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jtl-fics · 11 months

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Fluent Freshman - Part 19

There’s a couple things about FF that might be good to know at this point.

1. There are few things in the world he hates doing more than asking for clarification or admitting he doesn’t understand / know something. The thought of going up to someone and admitting that he hasn’t perfectly comprehended the situation upon the first explanation is something makes his stomach twist like he’d just eaten Mango-Habanero ice cream.

He has figured out his own math theorems in the pursuit of not having to ask the math teacher to explain he doesn’t understand. He got lost in an Ikea once for over 6 grueling hours where he considered making a home there and living among the display rooms until his grandma grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to safety (the food court) and let him regain his strength (eat Swedish meatballs). He, to this day, is not sure about one of his foreign language friend’s names (how embarrassing he just keeps waiting for someone else to say it but they go by some insane nickname).

So he has become a master of piecing shit together on his own. He sometimes gets it wrong (Andrew, god how embarrassing) but for the most part 8 times out of 10 he can get to the right answer if he just has a couple pieces to work with. No one had ever actually explained to him how Exy works and he was too embarrassed to ask after the third week of practice in middle school so he just pieced together what he was and was not allowed to do through the art of trial and error. He’s even mostly pieced out the rules for the other positions.

So with the information he has gotten through people being bound and determined to talk in foreign languages in front of him he has an idea about the tenuous situation some of the older Foxes find themselves in.

He’s heard Kevin Day and Jean Moreau talk in French.

He’s heard that the anxiety in both of their voices as they talked about their futures and owing 80% of their salaries to the ‘Moriyamas’ and how nervous they were about getting on professional teams or else they’d be killed.

Captain Neil and Andrew are not always using Russian to talk dirty.

He’s heard Andrew soothe Captain Neil’s worries about playing for a professional team. He’s heard Captain Neil mention that at least ‘Ichirou’ would likely just kill him and not make a game out of it like his father did.

Organized Crime might have more to do with Exy than FF had originally thought.

(He had thought it. Plenty of times he had thought it but his Gran had warned him that he was overthinking things. That he wasn’t playing a sport invented by the Mafia. That he had caffeinated coffee instead of decaf. “It’s going to be okay sweetie. Just take a deep breath.”)

This leads into the second thing you should know at this point.

2. Before he had signed with Wymack he had known the broad strokes of Captain Neil’s life. There had been a lot of news articles about it and Gran (bless her) loved trashy gossip magazines.

After he had signed with the Foxes he had done a bit of a deep dive on as many of their controversies as he could find. There’d been things from brawls on the court (worrying), player overdoses (concerning), a straight up MURDER (Oh god), and the very public breaking of the King of Exy’s arm resulting in his suicide (Warranted, that wacko was going to take off Captain Neil’s HEAD.)

But the thing that had made him actually a little bit, dare he admit, excited to go to Palmetto was the fact that Captain Neil was there.

For someone who froze for almost a decade, who just took it and didn’t have the balls to even react? Neil Josten is an inspiration.

This is someone who got away, who lived a life completely unlike FF’s, someone who knew how to run and more impressively someone who learned how to FIGHT. Captain Neil was being hunted but he still ripped people to shreds in interviews. Captain Neil was probably more scared of the Butcher than FF had been of anything in his entire life but Captain Neil was way braver than FF could ever hope to be.

Captain Neil was taken and tortured but he still fought. FF had seen the scars and Captain Neil is right to wear them proudly (though based on some conversations he has unfortunately overheard he is sure Andrew may have a role in Neil’s positive feelings about them).

FF had thought that he was being lead to his death down in a basement of a club (Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t-) and he just trailed right behind the two of them without even an illusion of a fight.

Neil Abram Josten was a bit of a personal hero.

He’s proud to call him Captain Neil. He wishes Andrew hadn’t been there when Greg had mentioned wanting autographs because FF wants an autograph from Captain Neil but now Andrew has probably mentioned it to Neil.

Long story short, FF had looked into a lot of details on Captain Neil’s case.

Including two of the Butcher’s top men who were still on the loose.

Romero Malcolm and Jackson Plank.

He keeps his presence low but no matter how many times he blinks the man grumbling in Italian next to him continues to be Romero Malcolm.

Moreover Romero Malcolm continues to grumble about the fact that he is having a hard time finding ‘Nathaniel’ and that he’ll have to grab one of ‘The Wesninski brat’s friends’ to draw him out.

