#Hytham x reader

[frenchoravocadotoast]

Hytham headcanons

Hytham (AC Valhalla) x GN!reader

Word count: 1078

A/N's note: I've been meaning to write about Hytham these past few weeks! Have some headcanons while I finish reading The Golden City :) (it got a bit angsty at the end)

Hytham’s love languages are gift giving and quality time. Hear me out.

He's pretty quiet (compared to the rowdy Vikings, at least), but true to his creed, he watches everything and everyone like a hawk. This applies to you too.

Hytham is willing to wait when he starts to grow interested in someone. He’d much rather approach them only once he feels like he’s gotten to know them both from the inside and the outside. I don’t see him seeking his crush out from the very beginning – he prefers bonding with them over time and seeing where things go.

Do not be fooled by his acting. Whether he’s cackling at a joke, dining at the longhouse or target practicing, Hytham is sure to be eavesdropping on your conversation. If you’re nearby, that is. This doesn’t mean that he’s spying on you specifically – he tends to strain his ears (like all Hidden Ones do, really), and sometimes, if he’s lucky, he might just hear your voice.

When he does, he smiles to himself.

You’re good friends with Eivor, and often accompany her on her errands around the village. This has led you to the bureau multiple times, and Hytham is always caught off guard by the unexpected visit.

“🧍🏾‍♂️Oh. Good evening.”

You like the place, it’s cozy and the man isn’t bad company either. So you stay, and even if there’s other parchments he needs to finish before sunset, Hytham perks up at the chance to answer any question you might have (grinning and kicking his feet when you show interest in the creed).

So that’s where you spend time together. Celebrations in Ravensthorpe are also guaranteed to lure him out of his cove – you’ll be sure to find him letting loose and coming out of his shell more. His favorite game is apple bobbing, and he’s determined to win everytime – but despite his competitive streak, he might pretend to lose if he’s going up against you.

As for gift giving, it doesn’t evolve into actual physical gifts until later on (he thinks that’d be way too obvious). Instead, his first ‘gifts’ are things you might need.

Whether you have experience in fighting/self-defense or not, Hytham hints at the training yard he and Basim use. He invites you to use it whenever you please (you can pummel the dummies for a bit, as long as you put them back in their place); and if you have no experience whatsoever, he’ll gladly teach you some things.

You don’t get to have your own hidden blade though. Sorry (ask Basim for one)

But you can try his! Just don’t die.

If you do somehow get injured, you can have the medicine he’s made. It’s all yours.

Interested in a particular topic? He probably has a book about it at the bureau (or he’ll find it somehow, don’t ask) and will gladly let you take it.

Teaches you how to do the leap of faith. If you pull his leg just like Eivor did and don’t leave the haystack, I think he’d have a similar reaction.

“Very funny. You can come out now.”

“We are so not doing this rn.”

“Please.”

“Please, Basim will kill me.”

Things start to shift when you see the signs. You crack a joke with your friends and notice Hytham’s already looking at you with a soft smile. You tell him your pouch is broken, and remember the beautiful purse you’d once seen at a market in Lunden. Days later, coincidentally, Eivor brings you a beautiful leather pouch from the same city (hint: it wasn’t Eivor’s idea). You also find him playing hide and seek with the Norse children outside, and he urges you to join.

You start testing out your theories. When spring comes, you comment on the beauty of the blooming flowers and he’s immediately crouched down, going through every plant in your vicinity to tell you everything he knows about them. By the end, you have a large bouquet of flowers in your hands.

Eivor sees this, and jokingly tells Hytham he should get some purple ones and smack you in the face with them (a courting tradition amongst Vikings). Needless to say he’s mortified.

Random secret: he knows how to make flower crowns – his mother taught him when he was younger.

He’s giving you instructions as you weave the stems together, and you can’t help but feel his eyes glancing repeatedly between your hands and face.

It’s not until Ravensthorpe is attacked that you’re forced to face your feelings. The ambush is bad – there is no escape as the docks are on fire, and arrows are whizzing past you no matter where you run. Whether you’re a villager, a sage, or a warrior doesn’t really matter. It’s the kind of attack where you’re certain your next stop is going to be Valhalla.

But then the clashing of swords stop. The last enemy falls to their knees, and through the smoke and the ringing in your ears, you hear the roaring victory of your people.

Sigurd and Basim are looting the bodies. Eivor is opening the longhouse where the villagers have barricaded themselves. But you don’t catch sight of Hytham, not until you see him emerge from the woods along with the other Drengr. His white robes are flapping in the wind, his sword dripping with blood, and he’s holding his side as he grimaces. So you run to him.

He sheathes his weapon when he sees you alive and well, eyes darting all over your face as if scanning for injuries; and before you can say anything, he cups your face and locks his lips with yours.

Congrats! You’re now dating.

Basim tells you and Eivor something enigmatic months before his sudden betrayal. Hytham’s happiness is clearly reason for his gratitude, and no matter how much you insist that Ravensthrope is Basim’s home too, you’re only rewarded with a wry smile from the assassin.

It’s months later, when you’re sitting in the empty bureau with Hytham, that you reason Basim must have known. You watch as Hytham grips the table and rakes his hands through his hair, how he paces the room when he’s not squeezing your hand. He questions everything when you realize Basim must have known all this time – must have known that he wasn’t going to stay, that his apprentice would be alright. That Hytham would be happy in Ravensthorpe. And thus, you make sure it stays that way.

[demigoddessqueens]

girl our baby boy hytham is lacking attention from ys . Can u right where he falls in love with Viking reader and they get married? I think he would be a good husband tbh

THANKS AND I LOVE UR WRITING 🤩✨🤍

Awwwe Hytham deserves some love too!!! 😍

Masterlist 10

First off, that’s Mr. Hytham “I like a woman who can kick my ass kill me”

Nah jk 🤣but really tho 🫣

Hytham will be looking at you with the biggest blown out eyes in admiration

Learned from the Master Basim himself

Your prowess, your build, the braids and tattoos!!

If this is Valhalla, he never wants to leave

Watching you spar or fight in the middle of battles is an art to him, and the blood on your face does nothing to hinder what he admires in your features

Looks for any excuse just to talk to you, even as you tell stories around the fires

Eivor notices his disposition every time you come around, nudging him with a tease every time he blushes around you

Admires your braids and tattoos and asks constant questions about them, watching your face light up as you describe them

Tries to go on walks with you if he can, of course under the guise of “gathering intelligence”

[erzsebetrosztoczy]

hiii . I saw ur requests are open and if u still do fics can u do ac Valhalla hytham x reader? Reader is an artist and hytham enjoys his time with them , also their drawings, maybe he goes through the papers she drew on and sees himself? And he thanks the reader with a kiss.:3

U can change anything u don’t like in this request i just want a fic about my boy hytham .😭😭

Canvas of Secrets

Pairing: Hytham x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: if you count that i love writing yearning and falling in love with Hytham instead of actually having a relationship with him lol THE YEARNING GUYS HE'S A YEARNINER MATERIAL!!!

Note: I feel like I need to get back into the writing mood, writing vibe because its still off for me??? Lemme know I tried my best with my lil fried brain :(

The mid-morning sun bathed Ravensthorpe in a soft, welcoming light, casting long shadows as villagers busied themselves with their daily tasks. The rhythmic clang of blacksmith's hammers and the lively chatter of merchants created a symphony of everyday life. Amid this bustling activity, Hytham moved with a sense of purpose, his mind focused on his duties as a Hidden One. 

Based on the documents Eivor found, another possible target appeared on the horizon, although he still had to do some research to make sure the information was true.

However, that day somehow work eluded the man as he passed by the edge of the settlement, where a small group of children had gathered around a figure seated on a low stool. Curious, he approached, drawn by the sounds of laughter and the sight of animated faces. Sharp laughter rang out in the air, but not with the usual gaiety of children- instead, he heard a soft, restrained laugh.

As he drew closer, he saw you surrounded by the little ones, gleaming eyes watching you, your hands deftly sketching on a large sheet of parchment. The children watched in awe as you brought a scene to life before their eyes, pencil strokes fluid and confident. You were capturing the essence of a lively market, complete with bustling stalls and cheerful passers-by.

Hytham paused, intrigued not only by your talent but also by the way you engaged the children, patiently answering all their questions, letting them try out anything and everything that piqued interest in their little heart from your work.. You glanced up, sensing his presence, offering him a warm smile.

"Ah, Hytham! Come, join us," you called out, your voice light and inviting. "We're just sketching the market today."

He hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. "I didn't mean to intrude. I was just passing by as I heard your little gathering having a good time." He smiled warmly at you.

You waved off his concern with a flick of your hand. "You're not intruding at all. Here, take a look." You held up the drawing, and Hytham marveled at the intricate details and the lively energy that seemed to emanate from the paper.

"You're incredibly talented," he remarked, genuine admiration in his voice.

You chuckled softly. "Thank you. Drawing has always been my way of capturing the world. It helps me see things more clearly, appreciate the beauty in everyday moments."

Hytham nodded, understanding the sentiment. "I can see that. Your drawings have a way of bringing things to life." Hytham chuckled, his eyes flickering between the drawing and her face, admiring the details and the skill that went into it

A child tugged at your sleeve, drawing your attention back to the group. "Can we draw the animals next?" the child asked eagerly.

"Of course!" you replied, ruffling the child's hair affectionately. "Let's find a good spot near the stables."

As the children gathered their papers and pencils, you turned to Hytham once more. "You're welcome to join us, Hytham."

He nodded in response, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips at her invitation, a rare sight that made your heart skip a beat. He then glanced over at the children and thought for a moment before replying.

Very well. I'll join you. He agreed quietly.

