Angst Writing Prompts Novels & Stories

Axel I slammed the plates into the kitchen cabinets, the clatter echoing through the room as I struggled to contain the anger boiling inside me. My hands trembled with rage, my fingers clenched into fists as I fought to maintain a fragile grip on my temper. Everything was going well. I hope Anastasia doesn't ruin it for me. If she does, I would thirst for the last of her blood. I gritted my teeth, my anger simmering just below the surface. I had thought my beta had everything under control, but now I wasn't so sure. One of them had escaped, and I had a sinking feeling that they might have made contact with her.

Reminding me of our cuddles and the hugs. He went to the small desk in the corner, opened a drawer, and pulled out a pen and a sheet of white paper. His fingers trembled slightly as he wrote down the details. He walked back and held it out to me without a word. I took the paper, my fingers brushing his. Neither of us flinched. It was a dead touch. I keyed the numbers into a text message to Angela, my own hands unsteady. I was angry, sad, frustrated. Can't really tell my main feelings at that point.

What do you hate 🥲 Who is your favorite character and why 🤭 What do you want me to add to the story:more twists, betrayal or lots of love 😘 I need every details guys, I love to socialize even though I am not the bold type 🥲 Feel free to act like any character and let your imagination run wild 😜 I remain your kind, shy, weird devoted writer and author Natasha Gwen 😌 Enjoy 🤧 Feel free to send gems too 🥹

We were out again in the open side of the ship. “Darling, please stop this.” I cautioned me, my voice soft but unclear. “We should be more focused on being safe than doing this in an open place.” “Here it isn't open, my dear.” Angus objected, willing to stand by his opinion. “We can do it fast and gain strength to confront our enemies!” “Shh!” I beckoned to him. “Don't raise your voice right now. I'm not in the mood, Angus.” Angus slurred in his response immediately, as he stared at me. “What do I do to get you in the mood then? Shall I start rubbing your breasts with my bare hands or lick your laps, deep down your loins?”

I woke before the alarm, listened for a message that hadn’t come, and rehearsed the story I’d walk toward in the morning: she took the day; she took care of herself; she’ll be at the counter at nine with a look that could peel paint and a list of conditions I’ll accept with pleasure. Angel’s smirk at the end of the table tried to follow me into morning like a stray cat. I pushed it out. I made coffee for two out of defiance and habit. I put a lemon bar on a napkin and wrote for the human who breathes like a wolf because I am sentimental when no one is looking.

I won’t let anyone who hurts the person I love go scot-free. A slow, burning rage simmers inside me, spreading through my veins like wildfire. My jaw clenches, and my breathing deepens as my vision sharpens with focus. I press a hand against my desk, the wood groaning under my grip. No more hesitation. No more second-guessing. It ends tonight. ******** The sky is cloaked in darkness, the city humming with distant life, but here, in my quiet space, the tension is suffocating. I wait, pacing, each second dragging like an eternity.

' She set her phone down and placed her hand on her belly, where the twins were settling in for the night. "Well, babies," she whispered. "Your mom just made a very brave or very stupid decision. Guess we'll find out which one." The twins shifted in response, a gentle flutter that felt like encouragement. Angela pulled out her sketchbook and turned to a fresh page. She drew a woman standing on a stage, script in hand, face turned toward bright lights. The woman looked scared but determined. Ready. At the bottom, she wrote: '"Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is say yes to the thing that scares you most."'

I couldn’t. Instead, I sat down at my desk and stared at the stack of papers before me. Letters I hadn’t sent, drafts of thoughts I hadn’t voiced. I pulled out a pen and began again, letting the words pour out like water from a faucet I hadn’t touched in days. I wrote about longing, about frustration, about the strange combination of anger and desire that burned inside me. Each sentence was a release, each paragraph a small exorcism of the turmoil that refused to leave.

A product of selfish behavior. I am angry. No ‘angry’ doesn’t even come close to describing the rage or animosity I am feeling at suffering with so many other innocent people at the center of someone else’s stupidity and greed. I can feel the earth beneath me rumble. I feel the air around me press into my skin. The rain just out of my reach is fighting to get in, pelting the barrier Adrielle has up. The flame under my skin is bursting to get out. It wants to take over like with Vincent and just incinerate the problem that Adrielle is. I just don’t think she is going to go out as easy as he did, and there was nothing easy about that.

ANGEL “My body might respond,” I hissed through clenched teeth, “but I will never want you. I will never stop hating you. And I will never stop trying to kill you.” “Promise?” His eyes sparkled with amusement and delight. “That makes my dick harder than anything else. The idea of spending the rest of my life with you trying to murder me while I’m balls deep inside you, fucking you into oblivion? That’s my fucking fantasy. Other men dream about tropical vacations. I dream about you with a gun to my head while I’m making you cum so hard you cry.”