#i want a twin au so bad

[krysmcscience]

Don't mind me, just slacking on a big Billford comic by making other far more ridiculous Billford comics and also some AU art (please excuse my slapdash human!Bill thank you please, also before anyone asks the art style is messy and all over the place because idgaf LOL)

This started out as an excuse to design a Bill Cipher-inspired "wedding" dress, but then spiraled wildly out of control. Various rambles and a bunch more human!Bill arts under the cut, including another silly little comic at the end! (Feel free to skip the rambles, I won't be offended. I know I'm bad at shutting up. XD)

I may or may not write some comedy stuff for this AU, which I'm calling 'For Better Or Worse (But Mostly Worse)'. While Ford DOES remember getting sloshed enough for one thing to lead to making out with another after karaoke, neither he nor Bill remember this wedding, At All. The Love God did nothing to dissuade them from going hog wild on their marriage spending, either, so it got...uh. Exorbitantly Expensive. As in, the grand total could probably buy the entire fucking MOON sort of expensive. (It's fine, don't worry, Bill's good enough at crime to be able to afford it.) Also, because the logic of this AU is mostly dictated by Rule of Funny, the Love God's powers are close to unlimited when it comes to matters of romance, but ONLY when it comes to matters of romance. (Like weddings!)

Want an empty human vessel to smash the soul of a triangle into for date nights or when it's convenient, or perhaps even when it's NOT convenient? Easy peasy! Want the marriage to be recognized in every corner of the multiverse from now until the end of time, thus making any potential future divorce nigh-on impossible? Can do! Want to buy an entire beach for the ceremony and honeymoon and in general, and totally not at all because it would be Super Hilarious to prevent any specific movies from being made on that very same beach in the future? Fine, whatever, it's not his finances he's ruining!

Does the Love God also provide special rings that just so happen to turn incorporeal as long as the "happy couple" doesn't remember that they barged into his dreams to bully him into presiding over their marriage? ...No comment!

He spends the next thirty years trying and failing to get in touch with either of them for payment. This is why you should always demand half the money up front, my guy!

Also it's absolutely a traditional Jewish wedding, because I like the idea of Bill demanding all the keepsakes from the marriage that he paid for, and being completely confused when one of the things he's handed is a fancy container full of broken glass. He gets it later, but in the moment, he thinks the Love God is just fucking with him some more.

Ramble over! Here's the full dress that caused the comic to happen, along with what Ford wound up wearing at the wedding (and begrudgingly agreeing to put on again later for Reasons), aaaaand also a close-up of Bill's ring:

I may have forgotten to draw Bill's hair floofier when drawing the back of the dress, lmao

Since double ring ceremonies have been leaking over into Jewish wedding customs for a while now, Ford also has a ring, but his is the much more traditional plain gold band. There's definitely a message engraved on the inside - embarrassing, cringe, or incriminating somehow - but I haven't decided what it is yet, so use your imagination for now. XD Bill, on the other hand, saw the phrase 'traditional plain gold band' and said "No Thank You" before proceeding to embellish his ring to his liking. And because he's a secret sap who adores Ford's extra fingers, the triangle points add up to twelve, as do the engraved stars. Yes, they're stars, not dots, I just got lazy. There's also six lashes on the eye gem, and probably an eye engraving on the inside with another six lashes. (Bill's got it BAD, okay? We all know this.)

Here are the initial scribbles of Bill's custom vessel in more casual attire, please ignore the wonky anatomy and the fact that I flat out refuse to ever draw him with a proper top hat:

He does actually need a cane in this vessel; since Bill tends to possess men and especially Ford more often than not, he's used to having a higher center of gravity when in a human body, so his ability to balance is pretty garbage. (He may or may not topple over with concerning regularity.) As for his empty eye socket, his bangs don't do much to hide it since he's so high-energy (dude is constantly on the move), and he also refuses to wear a patch over it, because 1.) why bother, and 2.) it's more fun to freak people out.

