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Best Girl

WandaNat x Fem!Werewolf!Reader

Word count: 16.8k

Summary: The Avengers rescue an injured wolf from the woods surrounding the Compound. Keeping her is supposed to be temporary. Weeks turn into months, the wolf refuses to leave, and somehow Wanda and Natasha end up far more attached than either of them intended. Unfortunately, secrets don’t stay buried forever—and neither does the past she’s been running from.

CW: Injury, blood, animal attack, temporary captivity/restraint, angst, abandonment themes, possessive behaviour, collar use, explicit sexual content, BDSM dynamics, praise kink, poly relationship.

Men and Minors DNI

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The new Avengers Compound still doesn’t quite feel lived in yet.

The building itself is enormous, gleaming glass and steel rising out of the countryside like something pulled straight from a science fiction film, but there are still boxes in hallways, equipment waiting to be unpacked, and entire sections of the facility that remain eerily quiet. The team is settling in, finding routines, claiming rooms, learning which elevators are the fastest and which kitchens are stocked with the good coffee. For the first time in a long time, things feel almost peaceful.

Outside, the late afternoon sun paints the grass in shades of gold.

Tony sits on a blanket spread across one of the open lawns surrounding the compound, watching Morgan run through the grass with the endless energy only a child seems capable of possessing. She laughs as she chases a butterfly, tiny sneakers kicking up dirt behind her while Tony pretends not to be smiling.

“You know,” he calls out, leaning back on his hands, “I personally think that butterfly is cheating.”

Morgan gasps dramatically. “Daddy! Butterflies don’t cheat!”

“Says who?”

“Says science.”

Tony snorts. “I’ve made a career out of arguing with science.”

The little girl simply sticks her tongue out before continuing her pursuit.

For a while, everything is normal.

Peaceful.

Quiet.

The forest bordering the compound sways gently in the breeze, leaves rustling softly overhead. Birds sing somewhere beyond the tree line. The distant sounds of construction and moving equipment drift from the compound itself.

Then Tony’s phone buzzes.

One of the technicians inside needs a security code.

“One minute,” he tells Morgan, standing up. “Don’t go anywhere.”

She nods absentmindedly, completely focused on the insect she’s following.

Tony walks inside.

It should take less than sixty seconds.

Back in the forest, far beyond the compound’s sensors and surveillance systems, you move silently through the undergrowth.

The woods belong to your pack.

Humans rarely come this deep into the territory, and when they do, they almost never notice the wolves watching from the shadows. Your kind has survived that way for generations. Hidden. Careful. Unseen.

The breeze shifts.

Your ears twitch.

A strange scent drifts through the trees.

Human.

Several humans.

You pause.

The scent isn’t unfamiliar anymore. Ever since the massive compound appeared on the edge of the forest months ago, humans have become a constant presence. Loud machines, strange smells, bright lights.

Usually, you stay away. Today should be no different.

Then another scent reaches you.

Predator. Your head immediately lifts. Bear. Large. Close.

Far too close to the humans.

You break into a run.

Back at the compound, Morgan finally notices the silence. The butterfly has disappeared. The breeze has changed. Something feels wrong. Slowly, she turns. The enormous brown bear stands at the edge of the lawn.

For a moment, neither moves.

Morgan freezes.

The bear stares.

Then the little girl screams.

The sound rips through the countryside.

Inside the compound, Tony’s heart nearly stops.

He drops everything and sprints.

Outside, the bear begins moving forward. Not charging. Not attacking. Just advancing.

But to a frightened child, the difference means nothing.

Morgan stumbles backward.

Tears immediately spring into her eyes.

The bear huffs.

And then a brown blur explodes from the forest.

You hit the animal with enough force to throw both of you sideways across the grass.

The bear roars.

Morgan gasps.

The lawn erupts into chaos.

You land on your feet first, placing yourself directly between the predator and the child. Fur bristles along your spine as a deep growl tears from your chest.

The bear answers with one of its own.

Neither backs down.

The size difference is obvious.

The bear is massive.

But you don’t move.

Behind you, Morgan cries.

The sound only hardens your resolve.

The bear lunges. You dodge.

Teeth snap inches from your face.

You retaliate instantly, slamming into its shoulder hard enough to stagger it. The two of you crash across the lawn, tearing up grass and dirt as claws and teeth flash.

The bear recovers first.

A powerful paw swings.

You try to evade.

Almost.

The claws rake across your side.

Agony explodes through your body. A strangled yelp escapes before you can stop it. Warm blood immediately begins soaking into your fur.

The smell fills the air.

But you remain standing.

The bear advances again.

You bare every tooth you have - growling, threatening. Refusing to yield. The predator hesitates.

You take one step forward. Then another. Ignoring the blood. Ignoring the pain. Ignoring the way your legs are beginning to shake beneath you.

Something changes.

The bear decides you aren’t worth it.

With one final warning growl, it begins backing away.

Then it turns.

Then it disappears into the forest.

Only then do you allow yourself to breathe. Tony bursts out of the compound.

“Morgan!”

He reaches her in seconds, dropping to his knees and pulling her against his chest. She immediately buries her face against him, sobbing as he frantically checks for injuries.

“Dad—dad—the wolf—”

“I’m here,” he says quickly. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” Only then does he finally look up.

And see you.

The wolf standing twenty feet away.

Covered in blood. Swaying unsteadily. Your breathing is ragged. Your legs threaten to buckle beneath you.

For a second, Tony simply stares. Because wolves don’t protect humans. They certainly don’t throw themselves at bears for them.

And then, right before his eyes, your body finally gives out. You collapse into the grass. And everything goes black.

Consciousness returns slowly, surfacing through layers of exhaustion and pain that seem determined to drag you back under every time you try to fight your way awake. Your entire body feels heavy, your limbs sluggish and weak, and the deep burning ache radiating from your side makes it painfully obvious that whatever happened before you blacked out was not some strange dream.

The first thing you notice is the smell. Sterile. Artificial. Clean in a way no forest ever is. Beneath it are dozens of other scents layered together—metal, electronics, unfamiliar cleaning products, coffee, humans. Lots of humans. Your eyes slowly open and immediately narrow against the bright overhead lighting. White ceiling. White walls. Medical equipment. Panic sparks through your chest almost instantly.

You try to sit up only to discover something restraining you. Thick rope is looped securely around your torso and forelegs, keeping you anchored to a reinforced medical bed, while an uncomfortable muzzle wraps around your snout. A low sound rumbles in your throat before you can stop it. The movement pulls painfully at your injured side and your gaze drops to find your entire flank wrapped beneath layers of thick bandages. Even through them, you can smell dried blood.

Across the room, three men stand talking. One of them you recognise immediately from countless distant observations near the compound’s perimeter. Tony. Beside him stands the broad-shouldered blond man you’ve seen training outside before, and another dark-haired man wearing glasses.

None of them notice you’re awake at first, too focused on their conversation. “I’m serious,” Tony is saying, arms folded tightly across his chest. “We’re putting up fencing. Big fencing. Electric fencing if we have to. I step inside for sixty seconds and a bear shows up. A bear. Do you know how insane that sounds?” The blond man sighs. “Tony, wildlife exists. We built this place practically next to a forest.”

“Great. Then wildlife can stay in the wildlife section and my daughter can stay in the not-being-eaten-by-bears section.” The man with glasses pinches the bridge of his nose. “Morgan wasn’t hurt. That’s the important thing.” “Because of her,” Tony immediately replies, pointing directly at you. “Or him. Her. Whatever. The wolf. If that animal hadn’t intervened…” His voice trails off slightly, and for the first time you hear genuine gratitude beneath the protective frustration. “Morgan keeps asking if the wolf is okay.”

The movement of your head finally catches Steve’s attention. His posture immediately straightens and his eyes widen slightly. “Guys.” Tony and Bruce turn at the same time. For several seconds none of them say anything as they realise you’re conscious and staring directly back at them.

The room becomes strangely quiet. You can practically smell their uncertainty. Tony takes a cautious step forward first, not fearful exactly, but wary in the way anyone would be standing this close to a predator. “Well, hey there.” His voice softens unexpectedly. “Good to see you’re still with us.” You stare back without blinking.

The muzzle makes it impossible to communicate anything beyond a low frustrated huff. Bruce glances between you and the restraints. “She’s calmer than I expected.” “She just woke up,” Steve points out. “Give it a minute.” Tony studies you for a long moment before exhaling. “So what exactly do we do now?” Nobody answers immediately because they all know it’s a complicated question. In every practical sense, you’re a wild animal. An unusually large wild animal, but a wild animal nonetheless. Wild animals belong in the wild. That’s the obvious answer. The problem is that every single person in the room knows what would happen if they released you right now.

You can barely move without pain. The deep claw wounds across your side would leave you vulnerable to infection, other predators, or simply collapsing somewhere in the forest where nobody would find you. Steve seems to reach the conclusion first. “We can’t release her like this.” Bruce nods almost immediately. “Agreed. Medically speaking, she’s nowhere near healed enough.” Tony looks at you again, meeting your gaze directly. “And considering she basically saved my kid’s life, dumping her back into the woods half-dead feels like a pretty terrible thank you.” He rubs a hand over his face before letting out a long breath. “Alright. Fine. We keep her here. Temporary arrangement. We treat the injuries, make sure she’s recovered, then we release her back into the forest when she’s healthy enough to survive on her own.”

Steve folds his arms. “You realise you’re talking about keeping a wolf inside the Avengers Compound.” “Trust me,” Tony mutters, looking directly at you. “I am painfully aware of how ridiculous that sounds.” Despite the conversation being about you, none of them notice the strange intelligence lingering behind your eyes as you watch every word, every movement, every decision being made. Because as far as the Avengers know, lying restrained in that medical bed is nothing more than an injured wolf.

The discussion about your future inside the compound is interrupted by the sudden crackle of a radio sitting on one of the nearby counters. The burst of static immediately draws everyone’s attention before a familiar female voice comes through the speaker. “Control, this is Romanoff. Requesting clearance to land.” Steve reaches over without hesitation, pressing the response button. “You’re clear. Pad’s open.” A brief pause follows before Natasha’s amused voice returns. “Good. Because we’re landing whether it’s clear or not.”

The transmission clicks off, earning a tired sigh from Steve and an eye roll from Tony. “She’s been spending too much time around you,” Steve comments. “Excuse you,” Tony replies. “That level of confidence is a gift.” Despite the conversation, your ears have already perked up. Two unfamiliar scents drift faintly through the building, carried in through ventilation systems and opening doors. Human. Female. One carrying traces of smoke, leather and gunpowder. The other carrying something warmer. Something strange. Something that almost reminds you of standing in sunlight during winter. Before you can properly identify it, distant engines rumble somewhere outside the compound. Even through the walls you can hear the unmistakable sound of a Quinjet settling onto the landing platform.