Hytham followed her lead as she guided the children over to a spot near the stables where there was enough room for all of them. As they settled down and everyone began drawing the animals around them, Hytham took a moment to observe the scene before him. He chuckled softly at the children's excited chatter and laughter, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. The day passed in a blur of laughter, sketches, and shared stories. Hytham found himself returning to your side time and time again, drawn by your infectious enthusiasm and the sense of peace that seemed to radiate from you. He watched as you guided the children's hands, teaching them to see the world through the eyes of an artist.

As the sun began to set and the children dispersed, you and Hytham found yourselves alone by the stables. Whipping your hands on your apron you joined him at the end of the stalls. Hytham leaned back against the wall of the stable idly, his eyes fixated on the setting sun. He chuckled softly, feeling a sense of peace and contentment in the moment. Once the children had left and it was just the two of you left, he turned his gaze towards you. Yours eyes met and he noticed the warm, knowing look in your eyes. You held his gaze for a moment before speaking quietly in a calm voice, breaking the silence between the two of you.

"Thank you for spending the day with us, Hytham. It was nice to have you here."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. " It was my pleasure to spend the day with you and the children. They're a playful and curious bunch, it was refreshing to be around such innocence. I enjoyed it more than I expected. You have a way of making even the simplest moments feel extraordinary."

You blushed at the compliment, your heart fluttering. "I'm glad you think so. Sometimes, it's the little things that matter most."

He glanced at the drawings scattered around, his gaze lingering on a particularly detailed sketch of a horse. "You have a talent for this, you know. These drawings. They're beautiful."

Your blush deepened, and you looked away, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you, Hytham. That means a lot."

Hytham noticed the way her blush deepened and how she looked away shyly, his smile softening at the sight of her shyness. He chuckled softly and pushed off the wall of the stable, taking a few steps closer to her.

“It's the truth.” He stated softly, his gaze fixed on her with a warm, genuine look in his eyes as he spoke. “You have a gift for capturing beauty on paper.”

 "This has always brought the greatest happiness to my life." You replied, crossing your arms in front of your chest, walking up to the wall and joining him to admire the colors of the setting sun. "The days pass quickly, and we often forget the things that bring us happiness as time goes on. There are memories I don't want to forget. So I learned how to preserve them.”

“And that gift will last a lifetime.” He replied softly, his eyes fixed on the gorgeous hues of orange and red as the sun descended below the horizon.”Memories are important. They make us who we are, after all.” 

"They do," you murmured softly, a smile playing on your lips. "Memories shape us in ways we sometimes don't realize until much later."

Hytham nodded thoughtfully, his eyes still fixed on the horizon where the sun had disappeared. "I never used to think much about memories," he admitted quietly. "My life as a Hidden One demanded focus on the present and the future. But being here with you, experiencing these moments... I realize how much they matter."

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his. "I'm glad you feel that way, Hytham. It's important to cherish the moments that make us feel alive."

Hytham's gaze flickered towards her at the feeling of her fingers brushing against his. A touch that sent a small shiver up his spine. He looked back at her with a softened gaze and a small, warm smile.

“And moments like this?” He gestured with his head to the setting sun and then to their surroundings in the stables, his smile growing slightly. “Are they moments that will stay with you in memory?”

You considered his question, taking in the peaceful scene around you—the gentle rustling of the leaves, the faint scent of hay, and the quiet companionship between you both. The beauty of the moment seemed to intensify with his presence beside you.

"Yes," you replied softly, meeting his gaze. "When shared with someone special, they become the heartbeats of our memories. They're the ones we carry with us, even as time passes."

Hytham's eyes held a gentle intensity as he listened, a small smile playing on his lips. He seemed to absorb your words, savoring the tranquility of the moment, the connection between you both.

He leaned closer, his breath mingling with yours in the cool evening air. "And I want to make more memories like this—with you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, overwhelmed by the sincerity and depth of his feelings. You reached out, cupping his cheek gently in your hand. "I want that too, Hytham," you replied softly, as if afraid this moment  will disappear if spoken out loud. 

He closed his eyes briefly, leaning into your touch. "Then let's cherish this one," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss that spoke of promises yet to be made, and a future waiting to unfold..

Hytham leaned into the touch of your hand on his cheek, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he reveled in the sensation of your touch and words. He felt a wave of emotions swelling within him—a mixture of gratitude, hope, and a sense of belonging he had long suppressed, and he couldn't deny the longing that stirred in his heart at the thought.

As he opened his eyes and looked at you, a soft, vulnerable look in his eyes, he took in your beauty under the golden light...

You reached up, gently threading your fingers through his hair, cherishing the softness of his dark locks beneath your touch.

Hytham's heart skipped a beat at the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He let out a low, almost inaudible sigh, closing his eyes momentarily as he enjoyed the sensation of your touch. It was a simple gesture, but it felt intimate and tender, a connection that seemed to deepen with every passing moment.

He swallowed, his words barely above a whisper as he spoke, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability and tenderness."I've long kept my heart guarded, hidden beneath the weight of duty and the shadows of my past," Hytham murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes remained closed, savoring the intimacy of your touch, the way your fingers threaded through his hair with such gentleness.

"But with you," he continued softly, opening his eyes to meet yours, "it feels as though the walls I've built around myself are slowly crumbling. Your presence... your touch... they awaken something within me that I thought I had lost."

His admission hung in the air, vulnerable yet filled with an honesty that spoke of deeper emotions. The golden light of the setting sun cast a warm glow over both of you, lending an almost ethereal quality to the moment.

You felt your heart swell with tenderness at his words, understanding the weight they carried. Gently, you let your hand caress his cheek, your touch conveying comfort and acceptance. "Hytham," you whispered, your voice soft with emotion, "you don't have to carry that weight alone anymore. I'm here, and I want to share whatever burdens you carry."

Hytham's gaze softened at your words, and he reached up, gently resting his hand over yours as it gently caressed his cheek.

"Thank you," he murmured sincerely, his voice filled with gratitude. "For seeing beyond the surface, for... for accepting me."

You nodded, a small smile touching your lips as you met his gaze with unwavering compassion. "You've shown me glimpses of who you are beneath the armor, Hytham," you replied softly. "And what I see... it's someone deserving of love and happiness."

The evening breeze stirred around you, carrying with it the quiet intensity of the moment. You stood together, bathed in the fading light of the sun, united in a bond that grew deeper with each shared revelation and tender touch.

When the world around you settled into dusk, you knew that this moment marked a new chapter—a chapter where walls crumbled, hearts opened, and the promise of a future filled with understanding and love blossomed under the gentle caress of an evening's embrace.

[atarathegreat]

Scared for Nothing. Hytham AC Valhalla

Joining the vikings was a large transition for Hytham. He had to adapt so he didn't accidently offend someone for fear of losing his head. No matter how much Basim reassured him, Hytham always feared for his life in his sleep.

"Excuse me!"

Hytham jolted out of his cot at the disgruntled voice. He had never heard such anger on the night of a viking feast, but Basim didn't seem the least bit bothered.

"Apologies!" A sweet giggle was followed by a half-naked viking woman falling through the curtain to the little hut. She was shorter than the typical viking Hytham had become used to, but she could be just as dangerous if he wasn't careful. Her laughter woke Basim, who slept on the other side of the hut, and he approached her fluidly, as if he didn't fear her.

Basim chuckled and lifted her as a bear lifts a tree branch, "Up you get, before you catch a cold." The older man was more generous than Hytham seemed to be, carefully cooing at the drunken giggler as he settled her in his cot. "You can't be serious?" Hytham protested quietly, "What if she wakes and kills us?" And all Basim could do was chuckle, "This tiny girl? Why, she can hardly swing an axe." Basim covered her and sat beside the bed, "Get sleep, Hytham. You will feel better in the morning, and we can help her get through Fornburg without being immodest."

Long ago Hytham had learned that Basim would put him in any uncomfortable position, as a form of "training," in the man's words. It was the worst training Hytham had ever been subject to. But he carried the woman through the little village, hidden only by his hood and her covered only in a large fur. "Over there..." She sounded sickly, like she might throw up from all the things she ate and drank the night before, "Svend will...Svend will help..."

Whoever that was. Hytham called through the cloth, flinching back when a big and burly man came through. "She's greatly exposed...said you would help her..." Hytham mumbled, passing the woman over to him. "Idiot girl, your father will have someone's head for this." Svend sighed, taking her inside.

After the initial encounter, Hytham noticed his mentor keeping an eye on the woman at feasts. It wasn't uncommon for Basim to watch out for others, especially women, but he was dragging Hytham to each and every feast to keep an eye on her.

Gods, she was like a flower in the breeze, dancing as if it were her last day to dance. There was a smile that was brighter than a thousand suns upon her face and, before he knew it Hytham was admitting to himself that this strange viking was...attractive. He loved how freely she did her hair, how loud she spoke in the late hours, and how crazy she was to dive naked into the cold Norway waters. Hytham was hooked by the odd occurrences, captivated by her soul.

"Go and talk to her." Basim chuckled; arms crossed as he leaned against the nearest pillar in the longhouse.

"Talk to her? You must be out of your mind!" Hytham turned away from the man, "I am only here because you have made me come. I would much rather be tucked away in the warmth of the furs."

"You prefer a cot to the festivities? How strange. Considering you always have a drink or two." The smirk on Basim's face was enough to drive Hytham crazy. The man thought he knew everything, never mind that he was right, and Hytham truly did enjoy the feast. But this woman...she was different. She wasn't some tankard of ale or horn of mead, no, she was...Gods, she was something.

She was perfect timing in a terrible hunt. Even as Hytham stayed still, Basim's ideals reached her, and she stumbled over. "Come! Come! You must dance!" the viking lady dragged Hytham into the crowd, moving around in what was anything but dancing. Yet, Hytham let her excitable energy reach him as he attempted to do whatever she did. He even drank himself under the table, a table that was flipped sideways to shield him and the woman from prying eyes as they slept.

