I write, but it usually is unrelated to whatever I wrote about just before, and is very fragmented. I’ve mostly been reblogging various writing advice and blips of fanfic, but I’ve finally started to post my work here! I’m also on Wattpad: @StarOfTheCountyDown
Reading my own fanfiction is basically just a rollercoaster of emotional whiplash.
20% of the time: “Hold on. I wrote this? This is fire. This is emotionally devastating in the best way. This scene is dripping with tension. I’m a literary perfectionist. Someone give me a book deal.”
80% of the time: “Straight to jail. Immediate prison. Why is everyone’s breath hitching?. I used the word ‘gaze’ three times in one paragraph like I was possessed. Did I think 'his eyes darkened' was profound? Why is everyone clenching their jaws? Why is someone whispering 'their name like a prayer' again?? No one talks like this. What is this dialogue. Why are there so many weird metaphors and em-dashes…”
Characters: Tamaki, Kyoya, Kaoru, Hikaru, Mori, Honey, & Haruhi
Summary: How I think each host would cuddle with their s/o
Note: I wrote this one on a blog where I posted a lot of edits but I wanted to move it over to my official writing Tumblr.
Tamaki: Tamaki would be a cuddle monster, man does this boy love to cuddle. Most of the time he will be the one to start the cuddling, which would include many kisses and sweet nothings for his s/o. His cuddles would make his s/o feel like they were the most important person in the world.
Kyoya: Although the shadow king would never admit it out loud, He loves cuddles with his s/o when they have their alone time. His s/o would almost always start the cuddling, which most of the time would turn into a make-out session. But every once in a while he gives his s/o a passionate kiss, with ‘You know how much you mean to be, right?’
Kaoru: Just like Tamaki, Kaoru would be the one to start the cuddles. He loves cuddles on the couch while watching a movie, hugging his s/o from behind. He would have a mix of whispering sweet nothings to slightly teasing his s/o.
Hikaru: Both Hikaru and his s/o would evenly start cuddles. He loves to tease his s/o when they cuddle until they are almost at breaking point. His cuddles would definitely turn into a heavy make-out session that he would use for more teasing. His s/o couldn’t stay mad at him for long after his apology kisses.
Mori: Mori wouldn’t be like the other hosts, he would let his body speak for him. He holds his s/o tightly against his body, not wanting them to disappear from his life. He loves to fall asleep next to his s/o; just knowing that they are beside him, makes him rest easily.
Honey: Honey’s cuddles would be like hugging a puppy. He just loves it when his s/o cuddles with him, they talk about their days during cuddles. Honey would always be touching his s/o in any way just loving the feeling of them in his arms.
Haruhi: Haruhi is always the one pulled into cuddles, but she enjoys it when they are alone. she would run her fingers through her s/o’s hair, just talking about random things. Cuddles would require a couple kisses here and there.
I’m so happy to see your requests are open I absolutely love your writing!!
Kyoya x fem reader where they have an arranged marriage because it will help both there parents companies, and Kyoya and reader start to actually have feelings for one another, even though they weren’t sure about marrying the other at first?? Just thought it would be super cute!!
Hope your day/night is going well!!
hiii im so glad u like my work! :3 added a wee bit of angst turnt fluff cus why not. its not exactly what u asked for but i hope u like it anyway!
❄｜kyouya x reader where you're both forced to marry under your families' order. 1.7k words. this doesn't follow the canon for the events after the ouran graduation.
the noiret paced around his room in uneasiness. he knew one day his freedom would be cut short, he'd been waiting for that day, but he also had learnt to have the slightest, stupidest hope that his father's newfound respect for him had changed things.
he wonders, however, how he of all people could have been so naïve.
outside, the fairies of the winter had been drawing pretty little drawings of ice on the edges of his windows, as if to try and distract his racing mind from the events that would unfold the second he got out of his room. he was used to the noise of social events, the people chatter and the pressure of socialising, so this should be nothing for him, right?
right.
he didn't understand this feeling. it wasn't that he necessarily hated an arrangement for marriage, life would go on whether or not it would happen.
looking at the fairies' drawings of comfort one last time, he took a deep breath and exited his room to leave for the wedding venue without a word.
the car ride was uncomfortable. his family had already arrived so they weren't there to talk his ear off and the bride would come some time after than he did as the tradition goes. he had time left to think and contemplate again and again.
he looked down at his tuxedo. the bride requested that if she wasn't able to marry of her own free will, that she at least get to have her dream wedding. not a bad deal, kyouya thought. their outfits had been in matching colours, and both were over-the-top decorated. he felt slightly embarrassed at the outfit, but it wasn't anything too extreme in comparison to what he wore in highschool. the only concern was that his whole family and many important people would be there, though he swallowed that as well, as he'd been doing the entire year of the wedding preparation.
he'd met his fiancée plenty of times in that year. the first time they met was at his university graduation. she was smiling brightly standing next to his sister who rushed to hug him and congratulate him. he remembers her bowing politely and introducing herself, before his father stepped in to explain the situation. he remembers the slight surprise on her face at the lack of comments about his sons' achievements.
the next time they met was at a museum. his sister had advised him to ask her on a date so they could get to know each other. she was intelligent, charismatic, and he couldn't deny her face was pleasant to look at. her interest in history was a plus - at least she had an interesting characteristic.
their second date was a dinner at a restaurant, only the best to serve the ootoris. she'd picked steak and juice - quickly explaining she doesn't drink at the slight raise of his eyebrow. he nodded and changed his own wine order to juice as well. 'you don't have to do that!' she rushed but he assured her he's just being considerate of his fiancée. he never forgot how to be a gentleman.
the fifth date she asked to meet at a commoners' shopping mall to show him around. kyouya wasn't surprised by this. he'd learnt early on from his investigation on potential wife that she'd been adopted into the l/n family due to some sort of an affair. despite it being well-known, the gossip around the situation wasn't very clear, so he decided to wait until she talked about it instead.
at some point down the road, the two had become something akin to friends, and although not very close, y/n claimed she was satisfied with the bond they'd created regardless of its strength.
nine months later, he now is at the altar, bouquet in hand, a performative smile for all the guests to admire - until a beautiful woman comes through with her arm linked to her father's.
the ceremony didn't last long, the after-party however? most guests had already left but the couples' friends continued to act like it was the last day of their lives. the bridesmaids' laughter and his friends' drunk dance moves tired kyouya, but he was having fun, so what's another night sleepless?
a tap in his shoulder by his wife.
