Can you PLS write something with Ashley?
It could be anything 😭😭😭
A/N: Werewolf Ashley? werewolf Ashley. Part 1/3
Sunnyview felt like an ironic name for the town you'd settled in. The skies were always grey, no matter the season. It rained long and often, but you loved the weather. The constant taps against your window were a comfort. Plus, it gave you an excuse to stay inside. Don’t misunderstand, it's not like you were some kind of agoraphobic or shut-in. You just thought your fellow townsfolk were a bit...strange.
No matter where you went, it felt like you were being watched by a thousand sets of judgmental eyes. Every step was followed by something unseen. You'd never caught any particular culprit, but you trusted your gut. It said there was something wrong with the little town you'd settled down in.
With a name like Sunnyview, you'd think the locals were all smiles and “how are ya’s.” But they weren't. It was a really small town. Everyone knew everything about everybody. It wasn't hard to hear their unsubtle whispers about your past. They wondered why you'd come to the small Texas town from California. The football moms gossiped and speculated right in front of you. They were uncaring that you could hear them.
People wouldn't smile at you on the street, and the local baristas never learned your name despite going to the same coffee shop every day.
Then one day, you meet the town sheriff, and everything seems to change.
You'd come home after a long day of unsuccessful job hunting, your clothes drenched from the unexpected downpour that struck on your way home, hair clinging to your face in wet ringlets, bones aching, only to see that your small home was not as you’d left it.
The door looked like it had been ripped off its hinges. Your dog was violently barking at the inside of the house, drenched from the rain, his hair standing on end. You immediately panic before pulling out your phone and shakily dialing the sheriff's station.
Not five minutes passed before an old Chevy pulled up, the red and blue lights flashed across your face as you waved him down, through the flashing lights, you saw a tall man step out of the car, his sheriff's hat blocking the heavy rain, he approached like someone would a frightened animal, his hands raised in a sign of surrender, "Easy now darlin' My names Sherriff Hunt but you can call me Ashley." His voice was deep, his accent thick, you could see his blue eyes through the rain, and he seemed sincere.
You shakily pointed to what remained of your door. "I-I think someone broke into my house." He nodded, his eyes hard, his hand hovering over his pistol.
He stalked closer to your home with the grace of someone who'd been in this situation before.
Hand on his pistol, he steps closer to the home, confidence in his steps. He disappeared into the darkness of the house; it took him no time at all to sweep every nook and cranny. He found nothing and returned to you with a grim half smile, “Someone’s definitely been in there- you know anybody that fix to hurt ya’ darlin’?”
You shake your head no. ”I just moved here- fuck, this cannot be happening right now.” You press your hands to your face, a shaky, disbelieving sort of laugh escaping your lips.
His face softens, like he’s looking at something precious. “It’s gon’ be alright,” he offers a kind yet apologetic grin, “Let’s get you somewhere warm, I’ll get your statement and get this place checked out at first light.”
“First light? what am i supposed to-”
“Shh it’s okay darlin’..just breathe.”
Something in his tone makes you listen. Taking a few deep, calming breaths, you let him lead you out of the downtown area and into his pickup, not before calling your dog, of course. You didn't care that he was muddying up your clothes; you were just glad he was safe.
The rest of the night is a blur as you’d spent the night at the station, but you weren’t alone. Sheriff Hunt stayed by your side the entire night. He was a surprisingly good conversationalist, making you laugh and easing your tense shoulders with a simple southern pet name here and there.
They let you go home after a full day of investigating, it wasn’t until well into the night of the next day you’d gotten your keys back from the Sheriff.
The full moon hangs low in the sky, so close and bright, and a cluster of clouds cradles it; despite yourself, you couldn't help but feel a chill down your back at the hauntingly picturesque sight. Your granny always said bad things came out under moonlight, her words ringing in your ear as you let Mikey out. The dog had a preference for needing to use it as soon as you went to bed, so you let him out in the backyard beforehand.
Padding over to the kitchen, the cool August air of Sunnyview drifted in through the open back door. You ran hot naturally, so it felt good on your skin as you rummaged through your fridge for snacks. Just as you took a sip of the soda you'd scored in your search, you heard it, Mikey growing at something in the woods just beyond your fence.
He wasn't just growling, he was snarling, "What's wrong, Mikey Boy?" You call out, stepping barefoot in your backyard, the wet grass ignored as you rush to your dog. His hair stood on end, and he was crouched in a defensive position, practically drooling from just how hard he was barking at whatever he saw outside your fence.
As you grabbed his collar, he ignored you, continuing to snarl at the woods. You had to squint your eyes in the dark, but there was no mistaking the silver glint of two reflective eyes staring directly at you.
