if you could make one where Elijah is a professor at the Salvatore School for the Young and Gifted,and has a favourite f/student
The Heat in His Life
Summary: Elijah has a particularly fiery werewolf student who gets a little extra needy when the full moon is around.
Elijah couldn't explain what he felt for Y/N, she wasn't top of the class or especially talented compared to other students. If anything she was a little trouble maker.
But she wasn't like the other ones in class.
When he questioned her, she'd always have something witty to say back.
She almost never had her homework but somehow always knew what the answers were to it, or at least had some sort of answer that would be technically correct so Elijah wouldn't be able to tell her off.
It was as if she knew exactly how to play the system.
Werewolves were always his trickiest students, they got a little more aggressive about things than others and when it got close to the full moon they'd get more and more touchy. But the female werewolf students also got a little more needy around the full moon.
Some of them got a couple extra days off school near the time.
When it got close to, Elijah could feel the heat rolling off her. He'd see the boys in the class perk up and get all over her. He'd have to remind everyone back to their seats and try focus back on the lesson.
But at the end he'd see those amber eyes on him, asking for him.
"Y/N, don't you have another lesson?" He questioned, rising from his seat and clearing his throat as he smoothed his tie down.
"No." Her head shook, her eyes looking up at him from her chair. "Don't have to be in lessons this week." She shrugged and he nodded because it was very obvious she was in no state to be in class. She'd barely been conscious the past hour, breathing laboured and eyes trailing over the male wolves but they'd always find their way back to him.
"Yet you've come to mine." He countered, making the brave choice to come to her desk, glancing to the empty pages before her. "Would you like me to call a family member, Y/N?" Elijah questioned, voice laced with concern.
Her head shook and he frowned, she was practically curled into her seat, her arms wrapped around her aching tummy.
"Maybe a friend?" He offered, squatting down beside her. Her scent was flooding his nose but if anybody had mastered self-control it was Elijah and he'd had many students in heat before.
"Need you." She whined quietly and he softened slightly, his fingers tapping against the desk before he shuffled close enough for her to lean against him. He didn't hug her back but he let her rest against him for a moment.
"You need to get to your dorm, darling. I can go to the nurse's office and get you some meds to calm the heat and the pain down and have a runner bring it to you." He smiled, he knew that isn't what she wanted but he had a class to teach next and he could not be helping a student through a heat.
That would cost him his job and compromise his highly regarded morals.
Elijah came to work there to give a little back to the supernatural community and to show some equality to all of the different species.
Not to take advantage of his students.
So for a couple of heats he'd just make sure she went back to her dorm and had someone bring her some things to ease off the power of the full moon.
And inevitably a few days later when he'd look out of his window in thought, a little wolf would be stood a few metres away from the front porch of his house, just staring up at him.
For the rest of each month she'd have the same fire as usual, fling things across the room just before he could physically see so he couldn't tell her off. Snapping back at anybody that said something she didn't agree with.
Sometimes Elijah tried to convince himself he only felt the attraction when she was in heat but it didn't explain why he'd have his fist around his cock at least twice a week locked in his office after hours with the thought of her in his mind.
Secretly he loved the way she could command a room, rile everybody up, then just walk off like she was the most innocent of angels.
And then she really would look all sweet and soft when she was in heat. It made her weak and needy like a puppy rather than a wolf.
He enjoyed both sides of her.
But he had never planned to act on either.
She just wouldn't leave him alone.
He hadn't expected to get to his office, ready to mark all of the dozens of papers, only to find Y/N already in there.
The summer made it so much harder. For all the wolves. That's why it had become a breeding season of sorts, the school was starting to get concerned with the amount of wolf pregnancies.
At least Elijah couldn't get her pregnant.
Thank fuck for him he couldn't get her pregnant.
Because there was absolutely no chance he was turning her away that time.
He had her bent right over his desk, listening to her whine and beg whilst he knelt down behind her and buried his face between her ass. Tongue lapping up between her folds and groaning at the taste of her.
"More..." She cried, "needa be full."
"I know, angel." He mumbled, sucking on her cunt from behind.
And soon enough he gave her what she wanted.
Had her on the carpeted floor, bucking his hips rapidly up into her as she rode his cock desperately. Poor thing was exhausted; Elijah had his hands on her tits, stopping them from bouncing too aggressively.
"You'll hurt yourself, darling." He murmured softly when she tried to spin around, get a new angle. It made Elijah chuckled quietly and lifted her off his cock, shushing her whimpers and flipping her back onto her belly to thrust himself back into her from behind, pounding into her until she was drunk on his cum.
So full and whining about being bred.
"Shh.." He'd whisper gently, stroking her hair as she lay half asleep still on his office floor. "It's alright."
"Need 'em." She mumbled, her eyes drooped as she panted quietly and kept reaching for his other hand.
"Such a needy wolf you are." He muttered as he brought his hand back to her swollen pussy, her legs always spreading for his touch. His fingers slipped straight to her entrance, stroking her from the inside and gently bringing her to another climax. Toying with her poor clit until she was just sweat and tears.
By morning he'd brought her to his house. It was too risky going into her dorm room with her, if someone saw he'd be done for, so he brought her somewhere safer.
Safer for them both.
And so, she started heading to his home instead of his office each month, trembling in his bed instead of his floor.
Eventually she started going there without the moons pull.
Elijah couldn't help but welcome her.
Perhaps his self-control wasn't as faultless as he once believed.
Summary: Vision doesn’t like how close Wanda and reader are becoming.
Words: 10k+
Warnings: Fluff, Angst, mention of smut, Soulmate AU
A/N: The pictures are the image for reader in this chapter.
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
---
---
Vision’s POV
Vision did not distrust without reason.
That was what humans often failed to understand about him—that his conclusions were not born of jealousy or impulse, but of calculation. Pattern recognition. Probability.
When Y/N joined the team, Vision calculated.
He reviewed the Hydra files first. Then S.H.I.E.L.D.’s. Psychological evaluations. Physiological data. Combat reports. Incident logs. He cross-referenced everything.
Subject exhibits lycanthropic transformation.
Trigger factors include heightened emotional distress, particularly anger.
Loss of control possible under extreme conditions.
Threat level: high.
Her wolf form was not symbolic. It was not metaphorical. It was a weapon.
Faster than most vehicles. Strength beyond enhanced humans. Bite force capable of crushing bone. Regeneration rapid enough to negate most injuries. And worst of all—instinct-driven.
Hydra had exploited that.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had contained it.
And the Avengers… had welcomed it.
Vision did not trust her from the beginning.
Not because she was different—but because she was unpredictable.
Then there was Wanda.
At first, Vision told himself her interest was compassion. Wanda was empathetic by nature. She saw broken things and wanted to mend them. When she said Y/N needed friends, Vision accepted that explanation.
But observation contradicted theory.
Wanda altered her routines.
She lingered longer in shared spaces.
Her stress levels decreased in Y/N’s presence.
Her sleep patterns improved—notably on nights when the wolf was nearby.
Y/N slept outside Wanda’s door.
Beside her bed.
At her feet.
Wanda allowed it.
Encouraged it.
Touched her without fear.
Vision observed the way Wanda looked at her—not as one looks at a threat, nor even as one looks at a teammate.
But as one looks at something that makes them feel safe.
That unsettled him.
Because Vision had read the files. He had seen what happened when Y/N lost control. Entire rooms destroyed. Personnel hospitalized. Blood.
Wanda was powerful—but she was also human. Emotional. Vulnerable.
And if Y/N ever turned—
The explosion on the street replayed itself in Vision’s mind with perfect clarity.
The way Y/N moved.
The speed.
The ferocity.
When she tackled Wanda, Vision’s systems registered danger before intention. He acted on the data available in that fraction of a second.
Remove threat.
Protect Wanda.
Vision did not calculate the emotional aftermath.
He should have.
Now, standing outside Wanda’s door earlier that night—when she said she was tired, when she did not ask him to stay—Vision felt something unfamiliar disrupt his internal balance.
Doubt.
Because Wanda had gone to sleep alone.
And somewhere in the compound, a wolf listened to her breathing.
And for the first time since Y/N’s arrival, Vision calculated a new possibility—one he did not like, and one he could not easily quantify.
That the greatest danger Y/N posed…
Was not to Wanda’s safety.
But to his place beside her.
---
Y/N’s POV
The moment Wanda said she was going to sleep, something bright and sudden jolted through Y/N’s chest.
Sleep.
Alone.
Which meant—
Oh.
That meant Y/N could go to her room.
The thought barely finished forming before her hands were already tugging at her clothes. Shirt discarded. Pants kicked aside. She shifted easily, bones stretching, heat rippling through her as fur spilled over skin. The familiar grounding weight of her wolf form settled her nerves instantly.
She padded to the door, paused, listened.
No footsteps.
No voices.
Good.
Y/N slipped into the hallway, nails silent against the floor, and stopped in front of Wanda’s door. She lifted a paw and scratched three times. Soft. Polite. Just like always.
Nothing.
Her ears flicked forward.
Maybe… Wanda was already asleep?
She waited a few seconds, then scratched again—lighter this time, uncertain. Still nothing.
Y/N lowered her nose to the gap beneath the door and sniffed, trying to read the air. Wanda’s scent was there—warm, familiar—but mixed with something else. Soap. Fabric. Dust.
She inhaled too sharply and—
Ah—
She sneezed.
Her head jerked back, ears flattening in embarrassment.
And then—
A sound.
Soft. Breathless.
Laughter.
From the other side of the door.
Y/N froze, heart slamming so hard it echoed in her ribs.
The door opened a second later, and Wanda stood there, one hand braced against the frame, shoulders shaking with quiet giggles.
“What are you doing?” Wanda asked, eyes bright, amusement warming her voice.
Y/N’s chest stopped.
That laugh—
That smile—
Her heart skipped so violently she thought it might actually knock her off balance.
