The Cullen house was louder than usual—rare, considering how carefully everyone measured their movements and voices. Tonight, though, it was deliberate.

“Still nothing,” Alice sing-songed from the couch, golden eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’ve tried everything.”

Rosalie leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, lips curved in a knowing smirk. “He’s impossible. I swear, Emmett doesn’t blush. He just… grins.”

Emmett himself sat in a chair near the coffee table, massive frame relaxed, elbows braced on his knees. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, a wide, unapologetic grin stretched across his face as the rest of the family took turns trying—and failing—to fluster him.

“You guys are gonna have to try harder than that,” he chuckled, voice low and teasing. “I’ve heard worse trash talk during arm wrestling.”

Bella hovered near the stairs, half-amused, half-mortified. “Emmett,” she warned, though she couldn’t quite hide her smile.

You stayed quiet the whole time, leaning against the far wall, arms folded loosely as you watched him. You knew that grin. You knew the way he thrived on attention, on being unshakeable. And you also knew exactly where the cracks were in his armor.

When Alice sighed dramatically and threw herself back onto the couch, declaring defeat, that was your cue.

You pushed off the wall and crossed the room with unhurried confidence. Emmett noticed immediately—he always did. His grin softened, eyes tracking you as you approached, curiosity flickering across his face.

“Well now,” he said lightly, “what’re you plannin’, beautiful?”

You stopped right in front of him. Close enough that his teasing expression faltered just a fraction.

Slowly, deliberately, you reached out and hooked one finger under his chin, tilting his face up to meet yours. The room went silent.

Emmett froze.

Not figuratively. Completely.

His breath hitched—an almost imperceptible thing, but you felt it. His golden eyes widened just a touch as you leaned in, close enough that your lips were barely a breath away from his.

*Your voice dropped, soft and warm, meant only for him.

“My good boy.”

The effect was immediate.

Emmett’s grin vanished like it had never existed. His shoulders locked, hands gripping his knees as if he’d forgotten how to move them. A faint, unmistakable flush crept up his cheeks, spreading fast.

“—oh,” he breathed, blinking once. Then twice.

Rosalie burst out laughing. “There it is.”

Alice clapped her hands. “I knew it!”

Bella’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god.”

Emmett tried to say something—anything—but whatever thought had been forming clearly blue-screened halfway through. His mouth opened, then closed. He swallowed, eyes still locked on yours, utterly stunned.

You pulled back just enough to smile at him, thumb brushing his jaw.

“There you are,” you murmured.

For a long moment, Emmett said nothing.

Then, finally, in a voice far quieter and rougher than anyone had ever heard from him, he muttered, “Well… damn.”

The room erupted into laughter—but Emmett didn’t care. He was too busy staring at you like you’d just knocked the wind out of him, cheeks still flushed, grin slow and dazed as it crept back onto his face.

“Yeah,” he added softly, never taking his eyes off you. “You win.”