I stood quietly and unobtrusively off in a corner of the ‘slumber party’ trying my best not to bother anyone. Occasionally I glanced over at my friend Kelsey who was talking animatedly with some girls and wondered why she had insisted I come along. Of course I had agreed at the time, it seemed like a good way to make friends. But now that I was here…I couldn’t bring myself to try talking to anyone. I fixed my eyes on the cup of water in my hand. This was all… fine, I was just being Kelsey's designated driver. I was being helpful, like a good friend should be. It didn’t matter if I had fun or not.
I zoned out enough that when Kelsey tapped me on the shoulder I jumped
“Did you really just stand in the corner this whole time? Geez come on you goof its time for the movie!”
She took my arm and dragged me toward the TV. Both couches were full so I ended up sitting cross legged on the ground in front of them. Kelsey was about to sit next to me before she was suddenly pulled away to sit with some other girls, so now I was just sitting next to two strangers. They didn't seem to mind me, but they didn't introduce themselves either.
The lights go off and the movie starts, the chatter dies down as everybody watches. It seemed like there was something wrong with the audio, there was an odd droning sound playing under the movie. But it wasn’t loud enough to be annoying and nobody else seemed to notice so I kept quiet. The movie was honestly kinda boring, I glanced around and accidentally made eye contact with someone doing the same thing. I felt myself blush and turned back to pay attention. The movie kept going and after a while I started to space out. I was so out of it that when something changed it took me a while to notice. The movie wasn’t playing anymore, or maybe…this was part of the movie? The screen just showed a pink and purple spiral spinning around and around. The droning had gotten louder. How long had the spiral been on the screen? I couldn’t remember. I looked to the girl on my right, about to ask if something was wrong with the movie. But she was just staring at the screen, focused. I noticed everyone else was doing much the same. I quickly turned back to the screen, not wanting to embarrass myself. As I watched I tried to remember what had been happening in the movie for this to make sense, the spiral and been going for at least a few minutes now, but the more I tried the more the details of the movie seemed fuzzy and distant. I stared intently at the screen, trying to find out what everyone else was looking at…
I blinked when there was suddenly someone sitting in front of me. I only noticed because she waved her hand in front of my face after she sat down. She was backlit by the spiral on the screen and she smiled at me.
“Hey there” she said softly “First time here?”
I just nodded feeling strangely dizzy.
“Kelsy said she was bringing someone knew, is that you?”
I nodded again, she was gazing intently at me and I started to feel self conscious, I averted my eyes and saw that everyone else was still just staring at the spiral
“Well Kelsy has good taste, you’ll be lovely”
I blush, not expecting the compliment
“Um thanks” I mumble no longer able to meet her eyes. She was grinning at me now
“Are you ready?”
“Uh…for what?”
“To learn about the button that turns off your brain”
I blinked as I tried to sort through the nonsense statement
“The what?”
She giggled and pointed off to my left
“Just watch, you’ll get the idea”
I looked and saw she was pointing at the girls sitting on one of the couches, all of their eyes were glued to the spiral. As I watched, another girl came up behind them. Starting with the girl on the far left, she leaned down and whispered something into her ear. Then reached over and tapped her on the forehead. At once, she went limp. Head lolling forward, eyes closed. She slumped into the girl sitting next to her, who jolted as if suddenly startled awake, eyes blinking rapidly. But the girl behind the couch simply reached over and tapped her on the forehead as well. And suddenly both girls seemed to be fast asleep leaning into each other. The girl behind the couch smiled and gave them both a pat on the head before moving on to the rest of the couch
“You see? All good girls like you have a button that turns off their brain”
I was staring open mouthed at the girls now asleep on the couch
“But…but I’m not-”
“Shhhhh”
I felt a hand on my cheek, and my head was turned to face the girl in front of me again. I was blushing like crazy now and I stammered something incoherent. The girl just smiled kindly
“Don’t worry, you won't be bothered by that kind of stuff soon”
Hand still on my cheek, she turned my head to the right, where I watched the girl sitting right next to me get tapped on the forehead. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she slumped back, mouth open and drooling.
“Isn’t she pretty?”
She put her hand below my chin and made me nod, I hardly noticed I was just staring at the girl
“Doesn’t she look beautiful, all sleepy like that?”
She made me nod again
“Don’t you want to look like that?”
I nodded, I wasn’t sure if she made me or not
She turned my head to face her again. Her other hand was held up in front of me, her index finger pointed at me. My eyes focused on the tip of her finger
you think I don't mean my words?
keigo takami x f!reader
MHA: one shots part 5
SUMMARY: being Keigo Takami’s best friend means dealing with his fans, his ego, and the way he casually acts like you’re his. it’s always brushed off as a joke, something he says for the crowd, until you finally snap and call him out for it. but for the first time, he doesn’t laugh it off. because while everything else might be an act, the way he feels about you never was.
CONTENT: pro hero au, fluff, friends to lovers, soft Keigo, comfort giver Keigo, hugging, happy ending, banter, slight angst.
WORDCOUNT: 1214
WARNING: this doesn't follow the original plot line of MHA, there may be grammar and spelling mistakes since English isn't my first language, based on a head canon. it's a little rushed, pls forgive mee. my sister made me write the last hashtag btw... holy mischaracterization.
have a fun reading y'all💛
The chantings and shouts fill the streets as you walk beside Keigo, aka Hawks, your best friend. His hands are stretched behind his neck while walking around with a lazy smirk on his face.
He has always been this confident and proud about his achievements. Even you, who have known him for quite a while now, have never seen him be humble about his achievements or quirk. But you never try to intervene with it because you know he'll end the conversation with a simple smirk.
Once he was able to reach the hardest in such a young age, girls found it easier to fall for his careless act and classic smirks even when he was fighting a top notch villain.