Wanda wiped at the corner of her eye, still smiling. “I was already going to sleep,” she added gently.
Y/N’s ears drooped instinctively, panic flaring.
Sorry! I can go back to my room!
The thought burst out of her head loud and clear, sharp with embarrassment and retreat all tangled together. Her body shifted back a step, tail tucking without her meaning to.
Wanda stilled.
She hesitated—just for a heartbeat.
Then her expression softened.
“Oh,” Wanda murmured.
She reached out, fingers slipping into the thick fur between Y/N’s ears. The touch was gentle, grounding, exactly where Y/N liked it most. Her breath hitched as Wanda’s thumb brushed slow, reassuring circles there.
“It’s okay,” Wanda said quietly. “You can come in.”
Y/N blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Her ears lifted slowly, disbelief washing through her. She leaned unconsciously into Wanda’s hand, the tension melting out of her shoulders.
Wanda stepped aside, making space.
Y/N padded in carefully, reverently, like the room was something sacred. The door closed behind her with a soft click, and the world narrowed down to the warm glow of the lamp, the familiar bed, and Wanda’s presence close—so close—it made her chest ache.
As Y/N settled into her usual spot beside the bed, curling in on herself, Wanda’s hand lingered in her fur just a second longer.
Y/N didn’t know why her heart felt so full it hurt.
She only knew one thing, clear and steady as instinct:
This—
This was where she wanted to be.
---
Next Morning
Vision saw her before she saw him.
The hallway was quiet, early light filtering through the compound windows, when the door to Wanda’s room opened—and Y/N padded out in her wolf form.
Her fur was slightly rumpled with sleep. Relaxed. Comfortable.
As if she belonged there.
Vision’s jaw tightened.
Y/N paused when she noticed him, golden eyes lifting to meet his. For a brief moment, they simply stared at each other.
Vision felt irritation spike—sharp, immediate.
“You were in Wanda’s room,” he said, voice controlled but cold.
Y/N did not bare her teeth. Did not growl. Did not tense.
She only looked at his face—really looked—then turned away.
Dismissed him.
She padded down the hall toward her own room without a sound, tail low and calm, as if his presence hadn’t mattered enough to acknowledge.
That… made it worse.
Vision watched until her door closed, then turned sharply and knocked on Wanda’s door.
Once. Firm.
A moment later, Wanda opened it, hair loose, still in sleep clothes. She looked surprised to see him—and then wary.
“Vision?”
“Why was Y/N in your room?” he asked.
Wanda blinked. Then sighed softly, already tired of the conversation before it fully began.
“She sleeps here,” Wanda said simply.
Vision stiffened. “She what?”
“She always does,” Wanda replied, crossing her arms loosely. “At night. You know that.”
“That does not explain why she stayed,” Vision said, voice tightening. “You did not ask me to.”
The words slipped out sharper than intended.
Wanda’s brows drew together. “I didn’t ask anyone,” she said evenly. “I was going to sleep.”
“But I was supposed to stay,” Vision said. “That has always been—”
“I was tired,” Wanda interrupted, firmer now. “And after you left, Y/N came by. Like she usually does. I let her in.”
Vision’s eyes flickered, calculations spinning uselessly against emotion.
“You are letting her replace me,” he said quietly.
Wanda’s expression hardened—not angry, but resolute.
“No,” she said. “I’m letting her be my friend.”
Vision took a breath, forcing his tone back into control. “She is not a pet, Wanda. She is not harmless. She is—”
“She saved my life,” Wanda said, voice low but unyielding. “And she did it without hesitation. Without calculation.”
That word landed harder than she knew.
Vision looked away for a moment, jaw tight, irritation simmering beneath his calm exterior.
“This arrangement makes me uncomfortable,” he said at last.
Wanda held his gaze, her own patience thinning. “So,” she asked, voice edged now, “are you saying I cannot have friends?”
“That is not what I am saying,” Vision replied quickly. “This is… different.”
Wanda’s brow furrowed. “Different how?”
He hesitated.
Her tone sharpened. “Do you not trust me?”
That did it.
Vision went still, the question striking precisely where he had no clean answer. His mouth opened—closed again.
“…I trust you,” he said finally.
“Then what is the problem?” Wanda pressed.
His eyes lifted back to hers. “I do not trust her.”
Wanda exhaled slowly, the tension draining into something heavier—weariness. She stepped closer and reached up, cupping his face gently between her hands. Her thumbs brushed along his cheekbones, grounding, familiar.
“Then trust me,” she said softly.
Vision’s jaw clenched. His teeth ground together, conflict flickering visibly across his features. After a moment, he nodded—once, reluctant but real.
“I will try,” he said.
Wanda dropped her hands, the irritation easing just a little. “Good.”
She tilted her head, studying him. “Why are you here so early anyway?”
“I wanted us to go down together,” Vision answered. “Breakfast.”
Wanda hummed, the sound thoughtful. “Alright. Wait here.”
She turned toward the bathroom, pausing only briefly at the door. “I’ll change.”
As the door closed behind her, Vision remained standing in the hallway, posture straight, expression unreadable.
But his gaze lingered—just for a second—on the opposite door down the hall.
Y/N’s room.
And the quiet certainty that whatever this was… it was far from over.
---
After that day, Vision changed.
Not drastically. Not enough that anyone else commented on it.
But Y/N noticed.
He started positioning himself closer to Wanda whenever Y/N entered a room. If Y/N sat beside Wanda on the couch, Vision would suddenly need to sit on Wanda’s other side—arm draped, fingers laced, casual but deliberate. When Y/N spoke, Vision answered for Wanda. When Wanda laughed at something Y/N said, Vision would kiss her temple, as if to reclaim the moment.
And at night—
Two nights in a row, Y/N had padded down the hallway, hopeful, only to smell him already there.
Vision.
So she turned back. Both times.
It left her restless. Irritable. The wolf paced under her skin with nowhere to go.
Which was why Nat had noticed the difference the moment they started sparring.
Y/N’s blows were heavier than usual. Faster. Less controlled.
“Easy, tiger,” Nat warned, blocking a strike and twisting, using Y/N’s momentum against her.
Y/N barely registered it before the world flipped.
She hit the mat with a thud, the air knocked clean from her lungs.
Nat loomed over her, one knee pinning Y/N’s thigh, hands braced on either side of her shoulders. “Okay,” she said calmly. “What’s eating you?”
Y/N stared at the ceiling, jaw tight. “Nothing.”
Nat snorted. “Sure. And I’m a nun.”
Y/N shrugged, trying to roll out from under her, but Nat didn’t let her.
“Is this about Wanda?” Nat asked casually.
Y/N stilled.
Nat cocked her head, watching closely. “You got a crush or something?”
Y/N turned her face away, ears flushing red despite herself. “…It’s a wolf thing.”
Nat hummed, clearly amused. “Uh-huh.”
She pushed herself up and offered Y/N a hand, hauling her to her feet. “Just—be careful.”
Y/N frowned. “Careful of what?”
“Of getting your heart stepped on,” Nat said lightly. “Wanda’s got a boyfriend.”
Y/N’s shoulders tensed. “It’s not like that.”
Nat held her gaze for a moment, then lifted both hands in surrender. “Okay.”
She stepped back into stance. “Then quit hitting like you’re trying to knock a wall down.”
Y/N exhaled, shaking it off, and raised her guard again.
They circled.
But even as they resumed training, Y/N’s mind wasn’t on Nat’s movements.
It was on a laugh behind a closed door.
On three scratches unanswered.
On a space beside a bed that felt emptier than it should.
---
It was already late night when Y/N came out of the training room.
She moved down the hallway on autopilot, boots quiet against the floor, Nat’s words looping in her head whether she wanted them to or not.
Wanda has a boyfriend.
She knew that. Had always known that.
Just because Wanda was her imprint—because the bond had snapped into place the moment Y/N had first really seen her—didn’t mean Wanda owed her anything. Imprinting wasn’t ownership. It wasn’t a claim.
All Y/N had ever wanted for her imprint was happiness.
And if Wanda was with Vision… then that meant Vision made her happy.
…Right?
Y/N groaned softly as she reached her room, rubbing a hand down her face. She turned toward her door—
—and froze.
Her hearing sharpened instinctively, wolf senses flaring without permission.
Wanda’s voice.
Close. Too close.
“…Vis—wait.”
Y/N’s head snapped toward Wanda’s door, heart stuttering. Her body tensed, muscles coiling, every instinct screaming alert.
Y/N’s stomach lurched violently, bile burning her throat. Her chest constricted like a fist had closed around her heart, squeezing until it hurt to breathe.
She’s fine, her mind said distantly. She’s more than fine.
Her paws were already moving before she realized she’d turned.
Before she realized she was running.
She didn’t remember shifting—only the rush of it, bones folding, skin giving way to fur as she burst out of the compound doors and into the night. Cold air tore past her as she sprinted, lungs burning, legs pumping harder and harder as if she could outrun the sound still echoing in her head.
Wanda’s voice.
Happy.
Breathless.
Not meant for her.
The trees swallowed her whole as she fled into the woods, branches whipping past, the earth pounding beneath her paws. She ran until the compound was nothing but a distant memory. Until the bond in her chest stopped screaming quite so loudly.
Only then did she slow, collapsing into the shadows between the trees.
Y/N curled in on herself, massive body trembling, golden eyes squeezed shut.
All she wanted—all she had ever wanted—was for Wanda to be happy.
So why did it hurt like this?
---
Wanda lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, the room dim except for the faint city glow bleeding through the curtains.
Vision was beside her—still, composed even in rest, an arm loosely around her waist. His skin was cold, artificially so, steady and familiar. The sheets were tangled around their legs, the air heavy with the aftermath of intimacy.
It had been… nice.
Good, even.
And yet.
Wanda swallowed, her chest feeling oddly hollow.
