#fantacy

Your mother nods as she knits a warm blouse for the upcoming winter "hopefully they won't be here for too long, " her voice screeches with pretentiousness "I heard they like to take their sweet time

Your father grumbles as he grabs his axe marches outside, probably to take his anger out by cutting wood

"Y/n dear? Open up the stand, before the last of our flowers wilt"

You nod and turn to grab the cart of your family's flowers, softened and dull but not yet dried out. “Mother, when will Christian arrive?” you ask, Christian, luckily someone wanted to marry you, it was hard for your family to try to find you a husband for you really have nothing to offer, no riches no estates or land in your name but luckily Christian didn’t care.

“The spring dear, once the weather is better he will visit and you will wed”

You couldn’t wait, you were bored of this town, and once you’re wed you will finally leave this place with him, who knows what you’ll get to see.

You pack the rest of the flowers into carts as you daydream what he will look like, Christian always sounded like a light blonde name, mother said he was 24 so maybe he’ll have stubble, thick eyebrows, a soft gentle face…

"and y/n?"

You perk up from your thoughts and turn to her, "Yes mother?"

She doesn’t look up from her knitting "Refuse service to any orcs you see".

You falter, you haven’t had a good meal in two weeks, your mother was trying to elongate a stew for days but by now it's basically just flavored water. "Money is money, mother " you try to say gently

"You know how your father is, he won't let us touch coins that have felt those green fingers " she shivers in disgust, “i suppose it wont matter anyway, what orc would have a need for something as gentle as flowers?” she scoffs and laughs hearty

"I..." you want to say something, how much flowers you weren't able to sell this season because people have been saving their money for food, no one had money for flowers, but you bit back your tongue and nod "y-yes mother "

In the central of your small town was the market place, stands set up through the edges of the entrance to the town, frantic and desperate to sell, you go up to your families old market stands, wooden supports that hold up a tarp on the ceiling and act as a back wall while the front was a table with crates of extra flowers that of course, would not be selling. You didn’t even try to sell the products to passerbys, you just felt too guilty asking people to spend their money on flowers instead of food. So you slide the chair to you, sit down, fold your arms on the table to make a good enough pillow and go to sleep…

You perk up at the sound of many horse neighs, wiping the now dried drool on your cheeks, you look up and watch in awe as the huge muscular horses trot past, everyone around you seemingly pulling down the ceiling tarp to close their stands as they walk past. Meanwhile you were too busy being flabbergasted at the sheer mass the horses had to be in order to withstand the weight of their riders. Five orcs, all humongous with huge biceps, wide shoulders, skintones of variations of green. But their hair was surprisingly well kept, shiny and black, slicked back into long thick braids,no frizz for ages. Oh gosh a barbarian has better hair than I do-than I ever will!

They trot past you to the end of the road where the mayor's house was, jumping off their horses and giving their reins to the mayor's assistant presumably to bring to a farm, and enter the mayor’s home...and then you go to sleep. You lean forward while everyone opens their stands back up again.

"Excuse me" says a deep voice from above, god is that you? Is this heaven? Are you here to take me away-How come it smells like spruce…

I flutter your eyes open, the first thing you see are outrageously big shoes-omg, THE OUTRAGEOUSLY BIG SHOES OF A CUSTOMER, YOUR FIRST ONE IN WEEKS

"Are you open?" You jolt up straight and wipe the still wet drool off your cheeks, your eyes still adjusting, "of course sir-" your eyes widen wide once the blob of green focus’s, it was one of the orcs,

He was taller than the stand but bent over to a foot above your height, he had long thick framing pieces of hair that hit at his chest. His face is sharp with wide jaw muscles, and he had dark and nicely saturated green skintone, almost healthy...in fact, handsome. His has thick brown leather tunic pieces squeal and clank with metal chest plate embedded into the leather as he leans down to your height. Out of all the unearthly features, you couldn't stop staring at his tusks.

Your expression must have been more shocking than normal, because his brow raises "something wrong?" He has an accent, deep with firm jaw movement his tongue gliding with sharp rs and k's that almost roll, grumbly g's that seem to also end with r's and you perk up with the missing ‘the’

"N-nothing" you think past to what your mother told you, but how would father know whose money was who's? You couldn't last another bowl of thin broth for dinner. "How...how can I help you"

He gestures with a calloused hand to the roses "people buy these?" He asks gruff with such aggressive curiosity you can't help but giggle

"Yes"

He scoffs "why not sell weeds? why would anyone buy one"

"Well...they're pretty, men get them to give to their wives. Also because they are pretty, people enjoy looking at them."

He tilts his head in understanding at the roses "they are rather lovely"

You sigh in relief "they are" you lied, looking at the sad excuses of roses you had

"You do seem to have an abundance of them" you say suspicious

"No one has money for anything except food and water."