And you know all of this in a very detailed way because while these were happening, you were right by his side. Keigo used to always sign autographs while you were waiting with a villain in surrender.
Being a popular pro-hero specifically amongst young girls may not tire him, but it sure is tiring you. Every time you go out to patrol with him, his fans screaming louder than a tire screeching. There was one time when a girl asked him who you are, when your rank is almost the same as his.
"Your fan girls are all over you again." You say with a roll of your eyes just when a girl fell from screaming his name. He shrugs lazily while grinning at you after another successful mission.
Keigo winks and waves his hand at some girls with a smile before turning to you again. "You can't blame them for knowing who to fan over."
"You guys look really cute together!" A girl yells from the crowd, causing both of you to turn your head in sync and then look at each other in a slight shock. His hand has never been this fast to grab your shoulder, throwing an arm around you and pulling you closer to him.
"What can I say? My mission in life has always been to look cute with my girl here." He replies sarcastically to the girl as his hand squeezes and rubs your shoulder. He pulls you in closer to press his cheek against you while smirking. You can hear the sudden screams after his response. You guys continue walking through the car-free street, the crowd doesn't seem to end somehow.
You can't help but roll your eyes again. You always end up rolling them whenever you're with him because of his behavior towards you.
Keigo turns to face you again only to raise his brows in surprise. "Whatcha looking at me like that?" He shakes his head and raises his hand to show he is 'innocent.'
You give him a bored look, your arms are crossed, not showing him any sign of closeness you would usually show. His hand gives your shoulder a slight squeeze again to make you talk. "It's nothing.." you say, shaking your head as you guys finally reach the UA building.
Keigo doesn't probably notice what he is doing but whenever you guys are outside, whenever you win something, he becomes more affectionate in public. He treats you as if you guys are a couple and there have been several times when he didn't correct people who assumed you guys were dating.
"Oh come on, you can't just leave me all curious." His hand that's wrapped around your shoulder finds your cheek and pokes it to get your attention.
"Fine, you wanna know why I'm acting so bored and grumpy?" You say as you pull away and gently shoving his hand away. "I am done with you acting like we are dating in front of people, like I'm your girlfriend. You always say things you never mean and I'm done with it. "
He genuinely looks flabbergasted, a rare sight coming from him. You stand in the empty lobby of UA with your arms uncrossed this time. "You think I don't mean my words?" He asks.
"I think? I know, Keigo. You don't mean a single word that comes out of your mouth, especially in front of your little fan girls. I am done with this act."
His eyes can't find yours this time, unable to look at you after your words. It's almost like he feels guilty and hurt. "I don't do acts.." He mutters under his breath. You have never seen him look guilty or sound small.
His wings closes behind his back, no longer showing off his red feathers. "Don't do acts? Then what are those, Keigo? Am I schizophrenic or something?"
He clasps his hands together in front of his face, pressing the sides against his mouth before pointing at you with the tip of his fingers. He inhales sharply before narrowing his eyes. "Never said that but might check that out once you have time."
Just when you are about to scoff and say something else, he interrupts you by grabbing your shoulders. "I mean it when I say I don't do those things. I know I don't sound very trustworthy when saying that, I mean I wouldn't trust me too if I were you but don't let that one get into your mind. You should trust me with this one."
You withdraw with a head move as you furrow your brows in confusion at his words. "I mean 99.9% of my words when I'm near you." Keigo says as he gently shakes your shoulders.
"What? Do you really expect me to believe you when you say you mean it when you say your mission in life is to be cute with your girl, who is me?" You ask as you cross your arms, your nose scrunches.
"Those are the facts, trust me."
"You know that you can't expect me to trust you when you tell me you also wouldn't be trusting you if you were me, right?" You raise a brow as you lean your weight on one hip.
"Now, you can trust me. Because I mean it. I do!" He points a finger at his chest before speaking again in a much more frustrated tone. "I'm not that much of a liar when it comes to my feelings for your oblivious ass!" Keigo jabs his finger at you this time and pokes your chest.
"Feelings? Don't lie to me, you wouldn't have feelings for me." Your words causes him to roll his eyes and scoff at you before grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer.
The second you are closer, his arm wraps around your waist and his lips meet yours. The kiss is soft even though he aches to give more. His hand flexes on your back before making a fist over your hero costume. Your eyes widen in shock before closing shut.
You have never imagined his lips to be this gentle against yours, not like you ever imagined his lips against yours.
You know that's a lie tho.
Even after seconds, he doesn't pull away. He moves his lips against yours to give a deeper and slower kiss before eventually pulling away, only enough to look at your face.
"See? I do mean them. So don't doubt my words when I say my mission in life is to be with you."
Martin is the type to apologize before you've even fully processed what happened.
He'll replay the moment in his head a hundred times, pacing around, groaning into his hands, convinced he ruined everything even if it was something tiny.
When he finally finds you alone, he's already mid‑ramble - stumbling over his words, insisting he didn't mean it, and that he hates the idea of you being upset because of him.
And even after you forgive him, he'll check in again later... just to make sure you really meant it.
BORROWED
It's freezing at the RedRed shoot - the kind of cold that makes everyone miserable.
You're shivering, trying to warm your hands, and Martin notices immediately.
Without saying anything, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.
It's way too big on you - sleeves past your hands, collar swallowing half your neck - but it's warm, and it smells like him.
You thank him, and he nods like it's no big deal...
But the second you turn away, he bounces on his toes in place, quietly freaking out because you look too cute in his jacket.
Then he forces himself to stand still and act serious when you look back - like he wasn't just having a whole internal meltdown.
COMPLIMENTS
Martin gives compliments constantly - loud, excited, and without thinking twice.