Vision had come to her room on his own tonight. That alone had surprised her. It had been a while since they’d been intimate—mostly because Vision didn’t need it. Before, it was almost always Wanda who initiated, who reached first, who bridged that gap between want and action.
Tonight, he had started it.
She’d felt seen. Chosen. Wanted.
She’d smiled into his kiss. She’d welcomed him gladly, relief and happiness blooming warm in her chest as they came together.
So why—
Why did she feel like this now?
Empty.
Like something essential was missing, just out of reach.
Wanda turned her head slightly, studying Vision’s profile in the low light. He looked peaceful. Content. As if everything was exactly as it should be.
This is what you wanted, she told herself. You love him. You’re happy.
But her heart didn’t echo the thought the way it should have.
Her mind drifted, unbidden, to golden eyes and soft fur. To three scratches on her door. To quiet nights spent with a presence that asked for nothing and somehow gave her everything—comfort, safety, warmth.
Wanda frowned faintly, confusion tightening her throat.
What is wrong with me?
She closed her eyes, pressing her face briefly into the pillow, trying to will the feeling away. Guilt prickled beneath her ribs—not because of what she’d done, but because of what she was thinking after.
Vision shifted slightly, drawing her closer, and she let him. She didn’t pull away.
But the emptiness stayed.
And somewhere deep inside her chest, a quiet, aching awareness whispered that tonight—despite everything—she had never felt so alone.
Wanda hadn’t slept.
Not really.
She lay there through the long stretch of night, eyes closed, breath measured, listening to the quiet hum of the compound and the too-even rhythm of Vision beside her. Every time she drifted close to rest, that hollow feeling surfaced again, pulling her back to awareness.
When morning light finally crept in through the curtains, she was already awake—tired in a way sleep wouldn’t fix.
She felt it before she heard it: Vision shifting, his cool body pressing a little closer as he angled himself toward her. His voice dropped to a whisper, careful, gentle.
“Wanda?” he murmured. “Are you awake?”
She didn’t answer. She let her breathing stay slow, even. Pretended.
There was a pause. Then his lips brushed her cheek, soft and reverent.
“I’m going to my room to prepare for the day,” he whispered near her ear.
She felt the faint displacement of air as he phased away, the subtle wrongness of it always making her chest tighten. The room settled back into silence.
Only then did Wanda open her eyes.
She stared at the ceiling for a long moment, then exhaled—a quiet, shaky sigh she hadn’t realized she was holding. One hand came up to press lightly against her chest, as if she could soothe whatever was twisting there by touch alone.
Why am I like this? she wondered.
She turned her head toward the floor beside her bed.
Empty.
No soft weight. No warm presence. No golden eyes watching her like she was something precious.
Her throat tightened.
Wanda pushed herself up slowly, wrapping the sheet around her as she sat on the edge of the bed. The morning felt off, tilted, like she’d woken up in the wrong version of it.
---
Y/N’s POV
Y/N woke to the smell of damp earth and pine.
For a moment she didn’t move, body heavy, muscles pleasantly sore in that way that only came from hours of running without thought or destination. Birds were already awake, chirping somewhere above her, and sunlight filtered through the canopy in soft, broken patches.
…Right.
Memory slid back into place.
Running.
Too fast.
Too far.
Too much.
She pushed herself up onto her paws and stretched, spine arching, claws digging into the forest floor. A low huff escaped her chest as she shook out her fur, leaves and dirt scattering.
Great. I slept out here.
She lifted her head, nostrils flaring as she caught her own scent trail—familiar, winding, leading back toward the compound.
Mission this afternoon, she reminded herself. Nat will actually murder me if I’m late.
With a resigned huff, she started down the path.
She hadn’t gone far when another scent cut through the air—thick, musky, wrong.
Y/N stopped.
Her ears flicked forward. Her body stilled.
A shape shifted between the trees ahead.
A bear.
It was large. Broad. Standing its ground like it owned the forest.
The bear lifted its head and growled, deep and rumbling, a sound meant to warn.
Y/N stared at it.
Just… stared.
Her head tilted slightly, expression unmistakably unimpressed.
Really?
The bear took a step forward, teeth bared.
Y/N sighed—actually sighed—chest deflating as if she were deeply inconvenienced by the entire situation.
She let out a low growl in return, power rolling through the sound, something ancient and dominant woven into it.
Any normal animal would have backed down.
This one didn’t.
With a roar, the bear charged.
“Of course,” Y/N thought, just before she moved.
She launched forward, fast—too fast—darting to the side as the bear swiped where she’d been a second earlier. Claws tore through bark instead of fur.
Y/N circled, paws light, eyes sharp. The bear turned to follow her, slower but relentless, rearing up with another roar.
She leapt.
Not to attack blindly—but to redirect.
Her weight slammed into the bear’s shoulder, throwing it off balance just enough for her to roll away as it crashed back down. The ground shook beneath the impact. Birds exploded into the air, wings beating frantically as the forest erupted into noise.
The bear roared, furious now.
It charged again.
This time, Y/N didn’t dodge.
She met it head-on.
She ducked low beneath snapping jaws, momentum carrying her forward as she slammed her shoulder into its chest with a deep, vibrating growl. They collided hard—muscle against muscle, strength against strength—tumbling through dirt and leaves. Pain flared along her ribs, but she pushed through it, claws digging in, teeth flashing as she snapped near its throat—not to kill, but to warn.
Dominance.
Control.
Enough.
With one final surge of power, she broke free and landed several feet away, stance wide, hackles raised, golden eyes blazing. She let out a sound that wasn’t just a growl—it was a command.
The bear hesitated.
Snorted.
Then, finally, backed away, turning and crashing off through the trees, retreating deeper into the forest.
Y/N stood there for a moment, chest heaving, blood warm on her fur—not all of it hers. She shook herself once, hard, then shifted back to human form with a sharp breath, pain flaring briefly before settling.
“…Great,” she muttered, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.
She followed her scent trail back toward the compound, already dreading the questions.
---
Wanda’s POV
Meanwhile, back at the compound—
Wanda stood near the kitchen island, unease curling tighter in her chest with every passing minute.
“Has anyone seen Y/N?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light.
Steve glanced up from his coffee. “Not since yesterday.”
Nat frowned slightly. “Thought she’d be up early for the mission later.”
Vision leaned in and kissed Wanda’s cheek, smiling softly. “She is capable of taking care of herself, Wanda. Last night was perfect, wasn’t it?”
Wanda nodded automatically.
“Perfect,” she echoed, though the word felt hollow.
Her eyes scanned the room again.
No Y/N.
Breakfast finished. Chairs scraped back. People filtered out.
The feeling only worsened.
Wanda excused herself and went straight to Y/N’s room, knocking once before opening the door.
Empty.
Her heart skipped.
“FRIDAY,” Wanda said quietly. “Where is Y/N?”
“Y/N left the compound last night,” the AI replied. “Destination: forest perimeter. She has not yet returned.”
Wanda’s breath caught.
“She hasn’t—” Wanda began, then stopped as the elevator dinged at the end of the hall.
Her head snapped up.
The doors slid open.
Y/N stepped out.
Human form.
Blood streaked along her arms, dried dark against her skin. A smear marked her neck. Rust-colored stains lingered around her mouth. Her clothes were torn, scuffed with dirt and leaves. She looked tired—but upright.
Alive.
Wanda froze.
Then panic hit her all at once.
“Oh my god—Y/N,” Wanda breathed, already moving toward her, fear flooding her chest as she took in the blood, the injuries, the exhaustion written across her face.
Wanda closed the distance in two quick steps.
She took Y/N’s face in her hands without thinking, thumbs brushing her jaw, fingers cradling her cheeks as her eyes scanned frantically—neck, eyes, mouth, skin—looking for anything she might have missed.
“Are you okay?” Wanda asked, voice tight, breath uneven. “You’re bleeding—Y/N, you’re covered in blood.”
“It’s not mine,” Y/N said quickly, steady despite the adrenaline still buzzing under her skin. “I swear.”
That didn’t help.
Wanda shook her head, panic refusing to loosen its grip. “No. No, you need to go to the med bay. Bruce needs to—”
“I’m fine,” Y/N insisted, already unlocking her door and stepping inside. “Really.”
Wanda followed immediately, not giving her a second to shut the door. The moment it closed behind them, Wanda grabbed the hem of Y/N’s torn shirt, fingers curling tight.
“Let me see,” she said, almost pleading. “Just—let me see where you’re hurt.”
“I’m not hurt,” Y/N repeated, gentler now. “Wanda, it’s not my blood.”
Wanda didn’t answer. She lifted the shirt anyway.
Her breath stuttered.
There were no wounds.
No gashes. No blood seeping from skin. Just warm, toned muscle, faintly marked with dirt and dried streaks that clearly didn’t originate from her body.
Only then did Wanda feel her own heartbeat slow, the panic ebbing just enough for air to reach her lungs again.
Her hand—still pressed flat against Y/N’s abdomen—hadn’t moved.
“I told you,” Y/N said softly. “See? I’m okay.”
Wanda swallowed, eyes lingering for half a second too long before she forced herself to look up.
“…Then whose blood is it?” she asked quietly.
Y/N shrugged, casual despite the morning she’d had. “Ran into a bear. Big one. Didn’t know its place.”
Wanda blinked. “A… bear?”
“It attacked me,” Y/N explained. “Didn’t listen when I told it to back off. So… yeah. That’s his blood.”
Wanda stared at her, stunned.
A bear.
She exhaled shakily, one hand still resting on Y/N’s stomach, completely unaware of it, as if touching her was the only thing anchoring her to the fact that Y/N was standing here—alive, unbroken.
Her voice came out softer. “You can’t just… fight bears.”
Without realizing it, Wanda leaned forward and pressed her forehead gently against Y/N’s collarbone.
It was instinctive. Seeking. Needing.
Y/N froze for half a heartbeat.
Then her body reacted before her mind could catch up.
A low, rumbling purr vibrated from her chest—deep, steady, unmistakably wolf.
