#hare!reader

in a world where “cuter” hybrids are more preferred by the public, life as a hare wasn’t as bad as expected. especially when you have a boyfriend with the spirit of a tiger.

in his muscled glory, taiju shiba sits on the couch. its no surprise that he’s bulky even without a post-workout pump, which is what makes the domestic scene he’s in more shocking.

before he could properly wake up and get a sip of coffee in, there you were in front of him, penetrating his soul with your harelike eyes.

“good morning to you too.” he says with a furrowed brow.

you blankly stare at him, blinking at an unnatural rhythm. what was natural, however, was the spot he’d opened up next to him. a personal, yet silent invitation.

taiju subconsciously starts patting your head as you sit down, following an almost metronomic pattern of patting, drinking coffee, and looking at the magazine. he was about to flip the page when he was met with a small sting in his palm.

“the hell?!” his brows furrow. both at feeling a sting and being disrupted out of his flow state. he’s met with your sharp features mentally frowning at him.

this time, a brow raises in interest rather than a subconscious need to furrow his brows as a means to glare or intimidate. you knew a furrowed brow wasn’t gonna scare you. but in taiju’s head, he wondered if his expression would alarm you.

it mightve been your pride, it mightve been your stubbornness. hell, it mightve even been the fact you’d gotten too used to him. but you were standing your ground. you wanted something, and you wanted it now.

the thing is, taiju cant read minds. nor does he know the reason of your moodiness so early in this morning. the dilemma causes a prominent vein to bulge on his forehead.

“whats that all about babe? why’re you biting me huh?”  he tries his best to understand your sudden tantrum without pushing you down and kissing it out of you. 

“...” you let out a low sound from your closed mouth. he knows you want something.

“spit it out bunny, dont make me tug it out of your ears.” you nip him again after his juvenile joke, harder this time.

“tsk! you’re fiesty!” his grumbling is accompanied by his left thumb rubbing the reddened spot the edge of his right palm. he freezes his action when he feels your body flop against his side, completely unexpected move and complete knock out. (boxing joke intended)

a huff, a leg thumping in dissatisfaction, or a stomping away from the couch wouldve been more expected from you. but this? fine, this time he wont add fuel to the fire (the usual fuel to the fire being cuteness aggression or him folding one way or another no matter what. he also sees the latter as him being “the bigger person.”) 

the magazine found home in his hands once again after you’d settled and seemingly calmed down. unlike his firm grasp on the paper before, his thumb and index finger fiddled with the right page, as to not irritate the hare-bite on his palm.

two page flips later and taiju was back into his regularly scheduled programming. pet, drink, read. pet, drink, repeat. pet, drink, repeat. pet, drink, r– 

as soon as he was about to reach his ultimate flowstate, his bicep was the victim this time. he glares at you whilst simultaneously thinking whether he should tug on your ears till you spit it out and asking you to bite his forearm too.

“seriously, are you trying to rile me up? on this saturday morning? at 10 am???” his attempt at a spooking glare turns into a blank gawk seeing your face. 

thats the face youre making? what happened to a piercing gaze? your attempt to instill fear into him/assert dominance does the opposite effect. maybe because he thinks youre cute regardless, maybe because he knows youre trying to scare that makes this all the more heart-tugging to him regardless.

“whats your issue y/n! speak to me dammit!” his endeavour to claim the upperhand falls short, begging rather than rage. he huffs as he focuses on you and then on your hand. specifically what you were pointing at.

he looks at the magazine. “the paper?” he asks dumbfoundedly. 

when you point at the coffee mug after he verbalizes the word, he only rubs his temples. 

“seriously, what is this? charades?” he scoffs. “you woke up moody, and youve taken it upon yourself to annoy me? guess what? its working. anymore of that and you’ll regret it.” he leaves the threat open-ended. moreover, he knows he cant cause real damage. 

his annoyance washes away as he hears you speak up for the first time today.

