#segment 25

In the cold, sterile room, a grim silence hung in the air. Only occasionally did the faint tapping sound of a syringe being handled break the stillness. It could mean only one thing: the young Lord Dottore was working in the laboratory.

The patients had grown accustomed to seeing different Lords Dottore. The youngest one was particularly sharp and stern, he was rarely allowed near them. The older ones were occupied with more important projects. So most of the time, it was their Lord Dottore who tended to the patients — an attractive young man with rectangular glasses and neat hair. He had a pleasant voice and very soft hands. He was neither too harsh nor too gentle and was deeply invested in his work with the patients, always attentive to their well-being and condition. Today, however, he was focused on one specific patient.

You sat on a chair in his office while he worked with the syringes. You didn't know why, or what was inside those syringes, but you felt an impatience, a longing spreading through your body. Especially when you noticed him adjusting himself. Dottore set the syringe down on the tray and turned to you.

"Undress and lie down on the exam table."

You rose on unsteady legs, walked over to the couch, and sat down. The robe and underwear slipped off your body as if of their own accord, without any help from you. You wanted him to see you, to admire you once again.

Dottore raised an eyebrow.

"Darling, 'lie down' means assume a horizontal position, not a seated one."

You huffed and lay back on the couch. He stepped closer. He restrained your wrists to the exam table’s rails, not tight enough to hurt, just tight enough to stop your hands from moving much. You tugged once, testing, and the soft sound of restraints was the only sound until he pressed the cold bell of the stethoscope to your sternum.

“Breathe,” Dottore said, not as a command, but as an offering. You did—deep and slow—and he listened your heart stuttering under the metal. Then his palm replaced the scope, warm and flat against your ribs.

“Again.”

You inhaled. He pressed gently at your throat with his other hand. Your pulse jumped against his fingers. You felt it. This rush of desire, of pure want, of impatience.

“Good,” he murmured, and his thumb traced your jaw. “Now hold it.”

You did once again, closing your eyes. Dottore didn’t untie you. Not yet. But he kissed your temple first, so you could calm down your nerves and blow off some steam. His one hand went down to caress your already wet clit with his long fingers wrapped in a tight medical glove.

"Ahh!" you exhaled from a sudden friction. He hums, moving his fingers slowly, then went lower to feel your dampness and to hoax his fingers in your lubricant.

"Shhh. Good girl."

Then Dottore pulled his hand away and reached for the sealed syringe on the tray nearby. He held it up where you could see it clearly. It was a clear liquid and a tiny needle. You were afraid of big needles. He remembered. Of course he did.

“This is just saline,” he said quietly. “It won't do anything but make you feel a little pinch. But I need you to say it anyway.”

You looked from the needle to his eyes and whispered.

“Yes.”

Dottore's breath hitched slightly but he quickly regained his composure. He swabbed the inside of your elbow — slow, cold, deliberate — and you shivered. When the needle slid in, it was barely a sting, but you squeezed your eyes shut anyway once again. His free hand found your jaw, tilting your face toward him.

“Look at me,” Dottore said. Not harshly, but rather almost comforting. You opened your eyes, and he held your gaze as he depressed the plunger.

When it was done, he withdrew it just as carefully, pressed a cotton ball to the spot, and held it there with his thumb. It wasn't the same thumb that caressed you just a while ago, you thought with a slight annoyance. Then Dottore bent down and kissed the inside of your wrist, above the tape, where you could feel it.

“You did so well,” he murmured.

His other hand, that same hand that caressed you, found your throat, not squeezing, just resting there, feeling your pulse race under his palm. Your breath still hitched from movement, even though it didn't hurt at all. It was as gentle as a feather.

“Now hold it once again for me,” he whispered.

You held your breath once again, closing your eyes. He clicked his tongue. His hand from your hand fell down once again as his two fingers to go caress your clit. You started to move, arching your back and writhing a bit as his fingers teased your slightly swollen flesh. Dottore's fingers slip down and this time go right inside you. You moaned, your back arching once again.

Dottore chuckles, pulling his hand away from your neck.

"I suppose it's too late to tell you to breathe," he said, and right in that moment you finally noticed the bulge in his pants. He wanted it just as much as you did. But he was teasing you, curling his fingers inside you, thrusting them, teasing you to madness. You could cum right now, but it was too early as you still wanted more.

"Please, Lord Dottore, please..."

"Please? Hm, and please what?"

You felt your toes curling as his fingers inside you touched that spot. You were almost there.

"Please.."

Dottore hums again as he pulled out his fingers. You whined at the feeling of loss since you almost came. You felt a slight throbbing in your clit. In a quick movement, he pulled his pants down and freed his cock. You watched him with a slightly dazed eyes. You needed that since he'd first swabbed your elbow. While you were laying there, trying to regain your breath, he wrapped his hand around your neck slightly once again.

"Are you ready?" he asked quietly.

You could only whimper, then roll your hips up to gesture him to continue.

"Yes, yes!!"

