#hitman!au

[zvdvdlvr]

Streetfighter frank castle who started fighting to make a few bucks after getting home. He didn’t have a wife or kids to go home too and he needed a break from his Marine brothers. Frank told himself he would only fight until he had just enough money to get himself a place and a job.

Streetfighter!Frank Castle who is put up against a short little thing for his first match ever. According to the sweaty announcer man, it was your first match. Now, after being in the military, Frank knew not to underestimate the opponent- it hust gave them the advantage- but you were small.

Streetfighter!Frank Castle who gets his shit rocked. Like, you just pushs him on the ground and shit all over him and then stepped on his balls. Frank didn’t even throw a punch before your small and clearly flexible body shot forward and wrapped around his ankle. You grabbed his thigh and shoved your head into his side before standing up and driving his body to the side, bringing him down.

Streetfighter!Frank Castle who seeks you out after you won a few other matches that night. He got your name and that was about it. You kept yourself quiet, choosing to collect you money and go instead of instigating another fight.

Streetfighter!Frank Castle who doesn’t sign up for any matches the next weeks- opting to watch you preform. As the fights went on and you were paired with better and more intelligent fighters, Frank watched your eyes flicker between your opponent’s wrists and stomach. Your feet moved fast. Your movements were practised and lethal- different from the men who just punched and kicked their way to victory. 

Streetfighter!Frank Castle who finally opens up to you and you to him. Frank realizes that the more he talks to you, the more and more he wants your company. He doesn’t know why, but you interest him to know end. Frank thinks of what his buddy Billy would say: teasing him for being head over tits for some street fighter, asking Frank if you were hot, telling Frank he needs to grow the balls to make a move on you.

Streetfighter!Frank Castle who- eventually- gets a job as an (illegal) hitman who moves around every time he blinks. He leaves the night he told you of his new job, ripping his own self away from you.

Streetfighter!Frank Castle turned to Hitman!Frank Castle who finally swings back around the club years later. He learns that you picked up a job at a local bar doing more than what you originally signed up for. Frank also notices how some of his old buddies smiled slyly at him after he asked about you. They made sire to mention how you were still as single as you’d been all those years ago.

Streetfighter!Frank Castle turned to Hitman!Frank Castle who immediately recognizes you behind the bar. You had grown a few inches but still short. Along with your new hairstyle, Frank had noticed the blue and purple bruises dotting your face highlighted by the odd scars littering you body. He knew his feelings hadn’t faded one bit as you looked up and locked eyes with him.

[applestruda]

brick thrown at @tibbycaps on artfight

[tibby-art]

i miss chau

[bucket-of-cheese]

Into the Gtwscarverse (aka my favorite au’s Scar’s all in one place)

Credits (left to right)

[confidential]

Chau by tibbycaps

Desert duo theme park au by MistytheWizard

STAREATER AU🥰🥰 by skimmeh and kairamuwu

Ddvau by kitsuneisi and xmaruu11

[confidential]

artist au by jellitchi

(Currently unnamed) au by chip-the-dip

Boatem knight au by applestruda

[ohposhers]

So I am obsessed with @lemony-and-zesty 's Hitman John Dory AU and ended up drawing a bunch of fanart of it i am crying ty for such a sweet AU I love JD's design so much im going crazy I hope I drew the character interactions ok!! I had to guess a little so I apologize if I got anything wrong </3

[deliciousangelfestival]

He's A Killer

Summary: She’s known among her family and friends for being single, and everyone worries about her. Determined to prove them wrong, she finally makes her first move, only to discover that the person she likes is dangerous.

The second part : He's The Sweetest

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The emergency room of St. Grace Medical Center buzzes with activity. Doctors and nurses move swiftly, handling patients with precision. Voices blur together in the chaos, and the sharp scent of antiseptic fills the air.

You're inside the medical storage room, scanning shelves for the supplies the doctor requested: syringes, tubes, and medication vials. Besides, you is Clara, your co-worker and friend, busy sorting through trays.

"I told you I had that family dinner, right?" you say, picking up a pack of syringes.

"Yeah, how was it?" Clara asks, not looking up from the tray she's organizing.

“Dreadful. Dreadful. Dreadful,” you reply, shaking your head in exasperation.

Clara glances at you, a smirk forming. "Wow, three times? That bad, huh?"

The memory flashes through your mind: Sunday, family dinner. You sit across from your aunts, who seem more interested in your love life than the meal.

"Your mom’s worried about you, you know," one of your aunts says between bites. "She didn't tell you because she's afraid of hurting your feelings," another aunt adds. "You’re already over 30; the clock is ticking." "My friend’s son works at the oil company. I could get his contact if you want. He’s a good catch."

Back in the storage room, Clara's voice breaks through your thoughts. "Well, you probably won’t like this, but your aunt’s kinda right. I mean, bestie, I’m only saying this because I care about you."

You hum, trying to keep your focus on entering patient data into the system. Clara means well, but the topic is starting to get old.

“Honey, you’re a great friend and an amazing co-worker. Everyone here relies on you because you’re so reliable. You know why?” Clara’s voice softens as she leans in. “Because you’re single. You don’t have someone waiting for you, or someone to hang out with on Saturdays and Sundays.”

You freeze for a moment, glancing up at her with raised eyebrows.

“Please, go out and talk to someone," she continues. "You've been single for way too long. You deserve some love, girl. It’s not like you need to get married right away.”

Clara shudders, as if the thought gives her chills. “No, not at all! Just, you know, make friends first?” She winks playfully before gathering a tray of supplies and heading out to assist the doctor.

Alone in the storage room, you sigh, leaning against the counter for a moment. Clara means well, but every time someone offers to introduce you to someone, it irks you. You know you’ve been single for a long time—your whole life, really—but it’s not that you don’t want a relationship.

It’s complicated.

You've seen too many relationships fall apart. Your parents, your aunts, your cousins—all their stories weigh on you. The cheating, the abuse, the constant reminders from your cousins: “Don’t get married.” It’s no wonder you’re hesitant.

But what stings the most is finding out your father, who you always thought was a devoted husband, had cheated on your mom. That betrayal shaped your fears. You don’t want to end up like her—trapped in a painful, one-sided marriage.

