#killua x reader

When I opened my eyes, the right side of the bed was empty. The sheets had already gone cold, and for a few seconds, I wondered if the previous night had been nothing more than a dream.

Then I saw the vast bedroom.

I remembered my new surname.

I didn’t get up right away. Instead, I sat there, studying a room that still didn’t feel lived in. It was strange to share a life with someone whose existence barely left any trace behind.

His side of the bed was perfectly made. The towel was gone, and the wardrobe remained closed. If I hadn’t felt the slight dip in the mattress during the night, I would have sworn no one else had slept there.

The silence was different from the one in my old home.

It wasn’t peaceful.

It was disciplined.

Not a single door slammed by accident. No voices echoed through the corridors. Even the wind seemed unwilling to disturb the order that ruled this mansion.

I took a deep breath.

The air smelled of polished wood and freshly laundered linen. Everything was so immaculate that it was difficult to believe people actually lived there.

Slowly, I lowered my feet to the floor.

The marble was cold.

The instant my skin touched it, I caught my breath. My body reacted before my mind did.

For a brief moment, I found myself expecting someone to open the door without knocking.

A voice announcing another tradition.

Another ceremony.

Another trial I had yet to learn.

Nothing happened.

Only silence.

Even so, it took several long seconds before I convinced myself I was allowed to stand.

I walked slowly toward the window.

The mountains were still veiled beneath a thin layer of morning mist. From up there, the world looked motionless, as though the estate had been cut off from everything beyond it.

For a moment, I imagined the road leading down to the main gate.

It was the same road I had taken to arrive here.

Yet now it no longer looked like an entrance.

It looked like a road no one ever left.

I rested my forehead against the glass.

It was freezing.

I welcomed the sensation.

It was the first thing that had felt completely real since waking.

—

Three soft knocks broke the silence.

They didn’t wait for an answer.

The door opened with the same quiet precision that seemed to govern everything inside the mansion.

Amane entered carrying a silver tray. Resting upon it were a cup of tea, a flawlessly arranged breakfast, and a small notebook bound in black leather.

As always, her uniform was immaculate.

Not a wrinkle.

Not a single strand of hair out of place.

She placed the tray on the table without making the slightest sound.

“Good morning, Lady Zoldyck.”

I still wasn’t used to hearing that surname attached to me.

Amane seemed to notice my hesitation but chose not to comment on it.

“Master Silva has instructed me to guide you through the estate during the coming weeks.”

It didn’t sound like an offer.

Nor an order.

Simply something that would happen.

After a brief silence, I asked,

“Guide me… how?”

She gave a small nod.

“Every household has its rules. The Zoldyck family is no exception.”

She picked up the notebook but didn’t open it.

It was obvious she knew every word inside by heart.

“My duty is to ensure that you learn them.”

As she spoke, she adjusted the edge of the tablecloth by barely a few millimeters.

It was such a small movement.

Yet it told me that even the smallest imperfection was corrected immediately within these walls.

“The first rule is punctuality.”

Her voice remained as calm as ever.

“The Head of the Family’s schedule allows no delays.”

I didn’t ask what happened to those who arrived late.

Something about the calm certainty in her voice suggested no one ever dared find out.

Amane continued.

“Family meals are mandatory whenever the Head of the Family summons them.”

“And if someone doesn’t wish to attend?”

For the first time since entering the room, she paused.

She wasn’t searching for an answer.

She was deciding how much she could say.

“That doesn’t happen.”

The simplicity of her response was more unsettling than any threat could have been.

She placed the notebook back onto the tray.

“There are areas of the estate accessible only to certain members of the family.”

“How will I know which ones?”

“I will show you.”

Nothing more.

I understood exactly what she meant.

Don’t try to find out on your own.

She walked toward the door.

“If you ever find a locked door…”

She paused.

“Do not attempt to open it.”

I watched her carefully.

“What’s behind them?”

For several seconds she remained completely still.

It was the first time she seemed uncertain.

When she finally answered, her composure hadn’t changed.

“If the family decides you should know, someone will tell you.”

—

When Amane finished explaining the mansion’s most basic rules, silence settled between us once again.

“Is there anything else?” I asked.

“You may walk through the gardens.”

I looked up.

“I’m allowed outside?”

“The gardens are part of the estate. You may remain there as long as you stay on the marked paths.”

I nodded.

She turned the doorknob.

Before leaving, she added one final thing.

“There is one rule that isn’t written anywhere, Lady Zoldyck.”

She lifted her eyes ever so slightly.

“No one in this house asks questions out of curiosity.”

A brief pause followed.

“They ask only when they are prepared to accept the answer.”

The door closed softly behind her.

And for the first time since waking, I realized that surviving inside this family would require far more than memorizing its rules.

—

Amane led me to one of the mansion’s side entrances.

The moment I stepped outside, the air changed.

It was colder.

Cleaner.

