Visual Novel Text Box Novels & Stories

An aspiring journalist with a strong sense of justice. A reluctant mafia heir. And a mystery box that binds them. Twenty years ago, Nicolette Meyers witnessed the brutality of the Sticks mafia family. Twenty years later, she made it her mission to bring them down using her pen name ‘Nico Sticks’. Unfortunately, her editor stole her idea and took all the benefits before firing her. And her only consolation was a mystery box from a fan. When a blind, homeless man offered her bank cards in exchange of being her tenant, she accepted the offer not realizing he is the real ‘Nico Sticks’ – the newly-crowned heir of the Sticks family. Steffan Miller was a loyal foot soldier for the mafia until he was appointed to become the head. When his box was stolen and was sent to Nicolette, he pretended to be homeless to search for it. When the police force learned the name of the new mafia leader, it became a cat and mouse chase between them and the police force with Nicolette becoming the perfect patsy for Steffan’s operations. When strong attraction and forbidden emotions got mixed in the mission, does betrayal taste sweeter when it comes from the man you love?

When her cheating husband accuses Liza of being a cheater, Liza loses it all. All while knowing her husband's infidelity, the only hope she held onto was that he would come back to her leaving his cheating ways. When he demands a divorce, she gives in. Distraught by his accusations, she leaves the very home she had spent numerous nights waiting for him to come home. But an unfortunate accident lands her in the hospital. And the only way he would ever know her truth is the box Liza cherishes so much. In the box lie a series of letters she had written him. Note: This book is about growth and finding oneself.

Eight years into our marriage, my husband was as childish as ever. He loved playing pranks on me, constantly leaving gag gifts around the house. I would just smile, toss them into the storage closet and think nothing of it. A few days later, while deep-cleaning the house, I remembered his latest box and decided to throw it out. But the moment I lifted the lid, a foul, putrid stench hit me. Inside the box lay a severed human hand. Terrified, I collapsed to the floor, my fingers trembling as I dialed 911. When the DNA results came back, the detective's expression was a twisted mix of confusion and horror. "Ma'am, the DNA extracted from the severed limb..." he stammered. "It belongs to Michael Miller."

RUINED IN SECRET: YES DADDIES is a collection of short romance stories, steeped with deep, visual and vividly described raw moments, deep ecstasy, the highest height of smutty satisfaction, and boldness that defies rules. He once desired her, touched her in ways that made her feel alive, and yet, years later, his orbs held nothing but disgust as he looked at her. Fine. The void would be filled by someone else, her next-door neighbour, the ex she never got over.

Anna's face was flushed with embarrassment, her hands gripping her pants tightly as she looked down, too shy to meet anyone's gaze. retrieving a box of pregnancy tests

After being accepted into a prestigious university located in upstate New York, Rose Campbell, a visual arts student begins her academic life. Together with her newest group of friends, who become her family, she is ready to begin her new journey as an adult and face all the challenges that come her way. When Christian Davis, a mysterious chemistry student, unexpectedly enters her life, Rose discovers a new source of inspiration for her days, and most of all, that love and hate are separated by a thin line.

Rules. Respect everyone's privacy. No speaking dirty. No sending of porn videos. No adding of participants except approved by the admin. No using of curse words. No sending of videos/ pictures. Text only. English only.

Two days before my wedding, I was sorting through some old belongings when I suddenly remembered the time capsules Ethan Shaw and I buried ten years ago. His expression froze the moment he heard it. He tried to talk me out of going. “It’s been so long. Someone must’ve dug them up already.” I didn’t think much of it and went back to our old school on my own. But at the spot where we buried it, I unearthed five metal boxes of different sizes. Two of them were the ones Ethan and I buried a decade ago, now rusted all over. The other three didn’t belong there—one was just as rusty, while the remaining two looked brand-new. The old box had Rose Quinn’s name carved on it. On top were the words: “My secret crush was a war of myself. Ethan, I wish you happiness.” I remembered her then—an unremarkable girl who used to sit behind us. And the two new boxes were engraved with the names Ethan Shaw and Rose Quinn. The date marked on them was today. On Ethan’s box, it read: “My greatest regret in life is that I can’t give you a wedding.” On Rose’s box, it read: “My greatest regret in life is that I can’t openly wish you a happy wedding day.”

My wife, Alisha West, has always been obsessively frugal. After marrying her, my single guilty pleasure became blowing money on luxury watches—almost like revenge for how absurdly tightfisted she was. By the time our daughter, Elyse Day, turned 7, she had inherited every bit of her mother’s penny-pinching nature. The two of them looked completely out of place in our sprawling mansion. And I loved it. I’d slip into my latest custom-tailored suits and watch them wince at my credit card statements, their expressions twisted in quiet pain. Until one day, lines of floating text suddenly appeared before my eyes. [This spendthrift idiot is still shopping? Doesn’t he know his wife’s company is about to go bankrupt?] [She’s been drained dry supporting this parasite. Her T-shirt collar is practically worn out from washing. Good thing the financially savvy male lead is about to show up and save her.] [Can’t wait for Alisha to file for divorce and kick this useless freeloader out. Let’s see how he survives fighting stray dogs for scraps under a bridge.] I slammed the limited-edition Richard Mille watch onto the table. Alisha, who was crouched on the floor breaking down delivery boxes for recycling, and Elyse, who was helping stomp them flat, both jumped in shock. A chill ran through me. I lunged forward, snatched the battered cardboard box from Elyse’s hands, and held it tightly against my chest. "No… no more buying. I’m returning this watch. "And these boxes… don’t sell them. I think we might need them someday… to lay out under a bridge when we’re sleeping outside…"

Three years after our divorce, I ran into Cole Allen again on the streets of Atlantica. I was there as a volunteer, handing out boxes of cold medicine, and he had become a homeless man, struggling to survive. It was ironic because our divorce had all started because of a box of cold medicine. “Two times a day. Two pills each time.” I handed the medicine to him, my tone calm, like I was speaking to a stranger. However, Cole’s eyes slowly turned red. “Sadie, you still hate me.” I didn’t look up. I kept passing out boxes of medicine to the people in line. “This box of medicine only costs one dollar. It’s very cheap, yet you forced me to sell my blood for money. Cole, how could I not hate you for that?”