professional kate bishop kisser

You lift your hand to her cheek and her breath hitches just for a moment before she leans into your touch. Soft wind blows around you, amplifying Wanda’s addicting cherry blossom scent. Wanda looks up at you through her lashes and you swallow around the lump in your throat.

You press your other hand to Wanda’s other cheek, wanting to frame her face in your hands. But suddenly, your sense of touch has grown weaker and she doesn’t feel real.

Tears prick your eyes and the wetness of Wanda’s eyes mirror yours.

“Wanda…” you manage around the thickness of your throat. “Why can’t I…why can’t I feel you?”

Wanda shakes her head and a single tear slips down her left cheek, gleaming in the setting sunlight. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“Sorry? For what? Why—“ but you cut off as the field begins to dissolve around you. Colors blur. The sky melts. Wanda’s eyes flash red and then everything goes dark.

And then, you wake up. Bolt awake is more like it as you sit up quickly in your bed, gasping for breath. The room comes into focus slowly. Morning light spills through your blinds. Your heart is still pounding against your ribs. For several seconds, you just stare into the middle distance, trying to get your breath back to normal.

You try to shake off the remnants of your last dream, but the waking world isn’t much better. Your bedroom feels charged, staticky, like the air before an impending thunderstorm. A faint prickling sensation still dances across your skin.

You rub a hand down your face and groan. Another incredibly vivid dream to add to the tally. Since your breakup with the other woman three months prior, it seemed to be the only thing you were dreaming about, and to say it was driving you crazy would be an understatement.

They’ve become impossible to ignore, the dreams. Sometimes, they’re simple: you and Wanda merely standing across from one another, a silent standoff. Other nights, they’re far worse. Wanda crying, collapsing into your arms, begging you not to leave her, begging you to forgive her. Dreams so vivid that they leave you emotionally exhausted for your entire day.

You sigh heavily. Your apartment was quiet except for the ticking of the analog clock on your wall. You hated that silence. It was times like these that you wish you’d insisted on Glitch staying with you. Glitch was the calico that you and Wanda had adopted together soon after your one-year anniversary. Glitch had immediately stood out to you because of his heterochromia—one gray eye and one brown eye.

Wanda has sort of gotten custody of Glitch in the breakup. You figured it was for the best since you were actually just the slightest bit allergic to the little guy. But man, what you wouldn’t give for Glitch’s company right about now.

Dragging yourself from your bed, you pad down the hallway toward your kitchen, your stomach growling the entire way. The moment you open your refrigerator, you groan. There wasn’t much in the way of sustenance aside from half a carton of milk and one container of meatballs that have probably since gone bad. Fantastic.

The pantry isn’t much better: a single pack of ramen and what’s left of a family size bag of tortilla chips (that might’ve been your salty snack of choice when your breakup was fresh). You stare at your shelves, then at your reflection in the microwave, and once again back at your shelves. You hadn’t intended to leave the house today, but a grocery errand would need to be made soon unless you wanted to starve. With a sigh, you head back to your room to grab your keys.

***

The grocery store is packed, which you suppose you should’ve anticipated for a Saturday morning. You maneuver your cart through the store, avoiding the cereal aisle altogether where three young children are wreaking havoc with their parents or guardians nowhere insight. You remember just how much you hate grocery shopping, and grocery stores in general. And with a pang, you realize that Wanda used to do the shopping. Not because she had to, but because she genuinely liked it, and she knew you dreaded it.

You remember the detailed lists she used to make, the snacks and foods that she knew to be your favorites always at the top of the list. You shove the thought away and head toward the pasta aisle. But then, you freeze, your heart stuttering painfully in your chest. There, standing halfway down the aisle, was the very woman who’d been haunting all your dreams. Wanda.

For one terrifying second, you think you must be dreaming again. As if sensing your stare, Wanda looks up, and her gaze zeroes on you. That look. The same one she’d given you in last night’s dream. You swallow hard, your pulse roaring in your ears. You have every inclination of ditching your cart altogether and making a break for it. But you can’t move your feet.

You see Wanda’s lips part, as if maybe she wants to say something. But then, a man pushes a shopping cart between you. The interruption lasts maybe two seconds, three at most. But after he passes, Wanda is gone.

You blink, turning a full 360, glimpsing your surroundings for any sign of the auburn-haired woman. But there’s no sign of her. Just more strangers everywhere you look.

A small, disbelieving laugh escapes you. “Okay,” you say to yourself. “So, there is a very real possibility that I’m losing my fucking mind,” Maybe dreaming about your ex-girlfriend every night has officially broken your brain. Maybe you’d just seen Wanda in a random woman, and from her perspective, you were just some creep in Hello Kitty pajama pants staring her down and freaking her out. That would explain how quickly she disappeared. She’d probably never feel safe shopping here again, and it would be your fault. Whatever the answer is, it doesn’t stop your hands from trembling for the rest of your shopping trip.

By evening, you’re no closer to convincing yourself that you imagined it, so instead, you’ve switched tactics, which is to say doing anything you can to push the weirdness of the day out of your mind. You finally clean your apartment, which includes scrubbing the baseboards. (Here, you hear Wanda’s voice in your head saying, “You know your house is clean if even the baseboards are spotless,”). You make yourself a home-cooked meal so you wouldn’t fall on your crutch of ordering in. And finally, you put on a movie.

Finding a movie to watch isn’t easy, though. You’re in the mood for a comfort movie, but it’s hard to find one that you haven’t also watched with Wanda. So you finally settle on a silly buddy-cop movie that will be easy to turn your mind off to. Eventually, exhaustion wins, and the film becomes background noise as your eyes drift shut.

~

You’re at home. Not in your current apartment, but your old one. The one you shared with Wanda. The realization hits immediately. The walls, the furniture, the photographs, everything is exactly as it used to be. Except the apartment is a mess. Books litter the floor, cabinets hang open, blankets spill from the couch. Red motes of magic drift through the air.

You startle as you feel something brush up against your legs, and you look down to find Glitch staring up at you with one gray eye and one brown eye. He meows at you.

“Hey guy,” you say, reaching down to brush the knuckle of your index finger against his tiny, furry head. Glitch purrs, leaning into the touch. It’s only for a few seconds though and then he dashes away as if he’d just spotted a mouse or a bird.

You watch Glitch go, but then a voice comes back to you in reverb. Wanda’s voice saying your name, “Y/n…”

Your stomach twists. “Wanda?” You call. No answer.

You move deeper into the apartment, feeling the magic dust thickening around you. There’s a familiar hum in your ears, Wanda’s voice again, you know, but now you can’t make out what she’s saying.

And then, you find her. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed the two of you used to share, her head bowed and her hands clasped tightly together. Your heart breaks for her immediately because she looks so vulnerable like that. Like someone who’s been carrying the weight of the world for too long. Probably just as emotionally spent as you’ve been feeling for weeks on end.

“Wanda?”

Slowly, she lifts her head. Her eyes find yours, and the relief on her face is immediate. “Hi,” she says.

You swallow. “…Hi,” You don’t know why tears are suddenly burning behind your eyes. Maybe because this is the most real, the most lucid that these dreams have ever felt. Maybe because you’ve just missed her. Maybe because you still love her and you know you’ve never stopped.

“I saw you today,” Wanda says quietly.

You blink at her.

“In the grocery store,” Wanda explains.

Your breath catches. “So, that was you,”

A shaky laugh escapes her. “I thought maybe I’d imagined you,”

The admission pulls a reluctant smile from you. “Funny. I thought the same thing, actually,”

Wanda smiles back, but it wanes just as fast. Neither of you look away.