He huffs and straightens up to dig into his front pouch "is…this your only source of income?"

you're taken aback by that, "i um, well my father does cut wood,"

he scoffs "everyone can cut wood, all ya need is an axe"

i sigh exacerbated "okay yeah we're also not doing much better than everyone else"

you finally glance puzzled at the sudden quietness. Everyone was too busy staring daggers into you and this orcs back. A butcher slowly cutting through his meat menacingly, a mother hiding her child behind her skirt as if the sight of the orc wasn’t appropriate for children.

Meanwhile he digs into his pocket and drops a bag so heavy that it dents the your front table. One thick gold coin fully rolling out "tha' enough for all of them?"

you gawk at the gold a minute too long "o-oh! m-more than enough!" enough for three days of meals, and by then the mayor would've distributed the produce he got from the sale.

even though you're not looking up at him, you can hear a smirk in his voice "good"

you look up at him with an amazed smile "wow, you orcs must be well off"

he kind of shrugs "orcs just eat meat and grain, we have no use for other fruits or vegetables, but our grove is bountiful of them"

"huh" you hum, realizing that a lot of information you know of orcs must be wrong, what else is wrong about them you wonder.

"so, you got a wife?" you ask as you carefully wrap the huge bouquet of all your flowers

he turns his head sharply to you, eyes widen in surprise, his cheeks turning brown, wait is that blush "hahh?

“You know, someone to give these flowers too? ”

“Oh! er um no" he clears his throat and turns his head away to compose himself

"oh, well do you enjoy the look of the roses?"

"no..." he says but then quickly adds on "no…rmally! Normally! but today feels different"

"oh...how long are you in town for?"

"normally we would be done by now, orcs like to do business quick but mayor wants to negotiate more in morning" he scoffs and rolls his eyes "if I were tribe leader I would negotiate through night"

"heh, yeah im sorry about that, our local inn's beds would probably snap immediately at your weight"

he chuckles at that, "yeah, that is why we will be sleeping outside"

"oh! That's good, I hope you sleep well!"

he chuckles "thank you...you have been kind,my name is Grom" he adds as you put the final touches on the huge bouquet of flowers, wrapping a red ribbon around the stems.

"im...im y/n" you say, the adrenaline of rebellion flowing through your veins, you could already feel your parents disappointed. It makes you shiver and quickly hand him the bundle "here's your bouquet, Grom,"

As he leans forward to take it, you get another whiff of spruce. It's from him. You realize "thank you, you will be here tomorrow?"

"well...i did sell all my flowers"

His face falls a bit in disappointment before he turns to his bouquet and picks one flower out to gently place on the front "not that one" he says in a smug tone, the edges of his straight lips twitching to a smile.

you stare at it, and you have to admit it, this was your first time seeing a magical creature and well...it was so interesting, the culture shock, how different he lived and well...it was your first rush of rebellion. You wanted to know more about his species.

"You're right. One more left, I'll be here tomorrow until I sell it"

he huffs, "good" and turns to leave.

You smile proudly at the last rose as you pack up shop for the day, but as you are reorganizing your carts you hear steps behind you and turn. “Mrs Mallard!” you say excited at the arrival at your stall neighbor who sold dyes for wool. Oh no, did she want my last rose? What am I gonna tell Grom when comes and sees I don’t have it left, I can't refuse her!

“I saw you talking to that Orc!” she screeches in a tone of disgust, let untense her shoulders and silently sigh in relief, “yes he just bought almost all of my stock! Im so happy, now my mother can make a good meal for our family, im sure Mr Graves has some potatoes-”

“They are vile creatures!” she cuts you off “why would even risk talking to them? One wrong word and you could set them off, they have a horrible temper you know”

“Really?” you falter, it didn't seem like it, “i’m sorry Mrs Mallard I was just desperate for money, i’ve been so hungry"

Her expression softens, she sighs and reaches over to pat my hand “the lord made man in his image, not those green creatures, therefore they are not to be trusted, dear” your chest hurts at her words

“Yes Mrs Millard, i’ll refuse him when he comes back”

“Good” she states and her eyes dart with burning jealousy at your large pouch before she marches away.

As you walk home you stop far enough away from your house and gently reach into the pouch Grom gave you reached in to feel it, the coins had the normal engravings that were standardized around the whole kingdom, nothing felt off, around it, and yes you felt weird checking it but nothing even smelt bad about it…

"hello mother" you said walking inside "i sold all the flowers today" you say casually making your mother drop her knitting needles

"ALL OF THEM?"

you turn to her to drop the coins on the table gently, a smile on your face at the thought of what Grom said "well technically all except one"

"How?!"

"some husband that forgot his wife's anniversary." you lie, your back was turned to her so you could hide your of pain at your chest your lie causes you

"oh thank heavens he did so."

