New Year's Special: Ivor x Female Reader
@ena-the-eepy made a comic!!!
💬 0 🔁 1 ❤️ 3 · Ivor plays ring toss!!! Nothing could possibly go wrong 😎💥💥 Wellll someone almost died BUT👆they didn’t!! So yeah nothing w
All my Ivor girls put your hands up and say "HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY---HOOOOOOOOOOOO."
Ivor, my sweet, sweet, himbo <3
Spot editing will be done throughout the rest of my life XD
Tagging (SORRY FOR NOT TAGGING PEOPLE IN CORBEAU'S! It's been a while and I've forgotten X'D ) : @vanillianbean @van1shiro @kociokwiksstuff
ALSO, if you're new here, go read Ivor's Christmas Fic so that you can see the proposal scene.
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Lumiose was already glowing by the time Ivor’s parents arrived.
The city shimmered under winter lights—Prism Tower crowned in gold, shop windows painted in frosted whites and berry reds, and banners waving cheerfully with Bonne Année! stitched in swirling cursive. Festival stalls were setting up all along all the streets, the air rich with the scent of roasted chestnuts, berry cider, and fresh brioche.
You and Ivor stood bundled at the gate, your fingers intertwined, your engagement ring catching every lantern flicker. Ivor’s scarf—eternally red, eternally warm—fluttered lightly in the winter breeze.
Gwynn stood beside him with her arms crossed, pretending not to be freezing.
Then the gate opened.
“THERE THEY ARE!” Mom cried, sweeping both arms upward as though greeting long-lost royalty.
Dad followed with a calm nod. “Good evening.”
Mom immediately enveloped Ivor in a rib-cracking hug. “Oh, sweetheart! I missed you!”
Ivor wheezed. “Mom—ribs—still bruised—”
Mom ignored this completely and turned to you with a radiant smile. “And there’s our future daughter-in-law!”
You barely had time to blink before she grabbed you too, squeezing you tight against her knitted sweater.
You laughed breathlessly. “It’s so good to see you, too!”
Dad nodded warmly. “You look well,” he said, which—coming from him—counted as high praise.
Gwynn received a significantly more reserved hug, which she tolerated with a dignified sigh.
Mom clapped her hands. “Now! Before we do anything else—New Year’s charms!”
Ivor perked up instantly. “I brought mine!”
“You bring the same one every year,” Gwynn muttered.
“That’s called tradition,” Ivor countered proudly.
Mom rummaged through her tote bag until she produced a small velvet pouch embroidered with glittering snowflakes. She drew out two tiny charms, each shaped like a miniature figure set: one was a tiny silver Gallade, blade-arms curved elegantly. The other was a pearl-white Gardevoir, skirts flowing like water. She placed them reverently into your palms.
“These are for the two of you,” she said. “Partners. Protectors. A symbol of strength and harmony in the year ahead.”
You swallowed softly. They were beautiful—simple, elegant, crafted with care.
Ivor’s chest puffed just a little. “And because Gallade and Gardevoir are totally in love,” he added proudly.
Gwynn smacked his arm. “That is NOT why Mom picked them.”
Mom blinked innocently. “…I mean, it didn’t hurt the symbolism.”
Dad nodded with infuriating seriousness. “They are a balanced pair. Like you.”
Your face warmed. With a shy smile, you dug into your coat pocket and produced two small Chimecho charms, their silver bells etched with delicate spiral patterns.
“For good fortune,” you said. “And harmony in the home.”
Mom placed a hand over her heart. “Oh, these are precious.”
Dad gave an approving nod. “Excellent craftsmanship.”
Mom elbowed him. “You can smile, dear.”
He did not smile. But his nod was 20% warmer.
Ivor stepped forward proudly, producing two small wooden boxes. His parents carefully opened them to reveal a tiny carved Falinks charm, painted carefully by hand—but unmistakably Ivor’s handiwork. Slightly uneven. Grinning big. Marching in formation.
Mom gasped. “You carved them again!”
“I carve them every year,” Ivor said. “One for you, one for Dad.”
Dad nodded. “We keep them.”
Mom lifted her necklace—a chain adorned with six tiny Falinks charms, each from a different year.
“I treasure all of them,” she said proudly.
