Deadly Silence ||Black Noir x Reader||

Chapter 19

Late at night, Y/N sat alone in her penthouse, the quiet hum of the city outside barely reaching her ears. She stared at the documents spread out on the table, but her mind was elsewhere. No matter how hard she tried to focus on the mission, her thoughts kept drifting back to Noir.

It was ridiculous, she thought, shaking her head. Noir, of all people. The man—if she could even call him that—was silent, stoic, and impossible to read. Yet, there was something about him that unsettled her in ways she hadn't anticipated. It wasn't love; she knew that much. It wasn't even close. But there was an undeniable pull, a strange attraction that she couldn't quite shake.

She thought about how, despite everything, she felt safe when he was around. It was ironic—she was an undercover agent, working to take down everything Noir stood for, and yet, in those moments when they were alone, there was a part of her that felt a certain comfort in his presence. A certain attraction.

No, she couldn't think like this. It was dangerous. She was just overthinking, letting the stress of her situation get to her. That's all it was. She couldn't afford to be distracted by him, not now. But the more she tried to push the thoughts away, the stronger they came.

Did she like him like that? The question hung in the air, taunting her. She couldn't allow herself to go down that path. It was foolish, reckless even. She knew she could never be with him—not in any real sense. They were on opposite sides, and sooner or later, one of them would have to give.

But as she sat there, lost in her thoughts, she couldn't deny the truth. There was something between them, something she couldn't quite explain. It wasn't love, but it was more than just a simple attraction. It was a connection, however strange or twisted it might be.

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples as if she could physically push the thoughts out of her mind. She had a job to do, and she couldn't let anything—or anyone—get in the way of that. Especially not Black Noir.

But even as she resolved to put those thoughts aside, she knew it wouldn't be that simple. Noir was already under her skin, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't quite shake him off.

The exclusive party was in full swing, lights flashing in time with the heavy bass that thumped through the room. Supes of all kinds were scattered about, drinking, laughing, and indulging in whatever pleasures the night offered. Black Noir stood off to the side, a silent observer to the chaos, his mask hiding his expression as usual.

As the night wore on, a woman—a supe herself, with a look that could kill—approached Noir. Her intentions were clear from the start. She leaned in close, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered something suggestive. Her hands roamed over his chest, and he felt a familiar stir of desire, something primal that he usually kept tightly controlled.

She was beautiful, and she was offering herself to him without hesitation. Normally, he wouldn't think twice. He didn't form attachments, didn't allow himself to care. It was always easier that way. He could indulge in the moment and walk away, leaving nothing behind. But tonight, something was different.

As her hands continued to explore, he found himself hesitating. His body responded, sure, but his mind—his mind was elsewhere. A flash of memory crossed his mind, unbidden. Y/N's face, her eyes looking at him with something he couldn't quite place. And then, the moment was gone, the woman's touch feeling suddenly foreign, almost unwelcome.

Noir's hand shot out, gripping her wrist and pushing her back gently but firmly. She looked at him, confused, maybe even a little hurt, but he didn't care. He didn't want this—not with her.

He stepped back, putting distance between them, and she huffed in annoyance before turning away to find someone else. Noir remained where he was, his heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with lust.

Why had he stopped? He wanted it, didn't he? The physical need was there, undeniable. But something had held him back, something stronger than the momentary pleasure she offered.

Guilt? The word echoed in his mind, foreign and uncomfortable. But why? He had no one to be loyal to, no one who expected anything from him. His life was his own, free of the entanglements that came with caring. Yet, as he stood there, watching the party continue without him, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had crossed some unseen line.

It wasn't loyalty that stopped him—it was something else, something that had been growing quietly in the background without his notice. His thoughts drifted back to Y/N,. He didn't understand it, didn't want to understand it, but there it was. He had pushed the woman away because he didn't want her. He wanted...something else.

Noir shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This wasn't him. He didn't get distracted, didn't let emotions get in the way. He was a weapon, sharp and precise, with no room for anything that might dull his edge.

But as the night wore on, he couldn't deny the truth. For the first time in a long time, he wanted something more than just the fleeting satisfaction of the moment. And that realization left him more unsettled than anything else.