"Yeah, shall I go out to buy dinner?" you ask maybe a bit too eagerly that your father would catch your lies

"yes! perfect idea dear! By the time you come back and i finish cooking yout father should be back! Hes running a bit late" late? He's never late. Whatever I need to get this money spent

you smile in relief, eagerly grabbing the pouch to head outside to grab ingredients for dinner, thereby ridding the evidence of your encounter with Grom, oh how you couldn't stop thinking about him. Though you hated lying, you could not wait to see him tomorrow, that would be the last time you would ever see him anyway so it's not like it matters that you lied, right?

˚₊ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚✧ ˚₊ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The next day, early in fact you set up your stall, already thinking of excuses to tell your neighbors once he came, it was a good thing today was wednesday, Mrs Mallards restock day.

you smile at the smell of spruce and look up to see Grom "good morning Grom, how was your sleep?" you ask taking your time wrapping up the one flower,

"stiff" he says rubbing his shoulder right shoulder

"yeah the ground must not be that nice to sleep on...what do you guys usually sleep on?"

"we have beds made of stone"

"Really? how is that much better!?"

he chuckles "they are layered with hay straw...may I ask you question since you did?"

"Of course!

"why...why do all your women wear these..." his eyes gesture at your skirt, his tone filled with disgust but genuine curiosity

"a dress, and well it’s just what we wear"

"well your men wear pants, like us"

"its whats modest"

"pants cover same amount as your dress does" his r’s roll sharper than normal when he says the word. Like it was the first time it entered his mouth.

"Well..." he stares hard and you finally find an answer "tradition!"

He scoffs annoyed “if we always followed tradition we would always stay where we are, is enough for single flower?" he slide another gold coin across the table

"yes but, I really cant accept this though its too much, especially after yesterday"

he raises a brow, a challenging smile grows on his lips "I make too much, besides, you are quite literally only one I can buy from"

he gestures around and wow, everyone has their stands front covered by tarps, therefore not letting even anyone buy from them.

"ill accept a copper piece"

he scoffs playfully "did not bring any"

"Liar"

"well you have no proof"

"i can see it in your smile" the edges of it twitch

"what smile?" he jokingly says

You roll your eyes "lets meet in the middle, silver piece"

"deal" he says with a fond smile and slides a silver piece to you, you look down sadly at it "so you're leaving today?"

he pauses "no need to stay in town that hates me"

"I don't hate you Grom" you say too gooey but it comes out before you can stop it.

but he smiles, looking touched "i do not hate you too y/n...maybe we can do business with your trib-villiage again, and you can tell me again about all weird human things you guys can do, and in return ill tell you mine"

"id love that"

The tallest of the orcs comes out of the mayor's room and yells a command to Grom in a language you assume is orcish, he responds back and as he does his tribe leader's eyes dart to you, cold and assessing. He had tusks with engravings that reached his cheekbones. His eyes are piercing and yellow like a predator, his face sharp like rock with scars and old scratches will all of his hair slicked back into three long braids. He hops on his horse, flicks the reins and trails out of the village with the rest of the orcs, leaving just pile of dust

Chapter 1 - Accidental summoning

You shake off your boots as you enter the cabin and place them by the door, then you bring your bag into the bedroom. Throwing yourself onto the bed, you decide that taking a hot bath is definitely a good idea. Your back is aching after running around all day. Halloween landed on a Friday this year, meaning: yay, party! Right?

No.

If you were invited to a party, that would have been fun. But this year, unfortunately, you’ve just moved and don’t have many friends yet. On the good side, it’s only an hour's drive or so to your aunt’s cabin from your new apartment.

You figured, why not take the weekend for yourself? Trying to make some spooky plans, watch a scary movie, or something? Alone in the woods. Some years ago, this whole situation would have been scary to you, but now, it feels peaceful. 

Having worked late the whole week, the change of scenery is nice, welcomed, and definitely gets you in the Halloween spirit.

Adult life is just as stressful as you imagined it to be. Sometimes you have to stop yourself from being delusional, wishing for simpler times… But the truth is, times were never simple, just different. Change is hard, and you’ve just gone through a lot of it lately. But why leave Halloween in the past? You used to enjoy it so much. 

Maybe by this time next year, you’ll have some new friends? Try to make a new tradition? Your aunt always lets family borrow the cabin, and she only uses it in the summer. Who would not want to get out of the city for a weekend? 

Imagining celebrating Halloween at the cabin with friends every year puts you in a lighter headspace. 

You sit up in bed, rubbing your eyes. It’s still relatively early in the afternoon, and taking a short hike in the woods surrounding the cabin sounds nice and relaxing. 

Enjoying some fresh air, coming in, and taking a warm bath to relax your muscles? 

Perfect.

You step out the door, half-heartedly closing it as you walk over to the treeline, leaves crunching under your boots, the faint smell of your aunt's perfume lingers on the purple scarf you found hanging on the coat hanger on your way out. 

You smile, immediately seeing the little path you were looking for. You remember walking here with your cousin, but didn’t remember where it started. You feel lucky having stumbled directly onto it.