[reyofsunshne]

What is btalhm ? You have the authorisation to make that answer a wall of text, tell me everything!

HELLO YES! I love you for jumping on this one and asking me!!

"Better Than A Living History Museum" is BTALHM, my Assassin's Creed Valhalla fic I've been working on properly since 2022, but has been in my writing journal since 2020 when AC Valhalla came out!

It centres on a medieval historian reader who is isekai'd into 9th century England!

Because I'm a giant nerd as well, and 10th century textiles and domestic history is my Thing, the historian reader has skills in weaving, and recently we have had a cheeky development hinting to the Actual plot of AC Valhalla, with the reader being Skuld, one of the Norns (weavers of fate).

I've put literal days of research into this fic, and used a lot of my first hand knowledge of Viking reenactment and camping into use, and where I have no idea, I've actually turned to experimental archaeology instead of guesswork! I'm just really proud of this story, and how it's progressed.

Eventually it'll turn into romance and history, but right now it's focused on a lot of animal husbandry and fabric processing instead of the drama of it all!

If you ever feel like picking it up, knowing it pops in and out of hiatus due to my crazy schedule, it can be found HERE

[starlightt180]

ohhh i have a good prompt-

Y/n is very sick with the stomach flu, can you write how Basim would be gentle and take care of the reader?? 🥺

please make this as short or as long as you’d like if you do end up writing about this owo

sick desert flower

Basim (Valhalla)x sick reader

Basim would be all over you and won’t go anywhere when you are sick.

When he returned from a mission and saw you on the bed holding ur stomach he rushed towards you . Asking what got your stomach to hurt

From then on he got so protective and would make you some traditional food that wont hurt your stomach more from Baghdad . Soup , rice and meat, stuffed vegetables .

Won’t let you work or do anything around the house.

will tell hytham to watch over you and keep an eye on what you eat so your sickness doesn’t get worse.

When u starting getting better he’d be so happy ( bro got tired of cooking and watching) but still he will watch what enters your body and won’t let you do heavy work .

now ur stuck with hytham inside the house

hi . Sorry I took so long to do this last week was full of assignments and exams so I didn’t have time to open tumblr. :\ I hope u like this

[kavtsuki]

everything i post will have adequate warnings and tags applied, but for the safety of everyone here i ask that you please make sure to read this post carefully before sending in a request. requests are currently : 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 !!

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 : 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

i write fluff, angst, smut, headcanons ❪ max five characters ❫, drabbles, alternate universes, and short stories ❪ 5k+ words ❫.

i post some taboo content that anyone under the age of eighteen is not allowed to like, reblog, or interact with. those types of posts will have a "minors do not interact" on it.

i also write stuff that may include age gaps, poly/threesome+, dubcon, incest, toy play, light bdsm, breath play, praise and light degradation, supernatural ❪ i.e. omegaverse, werewolf, vampire, etc. may include knotting in certain cases ❫, choking, stepcest, mommy/daddy kink ❪ to an extent ❫, and dacryphilia.

i will not write about cheating ❪ on the reader's behalf ❫, manipulation, abuse, etc. however, i will write about the reader being cheated on ❪ although not explicitly; mostly just mentioned in passing ❫.

i write strictly male!character x fem! or gn!reader !! i do not write character x character pairings.

i highly suggest reading the warnings on every story that i create in case anything included is possibly triggering for you as a reader. do not proceed to read any story of mine before you have safely comprehended what you are about to read.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄

HARRY POTTER UNIVERSE . . . harry james potter, ronald weasley, neville longbottom, draco malfoy, blaise zabini, theodore nott, dean thomas, fred weasley, george weasley, bill weasley, cedric diggory, oliver wood, james potter, sirius black, remus lupin, sebastian sallow and ominis gaunt.

THE BAD BATCH . . . all of the bad batch members ❪ excluding omega ❫.

DC UNIVERSE . . . bruce wayne ❪ gotham version, battinson version, and comics version ❫, jason todd ❪ red hood, titans, and arkham knight version ❫, dick grayson ❪ nightwing, young justice, and titans version ❫, tim drake ❪ young justice and comics version ❫, damian wayne ❪ comics version ❫, wally west ❪ young justice version ❫, garfield logan ❪ titans version ❫, conner kent ❪ titans and young justice version ❫, and jaime reyes ❪ young justice version ❫.

GOD OF WAR . . . kratos, heimdall, brok, sindri, thor, freyr, mimir ❪ before  beheading ❫ and baldur.

ASSASSIN'S CREED: VALHALLA . . . male!eivor varinsdottir, sigurd styrbjornson, vili hemmingson, hrolfr/rollo, ubba ragnarsson, hytham, basim ibn ishaq, otta sluggason, aelfred the great, and leofrith.

MARVEL UNIVERSE . . . bucky barnes ❪ the winter soldier ❫, stephen strange ❪ doctor strange ❫, peter parker ❪ andrew garfield and tom holland’s versions ❫, and pietro maximoff ❪ quicksilver ❫.

HAIKYUU . . . all of karasuno, all of nekoma, all of aoba johsai, all of date tech, all of shiratorizawa, and all of inarizaki. other characters include takeru nakashima from wakutani south, yuudai hyakuzawa from kakugawa high, suguru daishou, kouji hiroo and isumi sakishima from nohebi academy, and sakusa kiyoomi and motoya komori from itachiyama institute.

BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA . . . all of class 1-A and all of the league of villains. other characters include mirio togata and tamaki amajiki from the big three, tetsutetsu tetsutetsu, sen kaibara, and neito monoma from class 1-B, hitoshi shinsou from the department of general education, yo shindo from ketsubutsu academy, inasa yoarashi from shiketsu high, and pro heroes shouta aizawa ❪ eraserhead ❫, keigo takami ❪ hawks ❫, taishiro toyomitsu ❪ fatgum ❫, toshinori yagi ❪ all might ❫, enji todoroki ❪ endeavor ❫, tensei iida ❪ original ingenium ❫, and mirai sasaki ❪ sir nighteye ❫.

JUJUTSU KAISEN . . . inumaki toge, gojou satoru, chousou, ryoumen sukuna, kento nanami, junpei yoshino, aoi todo, itadori yuuji, and megumi fushiguro.

BUNGOU STRAY DOGS . . . all of the armed detective agency and all of the port mafia. other characters include edgar allan poe and mark twain from the guild, and fyodor dostoevsky from the decay of angels.

DEMON SLAYER . . . tanjiro kamado, zenitsu agatsuma, inosuke hashibira, and giyuu tomioka. other characters include kyoujurou rengoku from the hashira group, genya shinazugawa also from the demon slayer corp, and yushiro the demon.

KUROKO NO BASKET. . . all of seirin high school. all of the generation of miracles, yukio kasamatsu from kaijou high school, takao kazunari from shuutoku high school, tatsuya himuro from yousen high school, and reo mibuchi and kotarou hayama from rakuzan high school.

ATTACK ON TITAN . . . all of the scout regiment. other characters include marco bodt, moblit berner, and reiner braun and bertholdt hoover from the marleyan warriors.

TOKYO REVENGERS . . . manjiro sano ( mikey ), takashi mitsuya, shinichiro sano, naoto tachibana, ken ryuguji ❪ draken ❫, atsushi sendo, chifuyu matsuno, baji kaisuke, kazutora hanemiya, ran haitani, rindou haitani, nahoya kawata ❪ smiley ❫, hajime kokonoi, wakasa imaushi, and souya kawata ❪ angry ❫.

OBEY ME . . . lucifer, mammon, leviathan, beelzebub, belphegor, simeon and diavolo.

VOLTRON: LEGENDARY DEFENDERS . . . keith kogane, lance mcclain, and lotor.

MYSTIC MESSENGER . . . hyun ryu ❪ zen ❫, yoosung kim, jumin han, saeyoung choi ❪ seven/707 ❫, jihyun kim ❪ v ❫, and saeran choi ❪ ray/unknown ❫.

OTHERS . . . leon kennedy + chris redfield + carlos oliveira + ethan winters ❪ resident evil ❫,  joel miller + tommy miller ❪ the last of us - video game version only ❫, steve harrington + eddie munson ❪ stranger things ❫, rick grimes + daryl dixon ❪ the walking dead ❫.

[kiatheinsomniac]

Hey I see with my eyes U have ur requests open it's the Basim anon here if your still open to writing him before Mirage comes out

Can I get Basim x gn!reader where evior introduces the two or hcs if basim has a s/o related to evior or is part of ravensthorpe

idm which (i did see correct that ur requests where open right if i saw wrong plz delete this or ignore it)

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: Honestly I really do feel like the most dynamic AC writer here with the way I write for just about anyone lol. I wasn't really sure what you wanted to see from this because you weren't very specific but I hope you're happy with what I came up with :) 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: Basim Ibn Ishaq 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none

｡･:*˚:✧｡basim ibn ishaq

♡ in all honesty, Basim mostly sticks to his own building with Hytham and only socialises when necessary for things like shopping on the market or trade so he doesn't really talk all that much around Ravensthorpe.

♡ but, he can't escape talking when Eivor comes along to introduce you as her cousin from her father's side. He was formally polite with you to begin with but quickly found you sweet as you filled him with pride by taking an interest in how he and his apprentice had decorated their assigned building in the settlement with decor of their own lands.

♡ growing up in Norway, of course you had been trained in combat; but here in this building, you were exposed to a new form of combat, one of stealth and it interested you greatly. When you asked Basim to teach you, he was more than happy to do so providing you were to respect the tenets of the Hidden Ones.

