𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; hugo expects yet another few weeks of training, albeit staying in his aunt and uncle’s house. however, when picking up his cousin charles, he takes one look at his teacher, and suddenly, nothing else exists.
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ; fem!reader, use of (y/n), use of (l/n), swearing, reader is a teacher, brain rot (charles), charles cameo, fluff, hugo falls in love at first sight
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; wahhhh i love teacher x student guardian trope!
hugo flipped through the pages of his book, half-aware of the comments made about him by curious parents, half-disinterested. dozens of families stood on the concrete, waiting to pick their child up after school.
yet instead of minding their own business and wait for their child patiently, whispers began. maybe he was an older sibling? an uncle? a teen dad? it was rare to see someone this young picking a child up.
finally, the bell rung, and hundreds of screaming children bounced out of their classrooms and doors. hugo shut his book—notable a book with nothing inside—and shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting for his cousin.
he watched as parents brought their kids to their cars, some children much smaller than others. god, what was taking him so long? hugo checked his watch; his cousin better not have gotten in trouble.
“vivieeeeeeen!” hugo turned at the sound of his name. he saw charles, the very cousin he was waiting for, leap over. charles never changed; always far too energetic for his own good. he was only in fifth grade, surely after middle school he’ll lose some of his energy.
“charles,” hugo acknowledged, placing a hand on charles’s shoulder. “you took a while to come out. you do realize how bad traffic is after school.” charles pouted.
“well i was talking with my friend, and—!” he began, although charles was rapidly cut off.
“charles!” your voice reached both hugo and charles’s ears, but the latter certainly reacted far more. he waved with his entire arm as you jogged over.
“hi, miss (l/n)!” charles exclaimed. you reached them with a slight pant of your breath. hugo noticed the beam on charles’s face; he grinned a lot, but never with such innocent joy. usually he smiled because he had something diabolical in mind.
“hi charles. your keychain fell off,” you handed the tiny trinket to him. it was a small figure with burgundy hair, an arsenal uniform, and a football by its feet. you didn’t look at hugo; he was probably a babysitter or a relative. “it looks so cool. who’s it of?”
“my big cousin vivien! he’s riiight here, actually! he’s so good at football and he plays for arsenal, isn’t that so cool?” charles gestured at hugo, who simply stood expressionless. oh, so he’s charles’s cousin? wait, vivien. plays for arsenal.
“oh, hello there.” you gave a small wave and a smile. “are you vivien hugo by chance? some of my friends and students are fans.” you weren’t particularly a fan, but it was hard to not know who he was.
but hugo was silent. charles stared at him for a few seconds, noticing hugo’s scarlet cheeks and slightly widened eyes. he wasn’t moving.
his older cousin had a crush. on his teacher.
charles’s eyes darted from him to you and you to him. hugo cleared his throat. “yes, i am. you’re charles’s teacher?” he glanced at the lanyard in front of your chest.
you nodded. “yes, i am. i’m his homeroom teacher, (y/n) (l/n). it’s great to meet you, hugo.” you gave him a smile, meanwhile charles gave hugo a side eye. charles could hear hugo’s heart beating.
“call me vivien,” he blurted. hugo hated it when strangers called him by his first name—charles knew that better than anyone else.
“alright, vivien. it’s nice to see you. are you on break right now?” you asked. hugo shook his head.
“no, i’m playing in a nearby stadium in a few weeks, so i’m staying at my aunt and uncle’s house for a while.” hugo stated; of course, he wasn’t exactly happy about staying in a house with 12 members already, but the chevaliers had a spacious house and a happy family.
“oh, that sounds fun. well, i have a meeting in a few minutes, so i gotta hurry. bye charles, have a great monday! it was nice meeting you, vivien.” you gave a wave as you walked back inside the building.
hugo stood still for a few moments, before grabbing charles’s hand and dragging him to the passenger seat. hugo himself sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel like it had personally wronged him.
“…charles, how old is your teacher?” hugo finally managed, leaving the parking lot. charles hummed.
“huh? i dunno! why would she tell us something like that?” charles crossed his arms. “but this is her first year teaching, and i’m pretty sure she graduated college or whatever it’s called last year.”
you were a teacher…so you were probably in your 20s. the same as hugo. “charles,” hugo was driving a bit too fast for both his and charles’s safety.
“i’m going to drop you off and pick you up every day for the rest of this week. and when i do, try to get your teacher to come out too.”
“ooh, ooh, if i do, will you practice soccer with me?!” charles grinned.
“you have 9 siblings. you can play at any team with a whole ass team by your side.” hugo raised an eyebrow.
“no miss (l/n) for you then—“
“okay, i’ll play soccer with you whenever i can.” hugo interrupted. “just let me see her.” charles giggled.
“don’t get me wrong, i really like miss (l/n), she’s so nice and cool, but it’s a bit weird for you to fall in love with quickly.” charles wondered.
“she’s the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen.” hugo rebutted. “call it instinct, but that’s my soulmate right there.” when you opened your mouth to speak, hugo’s heart felt like jumping out of his chest into your hands.
“oooooh, hugo has a cruuuuuush!”
charles kept his promise. somehow.
“miss (l/n), trust me, it’s for a good reason, really!” charles sprinted to the pick-up spot, tung tung tung sahur backpack worn with pride.
“alright, alright.” you followed closely behind, waving to familiar parents every once in a while. finally, charles stopped in front of familiar burgundy hair. “hello again, vivien.”
hugo had a book in hand, but snapped it shut the moment he saw you. you wondered what kind of books he liked to read. “hi,” hugo began. charles stood in between the both of you.
“so i was wondering.”
“yes?” you asked. a few parents began to whisper; why was a teacher talking so much with a student’s guardian two days in a row? was charles in trouble?
