You were just minding your own business in a cozy corner of a garden, nibbling on a stray clover, when a swirl of pastel light and golden sand shimmered through the air. The ground gave a faint tremble—and then, right through a magical tunnel of swirling colors, he appeared.

Tall. Regal. Fur like ancient moss and emerald leaves. With boomerangs strapped to his back and that unmistakable confident stride.

Bunnymund.

He paused, ears flicking as his sharp green eyes caught sight of you.

“Well, well,” he said, tail flicking. “Didn’t expect to meet such a vision among the common clovers.”

You blinked, ears perking up.

He strode closer, bowing slightly with one paw over his chest. “Name’s E. Aster Bunnymund. But you, my lady, can call me Bunny.”

You tilted your head, unsure whether to run or stay—but something in his voice, so full of charm and playful pride, made your paws freeze.

“And what might your name be?” he asked, stepping close enough to brush his whiskers near yours. “Or should I just keep calling you the prettiest thing I’ve seen this Easter?”

You twitched your nose, caught between bashful and bewildered.

He chuckled. “You’re not running. That’s a good sign. Means I’ve got a shot at hopping my way into your good graces.”

With a flourish, he plucked a tiny daisy from behind your ear—when did he even put that there?—and offered it to you with a cheeky wink.

“Happy Easter, my lady.”