Stitch X Novels & Stories

I answered, loosing the last button on my shirt, I was in a changing room actually. “ training!? Sorry to pry but what training is that? " I rolled my eyes. “ it's a training for the fashion competition, I'm sure you must have heard of it." I said as I put my clothes into my bag. “ you can sew!? I never knew " she exclaimed, I'm pretty sure it was fake. Walking past her, I turned “ well now you do" I answered. I stopped when I saw the bracelets on her hands. “ isn't that for Terrance " I said aloud. Stacy looked startled and then checked her wrists, I saw her blush.

"Hold still, little bird." The metal shears are cold against my skin. I press my back into the corner, the concrete biting into my spine. I can't breathe. I can't blink. I can only stare at the rusted blades hovering inches from my chest. The man—Stitch—smiles beneath his leather mask. His eyes are dead things, devoid of light. He closes the blades. SNIP. The fabric of my shirt tears. A long, vertical slit right down the center.

“His name is Stitch!” The doctor, startled and a bit shocked, continued. “R-right... as for... Stitch, well, he received a bullet wound in his hind leg. Nothing else. It was extracted and bandaged. He won’t be able to walk on it for a while.” Abaddon nodded as the doctor continued. “All in all, your girlfriend, and her dog, Stitch, will need some time to recover, but they should pull through." Abaddon nodded again, relief washing over him. He would do whatever it took to ensure their safety from now on. This incident had shown him just how vulnerable they both were, and he wouldn't let it happen again.

Zay's POV "So you just do a regular knot at the end? There isn't some kind of special knot that has to be done?" I giggled at Celeste’s question. Xavier didn't want her to worry with helping with all of his work but he also didn't want her to be bored. Celeste didn't want to be away from Xavier though so she decided to help me. I was currently teaching her how to stitch up a wound and I have to say that she is a natural.

His expression shifted stoic, and I sensed that my attempt had not produced the desired effect. His sudden move caught me off guard. He grabbed my neck, pinning me to the couch. My heart raced, and with a tight grip on my neck, I managed to utter. "What are you doing?" The air in the room grew tense. “Isn't this what you wanted?” Using his left hand he ripped my inner gown. Making me feel vulnerable and scared. "Stop, please," I pleaded, tears streaming down my face. His grip on my neck tightened, and as he released me, I began to cough, desperately catching my breath.

He didn’t flinch away from her touch. You will need stitches, the doctor said quietly. Xavier exhaled. Do it here. The doctor hesitated. Xavier, stitches should really— Do it here, Xavier repeated, a shade more firmly. Cynthia swallowed hard, watching the doctor prepare the tools. Her heart tightened at the thought of him being in pain again. She caught Xavier’s good hand with hers, squeezing softly. His eyes found hers instantly, and some of the tension in his expression eased. The stitching was slow, meticulous. Xavier didn’t complain once, though his muscles tensed with each pull of the needle. Cynthia kept her gaze fixed on him, offering silent reassurance, the weight of the night still

“But before that, I was crazy. If it weren’t for Darius helping me focus on jewelry making… I couldn’t… I couldn’t live without sex anymore.” Anton hesitated for a while. Unsure what to say next. “And where is Darius?” She smirked. “Probably traveling around the world, who knows?” She shrugged. “He suddenly told me I should move to the US and manage a small store of my own.” “And the name, Maiden’s Rose Jewelry?” “I made that name for myself, so?” She gave him a judging glare as she crossed her arms. “Ah, no, that’s cool, actually!” He made a mental note to himself not to address her store as too “feminine” despite her appearance.

I looked away, feeling a cotton bud sweep across the gash on my palm. "The stitches have come apart, Sir. You need to see a doctor." Stacy said. Tbc…

It wasn't a moon or a wolf. It was a vertical slit. An eye. "I am the one who made the Stitcher," Ashford said quietly. "I wove the roots from the hair of the women I scoured. I am the Architect of the Silence, Amara. Not you." He twisted the knife. The Stitcher let out a high-pitched, metallic scream. Its root-body began to unravel, the river-stones falling from its chest like heavy, grey tears. The entity collapsed into the churning water, dissolving into a pile of mud and dead leaves.