pururiru
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Sol hummed softly, rocking forward slightly where he sat, fingers still stroking the mark like it might vanish if he stopped touching it.
He wondered what you would look like.
He wondered how you would sound when you said his name.
"I wonder," he crooned. "If you'll run from me?"
Sol hoped you would.
Alternatively: I Died and Woke Up in Another World Where I Have to Help Some Guy Stop His Crazy Brother From Destroying Everything (And We're Soulmates!?)
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"What gall you have," Sol said lightly, laughing under his breath. "Shooing me away like some errant toddler."
The laughter did not reach his eyes.
Two men with egos like theirs should never have been allowed to share the same space, Saffron groused silently. And Lavender had the nerve to accuse him of having a god complex.
"If you're only going to throw a tantrum, it only proves my point," Sun replied, smiling as if this were harmless banter.
"Can you just makeout already and let me work," Saffron said, the words escaping before he could reconsider them.
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The JR officer stood frozen in the doorway, paperwork clutched like a lifeline, eyes wide and cycling through every stage of oh-fuck processing. Glitter still dusted everything. Their leader—pinned on the floor, mouth painted violet and gold, enemy underneath him looking a little too smug for someone supposedly captured.
The officer's jaw worked silently for a solid three seconds.
"I—reports—sir—" Voice cracked like thin ice. Papers fluttered. "Sorry! Very sorry—"
They spun, nearly tripping over his own boots, and fled, the door slamming behind them.
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“It won’t last,” Nightmare said after a moment.
Lune’s posture shifted almost imperceptibly. He couldn't help the way his sockets widened.
“The petrification,” he clarified. “It didn’t last with Dream. And he only had one apple.”
The cigarette slid from his fingers and fell to the floor, forgotten. It burned quietly where it landed.
Dread pooled instantly in Lune’s chest, thick and suffocating. The thought of those wings cracking free, of that halo flaring back to life, made something inside him recoil.
But beneath it, quiet and traitorous, was relief.
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Dust exhales through his teeth. “Stop.”
Killer tilts his head a fraction. “Stop what?”
“Shut up. Stop looking.” Dust jerks his chin toward the doorway. “There’s no one there.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Killer says smoothly.
Dust is a Sans. He can smell a boldfaced lie like that a mile away.
“Yeah you do.”
Recent bookmarks
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Bookmarked by pururiru
21 Feb 2026
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Hi Mr. Hayden,
We’re pretty sure you’ve never noticed, so you might find this funny. Over the years, a few of us have been piecing together the Rozanov-Hollander saga from your fanmails.
In mine, Ilya Rozanov was chatting in Russian in the background saying some very colorful things about someone's something.
For a second, I actually wondered if he was your secret lover. But at this point, aren’t we all just second-guessing?
or: Hayden Pike finally realizes he never actually double-checked any of his videos
Series
- Part 1 of felt cute, might delete
Bookmarked by pururiru
16 Feb 2026