Part of you is scared of commitment, scared of getting hurt. But another part of you craves it—a real connection. The irony of it all is that the same aunts pushing you to settle down are stuck in abusive marriages themselves. It’s almost comedic, in a sad, twisted way.

You shake your head, pushing the thoughts aside as you gather the last of the supplies.

🐼🐼🐼🐼🐼

Working at ER felt like living in a whirlwind. You rarely went home, often staying for almost 24 hours at a time. The chaos of patients coming in with life-threatening injuries, doctors shouting orders, and the constant rush to save lives left you drained but fulfilled. When you finally had a day off, there was only one thing you looked forward to—visiting the zoo to see your favorite animal: the panda. 🐼

You’ve always had a soft spot for pandas. Something about their calm, slow movements and gentle nature soothed you. The baby panda, in particular, had become your little escape. Watching it tumble around, clumsily explore, or nibble on bamboo always brought you a sense of peace. You had its appearances memorized on your schedule since it wasn’t allowed out every day.

Today was one of those rare days off, and you made your way to the zoo, excited to see the baby panda. But when you arrived, the mood shifted. A zoo employee stood in front of the panda enclosure, addressing the crowd of disappointed families.

“Sorry folks, the panda viewing has been rescheduled. We have made an announcement on our social media last week—we worked on it all night, without sleep.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. Without sleep? Try handling an ER at peak hours. Annoyed but resigned, you sighed and checked the next available viewing time. As the crowd started dispersing, one person caught your attention.

A tall man stood at the panda window, his broad shoulders slumped in disappointment. He sighed deeply before turning around. That’s when your eyes met. It wasn’t intentional, but the sudden connection caught you off guard. Quickly, you bowed your head and hurried away, feeling your cheeks warm from the brief moment.

The next day, you returned to the zoo, and this time, the baby panda was out. You joined the crowd, eager to see your favorite animal. The baby panda was as adorable as ever, tumbling clumsily around its habitat. You found yourself smiling, the sight of it immediately calming your busy mind. But as you glanced around, you saw him again—the tall man from yesterday. He was also watching the panda, just as captivated as the rest of the crowd.

The panda display ended too soon, and just as you were about to leave, the sky opened up and rain started pouring. The panda enclosure was far from the main entrance, and there was no shelter nearby. Luckily, you always carried an umbrella. As you received a message from the hospital calling you in for an emergency, you saw other visitors quickly opening their umbrellas and leaving one by one.

Soon, it was just you and the tall man left in the rain.

You noticed him glancing at his watch, pacing back and forth like he was debating whether to make a run for it. His indecision made you smile. He clearly wasn’t prepared for the weather. Without thinking much of it, you walked up to him, holding out your umbrella.

“Ehm,” you said, voice slightly raised over the sound of the rain. “Want to walk to the gate together?”

His eyes flicked to the umbrella in your hand before he gave you a small smile. “Thank you,” he said, stepping under it with you.

The walk was quiet, the sound of the rain drumming on the umbrella louder than any conversation you might have had. It should have felt awkward—after all, you were strangers—but the rain filled the silence. He stayed close to your side, even leaning a little toward you to make sure you weren’t getting wet. You noticed his left side was already damp, but he didn’t seem to care. Is he a gentleman? you wondered as you both continued walking.

When you finally reached the entrance, you closed your umbrella. The man pointed toward the parking lot. “My car’s pretty far,” he said, glancing toward the rain-soaked lot.

“I’ve got to go too,” you replied, showing him your phone. “I booked a car from the app. It should be here soon.”

He nodded, still standing close. You hesitated for a moment, then held out the umbrella to him. “Here. Take this. It’s better than running through the rain.”

He blinked in surprise, looking down at the umbrella. “How do I return this to you?”

You smiled, shrugging lightly. “It’s alright. I have more. But… if you really want to return it, you can find me at the hospital E.R. St. Grace Medical Center.”

His lips curled into a small smile, a flash of warmth in his eyes. “Alright then, the hospital. I’ll remember that.”

Before he could say anything more, your car pulled up. You gave him one last smile, ducking into the back seat, and as you drove off, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d see him again.

🐼🐼🐼🐼

The night shift at St. Grace Medical Center had just begun, but unlike most nights, the ER was unusually quiet. A handful of patients sat in the waiting area, the usual chaos replaced by a lull. The soft beeping of monitors filled the air, interrupted occasionally by the rustle of paperwork or a distant cough.

Clara, your ever-observant co-worker, stood beside you, arms crossed, her brow raised in curiosity. "You look different tonight. What’s going on?" She tilted her head, smirking slightly.

You paused, your lips twitching into a small smile. "Well… I met this guy when I went to see my favorite panda."

Clara’s smirk grew wide. “Ah, the fluffy black and white mammals. So, what makes this guy more special than your favorite animal?”

You were about to answer when a loud commotion broke out near the entrance. A drunk patient stumbled through the doors, yelling incoherently, bumping into chairs, and causing a scene.

“Perfect timing,” you muttered under your breath.

Clara groaned. "Here we go."

You both rushed over to try and calm him down. He was clearly in no state to be reasoned with, slurring his words and swaying dangerously as he tried to grab hold of another patient’s wheelchair.

“Sir, you need to sit down,” you said, holding up your hands in a calming gesture.

The man blinked at you, confused, then suddenly lunged forward, trying to grab your arm. Panic surged through you, but before he could make contact, a firm hand caught the drunk man's wrist.

"That's enough," a deep voice said from behind you.

You turned around, startled to see him—the man from the zoo. The one who borrowed your umbrella. He stood tall, his grip firm but not aggressive as he guided the drunk man back into a chair. The drunk patient, surprised by the sudden interference, mumbled something incoherent but didn’t resist.

Relief washed over you, and you let out a shaky breath. “Thanks. That could’ve gotten ugly.”

He gave you a soft smile. “It’s quiet here,” he said casually.

You quickly shook your head, eyes widening. “Don’t say that! You’ll jinx it.”

He chuckled at your reaction, then glanced down at your name tag. “Y/N, huh? Nice to meet you. I’m James Barnes, but most people call me Bucky.”

