The Cutest - Tumblr Posts
Sleep Little Darling ❤️
Sweet eyes ❤️
The perfect Cherry for the Perfect Man
Adorable YoonKook x Coway (aka baby mullet duo lmao) (o^∀^o)
[for @dreamcatchersdaughter]
Maybe some Pearlmethyst??? 😋💫
why of course
jungkook → run bts ep 79
remember when jungkook had a fake eyebrow piercing 😅
There’s a lot of cardboard fish in the sea, Ben.
Paul and Linda backstage before a concert during Wings' European tour, photographed by Joe Stevens. (July/August, 1972)
-
This looks like a really intimate moment and you might wonder what I was doing there. But I’ll tell you exactly what it was. On stage Linda liked to wear glitter around her eyes, and Paul used to apply it for her before they went on.
— Joe Stevens (photographer), c/o Uncut: Wings over Europe. (May, 2011)
what a beautiful couple omg
yo im literally cheesin rn..
I CANT TAKE THE CUTENESS😔
I jus wanna shut my baby brain off and let big bad daddy rafey take care of me :(
oh this is sooo muñeca & sugar daddy!rafe coded …
ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐
you were entirely too emotional and high-strung — but who could blame you? with your skyrocketing hormones and mere hours that stood between your sweet papi rafe going back home to kildare, while you remained in culebra was becoming way too much for you to handle. and rafe couldn’t find it in himself to reprimand you, you’d been doing so well when it came to putting your big girl panties on and fighting back the impending waterworks that welled at your waterline, whenever it came time for rafe to go back home — you practiced!
but, unfortunately you’d lost every ounce of your resolve when your doe eyes fell on the two suitcases that sat at the edge of rafe’s bed.
sat in the middle of the plush firmness of the california king bed, your small body hiccuping with incessant cries, you curled your knees into your chest, “on-one — more — day,” you squeaked out, your jumbled words cut into choppy huffs of air as rafe pursed his lips into a tight line.
stood firmly beside the bed with his hands planted on his waist, rafe pinched the bridge of his nose with a knowing sigh, “c’mon, kid — y’been through this many times already, yeah?” met with a sharp cry from you, rafe is quick to switch into complete father-figure mode, letting out a piercing whistle, “hey! cut it out, y’gonna knock y’self out, cryin’ like that,” he scolds, his voice firm as you raise your puffy-tear stained face from your knees with a sniffle.
“quédate conmigo, please papi,” you squeak out, stretching both of your arms out in a reach towards rafe, your bottom lip all wobbly.
taking a seat at the edge of the bed, rafe opens an arm, beckoning you into his lap with a flick of his two signet-ringed fingers as you immediately and obediently crawl into his lap with a whimper, “a’ight, no more cryin’ — don’t need y’passin out on me before i go, hm?” rafe soothes, bringing his hand seamlessly clasp around the back of your neck.
nodding the side of your cherub cheek against rafe’s collarbone, you let out a breath of relief, “when d-do you come back,” you question softly, your doe eyes all sore and heavy from your earlier sobs as you quickly knuckle away the wetness at the tip of your nose.
“no … do not start that, you hear me?” rafe scolds, his free hand lightly tapping the side of your soft thigh, earning a frustrated mewl from you. squeezing your neck, rafe urges a verbal answer from you.
much to rafe’s very dismay, his corrective tone only set you off even further — you didn’t want your papi to be mad at you before he left. so, your bambi eyes were quick to well with warm tears, a warning sniffle itching at your nose as you shook your head, before heaving into rafe’s neck.
“fuck — okay, princess. hey, need y’to look at your papi now, yeah? can y’look at me — can’t look at me if y’cryin, pretty girl,” rafe coos, gently pulling your leg to straddle his hips as he pushes your face up to meet his, with a slight nudge of his shoulder. met with red and glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, rafe brings both of his hands to cradle each side of your face.
