A/N – Hullo there. The message that used to be here was for Wattpad because I post there too and I couldn't be bothered with the whole introduction thing here. It basically points out that my OC has severe social anxiety which causes a stutter and slight slurring of her words. It's nothing too major. She's also a very quiet girl but I refused to constantly say "she whispered" or "she said quietly"

Chapter 1 – Wealthy is Only a Status for Those Who Have to Get Married

Pressure slowly built up in my chest under the intense glares. I could already feel the disbelief radiating off the boys like extra strong cologne and I swiftly shuffled further away – not that I wasn't already standing on the far side of the room.

I gulped down saliva that I hadn't realised was building up in my mouth and I averted my stare to random objects situated around the room. Tables and chairs set up in an orderly fashion about the room simply longed for contact, the plain tablecloths, empty plates, cutlery, and napkins somehow looking lonely and abandoned.

Off to one side – I hadn't glanced over for long enough to get a decent look – was a large double door that led off to another room and beside that was a couch that looked identical to the one the posing boys were seated upon.

All around the room were tall, beautifully cared for pot plants and other little decorations to make the unnecessarily large room a comelier place. Although, despite the efforts made, it couldn't have been any less uncomfortable for me.

When my mother had insisted that I visit my fiancé's place of education, I had expected something much less criticising of my status. My public high school junior uniform seemed like rags compared to the lavish satin cushions and neatly stitched uniforms (although, the girls' banana-coloured dress wasn't something I particularly drooled over).

My fingertips, out of nervous habit, were clenched tightly between my teeth, my just recently manicured nails snapping off with a noisy crack.

"I thought I told you to stop biting your nails," demanded a smooth voice in my ear. I jumped, startled at the sudden appearance of my fiancé behind me, and gripped my wrist with my other hand, forcing it away from my mouth.

"Good girl," he gently whispered, although I could tell that he didn't care either way if I made him look good.

One of the others started to approach, the thuds of their polished shoes on the gleaming tiled floor growing louder as they neared. Something was said but I neither cared nor paid it any attention, my focus was solely on controlling my slightly heavy breathing.

A shadow towered over me, making me feel so infinitesimal in comparison. I shrank myself even smaller, hunching my shoulders and hugging my arms close to my stomach. It was at this moment I wish I could become invisible – it was all too much to cope with.

"Kyoya…" I managed to choke out in a soft whisper, alerting my fiancé of my struggle and his arm, albeit without kindness, draped itself over my shoulders and tugged me back into his chest.

Looking up at the tall shadow, I saw light blond hair arranged beautifully on his head.

"So, you're the Shadow King's fiancé." His voice was naturally charming and his bright eyes a deep shade of purple. He had a wide smirk that reached his ears – it almost literally screamed: "My ego is through the atmosphere."

Kyoya's grip dropped from my shoulder. "Why must you insist on calling me the Shadow King?" he growled, visibly striking a cord in Tamaki, whose cheerful mood was instantly replaced with pitiful sadness.

A hand kindly gripped my chin and my stomach flipped inside out, those long fingers coaxing me to stare into the eyes of the tall stranger, rather than my own reflection on the floor; seriously, they polished that floor way too much.

My weight felt suddenly immense and my knees, turned in awkwardly like a young child waiting urgently to use the toilet, began to shake, on the verge of collapsing under me. There was a loud pounding of a hammer knocking on wood and it took me a moment that it was my own heartbeat, deafening the sounds of reality around me.

As breathing became difficult – in short, quick gasps but never seeming to reach my desperate lungs. My face, surely, was beginning to turn purple (or at least it felt that way) and a loud voice, whom I recognised as Kyoya's, shouted, "Enough!"

"You know, we never thought Kyoya would fall for a commoner," piped up two identical sounding voices after I managed to calm down. I glanced over – back at the couch behind Tamaki, who still stood in front of me – and noticed a pair of mischievous looking ginger boys, standing back to back in a symmetrical stance with their arms crossed.

And holy Moses, they were attractive.

"For your information," exclaimed a now grumpy Kyoya, who quickly scooped me up in his arms (I may or may not have screeched loudly) and carried me away to the nearest couch. "I haven't "fallen" for anyone. Our engagement is simply a business transaction that benefits both of our families."

He set me down on the couch, despite my being perfectly capable of doing so myself, and pushed me back until my head was resting on a pillow and my legs were stretched out across the couch.

"Rest," he muttered to me, his mood suddenly changing as fast as Tamaki's had before. Or perhaps it's a façade, I had thought to myself, and that's the decision I stuck with when I saw his eyebrows knit into an obvious frown when he stood to glare at the others again.

