Likes: Assassin's Creed, Dishonored, Dragon Age, Fable, Fallout, Final Fantasy XII, Game of Thrones, Kingdom Hearts, Kushiel's Legacy, probably some other stuff idk
RPing is fun as fuck too yo
I tag everything. If you want me to add a tag just send me a message.
Despite his reputation as a slacker, Federico was an early riser. A morning person. Vieri despised morning people and he particularly despised Federico for being one, because the great idiot was chipper and all too eager to start the day that he would often wake Vieri up whenever they shared a bed. Vieri had yet to wake up before him.
[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: Sad!Anon asked me to write them some cute Fed/Vi to cheer them up, so here it is! Kudos to Cat for giving me the idea. I hope this is okay!]
Vieri was annoyed. He was beyond annoyed, but too exasperated to be angry. He was tired too, and uncomfortable; Federico leaned heavily on his shoulder, his limp slowing them down. If it wasn’t for the sharp intake of breath every time he put his weight on his right leg, Vieri would probably have dumped him on the side of the road and left him.
“Come for a horse ride in the countryside,” he had said. “We can spend some time together, away from people.” Oh, look how well that had turned out: they hadn’t been able to get away from people entirely, because there had been bandits waiting in the bushes on the side of the dusty road, ready to ambush anyone who crossed their path. Unfortunately for Federico, he had been the first in the line of fire; he was pulled from his horse, landing heavily on his right knee. So much for his great perception skills.
[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: Anon asked me to write them some cute GioLor and here it is! I’m sorry it’s not very good, Anon. :c I tried!]
Lorenzo was not one to sit back and do nothing; at work or at play, his attention had to be focused on something. If he had nothing to do, he became restless and irritable.
There were exceptions to everything, however, and for the moment Lorenzo was content to simply feel his Assassin’s hands on him, feel a soft mouth glide over his skin as it was slowly bared. He shivered pleasantly, and Giovanni responded with a quiet chuckle.
[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.
[AN: if there are typos, please let me know. I don’t have a beta.]
If Federico had hoped Vieri’s awkwardly affectionate mood would carry on the next morning, he was to be disappointed. Almost as soon as he woke, Vieri had tried to sit up and instead groaned in pain, rolling onto his stomach and shooting Federico a glare. If looks could kill, Federico thought dryly.
“You didn’t tell me it would hurt this much!” Vieri hissed at him. “Get out of here before I see fit to drive a sword up your backside!”
Almost immediately, Federico knew he had made a mistake. Ezio’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the front of Federico’s tunic tightened. For a moment, Federico felt himself lift before he was suddenly slammed back onto the ground, crying out as his head hit the road.
[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.
[I wrote this ages ago, but it appears to have been deleted off Y!Gallery for some reason. So fuck that site, I’m posting it here. Enjoy the pointless smut AU.]
As he stirred, the first thing Niccolò noticed was that he was sitting upright, which was very odd because he clearly remembered going to bed after bidding his assistant goodnight. Going to bed, as in lying down in it. On his back.
The next thing he noticed was that despite having opened his eyes, everything was still black. He was blindfolded.
Once a day, Vieri would venture out of the house and take a short walk to the nearest herald, to listen to the news of the day. Occasionally, he would hear something about Florence, invoking in him a sense of nostalgia and a strange homesickness for a place he hadn’t seen in twelve years. Today, however, he was experiencing different, mixed emotions.
Lorenzo de’ Medici, the duke he had been brought up to despise, had died at his villa in Careggi.
Vieri had no problem admitting to himself that he wasn’t particularly grieved by this passing. For 26 years, his family had ensured that he hated the Medici even more so than the Auditore, and such strong teachings beginning at such a young age were near impossible to undo. No, if he was to be completely honest with himself, what Vieri was worried about was how Federico was going to take the news.
“Every year, I’ve asked,” Federico said, a pleading note to his voice. He stood in front of Vieri’s desk and leaned over it, his hands propping him up. “And every year, you’ve said no.”
“Then that track record should have been something of an indication to you concerning my answer this year.” Vieri leaned on his desk, his chin cupped in his hand, looking entirely unmoved. Federico gave him a pleading look, but it only earned him an eye roll. “I’m not going to Carnevale. You should have known better than to ask.”
Federico considered making a pain of himself as Vieri suffered through the aftermath of a night of heavy drinking, but he wisely decided against it. Vieri would probably castrate him, and Federico was rather attached to his genitals.
The heralds were harking eagerly the next day about Vieri’s observed commotion at the Palazzo della Seta: Emilio Barbarigo had been murdered. The news left Federico quietly contemplative. He had known, of course, that there were Assassins in Venice, but hearing about their work - and he had no doubt that it was an Assassin who had killed Emilio Barbarigo - was another thing entirely.
Federico had gotten it into his head to try and mop the kitchen floor. And he was failing spectacularly.
Vieri sat at the desk, watching him with an impassive expression, though his amusement was growing by the second. Water was everywhere, he’d mopped around the furniture instead of moving it, and best of all, he was going backwards. He had yet to notice, and Vieri wasn’t about to point it out to him. This was too funny.