I breathed deeply.

For the first time since arriving, the scent of polished stone and varnished wood gave way to damp earth and towering pine trees.

The gardens stretched endlessly before me.

They hadn’t been designed to impress.

They had been designed to remain untouched.

Stone paths wound through ancient trees, quiet ponds, and perfectly trimmed hedges. Everything seemed to grow exactly where someone had decided it should.

Even nature obeyed.

Amane inclined her head.

“You may remain here until luncheon.”

Without another word, she returned inside.

I watched the door close behind her.

For the first time since arriving…

I was completely alone.

Or so I wanted to believe.

I wandered without destination.

I simply needed to put some distance between myself and those walls.

The silence here was different.

Birds still sang.

The wind stirred the branches.

Leaves crunched beneath my shoes.

Small sounds.

Ordinary sounds.

Human sounds.

Eventually, I reached an old stone bench hidden beneath several towering trees.

Only a corner of the mansion’s roof remained visible through the branches.

I sat down.

Closed my eyes.

Only for a moment.

The peace lasted no more than a few seconds.

When I opened them again…

I hadn’t heard anything.

No footsteps.

No snapping branches.

Nothing.

And yet…

I felt watched.

Slowly, I turned my head.

Trees.

Mountains.

An empty path.

I stayed perfectly still.

Waiting.

Nothing happened.

I forced a bitter smile.

I’m imagining things.

At least, I tried to believe I was.

A crow crossed the sky.

The leaves rustled once more.

The feeling returned.

Stronger.

As though unseen eyes followed every movement I made.

I stood.

Scanned the path.

No servants.

No guards.

Not even Amane.

Yet my body still reacted as though someone stood directly behind me.

I folded my arms tightly across my chest.

The problem wasn’t knowing I was being watched.

It was not knowing from where.

Or by whom.

Or for how long.

The mansion had countless windows.

But I was beginning to suspect…

It also had eyes.

—

I kept walking.

The path sloped gently downhill between the trees. White flowers I didn’t recognize swayed quietly in the breeze.

Eventually, it led to a small clearing where another stone bench rested beneath an enormous tree.

I sat.

From there, only a sliver of the mansion’s roof could still be seen.

It was enough.

Far enough away to pretend the mansion couldn’t reach me.

I leaned back.

Closed my eyes.

Only for a few seconds.

Then it happened.

It wasn’t a sound.

It was the absence of one.

I opened my eyes.

The birds had stopped singing.

The wind no longer moved the branches.

Even the water in the nearby pond seemed to flow with unnatural stillness.

I frowned.

Looked around.

No one.

I resumed walking.

This time, a little faster.

Leaves crunched beneath my shoes.

Or so I thought.

Because a moment later…

I heard another crunch.

Heavier.

As though something had stepped exactly where I had.

I stopped.

The sound stopped too.

I waited.

Nothing.

Slowly, I turned around.

Trees.

Bushes.

Shadows.

A chill crept down my spine.

I walked again.

Crunch.

I froze.

Silence.

The air felt different now.

Heavier.

As though the entire forest were holding its breath.

I couldn’t explain why.

I simply…

Knew someone was watching me.

Not from one place.

From everywhere.

My eyes swept across the treetops.

Then the path.

Then the undergrowth.

Nothing.

Still, my heart beat faster with every step.

Then I saw them.

Footprints.

Enormous.

Deeply pressed into the damp earth.

I crouched instinctively.

They weren’t human.

Nor did they belong to any animal I’d ever seen.

Five clawed toes.

Far too large.

Another shiver forced me back to my feet.

A few steps farther ahead, I noticed deep gouges carved into the bark of a tree.

The scratches stretched from nearly two meters above the ground all the way down to its roots.

As though something had sharpened its claws there.

A knot tightened in my stomach.

I should go back.

I turned around.

And then…

I saw it.

At first, I mistook it for a boulder.

A massive dark shape standing silently among the trees.

Then it breathed.

My entire body froze.

The creature stepped into the light.

It was a dog.

No…

Dogs weren’t supposed to be that large.

Its body was enormous, muscular, covered in thick black fur. Its head was massive, its fangs visible even with its mouth closed.

But it was its eyes that stole the air from my lungs.

There was no anger in them.

No curiosity.

Only complete calm.

The quiet confidence of a predator that knew it never needed to hurry.

I took one step backward.

It took one forward.

The blood drained from my face.

I didn’t run.

Something deep inside me understood that would be a mistake.

But I couldn’t move either.

The enormous beast continued approaching.

Slowly.

Silently.

Every footstep seemed to make the ground tremble beneath me.

When it stood barely a meter away, it lifted its nose.

It sniffed the air.

Then…

It sniffed me.

I held my breath.

I could feel its warm breath against my hands.

I thought about my grandfather.

I thought about Killua.

I thought this would be my first…

and last…

walk through the estate.

The seconds stretched endlessly.