“let’s go on a date.” you nearly choked on your saliva. he said it like a fact, as if you had already accepted.
“um, what?” you sputtered. “i—i’m just—uh—why—?” you could see charles stifling a laugh from the corner of your eye. “we’ve only known each other for like, a day…”
“as i said, let’s go on a date. i think you’re very good looking and i want to know you better.” hugo replied as-a-matter-of-factly. “time doesn’t matter if it’s with the right person.”
your face began to burn. “ahhhh, ummm,” your eyes darted around, looking everywhere but at hugo. “i’ll check my schedule. there are a lot of meetings this month, so i’ll see…”
“alright. tell me if you have an opening then. i’ll be here again tomorrow.” with that, hugo turned around, bringing charles with him.
“dude, holy rizz!” charles gave him a thumbs up. “ts is so tuff, dude!” hugo cocked an eyebrow.
“you gen alphas and your slang,” he shook his head. “let’s go home.”
you didn’t need charles to ask you to come this time around. instead, you volunteered for pickup duty today, making sure each child went home with their parent.
after dozens of “not yet” and “a few cars have to leave first”, charles and hugo were the last ones left. you turned to them, arms crossed. “you’re not going to leave?”
“you didn’t tell me if you were free or not,” hugo replied. “i need to know.” his gaze felt like it was x-raying you.
“i’m free tomorrow the entire afternoon after school.” you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. “i don’t know if you’re free too…”
“i only have practice until 2. i’m free as well.” he handed you his phone. “i need your number.”
charles had a grin reminiscent of the cheshire cat. “miss (l/n) and vivien sitting in a tree, k-i-s—“
“charles, shut the fuck up.” hugo retorted. your jaw nearly dropped.
“you can’t just say that in front of a fifth grader, much less to!” you exclaimed. “language!”
“alright. charles, stop talking.” hugo responded. you pressed your lips into a thin line; that wasn’t much better.
“vivien, seriously, maybe it’s best for you to not interact with your child fans.” you tapped your number into vivien’s phone before handing it back to him.
“okay. i’ll keep that in mind.” his fingers brushed against yours as he took his phone back. “just dress casual. i’ll send you the location.”
“okay. bye, see you both tomorrow, charles, vivien.” you waved before returning to your classroom.
but hugo didn’t move.
charles tugged at his sleeve. “c’mon vivien, we gotta get home. mom’s making mac and cheese for dinner tonight!” hugo stayed silent.
he gave a silent fist pump, blank faced, but his skin impossibly bright red. charles stared at him with half-closed eyes.
his cousin was so down bad.
hugo was already seated when you arrived. the restaurant wasn’t high-end, but it was decent; clean, with friendly workers.
“sorry, was i late?” you asked, sitting across from him. he shook his head.
“no, i just prefer to be early. do you want to order?”
you nodded. “uhhh,” you called the waiter over. “can i have this please?” hugo watched you the entire time. “let’s get to know each other better.” you said with a small smile.
“uh-huh. you fine with 20 questions?” he asked, taking a sip of his water. you nodded.
“a little like a first day of school icebreaker…” you noted. “well, i am a teacher, so i guess it makes sense for me to do this. can i go first?” hugo nudged his head, sure.
“favorite food?”
“eclairs.”
“birthday?”
“june 6th.”
“…wait, how old are you?”
“i’m 23.”
“oh, we’re just about the same age! i’m 22.”
“mmm, i figured.”
“favorite color?”
“destiny bordeaux.”
“excuse me…?” you blinked a multitude of times. what the hell is destiny bordeaux? “um, if you don’t mind me asking, what is that?”
“it’s a richer version of burgundy.” he took another sip of his water. “a bit like my hair.”
“oh. that’s so like you, vivien!” you grinned, and his heart nearly stopped. “you got any particular beliefs? actually, better question, are you religious?”
“sort of. i believe in fate,” suddenly, he looked extremely interested. looks like he was a preacher. “it’s the theory of suitability, you see. i believe that people should do what they have an aptitude for, which determines their fate. it’s purely genetics, environment, and luck. not exactly related to some sort of upper being, but rather logic and evolution.”
wow.
that was the most you’ve ever heard him speak.
“so do you believe in soulmates?” you teased. “maybe someone special who you’re meant to find? someone complementary?”
“yes. i think you’re my soulmate.” he replied bluntly. you nearly choked on air, ruby painting your cheeks. “i think we’re meant to be.”
“o-oh, that’s—!”
“your food,” the waiter cut you off, sliding a plate in front of you. “please enjoy.”
“thank you.” you were glad that you didn’t have to respond to that now. you were glad he thought of you that way, but it totally came out of nowhere.
hugo took a few bites of his food. “you should come to one of my games sometime. i play for arsenal, which is in england, but we travel quite a bit.”
“oh, well, i’m not a huge football fan. i’m not exactly sure i’ll understand a lot…but i’ll think about it.” you are practically inhaling your food; talking to hugo was nice, but his earlier comment still lingered in your mind.
“so, um, how’s charles at home? he’s one of my more, um, extroverted students.” you began again, trying to push the awkward thoughts away. you didn’t have favorites, but charles definitely spent more time with you than others.
“the exact same, but more annoying.” hugo replied. “he’s hyperactive and talks about everything and anything. he says your his favorite teacher ever.”
that touched your heart. “that’s sweet. he has a lot of siblings, right? he mentions a lot of siblings in class.” maybe four or five, certainly not anything more than—
“no, he has nine.” hugo said nonchalantly, taking another few bites of his food. you nearly dropped your cutlery.
“nine?!” you exclaimed, horrified. his parents never divorced either. “wow. his parents really love each other…” you didn’t even know what to say.
