#astrofics

The cold mountain air did little to settle Rook’s steadily growing rage as he stalked closer to the bunker of the youngest Seed brother. He knew John was baiting him. Those icy blue eyes were far too playful for his big speech. Rook knew not so deep down that he should ignore the man, stay calm and be smart. Yet still, he reached for his gun, cursing as he felt only an empty holster. Joey would chew him out for leaving his gear behind. And she can do exactly that when they get back to his hideout.

Rook steadied his breath as he watched the peggies guarding the large bunker door, holding on carefully to a large rock. The resistance had been planning an attack on the bunker for weeks now. Before too long, there would be a shift change; it wasn’t long enough for a group to get in through the main door so Jerome ignored it. But Rook was willing to test his luck. As the door creaked open, Rook tossed the rock between two barrels of bliss. The loud metallic clank had the guards rushing over, giving the young deputy the perfect chance to sneak inside.

Rook had studied the blueprints to this bunker hundreds of times, yet the identical blue striped halls felt more like a labyrinth than a bunker with every step. Adrenaline filled Rook’s veins, leading him deeper and deeper in a direction he could only hope was closer to Joey.

“-still has that girl tied up. Figured her friend would have come for her by now.” Rook sank against a wall, closing his eyes as he listened to a group of peggies around the corner.

“Those sinners are all the same, so incredibly selfish. John will set them straight.” Rook took a shaky breath, fighting the urge to leave the cultist an unrecognizable mess. After coming this far undetected it wasn’t worth the risk. They would see. By the end of the night, Joey would be safe and they would have to hear John bitching about how she got away. Rook smirked as he heard the peggies move away. He readied himself to move further into the bunker; it wouldn’t be long before he and Joey were on the other side of Hope County. Together and Safe.

“So, tell me, what sins do you hide?” John’s intense blue eyes looked straight through y/n as he spoke, “You parade around Hope county like a paragon. But we both know that’s not true.”

Y/n struggled against his restraints, head throbbing as he tried to imagine being anywhere else.

“The others will come, John.” The youngest Seed brother looked unamused as y/n spoke, twisting his knife slowly in his hands. “Surely neither of us want a fight. It’s never worth the aftermath. Be civil John, I beg you.”

“Civil?!” Y/n flinched at John’s bitter laugh, “I think I know your sin. Pride. You give all of those sinners faith, leading them to believe that you know best. Better than the Father, better than God.” The cold edge of John’s knife glided carefully over y/n’s forearm, careful not to break skin. John’s gaze calculating as he studied the sinner bound before him. Y/n fought off a gasp at the jolt of his chair which left y/n inches away from John’s face. “You have been such a pain, a true thorn in the side of Eden’s Gate. I am going to enjoy cleansing you of your sin, I may need to be more– thorough to do this right.”

John dragged y/n’s chair through the halls of his bunker, the metal scraping loudly against the cold concrete floor. Various peggies filled the halls, the scars of their sins shining ominously under the fluorescent lights. Some of the cultists looked vaguely familiar, friends and neighbors from what felt like a lifetime ago. Some avoided y/n’s gaze as the duo passed; others sneered in his direction, not bothering to hide their disgust. Y/n held his head high as he watched, a measured expression painted upon his face.

The drop of y/n’s chair jerked his attention back to John who was flipping through a key ring, carefully picking one that matched the matte black knob of the door before them. This door was nothing like the mass produced metal ones that littered the rest of the bunker: it was carefully carved, wood stained with a deep blue and framed with black hardware. John Seed’s personal quarters. Y/n stifled a laugh, this was the man who wanted to lecture him about pride?

Y/n’s eyes strained as they struggled to adjust to the darkness of John’s room, doing his best to track John’s movements behind him. John’s eyes met y/n’s through the mirror as he locked the door they entered only moments ago. The small lamp on a large wooden dresser cast dramatic shadows around the room, its light absorbed by the deep colors John clearly preferred. “Don’t worry y/n, no one will hear you now, confessions are meant to be private after all.” John stalked closer to y/n, every movement oozing a sense of confidence and purpose. 

