#Hassan of Intoxicated Smoke

[bits-and-babs]

𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄

pairing: captain john price x f!reader ('raven')

summary: john calls you in the middle of the night.

warnings: [ 1k words ] reader answers a phone call where john is fucking another woman, jealous!reader ,mutual desire hatred, (f) masturbation voyeurism in the weirdest sense

notes: i’m disgusting for this one <33

Price's name illuminates your phone screen in the pitch-blackness of your bedroom, trusty blackout curtains impeding the lambent street lights of Washington from pouring through the glass. The digital clock in the upper-right corner of your mobile reads 03:49. 

Panic capsizes your stomach, and you fumble as you scoop the trilling device into your hands. You're sobered from the intoxication of deep sleep almost instantaneously; the timing of this call is too early to possibly be anything less than urgent. John is in Amsterdam, searching for intel to pinpoint Hassan and the centre of Al Mazrah's terrorist regime. The grave chirrup blaring from the speakers in your hand convinces you he must have something. 

Punching the green phone icon, you bring the vibrating rectangle to your ear and speak before the audio even reaches your eardrums. "What do you have for me, Price?"

You expect the sound of a breathless John having escaped a gunfight in order to bring back invaluable information that would bring the U.R.A's terrorist cell to its knees. These would have been entirely rational, standard grounds for a phone call this early in the morning from his secure phone line. 

It isn't that. Or anything close. 

"Fuck, John- don't stop, please don't stop-" 

You stall, frozen to the bed despite the hot flush that pools sweat over your skin. It all plays over the speaker; the stranger's mewls of bliss, heavy slaps of skin, and grunts that are unmistakably John's. It makes your heart pummel your rib cage, its pulse so insistent that you can hear its rhythmic thump as clearly as John's steady thrusts.

It's devastating, a fierce surge of something ugly prickling sharp and hot in your stomach. It's as though Price had jammed the smouldering end of one of his cigars into your gut lining, the embers catching the fibrous tissue of your insides and sparking a wildfire. So why, despite the searing jealousy that blazed through your body, did you feel your cunt clench at the sound of his voice.

"That's it, mmm. Good girl, spread those legs for me– yes." Price's voice is thick, whispy like the smoke he exhaled into the microphone while you called orders that saved lives. It soaks into you, infects your mind like his husked syllables and the needy pulse in your clit that they wrought is contagious. It certainly sounds like it; the poor girl beneath him wails like he's just set her ablaze. 

"Hngggghhh–"

It's wholly inappropriate of you. Immoral, licentious. You should be yelling something down the phone in warning that the stupid man had somehow managed to butt-dial you and hanging up the phone, and yet–

Your fingers sink low, dip between your folds and skirt over your clit. Trembling, you press the button for the loudspeaker, unable to persuade your wandering hands to cease their wicked path. He sounds divine, utterly wrecked, as he sinks low and long into this mystery woman's cunt. Heavy, shaky breaths that trail off into a guttural groan.

You can almost smell him– the malt of his breath, the scent of tobacco clinging to his skin like it's seeped into your pillow after a day of meetings with him, the acrid smell caught in your hair and leeching into the threads of your bedding when you lay your head down to sleep. 

"Chief." 

The infinite circle you drew on your clit abruptly ceases as the sound of John's address to you. His voice is tight, unease thick on his accented tongue. 

"C-Captain Price," you cringe at the thickness with which you say his name; like it was trying to betray your fingers slowly sinking into your weeping cunt as you answered him. If the wet sound of your pussy didn't give it away already, that is. 

"Callin' was a mistake," John rumbles, the weighted silence in the background telling you he'd noticed his phone alight and had stumbled into the bathroom to explain what you'd heard away. He couldn't. You'd heard it, and you were fucking yourself to it. 

"Why are you-... Sleeping with someone when you should be working?" You attempt to reprimand him, to do the bare minimum requirement of your job, but your thumb presses ardently against your clit, and it comes out sounding far more like a jilted lover having caught her boyfriend balls deep in another woman– while actively getting off on it. 

There's a silence, long and drawn out. Your mind fills it for you, images of Price's face buried between your thighs and curling his tongue around your clit and drinking you down as though you tasted far finer than the decades-old whiskey collection he almost indisputably possessed. 

