#hitman fanfic

[myth-blossom]

It's The Little Things

I wrote a lil something in honor of @grumpynora's birthday! You can read about young 6 and 47 breaking into a diner below.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NORA! 🥳🥳🥳 I'm sending you lots of love and I hope you have an amazing day like you deserve! 💗

The lock gave way easily as they broke into the diner, its only security a loose doorknob that couldn’t keep out determined wildlife, let alone two young assassins. The business was closed and the staff long since gone, providing them a quiet place to relax as they formulated a new plan to eliminate the target. 

Of all the places they normally visited, a diner was the most unusual. 6 and 47 lived a strict lifestyle that allowed them little freedom of choice, hindering their experience of locales that weren’t useful to their work. Father mostly dictated their daily routines, often sending them around the world to complete contracts for Providence before returning home and starting the murderous cycle anew. Though the Institute guards chauffeured them to and from the airport, they were allowed to work fairly unsupervised, though they were only given a limited amount of time to complete the job before returning to Romania. Father didn’t want his subjects to deviate from his grand plan, nor for them to get any troublesome ideas about rebelling.

Still, they had to improvise when the target’s plans changed, causing them to move from the office building to a neutral location where they could reevaluate their tactics. 47 stationed himself at the diner’s counter while his brother took interest in the kitchen. He used the small ray of kitchen light shining through the serving window to study their map of the city, doing his best to ignore the noise of 6 opening drawers and running water from the other side. He had just concocted a new plan when he heard the flat top grill switch on. Curious, 47 left to investigate. 

6 slapped many strips of bacon onto the grill’s hot surface, smirking proudly to himself at the resulting symphony of sizzle. He ignored his brother’s stare from the corner of his eye as he reached for a bowl of egg yolks. 

“What are you doing?” 47 asked, his tone neutral. 

“It’s a surprise.” 

47 raised his brow, but said nothing. 

“Go sit down,” 6 grinned. “Trust me.”

47 sighed lightly, but did as he was told. He returned to the old yellow spinning stool at the diner’s counter and listened to his brother work. After many interesting sounds, wonderful smells, and a few muttered expletives for entertainment, 6 was finally finished. He walked backwards through the swinging doors while carrying two large ceramic plates filled with breakfast food. 

47’s eyes widened at the chef’s offerings: five strips of bacon of varying doneness, a large mass of scrambled eggs, and two & a half pancakes (the half being the third pancake that folded in on itself while flipping). 6 waited expectantly for 47, refusing to eat his own breakfast until he saw his brother’s reaction to his food.

“Why?” was all 47 could muster. 

"Seriously, brother?” 6 sighed. 

“Yes. Father wouldn’t approve of us wasting time.” 

“47, enjoying life isn’t a waste,” he frowned. “Just try the food, I promise you’ll like it.” 

“Very well.” 

6 watched as he quietly ate from each corner of his plate, sampling a strip of bacon before eating half of the eggs and then one of the pancakes. 

“And?” 6 prompted. “What do you think?”

47 considered the plate. The bacon was chewy, the eggs a bit overcooked, and the pancake overly sweet with a hint of raw batter still in the middle. 

It was the best meal he ever had. 

They very rarely ate anything other than the protein-and-vitamin-rich meals served at the Institute. The meals served their nutritional purpose, but they were often shaped as grayish mush or patties and were very much lacking in flavor. What his brother had just served him was rather perfect, a revelation for his palate, and he was suddenly very glad that they took up a brief residence in the diner. It became another one of 6’s rebellions against their Father’s restrictions, one that 47 was very grateful to have experienced. 

“It’s…good.” 

6 grinned proudly. “I told you you’d like it.” 

They slowly ate their delicious meal as they attempted to savor each bite. They would eventually have to return to their assignment and clean the diner of any evidence of their presence. But for now they would sit together and eat, and enjoy the liberating taste of something new.

