#silver writes

There are plenty of bars in the city, and most of them are co-ed, hosting spaces where both predator and prey hybrids can be comfortable. There's a few that are targeted towards specific species, with atmospheres and menus that center them. You've been to quite a few rabbit clubs. This one, however, is catered towards predators. It's not a strict rule, but it's one of those social rules that are just understood that you should follow.

You never liked rules very much.

You push the heavy wooden door open and step inside. Almost immediately, your nose twitches as its sent into overdrive. The smells hit you like a meteor, a mix of hybrid musks that has your rabbit instincts screaming at you. Heads turn and glance at you as you walk to the bar, a few eyebrows raised, tails swishing with curiosity, but no one says anything about your presence.

The leather barstools are nice, but worn, squeaking a little under you as you sit. You wait patiently for the bartender to come over, watching him speak in a low, deep voice to a couple of patrons who were here just before you. He's a wolf hybrid, but strangely the fur of his ears and tail are much lighter than his black hair. An arctic wolf, you muse. You rest your head in your hand and watch him move.

Your parents used to say that you were too curious for your own good, especially when it came to danger. They always got calls from school saying you got into tussles with other kids on the playground, provoking them or just thinking you were able to scrap with the big dogs—literally. Multiple teachers and counselors expressed concern for the behavior, citing that it was very unusual for a rabbit to be so willing to put themselves in these situations. It was like your fight and flight instinct were swapped.

As a teen, your focus shifted to school, so you mellowed out a little. But you still had a reputation for not backing down from a fight. You're pretty sure your unwavering attitude is the main thing that kept you from being shoved in lockers daily. That and being a teacher's pet.

It's funny, really. Everyone who meets you always expects a trembling bunny, and instead they get met with a spitfire jackrabbit. Flipping those expectations on people always amuses you, and it's gotten you a lot more respect as you've climbed your way through the hellscape of academia.

But part of you misses the adrenaline rush of a good scrap.

"What can I do ya for?"

You glance up at the wolf bartender, who seems to be watching you with the same curiosity that you were watching him. He cleans a glass as he waits for your response.

"What do you have that's fruity?"

A feline hybrid next to you snickers at the request. You ignore them. The wolf pauses his cleaning for a moment as he thinks, sets the glass down, and starts grabbing some things from the back counter. He looks at what he has for a moment then turns back to you.

"Don't usually get a lot of fruity requests, but I do have some stuff. Just gotta go to the back to get something. That okay?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all. I'll be right back."

As you wait, you idly spin the stool around a bit by pushing your foot off the counter. Your rabbit ears sway with each motion. They quirk up as you pick up on various conversations around the room. Someone telling a friend about their promotion at work. A group of friends comforting a girl after a breakup. Animal senses come in a lot of handy when you're nosy.

"I'm telling you, I'm done with her this time."

"You've been saying that for years, Agatha. I have a hard time believing this is the final straw."

"We're divorced for a reason."

"And yet, you still hook up constantly."

"A woman has needs, Wanda."

This conversation has you zeroing in, looking towards the source of the voices. Standing at a table near people playing pool, you spot the pair whose chatter has made its way to your ears. Two women, both nursing what looks like it might be bourbon and coke. As they keep talking, you identify the one closer to the bar side as Agatha, the apparently divorced woman. And you are so thankful she is, because suddenly your ambitions for the night have found a target.

Her hair is wild and dark, a deep brunette that looks almost black in the dim lights of the bar. As she moves and the lighting shifts, you can see streaks of silver running through her waves. Pointed ears, perfect little triangles, sit atop her head, and a bushy tail the same color as her hair, grey streaks and all, swishes behind her. If you had to guess, you'd wager she's middle-aged, maybe late 40s to early 50s, judging by the distinct lines of her face when she shifts expressions and the easy confidence that she carries that can only come with decades of spending time in bars like this. When she opens her mouth to speak to the woman next to her, you can see her sharp canines.

A silver fox. Both literally and figuratively.

The other woman, Wanda, is also a fox, her hair and fur a red-orange that reminds you of autumn. She's pretty, closer to your age than Agatha's. But your sights are set on the older woman.

Someone clears their throat behind you. You spin back around to face the bartender again. He's placed a drink on the counter. The glass is filled with a pink-peach color and garnished with a maraschino cherry.

"Here you go. I hope it's okay," he says awkwardly. You thank him and tell him not to close your tab yet. Luck willing, you'll be buying another drink soon.

The cocktail is good, a bit sweeter than you hoped, but a nice flavor nonetheless. You sip it and play with the tiny straw, stabbing the cherry as you swing back around to scan across the room. Your brow furrows when you look over and there's only one fox still at the table. Where did Agatha go? Did she leave before you could even meet her?

Your body twitches, alert, as someone walks up behind you.

"Looks like a little bunny got lost," a low voice that can only be described as sultry speaks.

Pushing off the counter again, you spin to face her. Agatha stands before you, empty glass in hand, looking you up and down. Regarding you with cool blue eyes.

"Not lost at all. I'm right where I wanna be," you reply, leaning an elbow on the bartop.

"So, you want to be staring at a pair of vixens across the bar like a creep?" Agatha raises an eyebrow. She clearly expects the callout to fluster you, but you simply shrug.

"Wasn't trying to be creepy. Just admiring the view." Both of Agatha's brows raise now, visibly surprised by your boldness. You return the accusation. "Did you come over here just to intimidate me?"

This makes Agatha set her glass on the counter, leaning over you. Her tail lashes behind her. The sharp points of her fangs gleam when she opens her mouth to speak. "That depends, bunny. Is it working?"

"Not in the way you want it to."

"And what way do you think that is?" Agatha asks smoothly, never pulling back. She taps her fingers against the bar, her claws making a light tapping sound on the polished wood.

"I think you expected me to run," you say, tilting your chin up to meet her heavy gaze more firmly. "Probably thought I'd hightail out of here the second you flashed your fangs."

You take a sip of your drink again, keeping your eyes on her. She glances at your lips pressed against the glass momentarily, almost imperceptibly, before they dart back up to your face. Before you realize what's happening, Agatha steps back. You think that she's about to leave, disappointed that she couldn't scare you off, but then she turns to the person sitting on the bar stool to your right.

"Move. I'm taking this seat," she snaps at them. When they start to protest, she snarls, and they relent, uninterested in getting into a fight over a seat. Agatha looks smug as she sits down.

"You always that pleasant?" You tease.

"No, I'm in a good mood, so I'm being extra nice."

You introduce yourself, and Agatha says her name curtly in response. You choose to omit the fact that you've been listening to her conversation and learned her name that way, but you have a feeling that she might have guessed that already.

"Should you tell your friend you're abandoning her?" You nod your head towards where Wanda was left standing.

"She'll figure it out." Agatha waves a hand dismissively. She waves to get the bartenders attention, and he takes her glass to get a fresh drink.

"I'll get that," you tell him as he sets Agatha's drink down. His eyes dart between the two of you, a bit of surprised on his face, but he simply nods and leaves you alone again.

