Werewolf Boyfriend: Jasper Part One (complete)

As a child, you were always moving, going from one place to the next as if carried by the wind. You had never enjoyed it despite the bravado of your family. They always made it a point to tell you that you should be grateful, and that some people never got to see the world like you did. Well, those people had a room to themselves, and beds only they had slept in. Those people had friends, and didn’t have to worry about the night. 

Your father insisted that this was best, and that the work he did and you would do someday mattered more than all those things you wanted. Even when your mom was killed, it didn’t matter to him. It was as if there was one less anchor tied to him. He dragged you and your siblings to hell and back.

You were sixteen when you left - one too many fights with your dad resulted in a permanent break. You had nothing but the clothes on your back, what little was in your backpack, and the stash of money your eldest sibling gave you. The cash was enough to get you by for a while, but eventually you had to get a job. That was a challenge in itself, because on paper you didn’t exist. You found under-the-table work wherever you could get it - sometimes jobs that were less than reputable, but they were nothing compared to the things you saw as a kid.  Eventually, you had enough money saved to get a car. That became your home, and you went anywhere you wanted to go. 

One afternoon while driving, you saw an actual chicken in the road. Just like all the jokes, only the poor thing wasn’t crossing. It was skittering back and forth, terrified. You managed to grab the chicken, and the poor thing seemed eager to be held. It sat serenely in the passenger seat of your car while you tried to find a vet or shelter.  You had always wanted a pet as a kid, but living on the road wasn’t fair to you, let alone an animal. 

You ended up keeping the chicken, and named her Ginger. Sure, it would have been better to keep a dog, but Ginger worked her way into your heart. Ginger is also what convinced you to chase after another seemingly far-off dream.

It’s dark, and you’ve pulled over on the side of the road just outside a national forest. A massive sign bears a map of the local area. The Hearthway Forest is a nature reserve for the endangered red wolf, and a historical site for the Lumbee tribes of the area.

You are walking Ginger, letting her stretch her legs, peck, and do whatever she needs to do. You glance up at the map, which Ginger is stalling under. She preens and coos, scuffing her feet in the dirt.

“You know what?” You glance down at Ginger. “You’re right, we should stay here.”

Ginger cocks her head to the side.

You step up to the map and run you fingers over it. Just beyond the forest, there is a town called Hearthway Hollow. Having a place to call home, a place you didn’t have to move - you thought it was only a pipe dream. But you never stopped long enough to find out if that was true or not.

After a quick rest, you and Ginger find yourselves in Hearthway Hollow. It’s early morning and the only things open are a cafe, a hole-in-the-wall diner, and a tool shop. The place looks like the sort of town you see in old TV shows and movies. It looks perfectly serene. 

As you get out of your car, holding Ginger in yours arms, you started to feel a momentous weight on your shoulders. You have no idea what you are doing, or even what you could possibly could do. Where should you turn? How can you expect to live here?

“Hey, Dorothy?” a gruff voice calls out to you. “You far from Kansas?”

You turn, glancing back towards the tool shop, where the biggest man you have ever seen is standing. His pitch-black hair is peppered with gray, and he has the sort of look a mob boss would have. 

“Dorothy?” Your voice cracks.

He points to Ginger. “Yeah. You got Bellina there.”

Ginger fluffs up.

“Her name is Ginger.” You’re not exactly sure how to respond to this guy, or whether smarting off will get you in trouble.

He laughs, a sort of smile crossing his face. “You look lost with a chicken. I don’t mean anything by it, kid.” He steps towards you. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

You look him over. Having dealt with men as big as him before, you know you could take him if necessary. The only thing giving you pause is how genuine his tone seems. “I’m new here, and it’s a long story as to why, but I suppose I’m here to stay.”

He chuckles, placing his hands on his hip. “Well, welcome to Hearthway Hollow, kid. I’m Big Billy, and you found yourself at just the right spot.” He waves his hand. “Come on in, Ginger is welcome too.”

