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ceilidho · 6 months

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prompt: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 1.

“—are priced wrong. You need to fix that.”

“Hmm? Sorry?” you ask, mind snapping out of whatever fog it’d descended into upon seeing John Price’s truck pull up out front of the grocer. You blink a couple times before focusing on the older lady lined up at your till, her face pinched with displeasure. It deepens when she realizes that you haven’t been paying a lick of attention to whatever she’d just spent the better half of a minute complaining about.

“The beefsteak tomatoes are priced wrong. They’re supposed to be two dollars a pound—it’s in the catalogue.”

Before you can so much assure her that you’ll certainly honour the advertised price and save yourself the headache, she’s already opening up her purse to pull out the crinkled grocery catalogue, unfolding it across your conveyor belt; it goes out in the local paper once a week with all the sales and rippable coupons, and this isn’t the first time you’ve had someone try to lecture you about discrepant prices (Kate, your manager, is a sweet, gungho lady, that often sends off discount confirmations to the editorial staff of the local paper without informing anyone that actually works in the shop day-to-day).

From the corner of your eye, you see John slam the door shut on his truck and make his way towards the shop, hands shoved into his pockets. Even from a ways away, the sight of him makes your cheeks redden; his beard’s gotten fuller in the week since you last saw him, clad in even more layers of flannel and tweed now with the fast approach of winter. He looks properly ready for the winter months, with just an air of heaviness present in the lines on his forehead and the tilt of his head.

You feel your lips slip down into a frown. Helpless, you can only watch in defeat as John lumbers into the grocery store, brushing his hand over his hat to shake off the snowflakes onto the mat by the automatic doors. He picks up one of the baskets by the front door before heading down one of the aisles. His eyes don’t flicker to meet yours so much as once.

Your shoulders slump when he ducks out of sight before you focus your attention back on the woman in front of you. She’s pointing out the tomato print with the little two dollar sign in the advertisement with a stiff finger, eyebrow cocked like she’s pulled one over on you. You really can’t imagine there being anything less important to you than the price of beefsteak tomatoes, never mind having to refund someone a whole dollar because you inadvertently overcharged them and you happened to get stuck with the one customer that would spend a full thirty seconds reviewing their bill before leaving the shop.

“See?” she says, the word coming out sibilant and stressed. You blink.

Turning back to the till, you click a couple buttons before the register pops back out again and you pluck up a dollar to hand back to your customer. On the receipt that’s printed out, you hastily scrawl the reason for the refund and shove the seller's copy back into the till. The woman stares at the dollar now sitting on the belt in front of her.

“Of course, ma’am,” you say, a robotic smile stretching across your face. “Apologies for the inconvenience. I’ll get someone to reprice the tomatoes so this doesn’t happen again.”

She doesn’t say anything when she snatches up the dollar along with her groceries and hobbles out the front door, the automatic doors swooshing behind her. With her finally gone, you close your eyes for a second, a private moment just to yourself.

Someone clears their throat from just off to the side. Your heart bursts into a frantic pitter-patter when you open your eyes to find John waiting patiently at the end of your till, his basket filled up with bottles of mustard, gherkins, and other preserves.

“A paper bag, please,” he says in a gruff voice, like he tousled with sleep just a few minutes ago. It makes your head spin.

You nod, hardly able to even respond.

Up close, he smells like firewood and smoke, the ever-present cigar usually hanging off his lip nowhere to be seen but still clinging to his jacket and flannel beneath it. The mutton chops of his beard have grown out more than the rest, but his jaw is covered in a layer of fur in comparison to the week previous. John doesn’t really make eye contact as you scan his groceries, almost too tired to raise them from the conveyor belt. Not for lack of respect—it comes off as pure exhaustion.

You know John as the gruff, taciturn park ranger that comes in once a week to load up on steaks, cold cuts and fresh produce, but in the months you’ve lived in this town, he’s always fresh off work, a little rough around the edges and not quite fit for human interaction just yet. He just grunts and nods when you tell him his total, towers over you and never really makes much eye contact.

It’s always non-perishables with him these days. At least for the past several weeks, as far as you know. Cans and jars and freezer-ready meals. He doesn’t strike you as much of a prepper, but his order speaks for itself. It’s one of the things you like most about your job—getting to peek into the small crack of life laid bare before you.

“Getting ready for the winter?” you ask.

John grunts, eyes meeting yours just briefly before dropping down again. Dark brown. Sometimes you swear you catch the faintest glimmer of gold in them, like a honey glaze, but it’s likely just a trick of the lights.

“Gonna be a rough one.”

You try not to shiver at the sound of his voice. It’s not often that you get to hear it; even though you moved into the house next to his almost six months ago, he spends most of his days in the mountains, working up there as a ranger. He comes home after dark nearly every day—not so hard now that the sun sets early on in the day, but even back in the summer you’d spy him coming back from his shift well after dark.

He’s gotten more heavyset in the last couple of weeks, a comfortable weight to his midsection and arms. Beefier, more solid. When John is in front of you, it’s like no one else in the world exists at that moment; he removes them all from sight and mind. It soothes some of the worry that his constant late coming has stirred up in you, knowing that he’s fed. Not all of it though.

“You know the, uh—” you start, clearing your throat midway through, almost losing your nerve under his sudden attention at the sound of your voice, “—the butter’s twenty percent off this week. I, um…I wasn’t sure if you’d noticed.” You catch his little frown and clarify. “You usually get butter.”

“Thank you, but not this time,” he says gruffly. “Got enough of it in the freezer.”

“Oh…well…” you trail off like you’re going to say something else but you let the conversation fall flat instead.

He’s quiet the rest of the time as you bag his groceries. John always is. There’s a hurt side of you, silently begging for more, but you’ve watched him enough around town to know that this is just what he’s like. Gruff with the other rangers on the mountain, taciturn after a long day’s work, and sweet as apple pie with the older townsfolk. You’ve seen him help people at crosswalks and more than once he’s footed someone’s grocery bill when they’ve come short.