The beast walked slowly around me.

One full circle.

Then another half.

As though inspecting me.

I couldn’t understand what it was doing.

I only knew that if it decided to attack…

I wouldn’t survive.

My heart pounded so loudly I was certain it could hear it.

I never looked away.

Not because I was brave.

But because fear had left me incapable of moving.

The creature stopped in front of me once more.

For a long moment…

Neither of us moved.

Then…

It looked away.

With complete calm, it turned around, walked a short distance, and lay down in the grass.

It was still watching me.

But it no longer seemed interested in approaching.

I didn’t understand.

Not why I was still alive.

Not why the beast had walked away.

Not why I had the impossible feeling that…

Somehow…

I had just been judged.

If a creature like that roamed freely through these gardens…

What kind of family had I married into?

—

It took several minutes before I convinced myself to return.

Every few steps, I glanced over my shoulder.

The path remained empty.

Yet the feeling of being followed never disappeared.

When the mansion finally emerged between the trees, relief washed over me so suddenly I almost felt ashamed.

The towering stone walls no longer resembled a prison.

They looked like shelter.

I looked up.

Dozens of windows reflected the midday sunlight.

They all appeared identical.

Until one caught my attention.

A second-floor window.

Behind the glass, I thought I saw someone standing perfectly still.

I couldn’t make out a face.

Only the silhouette of someone tall.

Watching me.

I blinked.

A cloud drifted across the sun.

When the light returned…

The window was empty.

I stared for several more seconds.

It must have been my imagination.

I lowered my gaze and continued toward the entrance.

I never knew…

It hadn’t been.

—

Silva stood silently before the window.

He hadn’t looked away from the gardens since Amane escorted the young woman outside.

Several meters behind him, a butler waited patiently.

“Should we inform Master Killua?”

Silva continued watching the path.

The young woman had just disappeared beneath the mansion’s front portico.

Only then did he answer.

“There is no need.”

“And Mike?”

Silva glanced briefly toward the forest.

The enormous dog had already left the clearing.

“He did not consider her a threat.”

The butler remained silent.

So did Silva.

After several long moments, he finally spoke again.

“Fear reveals more about a person than any conversation ever could.”

He turned away from the window.

“We will continue observing her.”

Then he left the room.

—

A butler intercepted me before I reached the main entrance.

“Lady Zoldyck, luncheon will be served in a few minutes.”

I nodded quietly.

I didn’t ask how long he had been looking for me.

Nor whether he had witnessed what had happened in the gardens.

I was beginning to understand that inside this mansion…

Some questions were destined never to receive answers.

I returned inside.

The change was immediate once again.

The air regained its familiar scent of polished wood and ancient stone.

The disciplined silence returned, as though the forest lay miles away instead of just beyond a single door.

As I walked through the corridors, I couldn’t help glancing toward every second-floor window.

All of them were empty.

Even so…

The feeling of being watched remained.

The dining room was every bit as imposing as the rest of the mansion.

A long table of dark wood stretched across the room, laid with flawless precision.

Every fork.

Every plate.

Every glass.

Perfectly aligned.

The members of the family arrived one after another.

No one commented on my absence.

No one asked where I had been.

No one mentioned the enormous beast waiting among the trees.

Conversation was scarce.

In truth, it barely deserved to be called conversation at all.

Only a few words exchanged when absolutely necessary.

The sound of porcelain touching the table filled the silences no one seemed interested in breaking.

I ate enough not to attract attention.

I couldn’t remember the taste of the food.

My thoughts remained trapped in the garden.

In those footprints.

The memory of my wedding was horrifying.

Painful.

Nothing like the beautiful ceremony a marriage is supposed to be.

There was no romance, no celebration, no joy.

Only rules.

Only procedures.

The night before the ceremony, I barely slept.

Inside the enormous bedroom, the only sounds were the rustling of expensive fabrics and the quiet murmurs exchanged between the maids—all women—as they dressed me. They spoke with the calm precision of people who had long ago learned which subjects should never be discussed.

Most of them chose silence.

The others simply avoided looking at me, as though refusing to meet my eyes was the only way to survive what was happening.

When they finished dressing me, I remained beside the window, watching the darkness slowly surrender to dawn.

The sky gradually turned a pale shade of gray, and for a brief moment, I wished the sun would never rise.

As long as the world remained suspended in that dim twilight, I could still pretend that time itself had stopped.

I didn't cry.

I refused to.

Inside the Zoldyck Estate, tears never changed anyone's fate—least of all mine.

I had learned that lesson long before I understood what fear truly meant.

Lost in my thoughts, I stared out at the morning sky until I failed to notice that I had been left completely alone.

When the door finally opened, only one person entered.

Amane.

Her butler's uniform was immaculate—not a wrinkle, not a single speck of dust. She walked with the same flawless precision she brought to every task within the estate.

She placed a silver tray on the table.