You blinked, feeling the warmth of his smile seep into you. "Nice to meet you too… Bucky."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a familiar item—your umbrella. “Sorry I’m late returning this. Thanks again for letting me borrow it.”

You grinned, feeling a bit of your usual humor return. “Hey, as panda lovers, we have to help each other out, right?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to dig a hole and hide in it. Did I really just say that?

To your surprise, Bucky laughed—a genuine, warm sound. “You’re right. We do.” Then, as if to return the favor for your kindness, he pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “Actually, I have something for you.”

You furrowed your brows, confused, until you unfolded the paper. Your eyes widened in disbelief—it was a VIP ticket for a face-to-face panda experience, something you had only dreamed about.

“What? How did you get this?” you asked, astonished.

Bucky smiled, a little mischievously. “I’ve got some connections.”

Before you could fully process what had just happened, Bucky waved and left the hospital. As soon as he was out of sight, Clara whistled softly behind you.

“Well, well, well,” she teased, her tone dripping with amusement. “Is someone making panda dates now?”

You rolled your eyes, though a blush crept up your cheeks. "It’s not like that, Clara."

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, her eyes twinkling. “I’m sure it’s all innocent.”

The next day, you found yourself back at the zoo, clutching your VIP ticket nervously. And there he was again—Bucky, standing near the entrance, waiting for you.

“Hey,” he greeted you with that same easy smile.

“Hey,” you replied, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest. The two of you walked together into the building, and soon, the moment you'd been waiting for arrived: you were face to face with the baby panda.

Both of you were silent as the tiny creature waddled toward you. The panda was as adorable as you had imagined, its soft fur and curious little eyes making your heart melt. Bucky stood next to you, just as captivated. When the panda let out a small squeak, you both exchanged a glance, wide-eyed, before grinning like kids.

As you held the baby panda for a brief moment, you felt all the exhaustion from your long shifts melt away. It was like a small pocket of happiness you hadn’t realized you needed. You could hear Bucky chuckling softly beside you, clearly sharing the same sentiment.

“Why pandas?” he asked softly after a while, turning to look at you.

You shrugged, smiling. “They’re just… calming. Whenever I’m tired from the hospital or life, looking at them helps. It’s like all the stress just melts away.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully, his gaze still on the baby panda. “I get it. My job is… well, it’s tiring. Dangerous too. But seeing animals like this, being cuddled, living peacefully—it helps. Makes me feel like there’s still good out there.”

You glanced at him curiously, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. “Sounds like a tough job,” you said carefully.

Bucky smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah… it can be.”

It's his turn to hold and cuddle the baby panda, and the sight is nothing short of heartwarming. The little creature, with its round face and soft, fuzzy coat, snuggles into his arms as he cradles it gently. Bucky’s eyes light up with a mix of joy and awe, his broad smile breaking through his usually composed demeanor. He chuckles softly, a sound that resonates with warmth, as the panda nuzzles against his chest, completely at ease.

There’s a brief pause, the kind that feels heavy with something unsaid, as he shifts his gaze from the panda to you. The moment stretches out, filled with unspoken tension.

Then, suddenly, he turns toward you, a hint of awkwardness creeping into his expression. “You know… if you’re not busy sometime, maybe we could grab a coffee? Or dinner, maybe?” His cheeks flush slightly, as if he’s unsure how his invitation will be received, but the sincerity in his eyes reveals his hopefulness.

Your heart skipped a beat. His voice was casual, but there was a hint of nervousness behind it, which made it all the more endearing.

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “I’d like that.”

His face lit up, the awkward tension lifting. “Great,” he said, looking almost relieved. “I’ll, uh, message you then?”

“Yeah,” you replied, feeling the beginnings of a connection you hadn’t expected. “I’d like that a lot.”

🐼🐼🐼🐼

Your relationship with Bucky started innocently enough, bonding over your shared love for pandas and animals. What began as casual conversations about your common interests slowly grew deeper. The two of you spent more time together, texting throughout the day, meeting for coffee, or watching movies late into the night. It wasn’t long before you started spending nights at each other’s places. The closeness felt natural, and his easygoing demeanor made you feel safe.

Clara, of course, couldn’t resist teasing you about it. One evening during a shift, she shot you a knowing look. “You know,” she began with a smirk, “you should introduce him to your family. I bet his shadow alone could shut them up.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "One step at a time, Clara. I don't want him to run away after meeting my family."

Over time, your relationship with Bucky deepened, and intimacy followed. You spent nights at his apartment, and he did the same at yours. The affection between you two was comfortable and warm. Bucky worked as a contractor, which sometimes took him out of town for a while. That’s why, one day, he handed you the key to his apartment with a smile.

“Keep it,” he said. “Just in case you need to check on Alpine.”

Alpine was his cat, a fluffy white ball of fur who quickly won your heart. You adored her, and it was easy to see why Bucky did too.

One day, on your day off, you decided to spend the afternoon at Bucky’s place. It was quiet and cozy, perfect for unwinding after a long week. His salary as a contractor must be high enough that he can afford this house.

Alpine was curled up on your lap as you sat on the couch, absentmindedly stroking her soft fur. The gentle purrs coming from her were soothing.

Suddenly, Alpine’s ears perked up, and before you knew it, she jumped from your lap and padded over to the bookshelf. You watched curiously as she stretched her paws toward one of the shelves.

“What are you up to, little one?” you murmured, getting up to see what had caught her attention. As you reached out to move a book, you heard a soft click. Before you could react, the bookshelf started to shift, revealing a hidden door.

Your heart raced as you hesitated for a moment, but when Alpine darted through the opening, you knew you couldn’t just leave her. Steeling your nerves, you stepped inside.

The room you entered was nothing like the cozy, homey apartment you knew. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the scene before you. Guns lined the walls, various types of explosives were neatly arranged on shelves, and papers filled with detailed information were pinned to a whiteboard. It looked like something straight out of a spy movie—except it wasn’t a movie. It was real.

“When I finally make a move, turns out the man I like is a killer,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you picked up Alpine and quickly backed out of the room. You closed the secret door, your mind racing.

What do I do now?

