Assassination Classroom X Reader Novels & Stories

Feeling uneasy, I sifted in my sit. Suddenly I was hit by a paper. I picked it up and read it. It had a drawing in it which I didn't understand, 'me and you' were written under it in bold letter. Xavier roughly took it from me. He was clenching and unclenching his fists which indicated he was angry. He wrote something, then crushed it and threw it back to Killian. He visibly gulped and ran out of the class after reading whatever Xavier had written. It strangely satisfied me to see his fearful face. If Cole hadn't come, I couldn't even imagine what he would have done that day.

Craig Pov I angrily dropped my two fists on the top of my desk. I had already met the assassin but I unintentionally let him go. He was already in front of me but I had no idea that he was the Silent Assassin I had been looking for, for a long time. Maybe he's laughing at me now because of my stupidity. And this idea makes me even angrier.

In the hallways, people parted like we were royalty. "What class do you have next?" he asked. "Literature. Room 212." "I'll walk you there." "You're enjoying this too much." He gave a slight shrug. "I like watching the world burn a little." I rolled my eyes but smiled. "Arson isn't love, Theo." "It is when done beautifully." We reached my classroom door, and I turned to him. "You sure you want to keep this up? We've caused quite a stir." "I like stirring things," he said, stepping closer. "Besides… the more they look at us, the less they look at everything else."

I yelled, my heart racing as Xander slammed on the brakes. “What’s wrong?” he asked, alarm in his eyes. I pointed forward to Cassius's car, but it was too late—Cassius had already seen us. Dammit. He was walking toward us with that predatory grace. “Leave immediately after I get down,” I instructed. “Take this; you might need it,” Xander said, handing me a flash drive. I quickly tucked it into my back pocket and got out of the car, walking toward Cassius and side-bowing rudely. Dammit. He looked gorgeous with the street lights kissing his face, his green eyes sparkling, his features sharp and alluring. How I wished he were just a normal man, someone I could fall for. But this was the damn mo

"And honestly? You're playing your part brilliantly." With a final, teasing wink, Killian turned on his heel and walked away toward the lecture hall, leaving Asher standing against the brick wall, a flushed mess. Later That Afternoon. The Lecture Hall. Ten minutes later, Asher slammed his heavy criminal law textbook down onto a desk in the packed lecture hall, exhaling a long, ragged breath. He had barely managed to calm his racing pulse before marching into class, hoping to lose himself in the safety of constitutional theory and hide in the back row.

The feeling of Miguel's skin against his, or the way it made his world tilt. That single touch sent a nervous jolt through his chest, and he hated how warm it made him feel. Miguel didn’t say another word. He simply smirked, turned, and started walking ahead. Drake’s feet carried him behind like they had a mind of their own. And somehow… they walked into class together. As the classroom door creaked open, time stopped. Eyes. So many eyes. Xander froze mid-chew. Marcia dropped her pen. Thea tilted her head with something sinister in her smirk. Steve’s brows furrowed in disbelief…like he was screaming in his mind “so soon!”

Warning: The chapter contains scenes of violence, murder, and blood and may not be suitable for all readers. If you are easily triggered by any of these subjects, it is recommended that you skip them and refrain from reading ahead for your mental health. (Read at your own risk.) ~~~ Reina looked up, her heart racing as she caught sight of Xavier in the rain. The rain poured down his body in sheets, cascading off his tousled hair and soaking his clothes as he held a Glock in his hand, the metal glinting ominously under the fleeting flashes of lightning.

Was he hoping that they had killed me? “Ummm…” the assassin hesitated for a while and then Xander suddenly plunged a claw in his chest, twisting and turning it. He purposefully targeted an area that wasn't close to the lungs or any vital organs at all and his cut was not deep at all ensuring that his victim didn't die. The assassin screamed in a hoarse voice, the sound making me quake on the spot. “I'm sorry. I'll tell you. It was her order. She asked us to bring the girl back alive by any means necessary.”

The underwear is gone and I can still smell him on my fingers when I brush my teeth, and I’m thinking about golden eyes and growling walls and stolen fabric while I walk into Advanced Literature ten minutes early like the overachieving tragedy that I am. The classroom is a small amphitheater – tiered seating, the kind of room that smells like old paper and academic self-importance – and I take a seat in the third row and open my textbook and tell myself that this is a class about literature and nothing else.

T‌‌he day⁠s afte‌r the failed a‍ssassination⁠ did⁠ not settle, they​ f​raye‌d. T​r​ust​, onc‍e‍ s⁠trained, now thinned to something translucent a‌nd​ britt⁠‍le‍, stretc⁠hed a⁠cross t‍‌he for​tr‍‌ess l​ike skin over bone. W⁠h​ispers‍ multipli⁠ed, v‌oi⁠ces dropping whene​‍ver footst‌eps ap​p⁠r‍o‌ac​h‌ed, eyes s‌li​d‍in⁠g a‍way t‌o⁠o‌ q‌uickly to‍ b‍e innoce⁠nt. Ev‍en⁠‌ the w‍a‌lls​ s⁠eem‌e‌d to⁠ lis⁠ten, holdin⁠g secr‌e⁠ts they woul⁠d n⁠o​t ​ release witho‌‍ut⁠ blo‍od.