♡ you were an excellent student and Basim truly did enjoy teaching you. He finds himself learning much more about Norway through you and he relishes time spent with you as you keep the voice of the trickster in his head at bay.

♡ he hopes that he will not lose himself so that he can stay with you.

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ commission me? ∘ join my taglist ∘ consider following/reblogging

🏷️ no taglist for Basim yet :( fill form linked above if you'd liek to be tagged!

[leofrith]

FINALLYYYY okay assassin’s creed + 1, 8, 16, 18

1. the character everyone gets wrong

answered here!

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

valhalla is not the worst ac game ever, just as odyssey was not the worst ac game ever before valhalla came along, just as origins was not the worst ac game ever before odyssey, and syndicate was not the worst before origins, and unity was not the worst game before s—[GUNSHOTS]

this happens literally every time a new ac title gets released. everyone hates the newest game until a newer one comes along for people to hate even more, and then proceeds to look back on the game they previously hated with fondness a few years later. rinse and repeat forever and ever. stop expecting the new games to give you what the ezio trilogy gave you. if you want unity, then go fucking replay unity. if you want black flag, then go fucking replay black flag. if you want the original, then go fucking replay the original. stop rating the games based on what they aren't and instead, rate them based on what they are. of course, none of this is to say that people aren't entitled to their own personal preferences, but the constant complaining makes me wonder if most of these people even like ac at all and in fact, just makes you sound like an insufferable, pedantic asshole.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

reader inserts. not only would I Not Fucking Say That, most of the time the subject of the reader insert also Would Not Fucking Say That. they're almost always made to be so painfully out of character in order to fit into whatever story or preconceived au is being written, to the point where i often wonder if the author even likes or cares about the character they're writing for. personally, if i'm writing a character—especially one i like— i want to make sure i'm doing them justice, which is why i cannot fathom essentially borrowing a character's face and name and nothing else for the purpose of wish fulfillment. it's feels like these authors see all these characters as being completely interchangeable with one another and it drives me fucking crazyyyy.

the only reason i can really think of for not just writing an original work at that point is that using a pre-existing character also provides a pre-existing fandom for your work. but then you're also annoying the shit out of anyone, like me, who is going into a character tag because they want to see content about the actual character, not a 5k ooc smut fic that you couldn't even bother to put under a read-more!!! i cannot stress enough how much i literally would not give a single shit what people are doing with their own free time if the proliferation of those works didn't make every single character tag (and often actor tags as well, because some people will tag every character an actor has ever played in their fics as well, which qualifies as spam btw!!) on this site completely unusable. if i ever wanted to see x reader fics i would search for them specifically, but unfortunately there's also no blanket tag for me to blacklist. so i guess i'll just keep blocking new users until i die.

(yes, i know you said specifically ac and this is a bit more general but this relates to every fandom :/)

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

shut up!!!!! you know i'm gonna say leofrith. 😭 he is the It Girl he is the moment he's got everything!! he's got the kind of religious trauma that only being a christian with a martyr complex could give you. he's got dead parent trauma and a horribly one-sided relationship with his adopted father. he loves ceolbert like a son. the best friendism with hytham. he's literally a sister brother. the dog motif. he is so so deeply unwell. i know he's barely got a character arc to speak of in the game but consider: what if he did? he is everything to me i need to be able to beam the version of him that exists in my head directly into the people's brains or i'll die.

send me a number!

[lunavadash-creates]

Could we have part 2 continuation of the puppy dog eye request? It made me feel all warm & fuzzy. I’d love to see how Eivor (Male or female), Basim and Hytham would handle puppy eyes. Thank you so much in advance.

Hello Dear! Thank you for your patience! I had so much fun writing those 💜

Hytham! (aka the sweetest baby)

This man is like a puppy in a body of a human

Always so polite, nice, respectful

I mean, have you seen his face? He has puppy eyes 24/7

Anyway - you knew how hesitant he was on sharing the secrets of his Brotherhood, but, being a curious and stubborn creature, you decided to use your ultimate weapon

The Puppy Eyes ™

It’s not like anyone in Ravensthorpe could resist you anyway

But Hytham? Seeing you like this… he got so shy!

Cheeks? Red

Eyes? Staring at the ground

Heart? Pounding

Speech? Stuttering

But then he slowly raised his head, with those blue eyes of his peering right into your soul

“y/n, please: I can’t do it. I can’t let down my brothers and sisters, no matter how much I want to share everything with you”

For the first time in your life, you were the one who had to bend under the pressure of the most powerful puppy eye stare in the universe

“Fine. Fine! But then I want to try food from your homeland. You said you know how to make it,”

“Of course, y/n” he would smile and this time, it was your heart pounding like crazy

Basim

“What are you doing with your face?” he would say, frowning

He was quite busy with some stuff, so he just spared you a glance before focusing on his work again

“Basim, please? Let me try your hidden blade on?”

“No”

“Pretty please?”

“No”

“Pleeeeeaaaaasseeeeeee” you almost laid on his desk, giving him the best puppy eyes you could manage to make

Yet, he stood still, unmoved, immune to your charm. Was it the power of a true Hidden One? In that case, you hoped Eivor won’t ever learn that trick

“y/n, the hidden blade is not a toy. Not something I can just let people touch or wear, it is a-” he stopped as he raised his head again and saw you, with this sad face and almost watery eyes, sitting there so sad and disappointed

He sighed, knowing that he lost to your charm

“Five minutes,” he said, reaching for his hidden blade to take it off. You couldn’t believe he actually agreed to it, but hey! You wanted to try it ever since the day Eivor received one! Basim helped you wear it, putting the blade on top of your arm, the same way Eivor was wearing it, and then showed you how to use it. But he never let you out of the little house he shared with Hytham

When the five minutes had passed, you gave him the blade back and were ready to leave when he stopped you. “Y/n? Didn’t you forget something?”

“Forget? What?

“The price,” he said with a wide smile that made your heart sink. “You won’t leave me here without any recompensation, will you?” and suddenly he also made puppy eyes, almost perfectly imitating your own. And then you realised. This was the true power of the hidden one and you had just lost against it.

Bonus: soon you discovered that his bedroom eyes are so much more powerful than the puppy eyes

Eivor (I’m playing as a male Eivor because smexy so since you gave me a choice male Eivor it is)

Eivor never could resist you

When you were children, teens, adults, your puppy eyes always gave you what you wanted

Eivor and Sigurd used to say “eyes more powerful than axes”

Unfortunately, your parents were no longer in the picture, after the spring ride, so you lived alone with your grandmother, a wise woman who was making sure you will become a herbalist. It wasn’t a dangerous job, but it was very demanding and important, much needed in a growing settlement

The problem was your heart. You liked working with herbs and all, but you also needed adventures! You wanted to taste the life of a true Viking so, when you heard Eivor was gathering warriors for a raid, you decided to go as well

“No, you know you can’t go with us. It’s too dangerous and you are more needed here.”

“Eivor, please! When my grandma will move on, I will be stuck here forever! Maybe this will be the last year I will be able to actually leave the settlement, don’t leave me behind!” you begged, and when Eivor turned around to look at you, you gave the best puppy eyes you had in your arsenal

Eivor bit his lip, a bit uncomfortable. Yes, he couldn’t really resist and he could see your point. As a herbalist, soon you won’t be able to leave and no, you still had someone who could carry on your work for a few more weeks

“Fine. I guess if your grandma kills me, I can still go to Valhalla” he muttered under his breath

You laughed at him and dashed to grab your axe! The adventure awaits!

[frenchoravocadotoast]

Take me back to Constantinople

Hytham (AC: Valhalla) x GN!Reader

Word count: 2704

A/N: I finished reading The Golden City a few days ago and I'm inconsolable :] Have some more Hytham content! (because I fell down a rabbit hole)

Had Hytham been told that he would challenge the tenets of the creed again, he would have vehemently denied it.

Constantinople had already been a tedious enough task to complete, and with his feelings involved, the young man swore to never get attached again. The life of an assassin was always on the run, never stable. He wasn’t meant to stay anywhere.

But then they met Sigurd. He and Basim traveled to Norway with him, then to England – and then Kjotve happened, and now Hytham had to stew in his disappointment as he healed from broken bones. His journey of travels ended here. At least he had the bureau to keep himself busy, as well as the lavish dinners to keep him fed and entertained. He liked it when there were get-togethers in Ravensthorpe. 

Like the one from a couple of days ago.

The assassin didn’t know what the reason for the celebration was – not that the vikings needed any. As long as they were promised food and booze at the banquet, they would gladly pillage and conquer any village they were asked to. Hytham had to admit that their logic was pretty efficient, if not a little too simple. But with Eivor, it was different. Her loyalties lay with her own virtues, a moral compass that luckily aligned with Hytham’s; and thus, she would willingly carry out any task that the Hidden One needed of her, even without the promise of a full belly and a drunken tongue.

She’d done a lot for him and his creed, and he couldn’t bring himself to say no to her when she insisted that he attend the celebration. She knew Hytham tended to overwork himself. There was paperwork to finish, new feathers to stock – hell, even the bureau itself was a mess. If Basim were to return with Sigurd now, and find the bureau looking like a rabid drengr had rummaged through it, Hytham would probably have to spend the rest of the month cleaning up the place rather than working up the ranks. 

He pursed his lips, not amused by the idea, but he tried his best to focus on the moment regardless. The clan members had come to form a circle, swaying to the tune of the music, and clasped their hands together as they stomped their right feet in unison. Hytham could feel the tremor under his own feet, and the laughing of the people echoed all over the room, pulling a smile at his lips too.

For a group of drunkards, they danced with great passion and expertise. Practice, Hytham shrugged. It definitely wasn’t their first night drinking and pissing mead, and dancing until their feet hurt. The circle spun faster and faster as the music enhanced. The dancers paired up to twirl and jump, and through the motion blur of faces and twirling dresses, Hytham saw it. Well, he wasn’t quite sure he’d seen it, but the smile looked familiar enough – and as the dancers continued to spin, his eyes settled on you.

