Currently obsessed with Dishonored.
what the fuck is going on in the La Volpe tag?
Thank god for Tumblr’s block option.
[5:22:17 PM] Bree: Fed’s good at chess in canon
[5:23:10 PM] Bree: maybe he beats volpe all the time and volpe is all I LET YOU WIN when he’s really crying on the inside
[5:23:34 PM] Nadija (Velli): HAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHA
[5:23:35 PM] Nadija (Velli): like
[5:23:48 PM] Nadija (Velli): “I have no fucking idea what I’m doing” /moves chess piece and looks really serious
[5:24:21 PM] Bree: “you can’t do that move Maestro”
“THIS IS LA VOLPE’S CHESS”
[5:24:30 PM] Nadija (Velli): HAHAHHAHAHAH
[5:24:43 PM] Nadija (Velli): the king can move however the fuck he wants
[5:24:46 PM] Nadija (Velli): BECAUSE HE’S THE KING
[5:25:18 PM] Bree: ARE YOU BACKCHATTING ME
[5:25:24 PM] Bree: ARE YOU TALKING BACK TO YOUR TEACHER
[5:27:48 PM] Nadija (Velli): and then volpe loses anyway
[5:28:42 PM] Bree: “I let you win” ;n;
[AN: Told you I was going to write something.]
Moving through the dark inn, Niccolò felt far more nervous than he should have. It was late; very few patrons remained in the bar, and the men who were there were quiet, melancholy, their faces expressionless as they gazed into their tankards. Only two thieves kept watch there, and they allowed Niccolò to pass without comment. There were at least two more awake at this hour, but they kept watch from the rooftop as a precaution and as usual, Niccolò hadn’t been able to see them as he approached the inn.
His footsteps were silent on the floorboards as he made his way down the corridor. Not a sound came from the rooms as he passed them, adding to the air’s oppressive stillness and making it seem thick and hard to breathe. He was heading for the very last room, a bedroom he knew hid more secrets than the average man’s. He had yet to discover them all. He reached the end of the corridor.
[AN: Not very good, but if I’m going to get over this writer’s block, I have to write! I’m sorry. XDD]
Under any other circumstances, Niccolò would have been entertained by the dumbstruck look on La Volpe’s face. The thief’s expressions were always carefully practiced, so it was rare to surprise him into showing true emotion. But Niccolò was far too nervous to really appreciate it; usually so composed, he was wringing his hands together behind his back, and he kept having to shift his weight from one foot to the other because he couldn’t seem to get comfortable. After what seemed like an age, La Volpe spoke.
“You,” he said slowly, “are interested in me.”
[AN: Just a quick one!]
La Volpe wasn’t sure what had happened. Yesterday, his apprentice had been the same child he saw every day; now, he was looking at a young man, handsome and strong, with enough curiosity to kill ten cats and whose touch no longer felt innocent and friendly.
Federico’s full lips curved into an inviting smile, his long finger dragged over La Volpe’s jawline, and he was close enough for La Volpe to see precisely where his pupils stopped and his dark brown irises began. That finger tilted his chin up, and Federico leaned over him; La Volpe found himself scooting back in his seat, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to push Federico away yet.
[I felt like revisiting this pairing and this idea came to me in the shower, of all places. Enjoy.]
Today had not been a slow day for Niccolò; having to review the situations in every major influential realm in the world was no easy task, after all. From the moment he had woken up, he had read report after report, and was just starting to draw up some contracts for Ezio’s apprentices. With so much work to be done, Niccolò had had no time to be bored.
[AN: here you are, lovely! I hope you don’t mind that this isn’t actually the celebration itself, but just inspired by it because I didn’t want to write a modern AU.
I don’t know if I’m happy with this.]
Ten minutes after La Volpe had left, when Niccolò had finally resigned himself to putting on his clothes and readying himself for the day, he found it.
It was hard to miss, really; the little box had been slipped into his trouser pocket when he wasn’t looking, and the corner of it was digging into his leg. He pulled it out, frowning as he turned it over in his hands. Then he opened it.
The bracelet was thin and intricate, with silver linking amber-coloured gems together. Niccolò slipped it onto his wrist, smiling. As if La Volpe could have been anymore obvious.
Then he paused. La Volpe was a deliberate man; if he had wanted to anonymously give the present to Niccolò, he would have found a way. No, he wanted Niccolò to know who it was from, without giving it to him in person… Oh.
Niccolò’s grin widened. La Volpe was trying to start a game. Well, who was Niccolò to deny him?
He decided to put his other tasks on hold for now. He had a necklace to buy.
It took him a while to decide what colour gem suited him the best; after all, the gems La Volpe had chosen were reminiscent of the thief himself. He finally chose a small, green pendant on the end of a thin silver chain. He decided he liked the colour; it had many negative connotations, but it also had its positives, if one cared to look. And La Volpe would.
Yes, green was perfect.
That night, as La Volpe slept in his bed, Niccolò slipped the necklace into the thief’s robes.
La Volpe was wearing it upon his next visit.
The writing kit was beautiful, with quills and ink, wax for his seals, parchment and paper and a hundred other little additions that made it unique to Niccolò’s collection. He ran his fingers over it, admiring it, and then opened it up.
