#want them so utterly obsessed with me that they’re keeling over at the thought of my.. discharge
Note
I would love to see a Kyoya x Renge fanfic where Kyoya nonchalantly flirts with Renge and her not taking it seriously, thinking that he's just playing a character to get on her nerves until he admits that he does like her like that and she freaks out? I think this pairing has a lot of potential that isn't really explored in the Ouran fandom and I do think there's a possibility of Renge falling for Kyoya for himself and not as a living trope and Kyoya having interest in Renge for her quirkiness.
Hello, Anon! Thank you for your patience! :3 I love the idea of Kyoya and Renge; I really would’ve loved to have seen their relationship fleshed out more in the manga. I hope you enjoy this little story! ^u^
Shortbread Cookies
The silver platter of shortbread cookies rattled slightly in Renge's hands as she bumped the door to the retrofitted music room open with her hip. Balancing the try on the splayed palm of one hand, she waved jovially to the myriad of students and hosts lounging on the expensive sofas and armchairs.
"Hello, everyone! I brought shortbread cookies! <3" she announced ecstatically. During her time as the host club's manager, she had been practicing a multitude of skills, including baking. This was the first time that she'd delivered batches to the host club while it was in session, but seeing as the handful of first-year boys she'd cornered as guinea pigs didn't keel over foaming at the mouth, Renge was confident in her improvement. Humming happily, she traipsed over to one of the coffee tables and set the platter of cookies down. A few of the guests wandered over, curious, and sampled her flower-shaped handiwork.
"Ah, Renge, these are delicious!" a younger girl with a bob cut exclaimed after munching on one of the buttery cookies. Renge cooed shyly and clapped her hands to her pinkening cheeks, but secretly relished the compliment. The air around her rang with similar praises, making her wiggle her hips around in delight.
"Thank you; thank you!" Renge sighed magnanimously. "I am glad my labor of love is so well-received…" Renge’s pleased smile fixed on her face as someone suddenly came up behind her. They gently gripped her upper left arm with one hand, while the other stretched beyond her to retrieve one of the shortbread cookies. With a startled squeak, she whipped her head around to see Kyoya daintily bite off the end of the cookie.
“You’ve improved,” he remarked placidly. A pink hue rose to Renge’s cheeks, surprised at his sudden appearance and interest in her handiwork. Renge then pouted dourly at him, narrowing her eyes as she watched him finish the cookie with far too much vainglory.
“You shouldn’t tease me, Kyoya,” she huffed as she leaned down to retrieve the tray of cookies. It made her blush a little, because he was standing much too close for comfort. Her hip bumped against his as she bent over. He regarded her with lidded eyes as she straightened up and puffed out her cheeks exasperatedly. He must be teasing because he never complimented her, not without mischievous intent.
“Who said I was teasing?” he countered smoothly, plucking another cookie from the tray as she stomped off. Renge’s cheeks burned with anger and mortification; how could he tease her and look so damn sexy doing it? Mitsuki yelped when she slammed the tray down in front of him, but soon recovered to dive into the sweets with zeal. Renge flopped down on the sofa and crossed her arms vexedly. Renge had, of course, come to separate Kyoya and the otome character she’d fallen madly in love with, but Kyoya still derided her endlessly with honeyed words and false flirtations. She peered out of her periphery to find him reclining over the back of a couch, chewing on the shortbread cookie and smirking insolently. Renge’s cheeks flushed, and she tore her gaze away, furious at the heat that pompous grin alighted in her body.
I don’t know how anyone can fancy that jerk! she thought haughtily, flinching at the airy giggles of the girls who gaggle around Kyoya to fawn over the bespectacled boy. She grabbed one of her cookies and shoved the whole thing in her mouth, chewing angrily to dissipate her ire. “Handsome devil,” indeed. Pouting, she sunk against the back of the couch, wishing the fluffy fabric would just swallow her up and save her from Kyoya’s persistent, heady gaze.