Maybe you’re not interesting enough to merit conversation or that same goodwill he extends to others. Not that John has ever been anything less than polite with you, but—your thoughts scatter like birds when you recite his total without thinking and watch him wordlessly as he pays.

“Thanks, honey,” John says, eyes meeting yours again. “See you next week.” He finally manages a smile, his eyes crinkling under the weight of it.

You could get lost in his smile if you let yourself. It comes freely but seldomly these days, kept at bay by rough days out in the woods helping lost hikers, ticketing hunters for going over their allotment, and managing the wildlife. But when he smiles, you feel the blood go hot under your cheeks and fight every vision you have of him suddenly leaning across the counter and tipping your chin up for a kiss.

Tongue-tied, you nod. You can’t even force a smile on your face, wide eyes still set on him in wonderment. He doesn’t wait around for you to find your words.

But—you think again wistfully as he turns to leave—it might be nice once in a while. For him to look at you like you’re more than a stranger.

You mourn your chance to talk to him once he’s out the door, wishing you could call him back. It’s not his fault that just the mere sight of him leaves you tongue-tied. It folds up like a cherry stem in your mouth when he speaks to you and you haven’t yet managed to untangle it in his presence. Maybe someday.

That’s just life though.

He’s always made you feel nervous, like a schoolgirl with her first crush, but it’s a safe kind of crush. The kind that feels fun to indulge in because there’s no possibility of reciprocation, like you can just ogle him and pine over him without having to worry about what you’d do if he felt the same way. You mourn the loss of him when he leaves, but like a tender bruise on your knee that you sometimes press just to shy away from.

The rest of your shift pales in comparison to the eight minutes spent in his presence. Rinse and repeat. Someone else complains about the tomatoes and you write a note for your manager to read the next day. It’ll be her fault if someone finally emails in to complain or takes it to the news; there’s always an op-ed in the papers that’s little more than a thinly veiled bad Yelp review.

John’s car is outside his house when you make it home at the end of the day, the lights still on inside. You sit in your car and stare at the light hidden behind the curtains.

It would be nice, you think, resting your head back against the seat, to go up and knock at his door. If only you were braver. You’d march right up, knock on his door, and offer him something to eat. You could do it too. In the six months you’ve lived here, it’s not as though you’ve ever treated him particularly neighbourly.

You squeak when you see John pull the curtain back and peer out the window, sliding down in the front seat so he doesn’t notice you there.

Maybe some other day then.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #cod mw2 #captain john price #captain price #john price #price x reader #price x you #price/reader #x reader

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sluttywoozi · 9 months

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Bare Non-Essentials | ksy x reader

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~1.4k

In the middle of the sexual health aisle, Soonyoung realizes exactly what your new IUD means.

Warnings: mention of IUD, fingering, condomless sex, creampie

Your sneakers squeak on the linoleum of the supermarket floor as you make your way back to the front of the store, Soonyoung’s hand warm in yours and your footsteps synced. You’ve made this journey a multitude of times, but it never gets any less annoying. How you both manage to forget the snacks for every movie night will always elude you.

It’s not too busy, at least, only a handful of people perusing the shelves, leaving most aisles clear for you and Soonyoung to traverse as you fill up the basket in his grip. You’ve decided to get enough for next week too, and though the bill will be a bit high, you won’t have to do this again.

“Oh, baby, wait,” Soonyoung gasps, coming to a stop just feet from the self checkout area. You hold back the whine, just wanting to be home and in your jammies and pressed up against him with some movie playing on the TV as you eat too many snacks and makeout during the boring parts.

“What?” You pout, swaying in place and inching toward the scanners.

“We forgot condoms,” He whispers the last word in your ear, beginning to tug you to the sexual health aisle. You let him, your feet moving on autopilot while he pulls you further and further from the exit.

“Soonyoung,” You try to get his attention, but he’s got a one track mind, his eyes roving over all of the family planning options before they land on his favorite. He plucks them off the shelf and throws them in the basket, trying and failing to cover them up with the tortilla chips.

“We don’t need those,” You say, removing the condoms from the basket and placing them back on the shelf.

“You don’t wanna have sex with me anymore?” Soonyoung turns to you, his eyes teary and his voice hushed. You watch him go through all seven stages of grief, fondness filling your chest as he reaches acceptance and nods, “I’ll just jerk off forever then, it’ll be fine.”

You won’t point out how he doesn’t sound even a little bit convinced, but you will assuage his worries. “Soonyoung, of course I still want to have sex with you. I do, like, all the time. And that’s why I got that IUD placed, remember? You were there, just a few days ago.”

Realization clears the storminess from his face, his eyes growing big and bright and his mouth dropping open. “You mean…”

You feel your lips stretch in an affectionate smile, your hand squeezing his as you finish his sentence. “I mean no condoms.”

He mouths the last two words, letting out a quiet and drawn out, “Oh my god.”

You can tell he’s imagining it, his pupils dilating and his ears reddening as he pictures fucking you bare for the first time. You’ve been together for two years now and have used condoms since the beginning, so this will be a new experience for you both and you’re excited to share it with him.

Soonyoung is excited too, but in a way that makes him jog back to the self-checkout area and scan the items at the speed of light. You don’t even get a chance to help with how fast he’s going, finding it easier to just step back and let him handle it. He finishes and pays in what feels like no time, taking your hand and the bags and pulling you through the parking lot to the car.

He zips home (safely) and parks, running around to your side of the car to open your door and nearly drag you out. You hold onto the grocery bags for dear life as he sprints ahead and unlocks the front door, beckoning you in with wanting eyes and frantic hands.

The groceries are taken from you and tossed to the side before Soonyoung walks you into the door, closing it with one hand and cupping your neck with the other. He draws you into a searing kiss, his lips pursing around your tongue to suck at it and his fingers sneaking under your top to unclasp your bra. Laughing into his mouth, you peel your shirt up and break away just long enough to get it over your head before shimmying your bra off.

Soonyoung’s hands gravitate to your breasts as soon as they’re freed, his thumbs brushing over your nipples and his fingers digging into the supple flesh. You sigh and melt into him, your arms wrapping around his neck to hold him close as he kisses all the thoughts right out of your head.

