#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.

#assassins creed #assassins creed valhalla headcanons #assassins creed valhalla #hytham #basim ibn ishaq #ac basim #ac hytham #ac valhalla #ac valhalla x reader #ac valhalla headcanons #hytham x reader #ac hytham x reader #female eivor #eivor wolfkissed #eivor varinsdóttir #sigurd #assassins creed headcanons #ac headcanons #assassins creed isu

[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”

#inbox requests #assassin's creed #assassin’s creed x reader #hytham #ac valhalla #assassin’s creed valhalla #Hytham x reader #headcanons #my writing #writeblr #assassin’s creed #ac hytham

[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

Word count: ~16k

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

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.

#ac valhalla #assassin's creed #assassin's creed valhalla #ac hytham #ac valhalla hytham #hytham #hytham x reader #ac hytham x reader #ac valhalla imagine #ac valhalla fanfic #my writing #i need someone to sedate me

[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

#better than a living history museum #btalhm #ac valhalla #ac valhalla fic #eivor x reader #eivor varinsdottir #hytham #eivor wolfkissed

[basimbigtits]

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

#basim ibn ishaq #basim ibn ishaq x reader #assassins creed valhalla #sick reader

[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!

#✎ kia’s 2k event ༉‧ ♡*.✧ #basim ibn ishaq #basim ibn ishaq x reader #assassins creed #assassins creed x reader

[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 ❫.

#.reqs

[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!

#that third answer specifically is gonna have me beaten with hammers i'll tell ya that much #this got so fucking long i'm sorry ajdgjsf #answer #basimibnishaqs #ask games

[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!

#assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #valhala #assassin's creed #assassins creed #hytham #basim #basim ibn ishaw #eivor #male eivor #meivor #eivor wolfkissed #headcanons #eivor x reader #meivor x reader #male eivor x reader #basim x reader #hytham x reader #basim ibn ishaq x reader

[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.

#ac vahalla #reader #ivarr x reader #hytham x reader #basim

[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.”

#assassins creed #assassins creed valhalla headcanons #assassins creed valhalla #hytham #basim ibn ishaq #ac basim #ac hytham #ac valhalla #ac valhalla x reader #ac valhalla headcanons #hytham x reader #ac hytham x reader #female eivor #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal #eivor varinsdóttir #sigurd #assassins creed headcanons #ac headcanons #ac the golden city #assassins creed the golden city #hytham the golden city #basim the golden city

[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

#assassin's creed #assassin’s creed x reader #basim x reader #assassins creed basim #basim ibn ishaq #basim ibn is’haq #my writing #assassin’s creed #ac basim #ac mirage #basim #assassin’s creed mirage #assassin’s creed valhalla #ac valhalla #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr

[erzsebetrosztoczy]

Is it okay if I could request something else as well for AC Valhalla. Where the reader is a Viking and her and hytham have a secret crush on each other, but when they try to bond with each other basim always interrupts them as he’s jealous of hytham and wants the reader’s attention 💙

The fruit of chores

Pairing: Hytham x reader, (Basim x reader)

Word count: 30k

Genre: fluff, awkward fluff, idiots in love

Warnings: none, they just awkward as much as i am

Note: Helloo, I'm resurrected! Sorry for the long wait, I can't really make much progress between finals, but soon it will all end hopefully and I'm coming back to write more stuff.

Ufff sooo it was A LONG TIME to do it but I hope I can compensate with its length🙊🙉🙈❤️

Encouraged with a big sigh, you bent down, gripping the sides of your basket, mustering all your strength to pull the heavy load into your lap. If the children of the village could easily fit in this basket while playing hide and seek, then it would certainly be demanding to carry your basket full of clothes on the snow and slippery frozen road, in your hands, all the way to the beach. And then to cut the ice so you can start washing. And then being fast enough to complete the task assigned to you before your fingers freeze…

Winter in the land of the Saxons was quite different from at home, they were winters long ago; it snowed here too, but in negligible amounts, as you have taken for granted since childhood. While at home you were dressed so thickly that only your eyes were visible from the multitude of scarves and furs, where you had to dig out the paths between the houses that disappeared during the night with a spade, on this island you hardly felt the frosty months. When the snow fell, it barely reached the middle of your legs, the wind didn't freeze sharp ice crystals on your eyelashes and hair, you didn't have to dig the road or use snowshoes along the banks.

