#blanc x reader

You sigh as you straighten your back, dusting your clothes and gloves from the dirt clinging onto them. Your eyes look behind you as you hear footsteps approaching you and you smile when you see that it's Blanc.

His steps stutter when he realizes you noticed him. He holds a tray with a pitcher and two glasses filled with what you can tell is fresh lemonade.

You walk over to him while pointing at yourself, asking a silent 'For me?' and Blanc flush slightly as he nods. Your smile widens as you grab a glass. "Thank you." You grin at him, gulping down the lemonade happily.

Blanc's tail sways behind him. "No problem... S-saw you working... from my place. And... wanted t-to tell you... good job." He returns your grin sheepishly.

You don't see it, but Blanc's eyes, hidden beneath his bangs, widens for a moment before squinting. Then, when you lower the glass from your mouth, your posture straightens from how close he suddenly is.

He shifts the tray so he can hold it in one hand as his other hand goes up to your cheek, brushing something away. You don't know what. All you could focus on is Blanc.

The sound of a stork squawking and flying off seems to shatter whatever trance Blanc was in as he suddenly backs off from you as if he were burned. "S-s-sorry... T-there was dirt on... your f-face... And I-... I was..." He trails off, face red and ears turned downwards.

You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding as you wave your hand. "It's... okay." You can feel how hot your face is. "Thank you for getting it." You mumble.

Blanc was standing frozen in front of you. The grip on the tray he brought is so strong you can see his knuckles turning white. And the way his face is red but pale as his lips tremble. "I-I-I'm really... sorry..." He stutters out.

Your first instinct was to hold him and tell him it really was okay, but you stop yourself because you fear that if you give Blanc any physical contact, he might just explode. So you resort to your words instead. "Blanc." You call out to him.

He doesn't respond, but you see one of his ears twitching. So you continue, "Blanc... It's okay. I... I didn't mind it." You admit, a blush forming on your face again. "Really. It's fine." You give him a fond smile.

The bird on top of his head chirps and Blanc sighs after a moment. "I-It's... really okay...?" His tail is back in its motion, swaying side to side.

You nod. "It's okay. I'm not uncomfortable." You reassure him.

Then, he finally smiles. Shaky, but a smile nonetheless. "If y-you say so..." He replies. Blanc refills your glass and offers it back to you. "A-another glass...?"

You grin, accepting the glass and taking a sip. Blanc looks away from you. "Do you... n-need help with... your p-plants...?" Blanc quietly asks you. So quiet you almost missed it.

But you didn't. Your eyes lit up as you nodded. "Yes! Yes, I would love to have your help! You're the expert after all." You tease him, and he actually laughs. And it makes your heart stutter.

"Do you have anywhere... I could p-put this down?" Blanc gestures over to the tray he's holding and you gasp.

"Let me take them." You offer, holding your hand out. Blanc carefully hands over the tray to you. You nod at him as you take the tray into your house.

While you were inside, Blanc let out a heavy sigh. His hands cover his face while he lets his embarrassment out without a sound. Did he really do that? What's gotten into him?!

But... he'd be lying if he were to say he didn't enjoy being close to you.

When you returned from your house, Blanc was already put together. His gardening gloves were equipped and a trowel in hand. "S-shall we...?"

You visit him less. You ask fewer questions. You avoid him, offering excuses like, “Oh, I’ve been so busy lately, I didn’t even realize"

Those boxed meals you used to make? Gone. His cabinet, once filled with the meals you insisted he keep, now sits empty. His once lively mornings and afternoons grow quiet. Peaceful—just like they were before you came into his life

And then, one day, the silence becomes too much for him to ignore.

He realizes how long it’s been since he last heard your voice. Since he last saw your eyes looking at him, your attention focused solely on him. He realizes he misses your cooking, your smile, your presence.

Without quite knowing why, his feet carry him toward your home—only for him to stop a few paces away

Because he hears you.

Your voice—bright, vivid, full of laughter. The smell of your cooking fills the air, drawing him closer

And there he finds you

Your eyes shine like stars, your attention completely focused on someone else. Your cheeks are flushed pink, your eyes crinkling at the corners as you laugh. The man in front of you continues telling stories about his day

'What part of reeling in a fish is so fun?' he wonders. 'Is it really that interesting?'

He doesn’t understand why he’s thinking this. It’s not like him

Maybe if he asked you, you would know the answer.

You always did.