Well, all but one. Why isn’t he naked yet?

“Soonyoung, clothes off,” you gasp against his lips, your hands sliding from his shoulder to his chest so you can start shoving his shirt up.

“Right,” he breathes, raising his arms and letting you rid him of his top before turning his attention to the rest of his clothes. You undress in tense silence, your eyes roving over each other’s bodies as more and more skin is revealed.

When you push your underwear down, Soonyoung gasps and covers your hips with his hands, pulling you into his body so you can feel just how hard he is for you. He must be aching, his cock swollen and leaking against your stomach, a hushed, “Baby, please,” leaving his parted, plush lips.

You start to turn, his hands loosening their hold enough for you to spin around and place your own hands against the door.

“Like this?” You rest your cheek on the wood, arching your back and pushing your ass out to tease him. It’s a little mean of you, considering how worked up he already is, but you just can’t resist pushing him a teeny bit further. You love when he gets frenzied, when he gets desperate, and this is the best way to make that happen.

Just as you expected, he whines behind you and palms your ass, spreading your cheeks apart so he can see how wet you are for him. And you are wet, soaking, actually, the cold air against your hot, glistening cunt making you shiver. His fingers warm you up fast enough, the digits dipping inside your entrance to spread you open for his cock.

You don’t need much prep, not after thinking about this the whole way home, your walls swallowing around his fingers as he slides them in with ease. He knows you like to feel a little stretch still so he doesn’t go for a third, just pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so hot around me, baby, so wet, shit,” Soonyoung cries out, his head dropping to lay on your shoulder, like he can’t hold it up himself anymore.

You whine as he bottoms out, his dick hard and throbbing and so so so perfect inside of you. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust, and you don’t need it, your cunt molding to his cock and trying to suck him back in as soon as he leaves. He fucks you against the front door of the house you share, his hips slapping against your ass with every thrust, making the door rattle on its hinges.

Soonyoung hasn’t fucked you this hard in a while, and you feel yourself melt against the wood as you slip into a relaxed, floaty state. His hands tilt your hips up and you arch further to accommodate him, his dick suddenly hitting so deep, it takes your breath away. You’re getting close already, your cunt wrapping tighter around his dick as gasping moans leave your open mouth.

He won’t stop talking about how you feel around him, and each word sends you higher.

“Gonna fuck you like this every. Goddamned. Day.”

“Love when you squeeze me like that, fuck.”

“Shit, I can feel you getting wetter.”

He shifts a hand from your hip to your clit, rubbing quick, sloppy circles until your legs start to tremble and you cum around him with a cry, your undulating walls bringing him over the edge with you.

You’ve never let someone cum inside you before and the sensation is odd, new, but you think you like it. You like feeling the physical evidence of his desire spill out of him and into you, like feeling him fill you up, like the tears you can feel dripping off his eyelashes onto your back.

You like it all, and now that condoms are no longer part of your sex life, you have a feeling like will grow into love.

My masterlist

#seventeen smut #soonyoung smut #soonyoung x you #soonyoung x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #soonyoung fanfic #soonyoung fluff #soonyoung scenarios #hoshi x you #hoshi oneshot #hoshi smut #hoshi x reader

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corroded-hellfire · 11 months

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I love everything about dad!Eddie!!!!!! It’s the cutest thing ever!!! Are your requests open? If so could I request dad!eddie with pregnant wife!reader and they’re little boy who’s so excited to have a little sibling? Their boy is convinced it’s a girl and Wayne somewhat is too and just lots of sweet fluff and their day to day as a family and Eddie being so infatuated with his pregnant wife 🥰🖤🖤 I just love the thought of Eddie being a dad and loving all on his pregnant wife

Dad!Eddie is my weakness! I actually thought this was a perfect setup for a part two to this story about Eddie picking your son up from school! I hope you enjoy this little family 🩷

Words: 3.5k

“Eddie, I can do it myself,” you say with a chuckle.

“Don’t be silly,” Eddie says. A low grunt escapes his lips as he loads himself up with as many grocery bags as he can. It wasn’t enough that he wouldn’t let you go shopping for food on your own, now he had to risk hurting himself by carrying everything in one go so you don’t pick up a single bag.

Jack hops out of the backseat and holds his arms out for one of the plastic bags his dad has. Eddie obliges and lets him take two light bags, one for each hand. Usually, you do the grocery shopping alone, but now that you’re in your second trimester, your husband insisted that you have some help. It came at a price though. Having both Eddie and Jack at the grocery store made the food bill go up by twenty bucks because they kept grabbing things off the shelves that they thought looked good.

“I’m not useless, you know,” you lament as you follow the two boys into the house. Jack can’t reach to lift the bags up to the counter, so you assist him with that, managing not to get scolded by Eddie.

“Of course not,” he replies as he unburdens himself of the packages. He walks over and rests his hands on your emerging bump. “You’re growing our second baby.”

“My sister!” Jack chimes in. You and Eddie watch as the five-year-old grabs a chair from the kitchen table and drags it over the counter. His little arms and legs push him up so he can see the bags on the counter.

“Still think the baby’s a girl, huh?” you ask, walking to stand next to him. He nods as you wrap your arm around his tiny shoulders.

“I know it,” Jack states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. That was interesting to both you and Eddie, seeing as you had both elected not to find out the sex of the baby. “Grampa Wayne knows it too.”

“Wayne says he thinks it’s a girl, bud,” Eddie reminds him. Jack shrugs this off like it means nothing to him. “And what’re you doing up here at the counter?”

“Gonna help,” the boy answers as he pulls a bunch of bananas out of a bag.

“Sweetie, you don’t have to do that,” you tell your son.

“Wanna,” Jack says with a shrug. “I’ll help Daddy and you can relax.”

“Good man,” Eddie says, ruffling the kid’s brown curls. Your husband’s eyes widen in question when you arch an eyebrow at him. “What? Raising a little gentleman here.”

“We are,” you acquiesce, leaning in to kiss Jack’s head. “But I’m not some weakling, guys.”

“Nope,” Jack muses as he inspects a jar of peanut butter. “You’re super strong, Mommy.”

