Gate Crossover Fanfic Novels & Stories

All because of Leo Cullen’s words, I gave up a place at a top-tier university in Ceres and stayed behind to retake the entrance exams with him—three times. By the fourth year, a girl arrived at our cram school, and Leo forgot the promise we made. He started skipping class, picking fights, smoking—doing everything but studying. One day, I stood at the school gate, blocking his path with a textbook in hand as he tried to ditch class. He smirked, unimpressed, and blew a bubble with his gum, letting it stick to the ends of my hair. “Naomi…,” he began, “who still cares about studying these days?” So I stopped caring and avoided him entirely. When he fooled around in the classroom, I went to the library. When he played basketball, I sat in a quiet corner with my books. Even when I craved noodles from my favorite shop, I’d scan the room first to make sure he wasn’t there. “Are you avoiding me, Naomi?” he asked later, his face in a frown. I shook my head. “Why would you think that?”

To let Alpha Duncan's first love become the mother of our son, my husband didn’t hesitate to commit perjury in court and personally send me, his wife, to prison. Four years later, after I was released, just as I was starting to regain hope for life, dozens of luxury cars showed up at the prison gate, with two people stepping out. “How could you?! How could you do something so evil?! You should never have been my mom. I wish Auntie Ashley has always been my mother!” My heart broke. Seeing my husband and son again, I felt like they were real demons, turning me away so easily. Just then, the little boy beside me stepped forward. “Don’t bully Mommy!” Hearing this, my biological son angrily asked, “Who are you calling ‘mommy’?! I’m her only son!” I didn’t want to deal with them or explain anything. I just wanted to live a good life with my Justin. I crouched down, hugged him, comforted him in saying, “Justin, there’s nothing to say to these people... We’re overstaying our welcome. Come on.” “Halt right there!”

“I still don’t understand how Dad fell for my Mom. I mean she is Indian and he is Australian. How did he?” I asked him tapping my chin. “That’s the specialty of Indian women. Anyone can fall in love with them.” He replied shrugging like it is the silliest question. “Do only Indian women have that specialty or even men?” I asked raising my eyebrow. “Of course!” he replied pulling me to him. “But I am unable to see anything special in you though.” I mumbled to which he narrowed his eyes. “Then the problem must be in you.” He mumbled back with a strong glare. “Ouch! Anyway, do you have the specialty you are saying to deserve me?” I asked him smirking. “What?” he asked with shocked face. I laughed before pushing him away and rushed towards the main gate thinking he will just catch me. However, I turned around and asked him “Do you?” with a serious tone this time. ------------------- A girl who wishes that the people with whom she stays must deserve her but not because she wants to feel arrogant or superior. It is just so that she can get assurance that she will not get hurt by them. She will not settle for anything less no matter what…

After I got a second chance at life, I stopped bringing lunch to my wife, who had become the factory manager. She would leave for meetings through the south gate, so I would sneak around through the north. In my previous life, I knew she only married me with an ulterior motive, but I still fell for her. I thought I could warm her heart over time. However, Shirley Scott was always just polite to me, nothing more. When I tried to get close, she would hand me a book and say, "Read more so people won't look down on you." Once, with a bit of liquid courage, I hugged her. Yet, she just stood there, stiff as a board, and said, "It's what married folks do." Years later, as I was dying, I read her memoir and learned about how she felt trapped in our marriage, like being stuck in the mud. She hoped she would never have to be with me again in another life. That hurt more than anything. However, then, I woke up and discovered that I was back to when there were whispers about her and the factory's technician. This time, I did not make a scene. I just asked for a divorce.

All I wanted was to see my grandmother one last time. I booked the earliest flight out. I got to the airport early. I did everything right. It still wasn’t enough. At the gate, the agent barely looked at me before deciding I didn’t belong. One glance at my worn clothes, and I was already dismissed. “Flight’s overbooked. You’ve been moved.” Just like that. Meanwhile, the passengers behind me with designer coats, tailored suits, platinum status, walked straight through. No questions asked. No delays. Some even got help with their luggage. I didn’t have time to argue. “My grandmother is dying,” I said. “Please. If I miss this flight, I won’t make it in time. Can you at least ask if someone’s willing to switch? I’ll pay.” He leaned back, unimpressed. “People say that all the time,” he said. “And you? You expect me to believe it?” Then he smiled. “What, do you think your family owns this airline?” I stopped arguing. Stopped pleading. Wiped my tears and stood up. Because what he didn’t know was my family does own the airline.

