Ichigo Funny Face Novels & Stories

Hera is not your typical girl. While most are likely to expose their face, she prefers to cover it with her hair. Friends? She doesn’t have those. You can say she’s anti-social and nearly a psychopath. But that’s not the weirdest thing about her. It is the fact that no one has heard her voice ever since she entered the orphanage that makes her the subject of gossip. On top of which, she lost the will to study, owing for her marks to barely reach the passing score. The funny this is, despite being dumb, the president of Sagkahan High invites her over to their school with a full scholarship. It is a prestigious institution that only accepts exceptional students whose IQ exceeds a hundred and fifty. She never likes the sound of it, though. It’s so fishy. It’s until she wakes up in an entirely different body that her disposition changes. What’s more is she’s inside the president’s daughter. As it turns out, the school knows her better than she is to herself. It makes her wonder why they collect her information when she’s just a mere orphan. Along with the goal of comprehending the secret of that body transfer, she enters this school and rose to become the most intelligent student. Things will only become more interesting from there.

The day I got out of prison, my girlfriend—who I hadn't seen in five years—pulled up in a Maserati to pick me up. In the passenger seat sat a guy in his early twenties, athletic build. His face looked a little too much like mine did when I was younger. Selene told me not to make a scene. Not to want things that were never mine. She said with her status now, she could have as many pretty boys as she wanted. Right now, she only had one. Apparently, he was my replacement. So I shouldn't be so narrow-minded. After all, a guy like me—fresh out of prison with a record—wasn't even in her league anymore. I stared at Selene, a little dazed. She wasn't wrong. But she seemed to have forgotten why I went to prison in the first place.

"You lazy fool, what the hell are you still doing sitting down here?" Her stepmother raged, "Are you thinking about Alpha William." She smirked. "You better get him out of your mind because he is way above your league." Jane could feel inside of her cringe at her step mothers words. "I…I.." Jane stuttered, her head downcast "Enough with the stuttering, it's past dinner time, and you are still here." She yelled. "You better behave yourself or face more consequences for your clumsiness." Her father chided. "You must not be reminded of your duties every other day."

If you are going to be BAD, then you have to do it the BAD way... It's pretty simple: 1) Don't get caught 2) Always have a Plan B 3) If all else fails... Run...Run for your life! Everyone has a bad side. Some try to deny it's existence, some hide it and others well...they rule the world with it. In the book of being BAD, there are ninety-nine formulas for world domination... Number one: You aren't BAD until you can walk around the school dressed in all pink and have everyone afraid to approach you. Number two: You aren't BAD until you can break into a certain bad boys house and well... do the wrong kinds of stuff. Number three: You aren't bad until quite frankly, you have declared vengeance against the bad boy. ~*~ "I heard you like bad boys," Blade says with a vivid smirk on his face. I glared up at him, without responding clenching my fists fighting the urge to punch him in the face. "So...?" He says after a couple of seconds of silence. "So what?" "So what do you think...Tinker Bell?" He says emphasizing on the stupid name. His face moved closer to mine and I stared back into his green eyes, watching the fire inside ignite. I smirked, "Then find me one." Blade grins at my witty retort and shrugs it off. "I look at you and I see cotton candy, but then you open your mouth... and suddenly you turn into liquorice," he scoffs. "Welcome to the game bitch, your move, now let's play."

Love…. You could lose yourself in it or find yourself. It all depends on you. Jealousy…. It drives one to the edge of madness. It paralyzes the mind, and drains the heart, damaging the soul. It teaches you what it takes to care. That's what their relationship was made up of. His eyes made her shiver with pleasure, it took her to euphoria. That's what she felt whenever she was with him, but not every day was sunshine and rainbows. He made her cry, he made her feel pain. He taught her the real definition of love; pleasure and pain. She liked how cold and rough he could get and he liked how innocent she played. He liked teaching her new things and she liked learning from the best. They'd survive the intoxication of each other. They made it further than they thought they would on the grounds of love, jealousy and pain. "What are you looking at?” he asked looking in the direction she was looking, “So... That's your type, huh?" he whispered in her ear with his hand on her thigh, clearly pissed. Siana moved away slightly from his warm breathe blasting on her face and his hand squeezing her thigh firmly. "Everyone out now!" he shouted then a smile came bursting through it all. She was alone shaking with fear and anxiety. She knew how he'd get whenever he was displeased, she knew the kind of psycho he was. He pulled her up from the chair and pushed her up against the wall, her hands enfolded in his and her breath breaking. He looked down then back up at her with a tiring look on his face and sighed "You know you really drive me crazy." his lips hovering over hers.