“a’ight, need y’to a good girl while m’gone, okay? y’gonna be a good girl for daddy?” rafe questions, slightly mushing your cheeks together as you huff out a wobbly breath, before licking over your swollen lips.
softly nodding in rafe’s grasp, you sniffle, “yes.”
allowing a satisfied smirk to play on his lips, rafe pulls your face down, leaning forehead against his, “good. now, i need y’to go to sleep, kid. i won’t be here when you wake up, but —”
fat tears are quick to brim your lower lash line as you whine in rafe’s grasp, “no—”
shushing you with a corrective tut, rafe pecks your lips in a silencing kiss, “shh … i always come back for you, don’t i? always call you, send you pretty presents — got you that laptop s’you can see me when y’get sad, yeah?”
with an appreciative nod, your lips brush against rafe — your papi always kept his promises, “g-going to mi-miss you,” you shudder, your voice all cracked and uneven as you stare directly into rafe’s bright baby blues, silently wishing you’d be able to make him stay just one more night.
“i know, kid,” rafe sighs, gently easing the both of you to fall back on the bed, one arm secured around your waist as he slides a free hand to the back of your head, lightly scratching at your scalp, “promise, m’gonna come back and take good care of you, yeah? s’my job to make sure m’little girl is happy,” he coos, leaving you to nod against his neck as you slowly, but surely begin to doze off.
whispering sweet nothing into your sleepy ear, rafe remains awake, until he’s one hundred percent sure that your asleep, your parted lips blowing warm air against his neck. once your breathing calmed into a steady rhythm, rafe was careful about maneuvering your drowsy body, carefully removing the small hand that rested on his face and placing it on his chest.
it was never easy for rafe to leave his girl in an island that was so far from him. he liked being in control and in the know of all moving parts in your day to day, so leaving you to fend for yourself — despite being waited in hand and foot by the hired help of the villa — rafe fought the urge to fly you to kildare altogether. you were still so wet behind the ears, so fragile and sentimental, such a transition would be way too much for your little heart to handle.
placing the pillow that sat under his head to rest in the tight hold of your arms, rafe reaches for the powder pink iphone that sits on the nightstand, placing it beside the pillow, ready for your use, the moment you woke up.
you just hoped that your papi rafe would be proud that you were awake the entire time and didn’t cry … because you practiced!
she's not afraid | luke hughes
word count: 2.11k
summary: luke, captivated by your vibrant spirit, finds himself torn between his deep feelings for you and the fear of settling for casual flings
warnings: angst, swearing, brief nsfw content (nothing explicit), happy ending :)
notes: based on 'she's not afraid' by one direction. underrated song tbh
Luke was drawn to you like a moth to a flame.
Across the bar, your smile lit up the room, laughing at something that Jack was telling you. You were a beacon of light in any room you walked into, your laugh capable of melting even the coldest of hearts. You exuded an infectious enthusiasm for life that drew others to you effortlessly, Luke included.
Your paths crossed often as you found yourselves frequenting the same bars. The first time you met, Luke was drawn in by your vibrant spirit. He was constantly amazed at the way you were seemingly not afraid of anything, as well as your endless enthusiasm for even the most mundane things.
You, on the other hand, admire the youngest Hughes brother. His kindness towards others has you weak in the knees, and his easy charisma and charming smile captivated you from the minute you saw him.
The connection you two had was intense, yet complicated. Despite Luke’s deep feelings and the very obvious chemistry that fizzed between you, there was a barrier. A wall put up around your heart.
You were a free spirit, not one known to be bound by the constraints of a relationship. And the thought of settling down with someone scared you. Every time Luke brought up the two of you potentially being something more, you backed off. You kept an arm's length between you and Luke.
Despite your differences, you couldn’t stay away from each other. Your nights were filled with laughter, stolen glances, and heated encounters that left you both breathless. However, as the days went on, your tryst continuing, Luke found himself yearning for something more, something beyond the fleeting moments you shared.
