i have to say this but seeing tom daley’s husband cheer for him when he won the gold recently, makes me think of every ship in hq!! with one of them in the jnt and they win the gold too…
OSAMU FUCKING CRYING IN ONIGIRI MIYA BC HIS BROTHER AND HIS BF WON THE GOLD
akaashi who doesn’t hysterically cheer often is also fucking crying and he immediately calls bokuto later
and the same goes for hirugami with hoshiumi, lev with yaku, tendo with ushijima, or kita with aran
and then you have sakuatsu and kagehina crying on the court while embracing each other
but also bc i’m a multi and rare shipper the same would happen with sunakomo, atsuhina, or kenhina with kenma reacting live on twitch and hiding in his hoodie bc he’s crying, or atsukita and kita’s grandma is handing him tissues so you choose what you want to imagine lol
I’VE BEEN CRYING BC OF TOM DALEY AND HIS HUSBAND SO EVERYONE IS CRYING OKK
Fluff, Romance, Domestic, Established Relationship, Cuddling
Summary: Rintarō thinks Motoya looks the most beautiful in the golden morning sunlight.
Rintarō inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. The sheets rustled over his bare chest as he did, sliding down a little with the swell of his lungs. His eyes fluttered open; his fuzzy vision adjusted, the slowly-rotating ceiling fan and the popcorn ceiling gradually coming into focus. The pale golden light of the dawn spilled in through the window, and with each slow rotation of the ceiling fan blades, their slim shadows splayed across the whitish-gray ceiling. The sunlight also caught on the dust filtering in the air, making it look like little golden fairies were flitting above him.
The bed creaked beside him, and Rintarō turned his head. Through the strands of oak-brown hair that fell into his eyes, he could see Motoya rolling over in the bed, his arm splaying out on the pillow above his head while the other laid over his chest. His mouth was hanging open just slightly, little breaths puffing past his shiny pink lips with each rise and fall of his chest. Occasionally, his round brown eyebrows would twitch, and he would breathily murmur something incomprehensible.
Adoration swelled in Rintarō’s chest. He boosted himself up on his elbow—carefully, so as not to awaken his sleeping partner—and leaned his cheek in his hand. So many mornings that Rintarō had been graced with this view, in the five years that he and Motoya had been together, yet each time felt as magical as the first. The golden sunbeams danced over Motoya’s skin, making it seem like pure aurum itself. They threaded into his tawny tufts of hair to illuminate the threads of gold within, threads that only Rintarō could weave through his fingers. Just watching the sunlight-laden hairs shift with the subtle movements of Motoya’s body made Rintarō’s fingers twitch, and soon his hand was sliding across the mattress.
Rintarō let out a gentle sigh as soon as his fingertips brushed against the softness of Motoya’s locks. Gently, he twisted the little curly tuft by his sleeping lover’s ear around his index finger. It felt like pure silk, far finer than the Egyptian cotton they were currently laying on. With the hair wound around his finger, he gently ran up and down the length of it with his thumb. So soft, yet it excited his nerves in the most exhilarating way, making little tingles bloom across his entire hand and up the length of his arm. Rintarō couldn’t resist diving right in, splaying his hand across the curve of Motoya’s head to bury his fingers into that downy cushion.
A light chuckle pulled him out of his muddled thoughts. He looked back down at Motoya’s face to find one of his eyes cracked open and a sleepy smile on his lips.
“Oh, do go on,” Motoya said when a haze of pink appeared on Rintarō’s cheeks. His voice was much deeper than usual, laden with the thick syrup of sleep. “I’m quite enjoying it.” Like a cat, he closed his eyes and butted up into Rintarō’s hand. His smile almost looked like a cat’s little grin, even. Smiling softly, Rintarō resumed his ministrations, gently petting across Motoya’s scalp as he played with the fibers of his hair.
“Mmm… Has your alarm gone off yet?” Motoya mumbled sleepily. Rintarō always woke up before Motoya. For everything they shared, they also had their set of dichotomies; while Rintarō preferred crisp morning runs where the warming breeze cooled his perspiring skin, his lover favored jogging in the twilight, the water vapor bursting against his skin as the night humidity coated him from head to toe. But dawn had only just arrived, and so it would be another fifteen minutes or so before the tones of Rintarō’s alarm replaced the calm silence of the bedroom.