The praise from your son makes you want to wrap him up in your arms and spin him around—but you’re pretty sure that would give Eddie a heart attack.

“The strongest,” your husband agrees. He saunters over to you and wraps his arms around your waist. “The most beautiful.” He presses a kiss to your lips. “The sweetest.” Kiss. “The smartest.” Kiss. “The best.”

It doesn’t matter how long the two of you have been together, his words still cause heat in your face and butterflies in your belly. The way he stares into your eyes with such adoration and love has your knees feeling weak. You refuse to let them buckle though, or Eddie would have a cow.

“Well, thank you, my studly charmer. But you might want to pay more attention to your son than me if you want to have any of the Oreos we bought.”

Eddie spins around to see chocolate crumbs dusted across Jack’s lips and cheeks, a sneaky smile on his face as he’s slowly pulling his hand out of the blue packaging.

“Hey! Hands off my cookies, shortstuff!”

“How’s that feel, princess?” Eddie asks as you stretch the muscles of your torso out. There had been a cramp in your lower back that he just finished rubbing out.

“So much better, thank you,” you say with a content sigh as you lean back against his chest. “If you keep calling me ‘princess,’ what’re you gonna call the baby if Jack is right and she’s a girl?”

Eddie hums as he wraps his arms around your body to rest them on your bump. “You underestimate the stash of pet names I have, baby. Angel? Little chick? Kitten?”

“You know I’m giving birth to a human, right?” you tease. Eddie slips his cold hands beneath your pajama top, making you let out a small yelp. Shoulders shaking with laughter, he reaches up and covers your mouth with one hand.

“Shhh, you’re gonna wake him up.”

Jack is fast asleep across the hall, but he’s always been a light sleeper. Neither you nor Eddie is looking forward to how cranky that will make the little boy once the new baby arrives and cries all night.

“Have I ever told you how absolutely beautiful you are?” Eddie asks as he lays his head down on top of yours.

“Mm,” you muse as you let your eyes slip closed. “Not in the last twenty minutes or so, no.”

Calloused hands rub softly over your bump, gentle and warm and relaxing enough to lull you to sleep.

“You’re just s’perfect,” Eddie mumbles against your hair, more to himself than to you. His praise has your body flushing and you snuggle further back into his warmth.

“Do you think the baby is a girl?” you ask, doing your best to push sleep off.

“I don’t know. It’s what all those silly little tests we’ve tried have told us. So, I guess that’s what I’m leaning towards,” Eddie admits. “It’s no secret I want a daughter, but if we have another son, I’m going to love him every bit as much.”

Nodding slowly, you lift one of his large hands to your mouth so you can press kisses on the rough skin there.

“What about you?” Eddie asks. “Any motherly intuition telling you one way or another if Baby Munson Number 2 is a boy or girl?”

“Nope,” you say. “Sorry to report that my body does not bring those findings to my brain. And what about you, huh? You’re the one who sent your swimmers to find my egg. You telling me that you don’t know if the best swimmer in your lineup is a boy or a girl?”

Eddie chuckles and presses a few quick kisses to the crown of your head. “We should get some sleep, babe.”

“M’kay.”

You’re already halfway there as Eddie leans over and flicks the lamp on the nightstand off. As your husband maneuvers himself below you, you let him move you how he needs to, far too tired to even let out a groan when his knee somehow knocks against your spine.

Eddie lays his head down on his pillow and pulls you into his arms. You waste no time tucking your head below his chin and nuzzling into the warmth and security of his chest.

“Goodnight, baby. I love you.”

After a few moments of heavy silence being all that responds to his words, Eddie cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of your sleeping face. There’s a peacefulness about you when you sleep and the way your lips part slightly has Eddie chuckling.

Yep, he sure was right before. You are just so perfect in his eyes.

Sunday family dinners are something Eddie only saw in movies growing up. Sure, he and Wayne had dinner together most nights but there was no other family to have dinner with. No aunts or uncles to come over or no grandparents to visit. Ever since Jack was born though, most Sundays have been family dinner nights. Sometimes some of your family would come over or you’d go over to theirs, but most weekends it was Wayne coming over or the three of you traveling the few miles over to Forest Hills to have dinner at the trailer. This week, Wayne is dropping by, and Eddie has enlisted Jack to help him make dinner.

“Okay, now a teaspoon—no, that’s a tablespoon. There ya go. Dump that into the bowl. Perfect!”

Jack beams with pride and does a little wiggle on the chair he’s standing on.

“Now what?” Jack asks.

“Now,” Eddie says as he plucks his rings off his finger one by one. Your son’s eyebrows furrow together when Eddie even takes off his wedding ring—that’s not one he usually removes. “We get our hands in there and mix everything together.”

“No rings?” Jack asks, pushing his sleeves up his little arms.

“No rings,” Eddie affirms. “I don’t want stuff to get caked in them.”

“S’not cake,” Jack tells his father with a giggle. “It’s meatloaf!”

“Silly me,” Eddie says. “Ready?”

Jack nods and the two of them stick their hands in the large bowl, raw ground beef squishing between their fingers and cold ketchup and egg yolks squelching as they work in tandem to combine the ingredients. Little giggles travel out to you in the hallway as you make your way towards them. Both of your boys have their backs to you as you enter, and you lean against the archway and cross your arms over your chest as you watch them. Their heads are close together and murmurs of their conversation sound like a dull hum from the few feet away. Eddie tries to move his hair out of his face by shaking his head, but to no avail. Chuckling to yourself, you push off the wall and slip a scrunchie off your wrist as you make your way to him.

Eddie startles, not knowing you were there as you collect his hair at the back of his head. He lets out a self-deprecating huff of laughter as you tie the hair at the nape of his neck. The right shoulder blade beneath his black t-shirt is too tempting as it moves back and forth with the motions of his arms; you just have to press a kiss to it. A soft smile curls at the corners of Eddie’s lips as he and Jack finish mashing all the ingredients together.

“It’s gonna be delicious,” you say as you snake your arms around your husband’s waist from behind. Resting your cheek against his back, you feel the muscles flex and stretch beneath his skin as he wipes his hands off on a towel.