Ivor beamed.
Gwynn muttered to you, “She wears that thing to temple. Once a year. People ask questions.” Then, she cleared her throat and produced her charm offering with an air of dignified reluctance. A beautifully made Clefable charm, delicate and sparkly, with tiny gemstone eyes.
Mom gasped. “Oh Gwynnie, it’s lovely!”
Dad nodded. “Very appropriate.”
Ivor whispered to you, “Despite having an affinity for ghost pokemon, Clefable is Gwynn’s favorite. It’s like giving someone a piece of her soul.”
“Stop narrating my life, Ivor," Gwynn hissed at him.
With charms exchanged, everyone bundled closer against the chilly breeze.
Mom linked her arm with yours. “Now then—let’s head to the festival, shall we? There’s so much to see! Lanterns, fireworks, good-luck berry pastries, the floating wish ceremony—oh! And the Delphox fortune booth!”
Dad added dryly, “It is also extremely crowded. Prepare yourselves.”
Ivor squeezed your hand, excitement sparkling in his eyes.
“Ready, fiancée?”
You couldn’t stop the grin forming on your face if you wanted to.
“Ready.”
Gwynn groaned. “You two are going to be insufferable all night.”
And with that, your strange, chaotic, loving family headed into the glowing heart of Lumiose City.
==========
Lanterns lined every street. Music floated on the cold evening air. Prism Tower’s rotating lights cast ribbons of blue and gold across Centrico Plaza, where crowds were already gathering for the New Year’s festivities.
You walked alongside Ivor, his hand warm in yours—your engagement ring glinting each time a lantern reflected off it. Gwynn followed with the sort of patient suffering only a younger sister could achieve. Ivor’s parents trailed happily behind, pointing out street stalls and decorations.
The festival had come to life in full force.
A Sylveon ribbon-dancer twirled past, pastel tendrils streaming behind her as her trainer spun in sync. A trio of Kricketune violinists played a lively waltz that made couples sway where they stood. Hawlucha acrobats soared overhead on ribbons suspended from wooden beams. Blaziken jugglers hurled fire into the sky, flames blooming into bursts of embers.
Everywhere you turned, something sparkled.
“This is AMAZING,” Ivor breathed. “LOOK—he’s juggling fire WITH a Pokémon!”
“That is what fire jugglers do, Ivor,” Gwynn deadpanned. “Try to contain your shock.”
You squeezed his hand, laughing.
He squeezed back—then raised your intertwined hands so your ring sparkled under the lanterns.
Gwynn noticed.
“You’re going to blind someone with that,” she muttered.
Centrico Plaza buzzed with energy, and parked proudly along the cobblestones was Café Nouveau Truck No. 1—decorated in teal, gold, and festoon lights.
Grisham stood at the counter, calmly adjusting the pastries with practiced precision. Griselle waved a steaming mug, shouting promotions far louder than necessary.
And as if drawn by fate itself, the entire Lumiose trainer circle converged at the same moment.
Corbeau and Philippe approached first, elegant as ever. Jacinthe followed, graceful and poised, wrapped in a winter shawl worth more than the truck. Vinnie lifted a polite hand in greeting, daughter nowhere in sight tonight as he enjoyed a rare evening off. Canari bounced behind him, switching between her game console and her surroundings. Tarragon and Lebanne wandered in with whimsical scarves fluttering. Urbain and Lida arrived with Naveen in tow, cups of hot cider steaming in their hands.
You blinked. You had not expected everyone to gather at once. Neither had Ivor. He stiffened at your side like you’d just thrown him into a tournament finals.
Griselle slammed open the service window.
“Well, well, WELL,” she declared, eyes narrowing. “Look who finally showed up!”
Grisham added gently, “Welcome. Please enjoy the New Year’s menu.”
And, you hadn’t planed to announce anything—not yet. You were simply trying to fix your mitten. But the second your glove slipped off, the lantern light hit the ring just right—and everything stopped.
Corbeau froze mid-step. Then a slow, knowing smirk curved across his lips. “Oh… mon dieu.”
Philippe clasped his hands. “It’s stunning,” he breathed. “May we…?”
You held your hand out shyly. The group reacted in a cascade.