“I miss you,” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.

Wanda’s eyes immediately fill with tears. “I miss you too,” her voice cracks halfway through her sentence. The sound nearly destroys you.

Wanda stands slowly, crosses the room, and stops directly in front of you. Close enough to touch. Her hands reach up to frame your face, mirroring your actions from last night’s dream. Your breath catches and you lean into the touch, placing your hands over hers. You close your eyes as your forehead presses gently against hers.

Wanda’s thumb strokes your cheekbone, and then she pulls back, far before you’re ready for her to. “Wake up,” she says softly.

“Wanda—“

“Shhh,” she squeezes your hand. “Wake up. I’ll see you soon,”

~

Your eyes snap open and you bolt upright on the couch, heart racing. On the TV, the ending credits for the movie you’d put on roll across a black screen. You stare at the credits, trying to process what just happened. You weren’t sure how you didn’t put the prices together before, but now you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that that wasn’t just a normal dream. And the hundreds you’d had before weren’t normal either. Wanda had infiltrated your dreams. She’d been trying to talk to you, trying to find you.

You exhale heavily and rise from the couch, and despite the late hour, you needed to go for a jog. You needed to think.

The air outside is cool, perfect jogging whether. You typically liked your jogs during daylight hours, but this would have to suffice. You needed literally anything wise from your own thoughts. Halfway through your run, your phone rings. You fish it out of your pocket, taking note of Natasha’s contact name.

You slow to a stop and accept Natasha’s call. “Hi,” you greet her, slightly winded from the run.

“How bad is it?” Natasha asks by way of a greeting.

You blink. “Huh? How bad is what?”

“The breakup.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Nat, please don’t—“

“You deflecting tells me everything I need to know.”

“Why are you even asking, Nat?” you huff, defensive.

“Wanda talked to me.”

You shed your defenses immediately like a chrysalis. Of course Wanda spoke to her, you didn’t blame her. Natasha had somehow become the unofficial mediator for every relationship within the Avengers.

When you don’t reply immediately, Natasha goes on to say, “She’s hanging on by a thread, y/n,”

Your chest tightens. But of course, you didn’t need to be told this. Wanda manipulating all your dreams was proof enough of that.

“I’m guessing you’re not doing much better, no offense,” Natasha says.

“Well, that’s offensive,” you huff. “What would you say if I said the opposite? If I said that I’m actually doing okay right now?”

“Then I’d strongly advise you not to bullshit me because you know I have a low tolerance for it.” Natasha counters.

You let out a dry chuckle. “Right.”

“Look, I know you’re a grown adult and I don’t run your life. But I’m also your friend and I don’t want you to suffer, so…just consider it, alright?” Natasha says.

You feel that telltale prickle in the back of your eyes. God, you were so sick of crying. “Okay,” you sigh. “Okay, yeah, I will,”

The call ends and you continue jogging, but if you think there’s any hope of clearing your mind now, you’re sorely mistaken.

The last thing you’re expecting to find when you return from your jog is someone standing outside your apartment door. You slow immediately, on edge. The figure turns, and startles at the sight of you, and suddenly your heart is trying to escape your chest. “Wanda?”

Wanda looks equally shocked. You approach carefully. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,”

“It’s okay, I just…thought you were inside. I just rang the doorbell,” Wanda says, her words coming out a little breathless.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, though you think it’s fair to say that’s a dumb question.

“I was hoping we could talk,” Wanda replies. “Can we? Please? I’ll even be quick,”

You smile and step past Wanda to unlock your door. “Of course. Come on in,”

Several minutes later, you’re sitting on opposite ends of your couch. The irony isn’t lost on either of you. There was a time when sitting this far apart would’ve been blasphemy. Wanda was a snuggler, and so were you.

Wanda fidgets with her hands. “I did want to see you, but first, I wanted to apologize for…the dreams. I’m sure you’ve picked up on the fact that—“

“You’ve been causing them,” you fill in the blanks.

“Yeah,” Wanda breathes. She looks up, meeting your eyes. “I’m so sorry, I’m sure it freaked you out. At first, I was just trying to cope. I told myself I’d only do it once, just once to make sure you were okay. But then…I sort of got addicted. I wanted to see you and I couldn’t stop.”

The confession hangs between you. Wanda studied your face, her shoulders hun he’d like she’s waiting for you to yell, to throw her out, to say how violated you felt. But the truth was that you weren’t surprised. You’d already figured it out. It would be hard not to know after that last dream you had. But moreover, you weren’t mad. You were honestly sort of relieved. Shaken, but relieved.

“It’s okay,” you say finally.

“You’re really not mad?” The question comes out so small. So uncertain.

You shake your head, a small huff escaping you. “How could I be?” you say, searching Wanda’s face too. “Knowing that you missed me just as damn much as I missed you,”

Tears immediately gather in Wanda’s eyes and in a flash, you closed the distance, scooting closer until your thigh brushed hers. You reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind Wanda’s ear.

“You don’t hate me?” She asks, her voice catching.

“God Wanda, no,” you reply, your own voice catching now. “I could never hate you,”

Wanda sniffles as tears begin to chase each other down her cheeks. “I could never hate you either,”

Your chest aches because of course she couldn’t. If either of you hated the other, moving on would’ve been easy. Instead, you spent months loving each other from separate apartments, separate beds, separate lives. Both remaining miserable the entire time.

A watery laugh escapes Wanda and she finally lets her head drop on your shoulder. Your wrap your arms around her, pressing a kiss into the crown of her head.

“Can we try again?” Wanda asks. The question is barely audible.

You don’t answer immediately, but you know what you’ll say. You’ve known for months what you’d say if faced with this decision.

You take Wanda’s hand in yours, lacing your fingers together before bringing your joined hands to your lips to kiss her knuckles. “Only if we’re both honest this time,”

She nods quickly. “Always.”

“And we actually lean on each other,” you add. “No more suffering in silence,”

“No more,” Wanda parrots.

You smile at her. “In that case, I’d love to,”

“Uh…” you swallow hard. “…home.”

“Home?” Vi snorts before reaching for the bedside table and flicking on the lamp, bathing the room in a soft glow. She runs slender fingers through her reddish hair and fixes you with a tired gaze. “C’mon, sunshine, it’s like the middle of the night,” she pats the empty side of her bed.

“It’s 8:30, Vi,” you can’t help your soft giggle. “You just think it’s nighttime still because your room is so dark,”

“Alright, smartass, 8:30 then,” Vi moves to lie on her side. “Now that we both know we can tell time, can you bring your cute ass back to bed?”

You stare at Vi, biting your lip. She’s nothing short of tantalizing—long, shaggy hair falling down her back, muscles on full display and torso shamelessly bare whilst the duvet pools around her lower half. It’s all you can do to hold back from climbing back into bed with her and letting her make you see stars all over again. But that’s the very reason you need to get the hell out of here. Because Vi was too tempting.

“Vi, I just have to go, okay?” you say, deflecting Vi’s gaze as you pick yesterday’s jeans up off the floor.

"But why, though?" Vi whines as she pushes herself into a seated position. She hits you with a theatrical pout, her arms crossed over her chest. "I don’t understand why you can’t just come back to bed."

"You know why I can't,"

"Why can't you?"

"Because I shouldn't have even come here to begin with," you gripe, stepping into your jeans. "You know that."

