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Request: a user on Tumblr: '12 with Pete'

Prompt 12: Haunted house

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"G'morning, doll," Pete whispered into your ear, placing a kiss in your neck.

With a smile on your face, you shifted your body so that you were facing your boyfriend, and ran your hands through his short hair. "Good morning," you cooed, snuggling closer to him.

He placed a kiss onto the top of your head. "Whaddya want for breakfast? I'm making," he murmured into your hair.

"Mm... cheese omelette and blueberry pancakes," you hummed.

"I can do cheese on toast and a bowl of strawberry yogurt."

"Perfect," you giggled, pecking him on the lips before climbing out of bed and putting on your gown, Pete doing the same. "I'm gonna go get the mail, okay babe?"

Pete muttered an 'okay' and the two of you walked downstairs, him going into the kitchen and you going outside to the mailbox.

The crisp morning air felt amazing, and you inhaled deeply as you stepped down the porch and towards the mailbox. Extending a greeting and a smile to your neighbour, you opened the box and removed the contents, shuffling through them as you walked back up the path to the house. One particular flyer caught your attention.

"The houses on Green Street are having a street garage sale later today," you announced as you entered the kitchen, where Pete was buttering some toast, "I think I'm gonna go."

Pete made an unimpressed face. "No, ew. Those things are just plain weird."

"No, they're not," you argued, moving to pour some coffee from the pot, "You never know what hidden gems you might find there."

He scoffed. "This isn't 'The Goonies'," he placed the cheese on the toast, "The only thing you'll find there is diseases."

"Pete!"

"Sorry, but it's true," he shrugged, holding his hands in the air before turning and getting the yogurt from the fridge. "You don't know where those things have been."

"I'm going," you said, close to his ear so that he was sure to hear you.

"Fine," he sneered, pouring the yogurt out from the container, "just don't bring home anything haunted."

~

Rummaging through the various boxes and crates in the garage of house number fifteen, you tucked your hair behind your ears and blew out a breath. You'd been searching these garages for a long while now, and you still hadn't found anything worth taking home.

With a final sigh, you tuned around, about to head home, when a particular object caught your eye. A lopsided grin formed on your face as you approached the small box on one of the bookshelves. Standing on your tiptoes, you reached up to carefully take the box off and admire it. It was one of those old jewellery boxes – the ones that had the dancing ballerina inside, complete with a wind-up key at the back of it.

The grin on your face grew wider the more you studied it. The box must've been at least a decade old, but was still in surprisingly mint condition; whoever owned it must've taken exceptionally good care of it. Running your fingers over the patterned outside, you rested it on the clasp in front, using your other hand to wind it up a few times before opening it. A mechanised rendition of 'Swan Lake' began to play, and you watched in admiration as the tiny ballerina spun around. You used to have one of them when you were little; your grandma had given it to you one year for your birthday, and it was your most prized possession. Until it got lost, that is. You used to carry it everywhere with you; a habit that proved to be detrimental when you'd lost it in the park one day.

But it seemed as if the universe was feeling usually generous today, allowing you to find the one thing that you'd been missing for the past however many years.

You couldn't wait to take it home.

~

"Oh hell no!" Pete exclaimed as you entered the living room, his unnerved eyes landing on the box in your hands. You cocked your head to the side and swaggered over to him, making him shake his head in violent protest. "No! Nah uh! No fucking way!"

"What's wrong?" you asked, eyebrows furrowed in perplexity.

"(Y/N), take that demon spawn right back to where you found it!"

"Pete, what's wrong with you?" you frowned, slightly agitated by his sudden shift in behaviour.

He pointed a shaky finger at the box and scooted down the sofa, further away from you – or rather, the box. "That. That's what's wrong. Fuck, (Y/N). Don't you know to never buy antique shit like that?"

"It's just a jewellery box," you sighed, waving it around in the air, making your boyfriend flinch. "I used to have one just like it when I was younger but I lost it. Call me nostalgic, but as soon as I saw it, I knew I had to have it."