He was right, then. You had indeed joined the circle. But your steps were calculated, and you lacked the drunken sway of the vikings who could barely keep themselves upright. Your smile shone bright, and your eyes crinkled under its pull as you switched partners with a woman. Her cheeks matched the tone of her ginger hair, and you somehow managed to avoid getting splashed by her drink, horn in hand.

Hytham’s eyes softened. It was moments like this that made him feel at ease, with no fear of an uncertain future or the haunting of a dark past. Everyone in this room had their fair share of demons, even the children – but they somehow possessed the power to forget about everything for the night, swinging and swaying to the music as the smoke from the bonfire fed off of each chant.

But there was something about you in particular that fascinated Hytham. Perhaps it was the way you carried yourself. The way you spoke, your presence. Maybe it was just the way you looked at him last week, when he’d taught you how to use his throwing knives. He was fixing your posture, and perhaps you’d noticed that he lingered close for too long, because Hytham caught you looking at him on numerous occasions since then. 

There was something there, he mused. A potion brewing quietly, and you were both none the wiser. Even now, the mere memory made Hytham’s fingers twitch as he watched you disappear on the other side of the circle.

“You’re staring.”

He stiffened, not wanting to give the woman the satisfaction of his reaction. 

“I’m just watching them dance.”

Eivor huffed out a laugh, dragging a wooden stool and plopping down next to him. From the corner of his eye, Hytham could see the blade of her ax glimmering under the candlelight.

“Basim was right, you’re awfully transparent.”

Hytham met her eyes, slightly offended. “He said that?”

“You can’t deny it if it’s true,” the blonde shrugged, nodding in your presumed direction. “Why don’t you ask them for a dance?”

Immediately, the assassin clammed up. It must have been an amusing sight to Eivor; a trained killer with a blade strapped to their arm, refusing to approach a person of their interest. When he and Eivor first met, Hytham had gone into detail about the imperative need to separate one’s feelings from their work – to allow such a thing could greatly compromise both his life and his creed. But it was a blurry line for the likes of him, a game that tested their loyalty to the brotherhood. The young eagle knew that line had been tested before, trespassed by his peers and predecessors. It hadn’t ended well for them – after all, the life of an assassin was short. It was built on sacrifice rather than yearning, that was the true purpose of a Hidden One. But now, Hytham knew he was once again at the mercy of his own heart – and what would that make of him?

Human, the little voice in his head said. It sounded an awful lot like Basim, and the acolyte was sure he could almost hear the older man’s trademark smirk. He must have trespassed that line too, at some point in his life; and Hytham couldn’t blame him. He was almost tempted to do it for the second time, too – perhaps he was spending too much time around the man. 

Hytham gave the viking woman a tentative smile. “You know I’m injured. I shouldn’t be dancing anyway.”

Eivor cocked an eyebrow, like she’d been expecting him to say that. 

“I thought it was your ribs that were broken, not your feet.”

Hytham frowned, frustrated; not because of her insistence, but rather because of her ability to read him like a book. Unlike his mentor, Hytham lacked the talent to keep secrets, and he was seemingly obvious to everyone except for himself.

“I don’t know how to dance,” he tried again.

“And they do?” Eivor laughed, looking at a drunk man who tripped and dragged his dancing partner down with him. Hytham could smell the alcohol on their breath from his seat.

“They’re too drunk to care.”

“Hytham.”

“I know you mean well, Eivor,” he softened his tone, shaking his head. “But I believe I should sit this one out. My ribs have been hurting again, and I wouldn’t want to aggravate them.”

It was a lie, and Eivor knew. Nevertheless, without questioning him, the woman sighed and stood up with great effort. She squeezed his shoulder in one last attempt to encourage him, but Hytham only patted her arm. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, or that he lacked the confidence to do so – but Hytham felt like he’d be intruding if he were to approach you now. You gleamed and danced amongst the other dancers, stepping over the bodies of the people who had succumbed to a drunken sleep. You moved with the kind of expertise he would almost envy if he weren’t a skilled fighter himself. 

Someday, he told himself. Someday, he would try to talk to you again. Not now, when you seemed to be in your own world. Hytham was content with just watching for now.

»» ──────ஓ๑♥๑ஓ ────── ««

That day came sooner than Hytham expected.

The scenario was oddly familiar. As per your request, you were in the training yard once more, graced by the presence of a slumped dummy. The assassin didn’t stray too far from you, observing your posture as you readied another throw. 

“Remember to aim for a pulse point.”

Hytham muttered, not keen on interrupting your focus. You were deeply concentrated, he could tell. Your gloved fingers gripped the dagger tightly, readjusting your hold, before you pivoted and hurled the weapon at the humanoid sack. The blade hissed through the air and past the target, and the scowl on your face darkened.

“Damn it.”

The assassin smiled in amusement. Throwing knives were cheeky little bastards – they seemed to have a mind of their own and strayed wherever they pleased. And the wind today didn’t seem to be working in your favor, either. These weren’t the best conditions to be training; but for the two of you, spare time was just as slippery as the flying blades. The second you could find time to spend together, you’d take it.

So Hytham respected your choice to continue training. It was a good enough excuse to spend time with you, at least until he ran out of knives.

He drew another one from his belt, nodding at you. “That’s alright. Try again.”

You took the dagger from him, and perhaps your impatience was starting to get to you, because just a few seconds later, the knife was cutting through the air again. This time though, it embedded itself into the crotch area of the dummy, and true to its humanoid appearance, it slumped over as if it were in pain. Hytham let out an incredulous laugh, warily eyeing the dummy.

“Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”

You grinned in triumph, satisfied that this one had struck the target. “But this would still work, right?”

“I suppose it would,” he hummed, instinctively handing you another knife. It was the last from his belt, and Hytham was relieved to know that he would soon be retreating back into the warmth of the bureau. He propped up the dummy before joining your side again. “Try one last time. Here, I’ll help you.”

Your posture was better than last time, but it still needed fixing. The man waited for you to curl the knife up to your opposite shoulder, before leaning closer to hover at your eye level. Gauging the distance by moving into your space was unnecessary, he knew you were capable enough to do so on your own. You knew you didn’t need him either. And yet, Hytham relished the side glance you gave him, one that lingered on his face longer than he’d expected. He fought back a smile as he reached to lift up your crooked arm.

“Focus on the target and take your time,” he reprimanded you playfully. You ripped your eyes away from him, and Hytham swore he could feel the heat emanating from your cheeks. “Your arm should be fully outstretched in a straight line. Aiming too high or too low will miss the target entirely, and you’ll quickly lose range advantage.”

He let go of your elbow when he was satisfied enough. Your eyes were trained on the dummy, unblinking, and the leather of your gloves groaned when you tightened the grip on the knife. Your voice was a soft mutter, but Hytham heard it. 

“You know, you sound a lot like Basim.”

The man gave you the ghost of a smile. It seemed the little voice in his head was starting to seep into his voice now, too.

“Well, he is my mentor,” a pause, and Hytham was tempted to speak again despite your focus. He added quietly. “Would you prefer his tutoring?”

“No. I would much rather enjoy your company.”

“And I yours.”

Another pause, and then, you flung the knife again. It cut through the air with a hiss, glinting for just a second before it sank into the neck of the dummy, and the stray strands of straw fluttered down at the stab. Hytham grinned as your eyes widened, and drew back to look at you properly.

“Good job,” he winked, promptly walking back to the mannequin to retrieve his knives. “Remind me to never get on your bad side again.”

“So this is how you do it?” you asked, and Hytham’s smile softened at the awe in your eyes. “I’ve seen you fling daggers from greater distances with just the flick of a wrist.”

The man shrugged, at a loss for words. He was never good at taking compliments, especially when they were this genuine. “It’s a matter of practice,” was all he said instead. He nodded at the bureau just as you joined his side.

“In that case, I’ll have to whisk you away more often. I need you to teach me how to do that.”

Hytham repressed a grin, but he couldn’t hide the blush on his cheeks.

“You know I won’t complain.”

»» ──────ஓ๑♥๑ஓ ────── ««

Complain? No, he could never.

Hytham didn’t know what it was that pulled him towards you. Other than his feelings, of course. Was it the way the fireplace of the bureau cast shadows on your face? The depth of your eyes, perhaps? The tender caress of your lips against his? Too many questions ran about in his mind, and no answer was valid enough to satisfy him.

There was one thing that did satisfy him, though; and he knew right then and there that he was doomed. The kiss started off with a peck –Hytham wasn’t sure who had leaned in first–; but then came a second one, and then another one, which turned into a lingering kiss. He felt the heat of your sigh, the gentle nudge of your nose, the caress of your lashes against his skin. The blood in his ears was roaring at your touch.

If this was how training ended every time, then Hytham wouldn’t have minded teaching you more often.

You had somehow found your way to the shelves. His body pressed you against them, caging you in his embrace as your hands cradled his face; and here, hidden away from any witnesses, your lips came to create a dance and language of their own. Hytham pulled back, desperate to relieve the burn in his chest but not leaning too far either. Your breaths intermingled once more as his finger skimmed over your cheek, and he whispered.

“I’m starting to think training was just an excuse.”

He felt you smile against his skin, like he had caught you in a lie. Perhaps he had, judging from the glint in your eyes.

“It wasn’t, at least not in the beginning,” you paused, interrupted by him as he surged forward to catch your lips again. Your words etched onto his skin as you whispered through the kiss. “But then you refused to dance with me at the celebration, and I had to come up with a new idea.”

