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possiblefantasies · 1 day ago

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Chapter 3- Grease and Guts

A/N- Im thinking of making this a story on Wattpad after I finish on here! what do yall think about that? It will be more detailed, while less “Y/N” but following the plot of the story of the tv show more .

Summary:You shouldn’t be here, be this close to him but you just can’t help it.

Part 1 | Part 2

Tag List:@ihyperfixateoncharacters @untoldshortsofthefandoms @stormgrl19

You swore to yourself it was just the two nights. A fluke. A heat-of-the-moment thing. A harmless brush with a world you didn’t belong to but Ironwood didn’t let go of people that easy. Especially not when Shyann was involved. It started with a text while you were elbow-deep in flea dip, scrubbing down a wriggling mutt someone left behind in the clinic’s alley.

[SHYANN]

Garage hang tonight. You-Know-Who’s crew will be there. Don’t be a coward. I’m outside at 7.

You rolled your eyes. Left it on read. Didn’t answer when she called. And still… at 6:52, you found yourself standing in front of your closet, biting your lip as you stared down an array of clothes that didn’t feel like they would make you even fit in. Didn’t hate it though.

You went simple. A cute pale pink dress and flowed around you perfectly. You looked like a ethereal Fairy . Makeup soft and simple, mascara and some lip gloss.

The garage sat at the end of an old service road, half-swallowed by overgrown weeds and the crumbling bones of old brick buildings. The sign above the door was faded, paint peeling, but you could still make out Locke’s Auto if you squinted

The lot was full when you pulled up with Shyann , cars gleaming under harsh halogen lights, hoods popped, engines exposed like raw muscle. Someone had music blasting from a speaker in the corner, the thrum of bass bouncing off metal walls. Guys in oil-streaked coveralls leaned over engines, laughing and cursing. A couple girls lounged on the hoods of cars, looking half-bored, half-deadly.

You’d barely stepped out of the car before the smell of oil and burnt rubber hit you. And then you saw him. Ray was crouched by the open hood of his car, sleeves pushed up, grease smudged across his forearms. His hair was messier than usual, strands sticking to his brow. A cigarette dangled from his lips, unlit. He worked with the kind of easy, practiced confidence that only came from owning every room he stepped into.

You tried not to stare. Failed miserably.

Shyann nudged you with a grin. “Y/N, you’re practically undressing him with your eyes.”

You glared. “Am not.”

“Babe, if you looked any harder, that man’s pants would unbutton themselves.”

You shoved her lightly. “Go get your damn drinks.” She winked and peeled off toward the cooler, leaving you to hover awkwardly by one of the cars. You ran your fingertips over the chrome side mirror, pretending you were interested in something ,anything ,other than the man across the garage.

That’s when it happened. A smear of grease appeared on the hem of your dress as you leaned against the car. You groaned under your breath, “Shit.”

“Careful, Doll,” a voice drawled behind you, low and lazy like honey warmed over an open flame. “Gonna get yourself all dirty.”

Your stomach flipped. You turned, already knowing who it was. Ray stood there, wiping his hands on a rag, that signature smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Up close, he was worse. Smelled like motor oil, leather, and something sharper, something that curled low in your belly and made your knees a little too soft.

“Guess I should’ve worn something I didn’t mind getting wrecked,” you shot back, proud that your voice didn’t shake.

That grin of his widened, wicked and slow. “See, now you’re just teasing me.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks but held your ground, arching a brow. “You don’t strike me as the type that minds a little mess.” Ray chuckled, stepping closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that you could feel the heat coming off his skin, the way his eyes flicked down and back up, like he was undressing you in his head and didn’t give a single damn if you knew it.

“Depends on the kind of mess,” he murmured. The noise of the garage faded, everything else a blur in your peripheral vision. It was just him now. The way his voice slid over your skin. The way he looked at you like he could already picture you laid out across the hood of his car.

“I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” Ray added, eyes glinting.

You tilted your head, pretending to think about it. “Nah. I just have a job. Responsibilities. Not all of us can spend our days looking pretty in a garage.”

He let out a sharp laugh, genuinely amused. “Pretty, huh?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice dropping, “too late.” Before you could fire back, he reached out , fingertip brushing the grease stain on your dress. The touch was barely there, but it sent a jolt straight through you.

“Official initiation,” he teased, his voice rough and close enough you could feel the words against your throat.

Your heart kicked up, pulse hammering behind your ribs. “You always get this handsy with the new girls?”

“Only the ones worth it.” You swallowed, caught somewhere between punching him and pulling him closer.

He grinned like he could read your mind. “Relax, Doll. Not gonna bite… unless you ask real nice.” A voice called his name from across the lot , one of his boys, waving him over. Ray lingered a second longer, eyes locked on yours like a dare, then tossed you the rag he’d been using.

“Keep it. Might need it later. By the way, What’s your name?”

“Y/N” You said bashfully. And with that, he was gone. Back to his car, back to his world, but you could still feel him under your skin, like the aftertaste of something sharp and sinful. Shyann reappeared at your side, drink in each hand, eyebrows up to her hairline. “Okay, what in the thirsty hell was that?”

You grabbed the drink, not trusting yourself to answer right away. Shyann nudged you. “Don’t play with me. That was a whole-ass moment. I’ve never seen him flirt like that. Never. Why is it every time i step away to get drinks?!”

You bit your lip, staring down at the grease-smudged rag in your hand like it might burst into flames. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh, it’s something.” She smirked. “You better watch yourself, Y/N. That boy’s dangerous.” And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like running from it. You felt like seeing how close you could get to the fire before it burned.

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possiblefantasies · 1 day ago

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Do you think you’ll be able to do something for Christian Maddox?

Winners don't need trophies | Christian Maddox

Author note: Fem reader. I hope this is good,yall! Keep requests coming and if you want anything specific just ask! its so hard to find gifs

The back lot was alive. Engines revved, headlights cut through the dark, and somewhere nearby, the smell of burnt rubber hung thick in the air. Another Thursday, another string of illegal races, and Christian Maddox was in his element.

You weren’t sure why you kept coming back. You weren’t a racer, weren’t part of any crew. Just a girl with a bad habit of lingering too long in places she didn’t belong.

Maybe it was the rush of it — the danger, the high of watching something reckless and beautiful play out in front of yourself. Or maybe, if you were honest, it was Maddox.

He wasn’t loud like the others. Didn’t flash his wins or run his mouth in the crowd. Christian had quiet power — the guy people parted for without a word. He showed up, dropped jaws, left people broke, and then vanished again like smoke.

And for some reason, he noticed her.

You caught him watching once, a few weeks back. Leaning against his car, cigarette between his fingers, eyes half-lidded like he had all the time in the world. But the way those dark eyes pinned her, it was like he saw right through the noise, straight down to your bones. After that, it’d been this… thing. Passing glances. Casual run-ins. Long stretches of silence where it felt like everything in the lot was just static around them. And tonight? It was worse than ever.

You was leaning against your own car, beer in hand, watching the races when you felt it — that pull. You turned, and sure enough, Christian was there. Leaning against his yellow and black Camaro, expression unreadable, the sharp curve of his jaw catching the low light.

