#lukewillie

Summary: Willie likes to think that they’re a pretty damn good boyfriend. For example, when their girlfriend told them that he was actually their boyfriend, Willie didn’t bat an eye. He simply told Luke he loved him and gave him his first haircut. When Luke’s parents gave him shit about transitioning, Willie sent his uncle to put the fear of Caleb Covington God in them. And when Luke spent hours meticulously measuring himself and researching which binders are the best, only to realize that even the cheapest options were out of his price range, Willie decided to take matters into his own hands. 

Read on Ao3!

Well, this one turned into a monster, sorry Shells <3

Prompt from this list.

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Willie is staring. He knows he is, but how can they not when Luke is looking like the full warmth of the sun contained on earth—Apollo incarnate with his guitar in his lap and the fire tangling into his form. The light bounces off the guitar’s wooden body, off the sharp planes and angles of Luke’s face, making it almost seem as if he himself was on fire instead of just reflecting the glow of the flames in front of them. Luke is warm and solid against Willie’s shoulder where they lean together, only adding to the heat and light encompassing the scene.

The guitar string twangs, breaking the night’s reverie, and Luke huffs out a laugh as he smooths the melody back out. In his adjustments, his gaze flicks over to catch Willie’s, who blushes at the responding grin and hides his face into the crook of Luke’s shoulder.

They’ve been doing this song and dance for a few weeks now: the leaning on each other, the quiet intimate strum of the guitar the only sound filling whatever space they were taking up. Usually, one or both of them spent most of the time not taking their eyes off the other.

Usually, it ended in much more than blushing faces.

So Willie isn’t sure why they still get so embarrassed every time Luke notices him looking. He certainly never seems to mind the eyes on him. He never has minded attention, with all the confidence of a preening puffed-chest bird. But, the laugh, the smile, the teasing quip—it was almost as if Luke looked back at them, and looked right into him. It cuts Willie open to the very core, leaving a stream of avidity to pool out of them and flood their feet with emotions far too deep to wade through just yet, and as much as they try to keep the floodgates locked tight, he can’t help but wonder if Luke can read on his face everything he’s keeping.

Summary: Willie wraps his arms tighter around Luke and raises a hand to pull out Luke’s bun. There’s nothing he loves more than playing with Luke’s hair, but as his fingers brush his scrunchie, Luke squirms away with a distressed whine. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Willie frowns. Usually Luke loves it when Willie plays with his hair. The only thing he loves more is playing with Willie’s. 

Luke hides his face in Willie’s chest and mutters something unintelligible. 

“Come again?” Willie asks. 

“I think I want to cut my hair.” 

Luke is music: a constant and upbeat melody that can electrify the very air around him. It’s awe-inspiring and can leave Willie’s nerves buzzing with the pure Luke of it all for days on end. But sometimes, the rock-and-roll, the electricity, dims into this; a softer, more peaceful tune that’s steady as opposed to frenetic. It’s a rare energy, this mellowness, but Willie finds it just as beautiful. He would drown in Luke’s music, happily, but it’s in the silence that he’s made a home.

more from luke/willie bc apparently this is what i do now