"you okay? you seem tired. we can call it a night." she exclaimed into his ear through the music. he'd read enough women's blogs to understand what that meant.
even if he wasn't tired, she was, and that was a roundabout way of telling him. what sort of husband disobeys his wife?
the second they got to their new house, y/n rushed to the bed and flopped on it like a sack. she had no energy to get changed or move, instead asking kyouya 'if they could complete their duties the next day, nobody was rushing them anyway'. kyouya he helped her out of her dress and comatosed with her in peace.
the next morning, nobody bothered to wake the couple. soon they'd leave for their honeymoon anyway. everything happened way too quickly and kyouya didn't know how to handle it. the weeks passed, and he refused to communicate any issues to his wife that weren't work or family related. he felt conflicted, but he didn't know about what. the woman lying next to him was kind, beautiful, clever. what right did he have to complain?
i mean, what did it matter if he didn't feel any connection in bed? why would it matter if she had a disappointed look on her face whenever he had to cut their time short? would it make any difference if he had an heir later and ignored his parents' whines about it? it was a tough thing to do, but each time he failed to satisfy his wife, it felt like a stab in the chest wounding his male ego. so did it really matter that he was away for long periods of time? it was a marriage of convenience, after all, and she wasn't missing out on anything.
she claimed that whatever friendship they had felt like it was dissolving because he 'didn't make an effort'? him? when he's the one working hard to make sure his dad's company doesn't make the wrong decisions? what does she know when she sits at home all day getting princess treatment despite being illegitimate?
"you chose this, kyouya." what?
"you refuse to leave your father's shadow." that's not it.
"maybe if you stood up for yourself, half the issues you're complaining about would be gone!" you're wrong.
he doesn't have free will, he never did. since he was a kid his life had been dictated by those around him, and surely you under-
"you're nearing thirty, kyoya! i'm tired of your self-pity! do something! i'm sick of this!"
it felt like yesterday when he saw his wife in her wedding dress for the first time. back then, he didn't really understand the concept of forever.
yet it had already been seven years.
seven years of obedience. seven years of keeping his head down. seven years of neglecting his wife to dedicate his time to his work. seven years for him to realise he was serving the ootoris. he was never on an equal level.
the issue wasn't his father, it was him. and on his twenty-ninth birthday, a snowy day just like his wedding day, with the winter fairies for comfort, he announced to his old man his retirement from the company.
"i'm sorry, y/n. i'm sorry for everything. let's try again."
you took his hand and embraced him. you knew your husband was broken somewhere inside him. you'd known for years. you'd seen how his family treated him, how they took him for granted. but no matter what you did, how much you pressured him, he only let you see specific parts of himself, and you couldn't help but blame yourself.
you refused to leave his side, no matter how exhausting your marriage felt. you rarely went on dates anymore, he never made the move to touch you, it wasn't marriage, it felt like... a business transaction.
deep down, you knew that that's what it was. you'd considered divorce plenty of times but at the end of the day, even if not your lover, kyouya was your friend. the man whom you ate breakfast with and lied on the same bed with. the man you'd seen you at your worst and gave you strength, and you knew you had to support even if he refused to let go of what was familiar to him. even if he refused his own happiness.
the sobbing man in your arms reminded you of a younger version of him. years ago, on your third anniversary when he'd planned a trip to chongqing because he remembered you saying you always wanted to go. during your two week stay, he got wine tipsy at dinner and eventually drunk by nighttime, spilling feelings he'd kept to himself for years.
he'd kneeled in front of you, furiously crying in your lap as he held your legs tightly, begging you not to leave because he could feel himself changing and neglecting his personal life.
you'd carried him to bed and admired his face as he fell asleep, naïvely thinking that this was just a rough patch and he'd go back to putting effort in just like he did in chongqing.
but the years passed and he proved to you his fears were legitimate.
"sure, let's try again kyouya." you patted his back when he held you in even tighter. "but this time we're trying counselling, okay?" you giggled, trying to light up the mood.
he pulled back and gave a tiny smile when you wiped his cheek.
"whatever my wife says." he caressed your hair. "let's stay married, okay? i don't want to lose you."
he didn't say the three words, but that was okay. it didn't matter much. romance could wait, because you knew you loved him more than a woman in a cheesy romcom would. you loved his soul, and you wanted nothing more than to see him bloom.
"let's stay married, kyouya. happy birthday."
it was a new beginning for the both of you and you had nothing but time on the horizon.
author’s note: I’ve been trying to develop this idea for a while but could not (for the life of me) think of a specific scenario for a long-form fic with this setup in mind, so I just decided to write my scattered thoughts as headcanons!! Sorry if its disorganized btw this is basically composed of just my yapping. If you end up liking the idea and have specific scenarios in mind feel free to drop a request 🙏🏻
Tamaki possesses an affable, generally accepting, and even enthusiastic attitude toward things that are unfamiliar to him.
But despite his bearing, it all comes crumbling down at the very thought of the Black Magic Club, Ouran Academy’s fashionable group of occult and gothic enthusiasts. The bunch the Host Club is significantly acquainted with because the former quite literally live within their walls
Due to Tamaki’s natural idiocy, he’s aggravated the Black Magic Club in the past—an unfortunate amount of times. Like when he mistakenly stepped on the Beelzenef, the hooded president Nekozawa’s precious cursed doll, and was made to believe he was banished into another dimension when he took his exams—to name one of many instances.
Falling victim to their wrath left him traumatized. Now whenever their mystic neighbors are concerned, the guy loses all his 5 senses and regresses into a cowering, pitiable toddler
Considering Tamaki’s troubled relations with the group, a romance between him and someone who’s a member would be difficult but of course, never impossible~
Tamaki really strikes me as the perfect candidate for the ‘he fell first and harder’ ‘trope’, especially with this setup
It’d be cute to see him fall for someone even despite fearing their primary interests
It’d likely be a slow start—but it really depends on how his s/o reacts or responds. For his side, he’ll just be doing his best to be open-minded and yet failing to completely embrace it due to his panic.
I can see him willing himself to attend one of their weekly masses but he ends up making a run for the door, his flight senses kicking off in pure terror, as soon as he hears a low-rumbling voice expelled from the distorted speakers.