There were still challenges here though; as in all cold weather doing the activities that required warm weather was a real pain to carry out.

Craning your neck left and right, you tried to keep an eye on the sloping road in front of you, as the huge basket covered your field of vision between your arms. At the same time trying to balance between the ground slipping beneath your feet and not dropping a single piece of clothing, you set off towards the beach humming a cheerful children's song that your grandparents sang to you by the fire when you were little. Passing by the Long House, you caught a glimpse of Eivor's tall blond figure between the slightly open doors, and Hytham's shorter, slimmer figure next to him.

He was wearing the white coat of his order, the gray-white fabric almost glowing in the darkness of the longhouse, the light streaming in from outside illuminating Hytham. Maybe you were looking in his direction for too long, suddenly you woke up from your observation that the ground slides out from under your feet, your leg kicked forward hauling you behind.

Accompanied by a sharp squeal, you tossed the basket to the side just in time to regain balance with your hands flapping wildly. For a moment your head was spinning, heart pounding in your chest with the force of a ritual drum, as you stood on your feet again.

“Uh, is everything okay?” Hytham's soft voice called from beside you and you jumped again. How could he reach you in such silence? Before you could slip again, he grabbed your arm, his hand securely wrapped around it, but it didn't hurt.

"Careful, now hey!" He chuckled. "I'm holding you."

You felt your face heat up, even against the cool sun — to have him so close to you, right after you almost fell… because you were watching him and not the road.

"Yes. Of course, I'm fine. Everything is fine. Thanks for… catching me.” As you looked into his eyes, the little intelligibility you had vanished from your mind. Hytham's warm brown eyes reminded you of the summer sun, the heat spreading over your skin as he held you. He examined your face so gently, kindly and inquisitively, you felt- despite the cold- that you were about to catch fire.

"Can I help you carry the basket? It's hard for a person, and I don't want you to get in trouble because of it." Saying the words, Hytham's suntanned face began to spread a faint rosy blush; he looked away in emberassement, cratching his shaven chin.

You never understood how the handsome man hadn't realized that you liked him, ever since you first met Hytham in Fonbrug you could only stutter and mumble in his presence, unable to look into his sensual eyes for a longer period of time.

At first you thought that the feeling would pass, you must have liked the young man only because he came from a mysterious land, with a culture and customs unknown to you, leaving your interest in the attraction of the unknown.

But as the months passed, the two newcomers who went with Sigurd from Constantinople became more and more familiar with the clan members, as you had the opportunity to get to know them, what kind of people they really are; you found yourself falling more and more in love with Hytham.

He was always so helpful and open to you, telling you amazing and intriguing stories whenever he had the chance. Many times at the evening feasts he sat beside you, keeping you company; and you were happy to offer to organize and pack his belongings in their office.

How he didn't realize you were hopelessly into him, you didn't know. Maybe he didn't notice the signs? Maybe he just didn't want to notice? Or were you just not interesting enough for him to bother with you?

You blinked wide when his warm touch jolted you out of your thoughts, gently holding your hand and trying to take the heavy basket away from you. Your mouth fell open but no sound could come out; you just nodded silently, with a bashful smile, you let nhim take the laundry from you.

"So, I hear that a celebration will be held soon..." The man spoke as you continued your walk towards the shore.

Peeking next to you, you watched as Hytham held the huge package with a firm hand, his feet maneuvering nimbly and precisely on the slippery surface. His gaze quickly flicked to you as you locked eyes; he quickly turned back forward with a faint smile.

“Ah, yes, the Winter Festival, Yule. Have you ever participated in one?” You asked, genuinely curious. Whenever you spoke to the young man, Hytham somehow always managed to come up with some new detail about his youth.

In his narratives he revealed how many wonderful places he has visited with his master, how many different people he has met, what adventures he had been part of, fit for the Sagas.

"Never before. Until now, I have only heard about the traditions of your people, but I am excited to finally experience them; why is this holiday of yours so important."

