My Bunny Boyfriend Can't Possibly Be This Cute! (Lucky x Female Reader)

Episode 5: Our Scarlet Thread

She said she liked 'em. That means she liked 'em. Clearly.

But what if she was just being nice? They were store-bought, after all. Anyone could've done that.

He furrowed his brow.

I knew I should've made those chocolates myself. I'm number one! The best of the best! Buying 'em from the store is what schmucks do.

A sigh,

the realization sinking in.

And it looks like I'm a schmuck.

As the rabbit ambled through the hallway, he dipped his toes into his pond of doubts and worries.

B really doesn't stop by as much anymore—maybe once a week, if I'm lucky. Was it something I said? Or maybe she's finally done with all the cafés. I know I should've branched out more with the dates, but romance ain't exactly my forte. Closest thing I've had to the lovey-dovey experience was when that vending machine tried to hit on me; either that or he was asking to be put out of his misery. I guess dispensing sodas ain't the most fulfilling life role.

Again, he sighed, imagining the daisy he had come to cherish gradually withering away, petal by petal vanishing into the wind as he watched oh so helplessly.

"I hope I don't lose you," the bunny boyfriend whispered.

His melancholy, however, left as quick as it came, being swept beneath his blanket of bravado.

I can't think like this. Can't afford to. I suppose I'll just "follow my heart" or whatever those cheesy flicks try to sell.

In the meantime, I have other things to worry about.

Lucky traversed across a grand hallway, the ceiling no less than fifteen feet high as beneath his heels, ceramic tiles boasted a black and white checkered style. Around him, walls of marble flaunted their pristineness, pillars embedded halfway in as between them, doors of darkened oak stood at the ready. For luminance, shreds of light drifted up high in waves, offering the illusion of a contained galaxy.

The rabbit noted the presence, or lack thereof.

"Like a ghost town in here," he said. "Guess it's to be expected; this time of the year is pretty slow."

Which begs the question: Why did Miss Lamella call me in?

His mind scrambled through the possibilities, each one more tiresome than the last.

Fingers crossed she just wants me to deliver some papers or something, because if I have to go toe-to-toe with another dragon, I'm gonna lose it.

As the rabbit dreaded what his imagination cooked up, he eventually found himself at his destination: a pair of mountainous double doors guarded by a duo of armed gargoyles.

"Sup, boys," Lucky said.

"If it ain't golden fur himself," one of the guards replied. "I see the boss roped you in, too, huh?"

"Can't really catch a break, can I? Is she in?"

"She's all yours."

Lucky nodded with appreciation, then strolled past, pushing the doors open to enter his employer's office.

Inside, he caught the elite demon herself seated at her desk, wrapped up in a novel.

However, she was not alone, for another figure occupied the space, studying the trinkets within a nearby display case. A humanoid fox, he appeared as, his frame slender as he stood easily on his hind legs. A crisp auburn thrived in his shortened fur, the tints varying as his eyes—pockets of rich violet—completed the combination. As for his style, he appreciated a more sophisticated approach: a white button-up shirt, tan slacks, and dark suspenders, along with circular glasses planted on the ridge of his snout.