to reflect on the situation, and for all his off-putting looks and strangely formal manner of speaking, he could easily be a country mouse who has recently relocated to a more urban area. Who are you to judge?

“Shall I have a response waiting for you tomorrow night?”

He bows, then, for a bit longer and a bit deeper than what is normally appropriate for two virtual strangers. “I’d be grateful. Thank you for the trouble.”

Once more, he evaporates seemingly into thin air, leaving behind not even the faintest trace of his existence. He appears to possess an uncanny ability to slip out of sight just as your eyes fall shut in the millisecond it takes to blink, to breathe.

Taken in stride with his dark-circled eyes and general aura of mysterious tragedy, the whole schtick is a little bit sexy, you have to admit. His vibe is that of a haunted family heirloom: beautiful, priceless, stained in generations of blood and cursed to doom those who dare to draw too near.

Your eagerness is almost feral as you tear apart the seal to the envelope in your hands, greedily pawing at the innards. What awaits you is a handwritten letter, complete with smudged pencil marks obscuring some of the more intricate kanji scribbled onto the page. Some of his radicals waver, lines bending or sprawling in odd and abnormal ways, as though he’d been shaking when we wrote it.

As though he’d been nervous. So nervous, in fact, that upon handing you the thing, he had to immediately abscond from the premises without another word.

Cute.

To Whom it May Concern,

Thank you very kindly for your willingness to take me on as an apprentice to your shop. Please allow me to introduce myself.

As a supervisor and business, you may benefit from the set of skills that I have to offer. I can lift upwards of 25kg. I am neat and detail oriented. Due to past life experiences, I am a fast learner and quick to adapt to new surroundings. I am accustomed to taking orders and delivering results. It is my utmost goal to ensure the comfort and satisfaction of those around me. I am eager to be of service.

Please think of me kindly.

Upon reading the very last word of the very last line, you discover that your bottom lip has been bitten so severely that a fine trickle of blood is descending down your chin.

There is no resume or CV in sight – just this handwritten, strangle little letter in which he divulges some most interesting truths.

Is he playing mind games with you? “Accustomed to taking orders”? “Eager to be of service”? Is he trying to tell you something? Outside of the hiring process, that is.

The note itself is perfectly polite and proper. It’s you whose mind succumbs hedonistically to the gutter. Oh, for shame.

At night, the shop tends to turn into a gnarly jungle of pots and leaves and vines and poorly-placed smatterings of soil; you wade through theses trenches, aided by no more than the moonlight attempting to feebly infiltrate through the shutters – as the lights are out, again. Should probably call someone about that.

In your frantic haste, it’s a miracle your hands aren’t sliced by a spare pair of shears lying forgotten on some counter or another. Before injury occurs, you’ve already located what you’ve been searching for: a usable pen and some clean, uncrumpled paper.

The matchbox in your back pocket proves useful as you strike up a flame and light a nearby candle, paying no mind to the potential danger of the wobbly column of fire in a room full of fauna.

Like a woman possessed, you feverishly scribble away at your reply. It takes you longer to draft this one particular letter than it had to complete your college entrance exams.

But it’s alright – the candle beside you burns throughout the night, neither the wick nor the wax diminishing even a wink.

Dear Okkotsu,

Your eagerness to work hard is clearly evident. Color me impressed.

As fate would have it, I am in dire need of some help with running the shop. The owner has been absent with illness for quite some time and the workload is starting to get unmanageable. The addition of a strong set of arms is more than welcome. Even when it was the two of us putzing around, we still wouldn’t have been able to do some of the heavier lifting.

I’m curious to hear more about your passion to serve. Was this instilled in you during your time at vocational school? What does “being of service” mean to you?

While we are ultimately a public-facing shop, the stream of customers is slow, and your daily tasks will often look like physical labor and horticultural activities. But, from your letter, it sounds like this will pose no object.

Overall, your enthusiasm is appreciated and your hard-working attitude is attractive to future employers.

You could start as early as tomorrow.

Please do respond at your convenience.

It was rather quickly with only a slight bit of panic running through your veins that you tacked on “to future employers.” Even while reading it back, you cringe a little bit. Too forward? Oh well. It’s written in ink and it’s much too late to go for hunting for another clean piece of paper in the shop’s opaque blackness.

Speaking of which… you really should call an electrician. And a plumber. And some sort of handy man, to help you clean up all the broken glass from the shattered bathroom mirror. And maybe it may also me a good idea to get in touch with a security footage company and inquire about their installation rates. It certainly can’t be normal; how many things go missing so frequently. Although you’ve spent most of your waking hours with an aging elderly woman up until very recently, you’re quite sure that dementia isn’t contagious.

Ah, well. These are all things to take care of tomorrow. Sighing, you tuck away the letter into your back pocket for safe keeping before you go about locking up.

You try not to think too hard about the lingering gaze you feel on the back of your neck. If anything, it feels better than being completely alone.

;

The fragrant scent of okayu fills your nose as you climb the stairs to reach Granny Orimoto’s apartment.

Usually, you would not dare to trespass inside her abode, despite it’s close proximity to the shop. She is a grouchy old lady who does not take kindly to meddling. And yet, you couldn’t ignore the seed of worry in the pit of your belly, which had blossomed over the course of the past few weeks into full-blown concern for her wellbeing. Besides her once-daily text message in the evening confirming the status of shop operations, you have not seen or heard from the old woman in what must be almost half a month at this point.

So, you’ve bitten back your pride and prepared a meal to personally deliver to her.

You are moderately concerned when there is no response to your three separate attempts at knocking on the door. Granny Orimoto hadn’t responded to any of your text messages, so you’d naively assumed she’d been asleep and hadn’t seen them. But is it possible to sleep through the ruckus that you’re creating?

The tension in your body only heightens when you try to the doorknob and realize, in shock and slight horror, that it’s open.

“Granny Orimoto?” You call out, haltingly yet loudly – loud enough to reach her wizened ears. “Granny, I’m sorry, I’ll be coming in now! Pardon the intrusion!”

Taking care not to jostle the still-hot bowl of rice porridge in your hands, you slip off your shoes at the Genkan and make your way inside of the apartment. Although you’ve only been here once before – and it had been an extremely brief stay before Granny Orimoto had shooed you off the premises – it still doesn’t feel all that unfamiliar to you.

It’s a traditional set-up, that much is for sure. Not much has changed, either. Same old floral blankets folded in various assortments and piles around the tiny room, same old plastic draining rack laid across the kitchen sink.

And, of course, there is that strange pair of guest slippers by the front door.

A bright, childish pink with the width and depth to accompany the foot of a young girl no older than six, these slippers had given you pause the first time you’d set foot in Granny Orimoto’s apartment. As far as you know, the old lady doesn’t have any living relatives with which she maintains contact. She spends every holiday alone, in her room, and refuses any offers of companionship between the two of you. You’ve always assumed something tragic must have happened, for a woman this advanced in age to have no one to visit or host during the New Year.

So why, then, does she keep a pair of children’s house slippers by the front door?

Although they are neatly placed and carefully aligned, the heels of the slippers face the direction of the household – as though they’ve been recently taken off and exchanged for outside shoes. Like someone has been here and left. Were they in that position when you stopped by before? Perhaps Granny Orimoto set them that way during her last cleaning.

Shaking yourself out of your reverie, you move past the entrance area and towards where you know the bedroom awaits. There is no overt stench of death and decay, so you aren’t afraid of walking in on her corpse. You’re, like, 85% sure that you could mentally recover from handling that situation, but it would be unfortunate and would likely mean an endless night for you and the poor EMTs who would be dispatched to the scene.

The bedroom door, too, is slightly ajar, and when you push it open all the way, you’re greeted by a sight that hits you squarely in the chest, knocking the wind from your lungs, stealing your voice, marring your eyes with shock and sympathy.

Granny Orimoto lies on her back, skin so pale that it is a near perfect match to the futon covers draped around her frail body. Even from this distance, you are able to clearly track the pathway of her veins as they course across her, the deep blues and greens standing out abnormally against the thin, alabaster flesh. Her hair, significantly grayer than the last time you’d seen her, has escaped from it’s usual, customary low-slung bun. You’ve never seen Granny Orimoto in any other kind of style – in fact, you’d begun to think – somewhat mischievously – that her hair had been surgically arranged to the nape of her neck.

But now, it sprawls around her skull in scraggly spirals, spilling across the pillow like leaking liquid. Thin and brittle, you’re sure that if she tried to gather it into a bun as she once had, it would split and break into a million fine pieces of ash.

“So, you’ve come.”

That hoarse voice snaps you out of your trance. You hadn’t even noticed that she was awake. One moment, you’d been gazing at her motionless body – and the next, you find her entirely unchanged except for the fact that her eyes are now open, peering at you. Unblinking. It’s disconcerting.

It looks like the effort pains her, to lift one hand and pat weakly at the comforter. “You came all the way here, silly girl. Might as well sit.”

You aren’t being kicked out?

Wow. She really must be dying.

Gingerly, you fold your legs beneath you and linger at the edge of the futon. “Granny, how are you feeling? I brought okayu. If you are feeling up to it, please eat. You must take care of your health.”

“Alright then,” says Granny Orimoto, mildly. “You’ll have to help me.”

“Of course.”

There is ultimately an insignificant amount of spillage down the front of her shirt, in the end. Still, you take it as an opportunity to encourage her to take a bath and change into fresh clothes, which you expect she has not done in far too long. This, too, requires your assistance. You don’t mind it at all. In fact, it brings you peace – to be able to care for the woman who had most probably saved your life by taking you in, all that time ago.

When it’s all said and done, Granny Orimoto lays back in the bed. The sheets could use some washing and the futon itself should surely be hung out in the sun to dry, but you recognize that this might be a bit too much excitement for her today. Having eaten and bathed, Granny Orimoto appears ready to return to her slumber.

You decide not to push your luck by overstaying your welcome. “Please rest well, Granny Orimoto. I will come back soon.”

It is when you are almost past the threshold of the bedroom door that you hear Granny’s whisper, faint as smoke and so soft it almost doesn’t sound like the stubborn, strong-willed woman you once knew:

“You remind me of my granddaughter.”

As though you’ve been struck by lightning, your body is immediately paralyzed, muscles helpless to do anything but twitch in confusion, overstimulation. “Oh…? I hope she is well…”

“She’s dead,” says Granny Orimoto. “The stench of death follows you.”

Ironic, coming from a woman who is quite obviously preparing to approach the far shore herself. “I see.”