Hytham stilled, and your smile widened at his reaction. He glanced between your eyes, trying to read you like he’d been trained to do in his novice years. It was so obvious now that he looked more carefully – maybe he was too distracted by his feelings in the past to even notice what you were plotting. That seemed to be a recurring problem for Hytham. His cheeks grew warm again, but his small smile said he was impressed.

“I was set up.” 

“Took you long enough.”

“You’re devious,” his words were teasing, but the assassin felt his eyes soften the more he looked at you. Your arms around his neck had never felt so welcoming. “Perhaps we should make a Hidden One out of you.”

“Only if you continue teaching me how to use the knives.”

Hytham grinned, whispering against your lips. “Deal.”

[demigoddessqueens]

hey could i request some basim x reader please? Maybe something where they are both together in Valhalla but just that basim didnt turn into loki....

i just finished mirage and need to comfort myself 🥲

Of course!!

A/n - I know the feeling 🥲💔💙

Masterlist 10

From the POV of Eivor and Hytham

Eivor sees the two of you and a blush begins to creep on their face. They feel as if they have to turn their head away because it feels like intrusion on an personally intimate moment.

The hushed whispers you share with each other feel like a welcomed intrusion and Eivor feels the intimacy that flows from your shared glances and touches

Whatever effect you have on Basim, it is noticeable how profound your relationship shines through.

Hytham feels a sense of relief for his Mentor because he is his best with you

The countless trainings, trips across the land and sea, Hytham considers you and Basim the closest he’s had to a real family

Sailing to where the Northmen are is where he sees the glowing intimacy. Every move, every decision is calculated but is oh so careful as Basim consults you for his course of action

From a distance, he smiles in relief because of the happiness that is grasped in this violent prone life

[erzsebetrosztoczy]

saw your requests are open. If its not ignore this .

can u do AC Valhalla hytham x reader ? Maybe reader is evior sibling? And hytham is falling for them but is shy to confess . They fall in love and basim is like :

Amongst hidden ruins

I am so sorry for the long wait I was havig life and death situation with uni I didn't consider that would be there but I hope I can make it up to you by offering a 3 part slow burn?? Ya girl is trying I promise🙈🙉🙊

Pairing: Hytham x reader

Genre: fluff, awkward fluff, idiots in love

Warnings: none, except if you count me not knowing what im doing???

Note: Shy Hytham is canon to me, let he be nervous and giddy with his crush🤌❤️. Also, Basim with his wolf dad energy 100% supports his adopted son like "i teach you how to be an assassin, now i teach you how to rizz, boy" and Eivor finally can live through what Sigurd needed to, aka being the older sibling and they will quickly find out why Siggy has eyebags lmfaoo

Here's part 2

Being related to the leaders of the Raven Clan was not easy. Especially when it came to two battle-hardened brothers. From the dawn of your life, you had to have someone by your side to keep you from being "hurt." First came the cautionary orders of your father Styrbjörn, which you cannot remember unless it is from Tekla's evening stories. Taking in and raising a newborn baby with two troublemaker squirrels aged a lot on your fathers, even during the early winters of your lives. Then, as you were growing, Prince Sigurd's sense of duty began to surface, and who else could he begin directing, rebuking, and protecting than his youngest sibling. Most of your childhood thus consisted of tramping in your eldest brother's heels, holding his hand, and obeying when he forbade you something. And just when you thought your troubled years would cease to exist as you grew up, Eivor's pestration began.

"I'm just saying it doesn't hurt to call Randvi next time. More eyes see more, more blades cut more." Eivor continued as he dodged those who came across him, trying to catch up with you, who was trying to get rid of his brother with wide steps. You rolled your eyes grumbling as you picked up a bucket from the riverbank, heading towards the stables.

"Eivor, last time, I just went riding for an hour. To the neighboring fields. If you climbed up the top of the Longhouse you would have seen it!" You patted it over your shoulder as you trampled up the path of the settlement.

"Yes, but Tove reported that Saxon bandits are passing nearby lately and-" "Eivor, I don't need a nanny! I can defend myself. I might as well show you how good I am." You raised your voice a little harder than you wanted as you spun back, defiantly shouting into his face. Eivor backed up with wide open eyes, raising his arms to the surrender. 

"Hey, hey, you have no reason to yell at your brother, little one. I just want the best for you." Eivor's voice sounded suspiciously metallic, sarcastic. You knew he was almost certainly  taking your words half-heartedly.

"And if you want any good for yourself, you'd better shut your mouth before I stuff it with Gunnar's footcloth!" Your fingers and fists almost turned white from the effort you used to hold the bucket close to your chest – you had to concentrate very hard not to hit your brother's head with it.

"You talk like you have a chance to beat me." Eivor chuckled to himself in a pitiful grin.

"Listen here, you smartass, Sigurd entrusted you with the leadership of the Clan, not that some blister-headed—"

"I think it will be enough of spreading curses for today. Otherwise, Valka won't be able to make enough talismans for all of us if you keep going like this." In your big arguments, you didn't even notice that Randvi walked next to you. She looked at the two of you with a raised eyebrow. "Maybe a retreat would be good.”

"But Randvi, don't you hear that Eivor runs to me at the slightest crack of a stick to see if I'm still alive? Can't you see that even though I've had the same training as him in our childhood, he acts like I'm a defenseless baby? " You turned to Randvi in desperation, not even paying attention to the water, whether it would stay in your bucket or not.

Your sister in law looked back at you with a pursed mouth. Please, be the more mature one. Reflected in her gaze.

Why do you always have to take the shortcut, for the sake of peace?

You nodded with an annoyed sigh.

"Alright." You grunted in agreement turning back to Eivor, but your flaming stare could have almost scorched him. "Next time I'll tell someone to come with me when I leave home. Okay?"

Eivor's face softened, his eyes sparkling with joy as he grinned in satisfaction.

"Perfect, little sister." He almost sang it as he straightened his back and walked off as if he had done his job well.

"I'll drown him in Tekla's beer one day, you'll see." You fumed at Randvi as you watched with narrowed eyes your brother’s leave.

Randvi laughed hearing this, and patted your shoulder. "Don't be so angry with him, he really only wants good for you." She said apologetically, voice full with kindness.

"His desire for good crushes me. He suffocates me with his fear. No one could live that way." You answered defiantly, speaking from your heart. When will the moment finally come when you can live your life for yourself and no one else?

You sighed dejectedly, then lifted the wooden bucket to your side again. "..I'd better reload this." You muttered, then waved goodbye to Randvi and turned back towards the water.

It seemed to be a long day ahead of you. 

That night you felt like all the joy had been drained from you. Despite the feast, time passed grimly. Despite the music, singing and celebration, you couldn't cheer up - the meat felt tasteless in your mouth.

Since what happened in the morning, you didn't even want to see your brother, specifically for that reason you went to the other side of the longhouse, where you won't even accidentally come under Eivor's watchful eye.

You wondered what you should do to make your brother's overbearing subside.

"Is this seat up to take?" A question came to you behind your back. At first it crossed your mind that it could just be Eivor, that he can't even leave you alone while eating, but then you realized that the voice asking the question sounded much softer than your brother's thunderous one. 

You turned around and found yourself facing Hytham's slender figure. ​He wore his usual white caftan, but now the hood did not cover his lush brown curls. In the darkness, the light of the fire showed a deep brown iris of warm honey, his skin golden from the dancing embers.

It was as if the summer night itself was standing before you.

"For you I am gladly saying yes." You smiled with relief, motioning for him to take the seat beside you.

With a chuckle Hytham took a seat beside you and as he was settling, his shoulder and elbow rubbed against yours.

"Oh, sorry!" He gasped in fright, immediately pulling away from you, offering a decent distance.

"Ah, don't even  worry about it." You waved it away, turning to him. "And what's new in the office? Have you found anything recently with… Eivor, that would advance your research?" You asked, leaning on your elbows.

Hytham shone a timid smile towards you, shaking his head.

"I'm afraid I can't give you exciting news, there haven't been any new leads for weeks. Eivor has been too busy lately, taking care of the clan's affairs with the surrounding allies, to be thinking about that right now."

Pursing your lips, you pondered; your attention falling on the beer mug in your hand, you didn't even have time to notice the warm, longing look with which Hytham stole a glance at you. 

You couldn't notice it - but Basim did; from across, beside the fire. 

"And if I helped instead of Eivor? Trust me, I'm just as good at tracking as he is!" It came out of your mouth suddenly. The thought that you could finally break away from the prohibitions of your brother, from the small life of the settlement, had an invigorating effect on your soul.

"Uh…well…I don't know." Hytham was suddenly speechless, fidgeting shyly, glancing around the hall. "I don't think your brother would be happy if I took you."

"Eivor would only be happy if I was sitting on the shelf in his room until Ragnarök." You rolled your eyes, poking at your brother in annoyance. "Please Hytham! I promise I'll be of use to you!" Leaning closer to him, you betted your eyelashes so sweetly, gazing up at him in the hope that his heart softens for your request. 

But Hytham's heart no longer needed cunning tricks to seduce him.

An indescribable force has drawn him to you since his arrival in the North. The man stood mesmerized by your beauty and as the months went by, as he got to know your pure soul, bright mind, and sharp tongue more and more, he grew a great passion for your person.

Young fierce love or it was a heart-wrenching, bittersweet yearning;  he didn't know yet – Hytham was only certain of this: that your nearness filled him with hope and happiness.

And that was enough for him.

"I— I can  Basim when he might not need my help, and if he releases me, we can go…if you really want to, of course." He agreed with a warm smile on his face.

Sheepishness filled you under his penetrating gaze –  your heart pounded, and slowly the heat of the fire seemed cold compared to the warmth of your skin, as you could only look at your mug while blushing.