Shifting uncomfortably, I turned over to my side, ignoring the awkward pain of my hip digging into the cushions. I glanced up at Kyoya and saw him staring at me with what I hoped for a moment was concern but, as always, his pale face displayed no emotion; he just had his ridiculous version of a smile that resembled a smirk playing about his lips.

A deep heat (of embarrassment, of course) rose to my cheeks and I turned away, squishing my face into a heavily beaded decorative pillow.

"She's so cute!" squealed an overly enthusiastic voice – one I had not heard yet. I momentarily glanced to the side again and saw a tiny little kid peering at me, his wide doe eyes sparkling, and I soon shoved my face back into the pillow, praying for any kind of escape.

"Kyo-chan! I think she doesn't like me!" I couldn't help the little grin that pulled at my lips – that little kid's pet name for Kyoya was too adorable for words.

I sat up slowly, cheeks still red and a smile still on my face, the latter disappearing when a long growl emitted loudly from my stomach. I had barely eaten anything that day and not to mention the amazing smell of delectable pastries and cakes wafting in from the room's personal kitchen was enough to make anyone's mouth water.

"Someone's hungry," sang one of the twins, the one with his fringe swept more to the left. He leant over the back of the couch, poking my stomach with a weirdly intrigued look on his face. I let out a short shout and scrambled as far along the couch as I could, sharply dragging my knees to my chest once my back hit the arm.

"Please, don't touch me," I murmured.

I tugged at the hem of my navy blue pleated skirt as though it were the most interesting thing to look at, albeit my uniform looking so bland next to even the spot of dirt of the little kid's shoes.

Suddenly, a small china plate was shoved in my face, a huge slice of neatly decorated cake sitting on top of it. It was chocolate but in between layers there was a creamy substance with little blue chunks in it, there was also half a strawberry and white chocolate shavings sitting on the icing.

My jaw dropped as I took the plate in my hands and my eyes widened to the size of small dinner plates. It was a magnificent looking slice!

"What a pretty cake!" I exclaimed louder than I usually would. Picking up my fork and stabbing it into the cake, I started slowly shovelling it down piece by piece, almost moaning pleasurably at the amazing flavour, each bite even better than the last.

I felt the couch cushions sink down a little more and I turned to see Kyoya seated beside me, his legs crossed and his fingers pushing his rounded glasses up his nose. I smiled a little again. His quirky habits always made me happy, it was kind of cute.

"Hey, Kyoya-Senpai, who's this?"

My attention was drawn to the door, where a short figure stood with a paper bag filled with shopping. I raised an eyebrow, noticing large, round eyes and a very feminine stance, although the stranger was obviously a girl.

"Kyoya? Why is that girl wearing a boy's uniform?"

I could see visible sweat drops on everyone around me other than Kyoya, of course, who simply smirked at me from his place and pushed his glasses up again. "I always knew you were a smart girl," he praised confidently, although it somehow sounded more like a threat than a compliment.

"Haruhi, this is Isabella-Grace. Isabella, this is Haruhi." The introduction was brisk and short but, fortunately, exactly how I preferred it. I sent a grateful smile in his direction and he reciprocated with his signature little smirk.

The short-haired girl grinned at me with her head tilted and eyes closed – it would've looked adorably attractive had I not realised that she was really a boy. Anyway, it wasn't as though it was hard to notice; anyone who didn't notice must've been blind or just super thick.

Just as Haruhi opened her mouth to speak, a loud bell sounded and Tamaki clapped his hands together twice, shouting out random orders that made little to no sense to me but obviously did for the other boys (plus Haruhi), who all dashed about the room.

It was amusing to watch as they each scrambled around, throwing off one shirt while trying to simultaneously tug on another, more decorative outfit. Even Kyoya, who, at best, seemed rather stoic and respectable more than anything, was hurriedly changing his clothes.

When finally finished, they all gathered around a glamorous throne with velvet cushioning and a gold frame. Tamaki, dressed like a gloriously rich King, sat himself down on the throne, crossing one leg over the other and, with his elbow propped up on the arm of the throne, leant against his fisted hand. Surrounding him was the others, also dressed up in medieval cosplays.

The large double doors soon opened, figures of bright yellow pouring in and momentarily blinding me – yellow truly was a monstrosity of a colour – but I soon realised that it was only female students from the school. I pulled my knees up close and stuffed a pillow between them and my chest, hugging it tight and shyly peering over the top.

Dispersing from their places, each boy began a random activity with a flock of girls beside them. Occasional squeals and high-pitched exclamations reached my ears while I watched, intrigued as Tamaki repeated cliché lines over and over to separate girls, who ironically worshipped him for the King he acted to be.

