Just something I came up with after watching the movie with my friends. Maybe if this goes well, I'll turn it into a full fanfic.
Dark content warning
If you haven't seen Hereditary, I highly suggest you watch the film before reading this. Just keep in mind it's a psychological horror movie with depictions of gore and death and typical cult movie stuff. Same goes for this fic.
This is NOT a fluff piece. Nor is it even romance.
Contains HEAVY Spoilers for Hereditary
------------------------------
Maybe smoking does kill.
That's what everyone says at least.
If by kill, they mean lead to your untimely death in the tree house of a dead little girl whose older brother was someone you knew a few weeks ago as the stoner guy who liked to stare at Bridget Davis’ ass at school... then they're right.
Nobody told you how much blood would be involved… Especially not your own dripping down your philtrum and chin as you prop yourself up on the tree house floorboards, staring up at Peter Graham with his stupid self-inflicted nose injury and a crown on his head… Almost exactly the same as the one on yours, placed by the sick, naked cult members now bowing down to you both.
“A Queen,” They called you as they stabbed a dagger straight into your chest. His Queen.
Peter's? No.
Whatever the fuck that thing was standing over you, merely resembling Peter Graham.
You suppose this is also what they meant by the consequences of premarital sex...
You thought it was stupid, of course as most kids your age did.
So stupid… But who's laughing now?
If your brother were alive, he'd laugh.
Laugh at the car accident, the house party, at how you got so high, you hooked up with a boy you barely knew or even liked, how you got attached to said boy which led to you getting involved in a fucking cult ritual.
He'd be on the floor, wheezing… Barely breathing…
That's how his stupid ass died.
And that's how you're going to die now.
You don't know if you've accepted the fact that all you can do is sit in the back of your own head and watch these people praise this son of a bitch as he takes you for himself… Or if you wish you hadn't even talked to Peter that night in the first place…
Are you fucking serious?
Of course you regret it.
You regret all of it.
You regret throwing that damn party… Getting higher than you usually did, bumping into Peter and borrowing his jacket to cover up the beer stain on your shirt… Taking him up on the offer to smoke together on his roof, meeting again at Aaron's party when you intercepted his path towards Bridget, opening up to him about your brother's death, attending his sister's funeral, letting him into your room when he was running away from a fight with his mom, driving him to the hospital when he bashed his own face into his desk, taking the yelling from his mom, and now…
Fuck, if Daniel were alive, he never would've let you date this boy.
You would've probably yelled back and caused his death again if you didn't the first time…
‘Fucking hate you, Daniel.’
Hated how much it hurt. How much the guilt eats up at you every time you pass his room, or sit across his empty chair at dinner, or drive your mom's car because his pick-up got totalled when you…
You blame yourself just as much as your parents would have blamed you if you had actually confessed the crash was your fault.
You blame yourself for getting yourself to this point in time all because you killed your brother and got high every chance you got to forget for just a moment.
Wait. No.
Fuck no. You blame Peter for spilling his beer on you, kissing you on the roof-
No.
You blame whatever stupid cult decided that a teenage boy was a good vessel for a fucking demon. For seeing him with you one time and ultimately deciding you were good enough to offer up with him.
You didn't even know him… God… You didn't. You just grew so attached after people stopped spreading rumours about you when they found out you got yourself a boyfriend.
Honestly, now, you would choose to get called a stuck-up, high-as-fuck bitch who would never give a boy the time of day over this.
You see the same emptiness in “Peter's” eyes as he looks down at you, not even apologetic for dragging you into this, just regretful of the choices he made to get here himself.
Same stupid eyes that prevented you from just dumping him after he started acting weird the first time.
All of it was sick...
The chanting, the cult members, the same Mrs Graham who yelled at you to stay the fuck away from her son, now bowing down to the ritual, because, fuck... she knew, didn't she? She knew this is what it would lead to...
'Should've bitched her out for slapping me...'
You couldn't even look at Peter without seeing poor Charlie's disgusting head on the altar behind him.
'Poor Charlie...'
'Should've looked for an EpiPen that night...'
'Should've noticed the nuts in the cake when Peter left her so we could make out.'
'Should have just gone to my room and changed clothes instead of insisting on borrowing a cute boy's jacket...'
'Should have stayed home today instead of worry about Peter not picking up his phone...'
Finally, you let yourself collapse, your head thumping against the wooden floorboards as the chanting fades and the warm candlelight eases you into unconsciousness. A sick twist of fate as the last thing you saw was the same thing that started all this; Peter Graham's face so close to yours as he hovers over you just like that night. Except his eyes weren't his anymore as yours fluttered into darkness.
I don’t write explicit NSFW, just makes me uncomfortable <3
I don’t write angst
If it’s a slasher like Sam (Trick or Treat) it’s automatically platonic or a younger reader interacting with him which will still be platonic and innocent in that aspect. I refuse to write anything romantic with a minor and an older character or reader.
With that being said I won’t be writing for Freddy Krueger
Drabbles, Headcannons, Multi-part stories are all a possibility if you want or if I have the idea for them!