Vi sighs heavily, frustration creeping into her voice. "Then why did you?" She asks as she watches you get dressed. "You say you shouldn't be here, but you always end up in my bed again and again.”

You hesitate, not having an immediate answer to that. "I don't know...maybe 'cause I like you??"

Vi watches your face. "You kind of have a weird way of showing it, Sunshine,"

"Can you blame me? You know you have a track record, Vi," you fidget with your hands.

Vi bristles at the mention. She knew what people said about her, what they thought about her. And yes, she'd been known to play into the role from time to time. But...there wasn't a moment that she spent with you that felt like that. Not a second of it felt inauthentic. She might even go as far as to say you were her first genuine crush in…forever. That is, if she was known to get mushy like that. Which she wasn’t.

"Well...you're one to talk," Vi finally conjures up a response. "You know you're not exactly brave for always running off like this,"

"Because I know if I don't, it'll just hurt more when you don't call me tomorrow," you snap.

Ouch.

Vi falls silent, knowing you hit the nail on the head. Knowing that she was the type to hook up with someone and then move on when the thrill faded. But she hasn't wanted to do that with you. In fact, she hasn't hooked up with anyone else since you. Hadn’t been able to stomach the thought. But she doubted you’d believe it if she told you that.

"That's not...it wouldn't..." Vi is uncharacteristically flustered, struggling to come up with a comeback.

"It would. You've done it before. That's why my friends don't trust you. Why I know I shouldn't trust you. But then, you come back around and you say the sweetest things and you...do that thing with your tongue..." your cheeks heat up and you avert your gaze again. "...and I fall into the booby trap all over again. No pun intended."

Vi watches your cheeks flush, and despite everything, she feels like her ego was being stroked. Even though she knows she shouldn't, she can't help but tease you just a bit. "You like the thing I do with my tongue, huh?"

You feel your tummy flutter pitifully at the question. "Obviously,"

Vi's smirk widens at your mumbled admission. She leans back on her elbows again, her gaze locked on you, enjoying the reaction she's pulling from you. "Well, come here, then," she pats your spot on her bed again. "I can show you a few more tongue tricks if you want,"

"God, you're not even listening to me right now, are you?" you scoff.

"I am listening. I heard every word you said, okay?" Vi retorts. "You're worried I'm going to drop you, ghost you just like I've done with...admittedly, a lot of other girls. But newsflash, baby—you're not just another girl to me. I've told you that about a million times already, but you never let it stick."

"And have you ever noticed that you always say stuff like that before we have sex, not after? So how am I ever supposed to believe it?"

Now, it’s Vi’s turn to be temporarily speechless. She immediately rolls back through every single hookup, every single time she was lucky enough to have you in her apartment, in her bed. She would say the sweetest things to get your heart racing, to get you comfortable. She thought it then to be just foreplay. Just build up. Never once getting it through her thick skull what that would mean to you.

She falters, her earlier nagging annoyance fading quickly, replaced with a pang of guilt. "I...it wasn't supposed to come off that way. I meant every word, I just..." she rakes a hand through her messy hair, letting out a deep sigh.

"I really like you, Vi," you say. "Probably more than I should, but...if this is just fun to you—“

"It's not!" Vi's reply comes out as a snap, but she softens her tone as she continues. "Damnit, Sunshine, you know I'm not good at this, but...you've gotta know how into you I am. You've never been just some girl to me. You're stubborn and feisty and unbelievably sexy, and you don't let me get away with my bullshit, and I...I like you. Fuck, Sunshine, I like you so much."

You exhale softly. "That’s really how you feel?"

"God, yes," Vi declares. "I know I have a shitty track record, okay? I know I'm not the most reliable, and I'm rough around the edges, and I'm probably all the things your friends say about me. But all I ask for is a chance. Let me show you that this can be different, that it is different, and I'll do anything to prevent losing you."

You take a tentative step toward the bed, then another. Vi watches your movement closely, and when she realizes what's happening, she ushers you closer with a gentle curl of her index finger. "C'mere, baby," she coaxes. "It's just me,"

You swallow hard, moving even closer, and once you're right at the bed's edge, Vi's hands move to your waist and gently guide you down onto the mattress. It doesn't take much for you to melt into her, letting her tug you into her lap. She buries her head in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, savoring your scent. Her hands begin to wander, tracing slow, comforting circles on your back.

"You're still so tense, I can tell," Vi whispers gently against your skin.

"I just...I don't want my friends to be right about you, Vi. Please don't let them be right," you plead.

"Your friends don't know me like you do," Vi murmurs, her lips grazing over your shoulder. "They only see what's on the surface. They don't see...this." She runs her fingers through your hair, scratching softly at your scalp. You practically purr at the touch.

"...Or this..." her lips run along your jawline and then down your neck. She's hunting for the sweet spot, and it's not long until she finds it, nipping at the skin just below your ear. The soft whimper you let out is immediate.

"Let me prove them wrong, Sunshine," Vi says. "Let me prove to you that you're beautiful and special and mine,"

You sigh, letting your head fall back. Vi hums against your skin. Her hands go to your jeans—unbuttoned because you hadn’t fastened them yet—and slip inside.

“You’re so soft,” Vi whispers, her fingers tracing gently over your abdomen. Her mouth begins to move down, pressing another trail of kisses along your jawline.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” she murmurs, her voice low and rough as she nibbles at the junction of your neck and shoulder.

You moan softly and Vi smirks at the sound. “That’s it. You’re getting excited for me, aren’t you?” Her fingers move beneath your shirt, tracing the curves of your rib cage as she kisses a path along your collarbone. She nips and sucks at the sensitive skin there, wanting to taste every inch of you. One of her hands sneaks to the clasp of your bra, toying with it.

“You like that?” She has the nerve to ask.

“Yeah…” you breathe.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Vi replies, a hint of smugness in her voice. She captures your ear lobe between her teeth for a moment, giving it a gentle bite before moving downward to your collar. “You’re making it really hard to not take you right here and now, you know,”

“So then, what are you waiting for?” You challenge, chest heaving and heart racing. “Take me,”

“You sure about that, Sunshine?” Vi husks, her body already pressing closer, already subtly grinding against you and letting her neediness show. “Because once I start, I don’t think I could stop,”

“I wouldn’t tell you to,” you whisper in Vi’s ear, your hands trailing down the other girl’s defined muscles.

That’s all Vi needs to hear. “You’ll be the death of me,” she breathes. And then, she’s pushing you back into the mattress, pinning you down, her expression a combination of need and lust.

Every time before where Vi’s made you needy pails in comparison to how you feel now as you lift your hips so she can help you out of those pesky jeans a second time.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” Vi muses once you’re lying mostly bare for her again.

You look up at Vi, smitten. And you have just enough time to breathe her name before she’s kissing you hard, working the kisses down your neck and chest. She sucks at the delicate skin, leaving marks where she sees fit.

“You taste so good,” she says when she reaches your stomach, her tongue darting out to tease your navel. “I could devour you whole.”

You gasp, hips bucking. “Fuck! That’s the tongue thing I was talking about!”

A low chuckle rumbles in Vi’s chest. “So, you like it when I use it like this, huh?” She sucks at the skin just above the waistband of your panties, her tongue tracing a slow, languid path. “…like it when I taste you?”

“…yes, yes, yes!” you moan.

Vi grins against your heated skin, her fingers hooking into the elastic of your panties. “Say it again. Tell me how much you like it.” She starts to drag the underwear down your hips at an agonizing pace, watching every single expression pass across your face. “Say my name, baby. Tell me what you want right now.”