Catching his eye across the room, you made your way through the crowd to him, apologizing to the bodies you bumped in the crowd. “Dance with me.” You grin, taking his hand in yours.
Luke chuckles, shaking his head. “Not happening.”
“Oh come on.” You groan, pulling him towards the dancefloor. “No one is even watching.”
That wasn’t true. His brother, his captain, and almost all his teammates were watching the bubbly Jersey girl they’d grown to know attempt to get the human equivalent of bambi on ice that was Luke Hughes to dance in public. You pulled him straight to the middle of the crowd, letting the music find you.
You moved with grace and abandon, your movements fluid and carefree. Everything you did was somehow graceful yet carefree. You didn’t think, you just did. He envied your reckless abandon. You didn’t care that others were staring, you weren’t afraid to be unabashedly yourself. Luke, on the other hand, felt like a puppet with tangled strings, his limbs stiff and awkward. He could feel the eyes on him, he could hear his teammates laughing.
You shook your head at his uncoordinated attempts at dancing, the self-consciousness seeping off of him. “You’re too stiff… relax.” You say, bringing your lips to his ear. “I know you can move your hips.”
Luke admired you as you threw your head back, laughing at your subliminal comment. With your guidance, Luke attempted to loosen up, to let the music wash over him and carry him away just as it had done to you. Slowly, tentatively, he began to move in time with the rhythm, his movements becoming less rigid with each passing moment.
“There it is.” You grin. Your arms snake around his shoulders, his hands settling on your waist.
You found a rhythm, swaying together. The world around Luke seemed to fade away, finally enjoying the moment as he got caught up in your infectious joy.
Despite his enjoyment, Luke could only dance for one song before his teammates reminded him of their presence with their hollers and whistles.
“Way to go, Lukey boy!”
“Okay, Don Juan!”
You returned to your table, flushed with excitement. "You know, Luke, you're not so bad on the dance floor after all."
Luke grinned, feeling a surge of affection. Before he knows it, Luke is paying your tabs, getting ready to leave with you. It’s your typical routine, always heading home with one another after a night out.
As you stagger out the front doors, the cool night air washed over you, a refreshing welcome after being in the stuffy club all night. You walked down the sidewalk, hand in hand, your laughter echoing in the empty streets. However, as you walked, Luke felt the knot of uncertainty tightening in his chest.
The ride up in the elevator is silent, you tucked under his arm humming the song that you danced to earlier. Luke's mind races with doubt. While Luke yearned for something more, he was just about to stumble into yet another fleeting moment.
The front door shuts behind Luke, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. “Y/n, I…” He began, voice faltering.
Before he could continue, you placed a finger on his lips. "Shh, Luke. You don't have to say anything."
You drew him close, connecting your lips, enveloping him in warmth. Luke's arms instinctively wrap around your waist, picking you up off the ground and carrying you over to the couch. Laying you down softly, Luke situates himself above you, dropping a knee between your legs. His hand trails up from your waist, up your torso, cupping your breast and giving it a light squeeze.
The soft, desperate moan you let out had him straining beneath his boxers. Briefly, Luke thought that maybe it was fine. He didn’t need to define this. He was comfortable with the casual flings, knowing you made each other feel so good.
No. That’s his dick heart thinking. His brain takes the reigns, snapping him back to reality. Luke knew he couldn't continue living in the shadows of uncertainty, pretending that he was fine with your relationship being nothing more than casual flings.
Luke’s lips detach from yours, leaving you hanging on the edge. Your eyes flicker open, scanning Luke’s face. His mouth is ajar like he’s on the precipice of saying something, eyes soft as he looks down at you.
“What’s wrong, Luke?” You ask, reaching for his face.
He suddenly pulls out of your reach, standing up. You prop yourself on your elbows, watching him step back from the couch. His heart ached as your expression became worried.