“Let’s try this again. What sins are you trying so hard to hide? Your pride is obvious, it clouds your mind. Leads you to make rash decisions and, well, I don’t have to tell you how that ends.” John placed his head on y/n’s shoulder, a smirk drawing at his lips as his eyes wandered over the younger man in the floor length mirror. “Do I?”

“You don’t have to do this John-”

“Oh but I do. To let you continue down this path of sin would only be a symbol of my own failure. And as a soldier of God, failure is not something I can afford. By the time you leave this bunker, your sins will be exposed. Every single one of them. You will hide no longer. Not from me, not from your little resistance and not from yourself. Only then, may you begin to atone.”

“And if I don’t?” Y/n took a shaky break as John’s words settled over him. “If I choose not to atone after it all? What then?”

Y/n had seen the aftermath of John’s little confessions. It was almost as if you could tell who gave him a hard time, who struggled to keep their sins under wraps. Their scars were deep and jagged. Y/n always imagined the pain that caused them couldn’t compare to what they showed. They served as a warning. Resistance would only earn you endless pain at the hands of Eden’s Gate. 

Others had scars that were neat and precise, deep enough to leave a mark but shallow enough to avoid unnecessary suffering. These were the scars of people who rolled over and gave themselves willingly to Eden’s Gate. It was shameful, but it was easy. It was safe. Y/n briefly thought about confessing, doing only what was necessary to leave John’s bunker relatively unharmed. But he knew John wouldn’t let him go so easily, not after everything he had done.

“I can’t make you atone, but until you have been guided to the steps of Eden’s Gate, I may not rest easy.” John moved between Y/n and the mirror, speaking in a hushed voice while leaning close enough y/n could see his reflection in those icy blue eyes. “Your sin infects those around you, bringing us all down. Spreading like a vicious disease, one only you can prevent. You just have to say yes. Let me help you.”

“Help me?” John’s eyes grew dark at the abrupt laugh that left y/n’s mouth, “I’m tied up while you threaten me with a knife, and you think you are helping me? I always heard lawyers were good at persuading people. Guess this is why you didn't make it, huh? Your poor clients, they never-”

Y/n’s eyes began to water as the hard feeling of concrete met his head, his feeble groan sounding foreign as it flooded his ears. John’s frame moved into his blurred vision as the man straddled him, legs fitting perfectly on either side of his chair.

“I left that life behind for my family; that was my sacrifice. One of my many steps toward atonement. A step you will be taking today,” Warm light reflected harshly off the metal of John’s knife. A shiver ran up y/n’s spine as the cold blade made its way across his skin for the second time that night. “Your pride will be put on display for the world to see. It’s almost poetic, isn’t it? Such a perfect little sinner being exposed, unable to hide from your shortcomings. What a mighty sacrifice indeed.”

“John, please, don’t do this.” Y/n pulled against the ropes still holding him in place as John untied him just enough to secure his forearm into a more accessible position. “Anywhere else, anything else, please.”

“Oh? Did I hit a nerve?” The too familiar edge of John’s knife paused on its newfound home against y/n’s forearm, “I’m afraid you don’t get to pick where your sin is displayed. The atonement, it's all symbolic. Humility embraced by those with pride, charity given by those most driven by greed, and diligence shown by those who were once plagued by sloth. Soon you will see exactly how it all fits together. And how you fit within it all.”

“Maybe it’s something else. My sin, what if it isn’t pride? What if you’re wrong?” Y/n knew it was a long shot as the words left his mouth, but John’s laugh still caught him off guard.

“We both know I am not wrong, not about this.” John tilted his head, stray hair falling onto his face. “But I suppose if you are willing to make a proper confession, we could hold off on marking you with something so obvious. Though you should know, very few sins manage to hide once they have made their way onto your flesh.”

