#lavender / open. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ellssbellss · 4 months ago

Note

Hey! I love your writing so much, especially lavender roses! I was wondering if you could write a Host Club x reader who has a lot of random hobbies (woodworking, painting, fencing, singing, writing, etc)?

I just know that if I had Ouran money, I’d have so many more hobbies. Thank you!

my life is a little hectic right now, as all you lovely people know. but I had this written, or most of it anyway, and I wanted to post it :) thank you for your patience with me while I deal with this difficult time, and for your amazing request!

The Hosts and their S.O. with too many hobbies! {Ohshc x Gender Neutral!Hobbiest!Reader}

missing Honey and Haruhi - will add them when I can!

.oOo.

Tamaki’s reader:

Ballet

Gardening

Painting

Tamaki’s eyes sparkled as you leaped across the stage, never daring to look away from your sculpted body framed in the dramatic stage lights. Tears had been glistening in his violet eyes since your first pirouette, and now he was wiping his cheek every chance he could get. Quickly, so he didn’t miss a single moment.

The prince was left breathless as you danced. The art of ballet flowed so naturally through your form, you looked like you belonged on that stage. Through the kaleidoscope of his tears, Tamaki sighed as you spun and jumped and just moved so fluidly, the emotion on your face making him feel with you.

Your technique dazzled every single member of the audience, and when you bowed, the blonde man was the first to shoot up from his seat. He shoved his palms together unceremoniously, whooping and cheering as everyone politely clapped around him, but he didn’t care. When you tipped your head up and found his wet eyes in the crowd with a playful smile on your lips, he knew he had never seen anything more beautiful.

Scratch that.

“Tamaki!” Your hand shot up from the sea of people filing into the theater lobby, and he zoned in on it. On a mission, a blonde head and a (h/c) head come closer together, pushing through the black suits and long dresses in order to greet the other. Finally, the waters part, and Tamaki takes in your glory with a grin.

“Mon amour…” He breathes, and it’s all you can do not to skip to him as you hold your pointe shoes in your hand. The bouquet of flowers he brought are set down in favor of catching your form and spinning you in the air. His hands come flat against your back as he buries his face in your neck, whispering your praises into your hair.

“You did so well, my love.” He feels your hands wrap tighter around his neck. “You’re so incredibly talented.”

Setting you down gently, he cradles your face. Your beaming at him, pride and adrenaline coursing through your pupils as you try to catch your breath, and he revises his initial thought.

This is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Your gorgeous features enveloped in pure joy.

Chuckling, his voice is like butter as he runs one of his fingers over your cheekbone. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.” Your chest heaves, but your smile is bright. “Especially after seeing you in the audience.”

“Please,” He says, tugging you closer. “I never would’ve missed the opportunity to see you shine.”

Tamaki kisses you then, and you melt. His fingers are gentle against your jaw, peeking into your hairline for a moment as your lips meet sweetly. You hum when he pulls away, wacking him when he smirks at the blush on your face.

“Everytime.” He says, teasing you with a kiss to your cheek.

“Shut up.” You groan. “You can’t kiss me like that and not expect it to affect me.”

“Like what?” A blonde eyebrow quirks up. “Like this?”

He leans in again before someone clears their throat. A man with a collar too high on his neck gives you two a disapproving glare as he walks by, clearly upset by the dramatic display of affection.

You just giggle as the man moves on somewhere else. “Maybe we shouldn’t kiss like that in front of all these people.”

Tamaki rolls his eyes but steps away from you ever-so-slightly. “When you look at me like that, I can’t help myself.”

“Contain yourself.” You tease.

“That will never be possible, mon amour, when my heart can’t even contain its beat with you in this leotard.” Shrugging off his suit jacket, he drapes it around your shoulders. “Maybe cover up a little though, huh? Just for my sanity?”

Laughing, you pull your arms through the too big sleeves, basking in the cologne smell and the sense of security it brings you. “Okay. You can just take it off later.”

Tamaki’s eyes widen as a blush forms on his cheeks, but he grins. “You’re such a flirt.”

“Look who’s talking.” Putting your arm through his, you lean against his side and giggle, his stature supporting you like it always does. But as you turn him towards the front door of the theater, he gasps.

“Wait!” Your boyfriend quickly spins and grabs the flowers that were almost forgotten on the carpet, luckily not trampled by the crowd of opera goers.

“These…” Separating your arms softly, he stands in front of you, bowing as he holds out the gift. “...are for you, darling.”

He hears you gasp, and when he straightens, your eyes are wide and sparkling at the flowers in front of you. (E/c) pools scan every petal, every leaf and stem, and your hand gently cradles the buds.

“Tama…” Your voice is soft enough to not disturb the flora in front of you. “These are from my garden.”

He nods. “I wanted to make the bouquet special enough for you.”

“You wrapped them up so beautifully…” You breathe, and you scan them top to bottom. Your eyes pause at the bottom of the stems. “You didn’t give them a diagonal cut?”

A hand comes to cover his mouth. “Oh, no! I forgot to give them a diagonal cut!” Tamaki swallows before running a hand through his hair. “Before I fix it, of course, just remind me what that is.”

Your hair doesn’t jostle from the hairspray that holds your ballet hair together when you shake your head. “Silly prince. It’s when you cut the bottom of the stem diagonally when you pick them, so that they can absorb more water.”

“Oh…” And with that, a determined gleam twinkled in his eye. “That’s an easy fix! Let me find some scissors.” Quickly, he looks around the bustling lobby, waving his hand. “Who has scissors?!”

“No! No, Tamaki.” Laughing, you bring his hand back down to your side, cradling the large bouquet in your other arm. “It’s fine. Just remember for next time.”

He sees your throat bob, as if you’re holding something else back. “Is there something else, amour?”

You take a breath, fully prepared to deny anything, but you sigh, slumping your shoulders as another critique spills out of you. “And also, for next time, just get me chocolate? I work really hard on making sure these flowers stay alive, and they look much prettier on the bush they were grown on then arranged only to die in a few days.”

Your heart lunges when you see a darkened expression take over his face. “Oh my god, I killed your flowers.”

“That’s okay! It’s fine, roses are easy to grow this time of year, I promise.” You hurry to correct him, putting your palm on his jaw. “I was trying to make it special, I swear.” He whines. His hand comes to rest over yours on his cheek, his fingers grasping your own. “I just didn’t think about it that way.”

You simper at him. “It was special. Knowing how much care you put into arranging them like this is so special to me. Thank you, Tamaki.”

It’s your turn to kiss him on the cheek, and he practically melts. As you’re about to walk out of the busy theater, you feel Tamaki’s arms wrap around your form. He lifts you, cradling you like the royalty you are.

Before you can protest, he shoves your face into the crook of his neck, blonde wisps tickling your cheeks. “Your poor legs, they must be so sore after all that dancing.”

“I can walk just fine.”

“I know.” He squeezes you closer to his chest, and your arms betray your words as they wrap around his neck.

Tamaki takes you back to your home, your parents having missed the recital in favor of a business trip somewhere. There was a long shower, a hot meal, and plenty of cuddling and soft touches before the evening sky touched down into night, and the moonlight poured into the large windows of your place.

Now, he leans on the couch, his feet propped up as he stretches his long form across the length of the white cushions. The serene night fluttered as he opened his eyes from a lazy nap he took, inhaling the scent that was so perfectly you. It calmed him.

To his side, a clanking sound rang into the quiet space. He slowly turned his head to see you gently setting a cup of tea onto one of the side tables. He meets your sheepish gaze when you realize you woke him up, biting your lip.

“I know you’re better at making tea, but I tried.” You offer, spinning the saucer with two fingers so that the handle was facing him. A sweet smile pulls his beautiful face as he sits up.

“Thank you, mon amour.” Reaching for the tea cup, he sees that you are about to walk away from him towards the arching window in your bedroom, the one that looks out over your garden. There is a paint easel set up facing the view, a nearly-exact replica of it being portrayed on your canvas.

Tsking, he lightly grips your wrist, putting pressure to spin you back around. With a yelp, you fall seamlessly across his lap, his arm bracing your back.

“I didn’t get to thank you properly.” His voice rumbles, and his lips are pressed to yours again, leaving you to soften into a lovesick puddle. Your mouths move once, twice, and you can’t resist holding him there for a third time before you separate. His violet eyes transfix on your features, a gentle smile on his lips.

“What?” You ask, laughing as he zones out once again. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he sinks into his, what you like to call, mental theater. “Tamaki, you’re staring.”

Blinking, that sparkle in his eyes fades, but not very much. A finger comes out and wipes off a smear of paint from your cheek. “No, I’m falling, amour. All over again.”

Humming, you pick his chin back up into your grasp. “Then I’ll be here to catch you, darling.”

A cherry blush coats his cheeks when you initiate the kiss this time, and he makes a sound of pleasure against your lips. When you pull away, he is stuttering and hiding behind the tea cup. Chuckling, you watch his hand shake slightly as he tries to regain his cool. “You okay there?”

“What? Of course, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” He rambles, taking a very purposeful sip of the tea you brought him. Then his cheeks bulge, struggling to hold the liquid in his mouth.

“Oh god, it’s terrible, isn’t it?” You say, covering your mouth.

Tamaki shakes his head, but he is breaking out into a nervous sweat.

“Tamaki, spit it out if you don’t like it.” Urging him, you push the cup back to his closed lips. He refuses, his face turning a slight shade of green.

“Tama!” You laugh a little, pleading with him. His grip on the tea cup tightens, and you see the struggle in his swallow as he forces it down his throat.

“G-great as always, angel.” He lies, still wincing at the aftertaste. “Oh mon dieu…” He curses underneath his breath.

Rolling your eyes, you place the cup back on the saucer. “You don’t have to lie.” You insist with a teasing smirk.

A weak grin escapes his full lips. “You are such a talented person, (Y/n).” He starts, nuzzling into your shoulder. “You’re perfect.” And even as his stomach turns, he is grateful to have a significant other with many talents, even if making tea isn’t one of them.

.oOo.

Kyoya’s reader:

Debate club

Woodworking

Reading

Long legs race down the hall, dressed in perfectly iron slacks and shined dress shoes. His black book is clasped in his hand as Kyoya turns another corner, the door to his destination finally coming in sight. Breathing a sigh of relief, the megane fixes his glasses, gray eyes trained on the entrance down the hall.

Students are bustling outside of the auditorium, waiting in line as the start time for the debate draws nearer. Kyoya, at his height, pushes past his fellow peers, easily being able to see over the ocean of yellow dresses and lavender jackets.

Before he can reach the heavy double doors into the theater space, he’s stopped by a hand at his arm.

“Excuse me, sir, but you can’t enter the auditorium yet. Not until I’ve been given the green light.” The voice of a security guard sounds over the noise of side conversations, and Kyoya’s dark lashes flick up to meet her stern ones. Clearing his throat, he gently detaches his arm from her grip. He matches her polite smile, a fake one stretching his own lips.

“I understand, Miss. But I’m actually late. I was supposed to meet someone backstage, but I unfortunately got mine and their schedules muddled.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but these doors are closed to the public until the start time.”