“Whatever is hanging around you, get it taken care of. You’ll stink up the shop and the plants will wither.”

“Yes, Granny.”

“Are you taking care of my zinnias?”

“Yes, Granny.”

“Better be. How can you own a flower shop if you can’t take care of zinnias…”

You want to whip around and ask her what the hell she means by that, but the rumbling of her soft snores fill the space before you can get another word in edgewise.

As you make your way downstairs, Granny’s words continue to marinate in your mind – and not just her implication that the shop would be left to you. That she thought it fit to tell you that you remind her of her dead granddaughter was certainly an event that occurred in your life. But what exactly had she been on about, telling you that you smell like death?

In absentminded thought, your hand fiddles around in your jacket pocket with the latest letter from Okkotsu. You can’t stop thinking about his response to your last letter.

To You, Whom it Concerns,

Are you taking care? The seasons are changing during this time, so I hope your health is faring well.

I’m glad that my enthusiasm comes across as clearly as my physical capabilities. Sometimes I struggle to convey my intentions and inner thoughts. It seems like we can understand each other well, even while communicating through letters, which makes me happy.

To me, being of service means unobstructed and clear-minded dedication of the self, body and mind, to another’s fulfillment. Not dissimilar to pure love. This “pure” element is important to me. In fact, I believe total service is a form of pure love. Would you agree?

Maybe this is a bit strange to say, and you might hate me for it, but you remind me of a girl I once knew. She is long gone now. It has been nice to see some of her, again. Of course, it has been even nicer to get to know you.

Regretfully, I cannot begin formal employment just yet. The country re-entry procedures are taking longer than expected and things are a bit complicated right now. It is burdensome, but if you could please kindly allow for some additional time I would be very grateful. I’m sorry to trouble you.

In the meantime, it’s fun to chat together, like this. I’d be happy if we could continue.

Take care not to catch a cold.

The first time you’d read it practically had you squealing into your hands like a schoolgirl. Pure love? Expressing concern for your health? Expressing his desire to continue exchanging letters, even if he can’t formally start the training process?

At this rate, you’re on track towards a confession.

Which, of course, is the ultimate goal. You could never forgive yourself for letting the physical manifestation of all your wildest fantasies slip away. No, you’ve got to reel him in. You’ve got to ensnare him in a web of infatuation, so convoluted and intense that he won’t be able to find his way out. You’ve already decided that he is yours. It’s only a matter of time before things fall into place.

As has become customary, Okkotsu drops by the shop at precisely 8:04 p.m. and not one moment sooner or later. You’ve grown to anticipate the tinkling of the windchimes which herald his otherwise soundless arrival. Like an apparition, his visage manifests in the front door.

There’s something different about tonight: uncertain, he chances a foot past the threshold. “Could I trouble you to come inside?”

Oh. Oh! Are you finally past the stage of contactless letter exchange? You could cry tears of joy. “Please come in.”

“Pardon the intrusion…”

When he breaks past the entry area, it’s as though a wave of heat pulses throughout not just your own body, but the entire shop, as well. A light sweat breaks out at the crest of your brow. Is this seasonally appropriate? You aren’t sure if there is any season wherein a heatwave past sundown is normal.

Okkotsu looks at you like a lost puppy, floundering at what to do, what to say next. You yourself are no less awkward, but you take on the burden of breaking the silence first:

“It’s funny, you mentioned in your letter that I remind you of a girl you once knew. Today, my boss said that I remind her of her dead granddaughter. Wouldn’t happen to be the same girl, huh?”

You’re trying for lighthearted, but the joke falls flat when Okkotsu pales, white as a ghost.

Damage control, damage control! “Oh, I’m – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, it’s alright,” he cuts you off, raising a hand. “I should’ve been forthright from the beginning. You aren’t too far off from the truth.”

Huh?

Okkotsu continues, “When I was a little boy, Mrs. Orimoto’s granddaughter and I were best friends. Her name was Rika. When she was six, Rika died in a car accident. I was with her at the time and failed to do anything to stop it from happening, or to save her. I’ve always been very sorry to Mrs. Orimoto, who raised Rika from a young age. By working at her shop, I hoped to repay some of that debt…”

You blink once, twice. Time seems to fall apart and reconstruct itself in the space it takes you to conjure up a response. What can you possibly say, to a story like that?

“You don’t, er, have to say anything,” mutters Okkotsu, as though he’s read your mind. “I know it’s heavy. But that’s the truth…”

“Okkotsu,” you say, voice tinny and faraway to your own ears. “You have a good heart.”

His downcast face shoots upwards, wide eyes seeking out your own with a desperate sheen to their dark, bottomless depths. “Huh…?”

“I mean it,” you press on, stepping closer as you do. He doesn’t even flinch or waver. You know this, because your senses are acutely aware of every fiber of his being. “Not many people would be that brave, or honor that sense of duty. You’re an admirable man. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

It seems you’ll be staying well past closing tonight to mop up the puddle that Okkotsu is about to melt into. His ears burn such a bright red that they almost glow in the dim lighting of the shop.

“I- I--!”

“So that’s the depth of your service,” you muse, your toes stopping just shy of his own, “or your ‘pure love’?”

Okkotsu’s eyes flutter shut. The sound of his gulp echoes like a gunshot. “Ah… er, miss manager, I—”

“Call me by my name. I’ve written it to you for a reason.”

Obeying your direct command, he feebly whispers your name, invoking you like he’s scared of what he’s about to summon. It sets a live wire alight at the base of your spine. Sparks fly throughout your body and it’s all you can do not to pounce on him then and there in this very shop, sleeping Granny upstairs be damned.

“Good. It seems you really are skilled at taking direction.”

His eyes are still closed when you nods, face flushed. Cute. You can’t help but want to tease him more, push him further. “Good job.”

His head all but hangs, now, as he resolutely refuses to make eye contact with you. In front of him, his hands are clasped suspiciously in front of his crotch – a detail which you take in ravenously, hungrily.

Curbing the overwhelming desire to do more, you settle with pushing your sealed envelope into his firm, solid chest with both hands, letting your fingernails press lightly into the muscle. “Here’s today’s letter. Read it and respond well.”

“Yes, I understand,” he says, eyes still shut, head still hung.

It requires you to stand on your tiptoes, when you try to lean into his ear and whisper: “You deserve a chance to make things right. Let me help you with this.”

You let him go, then, because you’re sure he’s about ready to burst at the seams. The last thing you throw his way is yet another bit of praise, because you’re a little bit awful: “I admire your idea of pure love, Okkotsu.”

Before tonight, you’ve never seen a grown man walk straight into a windowpane. Okkotsu reels back, nods and bows to you in acknowledgement before hightailing it out of the shop so fast that, as usual, you fail to actually see him go through the motions of stepping out and leaving. He’s always in such a rush. An odd one, he is.

Good thing “odd” just your type.

From that night onwards, Okkotsu starts making himself more available outside of his usual 8:04 p.m. haunting. Now, he’ll drop by early enough in the afternoons for his shadow to be visible against the door. Still, he resolutely avoids any times when current customers are present. You tease him, lightly, for this, asking how he plans to work partially as a sales attendant if he is afraid to interact with the customer base.

His response?

“I want to work here for two reasons,” he’d stated simply. “For you, and for Rika.”

Normal women would probably find an issue with their ideal man likening them to his dead childhood sweetheart. Fortunately, you are not normal. It’s flattering, even.

Clearly, Rika was another manifestation of his pure love. That you can even approach that category, let alone be mentioned in the same breath as her, is, to you, a vibrant green flag. You must be doing something right here.

So you continue intertwining yourself deeper and deeper with Okkotsu Yuuta: the letters are a constant in both of your daily lives, as well as his visits become more frequent. As an interesting development, he’s started to bring you homecooked food. Usually, it is you who does the caregiving. The first time he shows up with an obento made specially for you – complete with a heart made out of specially cut seaweed set atop the fresh rice – you almost start crying.

Admittedly, it’s all moving very fast. Hasn’t it only been four days, now, since he’d first darkened your doorway, pitifully asking for a job with no form of communication? And now, here he is, feeding you the food he’d prepared for you to enjoy as you go about your closing shift.

“Would you ever want to go out?” You blurt, and then pause, mortified at the overtly forward implication to your words. “Like! To a restaurant! Or a café! You always bring me stuff. Let me treat you.”

“Hmmm…”

Okkotsu’s wide, dark eyes roll upwards in thought. “But I really like staying here. I like eating here. No one else gets to see your pleased, comfortable face while eating except me. I don’t think I can share that. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you respond, dizzy. “You don’t have to.”

This is the right answer. Despite his soft, youthful features, the ginger grin he offers you is undercut by the ominous glint in his intense gaze. “I don’t have to share?” He gathers some pickled plum in the chopsticks, bringing them to your open, waiting mouth. “It’s all for me?”

“I am,” you say, and accept the bitter, delicious fruit on the tip of your tongue. It is pungent. It is sweet. It is overwhelming. You almost aren’t able to swallow.

Time spent with Okkotsu makes life seem so fantastical that it almost blinds you to the world of the living. That night, you cannot find it within yourself to leave the shop and go home after closing, instead opting to chat with this gaunt, ghoulish boy until you are startled awake in the morning by your phone’s automatic alarm.

When you come to, you discover that you’d all but passed out behind the front desk, where the two of you had sat, talking, for hours into the night. Okkotsu is nowhere to be found, but in his absence is a crisply folded piece of paper lying innocently upon the desk. Hastily, you scrub at your eyes and smack your lips, trying to wake yourself up as much as is possible before you unfurl the letter and dive into its contents.

To You, Whom it Concerns,

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be apart from you?

If I could have, I would have stayed with you all throughout the night. I’m sorry to have left you by yourself. But you aren’t really alone. If you ever feel lonely, in the shop, please remember that I’m always there with you. Watching over you. Can you feel me?

Thanks for listening to me last night. It was a heavy story to tell, but now that I’ve confessed it, I feel so much lighter. And you accept me! Words can’t express how I feel, so please allow me to keep showing you.

Also, since Mrs. Orimoto isn’t well these days, can I ask that you don’t share with her that I’m here? The shock may worsen her condition. When she is no longer bedridden, I will tell her myself that I wish to remain and work in the shop. You shouldn’t be caught in the middle of my situation.

As always, I can’t wait to see you again. I miss you so much already, and I haven’t even left the shop yet. I’m writing this as I watch you sleep. Did you know that you snore a little bit? It’s cute.

Please think of me often.