The key around John’s neck swayed in almost a teasing manner as it caught the light. John’s weight pinned y/n in place; even with a free arm, he had no way to escape. Freedom was within y/n’s grasp, but he wouldn’t dare to risk taking it. The only way out was confession, John had made sure of that. Y/n’s mind raced as he studied the herald’s wicked grin, flinching as cold metal lazed its way across his neck. John was growing impatient; y/n didn’t have long before a choice would be made for him. Surely being stuck under a less attractive man would make finding an escape so much easier.

Y/n felt a heat rush to his face, praying that John hadn’t noticed his sudden shift in demeanor.

Sure, being in the resistance took up a lot of his time, leaving less for certain… extracurricular activities. But he wasn’t that desperate, was he?

Y/n studied the man above him, trying not to be painfully obvious about where his mind had wandered. John Seed was many things, and given his promiscuous past, who could really say he wasn’t attractive? All of the Seed brothers had a certain edge to them, now that y/n thought about it. And by god, those eyes didn’t make things easier.

“Come now, y/n, don’t tell me you’ve given up so quickly?” Blood began to bead under the sharp edge of John’s knife as he pushed it against y/n’s throat, “Your atonement is still within reach, you just need to confess.”

Y/n laid his cheek on the cold concrete ground, shutting his eyes tight as anger made its way into John’s voice: a reflex he hoped the man would mistake for fear. Of all the things he should be feeling right now, lust certainly wasn’t one of them. “This is getting out of hand-”

“Look at me.” John’s firm hands forced y/n to face him fully once again, “Your life is about to change, and I won’t let you forget this moment.”

Terror flooded y/n’s senses as a sudden look of recognition flashed across John’s face. “Ah, I’ve seen your type before.” John stood, returning y/n’s chair to its upright spot in front of the mirror. “I must commend you, y/n. Of all the things I’ve heard about you, tales full of wrath and greed, never once did anyone mention your lust. It’s a sin that runs deep, calls to us from far within. To deny it as you have,” John places his head on y/n’s shoulder, meeting his eyes in the mirror, "it's a mighty task indeed. But avoidance doesn’t absolve you of sin. I do.”

Pictures of scarred friends and cultists flooded y/n’s mind as he desperately tried to remember seeing anyone branded with lust. Only one person came to mind. Joseph Seed. Y/n had no doubts that the youngest of the Seed brothers shared a similar scar, especially considering his reputation. But if Joseph’s was anything to go by, it wasn’t a sin that was carved into visible places. This was it, his easy way out.

John chuckled darkly, as if sensing y/n’s train of thought, “Of course, confession is only the first part. A step you still haven’t taken. But being the merciful man that I am, I feel I should warn you.” Was John giving him an option? John’s entire thing was confession; y/n just had to choose what to confess. Surely lust couldn't be worse than accepting pride. Y/n waited with bated breath, doing his best to convince himself it was from the seriousness of the situation and not the feeling of John’s breath on his neck and the all but hungry look the herald didn’t bother to hide. “Lust is a difficult sin for several reasons, and it is just as difficult to properly punish. You see, it is up to the sinner to embrace virtue and leave behind the life they once lived. The scars only serve as a reminder, both to the sinner and the world.” John let his knife wander along y/n’s clothes, dancing its way across his body. The comforting tightness of y/n’s binder turned troublesome as John rambled on. Various members of the resistance knew y/n was trans, but it wasn’t exactly something he felt comfortable openly expressing amongst the overly religious cult. “But to advertise lust, well, it makes it easy for certain temptations to find their way to those most weak. So lust gets carved into a place that encourages a chaste lifestyle. Somewhere only a lover would see. Willingly sharing that one has been scarred with a sin so intense takes courage. Courage that not many have.”