FF is a recently confirmed friend of Captain Neil.

FF who is standing next to this man, with his dick out, and trying to remain as invisible as possible.

After two shakes (Yes he was watching but only because he had to! He wonders briefly if he goes to the FBI if they would accept a description of Romero Malcolm’s penis for the wanted poster? Probably not but it is BURNED into his retinas.)

He watches as Romero tucks, zips, and then bypasses the sink entirely.

FF shivers at how unhygienic that is. Who RAISED him?

The door shuts and FF needs to get out of here ASAP but his hands are shaking with the sudden adrenaline of ’One of the FBI’s Most Wanted just took a piss next to me and is looking for me friend’. He pulls his phone from his pocket and ducks into one of the stalls. Even if there’s no door it’ll at least FEEL a little safer, a little more private. He needs to warn Neil, Warn Andrew, and warn-

The door to the bathroom SLAMS open and music blares in (palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy-) and his phone slips out of his hands and into the toilet. There are footsteps coming towards him and FF digs deep.

He’s in ultra stealth mode. He is the wall behind the wallpaper. Mantis shrimp can only dream of the color he becomes, the United States military have the CIA on the look out for him because he’s fallen off all conventional forms of radar and tracking.

He is a bargain fruit platter on a dessert table at a kid’s birthday party.

He is ULTRA stealth.

Romero’s gaze glides over him.

Then the man leaves (STILL DID NOT WASH HIS HANDS).

His heart is hammering in his chest but he manages to reach down and grab his phone. Well, Coach Wymack had gotten the extended warranty at least. (“Do you know what these fuckers do to phones? Josten crushed his last year in a fight with the Baseball team captain.”)

His phone’s extended dip into the toilet water had not done it any favors in working properly.

Well fuck.

He wipes his phone down the best he can. He wipes his phone down with some toilet paper before cramming it into his pocket (Sorry Nicky, he’ll wash the toilet water pants if they survive).

He sees a flyer on the wall of the bathroom and starts to think of a plan.

He rushes out of the bathroom (he still washes his hands because he will not have something in common with a man on the FBI’s most wanted list and he just dipped his hand into a CLUB TOILET) and clocks Nicky’s wild arm movements and WORSE clocks Romero just 10 clubbers away.

He sees Romero’s eyes lock onto Nicky and a smile that terrifies him.

He’s out of Ultra Stealth Mode even if every atom in his body wants to run.

He is so stressed and panicked that he has gone beyond his body’s ability to process that so all that is left is determination. He’s got a head full of a half-baked plan, a hand going to his pocket, a second hand on the only ‘weapon’ he has on him, and a stomach full of acid.

He’s pulling his phone out of his pocket before he can really let himself think about it and walking up next to where Romero is standing. He holds his toilet water phone up to his ear and does the one weird social anxiety thing that he had never done before.

He pretends to be on a phone call.

“Hey Captain Neil,” he says and in the corner of his eye he can see Romero’s gaze shift from Nicky (surrounded by an adoring public, covered in sweat and therefore difficult to grab - a difficult target) to himself (alone, shorter, and probably looking like he’s about to pass out). “Yeah I think I’m going to take a break outside after I grab quick drink and then a water at the bar.” He says because he has to be the easier target and he has to go to the bar. “Yeah, yeah, okay I’ll mention it to that bartender guy.” He says and pretends to hang up.

He turns and he walks towards the bar and feels his pulse in his throat go to the beat of the music (success is my only motherfucking option, failure’s not).

He only knows about the alley because in the car ride to Sweetie’s Nicky had mentioned that he wouldn’t let FF’s first time be out there. He had been embarrassed but it was the only way he knew to get Romero out of the club and away from where he could hurt Captain Neil or anyone else in the pursuit of that.

He spots the bartender who had gotten the drinks for their table and his mind completely blanks on the name but the bartender sees him and smiles. “Oh you’re Neil and Andrew’s new friend! What can I help you with? I thought you were-“

“Hi, yes I am Captain Neil and Andrew’s friend.” He says a little loudly because he can feel Romero behind him and he does NOT want the man to know anything about where Captain Neil was.

“Captain Neil? Oh wow that’s adorable.” The man gushes. “What can I help you with? I won’t ask for ID for one of their friends.” He winks.

