Re:zero Reaction Fanfic

My brother, Theo Sorento, died in a plane crash on his way back home just to celebrate my birthday. They never found his body—only wreckage. Ever since, my parents forced me to kneel in front of his grave every year on my birthday, demanding that I repent for surviving when he didn’t. Then came my eighteenth birthday. I realized someone was following me. Panicked, I sent a few messages asking for help. Just then, Mom called, not to check on me but to lash out. “I know exactly what you're doing. You’re just making up excuses so you don’t have to kneel in front of your brother’s grave! You’re a liar. Why wasn’t it you who died instead of him? You’re a walking curse!” Before my phone was smashed under a boot, the last thing I heard was the cold click of her hanging up. Then, I was cut up into pieces, and what was left of me was tossed across the city. My father, the lead forensic pathologist on my case, didn’t even recognize me. Later, Theo returned alive with his wife, whom he had eloped with eight years ago. When they found out the pile of rotting flesh was me, they all went insane.

"You’re not my mate," he said, loud enough for the whole pack to hear. "You’re just an omega. Nothing more." He didn’t reject me. Not officially. That would have been too easy. No, Kade left the bond burning between us, torturing me with every breath I took. He touched other women in front of me. He smiled at them, whispered things against their throats, while I stood there, aching, pretending I didn’t care.

Three years after our breakup, I ran into my ex-girlfriend, and she had her new boyfriend by her side. "Hey, isn't that Henry the expert?" Diego Stanley taunted with a smirk. "Three years post-breakup, and you're slumming it here playing with clay?" I furrowed my brow, ignored them, and carefully moved the Victorian-era porcelain musician figurine onto its preset base in the display case. When I wasn't biting, he reached out to grab the figurine from my arms. "What's this junk you're treating like gold? Let me take a look." Cynthia Wyatt frowned, her voice laced with that familiar arrogance. "Henry, I've given you three years to shape up, and you're still the same loser? Come on, hand over that clay doll to Diego. Don't kill the vibe. If you play nice, I might even reconsider our old engagement." As Diego's hand neared the figurine, I dodged quickly and barked, "Hands off! It's a historical artifact!" Diego got pissed off and shoved me hard. "Some flea market find, and you're acting all high and mighty?" In the ensuing scuffle, I lost my balance, and the figurine slipped from my grasp, crashing to the floor. That sealed their fate. This entitled pair was about to go bankrupt trying to fix it.

Issue d’une famille recomposée, Chantelle a grandi en marge, élevée avec amour par sa grand-mère après la mort de sa mère. Écartée par son père Gérard, dominé par sa nouvelle épouse Rhonda, et reléguée derrière Mégane, sa demi-sœur prétentieuse, elle a appris à survivre dans le silence. Lorsque sa grand-mère tombe gravement malade, un diagnostic sans appel bouleverse son quotidien. N’ayant ni soutien familial ni ressources suffisantes, Chantelle accepte une proposition inattendue : 100 nuits contre un million d’euros, avec un homme riche, dont elle ne connaîtra jamais l'identité. À chaque rencontre, l’homme porte un masque, garde le silence, et ne lui laisse que des transferts bancaires anonymes et un parfum entêtant comme souvenir. Un jour, contrainte par son père de participer à un dîner familial, Chantelle découvre avec stupeur le fiancé de Mégane : Collen Wilkerson, PDG froid et inaccessible du puissant groupe où elle travaille comme simple employée. Dès leur rencontre, elle est troublée. Un détail la foudroie : son parfum. C’est exactement celui de l’homme masqué avec qui elle a partagé douze nuits et il en restait quatre-vingt-huit.

My husband, Martin, was the head of a powerful mafia don. When his widowed sister-in-law, Tricia, got into a car accident, I was forced to give her a blood transfusion. I told them through tears that I was newly pregnant and too weak to donate, but they accused me of faking the medical report. “You were out running just last week. Now you’re claiming you’re pregnant when you’re asked to donate some blood? You just don’t want to help Tricia!” In the end, they drew my blood by force. The strain caused me to miscarry, and while I bled out, my husband stayed by Tricia’s side. After that, I didn’t beg him to return. I dragged my broken body away, left the divorce papers behind, and left him for good. However, when the truth finally came to light, Martin lost his mind with regret.

You will marry me! You will be my contract wife! He declared his voice cold and threatening. Ophelia looked at him without averting her gaze. He wasn’t demanding that she marry him; he was commanding her to. “Marry you!” Is that a request or a command? She asserted bravely, not minding whatever was coming her way. She expected Something worse to follow, but she was startled by his reaction instead. He walked closer to her and slowly raised her chin with the tip of his finger. “Ha..ha..ha, I like smart girls,” he enunciates with a devilish smile. It's a command, and you must abide by it. He pauses and moves his Lips Closer to her ear. Ophelia quickly closes her eyes, bracing herself for the impact. Or else……….. He whispered slowly. Then everything paused. She couldn't feel his breath on her skin again and she quickly opened her eyes only to find out she was the only person in the room. It's like he disappeared into thin air. She heaved a sigh of relief as her eyes became blurred with unshed tears. She just found a wallet on the road hoping it would change her life for the better not knowing it's actually for the worse. “She is trapped!” She is Captivated!” And now she is going to be a Captivated Contract bride she can’t deny nor can she accept. One choice. One contract. One dangerous game. Will Ophelia run for her life, or fight for his love? Or will she lose herself in a world of luxury, lies, and power where freedom comes with a price?

Alyia Lyra Vega; a model and a successful businesswoman. She believes that success means being able to show the world what you're capable of. What you're best at. She can be described as a tough woman, a woman that can do better than man. An independent woman. But what if all of those judgements from people are wrong? What if the tough woman that many people is inspired of can be weak sometimes? Or even all of the time? Will Cosmos Alexandrus fulfill his purpose? Can he melt the cold heart of the great Alyia Lyra Vega?

The day my cancer is diagnosed, my husband slaps me across the face. "You're vicious! You're even pretending to have cancer just to look more pitiful than your sister!" My son shouts, "Mom is horrible! I hate Mom!" I don't cry or make a scene. I quietly put the test results away and choose a grave for myself. In 15 days, I'll leave this city to die somewhere else in peace. I won't even give them the chance to regret it.

It started with a stolen wallet and turned into something neither of them could’ve imagined. What began as a game of cat and mouse has turned into something more. They're no longer just trying to outsmart each other; they’re going deeper, and it’s setting off sparks in all the wrong places. As they get closer, the truths they’ve kept hidden start to unwind, tearing through the lives they’ve built. The illusion of control slips away, and now, everything’s on the line — their lives, their secrets, and their hold on each other. The question is, can they survive it all — or will they destroy each other in the process?

Warning: This book contains explicit dark content, dark romance if you’re not in for a ride, please skip!! (Tales of a masseuse) Strictly 18+