If I have anything I find that I need to add I’ll be sure to update this!
These are slasher and thriller fandoms/movies I write for! They’re also masterlists links to those specific masterlists as I write.
Halloween
Black Christmas (1974)
Scream Franchise
Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) & (Early 2000′s)
Saw Franchise
The Boy ★
Hereditary
The Collector
Hush
House of Wax
Fear Street
Stranger Things
Friday The 13th
Carrie
DBD Video Game ★
FNAF Movie
My Bloody Valentine
These are my main ones, feel free to request others! If I haven’t watched them it may take longer since I’ll try watching it first. Or if you just want to leave a movie suggestion, feel free to do that too!
Because Peter can lean toward being clingy, you'd have to remind him that he needs to put effort into the other relationships in his life as well from time to time.
Although he wouldn't be great at remembering dates (phone notifications are his savior) he'd remember a lot of miscellaneous things about you; your drink order at the coffee/tea/boba shop, the show you'd been talking about watching, etc.
Peter would literally drop everything if you needed him. He can usually tell when you need help (albeit with a slight delay) but if you ask him, he'll be right there.
He'd definitely have you as his phone background. Or a picture of you two together. More than likely, it'd be you alone, though.
I'm so happy that you missed the 3 word challenge cause I missed reading it! It is such a good way to deal with writers block, for example.
Okay so, recently I've watched the Korea tv show Round 6 (also called squid game), and I've watched the 3 seasons of NBC Hannibal.
I do recommend both for you to watch but be careful cause there is a lot of blood, murder, organs, canibalism (in Hannibal)(Not raw tho), so if you have a weak stomach or just don't like it, it may not be the show for you. (But Hannibal have canon gay so we forgive).
Since Im deeply inspired by this two shows, today you will have a 5 word challenge, inspired somehow by something in the show! (Ps: i chose to not put "graphic words" cause I don't know what you are comfortable or not writing, so i didn't put words like canibalism or murder)
The words are: Beloved, Becoming, Mongoose, Debt and VIP.
Unnecessary explanation of the words that I chose (you can skip this 🤧):
Beloved: Reference to Hannibal (main character in the tv show Hannibal), cause he calls Will beloved sometimes.
Becoming: Reference to Hannibal. Basically Will (main character) will throughout the show become a murder, and Hannibal refers to that as his Becoming. Hannibal also uses that word as in a reference to Will being free and himself. (Being a murder and being true to yourself is pretty much the same thing here).
Mongoose: Reference to Hannibal. That's how will is called by Hannibal sometimes. So cute <3
Debt: reference to Squid Game. Every character is in a deep debt.
VIP: Reference to Squid Game. VIP are really important and rich (also disgustingly horrible people), and they kind of fund the game.
If you made this far, here's a cool music indication: "Black butterflies and deja Vu" by The Maine
That's it! Bye Vy! Sorry for writing too much, <3!
SQUID GAME YOU SAY!!! - Sorry for the caps but I got really excited 😂 Although I haven't seen Hannibal (I'll take your recommendation for it, for sure!) I have seen and I'm OBSESSED with Squid Game. Thank you so much for your five word challenge, I've really missed doing this!
I will most definitely write a Squid Game fic in the future but as of now I’m gonna turn to my new obsession - Ari Aster horror movies! Enjoy!
Shadows
Peter Graham [Hereditary (2018)] x Estra Davis (Female OC)
Warnings: SPOILERS for the movie Hereditary, Disturbing Content regarding demons, possession, Death, Mentioned Deaths, Demonology, Swearing, Injuries, Mentions of blood and gore, Mentions of Mental illness
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Estra Davis stares down at her phone screen which displays an incoming call from her ‘business partner’, Damian Louis who she hasn’t heard from in weeks and she’s most certainly not in the mood to be hearing from him right now as she awaits entrance into her sister’s room in the psych ward where she’s resided for the past five years following what happened to her and her family all those years ago. Their lives got turned upside down in a flash of misfortune that no one expected nor was able to put an end to. A misfortune so terrible and crippling, it has left Estra and Deres as the only remaining members of the Davis family. Well, their parents aren’t dead, they’re in prison where they’re serving a life sentence. However, their younger brother Brian who was only seven at the time had his life cut short so brutally and cruelly which is what put Deres in the mental state she’s in.
Estra is not holding up the best she’s ever been, but she’s pulling it together as much as she can. She’s holding onto reality, stubbornly building a wall between her and her mind every time her trauma breaks through the previous one. She cannot afford to end up like her older sister.
A nurse offers her a polite smile and a nod as she gestures for Estra to follow her to Deres’ room the door to which is opened to let air inside and allow the disheveled shell of the girl that she used to be hear some voices to remind her she’s alive. It’s a sight that’s so painful to see, Estra has had to hold back the need to puke many times in the past.
The nurse leaves the two alone, reminding the younger girl what button to press in case she finds herself in any danger with her sister before excusing herself with a sympathetic look.
With a sigh, the girl takes a bold step forward, “Hey Deres.”
The older sister who’s been sitting by the window all morning turns her head to give the familiar face a smile, brightening her pale, almost grey features.
