Jjk Texts Novels & Stories

I'm the most hot-tempered stand-in by Emily Kelley's side. When she smiled at another guy, I smashed her million-dollar car. When she had dinner with a man, I set her multi-million-dollar mansion on fire. Everyone thought Emily would kick me out in anger, but instead, she fell even more in love with me. It turned out my arrogant, jealous attitude was exactly like the lost love she couldn't forget. I spent eight years with her, turning a spoiled heiress into a devoted girlfriend who texts back instantly and apologizes at the first sign of trouble. We were about to get married. My friends envied how well I had trained her and thought we would live happily ever after. But on the day we were supposed to get our license, I waited for her at the city hall for hours—only to find out she had married her first love instead. When I arrived at the wedding, Emily looked at me with complicated eyes and apologized. "You should know you were just a stand-in. I never loved you. Now that my one true love is back, it's time for you to go." As I walked toward the altar, the guests backed away in fear, worried I might lose control. I looked at my system screen, which showed they had already gotten married, and calmly handed her the bouquet. "Got it. Wish you happiness. Have a good life." No one knew that all my jealous tantrums and drama were just me completing missions assigned by the system. Now that she and her first love are finally married, my mission is complete. I can finally go home. This game is over.

My husband, Geoffrey Terell, takes his childhood friend, Valerie Nash, and his best female friend, Jennifer Gorman, to a business gathering. But he suddenly texts me at 2:00 am, saying that he's suffering from a stomachache and that he wants me to pick him up at the clubhouse. Driven mad by anxiety, I quickly head toward the clubhouse with some chicken soup. But all I see is Geoffrey with his arms around both women and his eyes closed. He even starts kissing them under the guise of feeding them alcohol with his mouth. Valerie also has an arm around his shoulders as she shoots me a provocative look. "Wow, you're quick to come under Geoffrey's orders! You really are an obedient one! It so happens that Geoffrey isn't done with his dare yet. "How about you get down on your knees and serve us alcohol? Then I'll consider this round Geoffrey's win." I expect Geoffrey to turn that idea down. But he merely leans against the couch with his arm around Valerie's waist before pointing at the alcohol bottles on the table, as though he's ordering a maid around. "You hear that? Hurry up and pour us alcohol! Valerie and Jennifer are my queens tonight. I must obey them no matter what. "Also, you're not allowed to leave if you don't finish pouring the bottles." I've invested tens of billions of dollars just to make Geoffrey the most prominent CEO in Hallford. At the end of the day, he chooses to play the role of a lapdog for other women, huh? Since he likes demeaning himself that much, he can forget about keeping his position as the CEO.

I spent twenty-one years believing I was broken. The weakest wolf in my pack, unable to shift properly, pitied by everyone who knew me. Then my mother told me we were moving to Seattle in five days because she had secretly married an Alpha, and I would be living with his twin sons. Logan Pierce hated me the moment I walked through his door. He looked at me like I was a threat he needed to eliminate. His twin Lucas was everything Logan was not. Warm, charming, dangerous in softer ways. He pursued me like I was worth fighting for while Logan sent me texts telling me I did not belong. I was caught between ice and fire, between two identical faces and opposite hearts. My wolf only purred for one of them, but my heart was breaking for both. Then I discovered the truth. I was not weak. I was a Silver Wolf, rare and powerful, my abilities suppressed since childhood by my mother's poison disguised as protection. The weakness I hated myself for was a cage built to keep me safe from Alphas who would claim me by force and use my bloodline for power. Now that cage is broken. Unmated Alphas are circling, ready to wage war for the right to make me mine. Logan swears he despises me but his wolf is screaming to claim me. Lucas makes my heart race but my wolf does not recognize him. And the marriage that made us step-siblings was never legal to begin with, which means the forbidden attraction tearing us all apart is built on a lie. They said I would destroy this pack. They said I had to choose between the twins before their rivalry killed them both Start reading to find out how I did it.

