Werewolves, an urban legend, a tale told to naughty children, they weren't real. Sure, some people could be compared to them, uncontrollable hair, fiery personality, hotheadedness, they were all remnants of a werewolf. But they weren’t real.

John Mactavish, or Johnny as he preferred to be called, was one some people had compared to a werewolf. The way he’d throw himself into danger without a second look, his stubborn attitude, yet he still managed to get a partner, you.

You’d been dating for a few months now and everything was perfect. Sure, he had his moments, but who didn't? He’d come home from work everyday to your tiny apartment, stand behind you while you made dinner, his arms wrapping around your waist as he told you how much he had missed you.

Today was the same, he’d gotten home earlier, before the sun had even set, which was unusual, but you paid no mind, assuming he just got off early. He pulled his boots off at the door, walking into the kitchen to the savory smell of dinner being made. He huffed, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. His chin pressed against your shoulder, his nose brushing against your neck. He let out a deep sigh before he spoke, his voice gravelly and drained.

“I’m going to bed early.. Don’t bother checking on me, 'm exhausted..”

He kissed your cheek before walking off to the guest room, locking the door behind him. He didn’t reappear for a good few hours, the door unlocking around midnight, when he had assumed you’d be asleep. He walked out of the room, going into the kitchen to collect his dinner when he saw you standing there, getting a glass of water.

He was a completely different man, pointy ears, fur from head to toe, long, sharp claws on his hands and feet, a scruffy tail, a snout. He was.. A wolf?! He quickly placed his hand over your mouth before you could scream or say anything, clearly panicking now.

“Listen.. I can explain, if you'll let me..”

He spoke sheepishly, gesturing to the living room before walking off, sitting on the couch.