Afternoon sunrays penetrate through the yellow leaves. You're walking at a leisurely pace, taking in the sounds of nature. The trees are dense beside the dirt path, towering. And, you can hear water running somewhere. There should be fresh water nearby, perfect for bathing in the summer, if it weren’t for the bugs…

Running your hand through your hair, you take in the fresh but woody scent in the air, stretching your hands up high. You feel like you're in a painting, all the colors nice and warm, contrasting with the crisp autumn air. 

Painting… That’s also something you should start doing again. You used to love painting when you were younger, and you were not half bad at it. Especially people, but nature is what you always dreamed of mastering. Never too late? It feels freer out here, like all possibilities are open.

Wondering aimlessly, just following the path, you're caught off guard when the sound of a twig snapping cuts through the air. Irrational fear creeps in for a second at the thought of someone, or something, approaching you without you noticing.

You look around, starting to perceive time again. You’ve probably wandered quite a distance from the cabin, the sun already starting to make the sky a pale orange color. That reminds you, you bought a pumpkin on the way here. You need to head back to have enough time for all your Halloween plans.

Grabbing the pumpkin out of the trunk, you freeze. It feels like someone is watching. You squeeze it to your chest as you straighten your back and turn around. You parked next to the old shed. It always creeped you out as a kid. You must be more sensitive now that you are alone. Maybe because of that twig?

It’s so annoying, but once you get scared, it’s so easy to stay jumpy. Peering into the window, you notice you have a double reflection. It’s making your heart pound just a tad bit faster. The windows must be old, of course, there’s no other you- behind you.

.

.

.

After a warm bath, still in your robe, hair tucked in a towel, you sit by the kitchen table. Your pumpkin is a big one. You’re so happy you decided to check if the supermarket had any left at the last minute.

Carving that classic face into it, you decide to make the corners of the eyes sharp, making it look a bit more menacing, placing a big candle inside so it lights up properly and will burn all night. 

It’s not completely dark outside yet, but you tiptoe out anyway, placing the carved pumpkin on the stairs so you can see it through the living room window. It’s cold outside now, the sunset making the yellow and red leaves on the trees and ground look like fire. The scent of frost is fresh in the air as the evening approaches.

You hurry inside to the kitchen, making some hot chocolate the old-fashioned way. Boiling milk in a pot on the stove, adding cream, brown sugar, some high-quality dark chocolate, a pinch of salt, and, of course, cinnamon. This is autumn hot chocolate after all. Breathing in the chocolaty smell of the steam, mouth watering.

The warm feeling of familiarity washes over you as you caress the corner of the wooden counter while you wait. The smooth dark wood was probably oiled this summer. It’s always like this, and you love your aunt for that- the small details.

Letting your hair down from the towel, you sit down on the sofa, crossing your legs, looking through all the creepy movies you’ve found. None of them look that interesting… Maybe a classic? You hold up A Nightmare on Elm Street, gulping down a big sip of your drink, reading the back of the DVD, but then, a memory creeps into your mind. 

Your cousin had an Ouija board. You remember how scary and thrilling it was playing as a kid, a smile playing on your lips. The thrill of waiting for answers, wondering if it’s truly a ghost, or just your cousin messing with you. Her dragging you down the hallway in the middle of the night because she was too scared to go to the bathroom by herself. The two of you jumping at every shadow on the way there and back, laughing and finding it silly in the morning.

This can be the perfect scary Halloween activity to freak yourself out a bit. You send her a text.

“Hey, you still have the ouija board?”

“Yes, cabinet above the bed.”

“Thanks! Happy Halloween!”

You get up, walking into the bedroom. “What a creepy place to keep it,” You say to yourself, opening the cabinet, digging around in the mix of bead sheets and games. You find it, forgotten at the back, wondering if it’s been touched since you played together… Probably not, she’s your aunt’s youngest after all.

You set it up on the table, placing the planchette in the middle, sipping the last of your hot chocolate. Something is missing… You get up, get a candle, and light it. Turning off every light switch as you make your way back. 

You beam as you carefully place the candle on the table, making the atmosphere just right. You turn off your phone, thinking that if it rings while you sit here in silence, it will scare you to death.

The sun sets further, dimming the autumn colors. Now, the only other light is the yellow glow from your pumpkin outside. You let your eyes linger on it. Eaven with those sharp lines, it still looks a bit cute. But the treeline of the forest sure is creepy… making you feel isolated, feeling like anything can be out there, lurking in the dark. 

You gently place your fingertips on the planchette, taking a deep breath, remembering how you’re never under any circumstances supposed to play alone. But it’s not real, neither are the rules, so, here we go.

“Are there any spirits here?” You say out loud, waiting. 

Nothing.

What are you expecting? You sigh, about to give up on the first try.

“Give me a sign you’re here.”

The light outside the window abruptly disappears as the candle in the pumpkin burns out. You jump, nervous laughter forcing its way out of you. “What the actual fuck?”