"Having a good time?" asked the familiar, uninterested voice of Kyoya, who had approached, completely unbeknown to me, and once again sat on the other side of the couch.

I gave a slight nod before turning back to the show before me, all the colour suddenly draining from my face and my jaw dropping when a horrifying sight caught my eye. The twins, standing together off to one side of the room, were embracing in a highly incestuous way, their lips mere centimetres from touching.

"W-what the hell are they doing!"

Kyoya was unfazed, simply pushing his glasses up as he usually did. "That's Hikaru and Kaoru Hitachiin. They appeal to our guests through acts of taboo or, if you prefer, forbidden brother love – it never gets to a point of actual incest – and, as they say, "Who hasn't fantasised over twins; having two lovers is always better than one.""

I had been too busy staring at the freaky twins to notice the accusing smirk on Kyoya's face but it soon came to light when he moved ever so slightly closer and mischievously asked, "So, Isabella-Grace, have you ever had dirty thoughts about twins?"

"What?! No!" I practically shrieked before quickly slapping my hands over my mouth, shocked that I could even shout so loud, especially in such a crowded place. I buried my face in my pillow for the second time today, feeling my cheeks burn bright red.

"I'm only kidding," he joked heartlessly, chuckling as he did.

I looked over at him again, curious. "What do you even do here? And how come you don't have any girls chasing after you, Kyoya?"

It seemed that he was awaiting the question and he soon answered without hesitation. "This is Ouran Academy's Host Club," he began, gesturing a little dramatically (for him at least) towards the others. "We entertain young ladies with our specific personality traits – the twins being the mischievous type, for example."

Shuffling to completely face him, I allowed his voice to drown out the irritating screams of the girls around me. "And… some of them actually like the whole incest thing?"

He nodded, "Our club basically works as turning fanfiction into reality as well as incestuous acts being favoured among many anonymous users of fanfiction sites."

I couldn't decide whether to ask how he knew it or if I should just ignore it and I decided to stick with the latter. Kyoya tends to have some sort of basic knowledge on almost everything – at least I thought he did, he had yet to let me peek inside the black notebook he carries.

"And? What about you?"

"Ah, right. Well, as I said, we all have our types and mine is the cool type." I could understand the logic in that and I hummed, encouraging him to continue.

"However, most girls," he murmured, leaning forward with his arm acting as support, "prefer my body over my personality." He tilted my chin up with his fingertips, bringing our lips closer together and somewhat forcing me to stare into his half-lidded eyes.

I instantly shoved him away, my embarrassment showing yet again. "What d-do you think you're doing?!"

Kyoya only smirked again. "I was curious as to what your reaction would be. Thanks for the data!" he stated bluntly and with a strange grin, making me feel like a pathetic guinea pig as he started scratching notes into his notebook with furious speed.

"Who are they?" I pointed to the small kid and his huge follower, who easily towered over the other.

Following my gaze, Kyoya said, "The tall one is Takashi Morinozuka and the smaller one is Mitsukuni Haninozuka. Both are third-year students."

My jaw dropped yet again. "That kid's in his third year?" I whispered in surprise, unable to take my eyes away from the elementary-looking kid cuddling up to a big pink bunny. Kyoya made a simple grunt of confirmation, spiralling both of us into awkward silence.

"The cosplays are nice," I said slowly, more to myself than Kyoya.

"We do have a personal designer but I feel that it's rather frivolous to spend such expenses when I can name a few… aspiring students who'd do it for free." I could sense his difficulty in choosing a word and I had a strong feeling that he wanted to say "amateur."

"Money?" I asked out of pure curiosity, internally cursing my stutter. I had originally tried to question "expenses," but each time I started to say the word, something caught in my throat and dragged it down off my tongue.

"Yes, we often have- why are you crying?"

I could feel the tears brimming in the corners of my eyes. It always felt so horrible; the dreadful feel of someone cutting out my vocal chords and disabling my speech. "I'm sorry," I stuttered quietly, my voice breaking just the slightest bit.

He, obviously reluctantly, shifted closer to me and picked up my hand, holding it in both of his own. "Hey, don't let me see those tears, okay? Your speech impediment can't be helped – never apologise for something out of your control. If you're my future wife, I can't have you crying. Now, come on, I want to see that smile my sister adores so much."

My lips twitched up into a small smile, Kyoya smirking at me in return and dropping my hand. "Happy, now?" he asked, his voice not revealing any hint of concern.

Glancing over, I first noticed that all the guests had disappeared and, if I squinted, I could see that the clock on the tall tower outside the window red five-thirty. Kyoya and I had been together here for at least two hours!