You follow him into his store. He takes you behind the counter and into his office, sits down at his desk and starts going over papers.

“So, job, place to live - everything?” he asks.

You nod. “All I have is my car.”

Billy sighs, his eyes focusing hard on what he is looking for. “Back when I came here, I barely had the clothes on my back. I know what it’s like to start from nothing.” He glances up at you, his eyes searching for something. “Now tell me, is there something you’re running from? Anything dangerous?”

You shake your head. “It’s a long story,” you murmur. “Nothing dangerous, just, uhm…” You scoff and shake your head again. “It’s nothing.”

Billy lowers his gaze. “You look fairly young,” he says. “You’re not a baby are you?”

You frown at him, furrowing your brow.

“Look, I’m a dad, and a grandpa. All young kids who pass through my door are babies to me,” Billy laughs. “I just want to make sure. If you are a kid, we’ll be able to find you a home.”

“I’m closer to thirty than you’d think,” you answer him.

Billy chuckles. “Good skincare routine?”

“Do gas station bathrooms count as skincare?” you grumble.

Billy’s thick brows arch. “Touche.” He opens up his desk drawer and holds out a key to you. “The address is on the tag,” he says. “Place is an old rental cabin so it needs a lot of work.” He hands you a business card. “My info is on there. Contact me between six in the morning and eight at night. If you contact me any earlier or later I will assume it is an emergency and treat it as such. If it isn’t, you’re in trouble.”

“Wait.” You stare at the key. “What?”

“My eldest is about to have her second kid, and she’s being prescribed bed rest this time. She needs someone to run her shop. My youngest will help, but she scares customers, so she’s going to handle everything behind the scenes and can train you. You will be the face of the shop for the next few months. Do good work and I’ll keep you on at one of my other stores.” Billy says all this like a lawyer rattling off charges.

“Wait, wait,” you try to slow him down again. “Why are you doing this? I’m just some person with a chicken!”

Billy glances up again. “I recognize you,” he says.

For a moment, your bones go cold and your stomach drops. 

“There are a lot of people who make their way to Hearthway Hollow like you. I’ve seen you countless times and in many ways. Oftentimes all you need is a kind hand and a point in the right direction.” Billy smirks as he stands back up. “I’m going to keep my eye on you like a hawk, of course,” he laughs. “So don’t think you can take advantage of this.”

You shake your head, terrified of the low rumble in Billy’s voice.

“Good,” Billy says. “Now go on. I’ll come by later to make sure everything in the cabin is still in working order. The porch is enclosed, so you can keep Ginger on it until you build a proper coop for her.” He walks behind you as you go back out into the main part of the shop.

“Oh and another thing,” Billy says warningly. You shiver, turning to look up at him as if the final boot is going to drop. “The cabin probably reeks of cat piss.” He ducks behind the counter, then hands you a bottle of deodorizing spray. “I’ve been meaning to get the carpets cleaned, so just be warned.”

“Oh.” You look over the spray bottle, then back to Billy. “Sorry, I can’t tell if you’re nice or if I should be terrified.”

Billy throws his head back in a laugh. Ginger fluffs up in yours arms, and you take a cautious step back.

“Both.” Billy smiles down at you. He points to the corner across the street. “Report there by nine tomorrow. Kamilah isn’t like me, she’s only scary.”

The address on the key takes you through a row of extremely old houses, then cuts down a dirt road that eventually leads to a section of old cabins. Yours is in the back. As you set Ginger on the porch, you go inside to find, sure enough, the faint odor of cat piss. But there is furniture - a couch, an armchair, and a kitchen table with mismatched chairs. In the bedroom there is a bedframe, and leaning against the wall is a mattress wrapped in plastic. 

For a moment you’re unsure about your surroundings. It all feels far too good to be true. Everything you wanted as a kid is all right here. If it wasn’t for the urine smell, you’d be sure you were dreaming.

