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aghostpost · 2 years

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An Indecent Proposal (Kento Nanami x Reader)

A/N: This is gonna be multiple chapters, just a heads up! For all my jjk lovers and Nanami simps (self included duh)! This is chapter 1. Hope you enjoy~ ♥

4:28 in the afternoon. That’s two and a half hours of unofficial overtime.

“Shauna, I need dinner reservations tomorrow night at Edo for 7, 7:30 at the latest. I want the back room, and for the love of everything holy, do not seat us near the restrooms.”

“You want a last minute dinner rez at one of the busiest restaurants in the city on a Saturday night. Did I get that right?”

“I’ve seen you make miracles happen before.”

That makes a total of about seven and a half hours of overtime over the last three days.

“Yup, I’ll have everything emailed to you before we dive back in Monday morning.”

Now that I think about it, I’ve been going nonstop for what? Eight, nine days now? Holy fuck. If I wasn’t getting a commission the size of Atlas’ biceps I would have passed this client off months ago.

“Great job, guys. Enjoy the casino, enjoy the hotel. Relax, grab some drinks; you all earned it.”

I was actually the one that deserved it. Hell, I deserved an all expenses paid vacation, sunbathing butt naked on a yacht sailing the French Riviera.

I sighed. There was no sense in dwelling on anything at all that would not expedite this casino deal trip. Whining didn’t pay the bills or for my Mercedes to get detailed. In fact, overtime is exactly what did, no matter how much it sapped every drop of energy I had stored inside these tired ol’ bones. The herd thinned in the hotel conference room, everyone filing out after another long day of negotiations until I was the last man standing. I sighed, taking a seat at the head of the long mahogany table, gently twisting myself from side-to-side. I closed my eyes in deep thought, taking advantage of the moment’s peace I was finally given.

I just needed to make it through this weekend. Myself and a small team of associates were tasked by our law firm with overseeing our client’s purchase of the Paradisio Casino. Technically it was a conveyance, since our client bought out the place from the previous owner, but that was neither here nor there. We’d been working on this deal for months and finally, after this last week of finalizing agreements and signing this or that contract, running over every document with a fine tooth comb, we were wrapping up our business. Typically I didn’t opt to spearhead teams for acquisitions of this magnitude; the daily migraines and babysitting of interns and the few newborn junior associates was more than enough to choose being a team player over a leader. But when one of the names on the building personally handpicks you, you show up, zero questions asked, and you make sure they made the right choice in choosing you.

The bulk of the work was finished today. All I had left of this trip was a few minor loose ends to tie and a congratulatory dinner with our client, and then I could fly back home and get back to normalcy: expensive business brunches and assessing properties with realtors for whatever ambitious young couple I represent looking to buy a space for their… I don’t know, fucking pet cafe? I reclined in the rolling desk chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Fuck.” I don’t remember the last time I truly felt this tapped, like I’d just run the real estate attorney decathlon. I kept reminding myself I’d soon reap the fruits of my labor, but I was reaching the point of feeling like I had deluded myself. This particular assignment was the kinda work that would gray my hair early if I kept at it. This was certainly a one time and one time only operation for me.

I spent some more time on my laptop drafting a few emails to send before I decided my work day was officially over, because once I clock out, I really clock out. When my eyes started to glaze over and my screen read less like English and more like hieroglyphics, that was my queue to finally gather my shit and head to my hotel room. The moment I swiped my keycard and crossed the threshold I kicked off my heels, my feet instantly relieved by the cool marble flooring as I padded my way to the full length mirror beside the wardrobe. I stared at myself as I undressed, admiring the best parts of my body and fully ignoring the parts that needed fine tuning. What I noticed most was how drained I looked. I felt like no matter how long I stayed in bed, I wouldn’t return to how youthful I was prior to this case. This shit essentially shaved about four years from my goddamn life. I spoke to the virtual assistant offered in all the rooms here and asked for the time; a gentle female voice with an accent I couldn’t quite pinpoint informed me it was 6:33pm. I pulled on the complimentary bathrobe and grabbed my laptop before I climbed onto the plush bed. I checked my email for what I said would be the last time of the evening, but I knew better than to believe myself. I didn’t make it to my position by not making myself readily available for anything my career required of me.

Live for the job, die for the job. Loser.

