Sketch Twitch Novels & Stories

Suddenly Zeva Adelia, a freelance photographer, got a client who expressed his interest in her after spending a day together on the first day they met. However, without clarifying what their relationship was and only introducing his name as Zero, the next day Zero immediately returned to his country. He left only a trail of his handmade sketch of Zeva's face and a tiny letter asking Zeva to keep her heart's loyalty to him only. Strangely enough, by only communicating via chat, even without video or phone calls, Zeva feels that Zero has succeeded in conquering her heart. Then, can Zeva undergo a status-less relationship and a long-distance relationship with Zero? How long can Zeva endure waiting for Zero to come back for her? Also, how much does Zeva trust Zero's loyalty to her, when there's another girl like 24/7 beside Zero?

Don't please." she sobbed shaking badly. The fear of her situation slowly sinking in. "Shut your fucking mouth close!" Leonardo yelled out of anger. Emma has been frustrating him for the past few days and deep down it hurts him. "I thought you liked it opened." she replied with a smirk. He felt his body twitch with desire at her dirty words. "Please I want to go home." "I am your daddy like you cried last night." he cut me off by grabbing my neck and pulling me close. My heart raced wildly against my chest and I couldn't tell if I was scared or turned on. **** In a world where killing is the order of the day, Emma's brought into this world to pay off her family's debt. Either she kills or she will be killed. The soft city girl toughens up, but her captor, Leonardo, tests her resolve and her heart. Torn between escape and twisted desire, Emma must confront the darkness within herself. Can she reclaim her freedom and protect her family, or will the shadows consume her?

On the day before the marking ceremony, my Alpha mate, Zev Briarwood, is wounded in a battle and loses his memory. He forgets everything… including me. To help him restore his memories and Alpha pride, I go all out. I seek out an evil witch to trade my precious heartblood and fangs for her magic, nearly dying in the process. I sketch jewelry designs day and night, selling them just to earn money and to find every possible memory cure. When I drag my battered body to visit Zev at the clinic, I overhear him laughing with his buddies. "Your acting's next level, Zev! Kira still hasn't figured out you're faking it, and you've delayed the marking ceremony!" A buddy snickers. Zev gulps his wine and grins. "I'm definitely winning the bet that I'd sleep with 100 women at parties. Once I've had my fun, I'll go back to her for my mate duties and complete that marking ceremony."

Cassie Burch, tall school vice-principal and as of late single woman, has met the man of her dreams. Tragically, her heart isn’t prepared for another relationship after at long last dumping her useless ex. When she concurs to a casual connect, she has no thought what she’s getting herself into. Sentiment is almost to hit her harder than she ever anticipated. Alpha wolf shifter, Claw Ruiz, is anxious and can’t figure out why. He fair opened a high-end shifter club, and the novelty has as of now worn off. When his mate lurches into him, he’s more than prepared to keep her until the end of time. And he’ll do anything he needs to demonstrate to her he’s worth her cherish. The issue is Cassie doesn’t need a genuine bond. And everything he does to attempt to sentiment her comes up short. He was kind of a twitch, but he’s changed. If he doesn’t figure out what he’s doing off-base, Cassie will take off him in the clean. And by pack law, if the alpha doesn’t mate, he must battle to the passing to keep his status. His heart and his life lay in Cassie’s hands. Can she cherish a man who turns into a wolf?

My five-year marriage with Alexander was like a couture gown, ripped to shreds. "I want Victoria to show your collection for the New York Fashion Week spring preview." My husband Alexander's voice cut through the sketch I was working on. I stopped drawing. I must have heard him wrong. "What did you say?" "Victoria is new. She needs a platform. Your new spring collection is the perfect springboard for her." "You're a showstopper every year. What's the harm in giving her one shot?" he asked, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "Besides, the brand needs new blood." I stared at the man I'd spent five years with. Suddenly, his face looked sharp, unfamiliar. "Do you have any idea how many nights I've stayed up working on this collection? And you want to give it to some new assistant?" "Evelyn, don't be so petty. It's just a preview." His expression turned cold. "I've already decided." I clenched my fists, a thousand emotions churning inside me. Fine. If you're going to treat me like this, don't blame me for leaving you.

There's this unspoken rule in werewolf high society: no matter how tight the mate bond is, business banquets mean booking a hostess. Six years into our bond, my Alpha mate—Brian Stormclaw—met one. Louise. A scrappy Omega with too much pride and not enough sense. When he offered her his black card, she pushed it back and said, "I'm not some Alpha's pampered pet." Brian? Instantly hooked. Like the Moon Goddess herself had dropped her in his lap. He chased her like he wanted her mark on every pack crest. But he forgot something—I was the Luna he wrote ninety-nine love letters to before I said yes. I didn't beg. Didn't snap. Every time he chose her over me, I lit another letter. First one burned on our anniversary—he bailed to wait outside Louise's flower shop, just to walk her home. Letter thirty-four? He left me stranded in a dangerous hunting ground to keep her company. Said she was scared of the dark. Fifty-two? Torched the second he replaced our wedding photo with some sketch she made on. ... And when the ninety-ninth turned to ash, so did whatever was left of us. I walked away. For good.

