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creativenicocorner · 1 year

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WELL! I heard it was SOMEBODY’S birthday today!!! And I’ve been having a lot of Hanazawa Teruki and older brother/weird uncle/father figure Reigen feelings lately ;~~; <3

So A GIFT!! A silly yet wholesome interaction between Teruki and Reigen from my upcoming Serirei case fic (that still needs an official title but is currently called Glow Worms[working title] in my docs)

Happy Birthday Teruki you sparkling mad lad you!

For context: Teruki is getting some last minute ‘hanging out with Reigen time’ the night before Reigen and Serizawa travel four hours away up north for a very curious case (something that may or may not be affecting a small village and plants- I’m sure it’s fine). This involves last minute packing, movie watching, and usual shenanigans.

❧❧❧

Teruki watched Reigen vaguely wander about his apartment, a carryon suitcase, half finished, and open in one of the few walking spaces the studio apartment allowed.

Teruki fished for another prawn cracker from its bag. “How long is this going to take, Reigen-san?” Teruki considered the cracker, and wondered if he could catch it if he flipped it in the air.

“Not much longer,” said Reigen distractedly. He was considering a pair of shorts, and whether or not the way the pockets were sewn would make it bulky to fold into his little carryon. Especially if he wanted to bring backup shoes. His old galoshes would have to be replaced. Then again, despite the spring, the temperature would still be chilly where he and Serizawa were heading for their case. Now, if he wore his scarf on the way there tomorrow he wouldn’t have to find a way to fold it into the carryon…

“You shouldn’t have waited until the last minute.” Teruki watched Reigen change his mind on the shorts, while muttering something about jeans.

“Hm,” was Reigen’s only reply.

Teruki frowned. Then watched as Reigen picked up a vibrant red button down that had yellow and brown accented stripes that occasionally dipped into black and pink when those stripes collided. Which wasn’t often. It wasn’t strictly plaid, but an erratic zig-zag idea of plaid.

While watching as Reigen considered the material between his fingers, Teruki wondered what else Reigen was considering.

Mischief compelled Teruki to theatrically suck air through his teeth and say, “really you’re going with that choice? Pretty bold Reigen-san. I don’t know…”

Finally Reigen looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you think it’s much?”

Reigen held the button down defensively to his chest. “There’s nothing much with this.” In fact, he thought it brought out his eyes nicely.

Teruki shook his bag of prawn crackers while idly considering this. “Alright, maybe not much. I mean I think it’s fine.” Reigen watched as Teruki’s grin grew even wider, “but, I’m just worried for poor Serizawa-san. So used to seeing you in gray.”

Reigen clicked his tongue, glancing away. “So shameless. Rude in my own home,” muttered Reigen, without any real bite. Then paused, and said, with a sincerity that shocked even him, “you think he’ll get seasick or something?”

Teruki threw a pillow at him.

“Fool!” Reigen fumbled with the pillow. “I was just,” he hesitated then said, “committing to the bit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Teruki acting the part of a brat. He rested his chin in his palm with a grin. “So was I. It’s a perfectly fine shirt for,” Teruki rolled his other hand vaguely, “whatever it is you have in mind.”

“Thank you,” said Reigen, folding the button down into the carryon with a snooty sort of vindication. He ignored how warm his cheeks were.

“So is this for like, a fancy case? Or is it one of those ‘excuse’ date- I mean cases.”

“It’s a very real, very serious case. That’s going to take us out of the city. In fact, a little farther out than usual.”

“Ah-huh.”

“No, really,” said Reigen dropping his previous airs. “It’s perhaps one of the bigger ones we’ve had yet. People have reported going missing, then coming back as if in a haze. Some report growths. Lights in the wilderness. A spike in insomnia and accidents. Farmers are at risk, just as much as the crops.”

“Oh,” said Teruki, “that does sound pretty serious.” Teruki set the prawn cracker bag on the short excuse of a coffee table. “What if it turns out to be some conspiracy?”

“Then we hand whatever information Serizawa and I managed to gather to the authorities,” said Reigen blandly.

“Boooooring.”

“Respooooonsiiiiibleeee,” countered Reigen, matching Teruki’s tone despite the deadpan.

“Do you think it’s dangerous?”

“I don’t know,” Reigen shrugged, genuinely, “anything is possible. But it’d mean quite a lot if we can manage to help them.”

“Weird stuff happening in the deep countryside doesn’t bode well.”

Reigen made a non-comital sound.

Teruki brightened, “can I come?”

“Tempting, but you have school.” Teruki stuck his tongue out with full teenage abandon. Reigen returned the gesture in kind. “Anyways,” he continued, “we don’t know how long this will take, hence,” he gestured to the carryon before zipping it close and motioning a silent ‘ta-da’.

“FinALLY!” Teruki cheered.

Reigen turned, and allowed a smirk to grow as he put the carryon away, allowing for more space. He then considered rolling out the extra futon.

It was planned, since they had to leave early in the morning, and Serizawa’s classes weren’t too far from Reigen’s apartment, that it would be practical, and very pragmatic, if Serizawa stayed the night. That way they could leave for the train together. Something any friend would plan with another. It was the Responsible Thing to do. There was nothing deep to think about it, or tack on. Heck it wouldn’t even be the first time Serizawa was spending the night, in a friendly capacity. Or shared a hotel room for economic pragmatism, likewise in a friendly capacity.

But that was all over long periods of time, and the more they got to know each other, and their, well, tentative work-friendship deepened, well…

Reigen could tell he was going to start thinking himself into a spiral. He scrubbed his hand over his face, as if that could rub out or mask in some way the powdered pink hue that was warming over his cheeks.

The futon set up could wait.

“So,” huffed Reigen as if about to take on an impossible task, “what movie are we watching tonight.”

Unperturbed by Reigen’s antics, Teruki held up a an old dvd case. One could instantly tell it wasn’t an official dvd, especially with the lack of cover art replaced by a white paper strip that had handwritten the movie title in the sleeve. In short, it was a torrented dvd burned onto a disc.

“Man, you must have dug deep in my collection, kid.” Reigen turned the case over, and read the title handwritten title: Only Yesterday directed by Isao Takahata. "Really? This movie?" He tried not to sound too judgmental, in his genuine curiosity. "I thought you'd want to watch Death Pig: The Screaming Oink, or, something."

