Lavender Roses {K . Ootori x Reader}

The Sun, The Sea, and The Host Club!

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: 33.9k (she extra, extra long just for you)

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.

legend:

(M/n) - mother's name(n/l) - native language(s/c) - skin color

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Silence was so underrated.

Before the host club, you thought of yourself as a sole extrovert. At the wish of your mother, you did everything you could to make solid connections with the kids in your year, flapping your wings from friend group to friend group, thinking that social fulfillment was a simple blueprint of friends, tons of conversation, and no alone time.

But then you would come home, and the minute you stepped in your room, your energy would deflate like the school bag next to your desk, setting it down with a thud!.

The comforter on your bed would dip, giving way invitingly as you sprawled across the duvet. It would hug your figure, caressing every tired muscle and massaging every sense that might've been overstimulated. Familiar air would flow through your nose and into your lungs, and you could finally just sit in the silence.

Your stomach would dip in guilt, even as you selfishly indulged in the absence of sound; of people. The people in your school were nice, polite, and didn't necessarily do anything for you to not want to be around them. It's just that there was no connection. No undeniable force that pulled you to them, no little ball of light in your stomach after spending time with them. Maybe a business connection was made, but no connection of personality, of soul.

There was a connection, however, with the silence. With your parent's interesting habit of constant travel, you learned to respect your own thoughts and instincts, and they became a reliable companion in your never-ending search for genuine companionship. Maybe a few had made their way past your standards, like the boy you kissed under the tree, or maybe a student who sometimes traded her lunch for yours.

But the silence was really your friend.

You didn't realize how much you could fully enjoy it until you met the Host Club. Until you met Kyoya.

Because now, you had someone to enjoy it with.

On the same duvet, you laid on your stomach, casual lounge wear draping over your body like a soft breeze, comforting and refreshing compared to the uniform you were forced to adorn. Knees bent, your ankles crossed in the air above you as you flipped a page in your textbook, highlighting the most important sentence in the paragraph with a bright yellow highlighter before switching to a new color for secondary information. Your head rested in your hand as the other threaded the blue highlighter through your fingers, the sound of plastic clicking against the rings on your finger adding to the sound of typing and the occasional sigh.