"What do you do that you can just go buying drinks for women, hm?" Agatha asks as she brings her glass to her lips.

"I'm a waitress, but I'm still in school. I'm also a TA," you explain.

"Undergrad?"

"PhD."

Agatha looks impressed, and you beam a little.

"What field?"

"Anthropology."

"Small world," Agatha smiles. She points at herself. You try not to let your eyes linger on her sharp claws. "History professor."

"At Westview?" She nods as she takes a bit of ice from her glass and crunches it. "That's where I'm studying. I'm surprised I haven't seen you before."

"I don't linger around campus often. Too many of my students love to barrage me with annoying questions and ask for life advice."

"I'm not actually on campus that often either, to be fair. I'm usually running from my last class to get to work."

"How do you fit going to predator bars and ogling women into your busy schedule?" Agatha asks casually. You scoff, nose scrunching up. Agatha grins, finally having caught you off-guard. "Seriously. What are you doing here, bunny?"

"I'm allowed to be here," you sneer.

"That's not what I mean." Agatha sets her half-empty glass down and rests her chin in the palm of her hand. "A bunny doesn't just wander into a building full of drunk predators."

"Maybe I do." You bristle at the assessment.

"In that case, you're dumber than I thought." Agatha shrugs.

"Did I mention the PhD?"

"You did, and I stand by my statement." Agatha watches you start to grow frustrated with her, a greatly amused smile on her infuriatingly pretty face. "The way I see it, you're here either because you're dumb and horny, or just plain dumb. Pick your poison."

Heat rises to your face. You reach for your drink to try to occupy yourself while you come up with a response that doesn't make you sound as flustered as you are, but your glass is empty.

You've prided yourself on defying the timid rabbit stereotypes for your whole life. Nothing has ever truly made you cower. You've presented the thesis that you've dedicated your entire being to in front of a board of intimidating faces and didn't waver. But now, face to face with a beautifully terrifying woman almost twice your age, is where you're forgetting yourself. Your heart is beating at an ungodly pace, your foot tapping nervously against the footrest of the bar stool.

This is the first time you've understood what it means to be prey. Though you're sitting in place, you can't help but feel like Agatha is hunting you. It's the way she's been watching, waiting for her perfect moment to strike. To hit you with the blunt observation that she somehow knew would finally make you stumble.

But you're not going down without a fight.

"Projection is a dangerous game, Agatha."

A beat. Agatha scoffs, shaking her head with laugh. "Oh, you're just asking for it, aren't you?"

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you though?" She leans in closer to whisper into your ears. Her hot breath brushes against them, and they twitch, which makes her chuckle. "Tough bunny just wants someone to put them in their place. That's why you're here."

You run your tongue over your teeth, eyes darting up to meet her. Agatha is looming over you now, her hair a curtain around you. You're positive she can hear your heart beat. You wonder if she can also smell your arousal that's starting to pool in a wet heat between your legs.

She probably can, given the fact that you can smell hers.

It's thick and musky, much more intense than the prey hybrids you usually sleep with. And you desperately need to press your face against her and have it surround you completely until your scents are so intertwined that they're indistinguishable from each other.

"You're making an awful lot of assumptions here." Your snarky responses are getting less potent by the second.

"Am I?" Agatha raises a brow. She sits back a little, starts counting off on her fingers. Long fingers that she definitely knows how to use. Veins along her hands down to her perfectly toned forearms that you've been drooling over since you saw her from across the bar. Of course she's rolled her nice button up sleeves up to her elbows. It's bait for anyone who loves a hot, powerful woman. "Bunny walks into a bar catered towards predators. Bunny watches a woman old enough to be her mother from across the room. Bunny has a whole lot of pride that she's had to wear like armor to get where she is."

"Your point?"

"Bunny is trying to cut off my assessment and divert my attention." You huff. Agatha continues with a smirk, "All that is to say, you like a challenge. You like to push boundaries. If you didn't, it would take you about five minutes to find a dozen other bunnies who'd be down to fuck you."

"Two dozen, probably," you mumble. Agatha gives you a look that says "I know I'm right, but thank you for confirming it." Feeling defensive but unarmed, you cross your arms over your chest and glance away from her intense gaze. "I thought you were a history professor, not psych."

"History is my main interest, but analyzing people is my real talent."

"Are you done?"

"I could probably keep going. Do you want an analysis on your various psychological complexes too? Or is that too explicit to do in public."

"No thanks, Freud."

"Rude. But if you want Freud, I can give Freud."

"Don't—"

"How's your relationship with your mother?"

The noise you let out is nothing short of a feral whine of frustration. You try to play it off, act like it was a squeak from your stool, but Agatha isn't that stupid. Her ears perk up, and her lips curl up over her teeth. You blink, body reacting off pure instincts as you lean back and away from her. A low chittering sound hits your ears, and you realize it's her. It must have been as involuntary as your own noise, because Agatha shakes her head a bit, ears flopping in a rather adorable way, before steeling her gaze again. She lets out a little snort of air.

"I'm leaving. I'll be waiting out front for an Uber. You have about ten minutes to decide if you want to follow."

And just like that, she's getting up and walking away from the bar.

Ten minutes. Nine now, as you pay for your drinks. Eight by the time you're opening the front door and looking around, ears rotating atop your head and nose twitching as you seek out the fox.

Agatha is leaning against a lamp post, foot propped up against the fire hydrant next to her. A cigarette is perched between her lips for a moment before she pulls away and lets out a stream of smoke. She's facing the street, but you know she hears you approach by the way her tail swishes and ears move.

"Bunnies shouldn't follow foxes, you know," Agatha hums, still looking out at the few passing cars. You let out a wavered sigh, the cool night air allowing you to see your breath. It mirrors the smoke she's exhaling. "You're just asking for it."

"I know what I'm asking for." Your words come out childish, like a kid who's determined to try something they're not usually allowed to do.

"I don't think you do," Agatha says, looking over at you now. You stand firm, unmoving. She brings the cigarette to her lips again. The end glows red. Pulls it away. Breathes out. "Prove it."

"How?"

"Hold out your wrist."

The request is strange, but when she flicks her cigarette a bit and steps closer to you, blue eyes dark and hungry, you realize what she wants. It's a test. She's showing you that she's not going to go easy on you just because you're a cute rabbit hopping into the fox's den. It's a little crazy, and for the first time all night—or possibly the first time in your entire life—you start to think you've bit off more than you can chew.

But you've never met a test that you couldn't handle.

You hold out your wrist for her, chin up to face her fully. Agatha grins, toothy and a little menacing. Holds eye contact as she takes your wrist in her hand. Her fingers easily circle around you, meeting over your pulse point. She can feel how fast your heart is racing.

The tender skin burns as Agatha presses the cigarette against you. You visibly wince, but you refuse to pull away. She holds it there, until the embers start to fade, and then finally takes it away. You let out a stuttered sigh of relief, eyes watering at the corners. Agatha is still holding you by the wrist. Her thumb rubs over the burn mark.

"Good girl."