#Happy Birthday grumpynora! ❤️ #hitman #hitman fandom #agent 47 #lucas grey #hitman fanfiction #hitman fanfic #grumpynora birthday event

[peridotglimmer]

Dinnertime

Inspired by @cajunandfire's post about Diana and 47 cooking a Sunday dinner together at the Freelancer mansion, I bring you this short, sweet ficlet. (Because my brain refused to let me continue working on like sugar (melting into black tea) until I had put this to digital paper. (Or, well, physical paper first, actually.)

Rated T for one singular suggestive sentence. No warnings apply except to brush your teeth properly after this one because this is sweet.

--

Diana sighed, shutting her laptop down with a satisfied smile. She didn't usually work on Sundays, not because she was a devout Christian, but moreso because Sundays were the one day she and 47 tried to keep completely free of work plans, so they could do whatever they wanted, be it together or apart. However, 47 had only just returned from a showdown this morning, and she had needed to deal with the paperwork ASAP. She was lucky he didn't mind, spending his afternoon catching up on some home maintenance himself. But when she had heard the shower be turned on around ten minutes ago, she knew she wanted to make haste: he was done, and would be waiting for her downstairs.

As Diana descended the stairs, the music playing in the kitchen slowly became audible. 47 had turned on a smooth jazz playlist she recognised as being one of her personal favourites. She found him in the kitchen, pouring a bottle of red into the decanter.

"Hello, my love," she greeted him. He didn't pretend not to have noticed her approach, with his enhanced instincts they both knew he sensed her presence throughout the entire home. If it had been anyone else, it would have been unnerving, but with 47, Diana just felt protected.

"Just in time," he replied, reaching out for her. She walked up to him and learnt into his side, fitting perfectly beneath his outstretched arm which he lowered and wrapped around her waist.

"You smell lovely," Diana commented. She could smell her own shower gel on his skin, a flowery bouquet instead of his personal pine-scented one. 47 blushed.

"I ran out of mine; we'll have to get some more in town tomorrow."

"I suppose that's my fault, due to all the showers I've been forcing you to take with me recently," Diana replied, chuckling softly. She had some very fond memories of their shared showers and baths, and wasn't about to stop inviting him.

"I don't mind." 47 nodded towards the kitchen counter, where he had begun to lay out potatoes, carrots and cauliflower. "Feeling like beef or chicken?"

"Hm, chicken," Diana decided. As 47 walked over to the fridge to retrieve the chicken they had bought last week for this exact purpose, a Sunday roast, Diana took a chef's knife from the knife block and began prepping the vegetables and potatoes. They worked in a comfortable silence together. She didn't have to tell him about the bureaucratic completion of this most recent contract; he trusted her to inform him of anything worth knowing. Likewise, she knew that he would show her what he had accomplished today after dinner -- she knew he had been wanting to finish painting the shed.

47 placed the chicken into the oven, Diana setting aside the sheet pan of potatoes and vegetables until it was time to roast those as well. In the meantime, the sound system began playing a Grover Washington, Jr. song, and Diana nudged 47 with a soft smile.

"Dance with me?" She bit down softly on her bottom lip and looked up at him, knowing he couldn't resist giving into her demands when she requested something like this. Chuckling, as he knew exactly what she was doing, 47 took her into his arms, and together they swayed to the music.

It was funny, Diana mused as they danced, going from such a dark and gloomy world of assassination and shadow clients and absolutely sinister organisations to now standing barefoot in the kitchen of the home they shared, a homemade dinner in the oven, and feeling just so ridiculously happy.

Some days she had trouble believing this was really her life.

Luckily, 47 never minded having to remind her.

#belle writes #hitman fanfiction #hitman fanfic #diana/47 #cajunandfire

[postalninja]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Hitman (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Agent 47 & Arthur Edwards, Agent 47 & Diana Burnwood, Agent 47/Diana Burnwood Characters: Agent 47 (Hitman), Diana Burnwood, Arthur Edwards Additional Tags: Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Mindwipe, Mindwiped 47, Memory Loss, The New Constant, Living an Alternate Life, Implied imprisonment, minor mentions of torture, Implied Sex Slave, Soulmates, Angst, Podfic Length: 30-45 Minutes It’s absolutely been AGES, but I finally recorded the second chapter of @cajunandfire’s wonderful Hitman fic! Give it a read, or a listen, or both!