Teruki shook his head, "I know, but," he looked at the handwritten title, and shrugged, "I saw a gif of it online and the animation looks nice. And, well..." he trailed off trying to find the right words.

Reigen opened the dvd case, and took out the burned copy. With his head down, he conspicuously slid his eyes over to Teruki who was still struggling to find words. Even bombastic teens had moments of feeling embarrassed.

“Well,” said Reigen, breaching the hanging silence sympathetically, "there's no harm in branching out."

Teruki lifted his head, and brightened. "Yeah! Thats what I was thinking."

"Though, if I remember the movie right, the pacing is a bit slow."

"I can do slow."

"True."

"And if I, we," Teruki corrected, "really don't like it we can change it."

Reigen smirked, amused, "Sure, no trouble.” He started the procedure of setting the movie up. “Topical too.”

“Oh?”

“The countryside discussion? The case?” Reminded Reigen.

“Ooh. Right.” Teruki paused then said, “wait there’s farming in this?”

“You didn’t read the summery?”

“Nah, going in blind.”

Reigen shrugged, “respect.”

“So,” said Teruki, a little softer, like when someone was trying very hard to be casual about something that actually held great meaning, “are you going to be gone until the weekend? Longer?”

“Mm, maybe, depends.”

Teruki willed his jaw not to clench. “On what?”

“How long it takes to ~solve the mystery~” While adding dramatics, Reigen positioned his head so he could watch Teruki from his peripheral. Which was how he was able to spot the slight shoulder slump from the teen.

“…oh.” Teruki tried very hard not to sound disappointed. The result was a strained brittleness.

“Something up?” Reigen turned from his squat position by the dvd player, and rested his elbows on his knees, “sink blocked? Or something?”

“No!” Teruki was very quick to say. “Everything is fine!!”

Reigen lifted an eyebrow, and hoisted himself back upright with the help of his hands on his knees. “Yeah?”

“Oh, totally!!!” Reigen walked out of Teruki’s line of sight, much to Teruki’s relief, he wasn’t sure he could handle that appraising deadpan.

“Don’t you have that, uh, that test coming up?” There was the sound of a terracotta pot being shifted. “What was it in again?”

“Math, so I doubt you can be of much help!!!!” Teruki internally winced at his phrasing. “Cause uh, well,” he tried in vain to backpedal, deflating all the more in the process.

“Yeah, yeah, liberal arts, whatever. I biffed it trying to help Mob.” Then in a slight barely audible mutter, “not my fault they keep finding weirder ways to do math. Geeze.”

“Well, you were helpful for that one literature essay,” said Teruki, loyally.

This earned him a small snort from Reigen. “So nothing’s up? School-wise?”

“Nope! Everything is, a-okay.” Teruki finally started to turn around from his seat on the couch, “just what are you doin-”

“Catch,” said Reigen, already throwing the tiny jingling object.

Teruki scrambled to catch the cold little thing. It was only until he looked down at his palm that he realized, “keys?”

“Yep. Spare keys.”

Teruki stared at the ring of keys in his palm like they were bird’s eggs.

“The one with the blue band is the apartment, orange is the office,” said Reigen, pointing.

“For me?”

“Yeah, kid. And don’t take this lightly! I’m going to need a set of eyes on this place,” Reigen waved his arms in full showmanship, "no telling what could happen.” He paused, then said, far less dramatically, “that and this place stinks if a window isn’t cracked now and again, and I don’t want my plants dying on me by the time I get back.” Reigen poked the top of Teruki’s head, as if to be sure what he said next would truly get past Teruki’s skull, “cause I am coming back.”

“I just,” said Teruki to the keys, hoping he didn’t sound brittle, “never heard of you taking on a case so far away, with no fixed end.”

Distantly Teruki’s imagination started to fabricate a movie of Reigen and Serizawa, hand in hand, running off together, suitcases packed, never to return. Which Teruki knew was silly. For one the two adults were so blind to the other’s feelings it was painfully comical. Yet some irrational, fearful part inside Teruki scratched the back of his brain, taking the vague form of his parents who were galavanting across the sea who knows where.

Teruki didn’t have to look up, he could feel the weight of Reigen’s eyes. It was then replaced by a very real weight on the top of Teruki’s head. Reigen was casually using him as an arm rest.

“Hmm, yeah that is pretty out of the normal,” Reigen nodded, looking at the hanging spider plant that was fixed above the edge of the tv. “Normally I’d happily assume, what, three days? Especially with Serizawa’s skill. But there’s so many particulars about this case. More variables than usual, and a whole lot of land to cover.”

Teruki angled his head lower. “Yeah.”

Reigen shrugged, “if it takes more than two weeks, then I’ll just have to bring in backup.”

Teruki dared to smile. His head tilted up. “Backup?”

Reigen scratched the side of his face, brows pinched together. “Yeah,” he drawled. “Gosh, but who?” Reigen added a pinch more weight onto his impromptu arm rest.

“Hey!”

“Maybe I can get a hold of Joseph,” said Reigen, now making a point of not looking at Teruki, or his growing smile. “Though it might be last minute.”

Teruki was now fighting against the growing weight on his head, “he chain smokes! It’ll get in the way of your progress!”

Reigen, master of the deadpan, ignored Teruki, “If only I knew someone else, damn I’m drawing a blank here…”

“You’re breaking my spine!!” Teruki laughed.

“Thats it! I’ll see if Dimple would want to tag along.”

“No! He’ll mock you every time you look at Serizawa-san.”

“Damn. He’d mock me every time I look at Serizawa, huh.”

“At this rate you’ll stunt my growth!”

“If only I knew a blonde shortie.”

“Reigen-san!”

Reigen finally stood up right, though not without ruffling Teruki’s hair, “yeah?”

Teruki half-heartedly batted Reigen’s hand away. Then looked up at him, daring to hope. “You mean it?”

Reigen blinked. “Mean what?” The pained look that flashed across Teruki’s eyes was enough for him to instantly drop his charade. “Yeah kid, I mean it,” he smiled, that crooked endearing smile that was a sliding scale between big-brotherly, caring uncle, and fatherly.

Teruki gave a sigh of relief.

“And,” continued Reigen, “you can always call me, anytime, you know the spiel. Though don’t get discouraged if I can’t answer right away, the reception is bound to be spotty. I also want to know those test results you know.

“Even if it’s math?” Teruki teased.