“Had breakfast yet?“ Estra asks, dragging a chair parallel to her sister’s so they can both stare out the window.
“You just missed Brian. He came to visit me.“ She replies quietly, unintentionally avoiding to answer the younger sister’s question. The words stab into the girl’s chest like a dozen knives but she keeps a smile on her face as her sister keeps talking, now pointing out the window, “There he is, he’s waving goodbye to us.“
She knows she won’t be able to see him, she knows she won’t ever see him outside pictures again and yet she still strains her eyes to search the hospital’s yard, praying for her mind to play a trick on her so she can, even for a moment, ‘see’ him again but she doesn’t. Swallowing back her tears, she waves a hand at her ‘brother’, feeling her stomach turn painfully.
“I’ll be right back...“ She smiles at Deres, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as she nods with a smile.
This is one of those days. One of those days Estra finds especially hard to hold back that need to throw up which is why she quickly runs to the bathroom to rid herself of the toxic feeling in her gut. She coughs her throat clean and washes her hands and mouth, flushing the toilet and spraying some freshener in the air to cover up the smell. She stops before exiting the dimly lit bathroom, turning to the mirror so she can practice a realistic looking smile despite the tears running down her cheeks. Deres doesn’t notice those anyway.
Just as she’s about to go back to her sister, her phone rings. It’s Damian again. Estra’s finger hovers over the red Decline button for a few seconds before deciding she needs the distraction and answers the call.
“You’re not gonna believe this!“ The enthusiastic voice of her fellow demonologist and paranormal investigator radiates energy she’s glad to feel even through the phone.
“Need I remind you of who you’re talking to?“ She asks with a playful scoff, running a hand through her hair, “I’ve seen it all.“
“Well this you haven’t, I promise you.“ Dam continues rambling causing the girl to periodically space out and then return when specific words would intrigue her. Eventually, much to her relief, he decides to do a summary of what he’s said, “So, basically, this mongoose dingus has lost his mind and blames it on some cult or some demon, I don’t even know at this point.“
Estra rolls her eyes in mild disappointment. False alarms like this have been brought up by many individuals or families in the past, 99.9% of the time resulting into nothing but a waste of time for her and Dam. “Give me his name again, I wanna look him up.”
Dam is quick to casually reply, “Um, Peter Graham.“
That was a verbal punch delivered straight to Estra’s gut, knocking the air out of her while simultaneously giving her whiplash.
That’s a name she doesn’t need to look up or do a research on - everyone in her field and even anyone with any interest in the paranormal has heard of what has happened to the Graham and what’s going on with what’s left of their oldest child - Peter, now twenty-one years old, living in that house all by himself as rumor has it.
Well, Estra’s done with listening to rumors.
“Meet me at the office in fifteen.“ She tells Dam before hanging up and walking out to find her sister now sitting on the bed, “Hey sis, I gotta run.“ She kisses the top of Deres’ head before waving her goodbye and practically running out of the room in chase of the perfect distraction from what has been going on in her personal life all these years.
* * * * *
“Estra, you’re insane! I’m not just gonna waltz in that house, playing the role of a fucking bait for whatever haunts it!“ Exclaims an exasperated Dam who’s been trying with the overly eager Estra for the past half an hour.
“It’s our chance of a lifetime, Dam! You can’t tell me anybody else has done this because no one has! This will give us so many points for originality and...“ The girl defends her statement, refusing to give up ground to her slightly older companion who uses that age fact against her in every argument. It goes without saying that she doesn’t let it slide.
He cuts her off, “We’re not going, Es! I sure as hell won’t and I’m not letting you go in alone either!“ He huffs in frustration as he sits down in the chair he abandoned twenty minutes ago, “Just look at what happened to your beloved sister!“
“Don’t bring Deres into this, you prick!“ She snaps, slamming the palms of her hands onto the polished surface of Dam’s desk, “Her and I are not the same! The only thing we share at this point is one last name! That’s not Deres I’ve been going to see twice a week for five years. I don’t recognize that girl!“
“Exactly! I don’t want that to happen to you too!“ Dam lashes out, mirroring her levels of hostility.
“It won’t!“ She digs her nails into the wood or at least attempts to, giving up when she feels them start cracking under the pressure, “We were both driven insane, Damian, but in completely different ways! The trauma crippled her but it’s made me stronger! I’m more volatile, hostile, more willing to put everything in jeopardy to protect the people I care for! I’m no longer afraid, Dam, no longer afraid of anything...“ She trails off for a second, her gaze falling on a picture of Peter on one of the files Dam has compiled. He looks so harmless to her, especially in comparison to the possessed mountain of a man that she escaped when she was only seventeen. She also happens to be a year older than him, giving her a sense of protectiveness over him almost like she had over Brian.
And look how well you protected him
The thoughts shake her to her core, causing her to ground herself back to reality where she’s still sitting in front of a very worried and practically terrified Dam.
