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  1. Public Bookmark 38

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    The spell is simple: stay within five feet of each other or suffer. Forty-eight hours in forced proximity shouldn't be a problem for two hunters who survived Purgatory together. Except Dean's been spending years not thinking about why having Cas close feels so right, and now he's got nowhere left to run.

    Sam is very tired. The bunker is very small. And Dean is very much screwed.

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    06 Jul 2026

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  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “Does it hurt?” Steve whispers.

    Everything hurts, Bucky wants to say; everything that’s been done, how he can’t take any of it back, the wrecked fragments of his mind, and the division between their bodies-- everything has its own bitter sting.

    “Yeah,” Bucky says, and tries not to think about the way Steve turns his hand back over, interlaces their fingers, and dips his forehead to rest against a metal wrist.

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    01 Jun 2026

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  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Iwaizumi’s eyes carve a line that runs along the length of Oikawa’s spine, pausing when they reach the spot where his hands have settled — a little above his hips.

    He resists the urge to do something foolish like stroking his side with his thumb, or drawing Oikawa towards him until his back is firmly pressed against his own chest. Briefly, he imagines what it would be like; to feel every exhale that passes through Oikawa’s chest as though it were his own; to allow his hands to roam freely, exploring warm skin and listen to the way Oikawa’s breath hitches when Iwaizumi’s fingertips dip below the waistline of his pants.

    Inhaling sharply, Iwaizumi quickly retracts his hands when they reach their destination.

    or: iwaizumi gets a little jealous during his trip to rio de janeiro with oikawa.

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    31 Mar 2026

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  4. Public Bookmark 5

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    Another blink, and Luo Binghe is in the pavilion he has claimed as his own. He hates it. He hates its winter chill. He hates that any one of the delicate, filigreed baubles scattered around it like fallen autumn leaves is valuable enough that it could have changed his mother’s life—could have saved it. He hates the golden drapes that shroud Shen Qingqiu’s body and lend sallowness to his slack face. He hates how small his shizun looks, laid out in bone-white inner robes upon a platform big enough for five.

    “Shizun,” he says, laying a hand against a wan cheek. “Your Binghe is here.”

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    15 Mar 2026

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    After dinner, Shen Qingqiu offered to help wash up, but Luo Binghe gave him a look so simultaneously horrified and straight up terrifying that Shen Qingqiu thought better of it before the sentence was fully out of his mouth. He snapped his fan open and coughed briefly, then fanned himself and allowed his beautiful, radiant, undying boy-god disciple protagonist lover (send help) to pick up the dishes and take them out to wash.

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    11 Mar 2026