“Yes,” sighed Reigen in faux exasperation, “even if it’s math. Don’t want you ending up like me. I mean, I can add and multiply and even, uh, minus fast.”

“Minus fast??”

“Subtract. Whatever. The point is, I don’t do trigonometry every time I have to handle the register. No. wait. The real point is, I want you to do well.”

Teruki snorted a laugh, “alright."

“No room for slacking, and all.”

“I said alright!” It was Teruki’s turn to play faux exasperation. Basking in the normalcy of being a teen being bothered about his grades.

“Oh, and I mean it with the plants,” Reigen thumbed to his impossible to kill Devil’s Ivy plant, “you gotta promise to treat these mad lads right.”

Teruki cringed at the use of ‘mad lads’, though not with his whole heart. His chest felt lighter, and his smirk was more relaxed. “Yeah. Alright. You can rely on me, Reigen-san."

The way Teruki clutched the keys a little tighter did not go unnoticed. Nor did the way his shoulders seem a little more squared.

“It’s a big responsibility.” Reigen clapped a hand on those slightly more squared shoulders, and said, “think you can handle it?”

Teruki clasped his hand around the set of keys, determined. “Absolutely.” Teruki leaned forward and very purposefully placed the keys on the same ring where he kept his own apartment keys.

“I’m sure you’ll do well. And I’m sure the plants will thank you for your care”

Teruki gave Reigen a scrutinizing look, “were you planning this? Or did you just realize you forgot you’d need a house sitter?”

Reigen sunk his hands into his pockets, and stuck out his tongue. “I’ll never tell. Now. Scooch.” Reigen pushed Teruki lightly with his foot. “You blonde highlighter of a monster,” said Reigen, though not unkindly.

“Hey!” Teruki laughed.

“Oh, just one more thing,” deadpanned Reigen knocking his elbow amicably against Teruki’s, “about the apartment sitting.”

“Yeah?” Teruki imperceptibly leaned forward, anticipating something very important to commit to memory.

“Don’t throw any wild parties while I’m gone, okay?” Reigen deadpanned.

The mere idea that Teruki would have considered such a thing made him burst into another set of laughter. Relaxing again. Teruki grinned, and knocked his elbow back against Reigen’s, “no promises.”

“Tsk!! Oooo you shameless brat,” said Reigen, smiling.

Teruki smiled back, and settled back into the couch feeling a little warmer.

The movie was nice, just as nice and scenic and thoughtful as Reigen had remembered. He was able to stay awake for an unprecedented fifteen minutes before falling asleep.

At some point Reigen felt a set of hands shake his arm. Then a pause, perhaps to consider using an elbow instead, only for the shake to return, a little harder.

“Reigen?” Whispered Teruki. “Reigen-san?”

“Hmm?” Reigen said in ‘I was awake the whole time’ tones.

“Do old people always get this reminiscent about the past?”

“Huh?”

“You know, all this, pensive stuff,” said Teruki gesturing to the screen. The protagonist was laying in a sleeper train cot, staring pensively at the ceiling.

Reigen blinked, then said, “I’ll let you know when I’m older.”

“You’re no use,” tutted Teruki, halfheartedly. His eyes slid back to the screen. There was something about a slow paced film that could be so compelling.

It wasn’t long until Reigen was compelled back to a doze.

It wasn’t that he found the movie secretly boring, or he was particularly exhausted (at least not more than the usual), but that it was all so peaceful. Long stretches of quiet moments, the difference in recording styles between the in-movie’s ‘past’ and ‘present’. But, perhaps, most of all, were the ambient tracks of regional bird calls he hadn’t heard in a long, long time. At the edge of Reigen’s mind, in that hazy space between dream and memory, he thought of biking through a dirt road, shaded by trees older than generations. Bird song filled the air.

Teruki was far too absorbed to notice Reigen’s light snores.

It was a near miracle for Reigen to wake up again at all, and yet he managed to wake up, just before the end of the movie. He groaned as he stretched, blearily making out the scene on the screen. The protagonist was talking to the love interest in the car.

Reigen hoisted himself up to his feet, purposefully noisy, and mumbled about getting a start on dinner.

This earned him a, “Shh!” from Teruki, who leaned forward as if that would block Reigen out.

“Tsk, shameless,” said Reigen, though a little quieter.

❧❧❧

___〆(・∀・) Thank you for reading! ♡ I hope you enjoyed it! Now, if you’ll excuse me I must go be insufferable to my younger sibling lol happy 4/13!

#Progress Report #Nico Writes #Glow Worms [working title]#mp100 #Hanazawa Teruki #Reigen Arataka #Serirei #(kind of)#Reigen is a sliding scale between big brother weird uncle and father figure rights #I love their dynamic so much you guys #also writing Teruki and Reigen makes me miss my own younger sibling SO MUCH #we live in different countries atm #I can't give them nuggies ;o;#also it was my younger sibling who introduced me to homestuck surprisingly #they'd talk about it a lot and has been talking about if for YEARS #then during the start of the pandemic we'd sit together and read homestuck together #i miss them so much #___〆(・∀・) Thank you for reading! ♡ I hope you enjoyed it!#Now if you’ll excuse me I must go be insufferable to my younger sibling lol happy 4/13!#Mob Psycho 100 #Teru #Happy Birthday Teruki #Glow Worms #Glow Worms or rather: In the Depths of the Safflower Hills

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 3 months

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pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: While shooting a movie with the infamous Wanda Maximoff, you start to fall for her. The lines between reality and acting blur together as you enter into a publicity stunt relationship, and you try to save your heart from breaking.

content warnings: angst, fake relationship, but a happy ending! Also TW for religious trauma, specifically homophobia within the Mormon church.

word count: 6.8k+

masterlist

Original Request

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Reality

The first time you lay eyes on Wanda Maximoff, you knew your life would never be the same. Her green eyes pierced through the chaotic atmosphere of the audition room, a group of people you assumed were her team surrounding her as she walked into the larger room off to the side, where the actual auditions were being held.

You watched her go until her silky auburn hair faded from view, the door shutting firmly behind her, and sucked in a large breath. It felt like the air was simultaneously lighter without her heady presence, and thicker at her absence. You made up your mind then and there to try your very best at this audition.

Deep down, you knew that the privilege of knowing Wanda Maximoff would be the insurmountable victory of your life, and you steeled yourself.