A shiver runs through your body. You're trying to find any coherent response, but the tension is fogging your brain. All that you manage to squeak out is, "Can I kiss you?"

Agatha simply pulls your body into her own, cupping your face and crashing her lips into yours. You squeak again, fingers grasping desperately at her shirt. Anything to ground you. You've kissed a lot of people, but none have made you feel even close to this. Agatha's fangs graze your bottom lip, nipping and suckling at the soft flesh. You can feel your body trying to go limp.

Blood smears across your mouth as she bites too hard. Agatha pulls back suddenly, breathing heavily. Her eyes are wild, mouth twitching like she didn't want to stop. Your body hums, arousal spiking impossibly as you see just how much she's affected by this too. She runs her tongue over her lips, tasting your blood.

"Fuck," Agatha breathes out. She looks almost surprised that she lost a bit of control.

"Yeah. I agree." You reach up and swipe some of the blood away from her chin with your thumb, and she smiles. Maybe satisfied that you didn't get freaked out by her feral instincts peeking out.

A car rolls up to where you two are standing, asks for Agatha. She nods at the driver.

"Ride's here."

Agatha doesn't ask if you're coming with her. She doesn't need to. You follow her into the backseat, closing the door behind you with a soft slam.

As soon as the car starts moving, Agatha is on you again. She kisses you eagerly, then trails her lips along your jaw down to your neck. You tangle your hand in her hair, scratching at her scalp right at the base of her ears. She makes a noise that sounds like a mix of a purr and a growl. You feel her press her nose against you and inhale. The hand that's gripping your thigh tightens.

"You smell so fucking delicious, bunny," Agatha says against your skin, voice husky. Her teeth graze against your neck. Your rabbit brain reacts, and your human brain is too aroused to push the feeling away. Your body tenses, freezing in place as it tries to tell you that there's danger. Agatha rubs her hand over your thigh. You feel her claws through the fabric of your pants. Those also set off your instincts, but the slight pain when she bites your neck again is enough to snap you back to reality.

"You gonna fuck me or eat me?" You tease, but your voice wavers.

"Both. But the latter in the former sense."

"What?" You blink. Agatha's fingers brush against your crotch. "Oh."

"Not as quick as you were earlier, hm?" Agatha laughs.

"Your wording was confusing," you mumble defensively. You tug on her hair, and she growls.

"Mhm, or you're just not the smartest in the room like usual."

"I have very little doubt that you're smarter than me, but you have age advantage."

Agatha snorts and pulls back from your neck. She rubs her thumb over your bottom lip, pressing hard enough to make that still sensitive cut dribble out a few more drops of blood. Instead of licking it off herself, she pushes the digit into your mouth. You wrap your lips around her and lave your tongue over the pad of her thumb, holding her gaze with wide eyes the whole time. The taste is metallic and unappealing, but the weight of her fingers on your tongue distract you from that.

"Oral fixation," Agatha says simply.

"Oh shuhup," you garble through the finger still wedged between your lips. Agatha cackles and removes her thumb. "You're the one who smokes."

"That's addiction, not psychosexual."

"Two of Freud's favorite things."

"Your little rabbit teeth are cute," Agatha hums, tapping her index finger against your lips.

Your face feels warm, and you turn away from her gaze. One of the signature traits of rabbit hybrids was the distinct front teeth. You grew up hating them. It was definitely a learned insecurity from schoolyard jabs through your childhood, but they stuck nonetheless.

For a split second, you believe that maybe Agatha is giving a Mean Girls-esque fake compliment. But you get the feeling that if Agatha were Regina George, she would've told that girl straight to her face that she was wearing the ugliest effing skirt she's ever seen.

So, you take the compliment.

The car rolls to a stop in front of a nice row of townhouses. You thank the driver. Agatha ignores them and gets out of the car swiftly, taking you by the hand and leading you along. You follow her up to a small two-story house. The yard is a little overgrown, but it's nice otherwise. You resist the urge to go sniff around what looks to be an abandoned flower garden below her porch while she fumbles with her keys.

Once inside, you look around in the darkness. Agatha doesn't bother flipping the lights on. Both of you can see well enough.

"Your house is nice," you say, admiring all the vintage furnishings. With curious eyes, you wander over to a tall bookshelf, scanning over the titles. It's mostly non-fiction, which you expected from the history professor. Agatha seems to have a morbid curiosity in tragic historical events, given the array of books about everything from the Titanic to the Hindenburg disasters. But the number of those pale in comparison to the sheer volume of Agatha's witch trials collection.

Your body twitches, and you suddenly feel a warm presence behind you. You know she's been watching you this entire time, but it seems she's growing impatient. Fair. You might've been tempted to flip through the very out-of-place Dolly Parton biography if Agatha wasn't ready to finish what you started.

Agatha wraps her arms around you, her mouth finding your neck once more. You gasp as she nips you. Not quite drawing blood this time, but certainly enough to bruise. Her body presses against yours. When you feel a slight bulge pressing against your ass, you almost have to grab onto the bookshelf to steady yourself.

"I'd offer you a drink, but I'd rather see if I can get you drunk on something else," Agatha murmurs against your skin. She punctuates the sentiment with a roll of her hips, and you groan.

Boldly, you push back against her, grinding your ass against her clothed cock. Agatha curses under her breath, her hands falling to your hips. She pulls away from your neck, and you know exactly what she's busy looking at. You flick your cottontail purposefully, and Agatha exhales a stuttered laugh.

"Fuck, that's adorable." Agatha gives another hard thrust and slaps your ass playfully before pulling away. You try not to whine at the loss. Before you can complain, Agatha says, "Bedroom is upstairs. Door at the end of the hall. Lead the way, bunny. I'm right behind you."

"Why don't you lead the way? It's your house." To answer your question, Agatha slaps your ass again. You snort. "Pervert."

"Excuse me for wanting to look at that cute tail of yours more."

Even as you walk up the stairs, the tension in the air is palpable. While you know that Agatha is trailing you, it's a bit eerie having her lurking behind you. Especially when she lets you get a few steps ahead of her. It feels like she's stalking you rather than letting you lead.

"You're weird."

"Why's that?" Agatha asks in a low voice as you reach the bedroom.

You spin around to face her, but keep walking backwards until the back of your knees his the edge of her bed. You're expecting her to push you down onto it, but instead she just gets as close as possible, looming in your space. Chest to chest, you can feel her breathing against you.

"Just are." Your eyes drop down to the bulge nudging against you. You lick your lips.

"Very well put, bunny," Agatha snorts. "If you're not going to say anything useful, how about we put that mouth to work?"

You reach out to unbutton her slacks, but she slaps your hands away.

"Nope. Get on your knees first."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"Am I just going to unbutton them when I'm down there? What difference does it make?" You scrunch up your nose at her. Agatha's buttons are very fun to push. Her brow furrows adorably and the vein in her forehead becomes more prominent as she tenses.

"The difference is that I want to see you on your fucking knees," Agatha growls. "But if you want to be a stubborn thing, you strip first."