Her irritation melted after enjoying some tea with Mitskuni. The childish third-year scampered off to treat some more patrons, so Renge remained on the couch, sipping at the scrumptious Earl Gray swirling in the lavender-patterned teacup. She hummed contentedly at the smooth warmth spreading over her tongue and closed her eyes to savor the bodied tea. She cracked an eye open when the couch dipped beside her, and her serene smile disfigured into a scowl.
“Kyoya,” she clipped tersely. He smiled amusedly at her while he poured himself a cup from the last dregs of the teapot.
“That’s not the type of expression that’s becoming of a lady,” he said with a slight jerk of his eyebrow. Renge curled her lips down to scowl so hard her pink gums flashed at him. Kyoya chuckled animatedly and threw his arm back around the back of the couch, regally sipping from his teacup using the other. “Why are you so irate? My compliment earlier was genuine.” Renge poked out her lips and stared critically at the dark-haired boy.
“Really?” When he nodded, she relaxed a little bit. So he really liked them, she thought with a teeny smile. Kyoya flashed her that devilish smile that seemed kind but masked his inner devious nature, but Renge entertained the idea that he was actually pleased with her progress. “I’ve been practicing…”
“Indeed. They’re a hit with the guests.” Renge’s silver platter was now emptied, with only a few small crumbs decorating the mirror-like surface. Most of the guests had left, for the deeper end of the afternoon was steadily creeping in. Still, a few small groups clustered around conversing amiably about Renge’s cookies, which made her squirm victoriously on the sofa. “You’ll have to bring them again sometime, Renge.” The girl squinted as she once again regarded him suspiciously. “What?” he chuckled, seeming slighted.
“You’re teasing me again.”
“Am I now?” he smirked with glittering, lidded eyes. Renge puffed out her cheeks at him at his facetious answer. She immediately released the air when he unabashedly scooched closer to her, setting the teacup down on the table though it was still half-full. She chuckled nervously when he pushed a swathe of her honey-brown hair behind her ear, his fingertips just barely caressing the reddening skin of her cheeks. Renge had been sitting close to the arm of the couch, so when he placed his hand firmly on the armature, Kyoya caged her in with his long, tall form. “That’s news to me.”
“Y-you’re doing it right now, Kyoya,” she whined loudly. “It’s been months since I came here; I’m not still hanging around because I think you’re some dating simulator character, okay? I like being here! So please stop antagonizing me over my silly mistake,” she pleaded. Renge knew that her obsession had been foolish, and she’d paid for it with humiliation and humility. No one else thought she still needed to be punished for it, so why did Kyoya chaff her so? It even made her a little sad, because out of everyone, she strongly desired Kyoya’s approval, as the one she’d pointed her misguided affections to. She bit down on her bottom lip as it threatened to wobble. “I’m sorry for how I treated you before; don’t you get that?”
“Of course I do.” His eyes widened with surprise, and Renge’s followed suit. “You really don’t think this is about that, do you?” Renge rubbed her sweaty palms against the yellow fabric of her uniform dress.
“I don’t know,” she answered timorously, looking unsurely down at her slightly quivering hands. “I guess… Even though what I want more than anything is your validation… It’s hard to imagine you’d ever really like me after the stunt I pulled,” she admitted quietly. The adapted music room had emptied, leaving Kyoya and Renge alone. Perhaps the other hosts had read the room (or, more likely, Haruhi had and ushered them out) because they’d disappeared into the adjacent rooms. When Renge became aware of the fact, a prickling flush swept over her body and made all her hairs stand on end- but not in a frightened way… more in an excited one. Kyoya smiled roguishly and grasped her hand to bring it to his mouth for a light, delicate, princely kiss that contrasted his knavish manner.
“I’ve found that I quite appreciate your idiosyncrasies, Renge. Believe me when I say that my dalliance is quite heartfelt. I don’t have any ulterior motives, aside from winning your favor, of course.” Renge smiled stupidly as her brain struggled to unravel the essential point behind Kyoya’s flowery words. A pink flush slowly crept up from her neck until her entire face glowed the color of fresh carnations.