If he likes your hair, your outfit, your laugh, he'll say it right away, no hesitation at all.
But when you compliment him?
He turns red instantly, smiles too big, and mumbles a soft "thanks" while looking at the floor.
He'll pretend he's fine... but he's absolutely blushing for the next ten minutes.
DANCE
Martin secretly wants to dance around you - he really does - but the second you're actually there, he suddenly feels like there's way more pressure.
He'll hover near you during practice, doing tiny little shoulder moves or goofy steps, testing the waters without fully committing.
Part of him thinks it'd be fun to dance with you... but the other part panics and decides he'd rather die than accidentally mess up in front of you.
So he settles for dancing near you - close enough to make you laugh, but not close enough to risk tripping over his own feet.
ELASTIC
Martin is fairly likely to shoot a rubber band at you. Especially when he is bored and wants your attention or when he is feeling particularly bold.
Like some teen boi trying to get the girls attention in one of those dramas.
FRAGILE
Martin handles sensitive things pretty normally, but he doesn't open up completely with just anyone - especially not the guys.
He tries to keep a tough, loud exterior, acting like nothing ever gets to him.
But if he ever had to be fragile with someone, it'd be you.
On the rare days he's really down and the others aren't around, you might catch him quietly wiping tears from his eyes.
And if you hugged him in that moment, he'd finally let himself fall apart - because with you, he actually feels safe.
GIFT
Martin is absolutely the type to be out somewhere and suddenly spot a tiny keychain, charm, or bracelet that reminds him of you - and buy it instantly.
He'll ride the elevator back up to the dorms smiling to himself... right until Keonho starts teasing him and Juhoon snickers in the corner.
He'll groan, shove them away, and act all embarrassed - but the second he gives it to you and sees how happy you are, he forgets all about them.
And you'd replace your expensive merch keychain with his little convenience‑store gift without hesitation, because it means more than anything money could buy.
HUG
Martin is definitely a back hugger. When you are cold, or he again if you haven't been giving him attention,
OR if you've been giving all your attention to Keonho, he will try to steal your affection back with a back hug.
ICE CREAM
You don't know it, but under your contact on Martin's phone... he literally has everything written down to remember about you. Your favorite Ice cream being one of them.
He uses the time on his lunch break while filming in LA to run to an ice cream shop and get two cones (one being mint of course) and then returning triumphant to present you the delicious cold treat. And the smile you give him - makes skipping lunch so worth it.
JINX
If you said somthing at the same time. Martin would gasp and then point at you dramatically.
"You gotta buy me a coke now!"
But when you got to the vending machine he would push you out of the way with his hip and put in his cash. Handing you your favorite soda instead, with a smile.
LISTEN
Whenever you start talking, Martin takes his headphones off completely - not just one ear, the whole thing - and turns his full attention to you.
He listens with that soft, meaningful expression he only uses when he actually cares about what someone is saying.
And he values your opinions more than he'll ever admit... especially your awful jokes, which he pretends to judge but secretly loves.
MESSY
If Martin ever had to wake up early for a meeting, he'd show up completely thrown together - hair a mess, hoodie half‑zipped - and immediately feel embarrassed about it.
He'd worry you'd never take him seriously again, mumbling an apology for "looking like a disaster."
But when you just laugh and tell him he could pull off any look, he'd blink, say a quiet "Okay... thanks," and try not to smile too hard.
And later, while he rushes to actually get ready for the day, he'd be grinning to himself the whole time.
NOSTALGIA
You're both sitting in the car, waiting to drive to an interview, when Martin suddenly scrolls through his phone and gasps.
"Oh my gosh, I remember this song!" he says, already hitting play.
You spin around in your seat. "That was literally my favorite song!"
And without even thinking, the two of you start singing it - loudly, horribly, and completely off‑key - windows shaking, harmonies illegal, vibes immaculate.
By the time the manager knocks on the window to tell you it's time to go, you're both breathless from laughing more than singing.
OBSERVE
Martin notices things about you without even trying - the tiny happy dance you do when you get your favorite food, or the little smile you can't hide when something goes right.
But he also sees the moments when you're overwhelmed, when your eyes look shiny and you're holding yourself together by a thread.
He'll go to you immediately, wrap you in a tight hug, and stay there until your breathing evens out.
And later, without making a big deal of it, he'll quietly tell the manager you've been working a lot and ask if you can take your break early - because he always pays attention.
PROTECT
If you and Martin were walking to your favorite snack shop and three guys were standing outside staring at you, whispering and laughing, he'd notice instantly.
Without saying a word, he'd reach for your hand and hold it tight, stepping closer to you as he straightened up to his full height.
Then he'd stand right next to them - tall, serious, and glaring just enough to make his point - until the guys quietly walked away.
And once they were gone, he'd look down at you like nothing happened, still holding your hand as if it belonged there.
QUIET
They were all getting ready for a special awards ceremony, fixing their suits and straightening ties while you followed behind as staff for the event.
But when you stepped out in a classy, elegant dress that suited you perfectly, Martin went completely quiet.
In the car, he had to sit next to you, hands folded, staring straight ahead like he forgot how to function.
The whole drive, he didn't say a word - until he finally glanced over and murmured, barely above a whisper, "You look nice."
And then he went silent again, ears pink, pretending he wasn't thinking about it the entire ride.
REST
Martin will push through exhaustion without complaining, working long past the point he should've stopped.
But during break, if he sees you on the lounge couch, he'll wander over and quietly flop down beside you - his head turned toward you, the rest of his body taking up the entire couch.
He falls asleep instantly, like just being near you finally lets him relax.
And you gently pat his head, watching his breathing slow, knowing he only ever rests this easily around you.
SPOON
Obviously a big spoon... or I guess a tall spoon. Paired with being a back hugger it just makes sense that he would pull you agaisnt his chest to be the big (tall) spoon he is.