A cup of tea, still steaming.

A wooden comb.

And the final accessories that would complete my attire for the ceremony.

She didn't ask whether I had slept.

She didn't ask whether I was afraid.

She simply said,

"It's time."

Those two words weighed more heavily than any speech ever could.

As Amane adjusted the collar of my dress and smoothed an almost invisible crease from the fabric, every movement was meticulous, never intrusive.

There was no roughness in her hands.

But there was no comfort either.

Only the quiet gentleness of someone who had spent far too many years obeying orders to remember how to offer anything else.

For a moment, I wanted to ask whether she had ever witnessed another wedding like mine.

I wanted to know whether everyone inside the estate accepted these traditions with the same quiet resignation, or whether somewhere within these walls there was still someone willing to question them.

But when I caught Amane's reflection in the window, I realized she would never answer.

There was no indifference in her eyes.

Only exhaustion.

An old, silent exhaustion that seemed too deeply rooted to put into words.

When she finished adjusting the final detail, she stepped back and quietly examined her work.

After several seconds, she inclined her head.

"Everything is ready."

Nothing more.

No comforting words.

No wishes for happiness.

No promises that everything would be all right.

Only the flawless completion of her duty.

And somehow, her silence hurt far more than any comforting lie ever could.

Because if even someone like Amane remained silent...

Then there were things inside the Zoldyck family that not even its most loyal servants could change.

—

When the officiant began reading the vows, I felt my hands begin to tremble.

I hid it by clenching my fists.

Then Killua's voice reached me, barely louder than a whisper.

"Breathe."

I looked at him in surprise.

He never turned his head.

Anyone watching would have believed he hadn't spoken at all.

When I searched for his eyes, he didn't acknowledge me.

As though those single words had never existed.

The officiant lowered his head.

"You may seal the union."

There was no music.

No applause.

The silence that filled the hall weighed far more heavily than any celebration ever could.

I felt Killua turn slightly toward me.

Only then did I realize how close we were.

The sleeve of his formal jacket brushed against mine as he stepped forward.

I raised my eyes.

His expression remained impossible to read.

I searched for nervousness.

Compassion.

Regret.

Anything that might convince me I wasn't completely alone.

I found nothing.

Only the calm face of someone who had been taught since childhood that emotions were unnecessary luxuries.

That was when I understood.

Even this kiss didn't belong to us.

It was simply another order.

—

When we pulled away, no one smiled.

The officiant closed the ceremonial book with a soft thud that echoed throughout the hall.

Several butlers immediately began moving.

That was when I realized the kiss had never marked the end of the ceremony.

It had only marked the beginning of the part that truly mattered.

The kiss concluded the public wedding.

What followed was the real ceremony.

The part every member of the Zoldyck family considered the most important.

It was never mentioned in family portraits.

Nor recorded in official documents.

It survived only as one of those ancient traditions no one dared question anymore.

That day, I realized the ritual had never been about me.

It was about them.

About power.

About control.

About reminding the newest member of the family that, from this moment onward, even the moments that should belong only to husband and wife would never truly be private.

The massive ceremonial doors slowly opened.

Butlers stood in perfect lines along both sides of the corridor.

Some stared straight ahead.

Others lowered their eyes as we passed, as though even they felt ashamed to participate in what came next.

Killua never looked away from the elders.

His face remained as expressionless as it had during countless assassination missions.

He had learned long ago to conceal every thought capable of betraying him.

Only the tightness of his jaw hinted at the effort beneath the surface.

He walked beside me without releasing my arm.

No one spoke.

As we left the hall, I kept my hand around his arm, forcing myself to look at the faces surrounding us.

Every servant remained perfectly still.

Then one small figure caught my attention.

Alluka.

She held a tiny bouquet of flowers in her hands.

When she saw me, she offered a shy wave and smiled with such genuine warmth that, for one impossible moment, I forgot where I was.

There was no cruelty in her eyes.

Only the innocent excitement of a child who believed she was watching a wedding.

Perhaps no one had explained what would happen afterward.

Or perhaps they had...

and she was simply too young to understand what the ritual truly meant.

I returned the smallest smile I could manage.

It was the only act of kindness I received that entire day.

As we passed, Alluka took a tiny step forward, as though she wanted to come closer.

Before she could, a gloved hand rested gently upon her shoulder.

Tsubone.

She never said a word.

She didn't have to.

Alluka lowered her gaze and quietly stepped back into place.

Her smile remained.

But it no longer reached her eyes.

—

The elders sat in silence, deliberating among themselves.

In that moment, Killua understood that none of them cared about truth.

They wanted only one thing:

Proof that the Zoldyck legacy remained unbroken.

Proof that another member of the family had learned to obey, even when every instinct demanded rebellion.

None of them seemed to enjoy the ritual.

Neither did any of them attempt to stop it.

To them, preserving tradition was simply another responsibility.