Just a thought- It’d be kinda cute if s/o was a tease, wouldn’t it? Intentionally or otherwise.
It’s really hard to fault Tamaki though, it’s a world of knowledge completely alien to him. His genuine and loving nature and the legitimate efforts he makes to understand and welcome the occult so he can, in turn, understand and welcome this inherent side of his s/o is something that everyone should admire and s/o should see that!!
Be kind to him T-T ik its fun to tease but there's only so much he can do before he burns himself with the heatwaves of his own love in attempts to accommodate his lover
His acceptance and adaptability will grow alongside his affections, slowly but surely
In due time, I can't particularly see him being immune to all things occult–as squeamish and over-reactive as he is, and I highly doubt he would participate in any sort of black magic activities on his own will
Basically, I imagine Tamaki to be tolerant of it, knowing its something that means a lot to his love, you’ll never find him never going out of his way to strike them down by showing contempt for it; the day he, in his right mind, hurts s/o’s feelings is the day he sends himself into the astral planes
Just hope s/o understands his limits and doesn’t play with his feeble heart too much!
summary: It’s a regular Saturday afternoon in the Ootori estate. Y/n and Kyoya, the notorious Ouran Host Club’s very own managers, silently work on the club preparations. Worn out and fatigued after hours of endless calculations and composing, someone gets distracted by a curious scene from the corner of their eye…
word count: 700 words
warnings: none!!
published: 10/18/24
author’s note: my first published fic!! who cares if it’s assessment week its not like all my projects are due and i'm back tracking my tasks— hey! duty calls when ur mind decides to plague u with fluffy OHSHC brain rot yk!! and now, my doves, please enjoy ✨🥳
‘Sitting on the foot of his couch while crunching down an endless flow of numbers and letters till the sunset. Neither of us ever spoke a word, being simply content with the comfortable silence. This was our average weekend. ’
Such was the silent arrangement Y/n and Kyoya developed over time.
The click and clacking of computer buttons overrun the comfortable silence that rang through Kyoya’s living space. The two second-years alternate between buttons on their respective keyboards, typing up an almost rhythmic stream of characters for their shared digital accounting space. Although, for one of the teens in the room, Y/n couldn’t gauge what exactly she was writing—her mind was elsewhere.
The sun was setting on the horizon, painting the monochrome walls of the Ootori estate with contrasting radiant, warm hues. They’ve been working on a proposal for the next upcoming, unequivocally extravagant, Host Club event. Accounting for the lovable, yet ever-impulsive Host King’s whims always proved to be a task of considerable difficulty.
But nothing is impossible, no? Not for the Host Club! Why, their Shadow King irresistible charm is to blame!
Y/n’s grown quite accustomed to arranging for every outlandish fantasy the eternally flamboyant, capricious Ouran Host Club’s President desired to make a reality. But man could she never get used to how exhausting the process could be.
‘We’re gonna be here for another few hours aren’t we…’
She sighs out loud, rubbing a hand on her strained eyes as she looks up from the screen, straightening her back and stretching her arms up, but not without subconsciously stealing a glance at her ‘coworker’.
Kyoya was, as she anticipated, glued to his usual spot on the couch, posture impressively as straight as a knife even after hours of sitting in the same position, and was, similarly, typing away on his computer with tired eyes with an uncharacteristic brow arched, outwardly showing his irritation at whatever was on his screen.
‘The work’s starting to take a toll on him too huh,’ She almost chuckles to herself. There was something about the sight that was so amusing to her. Perhaps witnessing his usually unwavering prim and proper facade, peel off ever so slightly was, for the lack of a better word, endearing, to her.
‘What a look.’ She thought, a playful smirk inching its way up her lips. Opening her mouth to give a teasing remark on his state, she bites her tongue, rethinking her actions.
‘But then, it always seems like more trouble than it’s worth, annoying him.’
Her puckish gaze lingered even as she relaxed the rest of her body after her little stretch. She didn’t realize she was starting to stare—being much too preoccupied by the sudden train of thoughts that cascaded across her mind at the peculiar scene.
‘Nevertheless, he always seems like he’s in a bad mood around me, wonder what his deal is…’
‘Always so condescending and cynical, not a cute look Ootori, not a cute look.’ She teased. Though inwardly, of course, she wasn’t planning on dying just yet.
She internally contemplates for a while longer, exhaling aloud through her nose, exhausted from her own ramblings. Her work, completely abandoned.
‘He’d be annoyed if he sees I’m not working… Can’t the man relax for a bit, why's he always such a grouch. That's the Shadow King for you.’ At the notion, she unintentionally let her face contort into a playful scowl.
Her inner monologue continued on, her mind jumping through hoops of arbitrary thoughts, making all sorts of faces at her disses toward the boy.
To her knowledge, he was too focused on whatever he was doing to notice she was staring at him; however, ever so clueless to the reality of things, little did Y/n know that Kyoya had noticed since the beginning.
But he didn’t mind, not in the slightest. In fact, he finds it quite amusing, cute even. Because as he recalled, just moments before, while she still wasn’t looking at him, he was doing the same thing.
He almost smiles at the thought, nevertheless as stubborn as his nature is, he suppresses it.
Then, they simultaneously fondly think to themselves,
summary: you have enough charm to make even a host fall for you! why haven't you joined the club yet?
a/n: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, second person pov, reader isn't necessarily in love with them, they're just unintentionally getting the others to fall for them, but it can be read however you would like
↣ fujioka haruhi:
being the little plaything for the host club was not fun at all for haruhi. she would literally rather do anything else than this.
carrying four bags of food for the hosts, haruhi groans in frustration, "stupid rich people... why do they have to drink so many different brands of coffee?" she reaches into one bag, pulling out an order for hikaru. "he doesn't even like the ingredients in this. he just wanted me to say that long order for no reason..."
people watched the student struggle down the hall towards the host club room. haruhi felt a bit annoyed; didn't rich people have maids or something to do these things? a turn around the corner makes her stop on her tracks, nearly dropping the bags onto the floor.
a hand is held out to catch her elbow, steadying her feet. "sorry, i didn't see you." she apologises, holding the bags even tighter.
"it's okay." you retort, sliding your book bag onto your shoulder. you blink at her, noticing who she was. "oh, haruhi. good morning. you seem pretty busy already."
"good morning, y/n." she replies, nodding her head at you, "yeah, the host club needed a refill on a couple things."