“K-K-Kyoya?” she squealed in alarm, flapping her free arm wildly against the back of the sofa. “Are you saying-? Are you saying-?” The notion was so utterly ludicrous that Renge just couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Kyoya grinned wickedly, his eyes glittering like chips of onyx behind his glasses.
“How about I take you on a date tomorrow evening?”
With a squeal, she flopped back against the arm of the couch, nearly losing consciousness. Her head whirled, spinning the music room around her, and she desperately fanned her burning hot face to stave off slipping entirely into the darkness. She could practically hear the steam billowing from her ears as her brain overheated and spun into overdrive. She stared hazily at the white ceiling, until Kyoya leaned over her, pressing her body between his knees. “Renge? Do I need to call an ambulance?” he inquired gravely. The stunned girl managed to shake her head.
“N-no, I’m all right… O-oh, my heart is beating so fast!” Renge wheezed when she put a hand on her breast and found her heart palpitating so violently it was liable to break her ribs. Kyoya’s knavish smirk returned.
“I’ll pick you up at seven?”
“Th-that’s acceptable.” He patted her cheek before disappearing from her line of sight. She lamented the loss of his weight on the couch when she felt the cushions shift back into place with his departure. Renge laid the back of her hand against her forehead, feeling the heat slowly drain from her face. She then exclaimed delightedly and flailed about like a flopping fish, simply so overcome with happiness that she couldn’t contain herself. She hopped up and grabbed her cookie platter, clutching it to her chest as she rushed out of the music room.
I wonder if he’d appreciate it if I brought him more shortbread cookies? I’ll make some! Lots and lots! With a skip in her step, she headed down the hallway, daydreaming about the wonderful evening yet to come…
Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!
Tag List: @deliathedork
#kyorenge#kyoya x renge#renge x kyoya#kyoya ootori#ootori kyoya#renge houshakuji#houshakuji renge#ohshc#ouran high school host club#ohshc fanfic#ohshc fanfiction
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The Adventures of Sir Timothy Drake
For @curdleddoodle, who drew such wonderful things for Masquerade and To Rise Above. We both have an obsession with dragons, so here’s another take on it, in a whole new world where Tim finds himself in a rather unusual predicament...
~*~*~
Chapter One: The Unconventional Proposal
Sir Timothy Drake did not sign up for this. In fact, he never wanted to be a knight in the first place. But his mother insisted and what his mother wanted, she got, even if her son was woefully ill suited for it. He tried, he really did, and Sir Richard did his best to train him in ways that played to his strengths, but when it came down to it, Tim was not suited to be a typical knight.
Full plate armor just looked completely and utterly ridiculous on him. He could barely move under the added weight so he tried chainmail and had some success there. It wasn’t that Tim was tiny, it was just that he was built lean; even years at working with swords and other weapons of war, he could still be overcome by sheer brute force.
Except this was where his own talents came into play. Thanks to Dick’s training, he was fast, agile, and there was no one in the land who could beat him when there was a quarter staff within reach.
It still wasn’t enough for Lord and Lady Drake. Their son needed to be the perfect heir, skilled in the art of war, as well as diplomacy and strategy. The fact he’d rather be outdoors or in his stillroom didn’t matter to them. Or his workroom. He had hobbies and passions that were quite different from what was expected for the son of a noble house.
So this was how he found himself in this situation, riding his mighty steed (an extremely smart mare he named Robin, much to Dick’s delight) towards what he was certain would be a quick death. A dragon. His parents wanted him to slay a dragon and prove his worth as their heir.
As though they had other heirs laying around, ready to pick up and dust off.
Tim shook his head for the umpteenth time. It didn’t get any easier to stomach the thought. He was positive this was his mother’s revenge for Dick hiring the foreign Lady Shiva to secretly teach him all those years ago. Her anger burned cold and long, much like his was bound to do if he ever made it out of this alive.
He already had plans to leave his horse miles from the dragon’s cave was purported to be. At least one of them would survive.