“EXCUSE ME?!” Griselle groused, hands on her hips, “When were you going to TELL us?!” Her voice carried across the entire plaza.
“YOU’RE ENGAGED?!” Lida cried, “AAAAAAAAA—”
“For the love of—you don’t have to scream, Lida!” Naveen covered his ears with a grimace. He looked at you with a shy smile before adding, “That’s… really wonderful, you two. I’m happy for you.”
Urbain had already pulled out his camera. “Hold still! Wait, do that again! YES, PERFECT—”
Jacinthe glided closer, eyes gleaming. “My, my,” she said, “Such brilliant clarity. Ivor, I’m impressed—you’ve exceeded my expectations.”
Ivor choked as you sent her a glare. But the fairy-type trainer just smiled beatifically.
“It suits you beautifully.” Lebanne added with a soft, elegant smile.
Vinnie adjusted his glasses with a warm, fatherly smile. “Congratulations, both of you.”
Calm as ever, Grisham nodded. “It’s truly lovely. A perfect match for the two of you. Congratulations.”
Canari fist-pumped in the air. “ENGAGEMENT ARC UNLOCKED!”
“Oh ho ho! Marvelous!” Tarragon boomed, “LOVE IS THE ULTIMATE BUFF!” He twirled his walking stick dramatically.
Corbeau stepped forward like a man approaching a grand piano: deliberate, smug, and absolutely ready to cause problems.
“Well,” he drawled, “with the engagement announced, I suppose the next logical step is a proper Kalosian Kiss at midnight.”
You blinked. “A… what kind of kiss?”
Ivor made a sound that could only be described as psychic damage.
Philippe discreetly covered his mouth. Vinnie coughed politely. Jacinthe arched a slow eyebrow and Lebanne’s ears turned red. Canari nearly dropped her phone. Tarragon sighed, muttering something about young love.
Lida started screaming again. Naveen looked away immediately. Griselle leaned in with scandalized delight. Grisham went still, politely pretending not to exist. Gwynn simply walked away.
Corbeau placed a hand over his heart. “Oh, chérie,” he purred. “You mean Ivor did NOT tell you?” He clicked his tongue dramatically. “Such an intimate tradition…”
Ivor practically yelped, “CORBEAU—DON’T—”
Corbeau leaned in, lowering his voice just enough to scandalize everyone:
“A Kalosian Kiss is the deepest kiss shared at midnight. A New Year’s tradition between lovers.” His eyes glittered. “It is… passionately practiced.”
Dead silence.
Your face warmed. Ivor combusted. The group reacted exactly as expected.
Gwynn, from several feet away, shouted, “ABSOLUTELY NOT IN PUBLIC.”
Corbeau stepped back, satisfied. “Well then. Only a few hours until midnight.” He winked. “Good luck~.”
You stared at Ivor. Ivor stared at you.
He swallowed hard.
“…S-so… yeah. Um. That’s… that.”
You slipped your hand into his.
His blush deepened.
The ring glittered.
==========
As you approached the waterfront, the noise of the festival softened into a gentle hum — laughter blending with soft music, the distant crackle of street performers’ fire tricks, and the rhythmic splash of water lapping at the stone embankment.
Families and couples lined the riverbank, each holding delicate floating lanterns shaped like petals or wings. Fairy-types hovered overhead — Flabébé drifting like soft confetti, Clefairy humming in little circles, and the occasional Kirlia twirling by with shy curiosity.
Ivor squeezed your hand gently as you walked into the glow.
“This part is my favorite,” he whispered. His voice was softer here. Warmer. Almost reverent.
His parents caught up behind you.
Mom placed a hand over her heart. “Oh, it’s even more beautiful than last year.”
Dad nodded in agreement. “The tradition is older than Lumiose itself.”
Gwynn stood beside him, arms crossed — but even she couldn’t hide the faint awe in her eyes.
You were handed a lantern by a volunteer — a delicate little thing crafted in the shape of a gently fluttering Gardevoir skirt, glowing faintly from within.
Ivor received one shaped like Gallade’s blade-crest.
You exchanged a look.
He smiled shyly.
The tradition was simple. You would write a wish for the coming year, place it on the lantern, then float it across the water. If the lantern reaches the river bend without sinking, Kalos folklore says your wish aligns with fate.