“yes.” hugo replied. “it’s always chaotic in there. i get woken up at the crack of dawn by the two toddlers.” his eyebrow ticked, as if annoyed by the memory. that made sense; you dealt with children, but most of them were old enough to stop throwing tantrums.
“no wonder charles is so energetic…” you noted, finishing your food. “it’s a bit hard to believe that someone as calm as you lives there, even temporarily.”
“i bear no strong feelings towards or against children. again, they’re children. they don’t know ninety-percent of what’s going on.” he finished his food as well.
“and i was thinking, we should start dating, officially.”
you choked on air. again. “god—vivien, why do you always drop bombs at the most random times?!” you chugged some water. “don’t you think we’re moving too fast?!”
“it’s just dating. i’m not going to propose to you until at least three years into the future, so you shouldn’t worry.” hugo took one of your hands from across the table.
“wow. thanks.” you narrowed your eyes. “i’m busy, y’know? i teach fifth graders. gen alpha. these kids were born in like, 2015.” you hummed. “but i’ll think about it.”
hugo bit the inside of his cheek. “alright.” he called the waiter over. “how mu—?”
“wait, you’re paying? no no no, let’s split the bill.” you rebutted. “vivien, i can’t let you pay all of it.”
“teachers don’t earn that much. it’s the least i can do.” he debated, already handing the waiter his card. you groaned; you were too slow. “thank you for the meal…”
“there’s no need for gratitude.” hugo acknowledged. “when should i be expecting an answer? i’m a patient man, but not enough that i need a week for a simple yes or no.”
“give me at least a night or two.” you furrowed your eyebrows. “and you think i’m your soulmate, right? so i’m sure you think that i’d say yes anyway.”
“you’ve got a good point.”
“right. and that’s that; good night, vivien. i’ll see you tomorrow.” you stood up, leaving the restaurant, the feeling of his hand on yours still burning against your skin.
thank the lord your class had gym class for the last period on fridays.
you were able to leave school a bit earlier, already seeing hugo in the pick up line. he was reading his book again—which you weren’t aware was blank—and leaning against the wall.
“vivien!” you yelled, turning a few heads. he glanced up, shutting his book and standing up straight to face you. you stopped a few feet in front of him.
you didn’t have a crush on him or anything. you certainly weren’t in love with him, either…not yet. but you liked him quite a bit; and you had to admit that you both did click. better than any of your past relationships.
this could work. with hugo, perhaps this could truly be something great.
it didn’t hurt to try.
“your answer?” he asked, gaze softening. you breathed.
your boyfriend just finished a match in the severe rain, it was brutal. players slipping left and right on the turf. he played pretty well though and assisted 2 of lokis goals as well as one of his own. you’re undeniably proud of him, as always.
You shiver as you wait outside the arena for him, i mean, how long can changing take? he obviously comes out with his partner in crime, both snickering about something you know you don’t care about. “bye char-boi, see ya tomorrow.” and shidou is off. charles speeds up when he sees you and launches himself at you. you stagger and grab him by the waist “-careful!” and he pecks your cheek.
you guys ride with hugo home and charles yawns and drifts off on your shoulder. it would’ve been cute if he wasn’t stinky, muddy, and sweaty.
you arrive at your house and thank hugo for the ride. opening the door charles greets your cat and heads upstairs to your shower like he owns it. you flop on your bed and sigh, opening tiktok on your phone.
charles exits the bathroom in sweatpants and opens your closet to slip on one of his shirts that lives there. climbing into bed with you he wraps himself into your chest and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. you scratch his head and he leans into the touch.
you shift slightly kiss his forehead. it’s always nice to have quiet and intimate moments with charles, usually you can’t keep him contained and he’s always doing the most, but he also doesn’t hate cuddles every once in awhile, only from you of course. he pressed himself against your cheek and you place another kiss on his nose, and then his chin, then his mouth. he slightly giggles and looks into your eyes. you poke his fang, “your a weirdo.”
“yeah, but you like me.”
pressing more kisses onto his face, you stop and sigh contently, running your hands through his mildly wet hair, and pulling him into a deep kiss.
it was moments like this where nobody else mattered. not shidou, not loki, not football, just the two of us.
rin x fem!reader - pxg finds out he has a girlfriend!
a/n : based on this req!! Uh it’s been a while again.. I’ve been sick and im finally better and able to write. I’m so damn inconsistent… sorry hope it’s a good read!!
pxg’s tunnel was buzzing after the win. players dripping sweat, laughing too loudly, people trying to wrangle interviews. rin tuned it all out. same as always — change quickly, grab his bag, head for the exit before shidou could start yelling about “the goal that should’ve been his own explosion.”
except tonight, someone was waiting for him at the exit of the stadium.
you.
the moment rin spotted you, his pace shifted. his steps slowed, eyes softening just barely in a way none of his teammates had ever seen.
Charles was the first to notice. He leaned against the wall, raising an eyebrow. “hey, hey… who’s that?”
karasu followed his line of sight, smirking. “no way. does he have a girlfriend?”
and shidou — loud, obnoxious shidou — barked a laugh. “get the fuck outta here! Like rin-chan would ever let anyone close to him.”
but then you smiled as rin reached you, and the whole atmosphere changed.
“your scarf’s coming undone again…” you murmured, fingers already tugging it into place. rin crouched down just enough to let you fix it. no glare. no pissed reply. just quiet acceptance.
“you worry too much,” he muttered.