“What should we have with the meatloaf?” Eddie asks.

“Sweet potatoes!” Jack cheers as Eddie tosses him the towel.

“Ooh,” you croon, picking your head up from Eddie’s back. “That sounds really good. With cinnamon and butter.”

“Yum!” Jack hums as he wipes his little hands off.

“Whatever my loves want,” Eddie says. He turns in your grip to wrap one arm around your shoulders. “Guessing baby Munson wants sweet potatoes too?”

“Good guess,” you tell him with a peck on the cheek.

Eddie ends up preparing the root vegetables by himself because you fall asleep on the couch with your son curled up to your side, snoozing as well. He hardly minds though, preferring to be the one doing any and all work and letting you and Jack rest. The clock above the oven keeps catching his eye, checking to see if the time Wayne said he’d be by is approaching any faster. As happy as he is to be seeing the closest person he ever had to a parent, he doesn’t want the doorbell to disturb your sleep. Jack? That would be fine because then the little boy would be more likely to sleep through the night. You were so tired though from pregnancy that you could nap for hours and still sleep all night long.

Deciding he could go for a cold beer, Eddie pops open the fridge and pulls out a can. He nudges the door closed with his hip but knocks it a little too hard and sends the jars and bottles that are on the inside of the door sliding around. Eddie winces and cracks open the beer can as quietly as he can. The sound of footsteps has Eddie groaning, but then he hears how fast and light they are, and he realizes it’s Jack who woke up.

“Dinner ready?” the sleepy boy asks, rubbing his right eye with the heel of his hand.

“Not yet,” Eddie replies before taking a long swig of beer. “Soon, though. And Grandpa Wayne should be here any minute.”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“Is the baby hurting Mommy?”

A deep frown creases Eddie’s face and he sets his beer down on the counter.

“Of course not. Why would you think that?”

Jack shrugs and walks closer to his dad. Meeting him halfway through the kitchen, Eddie hefts the boy up and balances him on his hip.

“She’s always tired.” The five-year-old sighs and lays his head on his father’s shoulder. “She cries sometimes. An’ you don’t want her to do lots of stuff. Like when I get sick or hurted my leg.”

“Nah,” Eddie assures him with a shake of his head. “The baby isn’t hurting Mommy. It’s just that the baby is growing in her tummy and that takes a lot of Mommy’s energy. And it’s easier for her to cry because the baby growing makes her more emotional. Like when you’re tired, right? You get all cranky and whiny.” He tickles Jack’s belly, making the little boy giggle and squirm around in his arms.

“So, you don’t want Mommy to do stuff cause she’s tired?” Jack asks once he’s caught his breath.

“That’s part of it. But it’s also because I love her so much. Mommy’s already doing so much just by growing a baby. That’s the most important job, so anything I do is to make things easier for her.”

“I wanna help. I love her too,” Jack says.

“I know.” Eddie presses a kiss into the boy’s curls. “You do help her.”

“How?” The adorable way he scrunches up his little face reminds Eddie of your expression when you get confused by something.

“By being you,” Eddie says, bouncing your son in his arms. “You make her happy and you make her laugh.”

“That helps?”

“So much!” Your voice has both of them turning to see you walking into the kitchen. The bright grin on your face tells Eddie that you heard enough of the conversation to know what’s going on. “I’m okay, sweet boy.” You rub the back of your fingers against his cheek, and he gives you a gap toothed smile.

The ring of the doorbell has Jack’s head turning towards the front door and scrambling to get out of his dad’s arms. Eddie sets him down and the sound of little feet thumping down the hallway fades from the two of you.

You expect Eddie to follow your son out of the room, but instead he wraps his arms around your waist and tugs your body up against his.

“How was your nap, beautiful?”

“Good,” you tell him as you slip your arms around his neck. “But I don’t like waking up without you there.”

“Mm,” Eddie hums. “Well, I would’ve been there if my little family didn’t want me to make sweet potatoes so badly.”

Playfully, you roll your eyes at him and lean up to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Not true. If you weren’t making food for dinner, you would’ve been doing something else so that I wouldn’t have to do it later. Throwing in a load of laundry or balancing the checkbook.”

“Don’t think you want me doing that last one again,” Eddie says, wrinkling up his nose in the way that you find utterly adorable. “I still don’t know where that seventy-five dollars went.”

“Guess you’re just going to have to let me handle some things,” you say with a shrug.

Before Eddie gets the chance to respond, Jack’s booming footsteps run back into the kitchen, followed by a heavier gate approaching.

“Grampa Wayne is here!”

You drop your arms from around Eddie’s neck, but he keeps his tight hold on your waist.

“Tell him to take you out for pizza,” Eddie mumbles, too low for Jack to hear, as he lowers his head and presses a kiss to the side of your neck.

“Down boy,” you mutter in reply and press your hands against his chest. Eddie groans and reluctantly drops his arms from around you.

Wayne steps in the kitchen and ruffles Jack’s curls. “Hey, Ed. Hiya darlin’,” the older man says as approaches you. “How’re ya feeling?”

“Feeling pretty good,” you tell him. “Your nephew is still treating me like I’m fragile, though.”

“Not fragile,” Eddie interjects. “Just precious.”

The oven timer beeps, and your husband is immediately on it. He slips the oven mitts on and ushers Jack out of the way so he doesn’t get caught in the wave of heat that will escape.

Wayne steps up next to you and rests a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I know he can get a bit much,” the man says softly, “but he just wants to make sure his girls are taken care of.”

“Ah,” you hum, resting a hand on your bump. “Forgot you and Jack are both on Team Baby Girl.”

“What can I say? Kid is persuasive,” Wayne says with a playful look in his eye.

“You’re telling me. All he has to do is look at me with those big brown Munson eyes and I almost cave and let him have that cookie before dinner that he’s begging me for. But I don’t think even Jack’s cuteness and coercion can determine the sex of a baby.”

“Maybe not,” Wayne says with a chuckle. “But he sure can make me wanna agree with him that the baby’s a girl.”