"I'm sure you'll like it!" You smiled to yourself; your journey soon ended as the crunch of snow under your feet was replaced by the sharp crack of thin layer of frozen ice at the edge of the shore.

Hytham quickly placed the basket next to you, showing no sign of effort. You breathed in the cold air; the faint smell of fish from the fast-flowing river and the charcoal smell of the wood burning in the huts felt strangely pleasant to you.

“Well, here we are.” Hytham scratched the back of his head with a startled, brooding look, seemingly at a loss as to how to continue the conversation.

You nodded meekly, searching for the words, the thoughts; anything that you could use to keep the man by your side just for a little while longer and hear his voice. Taking a shirt out of the pile, you gave him a cursory glance. Among the glistening white, snowy bushes and houses, Hytham stood out with his honey-brown skin, soft eyes, and ice-melting smile. Like a glowing ember, a warming light for you, in this harsh time- among your often stoic people. Every time the two of you had a chance to meet, you felt as if he could touch your heart, even with a single look.

"I really appreciate your help." Clearing your throat, you turned towards him, to which Hytham immediately turned his head in your direction. It's like being a teenager again; you felt like a little girl who started to like a pretty boy for the first time ever, and now she doesn't know what to do with herself.

“Of course. What would my master have taught me if I were to leave a lady in trouble?” Hytham gave you a half-smile, with that look again that warmed and pinched your cheeks, causing you to avert your gaze with a wry smile. Before you could regain your composure, the young Hidden One continued with astonishment in his voice: "I have to say, I haven't had the opportunity to experience such a cold season for a long time. Furnburg was colder, that's for sure; but somehow the time spent there passed quickly before we came here, the question never arose in my mind, how do you do your daily tasks when it's bone-chilling cold outside and the sun is nowhere to give you warmth...?”

Pondering on the answer you bit in your bottom lip, causing Hytham to take a sharp breath, clearing his throat again.

Shirt in hand, you stepped closer to the icy water of the river, grabbing the hem of your skirt to lift it up a bit, carefully squatting down without getting wet. Glancing up at Hytham, you motioned for him to follow your movement; he crouched next to you in the frozen sand - shoulders brushing together.

Starting with the washing while telling him what it is like to fight with the frost and cold when you need the heat the most.

“Even if snow and frost covers the ground, the dirty clothes should be washed, the same way you have to get from one house to another, the same goes for the trade, blacksmith shop, and animal feeding. We don't let the world around us tell us what we can and can't do. Even in difficult times, life goes on."

"You have reinvented yourselves, even in the harshest environment." With a nod of approval, the man- pulling away from his knees raised his palm next to yours, holding it above the surface of the water; the waves and eddies desperately trying to reach his skin.

"I remember many times I had to take my father's ax to wash, cut through the thick ice to even reach the water. As a clumsy little girl, my hands were always so frozen in the water that I could barely bend my fingers all the way." Thinking back on the memory, you sighed fondly. "Then when I got home, after a little scolding, my mother took my hands in her warm palms and breathed on them, caressed them until the pain went away and said: Next time you will know how to do it, you will be better." Glancing up, you were met with sparkling eyes. Hytham studied your face with a gentle smile and a searching look as if he was seeing a vision before him. A smile crept onto your lips as well, but before you could shake your head in confusion, Hytham turned forward, starting to watch the fast-flowing water.

"Once, when I had to run away from a merchant because he thought I had stolen from him, I fell off the roof into the horses' drinking well during a miscalculated jump." He began, dipping his palm into the water for a moment. Trying to test the water on his skin, the icy water stung his hand coldly;Hytham pulled back into his lap to warm it up as if he was stung. "When Basim saw me; how wet my clothes were, he sent me up to the rooftop of our base. I remember clearly even now- I can almost feel how hot the sun was on my skin. It burned me like hot coals.”

"Interesting, don't you think?" You hummed softly. Fire and ice, how opposite forces, yet how similar in pain, when we want too much of them.”

"But both are necessary. One cannot live without them. When you have experienced both extremes, only then will you appreciate the soft touch of the breeze or the warm hands of our loved ones.”