“look at me. pay attention to only me.” your expression hardens.

“dont look at the magazine or drink coffee. look at me- drink me.” your face adorns a knitted brows a frown.

‘every sentence is sweeter than the last, so how is your expression getting more and more sour with each line?’ he exhales as he thinks to himself.

“you little brat. i thought hares were the more mature and sexy counterparts of bunnies.” he laughs. a laugh reserved only for when you really amuse him, and gang fights. 

you ‘hmph’ and turn your head. but youre still pulled into his lap regardless.

“oh no sweetie, you’re not going anywhere. you want attention? fine. you want me to drink and eat you up? ill do that. you want me to look at you? i’d be a fool if i looked anywhere else.” he deepens his gaze as he holds you close.

he sneaks a kiss to your lobe. “next time you wanna be all bunny like and needy, tell me. i like the fight, but i like seeing me win more.” rough translation for regular brains: i like seeing you being open with your feelings and i hope next time you dont feel embarrassed or ashamed of talking to me. i enjoy speaking to you.

Kneeling in the tall grass, you carefully avoid more muck that longs to suck at your feet and stain your fur. Though it better matches your new coat. After a few weeks of hiding in your form, a shallow den, you have emerged with hunger and cravings. The painfully boring and slow process of shedding your thick winter coat of white and emerging with a shining new fur of deep brown is well worth the sleek lightness you now don. 

Constantly, you watch for steel teeth hiding along the ground. Your leg healed from the crushing bite of such a cruel device late in the winter, and you were tended gently by two fox men. Your heart beats quickly in memory of how they help you. It’s strange being at their mercy and yet not suffering for it. 

When it rains, your healed bone will ache, and you’ll trace the scar left between the fibers of your fur, but you can run as fast as you ever have. The fox men ensured you could still flee.

Softly sighing, you grasp another handful of cottongrass. You haven’t seen them since you began your molt, but by then you were roaming by yourself upon a fresh leg and newly acquired mobility.

You’re surprised they haven’t hunted you down yet, considering how much they told you they’ve been trying to get closer to you—

One of your ears prick on a noise. A step. A quiet padding of a foot on soft ground.

You twist, straightening to stare over the fluffy tops of the grassy meadow. It sways. Your eyes sweep over the area. Any movement, any hint of something that doesn’t belong where you do, must be close. Your nose twitches but scents in the air are carried away by the summer breeze. Your tiny heart thunders. Your muscles coil, ready to spring you across the valley at the slightest sign of another.

Low in the meadow close beside you, the grass waves and reveals a darker shape. A shadow, prowling low. Its fur is silvery blue. Frozen water flows into your veins as you hold yourself like ice. So, so very still, you hold your breath. 

The predator might miss you. If you don’t move, don’t run, you might escape.

But in the corner of your vision, another shadow stirs, and fangs glint. Golden brown and grinning with a maw full of teeth, the predator prowls closer. Your heart drops into your stomach.

“There you are,” a hungry voice purrs.

You leap up and bolt. Fear surges into your veins as your feet kick up mud and whip through the seed heads. Before you can clear a boggy bank dividing the grass, a fox leaps upon you. 

You cry out a small sound of fright when arms encircle your waist and pull you to the ground. He twirls you over the leafy strands covering the moist earth, his fur dark and blue like metal. 

In your adrenaline-fueled panic, you catch red eyes holding you—like Moon’s—but instinct takes over when the predator growls softly, “Where are you going, flower?”

You twist out of his grasp when his hands open in the slightest, and scramble out from under him in the opposite direction. Bounding away, the stretch of muscle in your legs pushes you faster. A flick of a thick, golden brown tail sweeps the grass a few inches away from you. Pivoting, you try to jump past the reaching hands, but they snatch you by the upper arms. 

A gasp rips from your throat before you writhe. Kicking and struggling to find purchase with your claws in the attacker’s arms, you cry out a high-pitched scream before a hand finds your cheek and cradles your face.