“Vi, oh Vi…” you feel your back arch even though Vi’s barely starting touching you. “Please…taste me…”

Vi pushes herself down, burying her face between your thighs, inhaling the heady, tantalizing scent of your arousal. “Like this…?” she murmurs, her tongue darting out for a taste. “You want me to taste you, baby? Want me to make you squirm? Want to call out my name?”

You can’t answer any of Vi’s questions. Not when Vi’s face is between your legs, her tongue sliding in and out of you at dizzying intervals.

The sight of you lost in the pleasure she’s giving you, is all the answer Vi needs. It drives her wild, makes her want to take you higher and higher. Her tongue moves faster, harder, tasting and teasing and pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your eyes begin to roll as you rock your hips against Vi’s mouth, moaning her name in the process. You’ve reached the point where you’re grabbing onto everything within reach—Vi’s hair, Vi’s arms, the bedsheets beside you—desperately trying to anchor yourself to the present moment.

And then, Vi was flicking her tongue just right against your clit, and you’re done for. Body shuddering and fireworks bursting in your brain, you’re wracked with the most intense release you’ve ever felt. And Vi doesn’t relent immediately, eating until she felt every spasm and shudder cede your body.

“That’s it,” Vi gasps, coming up for air with a ragged breath. “You’re so good for me, Sunshine, you’re a fucking vision,”

She lets you catch your breath, her hand tracing lazy circles on your hip. She studies your face, the flush of pleasure and satisfaction clear on your features.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Vi whispers softly. “All flushed and satisfied…because of me. I love getting to do this for you. I love…” Vi’s eyes trail down your body, her own body buzzing with barely-contained desire.

You take Vi in, in all her glory—her mouth wet and her pupils dilated. You know in that moment that you don’t want the fun to stop. So you promptly grab Vi’s face and kiss her hard.

“Mmm…someone wants more,” Vi mumbles against your lips.

“Tell me,” you breathe. “Tell me you want me. Tell me you wanna give me everything,”

“Baby, I’ve never wanted someone so badly in my entire life. I wanna give you everything. Wanna make you forget your name,” Vi growls against your skin.

“Fuck, Vi,” you breathe, climbing on top, straddling her hips. Vi’s own hips immediately buck up, seeking friction against yours.

“Ride me, baby,” she pants, by now, her voice is thick with need. “Show me what you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Vi repeats. Her hands slide up your thighs to your hips, gripping tightly, guiding your movements. “I wanna feel you, baby. Wanna watch you take what you need from me,”

Well you didn’t need any further direction, wrists draping over Vi’s well-defined shoulders as your hips start a sensual grind against hers.

Vi’s head immediately falls back from the friction. “God…” she breathes. You take advantage of the beautiful skin provided to you, peppering kisses along Vi’s throat as you writhe on top of her. She groans in response, fingers digging deeper into your hips, her body snapping up to meet every thrust. “…you feel so good,”

You bite your lip to conceal a moan as you rock forward, then back, then forward again, chasing that delicious friction. And Vi guides you through every movement, murmuring profanities into your skin.

She knows when you’re close, feels your walls clench around her, and she’s devious in bringing you there—letting her hand slide between your two bodies, fingers curling right where you need her, and catapulting you into that white-hot release.

You slow to a stop as the room comes back into focus around you, uttering soft “oh gods” against Vi’s neck while she holds you through it.

“Shh, baby, I’ve got you,” she whispers, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “You were so good for me. So damn good.”

You try to speak, but your breath still hasn’t returned to you, and the best you can do is incoherent mumbles, which make Vi chuckle. “Yeah? Tell me about it,” she teases, which makes you giggle.

A comfortable hush falls over the two of you then as Vi holds you. The space that you occupy feels different. Rather than feeling ready to sneak out after your tryst, to return to your life and forget about Vi, it feels right letting her hold you. Letting her breath tickle the crown of your head.

As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, Vi says, “Not thinking about fleeing, are you?” whilst scratching her hands up and down your back.

You shake your head. “Legs wouldn’t get me there anyway,” you quip.

Vi chuckles. “Yeah, I did do a number, didn’t I?” and then softer, she adds, “I’m glad you’re staying, Sunshine,”

And yes, Wanda felt downright insane about her little crush. You were a married woman, after all. Happily, even. Because Wanda could admit that to herself. You and your spouse seemed happy from the outside looking in. It wasn’t like there were signs that a divorce was in the cards. But that didn’t stop her eyes from wandering, or her thoughts for that matter.

She knew what it boiled down to. Or at least she knew what she’d convinced herself of. You were simply a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman whom she could appreciate the presence of. And she’d wanted to be your friend. That’s why she always gravitated toward you the way that she did. In this town, there were a startling lack of genuine female friendships. Everyone seemed to always be making catty comments about everyone else, and Wanda never knew who she could trust.

But you? You were like that first gulp of water after a marathon. A pie cooling on the windowsill after a long day. You were a breath of fresh air, and by proxy, nothing but danger.

“Taking a breather, huh?” Your voice makes Wanda startle, and it’s only then that she realizes she’s been lost in thought at her kitchen island for the last ten minutes. After saying she’d only be in here to get more snacks for everyone.

There was a baseball game on today, and Wanda, who loved to host, had agreed to throw a party for the occasion; complete with snacks, beers, and non-alcoholic drinks for people like herself who knew they’d lose their heads if alcohol touched their lips. She still did love a good martini every now and again though.

Wanda turns to face you, and is immediately thrown by your outfit. She hadn’t had a chance to get a good look at you before now. But now, she was drinking it all in—the red bandana-patterned crop top that stopped right above your belly button, paired with light-washed denim shorts and sandals that matched the top. A baseball cap sits on your head, masking those pretty eyes in shadow. Wanda can’t place the fragrance you’re wearing, but it smells expensive and divine.

You look at her expectantly and Wanda finally manages to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “What? Oh, sorry. Hon, my mind is somewhere else entirely today. Yes, I was gonna get more snacks for our little ragtag bunch, but then I got distracted, and my mind started runnin’, and…you know how it is,”

What she didn’t say was ‘you know how it is when you have an inappropriate crush on a married friend’

“Well hey,” you scoop up two bowls of snacks that Wanda had just refilled. “Two pairs of hands are better than one, right? Why don’t I help,”

Wanda would’ve liked, needed just a few more extra seconds to stay inside her head, but she disregards it, smiling her thanks at you, and grabbing as many cold beers as she could hold in two hands. She follows you out of the kitchen and back into the living room just as a shout goes over the room.

Wanda sets down the drinks and you the snacks, just as your spouse cheers. “You should’ve seen it, baby! A home run! Didn’t I tell you our team is on a winning streak this season?”

You giggle, dropping a kiss on the crown of your spouse’s head. “That, you did,”

Wanda quickly turns away, but not before a spiteful demon grabs hold of her heart, upends it and shakes out its contents. Wanda shouldn’t have been feeling this way. She shouldn’t have been holding a grudge over the affection you and your spouse clearly held for each other. She was happy for you. She knew deep down a part of her was genuinely happy for the two of you. Maybe she was just put off because, well, she herself had never been married.

Not that it was at the top of her list of priorities at the moment. She actually quite liked living alone. But sometimes, it would be nice to have a better half, right? Someone to bounce ideas off of. A safe person to come home to after a long day. If that was what your spouse was to you, did Wanda have any right to keep pining?