Hytham smiled gently, his eyes glancing up at you almost shyly from under his eyelashes, you only noticed how close he was crouching next to you once finished washing— you could almost feel the warmth emanating from his skin. For a moment, you toyed with the idea of what it would be like to have the man's warm embrace, the touch of his hands on you; would you feel the same searing heat that he told you about.

Maybe you could have stayed like that for hours. Forgetting even the cold and the tasks assigned to you; only hearing the other's voice, looking for the shy, inquisitive glances, in the midst of feelings that you hid most deeply within yourselves. Maybe, if you had watched his eyes for a very long time, the way his lips moved and curved into a smile, maybe you would have finally had enough courage to do something about the desires of your heart. Instead, your small talk was interrupted by a familiar, deep baritone voice.

"Parchments don't look over themselves, Hytham." Basim raised his voice against the roaring water, and you and Hytham turned around like startled birds. "Go back to your work slowly." He ordered the young Hidden One, tone unapologetic. His stern gaze then fell on you, his features softened, and a faint, sly smile crossed his face, nodding to you as a greeting.

Sighing deeply, Hytham got up from the water, not taking your eyes off him, you followed his movement, leaving your previous place. Grabbing a still dry jacket, you pulled it close to your chest, for one- against the blowing cold wind, and so that you could fold something in front of you, your hands finding something else to grip, other to seek Hytham's vanished touch. With pursing lips he looked down at you apologetically, his lips parted, but the young man couldn't find the words to address you again. Inside, you felt bitter that you had this moment interrupted between the two of you, even if this little conversation wouldn't count as much to anyone else; you felt Hytham's soul became one step closer to you.

"We'll continue the conversation at dinner in the evening." You offered encouragingly, seeking his gaze. "If you want to." You added it quickly before he could find you too eager.

"I would really like that." Hytham nodded, raising a palm to the back of his head.

And with that, before you could say or do anything else; the man gave you one last, hopeful look before hurrying up the shore towards the huts.

You watched as he passed by his master and teacher; the younger man's shoulders seemed to contract for a moment, and Basim's gaze narrowed as he followed his protégé's path with his gaze behind him.

Maybe they argued about something, maybe some problem arose in their work; that you suddenly thought you detected tension between the two. You weren't sure, but Basim was usually lenient, helpful, and understanding with his young student. What is the cold behavior then?

You didn't think much of it as the older man started walking towards you to the shore. His presence always demanded a form of respect and attention from people, and this did not affect you any differently. Involuntarily, you pulled yourself out and stood in front of him, as if you were the subject of a survey.

Basim approached you with a straight stance, measured steps; the senior Hidden One loomed in front of you with his hands clasped in the usual way in the front. You soon noticed that despite trying to stay calm, your face started to burn under Basim's gaze, heartbeat pacing up.

There was nothing to deny; it became a kind of open secret, a common rumor among clan members; no matter how you look at things — the two men from the far south-east enjoyed great popularity among the ladies. Both had strikingly attractive looks; in their own mysteriousness. Despite your common sense, in the company of the two of them, it was hard not to get embarrassed under the expressive eyes, in addition to the attractive features. It wasn't any different now, as you tried not to look so sheepish.

"Please, my apologies for the intrusion, I hope I didn't interrupt anything... important." He rasped low, taking care to articulate each word, lingering for a few seconds on the last words.

It was as if a thousand thoughts and expressions swirled in his dark eyes; you felt as if his gaze had burned a hole in you. Basim smiled under his beard; looking down at you with a mysterious, knowing look, scrutinizing your own expressions that he successfully coaxed out of you. “Hytham is young, full of recklessness, other than that, a novice of course, and he gets easily distracted from his duties..” Basim lisped as he drew a sharp breath in, his gaze falling onto the icy river, a cold shiver running through your spine when his eyes left your form.

"Not that I can blame him and his... curiosity towards you." He finished as he turned back to you; his gaze swept over your entire form before humming in approval.

The moment you watched Basim's movement, his reaction towards you; your heart skipped a beat. The cavalcade of a thousand thoughts suddenly vanishes from your mind; leaving hot fire, numbness and the feeling of something wanting to burst from the inside. Your heart rumbled wildly behind your starnum, shaking your bones, boiling your blood; the air fled your lungs, a gasp stuck at your throat.