Squinting slightly, his host smile grows a little longer on his pale skin. “It’s Miss Kato Hisa, isn’t it?”

The security guard’s eyes widened, knowing that her name tag had been lost in her car for weeks now. “Yes, sir. Have we met?”

“Not formally, no.” Tucking his black book under his arm, he reaches his palm out, grasping her hand in greeting. “I am Ootori Kyoya. Third son to the Ootori family.”

Her hand tightened in his before he let it drop, and she gasped excitedly. “Oh, my gosh, I didn’t realize! Your police force is the top force in the nation.” She smiles sheepishly. “I actually submitted my application a few weeks ago–”

“I’m well aware.” His deep voice cuts her off. “My family only accepts the best, you know. But, I’m sure my father and the chief of the force could be urged in a different direction, with the proper motivations.”

Hisa’s grin widens. “Wow, Ootori-san, that would be amazing! I would be so grateful–”

“If I could be let in now, then you may have your chance.”

Her grin falls. “But, I can’t do that, sir. I am under strict orders not to let anyone in until the appropriate time.”

“Then I’m afraid your application would fall to the bottom of the pile unseen.” Kyoya’s facade is too sweet for his words. “Forgotten.”

The security guard’s face falls into a thin line, searching the Ootori son’s eyes for the joke, or a speck of unseriousness. Of course, she will find none. She can’t read him the way you can.

“You’re cruel.” Swallowing, her fingers grip around the door handle. Pulling it open a crack wide enough for his lithe frame to slip through, she mumbles as he passes. “Enjoy the debate.”

“Thank you, I will.” His tone is low as he moves down the aisles to the sides of the stage. What a weak integrity, he muses, flying down the carpeted stairs. She couldn’t last a day on our police force.

Soon, he hears bustling from behind the debate stage, and he swishes the curtains to the side, slipping into a crowd of debate teams. A stormy gaze sweeps over the crowd, looking for a conglomerate of dark blue suits, the official uniform of the Ouran Debate Team. Once he finds them, he makes a beeline for an (h/c) individual bouncing their leg, a historical fiction novel in their hands.

He simpers at the genre. You only read historical fiction when you’re nervous.

You don’t hear the click of his dress shoes before he is stopped right in front of you, too engrossed in the story to pick out your boyfriend’s movements.

“(Y/n).” That voice shocks you from your trance, and you sweep your gaze up from your seat to find Kyoya smirking down at you, a little flushed. Gasping, you stand immediately, a wide smile taking over your lips.

“Kyo.” You greet him happily, placing your book onto a lone table next to you. “I’m so glad you made it.” Reaching out, you fix a strand of his hair that had been sticking up from his wind-swept look. Then you notice his rapid breaths and his pink cheekbones.

Chuckling a bit, your smile grows. “Are you okay? Did you run here?”

Scoffing, he rolls his eyes at you. “Of course not. Just a brisk walk.” He steps closer, the palm not grasping his journal resting onto your hip. “I apologize for being late. I got the dates confused.”

“The dates?”

Nodding, he flips open the famous black book as he pulls you a little closer into his side so that you could see. You lean into his shoulder as he shows you the section that acts as his planner.

“I thought your debate was tomorrow, when, in reality, your woodworking exposition is tomorrow evening. Since your exposition starts an hour later, I incorrectly believed I had more time to work on my club’s budget.”

“You do tend to get lost in the numbers.”

His eyes slip past you to the book next to you. “We all have our methods of escape.”

“I can’t argue with that.” You agree, (e/c) meeting thunderstorms.

“Now, that’s not true.” He teasingly gestures to your debate team. “Isn’t that the point of all this?”

Groaning, you lay your head on his shoulder. “Don’t remind me.”

“(Y/n), my dear.” Pulling apart from you slightly, he takes your hands in his. They are smaller, and he likes that he can encapsulate them in his grasp, keeping them safe. “You’re nervous.”

“You know, it’s not like you to state the obvious.”

“It’s not like you to be so anxious.” He retorts. “You are usually very confident in your debate abilities.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him, a smirk blooming onto your lips. “But being nervous is a natural reaction. Especially when talking about competition.”

“But don’t you agree that confidence is a more helpful emotion?” He responds, eyeing the smart style you have slicked your hair into. “Empirical evidence supports that people achieve more when they are of competent mind, instead of pushing themselves down.”

You take a step forward into his space, your shoulders back. “True. However, a study recently conducted in Switzerland concluded that when an individual person is nervous, or feels anxiety, they tend to work harder towards their goal, as their brain specifically prioritizes that achievement rather than any other.”

He hums thoughtfully, also taking a step forward. “Is that so? Wouldn’t more anxiety hinder that ability to do well? Some people succumb to the state of nervousness. Students procrastinate all the time in fear of not doing well, so they don’t end up actually starting.”

Your hands swing lower, till clasped together as you inch forward even more, his angled face only a few breaths from yours. His eye-line makes a triangle shape across your features, going from your left pupil, to your full lips, and then your right.

“Maybe so, if you are specifically talking about education.” Your voice drops a little lower, falling into a bubble with him. “But in competition, especially group sports like debate, there is an added social pressure. Competitors are not only nervous about their own preparedness, but how that preparedness might affect their team, a team that relies on them. Those anxieties grouped together enhance an individual's motivation to do well.”

Kyoya’s heart drummed a little faster in his chest. Here you were, standing in front of him in a very flattering suit, the color striking against your skin tone. Your words were concise, your tone was steady, and your touch had already been drawing him closer into you. His throat had gone dry at your smart demeanor, your intellect shining in the reflection of his spectacles.

He needed to pull himself together.

But he indulged a little more, pulling one of his hands away from yours to grasp your chin in his fingers, tugging your temptations into his hold. “I yield.” He murmured.

Before your lips could connect, however, another student from the opposing debate team jostled his shoulder. You steadied him as the student grumbled under his breath. “Get a room. Fucking horny high schoolers.”

Kyoya glared daggers at the man, already calculating the next strike to his reputation before he heard your laughter. He felt you pry his fingers off of you, and he turned to see you smiling curiously at him, the sharp edges of his gaze already softening.

“Kissing in public?” You tease, placing a small peck on the inside of his palm. “Being late has made you so scrambled.”

Scoffing, he turns your head to the side. Favoring a far more appropriate kiss on the cheek, he responds in your ear. “You’re right, what was I thinking? You have to win to earn it.”

A gasping breath rushes through your lungs. “So not only am I competing in the finals for my debate team, I’m also competing for my boyfriend’s affection.” You narrow your gaze. “You're cruel.”

He smirks, and now it’s your turn to feel a skipped heartbeat. “So I’ve been told.”

But you hum, leaning closer. “If I don’t deserve a kiss from my boyfriend, I guess you don’t deserve the present I made for you.”

A black eyebrow raises. “You have a gift for me? Isn’t it my place to get you a gift before your critical night?”

“Yes, and I’m fully expecting whatever incredibly thoughtful gift you’ve managed to hide from me up until this point. Because I know you got me something to commemorate this day.” Turning, you move to your backpack, shuffling through it. “But I made this in Wood Shop. Just to clear my head before tonight.”

Pulling the wrapped object out of your bag, you hand it to him, beaming proudly at him. Gently, he takes it from you, immediately trying to guess what it was from the weight and size of the box.

“I’ve been trying woodcarving more often than actual carpentry.” You explain as his pianist fingers unwrap the present. “I wanted you to have my first successful product.”

God, he was almost disgusted at how bright his heart was glowing, how much lighter it became at your words. Swallowing, he pulled a nearly black object out of the decorative box, his lips parting at the sight.

A carved rose laid elegantly between his fingers. The detail was impeccable, the petals imitating something delicate even if it was created from something so solid. The flower was heavy in his grasp, but with its weight came an accurate beauty. He hadn’t really studied the skill it would take to create something like this, but he planned to do some extensive research when he was able.

Still, he knew it took an intense study on angles, and an assured hand to make cuts in the right places. Kyoya also realized the time, the focus, and the determination that someone must have to make something as perfect as this. To see an image in the wood and reveal it to the world.

The Ootori son gently began to put the rose back into the box.

Your lip worried between your teeth. “It’s made out of Gaboon ebony, which is the darkest wood available in nature. I know you have a very specific color scheme for your spaces, so I thought that would fit perfectly as a desk decoration.”

Kyoya met your gaze, placing the lid on the giftbox.

Shrugging, you shifted, wondering why a man of many words had gone silent. “And I don’t know why, but I thought a rose would be a good image. It’s romantic, sure, but…I don’t know, they have a grace to them that matches yours. In my eyes, at least.” You say.

A finger pushes up his lens as he steps towards you, placing the box slowly onto the same spare table you had set your book.

His cologne washes over you as he does, and you swallow. “Do you not like it? I could make you something else, maybe something a little sharper. A rose might’ve been too feminine–”

Your doubt is halted as Kyoya surges forward, both of his skilled hands framing your face as he pulls your mouth to his. Surprise sounds against where your lips meet before it dissolves into a wanting breath, tilting your head a little more to absorb as much of his spontaneity as you can.

It’s a closed kiss, but you both fit together like a puzzle piece, and you feel every unspoken emotion between you as he holds you to him, your own arms slipping to his waist.

When he breaks apart, you’re blushing deeply, eyes scattering to see if anyone saw the public display of affection, but the crowd was too busy with their own conversations of boosting morale and good luck.

You came back to the moment, taking a breath as you clasp your hands behind his back. “What was that for?”

His own voice was breathless, but the dazed look in his eyes sharpened, and his kissed lips smirked back at you. “You earned it.”

And even if your many talents and expositions busied his schedule, the smile that grew on your face and the way he had to gently shove you away before you stole another kiss made it worth it.

.oOo.

Hikaru’s Reader:

Kickboxing

Nail Tech

Sewing

“I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

“No, baby. You can’t do that.”

“No, I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

You sigh, holding a piece of gauze to your right cheek, and your other hand holds an ice pack to the back of your head. The swelling hadn’t gone down, so the skin was plump and red as you watched Hikaru pace the empty locker room. He ran his hands through his ginger locks, pivoting on his heel as he fumes.

Your costume fluttered around you. Since you made your own regalia, you had gone with a gold look this time. A spandex material grabbed against your muscled, shining in the metallic color, with stylish cut outs where you felt really emphasized your figure. Your hair had subtle gold streaks through it, but you were most proud of the cape you had draped over your shoulders.

It was embellished with a gold trim and heavy velvet fabric, something you wore before you entered the ring. It was luxurious, elegant, and it matched the same color in Hikaru’s eyes, already making you love it even more.

Hikaru made sure to find a pair of boxing gloves that matched, and he even offered to do your makeup before your match. He swiped gold eyeshadow over your (e/c) pools, and yellow gems traced under your waterline.

He had pretended to not be able to look at you, saying that you shine too brightly and he couldn’t stand your beauty any more.

Now, with these scratches and minor swellings, he wouldn’t look at you. Not in your sparkling eyes, at least. Only at the scratches.

“Hikaru. Kyoya would kill you if you murdered someone. You’d have to go to prison, leaving him down one Brotherly Love package.”

