#ashida writes

Victor likes to cuddle in the dark, Yuuri notices. He likes to embrace in the silence of their shared mornings off with nothing but Makkachin on the end of their bed and the sound of their hearts beating in tandem.

He never turns a lamp on, he never checks his phone to send light blaring into the room to interrupt their quiet peace, he never gets up to let the new day in before he has to. Victor likes to drag their mornings in the dark out as long as possible. And Yuuri knows it’s because as soon as the light hits them the day isn’t theirs alone anymore. There’s always training, and coaching, and traveling, and worrying about all of the above.

So they cuddle in their room that’s as pitch as night with their blackout curtains, and only a small promise of day and all the responsibilities it brings creeps in from around the edges.

Yuuri notices too; that Victor always wakes up first. And on those mornings when he wakes up Yuuri is already gathered into Victor’s arms and held tight against his chest. There’s always warm kisses in his hair and the quiet humming to a tune that sounds a lot like happily ever after.

It takes a long time for Yuuri to understand. But eventually: he does. In the dark with their dog at the end of the bed and their unspoken good mornings, with the heavy thump of healed hearts and the tune of Victor’s happiness: Yuuri understands. He understands the heat of the kisses in his hair, the spark of Victor’s skin on his.

Yuuri finally understands the warmth of the sun on his back and the true embrace of daylight. And Yuuri knows why Victor doesn’t open the curtains or turn on the lights.

Neither of them need those things to see.

On their mornings off with no alarms to rouse them and no where else he’d rather be: Yuuri wakes up second, but he’s always the first one to speak. He doesn’t turn around, he simply whispers to the dark knowing that Victor can hear him, that Victor is waiting.

“Good morning, moyo Solnyshko.”

And it’s always like dawn breaking even in the darkness as Victor squeezes Yuuri tighter in his arms and smiles against the back of Yuuri’s neck. Victor’s answer is always the same too. He was the one who knew the meaning of it first, the one who taught Yuuri after all.

I’ve been inspired by all the birthday messages so I decided to write some birthday fluff for my favourite mafia boys to thank everyone. (And for my friend's birthday too😂) It was so fun to write them again.

—- Yuuri wakes up slowly, unaware of the chill outside the warm plush blankets, oblivious of the snowfall beyond the curtains because of the distracting heat next to him.

The ceiling is foreign, but the fact that it’s foreign is all too familiar to him. All of his surroundings apart from the chest he’s sleeping against and the hand playing in his hair are different. The four poster bed, the satin sheets and the baroque furniture. Nothing is the same, but yet everything is as it should be.

He’s only spent one mere night in this specific hotel room, and yet it still manages to feel like home more than any permanent fixture ever could.

Yuuri knows exactly what day it is, and for once, he doesn’t get up and get dressed without ceremony, he doesn’t put on layer upon layer and conceal a piece of himself with each garment. He doesn’t check and load his weapons or make sure his knives are sharp, he doesn’t conceal them with a jacket and a metaphorical mask that’s heavier than any weightless thing should ever be.

Today used to be just another day to fight, just another day to die, just another day to make it through alive.

Instead, he curls into Victor’s chest and listens to the hum Victor gives in reply because he’s awake too. There’s so such thing as sleeping in when their time together is limited.

It’s the 25th of December, and for the first time ever, it feels like Christmas to Yuuri, and with the humming vibrating in his ear and the kisses Victor is nuzzling into the top of his hair, he finally knows why.

“Merry Christmas to me.” Yuuri sighs out loud, and before he knows it his arm his holding onto Victor tighter, his very own gift that will always be more than any human deserves.

And even as Victor is hugging Yuuri tighter to his chest in return, he can feel Victor’s breath pause in his hair.

“Why do you say that?” And the very first words Victor Nikiforov whine to him on the first Christmas they’re together are a whine, pouted lips pressing against his head. He can hear Victor’s real question. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’

The most terrifying man of the underworld- someone capable of stealing the moon - is hugely sentimental, he’s a romantic, he likes presents on valentines and to celebrate anniversaries and any date that means something. He likes to make memories and take selfies that they always have to delete. He likes to go on dates and hold hands only where no one can see. He likes to use the word boyfriend and kiss hello and goodbye- always too many goodbyes.

Yet chances to spend those times together, to do those things and make memories are always slim, there’s always been something, conflicting schedules or responsibilities neither of them can trust to anyone else.

And because of all that, Victor has also been waiting for this day since the day they met. Their first Christmas Day together.

“It’s merry Christmas to me Victor, because it’s your birthday.” Yuuri smiles as he stares up at the unfamiliar ceiling and feels Victor lose any comeback that was on his tongue.

“Yuuri…”

There’s something incredibly satisfying in making Victor Nikiforov speechless, even more so when it’s because he’s surprised him for a change.

“Happy birthday, Victor,” Yuuri echoes again, and he knows full well his partner doesn’t need material gifts or something to unwrap to go along with those words.

There’s a hand tracing the tattoos on his arm now, lazy lines as Victor looks down at the difference in their skin. Victor’s unblemished and flawless, a canvas for all Yuuri’s colours and scars.

“You spoil me, love.” Victor whispers into his hair once more, smile in his voice as his heart thumps in is chest against Yuuri’s ear. “Thank you.”

“No. Thank you.” Yuuri whispers back.

Today is the gift for them both. Waking up with each other, this small pocket of isolation outside reality.