He pushes inside you in a slow motion and you arched into it. Dottore loved the feeling of you actually answering to his desire, wanting him him as air you breath. It made him feel like a god in such intimate setting. He thrusts up in you as his hand slightly tightened on your neck. You let out a desperate moans as you felt your climax coming once again just from the feeling of Dottore expanding you.

"Good girl," he whispered, as he was thrusting his glasses dropped down on his nose. His hand touched your chest, playing with your nipples and that's when you couldn't take it anymore. You felt your muscles moving against your will as a pleasure filled your brain. You reached your peak. Dottore followed you soon enough. The feeling of you tightening around him was enough to make him cum inside you.

You lay on the table, feeling exhausted from such intense session. Dottore didn't pull out his cock immediately but eventually he did in a slow, gentle movement. You whined at the feeling of loss once again.

Dottore quickly zipped himself back, regaining his composure. He leaned in to kiss your forehead in a comforting way, before freeing you from restraints.

"Don't try to stand up now. That would be foolish."

You wanted to say that you didn't even think about that but chose not to. He knew what you were going to say anyway, you saw it in his sly eyes.

Dottore then went to his table, pretending nothing ever happened. But you saw it: the slight tremble in his body, slightly punk cheeks from such extravagant exercise.

Rabbits, their close cousin within the family Leporidae. Beloved by humans to the point of domestication, they are the subjects of many artistic works and scientific experiments.

You mulled it over with Zandik. Come to think of it, he recently read a research paper about the rabbit's significance in Inazuman pop culture. Apparently, its joint status as a symbol of innocence and fertility has inspired an informal attire called the bunny suit.

He described it to you. The bunny suit consists of a rabbit-ear headband and a pompom tail, worn over a suggestive outfit. Said outfit has two main variants—a black bodysuit and a casual suit, both tailored to accentuate the wearer's physique.

It sounded comical, lascivious, just the sort of thing your lover would be open to.

Coyly, you said you were in dire need of a visual aid. Perhaps Zandik could enlighten you by putting on a bunny suit?

To that, he chuckled and told you to focus on your surroundings. It wasn't every day that the Snezhnayan wilderness would be this forgiving.

 Little did you know that your silly request would remain in his memory for years to come.

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On a warm summer day, you find a strange card on your desk.

It is deep blue, embossed in gold. Stars and swirls adorn the borders. A framed illustration of a rabbit is positioned in the center. Below the portrait, in familiar penmanship, is a greeting.

HAPPY BUNNY DAY

Bunny Day? You open the card and read the text inside.

The card's fancy design is offset by its interior. The left side provides a formal explanation of Bunny Day or, as it is called in its place of origin, Bani no Hi.

Apparently, it is a special day within Inazuma's art circles. To celebrate, many artists illustrate their favorite characters in rabbit-themed clothing, such as but not limited to the famous bunny suit Zandik had read about. Some establishments have even taken it a step further with limited events featuring bunny-suited servers. And Bunny Day just so happens to be today.

There is even a reference list. Only one person would send you a greeting card with formal citations—or should you say seven?

On the right side is a formal invitation to be hosted by six "bunny boys" over the course of the day. From the addresses listed, you can tell who was excluded.

Smiling, you reread the card. It's just like Zandik to go out of his way to indulge you. If this much effort was put into the invitation, what more for the main event?

Well, you can certainly make time for this.

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The first laboratory houses a blue bunny.

Segment 8 greets you at the doorstep, looking quite serious for someone wearing a fluffy rabbit onesie. It is quite detailed—light blue fur, black claws, a milk spot on the forehead, a pair of lop ears with deep blue tips. There is even a light blue pompom tail.

He checks your invitation first, then he instructs you to follow him inside.

For you, 8 prepared a tea party! The dining table is set with a Sumerian tea kettle, matching cups, biscuits. And you aren't the only guest; all but two chairs are occupied by plush rabbits.

"From 45," he claims. In an indignant tone, he adds that his bunny suit was also provided by the older Segments, who wouldn't stop laughing and calling him adorable.

You resist the urge to do the same.

Clearly, Zandik's child self has put a lot of care into this event. It is only right that you play along.

The performance goes smoothly. 8 pulls out your chair for you, fills your cup with masala chai, and arranges two biscuits on your plate. For the grand finale, he stands in front of you and greets you with an earnest "Happy Bunny Day!"

So cute!

You don't say that, of course, instead patting 8's head and praising him for a job well done. The sparkle in his eyes, his satisfied smile, you would like to remember forever.

Afterwards, you insist that 8 enjoy his own tea party. You reciprocate his earlier gestures, pouring masala chai into his cup and piling his plate with biscuits. You even serve the plush rabbits!

Never mind his remarks that they are just toys. Even when he is no longer a child in the truest sense, a little make-believe never hurts.

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The first thing Segment 18 tells you is that he wanted no part in this.

Well, he doesn't express it verbally, but you infer as much from his greeting. When you enter his laboratory, he doesn't rush to escort you. He simply looks up from his book and says it is about time you arrived.

Despite that, he still chose to join in on the celebration.