Y/n’s mind began to race. He had heard somewhere that John was some variety of queer, and the outright sinful look in the herald’s eye certainly confirmed that. Best case scenario, John wouldn’t mind y/n’s little secret, and he would avoid an overly pretentious lecture about ‘honoring the body god gave him’ while being all but carved open. But if y/n knew anything about John, the man was a gossip. Anything he knew would spread amongst the cult like wildfire. Even if John chose to be uncharacteristically kind and not spread y/n’s innermost secrets, at the very least Joseph and Jacob would be aware before sunrise. Exposing a vulnerability to some incredibly powerful individuals. Risky was an understatement. 

He still had time; John wouldn’t move forward without a confession. They both knew it. 

Surely the herald would be less than amused if y/n confessed to pride. Either way, he was leaving here with John having the upper hand should they meet again. How long could y/n really avoid confessing to his lust? And how much more would John make him suffer for it? But Pride? The longer he held off, the longer he proved the man right. But returning to the people who held him with such high regard, a feat that was not easily earned, visibly and violently marred by John, seemed impossible. To them, he was perfect. And perfection didn’t walk around scarred by John Seed.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, John,” The herald’s eyes sparkled as y/n took a slow, unsteady breath, “I was never much for religion. Certainly not one that requires all this.” Y/n felt impossibly small as he spoke, “I don’t know how to confess.”

“You are far from the first to have this problem. Even the most devoted of us often struggle with finding the right words. Start small. Say yes. Tell me your sin and I will draw from you what I need.”

“Yes, John. I–” Y/n tried to focus on anything other than the warmth in his face. His eyes fell to the floor, desperate to avoid the mirror that reflected far too many vulnerabilities. “I struggle with lust. It comes into my mind at the most inconvenient times, pulling me into sinful fantasies when I need to be focused.”

A soft moan escapes John’s lips as a hungry grin covers his face, baby blue eyes glinting mischievously. “That is why you must atone. Hiding our sins can only get us so far. Lust has a way of rearing its head at the most unexpected of times. The only way out is to bring it into the light. Embrace it so you may cast it away.” John’s hand pulled y/n’s hair, forcing him to look back into the mirror. “Tell me, did you ever indulge in your lust? Or are you really as pure as you make yourself out to be?”

“Yes, John, I have." Y/n closed his eyes as he spoke, only to be met with another harsh pull of his hair, a whine escaping his lips before he continued. “I haven’t had the time to– indulge recently. You and your brothers have certainly made sure of that.”

“I am sure my family will be ecstatic to hear our efforts have begun to encourage such a prominent sinner towards a holier path.” Y/n had seen that shit-eating grin countless times, though somehow seeing it up close had a different effect. Not that he wouldn’t give anything to slap it off the herald’s face, it would be far worth the ‘wrath’ scar such an act would earn. “Before we were there to guide you, when you were so full of sin, did you sin alone? Surely someone as salacious as you had no problem finding a partner.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at John’s accusation, “I was hardly salacious, I am lustful, but I’m not a total whore.”

“I refuse to believe that for even a second. Should I remind you how interesting of a reaction you had when my knife was at your throat? I could have killed you, we both know I’ve killed men for far less heinous acts than what you’ve put my family through.” Y/n fought the urge to look away as the dull side of John’s knife smeared blood from its recent cut over his neck. “Answer the question. Did you sin alone?”

“John–” Y/n hated how he all but whined out the herald’s name, “I’ve already confessed. Stop dragging this out, please.” John’s icy blue eyes turned dark as he circled y/n, meticulously scanning the man bound before him. “Confession is a process, one that takes great effort from both parties.” John placed his hands on either side of y/n’s head, leaning in close to look directly into the sinner’s eyes as he spoke. “I ask questions to better understand your sin. You answer them to absolve yourself of guilt and shame. Then, armed with knowledge and faith, I bring your sin into the light in a way that perfectly reflects your struggles.”