The hall felt less like a wedding...

and more like a courtroom.

Every gaze weighed upon me before I had even crossed the threshold.

Each step reminded me that my own will mattered less than traditions older than anyone present.

Once we stood before the family patriarch, the enormous doors closed behind us.

The officiant announced that the Rite of Purity would proceed according to customs preserved for generations while an official scribe prepared the family records.

The room felt impossibly cold.

In that moment I realized the ceremony wasn't truly about proving anything about me.

It existed to demonstrate the power others held over my life.

For a brief instant, I wondered whether obedience had ever truly been a choice.

Since childhood, I had been told this day would determine my worth.

Not my education.

Not my character.

Not the sacrifices I had made.

Everything was reduced to a single ritual.

One so ancient that no one remembered how it had begun...

yet everyone defended it as though questioning it would bring the entire family crashing down.

Just before it began, I looked around the room.

I searched desperately for a single face that looked uncomfortable.

One person.

That was all I needed.

Someone willing to lower their eyes.

Someone who silently admitted this wasn't normal.

I found no one.

That was when the ritual itself stopped frightening me.

The true terror was realizing that everyone had already learned to live with it.

—

When the doors finally opened again, the silence had changed.

No one spoke.

No one congratulated the newlyweds.

A slight nod from the family patriarch was enough.

The butlers immediately understood that the ceremony had officially concluded.

One by one, everyone began leaving.

Within minutes, every trace of the ceremony disappeared.

As though it had never happened.

Among the last servants, I recognized Amane.

For a brief moment, our eyes met again.

I thought perhaps this time she would say something.

Anything.

Instead, she did exactly what she had done that morning.

She lowered her head.

I realized that gesture was the only compassion she could afford to show.

Then she walked away.

As though nothing had happened.

As though today had simply been another obligation recorded in the Zoldyck family's calendar.

That was when I understood.

It would not be the last time I sacrificed a part of myself for the surname I had just inherited.

—

I don't remember how long I remained standing there.

The voices slowly faded.

The grand hall emptied with flawless efficiency.

Every chair returned to its place.

Every curtain was straightened.

Every trace of the ceremony vanished.

The Zoldycks possessed a remarkable talent for erasing the past the moment it ceased to be useful.

Only then did I look up.

Silva remained seated at the opposite end of the room.

He never spoke.

He didn't need to.

Everything had gone according to plan.

There had been no applause.

No blessings.

Only confirmation that another obligation had been fulfilled.

He looked at me the way an assassin studies a newly forged weapon before deciding whether it deserves a place in his arsenal.

That was the moment I realized I wasn't his daughter-in-law.

I was an investment.

After one final glance around the hall, Silva turned and left without saying a word.

His presence alone was enough to command obedience.

I thought I could finally breathe.

I was wrong.

A delicate perfume drifted through the air before I heard the measured click of heels against polished marble.

I didn't need to turn around.

Kikyo.

Her elegant black dress swept across the floor as she approached.

The smile upon her lips was flawless.

It carried no warmth.

It looked like the carefully rehearsed expression of someone who had forgotten long ago how to smile sincerely.

She stopped before me.

For several seconds she examined my face, as though inspecting a newly acquired possession.

Then she gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

To anyone else, it would have looked maternal.

"I trust you won't become a disappointment to this family."

She paused.

"And I expect you to fulfill your duty. The Zoldyck family requires an heir to continue our legacy... and many more descendants to strengthen it."

Her voice never hardened.

It didn't need to.

Every word was spoken with perfect composure, as though she were discussing tomorrow's weather rather than the rest of my life.

I tried to answer.

No words came.

Kikyo interpreted my silence as acceptance.

She turned toward Killua.

"Don't forget who you are."

He said nothing.

She hadn't expected him to.

She left as elegantly as she had arrived, leaving behind only the scent of her perfume... and the crushing weight of expectations that would now rest upon my shoulders.

I felt Killua's grip loosen ever so slightly.

Such a small gesture.

Anyone else would have missed it.

I didn't.

For the first time that day, I dared to look directly at him.

His expression remained unreadable.

Assassins were taught from childhood to control every muscle in their face.

Yet something had changed.

It wasn't guilt.

Nor sadness.

It was exhaustion.

The kind of exhaustion that seemed to have lived behind his eyes for years.

For one foolish moment, I hoped he would say something.

Anything.

One word would have been enough.

But Killua was a Zoldyck.

And Zoldycks survived by remaining silent.

We walked through the estate accompanied by two butlers.

Neither addressed us.

Their footsteps were perfectly synchronized, as though even the sound of their shoes had been rehearsed.

Killua didn't need to look where he was going.

He had walked these corridors thousands of times.

I, however, stepped carefully, afraid even the rustle of my dress might disturb the silence.

The walls were lined with portraits of generations of Zoldycks.

Every face carried the same cold eyes.

The same rigid posture.

The same feeling that emotion had been abandoned long ago.