"There's, like, a 99.9% chance that we're gonna die now. You know that, right?"

"Calm your tits," you rolled your eyes as you winded up the box again. You opened it and when the ballerina started dancing, you held it out to your boyfriend. "See? It's just a normal music box."

"There's nothing normal about it!" he shrieked, flailing his arms about. "I swear that tiny person just blinked at me! Be gone, demon!"

With another sigh and eye roll, you left the living room and stalked up the stairs, placing the box in your study once you got to the second floor.

~

"Alright, look," you said slowly, turning from your boyfriend and to the music box, your fingers closing the lid and firmly clasping the latch, "I locked it. Nothing is going to happen."

Pete blew a raspberry. "And what if it does? I'm 100% convinced that that thing is haunted."

"If it were haunted, I would know. I watch Supernatural," you smirked, walking out of the room and down the stairs, Pete practically running right on your heels.

"Okay, but what if something does happen? What then?"

"What are you worried about, Pete?" you chuckled, gathering all your things and heading for the front door. "Are you scared that the ballerina is gonna come to life and eat you?" you teased.

"..."

"..."

Pete frowned at you. "Well, now I am."

Giggling, you leaned forward to give him a kiss. "Just relax, everything will be fine. I'll be home soon, okay? I love you."

"I love you too," he sighed, folding his arms in an effort to comfort himself. "But I still can't believe you brought a demon into our house."

Blowing him a kiss as a final goodbye, you headed out the door and to work, leaving a petrified Pete alone in the house.

Pete spent most of the day doing nothing productive. He listened to a few albums he hadn't listened to in a while, ordered some pizza, watched a few episodes of his favourite series (as well as a couple episodes of Supernatural, just in case), and that was about it.

He was sitting in the recliner watching TV when he heard it. His entire body went stiff and the hairs on the back of his neck and his arms stood up. He could feel the moisture seemingly evaporating from his mouth, and his pulse quickened.

Slowly standing up from the seat, he very reluctantly made his way upstairs, wanting to make sure that his mind wasn't just playing a cruel trick on him. But sure enough, when he cracked open the door to your study, his eyes caught sight of the box – with its lid open.

Gulping and gathering as much courage as he could muster, he sprinted over to the box, quickly shutting the lid and making double sure that the latch was super secure before sprinting back downstairs.

He took his seat in the recliner once again, heartbeat annoyingly loud and fast-paced. After a few minutes of some breathing exercises, and some mental meditation, he managed to calm down again and resume watching his programme. But not half an hour later, he heard it again.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit, fuuuccckkk," he squealed, fumbling around in search of his phone and when he found it, he dialled your number.

"(Y/N)!" he yelled, so loud that you jumped in your chair a little bit.

"What happened?"

"You need to come home now! I fucking told you! That shit is haunted as fuck!"

~

"...and then when I went up to look, the lid was fucking open! IT WAS OPEN, (Y/N)!"

"That's impossible," you derided, "I closed it before I left. Tightly."

"Yes, I know! Which is why it just proves that it's haunted!"

"So wait," you held up a hand, "you went up there to close it, right?" He nodded. "And then shortly after, you heard the music again?" He nodded again, more vigorously this time. "But you didn't go up to close it a second time?" He shook his head no. "Well, then if you really did hear it, it should still be open, right? Let's go check."

You walked up the stairs, a nervous Pete trailing closely behind you, and entered the study. The lid wasn't open. In fact, the box was as securely locked as it had been before you left. Placing a hand on the box, you turned around to shoot your boyfriend an annoyed look, raising your left eyebrow.

Pete stammered, trying to find the words to say. "I-I-I'm not lying! It really did play music and the lid really was open!"

"Sure it was," you nodded, eyes wide.

"(Y/N), I'm not making this shit up," he whined, scowling at you, "We need to get rid of that thing!"

"I'm not getting rid of it, Pete! Whatever you think happened today was just your overactive imagination. The box is not haunted."

~

It goes without saying that the rest of the night was spent having to listen to Pete try and convince you with all his might that the box was haunted. It also goes without saying that you paid no attention to him and his ramblings, only increasing the intensity of the ones that followed.