Mom and Dad had already begun writing theirs. Gwynn wrote hers quickly, expression neutral.
Ivor unfolded the tiny paper strip, glanced at you, then back at the blank page — blushing furiously.
You nudged him. “Need help writing your wish?”
“I’m… working on it.”
He held the pencil like it was going to combust.
You laughed softly and wrote your own. Your wish came easily.You wanted:
Joy. Stability. Growth. Moments like Christmas, moments like this. And a long future with the man beside you.
You folded the paper carefully and slid it into your lantern.
When you looked up Ivor was staring at you like you were made of stars.
“Finished?” you asked.
He jolted. “YES! NO—I mean—yes. I finished. Yes.”
You giggled.
He hid his face with his lantern, his hair sticking up and out comically.
Families lined up along the low stone railing to set their lanterns afloat. The reflection of Prism Tower rippled in the river, golden in the current.
Mom and Dad released theirs together, fingers brushing. Gwynn sent hers off, posture firm, expression unreadable.
Then Ivor turned to you. “Should we… do it at the same time?”
Your heart warmed.
“Yes.”
You knelt together at the river’s edge. The lantern light reflected in Ivor’s eyes — amber, soft, hopeful.
“Ready?” you whispered.
He nodded.
You released them.
Two lanterns — Gardevoir and Gallade — drifted side by side, their soft glow merging into a gentle shimmer on the water. Not separate. Not drifting off-course. But moving forward together.
Mom made a small sound behind you, hands clasped tightly. Dad nodded in calm approval. Gwynn’s lips twitched once — a tiny, almost-smile.
Ivor watched the lanterns sail away, shoulders softening.
“They’re like us,” he murmured. His voice was rough with emotion he didn’t try to hide.
“Partners?” you asked.
“Partners,” he said. “But also… matching. Balanced. Strong together.” He exhaled, breath fogging. “I like that.”
You leaned against him, head brushing his broad shoulder. He immediately wrapped a large arm around you, tucking you close against his warmth.
In the river, your lanterns reached the bend, still glowing, still steady, still side by side. They disappeared beyond the curve, carried gently forward.
Ivor whispered into your hair, “I hope my wish comes true.”
You smiled. “Can you tell me what you wrote?”
He swallowed.
“Not yet.”
A beat.
“But… soon.”
Your heart fluttered.
The wind carried flakes of snow across the water. Far above, the Prism Tower lights shifted to a soft, anticipatory gold as if the whole city were counting down.
And as Ivor’s arm tightened around you, breath warm against your ear. And you realized, this moment was its own kind of wish.
And it was already coming true.
==========
After the Lantern Wish Ceremony, the group drifted back into the heart of the festival, where Centrico Plaza had transformed into a winter fairground.
Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed between the lamp posts. Music pulsed softly beneath the hum of hundreds of voices. Stall after stall lined the plaza, each promising prizes, treats, and New Year’s luck.
Ivor’s eyes lit up instantly.
“GAMES!” He grabbed your hand and practically dragged you forward. “We HAVE to do the games!”
Gwynn pinched the bridge of her nose. “You don’t HAVE to—”
But it was too late. Ivor was already locked onto a row of festival booths like an alpha pokemon that spotted you.
The first stall was a simple Kalos classic: toss a ring around wooden posts shaped like Pokémon silhouettes. The prizes were little plushes. You wanted the Sylveon. Ivor wanted the Machamp.
“I GOT THIS,” he announced with the confidence of a man who had not played ring toss since age nine.
You giggled. “Okay, fiancé. Show me what you’ve got.”
Ivor took his stance. Focused. Steady. Eyes narrowed.
He threw the ring.
It bounced off the post, ricocheted sideways, hit a decoration, and landed perfectly around a random plush’s arm.
The stall owner blinked. “…That counts?”
Gwynn closed her eyes and whispered, “Arceus give me strength.”
You clapped and kissed Ivor’s cheek. “That was amazing!”
“I meant to do that,” he said confidently, even though everyone knew he did not.
He gave you the Sylveon plush.
The next booth involved fishing toy Magikarp out of a shallow pool using magnets.
A tiny six-year-old next to Ivor already had five.
Ivor had zero.