"But I wanna see you—"

The sound of fabric ripping hits your ears before you realize whats happened. Agatha has taken her claws and shredded them down the front of your shirt. The fabric parts in a tattered mess, exposing your chest and tummy to her hungry gaze.

"You're paying for that," you huff, trying to act offended and not give away that the action made your cunt throb.

"You know, for someone who literally wanted this, you're doing an awful lot of talking and not much being a good little fuckbunny."

That is not something anyone has called you before, and you think it just changed your brain chemistry.

Agatha smirks, fully aware that she just activated that little submissive part of your brain that you've been hiding behind sass and annoying questions.

"Am I going to have to repeat myself, bunny?" Agatha tilts your chin up with her finger, her claw poking into your skin. "Surely you remember what I just told you to do."

Trying to pretend you still have some dignity left, you shed the remains of your shirt and put it aside. Agatha runs her hands over your tummy and up to your chest, palming your tits through your lacy bra. Normally, you'd want her to play with you like that for a bit longer, but with how the nights been going, you're far past ready to get down to business. You slide to your knees in front of Agatha, the plush rug under you a soft cushion against your delicate skin.

"Good bunny," Agatha hums, patting your head condescendingly. You shake your head to get your ears unruffled when she pulls back. "Now you can unbutton, sweetheart."

The palms of your hands are sweaty, but you manage not to tremble as you reach up and thread the button through the hole. The heat of her arousal is searing. Agatha is wearing purple lace. The dark curls of her thick bush peek out of the waistband and through some of the thinner parts of the fabric. That sight is already mouthwatering in itself, but you can't even dwell on that because you're face to face with the thick bulge of Agatha's cock.

Strained against her panties, you can't tell how big she is yet. But you're stopped dead in your tracks as the smell of her musk drowns out any other thoughts. Agatha might get her wish of getting you cockdrunk before it's even out.

"Fox got your tongue?" Agatha asks, looking down at you with a fake pout. "Aw, poor bunny. Do I need to help?"

A needy whine is your only reply. Agatha laughs and slowly, teasingly, starts tugging her pants and underwear down.

Her cock springs free the second that the lace is peeled away. Your senses are absolutely overwhelmed. The smell of her is still making your entire body buzz, and now you have to remember how to function as you try not to drool at the sight of her dick.

Agatha wraps her hand around the base, giving it a few pumps. You'd wager it's about five or six inches. Thick. As her hand reaches the root again, your eyes dart to her sack. You've never done it with anyone before, but you kind of want to press your nose against her balls and try to get her musk directly from the source into your head. Or wrap your lips around them and massage them with your tongue. Or take her cock while you're laying upside down over the edge of the bed so that her sack press against your nose while you deep throat her. Or—

"Bunnyyy," Agatha singsongs. You don't snap out of your haze, you simply let your eyes drift up to her face. The way she's towering over you makes you feel so small, helpless in the face of whatever she chooses to do with you.

It's her pheromones, you tell yourself. That's why your head feels like it's full of static instead of real thoughts. Even though your pheromones shouldn't even be compatible as two wildly different species—predator and prey, no less.

Or, maybe the stark difference is why you're so overwhelmed. The rabbits you've hooked up with never elicited even close to this response.

Agatha taps the tip of her cock against your lips to try to focus your attention. You part your lips, tongue darting out to lick a dribble of pre-cum.

"Wider," Agatha urges, hooking her thumb in your mouth to wrench your jaw open for her. You give her no resistance. Her finger runs over your teeth, back and forth over the more prominent rabbit ones. "Don't use these on me. Don't want my dick snapping like a carrot."

"Won't." You promise and open your mouth a little wider.

"Good bunny."

The tip of her cock presses against your tongue as she pushes in. You groan as you taste her pre direct from the source. Agatha's breath hitches almost imperceptibly as she sinks deeper into the warm wetness of your mouth, but your ears just barely pick it up.

She doesn't hesitate to push as deep as she can right away. The look in your eyes might be getting more dazed by the second, but in them she can see the determination to prove yourself to her. Agatha's cock lays thick and heavy on your tongue, sliding towards the back of your throat. Her fluffy tail has stiffened behind her. Your nose twitches, getting closer to her pelvis. Her bush brushes against your nostrils and you wrinkle your nose as her hair tickles you. Agatha must find the sight of your nose scrunching up amusing. She grips your head and pushes you all the way down. You gag.

"Aww, is the wittle bunny wabbit getting overwhelmed?" Agatha coos down at you, voice dripping with mocking condescension and an exaggerated pout on her lips. The "wittle wabbit" nickname is something that would normally make your skin prickle with irritation. But you can't exactly think straight right now, and from Agatha's mouth the degrading tone is hypnotic. You make a little gurgling whine around her cock as you adjust to the feeling of her in your throat. Your nose is mashed against her now, buried deep in her bush.

"Breathe through your nose, bunny," Agatha encourages. If Agatha doesn't let you up for air, you might die happily here. The puffs of air that you exhale through your nose are unsteady. Agatha runs her hand through your hair, flattening your ears against your head. "C'mon, you're a big girl. You can do it. In…"

You inhale. As you do, the scent of her musk hits you hard. It shouldn't be possible for your head to feel this empty just from Agatha's smell. But here you are, moaning around her dick. Agatha curses at the vibrations, hips jerking. She remembers she's supposed to be guiding you, voice coming out strained as she says, "And out…"

When you exhale, she pulls back ever so slightly. Then Agatha starts thrusting, her cock gliding over your tongue. In and out. Back and forth. Your eyes droop, and your body is strangely relaxed as your throat is being used for her pleasure. Arousal is soaking through your panties now, growing slick and uncomfortable, but you can't be bothered to focus on that.

You're jolted from your meditative state as Agatha's hands wrap around your rabbit ears. You glare up at her. Rabbit hybrids ears are very sensitive. Luckily, the human part of your genetic make-up means they're not devastatingly fragile. But the feeling of someone grabbing them does make your heart beat rather fast.

Agatha senses your tension and pauses her movements. She doesn't move her hand from your ears, but her grip loosens a bit. Her other hand comes up to your jaw and cups it gently.

"Nod if this is okay," Agatha murmurs under her breath.

You don't ponder it for long, far too eager to push your comfort for the sake of getting rough treatment from Agatha. You nod. Agatha smirks and tightens her grip again.

"Tap my thigh twice if you need to stop."

That warning is the last one you get before Agatha starts fucking into your mouth again, this time, using your ears as a handle to guide your head. It hurts a little, but it's a similar sensation to when past hookups have pulled your hair. The sting tugs at your scalp, but the pain is colliding with pleasure.

"Fuck. Fuck yes. Take it."

The room is filled with the guttural sounds of your throat working around her, coupled with a rumbling growl from Agatha's chest and a muffled whine from your own.

"Arch your back and stick your ass out," Agatha orders through gritted teeth. "Wanna see your cottontail shake while I use your mouth."