"Blanc? You awake?" You called out to her incredulously. Sure, it was the middle of the day when just about everyone was awake, but... this is Blanc you're talking about. Who knows what her sleep schedule's been like the past few days. Thankfully, though, your worries appeared to be unfounded (today, at least). You heard a familiar click of her door unlocking before her messy-haired head peeped out from the other side. A small, giddy smile crept across her face, a muted yet poignantly apparent excitement having been built up inside her.

"Oh, it's you. Come in." The wood creaked as her hand hurriedly pushed it to the side, not seeming to care when it banged harshly into the nearby wall. Mindfulness never really was her strong suit.

Not long after finding your way over to an empty chair, you wound up with a fresh stack of papers being pushed violently into your arms. This silent act had become rather routine for the two of you by now, as much as your past self would have died of shock hearing that. When you first wrote a fan letter to her expressing your love of her latest book not so long ago, you'd hoped that maybe she'd send a polite thank you letter back. Even if it was generic or mass-printed, you would've gladly taken it. Hell, even just her reading it at all would've been a blessing.

The last thing you could've imagined was her adamently appointing you as her proofreader and editor the very next day.

And yet, there you were, about to read the next chapter of her latest writing adventure. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her feet inpatiently shuffling back and forth. You barely suppressed a chuckle at the sight. Somehow, despite you being her fan, she always seemed just as nervous as you were when it came to these meetings—if not more. You sighed. At least it made adjusting to the strange situation easier on your poor little admiring heart.

"Hurry up and read it." Her words shot out of her like exploding popcorn kernels. Shaking off your initial spaciness, you gently tapped the paper into your knees a few times before beginning to read her work. Let's see...

Awww. You couldn't help but squeal internally in delight at the adorable writing in front of you. Sure, some people aren't interested in her works given her... unique writing style, for lack of better phrasing. But that's what makes them so special! You could practically see visions of her staying up and pulling all-nighters, all the while gleefully tapping away at her computer screen or scribbling onto whatever notebook was nearest by. Honestly, you loved her works even more than the classics other people like to rave about. They just didn't have the same charm that she managed to infuse into each, shoddily-put-together line.

With that said, you had a lot of work to do if this was going to even be up to par with them grammar-wise. You made a quick mental note of the most egregious of mistakes before turning to the next page. There seems to be a problem, though? Your eyes quickly scanned over the first few sentences of the new sheet of paper, each time only leading to more and more confusion. She must have noticed the furrowing of your brows, as she soon followed up with an unnatural cough.

"Well...? Is there a problem?" You tried your best to keep a blank expression, something closer to the one she typically wears, but to no avail. If anything, your meager attempt at a poker face only grew less and less convincing by the second. Your eyes trailed down the paper. With each new word that crossed your line of vision, a warmth grew stronger and hotter on both sides of your face. Eventually, her patience ran too thin and she swiped the paper out of your hand. It was too late, though. The sole paragraph that you had read already permanently seared itself into your brain long ago. As you sat there quietly, waiting for her inevitable breakdown once she realized the mistake she'd innocently made, the afterimage still echoed in your mind.

Ugh, why do I have to wait so long to ask them out??? Fucking social norms!!! I wanna ask them out and go on dates and stuff already, and I wanna kiss them and do other couple things like the couples do in my favorite novels like hug them and call them romantic nicknames and sleep—

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!"

Her loud voice boomed out all the thoughts in your head in one fell swoop. Half of your mind was inclined to sympathize with her and offer her some form of pity. After all, if you accidentally showed someone else your diary like that, you'd probably freak out just as hard as she was. The other half of your mind though... was focused on not being murdered. And given the ginormous book in her hands that was being held over her head in a suspiciously weapon-like form, your odds weren't looking too good.

"You..." She growled out her anger in a rush of heavy exhales. "You. Are going. To forget. You. Read. Anything. Got that?!" The book lifted higher into the air, a warning huff following her threatening action.

"Y-yes! I'll forget, I'm sorry!" You cowered back in terror. Who knew someone of her physique could be so intimidating under the right circumstances?

To your relief, your apologies seemed to finally have soothed the burning rage within her. You watched as her heels—previously elevated to help assert her dominance—sank down into the soft floor and her jaw slowly unclenched. For a moment, you two simply stayed in your positions like statues, unsure of how to move forward.

"But... since you did read it..." Her tone took an unexpected turn, the former harshness evaporating and making way for a newfound soft, shy demeanor. You looked up at her in surprise as she continued on.

"Do you... like me back?"

"What?"

"Huh?"

The air grew still as both of your minds went into overdrive. Wait, so the person she was writing about in her diary was... Oh. Oh. After a handful of grueling, painfully long seconds, you finally understood the source of your shared misunderstanding. Unfortunately, it looked like she figured it out at the exact same time as you did.