You raised a brow. “You staring or what?”

He didn’t smirk. Didn’t drop a line like others would’ve. Just pushed off the car and made his way over, moving like a storm cloud — slow, inevitable. When he stopped in front of you, there was a heartbeat of silence. “You shouldn’t waste your time watching them,” Christian murmured, nodding toward the race. “None of ‘em know what the hell they’re doing.”

You snorted. “Arrogant much?”

“Truth ain’t arrogance.” It wasn’t a line. It was just how he talked — clean, stripped-down, no frills. And God help her, you liked it. You took a long pull from your beer. “So what, you think you’re the only one worth watching?”

He met your gaze, and for a second, it was too much. Like the air pressed heavy against her chest. “I don’t race for the crowd,” he said quietly. “And I don’t need a trophy to know I’ve won.”

Your stomach twisted. It was the way he said it — like it meant something more, like he wasn’t talking about cars anymore. “Is that supposed to impress me, Maddox?” You teased, trying to keep it light.

His lips quirked, the ghost of a smirk. “No. If I wanted to impress you, you’d already be in my passenger seat.”

Heat flared in your cheeks. You covered it with a scoff. “Cocky.” Christian shrugged, leaning against the hood of your car like he belonged there. The warmth of his body radiated into your space, a steady, quiet gravity you couldn’t pull away from.

“Not cocky,” he murmured. “I just know what I want.”

That shut you up.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The sounds of engines and shouts and music filled the space around them, but it felt distant, like they were outside of it. Finally, You cleared your throat. “So what do you want, then?”mo

His eyes flicked to yours, dark and steady. “You.”

You choked on a laugh. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.” The words weren’t slick or pretty. But they landed harder than any sweet talk ever could. Your pulse jumped, stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with adrenaline and everything to do with him.

You licked your lips, trying to gather your scattered wits. “And if I’m not interested?”

Christian shrugged again, unconcerned. “Then you’re lying to yourself.”

Cocky bastard. But god, the worst part was… he wasn’t wrong. You’d felt it since the first time he looked at her like you were more than background noise. Like he’d already claimed her in some quiet, unspoken way neither of them wanted to say out loud.

You leaned closer, close enough to catch the clean, sharp scent of him — smoke, leather, and something electric.

“Say I was interested,” You murmured. “What then?”

Christian’s gaze dropped to your mouth, then back up. “Then you get in my car.”

“And if I say no?”

He gave a slow, wicked grin. “I’ll wait for you out.” It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t even a challenge. It was a promise, and something about the certainty of it made your breath hitch. The next race started. Tires screamed down the stretch of road, the crowd erupting. But neither of them looked away from each other.

You bit the inside of your cheek, considering him. “Why me, Maddox? Plenty of other girls out here.”

“None of them look at me like you do,” he said simply. It knocked the breath from your lungs, because yeah — maybe you did. Perhaps every time he raced, your stomach twisted, and every time he disappeared into the night, you felt the absence like a hollow space. Christian pushed off the hood, stepping into your space, one hand bracing against the car behind you.

His voice was a low, rough thing between them. “You think I don’t notice when you show up? Think I don’t see you watching?” He leaned in, his mouth a breath from yours. “Racers don’t need trophies. I don’t race for the title. I race for the high. And you—” his knuckles brushed your jaw, tilting your face up “—you’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted more than that.”

It wasn’t a confession. It wasn’t even tender. It was raw and electric and so undeniably him that it made your head spin. Your pulse thundered. You didn’t answer — didn’t have to. The look in your eyes said it for you. You closed the distance, your mouth catching his, and it wasn’t soft. It was hungry, sharp, all teeth and heat and frustration. Christian’s hand slid into your hair, gripping tight as he kissed you like it was inevitable, like it was always going to happen.

When they broke apart, both of them breathing hard, he rested his forehead against yours. “Come with me.” It wasn’t a question.

You let out a breathless laugh. “About time you asked.”

Christian grinned — a rare, crooked thing — and tugged you toward his car. And maybe, in the middle of all the chaos, with engines screaming and the world burning itself down, you realized he’d been right. Some things didn’t need trophies. Some things were better won in private.

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possiblefantasies · 1 day ago

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y’all don’t really get it how bad i need a harris bowers fics, he’s soooo hot and everything, writers please please please do something 😩

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possiblefantasies · 1 day ago

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CHRISTIAN MADDOX

ONESHOTS: ‣

REQUESTS: ‣ A Win That Matters | Part 2 | Part 3 ✻

LOGAN MADDOX

ONESHOTS: ‣ The Wreckoning ✻

REQUESTS: ‣

ZAC TORRES

ONESHOTS: ‣

REQUESTS: ‣

CURTIS YOUNG

ONESHOTS: ‣

REQUESTS: ‣

RAY YOUNG

ONESHOTS: ‣ Parts He Can't Replace. ✻

REQUESTS: ‣ A Heart That Longs. ✻

‣ BACK TO: MASTERLISTS

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possiblefantasies · 1 day ago

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A WIN THAT MATTERS (1) — CHRISTIAN MADDOX

REQUEST: hi! ❤️ (english is not my first language so i’m sorry for any mistakes) i’ve been wondering if you could maybe do a christian maddox fic? sorry if it’s too weird, too long or somethin’. i actually have a small trauma connected to reckless driving, so the idea for a fic with all these details just popped into my head. christian has a girlfriend who was always smiling, happy and loved to race (she was quite good) until she crashed during one race 6 months ago (not against christian). since then y/n has lost her passion for driving. she has become nervous, sullen and afraid to drive by herself (in fact she doesn't drive at all, except as a passenger) and is scared of reckless driving. Sometimes she even cries in her sleep and has nightmares about her car accident. y/n stays over at maddox's and helps logan in the workshop. Christian takes care of her, helps her deal with the trauma and cuddles her when she cries. they love each other very much and he does everything he can to show her that he adores her. i thought about the scene when she needs a ride and it’s shown that he calms her nerves down and promises her he will drive slowly and checks whether everything is okay. also maybe somethin’ when christian caresses the scar on her stomach and tells her that he loves this scar because it shows her strength and is a testimony to the fact that she has experienced something terrible, but she does not give up even if she thinks differently. maybe they can even have an argument during the night, because y/n’s woke up from the nightmare and saw that christian wanted to sneak out racing. she freaked out a little about him possibly dying (only cuz he didn’t tell her about the race), he got a little defensive (cuz he’s the best ofc), but when he sees her tears, he comforts her and quits that night’s race. they decide together that soon they will have to work harder so that y/n can function better, get fully happy again and cope with everything. he promises he’ll stay. i think if you accept my request you will create something magical from this mess of ideas and details (you decide how long will that fic be). you can also change somethin’ if you’ll want. sending love! ❤️

WARNING(S): mentions of car crash, blood, angst, hurt reader, some fluff towards the beginning.

WORD COUNT: 4,204

PAIRING: Christian Maddox x fem!Reader

A/N: I couldn't for the life of me transition into the next portions of this fic, so this will be a mini-series. There is a lot here I can work with, but I felt like breaking them down into individual chapters would be better. Hope you like it! <3

MASTERLIST

You can hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

It’s louder than the engines around you, louder than the crowd swelling around the cars, louder than the revs your opponent was trying to intimidate you with.

