kono bangumi wa goran no suponsaa no teikyou de okurishimasu:
su au
i thought about making miyuki to be steven bc of Dead Moms lmao buT WHATEVER
canon atypical supernatural stuff 718 words.
It was a bad idea. Sawamura knows that much.
But he wanted to try it anyways.
“What’s this?” Miyuki crosses his arms and bats his eyelashes. “You want to fuse with little ol’ me? What’s this, The Sawamura Eijun wants to pop his fusion cherry with a gem he’s just met? Oh, goodness gracious, what is this world coming to? If only Rose Quartz could see you now—she’d be scandalized.”
“You wouldn’t be popping my fusion cherry,” Sawamura retorts, face flushing red with that terminology. “I’ve already fused with someone.”
“Really now,” Miyuki puts his hands on his hips and shifts his weight, skeptical. “You never told me. When was this, partner?”
Sawamura tries to resist the urge to bare his teeth. He fails. “I’ve been a fully functional gem before I met you, I’ll have you know.”
“Alright then,” Miyuki snorts and extends his hand, as if he wants Sawamura to kiss it. “Lead the dance then.”
Now, Sawamura thinks as he stares at Miyuki’s hand, this is where it gets complicated. Is it possible to discreetly wipe his sweaty palms on his thighs or will Miyuki notice? Miyuki will probably notice. That means the first impression will be his sweaty palms.
They’re sitting on the couch of their base in the mountains. There’s half-eaten pizza lying on a paper plate, courtesy of Sawamura himself, and the atmosphere feels heavy.
Miyuki raises an eyebrow and stares at him, like, hello, you’re the one who wanted this.
“I’ll figure it out later,” Sawamura decides, “what kind of dance I want to do with you. I want our first time to be special.”
“A true romantic,” Miyuki says dryly and abruptly stands up. Sawamura doesn’t know if he should vouch for the validity of those romantic comics that Wakana’s been giving him or just let Miyuki go.
He chooses the latter because it’s easier. Miyuki leaves on the warp pad.
**
Miyuki’s cooking him something because that’s Miyuki, making Sawamura question his every move.
Sawamura watches him cook, methodical and precise, just like the way he battles, when the thought occurs to him. He quickly hustles his way upstairs to his room and grabs his stereo, popping in one of his dad’s tapes.
Soon, smooth jazz with his dad’s voice floats throughout the room. Perfect.
Miyuki doesn’t acknowledge the music until Sawamura sways to the beat behind him, his hands on the other’s hips as he gently pushes the other to swaying as well. Humoring the other, Miyuki allows himself to move, his hands still on the frying pan as he cooks the fried rice. Sawamura hums along to the tune while Miyuki rolls his eyes and turns off the heat.
As soon as he does, Sawamura spins him around and suddenly they’re chest to chest, Miyuki looking down slightly as Sawamura grins up at him.
“May I have this dance,” Sawamura asks and Miyuki snorts.
“How selfish,” he scolds and taps Sawamura on the nose. Sawamura huffs and sways, his hands on Miyuki’s shoulders. Miyuki allows his hands to drift down to rest on Sawamura’s hips and Sawamura’s grin widens.
It takes roughly ten more sways for Miyuki to calm down and then—
They become one and Miyuki can feel Sawamura’s emotions—predominantly excitement—flow through him and someone that’s not him lifts up his hand and touches his own face.
“We did it!” Sawamura shouts and god, is that their voice. “Quickly, find a mirror—we have to see what we look like.”
They take a single step and fall to the ground. Sawamura says oof as Miyuki takes over control of their mobility.
There’s no way that they’re going to stand up. Miyuki crawls them over to the bathroom and they grip the sink with gold hands, lifting themselves up.
“Woah!” Sawamura says and the reflection opens their mouth, revealing white teeth surrounded by dark gold lips. Their hair is croppy, a swirling mixture of browns and golds and creams that blend in the most intrinsic way, and their entire body looks like they’ve been made out of glowing brown. “We’re so—wow! Where are our irregularities! I thought we were going to have more arms than just these two.”
Same, Miyuki thinks. Sawamura laughs because he knows.
FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G
kono bangumi wa goran no suponsaa no teikyou de okurishimasu:
su au
i thought about making miyuki to be steven bc of Dead Moms lmao buT WHATEVER
canon atypical supernatural stuff
718 words.
It was a bad idea. Sawamura knows that much.
But he wanted to try it anyways.
“What’s this?” Miyuki crosses his arms and bats his eyelashes. “You want to fuse with little ol’ me? What’s this, The Sawamura Eijun wants to pop his fusion cherry with a gem he’s just met? Oh, goodness gracious, what is this world coming to? If only Rose Quartz could see you now—she’d be scandalized.”
“You wouldn’t be popping my fusion cherry,” Sawamura retorts, face flushing red with that terminology. “I’ve already fused with someone.”
“Really now,” Miyuki puts his hands on his hips and shifts his weight, skeptical. “You never told me. When was this, partner?”
Sawamura tries to resist the urge to bare his teeth. He fails. “I’ve been a fully functional gem before I met you, I’ll have you know.”
“Alright then,” Miyuki snorts and extends his hand, as if he wants Sawamura to kiss it. “Lead the dance then.”
Now, Sawamura thinks as he stares at Miyuki’s hand, this is where it gets complicated. Is it possible to discreetly wipe his sweaty palms on his thighs or will Miyuki notice? Miyuki will probably notice. That means the first impression will be his sweaty palms.
“Hm,” Sawamura grimaces, “it doesn’t feel natural.”
They’re sitting on the couch of their base in the mountains. There’s half-eaten pizza lying on a paper plate, courtesy of Sawamura himself, and the atmosphere feels heavy.
Miyuki raises an eyebrow and stares at him, like, hello, you’re the one who wanted this.
“I’ll figure it out later,” Sawamura decides, “what kind of dance I want to do with you. I want our first time to be special.”
“A true romantic,” Miyuki says dryly and abruptly stands up. Sawamura doesn’t know if he should vouch for the validity of those romantic comics that Wakana’s been giving him or just let Miyuki go.
He chooses the latter because it’s easier. Miyuki leaves on the warp pad.
**
Miyuki’s cooking him something because that’s Miyuki, making Sawamura question his every move.
Sawamura watches him cook, methodical and precise, just like the way he battles, when the thought occurs to him. He quickly hustles his way upstairs to his room and grabs his stereo, popping in one of his dad’s tapes.
Soon, smooth jazz with his dad’s voice floats throughout the room. Perfect.
Miyuki doesn’t acknowledge the music until Sawamura sways to the beat behind him, his hands on the other’s hips as he gently pushes the other to swaying as well. Humoring the other, Miyuki allows himself to move, his hands still on the frying pan as he cooks the fried rice. Sawamura hums along to the tune while Miyuki rolls his eyes and turns off the heat.
As soon as he does, Sawamura spins him around and suddenly they’re chest to chest, Miyuki looking down slightly as Sawamura grins up at him.
“May I have this dance,” Sawamura asks and Miyuki snorts.
“How selfish,” he scolds and taps Sawamura on the nose. Sawamura huffs and sways, his hands on Miyuki’s shoulders. Miyuki allows his hands to drift down to rest on Sawamura’s hips and Sawamura’s grin widens.
It takes roughly ten more sways for Miyuki to calm down and then—
They become one and Miyuki can feel Sawamura’s emotions—predominantly excitement—flow through him and someone that’s not him lifts up his hand and touches his own face.
“We did it!” Sawamura shouts and god, is that their voice. “Quickly, find a mirror—we have to see what we look like.”
They take a single step and fall to the ground. Sawamura says oof as Miyuki takes over control of their mobility.
There’s no way that they’re going to stand up. Miyuki crawls them over to the bathroom and they grip the sink with gold hands, lifting themselves up.
“Woah!” Sawamura says and the reflection opens their mouth, revealing white teeth surrounded by dark gold lips. Their hair is croppy, a swirling mixture of browns and golds and creams that blend in the most intrinsic way, and their entire body looks like they’ve been made out of glowing brown. “We’re so—wow! Where are our irregularities! I thought we were going to have more arms than just these two.”
Same, Miyuki thinks. Sawamura laughs because he knows.