Ginger comes tapping through the house, running around and fluffing up her feathers. She scurries back to the porch, already making herself at home in an old wicker rocking chair. You join her on the porch, wiping at your eyes as you start to cry.

Smiling, you look into the trees, and there you see something. It’s big and wearing a leather jacket. As it turns you’re met with a pair of very blue eyes. The figure’s flaming-red hair is wild and matted, almost exactly like their caveman beard. 

“Bigfoot?” you whisper.

The man spits and continues walking up through the woods, disappearing further up the mountain. Possibly returning to his cave, or grave, or wherever the hell he lives. You’ve seen many a sight in your life, just nothing quite like that.

“You saw him too, right?” you whisper to  Ginger.

Ginger just croons to herself.

“You’re just in denial,” you huff at her.

The next day, you make it to the hobby shop. As you come up to the door you find a tiny girl standing there, putting a key into the lock. She has the same hair and eyes as Billy, so you figure this must be Kamilah.

“You the kid?” she asks.

“Uhm, yeah, but could you not call me that?” you ask with a small laugh.

Kamilah shrugs. “I’ll call ya whatever, you just gotta tell me.” She opens the door and leads you inside. “Place is pretty simple to run. You ever work a cash register?”

“Yeah. I’m okay with computers too, but don’t ask me to fix them.” You look around the shop, taking in all the craft supplies, tools, and glue the world could ever need.

“That’s my job,” Kamilah laughs. She turns on more lights, then stops in a doorway. “So what do you wanna be called?”

You glance at her unsurely for a moment. She is wearing all black, has the most perfect winged liner you’ve ever seen, and an aura like armor made out of sharp knives. She is a human black cat if you’ve ever seen one.

“They, them,” you answer.

Kamilah snaps her fingers. “You got it.” She steps into a back room, where there are tons of unopened boxes piled. “So tell me, since my Dad didn’t seem to think to ask...” She slams the door shut behind her. “Who the hell are you?”

“What?” You stiffen your body and tighten your hands into fists.

“My dad has gone soft. He’s like pumpkin pie with melting ice cream on him. He sees a pity case and that ice cream turns to liquid really fast.” She’s at least a foot shorter than you, but the aura of knives has you feeling like a trapped rat. 

“Who are you?” Kamilah asks again. “How do you show up here with just a chicken? I can smell something funny and I don’t like it. And it isn’t the cat piss.”

“I can’t tell you,” you grumble.

“Can’t tell me?” Kamilah laughs haughtily. “Listen, you, there is so much stuff I can’t tell you that your head would spin! Now out with it. My twin brother is a surgeon, and he’ll cut your tongue out just so he doesn’t have to deal with me.”

“The hell is wrong with you?” you whisper at her.

“This town is special,” Kamilah snarls. “It has to be protected. You’re a stranger here, and one that isn’t settling with me. There’s something wrong about you.”

You furrow your brow and step up. “I can tell from the spread of your hands - specifically the space between your thumb and forefinger - you are some sort of shifter.” You move closer to her. “But what kind? Considering a few other factors - like the thickness of your hair and the way your shoulders dip - I would say you’re animal-based. Not to mention the enlarged canines and molars you have.”

Kamilah touches her cheek, a shocked look spreading on her face that soon gives way to a smile. “You’re a fucking hunter, ain’t ya?”

“Not anymore.” You step away from her. “My father is. I ran away from that years ago.”

“How can I trust that?” Kamilah huffs.

You shrug, tossing your hands up in the air. “You can’t,” you laugh. “You don’t know me. But if you looked closer you’d be able to tell I haven’t touched hunting gear in years. There’s no gunpowder anywhere on me. The only thing I have is a chicken.”

“And your family?” Kamilah points. “Do they know you’re here?”

You shake your head. “They probably don’t even know I’m alive.” You wipe at your eyes. “I left them when I was sixteen and I have not cared to go back.”