I wondered how many of them had walked this same hallway after their own wedding.

How many had felt this same emptiness.

And how many had eventually convinced themselves that it was normal.

At the end of the corridor stood another door.

It looked identical to every other door inside the estate.

Yet Killua slowed before opening it.

For the first time all day...

he hesitated.

Only for a second.

But it was enough to understand that even someone raised within these walls could still feel imprisoned by them.

—

Killua stopped in front of the door.

His hand rested on the handle, yet he made no attempt to open it.

For several long seconds, he remained silent.

I assumed, just like throughout the ceremony, that he wouldn't say another word.

Then he spoke.

"My mother will demand an heir as soon as possible."

His tone was as calm as if he were commenting on tomorrow's weather.

"Then she'll demand another."

I lowered my eyes.

"And then another."

For the first time since we had met, his gaze met mine.

"The only thing they care about is making sure the Zoldyck name survives."

There was no anger in his voice.

Only resignation.

"Don't mistake that for a family."

For the first time, I realized those words weren't meant only for me.

They were meant for himself as well.

Slowly, he turned the handle.

Before opening the door, he spoke one final sentence.

“you’re going to need tutoring by this point.”

“what?”

“or fail.”

fuck. that was the singular word that kept flashing repeatedly through your head whilst your physics teacher ultimately handed that ego-shattering statement to you. it was not even a suggestion or mental nudge, he was straight up informing you that you were screwed in his subject. ouch.

you were never one to disrespect or hand back questionable words to your adults, especially the ones who were in absolute control of whether you got to pass your grade. yet, the sting from his statement was clear as you remained still in your spot facing the teacher. fazing out his stern eye-contact, you paid an unnecessary amount of attention to the dusty scent of the oak that his desk was cobbled out of. wow, you never imagined how… inspiring wood could smell.

your mind was then forcefully and abruptly plucked back into planet earth and this currently undesirable surrounding by the unchanging tone from your teacher’s announcement.

“i have already assigned you a tutor of my own picking either way.”

“wait-”

“killua zoldyck will be helping you with physics and don’t bother convincing me otherwise, y/n.”

again, you weren’t a disobedient student. the wind carried itself with a tinge of chill as it fanned your face, rustling the trees in symphony with the gloomy afternoon. now, the potentiality of the wind blowing out your cigarette was more troubling than being declared a certified ass in physics earlier. your left hand balanced a halfway done marlboro lights nudged snug between your pointer and middle finger, as your right was busy dialling in a new contact number that your teacher noted down for you.

the taste of faint tobacco and burnt through filter paper stained your senses. soon, you paused in your steps as you stood in the middle of the sidewalk. the breeze settled perfectly against your skin, taking a drag of your marlboro as your other thumb hit the “send” button in the empty chat.

y/n: is this killua? i’m from your classes, if you dk. mr johnson gave me your number cus he wants u to tutor me for phys :<

eyes set on your phone screen as the obnoxiously brightness emitting from it glared back at you. you observed, watching as the chat bubble emerged from killua’s side, awaiting his response. well, not that he had any options in all honesty.

killua: lazy. not doing it.

y/n: boy u got no choice 💀

killua: literally whatever ?? be fr mr johnson did NOT ask me to tutor you

y/n: i’m being fr. just say when n where bro..

killua: ok fine just meet me at the schl library tmrw after classes or smth

y/n: whatever u say pretty boy ^^

you swiftly slipped your phone into the back pocket of your jeans with a snicker to yourself over your last message. too unbothered to even pause to see if killua had responded or left you on read with that unexpected one. as you began to focus on returning back home, you silently tossed the finished cigarette butt onto the dusty concrete beneath you— lifting your foot slightly before giving one simple step of your heel onto the now meaningless bit of filter tip, embedding it to be one with the crevices of the sidewalk.

honestly? you didn’t get it. you couldn’t comprehend why and how you were so horrible at studying for physics. you did absolutely fine, in fact, outstanding in all your other subjects. so why was this singular mishap now arresting your pride and past accomplishments so badly? never mind, since now you were about to be tutored by the subject’s semesterly top scorer.

killua zoldyck. some would say he’s an over-achiever, some would say he’s worked for it. you’d personally claim he’s an egotistical brat. you didn’t have much of any relation to him, he was just that one classmate you’d consistently see in most of your classes. you know? that one kid who constantly had his wired earphones plugged in like his life depended on it, paired with designer branded baggy jeans. however, you were always somewhat mildly irked by the fact studying and tests always came so effortlessly to him. the only few positive things you noted in your mental checklist regarding him was—

pretty face ꪜ

nice hair ꪜ

aaaand he might also possess a decent fashion sense, those majestic eyes that painted an image of vibrant blue sea-glass , porcelain skin… and perchance impressively good music taste. you stalked his spotify back when you guys were 14 out of sheer curiosity