Secondly, I saw that all six of the other Hosts had been staring at us, each of them changed back into their uniforms and each with a different look on their face; Haruhi was confused, Tamaki seemed to be fuming for some reason, the twins were grinning evilly, Takashi was indifferent to his usual blank look, and Mitsukuni looked like he had just seen the world's cutest puppy.

Clearing his throat, Kyoya said, "If you don't mind, everyone, Isabella and I must be heading home. My father won't appreciate us being late for dinner. Also, I'm exhausted – I want to get some sleep in before dinner." Kyoya linked his arm with mine and helped me up from the couch.

"If you'll excuse us," he finished, nodding respectively to each of the Hosts in turn; first Tamaki and Haruhi, then Takashi and Mitsukuni, then finally Hikaru and Kaoru.

As soon as we had arrived at Kyoya's estate, he wasted no time in dragging me up to his room where we usually spent our time, away from his family and servants. I sat on the edge of the bed, kicking my feet rhythmically.

Clothes, including my own, were strewn about the place and I knew Fuyumi, Kyoya's older and only sister, had been messing around in his drawers again. I couldn't resist a smile – Fuyumi always meant well but her folding and organising skills were… lacking.

In the peripheral vision, where the window met the wall, I could see Kyoya slowly but surely shrugging off his shirt, allowing it to fall to his elbows and show off his smooth, unmarked back. I blushed and instantly averted my gaze and thoughts, staring absentmindedly at a tall plant near the door.

"You know, I don't care if you watch me undress. You're bound to see it later when we get married."

I nearly let out an inhuman screech at his comment and flew back on the bed, covering my eyes and burning cheeks with my hands. My legs pulled up close to my body and I remained in a foetal position, begging my brain to never think of Kyoya in such a way.

"It's inevitable, Isabella, you know it is. Part of our arrangement is also that you give birth to my children."

"So… I'm essentially paying you back… with my body?"

He leapt onto the bed and I felt him crawl over me. "Yes," he whispered in my ear, nothing but seriousness in that evil tone of his, and I could feel my body shaking underneath him.

"D-damn you, Kyoya Ootori! And don't call me Isabella! You know what I prefer," I huffed, pitifully sticking out my lower lip in a pout. I always felt so infinitesimal near Kyoya, both physically and mentally; him being so much taller and cleverer than I.

He laughed and I felt him reach over to push my hands away from my face. I sat up in the middle of the bed, folding my legs and leaning back on my hands as I stared up at the roof, refusing to even catch a glimpse at my still shirtless fiancé.

The silence was long and awkward with not even a cricket daring to chirp. Little beads of sweat formed on my forehead, which I knew wasn't because of the heat, and I started wriggling my toes as a momentary distraction.

It wasn't much long after that when I heard a soft snore – I guess it was more like a heavy sigh – and I whipped around to see Kyoya had fallen asleep sitting up, his shoulders slumped and head hanging low. I got up on my knees and shuffled over, hesitantly placing one hand on his back and the other on his chest, pushing and supporting him whilst I lowered him down.

When I had managed to succeed in laying down Kyoya, also, somehow, picking up his legs and dropping them down on the huge mattress, I lifted and stuffed a small pillow under his head. After I had done that, I picked up a folded blanket from the end of the bed, spreading it over the sleeping boy.

"He looks so peaceful," I noted aloud to myself, carefully pinching his glasses and tugging them off before setting them down on the bedside table.

Minutes passed, those minutes soon turning into hours, and I still sat by Kyoya on the bed, staring down at a game on the phone he had given me. I would've considered it a gift, if he hadn't ever so bluntly stated, "I expect to be made of your whereabouts as often as you can," when he gave it to me.

If that didn't sound like stalking, then I don't know what it was.

There was a soft knock on the wall and I jumped, close to screaming when I saw one of the maids standing just by the entrance with a bashful look on her face. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, Master Kyoya and Mistress Isabella. Master Ootori requests your presence in the dining hall."

"It's fine," answered Kyoya sleepily, sitting up beside me with squinting eyes and a hand in his fringe, resting against his forehead. "Tell my father we'll be there in a minute."

The maid hastily left, embarrassed out of her mind, although still not as much as me. I stared, red in the face, as Kyoya slipped on and buttoned up his school dress shirt. "Where are my glasses?" he asked, his words slurring together uncharacteristically.

"Bedside table," I whispered, playing with my fingers and fidgeting awkwardly. I watched while he reached over, fumbling for his glasses for a minute until he managed to pinpoint them. "You're really blind without your glasses, huh?"