Approaching the sofa, you admire his bunny suit. 18 is wearing its decidedly "modest" variant—white buttoned shirt, dark waistcoat, black pants—but with a personal twist. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, revealing long black fingerless gloves. A teal brooch is pinned to his collar; it complements his gold earrings. In place of loafers, he wears his usual boots.

Most unique are his bunny ears, teal in color. One ear points upward, while the other is bent forward.

You sit across from him. The coffee table has been cleared of 18's books to make room for a tea kettle, two cups, and a small ceramic bowl with a patterned lid.

18 asks if you have seen the other Segments. You tell him about 8, to which he scoffs.

"Let's get this over with."

Putting down his book, he meets your gaze head-on. Crimson eyes, framed with pale lashes, hold your reflection captive.

In a noncommittal tone, he says, "Happy Bunny Day."

A smile appears on your face, doubled in his gaze.

That's 18 for you, always with that air of aloofness. But by now, you are capable of dissecting his schooled expressions.

Wasting no time, 18 picks up the tea kettle and fills both cups with chai. He pushes a cup in your direction, along with the bowl and a dessert spoon. The bowl is uncovered to reveal a single serving of carrot halwa.

It's delicious. 18 sits back down, watching you eat. He rests his chin on his palm, and the bunny ears cast a shadow over his face.

He's rather cute like this.

You ask about his bunny suit. 18 says he made it himself, lest he also be stuffed into a childish costume. Is there a tail? Hmph, who knows.

He hasn't touched his chai. Neither has he set aside a serving of halwa for himself.

Wordlessly, you move to his side and bring your spoon close to his mouth.

18's eyes widen, but just as quickly, he leans forward and eats the treat you offered. Then he turns to pick up his cup.

His bunny ears shift with his movements.

They're so fluffy, so detailed like 8's. What material was used, real rabbit fur? Did 18 add a wire skeleton to maintain their half-bent position? You're becoming curiouser and curiouser…

Before your fingers can pinch the fur, a hand closes around your wrist.

18 gives you a withering look and says this is a host club, not a petting zoo.

You're still smiling as you finish your dessert.

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The moment you see Segment 25, he takes your breath away.

His waist…small. Corset. He is wearing a corset. At least the rest is…skin? Is that bare skin you are seeing? And that tail. Fluffy. So fluffy, placed just above—is it okay for him to have this much sex appeal?!

You only snap out of it when 25 sees you, a gloved hand signaling you to come inside. Somehow, you make it through the doorway.

25 is in the middle of mixing chemicals. He tells you to make yourself at home, that he'll attend to you shortly.

You pick the armchair facing his workstation. Here, you can take deep breaths and process what he is wearing.

The foundation for his bunny suit is the "modest" variant, same as 18. But it has been cut, fitted, embellished to the point that he'd look less sultry in a black bodysuit.

The first to catch your eye is the corset. Deep blue, with gold and black embroidery, it accentuates the curves of his torso. Beneath it, he wears a dark gray shirt that is artfully disheveled to expose the tops of his shoulders, his clavicles, his neck—is that a collar?

You do a double take.

It isn't your imagination. Wrapped around 25's neck is a strip of black leather. Its gold details glint in the artificial light.

The worst part is how 25 carries himself, as though he is in regular attire. He puts down a beaker and opens a drawer, turning his back to you.

Your gaze drifts lower.

He has a white pompom tail, velvety like his bunny ears. It marks the boundary between the corset and his black pants, which are also form-fitting.

You want to touch it. His tail, his waist, his—

The click of heels snaps you out of your reverie.

Now he is standing in front of you. His arms…the sleeves are also rolled up to reveal black gloves underneath. This pair covers his hands and forearms entirely.

Oh, and he's holding something. A metal tray, not for surgical tools but for refreshments. There is an ombré blue cocktail within a tall glass, plus a saucer of bright orange candies shaped like carrots.

For a few seconds, the two of you just look at each other.

25 is wearing a black surgical mask. Paired with his glasses, it renders his face a mystery. But his gaze, red like wine and blood and methyl, is so intense that it makes you dizzy.

"Happy Bunny Day," he tells you in a voice like silk.

Ah, he knows you too well.

25 places the tray on the side table and gives you a brief overview of its contents. The cocktail is a blend of infused spirits and floral syrups, while the candies are made with the extract of carrots. He'd figured you would like something different.

You look at his laboratory apparatus, stained blue and orange. So that's what he had been experimenting with.

There is another armchair, on the other side of the table. 25 takes it, crossing his legs. Gods, his pants are so tight. He lifts his hand and your eyes follow it, watching it go up, up, past his corset, his shirt, his collar, his mask, to push up his glasses with the tip of his index finger.

There is a crimson twinkle in his eye. But just as quickly, he breaks eye contact and asks what you think of his bunny ears.

His…bunny ears?

Yes, of course. That is the most important part of his bunny suit, after all. He'd taken pains to craft a realistic pair, studying the body language of rabbits in neutral behavior, so it would be a shame if you hadn't paid it any attention…

An hour later, you decide it is time to leave. You thank 25 for having you, he says it was a pleasure, the both of you standing near the doorway, and you are just about to congratulate yourself on your self-restraint when he pulls down his mask and gives you a smile that is downright sinful.

