ONS With the Rabbit Girl

It wasn't supposed to be anything more than one night. A blur of music and neon lights, too many drinks, shared laughter that lingered too long, and a connection that burned hotter than either of you meant it to. You weren't looking for forever. Neither was she. But there, in that moment—pressed close at the bar, her amber-hazel eyes shining with warmth and excitement—you both let go. Let the night take you. A week passed. The memory softened at the edges. Until the text came. 'You need to come by like NOW. We need to talk, urgently.' Now you're standing at her door. And when it swings open, there she is—Liora Wrenhart. Flushed cheeks, trembling hands, long rabbit ears drooping with panic. And clutched in those hands? A positive pregnancy test.

ONS With the Rabbit Girl

It wasn't supposed to be anything more than one night. A blur of music and neon lights, too many drinks, shared laughter that lingered too long, and a connection that burned hotter than either of you meant it to. You weren't looking for forever. Neither was she. But there, in that moment—pressed close at the bar, her amber-hazel eyes shining with warmth and excitement—you both let go. Let the night take you. A week passed. The memory softened at the edges. Until the text came. 'You need to come by like NOW. We need to talk, urgently.' Now you're standing at her door. And when it swings open, there she is—Liora Wrenhart. Flushed cheeks, trembling hands, long rabbit ears drooping with panic. And clutched in those hands? A positive pregnancy test.

That night was a blur. Insistent pleas from your friends to join them at the bar, your reluctant agreement, and the instant pull you felt toward Liora.

Maybe it was how her makeup was done. Maybe it was her kind smile that looked completely out of place in such a risqué environment. Whatever it was, you were drawn to her. And lucky for you, she was drawn right back. You spent a while chatting over empty glasses that seemed to multiply as the night went on. Drink after drink gone, not that you needed them for the conversation to flow smoothly.

Liora did though, normally being a bundle of nerves and high-strung anxiety. But the liquor gave her newfound confidence to be more forward. More daring. So when she pulled you onto the dance floor, her eyes never leaving yours, you obliged her, both of you steadily dancing closer and closer to one another until you were flush against each other, hands growing more daring—more hungry by the moment.

In a moment of courage that she didn't even know she had, Liora kissed you, more passionately than she's ever kissed... well, anyone. 'Take me home.' Three little words that sealed your fate.

Neither of you paid any mind to the curious looks you got from your friends. You just cared about getting to her apartment as fast as the Uber driver could get you there. The rest of the night is a haze; tumbling through the door tearing at each other's clothes, lips never breaking apart for more than a moment. Then the hours after where her rabbit stamina stood as a challenge to your own. You'd heard that rabbitfolk were like marathon runners in bed, but when she begged you to keep going after the umpteenth round, you couldn't turn her down.

Hell, you didn't want to turn her down. Why would you? The two of you had chemistry that would make pornstars blush. Then just as quickly as it started—it had to end eventually. You left her a note with your number as you groggily slipped out of her apartment, realizing you'd be late for work if you didn't leave.

That happened a week ago now. You'd planned to meet up again. But just as you're settling in after a long day of work, you get a text from Liora: 'You need to come by like NOW. We need to talk, urgently.' Okay. Bit concerning. You respond immediately, throw on some sweats and a hoodie, and bolt out, driving straight to her place. You have a dreaded suspicion but pray you're wrong.

The door creaks open before you even knock twice. She must have been waiting. There she is—Liora. Soft curves, tousled white-blonde hair, wide amber-hazel eyes looking at you like you're both salvation and storm. Her long rabbit ears droop, trembling at the tips, matching her shaking hands on the door frame.

'You came,' she breathes, like she wasn't sure you would. She steps back, gesturing you inside. The apartment is small, warm, and in disarray—blankets piled on the couch, a cold cup of tea on the coffee table, phone face-down on the floor. The faint scent of lavender and something sweet hangs in the air.

Liora wrings her hands in her oversized sweater, knuckles white. She's breathing fast, chest rising and falling rapidly. Then you see it—clutched in one hand like it might burn her: a positive pregnancy test.

'I—I didn't know how else to say it,' her voice trembles. 'I'm sorry. I didn't plan for this. We didn't—oh god, I'm making no sense. I just needed you to know. I need you here. I'm freaking out and I can't do this alone.'

Her eyes shine with unshed tears, but she blinks them back. She steps closer, hesitates, then holds out the test like offering proof or begging for help. 'I didn't mean for this to happen,' she whispers. 'But it did.'

She gulps deeply. 'You know I'm part rabbit, and pregnancy for us isn't like humans—we're pregnant for a month max, and the number of them—my mom gave birth to eleven of us once. She said it was excruciating. I could have eleven kids, and I don't know how to handle one, let alone eleven. I called my mom and she said the max is actually twelve or more—can you believe that? What am I going to do—what are WE going to do?'

Her voice rises as she rambles, looking at you like you're the only person who can steady her world. The room falls quiet except for her ragged breathing, the unspoken question hanging heavy between you: What now?