On the one hand, you want to bury your face in your hands and scream and cry and maybe roll around and die a little bit. A love note! It’s a proper love note, this time. The thought makes your insides feel as though they’re being set alight with a bright, brilliant, inextinguishable flame.

On the other hand, Okkotsu’s mention of Granny Orimoto has brought to mind the fact that you haven’t heard from her in what is now two days. Usually, she’ll send you a message or two at the end of every day, making sure that things are in order and that you haven’t burned down the shop yet. But the last time you’d spoken to her had been when you brought over the okayu to soothe her sickly stomach…

Inexplicably, a chill overtakes your body.

Operating on autopilot, you pull yourself together – running a hand through your hair, smoothing your wrinkled clothes – and make your way out of the shop, to the external set of stairs running along the west wall.

With haste, you climb the steps, nearly tripping over yourself to reach the front door which has been left, once again, unlocked. The sense of wrongness occupying your faculties only heightens when you realize this must mean that Granny Orimoto has not been up out of bed since you’d last visited.

When you stop to toe off your shoes at the genkan, you notice that the bright pink pair of children’s house slippers are nowhere to be found, absent from their perpetual perch by the front door, as though someone – or something – has stepped inside.

Mind whirling a mile a minute, you push into the apartment and immediately reel back at the offensive scent of pure, unadulterated rot.

Oh.

Oh, no.

It could be the spoiled ingredients in the fridge, you think, desperately, as you hustle towards the bedroom. It could be anything. Anything but what it is you’re most afraid of.

Dazed, confused, scared, and still freshly woken up, your clumsy limbs somehow manage to collide with one of the low-sitting tables filling the living space. The abundance of knick-knacks and keepsakes cluttering the surface clatter in indignation, making an obscene ruckus as they fall over and to the floor. Upon closer inspection, you realize, to your horror, that it is an altar which you’d disturbed.

The only things left unshaken by your blundering blight are two framed photos: one of which displays the portrait of a young girl, no older than six, with long, dark hair and a serene smile. She seems to peer at you through the barriers of the picture frame, through the barrier of time. Her gaze hooks into your soul and invites you to step closer, to look harder. The longer you stare, the higher the gooseflesh on your skin raises in alarm. It’s an uphill battle to slide your gaze over to the picture beside her, which displays the likeness of a young boy close to her in age – presumably unrelated to her, given their distinct features, and yet, he is placed next to her on what is surely a memorial altar meant to honor and house the deceased.

While the personal effects and other supplicating items have all been disrupted and thrown off by your collision, the incense in front of the two picture frames still burns brightly, steadfastly. Oddly, it does nothing to quell the horrid stench of decay in the apartment. If anything, the altar seems to be exasperating the smell, which brings involuntary tears to your eyes and a pucker to your lips.

It's less so that the stench itself is what drives you to such a reaction; rather, the sensation invading your olfactory senses fills you with an abominable concoction of violent emotions: rage, pity, sorrow, envy, despair. You are drawn follow the source of these feelings, and your feet lead you to the bedroom, hands trembling underneath the sheer weight of all that you are experiencing as they push the slightly ajar door all the way open.

A gasp escapes you, unbidden. There, in that same, white futon adorned with layers and layers of her signature floral blankets, lies the corpse of Granny Orimoto. You can tell she’s dead because her skin has started to sag and bloat in strange and inhuman ways. This is the least surprising thing before your eyes.

Next to Granny sits a little girl – the spitting image of the girl in the portrait you’d glimpsed mere moments ago. Her gaze had once been trained steadfastly on Granny’s body, but now she looks up at you, unblinking, all-seeing.

“Hello,” says the girl, with a little girl’s voice.

“Hi,” you respond. “Do you live here?”

“Yes,” says the girl. “This is my granny.”

You remind me of my granddaughter.

She’s dead.

Granny Orimoto’s parting words to you echo in your head, rattling your brain, fizzling your consciousness.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rika. Granny Orimoto told me about you.”

Slowly, cautiously, as though you are approaching a spooked animal (ironic, given the fact that it is you who is shaking like a leaf), you crouch down and kneel on the floor, sitting on your haunches in a polite manner, mirroring the girl before you. Granny Orimoto’s body is the only thing separating you as you both sit, face to face, hands clasped in your laps, peering curiously at one another.

“I know,” says Rika. “Yuuta told you about me, too.”

Of course she would know about the conversations you and Yuuta have. This also might as well happen. At this point, after all you’ve just witnessed – first, the fresh corpse of your former employer, and now, the physical manifestation of a girl who died over ten years ago – there is very little left that could happen which would truly shock you out of your wits.

“Yes, he did. Have you been hanging out in the shop? Have you been lonely?”

The girl sticks out her bottom lip. “Yeah. You guys didn’t pay attention to me. Even when I was really loud, or turned the lights off, or broke the mirror. Sorry for breaking the mirror. I was mad.”

“It’s okay to be mad, but we mustn’t break things, or hurt others. I’m sorry for not noticing you sooner. Do you like plants and gardening? Like your granny?”

Rika nods. “Mhm, yeah. But Granny never lets me into the shop. Granny says all I do is mess things up. Granny says I’m no good. Granny says people died because of me. Did you know my dad is dead, too?”

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“It’s okay,” says Rika. “I wanted him to die.”

You blink. “Did you want Granny Orimoto to die, too?”

She takes a moment to contemplate before answering. “Granny had to die if I was going to play with Yuuta again.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, desperate to understand. When she begins to explain, you lean forward, forgetful of the fact that it is an old woman’s corpse which lies beneath you.

“Granny has already lived for so long. I wanted to come back. I died before my seventh birthday. Yuuta and I were supposed to spend it together. Yuuta never forgot about me. Yuuta talks to me every day. Yuuta went to Africa. Have you ever been to Africa? I went with Yuuta because he made a shrine for me there. Now Yuuta is back in Japan. Yuuta promised that we would play together again. Yuuta said he needed some time to prepare things. Yuuta is good at things like that – Yuuta can fight and do magic. Yuuta does jujutsu. Do you know jujutsu?”

“I know it,” you tell her.

“Yeah, Yuuta has powers. Yuuta knows a lot about dying and things like that. So, anyways, Yuuta said he would use his powers to help me come back so we can play together again. Yuuta said that me and granny have to switch places. I said ‘OK, Yuuta!’ and then Yuuta said he needed seven days. What day is it today?”

Somehow, you know the answer, even without looking at your phone’s calendar. “Monday.”

“Oh, so it’s been seven days. Yay! We can play together again. Do you want to play with us, too?”

“I would like to play together, yes.”

Abruptly, Rika unfurls from her graceful little seated position and makes her way over to you, crawling over Granny Orimoto’s corpse. You try not to think too hard about the graphic squelching that occurs underneath the childish palms of Rika’s tiny hands.

“Yay! Let’s go downstairs. Maybe Yuuta will be there.”

You don’t have the heart to tell her that Yuuta only swings by when the sun is out of sight. Her arms raise, clearly indicating that she’d like to be carried, and you are content to oblige her, as you scoop her up in your arms and make good on her direction. You exit Granny Orimoto’s apartment with Rika in your arms, her little feet dangling from your hip. The bright pink pair of slippers almost fall off as you make your way down the stairs, and you take care to remind her to make sure not to lose them.

When you get back to the shop, you must admit that you were mistaken in thinking Yuuta would not be there. As though he’d been anticipating this – which, you realize, he absolutely was, as this marks seven days from the first time he’d set foot in the shop – Yuuta stands by the front desk, wringing his hands before him nervously, sweat visible at his temples.

The both of you lock eyes, and he smiles, warm and fuzzy and entirely ill-fitting for the increasingly absurd scenario in which you find yourself. But you have little time to interrogate him about what the hell is going on – for Rika leaps from your arms and hits the ground running, screaming at the top of her little lungs, Yuuta!! Yuuta!!!, excited and so full of life, in only the way that children can scream in pure joy. Pure love.

He crouches and readily meets her, scooping the little girl up in his arms and sweeping her into the air, spinning round and round with Rika in his arms. Rika-chan!! Rika-chan!!! he cries – literally cries, that is, as you cannot help but spot the stray tear or two running down the swells of his flushed cheeks.

It is right as you are starting to feel a bit voyeuristic that Yuuta slows to a stop and finds your eyes once more. He comes to you, then, with Rika still perched on his hip, a chafingly tender smile splitting his face into two.

“I knew it was you,” he whispers with charged intensity, voice potent with unspoken feeling. “I knew you were special. I’ve always known. You never judge me. You always listen. You accepted me. And you accepted Rika, too.”

Have you? Accepted them, that is.

You shock yourself when you realize that you really have accepted all that’s transpired. Granny Orimoto saved your life when she’d taken you in and, for that, you must always be grateful. But from what Rika shared with you about how she’d been treated as a small child, and from what you’ve observed from Yuuta’s generally traumatized disposition and extreme reluctance to come face-to-face with the old woman, you realize, now, that there is a reason why Granny Orimoto had no living family to speak to or rely on when she was in her final days.

Whether or not her death had something to do with Yuuta’s apparent preternatural abilities (you remind yourself to ask about that later), it remains clear that she’d been in ill health long before you’d arrived at the flower shop. With no one to talk to. No one to care for her. You’d always felt pity. But, now, you realize that it may have been a situation of her own doing.

How could you argue with the living, breathing testament to that fact, who stand before you in fresh-faced, smiling glee?

“Of course I accept you both,” you say, earnestly, and mean it. “Rika is too cute not to love!” The young girl giggles, bashfully burying her face in Yuuta’s neck.

“And what about me?” Yuuta’s brows are quirked, his smile dipping into something a bit more cutting, a touch more heated than his simple joy from moments ago. “Am I cute enough to love, too?”

The answer is simple and requires no effort on your part: “I love you, Yuuta.”

You had more to say after that, but it proves a bit challenging to monologue your undying devotion to this man while said man is currently enveloping your mouth inside of his own. He kisses like a black hole: devouring, dark, impossibly comprehensive, and providing you without hope for possible escape.

He really is your type.

;

After those first seven days, Yuuta finally begins training at the shop. And Rika joins in, as well.

The three of you make an odd, adorable little family unit. After Yuuta had taken care of cleaning and renovating the apartment space upstairs, the three of you moved in without further delay. Your days are filled with home-cooking, raising Rika, maintaining the shop, and working alongside the man who has quickly made himself to be your life partner in every endeavor.