“Oh—” Y/N said quickly, heat rushing to her face. “I—uh. I won. Against the bear. I mean.”
Wanda shifted, about to protest the recklessness of that statement—
And stopped.
She became acutely aware of everything all at once.
How close they were.
How Y/N’s breath brushed her hair.
How solid she felt beneath her hand.
How that sound—that sound—was resonating through her bones.
Y/N was still purring.
Wanda swallowed.
Her heart thudded hard against her ribs, but instead of panic, she felt something else—something warm and grounding. The heaviness that had sat in her chest all morning eased, melting away under that quiet, vibrating reassurance.
Safe.
She realized then where her hand was.
Her breath hitched.
Color rushed to her cheeks as she pulled back abruptly, hand dropping from Y/N’s abdomen like it had burned her.
“I—” Wanda cleared her throat, flustered. “Sorry. I didn’t—”
The purring stopped instantly.
Y/N straightened too, just as embarrassed, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s—yeah. Instincts. Sorry.”
Silence fell between them—thick, charged, but not uncomfortable.
Wanda took another breath, steadier this time, eyes flicking up to meet Y/N’s.
“…I’m glad you’re okay,” she said quietly.
Y/N nodded. “Me too.”
Neither of them mentioned how close they’d been.
Neither of them forgot it either.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The room felt smaller somehow—too warm, too quiet, like the air itself was holding its breath. Wanda busied herself smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her jacket, anything to give her hands somewhere to go that wasn’t… *there* again.
Y/N watched her quietly, Y/E/C eyes softer now, careful. Like she was afraid one wrong movement might spook Wanda and make her bolt.
“You’re bleeding,” Wanda said finally, grasping at something practical. Her gaze flicked to the dried red along Y/N’s jaw and neck. “Even if it’s not yours, you should at least clean up.”
Y/N blinked, then nodded once. “Yeah. I was going to shower.”
“I’ll—” Wanda started, instinct tugging her forward.
Then she stopped herself.
She inhaled slowly, grounding, pulling her shoulders back like she was bracing against something invisible.
“I’ll leave you to it,” she said instead.
Y/N’s ears—human now, but the wolf still close beneath the surface—might as well have flattened. She hid it well, offering a small, understanding nod.
“Okay.”
Wanda hesitated at the door, hand resting on the frame for just a second too long. She didn’t look back—she wasn’t sure she trusted herself to.
Then she stepped out and closed the door softly behind her.
The hallway felt cooler.
Quieter.
Too quiet.
Wanda leaned her back against the wall just outside Y/N’s room, eyes closing as she pressed her lips together, trying to steady the uneven rhythm in her chest.
Get it together, she told herself. You’re fine.
But even as she pushed away, the warmth of Y/N’s presence lingered—like an echo she couldn’t quite shake.
---
Later that night, the compound felt unusually empty.
Both Vision and Y/N were on a mission—separate assignments, overlapping timing—and for the first time in a while, Wanda went to bed alone. No quiet conversation. No steady presence nearby. No familiar weight curled on the floor beside her bed.
She told herself she didn’t need it.
She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, letting exhaustion pull her under.
Sleep came hard—and wrong.
The dream hit without warning.
Flashes of fire. Screams. Metal tearing through stone. Hands slipping from hers no matter how tightly she tried to hold on. The familiar helplessness wrapped around her chest, crushing, suffocating.
“No—” she gasped in the dream, voice breaking.
Wanda jolted awake with a sharp inhale, lungs burning as if she’d been underwater too long. Her heart hammered violently against her ribs. She pushed herself upright, fingers digging into the sheets as she tried to remember where she was.
Her room.
The compound.
Safe.
She dragged in another breath. Then another.
Still, the panic clung to her skin, cold and persistent.
And then—
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
Three soft, deliberate sounds against her door.
Wanda froze.
Her breath caught—not in fear this time, but something close to disbelief.
She turned her head slowly toward the door, heart still racing, but now for a different reason entirely.
Another breath.
Another heartbeat.
The scratches came again—gentle, familiar, unmistakable.
A shaky laugh slipped past her lips before she could stop it.
“Y/N…” she whispered, already pushing the covers aside as she stood.
She crossed the room quickly and opened the door.
Golden eyes met hers in the dim hallway, glowing softly. Y/N stood there in her wolf form, fur slightly ruffled from travel, chest rising and falling as if she’d come fast.
Without a word, Wanda lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Y/N’s head.
The wolf leaned in immediately, pressing her head into Wanda’s chest, solid and warm and real.
Wanda buried her fingers in thick fur, breath finally evening out as she clung to her like a lifeline.
“I had a nightmare,” she admitted quietly, voice muffled against Y/N’s neck.
A low, soothing rumble answered her—deep and steady—vibrating through Wanda’s bones.
She smiled weakly, eyes stinging.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “I know.”
And for the first time that night, the fear loosened its grip.
Y/N let out a soft, broken whimper against Wanda’s chest.
It wasn’t loud—but it carried.
Wanda blinked, surprised, only then realizing her cheeks were wet. She hadn’t even felt the tears fall.
“It’s okay,” she whispered automatically, though her voice trembled. “I’m okay.”
Y/N didn’t look convinced.
She followed Wanda inside without hesitation, padding quietly as the door closed behind them. When Wanda sat down on the edge of the bed, shoulders still tense, Y/N settled herself in front of her instead of curling up on the floor like usual.
The wolf leaned forward, gently pressing her muzzle into Wanda’s hand.
Another whimper—low, worried.
Wanda’s fingers curled instinctively into the fur between Y/N’s ears. “Hey,” she murmured, trying to smile. “It was just a nightmare. That’s all.”
Her breathing finally slowed.
For a second, there was only the quiet hum of the compound at night.
Then—
Then why are you crying?
The thought hit her clear as day.
Wanda froze.
Her breath caught sharply, eyes widening just a fraction as she stared down at Y/N. Before she could even process it—before she could answer—
Y/N lifted her head.
And slowly, deliberately, she licked the tear from Wanda’s cheek.
One long, gentle swipe. Warm. Careful. Almost reverent.
Wanda gasped softly at the sensation, fingers tightening in Y/N’s fur as something deep in her chest ached. Not fear. Not sadness.
Relief.
“You…” she whispered, voice unsteady. “You heard me.”
Y/N tilted her head, golden eyes glowing faintly in the dim light, worry still etched into every line of her posture. Her tail thumped once against the floor, hesitant.
Wanda let out a shaky laugh through her tears and leaned forward, resting her forehead against the wolf’s.
“I’m okay now,” she promised quietly. “You’re here.”
The whimper faded, replaced by a low, steady rumble—comforting, grounding.
And Wanda stayed there, hand on Y/N’s muzzle, letting the last of the nightmare dissolve in the warmth between them.
---
Few Hours Later
Morning crept in quietly, pale light slipping through the windows.
Vision returned from his mission just before dawn, movements precise, controlled. Habit guided him straight to Wanda’s room. He phased through the wall without knocking—something he’d done countless times before.
He stopped short.
Y/N was there.
In her wolf form, curled up beside Wanda’s bed, massive body tucked protectively close. Wanda was still asleep, face soft for once, one hand dangling over the edge of the mattress—fingers buried in thick fur as if she’d reached for Y/N even in her dreams.
Vision’s jaw tightened.
Y/N’s ears twitched.
Golden eyes snapped open the instant Vision materialized. Her head lifted, body tensing, but she didn’t growl. She just stared at him, alert and wary.
“What are you doing here?” Vision asked sharply, voice low but edged with anger.
Y/N didn’t answer. She didn’t bare her teeth either. She simply held his gaze, unmoving.
That silence snapped something.
Vision moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
Y/N barely had time to rise into a defensive stance before his hand closed around her and hurled her away from the bed.
“NO—!” Wanda gasped, jolting awake as the world exploded into motion.
Y/N smashed through the door with a violent crack, wood splintering outward as her body flew into the hallway. She hit hard, skidding across the floor before rolling to a stop.
Wanda shot upright on the bed, heart slamming painfully against her ribs. “Y/N!” she cried, panic raw in her voice.
She whirled on Vision, eyes blazing red. “What did you do?!”
Before he could answer—
A blur of fur and fury surged back through the shattered doorway.
Y/N slammed into him with a snarl, jaws clamping down on his arm. Metal screeched as her teeth bit deep, claws scraping against the floor as she dragged him back a step.
The room exploded into motion.
Vision wrenched his arm free, metal scraping as he twisted out of Y/N’s grip. He pivoted instantly, fist drawing back as he aimed a sharp punch toward her head.
Y/N reacted on instinct.
She lunged again, jaws snapping toward his arm, a furious snarl tearing from her chest as she tried to clamp down before he could strike.
“Stop!” Wanda screamed, terror shredding her voice. “Vision—stop!”
He didn’t even glance at her.
Vision phased just enough to avoid her teeth and swung anyway, calculations cold and precise.
Then Wanda’s voice broke.
“Y/N—stop!”
The effect was immediate.
Y/N froze mid-lunge, jaws inches from Vision’s arm. Her growl cut off abruptly, body locking in place like she’d been commanded by something deeper than instinct. She turned her head toward Wanda, ears flattening, golden eyes wide and searching.
She took a step back.
That hesitation cost her.
Vision’s fist connected.
The blow slammed into the side of Y/N’s face with brutal force, the impact echoing through the room. A sharp yelp ripped from her as her body was sent flying, skidding across the floor before crashing into the far wall.
“NO!” Wanda screamed.
Y/N hit the ground hard, dazed, claws scraping uselessly as she tried to push herself up, vision swimming.
Wanda’s scream shattered into something else entirely.
Scarlet energy flared violently from her hands as she surged forward, fury and fear detonating together.
“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Wanda roared.
The force of her magic sent Vision stumbling back, boots scraping against the floor as he caught himself. The room vibrated with unstable energy, red light flickering along the walls.