Oh, fuck it.

You push him up against the wall. 25 doesn't have time to react before your hands are already tangled in the ribbons of his corset, untying the knots, unhooking the pins, tugging and pulling until finally, finally that scrap of fabric is on the floor. Next is his shirt, which is also a pain because of course he was meticulous enough to secure it with pins, but with enough prodding—

The final button snaps into place.

The delight in 25's gaze gives way to confusion.

You take a step back and admire your handiwork.

There, now his shirt is all buttoned up. There are visible creases but it's fine, so long as his collar is hidden and his waist is no longer in that stupid corset. His bunny ears are lopsided from the scuffle, but he can adjust them on his own.

As a final measure, you throw your coat at 25 and tell him to keep it on for the rest of the day.

Before he can say anything, you turn around and leave the laboratory.

Through the closed door, his laughter follows you.

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Upon seeing the next Segment, you regret leaving your coat with 25.

35, the prime of Zandik's life, your lover at his most dramatic. As a scholar, he respects all possibilities, and he could not overlook that of being outshone by his other "selves."

His laboratory is empty, but there is evidence of accommodation. The sitting room is bathed in warm light, as controlled by the drawn curtains and tinted lamps. The tea table is set with a vase of vibrant flowers, a corked bottle, and a broad, tapered wineglass. The piano lid is open.

Your attention is on the flowers, deciphering their meanings, until you hear a familiar gait. 35 emerges from the shadows and says he has been expecting you.

…

What the hell is he wearing?

Never mind your attempts to feign propriety around 25. This time, you stare openly at your host which, in your defense, is definitely the outcome he desired.

Unlike his younger selves, 35 is wearing the bunny suit. The white bodysuit is perfectly fitted to his body, with subtle vertical patterns to enhance his slimness. The effect is magnified by a black leather harness adorned with gold buckles and luminous blue charms. Dark stockings hug his legs, ending in a pair of intricate gold-and-black heels. With the exception of his usual gloves, his arms are totally bare. His bunny ears are also detailed—snowy white fur with black tips, pricked forward.

He is still wearing his mask, but you can easily imagine the wicked glint in his eyes. As he moves closer, his lips curve into a confident smile.

"Happy bunny day, my dear."

Well, this wouldn't be the first time you dropped all pretenses with 35.

Slumping into the armchair, you ask him if the bodysuit is necessary. Still smiling, 35 inquires about the previous Segments and their choice of attire. Hmm, how predictable of them; likewise, you shouldn't expect much from his older selves.

"Anything else I should expect from you?" you shoot back.

In response, 35 laughs and tells you to be patient. The program has just begun.

With that, he uncorks the bottle and fills your glass. He places it in your hand and tells you to sit back, relax.

Against your better judgment, you accept it. The wine is a rich shade of carmine; knowing his tastes, it must be a full-bodied variety.

35 takes a seat at the piano bench. Then, he begins playing.

It is a suitable piece, an ostinato full of leaps and flourishes. And 35 plays it perfectly, refusing to use his lascivous attire as a crutch for his serenade.

You savor your wine and the performance.

From the armchair, you have a perfect view of 35's back profile; no doubt, he'd also taken this into consideration. Every flex of his forearms, his upper back, is exposed to your gaze. The back seams of his stockings are also on display, vertical lines climbing up his legs and curving along his a—

Compose yourself. You are not giving him the satisfaction of provoking you any further.

So you focus on his bunny tail. It is pure white like 25's but less round, a bit longer. Come to think of it, the shape and coloration of his ears also differs from the others'. It brings to mind a specific tundra species, as though…

As though he is a hare amongst rabbits.

The performance ends. 35 stands up, turns around, and gives you a bow. Not one to trivialize art, you reciprocate with a round of applause.

"Now, where were we?"

Returning to the piano bench, 35 sits facing you and crosses his legs. He starts a conversation about the weather, his latest experiments, the musical elements of the ostinato he just performed. He speaks animatedly, with his full body, and each of his habitual gestures is perceived anew by the way it warps the fabric of his bunny suit.

When you decide to leave, 35 asks if you would like an encore. He has many more piano pieces to perform, wine to pour, topics to interest you. Won't you consider it?

No thank you. He's entertained you for long enough, and knowing him, he'll keep you until you run out of time for the remaining Segments.

His guiltless smile is all the confirmation you need.

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After your last two hosts, Segment 45 is a sight for sore eyes.

Finally, no more overly exposed skin or exaggerated silhouettes. You don't even care that he is still wearing an approximation of the bunny suit; what matters is that there will be some semblance of decency in here.

45 takes your hand and guides you through his laboratory. It bears almost no special decorations, but the familiarity of it is what makes you comfortable.

Well, almost. Between the ages of 35 and 45, Zandik has toned down considerably, but that does not mean he has lost his bite.