You shift, spreading your thighs and pushing your hips back so that Agatha can admire your ass from above. You flick your tail teasingly, and Agatha's cock twitches in your mouth at the sight. As Agatha gets more and more frantic, fucking your mouth faster, you notice something. When your lips get closer to the base of her cock, you feel them stretch a tiny bit more than they were earlier, like Agatha's cock is starting to swell at the base.

Before you can worry about it, Agatha yanks you off of her. You squeak and wince, and she breathes out a clipped apology when you rub the base of your ears.

"God, your mouth is so good. Almost made me knot."

Since you're rubbing your ears to soothe them and your mind is currently centralized between your legs, you don't fully register what Agatha's said. You hear "nut" and assume she just didn't want to come yet. Maybe her refractory period isn't what it used to be. Makes sense. Age and hormones will do that.

Agatha draws your attention again, cupping your jaw and rubbing it with her thumb. You lean into the touch, a small buzzing noise escaping you. Agatha's ears perk up. She laughs, an amused chittering sound.

"What's that?"

"Oh." Of course she heard it. Your cheek goes warm under her touch. "Sometimes rabbits do that. When they're happy. Or aroused."

"Mmm, all it takes is a cock in your mouth to get that cute noise out of you?" Agatha asks with a smirk. Too flustered to respond, you just shrug. The smirk turns into a full grin. "What happened to all that backtalk, hm? I guess you really are just a needy little fuckbunny."

"No…" You say with zero conviction in your voice.

"No? So, I shouldn't fuck you then?" Agatha bends down and reaches slowly for her pants, her cock still leaking between her thighs. You could absolutely call her bluff, and normally you would. But the logical side of your brain is nowhere to be found.

"Wait." You stop her. She laughs in your face.

"That's what I thought. Now finish stripping and get on the bed."

You scramble to obey, shedding the rest of your clothes until you're completely naked. Agatha follows suit, unbuttoning her shirt quickly and tossing it aside. When she unclips the lace bra that matches her panties, your mouth waters at the sight of her tits. Puffy, sensitive nipples practically begging to be sucked. But she clearly has other plans. Agatha tells you to lay back against the pillows, so you scoot your way up and rest your head against the silk pillowcases.

"So obedient now," Agatha hums as she crawls up the bed. You watch the way she stalks towards your body, the muscles of her body moving like a Renaissance art piece. "Dumb bunny think she's all high and mighty, but she just needed to be reminded where she sits on the food chain."

Your cunt pulses and legs spread. Agatha can see the way your pussy reacts, so she continues with a low, sultry voice that could lure even the most suspicious prey into her trap.

"About an hour ago, you would've died rather than have someone dare insult your intelligence. But now, here you are, practically moaning when a mean old fox calls you dumb bunny. This is why you went searching tonight, isn't it? You just needed someone to put you in your place. Needed to embrace that prey side of you that you've stuffed away for so long."

The truth of the statement makes you turn away, eyes shiny with need and a couple of tears. Agatha is hovering over your body now, her thick hair falling in your face. She grips your face and turns you back to face her. Unable to hide from the truth, you nod. You swallow nervously as you see her lick her lips.

"Don't look so frightened, bunny. I won't tell anyone what a needy mess you get when you finally find someone willing to bite back." Agatha's voice is slightly softer. The tenderness must surprise her as well, because she kisses you sloppily to divert your attention. She loves the way you're shaking under her. Pure arousal is pumping through your body, and you're not sure how much longer you're able to stand not being filled. When Agatha pulls back a bit, you nuzzle your face against hers, making whining noises.

"Silly rabbit. Such a pathetic creature. Can't even wait one more second to be filled?" You shake your head. "Too bad. I need to taste you first. I promised to eat you, didn't I?"

Her lips trail down your neck, leaving bites along the way. Agatha gives your tits a little bit of attention, flicking her tongue over your nipples to listen to you squeal, but she's on a mission.

Her hands grip your thighs, spreading you open for her hungry gaze. Agatha leans in and inhales, her tail lashing as she smells your soaked cunt. Her tongue lolls out, and before you can comment on how long it is, it swipes through your folds in a long, firm push. Your head falls back against the pillow, back arching as you feel her start licking you eagerly.

Agatha's fox tongue has little bumps meant to help groom fur, and the feeling of that ridged, wet muscle lapping at you like she's been starved for months has you seeing stars. You wrap your legs around her head, your fingers grasping at her hair. Anything to ground you.

"Ah!" You moan, thrashing under her. "Don't stop, I'm close!"

Agatha doesn't speak, but her gaze never leaves you. Her nose brushes against your clit as she fucks her long tongue inside of your aching hole. Claws dig into the meat of your thighs as she tries to hold you still. You might be bleeding, you're not sure. All you can feel is pleasure that practically has you passing out as your orgasm crashes through you.

Despite the mind blowing climax, you're not nearly done yet, and Agatha knows it. Agatha pulls back just enough to reach between your thighs. She spreads your pussy lips with two fingers, groaning at the sight of you.

"I've never seen anything like this, bunny," Agatha murmurs, her lips shiny with your slick. "So red and open. It's like you were built to be fucked."

When your cunt clenches visibly at her words, a bit of your cum squeezes out and down to the sheets. The sight makes Agatha pounce into action.

There's no more words shared between the two of you. They're not needed. Both of you know what the other needs right now. The raw, animalistic need is all-consuming. Agatha sits up and rolls you onto your stomach. You're already moving into the position she wants, so she doesn't have to do much. Once on all fours, you raise your ass in the air, practically shoving yourself against her body.

Agatha positions herself behind you, stroking her cock as she gives you a slap on your flank. Your fluffy tail flicks back and forth, wafting the scent of your need around. You feel her claws dig in at the sight.

There's barely any time between Agatha rubbing the tip of her cock through your folds and almost her entire length being shoved inside you. Both of you let out feral noises at the feeling. Agatha starts rutting into you, draping herself over your back so she can latch her teeth into the back of your neck.

The sound of her grunts fill your ears, with the wet slapping noise of your bodies meeting as she fucks you serving as the backing track. You're glad that Agatha can't see your face from this angle, because you're sure that you look like a wreck. Eyes rolled back in your head, mouth hanging open and drool down your lips.

You've never been filled so perfectly. The thickness of her cock drags against your walls with each thrust, sending shockwaves up your spine and reducing your brain to a pile of mush. Another orgasm sends your body into a shaking mess, moaning into the pillow when you lose your balance and can't hold yourself up anymore. Agatha doesn't mind though. She sits up, shoving your face further into the pillow and fucking you faster.

"Gonna fuck you so good that you never want another cock," Agatha growls lowly. "No more rabbits for you, baby. You're gonna crave this from now on. Thick predator cock breeding this pretty pussy."

Her voice is starting to sound higher pitched, and you can tell she's close. You want to make her come. You want to feel her breed you. With what little strength you can muster, you start pushing your hips back to meet hers. She gasps, cock pulsing inside of you as you fuck yourself on her cock. The stretch of her feels so good that you don't notice that she's stopped going as deep, fucking you in small swift thrusts instead of the delicious ones that reach deep in your wanting hole. And you also don't notice the thickness at the base of her cock swelling again. All you can do is push, wanting her hilted inside of you and letting out a high pitched wail when she pulls back out a bit further, staving off her orgasm for a moment longer.