“I’d like to order the uh…” he tries to remember the exact drink name from the flyer, “…the deluxe chocolate martini?” He asks and knows he got it right when the bartender’s expression shifts ever so slightly.

“Oh yeah, how do Andrew and Neil feel about that?” He asks and oh great a coded conversation. It’s nice to actually be having a real one of these for once instead of just perceiving normal conversations to have hidden meanings.

“They don’t know. They probably prefer that I order it instead of Nicky or Aaron.” He lets his eyes dart to the wide where he believes Romero is watching him.

“I don’t know if that’s true.” The bartender says, “Nicky knows how to handle a drink and Aaron’s not a lightweight either.” He adds.

FF struggles to find a coded way to say ‘It’s not that someone’s hitting on me too hard like the flyer mentioned. It’s that there’s a mafia hitman in your club.’

Finally after a moment, “It’s not the usual kind of drink they get.” He tries and the bartender looks confused by the statement, dammit. He struggles to find a different way to say it before the bartender smiles.

“Y’know you’re really cute.” He reaches under the bar top and grabs a piece of paper and a pen. “How about you write down your number for me cutie? We can meet up sometime.” He says. “I’ll get started on that chocolate martini for you.” He says.

HE COULD KISS THIS MAN.

“I’d like that.” He says.

He writes out a quick message on the small note paper.

‘Armed. After Neil. Looked at Nicky. I’m going to the back alley. Phone is dead.’

The bartender comes back and looks at his note. “We’re out of chocolate martini mix, can I get you something-“ He hopes the club lighting obscures how pale the man got, “something else?” He asks and FF can SEE his pulse.

“Can I just get some water then?” He asks.

The bartender nods and pulls up his phone and hopefully is dialing the police and hands FF a water. His hand grabs hold of FF’s “You don’t need to go out into the alley. You could hang in the backroom with me?” He offers.

There really are some kind people in the world.

“I think it’s better if I’m not in here for a bit.” He says back and honestly he needs this kindness and he has a spare bit of courage, “What’s your name by the way? Sorry I missed it.” He says.

The bartender swallows, “It’s Roland.” He says.

“Thanks Roland.” He twists the cap off of the water bottle and takes a sip.

He turns and pretends not to notice how Romero is trying to be inconspicuous pretending to be on his phone.

He makes his way over to the alley door and notices that Romero is tracking his movements but is not following him like he did to the bar.

His heart is pounding and he can’t BELIEVE he’s doing this. He wants to run, wants to hide somewhere, wants to become imperceptible but…but…

He opens the door to the alley as the bass of the remixed song finishes.

(You can do anything you set your mind to, man)

He lets the door slam behind him and he is alone in the alley.

He was not expecting a van to come to a screeching halt in front of the entrance and for a different face to appear climbing out of the car.

Jackson Plank.

FF looks at the ugly smile on the man as he walks towards him with a knife in hand.

Okay now what genius?

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

5/26/23: EDITED. Can’t believe I forgot to put the Captain in front of Neil’s name on the meme. I’m blaming the accidental early awakening.

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themugglemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense @let-tyrants-fear @ketchupfriesandallthingsnice @legowerewolf @deadlydodos @but-we-respect-his-craft @cariniqe @zanypersonapricotbiscuit

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

Lillyndra it worked this time!!!

#Fluent Freshman AU #Is it a songfic chapter if it's only 3 lines? Experts aren't sure #Did I listen to lose yourself a lot while writing this chapter? Perhaps #If Nora mentioned something about Jackson or Romero in her extras I did not read it #Also gonna be honest here and state that I forgot the likely year that AFTG happened in and this is happening in 2010 #So I guess this AU also involves a slight time shift #Andrew and Neil may have gotten lost in one another's eyes a bit down in the speakeasy #Really they're just being polite to get all of their PDA out of the way while FF is taking what might be the piss of a lifetime.#(They have no idea how accurate that might be)#Andrew is all set to kiss one of his favorite of Neil's freckles (yes he has ordered them from favorite to lesser favorite)#Then his phone goes off #He looks and it's Roland #Andrew: WTF is Roland trying to call me?#Nicky is busy being the Dancing Queen. If someone plays ABBA he will absolutely scream rn #I had considered a whole sequence of FF trying to get Nicky and Aaron to the safety of the backroom in Eden's #And Nicky just keeps reappearing on the dancefloor while FF is looking for Aaron #I was gonna use that simpsons meme where Moe throws out Barney and then Barney is just right back in the bar #But it got a little too crazy #But just know in this AU Nicky is canonically an excellent escape artist #Maybe Erik went through a bit of a magician phase and Nicky was DELIGHTED to be asked to be his assistant #Maybe that's how they got together #The inherent ROMANCE of magician and assistant #I don't remember if they ever really said in the books or nora's content #If I'm rambling because I forgot to shut off my alarm (Memorial Day 4-day weekend baby)#The fate of FF's phone may have been caused by some slight anger towards my own #RIP FF's Wymack phone (July 2010 - November 2010)#AFTG #AFTG AU #Andreil #FF - Pt.19