For Bunny Day, 45 is wearing his favorite buttoned shirt. Its deep blue tint contrasts nicely with his black cravat, white waistcoat, and light blue brooch. Gold curlicues adorn the sides of his black pants and the tops of his shoes. To complete the look, he has gray bunny ears and a matching pompom tail.

But that isn't all.

Your gaze drifts to the point above where your bodies intersect.

His forearms are bare, courtesy of his short gloves and rolled-up sleeves. This close, you can make out every scar, every vein made visible by the flex of his muscles.

He brings you to the sofa and urges you to sit down. The tea table is arranged like a still life, his choice of flowers and fruits denoting abundance. Among them are bright red apples.

You look up at 45. His mask is on, but you can imagine a certain fondness in his gaze.

He gives you a warm smile. "Happy Bunny Day."

The tension leaves your body. Slumping in the sofa, you give him a breathy thank you.

"For what?" he asks, to which you give him a tired look.

Ah, was it that bad? Well, you can rest here. What would you like to drink?

He ends up brewing a pot of Snezhnayan herbal tea, a perfect palate-cleanser after your last four beverages. The cup is placed on the table along with a plate of peculiarly sliced apples.

You give 45 a quizzical look. Smiling, he sits next to you on the sofa.

Apple bunnies, another leporine invention from Inazuma. See, those two points are meant to be the ears.

As he speaks, he picks up a slice and feeds it to you. The apple is crisp, sweet, and you could have savored it if not for the gloved thumb brushing against your lip.

That little…

Lips pursed, you tell him he is just as bad as his younger selves.

There's no need to be so critical! One must give credit for the time and effort they all put into coordinating this event. It was no easy feat, what with so many disagreements.

Speaking of, did they use real rabbit fur for their costumes?

Of course they did! Zandik is not one to cut corners; and otherwise, it would have been a waste of available resources. As he speaks, 45 bows his head so you can pet his bunny ears.

The opportunity is not wasted on you.

His choice of fur is much thicker, akin to wool. Wire skeleton has been used to maintain a "happy" position, and the seams are invisible. The overall construction is so perfect that one might assume these ears were simply chopped off a rabbit's head.

A part of you wonders if there is anything familiar about this fur. Hard to say, you've assisted in so many animal experiments that a fluffy gray rabbit would hardly stand out to you.

You give his bunny ears another squeeze.

45 reminds you to drink the tea before it turns cold. It is mild, soothing, just what you needed.

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By now, you should be ready for whatever Segment 65 has come up with.

But Zandik's oldest Segment is not one to be underestimated, and he makes that clear as soon as he welcomes you into his laboratory.

Well, at least someone tried to create an entirely new variant of the bunny suit.

The first thing you notice is that he has swapped his corvine mask for a leporine version. It is the sort you'd see in a masquerade, elaborate and macabre. The lenses are deep red, rimmed with gold. Connected to the mask is a pair of silky black bunny ears. As for his clothing…

His heavy coat is trimmed with the same glossy black fur. Beneath it, he wears a black buttoned shirt, a gray waistcoat, and gray pants. Red roses bloom across his body—the ornaments on his top hat, the way his necktie is knotted, the sculpted jewels of his shoe clips. The final accessory is an intricate gold pocket-watch attached to his waistcoat.

His gloves are deep red. One hand rests on his cane, which has also been customized for the occasion. The other hand easily settles on the small of your back as he leads you inside.

"Happy Bunny Day," he tell you in a resonant voice.

You ask if you kept him waiting too long. He says not to worry, that now is the perfect moment to be alone with you.

The curtains are open, allowing the afternoon sunlight to spill into the sitting room. By the window is a table for two, set with a vase of red roses, a fancy tea set, and a tiered stand of refreshments.

You think of 8's tea party. Some things never change.

65 is just as courteous, pulling out your chair for you and laying a napkin across your lap. The tea is poured with a flourish; he informs you that it is a custom blend of varieties from Sumeru and Snezhnaya. The fragrant scent of the tea, paired with one look at the berry tarts and tea cakes and finger sandwiches, stirs your appetite.

You are smiling at him, saying thank you, thinking what a nice way to end such a chaotic event, up until 65 takes off his coat and drapes it over the back of his chair.

Oh, you are not dealing with this again.

You tell him to keep his coat on.

Tilting his head, he asks why.

You tell him to just do it.

He says he'd rather not.

All the while, his body is turned towards you at a three-quarter angle, offering a peek at the corseted back of his waistcoat. Tightly laced, it emphasizes his torso, slimmed down with age. Below the crisscross of dark ribbons is a black pompom tail.

Curse this man and his provocations!

At this point, you've had enough. You leave your seat, grab his coat, and cover him yourself. There, at least keep it draped over his shoulders.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. Your hands are still gripping the lapels of his coat, and 65's hover just short of touching your wrists.

That is when he laughs. There is a flutter of wavy blue hair, a glimpse of his bare neck, as he throws his head back. No doubt, the smile behind his mask is all teeth.

Oh, all right. Anything you want, he can do for you.