“Damn,” Someone said, and you frowned as the room erupted in nervous laughter. Looking around, some people seemed starstruck, while others looked absolutely terrified. You understood why, nobody had told you that one of the most famous actresses in the country would be showing up at the final round of auditions today, but you could understand the reasons behind their secrecy.

Mentally running over the lines you knew you’d forget the second you were in the presence of the most exquisite woman you’d ever seen, you manually slowed your heartbeat, breathing in slowly while you calmed your nerves.

You couldn’t fuck this up.

Someone called your name, and you stood, the movement feeling almost robotic. Blinking a few times, and shaking off the stubborn nerves that raced through your already sleep-deprived body, you smiled slightly at the people around you. They all offered small, encouraging smiles, but you could see the hunger behind their eyes. The need to succeed, to be better than everyone else in the room. The need to win.

Shivering again, you reminded yourself that although it was a competition, it didn’t matter if you didn’t get the role. As long as you tried your best, that was enough. Then you remembered the woman waiting on the other side of the door, and a fierce wave of something rushed through you.

Walking into the room, you kept your back straight, hoping to at least act like you were confident. That crumbled the moment you locked eyes with Wanda, the green of her irises imprinting themselves into your mind as you formed an awkward smile.

“Alright,” A mousy-looking man clapped his hands, the illustrious eyes that had sought yours now focused solely on him. You never wanted to kill a man as desperately as you did now. Instead, you turned your head, shaking the cobwebs of gay panic from your mind as you forced yourself to focus.

“We’re going to start with page twelve, scene two. A seat has been provided,” The man gestured towards the front of the room, and you glanced over. A single booth, about six feet long, was sitting innocently in a spotlight. It reminded you of your childhood, images of hot sticky Sundays clawing their way to the surface as you swallowed harshly.

Missing the glance Wanda sent your way, her brows furrowing slightly at the distant look in your eyes, you jerkily made your way toward the seat.

The words of a forgotten Sunday worship wormed their way towards your ears, murmuring things like ‘sinner’, ‘abomination’, and ‘unworthy’. The words suffocated you, visions of a church meeting hall flashing before you as you sat down on the familiar seat.

Your fingers grazed the fabric, and you realized that they must have acquired an actual seat from some random Mormon church, and you fought the bile that rose.

“I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself,” A soft voice filtered through your thoughts, clearing your mind instantly.

Looking up, your face flushing, you could only stare silently as Wanda sat beside you. Embarrassment welled up, knowing that the woman had probably witnessed you get lost in the past, but she gave no indication that she’d seen anything, holding out her hand.

“I’m Wanda,” She said, a genuine smile brightening her face. Her eyes searched yours, seemingly imploring you to take her hand, and you did.

You were happy that you didn’t stutter as you gave her your name, surprised when Wanda repeated it back to you, the syllables forming into something beautiful when she spoke.

“Be honest,” She leaned in, eyes sparkling with your hand still firmly grasped in hers. “How nervous are you?”

The faint scent of vanilla encircled you, a haze threatening to pull your focus away, but you remained steadfast. Not wanting to miss a single moment you had with the captivating enigma that was Wanda Maximoff.

“I accidentally bought myself two coffees this morning,” You confided, smiling slightly at Wanda’s confused expression. “I had forgotten I’d ordered the first one, so I waited in line again to order my latte, only to realize halfway through the second cup that I’d been so anxious I practically blacked out while ordering the first time around.”

Whatever reaction you’d been expecting, the tinkling laughter that erupted from the woman seated mere inches beside you was better than anything you could’ve imagined. Her eyes crinkled, one hand coming up to cover her mouth, and you fought to urge to lower it, wanting to see her full face while she was in the throes of happiness.

“Alright ladies,” A voice rang out, shocking you out of the comfortable lull you’d found yourself in. “Are we ready to begin?”

The mousy man was now seated at a long table, three people seated on either side of him, their eyes locked on you and Wanda. You swallowed harshly, suddenly remembering that this was an audition, and you reluctantly removed your hand from Wanda’s.

Glancing over, Wanda nodded, her eyes still locked on yours. They were warm, as if to say, ‘Don’t rush, take your time,’ and you smiled.

You could totally do this.

—

“When did you know?” Wanda’s voice is frail, and you bite your lip.

“Know what?”

“That you’re…” She trailed off, her eyes distant, a lost look in them. They met yours, green eyes pleading with you to say the words she couldn’t.

“That I’m gay?” You make sure to make your tone extra sarcastic, sending a quick smile her way, and nudging your shoulder gently against hers. You leave it there, finding comfort in the warmth that shoots through your body at the minimal contact.

She lets out a breath of air, inhaling shakily as she quickly glances away from you. “Yes… that.”

“It’s not a dirty word, you know,” You say, tilting your head slightly, hoping to catch her eye. She refuses, fingers picking at the seat between you as her eyes remain locked somewhere in the distance.

Fighting the urge to sigh, you let your own eyes glaze over, a faraway look appearing in them as you breathe in deeply. It’s a weary sound, and you close your eyes briefly as you exhale, preparing your answer.

“I think I’ve always known,” You begin, resting a hand on the seat, your pinky centimeters from hers. Green eyes lock onto it, her breaths shortening further, her silence stretching on.

“The first time I realized that I was…” You search for the word, shaking your head slightly, “Different,” The word tastes like ash in your mouth, and you can’t help the slight wobble in your voice.

Clearing your throat, you continue, “I was in second grade, and for some reason, I really wanted the approval of my new teacher,” You glance awkwardly over towards Wanda, smirking, “I’ve always liked older women.”

Wanda’s fingers inch closer to yours, the tension palpable. You look away, needing to get the next words out, but knowing you wouldn’t be able to if you were staring into those all-knowing green eyes of hers.

“I went home that night, and I prayed,” The words get stuck in your throat, and you realize with rising horror that actual tears are making their way into your eyes. You push onwards, Wanda’s hand inching closer to yours.

“I prayed that I would wake up the next morning and be able to like boys the same way that I liked girls. I prayed and asked God why he would do this to me, why he would make me like this if he hated it so much.” Your voice breaks, a tear escaping down your cheek. “And it didn’t work.”

At those words, the dam finally breaks, and your shoulders heave with silent sobs as Wanda’s hand finally encircles your own. You can feel her other hand hesitantly rising, moving towards your shoulder before stopping, unsure if she should touch you or not.