The mock exam just finished. A beggar outside the school gate pointed right at me and said, "Zero points." I laughed. "The score for the top scorer in the college entrance exam always shows up as zero. Thanks for the blessing, I guess." The beggar gave me a meaningful look. "The top scorer in the college entrance exam will be your best friend. You'll actually get zero points." I just laughed. There was no way the school's top student would get zero points. As I was about to walk off, he pointed at my bracelet. "Score-Switching Bracelet. When she hands in a blank paper, you'll get zero points." I was taken aback. My bestie did give me this matching bracelet recently. I thought it would be a pain to wear because it would be uncomfortable when I write, but she insisted I put it on. I tried taking it off a few times but couldn't. Recently, my grades had indeed slipped, while my bestie's scores had consistently ranked first three times in a row... "What should I do then?" "Transfer it to a close family member. They can bear the misfortune for you." The beggar pointed at the boy coming to pick me up. "Like him." I turned around. Standing not far away, waiting for me, was my childhood friend.

Daniel and Stefany had been friends since childhood. They seemed inseparable, always spending time together, playing and having fun to create beautiful memories that they would remember in their adulthood. Especially when Christmas arrived, Daniel and Stefany always made appointments to meet at an old church in the village to spend Christmas Eve together by playing snowball fights, lighting fireworks and creating snowmen. As teenagers, they became more intimate and the seeds of romance began to emerge between them. However, because they were comfortable with a very close friendship. It made Daniel and Stefany deliberately keep their feelings of affection in their respective hearts. Until one day Daniel plucked up the courage to express his love for Stefany. But unfortunately the girl's family had moved to the city, and left the village where they had been living. Years passed, Daniel kept waiting for Stefany to return to the village. He always waited for the girl to come and meet him in front of the gate of a church every Christmas. But Stefany never came. What is Daniel's fate next? Will the man be able to forget his childhood love? Where has Stefany been all this time? Will they meet again? Curious about the continuation? Come on ... please read!

The housekeeper, who was always punctual, was late today. "Madam, I'm so sorry… dinner isn't ready yet. Please don't be upset with me…" "But this time, there was no helping it. I waited downstairs for over half an hour, and no one swiped in. I even called Mr. Gregory, but he didn't answer. That's why I'm late." My hand froze mid-motion as I was changing shoes, and a frown creased my brow. "Lydia," I said, "didn't I have Richard give you the access card?" Lydia Pendel froze, her face blank. "Access card? Mr. Gregory never gave me one." "Never?" I repeated. "Yes," she said, wiping the sweat from her forehead, her voice careful. "All this past month, I've been sneaking in whenever another resident opened the door, or calling Mr. Gregory so he could let me in. "Today, Mr. Gregory didn't answer at all, so I was stuck downstairs, feeling helpless…" That was strange. Because over the past month, the electronic lock on the front gate had clearly recorded swipes from that backup card.

"Alex! I promise you, this child is yours. I have remained loyal throughout our marriage. Please trust me; I have never been unfaithful to you!" Margaret pleaded to her husband of three years, the only man she had ever truly loved, Alex Westwood, who gazed at her with intense disdain and contempt. Margaret's married life had been idyllic until her sister, Esther, entered the scene and disrupted her seemingly flawless relationship by claiming her husband for herself. On a stormy evening, Alex threw his pregnant wife from the Westwood Mansion after he had signed the divorce documents. As she stood before the closed gate of the Westwood Mansion, Margaret vowed to avenge herself against Alex and Esther for their betrayal. "I shall return back to the thus Mansion one day and make you pay miserably!" I promise you that. Six years later, Margaret returned to the Westwood Mansion accompanied by her smart and cute five-year-old son and her new husband, Aaron Westwood, the rightful heir to the Westwood family, who dotted on her like a little girl, astonishing everyone as her revenge against her enemies began to unfold. What will happen when Alex realizes his mistakes and wants her back? Who's the real father of Margaret son, Leo?

I went abroad for three years to build a lab and save my husband's company from collapse. After endless struggles, I finally cracked the technical problems and developed the core technology. When I returned home with that breakthrough, I saw the airport video board plastered with the same impossible headline—my husband was getting married. I felt a hot, furious ache and took a taxi straight to the venue. … A woman who had cared for our household for years blocked me at the gate and sneered. "Who do you think you are, showing up at the Stone family's wedding? Get out of here, or I'll get security to throw you out." For a moment, I stood rooted, but then the bride appeared, walking out of the villa in a wedding gown. It was the woman Adrian Stone had once told me was dead—his first love, Evelyn Sutton. She wore my wedding ring on her finger and looked at me with pure contempt. "You want to make a scene at my wedding?" she said. "If you do, you're really asking for trouble. My husband, Adrian, won't hesitate to take care of you." I folded my arms and let out a cold laugh. "Adrian's getting married? Funny, I don't recall getting an invitation."