#thornbun

fem reader, no ship

It was a warm afternoon in the rose garden, just after tea. The late light dappled gold across the hedges, and the croquet mallets stood in neat formation near the archways. Yuu had wandered off slightly, not unusual, following a butterfly with the sort of absent curiosity that never quite crossed into rule-breaking. Her movements were soft, unhurried, like petals drifting on a breeze.

That’s when she saw him.

Nestled beneath a hedge near the low brick border wall, just barely visible between the leaves, was a white rabbit. Not just a rabbit, the rabbit, Thornbun. Red ribbon tied just-so. Fur pristine. Sitting upright with the poise of someone who knew exactly what he was doing and allowed others to believe it was chance.

Yuu froze.

She blinked once. Twice.

Her body stilled the way animals do when spotting something gentle, not out of fear, but awe. Her lips parted slightly, a breath caught on the cusp of a whisper. But no sound came out.

She didn’t step forward.

Didn’t crouch. Didn’t squeal or reach out like most people might. No, her fingers simply curled at her sides, and after a long, reverent pause, she slowly slowly lowered herself to sit on the edge of the stone path. Not too close. Not even facing him directly. She turned herself just enough that he could see her, the way prey animals do when they don’t want to startle each other.

Thornbun watched.

Still as a statue. His ears tilted ever so slightly toward her.

She lowered her gaze in a soft, nervous tilt. Her legs shifted slightly. Her skirt pooled neatly around her, and her fingers found a stray thread on her thigh-high sock to fidget with. Silent. Respectful.

No sudden movements.

Then quietly ,barely audible, she whispered, “Hello…”

A long pause.

Then-

“I’ve seen you before,” she murmured, still not looking directly at him. “I didn’t know if you were real…”

Thornbun’s nose twitched.

And then, almost regally, he stepped forward.

It was slow. Deliberate. Each hop brought him a little closer. One pace. Another. He paused a few feet away, sizing her up, not warily, but in that dignified, silent way that rabbits often did, as if to say Well? and Are you worthy?

Yuu stayed utterly still.

When he took another hop closer, she let out the tiniest breath of wonder. Her eyes shimmered, not from tears, but from sheer, overwhelming adoration. Her whole body softened, curled in slightly, like she was trying not to explode from how hard she wanted to squeeze him.

“I won’t touch,” she whispered, as if making a pact. “I swear. I’ll be good.”

Thornbun tilted his head. Hopped once more.

Then, as if bored by pretense, he marched directly into her lap.

Eliza made a sound.

It wasn’t a squeal. Not really. It was more like a strangled, breathy little “hhgh–!” the noise of someone barely surviving the full force of love at first snuggle. Her hands flinched up, hesitant. Unsure if she should even dare.

But Thornbun just settled.

He flopped one ear to the side. Tucked his paws. Let out a single contented exhale.

And Yuu… melted.

She didn’t snatch him. Didn’t squeeze. She sank, hands hovering for a beat before they brushed down gently, featherlight, across his back. Her fingers were soft and reverent, tracing the fur without pressing. She stroked behind his ears, fingers trembling with joy, and Thornbun let her.

No, more than that.

He nudged his nose into her skirt. Huffed dramatically regal and closed his eyes.

“Oh my stars,” she breathed. “You’re perfect.”

Somewhere not far off, Cater peeked around the hedge, phone half-lifted. “D’awww…”

Riddle appeared behind him and smacked the phone down. “No photos.”

“But it’s cute! Look at him—!”

“I said no photos.”

They watched silently for a moment as Yuu scratched delicately at Thornbun’s ears and murmured something so quietly it didn’t even reach them.

“She loves him already,” Trey said softly, smiling faintly as he approached.

Riddle crossed his arms, watching as Thornbun tilted his head into her touch.

“I’m not surprised,” he muttered. “He’s very particular. He doesn’t even tolerate most other familiars.”

“Guess she’s the exception.”

Cater grinned. “C’mon, Ridds. Just admit it. It’s kinda adorable.”

Riddle didn’t answer at first. His cheeks were faintly pink, but his expression was unreadable. After a beat, he said,

“…She’s gentle. Quiet. He responds to that.”

Trey looked at him. “And you?”

“…I do as well,” Riddle said shortly, then turned on his heel. “Come on. Let them be.”

For the next week, Thornbun began appearing more openly.

He’d drift into the lounge when she was there, nest himself beside her thigh and thump softly when she started to pick at her nails. He stood between her and Ace when the boy got too loud. He nudged her sock with his head when she zoned out in the rose garden too long.

She never overwhelmed him.

Never demanded anything. She simply cooed quiet thanks, scratched his chin gently when he leaned in for it, and always murmured goodbye when she stood to leave.

She started bringing tiny bits of fruit in her pocket. Not enough to disrupt the dorm’s food rules (Riddle would’ve ended her) but just little segments of apple or strawberry.

Thornbun accepted them graciously. Never when asked, only when offered and left near her skirt.

And if her face beamed every time he bumped her hand before taking the treat?

Well.

No one said anything.

yes, i have made familiars for all the third years an up, plus housewardens and jamil. Thornbun is riddles and i love him dearly