#cajunandfire #hitman fandom #hitman fanfic #podfic #the first time i recorded this it somehow mysteriously vanished from my hard drive #but now it's done! #at least until chapter 3 ;) #postal ninja podfic

[rieper-for-hire]

Phone Call

Diana and 47: *discussing a target briefing on the phone*

Reader, listening in: Sounds like a brat to me.

47: I've dealt with one from time to time.

Reader: Hey!

*smack*

Reader:

Diana:

47:

Reader: Tobias '47' Rieper, you did not just smack my ass! No, get back here!

#hitman #hitman 2 #hitman 3 #hitman woa #agent 47 x reader #agent 47 #diana burnwood #hitman fandom #hitman fanfic

[cajunandfire]

For the Hitman Halloween Party, I wrote a little ficlet called Leaves of Ochre for @myth-blossom. It's a short story where 47 finds himself grateful for the peaceful nature surrounding his new home and of course, his family.

I also have to say that I am obsessed with the fic I received: Gunpowder by @peridotglimmer. I've gone back to read it a few times over the last couple days! It's sooo sweet. If you love Hitman and you love cats, yu've got to read this one.

~ Don't forget to check out all the works from the Hitman Halloween Party 2023 HERE! 🎃

#hitman #hitman fandom #hitman fanfiction #diana/47 #agent 47 #diana burnwood #hitman 3 #hitman fanfic #hitman halloween party #ao3 #fanfiction

[misterbrick42]

A Day in The Life of the Guy Who Smuggles in Items into Hitman Locations

I decided to be the change I wanted to see in the world and I wrote some non-romance based hitman fanfiction about working as the guy who smuggles in items into hitman locations.

Hi, my name is Brad, and I work at the ICA. I’m not one of the assassins, or anything, but I do spend a lot of the time in the field. See, I’m the guy who helps smuggle items in. It’s a pretty straight forward job. I’m provided with the item, sometimes I’m given multiple in case it breaks, and I have to hide it in a specific spot. Sometimes I have to drop a briefcase instead of just the poison or what have you, and let me tell you, do you have any idea how difficult it is to lug a briefcase around? Especially when it has something like a sniper rifle in it, or like one time, I had to deliver a PROXIMITY. BOMB. To the top of, like, some church tower! What was that guy even planning to do? I…

Right, rule number one in my field: Try not to ask too many questions.

The assassins are the smart ones. If I were better at my job, I would have a better job, That’s an undeniable truth. I’m not the best at planning, I can barely keep my hands steady even looking at a gun, and overall? I’m just some guy.

But that’s perfect for this line of work. Can I blend into every place I go? No, of course not. I’m not as inconspicuous as… Him… but let me tell you, it’s a good day when I see someone who looks a lot like me. Cause- the funny thing is, I don’t even have to knock the guy out if I can find his clothes somewhere else.

That’s the second rule in my field: Don’t change anything. Don’t knock anyone out, don’t take anything home with you, heck, I got talked to for moving somebody’s water bottle a foot away. Our assassins are… unpredictable. They’re creative, they innovate. The very existence of the rubber duck explosives should make that clear.

Where was I? Right, so what I do is when I find somebody who I think I can pass off as being, I’ll shadow them for a while, try to learn their mannerisms, maybe hear their voice a few times. Then when I’m ready, I’ll change my clothes somewhere private. You know, I always wondered why none of the top assassins bother to pick up the bagged clothes. Heck, even He never does that. Can’t be that hard to carry. So after that, as long as me and the other guy are never too close to the same area as each other, I’m usually able to blend in pretty well. It’s not really a written rule, but it’s pretty heavily implied to keep interactions with anybody else to a minimum. But it’s not outright banned. Heck, one time I managed to get SOMEBODY ELSE to do my mission FOR ME. It was labeled the most efficient and clean mission of the month in my department, and then immediately added to the list of “Discouraged Strategies.” 