A breath. A wet squelch of your cunt as you bury your fingers knuckle deep inside your fluttering walls. 

"I suppose I should be askin' why you're touchin' yourself to the sound of me 'sleeping with someone', Station Chief." 

The confirmation that he knows makes your cunt bear down on your fingers desperately. You're intoxicated by it, the second-hand smoke in your pillowcase, the images of him fucking this poor girl into the mattress and the lilt in his voice as he calls you out on your salacious decision to finger yourself to it all. You're going to cum-

"I could re-pport you for this-" you stumble over your words, almost slur them as static bliss prickles against your clit while you twirl your fingertip over the bundle of nerves.  

"We both know you won't," he speaks with an air of authority reserved for those under his command. It leans you over the edge, dangles you above the precipice as you feel yourself crest. "You have your fingers in your pussy, Chief, don't lie to me." 

You want to say no, negative Captain, but when you open your mouth to speak, something detonates inside you. It sears through you, obliterates your insides with its ruinous path as you sob out some mixture of his name and a curse, your toes curling beneath the bedsheets. 

“Mmm. Couldn’t lie if you tried.” 

The dial tone sings for you, then, piercing the afterglow of your orgasm and ringing in your ears. 

Fuck. He knew-

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[transjinako]

Intoxicated Smoke

I made a thing for Hassan of the Intoxicated Smoke! She was in Camelot but was basically just Hundred Personas with a different name 

Assassin: Hassan of the Intoxicated Smoke 

Alignment: Lawful Neutral (Tends toward good) 

Parameters: 

Strength: D

Agility: B 

Endurance: C

Luck: D

Mana: C+

NP: C

Traits: Presence Concealment B+

Skills: 

Wrathful Scent C+: Smoke releases a gas from her body that causes those who inhale it to be driven to a mindless rage, while also deteriorating muscle and bone from within, the gas works to make the target, or targets, destroy themselves without Smoke having to have any greater interaction with them. 

Paralyzing Scent C: A simple toxin that causes the muscles in the body to seize up and leave the affected unable to move for a time, normal humans might be left permanently paralyzed. 

Dissipating Dust B+: Smoke manipulates a gas from her body to cause herself and whatever else she likes to become camouflaged wherever she or the thing she wants to hide may be. She also uses her own magic in order to hide any magic that might be sensed from either her or what she chooses to hide. 

Noble Phantasm(s): 

Zabaniya (False) - Dead Man’s Breath

Type: Anti Army, Anti Unit

Rank: C+

Description: Smoke transforms her entire body into a deadly cloud of smoke able to extend up to 90 meters in every direction. When caught in this cloud Smoke is able to put the affected through illusions, manipulating their words and actions however she wants. The victims are unable to realize they are no longer breathing in oxygen, and will quickly suffocate and die. 

Smoke is also able to create blades within this space in order to attack the affected, the effectiveness of those blades will vary on who is being attacked by them. 

Zabaniya  - Falsified Rebirth

Type: Anti Unit 

Rank: -

Description: Smoke considers this to be her true Zabaniya. She destroys her own body and as a result becomes a gaseus congregation of magic which invades the body of anyone she wishes. She can stay in this form for about 6 days before her spirit origin disappears completely. During this time however, Smoke is able to invade another person's body, be they human or servant, and then bind her soul and spirit origin to them, thus taking control. While like this, Smoke can stay alive and active for another 6 days, both her own and that person’s soul burning up from existing in the same place at the same time. This move isn’t necessarily for killing, and it is completely a suicide attack, so she’ll usually let on that Dead Air is her true Zabaniya.  

Personality: 

Like many of the Hassans before her, she is a master class assassin, however she is not an assassin first. Smoke will not simply carry out any assassination, she first assesses if the one contracting her is of noble or just cause or not. Depending on that outcome, the contractor may end up dead. She does not wish this to be so, however, she realizes how that goes against everything her mask is to stand for, and yet something keeps telling her to follow what she decides rather than the rule of Hassans. She believes she is in the wrong, knows shes wrong, and will proudly face the time when her head is the cost for her transgression.