“Wanda, listen to yourself,” Vision snapped, straightening. His voice was tight now, edged with something sharper than logic. “This is exactly what I warned you about.”
He lifted his arm—the vibranium surface marred with deep scratches, metal scored where Y/N’s teeth had bitten down. The marks were raw, unmistakable.
“She attacked me,” he continued, gesturing to the damage. “That is dangerous. Uncontrolled. Feral.”
Wanda shot to her feet, positioning herself squarely between him and Y/N, who was still struggling to rise behind her, growling low despite the pain.
“You threw her through a door,” Wanda shot back, voice shaking with rage. “She was sleeping. You attacked her first.”
“She was in my place,” Vision replied coldly. “In your bed. You don’t see the pattern because you don’t want to.”
His gaze flicked briefly to Y/N, lip curling in disgust.
“I told you what she was,” he said. “A weapon Hydra barely contained. An animal pretending to be civilized. A—”
“Don’t,” Wanda warned, eyes glowing brighter.
Vision didn’t stop.
“A mongrel,” he finished.
The word landed like a slap.
Y/N froze completely.
Not snarling. Not moving.
Just… still.
Something in Wanda snapped.
Her power surged violently, slamming Vision back against the wall hard enough to crack the concrete. She stood trembling, fists clenched, eyes burning.
“You do not get to call her that,” Wanda said, voice low and lethal. “You don’t get to decide who she is.”
“She bit me,” Vision argued, straining against the pressure of Wanda’s magic. “She lost control. Again. That proves my point.”
“That proves nothing,” Wanda shot back, voice shaking with restrained fury. “You attacked her while she was sleeping—”
A door down the hall slid open.
Nat stepped out, hair mussed, eyes sharp despite the early hour. One look at the shattered door, the cracked wall, the red energy still humming in the air—and her expression hardened.
“Okay,” she said calmly. “Someone want to explain why it sounds like a war zone out here?”
No one answered her.
Vision pushed forward instead, anger bleeding through his composure now. “You’re blinded, Wanda. That thing is unstable. It’s a mongrel—”
The word echoed.
Y/N moved.
The massive wolf rose fully to her paws, claws scraping against the floor as she stepped forward in one smooth, powerful motion. She positioned herself behind Wanda and then *around* her—huge body curling protectively, thick fur brushing Wanda’s back. Her tail wrapped firmly around Wanda’s waist, heavy and solid, anchoring her in place.
A deep, thunderous growl rolled from Y/N’s chest.
Not feral.
Not uncontrolled.
A warning.
Her lips pulled back, exposing long, sharp canines. Golden eyes locked onto Vision with focused, lethal clarity. Ears flattened against her skull, stance low and braced—every inch of her massive wolf form screaming stay away from her.
Nat’s hand drifted subtly toward her weapon.
“Vision,” Nat said carefully, “take a step back.”
He didn’t.
“She’s threatening me,” Vision snapped. “Do you see that? This is exactly—”
The growl deepened, vibrating through Wanda’s spine. Y/N’s tail tightened just slightly, not restraining—protecting.
Wanda felt it then.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Safety.
“Stop,” Wanda said quietly.
Not to Y/N.
To Vision.
“She hasn’t moved toward you,” Wanda continued, voice steady despite the chaos. “She hasn’t touched you. She’s standing between you and me because you are the one escalating.”
Vision stared at the sight in front of him—Wanda framed by red magic, guarded by a massive wolf who would clearly tear the world apart before letting him near her again.
“This is unhealthy,” he said tightly. “You’re choosing her over me? Your boyfriend?!”
His voice rose, composure finally cracking. Anger flared in his eyes as he took another step forward, frustration bleeding into something sharper, uglier.
Y/N answered instantly.
A deep, thunderous growl tore from her chest, louder now, vibrating through the hallway as she stepped forward as well, massive body shifting to block Wanda even more completely. Her claws dug into the floor, lips peeling back farther to bare every tooth she had.
Nat stiffened. “Easy—”
Wanda didn’t raise her voice.
She raised her hand.
Her fingers slipped into Y/N’s thick fur, right between her ears, pressing there gently but firmly. It was a familiar touch. A grounding one.
“Y/N,” Wanda said softly.
The growl faltered.
Y/N froze, breath still heavy, muscles coiled tight beneath her fur. Then, slowly—reluctantly—she stepped back half a pace. Her tail loosened around Wanda’s waist, though she didn’t uncurl completely. Golden eyes never left Vision, but the fury in them dimmed, replaced by watchful restraint.
Wanda kept her hand there, steady.
“I’m not choosing anyone over anyone,” Wanda said, finally looking back at Vision. Her voice was calm now, but it cut deeper than shouting ever could. “I’m choosing not to let you hurt someone who trusts me.”
Vision’s jaw clenched hard. “She attacked me.”
“She defended herself,” Wanda replied. “And then she stopped. When I asked her to.”
Her hand tightened slightly in Y/N’s fur. The wolf leaned into the touch despite herself, grounding further.
For a long moment, Vision said nothing.
His eyes flicked once more to the marks on his vibranium arm, then to the massive wolf at Wanda’s back—still, controlled, watching. His jaw tightened, emotions churning behind a carefully restrained expression that was fraying at the edges.
“This isn’t over,” he said coldly.
Then he turned sharply and walked away, footsteps heavy and clipped as he disappeared down the corridor, anger practically radiating off him. The hum of his energy faded with distance, leaving behind a charged, echoing silence.
Only when he was gone did Wanda’s shoulders sag.
She exhaled shakily, fingers still buried in Y/N’s fur. Y/N let out a low, wounded sound—not a growl, not a snarl, but something softer. Protective. Apologetic.
The massive wolf lowered her head, nudging closer until her muzzle brushed Wanda’s side. She sniffed her carefully, slow and thorough, as if committing Wanda’s scent to memory again—checking for fear, for pain, for anything wrong. A soft huff left her nose, followed by another small whine when she reached Wanda’s hands.
Wanda let out a broken little laugh that was half a sob, cupping Y/N’s face despite its size.
“I’m okay,” she murmured shakily. “You didn’t hurt me.”
Y/N’s thoughts swelled again—too loud, too raw to keep contained.
I didn’t mean to hurt him.
I didn’t mean to make you fight with him.
I just—he scared you.
Wanda’s breath caught. Her fingers tightened in Y/N’s fur instinctively, ready to answer, to reassure—
“Not gonna ask,” Nat said calmly from the end of the hall.
Both of them startled.
Nat stood there in a loose tank and sweatpants, hair a mess, eyes half-lidded but sharp enough to take in the shattered door, the cracked wall, the massive wolf, and Wanda standing in the middle of it all with red still flickering faintly around her fingers.
She sighed. “But you two should probably clean this up before Tony wakes up and loses his mind.”
Her gaze softened just a fraction as it landed on Wanda. “You good?”
Wanda nodded once. “Yeah.”
“Cool,” Nat said, already turning away. “I’m going back to sleep. We’ll pretend this was… structural stress.” A pause. “Good night.”
She disappeared back into her room, door clicking shut.
The hallway fell quiet again.
Wanda let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Red light bloomed around her hands, gentle this time, precise. The broken door slid back into place, splintered wood knitting together seamlessly. The cracked concrete smoothed as if it had never been struck, the air settling with a soft hum as her magic faded.
When she was done, Wanda sagged slightly, exhaustion finally catching up to her.
She turned back to Y/N, reaching up to cradle her massive face.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said softly. “You protected me.”
Y/N’s ears drooped a fraction, guilt still clinging to her despite the words.
Wanda pressed her forehead briefly to Y/N’s muzzle, grounding them both.
“And I don’t regret standing up for you,” she added, quieter but firm.
---
For the rest of the day, Wanda didn’t speak to Vision.
She moved through the compound like he wasn’t there—silent, distant, her shoulders tense whenever she sensed him nearby. At breakfast, she sat at the far end of the table and left early. During training hours, she chose the empty rooms, the quiet corners. If Vision tried to catch her eye, she didn’t look back.
Y/N was gone on another mission, and the absence felt heavier than it should have.
Without her, the compound felt colder. Too clean. Too still.
Vision watched Wanda from a distance, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. Several times he opened his mouth to speak, only to stop himself. When he finally approached her in the common area that afternoon, she stood before he could say a word.
“I need space,” Wanda said flatly.
Her tone left no room for debate.
Vision stiffened. “You are avoiding an important discussion.”
“No,” she replied, meeting his gaze at last, eyes tired but unyielding. “I’m avoiding being told who I’m allowed to trust.”
Silence stretched between them.
“You chose her,” Vision said quietly.
Wanda’s jaw tightened. “I chose myself.”
She turned and walked away before he could respond, retreating to her room and closing the door behind her. The lock clicked, final and deliberate.
When Vision caught her again it was outside the library.
Wanda had sensed him before she saw him—his presence always carried that faint hum, like pressure in the air—but she still flinched when he stepped into her path, effectively boxing her in between the wall and his tall frame.
“Wanda,” he said. Calm. Controlled. Like always. “We need to talk.”
Her shoulders sagged a fraction. She was tired. Emotionally wrung out, running on caffeine and stubbornness and the echo of claws scraping against concrete.
“I don’t want to,” she replied, trying to step around him.
He shifted with her, blocking her again. “Avoidance will not resolve this.”
Something sharp twisted in her chest. “Neither will you lecturing me.”
His jaw tightened. “You are allowing your judgment to be compromised.”
That did it. She laughed—short, brittle, humorless. “Oh? And here I thought I was finally seeing clearly.”
“Wanda,” Vision said, firmer now, “what happened this morning was unacceptable. She attacked me.”
“She defended herself,” Wanda snapped, the words coming faster now, heat rising. “You grabbed her. You threw her through a door.”
“She is dangerous,” he insisted. “You saw it. She lost control. That creature—”
Wanda stopped walking.
Slowly, she turned back to him.
