Assassin Aesthetic Novels & Stories

Lacan drew him up, by the collar and landed a punch on his face throwing him off balance and sending him down to the floor. A smile lingered on Lacan's lips, he likes handling people in his way and he liked the fact that the guy was helpless. It gave him all the ability to do what he wills to the assassin. He pulled a small Dagger out of his waist and the assassin flinched, his heart beating rapidly against his chest as he stared at the dagger in Lacan's hand. At this point, he was willing to tell Lacan who sent him to kill Ashley, but Lacan was not willing to listen to whatever he had to say.

In his sharp, dark-black eyes, there was a deep murderous intent. The man spit blood as he flopped on the ground near the other assassin, and then everyone else started to stamp their feet everywhere on his body. I clench my little hands as well as my teeth while watching the merciless assassins stamp and kick him. I want to gnaw on them with my teeth, but I don't want to get into trouble too. These assassins looked strong and powerful; it seems like they're cultivators, but they're just like little rats to me.

It was Mack, the son of the crime boss that had ordered her father's murder. For a moment, she was stunned. She couldn't bring herself to pull the trigger. But then she remembered the years of training and discipline that had led her to this moment and steadied herself. Mack was just another job, and she was determined to complete it. As she made her way out of the bar, her thoughts were consumed by Mack and the revelation of his identity. She had never hesitated before, but something about him had made her pause. She had to remind herself that she was an assassin, and feelings had no place in this line of work.

me the same. It might be insecurity or something related but when you are an assistant to an unparalleled genius that can literally calculate everything with the littlest clue, you will know what I'm talking about. I always pride myself not only in my highly trained self or my smart ass or others, but also in my looks, I'm the type people call irresistibly handsome and there's no girl I can't get into my bed or I can't get to become addicted to me as long as I'm determined to, I'm not just a well trained but a highly trained assassin as well as an open fighter expert but my looks made some things easier whenever I'm on a mission, but the first time I saw Ace, I felt like everything I pride

Wrapping her arms around my neck, she giggles in reply. It’s quick, it’s fun, and it’s satisfying. Another thing that has changed since April became an official Confradia Assassin is her outfits. I almost swallowed my tongue when she changed into her outfit this morning. She wore these tight high waisted slacks with a fitted black turtleneck, black suit jacket, and combat boots. Sliding my hands around her waist, I pull her close and mutter. “You look freaking hot, babe.” She gives me a sly smile.

I smiled then lay down beside him. Aris looked at me... "in my own defence, you were an assassin... so it won't be a surprise if you had a lot of exposure and I'm also sure, you must have had a lot of trainings and how to be the perfect assassin. So yeah, this is the only reason why you got to the top of the Mountain before me." "You know Aris you should just accept defeat and stop trying to make yourself better at the expense of me. I won you and that is it." I said happily hitting Arris squarely on his shoulder.

“Guess you can see that for yourself.” I remained silent, my expression unreadable. I started toward the door, but Casey shifted, blocking my path. “You know,” he said, voice casual, “I’m actually glad he’s gone.” That made me pause. My eyes narrowed slightly, a silent demand for him to continue. Casey’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I knew what you were from the beginning. Assassin. A famous one, at that.” He tilted his head, watching me carefully. “I always wanted to warn Gerald, tell him exactly what kind of woman he was dealing with. But I didn’t, because I was afraid.”

We had a minor fight which ended as soon as I was shoved into the corner of the kitchen table and my stitches reopened. It was not pretty and we realised that for an assassin Erik didn't deal with blood as well as he should, considering his job was to kill people. I changed into a pair of shorts and a loose black backless vest top. I pulled on my combat boots and ran my fingers through my long hair. I glanced in the mirror and smirked. I looked hot and I didn't even care that I was being vain. My shorts and top even showed off my tattoo that started at the top of my thigh and ran up my side, splaying out onto my ribs and curving slightly towards my back.

I spat bitterly. "You've got a point there." Ares said, "isn't it time for him to resign yet? He's like seventy, no?" I fought the urge to laugh at what he said before correcting, "He's fifty. I don't think he'll resign for another thirty years." We both stopped when we entered the hall. "See you around, il mio adorabile assassina." Ares said with a smirk. (My lovely killer/assassin) "That's a hell of a way to call a cold blooded assassin." I scoffed, my eyes darting around the place, looking for my father, ignoring all the eyes on me.

was all she said and leaned back against she sink. “They call themselves the triad” Azreal declared as the glasses clinked against each other in the cabinet before he turned and strode back to the table, but instead of sitting in the chair he simply leaned against the table top, “I will leave the rest of the questions I can see whirling around in that head to the assassin” Azreal chuckled and then his head rose slightly as he looked upward toward the sky and Mj smiled to herself as images of Dante’s intense yet beautiful face flashed across her mind.