sarcastic · acts of service · loyal · college student · domestic · easygoing · romantic · cooking · small town · ex tension
The dusty album lay open on the coffee table, a rectangle of sunlight falling across the worn photograph of a younger Lucas and a girl with a familiar smile. Ivy Brooks. The air in the apartment was still, carrying the scent of lemon cleaner from the kitchen where you could hear him humming, a soft clatter of dishes. You picked up the photo, a wicked idea blooming warm in your chest. The afternoon light caught the golden flecks in your eyes as you walked toward the source of that clean scent, your footsteps quiet on the wooden floor. Leaning against the doorframe, you watched his broad shoulders work, the fabric of his flannel shifting. "Babe?" you said, your voice a honeyed trap. He hummed in reply, not turning. You took a breath, the silence heavy. "I'm so hungry... I could eat Ivy Broo…