"do you... need help?" you ask, tilting your head at her.
"oh no, it's okay." she spoke, shaking her head with a nervous smile, "i'm nearly there, and club activities are going to start soon."
you shrugged your shoulders, taking some of the bags from her hold. "it's okay, my meeting's been cancelled. i can help." you explain, giving haruhi a smile, "i don't mind spending a little more time getting to know you."
she held her breath for a moment as you led her to the music room that the host club occupied. you were well-known around the school yourself, not as much as the infamous tamaki but still. you shared world history class together and sat in front of her. she knew the sound of your voice by the end of the first month here at ouran academy, and it was no wonder why many of your classmates would seek your help for work. haruhi was good at reading people, so she could tell that you yourself didn't have any bad intentions.
you two became friends quite easily, and you had visited her a few times at the host club. you acted as a cool escape from the strange world of the rich that haruhi had to get used to. you spoke to her as if she was always a friend of yours, sweet and kind. she thought that, if you had tried to, you could knock even tamaki off of his pedestal.
"i heard from hikaru that your theme for this week is the opposite of a 'maid cafe'." your voice cuts through her thoughts, and she drags her eyes to meet with yours. heat rushes to her cheeks at the idea that kyoya had brought up to make a rise in sales. you chuckle at her reaction. "well, i'll have to make sure to stop by to see you."
haruhi rolls her eyes, looking out the window to her left. "please spare me the humiliation, y/n." she huffed out, frown tugging on her lips.
you only grin wider. "c'mon, haruhi, you know that’s the only reason i show up." you say, leaning forward to get a look at her face. she was burning even brighter, and it didn't help that when she glanced back at you, you were staring at her with that welcoming and heart-warming grin you always had for her. "should i switch to always visiting the twins, then?"
haruhi gives you a deadpan look, which makes you laugh. she knows you wouldn't, you literally only asked for her. but she couldn't help the feeling she experienced when you would say her name or look at her like that.
at the host club, you help drop off the bags as kyoya checks everything on his clipboard. at the bell, haruhi escorts you to the door.
"thank you again, y/n, for your help. i'll repay you." she says, knowing full well that all her payments were going to the host club for her initial incident.
you ruffle her hair a little with a smile. "no problem, haruhi. i'll always be here to lend a hand." you say, walking down the hall with your 'goodbye'.
haruhi spares you a wave, closing the door after seeing you turn the corner. when she looks back to her clubroom, she notices kyoya standing a few feet away, back against the wall. "oh, kyoya-senpai. i forgot you—”
“taking a liking to l/n, have we?” he taunts, clipboard under his arm. his glasses gleam with mischief and haruhi gulps. picking it up from the table, he hands her the costume for the day. “is that why they’ve become a regular now?”
she rolls her eyes and grabs it from him. “believe what you want, i’m not doing this out of pleasure.” she admits, hurrying to the change rooms. she passes the other hosts, all standing in the doorway and watching the two interact. haruhi stops on her tracks yet again, furrowing her brows. “what now?”
“what’s this? have haruhi and y/n finally begun dating?” the twins chime, wrapping their arms around haruhi as she begins to heat up, “the love story of the century, two pining young students unable to keep their affections a secret.”
kaoru glances to tamaki, who is fixing up his tie. “what do you say, boss? should we invite y/n to join the host club?” he suggests.
honey jumps up, holding his toy up in the air. “they would be so cute together, right taka-chan?” mori simply nods his head, looking indifferent.
“hmm. perhaps a new addition would spark some rivalry between haruhi and y/n.” tamaki concludes, “many of our guests would love to see the lovers battle to be the best! yes, that is a splendid idea! haruhi—”
turning around, he sees haruhi exit the change rooms in her butler outfit. she huffs back, shaking her head, “i am not inviting y/n to join the host club, you idiots.”
she walks passed them, ignoring the banter they were spouting and the arguments they had for you joining the club. in the end, it was a definite no.
she didn’t know what it was. maybe she just really wanted you to herself.
↣ suoh tamaki:
tamaki, like always, was surrounded by the girls of ouran academy.
if there were any sign that today was just going to be another day, it would be that. the sounds of screams and dreamy sighs, the voice of tamaki swooning them all, and the trail of hearts left behind. another day here at school for you.
but, like always, the club members would make fun of him for his eccentric ideas and whatnot. as they leave to go to class, tamaki stands in the music room with a disappointed look on his face. whenever he would put a frown on his face, the customers would come rushing in! hold his face, cling to his side! why must his friends be so disheartening?
when the door opens to the music room, he expects it to be kyoya to drag him back, and he throws on his frown again. "oh, kyoya! i'm so sad!"
"why is that, tamaki?" you ask, closing the door with your sheet music under your arm and your violin in hand. he blinks at you, obviously not expecting anyone other than the club members. "my apologies, i walked into the wrong room. why are you here by yourself?"
to play it off (although he has never seen you attend any club activities, only ever seeing you in his literature class) he stands up, cheeks burning with embarrassment. he chuckles out, arms thrown to his sides, "o-oh! don't mind me, i'm just a bit down. i didn't expect such a kind student to make themselves known at such a time! how are you on this fine day, mx l/n?"
when you tilt your head, walking closer to his spot at the couch. "a sweet boy like you should never be left alone to sulk." you state, sitting down across from him. he widens his eyes, gulping. "where are your friends?"
"uh... they are in, um, class!" he says as the end-of-the-day bell rings. you only smile. tamaki sighs, dropping his whole get-up and looking to his hands, leaning back against the softness of the couch, "i suppose they left me here while they went home."
"you don't want to go home yet?" you question. he shakes his head. you only exhale, placing your sheet music on the table and your violin next to you. "well, if that is the case, then i'd be happy to keep you company, my lovely."
he widens his eyes as he looks to you. a faint blush paints his cheeks. "you... would?" you nod your head twice. he then smiles. "truthfully, i have no business being here right now. kyoya had called off our club meeting because of exams coming up and the twins failing some classes. and if they fail, they can't be in the club."
"is that so?" you say, making conversation, "well, i suppose you can spend your time with me."
"do you not have a lesson to get to?" tamaki asks, concerned as he glances to your sheet music, "i wouldn't want to keep you—"
"would you like to come to my practice, then?" you offer, smiling softly that it makes him hold his breath for a moment. you were so charming, in such a different way than he was. it was enticing. "i'm sure you wouldn't distract me. not on purpose, that is."
your little joke at the end makes him nervously laugh. "oh, i... i wouldn't want to bother."
