Emotional Novels & Stories

There is still a smile on his face and he retorts, “You are so beautiful.” I feel a surge of anger rising within me, a simmering frustration at the audacity of Sean's unexpected move. Part of me wants to lash out at him for crossing boundaries and playing games with my emotions, but I find myself unable to form coherent thoughts or words in response. It's as if all the organs in my body, except for my heart, have shut down, leaving me in a state of emotional turmoil and confusion.

he said. “Thank you,” I replied, and it was as if he sensed the awkwardness between us. He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he just raised the glass of wine in his hand as a sign of congratulations and then left. He might be the smartest, well, second smartest next to Vincent that is, but Emmet is the weakest in the emotional category. At least for Vincent, he could see emotions. But for Emmet. It was as if something in him had died. Something that cut all the emotions out of his body.

You can't force a person to love you<< Jack's emotions were on his stomach; when he was nervous or anxious, his stomach would twinge, and the urge to go to the bathroom would increase. When he was angry, his stomach felt heavy, and his chest burned; when he felt sad, it wasn't his stomach that weighed him down; it was his heart. When he was with Annette... his stomach fluttered as Collette said; he had eyes for no one else and sometimes felt warmth in his cheeks.

Gregory starts but I hold my hand up "You are getting on the plane, now move" I almost laughed out loud when she stomped her foot frustrated that she wasn't being listened to "No," she said again, her eyes went wide when I just shrugged and said "Fine have it your way then" before I hoisted her up over my shoulder and marched through the airport with her kicking and screaming, but I didn't mind, Let people stare, at this moment all I can focus on is the tingling sensation zapping through me from the mate bond connection and I know she can feel it too, I can sense how much she wants to hurt me but at the same time wrap her arms around me.

Toward the end of the night, Hector felt fuzzy and off. Kelanar noticed Hector swaying more and more and became concerned. “Hector, are you ok?” asked Kelanar. “I think so. I just feel really warm and a little off. You look beautiful,” stated Hector. Hector started touching and holding Kelanar a little more than he normally would and, trying to not fall, made a fool out of himself. “Hector, you’re hurting me. You need to ease up. What is wrong with you?” asked Kelanar.

And I was felling all the emotions. Rage. Anger. Fear. Panic. Terror. Fright. Exhaustion.

The only thing I did that brought me any resemblance of joy. Those flowers that I myself have cared for, nurtured and worried for. My blood was boiling. I never got mad at him- never because I always felt like such a piece of shit for all I've ever done to him. I always tried to be quiet, tried to keep out of his life. Still, this one things- this... All of that was stupid to this- this-

“Both.” I stare down at my hands resting over the blanket. “Physically?” I murmur. “Like I got hit by a truck.” That earns me a soft huff of laughter. “But emotionally” My voice trails off. Because how do I even explain this feeling? This strange mixture of fear and grief and anger and relief all tangled together inside me. “I don’t know,” I admit quietly. Kumba watches me carefully. “You don’t have to figure everything out tonight.” His voice is so gentle it almost breaks me.

P.V. Liam Frey Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! I started to break everything possible in the room. Not before I had recovered from the knee Luna gave me. I couldn't have done that to her, not to my girl. Fuck! Why do I always do things without thinking? Always letting anger dominate me. I waited 3 years to come and do shit? I'm a son of a bitch and a bastard. My room was already totally destroyed. I went to the dresser and took a bag of powder, made a little row on my arm, soon I felt it inside me and starting to feel calmer.

“I did. But it was a message from a client. I’m just a messenger. I tried to steady my breathing. “What… is your job?” Her smile was wry now. Tired. “I call it emotional freelancing. Some days it’s ‘accidentally’ spilling coffee on a girl to make a guy swoop in. Some days it’s pretending to cry in front of a cheating boyfriend to trigger guilt. Sometimes it’s delivering flowers with the wrong name on the card. Breakups. Makeups. Paranoia triggers. Emotional landmines. It’s a niche market—but there’s money in it.” “You’re serious.”