To better align with Ford's attraction towards the strange, the vessel was designed with super minor shapeshifting ability - Bill can look like a perfectly normal human, but he can also make the teeth and fingers sharper whenever he likes (which is mostly just when he's angry or being more of a menace than usual), as well as slit down the pupils or outright ditch the irises altogether. He can also have whatever he wants in the downstairs department, just because I'm an indecisive bitch on that front, lmao. Maybe he can have boobs if he wants them, too, but I ain't drawin' tits on no triangle, nuh-uh, no sir. His powers are otherwise limited down to what humans can do, because for some reason, the Love God doesn't trust Bill to not snap into Immediate Apocalypse Mode if he's given a physical form that's actually all his and no one else's.

Due to the body being all his and no one else's, it's also not really a standard possession so much as it is just...Bill being temporarily human. He's a lot more aware of and in tune with his human body's senses than he ever was with his "puppets", which makes things like pain a lot more intense. (He is mostly fine with this, because he's a fukken masochist.)

A bit more fashion stuff, including beach and party attire~

The beach outfit was mostly me trying and failing to nail down his body shape, which is still not bottom-heavy enough. I then decided to slap a bikini on it, before making it supremely unsexy with a pair of fugly shorts, because Bill's fashion choices are not allowed to be conventionally attractive. Meanwhile, the party outfit was mostly me looking at the casual attire I designed, asking 'how would Bill make this Worse', and then drawing the result. The mismatched thigh-highs are killing me inside! :D

No, his vessel can't actually summon fire, I just drew it for funzies before I decided on said vessel's limitations. Yes, the gold brick tattoos are absolutely a reference to the fic 'Knowing Me, Knowing You' - I simply could not resist.

I also HAD to draw Bill in one of his canonical(?) shirts, just made tank-top'd:

He is absolutely about to over-correct and fall backwards after this. USE YOUR CANE, GOOFBALL!!! (I meant to draw Bill closer to this degree of bottom-heavy in the other images, but. Alas. I am bad at anatomy, LOL)

And, last but not least before More Comic Time, I attempted to draw him closer to Gravity Falls style:

Jury's out on whether or not I succeeded, but - hey. I tried. Now have some Handyman Bill AU, but with my goofy human design, instead:

Hey, it's a 'mystery snack', and the guy wanted A BITE to eat - the joke was right there, guys!!! (Based on this post, because it just screamed BILL CIPHER to me.)

whoops i forgor bills ring and cracks ahaha too late now

I WILL SHUT UP AND STOP RAMBLING NOW K THX BYYYYYE

[voltoise-art]

The difference thirty years makes

I've had the Stan twins' done since January haha oops

[weirdghostcat]

A little follow-up to this drawing. Didn't feel like doing more than a doodle right now, that's why it's half a sketch.

I can already say, Pit and Error will use every opportunity to insult each other. Every. Little. Single. One.

[inkyrainstorms]

Hyde hated his twin brother. And he had plenty of reasons, believe him, he had his goddamn reasons.

When they were kids, his stuck up prick of a twin would always insist on calling Hyde his younger brother, and every time Hyde threatened to put a pick through his teeth, he’d laugh and ruffle his hair like they weren’t the same fuckin’ height, the same age, like he always knew Hyde didn’t mean it—

And was it always because Henry knew he could do worse, would do worse, wanted to do worse, how long, how long had he thought of it, dreamed of becoming an only child while looking Hyde right in the eyes and smiling—

And Hyde didn’t mean it, of course. Hadn’t. Despite the very real urge to choke Henry’s lights out every time he played that stupid ‘holier-than-thou’ routine he loved so much, Hyde had never really done anything worse than a few maybe less-than-well-spirited pranks, getting Henry suspended half a dozen times in grade school by getting him wrapped up in Hyde’s shenanigans… and maybe breaking his nose once when they were both a fresh decade and a half old and Hyde was ready to fight anything that moved.

He’d never been… the easiest kid. Or the nicest.