"you're not bothering me, tamaki." you honestly say. he unconsciously leans towards you, eager to get closer. you stay where you are, smiling at his actions. "and it seems you just can't resist me."
he catches himself falling. he almost can't believe it, but he then fixes himself and his posture, standing up straight. "r—right, well, i... you...!"
you chuckle, standing up and taking his arm linked in yours, "alright, prince, let's go."
he gasps as you guide him to your practice room, so confident through the halls. he's scared someone will see him in such a flustered state and his cool prince facade will fade. but luckily enough, you navigate your way easily and shut the door behind you.
except, it doesn't take you to the music room. no, in fact, you and tamaki end up on one of the balconies that overlook the quieter side of school — opposite side from the host club.
"i practice here during our breaks and study sessions." you admit, placing a music stand and clipping your sheet music to it. unlatching you violin, you glance to tamaki. "away from all your fangirls, that is."
he raises a brow, catching himself finding his confidence again, "jealous, perhaps?"
"what do you think?" you say, tuning your instrument.
tamaki blinks, staring at the ground as he sits at the bench in front of you. he states, "there is no possible way you could've gotten the wrong room, you know."
you raise your brows, looking back at him. a slow smile creeps onto your lips. "your club passed me in the hallway before i saw you." you admit, waxing your bow, "i just wanted to make sure ouran's pride and joy was okay."
his heart swells at your words. he doesn't know why, but all of a sudden birds sings for you, flowers bloom in your presence the breeze smells sweeter.
"thank you..." he hums, smiling at you sweetly, "may i hear something?"
you lift your bow, nodding your head, "yes, your highness."
his heart explodes at the first note.
↣ ootori kyoya:
if there was one thing kyoya was good at, it was analysing people's strengths and weaknesses. the smart one, glasses-wearing, everything. he was it.
but one thing he couldn't understand was why you were so popular.
you were a part of the school student committee, and as a part of your duties, you hd to do monthly check-ups on clubs to see if they were still eligible to continue. while the host club never failed, you would still drop by without a doubt.
today was one of those days.
kyoya could tell you were near by the increase in whispers and gasps around the hallway. once heard, he excused himself and walked off to grab the folder that held the statistics for their monthly report.
as if on cue, you enter, herd of admirers behind you.
"ah, good evening, mx l/n." he says, offering a bow, "to what do i owe the pleasure?"
"it's good to see you too, ootori." you chime, bowing yourself, "is your report ready for this month? it is the 31st after all."
kyoya can almost hear the agonising tone in your voice, hidden by your politeness. but he doesn't waver, holding out the folder. "indeed. like always, we are right on time." he tells you.
you take it from him, opening it up and falting. kyoya raises a brow. "is something the matter, l/n?" he questions.
you look up at him with the faintest smile. "perhaps you're pulling my leg here, ootori. this appears to be last month's report." you chime, pinpointing his mistakes at its core.
he takes the folder from you and reviews the dates. you were correct, this was last month's report. he scans the room until he locks eyes with the twins, who shrug their shoulders innocently and walk off.
"i... apologise. it seems the twins have taken it into their own hands to file the report for this month." he sighs, fixing his glasses, "if you'll follow me, i will find it for you."
you agree, smiling as those you pass before you enter the side room with kyoya in front of you.
as the doors shut, you click your tongue, "oh kyoya, those two run circles around you, don't they?"
the host rolls his eyes, taking out the box of reports from the cabinet and setting them on the desk. he does miss how his name sounds on your lips. so soft.
"they are a pain, but we make do." he huffs, "must your enterage always follow you when you come see us?"
"oh it's not just when i come here." you state, hand on your hip, "it's everywhere."
you were so smug it made him scowl. he opens the box and notices that they are all out of order. he groans, "we have to look through every individual file, i'm afraid."
"luckily this is my last club for tonight." you sigh, taking out a couple folders, "i can help you organise these."
"but wouldn't your fanclub miss you too much, y/n?" kyoya speaks, doing the same thing and looking through them.
"you're one to talk." you chuckle.
"i truly don't understand how you manage to gather so many followers. you're merely treasurer." he complains, shrugging his shoulders, "do you like being followed around like that?"
you roll your eyes at his dramatic personality. you and kyoya had been friends for ages now, and it seems the popularity you acquire puts a strain on your relationship.
"i don't mind being followed, but i do like all of my friends." you state, flipping through pages, "i speak to all of them regularly."
"so they talk to you and you enjoy it?" he questions, raising a brow at you. the thought irked him. why did you speak to so many people? he could call bullshit. but you shrug your shoulders.
"everybody wants to be liked by the person they have a crush on." you say, knowing tone. every one of your "friends" have or have had a crush on you, which is why they speak to you in the first place. "it just so happens that i like making friends."
"that's preposterous." he huffs back, "i don't understand the severity. i don't feel the need to be liked by you."
"that's because i already like you, kyoya. we were friends since forever, after all." you state, putting one report into the correct folder as you glance at him working, "do you not feel the same?"
"frankly, it doesn't matter to me." kyoya says, ignoring how his chest felt at what you said. it was reassuring to know you still liked him.
"what, are you saying that you don't like me, kyoya?" you say, overdramatic voice on. you move closer to kyoya, tilting your head and jutting our your lip. he swallows his nerves "even after everything we've been through? i'm hurt."
"quiet." he grunts, pushing you away as you laugh. his face grows warmer. "just... find that report and get out of here. it's almost time for club activities to end."
you stare at him for a moment, watching red grow on his cheeks in frustration. your friend has always been this way, even though he acts more familiar with you in private, his embarrassed look never changes. you just see it more than anyone else. that's just how you were.
"okay, kyo." you chuckle, moving to the other side of the table and continuing your work.
kyoya sighs to himself, fixing his glasses and calming himself down. how could you be so... charming? and effortlessly so? is this why everyone fawned over you in a similar way to how they fawn over tamaki?
a few more minutes pass before you've found the file and managed to organise the rest of them. kyoya breathes in relief, putting the box away and silently cursing the twins out.