“Shut the hell up.” I rolled my eyes, both at my own thoughts and also at the fact I was now speaking out loud to myself. I always thought that people that I’d catch talking to themselves were always stressed out and typically overworked, but I ignored that when it came to myself. My rules never applied to me, except the rule that says my rules don’t apply to me. I didn’t argue with my logic.

Unfortunately, that tiny negative thought I just planted had already taken root, and now I did feel like a fuckin’ loser. I encouraged everyone to enjoy the weekend and here I was, in bed before seven and checking emails. The most excitement I had came from an email I spotted from my personal shopper saying he got a Christian Dior connect to hold goods for me now. But I recognized this pattern: whenever he hooked up with a new guy, there were perks I’d reap the benefits from until they had some inevitable falling out and the perks stopped. Knowing Devin’s penchant for self sabotage with every relationship he’s had since being in my employ, I rushed to open a browser tab to the Christian Dior site; I had to jump on this one stat.

I shot him an email with the link to two bags I wanted and felt a little better about beating myself up, but it wasn’t enough. Why was I holed up in here? Surely the casino was big enough that I wouldn’t find myself tagging along with interns and baby lawyers, right? And if not, I was in the city! There was plenty to do here, an abundance of places to be someone else other than Y/N Y/L/N, loser at law.

“... Fuck it.” I slammed my laptop shut, knowing if I stayed on it any longer I’d be looking for porn to top myself off and wind up passing out before the sun fully fucking set. I hopped off the bed and set a playlist for the night, connecting my phone to the virtual assistant, and went to take a quick shower to refresh myself and wash away any residual thoughts of loserdom. I had no set plan for tonight, so I needed to wear an anything goes kind of fit. And black. Black was as “anything goes'' as it gets, and had the magical effect of making me feel like I could conquer the world when I wore it. I settled on a classic LBD that hugged all the right curves and bulges, and some ruching that hid all the undesired ones. The square neckline tastefully, not desperately, showcased the girls, while long mesh sleeves offered a peek at my skin underneath that made you want to peel them back for a better look, maybe even a touch. The dress came to mid-thigh, my legs glowing and smooth as butter, courtesy of the full body massage and scrub I treated myself to prior to the trip. I always made sure to get any and all grooming and maintenance done before traveling, since I never knew what trouble I’d kick up in a town I had the security of knowing I’d never see any hookups again once I left. Bootycalls aside, when I felt my best I performed my best at work, and I never felt better than I did after waxing and exfoliating myself dolphin smooth.

I piled the curly mess on my head into a messy but sexy top bun, threw on some gold hoops and a few complimenting rings before finishing a simple yet effective makeup look. Begrudgingly I climbed into some black heels with thin straps I had to wrap and tie around my ankles, and finally I was able to spritz on some perfume, grab my clutch and head out for the night. I decided I would kick my evening off downstairs at the hotel bar for a drink or two and give myself more time to figure out what the hell I wanted to do tonight.

“How are we startin’ the night off, hun?” the bubbly brunette behind the bar asked me, setting a bar napkin before me as I seated myself on the vinyl bar stool.

“I think I’ll take a gin and tonic with a squeeze of lime.”

“You got it.” I rested my clutch before me and took small glances at my surroundings. I didn’t spot anyone from the firm, and wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Yes, it would be refreshing not to have to discuss work even at a lighthearted capacity, or go through the big wow moment of someone seeing me informally and in outside clothing. But also I wouldn’t have minded being in familiar company. No matter. I didn’t hesitate when it came to striking conversation with a stranger. Once my drink was placed on the bar napkin, I pinched my straw for a sip as I spun around on my stool, crossing my right leg over my left. I surveyed the room for potential; naturally I looked for moneybags. Not because I needed a man with money to entertain me, or for any other reason, but I was used to doing so for work. People with money tended to want to buy new property, which meant a textbook of real estate laws for acquiring said property, which is where I came in.

I thought maybe I’d have better luck at the casino, where at least the highrollers would be a lot easier to spot, until I made eye contact with a particular gentleman. I wasn’t inclined to point out physical features as checks off the list, since being attractive wasn’t a sign of significant wealth. Instead, I noticed the quality of the clothes he was wearing, his watch if he was wearing one, and above all else his shoes. You could tell just about anything about a man by what he had on his feet. Unfortunately my view was a bit obstructed by another bar patron, but I was almost certain he’d approach me after the look I just gave before rotating back to facing the bar.