You paced back and forth in the living room, your heart pounding in your chest. Your thoughts spiraled as you tried to process what you had just seen. Finally, in a panic, you grabbed your phone and dialed Clara.

After a couple of rings, her voice came through, light and cheery. “Yo, girls, what’s up?”

You swallowed hard, still clutching Alpine close to you. “Clara…”

“Yeah?” Her tone shifted slightly, sensing something was off.

You whispered into the phone, your voice shaky as you held Alpine close to your chest, “I think my boyfriend is a hitman."

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@missvelvetsstuff

Extras:

[sqmei]

This is @lemony-and-zesty au (hii I lowkey like your au🔥 I want to see more)

[starsofang]

Change of Heart

hitman!ghost x f!reader / part 1

tw: mentions of suicide, alcohol use

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you’re too stubborn to bail out.

You tapped your fingers anxiously against your knee underneath the table, the tea you ordered growing cold as you waited. Your eyes darted around the coffee shop, thankfully rather empty apart from an older couple in the corner and a few schoolgirls ordering at the front counter.

You were early, so it was no surprise he wasn’t here yet, but the waiting game proved to be brutal on your mental as you checked the clock that sat perched on the wall. You could practically hear every antagonizing tick that passed with every second.

The ugly monster that reared its head rattled the thoughts consuming your mind. You were making a huge choice, one you wouldn’t turn back on, and the monster named reality was beginning to bare its teeth at you the more it set in.

The sound of your name being spoken in a gravelly voice had you snapping out of your daze, and when you looked away from the clock, you came face to face with the man in question. Tall, very tall, practically looming like the shadow of doom that seemed to wash over you the longer you stared. His face was covered with a mask, successfully hiding his face away and destroying any bouts of curiosity you may have had before this meeting. Thick arms covered by a black hoodie, the hood pulled over his head where you saw tufts of hair poking out.

“Yes. Yes, that’s me. You must be Ghost?” you confirmed woefully, voice small in comparison to his baritone one.

He gave you a curt nod before settling into the seat in front of you. He hunched into it, eyes low as he stared at you for a long moment from across the table. Eyes that kill, you thought to yourself.

“I’ll cut to the chase. Make it easy for you,” he began, and you held your breath in anticipation. “Just need a name, location, date an’ time, an’ a form of payment. Don’t need the logistics or reasonin’, just need what’s necessary.”

You swallowed nervously, shifting in your seat as you scrambled through your mind for the information.

Risking a glance at the older couple across the shop, they were in their own world, not minding the two of you. The thought lingered in the back of your mind that you were sitting here with a hitman you had hired on the dark web after months of scrounging around for one, and they were blissfully unaware of the exchange.

“Right.” You cleared your throat, sitting up and returning your gaze to his. The way he looked at you was all business, and it nearly sent a shiver down your spine.

“‘M waitin’,” he gruffed impatiently. It didn’t settle the nerves.

“Well…” You cleared your throat again, and his eyes slightly narrowed as he watched your throat bob. “It’s me, actually.”

He said nothing as he stared at you, and you briefly wondered if he’d ever gotten this request before — somebody hiring him to take them out because they were too afraid to do it themselves.

“I’d like it to be on Friday. It’s my favorite day,” you began quietly. Your hands continued to fiddle with each other under the table, picking at the skin around your nails and creating a slight sting. “Eleven PM. I’ll be going to bed by then. I’d… like it to be as painless as possible, so I’ll make sure I’m sleeping to make it easier.”

It was Monday now, so that gave you time to prepare.

Still, he said nothing, and his expression didn’t change. It was hidden beneath the mask, but his eyes were enough to convey what he was thinking — or at least, you thought it’d be enough. But they told you nothing. Blank and emotionless, like you were staring into an abyss of nothingness. A void.

Reaching into the pocket of your jacket, you pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, setting it down in front of him. It contained the address of your apartment you spent most of your time in, and would eventually spend dying in.

“I have the money. Won’t be needing it anyway, so whatever your price is, I’ll have it.”

Finishing your spiel, you expected to feel relief, but instead, you felt a mix of things you weren’t sure of. Dread? You thought you’d be comforted by finalizing the deal to end your life from the hands of another, but it certainly didn’t feel that way.

“Alright,” he agreed after the stretch of silence. He sniffed, adjusting himself in the small chair, placing his arms on the table. “You can leave the money for me in your place. ‘M sure I’ll find it anyhow.”

Releasing a breath, you nodded, watching as he took the wadded paper and shoved it in his own pocket.

“That all?”

You nodded again, mouth too dry to speak. After all, it wasn’t everyday you hired a hitman on yourself, let alone did it in the comfort of a coffee shop downtown.

“I’ll see you Friday then. Eleven PM.”

“Okay,” you breathed, watching as he stood up from the table. He gave you a nod in farewell, and your eyes followed his back as he ducked out of the coffee shop, disappearing like a shadow in the night.

Monday went. Then came Tuesday. Then Wednesday, Thursday, and eventually, Friday.

The week came and went like a breeze, and you had spent it making preparations. You told yourself it was for the best. A letter, written and rewritten over a hundred times, explaining what you did and why you did it — even if it wasn’t really you doing the job.

Life had a silly way of treating people. Everybody came from all sorts of backgrounds, some worse than others, and many came out of it alive.

You weren’t one of those people. You didn’t think you’d have the strength to succumb to the standards of basic living if it meant spending the rest of it miserable and alone.

Sitting in your apartment was a constant reminder of how void it was of any sign of life. Of course it had you, but considering you a sign of life was pushing it. You were barely hanging on by a thread, and all you were waiting for was for somebody to come around and cut the last bit with a pair of scissors so you could fully be free.

Time seemed to pass even slower when you knew death was on its way. You spent the majority of the dreadful Friday cleaning your apartment. You didn’t want Ghost to think you were a lousy slob, after all, even if part of you was — but you had your reasons. What point was there to tidy up on a regular day, when the only thing that ever filled your brain was numbness that extended to all parts of your body?

It was truly a never ending cycle, this life. You hoped that when it ended, whatever lay beyond death was much kinder than how life had treated you. The red-headed stepchild. Long forgotten, but forced to remain. It was punishment to even be alive.