In fact, so much of your life is consumed with this newfound domesticity that there is little reason for you to leave the shop in the first place. Whenever you stray too far outside, you are prone to headaches, dizziness, fatigue, and even fever. It’s best to stay where is familiar, you reason. And Yuuta’s cooking is too good for you to want to eat anywhere else. He makes sure you eat three times a day, at least, and insists you finish your plate every time. Perhaps this is why you can’t stand life outside of this four, cozy walls – where else could you possibly find contentment such as this?

The business is re-named to “Rika’s Flower Shop,” which all three of you find quite agreeable given the current state of affairs. More customers than ever flow in, attracted by the colorful designs hand-painted by Rika herself on the building exterior. You generate enough revenue for additional renovations to be made on the shop. There is enough room in the budget to hire some part-time shop hands – local university students in the area looking to support themselves.

Everything is coming to fruition. For once, you truly feel as though life is blossoming.

And you can attribute all of it, every last bit of happiness, to them: Granny Orimoto, Rika, and Yuuta. The happiness is so overwhelming that you don’t ever want to leave their side, not even to run to the konbini, or to visit the post office. Why would you need to leave, when everything you’ve ever wanted is right here?

You have a family, a home, a life. You’ll remain in this shop with your loves until the day you grow as old and sickly as Granny Orimoto, and you’ll likely die upstairs, lying next to Yuuta, the both of you wrinkled and gray, curled together atop the futon, exactly where Granny had wheezed her last, bitter breath.

You wonder if Rika was there to watch it happen. You wonder if Rika will be there to see the both of you off, too.

You hope so. You really, really hope so.

You’re sure death will be every bit the dream you’re hoping it will be.

#okkotsu yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #jjk reader insert #jjk x reader #okkotsu yuuta reader insert #okkotsu yuta reader insert #jjk ao3 #jjk fic #okkotsu yuuta fic #okkotsu yuuta fanfiction #okkotsu yuta fic #jjk fanfiction #my writing #mine #commissions

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just-jordie-things · 1 year

Text

something missing - okkotsu yuuta

word count: 2.4k warnings: swearing summary: just two lovers missing one another more info: aged up characters! established relationship!

Trips were fun, seeing new places, trying new foods, meeting new people, there was always fun to be had going somewhere new.

Yuuta learned quickly that field missions were nothing like a vacation. Besides the fact that there was barely any extra time to explore new cities, with any downtime he had, he spent resting.

New York City was no different. It had been a few weeks, almost a full month. The sights from his hotel window were all the more exploring he got to enjoy. Tonight was the same old thing.

His toothbrush hung lazily between Yuuta’s teeth as he stood before the window. The whole city was lit up, and it was a beautiful sight, but tonight it just wasn’t doing it for him.

His phone beeped in his pocket, and it was in his hand in a second.

[(y/n)]: goodnight love. i’m off to training w Toge.

Not a second later a photo came through, a selfie of his two favorite people in the world, his girlfriend and his best friend, both with their tongues out and wide smiles.

Despite the overload of cuteness, he found himself frowning, his stomach tied up in knots.

He’d been gone for too long. He missed everyone, he missed his routines. He missed being in the same time zone.

[yuuta]: have a great day :) can’t wait till i’m home with you

With that he tossed his phone onto the bed- which was still covered in the mess from his open suitcase- and sighed into the empty room.

Three weeks of being alone in these four walls and trying to track down a curse that he was convinced was just some crazed New Yorker was starting to drain him of all energy. He hadn’t even felt bothered to organize his clothes.

If (y/n) were here, she would have established a whole system for unpacking and organizing everything in the hotel dresser. She’d scold him had she known he was living out of his suitcase and couldn’t even kick it off the bed at night.

As he wandered back over to the bathroom sink, spitting out his toothpaste and turning on the faucet so it’d wash down the drain, his mind ran wild with thoughts of another life. A normal life. As important as his work was…

“You’re a hero Yuu,” (y/n’s) words rang in his ear as if she’d been standing right beside him. “And people need you”

More than I need you? He’d never told her, but that thought had been on his mind ever since.

All he wanted was her. She had his heart, body, mind, soul- he was completely hers and she knew it too. She wasn’t the only one who knew it, anyone with eyes could see the pair’s infatuation with one another. And if they had been born non-curse users, he thinks he would have put a ring on her finger by now.

A smile graces his lips at the thought, his first smile all day.

The idea of settling down, moving their things into an apartment together, doing chores together, laughing over a juice stain on his shirt and not his own blood. Images of spending every free moment together, whether it be eating meals, watching tv, reading together in silence… every sweet thought that passed his mind made him wonder if all of this trouble was worth it.

There wasn’t time tonight to measure the weight of his work, but he would make time to re-evaluate this mission in particular. ___

(y/n) tossed and turned in bed, and then tossed some more.

To say she wasn’t tired enough to go to sleep was an understatement. She’d been awake for hours now, waiting for her phone to ring, or beep with a new text, but it remained blank.

She checked once more just to be sure, but just like the minute before, her lockscreen was clear. Leaving only a photo of Yuuta with a wide grin on his face and a messy, small bun on the top of his head. Usually this photo brought a smile to (y/n’s) face, hence why she chose it for her lockscreen wallpaper, but tonight she frowned as she turned the screen off and threw her phone into her pillow.

It was half past three in the morning, which was usually the perfect time to call Yuuta, since it would be five in the evening New York time. He usually tried to call a little earlier, but it was never this late.

(y/n) understood he was busy, and with important work, but she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. She had barely heard from him all day, and with him being gone weeks…

Was it so awful of her to miss her boyfriend?

She reached for her phone once more, seeing only a minute had passed, and she still hadn’t heard anything.

Reluctantly, she unlocked her screen and went into her chat with Yuta. She’d already sent him a few messages, but she figured one more couldn’t hurt.

[(y/n)]: hey, we still talking tonight? [(y/n)]: it’s ok if it’s a little later, i’ll wait up for you :) [(y/n)]: i can hear panda’s snoring from down the hall, should i see if toge is up? maybe he’ll put me to sleep. [(y/n)]: hey.. it’s late but i’m wide awake if you still have time for a call. can’t sleep :/ i miss you.

She left her phone on her chest as she stared up at the blank ceiling. Panda’s snores from a few rooms down still faintly made it’s way to her ears, but as she zoned out it sounded more and more distant.

Sometimes, she curses Gojo for seeing the potential in Yuuta. Sometimes, she wishes he were normal, they were both normal, and could do normal people things.

Sometimes she wonders if being a non-curse user is a better life, to be blinded by the evils in the world, to live freely day-to-day. Sometimes she wonders if she had a chance at that life now, would she choose it?

She doesn’t necessarily like these thoughts, but every once in a while she’ll indulge in a little daydreaming. Images of her and Yuuta spending each day without training or being scared for their lives flashing behind her eyes. She has to admit, it would be nice if he didn’t have to go away for such long missions.

But as sweet as the idea, she knows their way of life is the right path for them. She knows neither one of them would sleep at night knowing they could do something to help squash those evils. Besides, most of the time, she enjoyed herself when she exorcized curses.

Squeezing her eyes shut tight to rid her gaze of the white ceiling for just a moment, she tried to manifest a message from Yuuta for the umpteenth time tonight. But hell, at this point she’d try anything to hear from him.

Ding.

Holy shit, did that work?

With lightning speed she had her phone unlocked to read the text message she’d just received.

[yuuta] i’m sorry i haven’t been able to text you my love, been real busy. Maybe a midnight snack would help you rest?

As happy as she was to hear from him, her heart sunk as he hadn’t mentioned anything about calling her tonight.

[(y/n)]: think you’ll have any time for a phone call tonight ?

Every second that passes with the three dots of his anticipated response made her heart pound a little harder. Even if he could only talk for a minute, she’d be happy just to hear his voice, she’d take anything she could get, really.

Finally, his text was sent.

[yuuta]: i don’t think it’s going to happen tonight, my love, i’m so sorry. but it’s late, you should really get some sleep. perhaps tea?

(y/n) bites her lip, before sighing and admitting defeat.

[(y/n)] it’s okay, i know you’re overworked. i’ll make some tea and try to sleep, but if you find any spare time, call me, ok? i don’t mind how late it is. i miss you

When she turns her phone off and sits up in bed, she tries to ignore the familiar burn in her throat that means she’s going to cry soon. They say distance means the heart grows fonder, but she never realized just how much heartache came along with it.

She rubs her eyes almost violently to make sure they don’t stay watery, and slides her feet into the slippers next to her bed. Tea was probably the best idea at this point. Hopefully it would help her sleep and bring some comfort to her lonely heart.

She dragged her feet every step to her door, wiping her eyes once more for good measure before swinging it open.

To her surprise, she wasn’t met with the dark empty hallway she was used to seeing at this time of night.

Instead, one Okkotsu Yuuta stood there, at her door, with his suitcase at his side and his katana slung over his back.

Her eyes blew wide and for a second no words even came out to voice her surprise, but he could see in her dropped jaw and frozen stature that he had shocked her to her core.

“Surprise,” He says softly, before grinning ear to ear. “My trick to get you to the door worked, I see”

“You’re- you’re home?” She barely gets the words out before reality catches up with her and she’s throwing herself against him.

In one swift motion her arms around his neck and her lips are planted roughly against his, barely taking in a gasp of air before kissing him again. For such a sudden kiss, Yuuta’s quick to embrace her and keep her body held against his as he returns her kiss with even more fervor.

When they finally break the kiss, he doesn’t let her take a single step away as he speaks, keeping her in place right against him, right where he liked her to be.

“I told Gojo that I was getting nowhere, and I’m pretty sure the killings weren’t curse related. There weren’t any supernatural leads,”

His words were rushed, like he was dying to get through them so he could move on and spend every second focused on her and only her. She let out a small, breathless laugh, before shaking her head.

“He said I could come back and the elders would send some more people out to recon just to be sure, but I’m here, and I’m staying,” Yuuta brings a hand to her cheek, his thumb brushing over her soft skin as he gets lost in her (y/e/c) eyes for a moment too long. “And I’m staying for a while. No overseas missions for a long time for me”

“Really?” She whispers, her heart filling with hope and joy and all things good at the idea of having him to herself for a while.

“Really,” He confirms, and seals it with a quick kiss. “I just want to be here with you. I missed you so much, my love”

“I missed you too,” (y/n) sighs, resting her forehead against his and letting her eyes fall shut as a comforting feeling washes over her. The relief of having him home was just what she needed to feel whole again. “I’m so happy you’re home, Yuuta”

He squeezes her shoulders playfully, and gives her a smile that she knows means he’s up to something mischievous.