“She was weak, the girl I was. Deres wasn’t but now she is. We’re mirrored versions of each other.“ One last look at the picture of Peter later, she’s met Dam’s eyes with an intense glare that’s more meant for her past self than for him, “He needs his story to be heard.“
* * * * *
The drive up to the Graham abode was unnerving. Estra is not one to change her mind when she build herself a goal but she was very willing to tell the Uber to turn the fuck around and take her back with each mile they got closer to the monstrosity of a house.
Hearing the car’s engine revving further and further away from her, leaving her alone in the eerie place doesn’t help close up the pit that has opened in her stomach and so she periodically remains locked in place, feet almost feeling like they’ve dug into the ground and planted her there like a tree. Except she’s able to move, just doesn’t want to. Does she now believe this was a bad idea? No. Is she terrified of going in there though? Hell fucking yes.
But she’s already paid the Uber and already let him go so...might as well get her money’s worth.
With a deep inhale she takes large, faux confident steps towards the house. Just then, her phone rings, causing her to let out a scream she’s not particularly proud of. Unsurprisingly, it’s Damian.
“God fucking damn you, Dam! You’re becoming scarier than the actual experience!“ She complains, covering up her panting with a disapproving shout.
“I’m sorry!“ He doesn’t sound sorry, “I just wanted to let you know I’ve put a tape recorder in your bag along with some holy water and sage. The recorder will be on constantly and if you don’t get any ideas, Graham won’t have to know about it.“ He says, sounding awfully proud which probably wouldn’t have been the case if he could see Estra’s face right now, “No need to thank me. Just consider it a debt you’ll have to pay off eventually.“
Her face falls instantly, cheeks flushing with a crimson shade of pure anger, “Thank you? Repay you? You know what, I might as well pull it out and crush it right here on the pavement! What the fuck were you thinking?! I’m not some journalist trying to make a story to tell the press about this guy! This man needs help!”
“Estra, we are journalists of the supernatural! Get your head in the fucking game! There’s no compassion here! You say a few words, make yourself a couple of bucks and get the fuck out! What don’t you-“
Dam never gets to finish his sentence because Estra is quick to hang up only seconds before the front door before her opens to reveal a disheveled man with messy black hair and scars on the bridge and around his nose. His dead eyes look into hers, reminding her of the ones she saw every time she looked in the mirror until recently.
Before she could get a word out, the man who is definitely no other than Peter Graham, puts his hand on the door handle, ready to close it once more, “I have nothing to tell you.“
The girl is quick to disagree though, shoving her boot-clad foot between the door and its frame, “I think you do.”
“No, I don’t! I don’t wanna see my family tragedy in the morning newspaper tomorrow.“ He argues, putting all his little strength into shutting that door which would probably hurt like a bitch had the boot not been as solid as it is, taking the painful friction and not allowing it to reach her foot.
“I’m not a journalist!“ She retorts, refusing to move. “No one will know your story, I swear!“
Giving up his futile attempts, he lets go, stepping back to open the door a bit more, “Ok then what are you?”
Sighing in relief but still not moving her foot, Estra replies, “First of all, I’m Estra Davis.“ She extends a hand to him, one he luckily takes, “A paranormal investigator. Demonologist, if you will.“
Although he looks a little stunned, he too seems relieved, “Peter Graham, but I bet you already knew that.”
“Yeah, I did.“ She offers him a smile which, much to her surprise, he returns, “So...can I come in?“
This causes his eyes to widen, “You want to come in?”
She’s quick to explain herself, afraid she might lose his trust, “I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable we can stand outside and talk...”
“No...“ He too feels the need to justify himself, “It’s just that most people who know...wouldn’t really want to go inside. I know I wouldn’t.“
Estra experiences the hit of the second wave of relief in the past ten minutes, “No, not all. If I were a scaredy cat like that I wouldn’t be here.”
"In that case...." The guy sighs, "...come in, I guess."
Over the countless hours Estra and Damien spent researching this case, they came across many pictures of the interior of the Graham home. It would’ve easily been perceived as beautiful, but knowing what they know made it hard to see it as anything but eerie. However, now that one half of the duo finds herself inside the house, she understands how little justice those pictures did it. And the word eerie doesn’t even begin to describe the atmosphere.
“Listen, um....I guess you believe this stuff if you’re here...but still I want you to know that every time it seems like I lose control, I actually do. It’s not up to me to choose when it takes over so....be prepared.“ Peter explains truthfully, though it hurts him to admit it out loud. Estra is one of the only people he’s had contact with since the possession and he hasn’t had anyone to talk to about it until now. He really doesn’t want to scare her away, though it seems to him it would take a lot more than that to chase her out of the house.
That’s further proven when she shrugs in response to his heartfelt statement, “I believe you, Peter, I really do, but I can handle myself, don’t worry.” She awkwardly grind her heel into the wooden floor of the foyer as she looks around, barely containing herself from gushing about it all. It really wouldn’t be appropriate. She’d ask to take pictures to show Dam but that’d be inappropriate too, so she just settles for asking: “Can I have a house tour?”