Eventually, after a pathetic-sounding sniffle escapes you, her other hand wraps around your shoulders, bringing you in. You bury your head into her shoulder, fingers gripping tightly onto the back of her shirt as the lines between acting and reality blur together into one giant, jumbled mess.

“And, scene!” A voice calls out, and you force the tears back, manually slowing your breathing to gain some semblance of control over yourself. You tell yourself that you’re imagining the hesitant way that Wanda pulls away from you and blink in surprise when her hand remains on your back, gently rubbing soothing circles as you breathe deeply.

“That was…” The man can’t seem to get the words out, his eyes shining. “Phenomenal.”

His voice is breathy, filled with awe, and you can’t help the surprised look that takes over your face. Really, all it took was a minor mental breakdown and your acting was phenomenal? You should try that more often.

The rest of the members at the table seem to agree, and the mousy-looking man makes his way toward you and Wanda, a wide smile on his face.

“Congratulations!” He all but exclaims, and you feel disconnected from your body as he continues, “You’re hired!”

The man goes on to explain that Wanda will be playing the other main character, the Bishop’s wife, while you play the lead role in the movie. You know the character well, you’ve played her both in real life and now in auditions, but you can’t quite believe the words that are spewing rapidly from the man’s mouth.

You play a 19-year-old girl, living with her elderly Grandmother after her parents had kicked her out for coming out as a lesbian. Your character only attends church with her resolutely Mormon Grandmother because she is scared to lose the only person in her life who will still give her a home. The man explains that your character falls in love with the new Bishop’s young wife, having just moved from Utah to your state, as Wanda’s character navigates her new realization of her sexuality while also falling in love with your character.

It’s a beautiful story, one you’d read over and over again before deciding to audition. The themes of religious trauma, grief, and romance all swirled into one complicated story, but one detail, in particular, stood out in your disconnected brain.

Fuck.

Wanda’s character is the romantic interest of your character.

What are you supposed to do now?

—

The director, a brunette woman with a seemingly permanent calming aura, had instructed you and Wanda to get to know each other better during the two months before shooting. She’d said something about how actors who were friends in real life had better chemistry on screen, but you’d blacked out after the word ‘chemistry’ had fallen from her lips.

Wanda had laughed, seeing the slight flush appear on your face, her hands gentle as she guided you towards her car, “Seeing as we’ll be getting to know each other pretty well for the next few months, why don’t we start with a tour of my home?”

She’d persuaded you further with the promise of a home-cooked meal, and you simply couldn’t refuse. You were a recent college graduate, living in a shitty studio apartment you could barely afford, surviving off of the bare essentials. A tour of an actual house with an actual meal sounded like a pretty sweet deal to you.

Plus, Wanda would be there, so everything would be perfect.

The next two months were wonderful, the text messages between you two were constant and the weekends reserved solely for getting to know each other better. You quickly learned that Wanda absolutely loved cooking, but she adored gardening.

The two of you had started doing puzzles together, one particularly colorful one catching your eye as you went shopping with Wanda, and she’d insisted on buying it for you. So, it became a tradition. Every Saturday, excluding the ones when Wanda had prior plans seeing as she was a famous actress with events to attend, the two of you would share a bottle or two of wine and assemble a puzzle while conversation flowed like water between you.

The only thing you dreaded during these two months was Sundays. The director had asked you two to attend a Mormon church, stating it as research for the upcoming movie. You didn’t have the heart to explain why the mere thought of stepping foot inside a church again sent uncomfortable, conflicting tendrils of grief and self-loathing crawling up your spine, so you simply agreed.

Wanda knew. She somehow always knew when something was wrong. She’d helped you pick out an outfit, a modest dress with comfortable shoes, and in return, you’d helped her find a dress in her massive closet that actually fit the impossible Mormon standards.

You were silent during the car ride to the church, your eyes locked on the landscape moving quickly outside your window. Wanda didn’t have to ask if you were alright, she saw the distant look in your eyes and knew that you were trapped in memories, unable to escape.

A soft hand enveloped yours, fingers tight around your hands as you felt vanilla pierce the heavy weight of the scenes playing behind your eyes. Your brain cleared briefly, overwhelming gratitude welling up inside you at the gentle show of support, and your fingers squeezed back.

After that, you felt more present. Even when you walked through the doors, a false smile glued to your lips as you led the way towards a seat covered in that same scratchy fabric from the audition room, you didn’t sink beneath the waves of past memories threatening to drown you.

The fabric didn’t seem quite as scratchy now with Wanda beside you, her pinky mere inches from yours. You remembered the audition room, the memory overlapping with the past ones that strained to reach the surface of your thoughts. The new memory suffocated the old, your breaths coming easier while Wanda’s steady presence overcame your senses.

Someone began speaking at the podium, your body jolting as you realized it was a prayer. Wanda’s eyes were sharp, taking in everything, assessing everything. You showed her how to fold her arms, bowing your head slightly. The last thing you wanted was to stand out.

If you stood out from the rest, you would never be fully accepted. You couldn’t go through that again.

Wanda seemed to see the desperation in our eyes and copied your movements. Her green eyes didn’t close, watching you as your eyes stared blankly at the booth in front of you.

“Dear Heavenly Father, we thank thee…” You couldn’t hear the rest of the prayer, the familiar phrase ringing around your head until the cacophony of noise threatened to overwhelm you.

A pinky touched yours, Wanda’s body resting fully against you as you sat side-by-side in a little booth. The man was still speaking, your ears numb to his words, your senses locked into only one person.

Wanda.

Her finger wrapped around yours, an awkward version of a pinky promise, an act so juvenile yet innocent and pure. This memory overlapped with your past, multiple prayers you’d heard about ‘giving strength to those who stray’, and ‘loving everyone no matter what their sins may be’, being smothered by the simple touch of a pinky.

You longed for more.

The rest of the meeting passed quickly, your hands interlocked in the seat between you, hidden beneath the folds of your skirts. You were numb to the words spoken at the podium, having learned to block them out a long time ago. You let yourself remember, an unexplainable grief rising within you as you remembered what it felt like to truly believe in something, before the same people you’d once felt seemingly unconditional love from, turned on you with knowing eyes and quiet whispers.

All because you liked a girl.