I'm a mafia princess with crippling social anxiety. My fiancé, Rocco Falcone, is our family's consigliere. He’s the exact opposite of me—extroverted, effortlessly charming, a master at reading and bending people. He's supposed to be my protector. My only link to the outside world. Tonight was the charity gala for my late mother. I was hiding in the darkest corner, a mask covering my face. Rocco was supposed to give the speech. My speech. He never showed. [Emergency. Sorry. Skip the speech, I know you hate the attention. Driver will take you home after the auction. Don't wait up.] Then I saw Livia’s new post. It was a picture of Rocco, draping his suit jacket over her shoulders. He was looking down at her, his eyes full of a tenderness he never showed me. The caption was a gut punch: [No prom date, so my big bro saved the day! Couldn't have done it without him! ] The cold hit me. Bone deep. He ditched a memorial for my dead mother... to take his stepsister to a university dance? The guests began whispering and sneering that I, the famously awkward, socially crippled princess, couldn’t even force a word out. I stared at the whiskey I’d ordered for him. The ice in my glass was melting. Just like the hope in my heart. When I got back to our empty penthouse, my screen was lit up with missed calls and texts from Rocco. The last one came in thirty minutes ago: [Aurelia, trouble at Livia's prom. You know how she gets. Couldn't leave her. Your mother's gala means everything. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Next time will be perfect. Trust me.] I didn't reply. An engagement held together by "next time." Was a promise like that even worth keeping?

On the day after my twin brother, Jonathan Sander's death, I've married Natania Gilmore, my widowed sister-in-law. That day, Natania prints a thousand copies of Jonathan's death report and announces to the world that I'm the actual killer. Because of that, everyone despises me. Even my parents sever all ties with me on the spot. After our marriage, Natania keeps getting into romantic scandals. She's also brought countless men home with her. She makes me stand outside her room while listening to their debauchery every time. I'm also required to take photos of her and her boytoy with my camera once they are done with their lovemaking. I can only stomach everything quietly. My only plea is that I get to have a child with Natania. But Natania just scoffs at me. "Just how much of a filthy wuss are you, Leon Sander? If you need a woman's touch that badly, go ahead and find yourself another woman out there. Doesn't the idea of kneeling by my feet while begging for my touch like a mutt disgust you? "What, you really think having a child with me can tie me down? I'll have you know that I will never settle down with you for the rest of my life!" In order to shatter my hopes, Natania even goes out of her way to be cruel to me by spending a fortune on building a horse ranch. Each horse stable is taken up by her lovers. Even the people in the elite society claim, "The group of stallions that Natania keeps in her stables are a lot better than the simping mutt who wags his tail at her at home." Three years later, my mother-in-law, Wendy Gilmore, suddenly texts me a reminder. "Remember our promise, Leon. Three years are up. You have one more week to tie up all the knots in your life."

"Oh my goodness! This is exactly what I've been saying!" Mikan said, annoyed. "Why do you still refuse to break up with that Jiro? What does he have?" "M, it's normal for lovers to have disagreements," I replied calmly. "K, he's always the one causing issues. Aren't you tired of it?" Selena asked me. I shook my head. "I understand him, girls. Sometimes I'm moody too. Maybe his temper just flared up at the wrong time." I've been defending Jiro to them since we started dating in my second year of high school, and now we're in our fourth year of college. We had another argument recently, and I've been apologizing to him since the other day, even though I didn't know what I did wrong. But he hasn't been answering any of my texts or calls. So tonight, even though I didn't want to go with them to the Spade Club, I had no choice because they dragged me along. I just hope Jiro doesn't find out about this because he doesn't like it when I go clubbing without him. It might make him even angrier. "I think there's nothing we can do about Kylie. She's head over heels for Jiro," Ariana said. Ariana isn't this quiet usually when she's drunk. They all laughed while I forced a smile. Go ahead, laugh at me, but when you fall in love, I'll be rolling on the floor laughing. "Alright, cheers to Kylie's love madness," Mikan raised her shot glass, and A and S followed suit, while I watched them. I just sighed. "Hey! K, don't be a killjoy. Come on, raise your shot glass!" Selena shouted at me because the music was loud in the Spade Club. It was already ten in the evening.

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.