“Not yet,” Rintarō answered, his voice as soft as the locks he was caressing. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Oh, but didn’t you?” Motoya responded with a teasing purr. He cracked both his eyes open this time, two slits that did little to hide the mischievous glinting in his dark brown irises.
Rintarō flushed and looked down at the mattress in embarrassment, though he didn’t relinquish his gentle hold on Motoya’s head. So long they had been together, yet Rintarō still found himself coy. Even still, he struggled to express his feelings, the true depth of the affection that pooled within his heart. It was like an endless ocean, a blissful abyss with no bottom. How could he ever find the words to convey such love? How could he ever find the actions that would translate such endearment?
Somehow, when the veil of sleep still partially covered them like sheer, delicate fabric clinging to soft skin, Rintarō found it slightly easier. Perhaps the fog shrouding his mind made it harder for him to get too engrossed in his thoughts, or the sight of Motoya in the golden sunlight was just so ethereal that all the things he wanted to do and say were summoned forth. Either way, Rintarō didn’t feel too reserved to draw himself closer to Motoya, flushing his front to Motoya’s side so he could bury his face into that goldenrod hair.
“Jus’… Wan’ be close to you…” he mumbled. His body shook with the rumble of Motoya’s laugh, then tingled with the feeling of his lover’s slim arm slithering through the small gap between his hip and the sheets so he could loop it around his waist. Motoya was still lying on his back, and his left arm languidly rose to begin tracing abstract patterns into the skin of Rintarō’s arm where it crossed over the bottoms of his pectorals.
“What is it? Did you have a bad dream?” Motoya questioned gently.
His lover’s consideration made Rintarō feel fuzzy and warm. He hid his bashful smile into the side of Motoya’s head.
“No. I just… I like you like this,” he attempted to explain. It was honestly difficult, even with the barrier of sheepishness removed. He just couldn’t even begin to explain how gorgeous Motoya looked in the pale light of the dawn, how much Rintarō enjoyed waking up to him by his side every day. He did it far more often than Motoya realized; often, his lover snoozed on, oblivious to Rintarō looking upon him with complete and utter tenderness. Rather than attempting to clutch onto sleep, if Rintarō happened to awaken early, he would spend each minuscule moment drinking in the sheer divinity of his lover’s existence.
“Like this?” Motoya echoed. Rintarō’s blush deepened, mostly out of frustration at the fact he couldn’t voice his feelings into words. As he wriggled beside Motoya, Rintarō buried his face further into his partner’s hair, like he was attempting to just burrow right in it so he could escape the question.
“I… I just think… You look beautiful in the morning…” he forced out in clipped, awkward splutters. A silence fell back over the room, interrupted only by the rhythmic whap-whap-whaps of the ceiling fan and the twitters of the thrush that lived in the tree just outside their apartment window. Motoya didn’t tense at his words; his body remained lax, but Rintarō could feel his surprise in the way he held his breath. When Motoya finally let out a deep exhale, Rintarō cuddled further into him, apprehensive about how his lover was going to react to his admission.
“You think I’m beautiful in the morning?” There was a lilt of amusement to Motoya’s voice. It made Rintarō’s body flush hot. Was he embarrassed? Relieved? Excited? The fog of the morning was beginning to dissipate from his mind, allowing the anxious doubt to flood back in like the tide rushing into the bay. Oh, Motoya wasn’t going to tease him, was he? He usually didn’t mind his lover’s playful attitude, but Rintarō didn’t think he could bear being derided for this—for laying his feelings raw and whole before him.
“Motoya…” he groaned. A pitiful attempt to try and object, though he didn’t know about what. His lover chuckled, then grabbed Rintarō around the middle to forcibly pry him away from his body so he could look him in the eyes. Rintarō’s bottom lip jutted out in a pout, and he defiantly kept one hand shoved in the messy locks of Motoya’s hair while he was pushed back onto his own pillow. He tried to seem obstinate, but he knew that Motoya wouldn’t miss the hints of disquiet hidden into the lines of his sulky expression.