That look. The movement. There was no need to think about what it might mean; a longing look, wondering what it might be like to experience the images emerging in the night; what it’s like to act upon the dream, for which one so much desires.

The realization that you may interest the man in more ways than a simple local would; a familiar face among others- it triggered an avalanche of emotions in you in the space of a heartbeat.

"And what… what kind of curiosity would drive you towards me?" It fell out of your lips, as you tried to find a grip on the whole situation. You had to make sure it was just a figment of your head: you just wanted anyone- whether it was Basim or Hytham, to feel for you the way you wanted them to feel. Blinking rapidly as if you got something in your eyes, you avoided his piercing gaze; and instead looked to the side watching the flowing river.

You felt your heart thrummed wild, unruly like the stream beside you.

With a low chuckle, the tall man finally moved, rubbing his hands together against the cold and backing away; his face softened, as if he sensed your anxious thoughts, not wanting to overstep your lines.

Releasing the almost bursting tension between you, he breathed into his palm, creating a billowing white cloud that continued to spin lazily in the cold. Then with one last look- without a word, he turned and walked away. And your question stayed in the air, curious and dejected, rising back to your head.

The quick conversation with Basim may have left you in steaming warmth, but not the clothes in your hands- and if you don't hurry to collect yourself and the rags, you can start washing all over again, but with frozen shirts and pants instead.

~~~~~~~~~~

During the evening, you enjoyed the company of Hrefna and Tove, who kept you company in their mead intoxication, you didn't have time to dwell on what happened today. There was cheerful music and singing in the great hall, ceramic bowls clinked, cauldrons clinked, cups clinked, as the clan was finally able to sit down and celebrate another successful day, another successful week.

No, no, because if Rollo had told Valtar, the boy would have lost an ear! You must have heard them wrong!" Tove articulated with difficulty, leaning on the bench to drown out the din around you.

Hrefna chuckled and slammed her mug against the board, spilling out a generous amount of beer. You sat next to her with a smile, waiting for the next twist in the gossip that happened in the barracks this week.

"That's how it happened!" The other woman proved it. "Heard with my own ears!"

You took another sip of your drink, the warmth of the sweet juice spreading down your throat, warming your heart.

"That's how it happened!" The other woman insisted. "Heard with my own ears!"

You took another sip of your drink, the warmth of the sweet juice spreading down your throat, warming your heart.

Perhaps it would be better if you were now intoxicated with alcohol, your thoughts would be fogged, dazed way- you wouldn't have to bother with the troubled images of the real world. You shouldn't feel like you're being consumed by a swamp of curiosity and doubt, that the grip of longing is falling off your soul.

You would have done so; prepared for a dreaded morning- but tomorrow at least you would not worry about your heart’s problems, but the suffering of your body, which you can so easily ignore now.

But your cup couldn't be emptied, the agony remained on your side, in fact, it seemed that fate wanted to mock you, when a gentle touch tapped your shoulder calling for attention. With a slightly dazed mind from the strength of the mead, you turned to the side, fluttering your eyelashes to make the dizziness go away as soon as possible.

Hytham towered over you, his creole skin illuminated by the firelight seemed even more dazzling, almost golden in your eyes. His gentle smile, as always, danced at the corner of his lips while looking down at you, hand still resting on your shoulder after you noticed his presence.

Clearing your throat, you squirmed a bit on the bench, trying to look as sober as possible in front of the man.

"Ah hi Hytham, how is your evening?" You blinked up brightly, your drink seemed to have finally dissolved your constant shyness that caught you around the young man. You felt that then, in that situation, in the midst of the loud songs and the cavalcade of people you didn't have to worry about whether you were behaving according to Hytham's liking- your mind shut that thought out for the night.

"Have you tried Tekla's beer? I think it's a bit stronger than the last one, but the sweetness covers it well, don't you think?"

Hytham nodded with an amused look- it was only now that you noticed in the light, that there was a deep red blush on his face, amidst his golden radiance. Was it just the warmth of the fire, or did Hytham have as much fun that night as you?