You’ve got your hands on the wheel, tight knuckled, eyes fixed on the stretch of road ahead. It feels endless. Empty. Like something you either conquer… or let swallow you whole.

You take a deep breath through your nose, but it sticks in your chest.

Then two sharp pats on the roof of your car.

You flinch. Then exhale… Christian and Logan.

They crouch beside the driver’s side like it’s instinct. Logan’s got that easy-going big-brother speech on standby by the looks of it as he rests his chin on his crossed arms. Christian’s wearing that faint, knowing smile, the one that makes your heart ache and steady all at once.

“Alright, kid,” Logan starts, voice low, calm. “Jett’s cocky. He’s gonna try and fake you out in the first hundred feet...don’t fall for it. He’ll burn out his torque early trying to make you chase him.”

You nod, biting back a smile.

Logan gestures two fingers toward your dashboard. “Midpoint, drop to third, hug the outer road. He’ll expect you to go tight, he'll probably try and pull something, but fake him, gun it when he pulls back. You’ll overtake him.”

“You sound so sure I can.” You say, your voice laced with that teasing confidence.

He grins. “I am sure. You’re better than he’ll ever be, kid. Now go prove it.”

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. “What’s with the ‘kid’? You’re like…two years older. At best.”

Logan huffs, leaning more of his weight onto your window ledge. “Two years is two years. That’s, like, a whole presidential term in garage years.”

You snort. “That’s not how time works.”

“It is when you’ve been fixing engines since before you knew what a clutch was.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling for real now, nerves briefly forgotten. “Idiot. You’re lucky I like you.”

“I am lucky, aren't I,” he says, giving your window frame a little pat. “Now go smoke Jett so bad he'll start walking with his head down.”

You grin, then adjust your rearview mirror and glance at the street ahead.

Behind him, Christian’s still watching with that gaze that makes your whole chest feel warmer.

Logan steps back, already calling him out. “Keep her head on straight, lover boy.” With a smirk, he leans against the side of your car.

Christian crouches before you, taking Logan's spot, voice softer now. “You ready?”

“Yeah...It's been long overdue that someone shuts him up. I feel good.” You say, still smiling. And for a second, it almost feels like this night will end the way it’s supposed to. “I’m nervous.” You whisper. It slips out before you can swallow it back.

“Good,” Logan calls out. “Means you’re taking it seriously.”

Christian frowns at him. “Don’t listen to him. You don't have to do this, you know. You don't have to prove anything to him."

Logan shrugs. “It is. Listen, nerves don’t mean you’re not ready. It means you give a shit. You think I wasn’t shaking the first time I smoked Booker Mayhem?”

You give a soft huff of air. “You don’t shake, Logan.” You stick your head out to try and look at him.

“I do when it’s worth it.”

You laugh a little, and Christian's eyes light up. He leans in a little, forearms resting on the edge of your door, eyes locked with yours.

"I wanna do this."

Christian nods. "There's nothing I can say to get you out of this car, is there?"

You shake your head, just once, gripping the steering wheel so tight Christian was sure you’d peel the leather off of it. "No."

He lets out a soft breath through his nose, then leans in close enough that you feel the warmth of him, that steady calm he always carries when he’s not on a track. His voice is low, like it’s meant for just you.

“Okay. Then I’m not gonna talk you out of it,” he says.

"I will, however, provide motivational support... You’ve got this in the bag,” he murmurs, brushing his knuckles against your cheek in a caress. “You’re the best driver out here. No one’s got hands like you. Not even me.”

“Christian—” You laugh.

“I mean it.” His voice drops lower, more serious. “You win this clean. Smooth and smart. And if that asshole so much as tries to side-swipe you, I’m running him off the road myself.”

He notices how you adjust your grip on the wheel.

“Hey,” he says, voice tender. He leans in and presses a kiss to your temple, then one to your lips, gentle, grounding. “Look at me.”

You do.

“You come back to me in one piece. That’s the only win that matters, alright?" He nods toward your hands. “Promise me that if something doesn’t feel right, anything, you stop. No pressure, no shame, no proving anything to anyone. Not to Logan, not to me, not even to yourself.”

You hesitate. Then you nod. “I promise.” You nod again, slower this time. “Okay.”

Christian taps the window frame, then nudges your cheek gently with his knuckles again. “You got this, Y/N. You don’t even have to be the fastest out there. Just be the smartest one.”

Logan raps twice on the hood again as he steps back. “See you at the finish line, champ."

It's not long till Amber Leigh, a girl from school, raises a bandana to the sky before she brings it down in a swish motion. Then you and Jett take off, the crowd coated in smoke, before they all run to stand in place where your cars flew.

You tore down the strip like a bullet, clean, composed, just like Logan taught you. Christian’s heart thudded in sync with the revs, jaw tight as he and Logan stood behind the spray-painted start line, eyes glued to the fast-disappearing streaks of tail lights.

From the line, Logan nudges Christian with his elbow as you took lead for a split second.

“She’s got the edge tonight.” Logan mutters, watching your taillights blur in the dark.

Christian doesn’t answer right away, eyes narrowed, jaw tight. He’s watching every inch of the street like he could pull you back with sheer will alone.

“Yeah.” He finally says. “She’s great tonight.”

Logan smirks a little. “She always is. Way smoother than you ever were on this stretch. Hell, you used to fishtail every other start.”

Christian finally tears his gaze away long enough to throw Logan a dry look. “You're still mad she beat you two summers ago?”

“That was a test run.”

“She left you in the dust.” Christian raised a brow at him, pointedly.

“Sheer luck.” Logan shrugs.

Christian laughs under his breath, but it dies quickly. The night’s too sharp around the edges. He rubs the back of his neck, glances back toward where your headlights are barely visible.

“She’s got him!” Logan exclaims, hands falling on top of his head, eyes narrowed down the stretch of road.

Christian lets out a sharp breath of relief. “That’s my girl.”

“She put her seatbelt on, right?” Logan asked suddenly, voice clipped.

Christian blinked. “What?”

“Before we walked off. Did you see her click it?”

Christian’s chest tightened. He tries to remember the sound. The quick snap of the belt into the buckle. But he hadn’t paid attention. He’d been too caught up in your eyes, your nerves, your laugh.

“I—I don’t know.”

Logan swore under his breath, eyes narrowing on the road. “She usually does. But when she’s nervous—”

Then it happened.

Logan's face fell with dread.

A sharp wail of tires.

A sound they both knew too well.

Christian’s stomach drops. His head jerks toward the noise.

Metal on pavement. A scream of a car rolling.

Your car swerved violently, fishtailing out of control near the midpoint, where Logan warned you Jett would try something dirty. Sparks lit up the darkness. Jett's car clipped your back light, then you flipped once...

Twice.

A third time before stopping roof-first onto the side of the road near the welcome sign, dust and shrapnel erupting into the air.

“Go! Go!” Logan barked beside him, pushing against his brother's back, sprinting off. “Someone call 9-1-1! Now!”