“and you don’t worry enough.”
the three pxg players froze mid-conversation, jaws slack. rin Itoshi — the coldest, most razor-edged player on the team — was letting someone fuss over him. worse, he didn’t look annoyed. he looked… calm.
shidou practically shouted across the room. “hey, rin-chan! who the hell’s that?!”
rin shot him a withering glare but didn’t answer. instead, he brushed his fingers against yours — subtle, but enough to guide your hand into his. the motion was so natural it stunned the other three more than if he’d kissed you right there.
karasu gave a low whistle. “damn. he’s actually letting someone touch him. that’s new…”
charles snickered, voice giggly. “no, look closer. he’s not letting it happen. he wants it.”
you tilted your head, oblivious to their shock, and pressed a kiss against rin’s cheek. his ears turned faintly pink, but he didn’t pull back. he simply squeezed your hand, murmuring, “let’s go home.”
you nodded, and the two of you walked out together, leaving the stadium behind.
the second you were out of earshot, shidou exploded. “what the actual fuck?! since when does rin-chan have a girlfriend?!”
charles laughed, shaking his head. “and he actually treats her nice? i thought he only knew how to scowl…”
shidou shoved his hands through his hair, pacing. “this is insane. i’m gonna make her tell me all his secrets! bet rin-chan’s a total softie when nobody’s lookin’.”
charles grinned. “you saw it too? man had literal hearts in his eyes.”
the three of them shared a look — mischief, disbelief, and something like curiosity.
because tonight, they hadn’t just won a game. they’d discovered the one thing more shocking than rin’s perfect footwork:
itoshi rin had a girlfriend. and he actually treated her right.
Featuring: Yoichi Isagi; Yo Hiori; Ranze Kurona; Alexis Ness; Michael Kaiser; Charles Cavalier
Warnings: Angst, NOT PROOFREAD.
Words: 3019
Part 1
< o >
Part 3
Yoichi Isagi
You marry: Reo Mikage
Three years. That’s how long it’s been since he told you it wasn’t fair — that he couldn’t love you and chase his dream. That he didn’t want to hold you back.
Three years since he watched you walk away with tears that didn’t fall until you were out of sight.
Now he’s standing in the back of a church, where sunlight filters through the stained glass and lands on you — you, in white, a soft halo of light around your hair, your eyes glimmering as if the universe itself decided to forgive you for ever crying over him.
He sees Reo waiting for you at the altar, all charm and ease, his smile steady and sure. He looks at you like you’re something sacred. Like he knows your worth without having to lose you first.
Isagi’s chest tightens. It’s not jealousy — not exactly. It’s grief for something he killed with his own hands.
He’d told himself he ended things because he loved you too much to let you get caught in his chaos. He wanted to become someone who deserved you. But what good is “someday” when someone else already gave you everything you needed now?
You laugh softly when Reo whispers something at the altar. That sound— it used to be his favorite thing. Now it’s unbearable. It reminds him of how he used to dream with you beside him, your head on his shoulder, whispering “I believe in you.”
You believed until the end.
And he let that belief die.
When the priest says, “You may kiss the bride,” Isagi’s hands curl into fists. He wants to look away, but he doesn’t.
Reo leans in and kisses you. The crowd cheers.
Isagi doesn’t clap this time.
He just stands there, heart breaking in silence, a quiet punishment he knows he deserves.
You glance up once — maybe just at the crowd, maybe at him — and your eyes meet. For a second, he swears the world stills. There’s no bitterness there, no anger. Just peace. That’s what hurts the most.
Because peace means you’ve healed.
Peace means you’ve forgotten the ache of loving him.
And Yoichi Isagi, the boy who sees the field clearer than anyone else, can finally see what he lost — you. Not a goal, not a trophy, not a dream. Just the one person who made all of it feel human.
And when you leave the ceremony hand in hand with the person who gets to call you theirs, Isagi stays behind, whispering words you’ll never hear —
“I hope he sees you the way I should have.”
Yo Hiori
You marry: Meguru Bachira
It’s been four years since he let you go.
He told you it was for the best — that his heart was too heavy, too tangled in his own loneliness to hold yours properly. You deserved someone who didn’t carry silence like a curse. Someone who didn’t retreat into himself every time life hurt. He’d said it softly, almost like an apology:
“You need someone who can love you without breaking halfway through.”
And now, standing in the crowd, watching you marry Meguru Bachira, he realizes what a lie that was.
The world around him blurs — white flowers, sunlight, laughter — but his eyes are fixed on you. You look radiant, not just beautiful, but alive. There’s a light in your eyes he hasn’t seen since before he started pushing you away. And Bachira — wild, bright, endlessly warm Bachira — he’s looking at you like you’re the whole sky.
Hiori knows what that look feels like. He remembers staring at you the same way once, when you’d fall asleep beside him and murmur his name in your dreams. Back when he still believed that love could heal something inside him.
He remembers the night he broke it off — the way your voice shook when you said you understood, but your hands trembled like you didn’t. He remembers the sound of the door closing, and the silence that followed. That silence stayed. It still stays.
Now it’s filled by the sound of wedding vows — Bachira’s voice, steady and warm, promising everything Hiori couldn’t.
You laugh softly through your tears, and it feels like a knife twisting in his chest.
Hiori wants to look away, but he can’t. It’s like punishment — to see the proof that you moved on, that someone else learned how to make you happy in all the ways he failed. Bachira leans forward to kiss you, and Hiori feels the last thread between you snap — quiet, invisible, final.
Everyone claps. He doesn’t. He just stands there, eyes lowered, a ghost in a celebration that was never meant for him.
Maybe this is what he always wanted — for you to find peace.
Maybe this is what love really is: watching from a distance, hoping they never need you again
And that’s when he realizes — you’re not haunted by him anymore.
He whispers something only the wind can hear:
“I’m glad it’s him… but I wish it was still me.”
As Bachira wraps his arms around you, spinning you in a joy that lights up the room, Hiori slips quietly out the side door, unnoticed.
