I woke up in my room, the soft light of morning streaming through the curtains. It's only been a week since I arrived here, but it feels like something's shifted inside me, like I'm developing Stockholm syndrome or something.
Why am I not more freaked out?
The thought gnawed at me, but before I could dwell on it, the door creaked open.
Smiley stood there, smiling as usual.
"Morning," I yawned, trying to shake off the fog of sleep. He stepped forward and, like clockwork, pulled me into a hug.
Hold your breath,
I did just that, resisting the strange warmth that always seemed to seep in when I was close to him. He pulled back, his expression unreadable as ever.
"N...no m-meeting," he stammered out.
"Oh, no meeting today?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is there any reason why?"
He shrugged, a silent answer that left me hanging in the air with my own thoughts.
That's odd.
Why did the stutter seem more pronounced this morning? Was something wrong? Brushing it off for now, I headed into the bathroom, trying to shake off the unsettled feeling creeping up on me.
As I brushed my teeth, my mind wandered.
Shouldn't I be panicking more?
I stared into the mirror, the reflection staring back at me like a stranger.
Where's the terror?
The urgency to escape?
Instead, I felt strangely calm, like I was floating in some sort of hazy peace.
I glanced around the bathroom. Everything was so... well-maintained. Clean tiles, shiny fixtures, and running water.
Funny.
Back home, I didn't even have proper running water most of the time. Yet here I was, brushing my teeth in a place that felt too pristine, too perfect to be real.
After finishing up, I wandered down to the kitchen, where Smiley had laid out a full breakfast—eggs, bacon, pancakes, the works. He looked genuinely proud of himself, standing there as if waiting for my approval.
I sat down, grabbing a fork and diving in.
"Wow, this is so good," I mumbled through a mouthful, not even bothering with manners. Smiley watched me, that same smile never leaving his face.
He looked pleased, almost like he lived for moments like these—moments when I was eating, relaxed, and not resisting.
Why am I not resisting?
It had been a long time since I'd felt this at peace. Too long, if I'm being honest. After eating, I felt like I was floating, light and content. Smiley picked up the plates and started washing them, the clatter of dishes filling the silence. That's when I noticed it again—a framed note hanging right above the fireplace.
I paused, staring at it.
Weird.
There was something about that note that tugged at me, like an old memory scratching at the edges of my mind, refusing to be fully remembered. A strange sense of nostalgia washed over me, making my chest tighten.
I felt Smiley's presence behind me before I even turned around. His smile—endless and eerie as always—hovered over my shoulder, his silent energy almost smothering.
"Smiley?" I asked, my eyes locked on the letter.
"Hm?" he hummed, still that low, melodic sound.
"Why is that letter framed?" I gestured toward it. He glanced at the letter, his expression shifting, becoming more... proud?
"I... import...tant," he managed to get out, his voice gravelly and deep, yet still with that maddening softness to it.
Important?
I frowned, squinting at the note. Something about it felt so familiar, but I couldn't place it.
Why can't I remember writing that?
My fingers itched to touch it, to tear it off the wall and read it again and again until it made sense.
"Did I... write that?" I asked, my voice quieter now, uncertainty creeping in.
He nodded, his eyes gleaming with something I couldn't quite decipher.
Pride? Satisfaction?
"How come I don't remember?" I pressed, feeling my pulse quicken.
Shouldn't I remember something like that?
Smiley just shrugged, offering no answers, no clarity—just more maddening silence.
I turned my back on the letter and headed toward the window, trying to clear my head. But the note lingered in my mind like a ghost.
Smiley's presence, his strange, comforting meals, the way he hovered close but never too close—it all started to feel like a well-rehearsed routine. Like there was some deeper meaning I wasn't allowed to understand yet.
What am I missing?
My eyes darting back to the letter one last time.
YOU ARE READING
Smiley (Yandere Werewolf x Reader)
FanfictionI woke up in a room I didn't recognize, my fingers tracing the rough fabric of a bedspread that wasn't mine. The air was thick with something unfamiliar, and every small difference in the space set off alarm bells in my head. My heart raced as I scr...
