Feel-good Story Novels & Stories

"Here goes..." And with that, she launched into another hilarious story, one that had me laughing out loud and feeling more and more connected to her. As Sophia continued to tell her story, I found myself becoming more and more entranced by her. Her words were like a gentle breeze on a summer day, soothing and calming. I felt my tension and anxiety melting away, replaced by a sense of relaxation and ease.

"Kaia Keene, first you refuse to do your good deeds, and now you're making up lies." "I'm not lying! I ran out of money and got a part-time job. I met this old woman, and she wants me to give her a grandson—" I rushed to explain, desperate to make her believe me. She cut me off. "Then have the baby. Give them a healthy boy, and I'll count it as ten years' worth of good deeds. You won't have to worry about your daily good deed anymore." The call disconnected. I stared at the phone, stunned.

Let the stories pull me away from my own hurt and anger. And somewhere in the telling, I started to relax. Started to laugh at his descriptions of childhood mishaps. Of Enzo’s serious face even as a boy. Of family gatherings that ended in arguments and then pasta. “You’re good at this,” I said after he finished a particularly funny story about stealing Nonno’s boat. “At what?” “Making people feel better. Making them forget.” Something soft crossed his expression. “I’m glad I can help.” I stood too. “Thank you. For the drink. For the… stories.”

Everything feels good. “AAAAAH,” a loud moan escapes me as First Guy suddenly thrusts into me balls deep without even having to line up with me. His cock stretches me, filling every possible space inside, but there’s no discomfort because I’m dripping wet and ready to welcome the guest. My eyes roll back as he starts pushing in and out of me fast, hitting all the right spots every time. It feels so good. The sensations blur together into one intense feeling, almost overwhelming. My vision becomes hazy, and I feel like I’m floating in a soft, pillowy cloud. With such intensity, it doesn’t take long for us to come undone.

We were a unit, a perfectly balanced equation that seemed destined to solve for happiness. The world felt vibrant, painted in brighter colors, and I was no longer the quiet observer on the sidelines. I was a participant, a protagonist in a love story that felt too good to be true. I’d lie awake at night, replaying our conversations, cherishing the feeling of his hand in mine, the echo of his laughter. I felt a profound sense of gratitude, a deep well of happiness that threatened to overflow. This was it, I’d tell myself, this is what love feels like. This is what forever looks like.

The air was filled with a sense of optimism and anticipation. Susan shared a poignant story about a challenging project at work that she had finally completed, expressing gratitude for her supportive family. Mark spoke about his personal growth in the past year, emphasizing his improved work-life balance. Carolyn talked about her renewed energy and passion for her art. Lucia shared her excitement about a new venture she was about to embark on. Avon listened attentively, offering words of encouragement and support.

AZZURA I was on top of the world. At least, that’s how it felt as I walked down the street. The weight of my actions weighed my pockets town but left my chest feeling light. The things I had stolen from Adriano—his money, his precious accessories—had been nothing more than a ticket to freedom. It felt like a light at the end of the tunnel. I’d sold the jewelry, the watches, and the ring, to a local store. I didn’t get the full value for it. I knew that. I didn’t care. I needed cash, and I needed it fast.

“Very well. Show me.” I leaned over the screen, scanning the half-done drafts she had pulled up. She wasn’t wrong: they were stiff, overly formal. Nothing about them felt alive. I clicked into one and started typing. “Watch this. Instead of saying, ‘We helped two hundred families this quarter,’ why not tell the story of one family? Like… here. ‘This is Maureen. Last month, she was worried she’d lose her home. Now she has a job through Golden Hearts’ program, and she’s saving to send her son to school.’ See? People connect to faces and names.”

I just can’t look away. Later as we’re beginning to fall weary to the day, Ava recounts a story to me about her time bartending. As she speaks, I can feel myself growing more tired. Her story isn’t boring me, but instead, I’m so aware of my level of comfort with this woman, that her voice soothes me. Her body against mine, the way she talks into my chest and having it vibrate through my body is a sensation I don’t think I’ve ever truly paid attention to. It's something out of a book, a tale of two people who find love in an unexpected way. That’s our story. And I can’t believe I’ve been given this love story.

Ria and Luca, Jade, Finn… they are not just words anymore, they are people, maybe forever. This story also teach me many things. About patience, about creativity, about human feeling. About love. About danger. About happiness. I learn that writing is not easy, is not only fun, is work, struggle, but also reward. When I write scene, I feel tired but also happy, like I just live thousand lives in one life. I think that is why writing story is special, because no money, no fame, can make me feel this way. Only story, only characters, only readers.