Warframe Lemon Fanfiction Novels & Stories

A plane crash had orphaned her... he too, shared the exact same fate. However, his misfortune was all her father’s doing.She was at the young age of eight when he, who was ten years older, brought her to the Tremont Estate. She thought this kind gesture came from the good will of his heart. Little did she know, it was for retribution.For ten years, she had always thought that he hated her. He was gentle and benevolent to the world, but never towards her…He forbade her from calling him ‘brother’. She could only call him by his name - Mark Tremont, Mark Tremont, over and over again till it was ingrained deeply in her head...

When life gives you lemon, make lemonade, but what do you do when lemonade is served instead of lemons? I think I'm in deep shit and I don't know how to get out. I was sold to a Mafia underboss, not technically, but he claimed me, a ruthless one at that. I know it's crazy but I'll escape no matter what, I will break these shackles and fly freely like a bird, and if that meant spilling blood, then I am so ready.

René Huang is a French-Chinese Painter who lives in France. He lives alone there when his parents are living in China. He is famous, rich, and handsome. Everything in his life was perfect until finally, unexpected events started happening in his life. He painted some paintings in his sleep, and there was a secret behind them. He wanted to find out the secret, and when he became a guest lecturer in an art university, he met a student who was related to the paintings. Their relationship was not good at first, but when they were investigating the paintings together, the romance started blooming. Note: This novel is inspired by my fanfiction that was posted on another platform. The idea and the story are mines. No plagiarism. Cover by MichelleLeeee

Blurb “Admit it, you want me,” Frank said, staring deep into my eyes like I was the best thing he had ever seen. “I…don't.” “Real believable glasses.” He murmured, inching closer and closer. “Stop me if you truly believe your body isn't aching for me like mine is.” And then he claimed my lips in a searing hot kiss that left my body aching for him and my pussy dripping. Mimi Salvador has one rule: keep her fantasies on paper. The awkward, book-smart college writer has spent years hiding behind her laptop, secretly crafting spicy fanfiction about her stepbrother, Danny, the campus hockey golden boy. But when a mix-up at his game hands her smutty manuscript to his arrogant rival, Frank Santiago, her carefully built world combusts. Frank, cocky, tattooed, and maddeningly irresistible, should be her worst nightmare. Instead, he becomes her reluctant savior, claiming to be her boyfriend to save her from public humiliation. But pretending to date the campus bad boy comes with consequences… like stolen kisses that feel too real, late-night texts that make her heart race, and the terrifying realization that she might be writing her next fanfiction about him. Now Mimi’s torn between the boy she’s always loved and the one who’s making her rewrite every fantasy she’s ever had. In a campus where secrets spread faster than gossip, one mistake could cost her everything, including her heart. steamy, enemies-to-lovers, fake-dating hockey romance about love, lust, and learning that sometimes the best stories are the ones that write themselves.

Life seemed to have an affinity for handing Myla lemons: a messed-up sleep cycle, birth parents she never knew, jealous witches, and the torment of being bullied by the strongest Alpha in the Moon Stone pack. These challenges were all lemons. A string of unfortunate events leads her to live with the most powerful Alpha: a roguish Adonis who would stop at nothing to ensure she stays by his side, even if it means hunting her across New York City. Now, she is caught between two vicious alphas: her moon-chosen mate and the man who would spill blood to keep her safe. Life didn’t get the memo; this isn’t just a lemon—it’s a scented grenade.

Bradley Oliver Jones was eight years old when he first heard "Phantom of the Opera" in New York.The lights gleaming across the stage, the voices of the performers ringing through the theater in a way that brought tears to the eyes of those listening. A wonderful canvas of brilliance painted bright by the dull colors of the world.The performance brought something wonderful to Bradley Oliver Jones.The theatre brought magic, brought light, brought hope into the mind of a little eight year old kid.A kid now dead set on being on that stage.And suddenly, the world was on fire, and everything was possible.