He steps into the evening air, exhales slowly, and lets the ache settle in his chest — not sharp, just heavy, familiar.
For the first time, he doesn’t try to stop it.
He just lets himself miss you.
Because maybe that’s all he’s allowed to do now.
Miss you — quietly, endlessly, beautifully.
Ranze Kurona
You marry: Seishiro Nagi
It’s been five years since he ended it—
Five years since he stood in the drizzle outside your apartment, voice quiet, eyes fixed on the pavement.
“I don’t think I can give you what you deserve.”
He’d said it like a confession, not an excuse.
Because that’s who Ranze is—someone who apologizes before he breathes, someone who carries guilt like it’s stitched into his skin.
He grew up in silence: a boy whose parents spoke more to each other’s absence than to him. He learned to read the room, to step lightly, to never take up space. That’s why he was so good on the field—he could see where to move before anyone else did.
But when it came to you, he never knew where to stand.
He loved you quietly. Always quietly.
In the way he’d bring you water, in the way he’d text, “Get home safe?” even when he was the one who needed to hear it.
But quiet love, he learned, can die quietly too.
And now he’s here—
standing at the back of the hall, watching you in a white dress, hands trembling slightly as you hold Nagi Seishiro’s.
Nagi.
The boy who never tries and still manages to make life look effortless.
The boy who makes you laugh without overthinking every word.
You look so light beside him. Weightless.
Kurona wonders if you ever felt that way with him, or if loving him had been just another kind of work.
The vows are short. Nagi’s voice is calm but sincere, the way it is when he says something that actually matters. You laugh through tears, the sound soft and full. And it hits him—
this is what you used to sound like when you still believed he could stay.
He feels it rising in his chest—grief, regret, a thousand words he never said. But Ranze Kurona doesn’t make scenes. He never has.
So he claps with everyone else, just once, quietly, before his hands fall still.
After the ceremony, he slips out before anyone notices. The air outside tastes like rain. He leans against the wall, eyes shut, jaw clenched, trying not to fall apart.
You used to tell him he smelled like rain too—fresh and fleeting.
He’d laughed at that. Now it feels like a curse.
He pulls his phone from his pocket. The background’s still the photo you took of him after a game—smiling, rare, unguarded. He can’t bring himself to change it. He opens your old chat, scrolls up, stops on your last message:
“Promise me you’ll let yourself be happy too.”
He types a reply he’ll never send:
"I’m trying. But it still feels like I left the best parts of me with you."
Then he deletes it.
The rain starts to fall harder, soft and cold against his skin. He doesn’t move. Just lets it happen.
Because for someone like Kurona, pain has always been easier to bear than being seen.
And somewhere behind him, through the open doors of the hall, he hears your laughter again— bright, whole, untouchable.
He closes his eyes, and the sound breaks something open inside him.
“You look happy,” he whispers, voice trembling.
Alexis Ness
You marry: Michael Kaiser
He’s supposed to be happy.
That’s what he tells himself, standing near the back of the glass-domed hall while soft piano music fills the air. The sunlight spills through the windows, catching on the gold embroidery of your gown — the kind of dress that makes everything around it feel less real. You look like a dream. And Alexis Ness has always been too good at mistaking dreams for things he could keep.
It’s been one year and eleven months since the breakup.
One year since he said the words he never meant.
“You should find someone… better suited for you.”
And now here you are, marrying Michael Kaiser — the very man Ness once swore he’d follow anywhere.
Maybe that’s why it hurts so much. Because you didn’t just move on — you found comfort in the only person who’s ever truly understood what Ness wasn’t brave enough to be.
He watches you walk toward Kaiser, your steps steady, your eyes glowing. Kaiser stands tall, confident as ever, that usual arrogance softened into something tender when he looks at you. Ness knows that look — he’s seen it a thousand times on the field, the way Kaiser stares at victory when it’s finally within reach.
Only this time, the victory isn’t a goal.
It’s you.
Ness’s heart twists in quiet betrayal, though he knows neither of you meant for it to end this way. He was the one who left — too insecure, too scared of being second place in every sense. He’d always lived in someone else’s orbit — first his parents’ cold expectations, then Kaiser’s golden shadow. When he met you, you saw him differently. You saw the boy, not the satellite.
And that terrified him.
You used to tell him he didn’t have to chase anyone to be enough. But Ness didn’t believe that. Not when he spent his life chasing someone who never needed to look back. So he pushed you away before you could see how much of him was made of fear.
Now he stands in a room full of laughter and music, and everything feels like a punishment he knows he deserves.
You and Kaiser exchange vows — his voice smooth, teasing, but sincere in a way that makes Ness’s stomach ache. He never thought he’d hear Kaiser sound like that, vulnerable and sure all at once. He used to think Kaiser was incapable of that kind of love. But then again, you have a way of softening even the sharpest edges.
When you say “I do,” Ness feels something inside him shatter so quietly it almost goes unnoticed.
He claps when everyone else does. He even smiles. But his eyes stay fixed on the floor, afraid that if he looks up, the tears will follow.
He remembers the night you ended — how you stood in his doorway, voice trembling, asking if he really wanted this. He couldn’t answer. He just turned away, biting down the words “No, I don’t want this. I just don’t think I deserve you.”
He never said it then. He never will now.
After the ceremony, he slips away before anyone can stop him. Outside, the air tastes like rain and flowers. He leans against the marble wall, loosens his tie, and finally lets out the breath he’s been holding since you walked down the aisle.
He looks up at the sky — pale and endless — and thinks about how he’s spent his whole life reflecting someone else’s glow. Maybe this is how it was always meant to end: you finding the sun, and him learning to live in the dusk.