"I...tasted it, yes. Eivor didn't let me get up from the table until I drank with him. Then we had another toast. Then he made a toast. Then Ake sat next to us and...I don't know how much we actually drank." Hytham faltered in his speech, clearly struggling with a few words before he finished.

In the meantime there was a lot of commotion - someone jumped up on a bench to sing, and the people started singing loudly. The man had no choice but to bend down, chin touching your shoulder, trying to make himself heard.

The humid and thick air of the stuffy hall suddenly became scorchingly hot for you, your breath hitched, as the strong scent of sweet beer, smoke and myrrh hit your nostrils.

For a moment you savored the closeness, imagining what this scent would feel like as his arms wraps around your waist.

The feeling passed too soon, receded too quickly for you to be able to dream any longer, realization hitting you like a bolt of lightning.

Pull yourself together, what are you doing? Chasing vain dreams will get you nowhere.

"Could we talk outside?" You heard the question; Hytham's voice became much more uncertain, afraid of the answer. "Face-to-face in a slightly quieter place..." He trailed off, quickly biting his lips, finding a distant column to look at, instead of your astonished eyes.

What could the pioneer assassin want from you, that he deems necessary the discretion of the frosty night?

Getting up from your seat, your head felt like it was spinning around your neck, lights and shapes distorted your vision. You firmly gripped the edge of the table, supporting your nauseated form, so that you wouldn't walk like the Jomsvikings used to, on the occasion of such festives — with your head crushed under the bench, dizzy from the thrill of wine and the blow.

To your surprise, and even more to your delight, Hytham was immediately at your side, placing his palm on your shoulder blade, his other hand holding your wrist to gently support you.

"I see tripping and almost falling is becoming a habit of yours lately." He grinned - voice low and slightly teasing.

"Fortunately, you're always around to catch me." You laughed it off, finally standing to your feet, but you couldn't shake off the dizziness— in fact, a pleasant buzzing caught your mind and heart again.

Tove and Hrefna looked at each other knowingly, grinning and toasting to each other that finally, maybe today you will get something from the excitement offered by the pleasant night. Hytham, still holding your wrist, led you through the beer and food slippery room, sometimes stepping over people lying on the floor, or dodging couples- dancing wildly around the tables, all the while pulling you close to his side, letting yourself be guided by his movements through the room

As he opened one of the huge oak doors in front of you, your heated skin sighed from the cooling breeze that wafted in and shook the torch flames. You knew that soon the pleasant refreshment would turn into biting cold, but until then you closed your eyes and left, feeling your mind start to return again, your sobriety coming back to life.

Hytham led you under the huge tree that stood in the square, pausing at its trunk to quickly scan the surrounding hutches, bushes, and sheds, looking for any unwanted eye witnesses or witnesses to his tale.

You watched as his sharp gaze darted from one spot to another, paying great attention to every little detail; and you wondered if he had ever looked at you with such great concentration.

Her gaze suddenly fell on you, and feeling as if you were caught in the act of staring, you bit your lip and lowered your eyes.

"I just wanted to make sure no one was intruding on our conversation." The young man explained apologetically.

A snort escaped your mouth, you looked back at him shaking your head. "I think quite a lot of people saw that we came out of the feast together, one way or another, but they're going to stick their noses into this with their rumors." Yes, but what kind of rumors they would be, you weren't sure. Knowing your clan— you didn't want to find out that soon.

"Let them say what they want." Hytham replied determinedly, a slight furrow appearing on his forehead and between his eyebrows. He took a step towards you, shoulders broad, chin up, a new light shining in his eyes. "What people around me think is not important to me. To me... the only thing that matters is what you think of me.”

Mouth falling sack, eyes widening, your heart jumped alongside with your belly before it started beating madly. What you heard before could only have been the effect of the honey-beer you drank, or you were so lost in admiring the man from afar that you were already imagining things.

When the realization finally hit you, and you were sure you heard Hytham's words correctly, all of your thoughts had been swirling, brewing inside of you suddenly stopped.

