Bts Meme Face Novels & Stories

My future mother-in-law, Diane Grant, loved setting rules. On the day I proposed, she sat there with that smug, superior look and told me if I wanted to marry her daughter, Olivia Grant, I had to pass her so-called "son-in-law training", which was three months working as a food delivery driver. She said she wanted to test whether I could handle hardship. For my fiancee's sake, I kept my identity hidden. I was the heir to one of the most powerful families in Crestfall City, and I agreed without hesitation. For three months, I shed every trace of privilege. I worked from dawn to night, delivering orders across the city. My parents didn’t understand. My friends disapproved. Mrs. Grant watched me like a hawk, picking me apart every single day. "Three minutes late? That’s a $3,000 penalty. The wedding shall be delayed by a month!" "Wrong unit delivery, bad review? $8,000 penalty. You don’t get to see Olivia this week!" Even then, I never gave up. Until the final day. I received an urgent order with a massive tip. The note was in bold: "Lifesaving medication. Immediate delivery." I sped through the streets, pushing myself to the limit. Just as I was about to enter the residential compound, Mrs. Grant stepped in front of me, blocking my way, her face full of disdain. Her voice shot up sharply. "The wedding gift goes up to $200,000. Not a cent less." I looked at her look of absolute certainty and suddenly laughed. My finger slid across the screen. The recipient of that urgent order was her precious son, Christopher Grant. I slowly put away the unlimited card in my pocket, along with the check I had prepared for a million-dollar wedding gift. Originally, I had planned to reveal my identity that day to give her the surprise of a lifetime. It seemed there was no need.

On April Fool’s Day, my CEO husband cut out my heart to save his childhood sweetheart's son. After the surgery, he tossed me into a cold rental apartment, where I died in agony. Three days after my death, my five-year-old daughter played in the room as usual. Walking by the sofa, she wrinkled her little nose and mumbled, "Mommy, there's a weird smell in here." She touched my face and murmured, "Mommy, are you pretending to be Snow White? Why are you so pale?" She shook my arm harder and raised her voice, "Mommy, it's my birthday today—get up and blow out the candles!" Confused, she picked up the phone and called her father. “Daddy, did I make Mommy mad? I lit the candles, but no matter how much I call her, she won’t wake up.” On the other end of the call, Patrick Hart’s voice was cold and impatient. “What could possibly be wrong with her? She’s just pretending to be asleep for sympathy. It’s Johnny’s birthday, I’m busy. Don’t bother me! Tell your melodramatic mother to stop playing her little tricks. I don't have time to humor her." My daughter removed the candle from her bun, pinched off a piece of the bun, and fed it to me. "Mommy, I made a secret wish… I really wish you could hold me again, just like before."

Ever since we were kids, I'd always known how to make use of my gentle childhood friend for things like sending him on errands, and borrowing his allowance. He never complained. Just silently indulged me. Things continued the same way until the day we got engaged. That's when everything snapped into place. That was the day we both woke up. I was just a throwaway character in a novel. He was the male lead—fated to fall in love and end up with the novel's heroine. I was stunned. Ready to walk away. But he was furious. Jaw clenched, eyes wild. He grabbed my hand and dragged me straight to City Hall. "Screw the novel. Screw the plot. The only thing I know is that I love you, and I want forever with you." After we got married, he treated me like I was made of glass. Gentle. Meticulous. We worked side by side, building a reputation as a power couple in the business world. The events of the novel faded into the background. I fell deeper in love with him. Three years later, the youngest daughter of a real estate tycoon started her internship at our company. That day, there was a fire in the office. In the chaos, the girl stumbled into a shelving unit. It came crashing down, headed straight for my husband. I didn't hesitate. I threw myself in front of him. Pain exploded in my skull. Blood poured down my face. The girl, in her panic, had fallen to the ground, crying out, "Aaron, help me!" My husband's face went pale. His expression—pure terror—as he ran toward her without a second thought. "Grace!" he cried. Lightning split through me. My face drained of color. The heroine in the novel—her name was Grace.

It's Family Day at my daughter, Hannah Neel's, preschool, but my wife, Samantha Miller, says she has to work and tells both Hannah and me not to go. Seeing the disappointment on Hannah's face breaks my heart, so I bring her to school anyway. As soon as we step through the gates, I see Samantha. She's holding her childhood friend—Oscar Barnett's—hand, with a little boy clutching her other. The three of them look like a perfect family, laughing and chatting, as if they belong together. When Samantha sees us, her smile fades, and she lets go of Oscar's hand. "Zach, it's not what you think. Oscar's raising his son alone. Today's his fifth birthday, and he just wanted to give him a little taste of a mother's love," she says quickly. I study her for a moment, then kneel and gently take Hannah's hand in mine. "Sweetheart, say hello to the lady."

Xenia Lewis, the nepotism junior, is eager to craft an image of herself as a prodigy. To prove her talent, she requests to take the lead in court. But when confronted by the plaintiff's attorney's sharp questioning, she falters. Our defense unravels, instantly putting us at a disadvantage. After the verdict is announced, Xenia tearfully throws herself into the arms of my fiance, Zayne Scott. Her voice trembles with excuses. "The plaintiff's attorney was too harsh. It was my first time in court, and I was just too nervous!" Due to her incompetence, the defendant, who could have been acquitted, ends up behind bars. Yet, Zayne and my junior colleague, Hugo Wilkinson, indulge her with comforting words. "Don't be upset. No one wins every case." "With your cleverness, Xenia, you'll surely hold your own next time." Furious, I snap, "The court is a place to seek truth and uphold justice. It's not a playground for make-believe. Because of your mistake, an innocent person has been wronged. How can you live with yourself?" Feeling humiliated, Xenia breaks down, sobbing and threatening to harm herself. Resentful that I've hurt her, Zayne and Hugo distort the truth, shifting all the blame onto me. I end up as the scapegoat for her mistakes. Not only am I forced to resign in disgrace, but I also face disbarment. With nowhere to turn, my spirit shatters. While crossing the street, distraught and distracted, I'm hit by a car and killed. Then, when I wake up, I find myself reborn on the very day Xenia and I are set to appear in court.