But I guess if he really wanted to he would curl up and try to be a small spoon.
TUCK
If Martin ever saw you relaxing in a chair or curled up on a couch, he'd quietly slip off his jacket without saying anything.
He'd drape it over you gently, tucking it around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And before you could look up or thank him, he'd already be sneaking away - pretending he didn't just do something incredibly sweet.
UNDO
Whenever he sees you smile or laugh really hard at something, Martin can't help but smile too - even if he tries to hide it.
He'll look away fast, pretending he's not blushing, but the pink in his cheeks always gives him away.
And when you're really focused on something - brows furrowed, lips pressed together, completely in your zone - he thinks it's the cutest thing in the world.
It quietly undoes him every single time.
VIEW
Sometimes when you walk by, Martin gets completely caught off guard - by your outfit, your hair, or the fact that he maybe... possibly... but definitely not likely thinks you're cute.
He'll stare for half a second too long before snapping out of it, looking away fast or pretending he was zoning out the whole time.
And if you catch him?
He'll act like he didn't see anything at all - even though his ears are already turning red.
WHISPER
From the back seat of the car, Martin leans forward suddenly, getting way too close just to whisper a joke in your ear.
He's grinning, waiting for you to laugh - completely unaware of how red your face is getting.
He pulls back casually, proud of himself, while you're still sitting there trying to breathe normally... and he doesn't notice a thing.
X‑RAY
Martin can always read your mind - especially when you're about to complain about something.
If you're too hot, too cold, too tired, or two seconds away from saying "ugh," he somehow senses it first.
He'll finish your sentence before you even start it, then immediately fix the problem like it's the most normal thing in the world.
Half the time you don't even get the chance to speak - he's already handing you a blanket, opening a window, or adjusting the AC with a quiet, knowing look.
YAWN
Martin yawns all the time - he's tired literally 24/7.
And he's used to the guys yawning in his face, loudly, dramatically, like they're trying to summon a demon. It's annoying.
But you?
The way you yawn is different.
You cover your mouth a little, your eyes get heavy for a second, and your whole expression softens - and he ends up staring a little too long every time.
"How is yawning even cute?!" he thinks, immediately looking away before anyone notices.
Meanwhile he's the one yawning again because you made it contagious... and because he's down bad.
ZIPPER
Martin is struggling with his zipper - pulling it up, then down, then up again - getting more frustrated every second.
He finally jumps in place with a little annoyed huff, like the zipper personally offended him.
You walk over, gently take the fabric, and fix it in one smooth motion, zipping it all the way up.
When your eyes meet afterwards, he completely freezes.
He can't even say thank you.
And you walk away just as flustered, cheeks warm, pretending that didn't feel like a whole moment.
---
✎Masterlist
@corteggs-for-breakfast
Original Source check out CORTIS : The Ultimate Reactions & Scenarios & One Shots Guide - COER‑Only Files on Wattpad
small lady with tail meets gigantic man with cat paw arm
Workin' on a short story with these two (very short): https://toyhou.se/~literature/304873.tam-and-jacky-short
A short horror story by Alexia Li (uh-lex-ee-uh lee)
Dear University of Pocanta,
I am writing to file a safety complaint about your campus; more specifically your housing. Your website didn’t include a complaint section or an email to which I could send my concerns, so I’ve resorted to a letter. The premises of which I obtained the information will be further explained in the following.
Please refrain from letting any student or staff member enter the dormitory on the second floor of the building next to the science center. The one with the large horse statue standing tall on the front lawn. A room, one I don’t know the number of, is dangerous. Several students, as I’m sure you have on record, have mysteriously disappeared. This is as a consequence of said room.
My name is Gordy Freeman. I am currently being treated for liver failure at Ashmir Transplant Center in Toronto, Canada. My room is painted a horrible yellow color, like puke. I can’t stand it. I’ve been staying in 235 which, despite the name, is on the fourth floor rather than the second, (though this arrangement may be changed after my request to move to the fifth floor into a luxurious suite compared to room 235) and sits next to rooms 1296 and 243. I am an alcoholic, hence the liver failure. I tell you this because I have no family or friends to tell, and I feel I should tell someone, save Dr. Hanson.
Anyway, about two weeks ago, I made a friend. His name is Mike Dietrich and he attended your college many years ago. He is my source for this information. Mike used to love playing football, and painting. He had a love for frogs, specifically keeping them as pets. He used to have a scar on his eyebrow from falling off a tire swing when he was seven, and his mother died of pneumonia when he was fourteen. He is polite and a good conversationalist.
Mike began hearing things from the dorm across from him the minute he moved in. Thumping and what he thought was a large group of people, mostly women, whispering. Over the course of his studies and many complaints, the noise only increased. And so did the smell. He describes it as so foul and putrid he originally mistook it for smelling salts. It could be smelt throughout the entire building, plus the lawns out front, and become such an issue that your staff who, by the way, refused to tend to, that students simply had to move out, seldom their belongings, which had been doused in the stench and would not recover from it. A giant bonfire was held to burn these possessions, one that I don’t think was well thought out. The fire not only added to the stench, but spread it. Soon after, the entire building and a few tenants living adjacent to it had evacuated. But not Mike. Mike and the person who occupied the room across from him.
Mike couldn’t afford to live anywhere else, so he simply decided he’d just have to get used to the smell. After a few weeks of cheap gas masks and covering his nose with towels drenched in cologne, he almost didn’t notice it anymore. Almost. But every time he left the building and was ambushed with a pleasant breeze or a breath of fresh air, he’d dread going back into the place and having to adjust to it all over again. He began not leaving. He’d stay holed up in his room for days, having people deliver food and schoolwork to him, as he neglected to attend his classes. The noise also persisted, but steadily, unlike the stench, which grew with each passing moment.