He puts his hands on his hips, pulling his lips between his teeth. “No, I don’t care. Kaoru will figure something out.”

He pauses when the referee of your most recent kickboxing match walks through the door. The ref clicks the door behind him, making eye contact with you as he makes his way towards you, the actual competitor.

But someone else wanted to step into the ring. A blur of orange stepped into the ref’s path, ginger clashing with black and white. “You’re gonna do something about that, right?”

The ref sighed, putting his hands up in a surrender move. “Sir, there isn’t much we can do–”

“No, shut up. You’re gonna fucking do something, right?” Hikaru gestures wildly, his eyes wild as he gets into the referee’s space. His arms direct over to you, his golden eyes scanning over your injuries for the millionth time. “Look at the love of my life. Look at them. I mean, something has to be illegal here, right? Those hits, they weren’t–, I mean, they were unconscious and they kept going!”

“Hikaru, please.” You say, bringing the gauze to another cut right above your eyebrow, chuckling a little bit. “Let the man speak. Maybe to the actual competitor. ”

Huffing, Hikaru turns to you, eyes fierce. But that fire melts into a warm sunlight as he realizes the fact that your hands are full trying to stop the bleeding and the swelling on your own. Exasperated, it takes two strides for him to be by your side.

“What’re you doing? Trying to do this yourself…” He criticizes, but you know there isn’t any fire behind it. Taking the ice pack, he grumbles, glaring daggers at the referee that moves to sit across one of the benches in the locker room. Hikaru holds the ice pack to your face, his other hand rubbing up and down your back softly.

The ref’s eyes look over the pair of you, sighing deeply. You rolled your eyes as the referee shuffled on the bench, looking guiltier by the second.

“I know I should’ve stopped them.” He admitted. “I hadn’t realized you were down for the count.”

You shift the gauze against your cheek. “Just be glad it didn’t result in anything more than a few scratches. But you should’ve been paying attention.”

Hikaru opens his mouth, but you shake your head. The referee nodded his head before hanging it.

“I know.” He spoke, clasping his hands in front of him. “You are usually such a good competitor, (Y/n), I thought you were going to get back up.”

Hikaru scoffed. “Are you pinning this on them?” He growled as he gripped the ice pack tighter. “That they should’ve been a better fighter so they didn’t get K.O.’d?”

“Hikaru–” You warn, but your boyfriend was nothing if he wasn’t stubborn, his fierceness burning under the surface.

“Of course not!” The referee stuttered. “I was only trying to explain–”

“Yeah, well, all I hear are excuses.” Hikaru bites, the arm on your back becoming tighter around your shoulders. “Get your boss in here. I want to speak to them.”

The man across from you gulped. “Are we sure that’s necessary?”

The Hitachiian twin’s teeth must’ve been razor sharp the way he barred them at the ref. “One hundred percent. I have no idea how ref’s like you get hired anyway, but I want to see who was dumb enough to actually sign the paper.”

“Baby, that’s enough.” You were scowling, but on the inside you couldn’t help but laugh at the way the ref’s face morphed from horror to the acceptance of his fate.

“Of course, sir.” Sighing, the referee offers one last apology before scratching the back of his head, the locker room door swinging behind his exeunt.

Hikaru was still muttering to himself as he brushed your hair out of your face, the strands wet with the sweat on your forehead. “Fucking people, don’t know how to do their jobs…”

“Hikaru…” Your voice is gentle as you pull the ice pack and gauze away from your face, your attractive features finally looking a little more normal. Your hand frames his cheek, and the anger in his eyes completely goes away. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“I know that.” He frowns, the rasp in his voice carrying a sigh. But you could tell his eyes were still scanning your skin, making sure there weren't any other injuries that he missed. “And you’re tougher than you look.”

“Exactly.” A proud smirk plays on your lips.

“Plus,” That smirk that both annoys you and warms you rises to his mouth. “You’ve got a pretty thick skull. I think you could take a few more hits before it becomes a problem.”

Scoffing, you push him away. “I’m gonna hit you if you don’t shut up.”

“I think I wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh really?” You wrap your arm around him, bringing him closer. “You’re a freak.”

“You’re a tease.” His canines sparkle when he smiles, and it’s all you can do to make the kiss you two share as short as possible. Otherwise, the way he gently cradles your face, or how his lips move against yours would pull you in forever.

A door swinging open interrupted your bliss anyway, and you two jumped apart. Hikaru groaned softly, a small blush coming onto his scowling cheeks.

A woman in a fine pressed suit walked across the tile, her heels echoing within the locker room. You recognized her as the manager of the ring in which you’ve had most of your kickboxing matches, and you rose to meet her.

“(Y/n).”

Clutching her hand, you shake it gently, aware of your sore shoulder. “Nice to see you again.”

Hikaru just folds his arms in the background, standing at your side. The manager gives a sidelong glance before giving you a business smile.

“I wanted to personally apologize for the oversight our referee had during your match tonight.” She says, her lip gloss catching the fluorescent lights above. “You are one of our most beloved fighters, the audience loves you and your unique costumes and looks.”

In her handshake, the manager felt the smooth texture on your fingernails, and turned your hand over in hers. “Your vibrant, fearless creativity inspires many people in our kickboxing world, even if you are a little unorthodox.”

Your nails are painted with a metallic background, and when she presses your fingernails together, they create a picture of an intricate, swirling gold dragon across your nail beds. It was beautiful, it was detailed, and it had been incredibly time consuming.

You kept your nails short, and the art was absolutely covered by your kickboxing gloves, but it made you feel powerful knowing that you creation was there, even if you were the one of two who knew it.

The manager's dark eyes slid to your boyfriend who had crossed his arms, still glaring daggers at the lady. She just smiled, her gaze dropping to where his hands were visible in the crevice of his elbow.

“And it seems you have a supportive partner, as well.” She comments, causing both of your eyebrows to crease before you realize what she is talking about. Hikaru flared out his own hands, and how you had done a small but still detailed nail piece on his own hands. His fingers matched yours in color and style, but instead of having the dragon across all five of his fingers, there was a baby one swirling on his thumbs and ring fingers.

He huffs, a smirk coming to his lips as he looks at your art for the millionth time today. “Yeah, they’re pretty incredible.”

“I don’t doubt it.” The manager nods, a sweet smile on her lips. “Both in the ring and out of it, you are definitely a prize. Which is why we’d like to give you one.”

“You want to give me a prize?” You ask, a little surprise leaking into your voice. “For losing?”

The manager hums. “More for winning over the crowd, or for keeping this little instance between us. No one was seriously injured, and–”

“How about I give you the same bruises that competitor gave my partner, and then we’ll see what you think counts as ‘seriously injured’.” Hikaru growls, cracking his knuckles. He steps forward, but you stop him with your arm.

“Threatening them won’t do anything.” You sigh, but your mouth turns into a scowl. “But I’m not taking your ‘hush’ money.”

“Well,” The manager scoffs, her calm facade cracking slightly. “We must do something. If you are to continue to fight here, then all of us have to–”

“They aren’t gonna fight here anymore, then.” Hikaru’s voice cuts through the manager’s pompous assumptions, and he grabs your hand, gently moving you around her straight posture.

Her heels clack as she follows you in earnest. “Wait, you can’t speak for them.”

But as you follow behind your boyfriend, a man who is angry for your safety and your honor, you spin around, smirking through your scratches as you give them the middle finger. “You’re right, he can’t. But, even if it’s rare, he’s right. I’m out of here.”

Her slick ponytail is fraying. “But, you can’t! You have a contract!”

Hikaru mirrors your actions, and now you both are flipping her off as you back out of the locker room, your glorious cape draped across his arm.

“I’ll pay whatever it takes to break ‘em out of it,” He says, his smirk growing. “And for you to leave them alone.”

Then, you both do a lazy salute as you finally step out of that locker room, out of that situation.

Laughing, Hikaru stops his walking, causing you to stumble into him. He catches you, and you both break out into a fit, holding onto each other as you walk to his car.

Easily, he presses you up against the passenger side, using a finger to push a piece of gold-painted hair back into place. His other hand comes to gently cup the other side of your face, his thumb lightly tracing a scratch on your cheekbone.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” He says, his scratchy voice vibrating into the setting sky. “Gotta get you bandaged up, baby.”

.oOo.

Kaoru’s Reader:

Sketching

Baseball

Writing

“You know,” Kaoru said, pins between his teeth as he took them out of the bodice of your outfit one by one. “Everytime we do this, I still get distracted by you. Everytime.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes even as a blush comes to your cheeks. “You’re an even worse flirt than Tamaki.”

A groan sounds behind you as you feel hands pry the bodice off of your torso. “Don’t talk about the Boss when I am literally undressing you.”

Cool, conditioned air rushes across your newly bare skin as Kaoru throws the garment across the car seat, the leather sticking to your back as you lean into it. Arching your hips, you tug the bottom of your dress pants off, making sure the divider was up between you and your boyfriend’s family driver.

“You sure he can’t see us?” You ask, wiggling out of your underwear.

Kaoru sets the pins into his cushion, smiling. “Per usual, no.” Then the redhead turns, his smirk revealing a sharp canine. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing?”

“Kaoru!”

He cackles, but he can’t help his eyes when they drag over your bare form. Yes, changing clothes in his car was a normal thing due to your busy schedule with your many hobbies, but he never got tired of having you naked in his backseat.

He tsks. “Are you sure we don’t have time to–”

The pants you had been wearing flew into his face. “No!” You sounded a laugh as he pulled the garment off his head, and you chuckled at the way his red hair fluffed when he did.

His pale hand reaches down and grabs the duffel bag, packing the black tie outfit you wore to your art show into it and pulling out your team uniform. You pulled on the right undergarments that would support you sliding across the dirt in a baseball diamond, and caught your jersey when Kaoru threw it at you from across the car seat.

“Going from riches to rags.” He says, arranging your cleats next to you with the appropriate socks.

“You literally made these uniforms, babe.” You say, deadpanning as you squeeze yourself into the form-fitting bottoms.

“I know that.” He says, eyeing the way your toned body fills the sporty look nicely. “But I much prefer the elegant attire that I pinned you into earlier.”

“Oh, I forgot to mention.” You add, distracted as you put the baseball cap on your head, your team logo facing out towards the front seat. “Everyone loved what I was wearing.”

His lips quirked to one side. “Well, duh.”

“Expectedly so.” You tighten your belt around your waist. “But this afternoon’s outfit was…well it was just really spectacular.” Your smile reflects against the city lights.

Now dressed in the full baseball regalia, you lean over to your own personal fashionista, putting a finger under his chin.

“I’m really lucky to have Japan’s second best fashion designer as my quick-change roadie.”

Any sweetness in Kaoru's eyes vanishes, and a second after your lips are a breath away, he is pushing you to the other end of the backseat. “Oh yeah? Then someone else can get you dressed for your book reading tomorrow.”

You gasp. “Oh no. Whatever will I do without the expert way you zip a zipper?”

The Hitachiuan twin feigned offense. “That’s what I majored in.”

“And what about your knowledge on what colors I look best in? I’ll be so washed out.”