Kamilah folds her arms across her chest. “Hearthway Hollow is filled with enough creatures that if you made one wrong move, you’d be dead. And that’s just the humans.” She smirks. “A few rules before we get started - you breathe of any of this, and you’re dead.”

“I really don’t care,” you grumble.

“Another rule,” Kamilah snaps. “If dead animals show up on your porch, it isn’t a threat, nor a reason for you to start killing anything.”

“I literally only own a chicken. I know that only their eggs are dangerous, and I eat those, so-” You roll your eyes.

Kamilah smirks and lowers her index finger. “You might be alright,” she sighs. Then she points at herself. “Werewolf.”

“Thought so,” you say with a nod. “Billy, too?”

“You’ve never seen a werewolf like him before,” Kamilah laughs as she opens the door. “He used to be feral, so he takes pity on strays like you.”

“Makes sense.” You follow Kamilah back out to the front of the shop, where she gives you a lesson on the old cash register. After training you for a while, Kamilah closes shop up to take you out for lunch.

“Oh, by the way,” you say to her. “I saw some sort of Bigfoot wannabe near the cabin yesterday.”

“Bigfoot?” Kamilah scoffs.

“He had blue eyes and sort of - like, a caveman aesthetic, with a leather jacket?” You motion around your head to show the width of his hair.

“Oh!” She gasps and her eyes widen. “That’s probably Jasper.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “Oh boy, I haven’t seen him around in ages.”

“Who is he?” Your brow pinches.

“Kind of an outcast,” Kamilah shrugs. “He and Mrs. Locklear got into it a few years ago, so he retreated further into the woods so he didn’t have to deal with her.”

You tilt your head. “And who is Mrs. Locklear?”

“Only my hero!” Kamilah blurts. She looks up at you in astonishment. “Wow, you’ve really never heard of Mrs. Locklear? She’s a legend!” Kamilah grins brightly. “Her family settled Hearthway Hollow, and she’s sort of the pulse of this whole place. She could be the Alpha if she wanted to, but she’s so chill she just enjoys being able to do as she pleases. She is Grade A badass.”

“Werewolf too, I’m assuming?” You smile down at Kamilah.

Kamilah nods. “She’s like dad too, always taking in strays and the like.” Her smile is bright as she talks. “She kicked my dad’s ass when he first came here.”

“Oh, wow,” you murmur.

After a while, you settle into life in Hearthway Hollow. You get the cabin cleaned up, get sheets and a proper blanket for the bed. Work goes well, and you have become close friends with Kamilah. You’ve even built a coop for Ginger, and have gotten two more chickens, Beatrice and Stella. 

Everything is going well. Then, one evening, you return home to see Ginger has escaped from the enclosure. Stella and Beatrice are still there, but Ginger has somehow flown the coop. You track her down in the woods, but she runs from you, scurrying off deeper into the foliage.

“I know you don’t like not being an only child!” you bark after her. “But come on!” You trudge deeper into the woods, haunted by vivid flashbacks of your childhood, having to chase your father as he hunted.

You fall, tripping over a root, and hit the ground fairly hard. Your foot feels like it’s been ripped off. You can hear Ginger ahead of you, clucking and pecking at the ground.

You let loose a stream of expletives as you sit up. You check your ankle, and sure enough it has already begun to swell. There is no way you can make it home through the woods with this injury holding you down, let alone with Ginger.

You go stiff and glance up. Just beside you, silent as a shadow, is Jasper. You stare at him, every bone in your body locking into place. 

Jasper bends over, scoops you off the ground and carries you, taking you a little further into the woods until you see a log cabin. Ginger is giving chase, pecking at him and fluffing up her feathers to scare him.

“Oh, now you want to show off.” Jasper scoops up Ginger too, setting her on his porch as he carries you inside.

“There you go.” He sets you down in a chair. “Stay still, I’ll get some ice for it.”