There are really only two rules in my field. Well, two main rules, anyway. There are always stipulations, but they’re conditional. But other than that, it’s just like any other field job. I’m not the best in the agency, but I’m certainly no pushover or anything. What, do you think you could hide a tranquilizer gun in the back of a parade float without being seen, hours before the start of New Orlean’s biggest Mardi Gras parade?

Okay to be fair, it wasn’t very crowded BEFORE the parade started. But do you wanna hear about one of my more interesting missions? I was sent to Miami to place a briefcase with… something inside it (all info is on a need to know basis in the ICA and I did not need to know what was in there) in the gym of the Kronstadt building. I wasn’t provided a map or anything, so I just did what any person not born in a glass cylinder would do, and asked the lady at the front desk for directions.

“Excuse me,” I started. “Where is the gym?” She looked at me like I was crazy. I wasn’t. Just a criminal. Completely different. “I’m sorry?” She responded after a few seconds. “The gym,” I repeated. “I was told there was a gym here.” “Sorry, there’s no gym here.” She told me. “If you want to see some of Kronsdadt’s revolutionary tech, however, please continue to the hallway on my left.” “No, there’s gotta be a gym here.” I probably should’ve just backed away and asked for additional info. I didn’t. “There’s a gym somewhere, right?” The other guy behind the desk perked up. “Oh, I think I heard some of the guards mention a small gym on the top floor. Sorry, but it’s only for employees. Also, the aquarium is currently closed.” This was a huge problem. I love the aquarium. Also, once again, I was going to have to go somewhere that was employee only. 

“Right. Okay. That’s okay. I’m going to. Go.” I walked away, and very clearly did not continue towards the door. As I walked to their right I could hear the guy call out saying “There’s a really nice gym a few blocks down! The quickest path is closed for the race but if you go around it’s nice and you can even go for a day without a membership! You should go!” I noticed a sign that said “Coat Check.” That was perfect. “Not that you’re out of shape or anything!” The guy at the front desk corrected himself. To my relief, nobody was behind the counter. I quickly vaulted over, briefcase in hand, and started looking for any outfit I could change into. I found a uniform similar to the one the guy at the front desk was wearing. This should get me to that gym.

I walk up to the second floor, and start looking for maps. I found one, but there wasn’t a gym on it. I decided my only option was to, again, ask someone for directions again. I was just praying nobody found me, my general demeanor, the large briefcase I was lugging around, or anything else about me suspicious. I walk up to the nearest guard. “Hey uhhh…”  “It’s Ewart. Like the guy at the front desk. No relation.” He cut me off, expecting that I was trying to guess his name. “Right, so, Ewart, where’s the gym again?” That’s how I responded, but the way he looked at me, you would’ve assumed I just told him “Hey there’s a proximity CX demolition block in this briefcase. That’s a fancy way of saying "large bomb.” he brushed the dumbfounded look off and, rudely, said “What are you talking about the gym for? It’s on the top floor, and engineers aren’t allowed up there. Everyone knows this!” I have definitely drawn massive suspicion to myself. There’s one thing that avoids this sounding suspicious, and the overuse of it makes it suspicious all over again.

“Oh, sorry, I’m uh, new here.” the classic cure-all for not knowing things a real person should and does know. Thankfully, this seemed to ease the guy’s suspicion. Unfortunately, he shouted at me to get back to work and I walked away looking pretty awkward. But that’s better than looking suspicious! 

Regardless of how poorly that interaction went, one thing was clear: I needed to find another outfit. “Command, might be stuck. Please advise.” I started combing the second floor while I waited for a response.. Not allowed in the showroom. Nothing in the android lab, or the office behind it. None of the conference rooms or bathrooms had anything. I stepped through a door I unlocked with a “borrowed” keycard. (Rule 2.5: Undo any changes you make.) I was met with an elevator shaft and a door to the overpass overlooking the race track. I looked up, and saw a satellite dish. And a pipe leading to… an open window?