But not before I noticed the aforementioned bar patron, and he got a glance at me for a fleeting moment the same time I spotted him.

Now I was very good at playing out of sight, out of mind. The moment I turned my back to him he ceased to exist in this room. The one, single time I broke my rule and slept with a co-worker, although technically we didn’t work directly together under the same firm, my decision found a way to kick me in the ass. I ran into Kento Nanami a handful of times at work-related functions. I was a conveyancer, a real estate lawyer to the common man, at Hilman & Klein, and he was a financial advisor at another building in the same work district. Our paths often crossed; he would represent some pretty big silent investors, and I was usually the one convincing people like him to have their employer hire me in the event they wanted to buy new properties. As it happens, we had the same boss this time around. Because we didn’t work in the same office, it was so easy to avoid him, so it never even crossed my mind that he would possibly be here.

And now here we were.

You know that android isn’t gonna make a fuss, shut up.

True. Kento was far too callous in my opinion to even think to come over here and kick up dust. Actually, that was part of why I figured him an ideal candidate for a work conference hookup; he seemed pretty cut and dry, like the last person to react in any fashion that would complicate a strictly just sex situation. A simple one and done! I always chalked it up to the alcohol that he was even showing any inkling of emotion during our little tryst. But that was just one night, and every interaction after that was as if it never even happened which I couldn’t be more thankful for. My shoulders relaxed as I let out a sigh of relief and ordered a shot of tequila to snuff out any budding tension in my nerves. I looked over my shoulder to see if I could find my mystery guy, and instead I was met with Kento about three and a half steps away from me.

Fuck!

“Are you shittin’ me…” I mumbled under my breath to myself, my jaw clenching. I quickly faced forward. Maybe I’d need more than just one shot.

“Did you just arrive today?” he asked, helping himself to the bar stool to my right.

“Nope. Kinda been leading this whole thing. Been here since Tuesday.”

“Hm. Funny, this is my first time seeing you and I’ve been here since Sunday.”

“You been lookin’ for me, Kento?”

“Not particularly.”

Lying fuck.

I rolled my eyes. “Where’s that white-haired hemorrhoid that usually tags along with you?”

“Gojo’s around here somewhere, probably harassing your interns.”

“Like a fox in the hen house. Of course they’ll eat up whatever he throws their way, too.” Finally a tiny glass of tequila rimmed with salt slid across the bar for me, a lime wedge placed on my napkin along with it.

“He has a way of charming the impressionable.”

I shook my head and lifted my glass. “They’re not impressionable, just dumb.” I licked my rim, took my shot and quickly sucked the lime wedge immediately after. “Besides, I’d never admit this to him directly but he’s got an impressive reputation in our field.”

“So he charmed you at some point as well?”

I scoffed, reaching into my clutch for some cash to settle my tab. “The moment Satoru opened his mouth, whatever respect I had for him was blasted to shit. I’m impressed by his performance as a lawyer, nothing else.” I tossed a crisp hundred onto the bar and slid from my stool. “Give him another round of whatever he’s having, on me, and keep the change.”

“You know, you don’t have to scurry off every time we run into each other at one of these things.”

Ignored. “I’m assuming you’ll be at the dinner tomorrow night?”

“I am chief financial advisor for our mutual client. I helped seal this deal as much as anyone else.”

I rolled my eyes. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow night then, Kento.”

“Y/L/N.”

Snooty tight ass. That last name only shit was always his first class ticket under my damn skin. It always felt kinda condescending, like I was being half-assed acknowledged. On my way out I scanned the room one final time for Mr. Mystery to no avail, so I headed in the direction of the casino. I reached into my clutch once again to exchange enough cash into chips to get me into the highrollers den. I wasn’t a gambler by any means, but for a night I could be. I looked around for a table that wasn’t too busy and found a blackjack table with my name on it. Only two other players, both old, both women.

“Any drinks for you tonight, miss?” the floor attendant came beside me to ask.

I looked to my left with a friendly smile. “Ladies, what are we drinking?”