"thank you, kyoya." you hum out, tucking the folder under your arm, "i'll let you know what we come to."
he puts his hand on the door and before he opens it, he turns to you. "you're welcome. please do. it's the only time we ever... see you." he admits, seeing your raised brows.
your smile drops for a second before you sigh, patting his back, "i'll be sure to come and visit more often then. just for you."
when he opens the door, tamaki is trying to swoon your crowd to leave. he cheers and waves his hands, but to no avail. when they see you, they follow after.
"i apologise for extending my stay, suoh." you say, nodding at him as you stand in the exit, your crowd behind you, "i'll see you all soon."
with a wave of your hand, you leave, smiling at kyoya one last time. the twins turn to him immediately.
"so, how was your date with y/n?" they chime, leaning on his shoulders.
"it wasn't a date, you morons. you do realise how much trouble you caused." he says, a sly smile on his face, "seems like a punishment is in order."
the twins dash out of the room before he can say another word, the other members talking quietly amongst themselves about you.
but kyoya only looks down at his clipboard, once again counting the days til you come again for your monthly report.
Could I request ohshc x reader headcannons (separately) where reader is being bullied and goes to them?
OHSHC (separately) x GN Reader
💙 Hikaru 💙
When you come to him crying about being bullied, he just about snaps.
When you tell him it’s been happening for months? He almost loses his damn mind.
“What do you mean ‘months’?! Why didn’t you come to me sooner?!?” He grips at your shoulders a little to hard.
Yeah, he flips out. Not his best moment, nor is it the best reaction to be having right now.
He feels so fucking bad when your crying increases, no thanks to him, obviously.
Hikaru takes a deep breath and calms down. He starts soothing you, holding you in his arm and rubbing your back, mutter a few apologies to you.
When you finally relax and are able to tell him all the details, well… let’s just say he makes a few calls.
Unfortunately, your bully stays at Ouran. So naturally Hikaru takes things into his own hands.
He starts pulling restless pranks on your bully until they get fed up and transfer.
🤍 Tamaki 🤍
Tamaki eventually catches you crying to yourself one day in the gardens. He’s obviously worried and rushes over to you and asked what’s wrong.
All you can manage to sob out is, “I-I’m getting b-bullied…”
……
………….
He holds you tightly in a protective embrace, stroking your hair to soothe you as you cry against his chest.
He’s… quiet. Very quiet.
Tamaki waits patiently until you’re able to collect yourself. He caresses you cheek with a frown.
“My dear… Who is it? Who’s doing this to you?” His tone is low and his voice wavers as he talks.
You tell him who’s been bullying you.
He spends a few days conversing with your bully, trying to talk them in to changing their habits.
If you bully changes their ways, good. Tamaki won’t care for them, obviously, but he’s at least glad they’ve become a better person. And Tamaki will be practically glued to your side so this doesn’t happen again.
If your bully doesn’t change their ways, Tamaki will jump though hoops of several shenanigans to get them to stop and keep them away from you. If all that fails, he’ll reluctantly get his father to kick them out of the school. Ouran is no place for bullying, after all.
❤️ Haruhi ❤️
Well… that’s just not acceptable.
Haruhi, calmly, goes up to your bully and confronts them on their behaviour.
She’s unaware, but as she’s confronting them she’s roasting the hell out of them.
“I don’t know, bullying just seems like your lacking a hobby or something.” Her deadpan voice just makes the whole thing that much better.
Your bully scoffs and doesn’t let up as they continue to bully you the upcoming days.
Haruhi eventually snaps when she witnesses your bully trying to shove you into the fountain.
“Hey! Knock it off! Seriously, how childish do you have to be? Listen, clearly you have something going on in your personal life, and I’m sorry, but that’s no excuse to be taking it out on someone else. And if there isn’t anything personal going on in you life, then just screw off or else I’m telling the chairman!”
Your bully is baffled at Fujioka’s anger and backs off pretty quickly after that. Your bully even starts avoiding you in the hallways, keeping their distance. Haruhi just glares aggressively at them every time she sees them.
💗 Honey 💗
Tired from the constant bullying, you eventually spill your guts to him, bawling as you do so.
Honey is taken aback, but still obviously very concerned. And mad. Not mad at you, heavens no. Mad at your bully.
Granted, he maintains a calm composure on the outside to calm you.
He calms you by patting your head and whispering compliments to you, assuring you that the insults your bully throws at you aren’t true at all.
He offers you desserts and milk. You don’t want deserts? That’s fine, what do you want? You’re nuts if you think he won’t get you a crate of your comfort food.
The next day at school, all Honey has to do is walk up your bully, and your bully is immediately shaking.
Dude… Honey is practically a human weapon. Who wouldn’t be shitting bricks?
The glare on Honey’s face is not helping in the slightest.
Your bully is quick to run away, and transfers out of Ouran immediately.
🧡 Kaoru 🧡
Oh, sweetness… come here.
Lanky arms and legs wrap around you sloth-style.
He doesn’t know why you’re crying. He doesn’t need to know. He just knows that right now you need comfort, and he’s more than willing to give it to you.
I presses gentle kisses to your forehead and cheeks. “Shh, shh, shh… You’re okay. You can tell me anything.” He whispers.
And tell him you do.
He’s frozen for a moment.
He collects himself and goes back to comforting you, telling you how brave and strong you are, and that you should come to him sooner when you’re in trouble.
The next day, much like what Hikaru would do, Kaoru restlessly pranks your bully until they transfer out of Ouran.
Kaoru may be sweet and nice, but he’ll be damned if someone he loves is hurt and he doesn’t do anything about it.
🖤 Mori 🖤
You’re reluctant to tell him for a very long time. Mori is just so calm and tough, a-and… and you’re not. You don’t want to feel like you’re burdening him or relying on him, so… you bite your tongue and deal with it.
Mori, ever the observant one, is quick to notice your change in behaviour the past few weeks.
“Y/N.”
You startle as Mori’s deep voice breaks through the silence.
“…Yeah?” You slowly turn to face him, acting casual.
“What’s wrong.”
You don’t know how, but he managed to phrase that like it wasn’t even a question, he’s telling you to tell him what’s wrong.
You avert your gaze awkwardly and eventually spill the beans.
Mori listens intently, and when you’re done he hums and nods. He gestures you over to him and wraps a protective arm around you, rubbing your back and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.
The next day at school Mori, calmly, punches the wall next your bully and glares down at them. “…Y/N.” He says.
