#sim writes

Hello all,

I have decided to link my fics to a masterpost here. I intend to try to write more and post more on Tumblr, so I'll update it as I go.

Fair warning - I might write for ships you don't like. Please feel free to block the tags or block me. Either way, no hard feelings.

Rated T:

Betrayal: Oneshot (Now Out of Date With New Lore)

Ships: Loba/Revenant

Summary: Kairi's been acting skittish, and Loba knows just who to ask about it.

Commonality: Oneshot

Ships: Loba/Revenant

Summary: Loba realizes she has more in common with Revenant than she cares to admit.

In The Cards: Oneshot | Collab with @the-mechanica

Ships: Catalyst/Revenant

Summary: Catalyst ends up reading the simulacrum his cards.

Life & Death at the Burning Edge!: Oneshot | Collab with @the-mechanica

Ship: Loba & Revenant.

Summary: Loba takes her revenge on Revenant for sending her a creepy Halloween text. (Collab with @the-mechanica)

Rated E:

Chase: Oneshot

Ships: Loba/Bloodhound

Summary: Tracking gets Bloodhound's blood hot. Their prey? The she-wolf herself, Loba Andrade.

Five's an Uprising | Oneshot

Ships: Loba/Revenant

If two's company, and three's a crowd... what does that make five? - Revenant wants to thank Loba for all she's done for him. After all, what's ultimate power if you can't have a bit of fun with it?

From the Ashes : Multichapter | Sequel to MAD

Ships: Loba/Revenant, Loba/Bloodhound, Catalyst/Revenant, Bloodhound/Fuse.

Two old contenders reenter the Games, and in doing so, reveal a sinister plot.

Like a Moth to a Flame: Oneshot

Ships: Loba/Revenant

Summary: After breaking up with Kairi, Loba tries dating again. Her only problem? Revenant loves crashing her dates. It could be worse. He has his uses, after all.

Mutually Assured Destruction: Multichapter

Ships: Loba/Revenant, Fuse/Bloodhound, Kairi/Loba, Loba/Bloodhound.

Summary: Loba's obsessed with torment. Revenant's obsessed with revenge. This brand of obsession has a tendency to evolve - to warp into something new. Something malicious. Something *wrong*. Obsession has consequences... for everyone.

No Time for Regret: Multichapter | Collab with @the-mechanica

Ships: Loba/Revenant

Summary: Loba never considered herself one to not think things through. Which is why, when given the opportunity to go back in time to be the one who kills Kaleb Cross, she took it. Now, when faced with the actual hitman, she may have to consider otherwise.

Only You: Oneshot | Collab with @the-mechanica

Ships: Loba/Revenant

Summary: After stealing her fan during a match, Revenant comes to Loba with proposition. Part 4 of The Hollow series

Osculum Obscenum: Oneshot

Ships: Catalyst/Revenant.

Summary: Kairi tries her luck with Tressa. Tressa has other interests.

Out of My Head: Oneshot | Collab with @the-mechanica

Ships: Loba/Revenant

Summary: After catching Kairi in a lie, Loba takes herself dancing. Part 5 of The Hollow series

Quickie in the Thick of It: Oneshot

Ships: Fuse/Bloodhound, Loba/Bloodhound.

Summary: Stormpoint is immense. Sometimes, it takes an entire game before Hound sees a living soul. Luckily for them, the distance means that they can have a bit of fun.

Returning the Favor: Oneshot | Related to Quickie

Ships: Fuse/Bloodhound/Loba

Summary: Loba, Bloodhound, and Walter get a little cozy after a match on Stormpoint.

The Wolf, the Witch, and the Demonio: Oneshot | Sequel to Osculum Obscenum

Ships: Loba/Catalyst, Catalyst/Revenant, Loba/Catalyst/Revenant.

Summary: Tressa piques Loba's interest, and receives an interesting proposition from her lover in response.

"Trouble in Paradise": Oneshot | Collab with @the-mechanica

Ships: Loba/Revenant

Summary: Kairi bears witness to her girlfriend feuding with her own personal demon. Part 3 of The Hollow series

(it is, technically, a weekend in this prompt)

- - - 

A small wedding. That’s what they’d said. Then he and Victor had sat down to actually begin the process of coming up with a guest list, and it quickly became apparent that most of the ISF was going to receive invitations.