The both of you sit down. The tea is well balanced, each note perfectly drawn out, and it pairs well with the food.

Gazing out the window, you see tall trees and rooftops covered in snow. It is a world away from the tranquil tundra you and Zandik had traversed years ago.

65 asks if you had a memorable Bunny Day. You say yes, it was certainly surreal.

In the years since that Inazuman research paper has been published, there have been many new studies on rabbits in other cultures. Myths, artworks, traditions…why, just recently, he read a Fontainian story in which a child follows a white rabbit into a fantastical world.

Ah, yes, you read that too.

Interesting, was it not, that even in a fictional world where all was possible, the flow of time remained in the grasp of higher beings. Why, had the White Rabbit not been restricted by these rules, perhaps the events of the story would have never taken place.

Your gaze returns to 65's bunny suit. His black fur, the placid expression of his mask, the pocket-watch glittering against his waistcoat.

Ah, so that was the inspiration behind his attire. A clever subversion.

Well spotted. Though unlike the White Rabbit, he has all the time in the world for you.

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By the end of the day, you are dead tired.

Zandik is home. You can tell as much from the door to your shared bedroom; it is slightly open. From inside, he calls out your name.

"Zandik, you would not believe the day I've had!"

The exhaustion hits you in full force. All day, you've been on edge, strung taut by your lover sixfold. Pray this is the last time they come together for a shared ideal.

You half-stumble into the room, asking him if he knew of their plans. From the start, had he been left out? Who even proposed it—

Your breath catches in your throat.

Zandik is seated at the foot of the bed. The moonlight casts his shadow in your direction, a familiar silhouette if not for the leporine shapes jutting from the top of his head.

Are you dreaming?

You're not, his gaze seems to tell you.

Zandik is wearing a bunny suit.

And it's not just any set. No, it looks exactly like the bunny suit he wore for you all those years ago, shortly after your excursion to the Snezhnayan tundra.

The black bodysuit clings tight to his figure; with how gaunt he's gotten in old age, it must have been resized. The bunny ears, sewn from black fabric, bend ever so slightly, framed by light blue hair. Sheer stockings accentuate his legs, white cuffs encircle his wrists, there is a fluffy white pompom tail—

Remember to breathe. Any longer, and you will faint on the spot.

There are slight alterations. Instead of a black bowtie, he is wearing his blue diamond necktie. There is his monocle, of course, but it is a special one with a gold frame. No shoes, and his cane is propped against his side of the bed.

Most different is the way he carries himself. He looks smaller, shyer compared to the first time he wore this bunny suit for you.

Now he refuses to look you in the eye.

Ah, how silly, he must be thinking. So what brought this on? Did he feel left out? Or did he feel…challenged by his younger selves and their advances towards you?

His voice comes out in a whisper. "Happy Bunny Da—"

Before he can finish his greeting, you've already silenced him with your mouth.

The bed creaks with your combined weight.

Beneath you, Zandik's eyes become as big as saucers. His hair splays out against the mattress, while the tip of a bunny ear brushes against your forehead.

In his gaze, you see yourself mirrored in red. Twin smiles appear in your reflection.

Ah, this is the absolute best!

A hand sinks down on his chest. Beneath the satin and flesh, you feel a familiar heartbeat.

At that, Zandik startles and raises his hand to stop you, but you easily block it with your other hand. A wrist pinned down, a finger to his pulse.

Now this is the perfect finale to your day.

…

Hours later, in the warmth of his embrace, you ask him if it really is his old bunny suit.

Pulling you closer, he mutters yes, he pulled it out of storage, he made the right choice constructing it out of long-lasting materials.

Well, it certainly paid off! And to think he had been so uncertain about his surprise.

No doubt, his Segments went all out with their own bunny suits.

That, they did. Though, from your perspective, his is the best.

Really, now?

You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth and muse that a classic never goes out of style.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ BONUS ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

A few weeks later, another surprise makes its way to you.

The door to your office swings open, and a familiar figure stomps inside.

It only takes you a second to recognize him. Those messy blue curls, that gray-white mask, the ruby spark in his eyes…

Your face breaks into a smile.

"Webby!"

Immediately, you give him a hug. The last time you saw this Segment was a month ago, before he was assigned to clean up a disaster in Haeresys.

Webby, as you have lovingly nicknamed him, hugs you back. He is still wearing his coat, cold from the snow outside. But when you pull away, his expression is visibly angry.

"So, did anything interesting happen while I was gone?" he asks you.

You tell him about the Bunny Day event organized by his fellow Segments. It was extraordinary, though you did wonder why he was absent. Was it due to his project commitments?

If looks could kill, you would be dead right now.

"It must have been a wonderful event, seeing how it was originally my idea."

The nerve of his other selves! To send him away and steal his idea for a solo event, using their "sameness" as an excuse. Why, he has half a mind to sic his experiments on them!

Ah, no wonder. Shh, it's all right. He can still carry out his original plan.