He crosses his arms, still looking at you with a smug simper. “You’ll just have to figure it out.”

Shrugging, you cross your legs, your cleats knocking against each other. “I guess I’ll just have to find someone else to undress me in the backseat of their family’s car.”

A hum sounds to the other side of you, like honey being poured into tea. “Now that’s something I know no one can do better than I can.”

Two manicured hands are suddenly around your waist, and you are dragged across leather. The soft material of your pants are seated into Kaoru’s lap, while, like instinct, your arms wrap around his neck.

“I think we can finally agree on something.” You concede, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. The city rushes by outside of the limo’s glass, but time stands still when your lips touch. A pleased sound resonates in the back of his throat when you nip at his bottom lip, and you feel him smile into the kiss.

Pulling away, you share another longing moment before you groan, your head resting into the crook of his neck.

“Are you sure the art show went well?” You ask, hiding your insecurity as you bury your nose into Kaoru’s cologne.

Chuckling, you feel his hands casually lock around your hip. His cheek comes to rest on the top of your head, the two of you squished to one side of the seat. “I’m sure. You’re talented, you know that.”

“I do, but I’ve just been so distracted with everything that I have going on.” You can hear his pulse inside his throat, encouraging you to open up a little more. “I balance so much that it feels hard to put 100 percent of my effort into everything I do. I feel like I’m half-assing it.”

“(Y/n), babe.” He brings your face away so that you can look at him clearly. The driver makes a right turn, the force pushing the two of you closer together. “Sketching, sports, writing. All of these things are your life. You’re allowed to put your energy into multiple outlets at once, as long as it’s not draining you.”

“I don’t think it is.” And he knew that. He knew that even if you seemed tired after a hard day in the studio, or maybe a tough day at practice, the smile on your face was genuine. You always put everything you had into everything you did, and that was just one of the things he adored about you.

“My partner is an all star, author, and an artist.” Kaoru says, a proud glint in his golden eyes. “And you know what? Because of that, I’m never bored.”

“Thank god for that. It ceases your regularly-scheduled destruction.” You say, a finger twirling into his ginger strands. “Although Hikaru probably misses his partner in crime.”

Kaoru just shrugs. “Hikaru has always been able to create his own chaos, he’ll be fine.”

“So, if you have this much confidence in me, then you must think my first book reading tomorrow is going to go well too, right?”

“I couldn’t be more sure. I was able to read the whole thing, and I don’t think I’ve been able to finish a fiction book in my life.” The twin admits, and you smirk.

“Well, that’s obvious.”

His golden irises roll. “Very funny.”

“Then, what about this game?” You ask, looking out the window to see the baseball stadium peek out from the horizon. You still had a ways to go. “Think I’m gonna win?”

There was silence. You got lost in the city’s sparkling skyline a little longer before your gaze snapped down to your boyfriend’s, just to see him avoiding your gaze.

“Kaoru?”

“Huh? What?” He says, and he runs a hand over your jawline. “Wow, babe, you’re so beautiful.”

Scoffing, you lean away from him. “You don’t think we’re gonna win?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Kaoru, you only have so many thoughts that can fit into the pea-sized brain of yours.” You say, laughing. “You should not be wasting that space doubting me.”

“I will never doubt you.” He says, grabbing your hand that began to poke at his forehead to see if you could hear an echo.

“I will, however,” the Hitachiian brother raises your hand to his lips, “realize that while you are immensely talented, baseball is a team effort.”

You give him a blank look. “And my team sucks.”

He kisses your hand. “They suck so bad.”

And you're laughing. A few seconds ago, you were drowning into your anxiety, but Kaoru made you feel light enough to float above them all. Balancing multiple things at once was hard work, but having a man like him at your side made it easier.

Your laughter dies down, and there’s an extra spark in Kaoru’s eye that paired well with the city lights reflected in his pupils.

You hit his chest, even as he snakes kisses up your shoulder and onto your neck. “Kaoru, we can’t.”

“The stadium is still a ways away. We have time.”

Your skin tingles under his touch, and you sigh. “Kaoru…” You weakly try to push him away, but he holds onto your hips.

“(Y/n)…”

Huffing out a breath, you take off your baseball cap so you can properly kiss him without it bumping into Kaoru’s forehead. “Fine, but we have to be quick.”

His laughter rings out as he pulls you into his chest, and you are already second-guessing his intentions on making it quick as he draws his tongue slowly up your throat.

It’s a good thing the divider was up.

.oOo.

Mori’s Reader

Fencing

Yoga

Poetry

Swords clashed, the metal twinge sounding against the Hinoki cypress that covered the dojo’s walls. And each time you and your opponents’ swords would cross, your heart would pound in sync, both beats echoing with your efforts.

Thirteen touches. Your opponent had scored thirteen touches against you within this bout, and you were determined to not let him get the last two he needed to win. Lunging, your sabre jabs across the piste with a grunt from your lips, only to have it wacked away immediately by your competitor.

You clench your jaw as you ward off one of his own jabs, trying to see through the mesh of your fencing mask. The long torso of the man across from you twists, leaning to the right. But once you move to block it, he swerves, turning to the left and touching you in the ribs.

Huffing, you rip off your mask, your hair fluffing out once freed of the hard shell. “You’re kidding me.”

Mori easily slides off his own helmet, letting the smug grin on his face widen at the sight of your exasperation. His black hair fell slightly in front of his face before he pushed it out of the way, a few drops of sweat beginning to bead on the edge of his jawline.

Grumbling, you point your saber half-heartedly at him. “I’ve been fencing my whole life and you only started a couple months ago. How are you so good at this?”

He shrugged his shoulders in a way that was so irritatingly handsome, you had to force your head back into your mask.

“Again.” You demand.

With one hand, Mori effortlessly readjusts his own gear, and you both fall back into a fighting stance.

Your boyfriend had always been good at things without ever trying too hard. It seems he had an eerily accurate way of breaking any sport, art form, or hobby down to its basics, and extorting it in front of his opponents. Easily, he analyzed the strengths and weaknesses of any obstacle he was put up against, and bent them to his advantage.

He was smart, analytical, and having way too much fun watching you become frustrated as he brought you both to match point. You could tell by the way he stood, slightly bouncing on the balls of his feet to keep himself agile, his martial arts training coming in handy. He held his sword out with one arm, and the other bent at his back, but his shoulders were dropped low, a casual stance as he became more confident in his victory.

Growling, you lunged first, starting your combat again. You were aggressive, and you took pleasure in seeing his shoulders rise as he took a defensive position against your attacks. Arms burning, you swiped and slashed at his white suit, all of your fencing training becoming honed into this very moment. You were sure a soundtrack could be made to emphasize the way you moved forward, forcing him to step back and block any chaotic jabs and swipes that you threw his way.

You heard him gasp as his foot dropped off the piste, and his tall body tripped, falling backwards as you stood over him, the vertex of your sabre denting the clothing on his chest.

His chest heaved with the effort, and you crouched, once again pulling off your headwear. “That’s more like it.”

You pulled off his mask as well, this time leaving the thick strands that fell into his brown eyes. His confident smirk had been replaced with a slight scowl. Stepping in between his legs, you met his eye level.

“Fourteen to fourteen.” You bragged, letting your sword rest on your shoulder. “Now, we’re tied. Again.”

A displeased grunt came from the stoic's mouth.

“This little competition of ours has been fun.” You say, molding your voice to sound bored as you exhale, standing up and putting out a hand for him. “But it looks like I will emerge victorious.”

Your boyfriend’s visage fell blank, and he rolled his eyes before grabbing your hand and lifting himself up, towering over you as he folds his arms around your waist.

Bending like a branch in the wind, Mori tightens his hold as he presses you into his chest. One of his hands came to cup your face, forcing your gaze to focus on the small beads of sweat dancing across his skin. “We’ll see.”

Then he kisses your cheek, turns you around, and pushes you back to your end of the piste. Refusing to wipe the smirk off your face, you reset, readying your sabre with new confidence.

This time, you both take the offensive, aggressively sparring as your blades crash together in hurried movements. He blocks your jabs, and you leap over his attempts to sweep you off your feet, ignoring the legality of your movements. Sweat begins to gleam on your forehead under your mask, but your smile only grows.

As he takes another step to jab at your shoulder, you lean to the side, effectively dodging his attack to see that he has left himself wide open. Victory fuels your heartbeat as you lunge, even going as far as letting out a confident hah! as you aim the point towards the side of his ribcage.

Suddenly, Mori turned on his heel. With incredible speed, he swipes your sabre away as if he knew exactly where it was going to strike. He grunts as he pushes you back, both you and your sabre stumbling to the floor with his strength, and all you can do is sit there empty-handed as he juts the end of his sword right above your heart.

Huffing, you fall, letting your back hit the piste with a disgruntled groan. You hear a dark chuckle as steps move towards your fallen body.

“That’s fifteen.” Mori confirms as he stands over you, his already-tall form looking enormous from your position on the ground.

“Yes, I can count, thank you.” You grumble, ripping off your mask for the last time.

He puts pressure on the point where his own sword pinpoints your skin, your heart fluttering for different reasons when he reveals his face. Flushed, disheveled, and confident in his win.

The way his lips slightly lifted on either side, the way his dark chocolate eyes glimmered over your exhausted form. You wanted to kiss that smug look off his face.

But you wanted to win more.

Batting the sword away, he reaches out a hand to help you up, pulling you to your feet. The Ouran Highschool Gym bustles with students. Some engage in kendo matches that Mori observes silently, most likely learning from other’s mistakes.

Picking your sabre up from the aftermath of your loss, you gently raise the end under his chin, quirking an eyebrow as he tenses and focuses his gaze back on you.

“Your opponent is in front of you, Takashi. Shouldn’t you be paying attention?”

His gaze melted into something smooth and dark. “The game is over.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of his victory.

“Far from it.” The end of your blade dips gently into his skin for a second before you flick it away, nudging his chin softly. Turning from him, you call over your shoulder. “On to the next event!”

After changing out of your fencing attire, you’re sat across from him, a(n) (f/c) yoga mat splayed out below you as he sits atop a dark blue one. Given the charged looks he gave you before you entered a dressing room, you knew that it was game on. Both of your competitive spirits had been stoked, and you only had more motivation to kick that – admittedly very nice – ass of his.

Taking a deep breath, you let the air in the gym still around you. Yoga was another one of your hobbies that you enjoyed because it gave you a chance to center yourself in the midst of chaos a certain club instilled within your life. You had picked it up when you started high school, and even your teacher said you were a natural, as you were able to really embody the purpose and true zen of yoga.

Flicking your eyes towards your boyfriend, you find that he is already looking back at you, patiently waiting for your instructions on the next round of your spontaneous competition. His eyes are warm, the smallest of smiles on his lips as they track your figure, watching as you find peace in your posture.

Shaking your head affectionately, you rock on your hips, nudging him gently with your arm. “Stop staring and listen up. I’m gonna choose a pose, and whoever holds it the longest wins.”

Mori gives you a suspicious, playful glare. “But you’ll choose something that you’re good at. That I can’t hold.”