On the first sheet of paper, scrawled messily in pencil, was an unsigned note.
Did you know I’m actually paying for these?
Niccolò chuckled, a warmth blooming inside his chest.
Niccolò hid in the tunnel entrance outside La Volpe Addormentato, watching as his thief examined the horse Niccolò had left for him. It had cost a small fortune, and he didn’t care.
The underling that had fetched him watched quizzically as La Volpe smoothed his hand over the horse’s flank. He walked around it slowly, a critical look on his face, before running a hand down the horse’s nose. The horse snuffled his palm, and La Volpe burst into amused, uproarious laughter. The underling looked completely bewildered now.
Satisfied, Niccolò turned to make his way through the tunnels.
He was less pleased when he discovered that La Volpe had named the horse “Mackie”, citing it to be an English name.
After hearing nothing from his thief for a full week, La Volpe climbed in through his bedroom window, a box tucked under his arm.
“For you, Niccolò,” he said, bowing mockingly as he presented the package. Niccolò raised an eyebrow, wondering why La Volpe was breaking the rules of their game, and opened his present. He gaped.
It was the largest necklace he had ever seen, and little wonder it was so heavy. Made of gold twisted into patterned knots, it was adorned with small diamonds, rubies, amethysts, sapphires, and a number of other costly gems. Niccolò had never seen anything like it.
“Which monarch did you rob for this?” he asked, and La Volpe just grinned. “You know I can’t keep this.”
“I know,” La Volpe replied cheerily. “I figured you would pawn it off and inject the money into the Brotherhood. It’s not like we don’t have access to the black market, after all.”
Damn, La Volpe knew him too well.
“So, can you top that?” La Volpe asked eagerly, mischief shining in his violet eyes. Niccolò took a deep, shuddering breath, placed the necklace aside, and met his thief’s gaze.
“All I can give you,” he said evenly, “is myself.”
La Volpe paused, his breath visibly catching. Then he reached out and smoothed a knuckle over Niccolò’s cheek, his expression softening.
“I think you just won,” he said softly. “I can’t beat that.”
Niccolò smiled and turned his head to kiss La Volpe’s palm.
[AN: thank you, anon! I hope you like this. This is seriously how I imagine their relationship: very open and matter-of-fact.]
Niccolò had given no indication that he thought of La Volpe as anything but a fellow Assassin, or at best a friend. That did not make La Volpe reconsider anything because really, he had nothing to lose. At worst, Niccolò could decide that he wasn’t attracted to La Volpe, and that would be that. There was no point in being afraid of it. At best, they could end up naked somewhere. Anywhere. La Volpe wasn’t all that picky with where they fucked.
Niccolò was at the Tiber Island Hideout, sorting through assassination contracts for Ezio to later assign. The room he was using as an office was tiny, with just enough space to fit a desk and a shelf. He glanced up briefly when La Volpe entered, flashing a smile and gesturing for him to take a seat.
“What can I do for you, my friend?” he asked, returning to his work. La Volpe didn’t bother to sit, instead considering how to proceed. He could simply tell Niccolò, but the man mightn’t completely comprehend what the hell La Volpe was saying; it was rather sudden, after all. In the end he simply settled for hauling the man from his chair, pinning him against the wall and slamming their lips together.
Niccolò made a noise of surprise, but he didn’t tense up. When La Volpe pulled away, he looked dazed. Then he blinked and the clouded look disappeared, replaced by a smirk.
“Aren’t you thieves supposed to be subtle?”
La Volpe chuckled, still crowding him in against the wall. “Only when we need to be.”
Niccolò hummed in agreement, before seizing La Volpe by the front of his tunic and pulling him into another kiss. La Volpe let his hands roam freely, let his hips grind against Niccolò’s, and only when Niccolò’s mouth found his neck did he speak.
“I doubt this room is large enough.”
“Nor does it have the appropriate tools.” He felt Niccolò’s lips curl into a smirk against his skin. “But I suspect Ezio’s room does.”
La Volpe paused breathlessly. “He could walk in.”
“The Apprentices will see us pass.”
La Volpe chuckled, low and rumbling. “I have always liked the way you think, Niccolò,” he said.
Niccolò simply grinned and pushed La Volpe out of the way to leave the office, beckoning for his thief to follow. La Volpe obliged eagerly.
Part of him almost hoped Ezio would walk in. The look on his face would be priceless.
[AN: Let’s face it, this blog was never going to be SFW]
The cloth covering the table was beautiful; Ottoman influence, unless Niccolò missed his guess. Rich gold and royal blue embroidery on a fine, blood-red background, the patterns were unique and exotic and though Niccolò had no idea where the Assassins had managed to procure this beautiful item, he was glad for its presence.
Niccolò ran his hands down Petruccio’s body, his eyes drinking in every detail. Petruccio watched him through dark, hooded eyes, a small smile on his face, content to simply allow Niccolò to explore his body for now. Niccolò bit his lip, suddenly feeling a little nervous, and pressed gentle kisses to Petruccio’s stomach. Petruccio laughed.