Or the best brother, really.

But Jekyll took the fucking cake in the end. Fucking overachiever.

Always had to show Hyde up, didn’t he.

But none of that fucking mattered, because Hyde hated his twin.

He hated his stupid smug smile whenever he came home with another award or another perfect score, hated his indulgent, exasperatedly fond attitude whenever Hyde came home with twigs tangled so bad in his hair that it took them both over an hour to pry them all out, and Hyde hated— just. Everything about him. 

Was any of it real? How long, how long had he planned it, planned to—

He hated this house, too. Hated the gardens and their winding walk-paths through the delicately shaped bushes and flowerbeds, hated the first-floor bedroom he used to share, hated the empty, perfectly-made bed across from his own, the one that collected dust every day and every night that passed in those walls.

Everywhere he turned, there would be Henry smiling on the mantle place, Henry on the walls, and even his own goddamn parents touting around how brilliant their son was, attending Oxford, as a soon-to-be Doctor of Science — honestly, this whole place made Hyde want to rip his hair out. Henry, Henry, Henry, as if Jekyll had gotten his wish he’d cleansed his family name of Edward Hyde for good.

Shut up! He wanted to scream at them most days, throat bobbing and body trembling more than he’d ever admit as he held himself back, He’s not a great anything! He’s a fucking liar and if I ever see him again, I’ll fucking break his face! Before he can find finishing the job worth his time.

But he couldn’t. Couldn’t do anything but scowl and be difficult to everyone and hobble through the hallways so slow every day that he could count the floorboards beneath him as he did, that he could feel the burning stare of the photographs lining the walls at his sides.

He couldn’t even run anymore. Couldn’t climb, could barely walk even with the help of these stupid arm braces —crutches— whatever.

It was hard to do that shit without a leg. He’d become intimately aware of that fact in recent days. Months.

…

Henry was graduating next year, getting his Doctorate next summer. It was just cusping on the beginning of spring right now, so…

Three years.

It had been three years.

Three years and a week. He’d missed the anniversary, whatever it fucking meant to him.

What a fucking load of shit.

Hyde hated everything and everyone in this miserable house, and hated the one who haunted it even more. So, of course, it didn’t hurt at all to pull the packed bag out from under his bed, kneeling awkwardly on the floor with his good leg and its ugly stump of a twin folded beneath him. It didn’t hurt in the slightest when he pulled on his cloak and slipped the strap of the bag over his head to let it lie flat against his back. 

The only reason he stopped at the door of his room was because he didn’t want Henry’s fucking face to fucking judge him all the way to the door. 

And his parents would never let this ‘poor little crippled son’ do anything that would risk his precious health. That would be a goddamn shame, wouldn’t it. The neighbors would call them irresponsible, would gossip.

It only hurt a little, jumping out of the window and landing in the bushes below hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. But it was the good pain, the kind that he came home with after falling out of a tree, after a good fight. It made him feel alive. 

And he’d even — if only because he couldn’t do shit-all without them — remembered to toss his crutches out the window before him. They were only a little banged up, tangled up in the branches as they were. But they were like him. They could take it.

As Hyde stalked his way through the garden and slipped through the gap in the fence he’d never told anyone, not even H— him about, he couldn’t help but grin in that wide too-many-teeth way that always made his parents and teachers nervous.

The night was his. 

When he went to it, followed its call, it promised him escape, freedom, and everything else that had been taken from him that night.

And what he couldn’t get back didn’t matter anymore. 

Hyde hated his twin.

So nothing could ever hurt him again.

————

@afkphorabit @kaykayli @aliens-took-my-iwa-chan Hyde is…. Going through it lmao

[momochimchim]

Today was a busy but great day!! I was planning on drawing more but here's what I got for today 🤧

[nuttyinternetsheep]

These dorks are here to beat you up

[enchantedsword]

stranger: oh so you're twins, which of you is the older one?

sunny: well we were adopted at 2 and dont know our bio parents,and anyway we're twins so it doesn't matter we're the same a-

mk: its me!

sunny: just because you're taller doesnt mean shit!