I wound up with a Long Island for myself, and a cran-vodka and an Arnold Palmer for my two new friends. I sat for a couple hands just spectating before getting in on the action myself. I wound up winning six hands and losing three before bidding my girls good luck with the rest of their evening and heading to the next table.

“There’s my girl!” I heard booming behind me, over the arcade-like chimes of slot machines. I turned around and wished to every holy deity that I hadn’t. “Now the fun can really begin!”

“Stop before people think we know each other!”

“We missed you earlier; I thought for sure you’d be at the meeting with the new owner.” He instantly hooked his arm around my neck and pulled me closer to him.

“Jesus-” I sighed as I struggled to free myself from his grip, readjusting my dress. “I was in a closing meeting all day. I’ll be seeing him tomorrow night.”

“A night visit from the big man?” he asked suggestively, wiggling his stark white brows. “Women have it so easy.”

“It’s only been three minutes, snowflake. Usually the sexism doesn’t kick in for an hour.”

“Luckily for you, I’m already four drinks and three shots in, so you’ll hafta excuse me.”

“Any drinks for you two tonight?” another floor attendant came around to ask.

“Yes! I-” Satoru started.

“-He’s fine, but I’ll take another Long Island, thank you.” The attendant smiled with a nod and a be right back before he was on his way.

“Booooo. Keep it up and you might tie with Nanamin for biggest buzzkill, Y/N.”

Oh fuck. That reminded me: if Satoru was here, it was safe to assume that Kento wasn’t far behind. “Actually,” I said with a playful grin, “why don’t you take my drink. I’m gonna go find the ladies room.”

"Now we’re talkin’,” he exclaimed with excitement and his signature smile showcasing every tooth in his fat head.

I laughed to myself as I made a dash for it, successfully shaking Snow White and making my way to a craps table in my view. As a rule I never rolled dice, too worried I’d cause everyone at the table to lose money, so I sat comfortably as a spectator and sized up the flow of things. I chose a good horse to bet on and began stacking my chips when it was their turn to roll, my fresh Patron margarita with me. As I sipped I chuckled to myself thinking of whether or not Satoru had figured out I was gone with the wind while he was drinking my Long Island.

“C’mon, big money big money. Mama needs a new Boston brownstone…”

“Final bets!” the dealer called. I stared at the table eagerly when an arm extended beside me, dropping two $100 chips on the table. Immediately the sexy watch around his wrist screamed at me, so I turned to look at the body and the man it was attached to.

“Didn’t peg you as a gambling man.”

“When in Rome.”

“Are you stalking me now, Kento?”

“Gojo told me he saw you headed in this direction.”

How the fuck did he know?! My eye twitched infinitesimally. I’d have some words for him at the dinner tomorrow that I’m almost certain he’d be attending. “You lookin’ for me?”

My horse rolled the dice, and both my chips and Kento’s were removed from the table. Fuck. I collected another $100 chip and placed the same bet; it would take more than one bad roll for me to give up on my trusty steed. I noticed Kento placed the same $200 bet, the show off.

“I would like to talk to you.”

“About? I’m off the clock.”

“Nothing work-related, technically.”

Technically? “Can it wait?”

“I think it’s waited long enough,” he spoke as he raised his plastic cup to his lips. “Don’t you?” he asked before taking a sip of the iced dark brown liquid.

I sighed. “What is there to talk about?”

“Not that I need to spell it out for you, but I will, if that’s the game you’re playing. The San Francisco conference.”

Another roll, this one kinder than the last. Both of our chips doubled and while I removed mine from the table, Kento left his to remain in the exact same position. “What about it? It came, it went.”

“Well, did I screw up somehow that night?”

I turned to him with a look of incredulity, an arched brow shooting upward. “What??”

“Did I say anything I shouldn’t have?”

Okay, maybe I was wrong about him being extremely indifferent and robotic. A person that truly could not care wouldn’t be asking me questions like this. I scoffed before taking another sip of my cocktail. “No, Kento.”

“Then perhaps it was something I did.”