An Assassin that follows their Morals, such a contradiction is what Smoke is. 

Interaction with other servants

Hassan of Serenity: “Do not be so impressed by me, I am nothing, rather, I would enjoy...being your friend.” 

Hassan of 100 Personas: “Your...Zabaniya, isn’t it a bit...underwhelming?” 

Hassan of the Cursed arm: “Cursed arm...I respect him quite a bit for the length he had gone to attain that title of his. I didn’t expect him to be quite so jovial, though.” 

Hassan The First: “I apologize, Oh great founder, but I cannot bow my head right now.” 

Shuten Douji: “N-no, no, I actually don’t drink much, despite my name. Ah, don’t look so disappointed, I’ll....try it.  

[vivienna-vivid]

if you don't mind me asking, if you have your roster for the blackburn hgw completed, who's on it? love seeing the texts you tag for your ocs!!

Aaaaaa thanks for asking! My roster isn’t complete juuuuust yet but hey! If you enjoy my ocs then I’ll gladly share!

Red Faction

Saber of Red is Yagyuu Jubei. He’s paired with protagonist-chan Mayaka Paige. He thinks of her like a little sister but don’t call him out on it! Jubei’s easy to embarrass!

Archer of Red is still a WIP but their Master is the sneaky bastard Rottweil Berzinsky

Lancer of Red is Patroclus. As resident smart-ass, he makes it his goal to annoy the humanity out of his Master Feend vor Sembren.

Rider of Red is Meghanada Indrajit. His pride as a warrior and prince makes him incredibly loyal to contract killer Cabik “The Viper” Pentel

Caster of Red is FGO’s Scheherazade. Saving her from M*nase’s clutches is her Master, the cool and collected Jean Rum.

Berserker of Red is FGO’s Erik Bloodaxe, now with his darling wife Guunhildr! Their “lovey-dovey murderers” act creeps out their Master (and known family man) Deimlet Pentel.

Assassin of Red is the third Hassan-i-Sabbah, Hassan of Intoxicating Smoke. Her mysterious aura matches with her Master, the equally mysterious Shirou Kotomine…

Black Faction

Saber of Black is bi-disaster Julie d’Aubigny. Despite her skirt-chasing, trouble-making personality, she’s best friends with her uptight but kind Master Kenzaki Kagami. 

Archer of Black is Brihannala. Their Master Fiore Forvedge looks up towards them and Bri themselves adores Fiore. In a way, she reminds them of their daughter-in-law.

Lancer of Black is Queen Mary I. A sorrowful woman of unyielding passion, she and her Master Vesuvuis ALdelean are on rocky terms.

Rider of Black is the grumpy Oisin mac Fhionn. Grumpy and pessimistic as he is, he is willing to die for the Black Faction. Though, Oisin seems to be somewhat afraid of his Master Celenike…

Caster of Black is still Avicebron and his Master is still Roche Frain. I really want to flesh out their relationship and Roche’s relationship to the Faction…

Berserker of Black is Kriemhild. Out of battle she’s quiet but intense, only caring about her rose garden. In battle, she becomes as ferocious as a dragon. Kriem is aloof to everyone but her Master, Caules Forvedge.

Assassin of Black is the charming Emperor Augustus. By the start of the Blackburn HGW, he’s become somewhat of a local personality. Now if only his Master Hyouma Sagara had a shred of his charm…

Ruler is Hammurabi, The King of Law. His will and rules are unmovable and he watches over the war with a firm hand and a critical eye. Due to Shirokusa’s existence, Ham is forced to posses university lecturer Mathias Canon.

[cyborg-squid]

Fun fact, the Hassans and the original Assassin Order in the 1st Assassin’s Creed (I know later games have changed their origins a lot) have the same historical origin, a sect of Nizari Isma’ili assassins operating in Persia and Syria. And true to their depiction in Fate, this group was the origin of ‘assassination’ as we know it. While it existed previously, this group used it to instill fear in their political enemies, often committing their assassinations in broad daylight, in crowded places, while wearing white. 