And before she can question what he’s thinking, his arms are wound around her middle, and she’s being hoisted into the air.

“Yuu-!” She squeals before slapping her hand over her own mouth, forgetting the time of night.

He’s laughing as he folds her over his shoulder and lets himself and his luggage into her room. He kicks the door shut behind him without a care for how loud it might be and who might be disturbed from their sleep. He couldn’t possibly care about anything other than having (y/n) all to himself, even just for tonight.

(y/n’s) giggling too, despite her protests for him to put her down and what the hell are you thinking? She can’t keep herself from giggling uncontrollably at the whole thing. Maybe his laughter was contagious, but maybe she was just in love with him and everything he does to make her feel loved too.

He finally lifts her off of him, and she has to set her palms on his shoulders to keep her steady in the air. It feels silly, but still, Yuuta’s smiling and so is she.

The sweet moment is quickly followed by him throwing her down onto the bed, and she might have scolded him on another night, but not tonight. Not the night she finally gets him back.

Besides, he quickly falls on top of her, barely catching himself before completely crashing into her. Her stomach is starting to hurt from all the laughing.

“So beautiful,” Yuuta murmurs as he pushes her hair away from her face. “So, so beautiful,” He repeats, before leaning down and leaving feathery kisses all over her face. “My beautiful girl,” He murmurs as his kisses trail down the bridge of her nose. “I love you, so much” He says, as his lips hover over hers.

She takes him by surprise as she leans up, taking his jaw in both her hands and pulls his lips against hers. He smiles into her kiss.

“I love you too, Yuuta” She murmurs into his mouth, before stealing another kiss.

He could melt away and die right here, in her arms, knowing that she loves him. He thinks he just might if she keeps kissing him this way.

They settle in for bed after a few minutes. They don’t speak about the repercussions of Yuuta getting caught in her room after hours, and truth be told, the rules weren’t on either one of their minds. They’d take the consequences later.

(y/n) snuggles into Yuuta’s chest with a bright smile, which he mirrors as he tucked the blanket around the both of them comfortably. Even as sleep starts to invade her senses, (y/n’s) still smiling.

Finally, they’re able to get a good night’s rest, wrapped in each other’s arms. ___

xoxo - jordie

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen imagine #okkotsu yuta #okkotsu #yuta #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuta reader insert #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu reader insert #okkotsu yuta imagine #yuta okkotsu imagine

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gorejo · 2 years

Text

A VESSEL OF LOVE.

≡ y.okkotsu x reader

↳ If there was one thing about Yuuta Okkotsu that you can pinpoint as his major flaw — a lack that could ever so make him more perfect... what would that be?

tw/cw: fluff. reader called: angel. just yuuta being the goodest boy to ever exist

✉ notes: this is a re-upload from my old blog (๑•ᴗ•๑) !! even if this is your second time reading, I hope you can still enjoy it again (( :

In the eyes of the world, Yuuta Okkotsu is deemed as a rather dull man. Some may even refer to him as boring, or a tad bit awkward, while many would just unapologetically judge him as weird or maybe even call him different as they described him with a sympathetic smile.

He wasn’t vibrant nor half as enthusiastic as his friends.

Nor was he fiery in his spirit like some of his kohai’s.

He would rather play the supportive role than be the leader.

Opting to stay in for something more relaxing and quiet, rather than going out and exploring the world.

He’s conservative in his actions but was always honest with how he felt.

Yuuta Okkotsu was kind.

If asked, ‘Yuuta what should we get for lunch?’ without thought, without hesitance, and without fault, his first response would be “anything you're feeling” or “anything you like, how about,” as he proceeded to name your favorite foods with the purest smile on his face, meaning every word and wanting the sole best for you.

Frustrating? Can be.

Lacks effort? Never.

Dressed in his usual white button down, black pants, and white high top shoes, clothes draping down his body perfectly like an inspiring model, as he carried a bouquet of flowers while waiting for you at a nearby station, Yuuta attracted attention. He was a mixture of both handsome and cute, a double threat — a fine package of the typical mysterious boy mixed in with the desirable puppy boyfriend.

With his fair, soft skin, dark straight hair, and soft eyes that were underlined with dull hues of blue, Yuuta was handsome. With limbs slender and slim physique but a body etched in toned muscles and pure strength underneath his clothes, Yuuta still shined bright in a crowd full of many.

Despite a man deemed off to some, to you, he was nothing short of perfect.

People stared, opting to take second glances as you both walked the streets, but never did it seem like he noticed, nor did he care. He’ll simply hold your hand a tad bit tighter, smiling with his eyes as he let his perfect teeth radiate your sight, as he honestly confessed,

“You look so pretty today, YN!”

Yuuta’s quiet and calm and does his tasks accordingly without fault, and rather than being the center of attention, Yuuta thrived in the shadows — supporting and being a foundation of stability. And just like the dark hue of his hair, perkily standing in small curves on his head like a summer midnight wave that offers a short getaway from the stress of the world, unwavering as its waters slowly reached the shore, Yuuta Okkotsu was just that — perfect, in all ways possible to you.

Granted he hasn’t been the most confident, nor well accepted amongst his childhood peers but he’s humble in his strength — never boastful or proud — and meek in his weakness — ever searching to grow and accepting of his flaws. He’s secure, carries himself with dignity and pride, knowing his worth and wouldn’t succumb to anything below, nor did he ever allow you to see yourself below your value, always pushing you to greater heights — to believe that you were worth more than the finest of golds, because to him no worth could define your value in his life.

He’s still humble and understanding, empathetic to a fault, listened well, and considered others above himself.

He set clear boundaries, never letting people mistake his kind-hearted gestures as an open invitation for them to get too close. But he still forgave mercifully and chose to believe in people rather than harbor bitterness and spite.

Yuuta wasn’t the smartest, nor was he ever the most popular. He was the kid no one really noticed, nor took the effort to understand. Often played by himself during break, didn’t get invited to birthday parties, sat alone during lunch, and was always the last one to be picked for sports.

But growing out of his awkward teenage phase, Yuuta blossomed into a beautiful flower, singled out in a patch of dying flowers attracting awe and attention to those around him, and was respected by many.

Would it be crazy to say, that this perfect boyfriend pinned after you for many years? Pursued you quietly, always patient and more than content in just being your friend, never overstepping boundaries, never expecting more than what you could give?

But if there was one thing Yuuta lacked in, one small detail about him that made him that much more perfect, it would be…

…

The small thumps of the train going through its racks, mixed in with the faint chatter of the people nearby made the closing night that much more perfect as you sat close by with his hands intertwined with yours, his thumb brushing against your skin as he intently looked at his phone.

Yuuta furrowed his brows and slightly stuck out his tongue whenever he needed to concentrate.

“You’re going to get permanent wrinkles Yuuta if you keep doing that.” Giggling as you pushed down his furrowed brows, immediately met with an apologetic smile from him, slightly blushing at your tease, “sorry…” he mumbled back.

“What are you staring at, can I see?” You asked while leaning closer in.

Yuuta smelled good. He was like the calming scent of the morning breeze as you whisked your way through the fields of green in the spring. Maybe the inviting smell of coffee and pastries from your local bakery. Or maybe even the faint hue of his aftershave and body wash still fragrant on his skin, mixed in with his natural pheromones that always calmed your anxious heart.

Yuuta was peace — a place to call home.

“I’m just trying to pick which one’s my favorite, I like all of them so it’s a bit hard to choose,” he confessed with a shy smile as he awkwardly itched the back of his head after he handed over his phone to you.

“Pick wha —”

Using your thumb to sift through the photos, you weren’t entirely shocked to see a compilation of pictures, pictures he’s snuck in throughout the day, pictures he’s tried his best in taking well… pictures of you — pictures that painted the essence of you, the meaning of who you were in his life.

His dearly beloved, he’ll call you.

“It’s all of me, Yuuta.” You smiled at your screen, zooming into your face and admiring his desire to do such a simple act of care with such diligence.

Snapshots of you eating.

Pictures of you admiring a passing by dog.

A photo of you both smiling into the screen with a coffee in hand.

And many more that you remembered him asking, “YN! Look over here for me,” as he then proceeded to shamelessly squat low, mildly stick out his tongue, scrunch his eyebrows and concentrate on his screen, “one, two, three, say cheese!”

Only to then smile into his phone if you would ever ask, “How’d the picture come out?”

He’ll always respond, “perfect, so so pretty,” as he reached out to grasp your lonesome hand.

You appreciated his simple acts of love. The small tugs he gave to your heart, wrapping and mending a heart once wounded by the world with a caring touch and a kind smile. Where even the entagling of your fingers as you walked side by side with him in the streets filled your heart with joy, where even in the little moments of hurt and misunderstandings he still quickly came to your aid, embracing you in his arms as he kissed your tears away.

“Sorry… YN, it’s all my fault,” he’ll confess.

Never, never was it his fault, yet he always apologized.

The joy of having a cup of coffee in the morning to say hello, and the thankfulness of being able to bid farewell with a warm embrace. Letting go a couple seconds after saying goodnight.

Yuuta Okkotsu’s taught you the measure of his love, and how infinite beyond reach his heart was able to embrace you fully.

“Hmm, I’m sure I got some other pictures in there,” leaning closer as he looked over your shoulder, you felt your heart thumping loudly in your chest as you felt the warmth of his body, “see, here look!”

Another picture of you.

“I’m still in the background.”

“Well, sometimes I can’t help it… you really look so pretty.”

“Baby, you tell me that all the time! You can’t do that, or else I’m going to get used to it,” you responded with a small chuckle, lightly hitting his chest.

“I mean it YN… really, sometimes I wish I can just keep you to myself,” his cheeks flaring red as he rubbed the back of his head again.

“Whenever we’re outside people always look at you, a-and I get a little nervous whenever I see that because I’m sure those people are thinking the same as me…”

Catching himself from rambling, quickly apologizing with eyes wide and hands frantically saying sorry.

“Oh! Not saying they shouldn’t be looking at you! I-I j-just —”

Cupping his face as you locked gazes with his trembling eyes, cheeks hot in embarrassment as you simply smiled back, “trust me when I say this, those people aren’t looking at me, Yuuta so don’t worry.”

“You don’t know, YN…” he mumbled, his face melting into your palm.

“Oh, I do know… that I’m sure of.” Placing a small kiss to his cheek, and one faint one to his lips, quickly changing the subject back to his phone, “I guess I’ve trained my litto boyfie so well!” you claimed as you pinched his cheeks, “I came out really good in these!”