That night, Tim sat before his campfire, eating what he’d started thinking of as his last supper. There were worse things than rabbit, he decided. When he was done, he reached into his saddlebags to take out his journal, a pen, and an ink jar to jot down his final thoughts. Writing helped clear his head as it was often the only way he could express himself properly. Perhaps some poor soul will find it one day and spare a thought for the deceased.
He settled against his saddle, angling himself so that the light from the fire illuminated the pages. His journal contained equal parts musings and observations, as well as ideas and diagrams for things he’d now never get a chance to try and build. It was pissing him off to the point where he couldn’t write. He threw he pen down onto the matted grass by his fire. The snap and hiss of crackling wood did nothing to help his mood, reminding him yet again that he was here in this dark forest about to meet his doom.
“Do my parents honestly think I’m coming home?” he muttered rhetorically as he flipped through his book. “Seriously, a dragon. It’s not like people come home after a confrontation with one.”
“I’ll say. Sounds like they’re a bit touched in the head.” The voice came out of nowhere and Tim jerked up, dropping his journal and reaching for his staff.
“Who’s there?” he barked.
The voice snorted in amusement and for a brief moment, the scent of brimstone overpowered the curling smoke of the fire. A man strode out of the darkness, toeing the ring of light cast from the campfire. Tim stood his ground, cautious as it was readily apparent he wasn’t dealing with a bandit or some other hooligan. For one, they wouldn’t be so well dressed, a black leather jacket paneled by red, trailing down over strong legs and finely crafted boots. The man wasn’t visibly armed, but he didn’t need to be in order to be dangerous. But it was his eyes that Tim couldn’t stop staring at. Such an incredible shade of blue, vibrant like a sapphire, and one that he shouldn’t be able to see this clearly in the shadows.
They were glowing with their own inner light.
“What are you?” Tim amended his original question.
“Just passing through and saw your fire,” the man replied with a roguish smirk and blatantly ignoring Tim’s second question. “It’s rare to see anyone in these parts. There’s a dragon not too far from here. People tend to stay away.”
Tim sighed, unable to stop himself. “I know. I’m not too keen on throwing my life away trying to battle it either.”
The man cocked his head to the side, never once blinking as he stared at him over the fire. “Then why are you here?”
That was a question Tim’s been asking himself for the better part of two weeks now. None of the answers he’d come up with are at all satisfying. “Family duty, I suppose. I’m the only heir of a small duchy, and my parents seem to believe that if their son becomes a dragonslayer, then a beneficial marriage offer will finally come their way.” He made a face at that, clearly expressing his thoughts on that matter.
“Bitter much?”
Tim can’t help the dark laughter that rises from the pit of his own internal despair. “You could say that. I have my own dreams to achieve and going off on a pointless quest isn’t one of them.”
The man’s laugh matched his and he took a step closer to the fire. The light struck his face, revealing chiseled features and a strong jaw that made Tim purposefully lock his knees to keep them from shaking. The only other man he’d ever seen who could even come close to being this handsome was Sir Richard and he refused to make an ass out of himself by falling on his face. Even though this person couldn’t possibly be human because normal eyes didn’t glow or have slits down the center for pupils. Inky black hair fell in disheveled waves over his forehead.
He tightened the grip on his staff, even as he wondered what kind of a chance he stood against whatever this person was. Tim was considered well read and knew the characteristics of all the races that lived in this world, even if he’d only ever met elves and dwarves on occasion when he traveled outside the duchy with Dick on his parent’s business. He’d even met a halfling once, and laughed all night while she cheated outrageously at cards.
But none of their eyes glowed like this. None of them had the hint of curled horns rising out of their hair either.
“Then let me ask a different question then,” the man stated. “If you’re so sure you’re gonna die, then why bother? You could use this chance to do whatever you want, go wherever, and not ever have to worry about what your parents think again.”
It’s something Tim has thought of too. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about that either,” he replied. “But it all comes down to duty. I’ve spent all my life trying to make my parents happy and perhaps this will finally be the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.”
