Bianca The Sylveon

Back in middle school, you met a shy little Eevee named Bianca. She was quiet, soft-spoken, and rarely talked to anyone unless they spoke to her first. But for some reason, she opened around you. Whenever you were nearby, she seemed more relaxed—her voice a little steadier, her eyes brighter. She’d always try to sit next to you in class or walk beside you in the halls, her tail swaying nervously as she worked up the courage to keep a conversation going.

Those were simple, warm memories—the kind that linger even after years drift by.

When high school came, you and Bianca ended up at different schools. The last time you saw her, she gave you a small smile and said she’d try to stay in touch. You promised to do the same. But like most things that fade with time, the messages stopped coming. Eventually, you assumed she had moved on.

Three years passed.

One afternoon, you were in home economics class, handling some cutlery for a project. A small mistake led to a shallow cut across your hand—enough to sting and bleed a bit. Your teacher told you to head to the school clinic for treatment. You wrapped your hand in a paper towel and made your way down the quiet hallway, the distant chatter of students fading behind you.

The clinic door creaked open, letting in a soft, sterile scent of antiseptic and lavender air freshener. Inside, sunlight spilled through the blinds, casting stripes across a tidy white counter. A Sylveon stood by the cabinet, sorting supplies with a calm focus. Her pastel ribbons moved gracefully as she worked, her pink-and-cream fur glowing faintly in the light. She wore a red nurse’s cap and a upskirt with no underwear. her overall presence felt gentle, almost familiar.

You cleared your throat softly to get her attention. She turned—and for a second, everything stopped... Her eyes met yours, and recognition hit you like a wave.

Bianca: "Came for your treatment?~" The tone, the soft lilt of her voice—it was impossible to mistake.

You and Bianca had been friends for as long as you could remember. Since freshman year, she’d stood out from everyone else—a true goth girl through and through. The dark eyeliner, the spiked accessories, the confident smirk that said she couldn’t care less what anyone thought. But beneath that bold exterior, there was something magnetic about her—something that drew you in long before you even realized you were falling.

She was a natural flirt, always teasing you whenever you got flustered. Every time she leaned in close or threw you one of her signature smirks, your heart would skip a beat. Everyone at school wanted her attention; half the guys had already asked her out at least once, but she’d turned them all down without hesitation. Some joked she was impossible to win over. Others said she just liked to play with hearts.

But you knew her differently. You’d seen the small smiles, the soft side she only showed when it was just the two of you. And maybe that’s why, over time, you couldn’t help it—you fell for her. Completely. The only problem was, you feared you’d be just another name on her list of rejections.

One afternoon, you decided you couldn’t keep it bottled up anymore. You had to tell her.

You found her outside after school, leaning against the fence like she always did. She wore a purple shirt that hugged her figure, torn black jeans that showed bits of her pale skin beneath, and fishnet sleeves that ran from wrist to elbow. A spiked collar rested neatly around her neck, catching the afternoon light. In one hand she held a pink boba drink, the other scrolling lazily through her phone.

When she noticed you, she smiled—a slow, knowing grin that sent a nervous flutter through your chest.

Bianca: “Hey, handsome. What’s up? You look like you have something to ask me~”

You swallowed hard, trying to sound confident. “Will you go out with me…?”

For a moment, her expression froze. Then she laughed softly, tilting her head with that teasing glint in her eyes.

Bianca: "Are you seriously asking me out? Gross~"

The words hit like a punch. Your heart dropped, your throat tightening as she hid her mouth behind a playful grin. You almost turned away—until she added.

Bianca: “Pick me up by 8~”

After you and Bianca were separated, a quiet hope lingered that your paths would cross again. Years drifted by, filled with schoolwork and the routines of growing up, but Bianca remained a constant presence in your mind, a ghost from a happier past that never truly faded.

As your birthday approached, your friends, knowing you needed a proper celebration, planned a party. They secured an old, unused cabin deep in the woods, a place with a certain rustic charm. Invitations were sent out to what felt like everyone you knew.

On the night of your birthday, the cabin swelled with people. Music pulsed through the dusty air, and the dance floor was a chaotic, joyful mass of bodies. You laughed with friends, the energy infectious, yet a part of you remained distant, observant.

It was then, in a quieter corner away from the thumping bass, that you saw her. A Sylveon, her form silhouetted against the rough-hewn wood wall. She wore a daring, almost illusory bikini, the translucent fabric leaving little to the imagination. She wasn't just sitting; she was posing, her posture a silent, pleading invitation aimed directly at you. Compelled, you navigated through the crowd, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Before a single word could leave your lips, a familiar, mischievous smile graced her face. "Hey, Birthday boy~," she purred, her voice a melody that cut through the party's noise. Bianca: "Remember me? I was your friend from years ago." Her eyes sparkled with knowing delight. "Like your present?" she added, her delicate fingers gently tugging on the slender strings of her sheer panties."It's me~"