Several minutes later the medbay doors slide open and both women walk inside. The first thing you notice is that every scent in the room immediately changes. The dark-haired woman enters first, dressed in a partially damaged tactical suit with several shallow cuts visible along her arms and one across her cheek. Nothing serious from the smell of it, but enough to explain the dried blood. Beside her walks the redhead. Unlike the other woman, she appears mostly unharmed apart from a split lip and a few smudges of dirt lingering across her uniform.

The moment your eyes land on them, something strange happens. Your tail immediately begins thumping lightly against the medical bed. Once. Twice. Then continuously. You don’t even realise you’re doing it at first. Every instinct in your body suddenly seems focused on the two newcomers.

They are, quite simply, the prettiest women you have ever seen. The dark-haired one carries herself with effortless confidence while the redhead seems to possess an almost unnatural kind of beauty that makes it difficult to look away. Your tail continues its rhythmic tapping against the mattress despite the pain in your side. Natasha notices first. “Well that’s either adorable or concerning.” Tony turns. “Oh great. Now she’s happy.” “Maybe she’s happy to see me,” Natasha says with a grin. “Most creatures are.” “Most creatures don’t have teeth the size of steak knives.”

Bruce immediately shifts into doctor mode the second he spots the cuts on Natasha’s arms. “Sit.” Natasha glances at the medical bed beside yours. “You know, every mission I come back from, you somehow find a way to make this place look more ridiculous.” Bruce points firmly at the bed. “Sit.” “Bossy.” “Natasha.” “Fine.”

She drops onto the mattress with exaggerated suffering while Bruce begins gathering supplies. Wanda remains standing instead, her attention entirely focused on you. Unlike the others, she isn’t studying you with caution. She’s simply watching. Curious. Interested. Your tail somehow starts wagging harder under her gaze.

The movement finally draws a laugh from Steve. “See? That’s what I mean.” Natasha glances between you and Wanda before smirking. “Looks like somebody has a favourite already.” Wanda doesn’t respond immediately. Her eyes remain fixed on you, lingering on the muzzle wrapped around your snout, the ropes binding you to the bed and the thick bandages covering your side.

Something about the sight clearly bothers her. “What happened?” she finally asks. Tony launches into the story while Bruce works on Natasha’s injuries. By the time he’s finished explaining the bear attack, Morgan’s involvement and the rescue, both women are staring at you with entirely different expressions than when they entered. Natasha looks impressed. Wanda looks heartbroken. “Poor thing,” Wanda murmurs softly. “She saved Morgan?” Steve nods. “Pretty much.” “And now she’s tied to a bed.” “Because she’s still a wolf,” Tony immediately replies. “A very large wolf. A very injured wolf. But still a wolf.”

The conversation continues for several minutes as the men explain the situation. They explain how releasing you would almost certainly be a death sentence in your current condition. They explain how keeping you permanently isn’t realistic either. They explain that despite everything you’ve done, you’re still a wild animal and they can’t simply start treating you like a domesticated pet.

Wanda listens quietly throughout the explanation, though it’s obvious she dislikes almost every part of it. “She’s scared,” Wanda says at one point. “Anybody would be scared.” Tony gestures toward the muzzle. “Anybody with those teeth gets the muzzle until further notice.” Natasha snorts. “Fair.” Despite the teasing, even she seems reluctant to argue with the precautions.

Eventually the discussion reaches the same conclusion Steve, Bruce and Tony had already reached earlier. You stay. You heal. Then you’re released once you’re healthy enough to survive. Bruce finishes patching Natasha up, Steve gets called away to deal with something involving training schedules, and Tony leaves shortly afterwards after reminding everyone at least twice that he intends to install enough fencing to make the compound look like a small country. Before long the room falls quiet again. Bruce eventually departs as well, leaving only two occupants besides yourself.

Natasha leans back against her bed while Wanda slowly pulls a chair over beside yours. Neither woman seems in any particular hurry to leave. The silence that settles over the room feels strangely comfortable. Your tail has finally slowed, though it still occasionally taps against the mattress whenever either of them looks your way. Wanda reaches forward carefully, stopping her hand several inches from your head. Giving you the choice. Giving you space. “Hi there,” she says softly. Her voice is warm enough to make your ears immediately tilt forward.

Natasha watches the interaction with an amused expression. “That’s it. You’ve adopted the giant wolf already.” Wanda doesn’t look away from you. “I haven’t adopted her.” “You’ve got the voice on.” “I do not have a voice.” “You absolutely have a voice.” For the first time since waking up, something almost resembling contentment settles through your chest. You’re still injured. Still restrained. Still trapped inside a building full of humans. But as Wanda continues speaking softly to you while Natasha teases her from across the room, you find yourself thinking that maybe staying here until you heal won’t be quite as terrible as you first imagined.

By the end of the evening, Tony has somehow managed to do what only Tony Stark could accomplish. Instead of simply discussing solutions, he has apparently purchased an entire reinforced animal enclosure online, paid an obscene amount of money for immediate delivery, and had it assembled inside the common room before dinner. Nobody is entirely sure how he managed it so quickly. Nobody is particularly surprised either. The temporary enclosure occupies one corner of the large living space, significantly bigger than any normal dog crate but still undeniably a cage. Thick metal bars form the walls while several blankets have been piled inside alongside a large padded bed that Bruce insisted on providing.

You were less than thrilled when they moved you from the medbay. The journey had pulled painfully at your injuries, and despite everyone’s best intentions, being carried through hallways and elevators by a collection of superheroes had done very little to improve your mood. Still, once settled inside the enclosure, you had begrudgingly accepted that this arrangement was better than being tied to a medical bed.

The common room itself is enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the darkening forest beyond the compound, soft lighting illuminates the space, and several large couches surround a television that currently occupies most of the room’s attention. The rest of the team drifts in and out throughout the evening, some stopping to stare at the giant wolf now living in their headquarters, others barely reacting at all because after alien invasions, killer robots and Norse gods, an injured wolf somehow doesn’t seem that strange. Eventually, however, most of them disappear to their own rooms, leaving the common area quieter and considerably more peaceful.

Natasha and Wanda remain. Apparently, post-mission takeaway has become a sacred tradition between them, one neither injury nor exhaustion is allowed to interrupt. Several containers are spread across the coffee table while a movie plays on the television. Natasha has already changed into comfortable clothes and sits stretched out across one end of the couch. Wanda occupies the other, though only briefly before Natasha hooks an arm around her waist and effortlessly pulls her closer. Wanda rolls her eyes but doesn’t resist for even a second, immediately settling against her side with the kind of casual familiarity that only comes from years together.

From inside your enclosure, you watch the interaction with far more interest than the film currently playing. Earlier, after what felt like an unfair amount of debate from the men, Wanda had finally convinced them to remove the muzzle. More specifically, she had waited until Tony left the room, spent twenty minutes researching what wolves could safely eat, then used her powers to float a plate through the bars while giving everybody a look that clearly dared them to argue.

The meal itself sits mostly untouched beside you now. You’d eaten enough to stop Wanda worrying, but your appetite remains limited by pain, exhaustion and confusion. Your head rests against the cool metal bars instead, chin propped between two of them as you quietly observe the women across the room. The scent of food fills the air alongside the steady rhythm of their conversation, occasional laughter and the comforting knowledge that neither of them seems remotely bothered by your presence.

You tell yourself you’re watching because they’re interesting. Humans are fascinating creatures, after all. These particular humans even more so. They possess extraordinary abilities, live inside a futuristic fortress, and somehow spend their evenings arguing about which takeaway restaurant is superior. That should be enough to justify your attention.

Unfortunately, even you know that’s not entirely true. The reality is significantly more embarrassing. You simply can’t stop looking at them. Every time Natasha presses a kiss against Wanda’s temple while pretending to focus on the movie, your ears twitch. Every time Wanda unconsciously leans closer to Natasha while reaching for food, your eyes follow the movement. They fit together so naturally it almost seems effortless. Comfortable. Safe. Familiar. The sort of bond most people spend their entire lives searching for. A small, unhappy feeling settles somewhere in your chest.

You don’t fully understand it. Maybe it’s loneliness. Maybe it’s homesickness. Maybe it’s simply the knowledge that while they sit together surrounded by warmth and companionship, you’re currently occupying a cage in the corner of the room. Whatever the reason, you find yourself lowering your head further onto the bars and staring quietly at the pair.

Across the room, Wanda notices first. Her expression immediately softens. “She’s not eating much.” Natasha glances over. “She’s eaten enough.” “She looks sad.” “She’s a wolf.” “She still looks sad.” Natasha studies you for several seconds before shrugging. “Okay. Slightly sad wolf.”

Wanda’s attention remains fixed on you long after the conversation ends. Every few minutes you catch her looking over. Not out of caution. Not out of concern that you’ll suddenly become aggressive. Just checking on you. Making sure you’re comfortable. Making sure you’re okay.

It’s a level of care you’re entirely unprepared for. Back home, your pack looks after one another because you’re family. Protection is expected. Support is expected. Here, however, these people owe you nothing. They barely know you exist beyond being the wolf that saved Morgan. Yet Wanda still worries when you don’t finish your dinner. Natasha still casually points out that your water bowl needs refilling before getting up to do it herself. The entire situation feels bizarre. The movie continues playing in the background while darkness settles fully beyond the windows.

Eventually Natasha stretches, pulling Wanda even closer until the redhead is practically curled against her side. “You know,” Natasha says, glancing toward your enclosure again, “for something that’s technically a giant predator, she’s ridiculously well behaved.” Wanda smiles faintly. “Maybe she knows we’re helping her.”

You lower your gaze before either woman can notice how intently you’ve been watching them. The truth is that you don’t know what tomorrow will bring. You don’t know how long your injuries will take to heal. You don’t know how you’re supposed to eventually explain being a werewolf when that particular problem inevitably arrives.

Right now, however, none of that feels especially important. The television flickers softly across the room, the compound remains peaceful around you, and for the first time since waking up inside a building full of strangers, you slowly close your eyes and begin drifting toward sleep while listening to Wanda and Natasha quietly talking on the couch.

The movie eventually ends sometime after midnight. The takeaway containers are cleared away, the television is switched off, and the compound gradually settles into the quiet stillness that only arrives when dozens of people finally go to sleep.

Before leaving, Wanda kneels beside your enclosure one last time. Her expression softens as she studies you resting amongst the blankets, though she still reaches for caution over sentiment. With a small wave of her hand, red magic surrounds the muzzle resting nearby and gently secures it back around your snout. You immediately huff your displeasure.

Wanda offers an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, detka. Just for tonight.” Natasha snorts from behind her. “The giant predator is judging you.” “I know.” “Harshly.” Wanda reaches through the bars to scratch lightly behind one of your ears before standing. “Goodnight.”

The simple word shouldn’t matter. Humans tell each other goodnight all the time. Yet somehow, as you watch the two women disappear toward the elevators together, the common room immediately feels emptier than before. Much emptier. Soon the sound of their footsteps disappears entirely, leaving only silence, distant ventilation systems and the occasional hum of electronics somewhere deeper within the compound.