BUT all that doesn’t mean anything to you. killua zoldyck was just still an obnoxious dude who happened to be blessed genetically and financially.

and so it began…

the school bell rang in reminder to all students and its staff that the day had fleeted once more, it was finally the end of another school day. except, from today onwards you could no longer run back home to rot in your beloved bed nor head down to your kitchen to rustle up yourself a cup of black coffee. you could be dramatic as per usual and internally whine to yourself about how agonising and dehumanising this whole arrangement was but no, you were going to walk into that library and plaster on the facade of “yup, i’m fine with this!”. partly to cover up your shame and partly to aurafarm in front of killua.

you made sure of gathering up all your physics textbooks, written notes and digital notes diligently yesterday before heading off to meet your tutor today.

it was a conveniently short and well-routed walk to the library from your last class on your campus. as expected, the glass double doors of the entrance leading to the literary haven grew larger to your view as you stepped closer. right as you were about to push past those doors, you instinctively checked out yourself through the reflection of yourself appearing in the wide glass panes that stood as doors.

you picked at your bangs with your finger tips, almost unnaturally pushing them to fall down and frame your face just the way you wanted them to. gosh, what were you even doing all this for? you were meant to be focusing on improving at physics. oh well, it wouldn’t hurt to at least look good during it.

your focus on your hair was soon interrupted rudely (albeit, needed) by the sharp chime of your phone, clearly a notification. a groan escaped past your glossy lips subtly, hurriedly digging into your leather bag for that vital device.

it was a text notification from him.

killua: are you here yet? you’re being a slowpoke.

you scoffed almost immediately as soon as you finished reading that message of his, your hands sprawling to text back. god forbid a girl wants to stay pretty…

y/n: bruh i’m literally outside the library already hold on

killua: omfg woman

30 minutes soon came and went.

“are you even listening?” came from the opposite side of the table, a hint of nag in killua’s words. he had his head in his palm, his arm propping it up as he had one arm extended past the center of the wooden table so that it reached your book. in all honesty, in your personal opinion, this guy seemed more bored rather than frustrated.

across all the studying materials and devices beaming with online notes, an obvious but unserious frown dominated your face. “what? why would you even say that…” you mumbled quietly, already unwilling to sit through someone of your own age treating you like you were some attention-deficit kid.

“cus you suck at this.” the silverette bluntly declared, retracting his arm so he could push up the sleeves of his dark hoodie, fabric bunching up at his pale elbows.

no wonder people gravitated towards smoking in this world. if anything, it was to deal with men who carried an attitude.

your eyes rolled so far up that you swore you could sense yourself able to see the back of the inside of your head. it was truly horrible considering it was undeniable that you “sucked” at physics, so there was no way you could even convince killua otherwise.

you gave a little bite to your tongue before responding to that snark of his. “well, since you’re so great at this, why don’t you just teach me what i did wrong.” and you also might’ve snuck in a barely audible “bitch” at the end. your gel pen remained in the grasp of your hand, hovering above the worksheet that killua had printed out for you earlier… in which you completed failed.

without a word, killua responded by poking one of your knee’s gently underneath the table with the cushiony rubber top of his lead pencil— earning a surprised yelp in combination with a small jump in your seat.

“maybe i won’t have to teach you since i’m such a bitch after all..” killua snickered, his neat teeth peering at you whilst he then mildly dug the rubber into your knee.

without a shadow of doubt, you were pretty stunned for a minute at that. after awhile of this little interaction registering into your brain, you naturally but almost hesitantly brushed killua’s pencil away with an insistent nudge of your hand down the table. “killua! quit playing around.” rolling your eyes once more, unsure of what to feel at this.

his hair that could be mistaken for fluff framed his face just right, all while the tiring sun in the background shone on him through streaks of light as they snuck through the gaps between books in the bookshelves of the library, uncovered windows behind those shelves.

“haters gonna hate cus they ain’t me” killua shrugged with that unmistakable grin that could charm even the most unshakeable hearts.

yet, all you did was exhale slowly. suppose this was going to be one long tutoring session then, huh.

to your pleasant surprise, that session actually went by far faster than you expected. killua wasn’t a bad tutor whatsoever apart from how easily he pressed your buttons, he was well-versed in all the details he briefed about and understood your mistakes, as well as being able to correct you effectively after.

the campus was quiet as per usual at this hour after school. most went home, some went out with friends to the mall. there was a decently comfortable silence between the two of you as you both walked out through the school entrance. apart from the footsteps erupting from just you and killua, there were some occasional chirps of birds and zooms of cars on the main street right outside facing the school entrance.

as soon as you felt yourself step one centimetres off of campus grounds, you began to reach into and tumble through your bag that sat atop your left shoulder. in a sense, you may have accidentally forgotten all about killua’s presence still beside you.

you two stood shoulder to shoulder on the outside sidewalk of the school entrance. killua’s head soon turned to his side to face you, ears perking up in notice of the sudden noises that appeared like fumbling inside a purse.