“What’s with that look?” Motoya laughed. “You say something that cute, and I’m not allowed to look you in the face?”
“You… You think it’s cute?” He sounded like a toddler carefully probing the conversation, but he didn’t care. Hope fluttered within him, making his pout slowly ease into a wee bashful smile. Motoya purred, his hand coming up to gently sweep a swathe of Rintarō’s hair out of his face and tuck it behind his ear.
“Of course I do,” he reassured him. “Tell me more.”
Rintarō fidgeted nervously and began to worry, his bottom lip between his teeth. It had been so hard to word emotions in the first place, and now he had to try and do it while the cold fingers of hesitation were slowly wrapping around him in their icy, tight grip. It squeezed his body, making it feel like his lungs were swelling to bursting and his heart was pounding erratically against his ribcage. But he wanted to try—he didn’t want to let the words die on his tongue this time, didn’t want them to fade away with the golden dust fairies like they did every other morning before.
“You just… You look golden.” His face twisted into a frustrated frown as soon as he comprehended what had exactly left his mouth. How does that make any sense? However, Motoya didn’t laugh at him, didn’t even crack a smile; he just continued to study Rintarō intensely with that half-smirk, half-smile dancing on his lips. Rintarō swallowed thickly, taking his silence as a request to continue.
“It makes your skin glow…” Hesitantly, he reached up to trace the pads of his fingers over Motoya’s face. His eyelashes fluttered in response to his fingers brushing the area underneath his eye, his nose crinkled at his featherlight touch over the bridge of his nose, his lips twitched higher into a smile with the ghosting of his fingertips over the corner of his mouth. “And it lights up your hair in little places, like it’s got golden thread…” His other hand, still buried stubbornly in Motoya’s hair, emphatically twisted the strands around his fingers. “I just… I love waking up to you… Thinking about how someone so amazing that the sun feels like it needs to shine down on them… illuminate them from head to toe… is mine. You’re just… golden.”
Rintarō swallowed. He felt like his explanation was bungled, still short of the true profundity of his feelings. He’d never been the eloquent sort, and he had never wished that he was before right then. He wanted to speak poetry about Motoya, weave him a tapestry of beautiful words to perfectly encapsulate the way he felt. But he wasn’t capable of that, and so he hoped the attempt in itself would be all that was necessary.
And of course, it was.
“Wow,” Motoya laughed, but it was bashful, not chaffing. “That’s… wow. I don’t even know what to say to that.”
Now you know how I feel, Rintarō thought with a rogue smile.
Motoya had resumed tracing those nondescript patterns over the skin of Rintarō’s arm again, though he hadn’t noticed it while he was speaking. Motoya’s fingers skimmed up the length of his arm, traced circles over his shoulder, then slowly drifted back down to the top of his hand to trace circles there instead.
“Well, I’m happy to be yours, Rintarō,” Motoya hummed. “There’s no place I’d rather be, golden or otherwise.”
Rintarō couldn’t help but snicker. Leave it to Motoya to be totally nonchalant about all this. Though, Rintarō knew that it was only an attempt to hide his own feelings; the smile on Motoya’s face was so wide it was close to bursting his face at the seams, and the glimmer in his eyes put even the golden sun to shame.
Rintarō scooted closer, but he didn’t try to hide his face in Motoya’s hair this time. Instead, he brought it close to Motoya’s, so close that the tips of their noses bumped a little with his movement. Motoya just watched him, his eyes slowly growing lidded with contentment and the dancing of his fingers over Rintarō’s arm growing languid and sluggish.
“I think I’ll turn the alarm off today,” Rintarō decided aloud. “I’m really not feeling up for a morning run… Maybe I’ll go running with you today instead.” He loved the way the sunrise played over Motoya’s body, and now he was wondering how he looked in the sunset, too.
Motoya just hummed in response.
“Fine by me,” his lover agreed.
And the golden sunlight shifted once more over his face as he leaned in to wrap Rintarō’s lips up in a slow, sweet, sleepy kiss—a kiss that tasted nothing short of liquid gold, ichorous and divine.