“You can pick your favorite, I can’t choose,” placing his chin onto your shoulder, intertwining his fingers with yours, rubbing his thumb slowly against your skin — a calming tendency whenever he got nervous.

Choosing what to upload you finished your edits, making it just to your liking and with a nervous heart, you asked for his obvious opinion.

“You’re perfect! I like it a lot, angel.”

It was a set of two pictures, one with you looking candidly out in the distance, and another with he and you with his face mildly covered to keep him mysterious to your followers, simply captioned: pov of my boyfriend.

“I posted it!” you stated while locking your phone and putting it into your bag.

“Okay, give me a second,” and without letting go of your hand as you waited for him to finish his business, and simultaneous to him locking his phone and smiling back to say, “I’m done,” you heard the chime of your phone.

Love isn’t a factor of measurement, nor does it need to be obviously grand to claim it as love.

Love is a multitude of different aspects of life: pain, joy, the fluttery feeling of your stomach as you faced your beloved, the anger that boils inside as you argued with your other half about useless matters, the tears in both happiness and sadness — love can never be broken down nor can it be contained.

Love that is infinite, and boundless — love was Yuuta Okkotsu.

And when the day has come to an end, laying in your bed after your boyfriend walked you home, saying his goodbye while still tightly holding you in his arms, you opened up your phone to be met with the notification from earlier.

@.yuuta.okkotsu mentioned you in their story.

It was a photo you haven’t seen before, a candid picture of you smiling brightly at him, a snapshot of a quick passing second after you almost tripped over a rock as he quickly caught you with his hand.

Simply captioned: Love you.

Yuuta Okkotsu, your perfect boyfriend in every possible way, your ally that saw you as his world… your lover that taught you what it meant to love and love well, your person that still trembled whenever he reached down to kiss you, your beloved — selfless and true — and if there was one thing that you could say he lacked in wasn’t dealing with his personality, his character, or his flaws…

It was that he only had 10 followers on his instagram, an account of resposts of your pictures, proudly showing you off to his world of ten.

In his awkwardness and trembling hands as he cared for your heart, holding you still in his love and stretching you in his kindness, Yuuta had one flaw.

A simple lack that made him even more perfect.

He had ten followers — his world that he shared with you.

#ae.writes #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk scenarios #jjk drabbles #jjk imagines #jjk fluff #yuuta x reader #yuuta fluff #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #lightmode.#𖤘.jjkfics #𖤘.jjkdrabbles

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fwb-anon · 3 months

Text

sukutoge, a (rough) timeline (part 1)

this one's for @lunita-anon 🫵😔

cw: sukuna being sukuna, toge being toge, toge's not over yuuta, some random dude thinks consent isn't mandatory, sukuna likes to punch people, mention of guns, toge is "a slut", cows and slaughterhouses are mentioned, asphyxiation implied + toge wants to get fucked "like you want me dead", scratching that leads to bleeding, i think that's it 😔

their first meeting. yuuji introduced them and toge couldn't care less. same goes for sukuna.

their second first meeting. when they both woke up in a bed, hangover, naked, and thought they'd slept together. turns out they didn't, because: "your cunt ain't broken" (sukuna) "you know this is why no one likes you, right?" (toge) "my dick's too fat for your cunt to be intact" (sukuna). they still decided to test this "theory". no telling yuuji, though.

the theory. it didn't work. toge was too tight, sukuna was too big. toge loves challenges, though.

a first second meet-cute. during one of sukuna's football games. toge was wearing the team's colours, with a cute outfit and pretty makeup on. "are you gonna cheer me up?" (sukuna) "only if you promise to win" (toge) "for the school?" (sukuna) toge simply shrugged with a teasing smile.

the theory, a re-do. the team won (thanks to sukuna), and toge quickly found his way to him. "here for an autograph?" (sukuna) "i got this from the girls.." (toge) he lifted pompoms and shook them with a mischievous smile. sukuna got his own cheerleader that night (quarterback privileges).

countless nights. they started spending more time together, albeit only to feed sexual cravings. toge was still getting over okkotsu, and sukuna didn't care for a relationship. one of them would leave before the morning light. that was the deal.

jealousy. sukuna got jealous first, barely one month after they'd started sleeping together. toge was too cute, too nice, too flirty. sukuna threatened one of his teammates after they implied they'd try to fuck toge during a party.

annoyance. toge knew the signs; he got annoyed by yuuta's behaviour in high school too, right before they started dating. but sukuna wasn't yuuta-- quite the opposite. it started after another party, when toge danced against another guy. guy got a bit too touchy (because toge's reputation as the "local slut" apparently replaces actual consent), sukuna punched him, toge got annoyed. "i don't need a knight in shining armour... or whatever that bullshit was." (toge) ".. i know." (sukuna) "then stop getting involved in my shit? i'm not five, i don't need you!" (toge) "kay well what if i want you to need me?!" (sukuna) toge left without an answer.

the zen'in twins. maki and mai both got annoyed by their behaviour without consulting each other. maki called toge out and brought up yuuta; mai had a friendly shooting contest against sukuna to get him to talk it out. "you were literally the one breaking up with yuuta, get over it." (maki) "so what if he's not over okkotsu? is that really the issue here?" (mai) "thought you liked them obsessed with you." (maki) "does it really bother you that much to care about someone else, even for just a sec?" (mai) "i guess he's hot. in the right angle. in the dark. with my eyes closed." (maki) "well, the entire school seems to find him fuckable." (mai) "what do you have to lose if you try something, anyway?" (maki) "just rip the band-aid off. you already punched guys for him, it can't go worse... unless you're planning murder. you're not, right? should i take the gun back?" (mai)

messy confessions. nothing much to say. they argued under the rain-- toge argued, sukuna looked like a wet kitten. "i hate you. i hate you and i hate everything about you, and i hate that you're nice, and caring, and not just some random asshole!" (toge) "yeah, i hear some of these words a lot--" (sukuna) "i hate that i like you!" (toge) ".. you like me back?" (sukuna) "... that is so not the point!" (toge) "nonono, you-- you like me back? like, really??" (sukuna)

messy kisses. toge cries whenever he feels too much. he cried before answering sukuna's question, shaking his head and shrugging because it was all just too confusing. still, he let sukuna get closer; he let sukuna stroke his wet cheek; he let sukuna kiss him. then, between two kisses: "i hate you." (toge) he was unable to convey anything else. mixed emotions make for confused feelings. "glad we're on the same page." (sukuna) toge grabbed his face to kiss him again.

dried up tears. they waited for a bus, finally protected from the rain. sukuna still gave toge his (drenched) jacket. toge put his head against sukuna's arm. sukuna moved it to hug him tight. it felt right, and toge stopped crying.

okkotsu. sukuna stayed the night. he didn't leave before the morning light, and simply laid down next to toge. toge told him about okkotsu. why they broke up. "you're still in love with him." (sukuna) "i don't think i'll ever stop loving him." (toge) toge felt too confused and turned around to sob a bit. sukuna didn't reach out. but he didn't leave either.

lows. toge cried half the night, and felt empty the other half. it was inconsistent. cry-empty-cry-empty-empty-cry-cry-cry-empty. it was messy. "yuuji mentioned that... he called it 'lows'." (sukuna) "cause that's how i call it." (toge) "is it hard?" (sukuna) it made toge cry and laugh at the same time. this time, sukuna reached out. he held toge against him, as tight as he could-- the pressure soothed. he'd seen it in a documentary about cows-- about how they're killed.

cows and slaughterhouses. maybe toge felt like a cow. like he was going to die. "if i let go i just.. lose it. it gets ugly." (toge) "i like ugly." (sukuna) "not this kind." (toge) "i like your ugly." (sukuna) "you've never seen it." (toge) "yeah but i like you. and i'm pretty ugly too." (sukuna) maybe he was the cow in the slaughterhouse.

chaos control. toge's a control freak. he controls himself. sukuna could relate to this, probably a bit too much. "sex is my outlet. i just.. let go." (toge) "is that why everyone says you're a slut?" (sukuna) toge ignored him. "yuuta would help." (toge) "i can help too." (sukuna) "you'd break." (toge) sukuna loves challenges, though.

safe words. toge laid himself bare in front of him. he gave him safe words, and waited until sukuna knew them by heart to grab his big hand and wrap it around his thin neck. "i want you to fuck me like you want me dead." (toge) he obliged.

claws. toge would grab at his skin and mark it, as if sukuna would vanish if he wasn't against him. toge's nails were usually long and decorated, girly, feminine, elegant and cute at the same time; that night, they were ugly. half-broken, some of them bitten with crusts of blood, bleeding his back at every scratch. toge had apologised by cleaning him and bandaging his wounds. "you're crazy." (sukuna) "... i know." (toge) "you've heard that before." (sukuna) "in this context?" (toge) "any context." (sukuna) "i've heard that many times, yeah." (toge)

fire and moths. sukuna didn't fall in love that night. neither did toge. sukuna got lured in by the light of a candle, the warmth of a fire; toge was made of fire and thorns. he'd lured him in to pin him down. sukuna was a moth. or a butterfly. he wasn't sure anymore.

part 2!!!

#fwb.txt #fwb.nsfw #sukutoge #turns out i reached tumblr's character limit before finishing to write about this night and them eventually going out #so #i gotta make a part two #hm .#that's like a summary of my life

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loving-august · 2 years

Text

eighteen heartbeats.

— a special collab entry from 'someboday new' and a birthday gift for the precious bb @okkatsudon <33 happy birthday !! mwa mwa kiss kiss (not me making the title same as your age 🤭) hehehe not me forgetting the exact date omg beh 😭

๑.pairings: okkotsu yuuta x fem!reader

๑.genre: fluff, crack, angst + sfw

๑.synopsis: with a total of eighteen heartbeats, to whom it may beat for?

๑.warnings: jjk 0 spoilers (?) <33 just get a tissue or smthng, first time writing him?? Does that count?? /lh, timeline in this story is a bit fucked up but you'll manage :))

๑.wc: 1.4k

๑.links: navigation | jujutsu kaisen | taglist form

— the moment he saw you in the classroom whereas his other new classmates tried to threaten him due to the curse he has. He met your eyes, with a surprised and scared emotion. It was normal for someone like him, after all he was feared by many. He was left alone after the little meeting. You approached him with a little bit of nervousness, covered in fear. But to his surprise, you gave him your handkerchief saying, "you've been tearing up. Here." In the end, you never took your handkerchief from him, but he always kept it.

badump badump.

another heartbeat has bumped on his chest. This time when you trained with him. Your eyes showed full determination, which made his eyes widen in awe. The way you move ever so gracefully, despite you fighting against him. He was lost in his senses as he saw you pinning him down in the field. You bonked his head, making his senses return. "I won," you panted, "good fight by the way, okkotsu-san." and that was the first time he heard you calling his name.

badump. badump.