Eventually, my dear friend couldn’t stand the circumstances any longer, and decided to take matters into his own hands.
Mike gripped the knob and opened the door into something he’d never imagined. A perfectly normal dorm. Nothing out of the ordinary could be found. A green couch and decorative pillows with little bunnies embroidered in the fabric, adjacent to a TV set and a small, wooden nativity scene on the top. A small cot, the one that comes with the dorm, was pushed into the corner, and topped with a mess of blankets and pillows. Mike couldn’t for the life of him find the source of the smell. He began to enter the room, walking directly to a door nestled in the corner, which he presumed was the restroom, when he felt a sharp pain in the middle of his forehead. The pressure knocked him stumbling backwards onto the side of his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what the impact came from, but he did know that his head throbbed and his body hurt from the fall, so he remained splayed out on the carpet for a good few minutes. When the throbbing in his head began to dull, he regained himself, dug his elbow into the floor, and hoisted himself up with his other hand, widening his stance for balance. In front of him was himself. He’d walked headfirst into a mirror. Scolding himself for not noticing his obvious reflection earlier, he turned back around. Though the fall must have done something awful to his head because, when he was met with the same scene he’d seen in the mirror, he was surprised, as he hadn’t predicted it. I’d explained to him that, that’s how mirrors work. He was not amused.
He continued. I was humbled in my attempts to shun him for his stupidity when he told me that the door he’d entered through had disappeared, and he had nowhere to go. But at least he couldn’t smell anything anymore. For days he circled the room. There was no food, no water, and no toilet. He explained to me that when he neared the door to the bathroom, (or maybe it was a closet, he was never quite sure) something on the other side began to scream. A horrible wail that pierced his ears and sent him staggering back. It was a noise, he tells me, that he can only describe as the cry of a mother who’s just lost her child, which he had experienced as an intern for an OB-GYN. This was a few months back, and a necessary requirement for his college diploma. Did I mention Mike wanted to be a nurse? But I digress.
With nothing else to do, he sat, staring at his own reflection, for who knows how long. He tells me he began to see things. His face distorted into monstrous shapes and people. He saw creatures staring through the dark at him from behind. After a few years (I’m sure it hadn’t been that long; I think he was exaggerating) he finally turned around. He tells me that, if he didn't, he’d still be in that room today, staring at his own reflection.
He describes the entity like this: a man’s head, engorged to the size of a small hay bail, attached to a slimy, amorphous lump of flesh. It was bald, veiny, and purplish-grey, like it was deprived of air. Its eyes were two yellow dumplings with red irises that just barely clung to the interior of its eye sockets, and were the same color as its uncannily human-like smile. Its teeth were yellow and crooked and sharp and inconsistent and its mouth spanned from ear to gangrenous ear.
Mike stumbled back, slamming into the mirror.
The thing, whatever it was, wasted virtually no time charging at him and taking one of his legs into his putrid mouth. The last thing Mike remembered before he passed out was the tearing sound of his muscle separating from his bone.
Mike tells me being digested hurts more than you’d think. He could feel every fiber of his physical body disintegrating from the creature’s powerful stomach acids. His entire form had been ground into mush. He could feel himself moving through the digestive system. His cells separated more and more until half of him had been converted to nutrients for the creature, and the rest— perhaps that’s a bit vulgar: the terms and conditions on your site warned me not to speak of situations like these, but didn’t mention gore or pain.
Anyway, he kept waiting to die, waiting for the pain to stop, but his haven never came. He came to the conclusion that the pain doesn’t stop after death.
He suffered through tens of people entering the room and meeting his same demise. He could feel the vibrations of their screams and their sporadic movements as they tried to escape. He wanted to cry, but he had no eyes to do so.
He felt it all: the creature dying years and years later, the cleaning ladies finding the body in the room. (Mike presumes that the creature trapped its prey in said room with illusions, or dark magic of some kind. It wasn’t worldly, so Mike and I have decided not to put the notion of metaphysical activity past the situation. He wasn’t very clear on this part, but somehow the door returned. You must forgive me, as I am quite old. Please have a bit of grace. Thank you.)
He felt the footfalls of men in white lab coats coming to collect the body, presumably for research, and janitors scooping him up and suffocating him (he doesn’t know how: his lungs had been disintegrated for forever by now) in a white plastic bag. They threw his body in a dumpster where, because someone abandoned the place and never took out the trash, his particles mixed with the garbage fluids for years. Eventually someone opened it for whatever reason, which paved the way for animals. Raccoons and birds and rats fed off him for days. Falling. He fell for hours, days, probably more. The sensation of falling onto a car windshield. He didn’t have any senses: no eyesight, no hearing, no smell or taste, he could only feel and understand. All he felt was pain. He understood everything that was happening to him. He knew that the owner of the car tore him apart further by dowsing him with water and scrubbing him with a windshield cleaning wand. A part of Mike has been drowning ever since. Said water flowed down into the cracks of the sidewalk, and fell into a street gutter, where it then mixed with sewer water and his form was separated further. He could feel himself being torn apart by the creatures' cells, could feel the scarce amount of him still in the fibers of the carpet and on the glass of the woman’s car, could feel himself penetrated by the rough bristles, and stepped on by pedestrians crossing the sidewalk where he lay in the cracks. He could feel himself mixing with garbage and barely edible debris, and then crushed and devoured by sewer rats. This phenomenon went on for so long, that Mike can’t distinguish what pain is what. He can’t tell if the burning is from being digested or set on fire. If the aching is from being torn apart or stepped on. He tells me the pain just blends together now as a constant, unbearable sensation. His body is so separated, so scattered across so many miles, that he thinks of him and the earth as one. Every step and fall on the ground, he feels. Every vibration and rhythm of music he can sense. He’s experienced freezing and burning to death, all at the same time.
