Hearthway Hollow

Delaynie

Male Werewolf x Female Reader (suffers from mental illness)

Where I am from, werewolves don't live in peace and harmony. They hunt in the wild, roaming from place to place without anything tying them down. Humans are a source of entertainment to us, not companions or friends. You either fuck a human or fuck them over. That was how I was raised, and that was all I knew.

When I was fifteen years old, I left my pack and went out on my own. I had nothing there, and even if my family was behind me, they had never really been an integral part of my life. After my half-brother left the pack, I had lost all interest. He was the only one I respected, the only one who seemed to understand what it meant to be a werewolf truly. He was wild and strong. One of the biggest weres I had ever seen. He disappeared and, not long after, I decided to leave on my own.

As I traveled on my own, it never occurred to me to think about the pack I had left behind. Not my mother, not whoever my father was, not even the pups I was helping to raise. None of them mattered, so none of them were worth the effort.

Although, I kept lingering on my brother. I wondered where he was and what he was doing. Was he even still alive? It seemed laughable that anything could ever take him down. He was always so huge and terrifying. He had struck me once when I was younger, all because I was annoying him. I never annoyed him again after that. I didn't want to suffer the full wrath of his monstrous paws.

One day, while roaming through the woods, I caught the distinctive whiff of other weres. It wasn't just the normal smell of a few roaming about. No. It was thick and heavy as if more than a dozen were gathered in the same place. I came across a small town and, as I wandered the streets, I realized it was full of weres.

These weren't the kind of wild animals I knew either. Far from. These were tame. No more than whimpering lap dogs. Not just that, there were humans among them. They mixed and mingled as if there was nothing strange at all. It wasn't right, it all felt so forced and humiliating.

But then, as I was considering leaving, I smelled something hauntingly familiar. It was a powerful, dark scent, one that made me both feel afraid and comforted. I followed the scent, going into a small hardware store. I could smell him everywhere, and yet I wasn't allowing myself to be helpful.

"Sir, can I help you?" Someone asks.

I look at them standing at the counter and then, just on the wall behind them, I see a picture. I point to it. "The man in that photo," I growl. "Where is he?"

They jump and look around. "You mean Mr. MacAllister?" They ask. "He-he just went home."

I inch closer, bearing down on them. They take a few steps back, away from me and I tilt my head. "Well then," I chuckle. "Where is that?"

"I...I uh..." They look around anxiously.

"If you're looking for Billy, then why don't you follow your nose like you did when you came in here?" A tall woman walks out from an aisle with a monkey wrench in her hand. She has long black hair that's showing the early signs of graying. Her skin is a deep, oaky red, and her eyes fill me with a terror I am not accustomed to.

I back away from the counter and glare at her.

Her eyes widen. "Holy shit," she whispers under her breath. "You look just like him." She takes a few steps towards me, and the stare hardens again. "Whatever face you have, take it outside. If you want to find Billy, then I think you damn well know how to." She raises the wrench and pokes me in the chest with it.

"Go on now, you're scary, we all get it." She motions to the door.

I slap the wrench away from me and snarl at her.