“Yeah right, you just like sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” Y/n continued to speak as John grabbed his chin, pulling him dangerously close. “I’m sure your brothers would love to hear your reason for knowing the specifics of my lustful endeavors."

“Why you little-” John shoved y/n away, moving to grab his knife once more. “Why must you insist on making everything so difficult? I ask you simple questions and expect simple answers. But no.”

“Lust is best placed where past lovers roamed, somewhere with an undeniable draw, so the next time you engage with your sin, you will be unable to hide. The process of confession draws this information from you and puts it into my hands.” Y/n struggled to read John’s expression as he slowly paced across the dark room. “Though if you really insist on resisting, I will gladly take matters into my own hands. I’m sure my brothers will forgive my unorthodox methods.”

“Wait-” Y/n protests as John stands behind him, knife pulling at the seams of his sleeves. 

“Patience is a virtue my dear, but I’m afraid we are far past that.” A curious look filled John’s eyes as the edge of his knife met y/n’s binder. Y/n closed his eyes, letting his head fall onto the herald behind him. John’s free hand carefully ran over the tight fabric, listening carefully to y/n’s reaction as his fingers lightly explored the outlines of the young man’s chest. “It’s interesting what you are willing to expose to avoid facing your pride.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Y/n’s face grew hot as John snaked a hand beneath his binder, pushing it up while unashamedly watching the mirror as more of y/n’s body met the warm glow of the lamp. His tattooed fingers lightly rubbed over the man’s nipples as he cut away the rest of his binder, a sinful grin covering his face at y/n’s soft gasps.

“You should be the one talking; this is your confession after all.” Y/n met John’s penetrating gaze for only a moment as the man spoke, looking away quickly as he saw his own reflection. “Tell me, who has seen you like this? Who have you bathed in your sin?” A soft whine fell from y/n’s lips as John once again forced him to look into the mirror, the sight undoubtedly more scandalous than before.

“Fuck off.” 

“I try to give you what you ask for, and even that isn’t enough.” John tsked as he dragged his knife over y/n’s flushed chest, committing every choked off noise to memory. “There's just no pleasing you.”

Y/n watched with growing desperation as the herald’s blade dropped further, light marks making their way down his body, stopping just above his waistband. His hands continued their exploration as y/n struggled to stay still.  “Is that why you sin? Are you truly so depraved that your lovers aren’t enough? Do they leave you wanting more?”

“John, please just-” Y/n held back a moan as John’s hand moved down his body, carefully unbuttoning his jeans.

“Just what?” He teased, head resting on y/n’s shoulders, looking innocently into his reflected eyes. “Tell me what you desire. Expose your sins so your true self can finally be set free.”

Y/n glared at their intertwined reflection, the dim light making it difficult to see where he stopped and John began. His defiance cut short as John pulled his pants as far down as the position would allow him, his knife sliding under the band of his boxers before slicing through the thin fabric. John’s mouth found its way onto y/n’s neck as he worked, cutting off the stiff fabric of his jeans. Y/n refused to meet John’s eyes as he let out a dark laugh at the sight before them. Both he and his desire were fully exposed. There was no denying how much John had affected him, evidence dripping onto y/n’s chair. 

 “All this for a man you claim to hate. Either your lust is truly stronger than your pride, or you have been lying to yourself.” Y/n watched as John’s hand moved carefully towards his sex, fighting to stay silent as the man’s fingers gathered his arousal. John’s hand danced carefully over him, fingers threatening to push inside. “What will you have the courage to confess to?”

A breathy whine escaped y/n’s lips, the shame building up inside him doing little to sedate his lust. John was right. He should hate him more than anything. Countless lives have been lost at his hands: friends, family, people he’s known his entire life. Yet right now, he wanted nothing more than for those same hands to be inside him. Whether that made him a slut or a liar, he didn’t know, nor did he care. “I need you, John, please- I need more.”

“There you are.” John allowed one of his fingers to slip inside, slowly sinking further into y/n as he groaned at the sensation. “You’ll endure the lust until its very end while I carve it  into your flesh.”