When the sun fell beyond the horizon outside your window and the night sky welcomed the moon, you knew it was only a few hours until the course of your destiny would forever be altered.

You laid in bed, eyes locked on to the old ceiling of your apartment. The clock read 8:54 PM, which left approximately two hours before Ghost would arrive to finish the job. Two long, stretching hours by yourself, consumed in your own cage of a mind.

You couldn’t help that they lingered. Shifting focus between your unhappiness, your selfishness, your resentment towards the world and the people in it that had failed you. The pain brought upon you was almost too much to bear, even in these two hours of waiting.

Why had life been so unkind to you? Why you?

Nevermind that. It wouldn’t be long until you could finally get some rest, for good.

You don’t recall getting up from your bed to enter the kitchen, but you found yourself yanking open the cupboard that held an array of liquor you swore to yourself you wouldn’t touch again. It was as if your mind was in a fog, and you were acting purely out of blinded instinct.

Twisting the cap off of one of the bottles, you took a deep chug of the liquor, allowing the burn to slip down your throat and encase you with a temporary warmth.

Soon enough, that bottle became your companion in bed when you returned, sitting up against the headboard with it resting in your lap, cap lost somewhere along the journey back.

Your eyes stared blankly at the wall as you took the occasional sip, time continuing to tick by as you waited. Time stopped for no one, not even in the wake of death.

Eleven o’clock.

You were far from drunk, but you had definitely nursed the bottle enough to give you a buzz that allowed your mind to cloud over with a sense of fuzziness. It didn’t halt the thoughts from revealing themselves, but it certainly made the self deprecation easier to handle.

You hadn’t moved from your spot on the bed, nor had your eyes shifted away from the dinginess of the walls.

The faint sound of the door rattling almost went unnoticed, but even in the broken state of you, you weren’t sure you would’ve noticed it anyway. It wasn’t until that looming shadow from before had appeared next to you at your bedside that you knew what time it was.

“You’re not asleep,” Ghost gruffed out, voice quiet but nonetheless deep and void of much emotion. It was a nice voice to listen to, you thought, and it would be comforting to hear it in your final moments.

“Sorry,” you murmured quietly, finally lifting your head up to look at him. You looked a mess.

When he took in the sight of you, he could see the slight redness of your eyes, how they sunk into your skin, making you appear ghostly. Your lips were thin and chapped, pressed into a line on your face and making you look older than you were. Ghost saw a client nonetheless, but he also saw a tired girl who had reached the point of breaking. He wondered what had caused you to become this way, but it wasn’t his job to care.

“S’fine,” he huffed out, shifting his weight on his feet. “In no rush to kill you, anyway. Mind if I ‘ave a smoke?”

Ghost nodded his head towards the sliding door to your balcony, and you gave him a nod in return, watching as he walked away with a sniff. The door slid open and he went to step outside, before his eyes turned back to you.

“…Wanna join?” he asked, and you stared at him in surprise. “Figured you might enjoy one last smoke before you go about dyin’.”

You blinked dumbly before setting the bottle of liquor on your nightstand and standing up on bare feet to join him.

Outside was cold, the bitter chill causing goosebumps to rise along your skin. You joined him on the balcony, standing by his side like a lost child while he leaned against the railings.

He lifted the bottom of his mask to rest over his nose, placing a cigarette between scarred lips. The lighter illuminated the bottom portion of his face, and you stared as he took a deep inhale, letting the smoke exude out moments later.

His gloved fingers held the cigarette out towards you, and his sunken eyes watched as you took it from him. You inhaled it, feeling the burn of smoke fill your lungs and temporarily numb you for a brief second, before coughs erupted from your mouth.

“Fuck,” you breathed, eyes brimming with tears as you wiped at your mouth.

“Never smoked before?” he asked, and if he was amused, he didn’t show it.

“No,” you confessed grimly, handing him the cigarette, which he took gently. “Alcohol’s more my thing.”

“Mm.”

You stood in silence as he puffed on the stick, eyes casted out to the city around you. It was quiet despite the lit up buildings cascading a faint glow around the two of you, and for once, you felt peaceful.

“Must be going through quite the trouble if you’re askin’ somebody else to kill you,” he spoke after a pregnant pause in conversation. It snapped you out of your daze, and you turned your head to look at him. He didn’t look back. “Coulda just took a bunch of pills an’ called it a day.”

His words had you feeling a bit dumb, and you looked away from him, feeling a frown form on your face. You knew he was right. You could’ve just done it yourself instead of getting another person wrapped up in it, even if it was his job.

But you were weak. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it, couldn’t pull the trigger, couldn’t open the pill bottle, couldn’t throw yourself over the balcony.

“Must not really wanna die all that much if you can’t do it yourself.”

“I do.”

He chuckled, but it was so quiet, it got taken away with the breeze.

“Who are you tryin’ to convince?”

You stared at him in stunned silence, unsure of how to defend yourself. You knew how much pain you were in, and you knew you wanted it to end. But you also knew how much of a weak link you were to your own mind, and how much stronger you could be if you had just put in the effort to get better.

After all, alcohol only solved problems temporarily until they ended up creating more of them.

“I don’t really feel like killin’ you. Pretty girl like yourself doesn’t deserve a fate like that, much less from somebody like me,” he started, taking a pause to inhale another breath of smoke. “So how ‘bout I cut you a deal?”

“A deal?” you asked, frowning at him. “Isn’t it your job to kill, no questions asked?”

“Mm. That it is,” he confessed with a careless shrug. “But I’m not completely heartless.”

That was comical, coming from him. People hired him to kill whoever they requested, no strings attached, and no evidence left behind. He was a hitman, it was his entire livelihood to do just that, yet here he was, cutting you a damn deal.

“…What kind of deal?” You couldn’t help but be a bit curious.

For the first time since meeting, his lips quirked into a smile. It was small, barely noticeable, but in the dim lighting of the butt of the cigarette as it burned, combined with the glow of the city around you, you could see it.

“Two weeks,” he said, shifting his eyes to you. “I’ll give you two weeks to figure out what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours. If you’re still wantin’ to die, then I’ll do it for you. If not, then congratulations. You live to see another day.”

