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Luke would spend all day trying to bake you a cake for your birthday, practically burning your house down with his many failed attempts. He’d have to run to the store to buy sugar or flour on at least two separate occasions, and at some point would call Michael and beg for his help, only to have Michael eat half his batter and then leave. When you finally got home, he’d have one final attempt sitting on the table, a frosted, half burnt, crumbly kind of mess. He’d cut you a slice and bring it out to the couch, sitting next to you and watching your face eagerly. You’d take a few bites and try to swallow it down out of love, complimenting his baking, but Luke would bury his face in his hands and laugh softly. “It’s awful, isn’t it.” You’d sigh and look at him apologetically. “It could stand to be sweeter, I guess.” He’d pull the plate out of your hands and set it on the living room table. “I just wanted to do something special for your birthday.” you’d smile and kiss him on the nose, before responding, “luke, just being with you is special enough.” his eyes sparkling, he’d pull you into his lap and lay back, bringing you down with him. He’d brush a couple kisses down your jaw and onto your neck, before saying lowly, “well, if that’s the case, I’ve got something else sweeter for you to have.”

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"I’ve got something else sweeter for you to have" bruh what dOES THAT SUPPOSE TO MEAN IM

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