“…Don’t,” she warned quietly.
Vision didn’t hear the warning. Or worse—he did, and ignored it.
“That mongrel has no place here,” he continued. “And certainly no place near you. You are putting yourself at risk because you are emotionally compromised. You are confusing dependence with—”
Scarlet energy crackled to life around her hands.
“Stop calling her that,” Wanda said, voice shaking now—not with fear, but with fury. “You don’t get to talk about her like she’s an animal you can categorize and discard.”
“She is an animal,” Vision shot back. “By nature. By instinct. And one day she will turn on you too. I am trying to protect you.”
The word protect hit something raw.
Wanda stepped closer, eyes blazing. “No. You are trying to control me.”
“That is not true.”
“You don’t listen,” she said, voice breaking through clenched teeth. “You never listen. You decide. You calculate. You tell me how I feel, what I should fear, who I should trust.”
Her magic flared brighter, the lights overhead flickering in response.
“She stops when I ask her to,” Wanda continued, breath uneven. “She hears me. She feels me. When I’m terrified in the middle of the night, she comes without being called. When I’m breaking apart, she curls around me like the world is ending and I’m the only thing that matters.”
Vision’s eyes narrowed, the words clearly striking somewhere raw.
“So,” he said slowly, dangerously calm, “you’ve been cheating on me?”
The accusation landed like a slap.
Wanda froze—then turned on him fully, fury flashing so sharp it almost hurt to breathe.
“No,” she snapped. “Absolutely not.”
Her voice shook, but it didn’t waver.
“She is my friend,” Wanda said, emphasizing every word like she needed him to finally hear it. “My protector. My anchor. Nothing more has happened.”
Vision tilted his head. “You share a bed. You seek comfort from her. You allow physical closeness.”
“And?” Wanda shot back. “Do you know how many times I’ve begged you to stay when I couldn’t breathe? When the walls felt like they were closing in? You phased through me and told me I’d calm down.”
Her eyes burned. “She stayed.”
Vision’s jaw clenched. “Emotional intimacy can be as significant as physical betrayal.”
Wanda let out a hollow laugh. “Then maybe ask yourself why I needed it from someone else.”
She stepped closer, tears spilling freely now. “She doesn’t touch me like that. She doesn’t push. She doesn’t take. She listens. She responds. When I’m shaking, she makes herself smaller. When I’m afraid, she becomes a wall.”
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “If that feels like cheating to you, then maybe the problem isn’t her.”
Silence stretched between them.
Vision searched her face, clearly recalculating, reanalyzing—but missing the point entirely.
“You are prioritizing her needs over our relationship,” he said.
Wanda shook her head slowly. “No. I’m prioritizing my survival.”
Her voice cracked. “And the fact that you see that as betrayal tells me everything I need to know.”
She wiped her cheeks angrily. “Y/N never asked me for anything. Never demanded my loyalty. Never made me choose.”
Her eyes locked onto his, steady now despite the tears.
“You did that all by yourself.”
Vision stared at her like the answer was a faulty equation he couldn’t quite balance.
“You are being influenced,” he said finally. “Her presence alters your emotional responses. Your judgment. I have observed it.”
Wanda let out a sharp, humorless breath. “You studied me?”
“I assessed variables,” he corrected. “And she is a dangerous one.”
That was it.
Something in Wanda snapped—clean and final, like a thread pulled too tight.
“You don’t get to call her that,” she said quietly.
Vision frowned. “Wanda—”
“No,” she interrupted, voice rising now, shaking with something raw and furious. “You don’t get to talk about her like she’s a malfunction. Or an animal. Or a thing you need to fix.”
She took a step back, as if seeing him clearly for the first time.
“You are being irrational,” he said.
“And you are being cruel,” Wanda shot back. “And I will not keep explaining my pain to someone who keeps turning it into a math problem.”
She took a deep breath, shoulders rising, falling.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Wanda said.
Vision blinked. “Do what?”
She met his gaze, eyes blazing, unflinching.
“Us.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
“You are ending this relationship,” Vision said slowly, like he was testing the phrase.
“Yes,” Wanda replied. “I am.”
His jaw tightened. “Because of her?”
Wanda shook her head. “Because of you.”
Her voice softened then, devastatingly so. “Because you don’t trust me. Because you don’t respect her. Because every time I ask for understanding, you give me control instead.”
She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I won’t be managed. I won’t be monitored. And I won’t stay with someone who thinks the thing that keeps me sane is something to be eliminated.”
Vision stared at her, visibly struggling—processing, recalculating—but there was nothing left to compute.
“This is a mistake,” he said.
Wanda nodded once. “Maybe.”
Then she lifted her chin. “But it’s mine.”
A long moment passed.
Vision’s jaw tightened, the faint hum beneath his skin spiking—an edge of something sharp and unstable slipping through his usual composure.
“You will regret this,” he said, voice low, clipped with anger. “You are making an emotional decision that will have consequences.”
Wanda didn’t flinch.
“Then I’ll live with them,” she replied. “I always do.”
His eyes lingered on her, searching—calculating—for something to counter with. Finding nothing.
With a stiff turn, Vision stepped back, the space between them widening like a wound finally exposed. He walked past her, shoulders rigid, anger coiled tight and unresolved.
Wanda stood there long after he was gone, chest rising and falling, red energy fading from her hands as the reality settled in.
It hurt.
But beneath the ache, there was something else—quiet, steady.
Relief.
---
At night, Wanda lay on her bed staring up at the ceiling, the lights dimmed low enough that shadows stretched along the walls like memories she couldn’t shut off.
Her mind refused to rest.
Vision’s hand closing around Y/N and the sound of her body crashing through the door.
The word he’d used—sharp and ugly, still ringing in her ears.
The way his voice had hardened, how easily he’d ignored her when she told him to stop.
How Y/N had listened. Immediately. Without hesitation.
That part twisted something deep in her chest.
She pressed a hand over her sternum, breathing slowly, grounding herself the way she always did. She had cared for Vision. She still did, in a quiet, complicated way. He had been kind, attentive, safe in the ways she thought she needed.
But trust wasn’t something you negotiated.
If he couldn’t trust her—couldn’t trust her judgment, her boundaries, the people she chose to keep close—then there was no version of them that didn’t end like this.
Wanda exhaled, eyes stinging, and turned onto her side.
That was when she heard it.
Three soft, familiar scratches against the door.
Her breath caught.
She didn’t even think—didn’t question how Y/N was back already, or why her heart leapt the way it did. She was out of bed in seconds, bare feet padding across the floor as she opened the door.
Y/N sat there in her massive wolf form, ears low, tail curled close to her body. Her golden eyes lifted the moment the door opened, searching Wanda’s face with an intensity that made her chest ache.
“You’re back,” Wanda whispered.
The wolf gave a small, uncertain huff, as if asking permission.
Wanda stepped aside immediately. “Come in.”
Y/N padded inside, careful despite her size, nails clicking softly against the floor. She paused just past the threshold, glancing back once—checking, always checking—before Wanda closed the door behind her.
The room felt warmer the second she did.
Wanda sat back down on the bed, pulling her knees up, exhaustion finally settling into her bones. Y/N approached slowly, then curled at the side of the bed like she always did, her body angled protectively, close enough that Wanda could feel the steady heat of her through the mattress.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then Wanda reached down, fingers sliding into thick fur, resting there as if she’d been holding something fragile all day and had only just been allowed to set it down.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, not entirely sure which part she meant.
Y/N’s thoughts brushed against her mind—gentle this time, subdued.
You don’t have to apologize. Not for anything.
A pause. Heavier. I should be the one who’s sorry.
Another breath of thought, raw and honest. I know my presence makes things complicated. He’s your boyfriend. I shouldn’t keep coming here. I should give you space.
Then, softer still—almost ashamed. But I can’t. Being near you makes everything quiet. It makes me calm.
Wanda’s fingers stilled in her fur.
“Me too,” she whispered.
Y/N’s head lifted instantly, ears pricking up, golden eyes widening in confusion as she looked at Wanda.
Wanda swallowed, heart pounding, then met that gaze. “I feel it too,” she said, voice steady despite the way her chest fluttered. “When you’re here… I sleep. I breathe. I don’t feel like the world is about to fall apart.”
Y/N’s thoughts spiked in startled disbelief. How—?
Wanda broke into a small, tired giggle, the sound warm and real in the quiet room. “I’m a telepath,” she reminded her gently. “You’re not exactly subtle when you think.”
The wolf froze.
Then her ears flattened dramatically. Her head tilted. She let out a low, incredulous huff, as if personally offended by this information, followed by a soft, questioning whine.
Wanda laughed—really laughed this time—and reached up with both hands, cupping Y/N’s massive head and rubbing between her ears. “That face,” she murmured. “I wish you could see it.”
Y/N responded by flopping her head back down onto the mattress with exaggerated resignation, tail thumping once against the bed frame like she’d been betrayed by the universe.
Wanda smiled, warmth spreading through her chest, and kept her hands in Y/N’s fur.
Y/N lifted her head again abruptly, eyes wide, ears snapping upright.
Wait—!
Her thoughts burst out in pure alarm. So this whole time you could hear me?!
Wanda laughed softly and shook her head. “No, no. Not like that.” She slid her fingers reassuringly behind Y/N’s ear. “I don’t read minds. I don’t like doing that. People deserve privacy.”
Y/N squinted at her suspiciously.
“I only hear things when they’re… loud,” Wanda continued, a little sheepish. “Strong emotions. Unfiltered thoughts. And you—” she smiled apologetically, “—do that a lot. Especially when you’re like this.”
Realization dawned.
Y/N froze.
Then, with a small mortified whine, she leaned forward and covered her face with both massive paws, curling in on herself like she wanted the bed to swallow her whole.
Wanda burst out laughing, unable to help it. “Oh my God,” she said between giggles. “You’re adorable.”
A low, embarrassed huff came from beneath the paws.
