Midnight Novels & Stories

SHE CALLS AT MIDNIGHT Dominic is finally falling asleep on the couch because the bed feels too empty and too full of memories and the couch in the living room at least doesn't have the weight of their shared history pressing down on him and his phone is buzzing and it's past midnight and he's reaching for it without fully waking up and he's seeing her name on the screen and his entire body is jolting awake because she's calling him and she's breaking the silence that's been stretching between them for five endless days.

Maya’s POV Midnight is rude. It removes logic. It removes fear. It removes clothing in your imagination before you can stop it. And unfortunately, my imagination has a favorite victim. My next door neighbor is tall, unfairly attractive, and has the kind of voice that could convince a nun to sin without even raising his tine My name is Maya Collins. I am nineteen. I am supposed to be focused on saving my family business, finishing university, and behaving like a responsible adult.

whispered against lips in the airport lounge. Adeyemi sat alone on the low daybed she’d brought out from storage—same cushions, same view of the glittering skyline. The moon was new tonight, a thin silver crescent, stars sharp above the desert haze. She wore the silk robe Layla had left behind—soft, faintly scented with amber—and nothing else. The silver anklet still chimed when she crossed her legs. Her phone sat beside her, screen dark. She hadn’t looked at it since landing.

"Seven tomorrow morning." Dom looked at the clock. 4:17 PM. "Fourteen hours and forty-three minutes," he said. "Yes." He was quiet for a moment — running it, the same calculation she'd watched him run all day, the board he never stopped turning. Then he looked at Ash. "Move the drop window. I want everything staged and ready by eleven. We release at midnight." "That's six hours to finalize the package," Ash said. "Then we work fast," Dom said.

Charlie didn't speak for a long time—not because she didn't have words, but because she had too many. The clearing felt different now. The air held the ghost of the Sentinel's howl, vibrating faintly, like the forest was still listening. Moonlight spilled over everything in silver ribbons. Charlie stood in the center of it all, trying to steady her breath. I'm the hinge. The mediator. The moon's deviation. It sounded like the world's worst LinkedIn bio.

“What about you? Don't you need to hide yourself too? She laughed. “If you could smell yourself, you would understand why I'm giving that to you. It's like nothing I've smelt before. You're the flame and you can believe me when I say you attract a lot of moths. And unfortunately, a lot of bats too.” I eventually took the necklace and placed it around my neck, hopefully, it'll protect me just like she said it would. “Come see me tomorrow, we have some things to talk about. But come at night. For no reason, should you leave your room before 4pm. And if you're not here by 8pm, don't bother coming.” Very specific instructions but okay, I guess. “Magma, you said I attract bats. Don't bats hate li

The villain will surely go mad seeing her body. [This blind date of hers is quite good-looking, too. No wonder the villain's been jealous for so long.] [Why are there so many people siding with the villain? How disgusting! She deserves her death! I really want to see the hero taking the villain down!] When I woke up once more, it was back to midnight again. The moonlight shone dimly into the lounge as my hand was on the window latch, about to open the window. [Don't open the window! There's no cat outside! It's a serial killer!]

The city glow hit the planes of his jaw, making him look like he’d been carved out of the night itself. “Call me Midnight,” he said. His voice was low, carrying a weight that made her skin prickle. “And I know exactly who you are, Lila. I know you touch yourself every night. I know you lie here imagining a stranger who comes in and tells you what to do. I know what you crave when nobody is looking.” He leaned against the wall, his gaze dropping from her face to the glistening toy still inside her. His eyes didn’t waver. There was no shame in his look, only a terrifyingly calm observation.

"Does the thought of us being caught turn you on?" She moaned the moment she felt the vibrator pick up in speed. She tried closing her legs but he ony forced them open again. "Answer me." He whispers against her ear. "Yes." ༄ Azalea Moore is in her final year of college, facing increasing pressure as a Criminology major. When her friend Jackson invites her to join him for a summer getaway, she eagerly agrees. What Azalea doesn't realize is that Jackson is the son of her English professor, Maddox Thompson, and he'll be part of the trip too. As the summer unfolds, things may become far more intense than Azalea ever expected.

The room was dark except for the glow of three screens, their shifting light painting Leo’s face in hues of blue and green. Outside, the neighborhood had gone quiet — no traffic, no chatter, no footsteps in the hall. It was past midnight, but Leo thrived at these hours, when the world finally gave him silence.