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mystical-lemonade · 2 years

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Hidden Beneath the Paint

Warnings: Explicit Violence, Blood, Toxic/Abusive Relationships, Unhealthy Power Dynamics, Kidnapping, Nudity, Death, Yandere

Wordcount: 8,440

Pairings: Yandere! Rook Hunt x gn!reader

Within the National Museum of Art a small group of people stood in front of a painting of a tiger sitting in the shade of a mango tree. They were all carefully inspecting it not in criticism but in complete awe of the artist.

“The tiger feels as though it might stand up and start to chase me any second.This is truly Mr. Hunt’s best work,” Chirped an overly enthusiastic art director, having just bought the painting. A wave of appreciative murmurs flowed across the crowd as they all continued to heap praise upon the stunning works of Mr. Hunt.

Little did the crowd know that the object of their praise was merely a room over in the gallery, browsing amongst the photography section. Rook Hunt as he was known to the public was getting quite tired of the same song and dance that he was required to go through during the showings of his work. Listen to the endless droll of people lauding him for his works, pretend to be humble and deny his talent, talk about his next project. The ceaseless praises that had once fueled the younger more naïve version of him’s desire to jump into painting once more, was now a cause for him to postpone his next project. That desire had dried up along with his boyhood.

After countless years of immortalizing forests, tundras, fields of flowers, the savanna and the majority of the animals that call those habitats home, Rook had recently found his well of inspiration had dried up as well. He missed the days that his ability to find beauty in the natural world around him was readily available.

He sighed fondly at the memory of running through this very building to look at the impressionist paintings that dazzled him in his teenage years. Although he had never been an impressionist himself he had always loved the simplistic beauty of them, the bright colours and stunningly pure subjects had always intrigued him. It was that desire for purity that had often bothered the public who viewed his work.

Peering eyes who knew nothing at all about him or his methods always pestered him with the same question. Why do you refuse to paint people? And in truth, the answer was simple, Rook had always thought of them as dull subjects. In his eyes humans are a still lit cigarette butt. They are fiery for but a moment until they hit the pavement and flicker out. They are used up and disgusting, tainting anything they come in contact with. And only a desperate fool would see anything worth immortalizing on canvas in them.

But the truth is harsh to the ears of the unaware, so he lies and makes excuses. Saying things like ‘ I haven't met my muse quite yet’ or ‘My skills in painting people never comes close to matching the quality of my other works. And I only want to show the very best work I can to you all’. He then will smile shyly before politely excusing himself.

After a moment more in the gallery he exited with a flourish, dissatisfied yet again with a place he thought might bring his inspiration back home to his arms. His self pitying spree had so far taken him through over half of the city and was driving him further into a nihilistic chasm. The spiral of thought provoking reminiscing Rook was going through was abruptly interrupted by a tap on the shoulder accompanied by a soft voice.

“Excuse me sir, but I was wondering if you might be able to help me. I'm a bit lost.”

They were shorter than him and they appeared to be, almost scared. When he locked eyes with them his misery dissipated, slowly but surely. With a smile growing across his face like a spring’s bloom after a violent winter he reassured the stranger.

“Where are you heading?” He inquired.

“I need to find Dorian Hall, I was told it was on Campus but near the museum but… so far I haven't seen anything close.” They confessed.

Rook nodded as they explained, he had noticed that they subconsciously fluttered their hands when they spoke and he was completely enamored by it.

“I would be happy to guide you, I was actually heading that way myself,” He spoke with a slight chuckle, as he held out his arm for them to take with a charming confidence. The custom was dated in this century but he was always taught to be a gentleman, plus it never hurts to make the lasting impression you leave on others.