Getting up, you can’t help but think of another rule: Never take your hands off the planchette. 

You shake your head, grabbing the lighter on the way out, relighting the candle. It’s slightly windy outside… That must be it. The candle is protected inside the pumpkin, but the wind could have blown through the carvings? That must be how… somehow.

You lock the door behind you, feeling deeply unsettled, and peek out the window towards the forest. Did you lock the door while you were outside earlier? You don’t think so. What if someone is outside? … No, it’s not like random coincidences never happen. You double-check that the door is locked.

It will be fun telling your cousin about this; she’ll probably make fun of you.

You go to get some more hot chocolate in the kitchen, having made a big batch. Putting it in the microwave, you look out the window again. It’s no longer possible to see the treeline. In fact, you can only see a few meters past the porch, which is bathed in the yellow light from the pumpkin.

Has that much time really passed? You’re only clock’s on your phone, and that’s turned off. The sun must have just set really fast; that makes sense for this time of year. But why is the hot chocolate cold? Did you space out or something?

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling like you’re enveloped by the darkness, cut off from the rest of the world. The microwave beps, jumpscaring you. You hurry to turn it off, the sound piercing through your ears in the dimly lit room. 

You stress-drink all the liquid on your way back to the sofa, placing the empty cup on the table, licking your lips.

Sitting back down, you pull a blanket over your legs, feeling safer under it. You look at the board and notice… weird… the planchette is beside it… did you drag it off when you got up? 

You always follow rules, so that’s probably why it feels so weird, breaking them all. 

You’re supposed to make sure the planchette never leaves the board… Why was that again? You don’t remember. And also… Is it not bad to ask for signs that something is there? Is that not giving permission to interact with the physical world or something? … too late to think about that now.

Cracking your knuckles, you place your fingertips back on the small triangle, pulling it back onto the board. “Are you friendly?”

It feels like someone is behind you, menacingly steering. Wow… This is really getting to you fast. You decide to joke a bit. 

“Are you happy to see me?” still nothing. Ok… 

“Do I know you?” Yet again, of course, nothing. Just this horrible feeling of doom. 

You pull the blanket a bit closer around you, quickly placing your hands back. You feel so naked and exposed. Your fingers start to get that prickly feeling you usually get when falling asleep. The planchette suddenly starts moving slowly toward the edge of the board. You feel as if something is pulling on your hands.

You drag your arms back as if something is burning you, and the little triangle piece of wood stops still. You feel like you really should not have done that. “This is all in my head…” You whisper, clutching the blanket harder. Looking out the window at your pumpkin. 

Feeling cold, you stand up, sneaking through the dark, narrow hallway towards the bedroom, as if not to wake or disturb anybody… but you're alone. This is really, REALLY getting to you. Maybe it was a bad idea? 

You huff, you’re being silly. Besides, isn’t this what you wanted? Some spooky fun?

You know of that phenomenon, whatever it’s called… the one that makes it seem like the planchette is moving by itself, but in reality, it’s just your subconscious. But you can’t grasp the feeling of your hands being pulled.

Opening your bag, you find your cozy pajamas with little ghosts on them in the bedroom, letting the robe fall to the ground, fighting the urge to run, the innate knowledge that you should not stay still.

As you pull the sweater over your head, you feel burning on your cheek. You scramble to get it down, desperate to see. Every second your eyes are covered by the fabric feels like you’re in mortal danger.

Nothing. 

You laugh at yourself as you look around the empty bedroom. No movement, just you, not another soul. Your fingers find their way up to your cheek, and you wince as it stings. 

Bringing your hand in front of your face, your eyes go wide as you see something dark on your fingertip. 

It’s too dark to tell for sure, the only light source being the candlelight flickering from the living room… but, is that blood? You can hear your heart beat as the dull pain of adrenaline surges through you, muffling your hearing. 

You start creeping into bed, ignoring your body that screams at you to look behind you, needing to be so quiet that you try not to breathe. It’s irrational, you know that.

You’re pulling your blanket all the way up to your chin as you finally sink down with your back against the wall. This intense feeling of not being alone, the corners of the room seeming unnaturally dark… there’s no way you’ll go back to the living room to continue the game now. You need to distract yourself. 

Luckily, you brought your phone. You bring it up with shaky fingers, trying to turn it on.

Nothing. 

What? Was your battery that low? A barely audible whimper leaves your lips as you look around the room. You're alone. Hell, you barely played! You can’t believe you're this scared. 

The survival part of your brain is trying to convince you it’s smarter than you. Your senses are now trying to scream at you to run, get in your car, start driving, and don’t stop.

“That would be insane behavior.” You tell yourself, staring into the dim room, pupils blown out, breath feeling tight. You let curiosity get the best of you, and you bring your finger to your lip, tasting whatever was on your cheek. 

Blood.