Christian didn’t remember taking off. His legs just moved on their own, running faster than he ever had in his life. Following after Logan.

Everything was soundless in Christian’s ears but the pulse of blood and the broken echo of your name rattling around his skull.

Your car was crushed in from the front, windshield a spiderweb of impact, smoke leaking out from under the hood.

Logan got there first. Trying for your drivers side until he couldn’t pry it open. He didn’t even hesitate as he rounded and dug his fingers into the warped edge of the passenger door and yanked it with the force of adrenaline until the metal gave way with a screech.

“Y/n!” He choked out, crawling halfway into the car.

You were laid across the shattered dash, motionless, legs tangled awkwardly under the wheel.

Your blood was everywhere.

It was on the wheel. The dash. The curve of your lip. A wide, angry gash blooms across your side, staining your shirt deep red where your seatbelt should have been.

No seatbelt, Logan took into account.

Christian dropped to his knees beside him, one hand gripping the broken edge of the car.

“No, no, no—Please!” Christian pulls at his locks anxiously.

Logan pressed two fingers to your throat. His jaw clenched. “She’s got a pulse. Christian, she's got a pulse.” He barely registered it. "Y/n, hey. Can you hear me?"

Christian looked back as a car revved near.

He didn’t register the crowd, the silence that had fallen, or the crunch of tires returning until Jett’s obnoxiously modified engine rolled up slowly, headlights sweeping over the wreckage.

And Christian loses it.

He’s up in a flash, storming toward the street, fists clenched so tight his knuckles split.

“Are you out of your mind?!”

Jett gets out of his car, confusion painting his face as he sticks his hands out in question. “What’s everyone so tense about? Did I win or what?”

“You flipped her, you asshole!” Logan barks, crawling out from your wrecked car, then storming over, stepping in front of Christian just as his fist swings.

It’s too close a call, though. Christian’s knuckles brush Jett’s chin, as Logan’s arm locks around his chest, dragging him back.

“Don’t—” Logan grits through his teeth. “I need you with me right now. Not in cuffs.”

Christian breaks from Logan’s grip and gets in Jett’s face. “A race, you and me, I'll show you a win, I swear to God-”

Logan yanks him back.

“You’re done tonight. Done,” Logan tells Jett with a cold stare. “Get the hell outta here before someone else swings.”

Jett hesitates, just long enough to understand he’s lost whatever crowd he thought he had. Then he peels off, tires screaming, disappearing into the night.

Christian turns back toward the wreck.

His eyes find your limp body again before he tries to take off toward his car. Logan grabs him, just barely.

“Not now,” Logan hissed, holding him by the collar. “Not now."

Christian was breathing hard, nostrils flared, teeth gritted so tightly his jaw trembled. “She could’ve died!” he spat. “And he doesn't even care.”

“She’s not dead,” Logan snapped, voice cracking. “Because she fights. You’re not gonna waste yourself on that punk right now. You wanna hit something, hit the ground!”

Christian’s chest heaved.

He turns to his brother solemnly, then nods in defeat as they shift over to your body again.

The sirens are still too far. The night is too loud.

And the smoke... The smoke is getting worse. Logan perks up.

Thick, gray plumes now curling from under your crumpled hood, drifting through the shattered windshield like a ghost. Logan catches the scent: burning oil, maybe coolant. Maybe something worse.

“We've got to move her,” he mutters, eyes flashing toward Christian. “Look. If that catches, it’s gonna-”

Christian’s head whips toward him. “Move her? What if we make it worse? What if she’s—Logan, I don’t know what’s broken-”

“I know,” Logan cuts in, firm but not harsh. He’s crouching on the other side of you now, one hand on the passenger seat for balance. “I know. But if this engine lights, it won’t matter what’s broken. We’ll lose her in the ignite.”

That hits. Christian flinches, his hand tightening around the dent frame.

“Christian,” Logan says, quieter now, voice dipping into that calm you’ve heard him use when tempers flare in the garage. “We have to do this smart. We move slow. Together.”

Christian swallows hard. His eyes are glassy, but focused.

“I’ve got her arms,” He whispers. “You take her legs.”

They shift carefully, Logan bracing your hips, Christian easing your shoulders. You let out a low moan, nearly unconscious, but your fingers twitch around Christian’s sleeve. He nearly falls apart right there.

The smoke’s even thicker now. Some people in the crowd are backing up. Others are filming. Logan doesn’t look at any of them.

“On three,” Logan says. “One. Two…”

They lift, but it ends up in more of a drag.

You’re limp, fragile, broken in ways they can’t see, but you’re breathing. They get you three feet from the car before Logan yells. “Down! Get down!”

The hood lets out a sharp, sputtering pop.

A wisp of flame curls up from the engine block.

Christian drops to his knees again, shielding your head. Logan throws his jacket across your body just in case, ready to smother sparks.

The fire doesn’t explode. But it threatens. It warns.

The paramedics finally near in a screech of red and white.

Logan stumbles toward the flashing lights, waving both arms. Watching as two paramedics run out towards them.

Two paramedics run toward the wreck, one male, one female; bags swinging at their sides. The woman slows down just enough to take in the scene, her eyes darting from the rising smoke to your bloodied figure lying on the grass. She quickly drops down to your side, assessing the damage done to you. Her blue-gloved hands pressing against your neck. Then she's assessing your pupils with a small flashlight.

“You moved her?” The paramedic barks, her voice cutting through the crackle of static from the radio at her shoulder. She’s already halfway through assessing your vitals, glancing between your ribs and abdomen where your shirt is spotted with red, the bruising, the blood on your temple and on your lips, the angle of your leg, the snow-like particles of glass wedged into your hair.

Logan doesn't back down, even as guilt pricks his skin like needles.

“We had to,” he says firmly. “The hood was smoking, you think we were gonna wait for it to light up?”

“That could’ve damaged her spine!” She snaps, glaring up at him as she cuts your shirt open the rest of the way and starts checking for internal injuries. “You don’t move crash victims unless the car is actively on fire. You could’ve paralyzed her or worse.”

“We didn’t have time to gamble!”

“She-”

“She's bleeding from everywhere.” Logan fires back, voice tight, eyes blazing. “And that engine was ready to go. I wasn't gonna stand there with my thumb up my ass while she could've burned alive. We did what we had to do. Her mom would kill me if I left her in there!”

The male paramedic glances up from where he’s rolling a brace under your neck, his tone more neutral. “What was the car running on? That flipped her.”

“E85. Maybe Nitrous Oxide. Jett mods everything like a maniac.”

The woman curses under her breath. “Jesus. Then you’re lucky it didn’t ignite when you dragged her.”

“Yeah,” Logan mutters. “Lucky.”

She presses gauze to your side, which is now soaked crimson, and motions for the stretcher.

“She’s bradycardic. Drops from trauma. Possible pelvic fracture, blunt force to the ribs, probable internal bleeding. Let’s move.”

"Bradycardic?" Logan questions.

"Her heart's beating too slow." She gestures to him to move with a sympathetic grin.

Christian’s still on his knees, shaking, one hand ghosting over your arm like he’s afraid to lose skin contact. “I’m going with her.”

“Then get up. Now.”

