Free Fan Fiction Novels & Stories

Books are oxygen for the literate. For me, there's no other way to breathe. Breathing comes naturally to living organisms. For a nerd with a perfect attendance record and zero friends, air fills my lungs, and words fill my head. I like filling my head with facts, opinions, and fanfiction. There's nothing better than reading Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings fanfics on a Friday night.

It's all a fantasy. Fable has been my escape. An unhealthy one. A safe pretend world where I could bury myself. Just like how Zee cried after she finished the final Harry Potter book, or how Jamie bases so much of her worth on the fictional version of herself that lives across a thousand Instagram pics, in the comments and likes of a thousand strangers. Just carefully constructed lies to comfort and lull. Dreams.

“You’re good at this, princess. Maybe you should be my life coach.” She giggled. “Maybe! But you’d have to pay me in ice cream.” “Deal.” We kept talking… about her favorite TV shows, the book she was reading, and how she was trying to convince me to let her adopt a puppy. After a while, she yawned. “Getting tired already?” I asked softly. “Nope, I’m just no longer bored, so I think I should release you now. You can get back to what you were doing.” She let out while I smiled.

"That's the message Mr. Ford wanted me to relay to you. He told me to tell you to find a good man who loves you. You should forget him and be happy." Macy was still hung up on Ethan. She tried to look for any signs of his existence on the Internet. She was finally able to find Ethan's Twitter account in Jeremy's following list. How did she know it was his account? The ID of the account was "Loving Maisie Forever". Not Macy, but Maisie. The posts were about his relationship with another woman named Maisie. His Maisie was a crybaby. She loved to act spoiled sometimes, but she was very assertive and a great cook.

He just hoped that this was the start of something new, not the end of a potential good relationship… THE END AUTHOR'S NOTE. Hello lovelies. I trust you guys are doing great. So, I decided to finally start this project after putting it off for a year now. This is like a collection of my readers' suggestions and stories. You tell me what you want as the next story, and I write the prompt of the lucky person. So far, I have 20 prompts from my readers from platforms, 19 when you exclude the already uploaded one. Updates for this series will be twice or thrice a week, with a full upload of a story, not chapter-by-chapter updates, depending on my school schedules.

At our class reunion, my so-called best friend, Shannon Drew, pulled out a box stuffed with folded notes. A line was taped across the top— [Draw one of Mia Martinez's hopeless-romantic quotes.] The room burst out laughing. Someone pulled a love letter I'd written to Damien Byford senior year. "Damien smiled at me today. I want to give him all my tomorrows, too." Someone else grabbed one from college. "It's okay if he doesn't text back. He'll think of me when he's not busy." Damien had never replied to a single letter. I'd always figured he'd tossed them years ago. Then Shannon drew letter No. 99. Leaning against Damien, she laughed as she read, "If you ever decide you don't want m

people openly fantasizing about being the lover of a man who doesn’t even have a public photo “Oh my God,” I muttered up at the sky. “You all need hobbies.” Near the chili patch, Sofia shrieked again, this time because Jevan lifted her under the arms and spun her once before setting her down. Javier’s low laugh followed. Mama yelled at all of them to get away from the plants. No one listened fully. I raised my phone again. My thumb stopped on one post from an anonymous account clearly addicted to drama: No one knows what he looks like, but everyone knows when he arrives in a city.

No, five. He slammed his laptop shut and leaned back against the pillows, fingers pressed to his temple like he could squeeze the thoughts out of his head. This was insane. He was spiraling. MidnightViper couldn’t be Julian. There was no way someone like Carter—golden boy, team sweetheart, hockey’s favorite PR angel—would moonlight as a faceless OnlyFans creator who whispered confessions into the camera like he was peeling his soul open. Except… what if he was? **

“Well, you know that you’re the one that he fantasizes about. That’s why he wouldn’t look at you.” Daniela smiled. “I know.” I stared at her, surprised. “And here I thought you were all innocent. Have you been doing something you shouldn’t be, Berni?” She rolled her eyes. “I’m a teenage girl. I read. Romance novels, fanfiction. If it’s got smut, I’m there.” I raised an eyebrow. “What about porn?” Daniela made a face. “No. Porn’s too awkward. I need a little fantasy. I can’t just watch stuff like that, you know.”

The text under the image scrolled like captions: ROUND 3: CARNIVAL. AUTHOR STRAIN: MODERATE. PLAYER LOSS: ACCEPTABLE. I snapped the book shut. The image folded in on itself and vanished. “These are… logs,” I said. “Narratives, the way *it* tells them.” “Correction,” SML said, pulling a volume labeled GAME CITY – MINI-GAMES from the shelf and flipping it open. “It’s fanfic. Bad fanfic. Look at this.” We leaned in.