You slam your hand to your chest, tightening all the muscles in your body, like a spring under pressure, ready to sprint, making your enxsiety eaven worse. You’re regretting this trip, feeling like a scared kid. You want to call your roommate, tell her to get her ass here, right now. Make her come rescue you. 

But unlike you, she went to a party, not sitting in a cabin alone, playing psychological games with herself. And besides, your phone is dead. The blood… You must have scratched yourself somehow… yeah… that’s it. 

Why didn’t you just suck it up and ask to go with her?

It dawns on you that you did not close the game… You didn’t say “Goodbye”. But what does another broken rule matter anyway? You’re just making it worse by the second, it’s not like anyone is going to yell or get mad because you did not follow the rules of the Ouija board… but it feels so dam real. 

You close your eyes, putting your head in your hands, making yourself small… You feel a panic attack coming. That must be why you feel like you’re going to die… It’s just the panic.

Through the loud thuds of your heart, you think you hear footsteps coming from the edge of the bed. “No one's there~” You sing to yourself, breaking your silence, continuing to hum, rocking,  saying silly things to calm down. “It’s not real~ It’s just how I feel~” 

You stop.

The edge of the mattress presses down. You’re snapping your head up despite your instincts telling you to play dead; it’s too late to run. That fighting won’t matter anyway. You look into dense blackness in front of you, recoiling. 

The next five seconds feel like five minutes. You fall on the floor, flailing your arms and legs to get away. Not being able to process what you see, just that its limbs are slightly too long. Not right. Looming over you, it’s moving weirdly, unnaturally, too tall. 

Turning your head away, you claw yourself up, legs feeling like jelly, you make it to the bedroom door, a scream leaving your throat as you fight with yourself to not freeze, pushing forward.

Then, nothingness.

.

.

.

Opening your eyes, you’re lying on the sofa. You push yourself up, sitting with your head in your hands. Glimpses of what just happened flash in your head. You think you must have scared yourself so bad that you had a psychotic episode. Falling and fainting somehow. But… how did you get to the sofa?

“Are you ok?”

A man's voice breaks through your thoughts. You lift your head, and what do you know? He’s sitting in front of you, across the table, Ouija board between you. 

His hair is wavy and black. His probably brown eyes also look black in the dim candlelight… black clothes. He’s handsome… A handsome robber? Has he been here the entire time? You feel scared, but still too dazed, too numb to let panic take hold again. 

“Did you- break in?” It comes out so nonchalantly, and a smile appears on his lips. “No.” He nods at the board. You scoff, not believing him. 

Not only did you just have the worst experience of your life, but now this intruder is fucking with you? 

He sighs deeply, looking in your eyes. Something about his gaze… not- quite- human.

“So, you mess with this stuff, on this day of all days, not knowing what you’re doing?”

“Let’s see… Your name’s y/n, your birthday is (your birthday), but, as your mum has told you, you were supposed to be born on (your duedate).” Your eyes grow wide, heart starting to pound as you slowly come to your senses. 

“You came here because you just moved, don’t have any friends yet… Starting to get it, or?”

You continue to look at him, feeling a bit mad, but almost flattered at the same time. They say psychopaths are charming- You’ve never seen someone who carries themselves quite like him before.

“So you’re my stalker?” You press yourself back into the sofa, guard rising, eyes discreetly scanning the room to look for something to defend yourself with. You’re happy to not be alone, honestly. But, replacing the feeling of doom with what is probably a really dangerous, real situation? That seems like a bad trade.

He shakes his head. “No, I have never noticed you before tonight.” You narrow your eyes, not believing him. “Then get out of my cabin.”

He tilts his head back a bit, looking down at you as he stands up, tall above you. “This is not your cabin, it’s your aunt’s.” He states, as if that’s helping his case. “Ok, stalker, get out of my aunt’s cabin.” You blink, and he’s gone.

You jolt, sitting up straight, a surge of dizziness making you grab onto the blanket under you. 

“You know, that’s really not in your best interest.” His voice is coming from behind you, monotone this entire time. You throw yourself to the side, shaking. “How did you-”

“Get it now?”

He comes back around, walking slowly, pointing at the board, looking like a perfect being. You gulp. Looking at his strong physique, you know there’s no way you’ll be able to fight him off if he’s here to hurt you. 

But then… Is there any way this could possibly be real? Have you hit your head, and in reality, you're still lying on the floor, in a coma or something?

“What do you want?” Your voice comes out shaky and suspicious. He sits down again, next to you this time. You freeze up, you hate that your body always responds like this when you’re scared.

“A bit forward, don’t you think?” he asks. You just stare at him- his eyes are dark brown, not black. Another shaky breath escapes you as you lose the ability to speak.

You can see that he’s thinking, his face twisting slightly. 

“Oh, sorry,” He gets up to go sit across from you again. “I haven’t been around a human in… well, it won’t make sense to you anyway.” He folds his hands together and tilts his head. You feel his eyes burn through you, and you wonder what else he knows about you. Does he find out by looking in your eyes or something? Sure feels that way.