“It’s us, snowbell, just us,” the voice says, still hungry, but gentle in his want. 

You at last stop. The pounding pulse in your long ears is still thunderous, overtaking you, but you fall still long enough to flick a glance to the fox who holds you captive. Yellow and red swirls intercut the golden brown of the fur on his chest. A glimpse of eyes, blue and sweet, hold yours before gingerly kneeling and sitting you down before him. 

“Sun?” you breathe the name while your lungs heave. Your ears twist, catching the sound of grass parting before you snap your head back to find Moon quietly settling on your other side. His grin is wide and toothy as he regards you. “Moon?”

They look so different. 

“Yes, velvet.” Moon lifts a hand, his claws sharp and dangerous, to rub the velvet of your ears. His caresses find your sensitivity. You immediately endure a shiver falling down your spine but you hold yourself rigid, holding back how weak he makes you at a touch. “Did we frighten you?”

His chest holds the same blue and silver markings, intercut with a now dark gunmetal blue coat. 

It dawns upon you until you flush with embarrassment.

“We only meant to surprise you and perhaps play a little,” Sun says sweetly but his cheeky grin is anything but remorseful. “It’s been so long since we chased you.”

Your eyes widen as your heart resumes a swift tempo. Sun’s fluffy tail sweeps behind you, brushing against your ‘bunny’ tail as the two foxes so often call it. You shift but stay sitting, your back straight as you regard the two predators to your right and left.

“I didn’t recognize you,” you at last confess. You stare at Sun’s golden brown fur washing away his brilliant white coat and turn back to Moon to wonder how swiftly his pale fur molted away.

Sun’s smile splits to reveal sharp, white teeth. “It’s summer, honeysuckle. We change too.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. He leans forward and brushes his whiskers against your neck until you almost hike up your shoulder to protect yourself from the tender touch. Sun’s eyes shine with pleasure. You feel smaller than before.

“Look at you,” Moon murmurs. His soft voice surprises you before his hand descends. His fingers trace your cheek, so less fluffy than it was in winter, but no less soft underneath his touch. You hold very still, afraid a mewl might escape you as he admires you.

Your eyelids flutter as you collect yourself. Does he mean to say that you look more appetizing or simply less vulnerable to being spotted by predators in the summer melt?

Moon shifts to better face you and drapes his tail over your lap. You lift your hands, fingers curling over the soft warmth of his fluff covering you in his summer color. A heat bleeds into your cheeks.

“It’s not as pretty as my white coat,” you stammer.

“I don’t think so.” Sun presses close to your side. His mouth softly presses to your sleek, dark brown shoulder and you freeze under the slick touch of his fangs. The softest nudge from his head jostles you. “You look lovely, always.”

Your middle heats up while you endure his piercing, blue gaze. 

“I must agree,” Moon leans in closer until you turn to fall into the red colors of his eyes. His muzzle touches your cheek. You struggle to not twist and escape the overwhelming intensity of his full attention. “No matter your coat, you are beautiful.”

Your lips part but not a sound comes out. Instead, you scrunch in on yourself and wonder if it’s not too late to slip out of their grasp, but it is futile. They already have you in their clutches.

“You foxes lie too well,” you decide instead, and shrink upon yourself for daring to say so.

“Oh, yes, we do, but we have never lied to you, velvet.” Moon’s chuckle is low and gravelly. His eyes flash as his hand rests on your hip. 

“We adore you too much to do such a thing,” Sun promises but it’s laced with a lick of his tongue over his teeth. He sets a hand on your side and slowly rubs up and down, tracing your ribs and falling to your waist. “We simply had to find you today to admire you. You were hiding from us for so long! We were worried.”

You are struck by their combined efforts to unmake you with their hands and the soft nips of their mouths. Moon noses your cheek and you screw your eyes shut. Sun helps himself to the curve of your neck, nuzzling deeper against you while you fight with all your might to contain the vicious squeaks and whimpers that long to leap from you. 