After a moment, Y/N slowly lowered them again, expression sobering. Her ears drooped slightly, tail going still.
Is he still angry? she thought, more carefully now. Vision. Maybe… maybe I should sleep in my room. I don’t want to make things worse.
Wanda’s laughter faded. She took a breath.
“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. Then, just as softly, “I broke up with him.”
Y/N’s head snapped up.
Her thoughts spiked, tangled and panicked. What? No—no, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have— I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t—
A distressed whine slipped out of her chest, ears flattening as guilt rolled through her in waves.
Wanda immediately cupped Y/N’s face, thumbs brushing into fur, forcing her to look up. “Hey. No.” Her voice was firm, grounding. “That wasn’t because of you.”
Y/N’s eyes searched hers, unconvinced.
“I broke up with him because he didn’t trust me,” Wanda said, every word deliberate. “Because he hurt you. Because when I asked him to stop, he didn’t—and when I asked you to stop, you did.”
She rested her forehead against Y/N’s, breathing her in. “That choice was mine.”
Y/N swallowed hard, her breath hitching. Even pressed close like this, even wrapped in Wanda’s warmth, the guilt wouldn’t loosen its claws.
I still think it’s my fault, her thoughts whispered, quieter now but heavier. I would be angry too… if my girlfriend let someone else sleep beside her all the time.
Her ears flattened.
Slowly, carefully, Y/N pulled back just enough to look at Wanda. Golden eyes shone, conflicted and earnest.
I’m… sorry, Y/N thoughts continued loud. I never meant to cross a line. I just— She faltered, then forced the words out. Being with you makes everything stop hurting. But I didn’t want to hurt you. Or your relationship.
Her tail curled tight around herself, protective and ashamed all at once. If you want me to stop coming… I will.
The words cost her something. It showed in the way her jaw trembled, in how her gaze dipped like she was bracing for impact.
Wanda’s heart clenched.
She reached out immediately, hands framing Y/N’s face again, refusing to let her retreat into herself. “Hey,” she murmured. “Look at me.”
When Y/N did, Wanda shook her head gently. “You didn’t steal anything from me. And you didn’t take anything from him.”
She leaned in, touching her forehead to Y/N’s again, breath warm, steady. “I chose who I let close. I chose who I felt safe with. And I chose to end something that wasn’t right for me anymore.”
Her thumb brushed under Y/N’s eye, tender. “You don’t have to disappear to make things easier for me.”
Y/N’s breath stuttered. A soft, almost inaudible whine escaped her before she could stop it.
Wanda smiled sadly. “You matter,” she said. “To me.”
The room went quiet again—but this time, it wasn’t heavy.
Y/N leaned forward once more, carefully, reverently, resting her head on Wanda’s shoulder. Wanda wrapped her arms around her without hesitation, holding her there like it was the most natural thing in the world.
[Warnings for: general angst, blood, mentions/implications of cannibalism, etc. I wrote this on a whim, don’t expect it to be great. This chapter may not have the same ‘vibe’ as the prologue.]
“Hey, where are you? I’ve been trying to call you for like an hour, is something going on? Are you-“
Next.
“Why the fuck aren’t you picking up your phone? And why is your location turned off, you better not be-“
Next.
“Master ___, the entire family is worried sick. You have been missing for hours, I hope you have a very good excuse for this-“
A small, ironic chuckle.
Next.
You’ve been listening to voicemails for about thirty minutes or so, just playing one after another to hear the voices of your family members. Pathetic, you know that, but it’s the only thing that really comforts you anymore—that they cared. These voicemails in particular are from March 18th, 2001. The day you died.
They are being played as loudly as your battered, old Nokia 8310 allows for it to be played. (You had to sneak into the manor to get it back and hope that they hadn’t tossed it or that it didn’t spontaneously combust during the time you were otherwise… incapacitated.
Dead. Why are you doing that? When you were dead.
God, ‘incapacitated’. Like you were Damian.
But, sure enough, the sentimental freaks kept all your stuff. Even kept your room untouched but pretty clean.)
Honestly, it’s a little bit torturous despite the comfort it brings. The voices of your family members full of panic, for you, over you, echo loudly in your ears.
You were supposed to be with them in your final moments. (You weren’t supposed to die at all.) You were supposed to die old and happy and maybe with grandchildren surrounding you and your siblings at your side and with the comfort that everything and everyone would be okay.
Sixteen-year-old you did not get that comfort.
You suppose you still are sixteen, though. It’s weird, you feel much older and yet also much younger, swaying on some strange in between of old and young with dirt still under your nails and bones aching like you’re a thousand years older than your body.
..You wonder if anything has changed. If Damian still likes art or if Cass still enjoys jump-scaring people from time to time. (You wonder if they had fun and curl your arms tighter around your knees at the thought of all the fun they probably had without you.)
(How much happier they might be.)
Your Nokia rests down on the ground beside you. You’re in some old, dingy alleyway in the more abandoned parts of Gotham, your back pressed to the bare cement wall of the crumbling empty building behind you. At least here everything is not as loud as it is in the more crowded parts of the city.
You could’ve sworn the world was quieter before your death. You could’ve sworn there were less screams, less screeches. You could’ve have sworn there was less.
Smells are more prominent too. (You never thought that Gotham could smell more like absolute shit but here you are, surrounded by it.)
And your teeth…
You slip a hand over your mouth, moving your cheeks from side to side in order to get some sort of feel of the canines that you’ve cut your tongue on a million times by now without having to touch them directly.
Your teeth are much sharper now. Longer. (Stronger.) Your jaw feels heavier for it.
(You’re hungrier too. You tore through that man’s throat and almost- and almost-)
All in all, you’re different since you’ve crawled out of your grave.
Not like Jason, not really. He said he was catatonic for a while before Talia had him take his big swim, but you are fully conscious and aware of yourself.
(..Most of the time, at least.)
You’re fine.
You’re alive.
(..You don’t know how to feel about that.)
You sigh and pick up your Nokia, shoving it back in your pocket as you use the wall behind you to help you stand up. Your stomach grumbles and something disgusted twists in you.
You’re hungry again.
You press your lips into a line.
You guess you should try to find food then.
—
And in a graveyard, someone notices a vacant grave, a man, and a shovel left abandoned.
since Woolhaven is now out…can I request a platonic lamb with a new follower reader who’s a wolf from the mountain that got partially rotted and is now looking for some sort of healing?
As Lamb trekked through the forests of Ewefall, they could see the Rot's influence growing stronger by the day. It showed no signs of stopping, neither fire nor ice capable of repelling its vile spread.
With every soul they've returned to Yngya's shrine, her revitalized powers over winter brought new challenges for their cult to overcome. Fortunately, most of their followers adapted to the changing seasons and planned accordingly.
So that's been the least of their worries.
What concerned them more was what lied at the end of this "Ritual". They know nearly everything about winter, but knowing how the Cold Mother intended to enact revenge on the world grew to be...quite disturbing. Of course they'd never admit it, wanting to put their trust in her.
Yet this Rot--a physical manifestation of lambkind's immeasurable suffering--seemed to be spreading out of control, pouring out from the mountain's core, tainting the snow red...and even infecting the Heathen Marchosias himself.
The members of his "Free Pack" were also afflicted, and their aggression grew tenfold as their leader blamed Lamb for the disease.
A disease which he, a self-proclaimed scientist and doctor, intended to find a cure for at any cost.
But he still intended to kill them, for he despised the Crown-bearing gods of the Old Faith and believed himself to be the true liberator of the world. One that didn't need deities sitting atop their holy thrones and torturing those who dared to disagree with their ideals.
Likewise, Lamb sought to put him down like the mad dog he was. Not just because of Yngya's demands for his culling...but because they were furious that he claimed her mountain as his own, spitting on the graves of those who perished due to a prophecy.
During their crusade to the top, however, they happened upon a small camp belonging to a single wolf cultist.
They were partially infected by the Rot, the right side of their face and their left hand covered in fleshy growths. They breathed shallow, huddled underneath a makeshift shelter comprised of sticks, simple bedding, and a sheet to protect it from the elements.
This loner--you--didn't show any signs of aggression, or even awareness that you had a visitor.
You've simply been too tired to do....anything, really.
The pot of stew over your campfire was long-snuffed out by the wind, and still it was left untouched. Despite having hunted and killed for the food it contained, the thought of eating it while you're like this was nauseating enough.
When you finally heard the footsteps of the stranger, you coughed and rose to greet them.
"Ah, hello.....oh." You blinked, slowly realizing it's the one who Marchosias ordered you to kill-on-sight. "It's you, Crown-Bearer."
On instinct, Lamb put their hand out, and the Red Crown manifested into a weapon for them to clutch, poised to either attack or defend. Their gaze was sharp, intent on watching your every move should they need to retaliate.
Yet they were confused when you didn't howl or draw your own weapon...or even look at them with malice like your fellow Free Pack members.
"Don't hurt me..I..am not your enemy. I...d-do not associate myself with the Heathen any longer." You hoarsely whispered, for fear that Marchosias may somehow hear your heresy. "I ask him for healing before this got worse, but he keeps pushing me aside, saying he'll find the cure. Brilliant-minded he was, but now....h-he's become mad over killing you. He cares not for us anymore."
They blinked, yet remained cautious. "So..you're saying you've defected from his pack?"
"I found out the truth...this Rot has told me so." You rasped, scratching at your skin. "It was never his....never his to take. The Cold Mother wants her home back....wants to see him suffer..for his crimes and cruel experiments. You'll slay him, won't you, new god of death?"
"That's my intention." The crown returned to its original shape, floating back to the top of their wooly head.
You smiled, although your expression quickly morphed into one of intense pain as you suddenly--and violently--retched onto the ground, blood and chunks of rot splattering across the snow.
Lamb grimaced slightly, having seen their Rotten Followers puke up similar substances--sights that they were still trying to get accustomed to even now. But at least they didn't see any eyeballs in your case.