“I-I have to go!” You scramble to your feet, getting ready to dart to the door. Wanting to run to your car, but he appears in front of you, blocking your way. 

“No, you can’t.” his face is filled with melancholy, but his voice is still a void of emotion. You're confused.

“...You look depressed about trying to take my soul, or whatever it is that things like you do…” You study him, unable to understand him. Is he trying to make his face mimic human feelings? 

He’s 100% not a robber.

“Me? No… but the thing you originally summoned, it already did… but not your soul. As you can tell, you’re here.”

You just stare at him, feeling a cold so deep, so numb you just can’t explain it. It runs through you, making you sink to your knees. 

“What do you mean by originally summoned?” 

“The shock must have made you forget more of the process than I thought. That’s lucky.” He gives you an encouraging smile, but it’s not calming in the slightest.

“...What do you mean… it took something from me? What?”

His face goes as flat as his voice. “Look, I’m not good at this. I had hoped we could just talk some more?” His voice being so unchanging is creeping you out, but that’s the least of your strange worries. 

“How did you get here?” You try.

“You left the door open. That’s not your fault, it’s not like you could just-” He waves his hand at the board like he’s doing a lazy old-fashioned wizard impression. You just stare at him with your mouth slightly open, your focus slowly shifting to the board, the sight of it in the flicking candlelight seeming so mundane.

 “Anyway, I noticed, have some free time, and figured I’d check it out. Lucky for you. Some other things would be happy to come and consume what’s left of you.”

There it is again… that cold…

 “What do you mean: what’s left of me?” you press. He tightens his lips, giving you his hand. Hesitantly, you take it, letting him pull you to your feet with no effort. You had half-expected him to be cold, but he feels normal, warm. Warmer than you.

“Let’s sit down.” 

You study him from the sofa as he sits across from you again, not trusting him in the slightest. Making sure not to make eye contact, something in the back of your brain telling you not to. 

 “How do you feel?” He asks, and you furrow your brows. “Honestly, I’m very confused and a bit- very scared-”

“Yeah, of course,” He cuts you off. “I mean, you.” He lets his hand float along you, but far away enough as not to freak you out. “Oh..” you think. “Well… I feel normal.”

He looks amused. “That’s what I thought, you can’t tell?”

“Can’t tell what?” Your voice is getting more frantic now, hand tapping restlessly on the opposite arm. 

“That your- condition- has changed,” The feeling of cold waves in you.

“What do you want!?” You yell, eyes brimming with tears. 

Confused, scared, angry… 

“Forget what I want. Right now, I’m protecting you,” he looks cocky, making you shrink, mouth drying out. 

“Look, what you summoned… or, what found you after you stupidly opened that door- I won’t blame you,” …  “It consumes.” 

You stare at the floor, feeling nauseous. 

“It eats your being, you're familiar with that concept, right? Like… a predator?”

“But… I’m here… I’m alive…?” You breathe the words, dizziness taking hold of you, fully feeling how your lungs need air. 

“Yes, you’re here. But you’re anything but alive. You probably just can’t tell.”

Your head spins, eyes burning. “Probably?” You ask, stunned. “Yeah, you see, I’ve never been alive. So, I don’t really know. Besides, everything has its place… its own cycle, and you just got ripped out of yours. This is usually not the way humans go; there’s nothing natural about it.”

You look at his hands, unable to process. “You say you're here to protect me? Are you- an angel?”

He laughs, the audible sign of emotion more relieving than you thought it would be.

“No, I’m no angel. Calling me a demon, like you implied when you tried to run, would not be wrong. But it’s not so black and white as you humans make it out to be. I’m nothing like that other thing. Your more ancient text gets it more right.” 

You don’t try to hide your suspicion as your eyes find their way back to him as he talks. 

“I once had a customer, he was someone's art demon, read about those? I would say you should, but it’s not like you can do that anymore.” A tear starts running down your face as he speaks. 

Is everything really over? What are you supposed to do now?

Catching your eyes, looking into them with intensity you’ve never felt before, as if he’s reading your thoughts, he shifts the topic.

“Come with me? If you stay here, it’s only a matter of time before something bad comes for you. Once I’ve left, nothing is stopping them from coming through, and you can’t close that door anymore. Or maybe… Do you want to wander the earth? Find your family? See them searching for you, never finding your body? Wait and helplessly observe until your dad shoots himself in about five years? Not being able to handle-”

“Stop it!” You scream, his words consume you, folding your body over, tears hitting the fabric of your pants.

The corner of his lip pulls up for a slight second. “Nothing can be done now. I’m just telling you. You don’t want me to leave, trust me.” 

You miss the seconds of warmth in his laugh, feeling so alone, muffling a cry with your hand, forcing yourself to calm down.