He felt that same creature, the one stuck in the lab, regenerate. Mike says the organs they stuck in small petri dishes (heart, lungs, kidney, and bladder) just grew into new creatures, each more sinister than the last. He remembers the creature tearing into each scientist and, again, hearing the vibrations of their screams. He can feel their bodies, their elbows and knees pressing against the creatures stomach lining before they are fully digested, how they squirm and squirm until they die and can’t squirm anymore. He tells me they’ve retreated back to the college dorm, and have made camp there, all five of them.
Mike has told me to tell you that he has concluded, after you die, the feeling doesn’t stop, whether that be pain or pleasure, neither or both.
Now, years later, Mike Dietrich made his way into my IV tube. When he first began whispering to me, I was scared, of course. I thought the years of alcoholism had finally caught up with me. I’m not sure how I can hear him, but he tells me I’m the only one who can since he was the pulp in the orange juice of a schizophrenic. He tells me he’s come to warn somebody.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading. I’m sure Mike is quite grateful for your cooperation. Please take this seriously. Thank you again.
Sincerely,
Gordy Freeman
P.S: here’s a tip: To legally ensure you are not cremated, you must proactively document your explicit burial or traditional disposition wishes in a legally binding last will and testament, sign a designated agent or advance funeral directive form, and pre-plan your arrangements with a licensed funeral home.
The moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were going to take up the space in my mind.
Your shirt had just been ripped open, buttons skittering across the asphalt. Your face pale in comparison to the almost grotesque red lights flashing on my ambulance. It was as my gloved hand slid across your sternum that your eyes flew open full of such beautiful panic and fear you stole my breath. You a girl I'd only ever seen at deaths door had stolen my breath. A scramble of awkward, bruised limbs and clutter falling from your torn bag you're stumbling across the street, a lost foal in need of protection.
Onlookers gape as you ignore my colleagues call to wait, to stop, to let us check you over. Your hands are fumbling with your broken shirt, which only serves to allow more stuff to fall from your broken bag. A strangled cry falling from your bloodless lips, unbalanced on shaky legs you've struck a curb, your legs no longer taking orders as you start tumbling to the ground. My black boots are already racing across the road to you, the sweetest scream I've ever heard tearing from you as you desperately try to fix your flown open shirt... only one of your arms is bending at an angle it shouldn't, and your fingers just won't co-operate. A damp sheen of sweat coats your pain-stained skin, hopelessness mingles with the pain weighing your eyes down as I crouch in front of you. Those heavy eyes find the name badge displayed on my chest,
"I... I c-can't. Christian, I can't afford this.... please" You choke through a sob and oh if that doesn't set my skin tingling in anticipation
I don't have the time to tell you that it's all going to be okay, that I'm here now, before Alice is right there with us. Her hands already working on you before leading you to the gurney, the straps ready in case I need to tie you down... You fight, bucking like a wild animal, you beg, you plead, you threaten and oh the sweet sweet screams of your pain pierce my spine, and somehow you've taken a process that takes months and months of deliberating and painstaking cold nights of watching and waiting to mere minutes. I wonder if that means you'll last longer?
Your screams have died down now that you've emptied your adrenaline into the pointless struggle with the restraints, that and the morphine dragging you out of reality. Your dazed drooping eyes find mine and I can't help but wonder what kind of screams you'd make at the end of my whip dragging down your back, or my belt across the backs of your thighs and ass. How beautiful those honey brown eyes would look filled with tears caused by my hand, and my hand only. How beautiful would those lips look swollen and wrapped tight around me... Your back arched as you force yourself down on my co-No. No. Stop. I'm jumping too far... too high... I don't know you yet, how can I claim you when I've yet to even utter your name?
You've accepted your fate by the time we reach the hospital and unload you into the waiting hands of the doctors and nurses dressed in their whites and blues. Except your gurney stutters and there's a tug at my pants, your fingers looped through my belt buckle, your hands are shaking, knuckles white with the effort of hanging on... to me.
"Stay" You cry groggily, lost in your drug and pain tainted haze you're clinging to safety. And you've chosen me.
X-rays get taken, blood drawn and casts set, hours tick by as your IV bag drips and I never leave your side.
"Evangeline" you finally breathe when we've been left alone behind the privacy of a flimsy curtain,
"But you can call me Evie" Your eyes drop taken by sleep, your mouth still parted in an unfinished sentence.
But it doesn't matter, none of it matters because you chose me.
You. Chose. Me.
I let you sleep, slipping from your room with a final glance, I finish my shift without really being there, my mind lost in the thought of you. Hours later I'm back at the hospital searching through the corridors for you, still donning my uniform I couldn't seem to make it back to my house, not when the thought of you laying here helpless and alone nee-
Except you're not alone. I'm barely able to catch a glimpse of you with just how surrounded you are, an elderly woman strokes your hair the loving gesture of a worried mother. Friends perhaps... sisters... family and is that a brother or... something more? The thought sours in my soul, shredding the hope building in my chest. How could I do this... again?
No.
No.
How could you do this?
You betrayed me.
You chose me and now what? Forgotten me? Cast me aside?
Days pass by and still you consume me, your sweet cries taunting me as I sleep the only time I get to see you. And then... like the bright golden yellow sun and the soft pink clouds there you are. Standing in my station with a shy blush staining those soft cheeks, your eyes looking at everything but me. A soft purple cast sits neatly on your arm, the other covered in a vary of plasters matching the one stretched down the side of your face. You look well, nervous and almost scared but... well. The broom sways in my hand as I stare at you, shifting on awkward feet your thrust the basket in your hands towards me, the towel covering it shifting enough for me to see the batch of what looks like fresh muffins.