On the day of my engagement party, my mother and I were sitting in the car waiting for the driver when my fiance's secretary suddenly sent me a video. In it, she had a middle-aged she-wolf by the hair, slapping her across the face again and again. "Selena, you gold-digging trash! Did you really think pretending to be some high-society socialite and getting engaged to Alpha Declan meant your mother could sneak into his house and steal?" Another slap landed. The woman's face was already grotesquely swollen. "Typical backwoods behavior. Always grabbing at things that don't belong to you. As Declan's secretary, I'm handling this filthy thief on his behalf." I slowly lowered my phone. Beside me, my mother was adjusting her necklace in her compact mirror. When she noticed me looking at her, she smiled and patted my hand. "Thorncrown Pack may be an absolute disaster when it comes to business, darling, but Declan is very handsome. Once the alliance is official, your father and I can help straighten things out." Frowning, I replayed the video. The sharp cheekbones. The immaculate chignon. And the mole on her ear. Oh my God. That was my future mother-in-law! I immediately called back. "Vanessa, do you have any idea what a complete idiot you are? That's Declan's mother!" She let out a vicious laugh. "Oh, please. Declan already told me all about you. Some nobody his father forced him to marry. " "He doesn't even care about you, so why would he give a damn about your relatives?"

When I started college, my new roommate secretly used my phone to take a selfie. She sent it to the guy I was in an online relationship with and added the caption: [Baby, do you think I'm beautiful?] My boyfriend replied with a giant question mark, followed by a voice message full of curses. "Just thinking about dating someone with that face makes me want to puke!" "Let's break up, you ugly freak. Stay far away from me!" By the time I got out of the shower and tried to explain, I realized he had already blocked me. My roommate, holding her own phone, smugly told me, "The streamer I've had my eye on just added me. He says he wants to start an online relationship." When I looked at the account, I saw it was none other than my ex-boyfriend.

Year three of hiding who I was and dating Jenny Knapp, my parents finally said yes to the marriage. I rushed home, ready to tell her—then froze outside the door. Jenny was inside with Nolan Cruz, her childhood friend. "My neighborhood's about to get redeveloped. Big payout. You can finally dump that loser and be with me. If my family hadn't gone broke, you wouldn't have settled for him." No pause. "I'll tell him my family's drowning in debt so we can break up. Then I'll register the marriage with you right away." The words on my tongue died. I pushed the door open. She turned to me, face tight. "My family owes $500,000. I don't want to drag you down. Let's break up." "Sure." I pulled out my phone and texted my dad. [Dad, don't transfer those three buildings to Jenny. Cancel the South Borevia redevelopment project.] If she thought we were worlds apart, I'd show her exactly where I stood.

On the day of my wedding gown fitting, a stranger burst into the VIP suite and stabbed me with a knife. “You think you deserve a dress this expensive after stealing someone else’s man?” She tore at the delicate fabric of my skirt. Then, with a twisted smile, she hurled a bottle of acid at me. The blade was buried in my lower abdomen. The pain drove me to my knees. She grabbed my hair and yanked my head up. “Gerald’s my husband! What are you? You’re nothing but a mistress who can’t even be seen with him in public!” Blood dripped down my fingers. That was when it finally sank in. The man I had been with for seven years had been keeping another woman by his side. “What’re you staring at? Even if I kill you, with my husband’s influence, no one will dare touch me!” Staring at her smug face, I pulled out my phone with hands slicked in blood and called my brother. “Matt…” My voice was unnervingly calm. “Come pick me up at the bridal shop. And please inform the Hoover family that the engagement is off.”

To take care of my mother after she fell and injured herself, I turned down a promotion and took a week off work to stay by her side. On the day she was discharged from the hospital, she smiled and handed me a small envelope. “Suzy, you’ve worked hard these past few days. This is just a little something from me. Go treat yourself to something good.” I wiped my hands, a quiet warmth spreading through my chest. When I opened the envelope, I froze for a moment. Inside was $2. Still, I told myself it didn’t matter. The amount wasn’t important. What mattered was the thought behind it. But the very next day, while scrolling through social media, I came across a post from my younger brother, the one who hadn’t shown his face at the hospital even once. Nine photos filled the post, all of them showing off a sprawling luxury mansion. In the center was a photo of the purchase contract. The caption read: “Officially the owner of a $2 million riverfront house. Big thanks to Mom for the support!”