Yume Nikki Plot Novels & Stories

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed inside and told the officer on duty that the killings weren't random—that the murderer was coming for me. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Then my husband arrived in a hurry and took me away. But the moment we reached our front door, a heavy hammer smashed into the back of my head. Through the blinding pain, I forced my eyes open, but I never saw who killed me. Now, staring at the grave expression on the news anchor's face, agony surged through every inch of my body. Rebirth isn't a reset. The damage accumulates—and sooner or later, it will torture me to death. Without hesitation, I walked into the kitchen and set a pot of oil to heat. And I waited… for the moment the lock began to turn.

On my third day driving for a ride-hailing app, I picked up a female passenger who was completely wasted. Early the next morning, the police knocked on my door. At the station, the woman pointed straight at my face and screamed, "It was this driver! He raped me while I was drunk in the car. I’m still bleeding down there!" Her boyfriend lunged at me, trying to punch me, but the officers restrained him. People at the station started pulling out their phones to record, shouting insults like "scumbag" and "pervert" at me. An officer who wore a gloomy face asked, "Do you have anything to say for yourself?" I calmly took off my baseball cap. I even thought about unbinding my chest. "Officer, there’s something I’m really curious about. I’m a woman. With what, exactly, would I have made her bleed?"

My uncle buys an expensive insurance policy for my grandmother, who has cancer. To avoid implicating himself, he makes me take care of my grandmother during dinner. My mother agrees and forces me into submission, saying that it's my duty to care for her. Then, she hands me my grandmother's medication, which has been switched out for poison. Later, my grandmother dies of poisoning. My uncle and his family claimed I did it to collect the insurance money and even took me to court. I end up behind bars after being wrongfully convicted. I become public enemy no.1, and everyone hates me. I am executed in the end. When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to that fateful night.

The head which was expected to be held high to bear the crown of a princess, was bowed down in fear. The eyes which always saw love and care were forced to see blood and tears. The lips which were always smiling were quivering with horror and nightmare. The hands which were always held by her parents for safety and care, were now alone to shudder rapidly in fear. With time all wounds disappeared but their marks continued to boil her blood in vengeance for those who brought her here. The royal blood running in her veins will not let her stop till she has punished all those who played unfair. The girl was Ezra Grey Allistair and she was going to be everyone's worst nightmare. With eyes as blue as thunder and hair as dark as night. She was the resurrection of the strongest known wolf to exist. She was the thunder wolf. *Could be read stand alone.

My roommates booked a New Year's Eve light show table—five hundred per person—and started urging me in the group chat to transfer the money. I quietly sent a screenshot of my account balance. "You guys go ahead," I wrote. "I haven't even scraped together my tuition yet." They replied with a string of mocking "haha"s. Our dorm leader, Giselle Murdoch, even posted on her social media with the caption: [The first step to crossing class boundaries is distancing yourself from people who kill the mood.] Just after midnight, they sent me a photo from the light show and said, "Too bad you're not here." I frowned, confused, when my counselor's call cut in—her voice tight with urgency. "Did you invite your roommates to the light show? The organizers said they never even checked in! They're missing!"

My wife had risen through the ranks of the Confidential Bureau, becoming its youngest team leader—all thanks to the "voice" of the baby boy in her womb, who could somehow identify traitors from within. When the holidays came, I went to visit her. But the moment I arrived, I heard the voice of that unborn child in her belly. "Ah, it's Bad Daddy! He's the one who's been secretly selling off the core technology!" I froze, stunned. Before I could even speak, my wife raised her gun and fired. The bullet tore through my shoulder. "Who did you sell the technology to? Talk!" Through the searing pain, I struggled to explain. "I don't even know what technology you're talking about. How could I possibly—" Her expression turned glacial. Without a word, she lifted the gun again and pulled the trigger, blowing my head apart. "Mommy is amazing! Bad Daddy is finally gone. The stolen data is all hidden on that USB drive." Even as I died, I couldn't understand how I had become a traitor. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day of the visit. This time, I took the initiative. I pulled out the USB drive and handed it to my wife. "If this is the evidence you want," I said, "go ahead, shoot me."