“Y/n… I can’t keep doing this.” Luke says, voice wavering in his admission.
You sit up fully, adjusting your crooked shirt and wiping the sides of your mouth. “What do you mean?”
"I can't keep pretending that what we have is enough when it's clearly not." Luke explained
Your eyes widen in surprise, your usual bubbly demeanour faltering for a moment. “Luke…”
He cuts you off, finally having found resolve. “I need more than just casual hookups… I need something real.” Luke says. “And I can't keep doing this with you, hoping that someday you'll realize that you want more than just a casual fling."
His long strides have him by the door in no second, while you’re still on the couch reeling from what he just said. Luke, a hand on the doorknob, looks back at you. He nearly crumbles at the sight. Tears brim in your eyes as you hold yourself tightly. Your mouth moves as you attempt to explain but the words fail to form.
You watch the door slam behind him as Luke leaves you sitting there, feeling foolish. The tears flow down your cheeks leaving mascara stains in their trail.
When Luke enters his apartment, he’s met with his brother half naked on the couch, a girl straddling his hips. “Luke! What are you doing home already?” He asks, the girl throwing herself off of Jack and grabbing his shirt to cover her chest.
Jack was familiar with your guys’s routine. He knew what happened when you two would show up at the same bar, as it frequently ended with him seeing you in his kitchen the next morning. When he witnessed his brother leaving the bar, following you out the doors, he assumed he wouldn’t see his brother till the next morning, and therefore could take advantage of the apartment to himself.
Luke ignores him, bolting straight to his room and slamming the door behind him. Luke throws in his airpods, turning up his music to drown out the thoughts of you.
The next morning, Jack attempts to ask Luke about what happened the night before but is met with an icy response. “Doesn’t matter.” Luke mumbles through a mouthful of cereal. He attempts to pry, at least trying to ask if you’re okay, but it only seems to piss Luke off more.
“Dude, stop fucking asking!” Luke snapped. He huffs, dropping his bowl into the sink. “Listen, I don’t want to talk about it. Now let’s go, we’re gonna be late for morning skate.”
Jack doesn’t press the situation anymore, the drive to the rink done in silence rather than the normal conversation the two would find themselves in.
As Luke laced up his skates in the early morning light, preparing for the routine morning skate, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of his stomach. Thoughts of you swirled incessantly in his mind, a constant distraction that made it difficult to focus on the task at hand. As he glided across the ice, his movements lacked their usual grace and precision. Every stride felt heavy, every shot missed its mark. His teammates shot him concerned glances, noticing his uncharacteristic lack of enthusiasm.
But it wasn't just the morning skate that suffered. As the final buzzer sounded, signalling the end of the game, Luke couldn't help but feel a sense of defeat wash over him. Not just because of the loss on the scoreboard, but because he found himself unable to shake the nagging feeling that he had made a grave mistake in breaking things off with you. Deep down he knew that it was the healthy decision to end things with you, but his feelings ran deep.
As he and Jack made their way out of the arena and towards their building, Luke's mind churned with a tumultuous mix of emotions. He replayed the moments of last night over and over again, questioning whether he had made the right choice in ending things.
As Jack and Luke approach their building, they spot a figure sitting on the front steps. It doesn’t take the youngest Hughes long to recognize that it’s you, your normally cheery demeanour replaced by tear-stained cheeks. You stand up, Luke’s heart lurching with concern. Jack slips past them, heading inside to give you space to talk.
“I’m sorry for showing up here so late.” You apologize, your voice wavering with emotion. “But I had to tell you this.”
Luke stays silent, allowing you to continue. You sniffle, wiping the tears off your cheeks.
“I do have feelings for you.” You say. “Like I really, really like you.”
Luke felt like his heart skipped a beat. He had harboured feelings for you for months now, just wanting you to reciprocate. He felt a surge of hope go through him, but couldn’t help but feel confused as to why it took so long.
“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Luke asks.