I took a quick jog down memory lane to recount that evening. It was a long day of meetings, convention panels, and a lot of networking that inevitably proved very fruitless. I remember how annoyed I was that most of the activities I participated in that day were mandatory for the firm, so I was grateful I would be flying back home the following morning. This was almost two years ago, and at that point I had been working at Hillman & Klein for almost 4 years, which seems like a long time in theory but I was still considered fresh blood around the place. I wanted to show up and be a team player and do so with a smile but fuck I couldn’t wait to get back home. It’s common practice for these work events to end with a bang. While others opted to indulge in more questionable party favors, I was fine with just drinking that night. That’s how I wound up bumping into Satoru at the open bar and two of his good friends, Suguru and of course Kento. I grew tired of drunkenly mixing up the two names so I wound up spending more time talking to Kento.

Initially I thought he was incredibly boring and for the life of me couldn’t see how someone like Satoru wound up with a friend like him. The two were apples and oranges, night and day. I just enjoyed flirting with him that night, watching the muscles in his face pull just slightly in reaction to my toying with him. Not to mention that he was a fairly attractive man and he could keep up with me on an intellectual level, maybe even teach me a thing or two. He wasn’t a hard man to like, aside from him constantly appearing like he didn’t wanna be bothered. I could see how a nuisance like Satoru Gojo had fun poking at Kento, as I soon found joy in doing the same. Somehow I bullied him right into my room that night, and one thing led to another. As memories of our bedroom jostling came flooding back to me, I couldn’t think of one single thing that could have been misconstrued as bad, in behavior or performance. He was just shy of the perfect gentleman once I chiseled away at his cold exterior, and to my surprise he wasn’t bad in the sack, either.

Not bad at all.

I snapped back to the present before my imagination got the better of me and eyed Kento. The expression on his face of course didn’t match any of the concern for me that he spoke. He was staring at me while I stood reminiscing, and sighed at my silence and redirected his attention back to the craps table. “It was nothing you did,” I finally said.

“So nothing I did, and nothing I said. Hm.”

“What answer you lookin’ for in particular?” I finished my drink and took a partially melted ice cube in my mouth.

“I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out why you avoid me the way you do, but if you’ve got nothing and I’ve got nothing then the answer is simple: you just dislike me.”

My ice crunching was promptly interrupted by an eruption of laughter. This man was no robot at all! “Wait, what? That’s the conclusion you came to??”

He looked at me for a moment before placing another bet. “Was that funny?” he asked as he continued idly thumbing his chips and staring at the table, clearly not amused.

I composed myself, swallowing the ice threatening to fall from my mouth. “It’s a bit of a stretch, no?”

“You have yet to tell me a better reason…”

“Tell you what: you win this roll, I’ll tell you.”

He smacked his teeth under his breath. “And if I don’t?” He sipped his drink again, side eyeing me.

I shrugged. “Then it’s business as usual. I see you, we exchange pleasantries, and then go about our day.”

“I hardly call anything after San Francisco pleasant… ”

I stepped a bit closer to him and stared with anticipation at the table, eager to see what fate was in store for curious little Kento. “Don’t be dramatic, I haven’t been that bad. Besides, that was like two years ago.”

“Hm.” He said nothing else and as the dealer called for final bets, we watched in complete silence.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento #kento nanami #kento x reader

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blindbatalex · 3 years

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behold a royalty au carraville fic, by the one and only raisin anon 🙌 [cw for referenced character death, as always]

When he had first walked into the tent and seen David’s dead body lie perfectly still, face stone cold and the warm laugh gone forever, Gary had thought the rest of his life would be spent in solitude and quiet. He’d resigned himself to dedicate all his waking hours to serve the Crown to his dying day because what else was there to do, now that the love of his life was gone.

That is the reason why his heart squeezed almost painfully, by longing, joy, love and sadness all at once, whenever he entered into his and Jamie’s private wing and heard an eight-year old’s giggles mixed with Jamie’s gentle voice, changing tones and accents to match the story he was reading to their son.

Neither of them had ever really considered it when they got married all those years ago. They dutifully and unhappily agreed to the arrangement with a desperate hope it would stop others from suffering as they had, and bringing a child into the mix would definitely mean bringing suffering onto others. But as the years went by, wounds slowly started to heal and they found themselves happy and content, always mourning their losses, but grateful all the same, for the second chance at happiness the Gods had granted them.

Maybe it’s because we did the right thing, Jamie had mused once, the first time he said he loved him.

We did our duty for the greater good, and they allowed us to be happy again.