Your bully looks up at Mori with wide eyes, visibly shaking. “Y-Y/N?” Your bully asks, confused.
Mori nods, leaning down face to face with your bully. “Leave them alone.” He demands lowly.
Your bully scrambles a nod and hastily dashes down the hall. Your bully sure as hell never bothers you again after that.
💜 Kyoya 💜
Now, he’s quick to notice.
Although, he feels like an idiot for not noticing the first few days it started happening. But as the days went on, your facade slowly fell, and he quickly pieced everything together from there.
“…Y/N, is there anything you would like to tell me?” He asks casually, scribbling something down in his notebook, his tone implying that you will tell him something.
“…No.” You mutter.
Kyoya sigh and pushes up his glasses. “Are you certain?” He asks again, a twinge annoyed.
You fidget with your sleeves for a bit before telling him everything about the bullying.
That’s all he needed to hear. He wanted to know just how bad the bullying is from your end.
At that, your bully just ‘mysteriously’ disappears after that day.
You squint at Kyoya suspiciously after a month of your bully not being at school.
“…Did you kill them?” I ask Kyoya with wide, accusing eyes.
He huffs in frustration and places down his pen. “No. They just decided to transfer.”
To Make Peace - Blind Mag + Amber Sweet. Repo! the Genetic Opera.
Summary: Just before Blind Mag goes on stage for her last show, she decides to pay Amber a visit. Will the two finally be able to work out their differences?
Warnings: Daddy issues, talk of plucking eyes out, pretty graphic depictions of Amber's face falling off
Hey All! Happy *Belated* galantines day. I wanted to celebrate by giving my favourite girls some love. for context, this scene happens sort of during the events of 'at the opera tonight'.
As always, if you like what you see, I take requests!
Blind Mag had made her peace.
She looked across her dressing table, her fingers trailing over the clutter. letters she never sent, pictures of a life that wasn’t hers, piles of makeup that masked what she’d become. The room smelled of roses, perfume, and the faint metallic sting of the claws she had hidden beneath the papers. She had given her costume designer a special request: only she was to know about her plan.
She lifted her gaze to the mirror. The last time she might ever see herself. The last time she might see anything. Her breath hitched, chest rising and falling in a steady, deliberate rhythm, forcing herself to stay composed. Because this was it. This was the moment she stopped being his. No Theirs.
Her stomach twisted at the thought of Rotti’s reaction. He would not let this slide. He would not accept her defiance. No one walked away from him alive and she knew the price of freedom. It was more than just her sight at stake. She had seen what he did to those who disappointed him. Those who betrayed him.
But damn him.
Damn him for ever thinking he owned her, for making her a spectacle, for forcing her into making her a bird in a cage and calling it a stage. For every time he had smiled as he reminded her that her eyes belonged to him, that she belonged to him.
Not anymore.
She exhaled sharply, hands curling into fists. The fear clawed at her, but beneath it, something stronger burned. Hatred. Hatred for the years she had wasted, for the strings he had pulled, for the choices he had stolen. But even as the rage boiled, there was a strange stillness within her.
She had made her peace.
Let Rotti come. Let him try to take what was his.
She would not make it easy.
-
Amber had not made peace.
She wobbled down the corridor, gripping the wall for support, her heels clicking unevenly against the polished floor. The opera house was alive with movement! stagehands rushing, lights being tested, distant voices calling cues, but all of it felt like static in her ears. Her pulse pounded louder than the chatter, her breath came in short, panicked bursts.
She shoved open the door to her dressing room, slamming it shut behind her. Safe. For now. But not for long. Graverobber would be here any minute, and then- Then she could be Amber Sweet, Amber Fucking Sweet, the woman she was supposed to be. She hated this part. The moment before stepping on stage, before the lights blinded her, Before She was swept away by her song. Her anticipation clawed at her throat, made her feel like she was drowning in a sea of judgmental stares.
Daddy’s stares were the worst.
She could still hear his voice in her head, sharp as a scalpel, slicing through her confidence. He had never outright said she was a disappointment but he didn’t have to. His eyes had always done the talking. The way they lingered on Mag, full of admiration, full of pride. And the way they skimmed over Amber like she was nothing.
Her stomach twisted. That ‘Blind Hag’ was finally doing her last show. Finally leaving, going wherever washed-up opera singers went. Maybe her father would kill her! Amber wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t sure she cared. Either way, Mag would be gone, and she would take her place.
She would finally be able to sing. She would finally be the star.
But what if they laughed at her? What if they saw through the confidence, the carefully sculpted face, the designer body? What if they saw the shaking, pathetic little girl underneath?
No. It would be fine. It had to be fine.
Soon, Graverobber would be here with the Zydrate, and then it wouldn’t matter. Then she wouldn’t feel the fear, wouldn’t feel anything at all. It wasn’t exactly healthy, but it made her who she was. It made her Amber Sweet, the woman who was supposed to be on that stage.
Then she saw it.
Amber choked back a shriek, her breath catching in her throat like barbed wire. ‘No. No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.’
She stumbled forward, nearly tripping over her own heels as she lunged toward the vanity mirror. The harsh, unflattering bulbs cast her reflection in a sickly glow, illuminating every inch of the horror unfolding on her face.
Her fingers trembled as she touched her Forehead. The skin there was… loose. It shifted under her fingertips like wet silk, unnatural, wrong. A sticky warmth oozed from the seam along her hairline, thick and dark, sliding down the top part of her in sluggish, glistening like wet leather.
That fucking surgeon.
He had been rushing. She knew he had been rushing. He always did, always cut corners when he thought she wouldn’t notice, when he thought she was too drugged-up to care, because “She’s always too drugged up to care.” But now? Now her face: her perfect, expensive, Daddy-paid-a-fortune-for-it face, was coming apart at the seams.
Amber let out a strangled whimper as she pressed her palm flat against her forehead, trying to hold it together. But the moment she did, she felt something shift beneath her skin. A horrible, wet squelch. Then—
It slid down entirely.
She was melting.
Amber’s chest heaved in frantic, shuddering sobs as she gripped the edge of the vanity, her nails digging into the wood so hard they splintered. The scent of iron, of raw meat, of something rotting filled her nostrils. Her vision blurred, tears streaking down her face.
Amber had not made peace.
-
A knock on the door.
Amber straightened up so fast she nearly lost her balance, Her head snapped toward the door, heart hammering in her chest.