"Y-you really didn't realize it was about you? I... I..."

First, her hands shook in what you can only imagine was one of the worst bouts of horrified embarrassment in her life. Then, her hands grasped down on the book she was still holding. And hard.

Your body shivers as his fingers trail to your nipples, peach eyes entrancing yours in the mirror. There isn’t a sound in the room around you, your breath held as you wait to see what your lover does next. You can feel the warm glow that the candles cast around the room, as you sit on his lap in front of an ornately decorated mirror. What started as him brushing your hair, turned into a lesson of love. He had already bared you, leaving not an ounce of clothing on your figure as he explores your body. Your legs are spread on either side of his own in a provocative display. His mouth is busy with your neck, while his fingers explore your skin, finding the supple flesh of your breast the current focal point. When he takes a nipple in his fingers, you finally break the silence of the room with a moan. Adjusting yourself around him, you feel his length twitch against your walls, reawakening your desire in your core. his fingers rolling your nipple between his fingers, tongue trailing along the column of your neck. Soft moans fall from your lips as you rest your head against his chest.

“Blanc” His name is a simple plea for more, the feeling driving you crazy. You struggle with your binds, the peach ribbon holding your hands behind you and around his neck.

“What beautiful?” His voice is a purr in your ear as his fingers pull away from your breasts, hands falling down to your hips.

“Please, move. I want to feel you more” You whisper, trying to rock against his hips for stimulation. Blanc just smiles at you through the mirror. You watch his lips caress your neck, tongue tracing the skin. His hips roll against yours, and you moan as his length finally starts moving, filling you so perfectly. His deliberate movements and the feeling of his fingers caressing your nipples overwhelm your senses, your head falling back. When your eyes fall shut, however, his fingers leave your body, and his movements still.

“Blanc-”

“If you want me to continue you have to keep your eyes on the mirror” He whispers in the mirror, waiting until your eyes are trained back on his before his hands return to your breasts. His lips lower to your shoulders, his hips finally resuming their slow roll in your core. It is a struggle to not follow your instinct and close your eyes, instead watch his fingers as he pinches your nipple. One of his hands leaves your breast, trailing instead down to your clit, pressing against the bundle of nerves as more pleasure floods your body. Legs trembling, his smile only grows wider when your orgasm approaches, his hand leaving your clit so your body loses the stimulation. Slowly picking up speed, his thrusts speed up and his fingers work your clit in time to his thrusts. His name falls from your lips as he continues teasing your clit, slowing down only when your pleasure threatens to overwhelm you.

“Blanc-” Your breathy moan has his eyes widening, before he smiles at you, pressing his mouth right against your ear.

"Of course you're not y/n! You can drop by at anytime you please, I could never turn a lady away." Blanc smiled charmingly, slipping off his oven mitts and putting on his gloves. He was wearing a baby blue apron with adorable cream accents that happened to be covered in flour.

"Yeah I guess you did," I placed my basket on the countertop, lifting off the cloth covering the baked goods inside, "And I brought some scones! Oh! And Luka made extra muffins yesterday!"

"Lovely!" Blanc grinned and clapped his hands together then he lifted up the nearby kettle, filling it up, "That should go wonderfully with the new tea I bought yesterday."

Blanc and I exchanged pleasant conversation over tea and scones while we waited for the cake to be ready. His company always put me in a good mood, a mini tea party with the White Rabbit was the perfect distraction from the organized chaos of living in an army headquarters.

"Stunning." Blanc murmured as he took a sip of green tea.

"Hmmm?" Placing my half-eaten scone down of my plate, "did you say something Blanc?"

"Ah, it's just that you look gorgeous, your smile is like a breath of fresh air in a smoke choked world." Blanc spoke in such a carefree manner, "Y/n, allow me to ammed that statement," he leaned across the table, his hand cupping my cheek, "your blush is marvelous."

I hadn't even realized that my cheeks had turned a rosy pink. "Blanc-?" Hiss gloved finger traveled over my lips, taking a crumb of scone away with them. A confident smile gracing his face, he licked the scone from his fingertip. I couldn't ignore the burning heat in my cheeks, this was way beyond Blanc's regular harmless flirting.

You shift your position on his lap and his hands shoot up to grab your hips, keeping you still. "Sorry." He murmurs. Blanc's face finds its way to your shoulder, hiding his red face.

You frown, but not out of disgust or anything like it. "Blanc…" You gently call out his name and he whimpers. Despite his hold on you, you grind down onto the hard-on poking your back.