Peter, surprised by the move on her part, reluctantly nods before guiding her into the living room It’s not like he was expecting her to jump straight into the cult questions but he also wouldn’t have been taken aback if that were the case. Luckily for him, it’s not. He finds an odd sense of genuineness in her demeanor and he’s unsure of whether it’s a real feeling or just his wishful thinking, but he’s still glad to be in her company. Or at least halfway so.
“You get a lot of natural sunlight in here.“ The girl comments as she wanders around the place, careful not to touch anything. That’s the first rule when entering a supposedly haunted house - do NOT touch anything. She approaches the window, looking outside, admiring the view the room has. It’s such a shame - even if this house was on the market now, knowing its history, she wouldn’t buy it. Not that she has the money for it anyway, “Oh, these plants are adorable.“
Much to her astonishment, Peter laughs behind her. Worried that it might not actually be him who let out the chuckle, she whirls her head around to see now change in his appearance or behavior. He’s simply leaning against a chair, looking at her like she’s an interesting specimen he hasn’t seen in a while. Which, to be fair, is probably the reality.
“You’re probably the only person who can find anything adorable about this house.“ He says as an explanation to his reaction, which in turn causes her to giggle as she steps away from the plants.
“Us demonologists are always surrounded with negative energy. We need to battle it any way we can - and that includes finding joy in little things and admiring their beauty.“ Estra explains as the two roam the lower level of the house after which he guides her up the stairs.
Halfway up the staircase, however, he stops in front of her. She can’t see his face but the tightening of his grip on the banister tells her enough for her to reach for the pocket knife she’s armed herself with.
Luckily, she doesn’t get around to using it, since Peter relaxes and continues his way up the stairs, continuing their conversation as if nothing happened, leading her to wonder if he even noticed he tapped out for a second there.
“So you’re like an actual demonologist?“ He nudges her, a question that’d usually annoy her but it now makes her laugh.
“I consider myself a VIP in the paranormal investigation industry, so yes, I am an actual demonologist.“ She replies, putting extra emphasis on ‘actual’ like he did when phrasing his question.
Peter chuckles, “Aren’t I lucky to have such a professional at my service.”
“You definitely are lucky to have been caught by our radar.“ Estra tells him as the two walk down the corridor, underneath the spot on the ceiling where the infamous door that leads to that God forsaken attic of terror should be. At this moment, it’s probably just a regular attic and so is that tree house the girl just caught a glimpse of through the window they passed by, but the memories in them still make them a horrifying place to be.
Peter shows Estra to the bedrooms, something she sees as a surprise considering he would’ve only felt comfortable showing her his since, well, you know, the other two belong to people who are no longer alive.
“Ok, I’m gonna address the elephant in the room: First of all, I’d take you to the attic but I had it sealed, which I’m sure you guessed by now?“ He pauses for a brief moment, looking to his left and out the window through which Estra earlier saw the tree house. He too spots it, his heart dropping like he’s seeing it for the first time in his life, like it just randomly appeared on his property. “Second....would you even want to have a look at the treehouse with all the shit you know?
Once again playing the ‘unbothered’ card, Estra shrugs her shoulders to distract herself from the churning of her stomach, “If you’re ok taking me there, I’m ok seeing it.”
That was the bittersweet answer Peter didn’t even know he had been hoping for this entire time. He’s glad he can finally open up about the mess that his life has been turned into, but he’s also afraid of reliving it through the telling of the tale. Because that’s what it seems like to everyone else: a scary story to tell in the dark. Luckily for him though, to her, it seems as much of a reality as it is to him.
He nods solemnly, tilting his head to tell her to follow suit which she does without any hesitation.
As the two begin their descent down the staircase, Peter can no longer stand the silence so he decides to break it, “What got you into this stuff, anyway?”
Now that is a question she hates even more than the one questioning her authenticity in the field. It’s a very basic question that people with her job often get asked. But to her, the story of what drew her to this spiritual, supernatural crap is not an easy one to tell.
“A family tragedy too, I’m afraid.“ She hides her pain with a humorless chuckle, “The pastor that came to cleanse our house of the demon that was roaming it turned out to be a Satan worshipper. You know, just a casual, every-day Satanist, because of course that’s normal. Long story short: my dad got possessed and he killed my little brother; I killed that fucking bastard of a reverend and my mom took the fall. Her and dad are in jail and my older sister who witnessed it all is now in a mental institution.“ Having said all that in less than two breaths, Estra rightfully stops to take a breather before delivering the closing line right as they make it to the tree house, “I just wanna prevent that shit from happening to anyone else....I’m sorry I didn’t make it to your family on time.“
“Don’t apologize. They...we were beyond any help.“ He sighs as they climb up in the small treehouse, the floor of which they still find littered with some of Charlie’s belongings.
The two sit on the opposite ledges of the small opening to the latter, unable to take their eyes off one another, although Peter has a hard time maintaining eye contact with the girl which is why she averts his gaze when he hears her inhale sharply, suggesting she has something to say.
“But you aren’t Peter. You can still be helped.“
Estra too now turns her head away from him, choosing to pay more attention on her surroundings in this small but still not at all cramped space. It’s cozy, the perfect place for a child to envision as their castle. She’s sure Brian would have loved it. She had always promised him a tree house but they never got around to building one. They were, however, champions at building pillow and blanket forts which Brian was equally satisfied with.