Wanda didn’t really care about baseball, so while everyone else was enthralled in the game, she only pretended to follow what was going on. She mainly just sipped on mocktails and pretended she wasn’t staring at you; pretended she wasn’t counting up every single time your eyes met hers and every single time you shot her a smile.

Later that evening, as the party wraps up, Wanda finds herself stood at the door chatting with you and another neighbor from four houses down who, for the life of her, Wanda could never remember the poor girl’s name. Dana? Dahlia? Delilah? At this point, it would be rude to ask, so Wanda had just simply fallen on her southern crutch and resorted to calling the girl darlin’ to get around it.

Somehow, the conversation had steered to that new fancy boutique named Quinlan’s that just opened up outside of town.

“Oh, you should go!” Dana-Dahlia-Delilah is telling you, eyes lit with excitement. “They’ve got everything and it’s sooo spacious! It doesn’t look like it’ll be from the outside, but it’s actually much bigger than I thought it would be. And reasonably priced! I got my good jeans from there a couple weeks ago,”

“I’ve been meaning to check it out. I want to so badly,” you sigh. “But my car is on the fritz at the moment, and I just haven’t had the time. My partner actually promised they’d take me, but then they keep pushing it back because things will come up at work and…you know how these things go,” you shrug, dejected, and something squeezes in Wanda’s chest.

“I’ve had to keep moving my schedule around,” you continue. “My partner and I actually talked about going together, but…”

Wanda knows she should probably leave it alone, but she can’t. And before she can even think it through, she’s blurting out, “I can take you!”

You glance up at Wanda, eyes wide. “Oh, Wanda, no. It’s forty-five minutes outside of town. I can’t ask you to do that—“

“Nonsense,” Wanda waves her hand. “I don’t mind one bit. Plus, I’d been meaning to get my tail out there to go see what Quinlan’s has too.”

Your eyes are still wide, vulnerable, like maybe you want to try to talk Wanda out of it again. To tell her that this is too kind and you don’t want to inconvenience her. But Wanda pulls the thought right out of your head and addresses it.

“I don’t mind, y/n, really,” she says, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“You promise? I’m not gonna like, owe you gas money or anything?” you ask.

Wanda chuckles. “No, honey, you won’t owe me a thing. Except maybe a little bit of quality time. We can make a whole day out of it. How does next weekend work for you?”

A broad smile replaces the worried look from before. “Next Saturday is great. 12 o’clock?”

“12 o’clock,” Wanda agrees.

***

The night before the trip to Quinlan’s, Wanda barely catches a wink of sleep. Which is why she’s already halfway through her third coffee by the time she pulls up outside your house on Saturday afternoon. But then, she pauses. She didn’t know what was proper etiquette here. Should she text you? Give the horn a quick honk? Meet you at the door? She doesn’t have time to make a decision for herself before you come storming out of your house, a to-go thermos in your hand.

Wanda unlocks the doors once you’re close enough and you wordlessly climb into her passenger seat. Again, Wanda isn’t sure what to do here. But she can’t very well drive off until she knows you’re okay.

“Is everything alright?” she asks tentatively.

You sigh, depositing your thermos in one of Wanda’s cup holders and running a hand through your hair. You looked pretty today. It was warm outside today and you’d chosen a floral sundress, one of the top buttons undone. Wanda pointedly looks at your face, so she won’t be tempted to look at your clavicle instead.

“Sorry, just…we got into an argument this morning, my partner and I,” you say.

Wanda’s stomach lurches. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay, really,” you drop your head back against the headrest. “We’ve just been having more spats recently. And always about their job. It’s like they’re always cancelling on me to make room for work, but never putting off work to make room for me, you know? But I dunno, maybe I just sound bratty,”

“Not at all,” Wanda disagrees. “If anything, you sound frustrated. Which it sounds like you have the right to be,”

You smile sadly. “I am frustrated. I’ve been looking forward to going to the lake for weeks, and now that we’re less than a week away from when we were supposed to go, my partner says they can’t do that weekend because they’ve got a business trip. Now I’ll have to see if I can get the deposit back that I already put towards the Airbnb,”

Wanda chews her lip in thought. Then: “Maybe you don’t.”

“Hm?” You glance over at her.

“Why waste a lake getaway?” Wanda asks. “I’d be happy to go with you, and you know, I’m sure the little darlin’ from four doors down would like to go too. We could make it a girls’ trip,” Wanda wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, or she was simply digging herself a deeper hole. But you seem enchanted by the idea, sitting up straighter in the passenger seat now.

“You know what? You’re right! Why should I have to sit home and have no fun just because my spouse is going to Nevada for a few days? Wanda, you’re a genius! I’ll text Denise and ask her about it when we get back to town this evening,”

So Denise was her name. Wanda would have to remember that for next time. Though, she feared she’d be sticking to darlin’.

You’re noticeably happier, brighter when Wanda pulls away from your house and gets on the road. There’s a Shania Twain song playing on a low volume through the car speakers, but it can barely be heard over the easy flow of conversation. You and Wanda discuss everything that comes to mind. Work, past parties, plans for the upcoming lake trip. There’s never a lull, never an awkward silence, and Wanda can’t get over how nice it feels to just…talk to someone like this. And she definitely ignores the little zing that goes up her spine when she realizes that it’s you she’s alone with.

About thirty minutes into the car ride, the rain starts to hit, and Wanda seems to drive right into it. What starts as a small drizzle quickly graduates, fat drops beginning to pound against Wanda’s SUV. It doesn’t let up, even as Wanda pulls into the parking lot of Quinlan’s fifteen minutes later.

You wait out the rain as long as you can, and when the downpour diminishes to a soft pelt, you and Wanda sprint into the boutique.

“Oh, you poor things,” A blonde woman greets the two of you as you step into the boutique. Her southern drawl might even be deeper than Wanda’s. “Let me grab you some towels so you can dry off,”

You and Wanda stand in the foyer, exchanging shy smiles while shivering off the effects of the rain. While waiting for the associate to return, Wanda takes in her surroundings. The place is cozy, all powder pink walls and floral carpeting. There’s a faint apricot smell that permeates the entire boutique, and the central heating is a godsend, warming Wanda from head to toe.

After drying off to the best of your ability with the towels provided by the associate, Wanda feels obligated to buy some clothes; partly as a courtesy, but also just to have something drier to wear. She also does her due diligence to convince you that every item you pick up would look great in you, despite your fuss that you couldn’t pull the clothes off.

“Don’t even give me that!” Wanda says, when you say the same spiel about a beautiful peach-colored top that you’d just placed back on the rack. “Y/n, that would look perfect on you! You’re not even gonna try it on?”

You shrug, fingering the price tag on the shirt. “I wouldn’t have anywhere to wear it,”

Wanda raises a brow. “What about the lake trip we were talking about earlier?”

Your eyes suddenly seem to brighten, like you’d just remembered the altered plans you and Wanda had made. With a renewed spark in your eyes, you pluck the top right back off the shelf and make a break for one of the curtained fitting rooms. Wanda smiles, trailing behind.

“Well? What’s the verdict?” Wanda asks five minutes later, stood outside your curtain.

“Uhhh…I dunno,” your uncertain voice replies. “Feels like my entire bakery is on display in this shirt. Don’t even need a push-up bra,”

Wanda has to snort at that. “Well then, it’s a good thing I’m not a prude, now isn’t it? Come on out, I wanna see!”

The velvet curtain shifts and you step out into the walkway. And the second you do, Wanda’s breath seems to get punched out of her lungs.