For a while you remain curled amongst the blankets, trying to settle back down. You close your eyes. Open them again. Shift positions. Try another position. Nothing helps. The common room is comfortable enough. You’re safe. Warm. Fed. Your injuries are being treated. Rationally, there is absolutely no reason for the uncomfortable feeling sitting heavily inside your chest. Yet it refuses to go away.

Several hours pass before the loneliness finally wins. It begins with a small sound escaping your throat. Barely noticeable. A quiet whine. Then another. Then another. You don’t entirely understand why you’re making the noise. Back home, wolves are rarely alone. Pack members sleep together, hunt together, exist together. Solitude is unusual. Wrong, almost. The compound is filled with people, yet none of them are here. The common room feels too large. Too quiet. Too empty. Before long, soft whining begins slipping from your muzzle every few minutes despite your best efforts to stop.

Unfortunately, the architects responsible for designing the compound made one critical mistake. Directly above the common room sits Wanda and Natasha’s bedroom. Every single sound carries upward with remarkable efficiency. Upstairs, Natasha is the first to recognise what she’s hearing. She groans into her pillow. “Ignore it.” Beside her, Wanda lifts her head immediately. “She’s upset.” “She’s a wolf.” “She’s whining.” “She’s dramatic.” Another muffled whine drifts through the floorboards. Wanda’s eyes narrow.

Natasha immediately recognises the expression. “No.” “Natasha.” “No.” “What if she’s scared?” “What if she wants attention?” Wanda pulls the blankets aside. “Then she’s getting attention.” Natasha falls backwards onto the mattress with all the suffering of somebody deeply wronged by the universe. “This is how it starts. One minute you’re checking on the wolf. Next minute she’s paying rent.”

By the time the elevator doors open, Wanda is already halfway across the common room wearing oversized pyjamas and fluffy socks. Natasha follows several steps behind, muttering complaints she clearly doesn’t mean. The moment you spot them emerging into view, the change is immediate. Your ears perk up. The whining stops entirely. Your tail begins thumping against the blankets.

Wanda pauses beside the enclosure and immediately points triumphantly toward you. “See?” Natasha folds her arms. “Traitor.” Wanda crouches beside the bars. “Were you lonely?” The question is ridiculous. You cannot answer. Yet your tail somehow starts wagging even harder. Natasha notices.

“Don’t encourage her.” “Look at her.” “I am looking at her.” “She’s sad.” “She was sad.” Wanda studies you for another few moments before standing again. A thoughtful expression appears on her face. Natasha immediately looks concerned. “Don’t.” “What?” “Whatever you’re thinking.” “I’m not thinking anything.” “Wanda.” The redhead glances between you and the elevator. Then back to Natasha. Then back to you. “She can come upstairs.”

Natasha stares at her. “Absolutely not.” “Why?” “Because she’s a giant wolf.” “She’s injured.” “She’s still a giant wolf.” “Natasha.” “No.” Wanda doesn’t even argue. Instead, red energy immediately begins surrounding your enclosure. Natasha closes her eyes. “You’re not listening to me.” “I listened.” “You ignored me.” “That’s different.”

The journey upstairs is probably one of the strangest experiences of your life. One moment you’re inside a cage in the common room. The next you’re floating through hallways suspended in glowing red magic while several night-shift agents openly stare. Wanda ignores them entirely. Natasha follows behind carrying armfuls of blankets while continuing her entirely unsuccessful campaign against the idea.

When you finally arrive at their bedroom, you discover it is significantly less intimidating than expected. Large bed. Soft lighting. Bookshelves. Personal photographs. Comfortable furniture. It feels lived in. Safe. Familiar. Wanda immediately directs your enclosure toward an empty corner of the room before finally lowering it onto the floor.

Natasha drops the blankets beside it with a dramatic sigh. “This is ridiculous.” “You’re helping.” “I’m helping because if you’re doing this, we’re doing it safely.” Despite her complaints, she begins arranging the blankets anyway.

Within minutes she has constructed what can only be described as a wolf-sized nest. Additional blankets line the floor. Extra cushions are added for comfort. Water is placed nearby. Then comes the final precaution. Natasha disappears briefly before returning with a length of sturdy rope from one of the room’s drawers (😏). “There.” She secures it carefully to create a boundary between your corner and their bed. “Perfect.”

Wanda raises an eyebrow. “Really?” Natasha points directly at you. “That wolf could probably bite through steel if she wanted to. The last thing I need is waking up to discover she’s decided two in the morning is cuddle time.” Wanda laughs despite herself. “She’s not going to maul us.” “You don’t know that.” “I do.” “You absolutely do not.” The argument continues as they prepare for bed, but it grows softer with each passing minute.

Eventually both women settle beneath the blankets. The room darkens. Silence returns. This time, however, it feels entirely different. Because instead of being alone several floors below them, you’re only a few metres away. You can hear Natasha turning pages of a book. You can hear Wanda quietly speaking to her. You can smell both of them nearby. The loneliness that had twisted uncomfortably in your chest earlier disappears almost instantly.

As sleep finally begins pulling at your consciousness once more, you curl deeper into the blanket nest Natasha built for you and listen to the gentle sound of the women talking until their voices gradually fade and the room falls completely silent.

The arrangement that began that night somehow became permanent. Not officially, at least not at first, but nobody seems capable of stopping it. Your injuries heal steadily over the following weeks. The angry wounds across your side gradually close. The bandages disappear. The limp fades. Bruce declares you healthy enough to return to the wild on at least three separate occasions. Unfortunately, nobody ever accounted for the fact that you had absolutely no intention of cooperating.

Somewhere along the way, the blanket nest in Wanda and Natasha’s room becomes your blanket nest. The common room enclosure is quietly dismantled and removed. The muzzle disappears entirely after several weeks without a single incident, much to the visible horror of the male members of the team.

Tony claims it is reckless. Clint claims they’re all going to die. Sam insists he wants written documentation proving the decision wasn’t his idea. Wanda ignores all of them. Natasha occasionally joins in solely because she enjoys watching them suffer.

You, meanwhile, spend most of your days following the two women around the compound with the determination of a particularly oversized shadow. Training room? You’re there. Kitchen? There. Movie night? There. If Wanda gets up to refill her coffee, you immediately lift your head to make sure she’s coming back. If Natasha disappears for a mission briefing, you’re waiting outside the room by the time she emerges.

Steve attempts to bond with you several times. Bruce brings treats. Clint tries bribery. Thor enthusiastically declares you a warrior beast worthy of Asgard. None of it works. The only people you consistently choose are Wanda and Natasha. It becomes such an established fact that nobody even questions it anymore.

Morgan, however, quickly becomes a special exception. The young girl absolutely adores you. Every time she visits the compound, she immediately seeks you out. It starts with cautious petting and nervous excitement but rapidly develops into complete confidence. She sits beside you during movie nights, reads stories aloud while leaning against your side, and occasionally attempts conversations that make absolutely no sense whatsoever.

One afternoon she discovers that you enjoy licking the cheese powder from her fingers after she’s been eating Cheetos. From that moment onward, the behaviour becomes a tradition. Tony nearly has an aneurysm the first time he witnesses it. “Morgan!” he practically shouts. “Stop feeding the giant wolf your fingers.” “She’s not eating my fingers.” “That’s not the point.” “She likes the Cheeto dust.”

You do, in fact, like the Cheeto dust. Morgan giggles every time your tongue cleans the orange powder from her hands while Tony watches with the exhausted expression of a father who has long since accepted that nobody listens to him. Wanda finds the entire thing adorable. Natasha takes photographs specifically to annoy Tony later. Life settles into a comfortable routine. A surprisingly normal one considering it involves superheroes and a wolf living inside a high-security compound. For the first time since being dragged from the forest, everything feels stable.

Naturally, that is precisely when Secretary Ross arrives to ruin it. The disruption begins on an otherwise ordinary afternoon when a government vehicle pulls up outside the compound. Nobody is particularly happy to see him.

Ross spends the first fifteen minutes arguing with Tony, the second fifteen arguing with Steve, and then somehow finds time to annoy everybody else as well. You pay little attention until your name—or rather, your species—enters the conversation.

The moment the word wolf reaches your ears, you immediately become interested. Unfortunately, the news is not encouraging. According to Ross, there are laws regarding wildlife. Lots of laws. Apparently keeping a wolf inside an Avengers facility falls into several extremely complicated legal categories.

Tony argues that they didn’t capture you. Bruce argues that they rescued you. Steve argues that releasing you while injured would have been irresponsible. Ross agrees with all of them. Unfortunately, the law does not particularly care. The solution seems obvious at first. Release the wolf. End of discussion.

The team actually attempts it. Once. Bruce drives you back toward the forest. Steve walks you to the tree line. Everybody says their goodbyes. You wait until they’re halfway back to the compound before sprinting directly past them and returning home. The second attempt lasts even less time. The third attempt ends with you somehow arriving back before Bruce’s vehicle does. By then even Ross appears irritated.

Several days of phone calls, paperwork and governmental nonsense follow. Eventually a compromise is reached. A legal exception. A special permit. Some absurd mountain of documents that only bureaucrats could create.

The conclusion is simple enough. You may remain at the compound. However, somebody must legally assume responsibility for you. Any damage, incidents or accidents become that person’s liability. Technically the responsibility could belong to anyone.

Practically speaking, everybody already knows how the vote would go. You spend approximately ninety percent of your time attached to either Wanda or Natasha. Nobody else even comes close. “This is ridiculous,” Sam says during the discussion. “The wolf already chose.” Clint nods. “She’s basically their kid at this point.” Natasha immediately points at him. “Don’t call her our kid.” “Your giant wolf daughter.” “Clint.” “Furry daughter.” Wanda is trying very hard not to laugh.

By the end of the meeting, the paperwork is signed. Wanda signs. Natasha signs. Just like that, they become your official owners in the eyes of the government. The entire concept feels deeply insulting from your perspective. You are a werewolf. A member of a pack. A fully capable person. Yet all anybody else sees is a very large animal. Still, there is something unexpectedly comforting about the way neither woman hesitates before accepting responsibility.

A few days later, Wanda and Natasha return from town carrying several shopping bags. The moment they enter the compound, you immediately investigate. Natasha attempts to stop you. You ignore her. Wanda laughs. Inside one of the bags is a collar. Not the cheap kind found in ordinary pet stores.

This one is clearly custom-made. Thick padded leather. Soft lining. Durable metal fittings. It smells new. Expensive. Natasha holds it while Wanda kneels beside you. “Before you get offended,” Natasha says, as though you can somehow understand every word, “this was not my idea.” “You helped choose it,” Wanda immediately points out. “I helped stop you buying the one covered in stars.” “The stars were pretty.” “The stars were ridiculous.”