Their name,Hashashin, roughly translates to “follower of the foundation of the faith”. It is a misconception that their name translates to something along the lines of “drug user” (though it’s likely from this myth that Hassan of Intoxicated Smoke comes from), they were referred to derogatorily as “hash smokers” (aka junkies) by one of their enemies and that reputation stuck. Marco Polo, notorious liar, in particular spread that rumor. He said that young followers were drugged and brought into a beautiful room with gardens and women, believing that to be paradise. The grandmaster would be sitting on his throne, and a ‘head’ (in reality, another member buried in sand with only his head above) at his feet, The ‘head’ would profess how great paradise was, and if you followed the grandmaster, you could return to this paradise! And after the new follower was deceived, the buried follower would have his head cut off for real, cause it’d be weird for the new guy to see the head he saw in paradise walking around the fortress. The rumor is likely where King Hassan’s obsession with heads comes from. When Richard the 1st (aka Richard the Lionheart) was accused of killing the crusaders King of Jerusalem, the current grandmaster at the time (Rashid) sent a letter to the Duke of Austria proclaiming Richard’s innocence, because in fact it was the assassins who killed the King. We can see this alliance adapted in Strange Fake as that one time Richard, the Hassans, and Saladin had an alliance to take down a Dead Apostle. And Saladin, one of the great sultans, once threatened and beseiged the Masyaf fortress of the assassins, before having a threatening note on a poisoned dagger left by his bed while sleeping, after which he went “Nah fuck this” and left them alone. 

Sorry for going on too long, but as you said, I got SUPER into the assassins cause of Fate. 

everyone who's really into fate gets way too into the shit their favorite servant is from and that's why i am looking at domremy-la-pucelle, hometown of saint jeanne d'arc, on the google maps

[transjinako]

Another Hassan! This time its Hassan of the Shooting Star, BOY do I hope nasu forgot about these guys and I don’t get invalidated 

Assassin: Hassan of the Shooting Star 

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Parameters: 

Strength: D

Agility: A+ 

Endurance: C

Luck: B+

Mana: A 

NP: B+

Traits: 

Presence Concealment (Light) A+ 

Skills: 

Optical Illusion B+: Shooting star bends the light around himself and his surroundings, causing illusions to appear. When the sun happens to be out, these illusions can become more physicial and attack. 

Murder in Broad Daylight A+:  While attempting to assassinate under the light of the sun, Shooting Star will gain bonuses to his parameters and presence concealment. It is said that this hassan was famous for his assassinations during the day time and often publically, yet could never be caught. 

From All Directions C: Shooting Star’s main strategy for assassination. He causes himself and his throwing knives to become unseeable to the naked eye, then constantly moves and dances around the opponent, never attacking from the same place twice to keep himself unpredictable

Noble Phantasm(s):

Zabaniya - Delusional Splitting Spark 

Type: Anti self, Anti Unit 

Rank: B-

Description: The attack happens in the span of 5 seconds. First, Shooting Star’s body disperses completely and reforms into a ball of pure light, next, the light shoots toward the target at speeds nearing invisible to the naked eye, then enters the target’s body, burning them up from the inside before exiting and turning back to normal. This assassination technique is highly deadly, however it puts a serious toll onto Shooting Star’s body, droping their Agility and Endurance lower after use. Multiple uses in a day could likely kill him. 

Personality: Shooting Star is a lot more showy than any other Hassans, as shown by his use of light. He only kills during the day, making sure anyone can see what has happened, but always making the deaths too fast and too inexplicable to track. He prides himself on that, and the messages he sends with his kills. He enjoys the paranoia it creates, that during the day no one is safe from his blade nor his light. He enjoys his job greatly, almost too much so. 

Under more normal circumstances, he is simply a prideful person who loves to put on a show for others. He’s pretty easy to talk to as well and has it in him to be a nice and friendly guy. Hes more of a best friend character, if he didn’t like murder so damn much. 

Interactions with other Servants

Hassan of the Intoxicated Smoke: “You always look like your fussing over something! Take a break some time, lets hang out somewhere! Oh, that new thing, ‘Donuts’ you’ll love them!” 

Gawain: “Another man who shines brightest under the sun? Hm...his head though, doesn’t it seem rather...dim?” 

Gilgamesh or Ozymandias: “Aha….that guys too much for me, they put Icarus to shame.”