Ness walks away, alone, letting the sound of your laughter fade behind him. The memory of your smile will haunt him forever, and maybe that’s all the love he’s allowed to keep: the kind that exists only in silence, only in memory.
“Be happy, even if it can’t be with me,” he murmurs into the wind.
Michael Kaiser
You marry: Yoichi Isagi
He shouldn’t be here.
And yet, he is. Standing at the edge of the chapel, fists clenched so tight his knuckles ache. His jaw is rigid. His chest feels like it’s being crushed from the inside.
You’re radiant. White dress, soft smile, eyes shining like they always did for him. But now… those eyes are on Yoichi Isagi.
And it’s unbearable.
He remembers the breakup. The fight, the silence, the way you stood in his apartment, tears in your eyes, begging him to explain. He had told you it wasn’t the right time, that he was too focused on his own goals, that he didn’t want to hold you back. He had said it like it was for your good. But now he knows the truth: he lied.
He was scared. Scared of feeling weak. Scared that if he let himself love you fully, he’d lose — to Isagi, to the world, to himself. He told himself it was about priorities. The truth is, it was about pride. And now… now he sees the cost.
Every step you take toward Isagi twists something inside him. Jealousy, regret, rage — it’s a storm he can’t stop. He should be happy for you. You look happy. You deserve happiness. But he can’t feel it. Not when he remembers every laugh, every quiet touch, every moment he let slide past because he thought he had time.
He’d promised himself he would give you everything he had. That he’d fight for you, protect you, love you without restraint. But when he had the chance, he let fear rule him. And now… Isagi gets to love you, hold you, stand where Kaiser should have stood.
When Isagi whispers something only you can hear, Kaiser feels his chest tighten, a sharp, painful knot. He wants to yell, to rip the world apart, to reclaim what should have been his. But he doesn’t. He can’t. He’s too late.
The priest says, “You may kiss the bride,” and Kaiser turns his face away. He doesn’t clap. He doesn’t cheer. He only swallows the bitter taste of failure.
He remembers all the times he underestimated Isagi, all the times he thought he was untouchable — and now, Isagi has the one thing Kaiser wanted most, the one thing he couldn’t have because he hesitated.
Later, when he’s alone, he punches the wall. Hard. Skin splits, knuckles bleed, and still the ache doesn’t fade. He collapses against the cold stone, thinking of your smile, your laugh, the warmth of your hand — all for someone else.
He whispers your name into the night, a prayer, a curse, a confession:
“You were mine… and I let you go. I let him take you.”
And in that moment, Michael Kaiser finally understands the truth:
Some victories aren’t meant to be won.
Some loves are lost forever.
And losing you to Isagi — of all people — is a wound that will never heal.
Charles Cavalier
You marry: Alexis Ness
Charles leaned against the balcony railing, his tailored jacket sharp against the cold evening air, but nothing—no fabric, no posture—could shield the ache tightening in his chest. Five years. Five years since he let you slip through his fingers, excusing his fear, his own arrogance, or whatever excuse had felt reasonable at the time.
And now… here you were. Walking down the aisle. White dress glowing like sunlight itself, Alexis Ness at your side, smiling like he owned every heartbeat in the room.
Charles’s jaw clenched, the edge of a smile flirting across his lips, but it wasn’t for anyone else—it was a mask, a performance. He’d always been dramatic, a showman, and now, irony stabbed him: he couldn’t look away, couldn’t tear his eyes from the scene. He wanted to speak, to run, to shout… but he didn’t.
You’re happy. You’re really happy.
It should have felt like relief. He should have felt closure. But his chest tightened, and every laugh from the crowd felt like a drum against a wound that hadn’t healed. He imagined you laughing with Alexis, the easy intimacy of hands brushing, jokes shared, glances exchanged that he had once hoped to claim.
And it’s not me.
His fingers twitched against the railing. The showman in him wanted to make a grand declaration, to storm in and reclaim what he’d lost, to prove he was still worthy—but the truth screamed back, crueler than any opponent: it was too late. He had let it slip. He had chosen pride, fear, something small and meaningless, and now you were gone.
Every laugh of yours was a dagger, every glance exchanged with Alexis a cruel reminder that his choice had been permanent. He could feel his hands trembling, his normally composed, showman exterior cracking. Pride and pain collided in a storm he couldn’t contain.
“I… I was a fool,” he muttered under his breath, voice catching. “Five years… and I still—” He stopped, swallowing hard, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Go. Be happy. Just… don’t expect me to ever forgive myself.”
Charles turned away, back rigid, mask firmly in place. Inside, however, his heart was shattered, twisting in frustration and despair. He had lost you. He had chosen fear over love. And now, even from afar, even behind the walls he built around himself, he was dying—watching the life he should have had unfold in someone else’s arms.
----<3----
Should I do a Pt.3 with the masters? E.g. Noel Noa.
ෆ one-shot, Christmas Special!, fluff, romcom, friends to lovers, shy Charles at the end, reader is kind of a tsundere, not proofread!!
ෆ word count: 2.4k words
ෆ a/n: ODMFJJF i enjoyed writing this one sm. Explain how I'd tear up writing teeth aching fluff but giggle while making angst. ANYWAYSSS MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONEE💓 enjoy this christmas treat I have prepared‼️ this is actually the longest fic I've written sooo if there are any errors, my sincerest apologies!!
The orange afternoon light cascades through the windows in the class, it sure was chaotic without the teacher present. Heard it was some last-minute meeting, but who honestly cares.
You weren't particularly loud in the class, unlike a certain blonde-headed, macaron lover who was pestering you incessantly in front.
"Hey, (name)! (Nameee)... You can't ignore me forever, yknow!" He plasters a mock pout on his lips.