Two weeks to convince yourself to not want to die? The idea seemed silly to you. You had already went through the trouble of finding a hitman, hiring him, and coming up with a payment for when he completed the job of killing you. Wasn’t that convincing enough?

Still, though. You might’ve been a broken woman with little dreams and little remedies, but you were also stubborn. If he wanted to wait two weeks to try and prove you wrong, you’d gladly accept the challenge.

“Okay.” You nodded, tapping your fingers along the railings mindlessly. “It’s a deal, Ghost. Two weeks, and then you’ll be sure to kill me.”

He huffed out a laugh through his nose and extended a gloved hand for you to shake, cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Deal.”

starting another au when i already have one ongoing but this came to me in the middle of the night and i literally woke up mid sleep and was like, good lord i wanna write that!!! so i did 🤌🏻

[thecryptidenthusiast]

this is really just a chance for wren to boss them around tbh

Hitman AU, Hitman AU, Hitman AU

[the-skeleton-in-ur-closet]

<3

it’s ok it’s just a little.

[love-death-and-desert]

@tibbycaps awesome totally original characters that are cool and amazing and epic and cool

[mochidoodle]

I gave high school Hibari a haircut and now he’s a delinquent heartthrob 💕 🐥 🏫

(We never saw the gang go to high school so I made them brand new uniforms, too)

[tibby-art]

convexian girls we're inescapable

[good-chimes]

Based on @tibbycaps’s very funny convexian hitman au, where vexes Cub and Scar have been ‘voluntarily’ employed as hitmen by the governing NHO.

YR 1, DAY 1 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Hello and welcome to the NHO! We are proud to protect the citizens of Hermit City. How can I help you?

Cub: We want to get past those security barriers.

Receptionist: Uh…so you’re…visitors?

Scar: We’re employees!

Cub: Since this morning.

Scar: We have a contract and everything. We’re totally official and definitely allowed in the building.

Receptionist: Um. Do you have your passes?

Cub: Oh, yeah, yeah, of course. Just a moment.

Scar: Do we have passes! Of course we have passes. Cub, give her the passes.

Receptionist: Sir, that’s an aluminum bottle cap.

[The visitors examine the item.]

Scar: Looks like an employee pass to me.

Cub: My bad. What about this?

Receptionist: That’s a penknife. That’s a sandwich wrapper—that’s a library card—I mean, it’s the right shape, but—that’s a driver’s license which is obviously not yours—that’s a fifty-dollar bill—that’s a second driver’s license for a completely different person. Sir, literally none of these things are employee passes.

Cub: Yeahhhhh, but do you get paid enough to notice?

Receptionist: Do you have a line manager? Or, um, a hiring manager? Who’s in charge of you?

[The visitors consult.]

Scar: Someone is, probably.

Cub: Might be Beef.

Receptionist: Uh, Director Beef is, uh, one of the heads of the whole organization. Are you sure?

Cub: Eh.

Scar: He did have a nice suit. Good shoes, too! Shame about the soot stains afterwards.

Receptionist: Okay, I’ll…just ping my boss… and I guess we’ll just start the process to get you passes. Let me take your first and last names, please?

Scar: Mister Scar GoodTimes, and this is Cub.

Receptionist: Cub?

Cub: Yup.

Receptionist: That’s a nickname…?

Cub: No, it’s a full name. Cub. Uhhhhh. Fan.

Receptionist: Sir, did you just look at that baseball pennant?

Cub: Yeah. Huge coincidence.

Receptionist: Okay, I’ll send them to print…orientation booklet…fire exits…do you need any accommodations for your, er, your wings?

Cub: Naw, they’re not real in this dimension. Go straight through physical matter. Walls, people—

Scar: —bars, safe doors—

Receptionist: Um.

Cub: Vex joke. Cultural.

Receptionist: Oh, right, you’re Vex! Like—what were those guys called who ate that policeman on the news…? ConVex!

Cub: Noooooo, no, no, we’re nothing like them. We’re real upstanding citizens.

Scar: I heard those two went to prison.

Cub: To super jail.

Scar: For a thousand years!

Manager: Excuse me, I’m the head of front desk and security, what’s going on here?

Receptionist: Oh, hi, boss, these gentlemen were just—

Manager: I can see what they are! This should have been escalated as soon as they turned up. You should have known to call me the minute you saw a Vex!

Receptionist: They haven’t done anything wrong.

Manager: Not done anything wrong—you mean they haven’t eaten anyone yet.

Cub: I haven’t had my coffee.

Scar: I have! Who do you want us to start with?

Manager: Come with me, please. The Directors want to see you.

Scar: [voice retreating as the visitors are escorted away] This is a fancy office. I like the art.

Cub: Did you know you can turn that photocopier into a laser canon?

Manager: This is why they put you in prison! Stick close to me! Please stop touching things!

NOTICE TO FRONT DESK STAFF

The copier tray is to be loaded from the correct angle only. It is not a ‘useless piece of shit’, you are handling it incompetently.

HR will not be dealing with complaints of ‘substandard management’. HR are here to deal with your pay slips. Complaints of substandard management should be addressed to your manager, who will take appropriate action.

Colleagues are to act with caution around new NHO agents ‘Cub’ and ‘Scar’. Minimal contact is advised. Security can be contacted via the panic buttons.

YR 1, DAY 36 OF CONTRACT

Cub: Hey. Picking up a delivery.

Receptionist: Of course, sir. Have you got a parcel ticket?

Cub: Sure, give me an example and I’ll forge you one right now.

Receptionist: I just needed the number—never mind. Let me take a wild guess based on your deliveries so far: is it the crate that’s green and glowing?

Cub: Huh, thought it would be blue. Maybe a kind of teal.

Receptionist: Well, we only have one that glows. It makes a buzzing sound when you get near it.

Cub: Ohh yeah, that’s the one.

Receptionist: Last time you got a delivery it was snakes.

Cub: Important experimental material.

Receptionist: Can you let us know if it’s snakes again? Only I need to find a heat lamp if you’re out on a mission.

Cub: Oh, yeah, right. I can build a heat lamp for you to keep here. You want something for it?

Receptionist: Okay, sir, for the last time, I don’t know where all your unmarked fifty-dollar bills come from, but it’s not normal to bribe building staff to do our jobs. 