The heartbeat he felt on his chest added with a funny feeling on his stomach. He clenched his shirt, looking down on his shoes as he waited for you outside of the school’s gate. It was his first time going out with you after all. “Okkotsu-san!” He heard your voice from far away. Shit. He was nervous. He looked to the side to see Inumaki, maki, and panda, hiding behind the building. The three of them silently cheered for their friend, giving thumbs up. As you make your way towards him, he feels like losing control over everything.

badump. badump.

“Yuuta!” your voice beaming with excitement and enthusiasm, made him look around to see you waving your hands to him. Gojo, beside him, chuckled audibly. He definitely knows what's up. “Having a little crush aren’t we?” He teased yuuta. Yuuta looked at him with a blush, “it’s not like that sensei!” he replied with his voice breaking in such embarrassment. Gojo smiled, it's rare to see a jujutsu sorcerer having times like this. As if things were normal, but when it's not.

badump. badump.

The coldness of the night made you shiver. You felt your skin tingle, of course, yuuta noticed it. Walking along the dormitories at night where the curfew was now active. "Are you cold?" He inquired. You laughed out the coldness, "pfft! Nah, and look we're in ny room!" You changed the subject, "thank you for earlier, and for walking me to my dorm, you're really sweet yuuta" the shyness in your voice made him clench his shirt internally. "I should be thanking you, really, if it wasn't for you to agree, who knows what i'm gonna do haha,"

He wished that moment to happen once again.

badump. badump.

Yuuta was having a sparring match with Maki, Inumaki was sitting down on the stairs with panda, probably taking a break. "Seriously, you guys would stop making me an errand girl!" Your complaining voice was heard by gojo and the others. You put down all the refreshments beside panda and inumaki. Maki and Yuuta stopped sparring to see you fuming. "There's no need to complain y/n you're definitely fit for the role," maki teased.

"I'm a jujutsu sorcerer not an errand girl! Gojo-sensei! This is serious bullying!"

"Ho, not my problem!"

"What a good teacher," you deadpanned.

Panda looked at Yuuta's peripheral vision, and it was in your direction. And an idea struck on his head. 'I have a revelation!' He thought.

"Yuuta! Come here! Come over here!" He yelled. Yuuta went to panda and panda rested his whole arm on him making him yelp on the weight over his shoulders. "We have a super important topic to discuss so listen closely!" The poor boy looked at him and inquired, "about what?"

He asked in a low voice, and went closer to his ears asking , "what do you like better, big or small boobs?"

And of course, yuuta was taken aback and more likely shocked about the question. With his shy yet low voice "To tell you I guess given the choice,"

Panda nodding excitingly, "uh huh! Uh huh!"

"I like them somewhat big?"

Little did they know, you completely heard about it.

badump. badump.

One thing that made him sad. And it was him leaving tokyo to go overseas. The last time you two talked was after the sister event with the kyoto students. And after that, you both didn’t talked as much as you both used to. And besides, you both weren’t on the same page now, Since he was classified as a special grade, he went more on solo missions, leaving you and the rest. He was currently at the gates of jujutsu high, finally leaving. Maki, Toge, and Panda went to the gates to say their goodbyes.

But you weren’t there.

He may have come to the thought that you weren’t coming to send him off.

“Yuuta!”

He saw you running faster than you did before. You panted heavily as you finally reached him. “I'm sorry, I fell asleep.”

“Yuuta! Ijichi is here!” gojo called.

“Be safe out there yuuta,” you said with a smile.

He nodded as well and cracked a smile, “yeah, see you soon y/n,” he bid his goodbye and went inside the car.

badump. badump.

His phone rang when he was eating his food in the food court, he pulled out his phone to see you calling. He drank his water immediately and answered the call. “Hey Yuuta!’ ah, your voice sounds like butter but instead, he was melting. “How was the place?” you asked through the line. He replied, “yeah, it’s good here, I’ve been exorcising a lot of curses here though,” you laugh at his reply, “Same here, but I’m excited to see our juniors!” you said in an excited tone.

He can’t wait to see you again.

badump. badump.

He was finally home in japan. It feels nice to smell the familiar scent lingered in the busy street, the sakura trees started to bloom. It was a nice day for him. He texted Maki that he was here in japan and asked a favor to tell the others. And so, Maki told everyone that he is coming back. Megumi was quite excited, because Yuuta was the only senpai he highly respected after all. Itadori was excited too to see his senpai, as well as nobara, although she remembered yelling his name in the sister event.

Ijichi also picked him up from the airport and drove off to jujutsu high.

Soon, he stepped out of the car and went inside the school. He was surprised by gojo and the others, panda even jumped on him and toge jumped afterward. But something’s missing. “Hey, where’s y/n?” he asked. None of them answered. And it made him worried. As hell. Maki sees the look in his friend's eyes. She felt bad for not telling, and so are the others, and gojo.

Maki scratched her head and stepped out, “have you heard the higher ups’ news? She got into an arranged marriage to Kamo from kyoto.”

badump. badump.

As the years passed, he didn’t see you, not even a text or a call. As everyone got invited to the ceremony of the Kamo estate. He kept his composure and tried not to show any emotion to the people around him. He felt numb. And empty. How did this escalate? He had no idea.

It didn’t matter at all no that he has now seen you, in this beautiful white kimono, oh how he remembered the days when he dreamt about you wearing a simple white dress. How cruel. How he wishes to be on your side. Like Noritoshi Kamo did.

The heartbeat that he heard isn't his, due to his enhanced skills of a jujutsu sorcerer, his sense has improved tenfolds. With a total of Eighteen heartbeats, the first to sixteenth heartbeats he has for you, and the last two heartbeats you had was for the other, and not for him. A memory flashed in his mind where he suddenly remembers gojo’s words:

“Love is the most twisted curse of them all. “

And it was truly the most twisted curse of them all.

#๑.made by aug #yuuta x reader #okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu #jjk x reader #yuuta x reader angst #jujutsu okkotsu #yuuta okkotsu angst #yuuta x y/n #yuuta x you #jjk yuuta #noritoshi x reader

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potionpeddlerpatchy · 6 months

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A rummage sale

How humorous it was to say that I would be holding such an event. For it is one that is typically reserved for those who stay put and collect, to then find themselves overcrowded with bobbles and trinkets to then find the need to regift them - for a price of course.

But it appears that my little shop has been around for a year now, and a year's worth of clutter must be dealt with, even for a peddler such as myself. And I have always found that it is better to give things no longer needed away than to sell them; generosity is in my nature after all.

After all, trash can become a treasure in the right hands

Here is a list of all the books of old I have so happily given to those who have heard their call. Perhaps you, traveler, would like to partake in what is on their pages as well? Hm?

Books for those in Haikyuu:

The Wonderful Musician with Sakusa Kyoomi Rapunzel with Shoyo Hinata Little Red Riding Hood with Daichi Sawamura Snow White and the Seven Dwarves Tetsurō Kuroo

Books for those in My Hero Academia

The Princess and the Pea with Shinso Hitoshi Sleeping Beauty with Kirishima Eijirou The Princess and the Frog with Bakugou Katsuki

Books for those in Demon Slayer

Beauty and the Beast with Sanemi Shinazugawa Thumbelina with Tengen Uzui

Books for those with other Interests

The Little Mermaid with Yuuta Okkotsu Cinderella with Thorin Oakenshield

potionpeddlerpatchy - I don’t give anyone permission to repost, distribute, copy or re-use my works in any way, shape, or form.

#🔮.the peddler deems this important #🔮.the peddler's one year anniversary

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rhythmic-idealist · 1 year

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Inokkotsu post of the day, Yuuta keeps testing out pet names and judging them by the faces Toge greets them with (Toge does not pull his punches). And one day Panda is like hey wait, Toge, there are definitely some nicknames you could do too, right. Why don't you do the nicknames thing

Toge retaliates by deliberately misinterpreting the prompt and taking up an increasingly absurd list of ingredient-based pet names, but only when Panda is around to witness and try desperately to clarify. Like ok probably don't call him baby, but you could try "sweetheart" or something, right?

Yuuta, re: Panda's slightly lacking boundaries here (human romance is so weird!! he just wants to watch!!), wants to die a little, but Toge is admittedly making it bearable. In that Yuuta now usually comes out of those conversations wheeze-laughing a little instead of JUST dying inside

Maki: Okay, so I get why not something like "love” [this is a favorite of Yuuta’s, who is very dramatic], but why not "baby"? Panda: What if he can turn Yuuta into a baby!!!!!! [Maki hums and squints, considering this] Megumi: Oh, and "babe" is probably too close to that, right? Toge: [look of sharp, deep betrayal that even Megumi's getting in on this] Yuuji: I don't get why he couldn't say "love," actually? Nobara: That's the WHOLE PROBLEM WE'RE AVOIDING. Megumi: Okkotsu accidentally cursed his childhood love when they were kids, by loving her, sort of. The curse manifested as a promise to be together forever, so she couldn't leave when she died. Since everything Inumaki says has the potential to be a curse, they're trying to be careful. Yuuji: [simplifies down to a baser form of cartoon] I guess I just... don't think it could be THAT big a problem? [all three non-Yuuta second-years glare from beneath a heavy cartoon shadow] [Yuuta scratches at the back of his neck]

#jjk #inokkotsu #ottoge

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fushigurro · 7 months

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𝗬𝗨𝗨𝗧𝗔 𝗢𝗞𝗞𝗢𝗧𝗦𝗨 𝗫 𝗙!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / incest but could be read as stepcest / sort of a non-curse au i guess / mentions of underage masturbation / jealousy / a little bit of codependency / voyeurism / reader goes through a breakup / some hurt/comfort / unprotected piv sex / creampie / 2.6k words

little brother!yuuta who has always held you in the highest regard. you have more or less been the center of his universe for as long as he can remember, because nobody has ever been quite as radiant and captivating as his older sister. where he would hear of the complicated dynamics between other people and their siblings, he could only ever think of positive things to say about his relationship with you. he simply couldn’t relate to those who didn’t adore their siblings, and maybe some would find it a bit odd, but it was of little concern to him.

little brother!yuuta who has been the #1 admirer of your beauty from the very beginning. he would find himself in awe of you at any given time, really, but especially when you happened to get dressed up for whatever reason. you would barely be old enough for your body to properly fill out an outfit, but he’d still look at you with sparkling eyes and a small awestruck gasp.

