angelaxb
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send you back home with a light that's beaming by speedboat
Fandoms: Check Please! (Webcomic)
14 Jun 2025
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Summary
“Holy shit,” Kent whispers. He drops Jack’s face like he’s been burned.
“What?” Bittle asks. He moves closer to where Kent is motioning, reaches out to touch Jack’s forehead. Jack jerks away from his hand.
Jack’s right eyebrow is intact, missing that little scarred gap from he got from eating shit on the concrete on Rue St. Germaine.
That must have been 2009, Easter break of their draft year, because that was right about when Jack’s drinking slid from ‘concerning’ to ‘scary’ and he started doing things like taking a swing at Poulie’s older brother, slipping on ice, and busting his head open on the sidewalk.
“I think he’s—” Kent takes three wild steps backward. “I think he's eighteen.”
Bookmarked by angelaxb
27 Aug 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
“It takes a while. But you’re so happy.” He squeezes Jack’s hand again, once, hard. “You’re so happy,” he repeats, ignoring the crack in his voice.
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The woman laughs, her eyes crinkling behind her silver cat-eye glasses. "You must be Eliot,” she says, cheerfully. “He warned me you were charming. Where is he?”
Eliot’s stomach drops as he realizes that this is a terrible fucking mistake, because this ain’t a random elderly woman showing up to collect cans or take up donations or whatever it is that elderly woman in weird fucking places like Portland do. This is Hardison’s nana, and Eliot has just opened the door to the apartment—to Hardison and Parker’s apartment—like he lives there.
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Bookmarked by angelaxb
31 Jul 2017
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Bookmarker's Notes
And Parker backs away a little and kisses him, hot and needy and with tongue, and Eliot is going to hell and they’re right in front of Hardison’s goddamn nana. Who, Eliot realizes a shocked moment later, is just watching them serenely.
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what happens in vegas by rizcriz
Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023)
09 Sep 2024
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Summary
Alex met the love of his life on vacation in Vegas, two steps away from a couple of Vegas showgirls trying to pawn off photos. They were stunning, but Alex knew the scam, and his attention had already strayed beyond them to a man who had dropped his bag, items splaying all over the strip for drunk or high tourists to stoop down and sweep away with. Alex had dropped to his knees in an attempt to help pick everything up before it was too late.
His hand wrapped around a bottle of sunblock stronger than the sun itself, and then he looked up to hand it over, and, well.
Time stopped.
Bookmarked by angelaxb
06 Aug 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
“And so is my ending it.” He nods once, perfunctory. “I thought if I showed you what we could be that one day you’d accept it. That you’d—fuck, want me. But you were right. We had Vegas.” He nods again, mostly for himself. “We can keep Vegas. The rest of it is collateral damage.”
Henry moves to stand. “The rest of it?”
Alex shrugs. “My heart. Whatever’s left of it.” He smiles tightly, and then steps into his apartment while Henry processes that. And then, without looking back, he quietly closes the door behind himself and falls against it, taking a deep breath.
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“I understand,” Harold says, clever fingers and brilliant mind and playing fucking chess with the entire world, and she didn’t ask for this, she didn’t ask for somebody to understand her when half of the time she doesn’t even understand herself.
Bookmarked by angelaxb
14 May 2026
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Bookmarker's Notes
Harold’s voice gives out on him. He swallows, unclenches his hands where he unconsciously balled them into fists. Christ, what is he doing.
John looks like he is going to be sick.
“Please tell me if there is something that you want from me, John,” Harold says, and John flinches at the words.
“What I want I’m not gonna get,” John says hoarsely, hiding his mouth behind his hand as if he’s afraid of giving something away.
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“I really don't think that this is necessary, Mr. Reese,” Harold says. He busies himself with the electronic lock. Surely Rodgers exaggerated the effects of the substance; Harold and John are disciplined, rational men who won't be swayed by some designer party drug.
Bookmarked by angelaxb
08 May 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
“Don't joke about this,” John says, a warning. His instinct is to run, suddenly; he already locates his clothes from his peripheral vision. His shoes? He can probably do without the jacket. He needs to get out, get some air: this was fine, curling up together until the worst of the chemical storm in their bodies has passed, but John can't get used to this, he can't get too attached to how this feels, because – because –