Now she really regrets not shoving that tree house into her schedule. Now she’ll never have a chance.
Just then, a rough grip on her arm startles her out of her thoughts.
Her head snaps back to Peter and she nearly jumps out of her skin at the sight of his blank face and darkened eyes.
That ain’t Peter.
“Is that so?“ The voice still is his but with a menacing tone she sure this frail boy could never muster, “You think he isn’t beyond help? Want me to prove you wrong?“
Estra’s frozen, watching in horror as the possessed boy in front of her smiles terrifyingly at her, the bruising grip not allowing her to have a chance at an escape.
But then, a tear rolls down the boy’s cheek, some emotion returning to his eyes.
“Run.” He fights with the force he feels for the first time, a feeling so overwhelmingly painful but also comforting. It makes him feel as though he at least now isn’t a helpless victim. He can fight back, just like he’s doing right now. For her. “Go!!”
In the time Peter’s soul takes charge of his body again before Paimon could take the wheel, he let go of Estra’s arm.
The girl, although reluctantly, still begins her climb down but doesn’t make it even close to the end before simply jumping down and taking off running.
And running and running until she stops for a moment to throw up and realize she hasn’t only run miles away from the Graham estate, but from anything she could possibly use as a landmark to orient herself.
Ruffling through her bag in search of her phone, she finds the voice recorder instead. She stops the recording and grabs her phone to order herself an Uber which thankfully is able to locate her. She finds a log that in this case she sees as a perfectly fitting chair and takes a seat, hesitantly looking at the voice recorder before pressing the play button to hear what it’s captured.
It’s all old news to her - nothing unusual, no paranormal entities speaking into the thing, no sounds she doesn’t remember hearing. Nothing. A waste of time and effort on Damien’s expense.
Until the incident in the tree house occurs.
Their casual conversation as well as her words of sympathy and comfort for Peter are captured without a hitch but when Paimon took the stage, nothing was heard. No voice, no sounds of nature, nothing. Just like what happened to the audio on the way up the stairs to the second floor of the house when she saw the boy switch back and forth right in front of her.
Estra might’ve been exaggerating when she called herself a VIP and when she referred to her sister as weak because of how she dealt, or rather didn’t deal with the situation; regardless, she knows she’s not insane. She knows she didn’t just imagine that. And if the bruise on her arm is anything to go by, she’s completely correct.
She puts the phone up to her ear, listening to it ring a few times before the call is picked up, “Hey Es.”
“Hey Dam sorry to wake you up at this hour but...“
“Wake me up? At what hour, 3 PM?“ Damien asks, hiding his worry and fear behind faux amusement, “Is everything ok, Estra? You need me to come get you?“
That’s when she realizes, it’s not night. It never was. She just failed to notice that the five minutes she was up in the tree house changed the entire time of day - she entered it during the early afternoon and exited it in the dark of some time past midnight. Except, that’s not what happened. She entered and exited it in a matter of five minutes. Why she saw a dark night and why she didn’t question it is what now sends a tear rolling down her own cheek.
Reader is going out with Peter and their lives go for worse when they start seeing entities. Little does reader know she has a big role in all of this.
"Hang on Charlie!" Peter shouted at his sister who was having trouble breathing in the backseat. "Charlie! Oh my god, Peter speed it up!" I hysterically shout while trying to calm the girl down but it wasn't working. My hands started shaking knowing I couldn't help her.
My boyfriend Peter continued to drive but Charlie startes sticking her head out the window to try and breathe. I reached over her and held onto her sweater tightly, trying to force her back in the speeding vehicle.
It all went too quick....my face got splattered in blood and tears started to pour down my face and I began to sob. Peter had swerved the car and got Charlie decapitated. Too afraid and traumatized by this I moved away and closed my eyes tight and I wanted to get rid of the gruesome image.
"P-Peter..what have you done?" I whispered.
I continued to shake in my place when I heard the car completely silence, I moved my head up and saw Peter staring straight ahead at the empty dark road.
He too was shaking in his place and avoided looking at the backseat, it felt like forever when we made it back to his home and we both remained silent when we made it to his bed.
Peter and I lied to his mom earlier, telling her we were going to study with a few friends, thing is all we wanted to do was drink and have our own fun without any adult interrupting us, Charlie had walked into the room when she felt bad and that's how it all started.
I couldn't sleep at all and I felt even worse when morning arrived and Peter's mother began to violently sob and shouting Charlie's name.
We attended the funeral and I held Peter's hand but he slowly retrieved it back. My parents were out of town which meant I had to stay with the Graham's. On our way back to their home Annie wouldn't stop glaring at us, mostly her own son.
School wasn't the same either. I always hated it and only loved going to it so I could see Peter, but even his so called friends stopped talking to him and would only joke around, not even caring to ask how he was doing.
They would always hang out, smoke and drink but Peter stopped doing all of those things and kept to himself, slowly pushing me away from him. I was outside in the backyard when I furrowed my eyebrows and saw a strange woman far away from me, just looking at me with a smile on her face.