Would you have fallen into a world of states where everything happens according to your heart's desire? Or has this become a bitter joke of the Gods? Maybe... could it have been possible that your deepest hidden desire could come true?

“Hytham… what I think has always been the best about you and always will be. I don't think anything can change that." You reached for his hand, which you nervously squeezed in front of himself.

As you wrapped your fingers around his palm as if something had stung him, Hytham flinched; although instinctively opening his palm, taking your hand in a warm fist, thumb starting to trace circles on your skin.

"Not even.." He trailed off, shining, eyes blown wide- studying your features, going back and forth on your open lips. “Not even if… Should I say…I think I started to really like you?” He spoke the words timidly, as if revealing his most precious secret.

Which, as you now knew, was true.

“It looks like we're in the same boat then. I've taken a liking to you too, Hytham. Greatly." You almost sang the words out of joy, the warming touch on your hand became stronger, the man squeezed your fist, pulling it up to his chest- pulling you closer to his body.

You were almost sure, Hytham could hear your violently pounding heart, could see that you were about to cry, -laugh out of happiness, dancing with him on the snowy square. You looked up at him with glistening eyes, remembering every little detail as he looked at you, remembering this night as it played out.

"Really?" He breathed, excited. "I didn't think you would either... And I thought..." He didn't even finish the sentence; he slowly raised one of his palms to your face, your cheek fitting perfectly into his hand. "Can I ask... Can I give you a..."

"Yes." You spurted out giggling, expression soft, eyes beaming. Hytham let out a hearfelt chuckle, finally leaning down, his soft lips brushing over yours, before he finally kissed you. It was a gentle, tender kiss; that spun you around and released butterflies in your tummy.

All too soon, Hytham pulled back slightly, causing you to stumble forward, not wanting to end it yet.

For a moment both of you just held each other, eyes half lidded, trying to catch your breath, smiling at each other with the sweetest smile you ever wanted to gift someone with.

After some time, Hytham finally cleared his throat, collecting some of his posture.

" If you wouldn't mind... I would like to accompany you during your daily chores more. You see, I'm a great help…and we can talk and—”

"I would like that. More than you imagine.” You giggled, blinking up sheepishly at him. Next time you could bring your robes. I can wash them for you.”

Bringing up your hands once more, Hytham gingerly placed a few pecks over your knuckles, before speaking.

"Let's head back soon, it would be a shame that we freeze now." He chuckled, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Agreed.” You smile in agreement, accepting the offered hand. "We continue the chat inside."

Maybe it isn't so bad that you are tasked with these chores after all. What else can an afternoon of washing bring?

#ac valhalla #assassin's creed #assassin's creed valhalla #ac hytham #ac valhalla hytham #hytham #hytham x reader #ac hytham x reader #ac valhalla imagine #ac valhalla fanfic #my writing

[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.”

#Hytham x reader #Hytham x male reader #asassin's creed valhalla fanfiction #ac valhalla fanfiction #craving fic

[anime-vixxen]

Just posted the first chapter of my new fanfic 😁 Since Valhalla is so new there’s barely any Hytham Fanfics so....

#assassin's creed valhalla #hytham #assassins creed #hytham assassins creed #ac #ac Valhalla #reader #reader insert #hytham x reader #oc #fanfiction #archive of our own #assassins #hytham x oc #vili #assassins creed vili #vili x reader #vili x oc #romance #action/adventure #Eivor #Raven clan #assassins creed Eivor #time travel #adventure #original character #raven clan

[sonnefuchs]

Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla Masterlist

Basim

Come Rattle These Bones

Fate is Not Done with Us

Firelight

Keep Your Secrets

We Have the Night

Hytham

Hytham Masterlist

Ivarr

A Change

A Friendly Battle

A Warm Welcome

How Far Down

Later

Might as Well Stay

Never Too Drunk

Silver and Death

Sunsets and Rivers

To Be King

Wandering Hands

Wildflowers

Ivarr x Reader Saga?

Repton

Repton II

Ledecestre

Quatford

Sigurd

In These Arms

Moonlight

Ubba

A Little Longer

Gildefort

Not My Time

To Be Yours, Tonight

Unarmed

Vili

A Map of Life

By My Side

I Could Get Used to This

My Catch

My Raven

Stolen My Heart

Untitled

#assassins creed valhalla #eivor #eivor x vili #vili x eivor #eivor x hytham #hytham x eivor #basim x eivor #eivor x basim #basim ibn ishaq #vili hemmingson #valhalla masterlist #ubba ragnarsson #ubba #ubba x reader