At about 11pm, you had managed to subdue him enough so that the two of you could go to sleep, which is what you were currently doing. You were enjoying your slumber, dreaming a lovely dream when all of a sudden, you were woken up by the sound of music. But not just any music.

Swan Lake.

Your eyes shot open immediately, and your heart rate picked up. It couldn't be, could it? Was Pete right all along? No. It was impossible. But there was only one way to know for sure.

Slowly, you slid out of the comfort of your bed and took small, tentative steps out the door and down the hall to the study.

You treaded lightly past the staircase towards the study, a nervous crease forming on your forehead. When you got closer to the room, a chill ran down your spine. The sound was unmistakable; the music box was playing music.

You picked up the pace, wanting to get to the room and close the lid of the box as fast as possible. You were about two steps past the staircase, when you felt the temperature drop, and a cloud of what looked like mist appeared in front of you.

The mist moulded into the shape of a person – a little girl about ten years old, dressed in ballet clothes with tear-stained cheeks and hair that was once in a tight bun, now hanging messily around her face. You gasped loudly, taking a step backwards. You were so stunned that you couldn't react. You tried to yell out – for Pete, for anything – but your voice caught in your throat and all that came out was a soft mewl.

Suddenly, the little girl opened her mouth, contorting her face in horror. "YOU!" she yelled, pointing an accusatory finger and advancing on you. "YOU! YOU DID THIS! YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!"

You tried to scream, to run, but it was too late, and before you could process what was happening, you were falling. You desperately thrashed your arms, trying to grab onto the bannister to steady yourself and prevent the fall. Unfortunately, you weren't that lucky, and you toppled down the wooden steps, head banging harshly against them. You were almost unconscious when your limp body rolled onto the floor, and with the most voice you could muster, you whispered hoarsely. "Pete..."

Pete was woken up by the loud banging and crashing, and he shot up in bed, his hands immediately extending to his left in search of your body. When he couldn't feel you lying next to him, he felt his stomach drop.

"(Y/N)?" he called out desperately, jumping out of bed and running out the door, "(Y/N)! WHAT THE FUCK?" he stopped dead in his tracks, stumbling back a bit when he got to the staircase and saw the ghost of the little girl. "W-where the hell is my girlfriend? What did you do to her?"

Instead of responding, the ghost vanished into thin air, leaving a shaking, panting Pete to rush down the stairs and to your aid.

"(Y/N)!" it felt like his heart stopped when he saw you, laying motionless and barely conscious on the floor and tears started to stream down his face, "(Y/N), doll, I'm here, I'm here. You're gonna be okay. Just stay with me, baby, please," he pleaded, hands shaking as he gathered your tinier frame in his arms, using one of his hands to reach for the house phone and dial 911.

While Pete was speaking to the operator, you managed to open your eyes a smidge, and let out a soft groan. He placed the phone back onto the receiver and ran his hand through your hair, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "The ambulance is on its way, doll. Just relax," he comforted, "Is there anything I can do in the meantime?"

"S-Supernatural," you breathed out, your voice sounding gravelly and barely audible.

Pete furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What? Baby, we can watch Supernatural after you get checked out-"

You shook your head in disapproval. "No. Su-Supernatural that shit."

It took Pete a moment to comprehend what you were talking about, but when he did, his eyes lit up in excitement.

~

With you safely in the ambulance and on your way to the hospital, Pete stood in the deserted area of the local park, well hidden from plain sight. He was clad in a black hoodie and jeans, and he was holding a bottle of lighter fluid and a box of matches as he glared in complete and utter hatred at the haunted box which was laying at the bottom of the two feet deep ditch.

Dumping essentially the entire bottle of liquid out into the hole, he lit a match and tossed it in, a feeling of relief and satisfaction surging through him at the sight of the burning box.

"Yeah, that's right," he murmured in triumph, nodding, "burn motherfucker. No one fucks with my girl."

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Thank you for reading x