We were on a field trip to the Holy State of Aram, when the prom queen, Susie Lambert, complained about the hot weather and called for a bikini party. My boyfriend Ken insisted on bringing the whole class along just to satisfy her whim, even though I warned him, "That's against the law, and visitors who are found guilty will be remanded, if not killed…" He slapped me across the face and snapped, "Don't try to scare us! You're just jealous that Susie's got a nice bod, and you don't want to see us being happy together!" Everyone else in the class roared in approval too. "Exactly! You already took Ken away from Susie, and you'd now come up with such bullshit!" I was furious and frustrated, but for their sake, I spoke to Mrs. Dent, the class teacher. She scolded everyone when she realized what they were doing and called off the bikini party. However, Susie got so upset that she ran off alone and flaunted her bikini at the beach anyway, and she was caught before being executed as a spy by zealots. Ken blamed it all on me. In the middle of the night, he sneaked into my home and set fire to it with gasoline, killing my entire family. Afterward, the entire class testified on his behalf to create an alibi. But I opened my eyes again and found myself returning to that day when Susie goaded everyone to join her bikini party. This time, I simply smiled. "Go ahead, enjoy yourselves all you want!"

It's my first time celebrating the holidays with my biological parents after I get reunited with them. The fake heiress, Stella Knight, suggests that we spend the holidays on an overseas vacation. But as soon as we arrive in the foreign country, Stella burns my passport while my parents are away getting a massage. Before I can even fight back, I find myself getting pushed into a scamming den. With a twisted smile on Stella's face, she spits out, "Trash like you don't even deserve to fight with me!" As I gaze at the people who are approaching me, I suddenly find them familiar-looking. I found the emblem of my adoptive parents' company. I've spent the last 20 years being pampered by my adoptive parents before I finally made up my mind to reunite with my biological parents in order to fulfill my wish. I never expect to be sent right back into my adoptive parents' territory.

During a dinner party hosted by the Cassano crime family, a lace garter stained with dried fluid dropped out of Matthew's pocket. He was the Don's son-in-law. When questioned, Matthew insisted I had tried to seduce him, failed, and planted my own underwear on him as a setup. In my past life, I was just a maid for the Cassano family. Simply because I had a killer body and a pretty face, the hot-tempered mafia princess, Caroline, refused to listen to a word I said. She had me fed alive to a venomous snake. My parents came seeking justice, only to end up at the bottom of the river. In this life, I faced Matthew's setup once again. "She sneaked into my booth and threw herself at me! When I rejected her, she planted this on me to ruin my marriage with Caroline!" But I was no longer a lowly maid. I held a Ph.D. in Economics from Yale and served as the Chief Advisor for the Visconti family, a global mafia empire.

I was always flying for work, so I left the whole renovation thing to my husband, Daxton Pruitt. This time, my flight got scrapped last minute, so I swung by the house to check in. The second I stepped inside, some woman named Mona Scambley, who claimed she was the designer, chucked a stack of invoices at me. Couples' lingerie display case: $15,000. High-end waterbed: $40,000. One glance at that pile of overpriced tacky nonsense made me nauseous. My brows pulled tight. "Ms. Scambley, this is a private house, not some couples' motel. What is all this?" Her face flipped in a heartbeat. She jabbed a finger at me. "The owner gave those orders. You're just the site supervisor. Disobey me again, and I'll have Mr. Pruitt fire you!" Then she spun around and called Daxton right there. I laughed, cold and low, about to ask what kind of clown show designer he'd hired—until I heard his voice. Gentle. Doting. "This is Mona and my love nest. We'll do whatever we want. Don't like it? Get out." I smiled, snatched the list from Mona, and nodded. "Sure." One week later, that overpriced waterbed showed up—Daxton, very much not smiling.

At my wedding, my CEO wife's male assistant stood up in front of everyone and publicly presented a "year-end report" on their nights together. "Big thanks to Adam for your generosity. Over the past year, your wife and I tried 500 different positions. I successfully earned a 500-thousand-dollar year-end bonus and the right to the wedding night. "Adam, you should keep working hard. Don't feel too bad about only getting a one-dollar 'encouragement award.' "And thank you to all our friends and family for acknowledging me. Tonight, on our wedding night, I'll make sure Julie is thoroughly satisfied." The room fell into a suffocating silence. Even my mother-in-law—who always claimed to love me like her own son—said nothing. Seeing how pale I'd gone, Julie Black spoke with brutal honesty. "I accidentally got pregnant. The guy felt insecure and insisted on coming to the wedding, so I agreed. I was the one who crossed the line. I have to take responsibility." My heart sank into an icy abyss. Only then did I understand the meaning behind the one-dollar "encouragement bonus" Julie had transferred to me the night before. Staring at my wife's unfamiliar face, I made up my mind: I didn't want her anymore.