You let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head, and avoiding Luke’s gaze. “I was afraid.” You admit. “I’ve always been no strings attached… I do what I want and I don’t care what people think. So when I fell for you… I got scared. Because that meant commitment.
“And what if I commit and then get my feelings hurt?” You continue before laughing once again. “But in not committing, I've ended up hurting myself anyway."
Luke reaches out, gently tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. "I thought you weren't afraid of anything," he teased lightly, trying to ease the tension in the air.
A small, watery laugh escapes your lips, a hint of your usual spark returning. "I guess I'm not as fearless as I thought," you admitted, a wistful smile playing on your lips.
Luke’s heart swells with tenderness as he looks into your eyes, vulnerability and honesty shining through. Luke’s hand cups your cheek, his thumb gently stroking it. Relief washes over the both of you, Luke finding relief in his feelings being shared, you finding relief in finally being able to admit to your fears.
Luke leaned in, closing the distance and brushing his lips against yours in a soft, feather-light kiss. All previous kisses shared between the two of you had been heat-of-the-moment kisses with little realized feelings. But this kiss was a gentle, achingly sweet one. Every sensation of you was heightened as you melted into him, savouring the intoxicating feeling of his lips against yours. This kiss was filled with promise, with longing, with the unspoken desire that had simmered between you for so long.
When you finally pulled back, breathless and exhilarated, Luke's eyes searched yours. There was a silent understanding passing between you, a mutual acknowledgment of the feelings that had been laid bare.
"Drunk drunk drunk in love" - Luke Hughes x Reader
Summary: In which Luke is drunk and you're both in love.
Warnings: None, this is a lil fluffy blurb hehe. Also I might have a real problem I can't stop writing him as a simp...
____________________________________________________________
In your limited lifetime, you've never minded being home alone. More often than not, your own company is more than enough and there's nothing you enjoy more than autonomous control over the remote. Tonight was exactly one of those nights too, you’d lit a few scented candles - a comforting scent of vanilla filling your apartment-, ordered in your comfort food - that definitely does not meet a nutritionist’s goals - and put on your favourite cheesy romcom that Luke, your boyfriend, usually claims to hate.
However, when a loud bang sounds against your front door, no doubt the aftermath of a heavy person bumping into it, you can’t help but wish he was there with you.
On shaky legs, you rise from your position on the couch, moving aside your knitted blanket and gently placing your glass of Dr Pepper on the coffee table, before slowly inching closer to the door and the burglary-sounding noises coming from behind it.
On a last-second whim, you grab the metal bat - a gift from your brother that he insists you’ve got resting by the coats- and raise it to face height, your grip tight around the handle, the cool metal biting into the skin of your palm.
And then, just as you’re ready to defend your apartment as was it a castle filled with treasures, you hear the unmistakable sound of keys scratching against the lock, not quite finding the opening. What a strange thing, for a robber to have a set of keys, your tired mind says before it catches up.
A peek through the peephole confirms your suspicions, because on the other side stands your boyfriend, his tall stature only letting you see the centre of his chest through the small hole, the Nike logo on his hoodie taking up most of the space.
Returning the bat to its rightful place, a giggle escapes you at the sound of Luke’s struggles. He must be a little drunker than he originally planned when he told you over the phone he was going out with some of the guys to not-quite-celebrate the season being over.
He’d left with an I won’t be back too late and a reminder of his love for you, neither of which you doubted. It was only eleven, but when you start at four that fact doesn’t spare you from rowdy teammates offering to buy you another round.
“Shit,” Luke mumbles, voice muffled by the thick wooden door, as he, presumably, drops his keys (if the jingle of them sounding close to the floor is any indication), his head hitting the door with a small thud. That’s when you decide to take pity on him, making quick work of undoing the multiple locks and gold chain, before slowly opening the door to not have him fall.
