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Marianne should have known better, that Hilda was handsy, in a delicately sneaky way. For all she complained about the size of her biceps after the war (hiding them under puffy and flowing sleeves), her touch was as delicate and precise as ever. It was something Marianne had noticed over too many afternoon teas, in makeshift infirmaries on the battlefield, and back in school when Hilda had shown her a better way to clean up a spill of office supplies, sending Marianne’s heart into overdrive for the first time.

Hilda was always - doing that. Making Marianne feel like a mess on the inside. Marianne felt traditional and slow next to Hilda, who moved at a quick pace, always privy to gossip and using it to her advantage. Never without her red nails and pink make-up that popped beautifully around her eyes. And that sneaky, delicate hand was delicately wielding a make-up brush to add some color to Marianne’s cheeks.

“Don’t worry,” Hilda teased. Her eyes twinkled when she caught the worried twist of Marianne’s mouth. “It’ll be subtle. It’s all about the illusion when the light hits you just right.”

Marianne didn’t know what that meant but smiled a little anyway. She resisted the urge to squeeze her thighs together when Hilda was - close. Her breath tickled Marianne’s face. She hoped the powder Hilda was applying blended in with her blush, because Marianne was only growing warmer.

“Will all of this be easy to remove later on?”

“Yep. Don’t worry, it won’t overstay its welcome. I have a face for ballrooms, for tea, for administrative meetings… but when I slip into bed, I’m just plain ol’ Hilda.”

“There’s nothing plain about you…” Marianne murmured, barely aware she’d shared her thoughts out loud.

Hilda raised a carefully plucked brow and smirked. “Oh?”

Marianne’s eyes tore away from Hilda’s face and focused on her own reflection in the mirror. Oh, Goddess. That was. Supposed to stay in her box of secret thoughts. The kind of box that’s necessary to keep their friendship intact.

“Practicing on me, huh…”

“W-What?”

“Me dolling you up and you're practicing your smooth lines on me… Mari! Whose attention are you trying to get? Do they have a name? A face I might know?”

Yes, but. No? Marianne shook her head sharply. “I’m not trying to find anyone! You know that. And this.” Her brow pinched tight in frustration, a rare expression that only Hilda could pull out of her. Hilda, pushing buttons Marianne swore she built inside Marianne herself. “This was your idea! You invited me.”

Hilda blew a sigh out of her lips. “Aw geez, you make it sound like I bullied you to come over…”

“Oh, no. I didn’t mean to –”

Hilda winked, and Marianne flushed bright pink. Without missing a beat Hilda said, “This is why I went easy on the blush. You’re doing all the heavy lifting.” And with a graceful turn of her heel, she put down her brush and grabbed something else from her vanity. “Let’s get our lipstick on and see if that completes the look, ok?”

Marianne nodded, clasping her hands together in front of her.

“For this one I need you to look right at me.” Hilda said as she uncapped the tube of lipstick. Separating the applicator after making sure it was covered in faint, shimmering pink. “Don’t tense your lips. Give me a nice, natural gape. Like…” She relaxed her jaw and Marianne’s eyes stared at her mouth, unable to ignore how plush and full her bottom lip looked. She was ignorant to her own jaw dropping until Hilda started to paint Marianne’s lips.

She gently swept over Marianne’s bottom lip and like magic, Marianne was wet, like her own fingers had just swept through her lips and spread her slick. She squeezed her thighs together, clasped her hands tight and didn’t take her eyes off Hilda, afraid of giving herself away even more. Her core went from hot to molten when Hilda gently tipped her chin up and continued.

Was she supposed to be out of breath? Was she really no more than that strange girl who used to haunt the halls of Garreg Mach? Was Hilda… still holding her chin?

Marianne blinked, her throat feeling thick. “Does it… suit me?”

“Does it suit you?” Hilda laughed. “Who do you think just made you up! And even better, I already had a great canvas to work with. You’re so pretty, Mari. Take a look.” Hilda placed her hand between Marianne’s shoulder blades and urged her to look back to the mirror. Marianne gasped, her hand coming to touch her mouth but stopping at the last second.

Oh. It was her. But. A little different. A little brighter… and more colorful.

“I see why you get hooked on this sort of thing…” She smiled a little zig-zag of a smile. “It’s like… a pop of spring. If that makes sense.”

“Fresh and clean? I like that. Hm… But you know.” Hilda’s tone crept with a hidden agenda. “It really is a shame to make you up and for no one to enjoy it. You really don’t have anyone in mind? No girls who would love for you to smear your lipstick all over them because they accidentally picked one that comes off too easy?”

Marianne stared at the mirror’s reflection of them. Her face, wide eyed and flush. Hilda, smiling coyly and positively proud of herself. She watched mirror Hilda lean in to mirror Marianne’s side, watched and felt Hilda’s lips graze her ear. Pleasure prickled up and down her spine, making her shiver.

“I saw you. When are you going to squeeze your thighs around me?

Maybe it’s the fact there’s a part of Marianne that would always be beastly no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Maybe it’s the courage from her lips, shimmering and pink just like Hilda. Maybe it was Hilda, pushing the buttons only she could find inside Marianne. Marianne moved with a swiftness that hadn’t presented itself since the war. Pinning a delighted Hilda against her vanity, sending several bottles and brushes rolling off the edge.

Their first kiss was clumsy but warm. Made electric when Hilda’s fingers gripped Marianne's hair, telling her to stay, not to move on just yet. Marianne should have known, Hilda was always sneaky when there was something she wanted. In her heart, she’d been too afraid to consider Marianne would be one of those things.

She’d never admit it outloud, because Hilda was (attractively) terribly smug, but Marianne had a lot to learn from her. Taking what she wanted… She was learning now. She made a mess of the collar of Hilda’s blouse when it got in the way of kissing her neck, and made an even bigger mess when she ripped her blouse open, sending buttons flying.

Hilda shrieked indignant that she had clothes specifically for ripping off her and that wasn’t one of them – and forgot herself entirely when Marianne’s mouth latched onto her large breast. Painting her in pink, Marianne mapped a trail of all the paths she took down Hilda’s body until she was hungry and eager, nose deep in her cunt. Taking her cues from Hilda’s quivering thighs, the strong hand pulling tighter and tighter in her hair. The sweet mess drenching Marianne’s cheeks, nose, and eyelashes towards the end.

Only when Hilda begged her off, pushing instead of pulling, did Marianne truly come up for air and see Hilda, looking every bit disheveled and ravaged by a beast (named Marianne.)

“Ah, ah…” Hilda tutted, after catching her breath. Used her own strength to plant Marianne over her thick thigh. “You still owe me some squeezing.”

Marianne moaned as she rocked against her thigh, her skirt hiked up and out of the way. “Oh, Hilda…”

“You’re a mess,” Hilda cooed fondly. And then grinned, cheeky and fucked out as she watched Marianne’s rocking grow more intense. “And so pretty. I told you I make art. I’m an artisan, after all.”

“Hilda…”

“Mm, keep going. I’m enjoying the show.”

With Hilda’s finger firmly holding down Marianne’s on button, Marianne had no choice but to continue.