You smile, sickeningly sweet, and Mori rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

“Great!” Your grin only grows as you call out the position: Vrschikasana, or the Scorpion. Mori’s eyes flash in recognition, remembering the weeks you spent perfecting it while he trained in his dojo, and the knots he had to massage out of you afterwards.

You narrow your eyes, planting your palms on your mat. “Unless you want to give up?”

His dark gaze hardened before something fierce ignited in his visage. “No. It’s fine.”

You laugh, the sound echoing off the gym’s expensive walls – honestly, it really over the top for a physical center. Shifting your weight onto your hands, Mori follows your movements as you both lift into a handstand before arching your back, pointing your toes as they bend to touch the top of your head.

God, you loved the burn through your hamstrings, the strength of your muscles holding yourself up, seemingly weightless off the ground. You sucked in a breath, allowing your lungs to open up, your throat to loosen, and let yourself just breathe.

“You’re smiling.” A strangled voice drenched in disbelief observes next you, and you turn your head carefully so as to not knock your balance.

The chuckle that runs through you nearly does, though.

You catch yourself as you watch Mori’s arms start to shake, his breathing a little haphazard as he puts as much effort into the stretch as he can. You also watch as his muscles flex, his shirt discarded in order to cool off from your fencing tournament, eyes traveling as the lines flinch and twitch with the commitment to keep himself off the ground.

Mori was a strong guy. Defined, agile, and built with pounds of lean muscle. But yoga took a different kind of strength. It was a test of endurance and balance, a mental strength that knew no limits.

There was a reason you and Mori worked so well together.

About ten seconds from your record time holding this position, Mori topples, his legs falling over his head as he somersaults, landing with his back flat against the mat.

You chuckle, half concerned for his health from the fall, half gloating for your win. Easily coming back down to the ground, your breath heaves a little as you try to catch your breath.

“You okay, Takashi?” You ask, it being your turn to stand over him, smirking in victory.

He just grunts, giving you a bored look.

“Crybaby.” You say, sitting next to him.

“Show off.” He retorts, warmth in his eyes.

You laugh again, the rare insult leaving the exhausted stoic’s mouth. “Wanna do one more round?”

Mori’s eyes search yours for a second before nodding. “But I get to pick.”

“Sure, that seems fair.” You say, peeling back the hair on his forehead. “Go for it.”

He gets that thoughtful look in is gaze, a glint that taught you to wait patiently by his side in silence until he was comfortable to speak.

“Poetry.”

A surprised scoff left your mouth before you could stop it. Quickly, you cover your mouth, shaking your head. “Sorry, sorry. It just…that’s not a test of strength.” You say, laughing a little. As much as you loved poetry, reading and writing it, it seemed a little out of left field.

Mori shrugged his shoulders, still laid out on the floor. “Emotional strength.” He said, smart eyes smiling up at you softly.

And how could you argue with that?

Ten minutes later, sweatpants and pump covers are thrown back on your bodies as you both sit in a small corner of the gym, legs tangled as you lean against opposing walls. Notebooks in hand, your pens fly across the page, the scribbling sounds comforting as you each get lost in your own thoughts.

When it comes time to present, you go first. When Mori realizes you wrote yours about him, about how strong he was, and how safe he made you feel, it makes his tired, sore body slump against his side of the wall. His hand reaches out for yours, listening intently to your words.

His poem had a smaller word count, but the vocabulary was moving, and you laughed gently when you realized he wrote his about you. About how strong you were, and how safe you made him feel. And he held your hand the entire time he read it to you.

Let’s just say your game ended in a tie.

.oOo.

not proofread, but i enjoyed writing it!

hope you all have a great day. just give me some time to get back into the groove of things. writing is my escape, and i truly do love it. just need to find the energy :) love you <3

143 notes · View notes

ellssbellss · 1 year ago

Text

Lavender Roses ~ Kyoya Ootori x Reader

pairing ~ Kyoya Ootori x Reader

In which a rational head hides a generous heart, but you have always known how to see past his walls and help him bloom into the gorgeous rose he is. Enjoy a slow burn between an honor student and our beloved glasses character!

Happy 1 year to Lavender Roses and this entire, wonderful blog. Without you, this story wouldn't have reached as many people as it has. From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much.

-> summary: "But not anymore. You haven’t been alone for a long time, (Y/n), not since you joined the club. Not since you met me."

-> word count: 8.3k

tw! the scene on the cliff gets a little intense, mentions of blood, demeaning language against women, slight PTSD, weaponry (knives), verbal assault, physical assault, sexual misconduct. kyoya is dumb and so are you.

legend:

(M/n) - mother's name

(n/l) - native language

(s/c) - skin color

see masterlist! masterlist

taglist! @abbysblogsstuff @sunukissed @kisskissshutmydoor @idonia-dovahkiin @greensnakegoblep @vervainnnn @desert-fern @delievia @obeythemasters @luca-nightshade @sweetandsourwrites @wrzloyd @1234567890nono @inactivecrofters @katiebwalczak03 @reader3 @radical-bunny @stevexbucky404 @localgaytrainwreck

The Sun, The Sea, and The Host Club! pt. 2

Kyoya lounges as he writes, a foreign feeling of contentment wrapped around his frame.

Soft bursts of images sift through his mind, you over his lap, your arm on his side while his gravitates towards your hip. How close your mouth was to his and how badly he wanted to taste it. How he had basically lunged at the chance, not that you were complaining.

That had caught him off guard.

As he was writing, the megane realized he had never been a fan of romance. Above multiple reasons, he never saw the point. His father and mother had married for business instead of love, creating an environment where affection was not celebrated or practiced. He would see couples in the hallway and roll his eyes, thinking that they were wasting their time.

When he voiced these opinions one evening to his sister Fuyumi, she gasped.

“Kyoya! You really think love is a waste of time?”

“It’s a chemical reaction, Fuyumi, that’s all.” He had explained in a monotone voice, barely giving her any attention as he was typing away at his computer. “Your brain releases a certain neurotransmitter when you find someone attractive and compatible, and it tricks you into thinking you’re in love. Companies leech off this, creating Valentine’s Day, cards, encouraging weddings and all this nonsense.”

He pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “I am not one to be fooled, and I will certainly not allow myself to be tricked by my own mind.”

Kyoya ended his bored rant with an amused chuckle, feeling sorry for the suckers out there who lost precious time and money on something that could never really last, at least not forever.

But Fuyumi just stood there, leaning against the doorway with a small smile on her face as she looked at her oblivious brother, too young to take the world as seriously as he did.

“You can tell me that when you meet a wonderful man or woman, and we will see how you feel about how you want to spend your time.”

Kyoya scoffed. “Please, how I feel is irrelevant. My work is what deserves my time, end of story.”

Then his phone rang, and he paused his typing to see a contact picture flashing on the screen. Leaving his chair, he had walked to the door of his bedroom as he answered the call.

“Hello, give me one second, please.” Then he turned to her, a little brother shoving his sister out of his room.

“Goodnight, Fuyumi.” The door closed behind him with a clack, and Fuyumi heard her brother pick up his conversation as he disappeared into his room. “Hello, (Y/n), thank you for calling me back…”

Kyoya smirked as he came back to the sounds of the beach, waves and laughing people filling his ears as his thoughts ran away with him.

He had met a wonderful girl. And he could barely fathom how he was lucky enough to understand the feeling his sister was talking about. The pull he had to you was intense, and it was something he had never experienced with anyone before.

The sun had reflected off of your (e/c) irises so perfectly in that moment, and the short distance had enticed him heavily, that the pull tugged and tugged.

He hadn’t even confessed yet, and you had somehow convinced him to give in to his own temptations.

“Kyoya! What should I do?!”

The ravenet broke out of his thoughts as his best friend ran towards him, arms holding a bucket of snakes in their grasp.

Kyoya simply arched his brow.

“I wanted to scare Haruhi and (Y/n) with these rat snakes, but the twins said that anyone would find them creepy, so it wasn’t a true weakness! And now I don’t know what to do!” Tamaki whined, his voice rising as he shuffled on his feet, anxious about the snakes in his grasp.

The club director’s spectacled gaze fell onto the snakes, twisting inside the plastic bucket without a care in the world. Taking a closer look, he let out a deep sigh.

“Those aren’t rat snakes, Tamaki. They are poisonous Habu snakes.” Kyoya turns back to his book. “Rat snakes aren’t even native to Okinawa.”

“What?!” Suddenly, the prince of the host club is running around in circles, whining while juggling the bucket in his hands. “What do I do with them?! C’mon, Kyo, you gotta help me out!”

“Tamaki, Kyoya!”

Both boys freeze as they watch Haruhi race towards them, her feet kicking up sand as she meets them at the chair.

She’s breathing heavily, her eyes wide with fright and worry as she heaves. “Help, please, you’ve gotta help me.”

Forgetting about the bucket completely, Tamaki rushed over to Haruhi, pulling her close to him to try to ease some of her worries. “What is it, Haruhi? Are you hurt? What do you need?”

“It’s (Y/n). I thought we could handle it, but things got out of control. She told me to come get you.”

“What?” Kyoya sits up on his chair, quelling the anxiety in his chest. He admired Haruhi for being a girl who is very put together, so for her to fight the fear in her voice so adamantly is concerning. “Is she okay?”

“What’s wrong with (Y/n)?” Tamaki says calmly and firmly, trying to get some answers out of his panicking honor student.

“These boys! They were- they-, god just follow me!” Flustered she turns around, sprinting away from the two hosts.

Kyoya and Tamaki rush in pursuit, agony filling into their chests.

As the cliff comes into view, Kyoya catches Haruhi’s concerned gaze rise to the top of it, his own eyes following. Three shadowy figures struggle in the sunset, and his heart plummets as one of them is pushed to the high edge.

In the distance, a piece of fabric lies stagnant in the sand, and Kyoya curses as he passes by it. A Hawiian shirt, ripped and torn as it lies helplessly in the sand.

“No, no wait. Stop!” You struggle as Ren pushes you back, your heels leaving the ground as he holds you over the cliff's edge.

“Yeah, yeah, you know what?” The alcohol on his breath is rancid as he sneers, Aoi grinning behind him. “I ain’t got time for difficult chicks like you. Might as well leave you out to sea.” He jostled you, and relished in the way you flinched.

“Don’t! Don’t, please, don’t. It’s too much. Please, don’t let me go.”

“Oh, now you’re begging for me to hold you? Where was this a few seconds ago, sweetheart?”

“(Y/n)!” Hearing Tamaki’s voice was sweeter than any cake that Honey could’ve given you, making you want to cry out in relief as you looked behind the two thugs.

Ren and Aoi freeze as you see Haruhi, Kyoya and Tamaki round the corner of the bottom of the cliff, concern and determination shining in their visages.

Meeting Kyoya’s gaze, you wriggle around some more, trying your best to shove Ren off of you without any friction below you. “Tamaki! Kyoya! They’re going to-”

You're quieted with a hand covering your mouth, Ren shouting in your face. “Be quiet! We aren’t doing anything!”

Kyoya’s jaw clenched at your plea, and he pumps his legs into a faster run, trying to get to you as you are, dear god, dangled off a cliff. “Let go of her!”