"I just wanted to thank you for uhm you know taking me to the hospital and everything and well uhm how you stayed and h-heldmyhand..." You blurt stumbling over your words in a hurry "I... I tried looking for you" Your head drops down, a red creeping up your neck coloring in your embarrassment.
Y-you came back...
You came for me. You didn't betray me; you came for me! I can't help the smile that breaks across my face, relief floods your face as it does, lighting up those vibrant brown eyes. Taking the basket from your hands I lead you through to the break room where the jug gets put on and then forgotten about once, we've sat down.
I ask you on a date. You say yes, turning your head away from me shyly.
"I'll pick you up at six o'clock" I say, you nod your head without argument.
You climbed into my car without a hint of fear, perhaps some hesitation might have saved you.
Now your dress lays in tatters in my car where I had you cut it from yourself, your piss soaking the seat from when your fear finally kicked in. How beautiful you looked my little lamb, caught in my web with nowhere to run. The pills I forced down your throat before I bought you inside took less than a minute to take affect and still keep you under even now as your chained to our bed, your small frame curled against my chest. Gazing at your face I wonder,
what color will those cheeks be stained as my cock head slides through your pussy lips, my spit as lube, don't worry you'll learn how to get wet soon enough, I'll teach you how to cum with my cock buried deep in your ass while you cry. How deep will that pink stain when your limp in my chains, streaks of red crisscrossing against your pale back and those golden eyes dazed with pain and pleasure. Your pussy swollen and raw, your ass gaping with my cum dripping down your thighs and chin, my girl well used and yet you still present your ass for me to take because it's what I want.
It's what you want.
Need.
You need me. Buried deep within you, filling you, stretching you till the point of pain threatens to spill those tears that rim those pretty doll eyes. My doll. Mine. Only mine.
Mine
Mine
Mine.
Thrusting into you, the curve of my cock dragging against your walls dragging the most explicit of cries from your ragged body. Your hair slick with sweat and your pussy dripping over the bed, a mix of both our orgasms. Orgasms that I had to tear from you at first, you held onto them, your last sense of pride that you had left, but much like your body I own even them, it didn't take me long to break you, you were so beautifully easy my darling.
You wake when the sun is hanging high in the sky, but your eyes struggle in the dark of the cellar you now occupy. You must earn your place upstairs, my doll, but don't worry I'll teach you.
I watch as your eyes settle on my shape in the corner of the room, my legs hanging lazily off the side of the chair. Even in the darkness I can see the fear shaking your slight body, your casted arm drags awkwardly in the chains as you curl up in on yourself.
"Evie" I call softly, coaxing a terrified kitten
You start to shake harder, rocking back and forth, head buried between your knees.
"Evieeee" I call again, dragging it out in a whisper which floats through the darkness to my terrified girl
"No. no. no. no" you cry softly growing more and more hysterical at the sound of my shoes dragging across the floor, coming to a stop in front of you.
Crouching down my arms wrap around yours, pulling you up into my arms I take your sobbing form to the couch where you end up straddling my lap, your face buried in the crook of my neck.
"Shhh my darling girl you're okay, I'm here, I'm here now" I breathe against your hair, and slowly the tears begin to subside and the shaking stops.
I can't seem to stop the giddiness flitting through my chest, time to make those pretty little eyes cry for an entirely different reason.
"On your knees Evie" I press a kiss to your temple, your body stiffens and almost immediately the tears are streaking down your cheeks.
"No please n-"
Your pressed against the cold concrete before you can blink, my hand wrapped around your throat cutting off the rest of the words your forbidden from saying. My cock pressed against your naked cunt, eyes wide as I grind against you,
"No is not something you have the privilege of using my dear Evie" I coo softly, the softness of my tone so at war with the actions of my body.
My hand unwraps from your throat as I thrust up and into you. I don't ease into it, fucking you hard and rough, each drag of my hips sending a dark and painful pleasure skittering up your spine. Your eyes roll back, your jaw going slack as I flip you over slamming right back into you, my arms caging you in beneath my body. Pathetic whimpering cries fall from your parted lips while you arch your back so beautifully for me, you let me drive deeper into you.
"You're going to cum all over a cock that forced its way into your tight little cunt" I breathe against your neck, dragging my tongue over the exposed column of your throat.
Snaking my hand beneath your body I drag my thumb across that sensitive bud, with slow lazy strokes. A broken moan tears from your throat, raw with screaming and pleading. I watch as you try to buck away, as you try to curse and scream, I watch you try and fail to hold back the moans of pure ecstasy.
"What a whimpering pathetic mess you are with just a few strokes"
You're crying now, a hopeless, desperate hiccupping sob. You're trying to beg but the words just won't come out all you can do is look back at me with those pleading eyes as my cock draws you closer and closer to that pride shattering orgasm. You can't hold it back anymore. Too weak. Too helpless and pathetic. You need me. This is why you need me. You need me to break you so only I can piece you back together. You need me.
The smirk, the cocky attitude, the way he always acted like he knew me better than I knew myself. He was the boy every girl in Jericho wanted... and the one I wanted to strangle.
But Tyler didn't just notice me-he watched me. He pushed and teased and cornered me until I couldn't breathe without thinking of him. And no matter how many times I told myself I hated him, my body betrayed me every single time.
Because the truth is, Tyler never hated me. He wanted me-always had. And he wasn't going to stop until I was his. In every way.
~~~
Master list
(All chapters uploaded to Wattpad account regularly, follow @authorhopeswriting for updates)
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One: Through The Mist (1.4K words)
The sun was doing its best to slice through the fog that seemed permanently attached to the town, but it had a hard time keeping up with Nevermore Academy. The place had a way of taking even a bright morning and making it feel like it belonged to some gothic painting you weren't allowed to touch. Tall spires, ivy creeping up the stone walls, windows that looked like they had secrets built into their glass. And me, trudging through the courtyard with Enid practically bouncing at my side.