In the tenth year after I had married in his place, my brother, Thayer Ashford, suddenly returned. The whole family fell silent as they looked at him. He yawned as he spoke with careless ease, “I traveled through thirteen countries. I’m exhausted. “Where’s Seraphina? She should be in primary school by now, right? Why hasn’t she come to see me?” Seraphina was Thayer’s daughter. Back then, Thayer had abruptly announced he had a child. Yet on the very day of his wedding, he staged his own death, leaving behind Seraphina and his fiancée, Isolde Fairchild. The Fairchilds belonged to the old-money elite of the city. My parents did not dare offend them, so they decided to package me—fresh out of graduation—and send me to the wedding in Thayer’s place. Over these ten years, I became a competent husband and a responsible father. As my parents watched Thayer’s brazen composure, their gazes shifted toward me. I gave them a faint smile. “Sera went to Novaforge with Isolde.”

"Don't hurt her!" Liliana screams, throwing herself over me ready to give up everything to protect me the same as I will do for her. I whimper at the taste of blood in my mouth making me feel sick knowing the source and what it likely means. "She didn't mean it, I promise she didn't," Liliana cries while looking up at the wolf not afraid for herself, but me, then I catch a glimpse of why. I whimper when my eyes find Benji on the ground with his throat ripped apart making me tear my eyes away to look up at the large familiar wolf. "Raven?" His link connects to mine and my eyes widen not sure why I can hear him knowing I should only be able to hear my pack members. "Beta Embry?" I cry recognizing his voice, looking around I try to figure out what happened as wolves began to show up growling in anger as a few howl. "What did I do? What happened? What did I do?" I almost scream while looking at my hands remembering what it felt like to hurt Benji, feeling his flesh between my teeth and his blood running down my throat.Raven born by a blood moon and Liliana her identical twin born by a hunter's moon. Raven's life feels like a waking dream as she struggles through shifting at an unusually young age, navigating her abilities, becoming an Alpha, and finding her mates. While Liliana struggles with her world crashing down around her, becoming the subject of bullying, abuse, and constantly being overlooked. Follow Raven's journey to protect Liliana above all else while finding herself, her mates, and her purpose in a world full of people who would control or destroy her. Continue book two: Raven's Agony of Desire

Ever since my wife had that oversized custom sofa delivered, she'd been sleeping in the living room every night. Whenever I tried to bring her back to the bedroom, she brushed me off with the same excuse—she was tired. Sometimes, she even locked the bedroom door from the outside. I would hear muffled, muffled sounds coming from the living room late into the night. The door wouldn't open again until the next morning. I couldn't take it anymore. The day she gave birth, she had just been wheeled out of the delivery room, still lying on the hospital bed, too weak to even sit up. I refused to hold the baby. Instead, I told her I wanted a divorce. Her eyes turned red as she stared at me. "Just because I've been sleeping on the couch every night, you're divorcing me, right after I give birth to our child?" I didn't hesitate. "Yeah."

I’ve always felt like Travis Chancer was forced to marry me. Every time we were intimate at night, he’d rather use his hand to get me off than actually have sex with me. I got more and more disappointed and decided to divorce him. But the night before I printed the papers, I heard him on the balcony talking to his buddies. “Bro, I’m not trying to be nosy, but you’re obviously dying for it. Why won’t you touch her? The perfect woman is right there. It must feel amazing.” “Women can’t stand being ignored. If you keep bottling it up, she’ll eventually run off with another man, and you’ll regret it.” He took a quiet sip of whiskey. “But her skin is so delicate, and her waist is so slim… she’s so sensitive. What if I lose control and scare her? “She’s my woman. I have to be careful. If she wants to find comfort elsewhere, she can. As long as she’s still willing to come home, I’ll keep spoiling her.” They snorted. “Don’t act like a saint, man. If you’ve got the guts, stop secretly posting on Reddit.” Late that night, I quietly opened Travis’s browser history. A full hundred entries. The pinned post read: “I finally married the girl I’ve loved for years, but I have a very high sex drive. How can I make her enjoy it without leaving psychological scars?”…