I was prepping the ceremonial cloak for our seventh mating anniversary. The front door suddenly banged open. My son rushed inside, tears streaming down his face. "The teacher yelled at me," he sobbed. He shoved the wrinkled drawing into my hands before burying his face in my shirt. I smoothed out the paper to see what the drama was about. It was a sketch of a faceless woman titled: The Substitute Mom. My heart stopped as I read the scribbles underneath. "Daddy said she is the backup." "She does the chores but gets no wages." "The Real Mom is responsible for being beautiful and guarding the treasury." My fingertips turned ice-cold against the paper. My mate, Ethan, had just returned from a patrol. He kissed my forehead. "What did our pup draw?" The next second, his smile froze when he saw the content. His voice tightened, and he reached out to snatch the book. "He watches too many cartoons! He's writing nonsense!" I stared at the man I had shared a den with for seven years. He looked like a stranger now. If I was the substitute. Who was this beautiful real mother? And where had my true son been all these years?

In the crowd of people, his eyes were fixed on her. From the twitch of her lips to the blink of her lashes she was the only thing his eyes wanted to see, his hands to touch and his stupid heart, who he believed never existed want to beat for. He was not only following her every move but was making sure no other eyes look at her the way he was looking at her because he knew the beauty in red is going to be the desire looming in every men's eyes at the party. He was claiming his possession just by fixing his look on her because he knew very well, that every living being in this hall knows when he fixes his eyes on something it's his and everyone knows better than challenging him. Because a battle with the devil is a battle you lost even before you step into the battlefield. It was becoming too much for him to maintain the distance, he wanted to walk her side, put his hands around her waist, bring her closer to the warmth of his chest, he wants to kiss the hell out of her in front of everyone, the scenario made the blood rush to his southern region, every passing second was like a torture to him, which he was enduring for the time being. He knew she is not meant to be his, but hell he will take her by hook or crook doesn't matter if he is bringing her to the hell he rules. Is she your queen? the sane part of his mind asked. The question made the devil smirk at the thought of what she is to him, a knowledge he confined to himself.

On the first day I reunite with the wealthy Holloways, as soon as I step into the villa, I'm instantly whisked into a car with tinted windows. The fake heiress, Kate Holloway, cuts my ID and bank card with a pair of scissors right in front of my biological parents. She grins smugly at me the whole time. "You see, Rosalie, I've offended that one person who must not be offended at all costs in Ravenfield. You should go kneel in his estate for a few days. Think of this as your way to repay the Hollways for giving birth to you in this world." My heartless parents even tell the driver, "Make sure that she doesn't escape. It all depends on her whether or not our family will be able to survive this crisis." The journey to the mysterious man's estate is bumpy. But the scenery outside the window becomes more familiar as time passes. Finally, the driver stops right outside a well-guarded estate. He reports in a frightened tone, "W-We are here to deliver the girl to Mr. Whitethorn." Mr. Whitethorn? As in the powerful man who is prone to mood swings and can easily make families such as the Holloways go into bankruptcy with just a twitch of his finger? Wait, isn't that Dominic Whitethorn, my adoptive father who has doted on me since I was a little girl? The Holloways have chosen to make me the scapegoat in order to protect Kate. They probably never would've thought that the fearsome Mr. Whitethorn, who's capable of determining their survival, has scoured the entire city for me because I didn't come home last night.

His lips brushed my palm and every time his hot breath hit my skin, it set my nerves on fire. “What the—” I whispered, breathless. And then, with deliberate slowness, Sevastian slipped my ring finger into his mouth. My eyes widened in disbelief, my heart hammering against my chest. His teeth scraped my skin before sinking into the flesh, just enough to make me twitch from the sharp pain. I gasped, both from the sting and the bite I got from him. My entire body tensed as he bit down harder, marking me not with ink or metal, but with flesh and teeth. When he finally released my hand, my skin throbbed, the faint mark of his bite was visible against my finger. I cradled my hand, staring in disbelief at the mark he left behind. “This,” Sevastian murmured, his voice low and sharp. “Is my mark and ring.” His tone carried an edge, dangerous yet confident, as if the words were meant to bind me. “The symbol that you are no longer Celestina Valeztina-Savelli.” His lips ghosted over my skin, and my chest tightened as he whispered the next words. “...but Celestina Valeztina-Ortega.” His next words were a soft snarl, dripping with ruthless certainty. “My property, my wife.” He added, while locking his gaze on me. There was no hesitation in his eyes, no flicker of remorse, only that same ruthless determination that chilled me to my core. I tried to pull my hand back, but he didn’t let go. "You’re insane," I whispered, my voice barely audible, trembling despite my best efforts not to show it. “Yes, I’m insane,” he replied with a hint of mischief in his voice, “And I can drive you crazy…” He paused, letting the tension hang in the air.