5 seasons later

sunny: ha! im older i knew it!

mk: what happened to we're twins and it doesnt matter?!

sunny: awww are you mad that you dont have bragging rights anymore? how cute little brother~

mk: i will bring your height into this dont test me

[luckyashes-art]

hmmhh... thinking abt the different families in [PJSK Monster AU]... So I think I will list all of them ☝️

[Disclaimer ‼️‼️ Might have to rethink some of these now given that specific types of monsters/beasts should actually be outside the random monster pool of possibility to be born into (if that makes sense)]

Hoshinos - Human mom, Manticore dad(?)

Tenmas - Human parents

Mochizukis - Human parents & brother

Hinomoris - Human parents

Hanasatos - Human mom & brother, Jackalope dad(?)

Kiritanis - Human parents

Momois - Werewolf mom, Human dad & sisters

Azusawas - Human parents

Shiraishis - Human parents

Aoyagis - Human mom & brothers, Angel dad

Shinonomes - Dragon parents

Otoris - Hodgepodge

Kusanagis - Human parents

Kamishiros - Human parents

Yoisakis - Werewolf mom, Human dad

Asahinas - Vampire mom, Human dad

Akiyamas - Satyr mom & sister, Human dad

[tblsomedoodles]

Hey, I was just thinking about something to do with your Seer Twins AU that actually makes a lot of sense. I know that Donnie sees the good in his visions while Leo sees the bad, but what about if they need to connect two partial visions together to make a complete vision or something like that. This is where, what I'm calling the bridge comes into play. This third person, who is also born at or around the same time as the seers, has both the yin and yang marks on them, but can't use that part of their powers on their own and it won't even show up on scanners unless they're near one of the others while they're having or are about to have a vision. That being said, they can help the other 2 when they have waking visions weather by just being there or protecting them with their extremely powerful abilities. I think you know where I'm going with this. I can see that Mikey is the bridge for Donnie and Leo, and they don't realize it because the yin and yang symbols that he has are in his spots that have subtle swirls to them anyway. With this theory, Draxem originally scanned Mikey when one of his brothers either was about to or was having a vision while he was around, but the next time he scanned Mikey that wasn't the case, and Draxem just assumed it was because of his extremely powerful Ninpo. With this theory as well, the counsel doesn't know about the bridge thing, and just thinks some of the visions are extremely vague.

Also I can see Leo and Donnie getting charms of some sort, in the good future timeline, that helps them control their visions better.

First of all, this is very cool. and i like it a lot. Mikey having having a role in this that no one has figured out? And a little symbol that just looks like a spot with a color variation? Fantastic and adorable!

I will like to add some things to this. Like

Mikey wouldn't be able to see the visions he helps with, like at all. He's assisting but is not fully part of it.

Since the twins' standard visions are broken up bits of visions kinda scrambled around, if Mikey just being close by helps stabilize them so they can see them more linearly. (the twins don't have to be together at the time either. This is just something he passively does to either of them. Meaning Donnie's blueberry pancake vision was probably quite a bit less jumbled/more clear than he's used to having just b/c Mikey was there.)

I think it would also be cool that if he's actively helping them while they're together that, like what you said, they both get a full image of what's happening. But also like, i think for the twins, it would be more like a lucid dream than a vision. Like, normally they're just watching what's happening with flashes of feelings from whoever they're watching from. But like, if it's assisted like that, they're more aware in said vision and can possibly watch from a third person perspective rather than a first.

I also really like the idea that though that's something this third can do, it's not their main thing. I think this third is there to help if needed, but mostly is there to protect. Since Seers (especially newly come into their powers seers) are quite vulnerable during their visions, they would need someone to watch over them during that time. They're given a giant mystic source with powerful mystic abilities to go with it.