He moans in surprise, head lifting up from your shoulder to look at you. His bangs stick to his face due to the sweat and you can see one of his eyes behind them. They're looking at you with surprise and there's a droplet of tear threatening to fall down.

"You're this worked up from… making out?" You hum, head tilting to the side. Blanc's lips tremble, but before he could look away, you catch his face with both your hands, making him look at you.

"I'm not upset, baby." You give him a smile and his mouth opens slightly.

"You're… n-not?" He whines. Ears flicking as you caress his cheek.

"No." You laugh. "Why don't I show you how I feel about it."

Blanc launched out of her seat, but the sound of an alarm ringing out halted her in place just before her fist could collide with Noire's stomach. They, as well as the other members of their group, looked over at one of the girl's lit-up phone screens. Club time was officially over.

"See, what did I tell you? You all waste too much time goofing off and debating over random nonsense. At this rate, it really will be a hundred years before we finish the Console War..."

This, my dear readers, is the CPU club, a collection of college kiddos who act anything but their age—save for Noire, the sole member of their clique in charge of maintaining some level of order and professionalism. Their personalities and work ethics vary from member to member, yet they all have joined together for one reason and one reason only: they're delusional as fuck. Each of these girls believes themself to be the reincarnation of a Goddess from another world, all destined to duke it out and decide who deserves to rightfully rule as the True Goddess.

But, of course, they're still regular college kids. With no magic or physical land to rule over, how could they ever come up with a fair system to gauge who's earned this prestigious title?

That's why you're here, silly! A Goddess is nothing without a loyal follower. Therefore, it's up to you, the poor passerby who just so happened to be around at the perfect time to get snatched up by one of its members, to stay by their side as they roleplay their chuunibyou fantasies and pick the one you deem the most worthy. Or, if we're being honest, the most smoochable.

Anyway, on to our love interests—ahem, Goddesses!

- Vert -

CPU Name: Green Heart

Ruler of: Leanbox

Weapon of Choice: Polearm

Strengths: My overwhelming charm and charisma, not to mention my far above average looks... especially in the chest department ;)

Weaknesses: None Vain and prone to provoking other members. Sore loser. - Noire

Why do you believe you deserve to become the True Goddess?: Looking at the rest of the options here, isn't it obvious? Come on, just pick me already! I'll give you a special reward if you do <3

Ah, Vert. The reason this club formed in the first place, as well as the one who dragged you into this whole mess. As her form implies, she believes that the best way to earn your love is through using her womanly charms. And lord is she not subtle at all about it. From her revealing outfits to her proclivity for hugging your arm suspiciously tight, she's determined to prove to you that only she's capable of fulfilling your desires—especially physical ones. Wink wink wink.

Unfortunately for her, this line of reasoning isn't exactly popular with the others. That wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that they've set up a system where they roleplay-battle against one another to decide things like who gets to sit by you, who gets to spend alone time with you, etc. But alas, they have, and her constant goading almost always leads to her being targeted by Blanc right from the get-go.

But that's fine! While it is true that she often misses out on rewards, that just makes her all the more determined to garner your attention after the fact—despite Noire making it very clear that things like sending you... interesting photos are against the rules. Hey, as long as you don't rat her out, nobody will know.

That's how she is when she's with you or at the club. Outside of that, though, is an entirely different story. All that immaturity and childishness that defines her Goddess persona goes right out the window during normal school activities, often leaving you feeling as if you're witnessing an entirely different person altogether. She's cool and composed. If someone compliments her, she gets shy and humbly thanks them, making sure to throw in a kind word their way herself.

Of course, this is nothing more than a mask she forces herself to wear while out in public. The moment she gets you alone, she's right back to clinging onto you like a madwoman and begging you to choose her as your lover—I mean, the True Goddess already!

- Blanc -

CPU Name: White Heart

Ruler of: Lowee

Weapon of Choice: Hammer, Axe

Strengths: I'm responsible and willing to stand for what I believe in.

Weaknesses: Blanc left this one blank, so I guess I have to fill this part out. Again. Easy to anger, often leading to derailed meetings. Doesn't talk much outside of that. - Noire

Why do you believe you deserve to become the True Goddess?: I take my role way more seriously than Neptune and I don't feel the need to flaunt my chest around like Thunder Tits just to fuel my ego.

Blanc's honestly the one that is the hardest to get close to—at least at the start. Not only is she the quietest of the bunch, but the moments where she does speak are usually to cuss out Vert or yell battle cries in the middle of their roleplay sessions. It also doesn't help that her recklessly singling out Vert in said sessions often leads to the other two members taking advantage of her tunnel vision to take her out of the running early.