Aoi turns to Ren, and you see panic in his eyes as your three heroes charge up the rocks. “Ren, we gotta go. Like now, they don’t look happy.”

“Shut up, I know that.” Ren snarls before he forces a grin and turns to the boys, holding you up by one hand now.

“You want me to let go? Well, whatever you say.”

“No!” Kyoya called, but it was too late.

Ren’s fingers go limp, any tension that was holding you up above the waters below disappearing as the fabric of your bathing suit slips from his grasp.

The air whipped around you as you watch the cliff get smaller and smaller, plummeting towards your greatest fear. You feel a scream bubble up to the opening of your throat, but no noise dares to release, shock taking over your entire body.

Cold, sharp pains spider through your back as you hit the water, knocking all the wind out of your lungs in one single splash. The feeling of watery nothingness surrounds your skin as it pricks you. At the waterpark, the lazy river had tried to pull you into its flow, desperately and immaturely trying to take its next victim.

But the ocean was experienced, eerily calm as it let you sink. And sink. Wrapping its deep silence around your form, you don’t think you’ll ever stop sinking.

And as you begin to cry at the thought, water fills your lungs.

“(Y/n)!” Haruhi tried to call, but you were already out of sight, plunging into the water below. Panic clouded Kyoya’s mind as he ran, all of his thoughts zeroed in on the conversation that he had just had with you minutes before.

I just don’t like the idea of being deprived of oxygen. Then I’d just sink, and be lost.

And now you were lost to him, falling into something you so desperately had tried to avoid.

In his pursuit, a hooded man, much shorter than Kyoya, tried to step in his way. The kid grabbed at him, and any anger Kyoya had in his body went into a singular push, sending the man tumbling to the side. “Get out of my way.”

Reaching the edge, Kyoya didn’t think twice. Discarding his precious glasses to the side, Kyoya shoved the problem of the disgusting man in the red shirt out of the way, and took the dive.

Long and lanky, he arched into the dive, his nearsightedness making it so your figure was just a blur from this distance, but he targeted it. His palm reached out and willed you to be closer, willed you to be okay.

“(Y/n)!” He called as your fuzzy figure disappeared into the ocean with a harsh slap, the sound echoing in his ears. Kyoya’s own fall ended as he dipped into the water soon after, cursing his terrible vision as he looked around.

A relieved exhale presented itself in bubbles when he finally saw you, drifting limply as the current pulled you along. Kicking hard, Kyoya stretched his muscles and his lungs as he held his breath, fighting against the density of the water. As he got closer, his stomach turned when he saw a small vein of red seeping from a cut in your leg, which only made him swim faster towards you.

Finally, his hand grasped your floating one, and in one quick movement, pulled you against his chest. With your weight against him, his logical mind rebooted, and he tucked your head under his chin as he swam up to the surface.

“(N/n)-chan!”

“Kyoya-senpai!”

The voices seemed so distant, your skin clammy and gooseing against the beach air. Something was moving you, you could feel a familiar pressure against the small of your back and behind your knees, but it didn’t distract from the wave.

Your blood waved, splashing and swaying against the walls of your veins. It felt like your muscles had melted into liquid, and you were still in the pool, being bobbed and pulled into the black of the ocean.

But then there was a shade of orange behind your lids, and blinking made it brighter. Something dragged over them still, tugging your eyes open as the sky moved above you.

Tufts of black hair and a very sharp jawline were the next visions to come into your view, and the waving stopped, replaced by the firm steps of Kyoya carrying you to safety.

“Kyo…” Your voice was hoarse, raw from unconsciously coughing up water as soon as you had reached the surface.

He didn’t respond, his gray eyes covered by his wet hair, but his grip on you tightened ever so slightly.

Instead, he looked forward towards what you would assume to be your friends, but you were too focused on the deep orange the sunset casted across the clouds.

“Where’d they go?”

“We took their ID cards and asked them to leave, not before showing them what’s for.” A voice said. Hikaru..yeah, Hikaru.

“The girls went back to the hotel and Mori called a doctor. He should be here any minute.” Kaoru follows like he always does, and the comfort of their routine brought you back to reality, especially when they mentioned the doctor.

“I’m fine, guys. I really don’t want to see a doctor.” You say, sighing as you leave Kyoya’s grasp. When your feet hit the solid ground of packed sand, you wobbled a bit, and Tamaki came into your line of sight.

His arms helped steady you, but he didn’t let go as you straightened out. “What were you thinking?”

Still a little dazed, your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Tamaki, stop.” Haruhi says as she stands next to you, giving you one of her jackets to wrap around yourself.

“No, no.” Tamaki’s voice is low, collected. It shook you. “What were either of you thinking? You know, you aren’t martial arts masters like Honey and Mori-senpai.”

“Duh, don’t you think I know that?” You chuckle a bit, trying to lighten the mood, but you’re getting more and more frustrated by your best friend’s accusatory tone.

“You think this is funny?” Your prince is in disbelief as he raises his hands from your shoulders to the base of your neck. “Why did you confront them? What made you think you could stand a chance? You against two boys?”

“It doesn’t matter if they were boys and I’m a girl. They were harassing our guests, they needed to be stopped!” The emotional toll that today’s events have taken wore down your patience, and now you’re raising your tone, lacing it with betrayal and disbelief.

“We were there, Tamaki, we had to do something!” Haruhi takes a stand, trying to talk some sense into your best friend.

“That’s no excuse, you idiots! Don’t forget that you are girls!”

“Kyoya.” Turning, you look back at your director for some support. “Tell him we did the right thing.”

But there is no answer. Kyoya just stands there with his arms folded, his mouth formed into a straight, formidable line, securing all of his thoughts behind a single wall. Water drips off the ends of his hair onto his toned torso as his jaw clenches, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Kyoya?”

“You ran into a situation unprepared, unyielding, and irresponsibly. You put yourself in danger, self-sacrificing your safety for the needs of three girls you barely know.”

If Tamaki’s serious tone was shaking, Kyoya’s was chilling. It was cold, unrelenting as it jabbed into your heart with every syllable. “Are you mad at me right now? After you jumped off a cliff to save me?”

“I wouldn’t have had too, if you had been as smart as I thought you were.”

Defensiveness burns inside you. “I did what had to be done! Yes, it wasn’t safe, but it was me or those girls, and I couldn’t let them get hurt.”

“But you could put yourself at risk?”

“It’s different!”

“How?” With haunting grace, Kyoya outstretched his hand in order for Hikaru to place his lenses into his palms. Using the fabric from his shorts, he cleans them off the best he can, and slips them onto his nose. “The worry you felt for those girls when they were grabbed, and the worry that not only I, but everyone here felt for you when they saw you dangled at the edge of a cliff, you tell me how those are different.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, you run your hands over your face, not being able to put your feelings into words. “It just is. And I’m sorry you had to come save me, but I can’t understand why you’re so mad at me right now.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

“I don’t think I did anything wrong!”

At that, Kyoya’s piercing gaze sharpens, and you see his adam's apple bob, a signal that he is calling upon his immeasurable self-control. “You don’t think so? Fine.”

He steps forward, walking towards you and then brushing your shoulder as he passes your form.

“Kyoya, where-?”

“I don’t think we can speak again until you can admit that you were wrong.”

And with that, his form becomes a spot in the distance as he leaves you in the dusk.

Soon, you left the others to wander around Kyoya’s guest house aimlessly. You frowned at every framed picture of his family, even ones where he was young and round, not sharpened by what his world had to offer.

You climbed to the second floor, only to come to a line of doors.

“Bedrooms…” you confirmed under your breath, running your hands along the wall as you passed them. “But…which one..?”

On the door handle on the second room from the end of the hall, a yellow rose was tied around it, welcoming and ironic all at once.

A sad smile came to your face as you plucked it off the knob, then turned it, still holding it in your grasp as you entered the room.

The room was generic, but you noticed a bouquet of yellow roses sat on the bed, tied with a lavender ribbon. There was a note in the gorgeous arrangement, and you plucked it out from it’s stand.

Dear (Y/n),

My room is the one at the end of the hall, next door to this one. Should you need anything, you may let me know, and it will be done.

Have a restful night.

Sincerely,

Kyoya Ootori

Swallowing, you set the note down and fiddle with the petals of the roses, Haruhi’s jacket softly brushing against your wet form. That note must’ve been written before everything had gone down, and your heart turned a little at the thought of him coming in here and placing these here with care, knowing how touched you would be when you saw it.

Putting them on the nightstand, you drag yourself to your shower. While the hot water runs down your body, you rest your head against the tiles, trying to think your way through this.

Tamaki was frustrated, Kyoya was pissed, and Haruhi was almost hurt. Everything today had been overshadowed by a single action by two terrible people, and you hated it. The drama that had been going on lately, and the stress of the dinner with your family and Arai, had left you tired, emotionally and mentally. To make it worse, the person you wanted to talk to the most about everything that was going on in your head currently was not talking to you.

Lifting your head, you let the water splash onto your face before getting out and dressing into something that was finally more your speed. The week had been full of dressing you to the nines for the perception of others, but as you prepared to have dinner with your friends (or who you hoped were still your friends), you could wear something that expressed who you were, not who someone wanted you to be.

As you fixed your face and hair, a knock sounded at your door, methodic as it rang against the wood.

You almost wanted to ignore it, but the possibility of Kyoya being on the other side was too intriguing, and you rushed to the door, calming down before coolly opening it.

“So, now you decide to-oh. Hey.” Hiding your slight disappointment, you look up to see Mori standing in your doorway. “What’s up, Mori-senpai?”

“Dinner’s ready.” His mouth is curved a little at one side, and you can tell he’s trying to be a little more joyful for you, considering everything that happened.

He then raises his hand from his side, and presents an Ootori Hospital First Aid Kit. “Kyoya wanted me to give this to you. For your leg.”

Eyebrows raising, you take the kit. Throughout the drama, you forgot about the cut Ren had made on your calf. Seeing it now, the salt water helped stop the bleeding, and it was scabbed over, now just serving as a reminder of what you had gotten yourself into.

“Thank you, Mori.” Your gratitude came out as a sigh as you set the med kit down, and Mori watched as your form slouched ever so slightly.

“(Y/n).”

“Hm?” Looking up at him, he swallowed at the tiredness in your eyes. Doing what he thought was right, you felt the stoic place a comforting hand on your head.

“I can teach you. So can Mistukuni.”

“Teach me? Teach me what?”

“How to protect yourself.”

Two times you had been subjected to the whims of a confused, angered man. And both times, no matter how you had tried to fight against them, you were still untrained, still ignorant of the ways to use your power to its fullest potential. This time, when you looked back at your friend, your eyes glimmered.

“Really?”

A firm nod came from the tall man, and you couldn’t help the sigh of relief that expelled out of you. Arms opening, you reach out and hug Mori around his waist, nuzzling into his long frame.

“Thank you, Mori.”

The hand on your head tightened for a moment before he stepped back. “I’m gonna go get Haruhi, and we’ll walk down together, yeah?”

Nodding, you step out of your room, closing the door behind you. “Yeah, sounds good.”