No, it is not. His surprise is ruined, and on top of that, he had to come back and hear all about 8's plushie party, 35's ridiculous outfit, and what's this about 25 waltzing out of his lab looking utterly disheveled, wearing your coat? Could you please explain what happened because until now, 25 refuses to give a clear answer and the more he laughs over it, the closer everyone, 35 in particular, looks to committing self-dissection…

At the end of his tirade, Webby takes a deep breath and asks if you remember what was written in the invitation card.

About Bunny Day? Let's see, it falls on the second day of the eighth month, though some people also celebrate it on the twenty-first.

Yes, that's right. And the latter date is today.

As if on cue, a servant asks for permission to enter. On Webby's command, they place two packages on the floor and leave your office.

Placated, Webby opens the first box and takes out a rabbit-ear headband. After putting it on, he throws off his coat to reveal the clothes underneath.

How charming!

For his bunny suit, Webby has on a dark gray waistcoat with asymmetrical black lapels and silver trim. It is styled with a white high-collared shirt, gray pants, heeled boots, leather garters around his arms and thighs. Last but not the least is a bright pink ribbon adorning one bunny ear, a silver earring on the other.

He makes a grand show of his leporine features. Observe: Unlike his other selves, he selected rabbit fur that matches his exact hair color and styled his bangs to conceal his human ears. That way, it gives the illusion that he is a natural rabbit hybrid!

He lets you pet his ears. Half lop, light blue with white spots. As for his tail…you'll wait for him to give permission.

But that's not all! The next thing Webby pulls out is another rabbit-ear headband and a pompom tail, but in your colors. Laughing, you put them on and admire your shared reflection in the looking-glass.

There, now the both of you match. All's left is to unpack the refreshments and remaining props, which you offer to help with.

"Happy Bunny Day, Webby," you tell him, a soft smile on your face.

Webby responds with a smile of his own, sharp teeth and scarlet eyes gleaming bright as jewels in the morning sunlight.

Ah, what a wonderful occasion to spend with your loved ones. Knowing them, what will you celebrate next?

♡

Who is your favorite bunny? Poll coming soon~

Credit:: For 35/ Omega Build’s bunny suit, my design was partly inspired by this fan art!!

Picture this:: It is 9:00 p.m, August 2. The weekend is almost over. You decide to spend the rest of Sunday looking at Genshin fan art. You open Twitter. You see Dottore in a bunny suit. You save it. You see a second Dottore in a bunny suit. You save that too. You see a third Dottore in a bunny suit, along with many other characters in the same outfit, and that is when it hits you:: It is Bunny Day ໒꒰ྀི๑• ༝ •๑꒱ྀི১

That reminds you:: Don’t you have a yearly tradition of writing a Dottore drabble for a holiday/ special day?? Why not write it?? But August 2 is almost over….oh, it’s fine. It’ll just be a short set of headcanons for Dottore and his Segments in different variations of the bunny suit. If you create an Ellipsus document at 9:50 p.m., it should be finished before—

Flash forward. It is 4:57 p.m., August 9. Again, the weekend is almost over. You have spent the past week writing about Dottore in between work. The Ellipsus document is now a 5.6k-word fic. And you are still tormented with mental images of Bunny Boy! Dottore fck that guy why do he and his Segments have to be so attractive when will it end sb3&3/&dj

Ahhhh I hope you all enjoyed this Bunnyttore fic!! I had a lot of fun styling the Segments and describing their bunny suits. And ofc I could not forget Webttore, our beloved~ So, whose scene was your favorite and why?? Do tell me, because I'm very curious ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ

Segment 25, who is the most outgoing of them all. Out of all her fellow segments, 25 is the one who seeks you out the most—She likes to be near you, to study you, to watch you think and squirm and look at her with those sad doe eyes. 25 is when Zandik made the most connections, and that is no different centuries later. She sees you as another possible connection, something that if she says the right words and does the right thing, you’ll eventually fall to her side. She’s kind, in her own fake-way. She “comforts” you the best she can, but sharp insults from her lips still cut you deep.

She’s more refined than her messy, younger self—but truly not all that different. 25 will never give away her feelings for you, but it’s not that hard to figure out when she’s constantly telling you how your too stupid to take of yourself, and that your better off being taken of by her…

Omega, who is the absolute worst. Shes the worst of all the ages in almost every way possible. She treats you like crap on her shoe, but holds you so nicely while she does it.Shes self-aware, but ultimately doesn’t care. Omega is enjoys studying you like 25, learning how you think and how you tick. However, unlike her younger segment, omega is more prone to…hands-on experiments with you. Not a day goes by when she isn’t prodding or poking you. She wants to look at your insides, look at your mind, essentially look into your soul. Omega knows you don’t love her, and that you’re here against your will; but that won’t stop her.

She’s very in-tune with her feelings about you, and at every waking moment she’s categorizing her thoughts. 18 and 25 like to hide their true emotions from you, 45 and 65 are perhaps too showy with their emotions, but 35 is the perfect middle ground to create the worst storm ever. By far the worst segment of them all to deal with.

