WHEN THE WOLF BOWS .・。.・゜✫・゜・
summary: she’s spent her whole life afraid of wolves. he’s spent his whole life waiting for her. when fate ties them together, love must fight to be louder than fear.
pairing: sam uley x fem!reader
word count: 2,8k
warnings/notes: short writing, angst and fluff, reader is afraid of wolves, mentions of trauma, desperate and begging sam, mix of headcanons and a detailed scene.
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sam knew immediately the imprint was different the second he saw you. the pull was there, magnetic and undeniable but when you flinched away from a dog walking past you on the beach, he understood something was deeply wrong.
his heart cracked a little, seeing the fear flash across your face.
he learned about your childhood trauma from embry, who overheard you mentioning it once in passing: a terrifying encounter with an aggressive wolf while you were camping as a kid. it left deep scars you never fully healed from.
“she’s scared of wolves, man. like, seriously scared.”
sam felt trapped for the first time since phasing, desperate to protect you, desperate to be close, but terrified of what you’d think if you knew the truth.
he swore he’d move slowly, no matter how much the imprint ached inside him.
at first, sam approached you like he was trying not to spook a deer. gentle smiles. careful distance. his voice always low, soothing.
“i’m not here to hurt you,” he’d murmur whenever you seemed overwhelmed, “i promise, sweetheart.”
the more you opened up to him, the more sam fell. you were kind, clever, so soft-hearted despite your fear. and every day, it killed him a little more that he couldn’t be honest about what he was.
sam refusing to phase anywhere near you. even if he needed to. even if it hurt.
he would not risk you seeing the wolf and losing the safe place he was trying so hard to build between you.
“i’ll tell her when she’s ready,” he promised himself, clenching his fists until his knuckles went white.
when you eventually admitted your fear to him. cheeks burning, voice trembling, sam just listened. no judgement. no pity. just silent, steady acceptance.
“i don’t think i could ever be near a wolf again,” you whispered, shame creeping up your spine.
sam touched your hand so gently you barely felt it. “then you won’t have to,” he promised.
the night he realized he had to tell you the truth nearly broke him. he sat awake for hours, fists tangled in his hair, replaying every way you might scream, cry, run.
but the imprint pulsed inside him, trust her. she’s stronger than her fear.
nothing could prepare him for the moment you finally found out. it didn’t happen the way he planned.
the storm hit earlier than anyone expected. one minute you were sitting on sam’s porch, laughing at the sound of thunder rumbling far away, and the next, the sky cracked open, heavy rain hammering down.
“stay here,” sam said, already standing, voice steady. “i’ll grab something to cover us.”
you nodded, hugging your arms to your chest against the sudden chill. you loved storms, normally, but something about the sudden drop in pressure made you uneasy, your skin prickling with a warning you couldn’t name.
you didn’t mean to follow him.
you just didn’t like being left alone in the sudden dark.
padding inside the house, calling softly for him, you heard something. a low, almost animalistic growl, from deeper in the hallway.
“sam?”
no answer.
the next few seconds were a blur.
you turned the corner toward the back door and froze—
sam was there, or no, not sam. something huge, something black and hulking, crouched just beneath the porch light, the shape of it flickering like a nightmare against the rain.
a wolf.
a massive wolf.
your mind short-circuited, instincts screaming before your brain even caught up.
you didn’t see the way the wolf’s black eyes widened, how it stumbled back, trying to make itself smaller, because your body was already moving, heart slamming against your ribs, feet pounding the slick floor as you ran.
you didn’t hear the desperate, broken whine the wolf let out as you bolted into the woods.
you just ran.
branches slapped at your arms, the rain blinding you, but none of it mattered. you had to get away. from the house, from that thing, you had to move before it came after you, before it—
“Y/N!”
you choked on a breath as you heard sam’s voice behind you. not the growl, not the snarl you expected, but his voice. rough. frantic. human.
“please—wait—!”
you stumbled to a halt without meaning to, panting, turning back just enough to see him—
sam.
soaked to the bone, barefoot, standing in the mud, his hands raised like he was approaching something wild and wounded.
“it’s me,” he panted, voice cracking. “it’s still me, baby—”
he took a single step closer and you flinched so hard it was like you’d been struck.
the pain on sam’s face was worse than anything you’d ever seen.
he dropped to his knees in the mud without hesitation, as if lowering himself would make him less terrifying, as if it could undo the sheer panic clawing up your spine.
“i didn’t mean—” his voice broke, “—god, i would never hurt you. please, you have to believe me. you have to—”
you shook your head, backing another step away, still trembling, too many emotions strangling your throat.
sam’s face crumpled like he’d been punched.
the imprint. that golden, glowing thing tying him to you, howled inside his chest, raw and desperate, feeling you pulling away, feeling your fear, of him.