I don't think he'd need a second source like Leo and Donnie, i think his one would just be compatible with the twins enough to augment the twins abilities.

i think it would be kinda neat too if Mikey can't sleep while one of them is having a vision. Like the second one of them slips into a vision he's awake and alert and, especially early on, has no idea why. A few minutes later, he gets tired again and goes right back to sleep. Whether it's limited by distance or not, i'm not sure at the moment. But i do like this since, his job is to protect them during visions so he mystically gets woken up to do that.

Like you said, it's not something the Council would be aware of b/c of the subtlety of it. (plus, even if they did know, I think they wouldn't like the idea. They see themselves as 'protecting' the seers so i don't think they would like the idea that they already had a naturally assigned protector.)

Anyways, that's all i have time to rant about right now. But i do really like this and it's given me quite a bit to think about while i'm at work tonight lol.

Thank you!!

[clegfly]

Blood brothers omori au. Send post

[hymnoire]

"and you.. who are you?" ( for my boy @homelander-rp-blog for any of your muses! for apocalypse au! )

Six months ago, during the war, Gaya fell and broke. Shot in the stomach, ejected through a window that cracked open, twenty floors high. Her spine shattered, her left arm snapped like glass, and her iliac wings were pulverized. She bled out on the pavement, dead. Technology had advanced in this new chapter of the world, enough to piece her body back together, enough to merge flesh with steel and thread her nerves through circuits. Her left arm and her spine were fully replaced, bionic. Neural pathways were rerouted through a matrix of living code. Her body healed, but she was no longer just human. Half a woman, half a machine. That same technology is what tore the world apart. It began in secrecy, in government labs chasing transcendence, trying to rewrite the limits of the human condition. But the secret didn’t stay buried. Titan, a terrorist syndicate with no face and endless reach, stole the research before the government could even lie about it. By the time Titan was found, it was too late. They were out for blood, and they got it. Gaya always believed humans shouldn’t play God and she was right. Sadly, she still failed to stop what came next. The war that followed wasn’t just civil, it was apocalyptic. Titan’s stolen tech created HumanAIs, hybrids built for war, programmed to kill who inevitably start killing regular humans. What started as a silent war became a global one, spiraling out of control. Now, what's left of humanity hides. Scattered. Starving. The cities belong to the HumanAIs who operate for Titan, soulless, and ruthless. The rest of the world is a crumbling wasteland of rusted skeletons and toxic air. Humans live in exile, in otarcy, a kind of existence where survival is a full-time job and trust is extinct. Many wander the red deserts, where wind doesn’t blow and the sky forgets to rain. Gaya hasn’t awakened yet from her recovery and surgery, she still lies in a bed made of glass, intubated, in a room that’s kept hidden. A room watched over by Kaeleena.

Kaeleena stands like a ghost wrapped in ivory, a vision so pristine it feels offensive. Her dress is immaculate, the color of untouched snow, stitched from something too soft to be real, yet too perfect to be fabric. It clings and drapes with eerie fluidity, a high-collared robe that splits open like a ceremonial blade down the front, revealing thin bands of gold coiled along her ribs. Ornamental and useless, like jewelry meant for gods. Her feet are bare. Clean. Silent. She moves like she’s never touched the ground. The room she inhabits is an aberration in this post-collapse world. A sanctum of impossible luxury carved into the bones of Titan's supremacy. Glass walls rise around her like cathedral windows, refracting artificial light into dancing gold across the marbled floor. A single desk dominates the room, sleek and angular. Behind her, a massive screen displays with schematics, pulse maps, surveillance grids, and living files. One of them is labeled simply: Gayane. Cables slither from the ceiling like lazy serpents, some plugged into her desk, others drifting, whispering data and venom. The air smells of antiseptic and something older, like ozone or blood. Kaeleena leans against the edge of the desk, absurdly at ease in this sanctuary of horrors. Her eyes are pale, too pale to be fully human anymore. She was once, like all of them. When she smiles, it is with the slow satisfaction of someone who has already won. Her presence is cold. Where Gaya burned, Kaeleena freezes. She doesn’t need horns or claws. Her power is in her poise, her intelligence, and the certainty that she knows everything. Every path, every death, every betrayal. She watches John with the look of someone who already knows how the story ends. He is being escorted, not dragged or restrained, merely shadowed by the men who guard Titan’s inner sanctum. She has been expecting him. When he enters, she smiles, the curve of her lips dangerous. He asks who she is. Even if she would love to kill him, she doesn’t. Not yet. For the love of the game. “I do wonder,” she says, voice smooth as oil over glass, “if Gayane ever spoke of me, darling. I sincerely hope she did. If not... I shall be very disappointed. And I do not wear disappointment well.” They look exactly alike, Gaya and Kaeleena. Same eyes, same bone structure. But where Gaya kept the storm in her dark hair, Kaeleena bleached hers into light, so pale, almost white. Their auras, however, could not be more different. Gaya was the flame. Kaeleena, the frost.