“That’s all well and good, but what about the dragon? He didn’t come lookin’ for a fight. Maybe he’s just tryin’ to do his own thing too, living his own life.” His hand shifted, adjusting a strap on his shoulder and Tim realized the man was carrying a rather large bundle on his back. He also brought up a really good point.
“I never thought of it that way,” he admitted. “My home is sorely lacking in dragon lore, so I’m not even certain how intelligent they are. Do you know then? Since you seem to live around here.”
The man’s lips twisted up into grin, the sharp points of very white canines catching the light of the fire. “I can assure you, the dragon is very intelligent. Much more than puny humans.”
Tim’s hands were starting to ache from the tight grip on his staff, so he consciously loosened them. “Look, I don’t know who you are, or what you are, but you don’t seem like you want to kill me, so sit down and take a load off. That bag looks heavy.” He pointedly sat down on the ground, even though he kept his staff close.
His actions seemed to surprise the man as he again cocked his head to the side to stare at him curiously, like Tim was the fascinating and new creature to study. After a moment, he set a very bulky and heavy looking bag down and sat next to it.
Tim picked up a stick and poked at the coals, causing them to crackle and pop before they settled down again. This whole situation was feeling a bit surreal. It wasn’t like him to be so open in front of a complete stranger, let alone one who looked like a cross between a demon and an elf. There were butterflies in his stomach, and not just because of his upcoming face-off with a dragon. He sighed and caught the man’s eyes again. “I don’t normally do this,” he offered. “I’m just…nervous I guess. I’ve been in life and death situations before, don’t get me wrong, but this time…it just seems so pointless. At least the other times were in defense of my home and my people.”
The man nodded in agreement. “Your parents are a real piece of work, aren’t they?”
“Understatement.” Tim reached over to his saddlebags and pulled out a flagon of wine he’d picked up in the last town he’d visited. He took a sip and handed it to the man. “Here,” he said. “I was going to drink to my health tonight, but it seems rather silly now.”
“What are you gonna do if you don’t die tomorrow?” the man asked, accepting the wine and taking a sip of his own.
“Probably keel over from the shock of it.” No matter how Tim looked at it, he was going to be dead by tomorrow evening. “It’s nice of you to think positively, but come on. It’s a dragon. And I’m not exactly the knight in shining armor from the stories.” He gestured deprecatingly at himself.
The man’s eyes glowed even more brightly as he raked them up and down Tim’s lean frame. “No, you’re not,” he agreed after a long moment. “The stories are overrated anyway. So what are your plans for attacking a dragon?”
Tim shook his head, swallowing down the wave of despair that washed over him at the question. “I’ve no idea. Just wingin’ it, I guess.”
“Now there’s a plan.” The man winked at him, took another sip of wine, and handed the flagon back to Tim. The nails on his hand were dark and long like the ladies in his mother’s court could only dream of.
“Tell me about it.” Tim swallowed down a large mouthful of the fruity wine. It tasted more like juice than fermented grapes, but who was he to judge at this point in time? Still, he would have liked to be at least a little muddle headed when he finally passed out. Or not, it was his last night on earth after all. A bed companion would be nice, but he was pretty certain the man across his small fire was more than he wanted to tango with tonight.
But what a way to go.
“Seriously though, the dragon is smart,” the man spoke. “And you don’t seem like a complete dummy either. Misguided perhaps, but that’s typical of humans, I’ve noticed.”
“Definitely a character flaw,” Tim agreed, wondering yet again exactly what this man was. His horns were more pronounced in the light, black like his hair. They curled back and away from his face, almost like he was wearing a horned helm. But his dark locks gleamed in the firelight, dispelling that idea. “I’m not dumb either, although my current situation certainly makes it seem otherwise.”
“I saw a book earlier…” the man sounded curious.
Tim picked up his journal, the stiff leather cover starting to crack from use and age. He’s refilled the pages so many times, but the simple brown leather protecting them was of his own design. “My journal,” he explained. “I write a little, but it’s mostly sketches and diagrams of things I find interesting.”