Not a single word was shared between them as they walked but Rook felt as though nothing needed to be said. They were comfortable in each other's presence. He found himself admiring the way the light was hitting their face, it danced across their cheekbones as though it meant to show him all the beautiful parts of them. The breeze danced through their hair, and Rook felt time crawl to a halt. He found himself at a loss for words to convey what exactly he was seeing in front of him. In all his years Rook had never thought he’d meet a person like this stranger. His thoughts were halted from sheer disbelief.

They were looking at the world around them with the innocent eyes of a child seeing everything for the first time. But behind that was the appreciation of one who had lived a full life. They shied away from the many stares of passing pedestrians and pulled Rook progressively closer to them with every judgemental gaze that landed on the two of them. It was as though they were looking to him for protection. They moved with the purpose of a brand new fawn learning to walk, hesitantly but with pure determination to show that they were grown enough to be trusted with caring for themself.

Rook’s hand twitched with the reflex of a carnal desire he hadn't felt for a long time. A desire to recreate the scene in front of him. A desire to immortalize the feeling of a walk with this familiar stranger. To make sure that when his beloved inevitably faced the world he was there by their side, waiting to carry them away. A desire to protect them from the corruption that smears its influence all over the people who refused to feed it in the first place.

He felt a desire to paint.

Bringing their hand up to his lips he boldly locked gazes with them as he placed a whisper of a kiss against their knuckles. He thought that their cheeks flushed rather prettily under his gaze, with a confident smirk he spoke in the gentle way one does as they share their heart with a lover under the cloak of the moon’s light. “My name is Rook Hunt. I haven't been inspired to paint in months, however, after spending not even half an hour with you, I have found my inspiration once more. It would be an honour if you would give me your time and allow me to paint you.”

“I’m Y/N and,” Y/N looked down at their feet as they paused, considering their next words.

When they lifted their head, Rook could swear that their eyes were glowing in the light of the morning.

The bell of the clock above the two rang out the hour, signaling the beginning of classes at the Capital’s University. Y/N bit their lip, quickly writing their contact information on a scrap of paper they had and shoving it into Rook’s hands.

“I would love to model for you Rook! ” they said quickly, turning to go inside the building. Realizing it was rude to just shove a paper in someone’s hand and run, they called over their shoulder while still maintaining their speed,“Talk to you soon!”

After Y/N disappeared from his sight Rook walked away from Dorian Hall, with a grin stretching wide across his face, he couldn’t help but think aloud, “You most definitely will be hearing from me soon, my Muse.”

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“So how’d you manage with getting to today’s classes?”

“Kalim. You would not believe it but, I got lost before my classes could even start,” Y/N said, placing their tray down onto the table.

Kalim’s hand paused midway to his mouth, the peas on his spoon rolling off as Kalim tipped his head back in laughter. “Y-you. You. Got lost. Be-before classes even began? How’d you manage that? Its like… like the third week into the semester?” His voice wheezed slightly with the exertion of trying to hold back his giggles.

“I don’t know Kalim…I really don’t know,” Y/N’s head was firmly placed in their hands, cheeks aflame with embarrassment.

As Kalim’s snickering died down and Y/N’s shame receded the duo began their usual lunchtime routine. Their conversation came naturally, and the topics discussed were light hearted as the pair ate.

“Do you think if I told Prof. Obrecht that I was modeling for a famous artist, he’d give me extra credit?” Y/N said, thoughtfully chewing.

“Pfft, that would be unlikely. I mean you’re even more of an art nerd than he is so it’s unlikely that he’d know them. Plus any person that he would know is not likely to be painting now. You know… ‘cause they’d be dead. He is our Art History professor, so what assignment would he even give you the extra credit on.” Kalim said, tilting his head, “You’re so funny Y/N.”

Y/N looked at Kalim unimpressed, “What’s so funny about my question.”

“Wait… you? Were you being serious?”

“Yeah Kalim, I am.”

“Okay but like, Y/N. What artist was it?” Kalim leaned forward, clearly very interested.

Y/N smirked, knowing that Kalim was hooked, and they were admittedly feeling quite proud and excited by the news, “Rook.”