“She is!” Jack says, hopping over to stand in front of you. He leans in and presses a smacking kiss to your belly. “My sister. Can't wait to play with her.”

“You’re gonna be the best big brother ever,” you tell him, cupping his small chin in your hand. The way he smiles up at you fills your body with the warmth of love and affection.

“Dinner is ready,” Eddie announces, dropping the oven mitts down on the counter. “Jacks, help me set the table.”

“I’ll grab the glasses,” you say.

“Uh uh,” Eddie chides, stepping over and taking your hands in his. “I can handle—”

“Eddie,” you cut him off. “I can carry four cups.”

Heaving a sigh as if this is the world’s worst inconvenience, he acquiesces. “I guess that’s okay.”

“How kind of you,” you deadpan, arching an eyebrow at him. As you turn around to open the cabinet, Eddie watches you with an adoring smile. When you step into the dining room, Wayne lightly smacks his hand against his nephew’s back.

“She ain’t made of paper, ya know.”

“Oh, I know.” Eddie slips his hands into his pockets and cranes his head to watch you set down a glass at each place setting that Jack is organizing. “Part of me is amused by messing with her now. But mostly…” Eddie trails off, a shy smile curling the corners of his mouth. “I just wanna take care of my girls.”

“Team Baby Girl too, huh?” Wayne asks.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie agrees with a laugh. “We’ve done all the old wives tale tests. She’s a girl.”

“Got a name?” Wayne asks.

Jack is still meticulously setting up the silverware at each seat at the table, but you make your way into the kitchen in time to hear Wayne’s question.

“We do,” you answer his query. “Wanna be the first to know?”

“Just don’t tell Jack,” Eddie adds.

“I’d be honored,” Wayne says.

Matching smiles on both your and Eddie’s faces, you nod at your husband for him to do the honors. Eddie’s face lights up and the childlike gleam in his eye makes him look like Jack’s twin. He takes a step closer to his uncle so the little one won’t overhear in the other room. Wayne leans in towards Eddie in anticipation. Your husband seems to notice this and takes enjoyment in keeping Wayne in suspense.

“Eddie, if you don’t tell him, I will.”

Grabbing a stack of napkins, you stroll past the two men and Eddie reaches out to swat at your ass.

“Come on and tell me, boy,” Wayne says, annoyance leaking into his tone.

“Fine, fine,” Eddie says, clearly enjoying himself. “Audrey. Audrey Munson.”

A little gasp has everyone turning their heads to see Jack standing in the doorway.

“Is that the baby’s name?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie says, clearing his throat. “If she’s a girl.” You hadn’t intended to let Jack know the name just in case you were all wrong and the baby was a boy—which you knew Jack would still love, but he’d be bummed he was wrong. But your son’s happiness has you and Eddie letting all of that go and enjoying his reaction.

Jack grins and starts jumping up and down in one spot, his little hands clenched into fists in his excitement. He runs over and cups your baby bump in his chubby hands.

“Hi, Audrey. I love you!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #request

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probablyasocialecologist · 9 months

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At the heart of Blumenauer’s bill is farm subsidy reform. In the most recent iteration of the farm bill, approximately $63bn was dedicated to subsidies. These mostly benefited the largest farms and agribusinesses, with 70% of subsidy payments going to just 10% of farms, most of which produce commodity crops like soy, corn and wheat, which are often used to make animal feed, processed foods and even fuel for cars. This means that taxpayers are subsidizing processed food, but not the fruits and vegetables you buy in the grocery store – and that commodity farms have little incentive to switch to more sustainable modes of production or more nutritious foods that people will actually eat. “Most of us don’t even know that the public dollars initially designed to protect farmers and keep supply managed to feed a hungry nation in the Great Depression are now reinforcing wealthy agribusiness corporations to grow commodities that are not even meant for human consumption,” said Joshua Sewell, a policy analyst at the nonpartisan watchdog group Taxpayers for Common Sense. Farmers that grow what are called “specialty crops”, which include fruits and vegetables, usually don’t qualify for subsidies. Most of the farms excluded from subsidy payments are those using sustainable growing methods that preserve soil and benefit the climate in the long term. “It’s just maddening to me that the men and women who are working hard producing food, and particularly those that are doing so in a sustainable fashion, or who want to be involved with organics, they’re shortchanged,” Blumenauer said.

#usa #food #farming #agriculture #big ag

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ivystoryweaver · 5 months

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Jingle Bells

Summary: Santiago is a flirty cute dork and you can’t stop me

Pairing: Santiago Garcia from Triple Frontier x gn!reader

Word Count: 800

Content: fluff, mentions of Christmas songs (but story doesn’t indicate what Santiago or reader celebrate, if anything), not beta’d

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"That'll be $73.07," you mumble to your customer, waiting as she runs her credit card through the machine before handing her a receipt.

Twelve hours on the cash wrap at work, scanning grocery item after item, dealing with faulty coupons, the holiday rush and fussy customers. Your feet are sore and you're dying to get off your shift in thirty minutes.

You picked up back-to-back shifts to pay for a plumbing bill your landlord refused to cover.

"Plumbing is the responsibility of the tenant," he groused at you last week. "Read your lease."

Without even a glance, your hand reaches to scan the next customer's items.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Happy holidays," a soothing tenor voice greets you.

"Happy holida - " You trip over your monotonous reply when your eyes meet the most beautiful man you've ever seen in person.

Sparkling brown eyes dance underneath thick eyebrows, arched in playful curiosity. A sprinkling of gray dusts his dark curly hair.

"Hi," he greets you, chomping playfully on his gum, which draws attention to the curve of luscious, full lips and the sexy stubble on his chin.

"Good afternoon," you manage, reminding yourself to continue scanning his groceries.

"Afternoon?" He shoots back, nodding toward the darkened windows at the front of the store. "It's 9:15."

"Oh. Right," you sheepishly chuckle.

"Long day?" the handsome man genuinely questions.

Your first instinct is to shrug him off with the run-of-the-mill small talk that comes as naturally as breathing to you, as a cashier.

But something happens - a contradiction that has your heart tripping over itself.