Let me get off track here to make one thing clear.

I’m not Him. Everybody wants to be Him. Everybody wants to be that perfect assassin who’s so good at his job, it’s been debated whether or not he’s real. Everybody wants to be that unfeeling, killing machine whose only weakness is a single woman who works as his handler, and is completely unaware of what some of my co-workers have drawn of- Sorry, where was I? Right. I’m not Him

And I’m definitely not as agile as him. I wasn’t about to climb out a window to complete a mission, was I? I took a moment to consider my odds here. Either I perform poorly on this mission and have to take somebody out (A large briefcase makes that pretty easy, at least) Or I climb out this window and potentially fall to my death, and then get run over.

I am. I waited for the coast to clear, I set the briefcase underneath the couch so nobody would see it, and I stepped out of the window. There was barely enough room for me to walk on, and there was a pipe that would let me climb up. I rolled up my sleeves so that I could stick better and I started climbing. I could hear the wind blowing, the sound of race cars zooming past me, and my heart rate doubling. I summited onto the top floor a changed man. And it was clear in my mind: I might not even be out of here yet. I examined my surroundings. A security room through the window, a storage room, a hallway where I would certainly be seen…

“Brad, the package has been intercepted! Somebody’s taken it!”

My earpiece took me out of my focus. The briefcase must not have been hidden well enough. A guard is likely taking it somewhere like the security room…

Wait, THAT’S WHERE I AM! I watch out the window as some guy sets it down right next to me. I hear them talk through the muffled glass. “Where do you even get a briefcase like this? I oughta get one like that.” I “calmly” and discreetly swipe the briefcase and look for somewhere new to hide. Across the hall is a bathroom I dash into. Time to plan my next move. Okay, nothing here but a bottle of eyedrops and-

“Command, target sighted!” The gym was right outside the window! All I had to do was drop the briefcase where it wouldn’t be seen and take a picture for the agent. I looked around for where I could hide it. The bench might be risky, behind that shelf is- okay, there’s already a battle axe there. I kept crouching, because the place was covered in windows. Crouching is hard, you know? Try crouching right now for a bit. It’s kinda hard. Hurts the knees. Just as I decide I’ll leave it under the bench and just pray, I hear the noise of dread.

“Hey! What are you doing up here, sneaking around like that?”

I rise up, shooting my hands in the air, but not dropping the briefcase. “Wait, isn’t that the briefcase Homer just dropped in?” The guard got closer, waiting to see what was in my case before deciding if my life ends here. “Y- no,” I stumble. I wasn’t trained for combat. That’s why I took this role. “What’s in the case?” The guard took it from me. He started to open it. If there was something in here that was in any way suspicious, I was doomed. The locks snapped open. I braced for the worst. CX demo blocks. A sniper rifle. 20 pounds of hard drugs. Heck, one time there was a sword in there, which is crazy because a sword shouldn’t even be able to-

“Why is there a fish in your briefcase?” My heart rate plummeted, and then went right back up, but for different reasons.. A fish? I risked my life for a fish??? Why couldn’t I have just been an informant instead? And then I remembered rule one, stopped thinking, and adapted. “I’m sorry, I wanted to save it to cook for later… the inside of that case is insulated.” That part was actually true, but I still looked like a huge moron. Who carries around fish they want to cook later, who places their briefcase underneath a bench in an area they're literally not allowed in, and who has an insulated briefcase?? The guard, probably thinking I deserved to be fired and then sent to an asylum, decided to take pity. “Okay, leave the case, come with me, we’re going back downstairs.” I lowered my arms, kicked the case back under the bench, snapped a discreet photo and happily followed Mr. Williams, I think he said his name was, back downstairs. I could hear the horns as the Global Innovation Race ends, as I calmly and discreetly walk out the front door, knowing this was another successful mission, done okay-ish-ly.

I still think about that mission constantly. Mainly the fish part.