Kalim looked quite unimpressed by their answer, so Y/N of course defended themself. “I’m serious! He told me that he’s the artist Rook Hunt!”

Kalim shook his head, looking quite disappointed and almost melancholy, “Y/N, Rook Hunt has never painted a person ever! He even mentioned in an old interview that he thinks humans don’t deserve to be immortalized in his art.”

“He said I inspired him.” Y/N looked at Kalim with a sour look as he continued, his passionate rant barely affected by Y/N’s interjection.

“I’m just saying it’s unlikely he’s actually what he said he was! He could be trying to lure you in to get you alone so he can do whatever he wants without anyone getting in his way! This Rook guy could be a rapist! Or a murderer! Or he could be trying to sell your organs to the highest bidder! Anything could happen and-”

With a sigh Kalim looked away from his friend. “Look, I don’t mean to rain on your parade. Its exciting to be asked by any artist to model, let alone to have them admit they were inspired by you. I just. I want you to be careful Y/N.”

“I will be Kalim, I promise.” Y/N said empathetically, reaching for their friend’s hand and intertwining their fingers together.

“Okay. just…maybe text me or your boyfriend when you get to this guy’s studio? Just to make sure someone knows where you are and that you’re safe.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Y/N smiled brightly as they began to eat once more. “Wait Kalim, how do you know so much about Rook anyway? Is someone a secret fan~” They said, waving their fork at him.

“Oh no! I- uh. My mom and Noor, both love the guy’s work. My mom is, like, obsessed to the point that she has like 6 of his paintings on the first floor of our house alone. Noor likes it because it's not only something they can bond with our mom over, but they also told me that they think they hide a hidden melancholy or sometimes even darkness behind the seemingly innocent animal portraits or landscapes. So the two of them know just about everything there is to know about him at the point. And I, I like paying attention to what my family enjoys, so I guess I picked up on a lot of it.” Kalim couldn’t meet his friend’s gaze as he knew his cheeks were practically glowing from how warm they were.

Y/N simply laughed at Kalim’s sweet intentioned shame, the bastard.

✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧

Y/N stood by the front door of the building in which Rook had set up his studio, and with every passing second their unease grew. It wasn't bad enough that they were generally an anxious person in unfamiliar situations, but after sitting through a rant from Kalim about how Rook could be lying about who he said he was, their heart was racing uncomfortably fast. Or how this whole set up could be a trap and they could kidnapped and raped, their unease was through the roof. Their mind was racing with every possible outcome, and the majority were not good. And now they've been standing in front of the door for at least 10 minutes.

“Was this guy even the real Rook Hunt? Probably not, I mean like Kalim said everyone knows that Rook Hunt never paints people. The biography on him I found last night even quoted interviews he gave about the subject years ago! Plus he seemed to be quite strange, not speaking to me until just before I had to rush off. But on the other hand, if this is the real guy… Then, what about me changed his mind... Well at the very least I probably won't have to die naked. After all he never said anything about modeling nude,” They huffed as they continued to pace back and forth.

A soft laugh from behind them interrupted their thoughts, “Good Afternoon Y/N. Mind telling me how long you've been wearing a hole in the hallway carpet?” Rook chuckled adoringly.

Y/N jumped in surprise, their cheeks flushing in embarrassment at being caught talking to themself. They lowered their gaze as Rook stepped outside the studio. He placed his hand on their shoulders in order to prompt them into looking up at him.

“Yes I really am the artist Rook, no I am not a serial killer nor a rapist nor any combination of the two. Relax dear Y/N, I mean you no harm, my intentions are pure I swear. I wish with all my heart that you will allow me to recreate your image on canvas. If ever you're not comfortable with anything tell me, and I’ll immediately rectify the situation I promise. I want this to be a good experience for the both of us. Even if you never want the finished work shown to the public then I swear that I will never allow it to be presented,” his voice was almost desperate, however exactly what he was desperate for wasn't entirely clear.

His tone quickly rectified as he continued to explain himself, “However you have my sincerest apologies if I seemed peculiar yesterday, I was truly just as confused as you are right now. As you said, I have never felt the need to ever paint any human before. Until I met you yesterday that is.” He wordlessly invited Y/N inside by placing a hand on his muse's back, and with that the two entered the remarkably clean studio.

✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧

Y/N reclined on a surprisingly luxurious loveseat as the light coming from the large window behind them gradually started to dim. Rook was softly humming along to the classical music playing along in the background as he gently guided Y/N into the position they needed to be in. Rook never completely laid his hand on their skin, preferring to ghost them across the places that needed adjustment. He was almost too gentle with them, as if he was attempting to lull them into a false state of comfort before striking.

This sent shivers down Y/N’s spine, they squeezed their eyes shut as if the block out the idea of Rook having ulterior motives for this meeting. Rook smirked down at them, as they shivered beneath his hand, like a little mouse.

When his work posing Y/N was done he sauntered behind the canvas, picked up a pencil and began to create his vision.

Quite some time passed before he even began to consider talking to Y/N, lest it break his much needed concentration as he attempted to get their proportions correctly conveyed on the canvas.

“So tell me about your interests Y/N, what do you enjoy?” Rook suddenly asked, despite the break in the quietness of the situation the relaxed aura of the situation maintained its hold over Y/N.

“Well, I enjoy listening to music, cooking, movies, mystery novels, and, um, well...it's embarrassing to say but, I have started to really enjoy knitting. It started as a stress reliever about a year ago and now I simply can't stop. I also enjoy art, I've never been all that talented at creating it. But I do love looking at all the amazing ways we can bring beauty to mundane objects like stone or paper. What about you? Do you have any interesting hobbies to share.” They asked giddily, the moment felt almost intimate. Like two middle schoolers sharing secrets at a sleepover.

“I've always been quite boring, honestly. My main hobby is actually my current job, however I have always had a great love for books. Particularly classic literature, Beowulf, Othello, Faust, every assigned reading in high school and university I ate up like a starving man at a feast. One summer I even read the entirety of Dante’s Divine Comedy from cover to cover. But my favourite book of all time without a doubt has to be The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.” Rook peered around the canvas to look at his subject as he continued speaking, “Boring right?”

“Not at all Rook, not at all.”

Before the pair realized, nearly two and a half hours of insightful, pleasant conversation had passed by since they first began the session. To the pair it had felt like absolutely no time at all.

“I'm just about finished with the sketch Y/N, thank you for your patience,” Rook said from behind the easel. He was truly enjoying working with a sentient subject that actually listened to requests. And the natural conversations that happened throughout the hours were quite lovely for the two of them.

“By the way, would you mind terribly if I painted you topless? You can absolutely say no if you're uncomfortable with it, I just feel as though the emotion we’re going for would be far more powerful if you were seemingly clad in only a blanket.” He asked as he carefully rearranged the scattered pencils on the desk.

“No I don't mind at all Rook, I trust your intuition. I also won't be able to come for a few days, I hope that's okay.” Y/N bit their lip as Rook nodded in reassurance.

“Text me when you're free and we'll make it work.” He said confidently, slipping his hand into his pocket to give the driver downstairs a warning of their incoming departure.

“Perfect,” They sighed, relief pouring over them,“It has been absolutely wonderful getting to know you Rook, I’m legitimately excited to see the finalized idea. I'll see you as soon as I'm free!” They got into the car Rook had waiting for them.

The artist couldn’t help but to smile as Y/N peeked out the window and shyly waved goodbye as the vehicle drove away.

“Have a good evening my dear sweet Y/N,” Rook cooed at the retreating car a calculating smirk on his face. Pushing off the wall he was leaned against, Rook turned to walk back inside, very pleased with his decision to finally paint a person. Y/N was just as he thought they would be, innocent, gentle, and so very charming. They were positively perfect, exactly what he was searching for but simply hadn't known. Their existence was as though a flower in full bloom was personified. And it was infuriatingly wondrous.

As he shut and locked the door to his studio he felt at peace. It was that moment he decided that he would take his time and insure that this would be the absolute best painting of his career. Nothing else would ever top this. Even the famed Mona Lisa would avert her eyes in respect for for beautiful this would be.

And Rook was determined to not allow anything to ruin this.

✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧

The next week the two agreed to meet once again to continue working on the massive project. When the day finally came around the weather had taken a turn for the worse, and the temperatures plummeted.

Rook stared out the open window at the street below, debating if he should call to cancel when a knock came from the door. Opening the door Rook greeted his muse, inviting them in with a warm tone that carefully contrasted the weather outside. There was no time for them to waste. It was time to get to work.