Christian stumbles to his feet, nodding rapidly.

The woman looks at Logan one last time before they load you into the ambulance. Her anger’s cooled now, just barely.

“You did what you thought was right.” She says quietly.

Logan just nods once, sharp, jaw tight.

Then he watches Christian climb in beside you, the doors close, and the red lights disappear into the night.

The emergency room lights are too bright.

They bleach the color out of everything, walls, floors, faces.

Christian sits in one of the plastic waiting chairs with blood on his hands. Yours.

He hasn’t moved for twenty minutes. Not since they wheeled you through those double doors, covered in wires and tubing, oxygen mask strapped to your face, soaked in red.

He didn’t cry at the scene. Not when he held your broken body. Not when he had to let the EMTs take over.

But now?

Tears leak slowly and silently down his cheeks, dripping from his jaw. His fingers twitch on his knees like he’s still trying to reach for you.

Logan sits two chairs over, elbows resting on his thighs, staring ahead, scared that if he blinks, he might lose his grip.

“They’re working fast,” Logan says after a long silence. “That’s a good sign.”

Christian doesn’t reply.

Logan rubs a hand over his face, then glances sideways at him. “She’s tough. You know that. Hell, I’ve seen her fix a bent axle in thirty minutes with a dislocated shoulder. You really think some asshole with a turbo engine can take her out?”

“She wasn’t wearing a seatbelt...” Christian croaks.

Logan looks away, jaw tightening.

“She always wears it,” Christian says again, lower this time. “Always. I should’ve checked.”

“You shouldn’t have had to.” Logan mutters.

Christian presses his palms to his face and exhales like he’s trying to crush the guilt out of himself.

“I told her to come back to me in one piece…made her promise me,” He whispers. “I don't want to lose her.”

Logan leans forward, voice gruff but steady. “She’s here. That means she’s still fighting.”

Before Logan can say anything else, footsteps echo down the hall.

Neither boy reacts at first until a familiar voice speaks.

“Christian, Logan?”

They both look up.

Your mom stands frozen halfway down the hallway, dressed in navy blue scrubs and holding a clipboard in one hand. Logan forgot for a second that she worked here. She wasn’t supposed to be on shift, not tonight.

Her gaze lands on Christian, and then on his hands.

Stained dark. Smeared red and dried at the knuckles.

Her voice sharpens like glass.

“Christian,” She says again, walking closer now. “Whose blood is that?”

Christian opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

Logan rises to his feet, slow, like he’s walking into a storm.

Your mom’s eyes snap to his. “Logan, whose blood is that?”

Logan says suddenly, desperate. “She’s here,” he whispers. “They brought her in the ambulance. Y/N, she crashed. Okay, she—” He falters. His breath catches like the words are choking him.

“She flipped. The car flipped.”

Your mom goes still.

“What?” Her voice breaks around the single word.

Christian's voice was raw and shaking. “It wasn’t her fault. Jett Bhodie clipped her left tail; she couldn’t avoid it. She spun out before the car rolled. Logan and I—” He swallows hard. “We pulled her out. The hood was smoking. We didn’t know if it was gonna catch.”

Your mom’s lips part like she’s about to speak, but she doesn’t. She just stares at Christian’s blood-covered hands again. The bright hospital lights make it look fresh.

The world spins in her eyes.

“She was unconscious,” Logan continues, quieter now. “She was bleeding, Ana. Her pulse was there, but just barely. Said her heart was beating too slow. She's in surgery right now.”

“Her seatbelt,” Your mom says suddenly, voice rising. “Was she wearing her seatbelt? Please.”

Neither of them answers fast enough.

Logan closes his eyes. “No.”

That single syllable hits harder than anything else. Your mom staggers a step back, like the wind’s been knocked from her.

“No,” She says, as if repeating it might undo it. “No, she always wears it. She always-”

“I know,” Logan says, stepping toward her again. “We don’t know why. Maybe she forgot, maybe she—Christian didn’t see. I didn’t see her put it on. But I swear, we got her out the second we realized the engine was gonna blow-” He says it like it’s gonna make up for the fact her daughter was in the hospital. It wouldn’t.

Your mom’s hand flies up again, not to hit him, but to cover her mouth as the weight of it all sets in. Her eyes brim with tears, she’s trying so hard not to let them fall.

“She wasn’t even supposed to race tonight,” She says, her voice strangled, quiet. “She told me she was just going to hang out with you two. Help you in the shop. She didn’t say anything about getting behind the wheel.”

Christian finally speaks again, his voice hoarse. “It wasn’t planned. She just saw Jett running his mouth. Said she could shut him up.”

“She could have,” Logan says, jaw tight. “She would’ve. If he hadn’t driven like a damn maniac—”

“She’s sixteen,” Your mom interrupts sharply. “You’re the oldest, you're supposed to know better than to allow her to give in to her impulses.”

Logan lowers his head like he’s been punched in the gut.

“I know,” he says again, voice quieter now. “I know.”

Your mom doesn’t yell. She doesn’t have to. Her disappointment alone burns hotter than any screaming match ever could.

“I trusted you,” She murmurs, voice splintering. “I trusted you to keep her safe. You promised me, Logan.”

“I did,” He says, eyes glinting. “And I didn’t. I didn't double-check on her. In my defense, I didn’t think she’d actually go through with racing him-”

“You know her,” She scoffs, in disbelief, looking him in the eye. “You knew she would.”

Christian watches the exchange with red-rimmed eyes, his nails dug into the skin of his palm. He hasn’t moved from the chair, hasn’t tried to wipe away the blood still crusted under his nails.

Your mom turns to him next. Her voice is soft again, but heavy. “And you. She listens to you. She loves you.”

Christian nods, slowly, guilt thick in every line of his face.

“I should’ve told her no,” He murmurs. “I should’ve stopped her, but I... I didn’t want to upset her. I didn’t want to make her think I didn’t believe in her.”

“You should’ve cared more about her life than her pride,” She says, and this time, it hits him like a blade.

He leans forward, burying his face in his hands.

“I did,” He says into his palms. “I do. I would take her place right now if I could.”

Your mother doesn’t answer. She just sinks down next to him in the chair, tears finally falling freely. She lets her head fall on the broken boys shoulder.

The silence between them isn’t peace. It’s grief, shared and unbearable.

Logan moves toward them slowly, hesitating just a second before lowering himself into the seat on your mom’s other side. His hand reaches across the space between them, resting carefully over hers.

“I swear to you,” He says, “if I could trade places with her, I’d do it. And I’ll be here. Every damn day. No matter how long it takes. I’ll be here.”

Christian doesn’t lift his head. But his voice, ragged and quiet, follows Logan’s.

“So will I.”

That’s how the nurse finds them.

Folded in grief, bound by guilt, sitting in silence.

“Family of Y/n Y/L/N?”

All three heads lift at once.

Your mom stands first, fast, her chair scraping across the tile. “Cynthia, how is she?”

The nurse offers a faint, tired smile. “She’s out of surgery. We’ve moved her to the ICU. She’s stable for now.”

“For now?” Christian asks, voice catching.

“She’s in a coma. We’re watching for brain swelling, and her vitals are delicate. But she made it through the worst of it. We did have to give her twelve stitches on her stomach, though.”