I felt weirded out and felt something was off so I got up and ran back inside to see Peter sitting on the bed. "Peter..I know you won't believe me, but I saw the same woman you know who saw days ago.."
Charlie had told me how she would see a woman waving at her, Ellen her grandmother. Creepy thing's started to appear the moment the old woman died, Annie wasn't happy whenever Charlie would talk about her grandmother.
Peter slowly turned to look at me with his tired eyes, "I've seen apparitions but I don't think its her." He muttered mostly to himself.
"Thing's aren't the way they used to be, Peter. How can I see these thing's that c-clearly aren't there when I look back..i'm s-scared." I hugged myself and silently cried.
Peter remained silent so I made it over to him and wrapped my arms around him, he slowly returned the action and rested his head on my shoulder.
*************
Peter and Annie were shouting at each other, or Peter was trying to but remained quiet his mom began taking hee anger out on him blaming him for Charlie's death. I was also sitting on the table silently chewing my food and glancing up at Steve, Annie's husband who looked sick of this happeninf every day.
"Charlie would be here if it weren't for you both! (Y/N) as soon as your parents come back I want you out of my house. I can't stand the sight out you and Peter knowing well you killed an innocent child!"
I stared down at my lap and gripped the knife in my hand and heard Steve holding Annie down so she wouldn't harm her son.
Peter stood up and began running to his room, I quickly followed to check how he was doing. "Peter wait-" "Don't fucking touch me, (Y/N)! I-I've been doing this on my own and you want is attention from me, i'm struggling here with everyone and I can't sleep because of it!"
"You've been doing this on your own? I watched your sister get decapitated because of you! I'm going through the same trauma as you and all I want is to make you forget all of this for at least a few minutes. I worry about you, Peter."
Peter scoffed and moved away from me, "I c-can't continue doing this..we're done." Peter looked away from me and I stared back at him feeling hurt.
**********
It was dark and everyone was asleep. I locked myself in the bathroom and cried when I continued cutting my wrists and watched the blood slowly hit the white floor, i'm useless, I can't even make Peter feel better. I know it's been a week since Charlie passed and Peter keeps shutting me out.
My wrists did hurt but I gently wrapped them up and pulled my long sleeved pajama shirt down and quietly walked back to his room. As soon as I entered, I jumped up afraid when Peter woke up screaming and turned the night lamp on, he began shouting at me, acussing me to why I held his head down in bed.
He started having these night terrors, or that's what his father would tell him. I felt someone watching me in the house whenever I entered and Peter came to school with a broken nose and came back crying.
It was around midnight when he woke up again and called out my name so I sat up on bed and faced him, he was clinging onto the sheets and I leaned over quick.
"I'm so sorry this happened to you." Peter hugged me back and felt comfortable around me again and began crying when I held him back. "I'll be right back." I forced a smile and saw his tired brown eyes look different.
Screams could be heard when I started walking down the stairs. Everything was completely dark and I swear I felt something pass by me when I went downstairs and I peeked my head. Steve was on fire and Annie was staring at him.
I turned around almost tripping on my feet and made it to Peter's room. "Don't go out." I warned him when I locked rhe door behind me and he looked confused.
"Where's mom?" He got up and began walking towards me to go out and find her. "(Y/N), move out of the way." I shook my head but he gently shoved me when I didn't listen and he went out.
I waited for him on top of the stairs and my blood ran cold when I saw him running back fast and he held my hand tight and we climbed up the the attic and locked it from where we came in. Annie continued pounding on the door so Peter and I held hands and backed away.
I felt something wet fall on my shoulder so I slowly looked up and screamed when I saw Annie above us, floating while cutting her throat with a piano wire. She decapitated herself and fell to the floor.
Peter and I screamed and held each other, we heard the wooden floor creek and we turned back to the shadows and saw naked coven members staring at us. I stood still but Peter held my wrist and we both jumped off the building.
**************
Slowly I opened my eyes and felt the dirt under my fingers. The naked coven members, Annie, Steve..Peter..I winced in pain when I looked down my arms and saw pieces of glass stuck on my skin and I felt my ankle got broken.
"Peter?!" I shouted looking around when I noticed he wasn't next to me. I heard chanting from the treehouse up ahead and saw the lights were on.
I got up and cried out with every step I made, and so
I made it up and I was horrified by the scene. It was like a ceremony but everyone was bowing down but their heads were missing, is this what I think it is? From the books I found back then?
I stood still almost forgetting the pain I was in by how scared I got.
"You are Paimon. One of the eight Kings of Hell." Mt breathing quickened when I noticed Peter up ahead, unharmed but he wasn't reacting at all, almost like he were dead.
"We have looked to the northwest and called you in. We’ve corrected your first body and give you now this healthy male host. We reject the Trinity and pray devoutly to you,
great Paimon: give us your knowledge of all secret things and all mysteries of the Earth; bring us honor, wealth and good familiars; and bind all men to our Will, as we have bound ourselves for now and ever to Yours. We hope this body fills your needs to bring the child into this world, let us invite our female host."