As more and more of him is revealed to you, the tiny people pulling at your heartstrings work harder and harder. Luke looks overwhelmingly adorable (or maybe that’s just your love for him talking), curls all over the place, no doubt from running his hand through it repeatedly, hoodie a little wrinkled and a tired pout resting on his lovely face.
It takes him a second to realise what's happening, but then he notices his body falling forward and with hurried, clumsy movements tries to catch himself. Instead, he ends up tripping over your New Jersey Devils-themed welcome mat, sending him barreling straight into your less-than-steady figure. Somehow, you manage to stay upright, wrapping your arms around his middle to try and help him do the same.
“Sorry ‘bout that- BABY!” He exclaims once he’s managed to get a hold of himself, a megawatt smile completely transforming his face as he notices it’s not just some random person, but you. “Watcha doing here?!”
“I live here, Gorgeous,” you giggle while petting his hair, trying to untangle just some of the knots that have formed and let him wrap you in an air-stealing embrace. You receive no verbal confirmation, only a hmm sounded into your shoulder followed by a press of his lips to your uncovered skin and then, “I missed you soooo sosososo much.”
The tiny people are at it again and maybe they should receive a raise for all the hard work they’re doing tonight. Heat rushes to your cheeks before it spreads to your entire body. There is not a single doubt in your mind or your heart that he means his words, not even when he’s drunk. All night he has been sending you little updates, random pictures and thoughts that he just couldn’t wait to tell you. It’s like this with him every time the two of you were apart, too. Even if it’s just the time it takes him to go to the bathroom.
“I missed you too. Wanna get ready for bed?” You ask, squeezing him back and trying to manoeuvre the door closed with your foot. “You have to let me go then,” you continue and finally get it shut.
A pout takes over his face once more, less than impressed with your words and the thought of having to not cling onto you, before ultimately complying and giving you a mock salute.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
At his antics, you playfully roll your eyes, loving the way he lights up at your amusement, and tell him to head to the bathroom. You trail behind him, making sure the front door is locked, the living room lights are off and your candles are blown out.
Usually, this routine is sort of the same when either of you comes home tipsy. There’s something so comforting and familiar about it, domestic almost, you realise as you walk into the bathroom and see him sitting on the closed toilet lid, waiting for you.
Soft eyes follow your every movement as you walk closer. As you prepare his toothbrush and hand it to him, he succumbs to his urges and leans the side of his face against your stomach.
“Fun night?”
“Curtis went on a bull,” he says as if the fact that Curtis Lazar rode a mechanic bull (you hope, at least) sums up the entire night and that it is a synonym for fun. You take it as that, though, happy for him that he got to unwind a little after his rough season. The past seven months you’ve seen him work harder than ever before, and while you’re incredibly proud of him and know that he always enjoys his work so much, you can’t help but feel a little relieved that he gets to relax and recharge for next season.
As you stand there side by side and brush your teeth, the perfect picture of domesticity, you can’t help but wish that this was an every-night-thing. That you lived together and came home to each other and did stupid little things like brushing your teeth together all the time. But those thoughts are for another time, and voicing them certainly is too, considering the still more-than-tipsy state your boyfriend finds himself in.
A tug to the end of your hair is the thing that snaps the band, finally bringing you completely out of your thoughts, your attention once more wholly on your boyfriend. Just as he likes it the most. You’d lie if you said you don’t share the same sentiment.
“I like when your hair does the swoopy thing.” Luke’s mouth is full of toothpaste, some of it gathering in the corner of his mouth, and he’s talking around his toothbrush, making it a little hard to actually figure out what he’s saying to you.
“The what?”
Your brows are furrowed in confusion as he rises to spit out the toothpaste and rinse his mouth, you following after him and doing the same. The lack of contact between the two of you quickly seems to bug him though, and it’s not long before he’s got his arms wrapped around you again, standing behind you as you prepare your skincare routine. Warm fingers sneak under your shirt, caressing your stomach in soothing circles.