His eyebrows shift curiously, like a puppy, while, at the same time, a smug smirk curls the corner of that mouth.

"Uhh, yes," you admit, pausing, "the longest."

"I'm sorry," he sincerely returns, reaching to swipe his next grocery item for you. "Must be busy this time of year."

"Oh, god...sorry," you stammer, reaching to finish up his order.

"'S okay," he shrugs one shoulder. "You gonna be able to get out of here soon?"

"Not soon enough," you joke. "If I hear 'Jingle Bells' one more time, I can't be held responsible for my actions."

"Hmm," he nods and then he sings, "Dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleeeiigghh..."

"Nooo, please stop," you find yourself laughing. Out loud. When was the last time you laughed?

"Are you sure? Because I do all the hits. Siiiilent niiiight - "

"Oh my god," you giggle, "you have a terrible voice."

He pretends to be offended, "Is this how you treat all your customers?" The corners of his warm brown eyes crinkle with amusement, letting you know he's still teasing. "Because if you smile at everybody like that, you must be the best cashier in this place."

"Could you hurry it up?" A grouchy customer behind this gorgeous man interjects, almost bouncing on her toes.

And just like that, you're deflated. This is why you don't waste your time caring. No point, no time to truly connect. Everyone is in such a damn hurry, especially this time of year.

"Sorry," you mumble, flustered as you start to bag the man's groceries.

"Hi, I'm Santiago," he greets the grinch behind him. "And this is... " he glances back at you, reading off your name tag. "Been a long day. Just trying make 'em smile. I'll get out of your way."

He flashes a stunning, yet disarming smile and the woman falters.

"Oh. I-it's okay."

"Thanks," he nods, shifting his attention back to you.

You give him the total. “Hang in there,” he winks. “Bet this place would fall apart without you.”

He leaves you stupefied, but smiling.

You can’t even remember the last time someone showed kindness and warmth to you, a simple cashier - let alone made you laugh.

The remaining 27 minutes of your shift feel a little lighter.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

One week later…

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Dashing through the snoooowww…”

Your eyes snap up to find Mr. Handsome next in your checkout line.

“This is gonna get awkward if you don’t remember me.” His dark eyebrows shoot up questioningly.

“Santiago…right?” Your cheeks feel warm as he flashes you that smile.

“Guilty,” he chuckles. “I really am dying to see what happens when ‘Jingle Bells’ pushes you over the edge.”

“Don’t try me,” you laugh, scanning his grocery items. "Nobody wants me to lose control in here."

"Maybe somewhere else then," he cooly suggests, with the cutest eyebrow wiggle. "Maybe a restaurant? Or a bar? We could grab a drink when you get off?"

Your mouth drops open. "That...was..."

"Pretty smooth, right?" He grins. "Yeah, I've found that singing off key holiday songs is the way to go."

You laugh for about the twentieth time since you met Santiago.

And you go for that drink.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

1k/Holiday Celebration Main Post

1000 Follower/Holiday Celebration Masterlist

Miscellaneous Characters Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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Join my tag list - for chaptered fics and short stories only

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x gn!reader #santiago pope garcia #triple frontier #1000 followers #oscar isaac fic #holiday fics #holiday celebration #oscar isaac characters #celebration #1000 follower celebration

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thesecretingredientislove · 1 year

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Last Team Standing Tournament: Round round four!

#Wordgirl #last team standing #tournament #poll #round four #fourth round #round 4 #kid math #bank guard #wordgirl #wordgirl steven boxleitner #wordbot #tobey mccallister iii #miss power #ms power #bill the grocery store manager

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dandymaximilian · 2 years

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I'm having so much fun drawing Wordgirl characters! I'm feeling retro today. 😄

#wordgirl #reginald #steven boxleitner #dr two brains #bill the grocery store manager #the masked bagger #hal hardbargain #my art

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tengensbunny · 1 year

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𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞 (𝐚𝐝𝐣) - 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧, 𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜➩ 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➩ 𝘈 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘈𝘜 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘗𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘑𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 [𝘧/𝘯] 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘢𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ➩ 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐠. 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚, 𝐭.𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐢, 𝐤.𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮, 𝐬. 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚, 𝐬𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐨 (𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩), 𝐤. 𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐢, 𝐤. 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐮, 𝐢. 𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢, 𝐡. 𝐠𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐢

➩ 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 || 𝟏𝟖+

𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘱𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴

Another sigh escaped the girl’s lips as she glanced down at the amount she needed to pay or else their electricity would be cut off. Staring at the bolded red numbers in dismay, she mentally crunched the numbers in her head -trying to see if she had enough tuition money for the upcoming spring semester.

“Morning Ne-san!” Muichirou cheered, placing a kiss against his older sister’s head. She smiled returning the gesture.

“Sleep well Mui-kun?” she asked, folding the documents in half before hiding them under her plate.

“Yup!” he responded, popping the p, while rummaging through the cabinets for his favorite cereal.

“Are you going grocery shopping today? Can you pick up some more Cinnamon Toast Crunch for me?”

“Sure, text me if Yui-kun needs anything too! I’m off for work.” placing her dishes in the sink, she placed a swift kiss against Muichirou’s forehead before making her way out the door.

Completely forgetting about the bills she was hiding, Muichirou reached over to look at the folded documents. A frown tugging at his lips at the brightly stamped letters at the top of every page.

“What’s that?” Yuichirou asked, stealing a couple bites from his twin’s bowl of cereal.

“Do you think we should get a job?”

“What? Where did that come from all of a sudden?” Yuichiro asked, his mouth full of cereal.

Muichirou ignored his brother’s bad table manners and showed him the stack of bills in his hands.

“What the fuck?”

The pillars sat in comfortable silence among each other as they waited for the last members to arrive for their meeting. They were currently seated in a coffee shop that one of Giyuu’s old mentors owned, waiting for Rengoku and Uzui to show up.

All eyes glanced towards the door at the sound of the bell ringing. Their eyes came across a petite girl with long brown hair and light blue eyes.

“Sorry I’m late!” she called out, sliding her apron on as she made her way behind the counter.

“She’s so cute!” Mitsuri exclaimed, her eyes continuing to watch the girl as she worked behind the counter.