They would enjoy that, wouldn’t they? The foxes have been dining on you slowly. They nibble and lick until there is nothing left of you to eat save for your bones, and even then, you’re certain they would crack you open just to eat your marrow.

“Please, you’re going to make me melt,” you gasp underneath their invasion. 

“No, no, snowbell,” Sun chides. He stops his nibbling on your shoulder to hold your gaze. “We’re not done enjoying you and your pretty new coat yet.”

“Sun,” you whine softly.

Moon quickly overtakes you with a lick of his pink tongue against your cheek. Your lips part as warmth spills over your body. You tremble underneath his affection.

“Look at you, velvet. You look good enough to eat,” he rolls a laugh from underneath his rasp. You stiffen with a squeak. His eyes flash with hunger, “I think I’ll have one little bite.”

“No,” you plead. “Moon, please.”

“Hm? Flower, did you say something?” he grins. His canines flash. His jaws loom over you as you whimper. 

Then Sun growls softly. You jump in the slightest, your voice caught in your throat.

“You have to share with me, brother,” Sun brushes your cheek with his muzzle. His golden brown fur is so bright against yours. “I need a taste of our little hare too.”

You’re close to dissolving. Even now as they crowd you, overwhelming you with their mouths at your every edge and hands stroking over your body, their claws card through your fur. The foxes pet your legs and back and leave their impressions on your silky soft fur. The caresses of their sharp fingertips sink into you and you start to mewl. 

You held back for so long, despite everything. You are so small and pliable in their hands, and there’s no telling whether they find you delicious and want to scarf you down or simply want to love you until you deliquesce into a shimmery, muddy puddle.

“How precious,” Sun praises you, and you squirm even more as he gently nips your ear. “Even your noises are beautiful.”

“What lovely, sweet sounds,” Moon agrees. His eyes hold you while he draws his fingers down your side and traces your hip. “Perhaps we should savor you more.”

Your heart races. Nearly bursting underneath the foxes’ maw, you scramble for a way to save yourself. You are a being of prey and you must survive, even if it’s the affection of two predators.

“Your fur,” you say, stopping Moon dead from where he was opening his jaws to nibble on your jawline. “It’s handsome.”

He stares as you swallow all your fear and how flustered they made you to reach out and softly stroke Moon’s shoulder. Your claws are meant for digging and cutting plants, not for attacking a meal, but they glide softly over the smooth, satin-like blue sliver of Moon’s summer coat. 

He falls still, his jaw now open but slacked. His red eyes roam over your touch as if finding it otherworldly. 

“And mine, honeysuckle?” Sun yips, his eyes wide and eager. “What do you think of mine?”

Your pulse races but you turn to face Sun’s yearning expression and slowly lift your other hand, calming your shaking just enough to slide your fingers down his chest. Your fingers brush through his red and yellow swirls as well as his golden brown coat. Sun’s wide eyes follow your touch in pleased disbelief.

“Yours is striking,” you whisper. “Very attractive.”

You are just bold enough to fawn over them, and you might dare say that you’ve stunned them for a moment. Sun and Moon exchange looks, brows lifted in surprise and yet content, happy.

Moon’s tail slips over your ankle and rests there for a moment. You find Sun’s fluffy tail curly over your other side as they lean over you, their attention softening at the turn of events you so desperately spun. 

“You don’t lie,” Moon muses.

“I’m not good at it,” you admit, “but why would I lie about how handsome you two are?”

Sun makes a soft sound, almost a squee of delight.

“What else do you think, snowbell?” he asks, leaning down as he tilts his head. His sharp triangular ears flick. “You can keep touching us. It’s alright. Don’t be shy.”