The tank top is actually closer to a pastel pink than it is to peach, but god, does it look good on you. That’s the only thought in Wanda’s head. Every other thought has vacated the premises. You were right. The cups of the top did give you that push-up effect, though Wanda would’ve liked to point out that you were already blessed without it. There’s a tied lace in the front, and the tank top stops at your abdomen, which means that all that skin above your navel is on tantalizing display. And Wanda can’t stop looking.

“Well,” she begins, when she finally locates her voice and puts her eyeballs back in her head. “I think you look divine in that, but it matters more what you think,” she indicates the mirror and you turn to face yourself.

You quirk your lips to the side, turning to the left and then the right. Then, you smile, seemingly having made up your mind. Your turn that smile on Wanda, and it’s so dazzlingly bright, it makes her blush. “I love it. It’s definitely coming home with me!”

“That’s the spirit! Now get back in there. I feel like we’re overstaying our welcome,” That much wasn’t necessarily true. Wanda had looked up the boutique’s hours before the drive. They were open every day except Sunday, though their hours were sparse—only open between 10 AM and 5 PM six days a week. It had been awhile since Wanda looked at her phone, but she knew it couldn’t be any later than one or two by now. The two of you still had hours. Maybe it was just that the combination of the central heating and the way you were making her feel, had Wanda feeling like she needed to flee.

Another couple minutes goes by and you haven’t re-emerged. But before Wanda can ask you if everything is alright, you speak up. “Um…Wanda?”

“Yeah?” she answers cautiously.

“I think I’m stuck.”

“What? Honey, what are you stuck on?” Wanda asks, her hand automatically going to the curtain. But she wouldn’t draw it back before she got the okay to do so.

“No, I mean the top is stuck. On me. I can’t get it off,” you reply. “Can you come help? Please? I feel ridiculous,”

Without another word, Wanda pushes the curtain aside, sliding it back into place behind her. “Oh honey,” she coos.

There you stood, arms outstretched awkwardly, perpendicular at your sides with the top halfway over your head.

“The tie in the front was easy, but there’s also a weird strappy situation in the back that I almost couldn’t figure out the first time,” you explain. “I thought I’d be able to just yank it over my head, but obviously not.”

Wanda clicks her tongue. “Okay, well hold still,” She reaches for the knot at your back, her fingers working carefully against the stubborn fabric. She works quickly to free you from the satin prison you’re in, trying not to think about the enclosed space or the fact that she can smell your perfume—that same wholly addicting fragrance you’d been wearing the night of the watch party.

“Okay, I think I’ve loosened it enough. Lift your arms,” Wanda instructs.

When you do, Wanda grips the hem and carefully lifts it upward. Wanda can hear your cry of relief as the material clears your face. And then, the fabric hangs loose in Wanda’s hand as she looks up at you. Your eyes lock for one heart-stopping moment. And yet again, Wanda’s eyes betray her. Stood in nothing but a lacy white bra and jeans, you’re a temptation on two legs. And something hot flares in Wanda’s gut.

You don’t even try to cover yourself, to shy away from Wanda’s eye contact. In fact, you step closer. The air is suddenly thick. Charged. Want hums in Wanda’s veins. Desire pools in her gut. It’s the same desire she’d been trying to tamper down for weeks now. And for one reckless moment, Wanda considers closing the distance; letting her hand cup the hairs at the nape of your neck to pull you in for a slow, sweet kiss. A kiss that would start slow, but would escalate the moment Wanda heard that sweet sigh pass your lips. She imagined backing you against the mirror, imagined your hands fisting in her sweatshirt as she tasted your mouth—

And that’s what finally jerks her back to the present moment. What the hell was her problem? You were a married woman. Married. Married, married, married. As in off the market. Why couldn’t she ever get that through her thick skull?

She takes a step back so quickly, she bumps into the same mirror she’d just fantasized about pushing you up against. She clears her throat before speaking again. “I should…let you get decent. I’ll be just out in the waiting area,”

“Right. Yeah,” you say. Wanda knows she’s not insane in noticing the breathlessness in your voice. It makes her feel better about her own current state of fluster. And also altogether confused. What were you thinking right now? She wished she could see into your mind.

“Right.” Wanda parrots, reaching behind her to fumble with the curtain. “So…I’ll be just out here,” she winds up getting tangled up in the curtain in her effort to leave, but once she makes it to the other side of it (not without you giggling at her first), she places a hand over her racing heart.

Get it together, Wanda. She thinks to herself. You are absolutely playing with fire. You will absolutely get burned. Only that’s what Wanda was afraid of. That she’d like that burn.

***

The weekend of the lake getaway doesn’t go quite the way Wanda expects.

For one thing, there’s a slight change of plans. Denise apparently can’t make it. Something about having to fly out last minute to see a sick relative. Which was fine by Wanda. But that also meant that now it would just be the two of you. At an Airbnb by a lake two hours away from home. Alone together.

“I hope that’s okay,” you’d said earnestly when breaking the news about Denise’s cancellation.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course. Totally fine. It’ll be just as much fun, just the two of us,” Wanda had replied breezily, paying no mind to the roaring in her ears or the spin cycle state of her stomach.

Now Wanda watches from the curb as you walk out of your house carrying what looks like a week’s worth of gear. And your smile only brightens when you catch Wanda staring.

“Are you prepared for a lake getaway or the end of the world?” Wanda quips as she opens up her trunk to help you stow all your things inside.

You smile. “Most of it is essentials. But you know how it is packing for a trip, even if it’s just a few days. You never know if you’re gonna need jumper cables or a tire iron or a rhinestone cowgirl hat,”

“Okay, while I definitely don’t think we’ll need jumper cables or a tire iron, I do hope you’re not kiddin’ around about the cowgirl hat,”

You give her an incredulous look. “You’d wear a rhinestone cowgirl hat?”

Wanda looks offended. “Well, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I dunno!” You chuckle. “You just seem so…put together!”

“Oh, what? A put-together woman can’t also enjoy bedazzled hats?” She waves her hand dismissively. “Well, I was plannin’ on being a little bad this weekend and having some alcohol. Get me enough of it and I’d probably live in your little cowgirl hat,”

“Oh, I’m gonna hold you to that,” you say. “It’s about time I see you let loose,”

It’s about time I see you let loose. Those words are spoken innocently, but they still make Wanda’s body hum. Because she would. Oh, she absolutely would like to let loose for you.

It’s been a full week since the fitting room incident at Quinlan’s, and neither of you have brought it up. Maybe you were intent to keep it that way, and Wanda would have to be too. It would be for the best. Something had to pacify her. To reign in her horny mind, which seemed to only be getting hornier by the day. She’d thought about packing a vibrator, getting herself off at least so she could curb that want. But well, she wasn’t sure just how big the Airbnb was. How much privacy she’d have.

As it turned out, though, Wanda didn’t even have to worry about that. As she pulled up to the Airbnb that you’d rented, it looked big enough for at least five people to live there comfortably and never run into each other.

“The first place we rented was actually smaller,” you say. “Since it was originally just supposed to house me and my partner,” Wanda bristles at this, but tries not to show it. “But then when you had that brilliant girls’ trip idea, I upgraded. This one, I think, has three bedrooms. Obviously we’ll only need two of them though, since Denise isn’t here,”

“Could probably use that third bedroom to store all of your life’s belongings,” Wanda quips.

“Oh, shut up!” You laugh, squeezing Wanda’s shoulder before climbing out of the passenger seat. Her skin is warm where you touched her.