He narrowed his eyes at the kid. The kid narrowed their eyes back.
It was war.
You watched as your future husband tried to act nonchalant while visibly sweating.
Gwynn whispered behind you, “This is painful.”
Finally, with Gardevoir subtly guiding the magnetic rod with a micro-dose of psychic power (you were trying to figure out how that was even possible as she was still cozy in her pokeball), Ivor snagged a Magikarp.
The child gasped.
Ivor gasped too. He presented it to you proudly.
“For you,” he declared.
Touched, you took the toy Magikarp with a warm smile.
The next stall had floating balloons drifted gently in the air, each requiring a thrown Poké Puff dart to pop.
You handed Ivor a puff. He handed you one.
“We do this together,” he said.
Your first throw popped a balloon effortlessly.
Ivor’s missed entirely and nearly hit a Delibird mascot.
“Oh Arceus—SORRY!”
The mascot waddled away at top speed.
You laughed until you couldn’t breathe.
Ivor tried again. This time, his dart arced beautifully…and hit the same Delibird again.
Delibird fell over. Gwynn walked away. Mom cackled. Dad nodded with mild concern. You were wheezing.
The stall owner took pity and handed you two prizes “for effort.”
Ivor insisted he contributed emotionally.
A booth decorated with pink ribbons and bells caught your eye.
A sign read: “Test your romantic harmony with your partner! Hold hands and match rhythms!”
You glanced at Ivor. He was already staring at you, cheeks pink.
“Do you… wanna try?” he asked softly.
Your stomach fluttered. “Yes.”
You stepped onto the platform together and took each other’s hands. A soft melody played. Lights along the platform blinked in patterns.
You squeezed Ivor’s hand. He squeezed back. You stepped left. He hesitated. Then matched you perfectly.
The game escalated. Closer steps. Tighter timing. Faster rhythms.
You laughed, breathless. Ivor’s eyes never left yours. He moved in sync with you, guided by instinct more than rhythm.
When the music ended, your lantern lit up gold.
“Perfect Match!”
The crowd clapped. Mom squealed. Dad nodded.
Gwynn muttered, “Unbelievable.”
Ivor pulled you in for a hug, forehead pressed to yours.
“Guess we’re compatible,” he whispered.
As the games tapered off, you and Ivor found yourselves walking the edge of the plaza — away from the crowds, where the lights softened and the music faded into warmth.
Your Sylveon plush was in your arms. Ivor held the Magikarp prize in one hand. He brushed his free hand against yours. You took it. His smile softened.
“It’s our first New Year’s as fiancés,” he said.
“I know.”
He exhaled, breath fogging. “You make everything feel… magical.”
You leaned against him. “You make everything feel safe.”
His ears turned pink.
Mom and Dad wandered behind at a respectful distance. Gwynn was pretending not to watch you.
The city hummed around you, alive with light and celebration.
Ivor lifted your hand gently and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.
“Thank you,” he whispered, “for saying yes.”
You softened.
“Ivor… I’d say yes a hundred times.”
He blinked rapidly. His heart lurched loudly enough for you to feel it. And in that warm, tender quiet…
You remembered Corbeau’s words. The Kalosian Kiss. Midnight. The moment approaching sooner than either of you expected.
Ivor swallowed.
“Um… so… about midnight…”
You squeezed his hand. “Let’s not think about it yet.”
He nod-nodded way too quickly.
“O-okay. Yes. Not thinking. Totally normal. Not panicking. At all.”
You laughed softly.
And the two of you walked on — glowing lanterns overhead, music drifting, hearts warm and full as Prism Tower prepared to strike midnight.
==========
The closer it got to midnight, the more Lumiose vibrated.
Centrico Plaza was overflowing now—families, couples, trainers, performers, and Pokémon filling every walkway. Lanterns floated through the air like drifting stars. Snowflakes glimmered as they fell, catching the lights of the carousel and street lamps.
Prism Tower’s beacon glowed brighter with each passing minute.
You found yourself standing with all your friends and loved ones near the fountain—your Sylveon plush tucked under your arm, Ivor’s hand warm around yours, his thumb brushing nervously against your knuckles.
He was trying—really trying—to act normal. And he was failing spectacularly.