The one and only, Charles Chevalier, your best friend since what? Middle school? A prodigy kid, the heart of PxG, and whatever more titles he had to his name.
"You're always so absorbed in that drawing book of yours! As if they're any better looking than I am, right? Right." He looks out the window with that same pout.
You finally glance at the boy who was sitting backwards on his chair, "Are you saying my works are bad?"
He looks back, completely wide eyed. "Huh? I never said that!" "Uh huh sure you didn't", you deadpanned.
"I promise! I was just saying that you're too locked in those artworks of yours, and it gets lonely here, yknow!!" he retorts, "Charles, everyone around you is literally asking to talk to you. I mean, probably not now but most."
"More reasons why you talk to me! If people talk to me, why not you?" He grins. That stupid shit-eating grin.
"I talk to you all the time though?" you finally put the pen down. "Not as much as I want you to though."
He leans his chair against your table. His arm around it as he rests his cheek on the palm of his other hand. That sure did give you an idea.
"Stay like that," you said bluntly. You could almost immediately see the question marks floating around his head, "huh?"
You couldn't help but laugh at the boy, "I said stay like that, silly. If you really want to talk to me while I want to do my stuff. Might as well just merge the two together. Although, I don't understand how we couldn't just—" "OKAY!!!" he yells a little bit too loud, earning a few stares at your fellow classmates. Embarrassing!
He started talking about anything and almost everything. You gave him simple acknowledging hums and nods while you continued drawing him in your book.
"Hey, you know, Loki said we're going to Japan to attend some Neo Egoist League around January or Feb." He announces to—it made you stop midway in your sketching. This time it was your turn to— "huh?"
"Yeah! I don't really want to go cause then I won't be able to see you! But Loki forced me saying stuff like I needed to learn and whatever." He slumps and huffs at the mention of learning.
Well, true. It was both disappointing, yet it still made you proud of your friend.
"It's a great opportunity," you say as you continue your work. "Pshhhh, seriouslyyyyy? Just that? Not even an 'I'll miss you when you're gone'? Not ANYTHING else?" he rests further on his palm with that signature pout he puts on when he wants something.
A soft smile etched on your lips, but of course you wouldn't show him that. As if he wasn't able to tell by the subtle squint in your eyes. He smiled too. This time it was cheeky. His snaggle tooth peeking out to show.
"Hey, Charles!" a classmate yells out from across the room. He breaks off from his pose as he darts his head to the person. "What's up?" His signature smile beaming across his face.
"They're lighting up the Christmas tree tonight at the Town Square. Wanna join us?" the teen asks with his friends right beside him.
Charles thinks about it, giving it a genuine thought. "Ah, I'm kinda busy tonight. Y'know big family preparations for Christmas day!" there were sounds of disappointment, though they still acknowledged and understood.
"Are your older siblings coming back for the holidays?" you questioned. Holding the pen carefully as you trace the lines along your paper. "Yeah! Maybe your family could even come over and join us?" you look up at him, "nah, there's no need. There's so much of you guys already and—" "you talk like you haven't been doing that since we were like 12 or something!" He folds his arms.
"Okay, yeah, so?" you roll your eyes playfully. "So join us again this year, duh!" there really was no escaping this guy. You let out a defeated sigh, "Alright"
"Yeahh!" he says enthusiastically.
Your hand glides over the page. The pen swerving at the lengthy curves and whatnot. Drawing has always been therapeutic for you. It makes you feel at ease (well only when you aren't stressing out with how uneven the details are). It gives you solitary peace upon yourself, especially when your social battery hits negative. There's always an exception for Charles though. After a while, you finally finish your little sketch.
"Charles" you called out softly. He immediately looks towards you with an expectant look, "Yeah?"
"I'm done—" "Lemme see!"
He stands from his chair and hovers over your table. "That's amazing!"
"You're looking at it inverted, stupid" he lets out a scoff at your remark, grabbing the book himself and actually taking a good look at it.
His features were gentle, soft. Each stroke was defining yet brought light touches to his image. He looked cute.
He always is.
His grin was pervasive across his face, looking like a giddy orange cat.
The bell rang. Guess that was it for today's class. Thank goodness for that last-minute teacher's meeting.
You both kept your stuff. Thinking he had soccer practice today, you went on ahead. Walking by the halls, it seemed that everyone was busy chatting with their friends. Talking about tonight, holiday plans, and hang outs. It felt nice to experience this. Occasions are short-lived. Might as well relish in this moment with more Christmas spirit.
You stepped out of the school doors. The winter air was chilling, yet the sun harbored a bit of picturesque scenery ahead of you as the horizon started to set. You brought your scarf a bit higher to bask yourself in the warmth. You took light steps towards the school gates. Just as you stepped near the gate you heard a familiar voice yelling out for you.
"(Name)!!" you turned around to see no other individual but Charles charging towards you. He jumps and lands right into you. "Charles—!" "Where'd you think you were going without me!"
"I just thought you had practice and—" "Save it! I bet you have other friends waiting for you outside of these gates." He feigned hurt and put a hand your chest.
"Talk about Christmas betrayal!" "Why don't we talk about dramatic" you simply rolled your eyes at him. "See! You hate me—!" you crouched and balled a bunch of snow together before throwing it at him.
He was taken aback before realization dawned. A devious grin formed on his lips, his snaggle tooth poking out. "Oh you're on!" He picked up a ton lot of snow and started forming them. "Hell no!"
Your plan to shut him up totally backfired as he chased after you, throwing a hefty amount of snowballs. What even was this guy?! A human machine gun? Well it wasn't like you didn't throw back. Let's be deadass, it was for self-defense! You were literally on the defensive side while the hostile demon was going crazy on you.
"Charles! Wait—hold on dude—YO—" and there goes a largeass snowball to your face as your back falls flat on the snow. Charles joins you down and laughs with you.