While they argue, Wanda carefully fastens the collar around your neck. It fits perfectly. Not restrictive. Not uncomfortable. Just secure enough to stay in place. Hanging from the front is a custom metal tag. On one side is Wanda’s symbol. On the other is Natasha’s. The metal catches the light as it settles against your chest.

For several seconds, neither woman says anything. Then Wanda reaches forward to smooth the fur beneath it. Natasha scratches behind one of your ears. “There,” Natasha says quietly. “Official.” You should probably hate it. You should definitely hate the entire concept. Instead, standing between the two women while they admire the collar they’d chosen together, you find yourself doing something deeply embarrassing. Your tail starts wagging.

The collar somehow marks the beginning of an entirely new phase of your life at the compound. Once the novelty wears off and everybody accepts that you are, apparently, staying forever, the team gradually stops treating you like a rescued animal and starts treating you like part of the household. It begins innocently enough.

Wanda teaches you basic commands, mostly because she thinks it’s funny. Sit. Stay. Come here. Spin. The first time she asks you to shake her hand, you stare at her in complete disbelief. You are a werewolf. A hunter. A member of an ancient pack. Yet five minutes later you’re placing your paw into her hand because the look of excitement on her face makes refusing impossible.

Natasha finds the entire thing hilarious. She begins inventing increasingly ridiculous tricks solely to see if you’ll do them. Bruce walks into the common room one afternoon to discover you balancing a biscuit on your nose while Wanda counts down dramatically. Sam nearly falls over laughing. Clint records the entire thing.

The problem is that you’re embarrassingly good at all of it. You understand what they want almost immediately. Your intelligence is significantly higher than any normal wolf’s, and years of pack communication have made interpreting body language second nature. Within a matter of weeks you’ve mastered every trick either woman can think of.

Eventually Natasha narrows her eyes at you one evening after watching you flawlessly follow a complicated chain of commands. “Okay,” she says. “I have an idea.” Wanda immediately looks concerned. “That’s never good.” Natasha ignores her. “I wonder if she can do tactical commands.”

What begins as curiosity rapidly evolves into training. Real training. Natasha starts small. She hides objects around the compound and teaches you to locate them. Then she begins using volunteers. Usually Clint. Sometimes Sam. Once Tony, who spends the entire exercise loudly protesting that billionaires shouldn’t be hunted for sport.

Natasha teaches you hand signals. Silent directions. Ways to circle around a target without being noticed. Methods for steering people exactly where you want them without ever physically touching them. The first time she points toward a fleeing agent during a training exercise and signals for you to intercept, you understand instantly.

Instead of tackling him, you cut off every escape route until he unknowingly moves exactly where Natasha wants him. The look on her face afterwards is almost alarming. “Oh no,” Clint says from nearby. “Don’t make that face.” “What face?” Natasha asks. “The face that means you’ve discovered something.” “I’ve discovered something.” Clint groans.

Over the following weeks the exercises become more advanced. Tracking scents through forests. Locating hidden individuals. Moving quietly through difficult terrain. Working alongside Wanda’s powers. The entire thing feels so natural that it barely registers as training. You’ve hunted with a pack your entire life. Coordinating movements. Anticipating teammates. Understanding positioning. Reading body language. None of it is new. The only difference is that your packmates now happen to be a telekinetic witch and one of the deadliest spies on the planet.

Eventually Natasha decides there’s only one way to find out if the training works. “Absolutely not,” Steve says the moment she suggests it. “Absolutely yes,” Natasha replies. “She’s not going on a mission.” “She’s more qualified than half the people Clint recruits.” Clint immediately points at her. “Leave me out of this.”

The argument somehow continues for three days. Tony sides with Steve. Wanda sides with Natasha. Bruce attempts neutrality. Thor enthusiastically supports bringing the giant wolf warrior into battle. Nobody is surprised. In the end Natasha wins, mostly because the mission in question is relatively straightforward.

A small HYDRA facility operating deep within a remote forest. Limited personnel. Minimal risk. The objective is simple. Get inside. Gather intelligence. Shut the operation down from the inside. The plan relies heavily on stealth, tracking and coordinated movement.

In other words, exactly the things you’ve been doing for months. Even so, the atmosphere inside the Quinjet feels different on the day of the mission. Steve looks like he’s preparing for disaster. Tony keeps finding reasons to repeat safety instructions. Wanda spends most of the flight scratching behind your ears while Natasha reviews the operation for the tenth time. “She’s going to be fine,” Natasha eventually says. “You don’t know that,” Steve replies. Natasha gestures toward you. “Look at her.” Everyone does. You’re currently asleep.

The mission itself begins just after nightfall. The HYDRA facility sits hidden amongst dense woodland, isolated from nearby towns and protected by layers of security designed to detect approaching humans. Humans being the important word.

You move through the trees almost effortlessly. Every scent. Every sound. Every vibration beneath your paws paints a picture of the environment around you. Long before the others spot the first patrol, you’ve already identified three separate guard routes and two concealed entrances. Wanda and Natasha follow close behind while communicating through earpieces.

The coordination feels effortless. Familiar. Comfortable. Natasha gives a silent signal and immediately you move. One guard notices movement in the trees and leaves his assigned position to investigate. Exactly as intended. Another follows. Then another. By the time they realise something is wrong, Natasha has already guided them directly into an ambush.

Further inside the facility the pattern repeats. Guards are distracted. Patrols separated. Escape routes quietly eliminated. Whenever Natasha points, you understand. Whenever Wanda shifts position, you adjust automatically. The three of you move through the operation with a level of coordination that surprises even yourselves. At one point Wanda glances toward Natasha after watching you flawlessly herd two fleeing agents directly into her line of sight. “You trained her too well.” Natasha looks entirely too pleased with herself. “I know.”

By the time the facility finally falls, most of the fighting is already over. SHIELD teams move in to secure prisoners while agents begin collecting intelligence. The mission is declared an overwhelming success. Steve congratulates everybody over the comms. Tony reluctantly admits the operation went smoothly. Natasha spends the entire return flight looking unbearably smug. You curl up on the floor of the Quinjet, exhausted but content, while Wanda absentmindedly runs her fingers through the fur around your collar.

For the first time since arriving at the compound, it truly feels like you’ve found your place. Not as a rescued animal. Not as a guest. Not even as Wanda and Natasha’s oversized shadow. Out there in the forest, moving beside them through the darkness, working together without needing words, everything had felt instinctive. Natural. Like slipping back into a role you’d been born for. The only difference was that this pack looked very different from the one you’d left behind.

For a while after the HYDRA mission, everything seems perfect. The team’s concerns about bringing a giant wolf into active operations disappear almost overnight after seeing how effectively you work alongside Wanda and Natasha. Training becomes less about teaching you and more about refining what already comes naturally.

You spend mornings following Natasha through obstacle courses and afternoons stretched across the common room floor while Wanda reads with her feet resting against your side. Life settles back into its familiar rhythm.

On the afternoon everything changes, the team has gathered outside to enjoy one of the rare warm days where nobody is actively saving the world. Someone has produced a baseball bat. Someone else has produced enough enthusiasm to convince half the team to participate.

Natasha is currently standing in the middle of the makeshift field arguing with Clint about rules that neither of them are actually following. Sam is laughing. Steve is trying unsuccessfully to keep things organised. Tony is insisting that technology should be allowed in sports. Morgan is cheering for whichever team happens to be winning at any given moment.

You lie comfortably in the grass nearby with your head resting across Wanda’s lap while her fingers move absentmindedly through the fur around your neck. The collar sits comfortably against your throat now, so familiar you barely notice it anymore. Every now and then Wanda scratches behind your ears and you find yourself leaning into it without thinking.

Across the field Natasha glances over and catches the sight. “Spoiled,” she calls. Wanda doesn’t even look up from her book. “She’s earned it.” You close your eyes, content to simply enjoy the moment. The smell of freshly cut grass fills the air. Laughter drifts across the compound grounds. Everything feels peaceful.

Then the wind changes.

Your eyes snap open instantly.

The scent hits you before anything else.

Wolf.

Not one.

Many.

Every muscle in your body immediately locks.

Wanda notices the change at once. Her hand stills against your fur. “Detka?” she asks quietly. Across the field Natasha turns as well. Years of experience make her notice danger the same way you do. The laughter gradually dies as the team picks up on the tension spreading through both of you.

The bushes bordering the compound begin to shake. Once. Twice. Then violently. Steve straightens immediately. Natasha lowers the baseball bat. Wanda stands. For several long seconds, nobody moves.

Then figures begin emerging from the tree line. One after another. And another. And another. Some appear fully human. Others remain in wolf form. Every single one carries themselves with the same confidence as an apex predator. They are large. Powerful. Scarred by years of survival. Several of the wolves are nearly your size. One is larger. The atmosphere changes instantly. Even the Avengers look unsettled.

The newcomers don’t appear frightened by the heavily armed superheroes standing between them and the compound. If anything, they barely seem interested. Their eyes pass over the team entirely. Their focus settles on only one person. You.

By now you’ve already risen to your feet. Your tail is rigid. Your ears flattened. A low growl vibrates through your chest. The wolves spread slightly as they approach. Not threatening the Avengers. Not even acknowledging them. Their attention remains fixed entirely on you.

The first voice comes from a broad-shouldered man standing at the front of the group. “There you are.” The words immediately freeze half the team. Because wolves aren’t supposed to talk. Behind him, a woman folds her arms and openly scoffs. “Unbelievable.” Her gaze drifts over your collar. Over Wanda. Over Natasha. Disgust twists across her face. “Look at you.” Nobody says anything. Even Tony appears too stunned to interrupt. The man steps closer. “We’ve been looking for months.” Your growl deepens. “And this is what we find?” another pack member asks. “Living with humans?” “Wearing a collar?” “Sleeping in their house?”

The accusations come one after another. Natasha slowly moves toward your side. Wanda does the same. Neither woman takes their eyes off the strangers. “Care to explain what’s happening?” Natasha asks quietly. You can’t answer. Not without revealing everything.

Unfortunately, the pack has no such concerns. The broad-shouldered man laughs harshly. “You didn’t tell them?” Wanda’s expression shifts. “Tell us what?” The woman beside him gestures directly toward you. “That she’s one of us.” Silence falls across the field. You feel it immediately. The confusion. The disbelief. Wanda’s gaze snaps toward you. Natasha’s follows a second later. “One of you?” Steve asks carefully. The man smirks. “A werewolf.” The word lands like a grenade.

For several seconds nobody moves. Nobody speaks. Then all at once the carefully controlled situation collapses. “You’re kidding,” Tony says. “You’re not kidding.” Clint looks personally offended. “The wolf was a person this entire time?” “Technically,” Sam mutters. Natasha still hasn’t looked away from you. Neither has Wanda. The emotions flickering across their faces are impossible to ignore. Confusion. Shock. Hurt.