Y/n felt his eyes roll back as John inserted another finger, a slight twist pulling his mind away further into sin. A moan left his lips at the sharp sting of John’s blade against his thigh. Y/n struggled to watch as the cool metal wrote out his sin letter by letter. Blood mixing with slick as John continued pumping his fingers, the wet sound of arousal and his light sobs had y/n dizzy. He couldn’t tell when the hot tears started falling down his face or what exactly he felt as John ran his tongue over his already wet cheek. All he knew was the aching pain in his leg and the desperate need to cum growing by the second.

“John-” Y/n gasped as he tried aimlessly to grind against the man’s hand, ropes holding him still. Part of him was aware of how debauched his actions were; if any of the resistance were to find out about this, he would be outcast. But as he met John’s eyes, filled with hunger and something else y/n didn’t dare to name, he couldn’t find it within himself to care.  “I’m right here, y/n. Let go, give yourself to me.” John didn’t need him to be perfect; he just needed him.

This was going to have a different ending, but it wasn't supposed to get over 2k, so here we are. It's been a hot second since I've written anything so I hope this was okay!

As a friendly reminder, most of my fics are x male reader or trans masc, I am open to writing x fem stuff or gender neutral reader upon request! Feel free to edit my fics to fit your needs and gender preferences, just don’t forget to give credit if you upload them somewhere!

When I put it on AO3, the link will be here!

*Cue a very reasonable mental breakdown*

Jacob has spent his entire life struggling with various mental issues and these are only amplified during his transformations. Joseph says that to overcome his burden and solidify his place within Eden’s Gate Jacob must control the beast.

There’s probably a LOT of back and forth with this. Jacob isn’t mentally well and the man CLEARLY lacks coping skills. Someone get this man a therapist! I imagine it gets to a point where the nights Jacob spends transformed are extremely similar to an intense and violent manic episode.

(Is that the right word? No. Should I know the right word as someone with bipolar? Probably!)

Eventually Jacob gives up on the idea of controlling the monster from an internal standpoint. Knowing Joseph won’t let him kill himself, though I absolutely believe this mess would lead to multiple attempts, Jacob decides to chain himself up in the woods far away from Eden’s Gate and anyone that might want to hurt him. He tells Joseph his plan and Joseph agrees to help lock him up and return in the mornings to release him, but he tells Jacob this won’t help him in the long run.

Now enter the Deputy.

(Or other OCs, feel free to steal all of this and write stuff! I need more werewolf Jacob fics)

The Deputy is running around the Whitetails one night trying to find someplace out of the way to stay while traveling between odd jobs. Sure they could stay with Eli, but that almost always means more work. While walking through the woods Rook stumbles across what looks like a weird giant judge that has been chained up and muzzled. Rook examines the beast, quickly understanding why it was chained up as it attempts to snap and claw at them. Part of Rook feels bad for the beast, but they don’t quite understand why until they meet its eyes. Those serious and wild blue eyes that could belong to none other than Jacob Seed.

Rook doubts it at first, surely it can’t be him. But the beast seems to instantly understand Rooks reaction, thrashing frantically in both an attempt to get away and kill Rook. Whatever is happening, this thing is CLEARLY driven by an intense fear. But Jacob seemed like a man far to above such things.

*cue hurt comfort and a LARGE amount of angst*

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk! I have more thoughts but I need to get back to drawing! I might come back and clean all this up later, I’m literally sitting here with some goldfish just typing shit. Maybe yall will get a proper fic out of this! Who knows!

The gate creaked open without much hesitation and Y/n started his walk through the town. Old buildings lined the gravel road, most of them had displays showing what they would have looked like in their prime. Y/n could easily imagine this street busy with people dressed in their old-timey clothes doing their old-timey chores. As the sun set on the town, casting a shadow of the large hill onto its streets, the people would be lazily talking to their friends waiting to be invited in. Children would be racing to get back home before curfew, dodging the various shopkeepers making their ways home. Home. Y/n longed to go back home. It had been far too long since he visited that small town, one not too different from this one save for the advancements in technology.

