#thornled

oh boy. that was the first thought lucy had when she spotted the other. she was .... decidedly different than the first time they met, which lucy wasn’t sure was good or bad. and they did NOT meet under ‘good’ circumstances which left the blonde feeling. well. awkward.

jana.

jana, my ride or die. been here since …… the ol’ days. 

 … i’m actually getting emotional typing this cause of how long we’ve known each other and we had a spell of not talking but we picked up like we’d never parted ways and honestly ,,,, if that ain’t the sign of a true friend i dunno what it is. like, i don’t usually get this soppy with you, like you know how much i love you and what you mean to me. but why not say it now?

your passion, your imagination, your writing and your just —— creativity, it knows no bounds and it’s so damn admirable. you are so unique and one of a kind in everything you do and every idea you have, this fandom doesn’t deserve your genius, but it’s bloody lucky to have it. 

as a person? you are …. indescribable. kind, funny, wonderful, patient, compassionate —- it’s so rare to meet someone like you and i assure you i don’t take it for granted and i thank my lucky stars i met you all those years ago and i chose to come back and i found you again. 

i’m sorry this one isn’t as funny or key-smashy as the others, but i just felt like i really had to tell you how much i bloody love you and how amazing you are in everything you do and no doubt everything you will do.

don’t worry, i’ll send you a shitpost ask to make up for the memes.

jana. you are everything and beyond to me. thank you. and i love you. 

lyon moves to catch her, hands gently cradling her hips for a fleeting moment just to make sure she’s steady enough to stand on her own. even with the slight stumble she manages to look so damn graceful in everything she does, lyon’s shifting usually involves a lot of kicking and angrily jerking his head. 

he chuckles at her bitter mutterings, ‘ albatross, eh ? a beak like that would look good on you. ’ he snorts, hands on his hips, chest puffed out.

‘ i mean, it’s fine, really ! we can’t all be effortless at this, unlike myself of course. ’ lyon is smirking as he runs lithe fingers through his ivory hair — the suave motion stopped when his fingers bump into something. 

his hand drops … as does his head.  

lyon drops what he’s holding.

it lands on his foot. it hurts. he ignores it.

‘ sleep here ? ’ he echoes, staring at her. she doesn’t reply again, simply continues to wait for an answer. 

the storm is bad and sherry would probably have to swim home if he let her leave now. it only makes sense for her to stay here, for her own damn safety if nothing else ! why does he have to be so weird about it ?!

just say ‘ yes. that’s fine. ’

‘ sleep here with me ? well ! not with me – like with me — but in the same building ? this building – my house – sleep here ? uhm … sure. ’

meme

if lucy was honest: she never thought that sherry blendy of all people would pay her a compliment. but the blond fiddled with the fabric of her dress–a gift from mira, actually!!–and a slow smile took over from her initial surprise. “oh, um. thank you, sherry!” 

send  🌿  for  our  muses  to  be  caught  under  mistletoe .

‘ — and that is the entire history of eggnog. ’ lyon finally finished his speech, hands on hips and his chest puffed out like a proud peacock of some breed. god, he was so smart. it’s like his brain could do a hundred press ups or something. when he comes down from his smug high, he catches sherry’s eye for a moment and he cannot help but giggle slightly when he does, is he so obvious in his endeavours to impress her ? it’s all so juvenile really and there’s a small part of his brain that hates what he’s been reduced to when he’s around her —- but it’s also painfully liberating and there’s nothing wrong with feeling like that. 

they’d been sent on a trivial job by a guildmate, to retrieve foilage ( fancy leaves, lyon called them ) to decorate their guildhall with. sherry had offered her services and like the lap dog he’d become lyon had leapt at the opportunity. to go somewhere with her. just the two of them. 

he’d held her hand. it was pretty great. 

‘ do we have to go back in there ? ’ lyon asks, stopping them in the doorway, ‘ i’m not ready for the countless questions about decor, sherry. i don’t have it in me to measure the distance between tree decorations or look at fifty different shades of green until my eyes burn. ’

he’s being dramatic, no surprises there. but, he’s doing it in the hopes of making her laugh, even if just a little. 

admist his rantings, however, he notices that she’s not really giving much in the way of response, her eyes trained on something else.

‘ hm ? ’ he follows her gaze upwards — mistletoe ? really ?! what kind of hallmark movie bullshit was this ?! ‘ ah ! that’s - uh - not really a wise place to put that, is it ? i mean, anyone and everyone walks through this door ! i - imagine if it was me and yuka stood out here, huh ? how weird would that be ! ’ lyon’s laugh is high and nervous as he rubs the back of his neck, ‘ i’d have to get him a chair to stand on or something — not that i would kiss yuka, of course, we’re just talking hypothetically here. ’

lyon’s hand drops heavily as does his head, his cheeks burning. one day, he’ll be able to control his nerfaricious tongue. 

he clears his throat and smiles softly, ‘ i mean —– may i ? ’

he kind of hears what she’s saying. though, lyon is somewhat still lost on the honeymoon phase of their relationship — relationship ? is that what they have ? god, he hopes so … he may or may not have already told several a few people that they’re something of a thing now. her voice sounds somewhat like it’s underwater to him, as he stares at her across his desk, cheek resting in his palm and a dopey smile on his face.

god, isn’t she beautiful? she’s so cute when she blushes. honestly, lyon didn’t know how he got so lucky to have such a stunning best friend. a pretty best friend. a wonderful, amazing –

oh good god, what the hell was that thing ? 

now he’s listening. 

the sweater is so obnoxious and the colours so damn loud it’s hard for him to not hear it. sure, he’s gotten more into the Christmas spirit as time has gone by. allowing himself to let loose and celebrate more, but gosh, this was too much too soon. besides he wasn’t sure if green and red were really his colours … at least not together, anyway.

you don’t have to wear it.

she tells him. but there’s a twinkle in her eye that tells him he’s going to wear it and she knows it. lyon is so far gone for sherry and so under her thumb that he’d dress up as rudolph and parade around the guild if she asked him to — better not mention that out loud, though, she might just suggest it for next year.

lyon chuckles before standing up, walking around his desk to stand before her. with a smile still on his face he takes the garment from her. it’s soft. at least it has that. 

‘ we’re gonna’ be that couple, hm? ’ he asks her, teasingly and before she can respond he leans down to kiss her forehead, ‘ it’s wonderful, sherry. of course i’ll wear it. ’