Not because you’re a werewolf. Because you’ve apparently been capable of understanding everything for months without ever being able to tell them. The pack continues speaking. “You abandoned us.” “For them.” “You traded your pack for humans.” “For a collar.”

The last comment finally snaps something inside you. Before anyone can react, you’re moving. The nearest wolf barely has time to dodge before you slam into him. The impact sends both of you tumbling through the grass. Another pack member lunges. You meet her head-on.

The fight erupts instantly. Growls tear through the air. Teeth flash. Bodies collide. Years of resentment and frustration explode all at once. The Avengers start forward. Steve shouts something. Natasha curses. Wanda’s eyes begin glowing red. None of it matters. Not until one particularly large wolf crashes into you and the two of you roll dangerously close to Morgan’s position. That is the moment Wanda finally intervenes.

Chaos simply stops.

Scarlet energy erupts across the field.

Every werewolf is ripped apart from the fight and suspended in midair before they can react. You included. One moment you’re snarling at a pack member. The next you’re floating several feet above the ground, completely immobilised by Wanda’s magic.

The field falls silent except for heavy breathing. Wanda stands in the centre of it all. Her eyes glow brightly. Her expression is impossible to read. Natasha steps forward beside her. Neither woman looks angry. Somehow that makes it worse.

They look hurt. Genuinely hurt. Wanda’s gaze settles on you first. Then on the collar around your neck. Then back to your eyes. “You understood us,” she says quietly. It isn’t really a question. Natasha folds her arms. “Months.” The word hangs heavily in the air.

Around you, the rest of your pack remains trapped in scarlet energy while the Avengers stare in stunned silence. Nobody seems entirely sure what to do next. Least of all you. Because for the first time since arriving at the compound, there is no hiding behind being a wolf. No pretending. No misunderstandings. The truth has finally arrived. And judging by the expressions on Wanda and Natasha’s faces, it may have cost far more than you ever intended.

Nobody says anything for a long time after Wanda stops the fight.

The field remains frozen in an uncomfortable silence broken only by heavy breathing and the distant rustling of leaves. Scarlet energy still glows around every member of your pack, holding them suspended several feet above the ground. The anger that had fuelled the confrontation has long since faded, leaving behind something much worse. Embarrassment. Regret. Uncertainty.

You remain trapped amongst Wanda’s magic as her gaze moves across the assembled werewolves. Some glare back defiantly. Others avoid her eyes entirely. The sheer power radiating from her is impossible to ignore. Even your pack seems to understand that pushing things further would be a very bad idea. Eventually Wanda takes a slow breath and lowers her hands slightly.

One by one, every member of your pack is released. Boots hit grass. Paws hit dirt. Nobody immediately moves. For several tense seconds it seems like another fight might break out. Then the broad-shouldered man who had spoken first glances toward you. His expression softens slightly, though not by much. “Come on,” he says quietly to the others. The woman beside him gives one final look toward the compound before turning away.

Gradually the rest of the pack follows. Human forms disappear back toward the tree line. Wolves melt into the shadows between the trees. Within moments the forest begins swallowing them once more. They leave without another word. Without another accusation. Without looking back. Everyone is released except you. Scarlet magic continues holding you motionless above the grass while Wanda watches the last traces of your former life disappear into the woods.

The moment the final pack member vanishes from sight, Wanda’s attention returns entirely to you. Natasha’s does too. Somehow that feels significantly more intimidating. Neither woman appears angry. You almost wish they were. Anger would be easier. Simpler. Instead they simply look at you. Really look at you. As though they’re trying to reconcile the wolf they’ve spent months caring for with the person they now know has been hiding behind those golden eyes the entire time.

Natasha’s expression remains unreadable, though the hurt is obvious if you know where to look. Wanda doesn’t even attempt to hide hers. Confusion flickers across her face. Questions. Doubt. She opens her mouth as if to say something. Then closes it again. Whatever words she had don’t seem sufficient. For several more seconds nobody moves.

Then, without warning, the magic disappears. You drop back onto all four paws. The impact barely registers. Your attention remains fixed entirely on the two women standing before you. Wanda studies you one final time before turning away. No dramatic speech. No confrontation. No shouting. She simply turns and begins walking toward the compound. Natasha hesitates slightly longer. For a brief moment it almost looks like she wants to say something. Instead she follows Wanda. Together they disappear through the glass doors and leave you standing alone on the lawn.

One by one, the others eventually follow. Steve offers you a sympathetic look before heading inside. Bruce looks concerned. Clint awkwardly pretends not to be staring. Sam gives a small nod before leaving as well. Nobody knows what to say. How could they?

The wolf they’ve been living with for months apparently isn’t a wolf at all. Eventually the field empties entirely. The baseball game is forgotten. The equipment remains scattered across the grass. The afternoon sunlight gradually shifts toward evening. Through it all, you don’t move. You simply stand there.

The compound’s enormous glass walls make it impossible to avoid looking inside. Every room seems brighter now. More distant. More unreachable. Occasionally you catch glimpses of Wanda moving through the common room. Natasha appears beside her. Sometimes they’re talking. Sometimes they’re simply sitting together. Every so often one of them glances toward the window. Toward you.

The looks aren’t angry. That’s what hurts the most. They aren’t glaring. They aren’t avoiding you. They just look thoughtful. Processing. Trying to understand. Hours pass this way. The sun sinks lower. Shadows stretch across the grounds. Inside, life continues. Outside, you remain exactly where they left you.

As darkness begins creeping across the compound, a strange realisation slowly settles over you. You have spent months building a life here. Months becoming part of something. You learned routines. Earned trust. Found a place within a new pack. Yet standing alone in the grass, watching the people you care about through a wall of glass, you’ve never felt further away from them.

The truth is finally out. The secret you’ve carried since the day you collapsed outside the compound no longer exists. And somehow everything feels worse now than it did when nobody knew.

Your eyes find Wanda one final time. She’s sitting beside Natasha on the couch. Neither woman is looking outside at the moment. For the first time all day, you finally break your stare away from the compound. Slowly, you turn around. The forest waits silently beyond the edge of the property. Familiar. Dark. Home. Or at least it used to be.

You take a step toward it. Then another. Nobody notices. Nobody stops you. The grass gives way to dirt beneath your paws. Trees begin surrounding you once again. Within minutes the compound is hidden behind trunks and leaves. The lights disappear. The voices vanish. Soon there is nothing left except the forest stretching endlessly ahead. And without allowing yourself a chance to look back, you continue walking deeper into the darkness.

The compound feels wrong that night.

Not quieter. Not emptier. Wrong.

The difference is subtle enough that neither Wanda nor Natasha notices it immediately. After everything that happened outside, after the pack, the revelations, the fight and the silence that followed, neither woman has much energy left for analysing why the atmosphere feels off. They simply move through the evening together.

Natasha makes coffee she never drinks. Wanda spends almost an hour staring at a book without turning a single page. Neither brings up you. Neither brings up the fact that the wolf they’ve spent months caring for apparently understood every conversation, every argument and every embarrassing nickname they’d ever used around you. Neither mentions the look on your face when you realised they were hurt.

Eventually exhaustion wins over confusion and they make their way upstairs. The routine is automatic by now. Natasha brushes her teeth. Wanda changes into pyjamas. Lights are switched off. Curtains are drawn. The bedroom settles into darkness.

For a few moments both women simply stand there staring at their bed. The bed that suddenly seems much larger than it did yesterday. Wanda climbs in first, pulling the blankets over herself before instinctively leaving a gap near the foot of the mattress. Natasha notices immediately. Neither comments on it.

A few seconds later Natasha slides beneath the covers as well. Silence settles between them. The room should feel familiar. Comfortable. Safe. Instead there is a strange absence hanging over everything. An absence both women are becoming increasingly aware of.

Wanda is the first to suffer from it. Sleep refuses to come. She shifts onto one side. Then the other. Pulls the blankets higher. Kicks them lower. Every position feels wrong. More than once her foot drifts toward the bottom of the bed without conscious thought, searching for a familiar bundle of fur that should be curled there.

Every single time she remembers halfway through the movement and immediately stills. The first few times it’s merely frustrating. After the fifth or sixth attempt it starts becoming painful. Beside her, Natasha remains motionless. At least outwardly. Her hands rest behind her head while she stares up at the ceiling as though it contains some secret answer she hasn’t found yet. It doesn’t. The ceiling remains spectacularly unhelpful.

Hours seem to pass with neither woman speaking. Eventually Wanda lets out a quiet huff and rolls onto her back again. “Stop looking at the ceiling.” Natasha doesn’t move. “I’m thinking.” “The ceiling isn’t helping.” “I know.” Another silence follows. Longer this time. “Do you think she left?” Wanda finally asks. Natasha closes her eyes briefly.

The question hangs heavily in the darkness. “No.” The answer comes immediately. Certain. Confident. Wanda turns her head. “You don’t?” “No.” Natasha stares upward again. “She’s stubborn.” Despite everything, a tiny smile briefly appears on Wanda’s face. It disappears just as quickly.

Eventually they both drift asleep. Not properly. Not deeply. The sort of sleep people fall into when their minds refuse to fully switch off. Every few hours one of them wakes. Sometimes it’s Natasha checking the time. Sometimes it’s Wanda reaching toward the foot of the bed before remembering why it’s empty. Neither sleeps for longer than an hour or two at a time.

By the time morning finally arrives, both women feel exhausted. The pale sunlight creeping through the curtains drags them awake properly. Neither moves for several moments. They simply lie there staring at opposite walls. Thinking. Processing. Wondering. Finally Wanda sits up. Natasha does the same. No discussion takes place. None is necessary.

One look passes between them and an entire conversation somehow happens without words. They both know exactly what the other is thinking. Whatever happened yesterday, whatever conversations need to happen later, whatever questions remain unanswered, the first thing they need to do is find you.

Wanda is already climbing out of bed by the time Natasha stands. Within minutes they’re dressed and heading downstairs together. Neither heads toward the kitchen. Neither stops for coffee. They walk straight through the compound and out onto the grounds where they’d last seen you standing.

The morning air is cool. Dew clings to the grass. The field remains exactly as it was left yesterday. A few forgotten pieces of baseball equipment still lie scattered near the edge of the lawn. Wanda scans the area immediately. Natasha does the same. Neither sees what they’re looking for.

For several seconds they continue walking forward anyway, as though expecting you to appear from behind a tree or emerge from somewhere nearby. Nothing happens. The patch of grass where you’d stood for hours is empty. Wanda’s pace slows. Natasha’s expression tightens slightly. Together they reach the edge of the property and stop. Beyond them, the forest stretches endlessly in every direction. Dense. Silent. Unfamiliar. The same forest you’d disappeared into the night before.

Wanda studies the tree line for a long moment. Then another. Then another. Eventually she lowers her gaze. Natasha follows the direction of her stare. There, pressed into the damp earth at the forest’s edge, are a set of pawprints leading away from the compound. Deep. Clear. Fresh enough that neither woman has any trouble recognising them.