“Who am I?” she repeats, stepping closer. Her voice is steel. “I am the villain in your precious narrative, John. Welcome to Titan. Our empire is sacred, and I…” She smiles again, this time with teeth, deranged and proud. “I am its High Priestess.” She knows exactly how far he’s come. Crossed the red deserts. Walked through cities infested with soulless machines. All for her. “Don’t tell me,” she purrs, circling him now, like the serpent in Eden, “you came all this way simply to meet your sister-in-law.” Her tone turns mocking, cruel in its sweetness. “What is it, then? Have you come to steal my beloved Gayane away from me… instead?” She leans in, eyes wide with exaggerated sorrow, a hand drifting to rest against her heart, as though to calm some violent flutter within. “I have peered into her mind, you know. I have seen the two of you, watched those fivelong years unfold like pages in a sickeningly intimate little novel. The investigations, the dates, the whispered conspiracies, the moments where death breathed down your necks and you clung to each other like lifelines. And then, of course, the sweet, sweet love-making. I love yous in Missionary aren't as cute as you think they are.” Her lips curl with disdain, like the very memory leaves a taste of ash on her tongue. Psychotic and jealous? “She loves you. More than she ever loved me. Can you fathom that?” A low, brittle laugh slips from her throat, somewhere between a sob and a knife dragged across silk. She's deranged. “It shattered me,” she says softly, with a tragic little tilt of her head. “I’m terribly sensitive.” Then, just as quickly, her gaze turns. The softness evaporates, replaced by something cold and merciless, something that cuts. “So tell me, John,” she murmurs, voice tightening. “Do you want her back… or not?” She steps back, just slightly, her hands clasping behind her back, posture impeccable, like a queen awaiting terms of surrender. “Because I am not above bargaining and I always enjoy a good negotiation. That's how we can get to know each other.”

[nico-moist-moses]

I drew more

[valeovalairs]

i am once again thinking about my baker king esque riptide au idea. and what the ferin family looks like in that and oughj someone stop me i have to read a whole textbook chapter for class i cant be having thoughts

[rubberduckyrye]

A part of me is like. I should just write the 600 words now. Get the 3k out before I get too tired. If I go lay down I'll be tempted by sleep. Argh!!!

[soapgraves]

Might make?? My own vash au?? Where he actually?? Looks like all vashs?? At one point?? (Hair & jackets..)

Givrs him fluffy hair. Purely on a bad hair day. Sometimes he switches his coats depending on what hes feeling... His hair does go black at the end... So many possibilities..

I hit tag limit. The rest is a secret. 💗💗

[rafesteddy]

Here’s a little teaser of my DILF!Rafe x MILF!reader I'm working on… 💕🤭

it’s a standalone but you can read more dilf/milf au here

+18 -> c/w completely unedited, swearing, 18 year old boys being gross, suggestive, Rafe doing DILFy Rafe activities aka washing a car #fuckingpurr

You lean into the counter, squeezing lemon after lemon into the pitcher, not really thinking—just letting the juice run down your fingers. It’s cold and sticky, soaking into the creases of your palms. The whole kitchen smells like sugar and citrus, with that warm, soft hint of cookies still cooling behind you.