Your mom’s knees nearly buckle, but Logan’s already at her side, catching her before she falls.

“Can I see her?” She asks, eyes pleading.

The nurse nods. “We’ll take you back in just a minute.”

Logan steadies your mom. Christian stands slowly behind them, shaky but determined.

The walk to the ICU feels longer than the entire night.

But for the first time, there’s a light at the end of it.

Because you're still breathing.

76 notes · View notes

possiblefantasies · 4 days ago

Text

𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒅 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒅 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔

They were just kids when they fell in love — reckless, inseparable, unstoppable.

Then came the heist. The sirens. The silence.

He disappeared that day, and with him, the life she thought they’d have. Seventeen years later, she’s still in the same town, walking the same streets, holding on to memories no one else understands. To everyone else, it’s long over.

But she never moved on.

And some truths are too dangerous to speak out loud.

Because not everything — or everyone — stays buried forever.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Lila Hart

she dreamed in pastels and paperback romances.

not of classrooms or lesson plans —

but of lavender skies, silk dresses, and a kind of love that burned slow.

in her carefully drawn life,

he was the adrenaline rush.

the chaos she never planned for.

everyone warned her —

he was danger wrapped in leather and smoke.

but she only ever saw the softness behind his eyes.

and once you’ve loved like that,

nothing safe ever feels like home again.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Christian Maddox

he was forged in fire and engine oil.

fast cars. faster lies.

a boy raised by the streets,

always running, always half a step from gone.

love was never in the blueprint —

until her.

with her, he wasn’t a criminal or a headline.

he was just a boy with too many scars

and someone finally worth staying for.

maybe that’s why he disappeared.

not to escape.

to protect the only softness he ever touched.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

prologue

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

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possiblefantasies · 18 days ago

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Coming soon...

It's here!! Thanks to this anon request, I got this idea and really ran with it. However, because I was unable to fulfill the moodboards with my regular format, I got the idea to turn these into full fics, which in turn, I might make actual moodboards for :) Also thank you to @hockeyboistrash for letting me yap, helping me work a couple tropes out, and giving me an idea for one of the fics included <3

I'm still in the process of writing out the blurbs for the ideas surrounding the fics, so it might be some time before these are starting to be posted, but I do have one fic fully completed as of right now. I'm also very aware I still have 16 requests left for the prompt requests, but I've been burnt out with the ideas I have and going through some writer's block with them, so this little pause gives me time to work on something new. I promise I'll come around to them again sometime 😊

For now, here's the list of tropes that I've paired with each of the guys ✨

Forced proximity - Mikko Rantanen

Coach's daughter - Seth Jarvis

Boy next door - Jack Drury

Sworn off relationships - Andrei Svechnikov

Professor/student - Jack Drury

Cowboy - Jesperi Kotkaneimi

Roommates to lovers - Quinn Hughes

Marriage pact - Logan Stankoven

The One That Got Away - Sebastian Aho

Opposites attract - Seth Jarvis

Fake Dating - Andrei Svechnikov

Friends/Best friends to lovers - Jesperi Kotkaniemi

Secret/hidden identity - Quinn Hughes

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possiblefantasies · 18 days ago

Text

☾ a collection of fics and blurbs ☽

*all characters are aged up, though i haven’t stated this in any a/n’s. jacob, paul, and embry are not 16 in these fics, they are at least 18. seth is not 15, he is at least 18.

Jacob Black

My Everything | ☀︎

You | ☀︎

Confession | ☀︎

drive | ☁︎☀︎

Okay | ☁︎☀︎

Promise | ☁︎☀︎

Truly Sorry | ☁︎☀︎

Second | ☁︎☀︎

Accidentally | ☁︎

New Start | ☀︎

Move On | ☀︎

First Meeting | ☁︎☀︎

Happy with You | ☀︎

Set Up | ☀︎

Paul Lahote

Our Daughter | ☀︎

Imprinted | ☀︎

Lovebug | ☀︎

Protect You | ☁︎☀︎

Future | ☀︎

Sense | ☀︎

Not Jealous | ☀︎

Hot Head | ☁︎☀︎

New Life | ☀︎

Alive | ☁︎

Deserve Better | ☁︎☀︎♡

By My Side | ☀︎♡

Forever Yours | ☁︎☀︎

The Other Guy | ☁︎

The Rest of Our Lives | ☀︎

Over-Protective | ☀︎

Hurt | ☁︎

Perfect Day | ☀︎

Reject | ☁︎

Stuck Between a Vampire and a Werewolf - series masterlist - | ☁︎☀︎♡ | Emmett Cullen x Reader x Paul

Crush[ed] | ☀︎☁︎

night before | ☀︎

change | ☀︎♡

Turn To | ☀︎

Safe | ☀︎

Seth Clearwater

Somebody Else | ☁︎☀︎

Embry Call

When I Was Your Man | ☀︎☁︎

The One | ☀︎

Scare | ☀︎☁︎

my world | ☀︎♡

Soulmate | ☀︎

Peace | ☀︎

Blurbs/Headcanons (all four)

weddings | ☀︎

stood up | ☁︎☀︎

pregnancy journey | ☀︎

keeping warm | ☀︎

injured | ☁︎☀︎

rainy days | ☀︎☁︎

late nights | ☀︎

837 notes · View notes

possiblefantasies · 29 days ago

Text

WELCOME TO THE GRAND LIBRARY

⌈ • ✦╹ - ANIMES - ╹✦ • ⌋

BLUE LOCK MASTERLIST

DIABOLIK LOVERS MASTERLIST

HAIKYUU MASTERLIST

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

TOKYO REVENGERS MASTERLIST

⌈ • ☘︎ ╹ - GAMES - ╹ ☘︎ • ⌋

TWISTED WONDERLAND

⌈ • ❖ ╹ - MOVIES - ╹ ❖ • ⌋

AVATAR MASTERLIST

ACROSS THE SPIDER VERSE MASTERLIST

DIARY OF A WIMPY KID MASTERLIST

TWILIGHT MASTERLIST

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possiblefantasies · 1 month ago

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WitchyWithWhiskey's Sweethearts Game Masterlist

happy valentine's day!! thank you to everyone who sent in asks for my sweethearts game!! (as a reminder, entries are closed!)

all fics have now been posted! i'm sorry if i didn't get to your request, it either came in after i hit the cap or didn't follow the rules. i hope y'all enjoy the sweet and smutty love fest ♡♡

here are all the fics:

be my cupid [smut] lloyd hansen, established relationship

bite me, baby [smut] ari levinson, ceo au, enemies to lovers

the demon of your dreams [smut] andy barber, soft!dark incubus au

more than chocolate [smut] steve rogers, husband/wife au

light up the night [fluff, smut] johnny storm, best friend au

off-limits [smut] jake jensen, bodyguard au

skincare routine [fluff, smut] ransom drysdale, boyfriend au

the vampire's pet [smut] curtis everett, vampire au

your favorite sweet treat [smut] andy barber, established relationship

a permanent brand [smut] curtis everett, established bdsm relationship

it's kind of a funny story [smut] bucky barnes, divorced neighbor au

taste so sweet [smut] lloyd hansen, brother's best friend au

sweet talk [smut] johnny storm, boyfriend au

better than the book [smut, fluff] ari levinson, best friend's brother au

everything for this event can be found under the #witchywithwhiskey's sweethearts tag on my blog.

