soulmate au where the first words spoken Directly To your soulmate are written
supernatural magic 588 words.
“Hey, Rei-chan,” Miyuki calls out to the both of them and they turn to look at him, “mind if I handle his balls?”
Oops. That’s not really what he wanted to say—handle his pitches and catch his balls merging into one messed up sentence.
The previously noisy pitcher stares at him, mouth slack, and Miyuki casually waves with a laugh. Instantly, the middle schooler’s mouth turns into a scowl and hey—isn’t that rude? Miyuki makes sure that he looks completely offended, because he is.
Silently, the pitcher stomps over, fuming, and reveals his left wrist to the other.
Hey, Rei-chan, mind if I handle his balls? is right there, blazing gold in his impeccable handwriting.
“Oh,” Miyuki can’t help grinning, wide shiny teeth betraying the loud thump of his heart, “whoops?”
The pitcher throws his hands up into the air with a noisy gush of air. Miyuki checks his wrists. Nope, still bare.
“Are you going to speak or no?” Miyuki gestures to his wrists—all the other stereotypical soulmate identifiers are happening: he feels warmer, safer, and there’s a strong temptation to touch the other.
The pitcher mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key.
**
“Sawamura Eijun,” Takishima tells him, “he’s only in middle school, but you’ll see why I’ve brought him here.”
**
“What kind of pitches do you know?”
Sawamura shakes his head—still not going to speak, huh—and then mimes the grip.
“Uhm,” Miyuki squints, yeah, any basic pitcher should have the fastball. “Anything else?”
Sawamura fixes him a glare as if to say excuse me, of course I don’t have anything else and Miyuki laughs as he slings an arm around the other and pulls him close.
“Well, just follow my lead then.”
Sawamura mimes gagging.
**
After they get their third out, Sawamura roars in victory.
Miyuki conspicuously checks his wrists again—nope, still nothing.
Sawamura’s taunting Azuma and talking to Takishima now and still nothing pops up, which is fine by Miyuki, because he doesn’t want the words that are going to remain on his wrist forever to be intended for another man. He’s fine, he thinks, he’ll be patient.
**
“I think that Sawamura wants to construct the ugliest sentence ever to put on my wrist,” Miyuki tells Kuramochi over lunch because Sawamura still refused to talk to him—even after he snuck up on the other and it looked like he wanted to shout something, probably Miyuki Kazuya! or something.
“Oh yeah,” Kuramochi nods, “I’ve been helping him.”
Miyuki sighs and thunks his head against the wood of his desk.
**
“Miyuki Kazuya,” Sawamura’s voice drifts into his ear for the first time ad Miyuki jolts to attention, his heart thumping as the words start to write themselves on his skin, “you are the most insufferable bastard that I’ve ever met—”
Well, Miyuki resigns himself, that’s probably it. There we go. The sentence that he’s going to look at whenever he needs another self-deprecating laugh.
“—but,” Sawamura continues and the universe writes that on his skin too, “I trust you.”
Oh.
“Yup!” Sawamura exhales noisily through his nostrils. “That was everything that I wanted to say! Ahhhhh—Miyuki Kazuya, do you know how hard it was for me to keep silent! But it was not in vain; I’m glad that I was able to come up with that sentence! Haha—let me see it.”
“God,” Miyuki rolls his eyes but extends his arm so Sawamura can look at the golden characters. “You’re so noisy.”
FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G
soulmate au where the first words spoken Directly To your soulmate are written
supernatural magic
588 words.
“Hey, Rei-chan,” Miyuki calls out to the both of them and they turn to look at him, “mind if I handle his balls?”
Oops. That’s not really what he wanted to say—handle his pitches and catch his balls merging into one messed up sentence.
The previously noisy pitcher stares at him, mouth slack, and Miyuki casually waves with a laugh. Instantly, the middle schooler’s mouth turns into a scowl and hey—isn’t that rude? Miyuki makes sure that he looks completely offended, because he is.
Silently, the pitcher stomps over, fuming, and reveals his left wrist to the other.
Hey, Rei-chan, mind if I handle his balls? is right there, blazing gold in his impeccable handwriting.
“Oh,” Miyuki can’t help grinning, wide shiny teeth betraying the loud thump of his heart, “whoops?”
The pitcher throws his hands up into the air with a noisy gush of air. Miyuki checks his wrists. Nope, still bare.
“Are you going to speak or no?” Miyuki gestures to his wrists—all the other stereotypical soulmate identifiers are happening: he feels warmer, safer, and there’s a strong temptation to touch the other.
The pitcher mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key.
**
“Sawamura Eijun,” Takishima tells him, “he’s only in middle school, but you’ll see why I’ve brought him here.”
**
“What kind of pitches do you know?”
Sawamura shakes his head—still not going to speak, huh—and then mimes the grip.
“Uhm,” Miyuki squints, yeah, any basic pitcher should have the fastball. “Anything else?”
Sawamura fixes him a glare as if to say excuse me, of course I don’t have anything else and Miyuki laughs as he slings an arm around the other and pulls him close.
“Well, just follow my lead then.”
Sawamura mimes gagging.
**
After they get their third out, Sawamura roars in victory.
Miyuki conspicuously checks his wrists again—nope, still nothing.
Sawamura’s taunting Azuma and talking to Takishima now and still nothing pops up, which is fine by Miyuki, because he doesn’t want the words that are going to remain on his wrist forever to be intended for another man. He’s fine, he thinks, he’ll be patient.
**
“I think that Sawamura wants to construct the ugliest sentence ever to put on my wrist,” Miyuki tells Kuramochi over lunch because Sawamura still refused to talk to him—even after he snuck up on the other and it looked like he wanted to shout something, probably Miyuki Kazuya! or something.
“Oh yeah,” Kuramochi nods, “I’ve been helping him.”
Miyuki sighs and thunks his head against the wood of his desk.
**
“Miyuki Kazuya,” Sawamura’s voice drifts into his ear for the first time ad Miyuki jolts to attention, his heart thumping as the words start to write themselves on his skin, “you are the most insufferable bastard that I’ve ever met—”
Well, Miyuki resigns himself, that’s probably it. There we go. The sentence that he’s going to look at whenever he needs another self-deprecating laugh.
“—but,” Sawamura continues and the universe writes that on his skin too, “I trust you.”
Oh.
“Yup!” Sawamura exhales noisily through his nostrils. “That was everything that I wanted to say! Ahhhhh—Miyuki Kazuya, do you know how hard it was for me to keep silent! But it was not in vain; I’m glad that I was able to come up with that sentence! Haha—let me see it.”
“God,” Miyuki rolls his eyes but extends his arm so Sawamura can look at the golden characters. “You’re so noisy.”