Neither speaks. Neither needs to. Because for the first time since finding an injured wolf bleeding on their lawn all those months ago, there is no sign of you anywhere.

The panic begins approximately thirty seconds after Wanda and Natasha reach the tree line.

At first neither of them says the word out loud. Neither woman is particularly eager to admit that they’re worried. Wanda keeps insisting there must be a reasonable explanation. Natasha keeps insisting that if you wanted to leave permanently, you would have done so months ago. Both arguments sound increasingly hollow with every passing minute. The pawprints leading into the forest are impossible to miss. Fresh enough to follow. Clear enough to confirm exactly where you’d gone.

Before long they’re gathering supplies and heading into the woods themselves. Steve attempts to convince them to bring backup. Natasha refuses. Tony suggests drones. Wanda ignores him entirely. Within an hour they’re moving between the trees, following the trail deeper than either of them has ever travelled before. The forest surrounding the compound is enormous. Larger than most people realise. The Avengers have mapped sections closest to the facility, primarily for security purposes, but nobody has ever found much reason to venture further.

As the hours pass, even those familiar landmarks disappear. Cell signals fade. Marked routes vanish. The terrain becomes rougher and less travelled. More natural. More wild. Wanda occasionally spots broken branches or faint traces of movement through the undergrowth. Natasha finds tracks. Neither says much. Both remain focused entirely on finding you.

By the third hour of walking, even Natasha is beginning to look concerned. “How far out does this forest go?” Wanda asks quietly. Natasha studies the endless trees ahead. “Apparently further than we thought.”

Eventually the landscape begins changing. The signs are subtle at first. A narrow path that clearly didn’t form naturally. Cut logs stacked neatly beside a stream. Marks on trees. Evidence that people live here. Both women immediately become more alert.

They continue following the trail until the forest finally opens into a small clearing. Nestled amongst the trees sits a structure that looks somewhere between a cabin and a hunting lodge. Smoke curls lazily from a stone chimney. The building itself appears handmade, weathered by years of exposure.

Natasha and Wanda exchange a look. Neither says anything. They simply continue forward. A few minutes later another building appears. Then another. Then two more. Some are little more than huts. Others are larger communal structures. Children dart between them. A few wolves nap lazily beneath shaded trees.

Human voices drift through the air. The entire settlement seems to emerge naturally from the forest itself, hidden so effectively that it would be almost impossible to locate without knowing exactly where to look. “This has to be it,” Wanda murmurs. Natasha nods slowly. “Pack territory.” The words feel strange to say aloud. Until yesterday werewolves had been something neither of them believed existed. Now they’re standing in the middle of an entire village filled with them.

The pack notices them almost immediately.

Conversations gradually stop as heads turn toward the newcomers. Several adults rise from where they’d been sitting. None appear particularly alarmed. Curious, perhaps. Wary. But not hostile. Many of the faces are familiar from the confrontation outside the compound. The broad-shouldered man stands near one of the larger buildings speaking with a younger wolf. The woman who had mocked your collar the day before sits sharpening a knife near a fire pit. Several pups in wolf form immediately stop playing to stare openly at the strangers.

Natasha instinctively scans the area. Wanda does the same. Both searching for the same thing. Brown fur. Golden eyes. Any sign of you. They find neither. Instead Wanda suddenly stops walking altogether. Natasha notices immediately. “What?” Wanda doesn’t answer. She simply points.

Standing beside one of the largest huts in the settlement is a carved wooden post.

And hanging from that post is your collar.

The thick padded leather is unmistakable. Wanda recognises it instantly because she spent almost forty minutes choosing it. Natasha recognises it because she spent twenty arguing over which design looked least ridiculous. The metal tag glints softly in the sunlight. Wanda’s symbol on one side. Natasha’s on the other.

Seeing it hanging there feels strangely wrong. Too final. Too deliberate. For several seconds neither woman moves. The sight creates an uncomfortable knot somewhere deep in Wanda’s chest. Natasha’s jaw tightens slightly. The collar had become part of you. As ridiculous as that sounds. Seeing it removed and abandoned here feels like a message neither of them particularly enjoys receiving. “Well,” Natasha says carefully. “She’s definitely been here.”

“Obviously.”

“Not helping.”

Wanda doesn’t respond.

Because a much larger problem has just occurred to her.

Every werewolf in sight appears human.

Every single one.

The adults standing nearby. The children. The people moving between buildings. None of them resemble the wolf they’ve spent months living with. Not because you aren’t here.

Because they have absolutely no idea what you actually look like.

The realisation arrives simultaneously for both women.

Months.

They’ve known you for months.

They know your favourite sleeping spot. Your favourite food. The exact way your ears twitch when you’re annoyed. They know you secretly like being brushed despite pretending otherwise. They know you steal Wanda’s side of the bed whenever given the opportunity.

Yet they don’t know the simplest thing of all.

Your face.

Natasha slowly looks around the settlement again.

“Do you know which one she is?”

Wanda opens her mouth.

Then closes it.

Because she doesn’t.

Neither of them do.

Somewhere amongst the dozens of werewolves moving through the village is the person they’ve spent months caring about. And they have absolutely no idea who they’re looking for.

You catch their scent long before you actually see them.

Even amongst dozens of pack members, countless overlapping smells and the constant presence of the forest itself, their scents remain unmistakable. Wanda’s carries traces of coffee, old books and something warm that has always reminded you of home. Natasha’s carries leather, gunpowder and the faintest hint of whatever shampoo she stubbornly refuses to admit she uses.

The moment those scents reach you, every muscle in your body locks. You’d spent the entire night convincing yourself they wouldn’t come. That they’d be angry. That they’d be relieved to finally be rid of the giant wolf that had apparently lied to them for months. Yet somehow, despite all logic, they’d followed you. Followed you further into the forest than any human should reasonably be willing to travel.

Now, standing amongst your pack in a half-shifted form, you find yourself wishing you’d had more time to prepare. Thirty feet separates you from them. Thirty feet and an entire world of uncertainty. Around you, other pack members continue watching the strangers cautiously. Some are openly suspicious. Others merely curious. You barely notice any of them. Your attention remains fixed entirely on the two women standing near the central huts.

Seeing them here makes everything hurt far worse than it did yesterday. Guilt twists painfully inside your chest. Every memory seems determined to replay itself at once. Wanda sneaking you treats when Bruce said no. Natasha pretending she didn’t enjoy your company while secretly building you a blanket nest. Movie nights. Training sessions. Sleeping curled at their feet before eventually earning a place on the actual bed. You’d never meant to deceive them. Not really. Yet looking at them now, you can suddenly understand exactly why they felt betrayed.

Unfortunately, your body chooses this exact moment to completely betray you as well.

Specifically, your tail.

At first it’s only a slight movement behind you. Barely noticeable. Then Natasha shifts her weight slightly and your tail immediately starts wagging. You freeze. It freezes. Wanda turns her head and your tail starts wagging again. Mortified, you attempt to force it still. The effort lasts approximately three seconds. Because despite everything that happened yesterday, despite the guilt currently eating you alive, despite being surrounded by your actual pack, seeing them again fills you with an embarrassing amount of happiness.

Your ears flatten slightly as you realise exactly what this means. Somewhere along the way, entirely against your better judgement, you’ve become hopelessly attached. Across the clearing, Natasha’s eyes narrow. You know that look. It is the look of a predator noticing something important. The same look she gets during missions. The same look she gets whenever Clint attempts to lie.

Your tail continues wagging. “Traitor,” you mutter under your breath. The tail does not care. Natasha’s gaze moves across you carefully. Not threatening. Not judgemental. Just observant. She notices your eyes repeatedly flicking toward the collar hanging from the wooden post. She notices how quickly your attention returns to her and Wanda every time you try looking elsewhere. She notices the obvious guilt written all over your face.

Most importantly, she notices that every other werewolf in the clearing is looking at her and Wanda like outsiders. Potential threats. Strangers. You’re looking at them like you’ve just found something important that you thought you’d lost.

The problem, unfortunately, is that Natasha Romanoff is very, very good at noticing things.

“You see that?” she asks quietly.

Wanda follows her gaze.

For several seconds she doesn’t seem to understand what Natasha means.

Then she notices your tail.

A tiny, unwilling smile immediately appears before she quickly suppresses it.

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

The smile almost returns.

Meanwhile, neither woman seems particularly prepared for finally discovering what you actually look like. Back at the compound, every image they’d ever formed of you had been filtered through fur, paws and golden eyes. The reality standing before them is… different. Your half-shifted form leaves the wolf traits obvious enough. Brown ears protrude through your hair. Your tail continues its humiliating display behind you. Yet the rest of you is undeniably human. Or close enough.

Like most of the pack, your clothing consists primarily of practical materials gathered from the forest itself. Leather wraps around your waist. Woven vines and natural fibres cover your chest and shoulders. Functional. Traditional. Entirely normal by pack standards. The arrangement leaves your arms and much of your skin exposed, revealing years of hunting, climbing and surviving in the wilderness. Strong muscles shift beneath sun-bronzed skin every time you move.

Yet somehow the intimidating image is completely ruined by the fact your tail refuses to stop wagging. Natasha notices that too. In fact, she notices everything. Her expression slowly becomes more complicated with every passing second. Wanda seems equally distracted. Neither woman had expected this. Not really. They’d imagined meeting you eventually. They’d wondered about it countless times without realising it. But now that the moment has actually arrived, neither seems entirely certain what to do.

The silence stretches.

You don’t approach them.

They don’t approach you.

The distance remains exactly the same.

Yet somehow it feels far smaller than it did a few minutes ago.

Around the clearing, several pack members are beginning to notice the strange exchange taking place. The broad-shouldered man who’d confronted you outside the compound folds his arms. A few of the younger wolves openly watch with interest. One of the elders looks suspiciously amused.

You wish the ground would swallow you whole. Your tail is still wagging. Natasha is still watching. Wanda’s gaze keeps softening every time your eyes meet hers. Everything is becoming increasingly unbearable. Then, after what feels like an eternity, Wanda finally takes a small step forward. Not enough to invade your space. Not enough to force anything. Just one step. The sort of step someone takes when approaching a frightened animal. Or perhaps someone they care about.

Your tail somehow wags even harder. Natasha immediately notices. Of course she does. And for the first time since arriving at the pack grounds, a faint smirk appears on her face.

“Oh,” she says quietly.

“What?” Wanda asks.

Natasha never takes her eyes off you.

“I think we found her.”

And despite everything, your stupid tail practically confirms it for her.

The moment Natasha says it, every survival instinct you possess immediately takes over.

Run.

The command slams through your brain with enough force to make your ears flatten against your head.

You don’t wait to see what happens next. The second Wanda takes another step forward, you turn and bolt. Straight into the forest. Branches whip past as you sprint between trees, heart hammering violently against your ribs. Behind you, voices erupt from the clearing. You don’t stay long enough to hear what they’re saying. Shame burns through every inch of you. Embarrassment. Guilt. Relief. All twisted together into something impossible to untangle. You’d spent months imagining what would happen if Wanda and Natasha discovered the truth. Somehow every scenario had been less humiliating than this one.