“The swoopy thing. Like when it curls in the ends,” the duh is evident, but he’s smiling as he’s staring into your eyes through the mirror. He blinks slowly as you hold eye contact, the amount of time his eyes remain closed growing longer and longer. When he finally manages to keep them open, both are a little droopy and somehow it just makes you adore him even more.
“Um- a blowout?”
“I don’t know the technical term” he rolls his eyes but the smile stays on his face. You’re left wondering why he’s fixating on it now when he’s drunk and your hair has been looking like this since you came back from the salon yesterday morning.
“It looks pretty.”
Oh.
“You look pretty.”
Double oh.
“You always are pretty.”
Not quite sure what to say, his affection is clouding way too many of your senses, you turn around to press a quick kiss to his neck, then hurriedly finish your routine.
“Come on, bed.”
Like the sweetest puppy, Luke follows you closely into your bedroom, feet so close to yours he keeps hitting your ankles and were it anyone else you would be annoyed and huff and puff but it’s Luke. Your Luke, the love of your life and the most annoying guy all wrapped up in one pretty fair-skinned package with curls on top. Except, nothing he ever did truly annoyed you, giving your friends way too much ammunition to pull the simp card. At this point, you simply choose to accept it, though.
Soft carpet hits your toes as you reach the bed where you try to dispose of him by his unspoken designated side and watch as he’s about to let himself fall back onto the bed. Every intention of moving to your side flying out the window as he grabs a hold of your shirt, pulling your body with him in the fall.
In an unfortunate turn of events, most likely brought on by Luke’s lack of coordination skills in his inebriated state and you helpless against his grip, your heads clash together as you hit the bed, both of you groaning out in pain at the dull sting on your respective foreheads.
“Ouchie,” Luke says, brows furrowing in confusion and wondering how he got himself into this predicament.
“Ouchie?” You ask, a giggle threatening to spill from your lips despite the throbbing in your head. Guess the alcohol won't be the only thing making Luke’s head hurt in the morning.
“Ouchie.” He confirms with a serious nod of his head. Quicker than lightning, a flash of panic strikes his face. You can see the switch into protective boyfriend mode as it happens, his face going solemn and hands reaching out to cradle your head.
“Are you okay?” he asks, suddenly sounding a lot more sober than mere seconds ago.
“‘M fine,” you confirm, a slight lie, but what he doesn’t know won't hurt him. Rolling off him, you peck his lips before crawling up the bed and under the covers. With un-bashful eyes, you watch him get undressed down to his boxers, secretly impressed with how he manages to manage such a feat without toppling over.
You’re prepared for him pulling you closer when he climbs back into bed, wasting no time settling against his warm chest, the comfort of his arms draping around you surrounding you like a well-known blanket.
The bedroom goes dark as Luke turns off his bedside lamp, the moonlight the only luminous thing left, casting long shadows into the room.
“Can you put on the asmr from the other day,” Luke breaks the silence with a whisper while brushing his nose against the side of your hair. Humming in agreement, you find the YouTube video you played for him a few days ago, something you usually do when you can’t sleep.
“I couldn’t fall asleep the other day when you weren’t at Jacky and I’s apartment and I tried to find it but I couldn’t and the others weren’t the same and they didn’t remind me of you,” your boyfriend trails off, his rambled words slurring a little, sleepiness no doubt taking over his body.
“You’re so cute.” The words come out on accident, a little too lovestruck. Only the inner walls of your head were meant to hear them, but nevertheless, they’re true. Luke snorts against your neck in amusement, having migrated further down to nestle his face into it, but he doesn’t tease you. Instead, he just pulls you infinitely closer and whispers something about how much he loves you.
Sleep comes quickly for Luke, his soft snores soon filling the room and his chest, the very same protecting the heart you love so very dearly, rises and falls steadily in a dance with your own. You fall asleep with a smile on your face, a pounding heart and a head to match.