You blush again, but slowly, you find yourself leaning forward to reach both of them. At your slightest nudge, they obey your command to move in front of you so you might better trail your touch down their arms and turn over their large hands. Their palms are sleek and smooth. Moon’s claws twist as if to resist scratching your wrist. Sun is restless, his tail tip whipping softly against your side as he keeps his palm open for you.

“You’re so big,” you say under your breath; a thought that escapes you but now leaves you burning in the face.

Sun’s and Moon’s eyes alight as they both bark and laugh.

“You’re so small,” Moon reaches out to touch your jawline.

“And lovely,” Sun adds with a cheeky grin before he gently strokes your arm. “Perhaps you want a taste of us too? If you have such a desire.”

His question is almost shy, uncertain, and so strange for the two of them who delight in scooping you up for themselves, but the foxes’ eyes flick over your face in search of your answer.

You hold very still under such a thought. Your heartbeat begins to slow within your chest as slowly, you decide while a fluttering takes over your middle.

You lean closer on your knees to reach up and press your nose to the corner of Sun’s maw. His fur is soft and he smells of fresh wood. He holds perfectly still but his tail wriggles against you, giving him away. 

A low growl starts beside you but you are unflinching when you take your kiss and face Moon. Before his lips can part, you find the edge of his muzzle and lay your mouth into him. A scent of silvery evergreens fills you before you draw away.

You bow your head slightly to hide your blush, eyes averted at what you just did. Your ears twist at the softest breaths of the foxes. Large hands take your own, and two muzzles catch you on both cheekbones. 

"Found the hostage." He murmured, talking into his radio. "The threat is neutralised. No known threats nearby." His voice rings out, ensuring we are safe for the time being. Really, it wasn't hard to find this hideout. The guys were just broke blokes, probably working for some mafia.

You glance at the not so kid like kid.

... That's a young adult, not that much of a kid.

It's a... ah... it's hard to pinpoint their gender.

The rich bastard said something about daughter and money. And some thing else, you are sure. But what it was? That's the better question.

König stares at the hybrid with light confusion. Ah yes, not only has he never met a bunny hybrid but he doesn't know what an androgynous person is.

Fucking old school. Keep up with the times my man. Its the 21st century, guys wear dresses and women peg their boyfriends with 10 inch straps. A girlish-boy or boyish-girl should be least of his concerns.

"Jesus." You huffed out, freeing your hands from any weapon and walked closer to the hostage. A rabbit hybrid. Short black ears, large beaded eyes and fairly frail with a decent amount of squish. That's a cute face though.

"Hello." You greet them, smiling. They seem to be quite confused, as one is. To be honest the kidnappers must have been so shit even their hostage wasn't scared, rather confused. "We're here to rescue." You add, glancing back at the overly silent behemoth behind you for confirmation.

He seems to be deep in thought, staring between the hostage and teammate. "... That's what?" He blurts out offhandedly, not knowing any manners.

"That's... the hostage. A person. Which is addressed by who, not what."

"Ah, yes, yes. Of course. I mean the breed." Bitch, really? Did wolfs raise you? Scratch that, even they have more respect.

"..."

It's still an ongoing discussion as to what hybrid types should be called. Breeds or races. It's... subjective, but damn... Read the room.

"They are a rabbit." You clarify. But he doesn't seem satisfied with that answer.

"...But you don't look the same." He retorts gruffly, GENUINELY confused why a rabbit isn't the same as a hare.

Of fucking course. He never learns, does he?

Ahem. Right. Lets pretend the hostage never saw the abuse you unleashed upon the huge man after that stupid comment.

"Can... can we go?" They ask slowly, staring at the huge man trying to shield himself from the fists flying his way.

"Ah, yes." He gruffs, feeling that the hits you laid on him might end up with a bruise on his already scarred skin.

"So, you two are related? Do your 'periods' sync up?" A humourless joke came out of his mouth and I'm pretty sure that might be the last joke he has ever voiced.

"Okay, now you crossed the line." Is all he hears before his nose was broken. Once more.