Silent tears fell, your sniffles quiet from years of practice. Wanda’s fingers tightened, her eyes warm but not overwhelming. You let the memories wash over you, reliving them and then releasing them, letting comforting waves of vanilla envelop and smother them like a warm blanket. You finally smiled, right near the end of the meeting, your eyes no longer dull.

Wanda held your hand the entire time.

—

The rest of the cast was amazing, friendly faces surrounded you, and laughter never ending as you mingled before the first table read. There was an assortment of finger sandwiches on a table near the back of the room, and you didn’t stray far from it.

It’s not that you were hiding, per se, but rather surveying the room while you tried to control a slight panic rising within you. Yeah, scratch that, you were totally hiding.

“Hey,” Your eyes raise from the sandwich you’d been inspecting, meeting a familiar shade of green. You can’t help the comfortable smile that erupts on your face as Wanda makes her way over to you.

“Not a fan of mingling, I take it?”

“I just,” You gesture helplessly, noticing the lingering looks from some of the cast, probably wondering why Wanda was standing near you. “I don’t know anyone. And I feel really awkward.”

Wanda’s fingers interlock with yours, pulling your reluctant frame away from the table. “Well,” She reasons, walking towards a group of people, “Let’s introduce you then.”

—

You’re quite proud of yourself, having not stuttered over a single line of yours during the first table read. You could tell that some of your castmates were surprised that you were playing the lead character, as you weren’t a well-known name in the industry.

The cast was stacked with A-list actors, Wanda being one of them. In all honesty, you were terrified, but Wanda’s chair was next to yours, and her pinky never strayed far from your own, so it wasn’t all that bad.

Positioning her body until it was slightly facing yours, Wanda leaned in after the director announced a short break, the rest of the cast standing up to mingle, their voices chattering about the script.

“You did exceptionally well.” The words were whispered in your ear, meant for you and you alone. Something warm burned in your chest, and you smiled proudly as you tilted your face toward Wanda.

Your breath caught, her lips inches from yours. She didn’t make any moves to lean back, and you fought the urge to count her freckles as her soft breaths hit your face.

“A glowing review,” You managed, a smirk making its way onto your face at Wanda’s smile. “I’m flattered.”

Wanda laughed, finally leaning back as she did so, and you let out a sharp exhale. One of her hands gripped your forearm as she chuckled, one hand covering her mouth as she did so.

“You shouldn’t do that,” You said, blinking at the suddenness of your words.

Wanda tilted her head, brows furrowing slightly. She doesn’t have to speak, her silent question stretching out in the silence between you two.

“I just mean, you cover your face when you laugh,” You gesture towards her, ducking your head as your mouth keeps talking. “You shouldn’t, you’re beautiful when you laugh.”

The statement feels awkward coming from your lips, the compliment suddenly sounding too flirty, too personal, just too much. But then, Wanda’s smiling again, her eyes sparkling as she practically beams at you, and your words don’t feel unnatural anymore.

“Well, I…” She doesn’t continue, her eyes searching yours as her eyes continue to sparkle at you.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Wanda Maximoff was rendered speechless,” The joke spills out, the silence threatening to turn uncomfortable as you stare at each other. You place a hand over your heart mockingly, “I’m truly honored to witness this momentous occasion.”

Wanda laughs, and this time her hands stay away from her face, your eyes eagerly taking in her expression. You were right, she is beautiful when she laughs.

“Alright, sweet talker,” She stands, still smiling widely at you as she pulls you from your seat. “Let's go mingle with our new friends.”

You socialize, words falling easily from your lips as you get to know the rest of your cast. Plenty of people congratulate you on landing the role, some offering encouraging words and others offering tips. You enjoy it all, auburn hair and sparkling eyes never leaving your sight for too long.

It’s not as awkward as before, not with Wanda by your side.

—

“Your agents are geniuses,” Angela, the woman playing your on-screen grandmother jokes, relaxing against the booth. Your fingers play with the scratchy fabric, standing behind the seat with Wanda leaning next to you.

You’ve been shooting the movie for a few weeks now, and this is one of the longer days. You’re shooting on the set of a reconstructed Mormon church, and you have to admit that the set designers did their research. The main hall is eerily similar to the one you remember growing up in.

There’s a multitude of extras milling about, the day long and exhausting for everyone, since the scenes you're shooting take place in a packed church meeting. You’ve finally gotten a break, and Wanda has come over to talk with you, as she usually did.

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks, and Angela laughs. It's a throaty sound, and your lips turn up of their own accord as she braces herself against the seat.

Someone shouts about the lighting, and you’re momentarily distracted while Angela wipes her eyes slightly. She waves off the young makeup artist, dabbing at the concealer beneath her eyes.

The extras give you and Wanda a wide berth, and you’re unsure if they were instructed to do so, or if they were just intimidated by the lead actresses of the movie. Either way, you’re grateful for the space.

“Don’t worry,” Angela says, leaning in and drawing your attention back to her. “You don’t have to play dumb with me, everyone knows that you two are dating as a publicity stunt.”

You and Wanda glance at each other briefly, shock evident on both your faces as Angela continues, “It’s a genius idea, truly. It's great for promoting the movie, and it gets people wondering if your on-screen chemistry is as good as your real-life chemistry.”

Real-life chemistry? What the fuck?

Wanda must be thinking the same thing, because her eyes are slightly wide as she stares at you. Then, they change slightly, a calculating look in them as a multitude of makeup artists swoop in, surrounding the two of you as they prepare you for the upcoming scene.

You catch Angela’s eye, and she pretends to zip her lips shut. Offering a wobbly smile, you walk almost robotically towards the front of the room as the director calls for places, your mind racing. Wanda brushes past you, her hand grazing your waist as she moves to sit behind the podium, where you’ll be standing for the next scene.

Taking a deep breath, you push all thoughts of Wanda and fake relationships and chemistry out of your mind. There will be plenty of time to panic later, now, you have to focus on the next scene and try not to mess up badly.

It’s utter chaos when they have to reset a scene with as many people as there are in the room, and you really want this day to be over with. Besides, there’s a bottle of vodka and an evening of overthinking waiting for you.

—

Your publicist, a woman named Annie, smiles encouragingly at you while you sit in shock.

“I mean, just think about it,” Another woman speaks, and you turn your wide eyes towards her. “It’s the perfect opportunity to sell this movie to the public, and the two of you are already good friends.”

At that, Wanda glances over at you.