387 notes · View notes

possiblefantasies · 1 month ago

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Are You Happy Now? - Paul Lahote x Fem!Reader

Insane that one of my recent posts says 'Happy 2024' and now it's 2025 lol. It makes my heart happy to know that I'm not the only one still writing twilight fics. This is a long one, as always, tell me what you think ❤️

"You can't actually be serious right now?! You're telling me that you're willing to risk everyone's life over a fight that has nothing to do with you?"

You crossed your arms as you eyed Jacob incredulously.

You couldn't believe you were having this argument with him. Not to mention in the middle of Emily's living room, with all eyes on the two of you. The pack had never seen you this enraged before. Paul, your boyfriend, had seen you upset plenty of times. But even he was taken back at how erratic you were being. He stood just a few feet shy behind you, wondering when was a good time to step in and coax you away.

It was Bella who had told you that your beloved second family offered to help take on a group of rogue vampires. A so-called army of brand new bloodsuckers being sent for revenge on the Cullen clan. She was apologetic and defenseless, like she always was. You had a hard time staying mad at her when she had been this way all her life.

She didn't ask them to get involved, after all. But you knew just who to blame. The only person in this world, other than Edward, who would do anything for her affection.

"Oh, so you're saying you don't care about your sisters safety then?" Jacob questioned. You rolled your eyes, pointing a finger at his chest.

"Exactly. My sister. If anyone is allowed to have an opinion on this situation, it's me. And last I checked, she knew the risks when she got into a relationship with Edward. They all did. This is their responsibility to handle."

Jacob took a deep breath in, exasperated. You were like a sister to him yourself, way longer than you had been to any of the other pack members. He hated that he was fighting with you. But he was not going to back down when it came to saving Bella. He didn't want to admit that you had several points, being that Edward was dragging her along into a world full of danger.

However, that was also his point. He wanted to prove that he was the better man for her. Then maybe, just maybe, she would realize her love for him too.

"Either way, they're coming onto our territory. It is our duty to defend our people on our land."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "Please. You're only doing this for Bella and you know it."

Jacob's fingers flexed in agitation. His patience was wearing thin. "You know how I feel about her," he said through gritted teeth.

"I do actually," you said as your voice raised, walking closer to him.

"I know enough to know that she will ALWAYS choose Edward over anybody else in this world. I know that she will do just about anything to protect him, including offering her own life. I know that she would jump in seconds at the chance to become frozen in time with him forever. Oh yes....and I happen to know that SHES NOT EVEN YOUR FUCKING IMPRINT!!" You yelled, now millimeters away from his face.

You didn't have time to register his reaction as you were hurled backwards into Paul's arms, "That's ENOUGH." He said lowly in your ear, his breath hot with his own anger.

Sam and Jared immediately hauled Jacob's shaking body outside, who phased the moment he landed on the grass. The other boys ran out to join them, more afraid to face your wrath than anything else. Emily gave you a sympathetic look before she followed, leaving you and Paul alone.

His grip loosened as you whipped around to face him, pushing him off a little too harshly.

"This isn't fair and you know it. You have no obligation to this fight. You can't put your life on the line for this bullshit Paul."

Paul scowled at you, "You don't get to decide that for me Y/N. Jacob is my brother, and he would do the same for any one of us."

You throw your hands up, "Okay, so he's your brother. What about your imprint, huh? What would I do if something happened to you!?"

Paul huffs, "Nothing's going to happen."

"You don't know that," you say as you feel your throat constrict.

There's a pause, tension filling the air. Paul's hand instinctively reaches out to yours, but he retracts it in hesitance. If Paul was being brutally honest, he didn't know if he would be okay after this. The pack never faced an enemy this large in size. Deep down and admittedly, he was worried. Everyone was. But that was no reason to back down from those filthy cold ones. It wasn't in their nature to concede.

Paul inhales, breaking the silence, "I'm going to fight, Y/N."

Your lip starts to tremble as you fight off the verge of tears ready to spill. You were way past the point of just being frustrated. You took a deep breath, your voice cracking,

"Then I have to leave. I can't stand by and watch you do this.."

Paul's face softens then, "No, no. Come on, it's really late. Let's just go to bed and we'll talk about it tomorrow. It will be all over soon, okay? I promise baby."

Tears flowed freely down your cheeks now as you shook your head.

"We've talked about it, Paul. Over and over again. A million times. Nothings changing."

"That doesn't mean you have to leave," Paul lets himself reach out to you this time, a stab to his chest when you take a step back.

"I-I'm sorry...I can't." Before you could let Paul's hurt expression shatter you anymore, you turned to walk out the door.

You knew Paul wouldn't ever let you walk away that easily. You barely get your truck started before Paul practically wedged himself in the drivers door, preventing you from shutting it.

"Let me go Paul." You sighed, not looking him in the face. You knew the second you did, all walls would crumble. You had to stand your ground with this. Stubborn as it may be, you weren't willing to sit back and watch your imprint put himself in danger.

He gently cradled the side of your face with his right hand, ever so gently brushing a tear away with his thumb.

"Don't leave like this...please. We can figure this out." His voice hoarse and desperate.

"Will you consider not going?" You asked, already knowing the answer. The silence that came after was a dead give away.

Still not bearing to look at him, you could faintly hear the choke in his throat as he kissed your cheek so lightly that you could have almost imagined it.

"I love you, Y/N. I'll be here when you want to come home." he said, slowly stepping out of the truck and closing the door.

You took off then, sobs consuming your chest.

-------------------------------------------------------

The last two weeks had been nothing short of pure misery for Paul. You hadn't spoken to him since you left that night. He had completely succumb to the four walls of his room. His mood varied from agitated to disassociated. His chest was tight, his inner wolf clawing at the surface. He knew what it felt like to have an argument with you, to not be near you for a day. But this was torture.

The pack was on edge. Paul was a strong number they needed in this battle, and from what they could tell, he was significantly weakened by this. Physically and mentally. They hadn't seen a bond this strained since Sam's accident with Emily.

"It's one thing we have to deal with this battle, it's another to deal with hot head over there. I haven't seen him this miserable in years," Jared sighs as he squeezed Kim's knee under the table.

"It's hard to remember him before Y/N. She definitely changed him for the better....I just hope this isn't it for good." Kim says softly as she plays with her hair.

"It won't be. Trust me," Sam says as he takes a sip of coffee.

They hoped he was right. If Paul was going to be at his best for this, he had to see you first.

------------------------------------------------------------

Sam made his rounds to every room of the house, banging on doors and ordering the boys to get up. Grumbles and groans could be heard throughout the house, the lack of sleep from anticipation eminent. Paul trudged his way down the stairs, catching sight of the pack with their imprints. A sick feeling came to his stomach as he caught glimpses of each one of them hold onto the other like a vice.

He made his way through the foyer awkwardly. Sam tore his gaze away from Emily's eyes for a moment to look at Paul,

"Why don't you go outside with the others?"