“How do I know you’re not lying? That you aren’t something bad?” Your eyes are narrow as the sense of danger finally pulls you together. Understanding that even if this feels fake, the threat is probably very real. 

He sighs, blinking out of existence, reappearing right in front of you, hands leaning on the sofa on each side of you, forcing you to straighten out again as you lean back, his face coming closer, a slightly masculine, clean scent filling your nose.

“How would you like me to prove it, exactly? I can’t show you your corpse; there’s nothing left of that. And I haven’t hurt you, have I?” His eyes burn into you with unfamiliarity, yet his presence is making your heartbeat quicken, which in turn makes your brain hurt. 

Aren’t you dead? How is your heart beating?

You try to think of everything you’ve heard about the supernatural, wondering what’s real and not, still convinced this is some sort of coma dream.

 “...Are you an… incubus?” you wonder out loud without thinking, seeing him this close, he looks almost a bit too perfect. 

He pulls back as if you burned him, scoffing, seeming offended. “No. And if I were, I’d have no use for you given your situation,” You feel your face burn. “and why would you even think that?”

You gulp, now feeling embarrassed and stupid on top of everything else. 

“I don’t know! But why would you want me to come with you? What do you want?” you try to sound stern, and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“What I would like- is to own you.” His gaze darkens, leaning back over you. “And no, it’s not like you think, you won’t be my slave, it’s more like a bond-” He looks you up and down, and for a second, you swear there’s a hint of color in his face. Is it because of what you said? Because of his unchanging tone and unfamiliar presence, you can’t read him properly.

“This place, where you’re from… Unlike some other spaces, we have to be invited if we don’t belong here. Like you just stupidly did, for example. And it’s not like sevard and lost human souls are a common occurrence.” 

You don’t like where he’s going, but you decide to hear him out.

“You’re a resource, and I’d like to use you to free up some of my own time. You’ll get out of this predicament you put yourself in. It’s a win-win situation.” He shrugs, making you bite your lip.

“You’ll own me, but I won’t be your slave?” That does not sound right. 

“Think about it as a job, you’ll be free to go. But I wouldn’t. I don’t like it when anyone damages my possessions; that’ll keep you safer.” A smile spreads on his lips again. “You’ll just help me manage some tasks, keep me company, get a place back, not standing outside the order of things, open for anyone to grab.”

“Manage what? You said you had a customer?” Your head feels like it’s about to explode. But this deal honestly does not sound too bad, given the circumstances. If he’s being honest.

“I run a bar of sorts. You can help me serve customers. I don’t lie, so I’m telling you it’s not risk-free, but it’s my domain. They won’t be able to hurt you.”

“A bar?” You’re questioning the fabric of reality, wiping your tear-stained face. 

“Yes, that’s what I do, among other things. You’ll have some company while I’m gone. The shef is fully capable of protecting you, if it comes to that.” He’s starting to get a triumphant look, but you're not fully convinced.

 “Wait, I thought you just said no one would be able to hurt me?” you question. “Most things,” he shrugs. 

You figure you’ll have to accept that answer; he doesn’t look like he’ll elaborate. 

You look around your aunt’s cabin, the candle on the table still burning, your pumpkin shining from outside, empty cup of hot chocolate sitting right in front of you, next to the Ouija board, dead phone on the floor next to the bedroom door… 

“Is all that stuff you said true? … about my dad? And if you had to be invited… I won’t come back here, will I?”

He closes his eyes, “Look, it is what it is. He’ll go on, if that makes you feel better? Just like humans usually do. And no, the chance of you ever coming back to earth is so small- especially if you’re bonded to me. I wouldn’t consider that possibility if I were you. If you come with me, you’ll no longer belong here.” 

You nod slowly. “But I can’t go… on?” you question, voice low. “No.” He seems so cold. You are usually good at reading people, but from him, you get nothing beyond his facial expressions. You wonder how similar to a human he really is, beyond his appearance.

“You’re a demon?” You need confirmation. 

He nods, looking into your eyes, and you let him.

“What’s your name?” 

“Not so fast. First, do we have a deal?” He waits, reaching his hand out to you. 

Has he been talking to you to trick you? Does that eaven matter? If he’s bad, the next thing that comes might be worse, that… that part you can believe.

Slowly reaching your hand toward his, you take it. “Yes.”

“My name is Jungkook,” he says, letting go of your hand. “Y/n…” you mumble back, somehow feeling connected to him now. He steps back, and it dawns on you just how close he was, leaning over you this entire time.

“It’s time to go. I spent more time here than I expected, so there won’t be much time to show you around when we get home.”

Home…

You stand up, following closely behind him as he makes his way towards the door. You have a gut feeling it won’t be leding outside to the porch. 

What the hell did you just agree to?

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Read Chapter 2&3 - The creature named Bam & Customers, here 🎃💜

~ You lean your head against his chest, focusing on his arms holding you. What the hell were you thinking? Did you just almost get yourself killed? ~