Because now they knew. They knew you understood every conversation. Every argument. Every movie night. Every time Natasha secretly let you onto the bed after pretending not to want you there. Every time Wanda called you pet names when she thought nobody was listening. And worst of all, they knew exactly how attached you’d become.

Your tail had made absolutely sure of that. You hear movement behind you. Not footsteps. Something much worse. Red magic.

“Oh come on,” you groan.

A second later scarlet energy wraps around your waist. The forest disappears beneath your feet. You immediately find yourself suspended several feet in the air.

“Really?” you call.

“Really,” Wanda’s voice replies.

The world moves alarmingly fast as the magic carries you backwards through the trees. Several branches narrowly miss your face. One doesn’t. “Ow.”

“You ran.”

“I panicked.”

“You always panic.”

“I do not always panic.”

“You literally turned around and sprinted away.”

Unfortunately, she has a point.

The clearing comes back into view moments later. Several amused pack members are openly watching the entire thing. One of the elders is laughing so hard she has tears in her eyes.

You decide you hate everyone. Especially Wanda. Mostly because she’s right. The magic finally lowers you back onto solid ground a few feet from the two women.

For a moment nobody moves. You stare at the grass. Wanda stares at you. Natasha stares at you. The silence stretches.

Then suddenly both women are moving. Before you can react, Wanda’s arms are around your shoulders. At almost the exact same moment Natasha wraps her arms around your waist. The impact nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

“What—”

Wanda hugs tighter. Natasha somehow hugs tighter than that. The result is less a hug and more a coordinated assault.

“You idiot,” Natasha mutters.

You blink. That isn’t the response you expected.

“We thought you were gone,” Wanda says quietly.

Her voice sounds suspiciously emotional. Your confusion only deepens.

“You left.”

“You left us first.”

“I thought you hated me.”

Both women immediately pull back just enough to stare at you. The looks on their faces are almost offended.

“Hate you?” Wanda repeats.

“You lied to us,” Natasha says. “That’s not the same thing. We were confused. We were hurt. But we didn’t hate you.”

Wanda’s arms tighten again.

“If anything,” she admits quietly, “we were more upset with ourselves.”

You frown.

“What?”

The women exchange a glance. Then Natasha sighs.

“We shouldn’t have left you out there.”

Your ears twitch.

“What?”

“Yesterday,” Wanda says softly. “After the fight.”

The guilt returns immediately.

“We found out this huge secret and instead of talking to you…” Her expression falls slightly. “We just walked away.”

“You were hurt.”

“So were you.”

The simple response steals every argument from your mouth.

For several moments nobody says anything. The forest around you feels strangely distant. Eventually you lower your gaze.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Wanda and Natasha remain silent. Waiting. So you continue.

“At first I couldn’t.”

Your tail lowers slightly behind you.

“Then after I healed…” You swallow. “You already thought I was a wolf.”

Natasha nods slowly.

“And every day that passed made it harder.”

You laugh weakly.

“How do you even start that conversation?”

Neither woman interrupts.

“‘Hey, thanks for rescuing me. Also I’ve secretly understood every word you’ve said for six months.’”

To your immense relief, Natasha snorts. Wanda covers her mouth. Encouraged, you continue.

“Then I got scared.”

Their expressions soften immediately.

“If I told you, everything would’ve changed.”

Your eyes finally lift to meet theirs.

“And I liked it.”

The admission leaves your mouth before you can stop it. You immediately regret it. Your tail, however, begins wagging. Traitor.

“I liked being there.”

Wanda’s eyes soften even further.

“The compound felt like home.”

Your throat tightens.

“You felt like home.”

Silence follows. A dangerous silence. The sort that makes your heart beat significantly faster. Especially when Natasha keeps looking at you like that. You try very hard not to notice. Really. You do. Unfortunately, Natasha Romanoff has spent the last several minutes finally getting a proper look at you.

A very proper look.

Your half-shifted form leaves very little to the imagination compared to the giant wolf she’d become accustomed to. Years of hunting and surviving in the wilderness are obvious in every movement. Strong muscles shift beneath sun-warmed skin. Wolf ears protrude through your hair. Your tail continues wagging with absolutely no regard for your dignity whatsoever.

Natasha notices all of it. Every single bit. You pretend not to. Desperately. The problem is that pretending becomes significantly harder when her gaze briefly drops before returning to your face. Then does it again. Your tail somehow wags harder. Mortified, you immediately focus on literally anything else. Trees. Clouds. The ground. A random squirrel. Anything.

Across from you, Natasha’s lips twitch suspiciously. Wanda notices both your tail and Natasha’s expression at the exact same moment.

“Oh my god,” Wanda says.

“What?” you ask instantly.

“Nothing.”

Natasha looks away far too quickly. Your tail continues wagging. The elder watching nearby starts laughing again. And for the first time since everything fell apart outside the compound, Wanda and Natasha are smiling.

The conversation with your pack takes far longer than expected. Not because anyone is actively trying to stop you from leaving, but because the entire settlement seems fascinated by the fact that two Avengers have wandered several hours into werewolf territory just to find you.

By the time the sun begins dipping lower through the trees, you’ve endured enough teasing to last a lifetime. The elder who had laughed at your tail earlier somehow finds even more reasons to do so. The broad-shouldered man apologises, in his own gruff way, for causing problems at the compound. Several of the younger wolves openly ask Natasha questions about fighting. Through all of it, Wanda remains close enough that her shoulder occasionally brushes yours, while Natasha hovers nearby with the casual protectiveness of somebody pretending not to be protective at all.

Eventually the topic everyone has been carefully avoiding finally comes up. “So,” Wanda says softly, glancing toward the path leading back through the forest. “Are you coming home?” The simple question immediately steals your attention. Home. Not the compound. Not the Avengers facility. Home.

Your ears twitch slightly. Natasha notices. Of course she does. “You’re not getting rid of us that easily,” she adds. “Besides.” A faint smirk appears on her face. “You’re our girl.” Heat immediately rises into your cheeks. Wanda smiles. “Our best girl.” Your tail begins wagging before you can stop it.

Around you, several pack members groan dramatically. One of them pretends to gag. You completely ignore them. Because despite everything that happened, despite the confusion and hurt and misunderstandings, the thought of returning with Wanda and Natasha fills your chest with a warmth you haven’t felt since leaving the compound. The decision becomes surprisingly easy after that.

The journey back feels very different from the journey out. Nobody is rushing this time. Nobody is desperately following tracks or searching for signs. Instead, the three of you walk together through the forest, gradually leaving the hidden settlement behind. Conversation comes slowly at first. Then more naturally. Wanda asks questions about your pack. Natasha asks questions about shifting.

You answer what you can. Some things make sense to them. Some clearly don’t. More than once Natasha has to stop herself from reaching out to touch your ears when they twitch. More than once Wanda fails entirely. By the time the compound finally comes into view through the trees, the tension that had lingered since the confrontation outside has largely disappeared.

Unfortunately, a new problem immediately presents itself. Namely: the rest of the Avengers. “Absolutely not,” Natasha says the second the building comes into view. “Absolutely not what?” you ask. “If Clint sees you first, we’re never hearing the end of it.” Wanda immediately agrees. “Or Tony.” “Definitely Tony.” “Especially Tony.” Before you can question their logic further, you’re being ushered around the side of the compound like part of some highly classified operation.

Thankfully, the boys appear distracted elsewhere. Within minutes you’ve been successfully smuggled through side corridors, up elevators and into Wanda and Natasha’s room without a single person spotting you. Natasha actually looks proud of herself afterwards. “See?” she says. “Perfect.” “We’re literally sneaking a werewolf into our bedroom,” Wanda points out. “Exactly.”

The moment the door closes behind you, however, both women suddenly seem to notice something they’d previously been too distracted to fully process. Specifically, your clothing situation. Or lack thereof, compared to normal human standards. You immediately become aware of it the second Wanda’s eyes flick downward. Then Natasha’s do. The woven vines across your chest. The leather around your waist. The practical attire of someone who grew up in the wilderness rather than modern civilisation. Perfectly normal amongst your pack. Significantly less normal standing in a high-tech Avengers compound.

“Right,” Wanda says after a moment. “We should probably fix that.” You glance down at yourself. “What’s wrong with it?” Natasha makes a small choking noise that suspiciously resembles laughter. Wanda immediately elbows her. “Nothing’s wrong with it.” “You just might be more comfortable in actual clothes.” “Actual clothes are overrated.”

Both women stare at you. “Actual clothes,” Natasha says firmly, “are happening.” Wanda disappears toward the wardrobe while Natasha remains where she is. For several moments neither speaks. Wanda begins sorting through drawers. Natasha watches her. Wanda glances back. Natasha watches her a little more. A completely silent conversation seems to pass between them.

One you’ve seen countless times over the months. Tiny expressions. Small looks. Entire discussions occurring without a single word. This one feels different somehow. More nervous. More deliberate. When Wanda finally turns back around holding a bundle of clothes, neither woman immediately moves to hand them over.

Instead, the room grows unexpectedly quiet.

You glance between them.

Then back again.

Your heart begins beating a little faster.

Natasha takes a single step forward.

Then another.

Close enough now that you can see every tiny detail in her expression. Every flicker of uncertainty. Every trace of affection she isn’t bothering to hide anymore. Her hand rises slowly, brushing lightly against your cheek. For a moment she simply looks at you. Really looks at you. Not the wolf she’d rescued months ago. Not the mystery she’d spent weeks trying to understand. Just you.

Then she leans forward.

The kiss is soft.

Gentle.

Almost hesitant.

Nothing rushed.

Nothing demanding.

Just Natasha’s lips meeting yours as though she’s trying to memorise the feeling for the first time. The contact lasts only a few seconds before she slowly pulls away again. Yet somehow those few seconds leave your heart attempting to escape your chest entirely. Your tail is wagging. Obviously. Because apparently it has completely abandoned all loyalty to your dignity. Natasha’s forehead briefly rests against yours before she finally steps back.

And then Wanda is there.

Warm fingers finding your jaw.

A smile so soft it almost hurts.

She waits just long enough for you to look at her.

Then her lips meet yours too.

The kiss is every bit as gentle as Natasha’s had been.

Careful.

Affectionate.

Like she’s been wanting to do it for far longer than she’s willing to admit.

When she finally pulls away, the three of you remain standing there for a moment in complete silence.

The clothes are still forgotten in Wanda’s hands.

Your tail refuses to stop wagging.

And neither woman seems particularly interested in pretending they don’t find that adorable.

The room remains quiet after the kisses, though it feels like an entirely different kind of silence now. Not awkward. Not uncertain. Heavy. Warm. The sort of silence that settles between people when something important has finally been acknowledged.