those big blue’s of his were fixated totally on you as you eventually stopped focusing on your bag, pulling out and placing a cigarette in between the plumpness of your lips. your own eyes were on your lighter as you gave it a few clicks before it lit up.

the seething noises of your cigarette that continuously burned away as you took a singular long drag of your malboro that was snug between your fingers once more, gazing off into the distance of passing by vehicles in a state that could only be classified as enigmatic.

ohhh right. he was still here.

smoke engulfed the inner walls of your lungs, before exhaling it out— courteously blowing it the opposite direction so that it wouldn’t hit killua straight in the face.

pulling it away from your lips, you turned to see killua, who was already staring at you.

“how come i never knew this? we’ve been in the same classes since middle school- y/n!” was all that killua exclaimed as you simply stared back with no traces of fluster. truly, he was surprised.

its not that smoking was anything taboo in killua’s mind, his mother and his eldest brother all smoked anyways. random thing he noted all his life was that his mother strictly stuck to the slim ones only. perhaps, it was just killua often possessing an impressive estimation of people’s nature from just a minor glimpse of them. however, this didn’t really alter his opinion or perception of you. sure, killua could be horrendously judgey but he felt everybody had the right to live their life the way they saw fit.

“dumbass. nobody smokes inside school.” tapping at your cigarette to allow the ash to fall onto the sidewalk with a minor raise of the tip of your pointer finger. there was a slight but still noticeable mockery in your tone.

killua had no clue what to make of this. you kinda caught his tongue for him, it was true nobody sensible would do that in school but he was still rightfully shocked. he decided it best to just move on hastily from you winning that last debate (if that could even be counted a debate).

“so… how are you getting home?” the boy muttered as he remained by your side, retiring and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. his head was turned away from you now, although he couldn’t resist to constantly sneak glances at you beside him through his peripheral vision. killua hadn’t noticed it, but there was certainly something magnetic about you to him.

your head remained facing the opposite side rather than in killua’s direction, puffing out the smoke and observing how the gusts of current in the light wind carried it off, as if claiming it as one of their own. “i walk home usually.” you voiced plainly before taking a step to face your entirety towards killua, your gazes meeting gladly.

as soon as you returned your attention back to him, killua grasped onto the chance to be able to look at you fully without appearing like an absolute creep to some degree.

killua zoldyck wasn’t one for romantic cliche’s in media nor literature, but life has its exceptions. for what was the first time in his life, he sensed he genuinely understood the claims and imageries encapsulated of being “in a daze for them”.

honestly, killua himself in all likeliness probably wasn’t even aware he was sinking further into you, almost as if you resembled some mental quicksand. all he himself thought of what he knew was that he did find you pretty attractive. what even was the concept of infatuation and “love” to him? it didn’t exist in any aspects of his life. yet, there was the chance of you introducing yourself into his life as just that.

“uh, i have chauffeurs but i don’t really like them following me around. so i walk home too.”

“hm, i see. wanna walk together until we gotta split up?”

“you’d do that with me?”

“take it or leave it.”

“taking it!”

time plays its tricks in plain sight, progressing faster than anyone expects it to. right, one week had officially flown through since killua began tutoring you three times per week.

what an idiot. what an idiot that he was. that was all killua’s mind could center around when he wasn’t teaching you something like momentum equalled to mass times velocity. you were always there in plain sight, for years in fact. so how exactly did he miss you for all this time? but then again, killua wasn’t the one to mindlessly fall for someone.

you were notable. special but hard to figure out.

truth be told, there was no such things to be so difficult.. especially to the severity that the boy couldn’t even wrap his head around everything. it was just that killua was unknowing of how to regulate his feelings properly nor digest them.

“i think i finally get it?..” you started off before continuing further in detail, “so essentially, increase in kinetic energy leads to increase of pressure in the container as the kinetic energy causes an increase in speed of particles hitting container and one another?”

“yup, thats basically it. y’know, i’d say you’ve been getting the hang of this lately.” the pale boy beamed honestly, genuinely being patient and accepting of your trial and errors before your success.

if anyone else was in the library to witness this, they’d likely tell you that killua looked like a fucking idiot with the way he was smiling dumbly at you.

your hand rose to flip your hair in a sassy, playful motion as you looked off to the side in awe of yourself. come on, who doesn’t love to celebrate a small accomplishment?

“i mean, i’m just that good like as always. no surprise you improved after i came into your life…?” the silverette placed a hand on his chest melodramatically as he trailed off with humouring his own compliments that were also directed towards himself…

a small chuckle vibrated through your throat, taking a moment to absorb the warmth of the connection between you two. for a mere second, you swore you felt killua’s knee brush against yours from under the table.

you were convinced it was just an unremarkable accident. however, some undiscovered part of you did not want to let that go as something so trivial.