“i’m so sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, rain dripping from his hair into his eyes. “i should’ve told you. i should’ve told you, sweetheart. i swear to you, i’m still me. the wolf—it’s part of me, but it would never hurt you. i would never hurt you.”
the woods were so quiet around you both that you could hear his breathing. shaky, uneven, pleading.
you wanted to believe him. you did.
but the memory of the black wolf standing where sam had been, the fear still flooding your system, kept your feet rooted in place.
sam didn’t move. he stayed kneeling there, hands open, throat working around a thousand apologies he couldn’t force past the lump in his throat.
if you asked him to walk away—
if you asked him to leave you—
he would. even if it killed him.
because seeing you terrified of him, his imprint, was worse than any death he could imagine.
the rain kept falling. hard and cold, soaking through your clothes, chilling you to the bone. but you barely noticed.
all you could feel was the pounding of your heart. the twisting, wrenching confusion inside your chest, and sam’s voice, still raw and broken, repeating again and again:
“please, sweetheart. please.”
“i would never hurt you.”
“i’m so sorry.”
you stared at him. at the man you trusted with every piece of you. at the man you loved without even realizing when it had happened. and yet…
there had been a wolf standing there. massive. terrifying. how could both things be true?
your legs shook. your body screamed at you to keep running. but your heart, the part of you that had always felt safe with sam, hesitated.
he wasn’t chasing you.
he wasn’t angry.
he wasn’t trying to force you closer.
he was kneeling in the mud. shivering. silent now. waiting like a man on the edge of a cliff, begging silently for a chance not to fall.
something inside you cracked.
“sam,” you whispered, barely audible over the rain.
his head snapped up instantly, eyes wide, desperate but he still didn’t move, didn’t dare.
you swallowed hard, your throat burning. every part of you was screaming in confusion, in fear.
“i don’t understand,” you choked out, taking a stumbling half-step backward. “how— what—”
the words collapsed in your mouth, too huge to untangle.
sam stayed perfectly still, his bare hands open, palms facing you like he was trying to show he was harmless. his voice broke when he spoke:
“i never wanted you to find out this way,” he rasped. “i wanted to tell you. i swear to you, y/n. i was trying to find the right time. the right way.”
you flinched back a step without thinking, and sam’s face crumpled but he still didn’t rise. still didn’t chase.
“i’m not…” he swallowed hard. “i’m not human. not fully. i’m—” his voice cracked. “i’m a shapeshifter. a wolf. part of an old tribe meant to protect this land. protect everyone.”
you shook your head, dizzy. “that thing—”
“me,” he said quickly, urgently. “that was me. i would never hurt you. i could never. even like that, y/n. especially like that.”
the ache in his voice, the desperation, made your chest tighten painfully.
you looked at him, this man who had only ever been gentle with you, whose touch had always steadied you, whose voice could chase nightmares away.
you thought of the way the wolf had folded into the ground, trying to look smaller, less frightening, even as it towered above you.
it didn’t make sense.
and yet… it did.
some part of you, the deepest, most instinctive part, had always known there was something bigger about sam. something ancient. something untouchable.
now you understood.
your hands trembled at your sides, heart hammering so hard it made you lightheaded.
sam lifted his gaze. slowly, pleadingly, but stayed kneeling, rainwater dripping from his hair, his clothes clinging to his body like a second skin.
“i understand if you can’t—” his voice broke, and he squeezed his eyes shut like he couldn’t bear to see the answer on your face. “if you can’t love me like this.”
“i’ll give you anything you need. space, time, anything, but please,” his voice broke, raw and pleading, “i’ll be yours however you need me.”
your heart twisted violently.
because sam uley. strong, steady sam, looked like he was the one about to fall apart now.
you stood there for a long moment, rain running down your face like tears, fists clenching and unclenching at your sides. fear and instinct gnawed at your ribs, but something softer pressed against it. something louder, deeper. the way your heart had always known sam even before your mind caught up.
the bond between you, the pull that had always felt like home, was still there.
strong. unbreakable. true.
tears blurred your vision as you stumbled a half-step closer, your hands shaking so badly you almost missed when you reached for him.
sam froze. a tiny, wounded sound escaping him, like he couldn’t believe you were touching him, but he didn’t dare move, didn’t even breathe.
“i’m scared,” you said honestly, voice trembling. “i’m still scared.”
you watched the light flicker in his eyes. the way his whole body seemed to wilt but you didn’t stop.
“but i’m trying,” you whispered. “because it’s you.”
sam made a broken, desperate sound, half-sob, half-laugh, and dropped his forehead against your hands where they cupped his cheeks, like he couldn’t believe you were still there.
you threaded your fingers into his rain-wet hair, grounding yourself in the familiar feel of him, and choked on a sob of your own.