Wanda is still holding the clothes she’d pulled from the wardrobe, though judging by the way her fingers have gone still against the fabric, she’d completely forgotten about them. Natasha remains standing close enough that you can feel her body heat, her attention fixed entirely on you with an intensity that makes it difficult to think straight. You become painfully aware of every little thing all at once. The way your heart is hammering against your ribs. The way your tail continues sweeping behind you despite your desperate attempts to stop it. The way both women keep looking at you differently now. Not because you’ve changed. Not because you’ve suddenly become someone else.

But because for the first time there are no misunderstandings left between you. No pretending. No secrets. Just you. Standing in front of them. And somehow that feels far more exposing than running around the compound covered in fur ever did.

A faint smile tugs at Natasha’s mouth as she watches your increasingly failed attempts to force your tail still. “You know,” she says, voice lower than before, “for somebody who spent months hiding the fact she understood everything we said, you’re actually terrible at keeping secrets.” Heat immediately rushes into your cheeks. Wanda lets out a soft laugh beside her. “She really is.” You groan and look away, only for Wanda to immediately reach out and guide your attention back toward them with a gentle hand beneath your chin.

The movement isn’t forceful. If anything, it’s almost unfairly tender. “Don’t hide now,” she murmurs. Her thumb brushes lightly across your cheek as she speaks, and the simple contact nearly short-circuits your brain. Natasha notices instantly. Of course she does. You see the amusement flicker across her expression before something softer replaces it. Something that makes your stomach perform an alarming number of somersaults. “Look at her,” Natasha says quietly. “She’s still trying to run.” “I am not.” “You literally ran into a forest earlier.” “That was different.” “Was it?” Natasha asks. “Because this looks exactly the same.”

Wanda laughs again, shaking her head fondly before finally setting the clothes down somewhere behind her. The action feels oddly significant. Like she’s consciously choosing not to interrupt whatever this moment has become. You swallow hard as both women remain close. Too close to ignore.

Then Natasha’s lips connect with yours again, hungrier this time. Like she’s a starved woman. Wanda appears behind. Her arms wrap around your waist and her lips connect with the side of your neck. If it weren’t for them holding you up, you’re sure you would’ve turned into mush on the floor by now.

Natasha finally parts from you, only to sink her teeth down into the side of your neck. A whimper escaped your mouth before you can stop it. You didn’t even realise when they started pulling your clothes off, and their own, until they were pulling you back towards the bed.

Wanda moves to sit against the headboard and pulls you down into her lap, your eyes immediately find her breasts. They’re bigger than yours, fuller. Her nipples stood hardened against the cold breeze and the arousal coursing through her body. Wanda follows your gaze and a soft smirk graces her lips. “You can touch, Detka. I don’t bite.” She murmurs as her hands find yours, pulling them up to her soft mounds.

Your tail wags even harder, if that was even possible at this point, as you squeeze her. Wanda watches as literal drool forms on your lips whilst you obsess over her body like a teenage boy seeing a bare woman for the first time. Her thumb absentmindedly wipes it away, even as her chest begins to heave from your touches. Then without warning, the digit moves into your mouth and your lips wrap around it like second nature.

You’d almost forgotten about Natasha at this point. Almost being the keyword. Then her hands wrap around your neck from behind and the familiar sound of your collar buckling sounds out as she attaches the thick leather back around your neck with a sultry whisper of: “You’re ours, pretty girl”

Wanda’s thumb, the one in your mouth, moves to press down on your tongue and a little whine escapes you. Natasha’s hands move from your neck and down to your own breasts, her large hands easily cup both of them before she rolls your nipples between her fingers. A broken moan slips from around Wanda’s thumb in your mouth.

Her eyes flicker red for a brief moment, and you feel something pressing against your core that wasn’t there before. You try to look down, but unfortunately Natasha keeps your head raised.

Wanda’s free hand moves down to the dick she’s enchanted into her body, guiding it to your entrance that is soaked by now. In one movement she bottoms out, causing you to cry out. Your teeth clamp down around her thumb but she doesn’t care or at least react to it.

Natasha’s hands find your hips and start moving you to grind against Wanda’s cock. Every movement of her inside you hits deep and hard, cries turn into moans as you get used to the feeling of her. Her thumb slides out of your mouth only to rub up and down your sides, occasionally squeezing your breasts.

One of Natasha’s hands moves from your hip to press hard circles against your throbbing clit, each one making your hips buck against her hand.

“You’re doing so good, pup… so good.” The praise comes from one of the girls, you can’t exactly tell which one, too lost in the pleasure of Wanda hitting every wall inside of you.

Her eyes glow red again, you barely pick it up this time. And before you know it, Natasha is rubbing, an admittedly smaller, cock against your ass. She uses the arousal from between your legs as makeshift lubricant before pushing the cock into your ass. That completely wrecks you. You collapse against Wanda’s bare chest, hands clutching the bedsheets beneath her as both your holes are fucked by the two most attractive women you’ve ever seen.

“Breathe baby, your okay… your doing amazing.” Wanda says, now rolling her own hips up into you since you stopped when you collapsed against her. She presses a soft kiss to the top of your head and guides your lips to wrap around her nipple. You easily take the hardened bud into your mouth, the skin muffled your cries and absorbs your tears. Wanda revels in this, her baby girl crying whilst taking two cocks at one. She couldn’t be prouder honestly.

Natasha’s hand on your hip moves to wrap around your waist, her movements are a lot more juttery and uncontrolled compared to Wanda’s. She’s also a lot louder than Wanda is, soft groans leaving her as she pressed her lips between your shoulder blades.

The feeling of being so full eventually pushes you over the edge, your back arches up and toes curl against nothing. You mouth opens but no sound comes out. Then like clockwork, both of the cocks inside you begin to twitch as the women let their loads sink into each of your holes.

The room gradually settles into a comfortable silence.

Not the awkward sort.

Not the uncertain sort.

The kind of silence that only exists between people who feel completely safe around one another.

You barely have enough energy left to move. Every muscle in your body feels heavy, your thoughts pleasantly slow and fuzzy as you remain curled against Wanda’s side beneath the blankets. At some point she’d pulled you fully against her chest, one arm wrapped securely around your shoulders while her fingers drift lazily through your hair. The motion is absent-minded. Instinctive. The same way she’d stroked your fur countless times when she thought you were just a wolf. Somehow the familiarity of it makes your chest ache.

Home. The word keeps returning. Home.

Natasha eventually slips out of bed with a quiet groan, disappearing into the bathroom for a few moments before returning with a damp cloth, a glass of water and an entire armful of snacks she’d apparently stolen from somewhere. You watch her approach through half-lidded eyes, your ears twitching lazily when she sits back down beside you.

“Were those already in here?” you mumble.

“No.”

“Did you go downstairs?”

“Maybe.”

“Natasha.”

“What?”

“You robbed the kitchen.”

“It wasn’t robbery.”

Wanda doesn’t even open her eyes.

“It was absolutely robbery.”

“I live here.”

“You stole my crackers.”

“I stole our crackers.”

Wanda finally peeks one eye open.

“That isn’t better.”

Natasha looks deeply offended.

You let out a tired laugh and immediately regret it because it uses far too much energy.

“There she is,” Wanda murmurs softly.

One of her hands leaves your hair long enough to gently cup your cheek.

“You okay, Detka?”

The concern in her voice immediately melts something inside your chest. You nod. Then, after a moment’s consideration, shake your head. Then nod again. Both women laugh.

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

“It means she’s tired,” Natasha says knowingly.

“I am not.”

“You once fell asleep standing up.”

“That happened one time.”

“It happened three times.”

You glare weakly. Natasha looks entirely too pleased with herself.

The glass of water is gently pushed into your hands before you can continue arguing. Both women watch until you’ve taken several proper drinks. Only then does Natasha seem satisfied. The crackers are next. You take one mostly because refusing seems like too much effort. Then another. Then another.

“You were prepared for this,” you realise.

Natasha shrugs. “I know you.”

Wanda hums in agreement. ”She does.”

Your tail immediately thumps beneath the blankets.

Traitor.

The movement earns a smile from both women.

“You did good today, pup.”

The praise catches you completely off guard.

Your ears twitch.

Natasha reaches over and scratches lightly behind one of them.

“You came back.”

Something unexpectedly emotional tightens in your chest.

You lower your gaze. “I almost didn’t.”

The admission slips out quietly. Immediately both women go still. Wanda’s arm tightens around your shoulders. Natasha’s expression softens.

“Hey.”

You glance up. Natasha is looking directly at you now.

“You came back.”

The words are simple. Matter-of-fact. Yet somehow they hit harder than anything else could have. Because she’s right. You did. And they came looking for you. The thought settles warmly somewhere beneath your ribs.

Before the room can become too emotional, Wanda reaches for another cracker and immediately discovers Natasha has already eaten half the packet.

Her eyes narrow.

“Natasha.”

“What?”

“You ate all the cheese ones.”

“No I didn’t.”

“There are literally none left.”

Natasha glances into the packet.

“Oh.”

“Natasha.”

“I didn’t realise.”

“You absolutely realised.”

“It happened accidentally.”

“You sorted them.”

“I was organising.”

“You organised them into your mouth.”

You bury your face against Wanda’s shoulder as laughter threatens to escape.

Natasha points accusingly.

“Don’t encourage her.”

“I’m not encouraging anything.”

“You are smiling.”

“Because you’re ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

Wanda’s entire expression softens instantly.

“Unfortunately.”

“See?”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“It was close enough.”

The argument continues for another ten minutes. It isn’t really an argument. Just the familiar back-and-forth that you’ve spent months listening to from various corners of the compound. The same bickering that always ends with one of them laughing and the other pretending they aren’t.

Somewhere during it, your eyes begin drifting closed. Wanda notices first. Of course she does. Her fingers never stop moving through your hair. Natasha notices a few moments later when your head slowly slides further onto Wanda’s shoulder.

“Oh, she’s gone.”

“I’m not gone.”

“You answered that three seconds late.”

You choose not to respond. Mostly because you are, in fact, nearly asleep.

A warm blanket is pulled higher around you. Someone presses a kiss to your forehead. Then another to the top of your head. You aren’t entirely sure who does which.

By the time the girls finally stop bickering and settle down themselves, you’re practically glued to Wanda’s side, your tail loosely wrapped around both of their legs beneath the blankets.

Safe. Warm. Loved.

The last thing you hear before sleep finally wins is Natasha’s quiet voice from somewhere beside you.

“Our girl.”

Wanda immediately hums in agreement.

“Our best girl.”

Your tail gives one final sleepy wag.

Then everything fades into darkness.

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

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A/N: I started writing this as “what if Wanda and Natasha found a wolf?” and somehow ended up 16.8k words deep into a story about them accidentally adopting a werewolf. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the fluff, the angst, the possessive girlfriends, and Natasha discovering that she has absolutely no authority in a relationship where Wanda exists.

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