“May I?” the man asked. “I’m a bit of a collector.” He purposefully elbowed his bag.
“Why not?” Tim huffed and scooted a little closer, not wanting to risk dropping the book in the hot coals. “It’s not like I’m going to need it after tonight.”
“Now that’s a fatalistic attitude, Sir Knight,” the man replied, accepting the book and delicately opening the pages to flip through them. His eyes widened in surprise. “You have a thing for birds, I see.”
Tim shrugged, used to that sort of reaction. “More like flight,” he said. “The idea behind it, what all allows a bird to take wing, and can it be replicated by humans.” This version of his journal was full of different birds, his observations on how they fly, and diagrams of their wings and tail feathers. “I don’t get a lot of time to myself at home, but my father loves falconry, so I often used hunting with him as an excuse to study the hawks and the falcons he keeps.”
“Birds of prey,” the man nodded in approval. “Built for speed, but also strength. But their wings and their bodies have evolved for life in the sky. Just how do you think you can beat evolution?”
It was something Tim had thought quite extensively about. “Keep going.”
The man quirked a dark brow at him, but did as he was asked. He stopped turning pages at one point and just stared before flipping to the next page and the next, much slower than he had before. It was readily apparent he was reading Tim’s notes and, if his slow nod was any indication, approving of them. It warmed his heart to finally meet someone who understood where his brain took him. Dick tried, he really did, but for all that the man was the first to throw himself into the air to fly on the trapeze his parents didn’t know was in their training yard, he never quite followed what Tim tried to explain time and again.
When he reached the end of the journal, the man closed it tight and stared fiercely at Tim from over the dying fire. “You are completely wasted on your parents. This brain of yours is a thing to be treasured, to be kept and used for the betterment of the world. What do I have to do to convince you not to waste your life fighting a dragon tomorrow?”
Tim ducked his head and chuckled weakly. “That’s awfully nice of you to say,” he said quietly. “But at this point, unless I come home married to some fantastically rich princess who can buy my parent’s love and affection, I may as well not come back at all.”
“Then don’t go back,” the man replied heatedly, rising to his knees to gaze down at Tim. “Stay here. The things I can show you, teach you…”
It was tempting, so tempting, and Tim couldn’t help but wet his lips at the thought of freedom from his parent’s rule, to be his own man, and travel the world, learning all there was to know and seeing all there was to see. But how could he do that when he was responsible for so much at home? With his parent’s travels, he was the one who ran the duchy in their absence, and doing a much better job of it than they ever did. There were people who depended on him and if he did manage to return home after his battle tomorrow, then perhaps he’d finally have the courage to oust his parents and send them off to somewhere they wouldn’t bother him anymore.
“I’m sorry,” he spoke, refusing to look away from the intensely beautiful glowing blue orbs hovering above him. At some point, the man had moved from around the fire and was on his knees right next to him. “I have responsibilities and people I care for, and while my parents may not care for my life, I have to at least try for all of them.”
“You said coming home married to someone loaded would buy them off, right?” The man’s eyes blazed as they bored into Tim’s own pale blue ones.
“I was half-joking,” he tried, but the man raised a dark nailed finger and pressed it against his lips.
“But you were half-serious too.”
Tim huffed a laugh because this was starting to get ridiculous. He brushed the hand aside, noting how warm the skin was. “Are you trying to tell me that you’d marry me just to save my life?”
“Yes,” the man breathed. “You humans have such a short life span, so it wouldn’t be much of a chore. But given the chance, I think you could do more with your life than most do.”
“This is the strangest marriage proposal I’ve ever had,” Tim replied, his lips twisting into a half smirk of his own. “We’ve just met. I don’t know who or what you even are.”
Blue eyes brightened in apparent amusement as the man rocked back on his heels. Even seated as they are, he still loomed over Tim. “You may call me Jason,” he said, grinning toothily. “I’m the dragon you were sent to kill.”
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