“i love you,” you managed, tears slipping down your face.
sam let out a low, shuddering breath. like he’d been drowning and you were the air he’d been clawing for and without thinking, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him with a gentleness that broke your heart all over again.
you buried your face in his shoulder, clutching him like a lifeline, feeling his heartbeat hammering wildly against your palms.
sam buried his face in your hair, his whole body shaking with the force of his emotions.
you felt his lips brush your temple, featherlight, and heard him murmur, over and over, like a prayer:
“i’m yours. i’m yours. i’m yours.”
and as the rain washed over you, cold and clean and endless, you held onto each other like you could outrun the whole world like nothing else mattered but this.
because despite the fear, despite the shock still burning in your veins. you knew one thing with absolute certainty.
you would never leave him.
and sam. fierce, desperate, heart-on-his-sleeve sam, would never stop fighting for you.
sam doesn’t let go of you for a long time.
even when the rain soaks you both to the bone, even when you’re shivering, he just holds you tighter, one big hand cradling the back of your head like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he loosens his grip even a little.
he speaks so softly to you afterward.
his voice is usually deep and commanding when he talks to the pack, but with you now? it’s a low, almost reverent murmur against your skin. “you’re safe. i’ve got you. i swear, sweetheart, i’ve got you.”
he wraps you in his jacket before taking you anywhere. the moment he realizes you’re cold, he immediately shrugs off his own jacket, not caring that he’s soaked, and gently wraps it around you, tucking it close like he’s shielding you from the entire world.
sam moves slower around you for days afterward. no sudden movements, no raised voice, no flashing irritation. he’s so aware of your lingering fear.
every time he steps close, he hesitates first, giving you the choice to meet him halfway.
he asks permission for everything.
before touching your hand. before sitting too close. before leaning in.
you can see the question in his eyes every time: is this okay? are you sure?
and the tiny, grateful smile that blooms when you say yes.
the pack teases him about being so soft around you, but no one says anything twice. the look sam gives them could kill.
cuddles are a big thing. sam always keeps you on the side of him that’s human and warm, holding you like you’re something fragile and precious.
“you’re safe with me,” he murmurs against your hair. “always.”
sam gets incredibly tense anytime someone in the pack even jokes about phasing near you.
like, deadly serious.
“not around her,” he growls lowly, “or you’ll answer to me.”
it’s not even a threat. it’s a promise.
when you start spending nights at his house, sam makes sure everything feels safe.
no wolf-related books. no forest-y paintings. no sudden noises.
it’s warm, quiet, gentle. like he built a world where nothing could touch you.
sam tries so hard not to fall apart when you tell him you trust him.
he’s very slow with physical affection at first. not because he doesn’t want to touch you (he aches to), but because he’s terrified of making you feel trapped or cornered.
every hug, every brush of his fingers, every kiss is offered like a gift you’re free to accept or turn away.
if you ever have nightmares, sam is up in seconds.
no hesitation. no grogginess. just pure instinct to protect.
“it’s okay,” he murmurs, pulling you into his lap. “you’re safe. nothing’s gonna get past me, alright?”
and he rocks you gently until you fall asleep again, refusing to let you go.
but you slowly start to notice how gentle sam is, even in his strength.
the way he’s careful not to slam doors. the way he makes himself smaller when you’re upset.
the way he’d rather break himself apart than ever scare you.
you are sam’s entire world.
he can’t stop looking at you.
there’s a new kind of softness in the way he watches you, like every time you glance at him, you catch him memorizing you.
she stayed. she stayed. it hums under his skin like a prayer.
sam smells different to you after that night.
there’s something about the bond between you that deepens after you faced your fear. now you can almost feel him in your chest. his scent is grounding: pine needles, rain, the worn cotton of his jacket. home.
little, wordless moments mean the most to him. you touching his hand first. you leaning into him without hesitation.
you falling asleep against him and sighing like you’re at peace.
those tiny moments? they destroy him in the best way.
if you tug on the hem of his shirt, or hide your face in his chest, or climb into his lap without a word, sam just melts. his whole body relaxes like this is it. this is all i need.
sam never pressures you to see his wolf form again.
if you ever want to, if you ever ask, he’ll do it. but until then, he makes it crystal clear: you are enough, just as you are, without bravery or proving anything.
the first time you ask him to shift again (weeks later), he almost cries.
not because you aren’t scared anymore, but because you trust him enough to try.
and when he shifts in front of you again, carefully, slowly—
this time, you don’t flinch.
you step right into him.
bury your hands in his fur.
feel the rumble of his heart under your palms.
and sam. the wolf, the man, your sam, whines low in his throat and nuzzles into your touch like you’re the only thing that matters in the whole world.
one day, you half-joke that he’s like your “guard dog,” and sam gives you this little crooked smile you’ve never seen before.
“guard wolf,” he corrects gently, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “but only for you.”
he swears, deep down, that he will never, ever let the world hurt you again.
no matter what it takes.