“wow, nee-chan… you look beautiful! where are you going?” he’d ask, always wishing he could tag along.

you would chuckle at his adoration, your sweet brother always being your greatest supporter. “i’m just going to my friend’s birthday party. i’ll be back in time for bed, i promise!"

little brother!yuuta who is so very used to the ritual you’ve always had at bedtime. your special little goodnight phrase that you say to each other before going to sleep is simply a must each and every day. it feels too wrong not to do it, so even if you’re away from each other at night you always find a way to make it work to the best of your abilities, whether it be a quick few second phone call or a text that would never go unread.

little brother!yuuta who always had a bad habit of crawling into bed with you as a small child. the frequency of it eventually dwindled down, but even when he got into his teens, he still found himself slipping under the covers with you from time to time for some comfort. sometimes it was the only way he could manage to get a few hours of sleep—other times he simply laid there awake, finding comfort in your presence alone. but there were also times when he would lay in his own bed, aching with the need to feel you close but too afraid to get near you lest you possibly become irritated with him for being so needy.

little brother!yuuta who, sometimes, after he became old enough, would find himself waking up feeling hot and sticky with an ache between his legs as you held each other in your sleep. his thoughts would flash back to the dream he had just been having before, and he would panic and scramble to back away from you before you got the chance to wake up and notice his hard, leaking cock or the wet mess he’d made in his pants.

he’d carefully distance himself from you even more and squeeze his eyes shut to try and will away the need, or softly climb out of bed to go finish himself off when he couldn’t take it anymore, or clean up the mess he’d already made in his sleep. yuuta would try so hard not to think of you while jerking his cock, but flashes of your face still crept up into his very conflicted mind.

little brother!yuuta who found that something always struck him whenever you would decide to go on a date with a boy, or when someone had asked you out to a special event at school. he would watch with a smile as you walked out the door or stood taking photos, but there was always a sense of fear that crept up inside. he wanted be happy for you… but were you going to abandon him? would you let someone else hold your hand or sleep in your bed? these were such selfish thoughts and he felt absolutely horrible for having them, but he could never make them fully go away no matter how hard he tried.

little brother!yuuta who, one night not long before you moved away from home, tried to sneak into your room for the first time in a while to fall asleep next to you. but before he could gently open the door, he heard soft sounds coming from behind it, and he realized that you had someone over while everyone was (supposed to be) asleep. he pressed his ear to the door to get a better listen, and then gulped as his heart sank in his chest at the quiet but unmistakable noises. despite the shock and devastation, there was a sensation of heat pooling in his belly, and he lingered a little bit longer than he should have.

little brother!yuuta who goes back to his room and can’t go to sleep without first emptying his balls to the thought of what you must look like while being fucked. and after that night, he’s been fighting with himself ever since.

little brother!yuuta who, years later, does everything he can to not think of you when he’s getting himself off, but he sometimes becomes desperate enough for relief from the frustration that he’ll imagine your beautiful face and body and paint his own stomach with hot cum almost instantly. he’ll lay there with both guilt and satisfaction as the seed pools in his bellybutton and starts drying where it splattered all the way up to his chest, the load so heavy and thick from all the time that had passed since he’d last done this.

little brother!yuuta who holds himself back from masturbating for as long as he can because you inevitably pop into his brain every single time. and pathetically enough, he almost can’t cum unless he thinks of you.

little brother!yuuta who felt disgusted with himself the first time he had sex with a girl because the image of you was lingering in the back of his mind the entire time.

little brother!yuuta who convinced you to let him stay with you sometimes after you moved out and eventually started living with your boyfriend. although he couldn’t sneak himself into your bed like he used to, he would happily sleep on the couch knowing that you weren’t very far away. truthfully, living apart from you had been absolute hell.

little brother!yuuta who would recreate the same scenario from years ago, standing outside your bedroom door and listening closely to what you sounded like when your boyfriend fucked you. although it made his heart ache for reasons he tried not to think about, he couldn’t help but commit every noise to memory while he stood there shamefully, brows furrowed and cock rapidly hardening.

little brother!yuuta who has offered nothing but smiles and encouragement to you all these years even while he ached and suffered on the inside. watching you live your life without him around every day, doting on a lover and giving them the affection that used to be his… it’s almost unbearable. it has impacted him far more than he’s ever been willing to show, but his only option thus far has been to simply grin and bear it, even when it felt like he might crumble to pieces.

little brother!yuuta who is the first one there for you after a fairly nasty breakup with your boyfriend, and who moves in with you to help out with the rent now that your partner is gone. at least, that’s what he tells himself; in reality, he couldn’t be more thrilled to live with you again and to bid your burden of an ex a long-awaited goodbye.

little brother!yuuta who does his best to be the greatest roommate you’ve ever had, willing to do every chore in the universe simply because he’s so elated to be here with you. and his instinct is to latch onto you, to have endless movie nights and spend every waking moment with his big sister, but he holds himself back because he doesn’t want to come off as too much, to push you away after he just managed to get you back. however, after dealing with your breakup, you seem to be more than happy to spend a bit of extra time with him, and this makes his heart feel full.

little brother!yuuta who cheers you up with his now genuine smiles and laughter, not having felt this wonderful in a very long time. it’s almost too good to be true, but he savors every minute of it—every minute spent snuggled up on the couch or goofing off while making dinner together. he never wants it to come to an end.

little brother!yuuta who hears you crying one night and simply can’t resist the urge to softly pad into your bedroom and slip under the covers, wrapping his arms around you from behind and breathing in your familiar scent. you don’t remember him being so big, but you suppose that’s what happens after being apart for so long.

not a word is spoken between you two; yuuta just holds you like his most prized possession and lets you weep in the darkness until the sorrow leaves your body. it subsides quicker than usual because you feel less lonely now with him cradling you like this, and you realize you haven’t felt so comforted since the last time he’d managed to weasel himself into your bed far too long ago. you’d never said it out loud, but he’d comforted you just as much as you did him whenever he would feel the need to seek you out in his younger days.

little brother!yuuta who isn’t expecting you to turn around and face him, to look into his eyes even in the darkness so that you may have some sort of realization. perhaps it’s the lingering residuals of loneliness and heartbreak, but regardless, you feel compelled to wrap your own arms around his waist and nuzzle into his chest for warmth. he’s all grown up but still so soft and sweet as he always has been, giving you more love and adoration than anybody ever has. you feel terribly guilty for having taken it for granted at times.

but now he’s here in your arms again, still giving you everything even when he doesn’t have to.

little brother!yuuta whose breath hitches when he feels your mouth on his collarbone, slowly trailing kisses up to his neck and setting his skin on fire as you go. he’s suddenly convinced that he’s dreaming, yet another one of his sinful fantasies being dredged up from the darkest corners of his mind and playing in his sleep. but he blinks and you’re still there, still pressing soft and somehow chaste kisses against his open throat until he’s struggling to breathe.

little brother!yuuta who freezes in place, tears welling up in his big blue eyes at what he’s about to ask next, the guilt and embarrassment nearly causing him to malfunction.

“nee-chan…?” he finally manages to squeak out, blood rushing to his cock as you breathe against him.

“hmm?” you hum, nuzzling his neck with your nose.

he gulps, hips rolling forward against you just the slightest bit, his control over his body weakening now that you’re so close. “c-can i please…please have you?” his voice trembles and now he’s the one crying, a single tear slipping down his cheek as he stares off into the distance and hopes this isn’t the end of it all.

thankfully, you kiss him and show him that it isn’t.

little brother!yuuta who melts into your lips faster than he can process what’s happening, the taste of your tongue instantaneously sending him into another dimension. your mouth is so sweet and warm against his own that he can’t stop himself from being absolutely blissed out within seconds.

little brother!yuuta who feels as though he’s finally found his purpose in life when he has you underneath him and soaking the tip of his cock as it brushes through your folds. it’s already everything that he’s ever imagined and more, and he hasn’t even been inside you yet.

little brother!yuuta who practically sighs with relief as he slides into you for the first time, nice and slow. it’s as if the biggest weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he’s finally come home, his heart and mind now able to rest easy after years of torment.

he doesn’t even move once he’s hilted inside you, taking several moments to bury his face in your neck and just feel the way you engulf him in warmth in every single way.

little brother!yuuta who knows he needs to feel as close to you as he possibly can. it’s not enough to simply take care of one another, sharing smiles and laughter and keeping each other company like average siblings; no… he needs much more than that. he wants to consume you like you do him (even if you don’t necessarily mean it). he needs to inhabit every part of you, feel you from the inside, and pour this overwhelming amount of love out in the best way he can possibly think of.

and even that doesn’t feel like quite enough. there’s still something scratching in his skull that tells him to truly make you his, to stake his claim, and he wants you to do the very same.

little brother!yuuta whose once still hips are now restless and begging for motion, who starts out slow but is already drooling over how your cunt squeezes him so perfectly. it isn’t long before he’s practically drilling into you, fucking every emotion out of his poor body and straight into yours, to ultimately make you both ‘one.’ he doesn’t mean to be rough for the sake of it, he just loves you so much that it almost hurts, makes his body ache in ways that only this will alleviate after so many years of holding it all back.

little brother!yuuta whose wet eyes never leave your face and who could cum any second but stops himself from doing so if only to make you see pleasure first. his body pleads for release, but he would rather be left somewhere to rot than give in without first making you see stars, showing you how much he really loves you. and when he finally finds that spot and presses into it over and over again with his desperate, eager pace, you’re squeezing and shaking around him and making him sob into his own orgasm until it eventually starts to spill out of you in earnest.

little brother!yuuta who afterwards still isn’t fully convinced that this is reality, and who would do anything to cling onto this feeling for all of eternity. he’ll endure anything life throws at him, will let you do anything you want to him as long as he’s allowed to indulge in you. his big sister can dig her nails into his flesh, bite and suck his skin until she can taste blood, deny him of every pleasure, if that’s what she truly desires. he hopes you’ll love with the same grace you always have, but even if you don’t, he’ll sit and take whatever you give him with silent pride and gratitude, because you’re his beautiful onee-chan, his guardian angel in a world full of darkness. and he wants absolutely everything from you.

#yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #my writing.#re: yuuta okkotsu

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