When did the young man from the far east start to interest you? When did you notice his charming smile and delightful gaze? How many times have you melted by his eloquence, gentle speech, patience or care? Why did you feel you could never tell Hytham this, because of Eivor? That your brother would definitely stand in your way, even if only for a spark of happiness.

Perhaps better at rest; to live unchanged; as in shame and regret.

"So be it, Hytham." You agreed, now in a much more subdued tone. "If you have come to an agreement with Basim, please tell me immediately!" You promised him as he bowed in agreement.

Maybe you were given a chance for a way out after all. Maybe you'll finally manage to break free from your brother's wings. Maybe if you start on this unknown path, you can find yourself in someone else's arms.

[freshneverfrozen]

Tincture - Chapter 3

Reader x Ivarr, Reader x Hytham

Part One, Two

Friendly reminder that, irl, we don’t tolerate bastards. We kill and eat them.

Chapter Three - Promises and Assurances

Basim greets you with a nod. He is the only one to greet you at all. Surrounded by two grim-faced Danes, one big, the other bigger, Basim looks out of place. Out of place, but not uncomfortable. 

You, on the other hand, know that you appear both. With the sun bright in the sky, some of the cold has retreated, but it hardly improves your restless mood. The camp is a small one, a dozen tents scattered round, and you wonder how much of the blood on the axes and stained leather these men wear belong to your neighbors. You do not meet their eyes when they stare. Instead, you search the shadows for any sign of the mad Dane.

Basim’s voice draws you from your thoughts.

“My wayward apprentice and his charge.” He clasps Hytham’s outstretched forearm and the grin that follows turns to something genuine that warms the black of his eyes.

Hytham looks to one of the Danes, a woman, tall and with hair the color of frosted straw. 

“Eivor, this is the healer we found on the road, the one I spoke to you about.”

She smirks and tosses her head with a chuckle, sending her war-braids spilling. “With the spark in your eye as you did? Yes, I remember the story.” She ignores Hytham’s spluttering and turns to you. “As Hytham has said, I am Eivor, of the Raven Clan. If you can mend scratches, you are welcome.”

“I can mend more than scratches,” you assure her, “But I hope it will not be needed. Thank you for allowing a stranger in your midst. It is a generous offer.”

Eivor nods, though her attention returns to Basim and the other Dane. The latter is an immense bull of a man. He has been quiet thus far, his face serious. Something about it bothers you the longer you look at it, until you are staring, and you are sure recognition is only a thought away.

Something in the eyes, the hair, the chin...

Warm breath on your cheek draws you from your thoughts. Hytham is near, very near, leaned over the distance between your horses.

“We will ride soon.” His eyes find yours. Blue, you decide. Today, they are blue and gilded like a king’s crown. You cannot look at them long, glancing downward to see his fingers flex. They hover in the air, as though he may reach for you. You wish he would. A steadying hand would do you good right now. You watch, disappointed, as that hand falls to his thigh.

What does he read on your face, you wonder? Fear? You certainly feel it, you have since rising this morning, and doubly so when you and Hytham had arrived at the camp.

You fear being recognized atop your stolen mare. 

But of the two dozen faces you count milling about, none belong to the Dane who had set you on this path. You don’t dare ask after him. As the others speak of plans, you remain silent, intent on looking disinterested, even as you listen.

Hytham’s promise holds true. Within the hour, you are riding. Basim guides his horse to the other side of yours, and you find yourself caught -- guarded -- by these pretend monks. It sets your jaw to grinding, even as you remind yourself to be grateful for their protection. The Danes stop watching you as the two men close ranks. Maybe it is the threat in their curved swords or the seriousness of their faces. Either way, no one bothers you.

Hytham, you understand. You have never made friends quickly, but the man is as close to one as you have. But Basim? He owes you nothing, no matter Hytham’s claims. When he watches you, it isn’t with a man’s interest, as you had first assumed. He seems curious. Like a cat watching a bird before deciding whether or not to crush it under a paw.

There is as much danger here as you would have found had you kept to the road alone.

The reins protest between your fingers and you realize that you are squeezing the leather tightly enough to color your knuckles. 

Wilting flowers do not survive as long as you have, but there is nowhere to run should you catch the wrong eye. You are eased when Basim informs you that most of the party will follow the large Dane tomorrow, parting from your smaller group that is bound for Ravensthorpe. 

Riding a little farther in companionable silence, Basim catches your eye. His face is free of the road-dust that cakes so many others, and he lets you have your moment’s study. The cracks and crannies reveal no secrets, however, and you eventually look away. 

“He is not here,” Basim whispers, “Do not look so worried.”

The words do not land as Basim perhaps hopes. There is no feeling behind them, and you are left frowning at the road ahead. That uncanny knowing will not settle -- something is amiss, and if it is not yet so, it will be.

Is this a mistake? Am I a fool? Not long ago, you would have called such a neatly presented gift as this one a trap. But the years you have spent in motion, never lingering until arriving at Fremedeleigh, are weighing on your shoulders. The frown settles into the lines of your face as you squint into the early autumn sun. 

But it shines brightly, and if it knows what lies ahead, it keeps those secrets to the heavens.

.

………….

.

Something is wrong.

Fitful dreams weave webs of a dangerous face full of teeth and hateful eyes. They stir you, until you are pulled from their depths by fear and the night’s encroaching cold. For a moment’s time, you do not open your eyes to the blackness. Instead, you listen. A fire crackles beyond the flaps of your tent, the sound warm enough to chase away some of the chill. Softer still, voices murmur in the rough tongue of the Dane’s. You hear no breathing from the opposite corner. The woman who had agreed to share her tent has yet to come to bed.

But despite the gentle sounds of a well-guarded camp, a tickling in your bones tells you that all is not as it seems. You have heard the quiet before, and you know the danger that comes with it. 

You open your eyes to darkness, unable to feign sleep any longer. 

And for the first time, the knowing fails you.

It has come too late and met a cannier foe. 

You see nothing, but you feel a weight sweep over your face as a heavy, callused hand cups your mouth and presses hard. Breath is driven out of you on a gasp, but the air meets the resistance of a palm and you are forced to swallow it back down. Cold, gripping fear balls in your chest, and you flail, striking at the body that settles above you.

Thighs press on either side of your middle, lifting only as your left arm is wrenched down and caught under one knee. You strike again with your free right arm, aiming high, clipping the intruder around the head. A voice hisses at you in the darkness, the sharp sound of sucking breath through teeth, and when you strike again, the hand that holds your face shifts to dig its nails into the skin of your cheeks and jaw.

“Found you, foxling,” says the voice. It’s sound is harsh even in a whisper, like the noise of a body dragged over rocks. 

‘Foxling’. You know at once who has you - the mad Dane. 

“Next time, find a hole farther from your hunter.” He titters softly, and through the darkness, you think you can make out the gleam of teeth. “Now, how shall I skin you?”

A sudden effort from you sends him forward, loosing his hand enough for you to sink your teeth into the meat of his palm. He tightens his grip, lifting your head in the span of his large hand, and then sends it cracking back against the ground. Sparks burst behind your eyes as, dimly, you register his weight shifting, moving to better subdue you.

He leans low over your ear, his breath hot at your neck. “I think I will kill you,” he hisses, “What our Raven-feeder doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Let’s start here --”

You don’t need to see it to know steel when it presses at your skin, the tip of a dagger digging into the flesh below your jaw. You squeeze shut your eyes, pressure mounting as you try again to throw him off. A rustle of fabric at the edge of your hearing stills you for a single beat of your heart, and you feel the Dane go rigid atop you.

A woman’s voice cracks out, “Oi, what’s this? Find your own tent for your business -- oh, it’s you, Ivarr. I didn’t realize.”

Light from the campfire spills past her, chasing away the shadows from the tent’s interior. For the first time, you can see Ivarr above you, his weathered face and neck flushed, his lank hair obscuring half his face and the snarl that forms on his lips. 

“Can you not see I am busy?” he growls, one hand still tight over your mouth, the other poised with a jagged little knife, the end of which you can just barely see.

The woman hesitates, glancing back over her shoulder. The sounds of campfire chatter have ceased, replaced by the noise of quick steps crunching over stone and dirt. Ivarr sighs, sitting back to rest on your knees. His weight is heavy -- you had learned as much during your struggle, and you know that you had been right in your brief observation that he is a larger man than his build and movements would have you believe on a glance. 

A second figure appears in the opening and a grin curls around Ivarr’s lips. “Ah, Wolf-Kissed! I found a --”

“Get off the woman, Ivarr.” Eivor steps forward and when she is near, the fingers of one hand curl in the back of Ivarr’s shirt. A moment later, he is lifted off of you, Eivor sending him stumbling back. 

Ivarr rights himself with fluid whirl, so smoothly you would think he had not just been tossed away like refuse in the wind. “She is a straggler, Eivor --”

“A survivor,” the woman snaps, “She has escaped you. What rock did you emerge from under, Ivarr? I thought you had returned to Shropshire.”

“I smelled a rat,” his cold blue eyes turn to you, “Had to come check the larder.”

You try not to let him see the shudder that runs through you as you pull your cloak around your shoulders. But he sees past the movement and smiles again. He is almost ugly, except for the moments when the light catches his eyes and the glint in them distracts you from the scars and deep angles. There is a depth in them that frightens you -- it dawns on you that those eyes are not those of a madman, as he first seemed, but rather a very singular personality, one that revels in the sort of violence that nearly left you cut from ear to ear.

A crowd gathers beyond the walls of the tent; you can hear their shuffling and their murmurs and see their shadows playing through the cracks. Two men push past, and a breath leaves you in relief as Basim appears with Hytham at his heels. Hytham’s worried gaze finds yours, dragging over your face to land at a spot near the left side of your jaw. He scowls at what he sees there and it is only then that notice the trickle of warmth running down your neck. Ivarr’s cut had been a nearer miss than you had realized. All over again, the rising, frozen fingers of fear grip you tight.