Cub: Yeah? No deal, huh?

Receptionist: …Can you really turn the photocopier into a laser?

NOTICE TO FRONT DESK STAFF

URGENT: ALL STAFF MUST STAY AWAY FROM THE PHOTOCOPIER UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

YR 1, DAY 82 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Good afternoon, welcome to the headquarters of NH—Scar?

Scar: Hello there! How’s it going?

Receptionist: Hey, Scar?

Scar: Uh-huh?

Receptionist: Your whole arm is covered in blood.

Scar: Blood? Oh, this blood? Don’t worry, don’t worry, everything’s fine. It’s not my blood. How was your weekend?

Receptionist: Are you sure it’s not your blood? That looks like someone sliced through your whole sleeve!

Scar: [tastes his own arm gingerly] Wait, yeah, some of it is mine. Just this bit, though.

Receptionist: Don’t eat it, oh my God.

Scar: It’s fine, Cub says we’re immune to all pathogens.

Receptionist: Seriously?

Scar: Nah, I think he just said that because I took his research away from him when he had the flu.

Receptionist: You should go wash that wound. That can’t be healthy. What have they got you doing out there?

Scar: Oh, y’know, this and that, we solve problems. We’re problem solvers. In fact we signed a contract to do that, so I guess we keep solving problems forever. Can I have one of these mints?

YR 1, DAY 145 OF CONTRACT

Cub: Gooood afternoon. What a beautiful day. Y’know, this kind of day makes me think, the thing about human perception—

Receptionist: The what.

Cub: The thing about human perception is it’s subjective. I did a PhD on this. So sometimes you could think you saw someone bring something into the office that you need to write down in the biohazards register, but actually, you could report to your boss there wasn’t anything there.

Receptionist: Sir, you are trying to hide an eight-foot-tall Venus fly trap behind your back. It’s taller than you are.

Cub: Seven foot at most.

Receptionist: [sighs] I guess I didn’t see anything. You want a mint?

NOTICE TO FRONT DESK STAFF

Cascaded from Legal: Employees are required to familiarize themselves with the new and expanded Dispute Resolution Policy.

Pursuant to this, threatening to eat your senior manager is NOT an approved method of settling conflicts and WILL result in disciplinary action.

Lava traps are ALSO EXPLICITLY DISALLOWED.

YR 2, DAY 407 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Cub, you don’t have to bribe me to get into the building after hours. You literally work here. I know you have a 24-hour pass. Just use it on the main door.

Cub: Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?

Receptionist: Try bribing an IT tech for codes to the secure areas instead.

Cub: Got those already. Phishing email. But y’know, all the techs make triple what they pay you.

Scar: And! I wanted a mint.

Receptionist: The mints are FREE.

Scar: It tastes better if it’s not!

Receptionist: That doesn’t make ANY sense! You two get back here and explain!

NOTICE TO FRONT DESK STAFF

Please find attached the Employee Satisfaction Survey. As always, we look forward to listening to your views to make NHO a Great Place To Work. Participation is mandatory.

Our recent payment settlement unfortunately means no raises this financial year.

Operational note: does any Front Desk team member know how to disconnect the ex-photocopier from the power supply without it immediately blowing up? You are all being very unhelpful about it???

YR 3, DAY 763 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Oh, hey, Scar.

Scar: …

Receptionist: Wait—Scar? Buddy? Are you okay?

Scar: Have you seen Cub?

Receptionist: Not since last week, I think.

Scar: Oh.

Receptionist: It’s the night shift. Was he supposed to meet you?

Scar: Yeah. They gave him a solo mission, and I dunno what time he was supposed to get back, either, but it wasn’t two o’clock in the morning. I’m just gonna…hey, can I wait down here? Until he gets in?

Receptionist: Sure. If you pull the chairs together, I guess you could make a kind of bed. I’ll keep an eye on the cameras.

-

Scar: I mean, nothing can take down Cub, right? That man’s a tank, I tell you. A genuine tank.

Receptionist: Yeah. Definitely.

Scar: He would have called me if something went wrong.

Receptionist: He would’ve.

Scar: What time is it?

Receptionist: Just gone 3am.

-

Receptionist: Look, if you’re not going to sleep, I’m ordering you pizza.

Scar: Ooooh. Let’s get wings and make a night of it while we wait. Catch!

Receptionist: This is two hundred dollars.

Scar: Yeah, can we get sides?

-

Receptionist: Just gone 4am, before you ask.

Scar: I didn’t ask!

Receptionist: I saw you open your mouth. You’re really worried, aren’t you.

Scar: Noooo, I’m not worried. I never worry about Cub.

Receptionist: Cub’s always seemed way too capable to have a problem with a mission.

Scar: Yeah.

Receptionist: You two go back a long way, huh?

Scar: There’s just the two of us. It’s always been just the two of us. And, I’ll be honest, I like this work, we have fun doing it, but why’d they send him out solo? And you know what’s worse, I can’t even ask! If we put a foot out of line, we— [breaks off into a coughing fit]

Receptionist: Are you okay?

Scar: I’m fine, I’m fine! I’m fresh as a daisy.

Receptionist: It sure sounded like your own throat just tried to cut you off.

Scar: Well, maybe I just care a lot about the office Data Combustion Policy.

Receptionist: I think you mean the Data Protection Policy? On second thoughts, I remember last year’s Christmas party, so maybe not—oh, hey.

Scar: What?

Receptionist: I saw something on the cameras, is that—

Cub: Yo.

Scar: Oh my God Cub I was so worried.

Cub: ‘m fine. [blurrily] Are those buffalo wings?

Scar: You are so not fine. You can have wings when you’re lying down!

Cub: ‘m taking these wings.

Receptionist: Here’s the first aid kit. You need to close the bag or the rest of the wings will fall out, guys. Guys. Look where you’re going. You have to open the doors before you go through them. Take the first aid kit with you!

YR 5, DAY 1561 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Good morning, and welcome to—oh, it’s you two. You brought a guest?

Cub: Howdy. This is Grian.

Grian: Apparently I work here now. Apparently I have “limited employment options”. Someone told me I’m lucky I’m not dead.