Still, she finds ways to make herself endearing to you, even if many of them are unintentional. Her relative reservedness allows you a safe space to breathe when the others' constant vying for your attention gets to be too much to handle, and yet her occasional shows of affection help remind you that she cares just as deeply as anyone else in the room. And, of course, her fits of anger can be rather entertaining.

As far as interacting with you outside of club activities, she's very partial to both digital interactions and communicating via letters. The only problem is that she's not exactly good at either. Texts from her come off as dry at best and outright hateful at worst, especially if you're someone who's been trained to see full stops and single-worded messages as signs of silent rage.

While her letters are better in that regard, they're riddled with their own unique issues, the worst of them being that, well... She just kind of sucks at writing. It's a miracle that she was even accepted into this college, honestly, with how barebones and choppy her sentences are.

Then again, maybe this just goes to show how dedicated she is to working hard despite her shortcomings. Slow and steady wins the race, she believes, and that includes the one for your heart.

- Noire -

CPU Name: Black Heart

Ruler of: Lastation

Weapon of Choice: Short Sword

Strengths: I'm hardworking and, frankly, the only one who gets things done around here.

Weaknesses: Okay, I'll admit that I'm a bit of a control freak and sometimes push others away. But at least I'm self-aware enough to admit that!

Why do you believe you deserve to become the True Goddess?: I believe I am capable and driven enough to perform the duties this position entails. Still, it's ultimately up to you who you choose, so I'll let my abilities speak for themselves.

And we finally get to the beating heart of this club, Noire! As mentioned before, she may not have been the one to get this club started, but she's absolutely the one that keeps it from falling apart at the seams. That's not to say she does literally everything on her own; Blanc has enough self-respect to volunteer to help regularly. As the club's leader, though, she can't help but hoard all the actually important work for herself, worrying that the others won't do as good a job as she will.

To be fair, her fears are more than reasonable. Just take a look around at her fellow weirdos and you'll see that even if she was willing to rely on the others, they wouldn't be nearly as enthusiastic nor capable. It sucks, but it also gives you quite the convenient opening if you wish to pursue her. See her scrunching up her face while staring at a stack of papers? Go ahead and offer to lend her a hand—and then offer a few more times, so as to bypass her gut reaction of waving off your proposal. Eventually, she'll come to learn that you really are willing to help shoulder her burdens.

It's only then that you'll finally start to see the real Noire in all her glory, and not just the exasperated, worn-out version of her usually present during club meetings. She's snarky, yet sweet. Distant, yet willing to open up as she feels progressively safer in your presence.

Most notably, she is remarkably loyal. Perhaps to a fault, even. Noire was never exactly the social type before meeting you, being much more inclined to focus on her studies over making new friends and the like. That's wonderful for her grades, but her heart? Not so much. She's a lonely soul deep down who's been silently yearning for someone who she can rely on just as much as they do her, someone who she can be silly and genuine with instead of being stuck as the girl people shove their responsibilities onto and otherwise ignore.

So, she's not saying you have to pick her, but... would you at least consider it?

- Neptune -

CPU Name: Purple Heart

Ruler of: Planeptune

Weapon of Choice: Katana, Broadsword

Strengths: I'm a cutie patootie AND a sleeping beauty!

Weaknesses: Lazy and irresponsible. - Noire

Why do you believe you deserve to become the True Goddess?: Because I'm the main character, duh doy!

With Neptune's slothful attitude, it's hard to believe she even cares about all this Goddess stuff, much less to the extent of putting in the work to show up every day. And that's because she kind of... doesn't? Whenever you ask her about the topic in any serious manner, she just brushes you off with some playful remark or pun, to the point where you don't even bother asking anymore. Still, going off what little she does share, it seems to be a matter of her viewing the competition as nothing more than a fun game to help pass the time.

So she claims... yet her behavior during "battle" sure seems to say otherwise. Somehow, she's managed to find a perfect balance between being too timid and appearing as an easy target and being so bold that the others see her as a threat. That is, for the first few rounds. Once the rest of the group grows wise to her game, she suddenly finds herself being the first one out—even before Vert, for Goddess's sake!

By nature of her winning so much at the start, you two have built quite the bond, even without any special effort on your part. It kind of just happened, you know? And honestly, as much as the other girls are nice, you can't help but miss the constant lazing around with her, downing copious amounts of junk food in one sitting and all those other bad habits you usually try and stave off.