The minute Haruhi had stepped out of her room, your eyes lit up.

A pretty pink nightgown draped over her shoulders, ruffles shooting out the side of her collarbone. She looked beautiful and elegant, and it was refreshing to see her out of the clothes that reminded you of the fight on the cliff.

And if you thought she was beautiful, the rest of the hosts clearly didn’t disagree.

As the three of you stepped out into the dining hall, the twins immediately shot up, mouths agape as Haruhi glided into the room.

Even Honey smiled as he stood on the chair of his seat, milk chocolate eyes glittering with the sight of her.

“Woah!” The boy-lolita said, and you stepped aside as he and the twins surrounded the honor student, complimenting her as she smiled gratefully.

Turning towards the long dining table, you see two figures. Tamaki fights the blush on his face as he stares at Haruhi, but still chooses to sulk at his place at the table. His purple eyes meet yours, and then they slide down, and your stomach coils as he turns himself off to you.

Daring to glance at the person sitting across from your prince, Kyoya leans into his chair, his black journal perfectly perched on his lap as he writes, and you swallow.

Knowing that Tamaki was a ticking time-bomb, you take your chances, walking up to the Shadow King.

“Is this seat taken?”

No response. Looking around, you see name cards propped against the plates, your name clearly written in a very familiar cursive. Must’ve been the preparations he had made before.

“Looks like it is now.” You say awkwardly, shuffling the chair out and sitting down next to the ravenet. “I, uh, I got your note. And the roses. They were really beautiful.”

His pen pauses, and his dark eyes lift over his pages to stare into space. Then Kyoya’s eyes shift down, and his writing continues.

Folding your fingers over, you wait silently as the other hosts fawn over Haruhi, literally twirling your thumbs. Tamaki is sitting across from you, avoiding your eyes. Rolling your eyes, you twist your mouth as you try to catch his gaze, and being the pushover he is, he holds it after a moment.

You tilt your head, sitting aggressively back in your chair. You’re mad at me too, now?

Violet eyes roll. He’s not mad at you, just hurt. Talk to him, mon ami.

You think I haven’t tried?

Clearly, you didn’t try hard enough. Flipping his blonde hair away from his eyes, your best friend gives you an incredulous look. The man jumped off of a cliff for you.

I didn’t ask him to do that.

You wouldn’t have done the same for us?

Your lips part a little, but you look away for a second before meeting his eyes again. A blonde eyebrow raises and Tamaki rests his chin in his hand.

I would’ve jumped off that cliff too if Kyoya hadn’t beaten me to it. We’ve all been through a lot today. Violet eyes are drawn back to the host in pink, and you sigh as they become distant.

Reaching across the table, you tap it lightly, hearing the writing beside you pause for a moment as Tamaki looks back at you.

You’re not going to tell her she looks nice? I figured you would’ve been all over that dress.

We aren’t speaking right now.

Your expression morphs into one of disbelief and slight annoyance. What? Why?

She acted childish, running up there with absolutely no regard for herself.

So did I, and you’re talking to me.

Deadpanning, he smacks his lips together. This isn’t talking! We probably look like crazy people right now.

A small smile takes up the corner of your lips, and he simpers back. Plus, I can’t stay mad at you.

Your eyebrows raise, an equivocal gaze clouding your eyes as you glance over to Haruhi and the twins. I doubt you can stay mad at her.

He straightens his back as a blush rises to his cheeks as Haruhi’s skirt swishes with her movements as the rest of the hosts make their way to the dinner table. She sits down next to him, a challenging look on her face as she spies on him from the corner of her eye.

Tamaki narrows his gaze and turns back to face you, a sigh rolling through his lungs. We’ll see.

The twins pull out a chair and sit, Kaoru to your right and Hikaru to his. After everyone gets situated, plates are filled with delicious looking crab legs and side dishes, creating an array of a colorful feast.

Cracking shells filled the air as no one bothered to speak, the tension of the room encasing your group into a box of crushing glass. Haruhi began to make a pile of empty shells on her plate, sending the prince that sat next to her in a state of disbelief.

Digging into your own dinner, you look over to your left to see Kyoya still writing, his portion of the catch of the day remaining untouched.

“You’re not eating?” Your voice raises barely above a whisper, afraid that if you broke the silence, the tenuous glass of tension would come crashing down on you.

Not even a glance from the megane. You send a pleading glance to your friend across from you, but Tamaki shrugs. Third times the charm?

Putting your cheek in your teeth, you try to get closer, pulling a strategy that has worked before. “What’re you writing about? Can I see?”

You sulk as Kyoya turns away from you, bending the spine of his book so that the pages are fully covered from your view.

Kaoru, having seen the whole thing, gave a wide eyed look to his brother. “Well this is uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, kind of awkward.” Says his twin.

Defeated, you sit back, smiling weakly as Kaoru puts a few extra crab legs from his plate onto yours.

Pleasured grumbles interrupt your self-pity as you and the twins look across the table to see Haruhi demolishing crab legs. Everytime she opened her mouth, she made an ‘ah’ sound, a blush coming onto her cheeks as she relished in the seafood taste.

“Oh my god,” bits of crab fall onto the corner of her mouth as she groans. “These crabs…taste in-crab-ible.” A cute, muffled chuckle escapes out of her full mouth as her stack of crab shells continues to grow. “Get it?”

Tamaki is caught in the splash zone, shells and crab crumbs being tossed into his space as he sits next to her. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough? Geez, Haruhi, give it a rest.”

“Hm?” Her sarcastic tone goes up in pitch as she fills her stomach with more crustaceans. “I thought you weren’t speaking to me.”

A tick appears inside the veins of Tamaki’s forehead as he grumbles. “You trying to be cute?”

Haruhi just shoots him a victorious side eye, taking another huge bite of her food.

Something broke inside the prince and he sighed harshly, slamming his napkin on the table as he rose. “Okay, fine. I get it. It seems you refuse to admit that you were wrong.”

He pushes out his chair, putting his hands in his pockets. “See if I care then, I’m going to bed. Kyoya?”

A voice that must’ve been foreign to you by now sounds a hum as Kyoya stops his writing immediately, giving all of his attention to Tamaki.

“Will you show me to my room, please?”

“With pleasure.” Kyoya then stands, an aura of nonchalance cascading into your space as he slides by you. “Excuse me, everyone.”

An air of ice surrounds you as Kyoya doesn’t give you a sparing glance, his cold shoulder sending a shiver down your spine while he and Tamaki walk out of the dining room, the large doors closing behind them.

Haruhi’s confidence dissipates as she watches her prince leave the room. Swallowing her food, she sadly cracks a new crab leg, the overconfident display now being replaced by a sincere realization.

“Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should learn to protect myself.”

Looking towards Mori, you share her sentiment. “Yeah, it might be a good idea.” You say, relaxing into your seat.

Hikaru and Kaoru reflect each other as they put their heads in their hands, giving the both of you empathetic glances. “So that’s it, they got to you, huh?”

Nodding, you look down. “Kyoya can be cold, sure, but he’s never just ignored my existence. Maybe I could take a class or something, I don’t know.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to learn martial arts…” Haruhi thinks out loud, now only picking at the food she had been devouring moments ago.

“But that’s not the real issue here.” The twins say, folding their arms onto the table.

“To be honest, we were all a little worried about how recklessly you two acted.”

Looking up from your plate, you and Haruhi both shoot Hikaru a confused glance.

“What do you mean?” You ask, bending around Kaoru to mee Hikaru’s gaze. “We didn’t cause you guys any trouble or anything.”

“Are you serious right now?” Kaoru asks, giving you a disbelieving look.

“Yeah, I mean you guys didn’t have to sprint up a cliff to help (Y/n) and fix my mistakes,” Haruhi reasons. “So you guys were fine, right?”

“That’s not true, Haru-chan.” Honey kneels on to the seat of his chair, his palms resting on the table as leans forward. “I think you guys should apologize, kay?”

“We were all worried, of course, but Kyoya-senpai and the Boss almost had a heart attack.” Kaoru says, speaking with his hands as he waves his fork around.

“We think you need to apologize to them the most. Both of you.” Hikaru states, the hand under his chin moving to support his cheek.

“But you were worried about us?” The twins looked to their side to see your eyes switching between the both of them. “But why?”

That earns you a deadpanned look from the brothers before Hikaru drops his head on the back of his chair, and Kaoru rests his head on your shoulder with a whine. “You’re both hopeless.”

A small chuckle rises out of you as you rest your head on top of the sneaky twin’s, your mind flashing through the previous events.

Stubbornly, you knew that you had done the right thing, and that you would’ve made the same choice if you were given a second chance.

But then you imagined the boy on your shoulder being grabbed by his shirt, hung over the edge of a cliff reaching higher than you thought it could reach, and your gut twisted. Then the image flashed to where Honey was held and Mori was running after him, or Hikaru, then Tamaki.

Then Kyoya. And you immediately understood their worry.

Swallowing wetly, you took a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry you guys.”

The twins raise their brow in surprise, and when Haruhi voices her apology too, it melts into a content simper.

“Awe, come here you little runt.” Somehow pulling you and Haruhi out of your chairs and into their arms, the hosts embrace you in a tight group hug.

“Don’t get all soft on us now, (Y/n).” The twins say as Honey rubs his cheek against a smiling Haruhi. You laugh and push them off, just in time to see the natural type’s face fall as her color disappears.

Hikaru notices immediately, holding her side. “Is something wrong?”

Haruhi’s stomach makes a concerning gurgle. “I don’t feel so good.”

And that was how Haruhi ended up in your bathroom, heaving her guts out in your toilet.

You’re sat on your bed as you hear the toilet flush, looking out one of the massive windows in the room as the moonlight lets itself in.

The light from your bathroom seeps into the space as Haruhi walks out, weakly falling onto your bed with a light thud. There’s a beat of silence as she flips over, both of you lost in your own thoughts.

“We kind of fucked up, huh?” You joke, still looking out at the ocean as it calmly waved against the shoreline.

“Yeah. We did.”

“Who do you think we should apologize to first?” You ask, meeting her eye line as she continues to focus on the popcorn ceiling.

She just shrugs, at a loss for the next step. “Should we go together? Or one at a time?”

“Probably one at a time. I’ll go to one, and you go to the other, and then we can just switch.” Sheepishly, you sigh. “Besides, I think that I have a little more to apologize for.”

“It could’ve been either of us, (Y/n).” Her low voice echoes off the walls. “If you had run in front of me, it would’ve been me who would’ve gotten thrown over.”

Another small silence blankets over you before you nodded your head sharply. “If we’re gonna do this, we gotta do it now.”

Haruhi props herself up on her elbows as she watches you push off the bed, an air of confidence surrounding you. “Now?”

“Now.” You stop in the mirror, checking yourself over to make sure you are presentable. “We will get the hard ones out of the way. You apologize to Tamaki, and I’ll apologize to Kyoya.”

“You sure you’re not rushing into things?”

“Nope! Just gotta get it over with.” Head held high, you walk out the door with Haruhi on your heels, picking up the first aid kit so you could return it to its owner.