Y/n slowed as he reached the bottom of the hill, pulling his jacket tight. It was colder than it should be in early September, but that only pushed him further. According to one of the many nearby plaques, the house above once belonged to the town’s local hero turned mayor, Keigo Takami. If the legends are to be believed, the residents quickly fled after a curse was placed upon their brave leader.

Their words, not y/n’s. Hopefully their ‘brave leader’ was ahead of his time on insulation techniques. The sooner he got into the manor the better.

The low sun cast an orange glow around the edge of the manor. It looked straight out of a fairytale. The magnificent three-story house stood far above the ghost-town below. Y/n went over what the Ranger had told him. Both the manor and the town were now owned by a local state park that had been established around the start of the ‘cryptid craze’. When y/n reached out about wanting to make a video at the park, the owners were ecstatic. Hawks was bad for business, but a viral video about him could definitely help.

Theoretically, this should all be a hit with both ghost hunters and the average joe, but tourists had stopped showing up about two months ago.

A week after the sightings started.

The internet was flooded with pictures of a humanoid figure with large blood-colored wings and metallic eyes. People theorized about what this creature was and why it was at Albright. It was after a video released with the creature swooping down on the camera with a shriek eerily similar to that of a redtail hawk that the creature was given a name. Hawks. God the internet was full of such creative ideas.

Mothman’s less iconic ripoff.

That’s what y/n called it. But his viewers were insistent that he had to visit. Had to try to contact the monster.

Try to find Hawks.

Despite the lackluster name, those that claimed to have seen Hawks all shared a genuine terror. Y/n had to quickly learn the difference between putting on a fearful face to get a few more views and genuine gut wrenching fear. The quick breaths. The darting eyes. The blood-drained face. Hawks’ victims had them all.

Every single one of them.

Hawks was not your average cryptid, it was nothing like y/n had ever dealt with. As much as y/n may joke about the situation, he couldn’t deny the reality of it all. The person behind the iconic video had been severely injured and died on their way to the hospital. Two deaths later and the park was forced to shut their gates. It was said that you could hear Hawks’ screams from miles away for nearly a week. Once the park had been silent for over two weeks a team searched the entire park and weren’t able to find the monster. It was decidedly safe to open back up, but the public wasn’t so sure. Thankfully they were still curious and y/n was willing to be their satisfied cat.

Y/n readied his camera, keeping his eyes on the viewfinder. Planks of wood bared the downstairs windows. Each one tightly nailed to the rotting window frames. The clawed white paint flaked off the walls in large chunks near the foundation and doorway. A picture perfect haunted house. And an amazing shot.

“Hello guys and welcome to another episode of commission cryptids! My Patreon members decided this week's paranormal investigation will be on the infamous Hawks.” Y/n continued his intro as normal, self promos all included. There wasn’t enough signal here to run a livestream. Luckily YouTube is a thing. Unfortunately that means editing a video.

Y/n grabbed the cold brassy door handle as he began to explain the lore and local history of Hawks. He pushed against the door in an attempt at a grand reveal, but it didn’t open. He tried again with not so much as a creak in return. “Huh, well I was told the door would be unlocked. Um- I’m just going to make a phone call real quick.” Y/n turned off his camera and shoved it into his bag.

Y/n scrolled through his recent messages.

Mom

I know, I know, I’m just worried about you. Stay safe.

Layton

Who all is going to be there!? You can’t just leave whenever you have some video idea. I und-

Grace

For the love of fuck, your boyfriend is so annoying!

Ranger

Thanks so much for your help Linette, this video will be a hit!

Y/n clicked on the text, rereading the last conversation.

Ranger

The best shot of the house is definitely from town square! It looks so intimidating up there!