You blink. It’s slightly unfair how regal she looks, sitting elegantly in her chair in this small, suffocating room. Your brain is already slightly frazzled from a long day of shooting, and you struggle to process the request of Wanda’s publicist.

“Let me make sure I’m understanding correctly,” Wanda interjects, sensing that you’re off-kilter at the moment. Her voice soothes you, and you remind yourself to breathe as she continues, “You want us to pretend to be in a relationship, as a publicity stunt?”

Well, when she puts it that way, it doesn’t seem so difficult. But then again, you’d agree with anything Wanda says, so maybe you’re biased.

“Exactly,” Annie says, Wanda’s publicist nodding. “This movie is already projected to hit the box office, and with this, there will be even more demographics watching. This pretend relationship will help build anticipation for the movie, especially since the whole internet ships you two already.”

Now that was a new piece of information, and by the look on Wanda’s face, she was also hearing this for the first time.

“Do they really,” Wanda’s voice is slightly faint, her posture slumping slightly as she leans back in her chair. She seems to process, her eyes unfocusing slightly, so you ask a question of your own.

“Which demographics are we talking about, exactly?”

Annie smiles, sharing a look with Wanda’s publicist. “The younger generation for sure, since you’re already starting to trend on popular social media apps, as well as the LBGTQ+ community. They’re always looking for a new queer couple to ship.”

You try not to bristle, wanting to remind Annie that you’re a part of that community, but before you can get the words out, Wanda interjects.

“Can we think about it?” Her words are soft, and when you glance over towards her, the green of her eyes doesn’t lock on yours like usual. Instead, they’re focused on her publicist, with a slightly firm look in them.

The woman concedes, and Wanda stands quickly. Before you’re able to get to your own feet, feeling slightly shaky as you do so, she’s already out the door.

—

After a few days of awkwardness, which you absolutely hate, you and Wanda agree that the publicity stunt is a smart move.

It’s awkward at first, especially since you’re overthinking every interaction you have with her. You shy away from her touch, suddenly questioning if she’s touching you for the publicity stunt or because she actually wants to.

After a couple of days of this, you’re in your trailer, watching some stupid reality show to try and get your mind off of the uncomfortable day you’d had on set when three light knocks sound at your door.

“I know you’re in there, I can hear the TV.” Wanda’s voice sounds through the door, and you curse. It’s not that you were avoiding her… that’s a lie. You were totally avoiding her, and your acting in scenes with her had taken a hit because of it.

“Just let me in, we need to talk,” There’s a pause, then, “Please?”

You can’t say no to that.

Turning the TV off, you make your way to the door and open it to reveal a very tired-looking Wanda. Her auburn hair seems slightly duller than usual, the sparkle in her green eyes no longer there.

“Um,” Wanda pushes past you, sitting on your couch as you shut the door behind her. “What did you want to talk about?”

The question feels awkward, and you know that you’re avoiding the proverbial elephant in the room. Wanda gives you a look, and you sigh.

Sitting down on the couch next to her, you leave plenty of space between your body and hers, and you try not to think about the way her pinky twitches at the distance.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Wanda asks, and you blink. You hadn’t expected her to be so straightforward, but it seemed that she had no more patience for hesitancy.

“I’m just,” You trail off, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’m not sure where reality ends and this fake relationship begins. And I’m not sure about what’s real and what’s not.”

Wanda doesn’t say anything for a long while, but the silence doesn’t feel awkward anymore. Instead, it feels heavy and filled with a multitude of unspoken feelings that you wish you had the bravery to share.

“So this,” Wanda reaches out her hand slowly, as if not to spook you. It stops, halfway between your body and hers, resting innocently on your couch. Her pinky stretches out further, and you let your hand slide along the cushion until your pinkies interlock.

You don’t imagine the relieved sigh that escapes Wanda’s lips.

“You’re not sure if this is real or not?” The question rings around your head, and you shake your head because no, you can’t tell.

“Let me tell you how I see it,” Wanda says, her voice soft. You look up, meeting those pretty green eyes for the first time all day. She smiles, and they crinkle at the edges. You’ve missed seeing that.

“When we’re alone, or on set, everything is real,” Her voice is firm, laced with honesty. “When we’re in public, it’s still real, just dramatized for the camera. Does that make sense?”

You nod, the pieces finally clicking together in your brain. You don’t say anything, and you don’t have to. All you do is squeeze Wanda’s fingers tighter and move closer to her on the couch.

Turning the TV back on, you rest against her, your head resting on her shoulder. When you glance up at her, the green in her eyes sparkles back at you. Something settles deep within you, and Wanda rests her cheek against the top of your head.

—

You stare blankly at the script in front of you. The pages flutter slightly as a gentle breeze sweeps through the actor’s tent. Sounds of chatter flow around you, but you remain unresponsive, the words on the page swimming off and distorting as you try not to panic.

A sinking feeling makes its way into your chest, the reality of the scene you’re about to shoot finally setting in.

You have to kiss Wanda Maximoff.

Sure, it’s an on-screen kiss, it’s not like it means anything. Right?

But there’s a small part of you that longs for it to be real. Some stupid part of you that you try to get rid of that wishes it meant something to her. Because it sure as hell means something to you.

But it won’t mean anything to her. It’s a fake kiss. One meant for the screen. You build your walls, surrounding your heart with impenetrable stone as a calm iciness envelops you.

It doesn’t mean anything.

—

Her lips are inches from yours, and you can’t stop looking at them. They’re plump, and slightly glistening from a light coating of lip gloss. There’s a red undertone, and you find yourself yearning to discover what she tastes like.

You hesitate.

“Cut.” The director calls, and you blink, stepping away from Wanda.

“Remember,” The director begins, and you focus all your attention on her, ignoring the concerned look Wanda is sending your way. “Your character wants this, she’s not hesitating. She’s been yearning for this for weeks now, and I need you to show that through the screen. I want to feel the tension, the desperation.”

She pins you with a look, a sort of knowing glint in her eye. “Understood?”

“Yep, got it.” You offer a smile, the fakeness of it making you cringe. Your makeup artists swoop in, touching up the smallest details possible, while you avoid eye contact with Wanda.

“Hey,” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you glance at her. Her eyes are locked on yours, and you somehow can’t bring yourself to look away. She looks almost… sad.

“Are you alright?”

You mentally scoff, your walls crumbling slightly as the green of her eyes threatens to overtake you. “Yeah.”