The plate is already half gone, scarfed up by the group of teenagers congregating in the common space. They’re all tall, tan, and way too loud—sprawled out like they own the place.

“Sugar, please?” You ask as you gesture to Kelce’s son, perched on the counter, completely blocking the one cupboard you actually need.

“Yes, ma’am,” he hums, giving you a sweet smile as he hops to the floor and retrieves it for you.

His hand brushes yours when he passes it off. You thank him, sweet as always, and turn back to stir.

“Fuck, she wants me so bad,” he mumbles to your son, just out of your earshot.

Max groans, head thudding back against the cabinet door. “Fuck off, Tripp. Don’t fuckin’ start, alright?”

“Why else would she be in here squeezin’ her lemons?” Tripp groans, somehow making that sound as suggestive as possible.

“Hi, Mom!” Winnie calls, stepping in, her sandals slapping against the marble. Her boyfriend Jackson follows behind, arms already full—carrying the twins, their hair still wet from playing in the sprinkler, freshly dressed like they’re going out.

“Is it cool if we take the twins out for ice cream?” Winnie asks, only half-focused on you as she throws a displeased look at one of the boys who’s giving her an obvious up-and-down.

That same boy yelps when Max throws a punch, nailing him in the arm.

“M’gonna fuckin’ kill you,” he mutters, going after his sister too, which makes the other boys hoop and holler like it’s all one big game.

“Of course, sweetie,” you coo, walking toward the counter to grab your purse. You pull out some cash without hesitation.

“Oh—no, Mrs. Cameron, really, I’ve got it,” Jackson says quickly, but you glance back at him with a warm smile.

“That’s very sweet, but not necessary… Thanks for taking them off my hands for a little bit.”

You kneel in front of the twins, pushing back one of your daughter’s curls, brushing your son’s cheek.

“You two be good for your sister and Jackson, okay?”

You lean forward to kiss their cheeks, and without realizing it, your sundress shifts. The neckline dips—your breasts softly press together, your backside teasing the hemline—and you stay bent a moment longer than usual, whispering something about sprinkles and chocolate.

Behind you, the boys fall completely silent. The one who had been on the counter swallows hard. Another one stares like he forgot how to breathe.

“Max… dude. This is your life?”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” Your son mutters.

“I’d move in tomorrow. I’ll be your stepdad today.”

“Bet she tastes like sugar—”

“I said shut up,” Max snaps.

Another one of their friends walks in from the hallway, catches you mid-bend, and grins like the damn Cheshire Cat. He lifts both hands in the air like he’s holding your hips, thrusting behind you with an silent moan.

The rest of the boys lose it—coughing, snorting, trying to swallow their laughter as you stand up and smooth your dress, still completely unaware.

“All right, go have fun,” you sing out as the group starts to head for the door.

You return to the pitcher, lifting it to the sink.

You fill it slowly—water churning the lemon juice and sugar together, rising to the top—when your gaze drifts out the window. And you see him. Rafe...

Out front on the cobblestone walk, his white shirt soaked through, hose in one hand as he rinses down the G-Wagon. Sunlight hits the spray like glitter. Water clings to his tee, molding the fabric to every cut of his chest and arms. You freeze, breath caught, as he turns—hat flipping backwards with one hand.

Your thighs press together. Your grip tightens on the handle of the pitcher just as the water spills over the top, running down your hand in a sudden splash. You fumble for the sink and shut off the tap, your eyes never leaving him.

His shirt clings to his broad back, light blue swim trunks riding low on his hips and high on his thighs. One hand grips the bucket, the other coils the hose. The sun glints off his biceps. The thin cotton darkens, outlining every muscle, his chest shifting and flexing with each slow move.

“Have fun, boys,” you chirp, draining a splash of lemonade into a glass, your eyes locked on your husband until the very last second.