He’s afraid of change he’s not good at anything he’s essential to the business his drivers license is expired he’s a girldad he’s divorced he’s deeply in love with his ex wife he’s a deeply closeted gay man he’s a childhood best friend to a dead man he’s a nepo baby minus the bloodline he doesn’t have his food handling license he’s trying to cut back on slurs he doesn’t want to ask hardware store employees for help. I didn’t say his name but he popped into your head
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for @narcolini
Kitchen, dead. Should've been empty long ago, but you stopped by on your way home to pick up your only functioning phone charger, and you found him here.
There’s a long island of countertop, the closest end perfectly clean and white under overhead light, the opposite end fading into the shadows. Standing in the middle is Luca, leaning on the counter, full weight on both forearms. Fingers interlaced. If you knew him a little less, you'd say he was just finishing prayer or just beginning. His eyes are open, focused on nothing. His phone is on the counter by his elbow, dark, asleep. The whole world asleep. His back one curve, contained and coiled.
You say his name, once, soft but a little louder than you meant to. Blame the booze for that. Another day you might not have said anything at all.
He remains still save for his mouth, which does something so subtle, prelude to twist, and then he turns his head away from you so that all you can see is his hair, gold and darker gold, one clean-shaven slice of neck, blue shirt.
There's no excusing this. You should go. You put down the phone charger at the end of the table, and he doesn't move at the sound. Sculpture, except sculpture can't radiate like this.
You walk towards him, each quiet step too loud, and then you stop. He's on your right. You plant your left hand on the edge of the counter and your right hand on his lower back. It's not a question. The heat of him bleeds through the shirt right away, and his spine cuts through the center of your right palm just like the counter's cold edge does on your left.
Still turned away, he bows his head until you can see, though not hear, the exact moment when his temple hits the cool countertop. His back moves under your hand. One long rise, one long fall. Deep breaths. No shaking. Just deep breaths, one by one.
You listen to them. There is no sense of time, only waiting. He gets acclimated to you slowly, like water seeping through dense dry ground, and then, only then, do you move. It's no attack. You're not doing it to break him. That's somebody else's job.
You press your hand against him a little harder, his spine cuts your hand a little deeper, and your fingertips make individual dimples on his skin. Slow as an ache, you slide your hand up the curve of his back. He's taught you patience and care. That feeling when every part of your body is attuned to every tiny detail, every sense, smell taste hearing sight and touch. There's nothing that needs it more than this. There's a tiny bump on his left shoulder blade that the pad of your middle finger just skims. You keep going. He's shuddering a little on the inhale.
Finally, you reach the nape of his neck. You anchor on the right side, your hand gripping the muscle between neck and shoulder. After a second, he turns his head. It's dead on now, his forehead against the countertop. You don't have to see to know his eyes are closed.
You lean down too. You press your forehead just left of the nape of his neck. The neckline of his shirt nudges back against your nose, and it's warm skin above, a vague ghost of of balsamic reduction in the cotton below.
You say it in another language, and you say it into his shirt. Sure thing, safe. He doesn't understand it, but after a second, he lifts a hand and puts it over yours on the countertop. You thought that would be all, but then he interlaces your hands. You're all over him, but with his fingers sliding tight between yours, it feels like he's all over you.
It drains away on his exhale, until his back is no longer taut underneath you. His breathing begins to ease. You smooth your thumb once over the little knob of bone just behind his ear, and wait. And wait.
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OK OK OK IM BACK WITH MORE QUESTIONS CAUSE IM OBESSED✨️✨️✨️
So, I was looking at your Demon Slayer sketches again for the millionth time... Like a normal person 👀
AND I TOTALLY JUST NOW REALIZED RIKA WASNT THE ONLY INSERT/OC AND HAS (supposedly??) SIBLINGS????
Whats their background or story if they have any? Do they tag along with Rika? Are they slayers? What's their breathing forms?? IM SORRY IF THATS ALOT IM ALL HAPPY NOW DEMON SLAYER AND YOU ARE MY LIFE RN 🙏🙏🙏🙏
AH! OK OK THOSE OTHER TWO INSERTS/OCS THEY BELONG TO MY SISTERS and they had asked if I could draw them! ((which I’m still working on🤡)) Sooo are they siblings???….NO!👹 they were going to be siblings! we were all just talking about this last night and we all agreed that they would have their own universe! This was just to be fun and make our own characters! Heheh they don’t have no backstory or anything like that atm ((if not I don’t think they ever WILL have a background🙃)) like I said this was just for funsies! And ofc as the BEST big sister! ((🙄)) I agreed to draw for them ((sadly/j)) but I will introduce them!🤭
This is Ayano! She is a Demon Slayer and her Breathing Style is Ice Breathing!❄️ ((Middle sister))
And this is Toki! She is a Demon Slayer aswell and her Breathing Style is Flower Breathing!🌸 ((Youngest sister))
Yeh that’s all! I wish I could explain more but they got non else🤷🏻♀️ I do appreciate you wanted to get to know dem!🩷
THANK YOU VERY MUCH!✨
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Thank you to @chrissymjstan for the tag!!
RULES: When you get this you have to put 5 songs you actually listen to, then tag 10 people!!
1. Dirty Diana - Michael Jackson (this is my favorite MJ song, I will never tire of it and I will always jam out to it LOL)
2. Follow You - modernlove.
3. thoughts i have lying in bed - The Maine
4. NY to LA - The Hunna (this band is incredible)
5. Eyes Closed - Bearings (this band is also incredible lol)
Tagging (no pressure at all because I don't wanna bother y'all LOL): @jacksonista @jhericurldrippin @youarenotalone-michael @lovesyousave @babybemine @mjsloveslave
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