"Dumb bunny," Agatha breathes out. "Don't even know what you're begging for."

"I do. Please. Please, I need it," you babble mindlessly. You do know what you're begging for. You're begging for her cum. You're begging for her to claim you. To ruin you for anyone else.

Agatha hesitates for a moment before pressing herself against your back again.

"Okay. Okay, bunny. I'll give you what you need." She nips at your ears to distract you before shoving her cock fully inside you once more. It's bigger. Thicker. It's stretching your cunt at the entrance. You cry out, and she shushes you, lips against the back of your neck now. "You've got it, it's in. Just relax, and it'll go smoother."

Agatha's thrusts are shallow now, barely pulling out of you before hilting with each push of her hips. You thought the stretch would settle, but every time your cunt adjusts, it feels like the girth around the base of her cock swells even bigger, growing into a bulbous shape that catches against your hole.

And then, realization hits you.

Knot.

Agatha was right. You didn't know what you were begging for. She warned you earlier, and you misunderstood. And she was holding back now because she didn't want to knot you.

Knotting is meant for mating and is supposedly incredibly intimate for species that do it. Agatha probably hesitated because of course she would. She probably doesn't just go knotting any random hookup.

But she heard your desperate begging and gave it to you anyway.

Your impression of Agatha tells you that she wouldn't do something so vulnerable if she didn't really want to. This divorced woman who's old enough to be your mother is crossing a social boundary for you, just because you sat pretty and begged pathetically for her to claim you.

The brief panic you had disappears. Your cunt clenches and gushes around her. Agatha is letting out an endless stream of grunts and moans. The vibrations of them rattle through her chest and against your skin where she's pressed against you.

Even if you wanted her to stop, you're not sure that you'd be able to shove her off. She's too far gone now, too close to release that the only thing in her mind is finishing.

You wiggle your hips and clench around her deliberately. Agatha's eyes fly open, and you feel her pulse.

"Bunny, I—"

"Knot me, Agatha."

Agatha's eyes roll back and her entire body shakes. Her sweat slicked forehead drops to your shoulder as she manages a few more tiny thrusts before you feel a spurt of thin cum shoot into you. Agatha gasps when you squeeze around her, milking every drop you can.

The knot swells as the last bit of her load dribbles out. You bite the pillow at the feeling, the walls of your pussy gaping around the fleshy plug meant to keep Agatha's seed inside of you. The sensation is so painfully delicious that it has you rubbing your clit, urging one last weak orgasm from your trembling form.

Agatha's body collapses on top of you. She takes a moment to catch her breath before rolling you onto your side.

The sudden movement and tug of the knot at your hole makes you scramble. She didn't know that you were biting the pillow. The sound of fabric ripping hits both of you, jolting you from the post-orgasm haze. You blink and flatten your ears, straining to look back at her over your shoulder.

"Sorry."

"We're even now from the shirt thing," Agatha huffs out an exhausted laugh.

"Yeah, that's fair."

You can't turn to face her with her knot snug in your cunt from behind, so you can only get a glimpse of her beautifully wrecked appearance. Her hair is wild and pupils blown out so that they look like midnight rather than sky blue. Her tail is wagging slowly, content.

"Can you reach the nightstand? There's a water bottle there."

"Yeah."

After both of you chug half a bottle each, Agatha drapes her arm over you and nuzzles against your back. You try to free yourself and roll over to face her, but her knot is still just as swollen.

"How long does this thing last?" You ask.

"Depends," Agatha mumbles, sounding sleepy. "Could be soon. Could be as long as an hour and a half."

"What? That's so long," you whine.

"Don't you know anything about knots?"

"I thought it was like, a few minutes!"

"I know it's been a while since I've been in school, but didn't they teach you kids sex-ed?"

"They separate us by species! All I learned was rabbit sex. Anything else I've learned through experience, and you're the first person with a knot I've ever fucked."

"Maybe you should do your research next time then," Agatha shrugs.

"What was I supposed to do, look up fox breeding dynamics when I saw you at the bar?"

"Or not beg to get knotted."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

You hike your leg up and kick backwards into her shin. Agatha yips. You giggle, which is cut off very quickly when you feel her teeth sink into the back of your neck, scruffing you like an unruly kit.

Prey instincts make you go limp, and Agatha lets out a satisfied snort.

"Don't get too cocky, bunny," Agatha says once she releases your neck. "I know all the buttons to push to make that bratty attitude of yours disappear."

"Not a brat," you mumble.

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it right now."

"It's not bratting."

"It is. Textbook even."

You give up, scooting back against her body fully so that you can steal her warmth. Agatha's fingers stroke your lower tummy. You wonder if she's thinking about her cock nestled inside there.

"Why'd you agree to knot me?" You ask after a bit of silence. "Isn't it like, meant for mates or something?"

Agatha's hand stills. Clearly, you struck a nerve. She makes up an excuse on the fly.

"I just wanted to see how it would feel inside you. Different species and all."

"Have you only ever fucked other foxes?"

"No." A beat. "My ex-wife is a wolf."

Ah. The ex-wife that she can't stop hooking up with. Something about this first-date knotting is screaming attachment issues (literally). But, not eager to have Agatha angry with you while you're locked together, you hold your tongue.

"Cool. I've never fucked a wolf before. Did she howl?"

"You really want to ask me questions about my ex while I'm inside you?"

"You brought her up, I'm just being following the thread of conversation."

"I bet your mouth gets you in a lot of trouble, missy."

"It does. Like the time it got me stuck on a fox's knot for an hour."

Agatha barks out a laugh and squeezes your tummy. You beam with satisfaction.

"Alright, that's enough out of you. You tired?"

"Physically. But I'm pretty awake still."

You feel Agatha wrap around you, and she grunts as she maneuvers the two of you. Her knot tugging at your raw entrance is a dull ache now. She repositions the two of you so that you're laying horizontal across the bed. Agatha reaches around you to grab a remote from the side table. She points it at the television mounted on the wall and turns that on before offering it to you.

"Pick something. We can shower after my knot goes down. Might as well keep yourself entertained."

You smile at the thoughtfulness and take the remote from her. Agatha falls asleep within about ten minutes of the documentary you turn on, snoring behind you with her nose pressed against your shoulder. You feel her drooling on your skin.

The warm stretch of her cock buried inside of you keeps your brain in a delightfully hazy space. It's just enough to keep you from overthinking about how you've never stayed with a hookup for more than a couple of minutes after they rolled off of you.

Steadily, her knot starts going down. After about a half hour passes, it's small enough that you could probably pull yourself off of it now.

But you're comfortable. And you don't want to wake the woman behind you by moving around so much. So instead, you settle in Agatha's arms, tug the blanket over the both of you, and wait for her to rouse from sleep so that you can shower together.