Every thirty seconds, he swallowed. Every forty seconds, he redid his scarf. Every forty-five seconds, he shot Corbeau a death glare.
Corbeau smiled smugly every time they locked eyes.
Mom leaned into Dad. “They look so sweet together.”
Dad nodded once. “Mm.”
Gwynn crossed her arms. “I swear if he passes out—”
“I WON’T,” Ivor blurted.
“You almost did at the proposal,” Gwynn said.
Ivor went pale. You squeezed his hand to steady him.
The lights of Prism Tower dimmed. A hush fell over the plaza. A single spotlight illuminated the tower’s top, where the digital clock shifted—
11:59 PM
Excitement rippled through the crowd. You felt Ivor stiffen beside you.
He whispered, hoarse, “This is it.”
You smiled gently, turning toward him. “Ivor?”
He froze under the softness in your voice. You stepped a little closer, your breath mingling with his in the cold winter air.
“Don’t be nervous,” you whispered. “It’s just you and me.”
His eyes softened. You could see the moment he believed you.
The tower lights shifted to gold.
A recorded voice echoed over the plaza, ringing against the winter sky:
“TEN—”
The crowd shouted with it.
Ivor’s hand trembled in yours.
“NINE—”
Jacinthe fanned herself. Lida grabbed Griselle’s arm and screamed into it. Urbain positioned his camera. Canari bounced. Tarragon chanted something magical and unintelligible. Naveen covered his mouth, quietly excited. Vinnie smiled warmly. Grisham offered a thumbs up.
Gwynn muttered, “If he faints I’m calling Nurse Joy.”
“EIGHT—SEVEN—SIX—”
Ivor’s breathing hitched. You brushed your hand up his chest, fingers curling into his scarf. He swallowed, leaning into your touch.
“FIVE—FOUR—”
His forehead touched yours. His voice quivered.
“I… love you.”
You smiled.
“I love you too.”
“THREE—TWO—”
His eyes fluttered half-closed.
“ONE—!!”
Fireworks exploded above Prism Tower — blossoms of gold, rose, blue, and violet. The sky erupted into shimmering cascades of light, each burst reflecting in the snow drifting around you both.
And in that perfect, glowing moment—you kissed him.
Ivor's eyes opened briefly as he inhaled sharply, before closing them again as he cupped your face in both his hands as if you were something delicate he’d dreamed of holding. His lips moved gently against yours, tender and reverent.
You tightened your grip on his scarf, pulling him closer.
Then—
You felt it.
A soft, tentative brush of his tongue against your lower lip.
Your breath caught.
Ivor froze for half a heartbeat — realizing what he’d done, panic flickering in his eyes. Then, the adrenaline hit him like a tidal wave.
He deepened the kiss. Not sloppy. Not clumsy. But confident. Steady. A warm, passionate surge forward as his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, drawing you up against him like he never wanted to let go.
The world tilted. Your knees weakened. The fireworks blurred.
You let out a soft sound — half gasp, half surrender — as you leaned into him completely, letting Ivor hold you up.
The kiss wasn’t indecent. But it was full. Intimate. A promise made in motion, sealed under the golden shimmer of fireworks.
A Kalosian Kiss.
When you finally pulled apart, breathless, snowflakes landed on his lashes. He looked dazed. Overwhelmed. Awestruck.
And then, he brought you in for another kiss.
Mom’s delighted shriek pierced through the music.
Dad nodded in firm approval.
Gwynn dragged a hand down her face. “Unbelievable,” she muttered. But there was a faint smile on her lips.
Jacinthe fanned herself. “Scandalous. And yet… tasteful.”
Vinnie chuckled warmly. Naveen turned pink. Lebanne smiled gently. Canari fist-pumped. Tarragon threw confetti from nowhere. Griselle whooped.
Grisham just smiled and clapped.
Corbeau clapped like he’d orchestrated the entire thing.
Philippe fanned himself dramatically.
Urbain captured six photos and cried a little.
Ivor lifted his head slowly, still breathless, still stunned.
You cupped his face in both hands.
“Happy New Year, my fiancée.”
Ivor’s eyes glistened with tears.
“Happy New Year… my love.”
He kissed you again — soft, gentle, lingering — with the fireworks still painting the sky above you both.