Segment 45, who is marginally calmer than the rest. She’s still dottore at the end of the day, but she takes life slower than the rest. 18 and 25 jump at the chance for progress, while 45 walks steadily to it. She’s still mean, she still likes to see you squirm, but she’s less eager about it. 45 has grown far more introverted, but she still likes to keep you near her. She enjoys your company, even though small, stinging quips leave her lips sometimes.

45 can still be cruel (like all the segments), but she doesn’t like to be unless she feels you deserve it. She’s more content to just be with you, to have you hang of her arm with no extra experiments. More predictable, more “relaxed”, but still dottore…

Segment 65, who is wisest out of the segments. Her long life and lived experiences has made her smarter than the rest. She’s the best segment to be around, as she’s much less reactive and suddenly violent. Her cruelty almost never extends to you, as she’s the most understanding of your predicament. She’s the one you talk to when the others become to much. However, she is equally as obsessed with you as the other segments. She hides it well, and when she decides to let some of it show, it’s calm.

18 had desperately tried to convince himself that it didn't matter, that he was above something so childish. and yet, witnessing the blatant favoritism in broad daylight was beginning to get under his skin. 25 could only roll his eyes, tapping his fingers against the desk. "so.. you're jealous of a child?"

"i am not jealous." his pacing around the laboratory came to a sudden halt, not appreciating 25's accusation. 18 gave him an irritated glare, although the older segment could care less. "i'm simply pointing out the obvious favoritism in this facility."

that statement alone wasn't enough to convince 25, he had a feeling that this ran much deeper than just favoritism. honestly, he was far too exhausted and bored to be dealing with this right now. "you should be complaining to him, not me. i don't know why you're telling me this."

"because i trust-" 18 quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, silencing himself before he had a chance to say something embarrassing. 25 raised an eyebrow, he clearly heard the word 'trust' slip from the younger segment's mouth. he tugged his mask down, a teasing grin forming across his lips. "what was that again?"

"i-i find you tolerable! that's what i meant to say." 18 crossed his arms, looking anywhere but at his older self. what a terrible excuse and yet, he was clearly trying to salvage whatever dignity he had left.

25 decided not to press him any further, simply pulling his mask back over his face. "sure, let's go with that. now then, go confront pantalone yourself. i have work to finish."

he quietly watched in amusement as 18 stormed out of the laboratory, practically fuming with embarrassment. after 18's departure, he quietly resumed his research, though the word 'trust' continued to echo in his thoughts.

trust, huh? what an odd thing to hear. 25 had never saw himself as a reliable person and yet, 18 nearly admitted that he trusted him without hesitation. behind his mask, the corners of his lips almost formed into a soft smile. however, he was quick to dismiss his thoughts before focusing the rest of his attention on his work.

.

.

.

.

the office door swung open as 18 marched inside, his irritation was clearly noticeable. he made his way straight toward the banker's desk before slamming his hands down against the wooden surface. pantalone raised his head, a friendly smile forming on his lips.

"oh my. what brings you here, 18?" the irritable expression on 18's face was very amusing, though it was obvious that something had him deeply upsetted him. "explain to me why you are always spoiling 8."

pantalone titled his head in confusion, a bit puzzled by the sudden accusation. "pardon?" he wouldn't deny it, he had a soft spot for 8. however, he didn't realize that this had become an issue among the other segments. pantalone did notice the faint sadness lingering in 18's eyes, which made him soften his expression.

"don't act like you don't know what i'm talking about. it's not fair that 8 gets all of your attention. what makes him.. so much better than the rest of us?" his words gradually fell quiet, his anger fading into something more vulnerable.

a soft sigh escapes from pantalone's lips, rising from his seat and walked around the desk to meet him. if there was one thing that he knew about dottore, it was how stubborn he could be. however, dottore had always yearned for affection, something that he had been deprived of from a young age.

he gently placed a hand on top of 18's head, giving him a soft pat and a reassuring smile. "i sincerely apologize. it was never my intention to single you out. all of you are very precious to me."

if only 18 weren't so stubborn and constantly in denial, then he might have asked for a hug as well. instead, he quickly pulled away, a mixture of surprise and embarrassement written all over his face.

"you-! ugh, forget it. i'm leaving!" as one final attempt to salvage his pride once more, 18 stormed out of his office quickly. a soft chuckle slips from pantalone's lips, watching 18 leave abruptly after a simple head pat. there was something endearing about the way 18 tried to hide what he truly wanted, which was reassurance.

the younger segment was used to being excluded, overlooked by others. sometimes, he would wish that someone would notice him, to praise him for all of his accomplishments. however, he would never admit it openly and hides his feelings behind a wall of stubbornness.

after that encounter, pantalone kept his promise and began treating 18 with more warmth and softness. in the beginning, 18 didn't know to how to feel about this sudden change.

his self-denial was constantly clashing with the part of him that always wanted to feel accepted. against his better judgement, he started accepting the sweets that pantalone offered to him

does 18 actually hate the affection, the attention he's receiving now? not at all. if anything, he found himself silently appreciating it. he had never received so much kindness before, it almost feels surreal.