You did not know the last words that slipped passed your lips. In between the screams, commands and howling of anything your team could do to grasp at the strings of your dying beauty.

Then you felt it before the fall. Something so heavy it felt weightless against the side of your temple. You felt the water, the blue of the waves reaching to the sky before the world went dark, the sea engulfing you whole in its hungry reach.

Your heart about to stop as water bedded every corner of your body, a trail of blood following you down—but before your lifeless self could even reach the sand that rested in the depths of the cold sea, the Flying Dutchman took hold of all the bodies sinking around the ship, rising as it did.

~

Captain William Turner settled himself on deck as he scanned the sea, watching the pieces of the boat that was viciously ripped to shreds, float around his own ship. Fear settled in his stomach as he began to regonise the parts, the gilded wood, the stained windows that sea licked to shreds. His mind, bringing them together like a jigsaw puzzle.

His chest began to ache. His eyes wide, shining as it searched for something, anything that could give him the answer he was searching for.

Then his world stopped.

a thousand miles away, in a place only you knew, if you went close enough to the chest lulled by the ocean breeze, you would hear the clear missed beat of his heart.

The neatly curved and gilded plank of wood with golden writing floated neatly and proudly atop the water.

"It’s The Moonlight,” Will clenched the railing so tight his already pale knuckles became whiter. He turned around in a hurry, scanning the mass of bodies that laid between life and death, sprawled across the deck of his ship like freshly caught fish.

If Will’s heart had still been in his chest, he would have felt it beat into his ears and would have almost feel it break—

The arhythmic rythme of his heart echoed across the iron walls of the tripled locked chest.

he saw your sword.

He had made it, he knew it was yours, and the more he looked around the more he began to regonise your crew, and the ache in his heart lit in his body like fire across rum.

Under the mass of wet cadavres, a delicate lifeless hand laid there, sticking out of the pile.

He regonise the ring that layed on your finger, and with quick, sharp movement he pushed anyone that stood on his way to you, only to reveal your cold traits.

"No. No, no, no," he kneeled by your side, "Y/n." He cried, placing his thumb across your cheek.

He rested his forehead against your cold one, slipping a hand over your heart. His tears uncontrollable as he tried to sense a beat, anything that could pull you back to life.

But he could even feel it, your soul was on the rim of travelling to his locker, just like all the people laying around him.

He thought he cried, screamed, he couldn’t know through the ringing in his ear as he closed his eyes and squeezed you as tight as he possibly could against him.

At this very minute he didn’t care. He knew he was being selfish. He knew that maybe this is not what you wanted, but he wasn’t thinking clear. How could he?

Still squeezing your body with his entire strength, wishing you could make one, he took your soul back from the grip of his locker, making you his prisoner.

"Who is this?" A pirate, once a nameless face amongst the crew of Davy Jones, but Will made it his mission to know the names of everyone under his charge, spoke up.

Bootstraps Bill was standing next to the man, a frown creasing between his own brow. He might have missed a lot of things in his son’s life: first words, first steps, the tantrums he’d throw as a child, his first sword fights. Maybe that’s why he decided giving his life to the Flying Dutchman was better than a life on ground, to finally have time with his kid.

But maybe if he had been more present before he would have already seen him cry, and it wouldn’t have taken him by such surprise.

Seeing his son, the strong and fair Captain he had become. The one who had defeated Davy Jones and so many other enemies of the sea, kneeling down before the love of his life’s lifeless body, incontrolable sobs slipping past his lips.

But the man besides Bill had asked a question no one else knew the answer too, and people were starting to whisper about how such a beautiful soul was connected to their Captain.

So he spoke, speaking what he knew to be true; "Captain’s wife."

"Oh. Didn’t know she was a pirate," he spoke with amazement lacing his tone. "She’s real pretty,"

The man did not have time to answer, because they watched in amazement as the cursed ruler of the sea, worked his magic.

You coughed water out, gallons coming out of your lungs, breathing becoming impossible but not lacking. The fog in your eyes dissipated, and just like the last thing your eyes admired as they closed for what was suppose to be the last time, the sky was there, in all its glory the sky created a beautiful halo, perfectly framing him.

His eyes, shinning in their darkness and looking at you like a sailor would look at the world’s greatest treasure.

"Will?" Your body felt like fire under his touch. The feeling like electricity running up and down. Your hand reached for his cheek, brushing the skin that you hadn’t felt in too long.

"What happened?" You asked, breathless as you wiped a tear away with your thumb, gently tucking a strand of his wet hair out the way.

You watched as Will closed his eyes at the contact, he could melt right there and finish his days happy—gods he missed you so much.

"You died-" he sniffed and your face twisted.

"I’m dead?" You questioned the confused look on your face making him slightly laugh. "I’m actually dead?"

"Yes," Will was about to tear up again as he closed you into a hug, kissing your forehead as he did.

"Well I do not feel dead," you frowned. "Is this how you feel?" looking back up to meet his eyes, watching as he gave you a tearful nod. "death is overthought then,” you reassured. "I mean I get to be with my husband, don’t I?" Your voice was soft, and your fingertips softer as you traced his every trait. "I mean—I get to stay with you right? Even though I will be your prisoner? Just do not send me away-"

"Who said I was sending you away, love?" He questioned, and grin filled your lips as you were now inches close to him.

"No one, Captain Turner." You smirked before getting lost in his eyes for the third time. Will did not hesitate to close the gap between your two bodies, pressing his lips yours in a sealing kiss, pulling away just enough to breathe against your lips;

"Welcome aboard Mrs. Turner."

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“Xavier!! I’m finally free!”, you say cheerfully as you take off your shoes and enter his apartment.

He chuckles. He knows how much you hate the paperwork.

“These are for you”, you say, moving towards him, with your arm outstretched, five bright yellow sunflowers standing tall.

“What?” He looks from your face to the flowers, back to your face. “For me?”

You nod. Xavier laughs softly but he takes them quickly. “Thank you”, he says after a beat, before enveloping you in his arms.

He puts them in a vase, and doesn’t elaborate but you can see the faint blush painting his cheeks. You settle down to have dinner when he brings it up. “You know…”, he begins, “I don’t think I’ve ever been given flowers before…”, he says shyly.

He never gets used to it whenever you pick up random flowers to give him.  

Zayne

Zayne’s eyes widen when you give him the bouquet of flowers, a sophisticated set of pink tulips.

“Happy Doctor’s Day!”, you wish him. He stands there; a bit too shocked to move.

“You…got me flowers for Doctor’s Day?”, he asks, as if you had got him a pet rat instead.

“Yeah! After all, you ARE my favorite doctor”, you say, smiling.

He smiles before leaning in, placing a small kiss on your forehead. “Really? Is that what I am to you? Your favorite doctor? Nothing else?”, he asks, mischievously.

“What else?”, you ponder, a finger dramatically resting against your chin.

"Maybe the funniest person you know?", he questions.

You snort, but it comes out quiet, muffled. "Hmm some days", you shrug.

Zayne laughs, the sound deep in his chest before he holds you close. "Thank you, they're very pretty."