You and Haruhi walk from your door to the end of the hallway, a lavender rose on one and a red rose on the other. Stopping in front of your respective hosts doors, you each raise a fist, preparing to knock.

“Ready?” You ask.

“Ready.” She sounds confident, affirming.

Then each of you turn around and switch places, losing gusto as you walk into Tamaki’s room.

Knocking softly as Haruhi enter’s Kyoya’s room, you step into the prince’s chambers, searching for the signature strands of blonde hair.

He jumps from his corner, the phone to his ear tumbling out of his grasp as you spook him with your entrance. Blowing out a breath, Tamaki runs a hand through his hair, tuning back into his conversation.

“Yes, Grandmother.” Your heart sinks as his tone loses the flamboyant flair you had come to enjoy. “I understand. Goodnight.”

Hanging up the phone, he turns back to you as he hangs up the phone. With a hand on his hip, your regular scheduled Tamaki is up and running, an exaggerated frown on his face. “You can’t just barge into a man’s room like that, mon ami! Think of your manners!”

Looking down, your fingers tighten on the med kit in your hands. You chuckle at his words, but it quickly quiets when you remember what you came in here to do.

Since you chickened out of one apology, the least you could do was try to get through this one.

Raising your eyes to meet his, blonde eyebrows rise as he senses utter sincerity in your gaze

“Tamaki, I’m so sorry for making you worry.” Earnest honesty blends into your words as you pour your apologies out to him. “Everything happened so fast, and I wasn’t thinking straight when I saw those men try to take advantage of those girls. I just got so mad, ya know? No one deserves to be treated like that.”

Tamaki parts his mouth, but sees that you have more to say, and closes it.

“Haruhi and I tried to run, but they caught the back of my shirt – well, it was Kyoya’s shirt because he let me borrow it earlier today – and I was forced into a fight or flight mode.”

“And you chose to fight.” The prince’s hands pocketed themselves into his jeans.

Nodding, your actions became a little frenzied. “I wasn’t going to be helpless again, not like that time in the dressing rooms during the physical exam. I can take care of myself, and I wanted him to know it. I wanted him to know I am strong and independent and I wasn’t going to let them do whatever they wanted to me.”

An annoyed sigh shot out of you as the moments on that cliff replayed in your mind. “But one of the guy’s had a knife!” You gesture to your leg. “And it all got out of hand so quickly that it seemed like I blinked and all of a sudden I was being held over an endless sea. I was stupid, and reckless, but I just wanted to help and save them, save myself that I completely–”

Your face collided with a shirt, soft and lavender-scented as your best friend embraced you. Your rapid heartbeat echoed against the close proximity of his chest before it slowed, and you breathed as you wrapped your arms around him. It was a tight embrace as one of your palms grabbed onto the cloth of his button down like a lifeline while the other pressed the med kit into his back.

“I’m sorry.” The apology is muffled as you nuzzle against him.

Pulling back, Tamaki looks down at you with a gentleness only he could provide. He grabs your hand and pulls you to an empty chair. “Here. Sit down.”

Brow furrowing, you sit as the large, red loveseat molds to your tired body, and you fight against your instinct to melt into the cushions.

Your confusion takes precedence, though, as Tamaki sits on the floor below you, crossing his legs before holding out his hand. “The med kit?”

Once you hand it to him, he pops it open and scans over the supplies. He stretches his hands and cracks some knuckles before shaking them around, as if they had been asleep for hours and he was trying to wake them up.

“I might not be good at all the medical stuff like Kyoya, but I can clean up a scratch or two.”

A light giggle rolls out of you as an intense look of concentration sculpts into his features. Setting everything he thinks he needs to the side, he opens his palm again. “May I?”

Rolling your eyes, your heart blooms at your friend's gentle touch as he begins to try and fix what you broke, even if that was what you had come here to do in the first place.

Eventually, Tamaki breaks the silence that had lulled over the two of you as he applies a cleaner to your cut. “That was my grandmother on the phone.”

Wincing at the medicine bubbling out of the cut, you nod. “I heard. I didn’t know if you wanted to talk about it.”

“There’s not much to say.” In comes another rare instance like the one at the Tiki Bar. An aura of calm maturity takes the prince’s form as he sits in front of you, completely concentrated at the task at hand. “She was angry, like usual.”

“Did she yell at you again?”

His nod twists your heart on its chambers, but his eyes flick up at you to stop you from giving him any pity before going back to the task at hand. “She is an angry woman. She was widowed when she was young and since then has had a pessimistic perspective on life.” A sad sigh escapes him, but he still manages to keep a serene smile on his face. “She is not a woman I will ever completely understand, but I think, for the rest of her life, I will always strive too. While I may never be on her good side, I want to always put my best foot forward and keep my mind open, so that I might see the world through her eyes. Understand what she is dealing with even if I don’t agree with her actions.” His chest shakes with a low laugh. “It seems I’m stuck doing that for all the women in my life.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m telling you I understand.” Tamaki rifles through the bandaids and picks one that must’ve come from some sort of Valentine’s Day collection: shiny, red hearts with a white background.

He places it gently over the scratch Ren had left you with, running his thumb across it in a loving gesture. “You were put in a terrible situation, and you did the only thing you, (Y/n), are programmed to do. Survive.”

His fingers swim through his hair again, and his violet eyes are swimming with genuine kindness with a hint of concern that you don’t think will ever fade away. “You're always by yourself. Your parents leave you alone in your home enough times, and you learn to depend on only yourself, because no one else has ever stepped up to the plate. You never call any of us for help, even when we are so close, until it’s too late. Until you realize that you pushed yourself too far.”

Leaning up, Tamaki puts his hands on the arms of the chair as he becomes eye-level with you. “I get it now.” A soft smile curls onto his handsome features. “I’m sorry I yelled at you on the beach. You grew up without relying on anyone else.”

Your eyes had gone wide and began to shine as Tamaki stood to his full height and held a hand out to you. “But not anymore. You haven’t been alone for a long time, (Y/n), not since you joined the club. Not since you met me.

Emotion wells up in your throat, making it hard to swallow as you quickly take his palm, jumping into his arms again with vigor. You feel him chuckle against you as he lifts you up in the air for a moment before setting you on the ground, your new band aid twinkling in the moonlight.

“So, you forgive me?” You say, wiping the small, joyful tears away before he could see.

“If you can forgive me for comparing you to my grandmother.”

“I was just going to ignore that. It seemed like you were on a roll there.”

You both laugh as Tamaki hands you back the med kit. He taps the top of it with his finger. “I think you need to return this.”

A different kind of feeling stuffed your airflow now as you looked out of Tamaki’s open door to the one across the hall, a lavender rose lacing the doorknob.

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

Feeling your feet begin to drag across Tamaki’s carpet, you force yourself to feel lighter, invigorated by your friend’s words. “Thank you, Tamaki.” You smile up at him as you pass through his doorway.

At your grin, Tamaki squeals in his place. “Awe, you’re so cute, mon ami! No need to thank me, no need at all!”

You simper as you flick him on the nose and close the door behind you, taking the treacherous steps towards the Shadow King’s door.

The feeling of your thumping heart began to ring through your frame, but you willed it to calm down. Looking around, you tried to spot Haruhi in her door frame, waiting for you to be done talking with Tamaki so that she could tag in, but it was so late that she might’ve just fallen asleep. You would understand, especially if her conversation with Kyoya was as emotionally taxing as yours was with Tamaki.

Every nerve stood on end as you raised your hand to knock, but hesitated. Would he be mad if you made so much noise in the middle of the night? Plus, if he had fallen asleep, he wouldn’t just wake up with a simple knock. The man slept like the dead who had turned to stone.

Your hand hovered over the doorknob, careful of the thorns guarding the purple rose. Did he even want to see you?

The image of his softened gaze as it dropped to your lips and then back to your eyes, shrouded in sunset as Kyoya’s hand gently lifted to your waist filled your mind, and it motivated you to turn the knob.

You had to salvage this. All he had asked was for you to admit that you had done something wrong, and now you were prepared to do that. It had taken some convincing, but you were ready to set aside your pride. Besides, to endure another moment of his gaze without the touch of softness he saved just for you would be hell compared to a little bruise on your ego. Maybe he will forgive you for waking him up.

You cringe, knowing you’re being way too optimistic.

The door doesn’t creak, the well-oiled hinges of an Ootori household silently as you sneak into Kyoya’s bedroom, barely opening the door a smidge before you see a shadowy blob on Kyoya’s bed.

Squinting your eyes, you struggle to peer into the darkness, and you open the door another centimeter, letting the light of the hallway bring some illumination to the shadows.

The med kit drops onto the carpet, not a sound adding to the empty soundtrack of this moment.

Shadows merge and billow before defining into bodies. Haruhi’s pink dress comes into view as the small amount of light grasps onto her form, revealing her as she lays wide-eyed on the bed. Her back sinks into Kyoya’s comforter as she looks up, blinking mildly at the form hovering over her.

Long tingles of darkness form into a body you admire, the man you adored caging your best friend under him like a predator. His muscles tense as his arms work to hold his body just above her, his naked torso defined in the contrast of the night.

Haruhi says something you couldn’t possibly hear over the blood pumping through your ears, and you see a smirk curl onto his face as if she said something clever, and Kyoya drags a thumb over his lip.

The image is burned into your skull as you race back to your bedroom, only a wall separating you and the betrayal next door.

Haruhi and Kyoya?

Tears now welled in your eyes as you rushed to the comfort of the bed that wasn’t your bed, in a room that wasn’t your room.

Fuck! Your mind screams as you shove your face into your pillow, rocking back and forth as the picture of them together keeps flashing behind your eyelids, a persistent roll of film filling in all the areas you didn’t see in the dark. How their bodies must be closer now, closer than you and Kyoya ever were.

A hiccup escaped as the pressure in your chest tightened. Kyoya’s aversion to physical touch made it so he constantly kept an arms distance from you. Yet here he was, chest to chest with your best friend who you had grown to love like a sister you never had.

Your fingers dug into the pillow as before you threw it across the room. Yanking the covers over your head, you begged and begged anybody that was listening to turn back time.

Turn it back to the moment on the beach chair, under the umbrella in the glow of the sunset. Rewind to Kyoya serving you your favorite food with his sleeves rolled up, or the two of you linking fingers on a piano bench, the moonlight cascading down his soft smile effortlessly.

A hand claps over your mouth to keep any sob from passing through and sounding through the wall, and you realize that even though the ocean was outside your window, you still couldn’t find your breath.

It seems that Kyoya didn’t deserve to win those pictures after all, because the image that still pulses into your vision causes you to sink into darkness. You find a new worst fear as Kyoya’s name echoes into your mind as you become lost.

Next Time on Lavender Roses!

“I never noticed. Haruhi is perfectly suited to be accepted into an elite all-girl’s school.. And that’s exactly why I can’t let her transfer!”

“But (Y/n)’s been here for years, why does she want to transfer too?!”

A Challenge From Lobelia Girls Academy!

hey there, just wanted to apologize for ruining your day and leaving you in suspense :)

thank you for being so patient, there is always more to come :) comment if you can! i'd love to hear your thoughts.

243 notes · View notes