Do I regret being a smuggler sometimes? Perhaps. Do I wish I was one of the assassins instead? Definitely not. But it feels good knowing I can help them perform the jobs the world needs for… whatever. Oh, hey, I asked somebody if I could know who wanted me to do the job I was just talking about, and I just got an email back! Let’s see… wait, f-

IT WAS FORTY SEVEN WHO WANTED TO HAVE A FISH SMUGGLED IN!?

#hitman fanfiction #hitman fanfic #hitman fandom #agent 47 #hitman #hitman 2 #hitman 3 #hitman world of assassination

[diana-fortyseven]

WIP Wednesday, you say?

It got even more awkward between them. Even in the dim lighting and from the corner of her eye she could tell that he was blushing. 47 was staring straight ahead, and Diana didn't dare to make eye contact with him either. He really didn't need to figure out how much all of that turned her on. If only they had separate cabins; but the way things were, she wouldn't even be able to take care of herself that night.

One of the fics that I hopefully manage to finish before Kinktober is over. :D

#WIP Wednesday #Hitman Fandom #Hitman Fanfic #Agent 47 #Diana Burnwood #Agent 47/Diana Burnwood

[hitmanfanfics]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hitman (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Agent 47/Diana Burnwood Characters: Agent 47 (Hitman), Diana Burnwood Additional Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Drabble Series: Part 25 of Fluff Bunnies Summary:

Agent 47 has to make a decision.

#Hitman #Hitman Fandom #Hitman Fanfiction #Hitman Fanfic #Fanfiction #AO3 #AO3Feed #AO3 RSS

[secondarythings]

New Hitman fic: A Matter of Origin

“Holy hell!” Smith exclaimed as 47 and Lucas dragged the bodies inside the office. “There's two of you?" Once again, Agent Smith is found captured. 47, as usual, rescues him but this time 47 is not alone. Agent Smith had always thought that 47 was unique, but his companion seems to be his match. But where do they come from?

@lucas-grey @ellenchain

#hitman #lucas grey #agent 47 #hitman fanfic #hitman fanfiction #ellenchain #lucas-grey

[r-kaye]

necessity (continued)

They had started sleeping in the same bed out of necessity, or at least that was what they both claimed. When 47 had started work on his new safe house, he hadn’t seen a reason for having a second bedroom. It was only him. He never would have imagined that Diana would turn up, bags in tow, and stay. It had taken him a long time to realize she intended to stay. He had spent the first week sleeping in the den, insisting that he couldn’t let her sleep on the couch, but she was obstinate that he not be displaced from his own bed in his own house. 

“Really, 47, I don’t see why we can’t share a bed,” she had finally declared, crossing her arms in a way he had learned meant she was either about to make a good point or just get her way. “A king size bed has enough room for both of us.”

The first night had been nerve wracking for him, his stomach in knots as he brushed his teeth for a second time, prolonging his night routine. Diana had already gotten in bed, and he couldn’t imagine what to do or say once he left the bathroom. There was no script, intel, or past experience for him to rely on. He had no role to play; there was only 47. He finally steeled himself, striding out of the bathroom like he always did. Diana had been sitting against the headboard, under the comforter, a book open with her reading glasses perched on her nose. He had stopped in his tracks at the sight of her, hair down around her shoulders, shining like fire in the light of the lamp on the bedside table. She was wearing one of his sweatshirts, an old Oxford one that he was fairly certain she had gifted him after visiting Victoria years before. She had closed her book, looking up at him with a soft smile. He would have done anything if she kept smiling at him like that. She sat the book on the table, then patted the other side of the bed. 

He wasn’t one to disobey her.