I wasn't exactly sure why I agreed to come out of the dorm today. The truth is, I rarely left. Not because I didn't want to. Not because I was antisocial. More like I liked the illusion that nothing outside the gates could mess with my head. Inside, I was in control. Outside, the world could punch me in the stomach and laugh while I tried to catch my breath.
Enid, of course, didn't get that. She was all sunshine, all chaos, all volume turned to eleven. She had decided that today was shopping day, and by shopping, she meant dragging me around the one main street in town that had a few boutiques, a bookshop, and some vaguely scary coffee places. I wanted coffee but in a subtle, safe way, not the kind that came with strange strangers or wet streets or heart-stopping, almost-too-intense looks.
"Come on," she said, tugging my sleeve before I had fully convinced myself to say no. "You can't hide in Nevermore forever. You need fresh air. And caffeine. And fashion. Three very important life things."
I raised an eyebrow. "Fashion? Since when do you care about fashion and not just glitter?"
Enid rolled her eyes, spinning around like she had choreography for this kind of moment. "You mean style, not glitter. You're too serious. One day, you'll thank me for it."
I made a noncommittal noise, which she accepted as agreement. Walking beside her, I tried to memorise the scenery. The shops were mostly small, quirky, and dripping with charm. Old brick walls, carved signs, and the faint smell of pastries mixed with the morning fog. There weren't a lot of people wandering around, mostly students and the occasional local who looked like they'd grown up here and decided it wasn't going anywhere.
"I don't understand," I said as we passed a boutique that looked like it belonged in a magazine. "Why are we even here? You can't afford any of this, and I'm not really in the mood for pretending to care."
"You don't get it, Y/N. You have to feel the world a little. Touch it, taste it, make it yours. Otherwise, you'll get stuck in Nevermore forever. Which is kind of tragic for someone as amazing as you."
I snorted. "Tragic for me? You just said it."
"Exactly. Do you even hear yourself? You're already brooding in ways people pay money to see. I'm just helping."
I sighed, letting her drag me along. She had this way of pulling people into her orbit, and I had learned that resisting only made things worse. It was easier to follow, smile occasionally, and hope that no one noticed how trapped I actually felt in my own skin.
We made a circuit of a few shops. Enid flitted from racks to shelves, pulling out scarves and hats and shoes that I would never touch. I nodded, laughed at the right moments, and complimented when necessary. Meanwhile, my brain was elsewhere. I couldn't stop thinking about the weird, constant tension I felt in Nevermore, like the air itself was waiting for something to happen. And somewhere deep down, I knew that something was about to.
I was thinking about this when movement caught the corner of my eye. Something instinctual made me glance toward the street beyond the little cluster of shops.
And then I saw him.
He was standing a little ways down the street, leaning against a beat-up old truck that had clearly seen better days. Its faded paint and dents did not make it any less attention-grabbing, but, somehow, he made it look like part of his style. His posture was easy, confident, but not showy. Dark hair, slightly tousled, falling across his forehead. Eyes the kind of sharp you felt even from a distance, and a jaw that looked like it had been carved out of stone by someone who really loved shadows.
I stopped walking without meaning to, my body betraying me in that split second. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck as my pulse quickened. He wasn't looking at me yet, just casually surveying the street, but there was a familiarity in the way he moved, like he belonged in this foggy, secretive town even though I had never seen him before.
Enid, of course, didn't notice. She was too busy talking a mile a minute about a hat that looked like it could double as a crown. I took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to convince myself that it was nothing. Just some guy. Stranger. No big deal.
Then his head turned.
And our eyes met.
It wasn't long. It wasn't a smile or a wave or a gesture. It was a single, sharp lock of attention that held me in place like gravity had shifted. I could feel it in my chest, in the tip of my fingers, in the way my stomach did that weird flip thing that warned you something big was coming.
I didn't look away right away, even though I wanted to. Even though I knew it was ridiculous to feel so much about a person I didn't even know. There was something magnetic about him, something dangerous in the way he carried himself like he knew the world owed him attention.
And then, just like that, he looked away. He melted into the shadows of the next corner, leaving me with my knees feeling slightly weak and my mouth suddenly dry.
Enid finally noticed I had stopped. She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. "Earth to Y/N. You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost or something."
I let out a shaky laugh, more for me than for Enid. "I'm fine. Really."
She gave me that look only Enid could pull off—the one that made it obvious she'd known me since I was four and could read me better than anyone. "You're not fine. You've been staring at the street like a lost cat for the last thirty seconds."
I groaned, letting myself sink against the brick wall. "Nothing, I just thought I saw someone."
"Oh, please." She smirked. "That's the worst excuse. And I know that look. Spill it. Tall? Handsome? Your knees feeling weak?"
I let out a low groan and shoved her playfully. "You are impossible."
"And yet, here I am," she said with a grin. "Now come on, we've got shopping to finish. And don't worry, if mysterious stranger number one shows up again, I'll be ready to psychoanalyse him for you."
I rolled my eyes, laughing despite myself. Even with my chest tight and my mind racing, I followed her. Because that's how it always was with Enid, she could drag me into a café, a boutique, a rainy street, or a conversation I wasn't ready for and somehow make me feel alive. And even though I didn't know his name or anything about him, the memory of that sharp look, that sudden awareness in his eyes, lingered like a spark I couldn't ignore.
I had never been good with boys. Or feelings. Or messes that came with a heartbeat. And now, suddenly, a stranger had thrown all of that into chaos. And somehow, I wasn't mad about it.