Me

Haha the more intimidating the better! Will any of the places in town be open?

Ranger

No just the house. But I can leave you the keys if you want? They are all labeled!

Me

That would be great!

Ranger

Cool! I’ll leave them right inside the door!

Me

Thanks so much for your help Linette, this video will be a hit!

Inside the door.

Just the house.

Sighing, y/n pressed the call button. Maybe she just forgot to unlock it?

It rang once.

Twice.

“The person you are trying to reach is not available.”

He tried again.

Once.

Twice.

“The person you are trying to rea-”

He hit the red button before the robotic voice could finish its message.

Of course there wouldn’t be any signal at the ghost house. Y/n knew this. The last time he remembers having signal was over thirty minutes ago. Sure he /could/ drive out there, but the sun was almost completely set already. He shuddered at the thought of entering the house in the dead of night. Sure he had done his fair share of ‘3AM at insert scary location here’ videos, but this place was different.

He couldn’t leave. Not now,

“So, funny story, the ranger that was supposed to unlock the door must have forgotten. And I don’t I can’t call her, believe me I tried.” Y/n raised his phone to the camera. The two red attempted calls stood proudly at the top of his screen. “Guess we are breaking in.”

Y/n continued to mindlessly talk to his non-existent audience as he walked around the property.

This wasn’t the first y/n had to break into a filming location. When you find yourself staying in abandoned buildings, it just becomes part of the job.

Y/n walked carefully scanned every inch of overgrown greenery. Shattered glass and cigarettes littered various hiding spots. The trampled grass was a welcome sign of life, but y/n worried he would have a run in with his fellow ghost hunters in training. The stories of this house were no secret, and his comment section was a proof of their popularity. He was sure any visitors would be nice enough but he didn’t want to chase the things going bump in the night just to find some kid. As he made his way to the far edge of the yard a small building caught y/n’s attention. It too was painted white, but it was in much better condition than the house. Y/n broke the lock, making a mental note to replace it later, and opened the door. The warm glow of the fast falling sun glinted on the metal tools lining the walls. A gardener’s shed. Not the most helpful, but he could make it work.

Grabbing a ladder and spade, y/n set his plan into action.

The ladder was just tall enough to reach the top of the porch awning. The small roof was covered in slimy leaves and loose singles. He carefully climbed closer to the window, cursing when he heard the metallic crash of the ladder falling. He tightened his grip on the spade and dug it into the bottom of the window. Pushing and pushing until the tip of the spade disappeared. Next was the easy part, opening it. He twisted the spade, hard, until it was completely on its side. The window opened easily making y/n fall onto the hard wooden floor.

Y/n scrambled for his bag and pulled out the camera.

“First off, OW! Secondly, I made it in!” Once again Y/n mindlessly talked and walked. Without the chat to guide him, he had a certain freedom. But also a strange feeling of loneliness. Ghosts aren’t good company, so here he was, showing off the house to his very lucky SD card.

Wandering around the house Y/n did his best to recall all the stories he heard, telling him them in the spookiest voice he could muster.

“They say the bottom floor is the safest, apparently Hawks prefers to stay near his room. Lucky me- I- Um.”

A speck of silver glinted innocently into y/n’s camera from the bottom of the front door. Y/n’s skin was ice cold as he descended the last few steps. A speck of silver glared up at him. The silver keys. They sat on a small slip of paper, as Y/n drew closer he could see Linette’s name signing it.

“What-“

Y/n could imagine his chat. The confusion as to why he stopped. People trying to call bs and say his fear was fake. Too forced to be real. The loyal few defending him. As he stood frozen in place, y/n yearned for it. For the simple distraction. For something to prompt him on what to say next.

He slowly turned his camera towards the door, panning down to the keys. They looked no less ominous on screen.

AAAA hope you guys enjoy this first part! I'm not super sure where this is going, but I wanted to write something a little different before hoping back into Three Months!