🍎 favorite angst quote from a wip & 🔥 wild card: dealer's choice of quote from a wip
Thanks so much for the ask, @vvizjer! 💖
🍎 favorite angst quote from a wip
From "This Must Be the Place (Home)", the next installment in my Streetkid Val/Mitch series Into My Arms:
He follows her up the stairs to the room where she spent months of her life—the mirror where she fought Jackie for space, the tiny bed that he insisted she take—See, chica? I can barely fit. A sob bubbles up, past her closing windpipe and through gritted teeth, and the tears flow hot and fast down her cheeks.
Mitch drops the bag and pulls her into his arms as hers dangle uselessly until she grabs at his shirt and sobs. His bio hand strokes along her neck while the other wraps around her waist. He presses his lips to her temple.
“That’s right, you’re okay. I’ve got you,” he murmurs over and over while stroking her skin.
She loosens her hands and brings her arms around his waist, burying her face in his neck. She breathes deep, breathing in the sweat and dirt and oil that is him and allows his comfort to calm her. As her breath returns to a steady rate, Mitch pulls back enough to look at her face as his hands skim up and down her biceps.
She nods and wipes at her eyes, and he kisses her forehead. “Since Jackie died,” she whispers.
Mitch strokes her shoulders and she leans into him once again, grateful for his embrace, the safety of his love and affection, his stability while her own crumbles. The knot in her chest tightens further; she has to tell him.
🔥 wild card: dealer's choice of quote from a wip
Going with "poetic." This is from Corpo Val brainrot:
Val jerks her chin at him. “Can I get one of those?”
He pulls out the pack and taps one out for her to take. Just as he reaches out with the lighter intent on passing it to her, she leans forward, cigarette between her fingers and poised at her ruby lips, and her emerald eyes flick to his. He works on autopilot, leaning forward with the lighter, cupping the flame with his silicone fingers and he forgets to breathe when her fingers linger on his. She flicks her eyes back up to him once more and the air whooshes out of his lungs as if he’s been hit by a freight train, or jumped into the farm pond on a sunny March day.
ask me about my favorite quotes from my writing