“She’s got a lovely smile.” Shinobu added on, resting her chin on her hand.

“[f/n] can you take those customer’s orders?” Eiji, the store manager, asked as he gestured towards the now 8 people who were seated.

“Sure!”

She smiled making her way over to the 8 with a pen and notebook in hand. “Are you guys ready to order?”

“What do you recommend?” Rengoku asked, his eyes never leaving the menu. Making her way towards the male, she leaned down to point out their most popular drinks and pastries.

Rengoku couldn’t help but lean closer to the girl as her strawberry scented shampoo wafted up his nose. She smells nice.

“Okay, I’ll have the House Coffee with a slice of Strawberry Short Cake.” he ordered, folding his menu neatly before handing it to the girl.

As she wrote the order, Uzui couldn’t help but admire the girl’s side profile. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the girl was a model.

After taking each person’s orders, she headed back to the kitchen to start preparing the various beverages and pastries.

“Can I get you guys anything else?” she smiled sweetly at the 8 of them as she finished handing them their orders.

“I think we’re good here.” Shinobu answered, “Thank you very much.” she smiled, slipping a $50 bill in the girl’s apron.

“Just let me know if you guys need anything else.”

Just as she was about to leave, Sanemi’s elbow accidentally nudged Giyuu’s arm. The contents of his cup splashing onto the girl.

She dropped the server plate from the pain as the hot contents of his mug spilled all over her bare legs.

“P-please excuse me.” she whimpered, making her way towards the employee break room. Not giving Giyuu a chance to apologize.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she continued to dab at her now blistering skin. She tried her best to stop herself from screaming out in pain by biting her lip.

“Here let me help.” Shinobu was gentle when taking the damp wash cloth out of the girl’s hand. Carefully, she dabbed at the blistered skin to clean the remaining splotches of coffee off.

Rummaging through the first aid kit, she applied the burn cream before wrapping her legs with some bandages.

Shinobu couldn’t help, but admire how smooth her legs felt beneath her touch.

“Thank you.” the girl sniffled, using the back of her hand to wipe her tear stained face.

“My friend is really sorry for what happened, and if you’d like, he really wants to make it up to you.” Shinobu explained, taking her hands into her own as a sign of comfort.

“It’s okay, he doesn’t need to make it up to me. It was an accident.”

“I insist sweetie, he feels terrible about what happened and he’ll only feel better about it if you let him treat you out.”

“Okay.”

Giyuu stayed at the coffee shop until your shift was over. Despite the meeting ending hours ago, he opted to stay at the coffee shop to make sure that you were alright for the remainder of your shift.

“Ready to go?” he asked, once you came out of the break room with your regular clothes on.

“Yes! Are you sure you’re not busy? You don’t need to treat me out, I know what happened was an accident.”

There was a small blush on your face as he wrapped an arm around your waist, guiding you towards the door.

“Yes.”

“Woah,” you breathed out, upon entering the building. “Are you going to grab something from your room or something?” you asked, still marveling at the hotel lobby decorations.

“No. There’s a restaurant on the top floor, we’re going to eat there.” he murmured, sliding his personal card to access the VIP elevator. Too distracted by her surroundings, she failed to realize that this is one of the resorts Giyuu owned.

“Ah Tomioka-sama, table for two?” the hostess greeted once they entered the waiting room.

“Yes please.”

“The usual spot?” she asked while grabbing the menus.

“Yes.”

“I know you said you wanted to treat me out, but this place is kind of over the top you know? I’d be fine with just some street food.” she shyly fidgeted in her seat, feeling slightly out of place in the high class restaurant.

“After what I did to you, you deserve it.” he answered, placing his hand on top of hers as a sign of comfort. “Again, I’m really sorry about earlier.”

“It’s okay, it’s not the first time it’s happened.”

Giyuu was slightly taken back by the gentleness of her smile. There was no doubt about it. She was someone who smiled to make others feel better about themselves, even if she was hurting inside. He admired that.

“Tell me about yourself.” Giyuu asked, while the two of you waited for your orders.

“Theres not that much to know… I’m 18, I go to the University of Tokyo, and I have 2 younger twin brothers who are my world.”

His own lips curved into a smile at the bright smile that had appeared on her face once she mentioned her brothers.

“And your parents? What do they do for a living?”

“Oh, my parents died in a plane crash when I was still in high school.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, it must be rough balancing school and work while trying to support your family.”

“It does get a little rough sometimes,” her voice was soft and there was a melancholy look in her eyes, “But if my parents taught me anything it was to, ‘Never give up, even when its hard and you feel like crying keep going. Good things always lie ahead’.

"Your parents must have been very wise.” Giyuu chuckled, thanking the waiter for their food.

“They were.” she smiled, reminiscing in the thought of her parents, “Do you eat here often? The staff here seem to recognize you very well.”

“Yes I do, I eat here with the others if they want to eat dinner while we have our meetings.” he explained.

“Oh, I see. If you don’t mind me asking what do you do for a living?”

“I own various water park resorts all over the world.” he answered, taking a bite out of his steak like his job was the most simple thing in the world.

Her fork fell out of her hand, clattering against her plate.

“So even, this one? The hotel we’re eating in right now?”

“Yes, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize any of us at the cafe.” he continued to chew away at the steak, marveling at how tender the meat was.

“I can’t believe I’m eating lunch with a Pillar.” she blushed, flustered at the fact that she had no idea who he was. “You guys were dressed more casual than the magazines I’ve seen you in.”

“We don’t dress like that all the time.” he smiled, dabbing the sides of his lips with the napkin. “Now that you understand who we are, I have a proposition for you.”

Not being able to muster up any kind of response, she simply nodded her head.

“There’s no doubt that each Pillar at that meeting fell in love with that charming personality of yours, myself included. And I think I have a solution for your financial needs and our personal ones.”

“Which is?”

“Do you know what a Sugar Baby is?

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 || 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 1

#demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #uzui tengen x reader #sanemi x reader #obanai x reader #mitsuri x reader #shinobu x reader #gyomei x reader #sabito x reader

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