Everything was cold, yet your heart was warming you up entirely.
Something about this just felt like home. Like drinking hot cocoa during a snow storm wrapped around a blanket.
"We really gotta get home, Charles" you both stared at the setting skies. Snowflakes falling on both of you, soft and cold. "Can't we stay a bit longer?" you already know you can't win an argument with him. "Sure"
The both of you laid there, pointing occasionally at the sky as if the clouds weren't barely visible. Well, you know what they say, let the youth's imagination run free. After every passing minute, it was getting colder. You were about to speak up when Charles turned to look at you. Cheeks were dusted pink, possibly because of the cold (or some other reason). You turned to him, meeting him eye to eye.
"Hi" you chuckled. "Hey, chéri" he grinned right back.
You immediately sat up and threw snow at his face. "Shut up, demon child" "Mean!"
You both got up, dusted the snow off your clothes. "I was trying to be sweet" he huffs. "More like trying to be stupid" you scoffed. Passing by the familiar houses until you reach your place.
"Well, I'm expecting you later. You better come!" his tone was mostly playful—a feigning tone of seriousness. Barely.
"Yeah, I promise. See you later, Charles" you stepped on your front porch. You waved goodbye before heading inside your warm home.
The evening came by quickly. You were outside the Chevalier household with your parents. Your father knocks on the door only to be greeted by the nefarious boy himself.
He immediately grabbed you, "(name)!" You were already getting teased by your parents because of this guy!
"Hi.." you patted him on the back. His parents came by and immediately invited you in.
Your family brought a few dishes to contribute. Christmas dinner was prosperous as it usually was. Aside from his siblings' banters of course (he totally didn't fling mashed potatoes towards you, but let's act like that never happened).
The entire family was gathered in the living room while you both were in his room. From the sounds of it, they were playing a family game. Loud laughter and some bickering here and there. It was heart-warming.
He was laying on his bed and staring at the clock, almost impatient. He groans, "how is it barely 11?!"
You could only laugh at his antics, "why? Are you that excited to open your presents?" "No! Well—yeah, whatever, that too. But something else!"
You pondered what he could have had in mind, "Mind telling?"
"Nah. Not yet, at least." he grinned like the Cheshire cat. Ironic.
You both bantered with topics you could think of. That was until he suddenly beamed, "It's 11! (Name), come on let's go!"
His hand immediately takes hold of yours as he dragged you downstairs. "Slow down, dumbass! We'll trip!" He was not hearing you out at all.
He was speeding past the living room where your families were. They could only shake their heads and muse at the two teens.
"Charles! Where are we going?" you said between pants as he kept tugging you to catch up. "To the town square of course!" "Thought you were too busy to?"
"Not too busy for you, of course!" even if he was ahead of you, you could still see the grin plastered on his face.
Passing by countless structures—even after nearly tripping on snow and hidden rocks—you both got to the Town Square.
There were a lot of people, so finding a clear area was a bit challenging. Eventually, you both settled near a tall tree.
"Sooooooo, would you mind telling me why you were so ecstatic to bring me here?" you questioned.
"Nope"
"Why not?"
"Cause no?"
"But why no?"
"Just wait!"
You let out a laugh after he finally got frustrated. Maybe after half an hour later, you could slowly feel him stiffen up beside you. You tilted your head to examine the boy.
"Is it too cold?" you asked. You were willing to hand him your scarf if his wasn't holding up well. "No, it's fine! Don't worry about it!" he immediately shook his head.
Five minutes probably passed by, and he was visibly fidgeting more. Your hand made its way towards his and you squeezed gently. "Charles?" he stiffened once more. "Yeah? What's up?"
"You sure that you're okay?" you ask, "More than okay, chéri!" he assured.
People were starting to count down, it was almost 12 it seems. The snowfall was gentle, almost comforting. The distant cars passing by, the warming laughter and chatter of people. The warm light cascading through the windows. It felt extremely melancholic.
The counting reaches one, and the Christmas tree slowly lights up fully. Applauses and cheers were heard from all over. It was beautiful.
People greeted one another a 'Merry Christmas'. You turned to Charles to greet him. Seeing him standing there in awe, not looking at the tree but at you. You felt a warm rush across your cheeks.
"Charles? Merry Ch—" he held out a small gift box. You were surprised, "t..thank you. Merry Christmas, Charles" you took the box from him, and held it in your hands.
"Merry Christmas, (name). I uh.." He jittered a bit. You undid the ribbon from the gift, carefully pulling the top open. It unveiled a beautiful heart-shaped amber necklace. Your chest tightened, it was so sweet.
"You didn't have to—" "but I did" his eyes fixated on yours.
"It's nothing much, just something to remind you of me when I'm in Japan. That's all. R..really" it was uncharacteristic of him to be this nervous.
"I'll be wearing it always" the amber charm reminded you almost of his honey colored eyes. "But is there something more you'd want to tell me?"
He nearly puffed away, "oh screw you for being too smart!" he huffed as you could barely hold in your laugh. "I know you too well. So tell me, what's up, Charles?"
"I don't usually express myself this way.." he looked uncomfortable that it made you want him to stop if he couldn't do it.
Before you could speak your mind and concern, he—
"I like you a lot, chéri"
"Huh"
"I said I like y—" "stupid Charles!" you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly like never ever.
"You're so stupid I could bawl my eyes out. I like you too!" he pouted, "You don't have to say those mean things—wait what?" the table turned once more.
"I said Merry Christmas" you lied.
"No you didn't!"
The both of you were around each other's embrace as the Christmas night went on with blaring fireworks in the skies. Soft snowflakes draping on every surface, every laughter, every smile.