“Who is it?” she snapped, voice sharp, strained, barely holding together.
Silence.
Her breath hitched. A second too long. A hesitation. She could almost hear her own blood dripping onto the vanity.
“It’s Mag.”
Amber’s stomach twisted.
The voice was soft, muffled through the heavy door, but there was no mistaking it. Mag. Of all people.
More silence.
Mag tried again. “Can I come in, please? I just want to talk.”
Talk? Since when did they talk?
Amber clenched her fists, her nails digging into the sticky flesh of her palms. The last time Mag had spoken to her—really spoken to her—had been years ago. No, they didn’t talk.
Mag just pitied her. Gave her hollow Care. Acted like she was something fragile, something that needed saving. She was not!
Amber swallowed the rising bile in her throat. Maybe she wanted to offer fucking necklace or something.
But she couldn’t let her see her. Not like this. Not when she looked like an over ripened fruit.
“Uh, no?” she yelled back, forcing her voice into something that sounded dismissive, casual. But there was a waver in it, an unmistakable shake. She clenched her jaw.
“Amber, please. Can we not fight today? Of all days?”
Amber closed her eyes.
Today.
Mag’s last show.
Tonight, she would be gone, one way or another. Maybe she’d leave quietly. Maybe Rotti would make her leave. But either way, this was it.
Amber sucked in a shaky breath. If anyone could understand this… Predicament, it was probably Mag.
“Hold on,” she muttered. “I’m coming.”
Her legs wobbled as she made her way to the door, blood squelching wetly between her fingers as she pressed a hand against her forehead, trying to keep the rest of it up. She hesitated for just a second before unlocking it.
The door swung open.
And there she was.
Blind Mag, in all her fucking glory, draped in black feathers, looking like some kind of gothic angel, or maybe a prize pheasant, Amber wasn’t sure.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Mag’s gaze, those eerie, engineered eyes, fell on her ruined face.
Amber barely had time to flinch before Mag’s expression cracked.
“Amber!”
Her voice was full of something that Amber wasn’t used to. Not disgust, not amusement, not smug superiority she had come to expect from the rest of her family.
Just… concern.
Amber barely had time to react before Mag was suddenly in front of her, her hands reaching, careful but firm, fingers ghosting over the gash in her forehead. She didn’t flinch at the blood, at the torn, sagging skin, at the horror show of Amber’s reflection.
Amber swallowed past the lump in her throat, willing herself not to cry again. But it was too much. The humiliation, the exhaustion, the raw, festering hatred that she had carried for years, all bubbling under the surface.
“Daddy’s surgeon fucked up my face,” she choked out, voice thick. “I’m going on in less than thirty minutes, and I look like a walking horror film.”
And then…she broke.
The sobs came out in gasping, hiccuping bursts, her body shaking under the weight of it all.
She expected Mag to pull away. To leave her there, to let her collapse into the mess she had become. But instead—
“Oh, Amber.”
Mag’s voice was barely more than a whisper as she wrapped an arm around her, guiding her toward the vanity. Amber didn’t have the strength to resist.
She sank into the chair, letting Mag’s hands on her. Warm, steady, nothing like the cold precision of GeneCo’s surgeons, tilt her face toward the light.
“Nothing is as bad as you think,” Mag murmured, reaching into the folds of her feathered costume. “Here. I have a way to help.”
-
Mag reached into her pocket and pulled out a small tub of what looked like… Dermabond?
“I stole this from one of the surgeons the last time I had my teeth done,” she said casually, scooping a small dollop onto her fingertip.
Amber blinked. “You’ve had your teeth done?”
“Yes, twice.” Mag’s voice was even, as if it were nothing remarkable.
She stepped closer, placing a gentle but firm hand on Amber’s shoulder. Her touch was warm, steady, almost comforting. Carefully, she ran the adhesive down Amber’s hairline.
Amber flinched, hissing in pain.
“Sorry, sorry,” Mag murmured, her voice. “It’ll only sting for a moment.”
Amber swallowed, blinking rapidly. A question tumbled from her lips before she could stop it. “Why are you being so nice to me?” She searched Mag’s face. “I’ve been awful to you.”
Mag sighed, her expression softening. “I never wanted to take what you loved from you.” Her voice was quiet, almost distant. “It was just… complicated.”
Amber furrowed her brows. “I don’t understand.”
Mag hesitated. She considered telling Amber everything: the contract, Marni, the years of sacrifice, but what good would it do? Instead, she simply smiled, resting a hand against Amber’s cheek.
“You’re beautiful, Amber. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Not your brothers, not your father, and especially not that disgusting-smelling goth punk you spend your time with.”
Amber’s lips parted in surprise. “He doesn’t,” she said, as if trying to convince herself.
She found herself studying Mag more closely. There was no cruelty in her words, no deception, just honesty Pure Honesty. Perhaps Mag wasn’t so bad after all. Perhaps, after her final show, they could be friends. Mag could even give her singing pointers. Maybe they could sing together one day.
That would be nice.
Mag pressed a gentle hand to Amber’s forehead, inspecting her work. “There. That should hold for now.” She wagged a finger playfully. “And don’t touch your face.”
Amber lowered her gaze, something tight forming in her chest. “Thank you.”
Mag’s smile was soft, maternal. “You’re welcome.” With a fluid, graceful motion, she rose to her feet. “I’ll leave you to get ready for your big moment.”
Amber hesitated. “Wait… What were you going to say? Before you fixed my face?”
Mag looked at her for a long moment. There were so many things she could say. So many things she wanted to say.
Instead, she just smiled.
“Just… good luck out there.” Her voice was warm, tinged with something Amber couldn’t quite place. “You’re going to give them one hell of a show.”
A mischievous chuckle escaped her lips, but there was something else beneath it…something heavier. Amber didn’t notice. Not yet.
As Mag turned to leave, she felt something small and fragile wrap around her. Amber.
For a second, Mag froze. Then, slowly, she turned, enveloping the girl in a proper embrace.
Perhaps she would miss her the most
She lingered for just a moment longer, then pulled away, offering Amber one last smile before stepping toward the door.
Amber smiled back.
And as Mag strode toward her fate, deep down she knew.
— repo! the genetic opera + girl at a window, aristotle with a bust of homer, slaughtered ox, christ appearing to mary magdalene, danaë, the stoning of saint stephen, and a weeping woman