#its wip wednesday #wip excerpt #wip wednesday #i haven’t written anything in a while #hitman fanfic #fanfiction #hitman #diana burnwood #agent 47 #diana/47

[myth-blossom]

Hurray for wonderful Valentine’s Day fics for the Hitman fandom! 💕

I received two amazing gifts today from my awesome exchange valentines:

There are *eight* new Hitman fics to enjoy from the exchanges linked below. Please go show them all some love!! ❤️❤️❤️

Hitman Valentine’s Date Exchange 2024

Candy Hearts Exchange 2024

#Hitman #Fic exchanges #hitman fandom #hitman fanfiction #hitman fanfic #Hitman fanfiction #Candy Hearts Exchange 2024 #Hitman Valentine’s Date Exchange 2024

[peridotglimmer]

It's here! Talking to @diana-fortyseven yesterday evening helped spur my brain into motion, so I present to you: chapter 1 (and the prologue) of my Deaf!Diana Burnwood fic!

Diana/47, injury recovery, canon divergence after the train

Summary According to the trauma surgeons, it was a miracle she hadn't ended up completely paraplegic, or even dead, just in a wheelchair for now.

But deaf. Deaf.

That didn't exactly feel much better either.

--

When Diana ends up on the wrong side of the wall when a bombing is carried out on Providence, the last thing she's expecting is for her estranged agent to show up at her release from the private rehabilitation facility and nurse her back to health.

#belle writes #hitman fanfiction #hitman #diana/47 #agent 47/diana burnwood #hitman fanfic

[apricotbones]

#hitman #agent 47 #diana burnwood #diana/47 #agent 47/diana burnwood #hitman fanfic #hitman freelancer

[rieper-for-hire]

I'm Making Believe

The heat's returning where I'm at, so have a rainy day drabble while I wait for it to subside for fall weather. I'll consider this a songfic since I was listening to this song (Spotify, YouTube) while writing it. I'll probably revisit this song in a better matched fic sometime soon.

Agent 47 x gender neutral reader

Word count: 453

(Also posted on AO3!)

The pitter patter of the rain against your window matched the rhythmic heartbeat of the chest you lay atop of. Paired with the quiet melody coming from your record player and the soft hand caressing your arm, you've never felt more at peace.

Correction, the both of you have never felt more at peace.

47 was home from another mission, Diana assuring him and Lucas have some time to themselves for quite a while. While Lucas took the time to see how Olivia was doing, 47, naturally, came home. To you.

And with the sudden rainstorm upon his arrival, the two of you opted for a night in together instead of the dinner date previously planned.

How you willed him to wear the black T-shirt, neither of you know.

Lucas must've finally rubbed off on him, you think.

You couldn't tell, but you knew 47 had his eyes shut as he lay on the bed with you. Listening to the song playing as his fingers dance across your skin.

You quietly sing along once the vocals switch over to Ella Fitzgerald's. Whether you were a good or a bad singer, 47 never mentioned. As long as singing made you happy, he was happy. A feeling he wouldn't have been used to until he met you.

As the piano melody plays on, you think of how much both your lives had changed because of your meeting. He gave you what others tried: the promise of coming back to you. And in turn, you gave him a life where he can be free without a care in the world.

A call of your name catches your attention and you peer up at the assassin. He eyes you as he quietly sings along to the song. Smiling, you return the lyric when the chance arises. You both continue until the song finishes.

"You never told me you can sing."

"You never asked," he shoots back, a cheeky smirk on his face.

You can't help but laugh at your sassy assassin, resting your head against his chest to stifle the sound.

"I've also never tried. At least... Not before."

You peer back up at him in the soft light, yet his blue eyes held nothing but warmth.

"Would you sing more for me sometime?"

He hums. "Perhaps. If given the perfect... opportunity."

"Cause you're all about opportunity," you point out.

His chest rumbles in a laugh before rolling you both over. He pulls you beneath him, further entangling you in the warm comfort of the blankets and his own body.

And so, the pitter patter of the rain continues against the window. The scratching of needle on the finished vinyl falling on deaf, and more occupied, ears.

#agent 47 x reader #agent 47 #hitman #hitman fandom #hitman fanfic #hitman fanfiction

[cajunandfire]

Drabble requests: number 10 for Diana/47 perhaps?

"Let's take a bath together" from this fic drabble ask challenge.