What is happening? Paimon? So this is Paimon one of the kings of hell?
I took a step back when Peter slowly turned to look at me, but he wasn't my Peter anymore. He quickly walked over to me and shoved me down the floor and got rid of my clothes and I began to cry and scream for help when he started thrusting into me fast and all I could hear while trying to numb the pain and fear were the coven members.
Peter knew better than to bother you while you slept. He knew you’d get cranky if he woke you up and he really didn’t want to face your wrath.
But he was painfully hard and couldn’t get you out of his head. His fingers danced over the keyboard on his phone, debating on what to say to you. Would you be mad? Would you even wake up? Just as he was about to give up and try porn, a message popped up.
You were awake.
Hey. You up?
Peter smirked, sitting up a bit in his bed and texting back.
Yeah. Can’t sleep
Why? Peter though of how to respond to this in a way that didn’t make him seem gross.
I’m hard as a rock and thinking of you
He watched as the message bubble pop up and then disappear for a few minutes, the tension only making his cock strain against his boxers.
Show me ;)
It didn’t take the boy five seconds before he slid his boxers off and snapped a few pictures of his cock, sending them to you proudly. He was already leaking and reading to be touched.
You almost dropped your phone on your face when the picture popped up. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was as hard as a rock. It almost looked painful to you.
Heat pooled in your core and you threw your covers off, grateful your parents weren’t home, and slid your panties off as well. Opening your legs, you took a picture of your glistening pussy and sent it to the teenager.
It only took three seconds before your phone was buzzing. You smiled and answered the phone, laughing a bit. “Eager?” You asked.
“Hah hah, yes.” Peter said sarcastically, smiling to himself as well. “Are you alone?” He asked, his voice quieting a bit.
“Yeah. Wanna come over?” The clock on your wall said that it wasn’t going to happen. It was 4 AM, he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Wish I could. You know how my family is.” He said bitterly.
“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, knowing that his mom wasn’t all there and hasn’t been since her mother died.
“Don’t be.” Peter said softly. It was quiet for a moment before he hummed. “So I want to hear you moaning my name. What will it take?”
You blinked before answer that smugly, “You being between my legs eating me out like I’m the last food on earth.” You laughed when Peter coughed, not expecting you to answer that in such a way.
“Damn, (Y/N). I thought we were gonna take things slow tonight.”
“It’s four in the morning. Let’s get to it.” You responded, your fingers tracing down your stomach and to your clit.
“Who told you that you could touch yourself yet?” Peter whispered, making you pause and bite your lip.
“How did you know?”
“Your breathing changed.” That told you just how much he knew you when you two had sex; which was pretty often.
“Peter I’m already soaking through my sheets, can we hurry please?” You whined, touching yourself again.
“Fuck, fine.” He groaned, reaching down and tugging lazily on his cock, closing his eyes and imagining it was you. “God your lips feel so good wrapped around me.” Biting your lip, you felt shivers run down your spine. You let out a small moan, feeling your fingers slip into your aching cunt.
“Use three fingers baby and tease your clit, just how I do it.” He panted, your breathing turning him on. He waited until he heard you whine in pleasure before picking up his pace around his cock.
“Peter,” You felt goosebumps rise on your skin as your walls suckled your fingers, your thumb rubbing right circles on your clit while you pumped three fingers in and out of your hole. You let your phone rest against the bed sheets and put it on speaker, using both hands to please yourself.
“That’s it baby girl, keep doing that.” He moaned, his cock dripping more and more with each tug. He imagined how you looked right then. Hair a mess and naked body against the cotton bed sheets of your bed. Legs spread and hands giving you what he wanted to.
“I wanna taste you so bad.” He hissed, almost coming undone in that moment. His eyes flew open and he spat out a list of profanities when he heard you suck on your juice covered fingers.
A soft moan left your lips and he felt himself come, thinking of your lips tightening around his cock, eyes looking up at him with lust. “Fuck (Y/N)!” He cursed, letting the come land on his stomach and chest.
He jerked himself through his high and listened to your gasps and moans as you came too, legs shaking and eyes seeing stars. You both were quiet except the heavy breathing from the work you’d both just done. “You’re a little freak aren’t you?” Peter asked, smiling when you laughed.
“What are you talking about?” You asked, picking your phone up and pressing it against your ear.
“You were sucking on your fingers. You knew that would get me.” He growled.
“Maybe.” You shrugged knowing it was true.
“You better be ready for this weekend. I’m gonna rock your world.” Peter cleaned himself off before pulling his boxers back on.
“I look forward to it handsome.” You sat up, moving to get a new pair of underwear from your drawer.
“I love you, (Y/N).” Peter said softly, wishing he could kiss you in that moment. He missed having you in his arms- even though it had only been a few days since he last saw you.
“I love you too, Peter.” You hummed, not wanting to hang up. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”
“You’ll get your chance this weekend. Until then.” He said into the phone, feeling better since his dirty act with you.
“Until then.” You replied, hanging up after a few moments and trying to calm your smile as you fell asleep.