"Shut up." He shrugged on a simple designer jacket and helped me up off the bed, leading me gracefully out of his room and to the dining hall, my stomach clenching tighter and tighter with each passing second.

Dinner couldn't have been more uncomfortable. When Kyoya and I had arrived in the hall, we could both tell that his father was in a grumpy mood, although it never looked much different from when he happy (which was almost never, to be completely honest).

Although I had been here in the manor many times, the vast rooms always managed to astonish me. Despite each room only holding a limited number of items, the modern design gave it a homely warmth and made it feel like home – that's what I would like to have thought.

Yes, maybe to some, the huge mansion seemed welcoming and beautiful but everything was so black and white – so monochrome. There was no burst of vibrant colours other than those trapped in the magnificent paintings hanging on the walls, never reaching past the glass.

Skimming my vision across the room, I counted four tall, lonely plants that stood in each corner, none of them donning any flowers or fruit. Just up the staircase, I could see a wide-open door, leading into what I assumed was some sort of office.

My feet, unable to touch the floor under the table, swung back and forth as I clasped and unclasped my hands in my lap. I stared absentmindedly at the wall, allowing my thoughts to take over and run their course.

"Isabella, how did you like Ouran Academy today?" asked one of Kyoya's older brothers, Yuuichi if I remembered correctly, bringing me out of my trance.

I gulped and flashed him a thumbs-up, forcing a smile on my face. I shook my head when he playfully asked if I still wasn't going to talk to him. Intense glares from Ootori-Sama pierced my skin like thousands of needles and I knew it was because of my refusal to speak.

It was like he was in denial over my condition.

"Good," he stated grouchily. "Because your mother and I have enrolled you there." I nearly spit out the wine I sipped – why is it that I always did things at the exact wrong moment? Kyoya looked just as shocked as I, his grey eyes wide and continuously flicking from me to his father.

"Are you sure that is wise, father?" piped up my fiancé. "Her condition will-"

"Enough, Kyoya!" I froze, my stomach doing somersaults, threatening to throw everything up and out of my mouth. "You will not question my judgement! Or are you a bad son?"

Kyoya looked down. "No, Sir." Above the table, I noticed Kyoya's grasp on his spoon tighten drastically, causing it to bend and almost snap in half. I could sense that was mad at himself and I saw, underneath hi dark fringe, that his eyes were clenched shut behind his glasses.

Ootori-Sama seemed pleased. "Then Isabella will attend Ouran Academy from tomorrow under an art scholarship. There'll be no need to purchase a uniform."

I just about scoffed. No need for a uniform, my ass. You just don't want to spend your money on a "commoner." His smirk, much more malicious than Kyoya's, made me even more anxious than the situation itself. There was an evil, money-hungry glint in the eyes that looked just like his sons', and I squirmed in my seat at the sight of it.

Fear corrupted my mind day after day; fear that Kyoya would become as sadistic and corrupted as his successful father, with the company or without.

"I had no clue you were skilled in the arts, Isabella," stated Kyoya briskly, attempting to avoid the previous subject and start anew. I shrugged my shoulders, unable to look him in the eye, and heard him huff in defeat. "You should share more with me, you know, especially if we're to be wed."

I only nodded in response.

Akito, Kyoya's other older brother, scraped the final piece of his dessert off the plate and soon after excused himself, Yuuichi in tow. That just left Kyoya and me alone with his father. If things hadn't been unpleasant before, they certainly were now – Kyoya was twirling his broken spoon between his fingers under the table, Ootori-Sama was glaring at anything and everything, and I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

All things aside, the night was just like any other.

Only a few hours after dinner, however, late into the night, a still moody Kyoya offered to take me home. As the limo drove down the dark, empty streets, I stared out the tinted window in a thoughtless daze.

I heard him clear his throat and I turned to him, still very much awake despite the late hour. He held out a glass containing a shiny golden substance – wine – which I gladly accepted without a moment's hesitation, downing the entire thing in seconds.

There was a slightly bitter taste to it and I realised that it wasn't diluted with water as it usually would be. I raised an eyebrow in suspicion but Kyoya paid no attention to it, calmly sipping his undiluted wine as though he'd done it a million times before.

Glancing down at my watch, I saw that we should have arrived at my house a while ago. "Kyoya, where are we going?" I questioned nervously, fearing his answer. I knew it was stupid of me but I couldn't help thinking that he was a psychopath taking me to my grave.

"Your house."

I frowned, "That can't be right. My watch says so!"

He leant over and tapped on the plastic screen of my cheap watch, smirking a little when the smallest hand moved. "Your watch is broken, Isabella."