During a game of Truth or Dare, my boyfriend lost and had to buy drinks for everyone. Half an hour later, he returned loaded with bags, grinning as he handed them out. "Jake, you've been up for two days. Here's your iced Americano. Lula, you like the mango passionfruit with extra tapioca, right? And your lemon juice, no ice. You've had it like 800 times." He went around the circle until everyone had a cup. But when he reached me, the bag was empty. The room froze. "Where is Harper's drink?" Todd Rossi pushed his cup toward me. "I forgot, but she can just share mine." His friends groaned. "Come on, every single time? If you're gonna rub it in our faces, at least switch up the moves." They laughed and teased him, thinking it was a public display of affection. But I knew the truth: Todd hadn't forgotten the drink; he had forgotten me. After four years together, he still couldn't remember that I was allergic to peaches. I quietly set the cup back on the table. Having put up with it for so long, I finally decided to leave.

They say when life throws you a lemon, you should turn it to a lemonade, even though some things weren't just intentional. “For the next three years, you will work under my son, Anthony. You will obey him unconditionally and assist him in developing the first humanoid robots. It’s all stated in the contract.” Melissa, a brilliant first-class robotics engineer, signs a binding contract to save her only sister who urgently needs surgery. Not only must she work for Anthony—the arrogant CEO of the Morgan Group—but she must also marry him. Throughout the contract, Anthony treats her like a lowlife, belittling her at every opportunity and even stealing credit for her achievements, convinced she would never dare to leave. But as the three years draw to a close, her supposed knight in shining armor, Josh, shows up as he promised. Will Melissa walk away from Anthony, reclaim her freedom, and rekindle the spark with Josh? Or will Anthony realize too late just how much he stands to lose when the countdown to their divorce begins? And what if there was more to the accident that left Melissa’s sister in need of surgery—and forced Melissa into this contract? If you want to feel first hand what it means for a lady to possess her possession, then get over here!

During a game of Truth or Dare at a gathering with friends, my girlfriend, Bridget Ellison, loses. Her punishment is to buy coffee for everyone. Half an hour later, she returns carrying more than a dozen bags and starts handing out drinks with a smile. "Francis, you've been pulling all-nighters for two days straight. Here's your iced long black." "Daryl, you like java chip frappe with extra mocha sauce, right?" "And here's yours. Lemon black tea, no ice. You've ordered it hundreds of times." One by one, everyone gets their drink. By the time she reaches me, only an empty bag remains. Everyone at the table freezes. "Where's Aiden's drink?" She pushes her peach frappe toward me and says, "I forgot. He can just share mine." A friend immediately groans and complains, "It's the same every gathering. If you two want to show off how loving you are, can you at least come up with a new routine?" Everyone around us laughs and teases us, but I can't bring myself to even take a sip of the drink. I'm the only one who knows the truth. The display of affection is an act. In reality, she has truly forgotten to buy me a drink. After four years together, Bridget still can't remember that I'm allergic to peaches. I set the peach frappe back on the table. I've spent four years settling for less. Now, it's time for me to leave.

My fiancé, Luca, dragged me along to a party with his crew. We had barely walked through the door before his boys were hounding him to play "Seven Minutes in Heaven." "Angelina, babe, come join us!" Fiona, Luca’s "best friend" from back home, called out to me with a smirk. I shook my head and slipped onto a barstool, my fingers nervously tracing the rim of my glass. I watched them huddle in a circle, drawing cigar bands with names scribbled on them. Luca drew Fiona. They shared a laugh before disappearing into the storage room behind the bar. "Seven minutes! Starting... now!" someone hollered, followed by a chorus of whistles. But seven minutes came and went. The door stayed shut. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty... I finally stood up, my heart hammering against my ribs, ready to see what was going on. Just then, I heard Luca’s friends whispering in a thick Sicilian dialect. "This American guy... her head is greener than a lemon tree in Palermo and she doesn’t even know it." "I bet Luca and Fiona are having the time of their lives in there right now." "Poor Boston girl. Look at her, sitting there like a loyal little dog. Hilarious." I froze. My blood turned to ice, and the air felt too thin to breathe. Suddenly, the storage room door creaked open. Luca walked out, wiping sweat from his brow, followed closely by Fiona, who was busy smoothing out her rumpled shirt. "Whoa, how was it? Seven minutes in heaven live up to the hype?" someone teased. Luca smirked, his eyes glazed with satisfaction. "Better. I didn't want to leave."