"Are they the only thing that's very pretty?"

"Hmm. What else?", he wonders, copying you dramatically.

"There's a note", you tell him. Zayne raises an eyebrow in question before he unfolds the paper, but you stop him quickly.

"Not....now...later maybe?"

"Why...?", he asks.

"Maybe I'm shy??"

"Why?", he continues, "after all, I'm just your favorite doctor, am I not? There should be nothing in this letter that makes you so shy."

Rafayel

Poor Rafayel had been having a terrible week after he had taken up an art commission with a businessman who couldn't tell blue from purple but insisted on criticizing any sketches Rafayel sent him.

He's been calling you at least five times a day, and even though you've been trying to spend some time with him after work, you wonder if there's anything else you can do to make him feel better.

As you finish talking to him for the second time in an hour, and it’s only 11am, your eyes fall upon the plastic flower decor at the Association and a plan begins brewing in your mind.

Maybe a bouquet would cheer the man up.

On your break you decide to visit the florist by the hotpot place and send off a fat bouquet of oriental lilies with a short note. 'Hang in there fishie. I'll get back to you in no time ♡'

You can't deny you're waiting for your phone to light up in the next hour, and it does. You accept the video call, trying to hide your smile.

"Do you think you can appease me with these?", Rafayel pouts, but it's only playful.

You lean forward and laugh a little. "Is it not working. Oh...", you feign disappointment.

"I didn't say it isn't!!", he replies hurriedly. "It's just...the promise of seeing you soon is only making it harder to stop counting the minutes till I do see you..."

"Well, let these keep you company till then. I sent them with special instructions to take care of the recipient", you reply.

"Wow cutie, you can talk to flowers now?"

When you see him in the studio that evening, the flowers are in a vase right next to him, and he seems to have made some progress with his paintings. He doesn't waste a single moment before wrapping you up in his arms and peppering kisses all over your face.

Sylus

There is no love purer than mine. Sylus's words echo in your head as you walk through Vagrant's Land on the way to the Onychinus Base.

It had been some time since he had said it, but it was making your heart thump as your thoughts returned to the old couple you had met while finding Tobias. They had met so long ago, and they had been together for so long. “I didn’t know what love was before I met her”, the man had said and that had sent your thoughts into a flashback.

You think of Sylus, and you feel your cheeks flush, wondering if there was something you could do for him. As you mount your bike, ready to return, you decide to buy him some flowers. Imagining Sylus with flowers was hard, he was more suited to shiny gems or sleek metals, but his heart sure was soft as a flower.

You take a detour. Standing in the middle of the flower shop, you wonder what kind of flowers he’d like. You had some ideas, but the variety the shop had to offer was making your brain spiral. You finally decide to go with your first choice. You buy three red roses and begin the ride back home, hoping the dumb crow wouldn't tattle before you got there.

Sylus is doing ‘business’ when you get back, but he doesn’t miss the way you hurry a little.

“You’re back kitten? How did everything go?”

“Oh, you know, nothing special”, you reply. “I do have something for you, though” You cross the room quickly, giving him the flowers. He raises an eyebrow from where he’s sitting, unsure.

“Go on, it’s not a trick”, you joke.

Sylus extends his hand to accept the flowers, his fingers brushing yours softly. It builds an anticipation in you, a slight nervousness, but you look at him to find that he seems even more affected.

Sylus opens his mouth to reply, but words fail him. He closes his mouth again and raises his ruby red eyes to meet yours. “You…got these for me, kitten”

“Yup”, you answer.

He stares at them long. “Where did you get them?”

Where?! What kind of question? But before you can reply he’s standing up to wrap his arms around your waist and lift you up, causing a little squeak to escape your lips. “Thank you, dear”, he whispers, oh so quietly before he kisses your hair.

Caleb

You want to surprise Caleb with something when you visit Skyhaven for a friend’s wedding. You don’t tell Caleb you’re visiting, even though he calls you pretty frequently. You just want to see the look of surprise on his face when you catch him off guard.

You bring along a big jar of apple syrup, the special recipe that he likes, but as you type in the address in your phone, you wonder if you could somehow do more. You notice a flower shop close by and decide the colonel’s house needed some flowers to make it a home.

Caleb opens the door and stands there in shock at seeing you. When the initial shock wears off, you present the bouquet of daisies to him shyly. “For you”, you smile.

“Thank you”, he whispers, like it’s so, so precious. He kisses your cheek, then your lips, before he’s kissing all over your face and making you laugh. He’s laughing too, softly, happily.

“The things you do...You make me so happy pipsqueak”.

“It's perfect,” he closed his eyes, letting the spring breeze lull the evening.

“Sun feels nice," you stated as you plucked a flower on the grass patch by your side, handing it your love.

“Yeah, missed it,” he smiled, grabbing the flower with his finger tips and pressed a kiss to your forehead as thanks.

You rested your head on his shoulder, snuggling against the soft fabric of his scarf, relishing of the feeling of it on your cheek.

You do not know how long you sat there, snuggled in one another as you let life at Hogwarts happen without either of you. Letting his breathing, his heart rate, calm everything down; the pressure of class, the amount of books you needed to read for the week ahead, and the thought of O.W.L.S arriving quicker than you realized.

The only thing that kept you sane was Cedric's warmth and the quidditch match tomorrow.

Cedric almost read your mind, and his hand reached for your bag to reveal the array of books you had brought with you. You felt the rumble of his chest as he chuckled, his hand finding your copy of quidditch through ages.  

“Getting prepared for tomorrow’s match, I see?”

“Maybe,” you smiled gently taking it from it. “Rereading strategies and things,” you shrugged, unbothered and as nonchalant as you could. 

“Well," he leaned even close, whispering in your ear. "Hufflepuff is going to win."

“You wish!" You faked a faux annoyance, gently shoving his side as you scoffed, placing the book back in your bag.

“Im telling you we have the best team. We even won against Harry Potter,” he argued proudly, knowing his argument did not hold. 

“Hey, even you said it was not a fair win!” You playfully slapped his shoulder and laughed. It was true, Cedric had even asked Oliver Wood for a rematch. 

He shrugged, "we shall see."

You fumbled in your bag trying to find the snacks you had packed for the evening when you spotted the three last copies of this months quibbler.

“You want one? My father just sent out this month’s quibbler?” You graded one out of your bag. “He sent me and Luna a bunch,″ you smiled as you handed him the brand new and shiny magazine. 

“thanks, love,” he smiled and grabbed it, stealing a kiss on the way to grab it.

It's as if you were frozen in time as the magazine left your fingers. Cedric gazed in your eyes in a way you were so familiar with, and yet it surprised you every time.

His eyes were shinning, sparkling as he observed your traits; your smile, your nose, your perfect cheeks, “I love you," he mumbled, barely over a whisper as he dipped forward to steal another kiss from your lips.

“I love you more,” you blushed, turning into a putty as his fingers now brushed your cheek.

"I doubt it."

"I don't," you whispered, "like I don't doubt we're going to win this game"

“You wish."