Inside, the place smells faintly of pine-scented cleaner and honeysuckle. Sunlight spills across the floor in golden strips. You seem to be in a rush to get down to the lake, so Wanda doesn’t bother unpacking her things. She simply changes into a bikini and meets you downstairs. Then, the two of you pile into her car and drive down to the docks.

Two hours later, Wanda can’t stop smiling. Maybe because she’s two hard ciders in. Maybe because she’d forgotten how much of a hard reset just being in water was for her. Maybe it was the way you looked in your bikini. No, scratch that, it was definitely the way you looked in that bikini. Like a beautiful mango, good enough to eat. And Wanda says just that, or slurs slightly, more like, “You look like a mango,”

“A mango?” You’d laughed.

“Yes,” Wanda had replied. “A big beautiful mango,” and you’d laughed again. That was becoming Wanda’s favorite sound. Or maybe it already was.

Eventually, the two of you retired to the dock. You sit side by side, glass bottles sweating beside you as you watch the setting sun in silence. Wanda basks in it, the quiet. And you’re the first one to speak.

“I think this is the most relaxed I’ve been in a long time.”

Wanda glances up at you. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You pick up your bottle, running your fingernails around the lip of it. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” Wanda answers immediately. “You can tell me anything,”

“My marriage…it hasn’t been great lately,” you admit.

Wanda stills. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting to hear, but it certainly wasn’t that. Your gaze remains trained on the gleaming water in front of you. “That’s why I was so excited about this trip,” you continue. “A break, even if just for a weekend,”

Wanda swallows, her chest suddenly tight. She’d blame that on the alcohol currently circulating her bloodstream.

You exhale softly. “It’s just been...sort of strained for a while, you know? We don’t really talk much anymore unless we have to. Sometimes, I even sleep in our guest room just to…avoid all of it.”

Wanda’s hand tightens around her own bottle. “But at the watch party, you two seemed—“

You let out a small, humorless breath. “Happy and content?”

Wanda nods once. You finally look at her, and there’s something in your expression now that wasn’t there before. “I know,” you say. “We’ve gotten really good at faking it.” Then, you lean back on your hands, looking out at the lake again. “And honestly, I don’t think they were ever gonna give me this trip. I think something was always gonna come up. Because when it’s just us…” you pause, then glance up at Wanda again, softer now. “We’re just awkward. Quiet. And not in a cute way, like shy teenagers who like each other but neither know how to make the first move. No, it’s like we don’t know what to do with each other. How to act around each other.”

You exhale heavily, as if expelling those negative thoughts, eyes closed. Then, you reopen them, a small smile crossing your face as you turn to look at Wanda again. “But with you, I never feel like I have to fill the silence. I’m just comfortable. Just…being. You know?”

Wanda doesn’t respond immediately, which gives you time to try to deflect. “God, sorry,” you try to laugh it off with a dismissive wave of your hand. “Remind me to never again drink more than half a bottle of hard cider—“

“Hey.” Wanda’s hand lands on your knee, bringing an abrupt stop to whatever self-deprecating comment was ready on your lips. You look from Wanda’s hand to her.

“You don’t have to downplay it, baby love,” Wanda says gently. “I know exactly what you mean. Trust me, I get it. I mean, not the marriage bit, because you know I’m not married, but…you’ve been a great friend to me. One of the truest ones I have right now, in fact.”

You study Wanda’s face. She’s not sure what you’re looking for—a wrinkle? A sign that she’s being dishonest? But then a grin splits your face and you place your hand on top of Wanda’s, your skin warm against hers.

“You’re one of my truest friends too, Wanda,” you say softly. “I’m so glad I have you,”

Wanda’s hand shifts slightly beneath yours, which seems to prompt you to run your thumb over her knuckles. It sends a tingly sensation over her entire hand. Your gaze tracks between your joined hands and Wanda’s face, and Wanda sees it again. That look. It’s the same one you’d given her, just for a moment, in the fitting room. Want. She knows that look very well, because it’s the same way she’s been looking at you for weeks.

Wanda’s mouth suddenly feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. Her stomach turns over. She has to break the spell and fast. If she didn’t, she’d kiss you. Right here on the dock.

So Wanda tears her gaze away from you, looking out at the horizon, which lit up now in shades of pink and orange. “It’ll be gettin’ dark soon,” she says. “We should start headin’ back,”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you agree.

The two of you stand, though you don’t immediately drop hands. When you do, it’s a slow pull. And Wanda has to busy herself with collecting the discarded glass bottles so that she doesn’t fixate on it.

The drive back to the Airbnb is quiet, peaceful, an old Hootie and the Blowfish song the only thing filling the silence.

“Hungry?” Wanda asks once the two of you have made it back inside. For some reason, it was the first thing she could think of saying. Even though she herself didn’t have much an appetite, stomach still in knots from whatever tension just happened on the docks. Because that’s what that was, right? Tension? It had to be.

“A little bit, honestly,” you answer. “But then getting tipsy always makes me hungry,”

“Well, do you know what I love when I’m a little bit tipsy? Good ol’ breakfast for dinner,” Wanda’s eyes light up as she says it. Even though her appetite was nonexistent, she’d be more than happy to cook for you. “What do you say to some flapjacks and eggs?”

“I say I think I’m in love with you!” you respond.

Wanda tries for a genuine laugh at that. It’s a joke. Damn it, she knows that. But god, does it hit too close to home.

Wanda busies herself with cooking while you watch from your seat on a kitchen stool. And soon, the mouthwatering smell of flapjacks and scrambled eggs fill the kitchen. Wanda sets the food down in front of you with a little flourish. Not wanting you to feel self-conscious about being the only one eating, she grabs a protein bar for herself and joins you at the breakfast bar. She’s not at all prepared for the adorable way your eyes light up on your first bite.

Once you’ve finished eating, Wanda clears your plate away, stowing all the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. The whole scene feels oddly domestic, and Wanda can’t help thinking that in another universe, another timeline, she’d be cooking meals for you like this every night. She’d always be on the hunt for new recipes, striving to impress you, wanting to see your eyes light up with every new taste.

“That was perfect, Wanda, really,” you say. “I wish you could cook for me all the time,”

Wanda snickers as she closes the dishwasher. “So, I’d be your servant?”

“No, god, no. Not servant!” You protest.

Wanda turns and raises a brow at you. “Your maid, then? I’d look good in the little outfits.”

Wanda regrets it the second the words are out of her mouth. Immediately, her mind is taking it out of context, and by the look on your face, so was yours. Wanda feels her cheeks blush, and she quickly changes the subject. “Speaking of outfits, I think I was promised a cowgirl hat?”

Your eyes light up. “Oh yeah! I actually did bring one. Hang tight, I’ll go grab it!”

As you disappear from the kitchen, Wanda takes the opportunity for a deep inhale, even deeper exhale. She closes her eyes and massages her temples. She couldn’t remember the last time her heart had been beating this hard. Pull it together, she tells herself. You can do this. You can get through this weekend and be normal. Just be normal.

You soon return, humming happily, and…yeah, that’s definitely a rhinestone cowgirl hat if Wanda’s ever seen one. The base of the hat is pink and dotted with the rhinestones in question. Beads hang all around the brim, jingling faintly even when you’re just holding it.