Yuuri should have known better than to expect anything other than chaos at the reception. Victor has a dangerous friend with a knife-edged smile, and even though they were only serving champagne, that bottle of vodka had come from somewhere. He’s got a little bit of a headache still, not quite a hangover but close, and his memories of the party are a bit of a blur. He remembers that he and Victor were made to play a kissing game, mimicking helpful demonstrations put on by their guests. There was one called melt-the-ice, demonstrated by Christophe and Julian, and another called the triplets are in bed, put on by Takeshi and Yuuko, at which point Yuuri was pretty sure he was going to die until Minako sidled up with another glass of champagne. Should’ve seen your parents when they were teenagers, she said, which was apparently meant to be helpful, except as Yuuri glanced at his Kyushu-born-and-bred dad, already red-faced from champagne, he might’ve been pushed just an inch closer to the grave. 

“Victor,” he’d said then, draining his glass of champagne, “dance with me.” 

And that hadn’t made anything any less embarrassing but it had made his world smaller again, narrowed it down to Victor’s charming smile, the brilliant blue of his eyes, the feel and sound of him. Victor’s drunk laughter, over-loud and over-frequent, evidence of a joy too big for his body. Victor’s sloppy kisses, the shift of Victor’s hips as they danced, Victor’s possessive hands. 

Yuuri remembers a lot of dancing. Remembers the ride back to the hotel, remembers getting stripped out of what was left of his suit at that point only to turn around and find Victor Nikiforov, five-time world champion, Yuuri Katsuki’s husband, absolutely passed-out asleep.

It’s morning now. They’ve got an early afternoon flight to make and Victor is still asleep, which is a rare thing. Normally, when Yuuri gets to watch Victor sleep, it’s at nighttime, listening to Victor half-heartedly grumble about the glare from Yuuri’s laptop or his phone as he nonetheless crowds closer. Then, Yuuri gets to listen to the way Victor’s breath steadily bottoms out, gets to study the way shadows play on his face in the dark. It’s a wholly different thing to watch him sleep in the morning; Yuuri’s not sure what Russian hag Victor sold his soul to once, but he’s got an unholy ability to wake up early in practically every timezone, handles his jet-lag like he’s not even human. On their days off, it’s not uncommon for Yuuri to wake up and find Victor already fully dressed and back from Makkachin’s morning walk with coffee and pastries. 

Not much sunlight is coming in from the window, but the light is different at the start of the day than it is at the end, gentler and warmer somehow. Yuuri indulges: he studies all the parts of Victor that he likes so much, watching the flutter of his lashes and counting the scatter of his freckles. Sometimes his doubts creep in, insidious voices that try to tell him that this isn’t real, or you don’t get to have this, but this is one of those mornings where Yuuri just knows. The memory of their wedding vows is fresh and crisp and clear. Victor Nikiforov is his husband. He gets little luxuries like this one for the rest of his life, and he’ll take whatever comes after, too. 

Yuuri knows Victor well enough to understand that when he does wake he’ll be grumpy and hungover, so eventually he extricates himself from bed to seek out a sprite and some crackers from the vending machines, takes a shower. When he’s done with all that, and Victor’s still not awake, turned over with his face pressed into the pillow in defiance of the day, Yuuri knows not to let time drag on for too much longer. They have a honeymoon to get to; two weeks spent visiting a lot of the places Victor insists are his favorites, beautiful things that he wants to show to Yuuri now that he’s got someone to share them with. Yuuri climbs back into bed, curls around his husband’s frame. “Vitya,” he hums carefully against the shell of an ear, letting his fingers give in to temptation to run soothing patterns along Victor’s back and sides, “It’s time to get up now.”

Victor grumbles something that sounds positively foul in Russian. Yuuri noses his temple to no effect, kisses his jaw only to be ignored with a death-groan and a dive under the pillow. 

Desperate times. Yuuri sighs and sits up. “Yuuri Katsuki is just a dime-a-dozen skater,” he says, in crisp English. This does the trick: Victor sits up holding the pillow like he intends to brandish it as a weapon.

“Yuuri Katsuki is perfect we’re getting married I’ll fight you,” he says, and then sways where he sits, hit by the after-effects of those vodka shots and a whole lot of champagne. “Oh,” grunts Victor, cringing, and a softly laughing Yuuri helps him back against the headboard, offers him a drink. 

“Love,” he reminds Victor, carding his fingers through his husband’s hair, “we’re already married.”