Scar: Haha, Mondays, am I right! So he’ll need a pass, and maybe a helping hand if she spaces out in the atrium.

Receptionist: Sure…oh, Grian, you’re on the system already. Here, take a temporary pass, and we’ll have your real one ready by lunchtime. Uh, if you need any help—

Grian: Wait, my date of birth is wrong on your screen. It’s the year before.

Receptionist: Did you just…read that backwards from the others side of my computer?

Scar: Wow, Grian, another nosebleed?

Grian: Shut up.

Cub: Your brain must be shrivelled up like a raisin by now.

Grian: Still works better than Scar’s!

Scar: [leans on the reception desk as the other two leave, bickering] Sooo…Grian’s not allowed outside without a Director’s approval.

Receptionist: Is that right?

Scar: Scary stuff, huh? If you happened to see him leave with us, and we just forgot to show you a permit…can I convince you into some sort of deal? As a friend?

Receptionist: You know, you can just ask a friend to do you a favor, you don’t have to pay me. I’ve known you for five years. I’m not gonna turn you in.

Cub: [calls] You coming, Scar?

Scar: I gotta go! Grian’s just a Watcher, she’s not dangerous. Grab some cash from Cub’s bottom desk drawer. They don’t even search our office anymore, so it’s just labelled ‘proceeds of crime (not)’. Cub’s traps will let you past.

Receptionist: Wait, are you—was that person—a Watcher—holy shit—

Scar: See ya later! Get the money!

Receptionist: [rolls eyes] Of course, sir. Have a nice day.

*chau Grian uses he/she pronouns

*Check out tibby’s chau tag!

[rayshippouuchiha]

Ray, more of the Assassination Classroom Fem!Tsuna hit. This is entirely your fault, so you get to deal with it.

Tsuna has a sinking feeling in her gut the first day of middle school. She gets turned around and mixed up, and somehow she ends up on a bus, and she’s racing through the woods and into a classroom full of strangers. She’s too embarrassed to say anything so she slinks into a seat in a corner. She’s in the wrong school, the senpai at Namimori Middle have her in entirely the wrong town. Even a dame like her can recognize Kunugigaoka uniforms. Hibari-senpai is going to be so angry with her.

Nothing could have prepared her for Koro-sensei. — Tsuna is petrified. She’s too young for this. After all the ruckus, everyone’s attempts, that’s all that rings in her head. She’s too young for this. She’s not even supposed to be here. — Tsuna is stuck. She can’t afford to take the bus, or the time to take the bus, from Namimori everyday. In retrospect, she really does have to hand it to her old senpai. They’d gotten up early to ‘walk her to school’ and paid to get her on the bus. But it’s coming close to the end of the day, they’ve come no closer to assassinating Koro-sensei, and she doesn’t have bus fare home anyway. She’s not even sure Mama would be able to keep it together long enough to come get her.

Everyone in Namimori knows her Mama needs, help sometimes. Everyone is glad to give it to her. Tsuna just doesn’t trust that anyone would think helping her Mama help Tsuna would be a good thing. — Trembling, Tsuna stays in her seat at the end of the day. What should she do? What can she do? She’s just Dame-Tsuna, in the wrong grade, in the wrong class, in the wrong school, in the wrong town. She keeps her head tilted down to allow everyone to ignore her tears.

A gentle touch to her shoulder makes her flinch. She tilts her head up to see Koro-sensei standing at her shoulder. — Calling Mama was useless, just like Tsuna knew it would be. She’s just thrilled that her “Dame-Tsuna” managed to get into the prestigious Kunugigao despite her, everything. Tsuna loves her mama, she does. But sometimes Tsuna thinks she could hate her a little too. Karasuma-sensei and Koro-sensei are both very angry.

Tsuna wants to cry that it’s not her fault. Mama tries to love her and pay attention to her, but Mama is sick. Something doesn’t work right in Mama’s head, like something doesn’t work right in Tsuna’s. But while whatever went wrong in Mama’s head means that she has a hard time remembering things if she doesn’t see them, whatever’s wrong with Tsuna is just everything. — They get her an apartment. It’s close to the school and a market. It’s basic and bare and empty and tiny, but Tsuna supposes she’s tiny so that makes sense. Karasuma-sensei is her neighbor, but she’s left to basically make it on her own. She gets a small stipend, the only one in class to do so. It’s not much, but it should be enough for groceries.

She doesn’t know how to cook. She never learned how to do what her homework is asking her to do. At least she can tell herself it’s because it’s work two grades above her and not just because she’s dame. — Karasuma-sensei is kind enough to get her to school the next day. He’s also nice enough not to say anything about her still red eyes, or how long she sobbed last night. He just handed her a handkerchief.

Tsunami can’t remember the last time someone was so kind to her. She waits for the ridicule to start, but it never comes. — After a few days, when it becomes obvious and impossible to ignore that she’s just as stuck here as the rest of them, Nagisa-senpai gives her a girl’s uniform. It’s big on her, but at least she doesn’t stand out this way. As much.

Tsuna pricks her fingers bloody, and her stitches are crooked, and the seams are bulky, but at least it kind of fits her a little better now.

[kroosluvr]

there's some sort of plot here but im none the wiser bc i sketched these at 5am last night (just kidding here are my ideas under the cut)

hai :3

sumire took on kasumi's hitman spot in the Association(tm) they're in (smth smth they got blackmailed so now they have to work for The Association(tm)), because her beloved sister has so much more to live for than blind killing and maiming. her life is expendable anyway. when asked for her codename she blanked and just said violet bc that's just the meaning of "sumire" - hope THAT doesnt bite her in the ass later.

this violet is stoic, straightforward, and violent (Heh) and very goal oriented, just get the job done and get out. she's a good counterbalance to joker, who, though experienced and nimble, is often very impulsive and reckless.

this was also kinda inspired by navi!crow LMAOO u will always be famous........ i think him being exasperated by joker's antics during heists and missions wld be so fun

joker is joker and crow is crow their personalities r basically the same

notice that p2 joker card.. woagh... so when joker does his hitman bs he leaves his Calling card (????) of a joker card but woah suddenly we're encountering bodies with a Different joker card. who could this be.. woah. a mystery...