Gary didn’t know what he believed neither here nor there, but what he did know was that at one point, the High Council had started to make poorly disguised suggestions that maybe they should consider heirs sooner rather than later, now that cold indifference had somehow turned to love.

Gary didn’t know how to explain to them that you can’t just will the Gods to send a child your way because a council demands heirs, but then Marcus had somehow managed to sneak into the stables to seek shelter from a storm, and well, funny how life turned out sometimes.

He stops just inside the door to their sitting room and takes in the sight of Marcus curled up against Jamie’s side, eyes eagerly scanning the pages of the storybook in Jamie’s lap, hanging on to every word.

Jamie’s voice changes from his normal accent into what he tries to pass off as refined and proper. The butchered pronunciation makes Marcus giggle and Gary has to laugh with him, which gives him away and Jamie and Marcus both look up from the book to him standing by the door.

“Pa! You’re done!”

Marcus hops down from the sofa and uses the setee as a springboard to hurl himself into Gary’s arms. He wonders briefly if other parents have mastered the arts of teaching their children that furniture and playgrounds are not the same thing, but has to let it go when his brain screeches catch!

“Yes, lad, work’s done. I’m sorry it took so long.”

Marcus shrugs and wiggles down to the ground again once he’s got a kiss on his temple, dragging Gary along with him to where Jamie is sitting.

“Da’s reading the story about the boy who out ate the troll.”

If he’s ever held at knifepoint and told to recite a story by heart, that would be the one. He doesn’t say that, though. It’s Marcus’ favourite. Instead:

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed ?”

It’s late, at least for an eight-year old. The sunset was hours ago, and Marcus had early lessons in the morning. Jamie had even earlier practice sessions to oversee which meant it would be Gary’s job to drag a very tired boy out of bed come sunrise. Marcus stops and turns to him, a well-practised pair of puppy dog eyes boring into Gary’s tired ones.

“But Da said I could wait up ‘till you got back.”

It’s not really a whine, but it’s close. Gary directs a stern glare at Jamie for breaking routine but is met with an equally stern glare for what he’s assuming is working so long into the night the third time in a row. He’s not really in the mood to fight that battle, which he will most likely lose anyway. And after all, Marcus is in his nightshirt and looks ready to head of to bed any second.

“Why don’t you go and jump into bed, and we’ll finish the story there” he suggests and turns the boy by his shoulders and gives him a gentle push towards his bedchambers, just down the hallway

Marcus skips ahead, ever so well behaved, and Gary waits for Jamie to stand up.

“Sorry for the late nights”, he offers as they start walking. He really is, quite honestly, even if it can’t be helped.

“The trading deals creating more trouble than they are probably worth ?”

“It really should be very straightforward. But you know Mino’s reputation. Trading deals are not good enough for him. He feels he needs to be properly compensated for his troubles of writing letters for the deal to even happen. It’s driving me mad.”

Jamie hums in agreement and slings his arm around Gary’s waist. He leans in with a pleased smile on his face, mouth mere inches away from Gary’s ear.

“I can make you forget all about him all night if you want, you know”, he whispers. He’s never really been good at being sultry, but he doesn’t have to. The innuendo is enough in itself.

Gary could smack him for being so suggestive when he is so tired, and they got a bedtime story to finish, and after that, sleep to catch up on. Instead, he goes for the next best thing, turning his head so he can catch Jamie’s lips before he has the time to move away.

It’s not the light peck he intended it to be. In fact, Jamie even stops, so he can kiss back properly. Gary smiles into it and feels his heart squeeze again. A warmth spreads inside him, a kind of happiness he’d never thought would ever be there again.

David can never return from the dead. But his life didn’t continue on in loneliness and heartache as he might’ve believed when he first laid eyes on the dead body. He has Jamie to hold and to love and to be held and loved back. He has a son that stays up past bedtime to see him, who asks for stories and smiles brighter than the sun. They have a castle that was cold and grey and has somehow become a home filled with laughter and colours and smells of fresh cakes and biscuits.

He takes the hand Jamie had placed around his waist and laces their fingers together between them. When they pull away, they stand there for a second, noses almost brushing and he laughs.

It was nice, he thought.

Very nice, to be happy.

#carraville #royalty au #this is so soft and wonderful and brilliant #and exactly what we deserve after last night ♥#fic rec

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