Paul shot his head up, caught off guard at the bold suggestion of getting him to leave them alone,

"What, so you can all bang before we leave?" He asked crudely (albeit, jealously).

Sam just snickered, "Oh, you want to watch?"

Paul crinkled his nose in disgust, muttering some curse words under his breath as he headed for the door.

It was only when he looked up that he knew why Sam wanted him out here.

There you stood, at the bottom of the porch. Your arms hugged your body tight, as if you were nervously anticipating his arrival. When your gaze met his, your breath caught in your throat. You both were stood frozen for a moment, neither knowing what the other was thinking.

The bond in Paul's chest felt like it was about to explode. He itched at the idea of pulling you close, but too afraid you didn't come here for reconciliation, rather than to spit in his face and walk out of his life forever.

Then you spoke.

"I didn't come here because Im okay with this," you started, and Paul's heart skipped a beat, fearing his nightmare was coming true.

"But I can't..." you started, eyes welling up. "I can't imagine something happening to you, and us having left like this. Me, having left you. I-I love you Paul, and I-"

You didn't have to finish before Paul rushed and crashed into you, hands gripping your cheeks as he melted his lips on yours. It felt like fireworks in his chest, like the very first time. You pulled back to breathe for a second, relief flooding you as he quickly resumed the kiss, his hands moving to squeeze your hips so hard that they'd be lightly bruised later. You didn't care.

After what seemed like an eternity you both pulled back, Paul continuing to pepper kisses along the side of your face, savoring every inch of you.

"Oh and he thought WE were too much?!" Jared cackled as the rest of the pack filtered outside, shit eating grins on their face as they watched you two.

Paul ignored them, only looking at you. "I will come home to you, okay?"

You sniffled. "You promise?"

"I promise."

--------------------------------------------------------------

You mindlessly tapped your fingers against the kitchen countertop, staring into a blank space. The small timer went off, and you nearly leaped backwards into an equally panicked Emily.

"Oops. Sorry," she says sheepishly as she pulls out what feels like the 7th meal she's made since this morning.

"No worries, just almost had a heart attack," Kim giggled from the other side of the room.

The three of you decided to be together while the pack went to the fight. 'A good distraction' they had said it would be, and it was anything except that. Every minute that went by felt more anxious than the next.

"If the boys aren't hungry after this, you can feed the entire reservation," you chided as you looked at all the food.

"I cook when I'm stressed, if you didn't already know," Emily said as she picked at a muffin.

Before either of you could say something to try to ease her anxiety, Emily's cell started ringing, a picture of Sam appearing on the screen.

"THANK GOD," she said as she scrambled for her phone to answer.

"Hey baby, everything okay? How did it-" she stopped talking, Sam clearly having interrupted her. Her face paled as you and Kim desperately looked at each other, cursing yourselves for not telling her to put it on speaker. Emily is used to the boys super sonic hearing, knowing they'd be able to listen regardless.

"We'll be right there," she said quietly, ending the call.

"What the hell happened!??" Kim asked in a high pitch tone. It was then that you felt a knot in your stomach as Emily looked only at you,

"It's....it's Paul."

--------------------------------------------------------------

Emily's car skidded to a halt in front of the Black's house, your feet hitting the asphalt before it was even in park. You began to rush to the door, when you heard a bone chilling scream that made you stop.

All of the pack members had been outside, wincing at the sounds of terror. Sorrowful looks turned in your direction. Your heart dropped as a million thoughts raced through your mind, both needing to see him and being too frightened at what you may witness. It wasn't until your eyes landed on Jacob's tear stricken face that you snapped out of your thoughts. He had his eyes stuck on you, and for the big bad wolf he was, he looked near terrified.

Your eyes went wild as you marched straight to him, shoving him hard. He barely moved, being much stronger, but you could care less about being embarrassed at anything right now.

"Are you fucking happy NOW? HUH? All that talk about being a fucking hero and it's only my fucking imprint that gets hurt! Fuck you, Jacob. Was it worth it??!" You screeched.

Jacob had stood still, taking in every word, before slowly speaking, "Y/N.....I am so, so sorry. There was a stragler at the very end and-"

You didn't want to let him finish his pathetic apology,

"I DONT GIVE A SHIT WHAT HAPPENED! YOU WANTED THIS SO BAD AND YOU GOT IT. I WILL NEVER, EVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS, DO YOU UNDERSTAND??" You cried.

Before he could give you a response, you felt a gentle, yet ice cold hand on your shoulder.

You whipped around, the temperature unfamiliar, to see the infamous vampire doctor. You sniffled, trying to wipe the tears away to no avail, "Is-is he okay?"

Even though you had pure hatred for the Cullen family at the moment, you weren't dumb enough to take it out on the only one clearly helping the love of your life. You'd appreciate him more if it weren't that they were the reason you were in this situation.

"He's going to be just fine. Bruised and battered right now...going to need a lot of morphine for the amount of energy his body has. Within a week, he should be all healed. You should know he's only been asking for you," he stated, a sympathetic smile.

"Thank you," you whispered, stepping past him and making your way inside. You could faintly hear him talk to Billy in the background, all your adrenaline seizing as you stopped short of the door where you knew Paul to be.

You felt selfish for being upset, not being able to imagine what he went through. You had to put on a brave face for him. Taking a deep breath, you walked in.

Paul was laying on his back, drenched in sweat, his chest glistening. Bandages wrapped around his torso in different ways, his left arm slung to his side. You'd seen him get hurt before, but this looked like pure agony. Regardless of how you knew he felt, Paul's eyes lit up when he sees you.

"Baby girl...I'm home," he said with a wide grin as he reached his uninjured arm out.

That's when you let the tears cascade. You ran to his bedside, so careful of the dressings as you leaned over to softly kiss him. He leaned his head up to kiss you fully, moaning lowly into your lips, and you were unsure if it was from bliss or from pain.

As you leaned back, his fingers ran up and held your cheek. "I'm going to kill your 'brother', by the way..." you whispered, causing him to chuckle.

"I don't want you to think about that right now. I want you to think about the fact that it's finally over, okay?" You nodded your head, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck, breathing him in.

You both were like that for awhile, before a woman cleared her throat. You turned around to see Sue in the doorway, smiling at the two of you.

"I just came in to set up the drip Carlise provided," she said as she walked into the room with medical equipment.

She pointed her finger at Paul, "Now, I need you to know that you have to primarily rest for the next week. No phasing. You need to take this medication three times a day, and make sure you eat a meal with it. Only drink water so that you can stay hydrated. Also....no strenuous activities." She looked at you both this time, your face heating up to a bright red.

Paul, the ever unbothered, turned to you and winked.

"Yeah we'll see."

"Paul!" You would have hit him in his side if you haven't been worried about his bruises. Sue just rolled her eyes while she worked on his IV.

Paul squeezed your hand, and for the first time in weeks, you were relieved.

It was a good thing too, you thought as you mindlessly felt for your stomach.

You once heard that stress isn't good for a baby.

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possiblefantasies · 2 months ago

Text

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.

masterlist | check out my other work !

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 fears —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.

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