“I, uh-” you watch him as he takes off his jacket. He goes towards the back and disappears.

You glance around his place, noticing he has quite the arrangement of knives everywhere. Some are just laid out on tables, like hard candy in a grandmother’s home. Jasper returns with an ice pack and a rag and pulls up a footstool, setting your foot on it as he wraps the rag around your ankle and tucks the ice pack into it.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

“Couldn’t have someone dying on my property,” he grumbles.

“That could be said of anybody,” you chuckle nervously.

Jasper looks you over, his face all but hidden by his wild hair and beard. All you can really see of him is his eyes peering out. “You’re the one raising chickens?” He points to his door. “That one has been sneaking onto my property for weeks and stealing from my garden.”

“She what now?” you snap.

“Around the same time every day,” he growls. “Do you let them just roam free?”

“No!” you protest. “They have a coop, and an enclosure! I’m too scared they’ll get eaten if they roam free. You telling me my chicken is a thief and a liar?”

“Escape artist too, by the sound of it,” Jasper huffs.

You slouch back in the chair. “And I nearly broke my leg because of her.”

Jasper opens up a china cabinet which is full of liquor bottles and glasses. He pours himself a drink, then offers it to you. 

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m fine for now.”

“I’m not one for company,” he growls. 

“I can tell. The knives are very inviting.” You clear your throat. “Sorry.”

Jasper sits down on the sofa across from you. He takes a drink, then swirls the glass in his hand. “I keep myself separate from the rest of town. So I usually don’t mingle.”

“So what do you do?” You lean forward a bit and rub your leg. “I mean, aside from trying to look like you just escaped Jumanji.”

He gives you a confused look, then sets his glass aside. “I’m a glass blower.” He points his thumb over his shoulder. “I have a workshop out back. I have a few friends in town who sell my wares for me.”

“That’s… not what I expected,” you chuckle. “Glass blower, really? So, like… vases and stuff?” You move your hands around in the air, trying to mime the shape of a bulbous vase.

“Anything, really,” Jasper shrugs. “Vases. Lamps. Knickknacks. Sometimes jewelry.” He picks up his glass again to drink. “Glass dildos.”

You instantly suck your lips into your mouth. You don’t want to offend your slightly terrifying host, but you want so badly to laugh.

“Artisinal,” he winks.

You let a laugh slip and quickly cover your mouth. “Ah, well, too bad you can’t slap ‘organic’ or ‘all-natural’ on them. Then you would hardly be able to keep them in stock.”

“Who says I do?” He places his empty glass back on the table. “Let me make some dinner. I’ll get you set up here for the night and take you home in the morning. Good thing you tripped on a Saturday.”

“Oh, sure,” you huff.

Jasper makes perhaps the best steak you’ve ever eaten. He also makes a vegetable medley that is almost as good as the meat. That evening, he lets you sleep in his bed while he takes up the couch. His scent is all over the bed, and it’s so dusky and manly you almost find yourself enjoying it.

Come morning, you wake from a sound sleep. You had heard the shower, and now you see Jasper in the room going through his chest of drawers. 

“Good morning,” you grumble as you rub your eyes. “Do you drink coffee or do you just shove your head in a stream?” 

Jasper turns, and for a moment you think someone else has come into the room. If it weren’t for his eyes, you wouldn’t recognize him. He’s clean-shaven, no gnarly caveman beard in sight. His hair is wet and brushed out, laying over one shoulder. His face is covered in freckles, and his chest and arms in thick curls. The towel is only thing around his waist, letting you admire his broad chest, strong arms, and the slight chub of his stomach.

Jasper smirks as he looks at you. “The stream works best to wake up.” He takes his clothes into his arms. “But I’ll put on coffee after I get dressed.” His smile lingers as he goes back into the bathroom.

Your jaw drops, and you hold your hands around your head. Oh no. Jasper’s hot.