Nene Fnf Pfp Novels & Stories

--- Mystique Luna's note: Please follow me on my F******k page, Mystique Luna, for more updates on my new stories!

A little note: “I plan on taking my so-c-ial me-d-ia account seriously. Search for me on f-ac-e book or i-n-sta-gram using my name, Tina Nwuba, for any future updates (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)”.

I need some caffeine at the moment. @SenaSen

I will update soon then. Follow me on I*:jaeunie655

@DeathWish All Right Reserved 2021 Sena Mangampo

Author's Note;- Hey guys, Please leave your comments and follow me up. I*******m:- S.N_Nina_Arthur. F******k:- S.N Nina Arthur.

Comment now! ❤️ BATINO ❤️

Henry opened it, revealing a collection of items: a handwritten letter, a framed photo, and a small velvet pouch. Nina reached for the letter, unfolded it and began to read aloud: “Dear Nina, I hope this gift finds you well. I’ve been following your life from a distance, admiring your strength and resilience. Inside this box, you’ll find a photo from your past and a small token of my appreciation.I love you now and always. Best regards, A Friend” Nina’s heart raced as she looked at the framed photo. It was an old picture of her, taken years ago when she was just a teenager. The sight of it brought back a flood of memories, both good and bad.

Emerson's POV The notification came from an account I didn't recognise. No username. No profile picture. Just a number and a video file dropped into my messages at two forty-three in the afternoon while I was sitting on my bedroom floor doing nothing in particular because there was nothing in particular to do when you were grounded with no phone data and no car and nowhere to be. I almost didn't open it. I opened it. Twelve seconds. That was how long the video was. Twelve seconds of a corridor I recognised — the one beside the language block, the quiet one nobody used during class time — and two people standing close together in it.

"Uhm, can I have your ticket?" Kane raised a brow, amusement flickering in his blue eyes. "Ticket?" he repeated, his voice deep, teasing. The redhead—Mona, according to her name tag—bit down on her plump lower lip, her gaze darting everywhere except at him. "Sorry, it's just... you look familiar." That made him chuckle. Oh, really? He tilted his head slightly, his gaze flickering to the large poster plastered beside her booth—a giant picture of himself, fists raised, the underground champion.