The clipped tone of your voice rebuilds your walls, the stone solidifying once again. You turn away, walking towards the beginning spot of this scene, not seeing the confusion that overtakes Wanda’s expression.

A wave of sadness crashes through her, all the times that you’ve been pulling away from her running through her mind as she makes her way towards her own spot. She attempts to meet your eyes again, but you refuse.

She knows that this scene won't be successfully shot today.

“And, action.”

You look up, your character snapping into place quickly, your eyes dark and full of longing. Wanda is startled by the sudden change but snaps into her own character quickly as you walk slowly toward her.

“Don’t say things like that,” Your voice is low, your emotions swirling in the forefront of your mind.

“Things like what?”

“Things that sound a lot like love confessions,” You hear your voice break and want to cringe. It fits perfectly for your character, but you’re unused to sounding so weak.

“Why not?”

Your body is pressed against Wanda’s, her chest grazing yours with each shallow breath she takes. You almost believe that it’s real, just for a moment. You desperately wish it was.

Wanda’s eyes search yours, and you’re reminded that she’s playing a character. A character that’s falling madly in love with you, unconcerned about the repercussions. A character that couldn’t be further from reality.

You hesitate again, your body refusing to move your lips closer as your mind wars with itself.

Wanda sighs, and the director calls out again. You barely hear what she’s saying, your body practically propelling itself away from Wanda, focusing on rebuilding its walls as her hand twitches toward you.

“It’s alright, “ the director is saying, and you force yourself to focus on her. She’s smiling gently at you, her voice kind, “Everyone has off days, we’ll try again tomorrow. It's been a long week.”

Nodding jerkily at her, you wave off your team, choosing to return to your trailer instead of following them. You’ll deliver your costume later, or have someone come pick it up. But right now, you need to be alone.

Walking quickly, you practically sigh in relief when you reach your trailer. You’re quick to unlock it, pressing the door open urgently and twisting slightly to close it.

A hand stops you, delicate fingers wrapping around the door as you look up in shock. You hadn’t realized anyone was following you, but looking into those iridescent green eyes, you understand.

Wanda says your name, her voice holding a pleading edge to it, and you can’t bring yourself to deny her.

You open the door wider, silently giving her permission to enter. She brushes past you, fingers twitching but not touching you. She seems to want to touch you, and you try and push down the part of you that wants her to.

“Why are you…” She hesitates, not knowing what to say.

Raising your eyebrows, you resign yourself to having this conversation. You knew it was coming, but you find yourself inadequately prepared for it. Standing awkwardly in the middle of your small trailer, you simply stare at Wanda.

“Why is it so difficult to kiss me?” Wanda’s eyes are sad, and you want to cry. You hadn’t meant to make her fucking sad, and now she looks like a kicked puppy.

The tears that spring into your eyes are unexpected, and you blink furiously as they begin to spill down your cheeks. Wanda steps towards you, but you evade her, opening the door and gesturing for her to leave. You refuse to cry in front of her, not when your heart is seconds away from tearing in two.

“When I kiss you I want it to be real, I want it to mean something, Wanda.”

The door shuts firmly behind her, and you miss the understanding and longing that appears in her eyes. Wanda turns away, a single tear escaping her.

Of course it would mean something to her. It would mean everything.

—

It’s raining, and you want to cry and laugh at the same time.

Wanda had left you a voicemail. You’d stared at your screen while watching her contact picture pop up as she called you. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to hear her voice, so you let it ring.

What you hadn’t expected was the voicemail.

“I just… fuck, I don’t know what I want to say but it would mean something to me. I promise. I- you. I hate this. I hate this distance, I hate that I can’t help you and I hate that I’m falling in love with you.”

The message had ended pretty quickly after that confession. You’d heard a few muttered curse words, and then a dial tone that rang in your ear long after you lowered the phone.

You didn’t know what to do, so you grabbed a rain jacket and started walking. Hoping it will clear your head. Your feet had other plans it seemed, as you found yourself walking up the driveway of Wanda’s home.

It surprised you, as she lived at least fifteen minutes away by car. You barely remembered the walk there, having been trapped in your own mind as your body brought you towards the only thing you could think of. The person who had consumed your every waking thought, and invaded your dreams.

How fucking typical and cinematic it was, walking up her driveway in the pouring rain. You could see a few lights on, and you begin to prepare a speech. Something super lame and mushy about how much you like… fuck that. How much you love her.

Fuck. You loved her.

Of course you did. You’d gotten to know and love the woman behind the famous persona she’d created. The soft, caring woman who loved gardening and puzzles, who hummed along to songs as she cooked, and who looked at you with impossibly soft eyes.

You knock, and your heart feels like it's about to beat out of your chest.

Green eyes meet yours, and you recoil. They’re cold and dull, so unlike the usual sparkle that you’re used to, and you feel your walls build higher even as you plead with yourself to lower them.

Turning, you feel your feet start to walk away, your mind replaying that dead look in her eyes. Your heart fortifies itself, trying not to break as you make your way down the driveway. Tears blur your vision, your ears ringing with embarrassment as you try to remember the way back to your trailer.

“Wait, just… fuck. Wait.” A firm hand grips your forearm, and you spin in surprise.

There’s fire behind those green eyes, and you stand still. Wanda’s auburn hair is drenched, rain pelting down on the two of you, running down her perfect face as she blinks at you.

“I…” She can’t seem to get the words out, her eyes boring into yours.

Time stands still, the tension thick as you allow yourself to glance at her lips. You feel the words on the tip of your tongue, threatening to escape. You let them.

“I love you.”

Wanda speaks at the same time, her words slightly faster than yours. Green eyes widen in surprise, and you feel a wave of immense relief sweep through you.

Rain continues to pour around you, but you barely notice. Within seconds, Wanda’s hands are cupping your face, your own grabbing desperately at her waist as your bodies draw together like magnets. Her lips find yours, and you feel something click into place as your lips slide together effortlessly.

It feels like coming home after a long day, the months of pining and uncertainty coming to a head as you melt at the feel of her lips against yours. Your shoulders relax, tension seeping out of you as you chuckle.

Pulling back, you stare at her, watching her eyes crinkle as she mirrors the wide smile on your face. She’s perfect, and you whisper one single thing before your lips find hers again, rain soaking the two of you as you embrace.

“This is real, I promise.”

---

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