Happy birthday @peridotglimmer! I'm such a fan of your wonderful Hitman fanfiction. I hope you've had a lovely day of celebrating! 🥳

-

His gloved hands work the dirt, ensuring the soil is equally spread around the new raised garden bed. The late spring sun warms his skin while he works diligently, expanding the garden of his safehouse. He kneels back, sitting on his heels, proud of the work he's done. Three of the four new garden beds were complete. All he had left to do was to fill the last with organic matter, yard waste and fresh soil.

He loved to garden, and had been pleased with the original garden beds Diana had included in his home. Yet it wasn't until their last trip together, that he made plans to expand the garden. Over a light lunch of insalata caprese and taralli in Naples, Diana had been smitten with the fresh mozzarella but said the tomatoes weren't as flavourful as the ones 47 had grown that summer.

That was the moment that inspired it all. He knew that next spring he would expand the garden, so he could grow more food to cook for her. It was one of the simpler ways in which he could show his love and affection for her.

He stands now, brushing the dirt from his soft vintage jeans and plaid shirt. Before he can even get to work on the last raised bed, a chime emits over the speakers in his home, and his phone in his breast pocket vibrates. It's his warning system, notifying him that someone was on this property.

He immediately drops everything and heads towards the other side of the house, staying close to the wall to remain out of view. He pulls his phone to tap into his state-of-the-art surveillance system, which had cameras and pressure plates all around his 40 acres of land. He pinches at his phone screen, zooming into the images captured. It's Diana's car, he recognizes her dark blue Lexus. He zooms in to the windows to confirm that she alone is driving the car. Satisfied with his findings, he slides his phone back into his breast pocket. She would be here in a few minutes, there was no use in hiding the surprise now.

He patiently waits for her at the garage, when she pulls up into his driveway.

"Good afternoon, 47." She playfully greets, sliding out of the car.

"Diana," he greets in return. "You're back early."

"I wrapped up business in London ahead of schedule. I figured there was no need in staying the extra night." She smiles, as she motions to hand him her carry-on bag, before pulling back at the sight of his dirty gloves and clothes. "What have you been up to, 47?"

"It's not finished," he says, but he motions with his head for her to follow. He leads her around the corner of the house. They stop just short of the new raised garden beds.

"More garden space? That's a lovely idea. I'm happy to see you turning the safehouse into a home."

It's not just that, as he reminds her of their time in Naples and the comment she made. He'll have more of the freshest produce, from tomatoes to zucchini, and cucumbers to fresh herbs. All for them to enjoy together.

"This is so lovely, thank you 47."

He responds with a soft smile.

"With this talk of food, why don't we pop in for lunch? I'm sure you've worked up an appetite."

"I should finish this last garden bed, but you can help yourself to anything in the kitchen," he was always one to finish a job, no matter what it was. He reaches down, grabbing his shovel to get back to work.

"Of course," she says, as a playful little smirk starts to tease at the corners of her mouth. She takes a step closer to him as she starts, "it's a shame you're covered in all this dirt, otherwise I would have given you a proper thank you."

The comment causes him to turn his head towards her.

"I think a bath might be in order, for the two of us."

"Bath?" He repeats, his ears perking up at the word.

She nods with a little hum, before turning towards the house. She doesn't have to tell him twice, because he immediately drops his shovel and gloves, following hot on her footsteps.

The garden would have to wait.

#rated teen #diana/47 #diana x 47 #hitman fandom #hitman fanfiction #diana burnwood #agent 47 #hitman #hitman 3 #hitman fanfic #hitman drabble fic ask requests #hitman drabbles

[cicaklah]

fandom: hitman

pairing: Diana/47

rating: heat death of the universe

summary: “Have you seen the news?” Diana asks.

tagged: End of the World, Trick or Treat: Trick, Melancholy, Ambiguous/Open Ending, POV First Person

---

Written for @myth-blossom's prompt in the hitman halloween party, this was the trick I picked for the trick or treat challenge. This was something I wrote last minute, I love me some ambiguous end of the world stories, I've written them before and I will write them again. That's a threat/promise.

#hitman #diana/47 #trick or treat #hitman fanfic