"S-Sorry..." You brushed the blood off your lips, embarrassed. "That....only started just now."
"It will only get worse. You won't survive one more day like this. Not when a blizzard is coming." They frowned and stepped closer. "I possess the means to cure you."
You perked up, eyes full of hope.
"But...you must join my flock. I'll give you more freedom than what that brutish wolf promised you. You'll be healthy and whole again. You'll know how it feels to be given a warm shelter and fresh food on the coldest winter nights."
"Ah..the Bishop I once followed told me similar lies. But the Heathen showed me true freedom, c-cut my leash loose. Yet it feels like he just put a different one on me." You began to feel conflicted with yourself. With what you wanted and if you could put your trust in someone of higher status for a third time. "How could he scorn the Gods when he made us worship him like one?"
"He ought to look in the mirror, but....after our last meeting I'm afraid he won't ever do that again." Lamb shook their head, giving you an all-too-gentle smile. "So...will you accept my offer, or let this Rot consume you whole?"
For a moment you were silent.
But ultimately...they've convinced you.
"I...don't want to die here. I don't want this to consume me any more than it already has." You kneeled before them, clasping your paws together, ready to serve them and be rid of this rotten sickness. "I'll be loyal to you, Lamb. You have my word."
Possessive wolf hybrid reader and wolf reader Johnny.
Everyone assumes that Johnny is the biggest freak between the two of you but is quickly proven wrong by your brazen behavior. Price had scolded you time and time again about mounting him during sparing and dry humping him.
You just can't help it. If you're away from Johnny for even five minutes, you are licking the inside of his mouth in greeting. You scent everything in his room from his pillows to his shirts. You've even rubbed yourself on his desk and desk chair so it reeked of you.
Johnny loves how obsessed you are with him, and of course, the sly shit will flirt with other wolves just so you scruff him, drag him back to your barracks, and piss all over him. If he wants to pretend he doesn't belong to you, he can try that when he reeks of you, though and through.
Rabbit, playing with "Sheep's" floppy ears: Hm, hm, hm- My cute adorable puppy, won't you join me for a romantic stroll someday?
"Sheep" Reader: H-huh?! What did you call me??
Rabbit: S-Sheep! My cute sheep! That's what I said! Don't panic, my love!
-
Mouse: Scary! Sheep has been a predator this whole time? They must be plotting something right now!
[Mouse peeks through "Sheep's" window to find them curled up in their bed, holding a stick doll Mouse made for them in their arms - tail wagging as they clutch it tighter to their chest]
Mouse: So c-cute.... Surely someone that cute can't be a threat. I'll keep an eye on them from now on!
-
Swan: Here. I brought you a necklace.
"Sheep" Reader: T-this looks a lot like a dog collar....
Swan: Ugh- A thank you would be nice. Just put it in
"Sheep" Reader: How am I supposed to take it off later? There's a keyhole where the latch should be...
-
Sheep" Reader: Mayor....Do I really have to do this?
Mayor Elk: Come now, I have to reward you for all your help today.
"Sheep" Reader: I have to contribute somehow if I'm going to live here. Sir, it's embarrassing. Nobody would love that side of me anyway....
Mayor Elk: Don't be modest, my dear. You are stunning in whatever skin you wear.
[Wolf Reader removes their disguise - nearly dying of embarrassment as the mayor pats their head]
I don't think I ever told you guys my very first fanfic. It was a Twilight fic where (Black and Native American) OC was a wolf that moved in with her (Native American) mother and grandfather after the divorce with her father. She was initially having a hard time with her new life after being raised for the most part in an urban setting. She quickly gets a small drop of popularity due to her highly fashionable clothes and she makes friends with Bella immediately. Claiming that they're best friends instantly. (Its giving Black Cat and Golden Retriever) Because of this, she also meets Jacob Black who she at first had no real interest in other than thinking he was kinda cute. She spends most of her days either with Bella or her grandfather who teaches her about her Native American heritage and clocks her when she tries to hide her wolf form after running around late at night through the forest. Her grandfather recommends her to visit his close friend's son Billy Black who he also let's it slip that he's the father of Jacob. I stopped writing it around the part when she's accepted into Sam's pack and develops a strong brotherly bond with Paul (she has no siblings since she's an only child) and the slap heard around the world lol. While she's fiercely protective of Bella, she couldn't really back her up with her slap on Paul. Some other things I think i wrote in it was her relationship with the Cullens. She doesn't particularly have anything against them, but she can't see herself getting too close to them die to how creepy she finds them. They always looked like they had something to hide. She's a very 'heart on the sleeve' Type of person. Maybe I'll rewrite the story or something. I'm not sure🤔. What do you guys think?
Summary: A little snippet of wolf!reader playing baseball with the Cullens. You and Emmett have a little rivalry going, and you'll do anything for some Jasper scratches.
Word Count: 1021
---
“You sure you can keep up with us, wolfie?” Emmet calls from the batter’s box with an absolutely snarky grin.
You cock a brow at him, settling into a crouch with an equally vicious smile, “Just you watch me, Em, you won’t make it to first base.”
“I’d like to see that,” he taunts back, twisting his grip on the bat and posing it over his shoulder.
Jasper chuckles from across the field, the sound easily reaching your sensitive ears, “Take it easy on him, darlin’.”
“No can do, Jas.” Your friendly rivalry with Emmett started as soon as you and Jasper got together, only made worse by you being a shifter. Competitiveness runs deep in your blood. “Someone has to put him in his place, and you pansies sure aren’t going to.”
“Ooh-” Emmett hisses through his teeth dramatically. “-you gonna let her talk to you like that?”
“I’m not one to get offended by a few words,” Jasper shoots back, smirk all too cocky, “Not like when you whined a full week when she called you a cream puff.”
“Hey-”
“It’s time!” Alice chimes before Emmett can stand up for himself.
You snicker and he throws a glare your way.
Game on.
With your enhanced speed and strength, you put up a good fight against the vampires. It’s almost unfair, you and Jasper working perfectly in sync, getting them out one at a time. On your turn to bat, the feeling of smashing the ball, brutal and unrestrained, makes your whole body spark to life, driving you through the plates like a flash of lightning. It’s exhilarating.
Nearing the end of the thunderstorm, the game is close, your team up by one run. Emmett is back up to bat. Chest heaving, heart pounding, you make eye contact with him and, with the most wolfish smile, mouth a silent, ‘Bring it.’
Emmett scowls, eyes focusing back on Alice, and you hear Jasper chuckle softly.
Alice winds up, moving with practiced ease, and launches the baseball straight down the line. A crack of thunder overlaps the loud ring of the bat slamming into it, and it goes flying. You go flying after it.
You tear through the trees, eyes bright with glee as you follow the ball. The wind whips your hair around wildly, the damp ground giving way under your feet. You feel free. Out of breath, every muscle aching, but free. The moment right before your feet leave the ground, adrenaline surges through every cell of your body and you explode into a mess of fur and snapping teeth.
You jump, far too high, far too fast. But your teeth clamp down on the baseball, practically ripping through the leather, before you go crashing to the ground in a flurry of dirt and grass. The earth shakes at your impact, the sound louder than the storm’s thunder.
“(Y/n)!”
The family of vampires freeze, eyes wide. Jasper races after you. Worry burns through his veins as he comes to a stop at the crater’s edge. Gold eyes narrowed, he desperately searches through the haze of dirt for a sign that you’re okay.
Then you pop back up, and all his concern dissipates. You, in wolf form, look up at him with happy, squinted eyes, the ball still clamped firmly in your jaws. Your whole body practically shakes with how hard your tail is wagging.
“Well look at you,” the blond sighs, shaking his head, “I didn’t know wolves could fly, darlin’.”
Shaking off the dirt clinging to your fur, you scramble out of the hole you created. Without hesitation, you push into Jasper’s open arms. He chuckles as you wiggle in his grip, letting out little happy huffs as he scratches your head. You love it when he gives you scratches in wolf form, it’s like getting a massage in human form.
“You know-” You perk your ears and pause to look up at his slanted, mischievous grin. “-Emmett won’t like this.”
You let out a muffled ‘woof’. He better not like it, because he just signed his defeat. You won. The thought makes you growl happily as you adjust the ball in your mouth. Time to show off your victory.
Jasper sticks by your side and you trot back to the field. The moment you reach the tree line, Emmett lets out a loud, rumbling groan.
“That has to be cheating!”
“Umpire?”
Everyone turns to Esme. Emmett looks so hopeful, but then she looks at you and winks. You’ve never been so happy to see someone’s face plummet.
“You’re out, Emmett.”
You drop the ball and let out a small victorious howl. The man glares at you playfully, but you catch the smallest glimpse of a smile when you do a few happy stomps and throw yourself at Jasper. The blond grunts as your full weight takes you both to the ground.
“Darlin’,” he wheezes out a bright laugh, “you’re crushing me.”
You huff, not caring even a bit as you drop your head on top of his chest. More scratches. You deserve more scratches, you won the game! Jasper can feel your insistence, having grown accustomed to reading your more chaotic emotions in this form, and gives in when you nudge him with your nose, licking his face. He curls his fingers through your thick fur, earning a happy grumble from you.
“We’re going to head back to the house,” Carlisle announces, voice ringing with amusement, “Feel free to join us when you would like to.”
Which ends up being far later in the night because there is something so lovely about just curling up with your vampire and watching the stars come out. He eventually goes and retrieves your extra clothes (he started keeping some with him after several phasing accidents) and you return to the Cullen household, where you mercilessly mock Emmett.
“How does it feel to lose to a wolf, cream puff?”
“(Y/n), I swear to God I’m gonna-”
You dash up the stairs, giggling wildly. Jasper follows behind slowly, tossing the bigger vampire a smug grin.
“Next time, you shouldn’t underestimate her.”
---
This idea came to me at like midnight and I wrote down the idea and I love it. I hope you guys enjoyed it too!