“Oh, that is loud,” Wanda says immediately. “In looks and in sound. People would hear me jinglin’ all the way in in South America if I put that on,”

“I know. I expected to be closer to blackout drunk when I actually put it on this weekend,” you laugh. “But come on, you at least have to try it on once. Please? For me?” Wanda would’ve given in any way, but then, you had to go and flash her those puppy eyes, and she definitely couldn’t say no.

With a sigh, Wanda gingerly takes the hat from your hands and settles it onto her head. And immediately, she has to blink a bead out of her eye.

“You look cute!” You chirp.

“I look like the personification of those hanging beads on that one Britney Spears album cover,” Wanda counters.

“Well, you’re not really helping your case here, because everyone loves Oops!… I Did It Again.”

Wanda huffs a laugh despite herself. You step closer, still smiling as you reach up to fix it for her. “But the beads are a bit much, I can admit,” your fingers brush lightly against the side of the hat as you try to separate the beads from Wanda’s face. But Wanda isn’t worried about the beads or the hat anymore. As her vision becomes unobstructed, all she can see is you.

You seem to catch her stare, and rather than looking away, you stare back. Your smile has faded slightly, but not completely. It’s just gone soft. And you keep staring. Like the answer to every question you could ever have is in Wanda’s eyes. Or maybe she’s just projecting because that’s exactly how she’s looking at you. And that’s exactly how she felt.

Her whole world was in your eyes. Because you were her whole world.

Wanda steps back a little, and you let her. She doesn’t break eye contact as she slowly removes the cowgirl hat and sets it on the counter. It’s a silent standoff for one heartbeat, two. Then, Wanda closes the gap and crushes her lips against yours.

She expects you to freeze, even for a second. But you don’t. Instead, your hands immediately come up to tangle in her hair and you work your lips back against hers. Wanda can’t help it. She groans into your mouth. Next, she spins, backing you against the countertop. You gasp into her mouth and Wanda slides her tongue through, flattening it against yours.

Her hands begin to wander down to your hips and yours tug harder in her hair. Wanda lets out another groan. Who knew she’d be a big fan of hair pulling?

Finally, Wanda breaks the kiss, pressing her forehead gently to yours, eyes closed. “Tell me…” she pants softly into the shared air between you. “…tell me to stop,”

You shake your head, licking your lips. “I don’t want you to stop,”

So Wanda doesn’t, capturing your lips in another kiss that’s just as, if not more bruising than the first. She sucks your upper lip, nips your bottom lip, then alternates. And each time she does, it pulls another moan from your pretty mouth, and god, she wants to bottle that sound, keep it for years to come.

Her thigh wedges between your legs, and you’re quick to grind down against it for more friction. Wanda curses, ripping her mouth away from yours and starting a trail of kisses along your jaw, down your neck to your throat. Then, thinking better of it, she pulls away.

You look up at her, a question in your eyes, but she merely shakes her head. If she was gonna leave marks, they’d have to be well-hidden. At least until you could figure out if you were leaving your spouse. But that was a big conversation, one that felt worlds away, and Wanda didn’t wanna think about it right now. All she wanted to think about was living in this temporary bubble with you.

So her hands go to your hips and she gently lifts you up until the counter top. “I wanna make you feel good,” Wanda purrs against your neck before kissing it again. “Between your legs. Can I make you feel good?”

You nod rapidly. “Yes, yeah. Please. Please, Wanda,”

With that, Wanda’s hands go to the hem of your swim coverup, pushing it up your thighs as she kneels on the kitchen floor between your legs. Your chest rises and falls quickly and beautifully as you gaze down at Wanda. She smiles as her hands go to the string ties either side of your hips, freeing the knots simultaneously.

Your bikini bottom falls to the floor, leaving you open for Wanda and she can’t help it. She bites her lip to conceal a curse. “Beautiful,” she murmurs, and then again, making sure she meets your eyes when she says it, “You’re so beautiful, honey,”

“Thank you,” you breathe.

“Don’t have to thank me for the truth,” Wanda replies, then smiles against your warm thigh as she kisses it. She kisses higher and higher until she finally reaches the heat in the center of your thighs.

One thing about Wanda, she knew how to please. She knew how to devour, to dismantle. She alternated between insistent sucks and gentle, teasing licks, chasing every place that made you moan and gasp the loudest. And all she could think about was how perfect you were. How warm and wet, and that addicting salty-sweet taste. She moans into you, which makes your thighs clench around her.

Wanda had a singular focus: making you feel good. And judging by the way your head falls back against the cabinet behind you, eyes rolling back almost to the whites, Wanda was doing just that.

Her hands massage your thighs as she works, whispering sweet nothings into your heat. Each word of praise—“You’re so sweet,” “You like that, honey? Like when I suck here?” “I love the sounds you’re makin’ for me,” —brought you closer and closer to that coveted release. And when you finally do come, losing yourself completely to ecstasy, your thighs close around Wanda’s head.

Wanda keeps you steady, even as you cry out for her, even as you white-knuckle the knob of the cabinet behind you. She eases you back down to earth, working you through your orgasm with gentle kisses and licks.

She waits until you’ve stopped writhing and then she pulls back, mouth wet as she rises to her feet. You gaze up at her, eyes lidded as she helps you down to the floor. Wanda is just about to ask if you need anything when you drag her mouth back to yours, tasting yourself on her lips. “Your turn,” you mumble against her mouth. And Wanda smiles.

You spin her so that her back is to you and Wanda braces her palms on the countertop. She’d opted to wear a one-piece bikini to the lake, so there wasn’t exactly ease of access when it came to undressing her completely. But Wanda quickly learned that that wasn’t what you had in mind, your fingers reaching down to simply slide away the fabric covering her center.

“Can I?” You murmur against Wanda’s shoulder.

“Please,” she gasps.

You drag one finger through her folds first, teasing her. And it’s not until she pushes her hips into the touch, searching for more friction, that you put her out of her misery, pressing a finger in deeper, whilst tracing her clit with your thumb.

“Oh dear god,” Wanda gasps, followed by a strangled moan as you add another finger, curling them upward just right.

“Oh y/n,” Wanda moans again, rocking against your hand with effort now. “Oh my god, yes!”

You muffle your own moans into Wanda’s shoulder, nipping at her skin as your hips begin to rock against her ass.

Wanda’s head falls back against your shoulder, her heart pounding from the dual sensations, and you take full advantage, your mouth on her throat. “You feel so good,” you whisper into her skin. “Feel so damn good for me,”

You both rock even harder; Wanda writhing against your skilled fingers, you grinding against her ass. And by some miracle, you both come at the same time, though you’d like to think it was Wanda’s orgasm that triggered a second one for you.

For a minute, neither of you can move, sweaty bodies pressed together as you school your labored breathing. After what feels like hours, you step back from Wanda, searching the kitchen floor for your abandoned bikini bottoms.

It’s a struggle for Wanda to stand up straight at first. She can still feel your phantom fingers inside her. Finally, she turns to face you, to find you already looking at her.

Neither of you speak at first, another stare down in the aftermath. You both know a line was crossed tonight, one you can’t come back from. You both know you’d just opened up a can of worms and now action plans needed to be made. But somehow, when Wanda looks in your eyes, she’s not worried about any of it. Love and lust and want all stirred together inside her to create an affinity for you like nothing she’d ever felt for anyone in the past. She’d make it work. Whatever she had to do.

“Wanda…” you start softly.

But she shakes her head. “I know,” she says.

“I…” you try again, and again, you get tongue-tied.

“I know,” Wanda says again. She brings you in close by the waist and kisses your temple. “But at least for tonight, for this weekend, let’s just pretend. Okay?”