Basim gestures between the two glaring Danes. “I see our new friend yet lives. Perhaps we can move our arguments outside?”

“Piss off,” grunts Ivarr. He sweeps past Basim. “Unless you want to argue with the tip of that curved sword.”

“Entertaining as that would be, it would be a mistake.” Basim’s eyes shine with a look that would have most men stepping back, but Ivarr only waves a hand at the man.

He calls on his way out, “Somebody get me a drink! If I can’t kill horse thieves, I will drown myself in ale instead.”

At last, the tent is quiet, save for the quiet shuffling of feet. With Ivarr gone, Eivor turns to you. Her eyes run from your feet to your head, her lips quirking. She gestures to the wound left near your jaw. “Seems you’ve a scratch to mend already.” 

At that, she slips out, Basim following her. Only Hytham remains. He looks grim, as he so often does, his eyes on the ground near his feet. 

“Frown much harder and you will dig a hole,” you say, though the words are difficult to get past your lips.

“Good,” scoffs Hytham, “Someone can bury him in it.”

Harsh words, but hard to disagree with. The bite in them surprises a grin out of you. The fear and panic are fading, and you find yourself moving on steady feet to Hytham’s side. The press of your hand at his arm draws his eyes up to yours. He seems to at last catch himself, shaking his head. 

“I am glad Eivor was here,” he says with a gentleness you feel in your chest.

“You and Basim were not far behind her,” you remind him.

“Cutting a throat is a quick thing. If he meant to do it, I think we would not have been here in time.”

“If he meant to do it?” You raise a hand to your neck, fingers sliding over skin tacky with drying blood. 

“Even Ivarr knows better than to kill a woman in the middle of camp.”

“So he meant to frighten me then?” He had done a fine job of it. He had snatched up your life and held it between his hands on a whim.

Hytham shakes his head again. “I think he likes to play with his food.”

“Must we call me that?”

Hytham laughs, even as your stomach churns. “You are right. I am sorry. A poor image.” His cheer sobers quickly, his eyes settling on you once more, though the shine in them remains. When you had joined him at his side, you had placed yourself nearer to him than perhaps you should. He has somehow closed the distance further still without you noticing, the heat from his body warm across the small space. So close, you can see the freckles across his cheeks, remnants left from a time in a sunnier climate than England’s. He appears to be considering something.

“Here,” he says after seconds have passed, “Take this.” With one hand, he reaches for you, his palm soft over the back of your hand. With the other, he reaches around to his side and frees a small, sharp-looking knife from his belt. He presses it into your outstretched fingers. “In case Eivor is not around next time.”

“What of you?” The question leaves you without you meaning it to, and your cheeks heat mercilessly. Hytham’s gaze softens in the light.

“It is my knife. Think of me when you stab the man with it.” His fingers run over the back of your hand, so light it could almost be imagined, and you shiver at the touch. He pulls his hand away.

“That’s very cut-throat of you, Hytham.”

“You would be surprised how cut-throat I can be, healer.” At this, something passes over his expression, but it is gone before you can name it. “Now, get some rest.”

“Goodnight,” you tell him. He slips out of the tent, pausing before the flap can fall. He catches your eye, smiles once, and then is gone.

.

…………….

.

The next morning, your mare is already saddled when you find her. 

Ivarr sits atop her, grinning down at you as he braces against the saddle. The mare tosses her head, snorting when he pulls her reins tight. You frown as you watch his fingers wind their way through her silver mane, twirling the hair, taunting you. 

“You’ve taken good care of her,” he says when you come to a stop safely out of his reach. “So kind of you to return her to us.”

It is another cold day, cloudier than the one before it, but anger heats your face as you glare at him. But what can you say? She is not your horse. She belonged with the Danes to start with, not quite stolen, but it’s a near enough difference that you won’t argue it. One glance at him tells you that Ivarr knows this, as he knows that you are snared by your helplessness to protest. 

He nudges his heels into her sides. She comes to you, her velvet nostrils flaring as she noses your arm. As you reach to pet her, heat spreads behind your eyes, unreasonable and traitorous. She is a horse. Nothing more or less. Still, as you feel her warm breath on your palm, it feels as though Ivarr is taking something more from you.

And when you find the nerve to meet his eyes, you know that has been his intention from the start. 

He smiles, all teeth. 

“They say you are a healer. Or did they call you a witch?” He tilts his head - mocking you. “Dark seidr, that. So, tell me, witch, why is it that you did not heal all those people? What good are you if you cannot attach heads back onto shoulders?” His voice rings with the sing-song sound of a child’s rhyme. It echoes in your ears like bitter wind. He digs his heels into the mare’s sides once more, circling her around you. Her dark eye watches you as she passes, and somewhere in your heart, you think that the beast is sorry. Ivarr continues, his voice rising loud enough to turn heads. “Instead, you ran. Like a coward. Do you know what we do to cowards?”

The blood in your veins goes cold as you glare spitefully up at him. You want to spit at that grinning face, or claw at it, or sink Hytham’s knife into the socket of one of those eyes. Ivarr leans closer, craning down until his face is only a foot from yours. He studies your face and his eyes glimmer at the boiling wrath he must read there. He raises a hand, runs his thumb over his lip as though to taste the air as it sours between you. 

When you do not answer, he says, “We polish our blades with their innards.”

Coward. Witch. They are only names. But as they slither out from his lips, they sound like curses, echoing in the back of your mind. Hands clenching at your side, it takes all your effort not to reach up and drag him from his horse. He likely won’t fall for that trick twice. 

Instead, you raise your chin, and try not to think about how your insides feel as though they have turned to water. 

As levelly as you can, you reply, “You did not manage it the first time, nor the second. Do you want to know what they say about you? They call you ‘boneless’.” You peer up at him, unblinking. “I wonder if it is because you do not have the spine to back up your words.”

A boom of laughter fills the air, startling the mare and sending her prancing. He snatches her reins and pulls her back around to face you. 

“You,” he levels a finger at you, “you, I will skin cunt first. The Raven Clan and its strays will not protect you forever. Rest easy knowing that your fate is already sewn. You won’t be my finest kill, but I am a man who can find joy in the little things.”

He pulls at the mare, rounding her with a bellowing whinny, and leads her away. 

You are glad to see him go. But as you know many things, you know, down to your heart, down to your bones, that you will see him again.

[anime-vixxen]

Updated my fic XD also changed the name to Insipience cause hey why not

[fabricated-misslieness]

Hytham x male reader

Hytham.. he’s so cute.

Set in the Ravensthorpe settlement, after the Brotherhood house is built.

I apologize for the low quality gif.

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 644

“Apart from putting your life in danger, it flies in the face of what we have tried to achieve…”

You are interrupted from you reading by a sigh coming from your lover. Over the years, you had grown to know it to be a frustrated sigh.

“Something wrong?” You’re not very worried, as Hytham is often frustrated. He tries tracking members of the order from time to time and more often than not, it leads to frustration.

However, the worry rises when he does not respond. Usually he replies dismissively, too focused on the task at hand. He never replies with silence.

You knew something was wrong, that this frustration didn’t come from the mere books and scrolls.

You set the book aside and focus on him.

He’s pacing, one hand on his waist, the other occasionally on his chin or hair.

“Hytham.” You call gently, he doesn’t respond. You repeat his name a little louder, which does end up catching his attention. He looks annoyed, perhaps at you, but you do not let it rouse you. “Something wrong, love?”

He sighs and nods his head, walking closer to you. “I feel like I trouble Eivor.”

You raise an eyebrow, gesturing for him to elaborate. It causes him to sigh again, even if explanation was inevitable. 

“Eivor already has a lot of work to do on their own, but I tell them to assassinate any Order of the Ancients they see and gather clues along the way. That must be a lot of work.” You shake your head, sometimes Hytham worries too much. “Not to mention--”

“Hytham,” You interrupt before he can worry his little head too much. “sit down.”

Without objection, he moves to sit at the end of the bed, it’s a small bed and you’re sitting up on it, but you stop him before he can. “On my lap.”

“O-On your.. your lap?” He flushes a pink you love to see.

“Yes.” You laugh. “You know, we’ve done worse things.” Hytham gulps, clearly embarrassed.

He reluctantly sits down and boy is he awkward. “Hytham, do you need to relax?”

“Yea..” He whispers.

You slowly and gently push him down to lay his head on your chest, allowing him to back out if he wanted. He absolutely loved cuddling, yet he was too timid to initiate it. You’re delighted to feel him wrap his arms around you himself. “Eivor is not burdened by you.” You stroke his hair to calm him. “I’m sure they’re fond of fighting, or more so the thrill of it. Eivor is perfectly capable, and if they were burdened, they would at least inform you.”

Hytham nods and lets out another sigh. This time, as you’ve learned, it is one of relief and comfort. Ironically enough, it makes you let out one of your own.

“Thank you.” You’re sure he’ll worry about it again someday, but he will have you with him. That’s a given.

“Look at me.” He lifts his head from your chest to look at you. You surprise him with a peck on the lips, which you separate from quickly.

He throws his head back in surprise, a blush quickly forming on his cheeks again. “D-Da-Darling?”

You shoot him a confused look, innocently tilting your head. “What, you want another?”

“Yes, but--” Before he can finish that sentence, you give him another kiss. He’s glad to find it last much longer, with actual movement.

You pull back, putting your attention back on the old letter you were reading. “Now, we both have work to do, I assume. Unless you’re in need of a break.” Hytham nods at the mention of a break. He deserves one, especially after his thoughts of troubling Eivor. “You can stay here, then. I have a question though,”

“Mhm?”

“Is this letter really Reda’s? I thought he was just a child.”