Rook gently positioned Y/N how they needed to be before settling back behind the easel. He immediately began to work, small flicks of his wrist creating realistic wrinkling of the fabric around their legs. The fabric flowed across the canvas exactly like how it did in real life, he had perfectly captured the stunning textures of the silk.

It was a long while until Rook peeked around the easel for more than a second. When he looked up at Y/N again what he saw made him gasp in shock. His brush fell to the floor in a clatter.

“Y/N, you look positively blue! Why didn't you tell me you were cold?” Rook exclaimed loudly, rushing over to where his model laid he wrapped them up in the warm blanket from on his bed. After making sure they were comfortable he rushed over to the window , careful to not knock any paints over, and hurriedly shut it. Locking the cold air out. He then proceeded to crank the thermostat up to the highest setting. When he turned back to face them concern over took his mind as he saw them still shivering even though they were bundled up.

“How long have you been like this?” He asked gently.

Y/N buried their face into the blanket in shame as they responded “An hour”

“An hour! No this will not do!”

“Well you were concentrating really hard and, I didn't want to interrupt you Rook.”

“This is only the second time that you've been in to model for me dear, you need to speak up when you need something.” He murmured as he hugged Y/N close, hoping that his body heat might help alleviate their pains a tiny bit. Y/N huffed softly but was grateful for his concern nonetheless. They stayed like that for a while, sitting in an easy silence as Rook clutched Y/N to his chest.

After a pause for Y/N to extract their face from the blanket cocoon they now resided in they spoke once more, voice no longer muffled by the fabric, “When would you like to continue Rook?”

“Continue?” Rook gaped. Shaking his head, Rook muttered under his breath, “Mon dieu. Tu es trés persistant, ma muse.”

Extracting his arms from around Y/N, Rook stood, mouth pressed into a thin line. “You wish to continue, very well then. We shall continue.”

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“You really didn't have to continue modeling today Y/N,” leaning against the doorframe of his studio Rook sighed, still concerned over the well being of his muse.

Y/N shrugged coyly, “I know, but I wanted to. See you on Saturday?” They tilted their head in curiosity as they spoke. Rook hummed softly in affirmation, a light smile illuminating his face. And with that Y/N slipped into the night, eager for Saturday to arrive.

✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧

The natural light from the window was slowly fading and unbeknownst to them it was casting beautiful shadows on Y/N’s relaxed face. They were perfectly posed and they hadn't moved since they first laid down which was astonishing as they had fallen asleep a few hours ago. Rook was very carefully painting the beams of light that were dancing across his muse's face. As they created beautiful little freckles of light across their cheeks, a halo around their head created by the little hairs reflecting what little they can. And their skin appeared to sculpted from the purest stone. Unmarred by time, soft and inviting. His muse looked even more angelic than usual, the epitome of innocent beauty.

He was completely enraptured.

The more Rook got to know them, the more he was growing to love his muse’s personality. They were so very sweet, and it appeared that even the sunset could see their beauty. The only word that came to Rook’s mind to describe them was soft. He could tell that life hadn't quite been able to reach out and corrupt them yet. Do they know the way the world has changed? The corruption that seduces from the shadows, drawing you in with sweet words and gentle caresses. It makes you feel wonderful all the while they push you farther into the murky tar that is experience. They haven't yet lost faith in the world around them, not like Rook had.

Rook smiled down at his muse and gently began to shake them awake. The good light had faded and the canvas needed to dry. Y/N stirred from the sweet oblivion of peaceful rest, slowly blinking the sleep up at him Rook felt a soft pang in his heart.

Y/N’s sweet innocent heart needed to protected, no matter the cost.

✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧

The image of Y/N was a little over half finished, but the background of the painting was practically complete. The light pouring onto the desk by the window felt as though it could reach through the canvas and warm the viewer. The lighting really made the whole piece feel loving and intimate. The orange hues from the setting sun made the room look hazy and peaceful, but what really was stunning about the light was how it drew the eye towards the aspects that illuminated the intimacy of the scene. They were concentrated in particular on the writing desk by the window, the discarded clothing resting just off to the side of the couch. And above all else they fell beautifully the peaceful half finished image of Y/N sleeping on the couch. Nothing in the picture felt as though it was filler, everything looked just right, as if all the objects in the room held a meaning.

“I swear I can almost smell of the lotus sitting on the desk. Of course that’s impossible due to there not actually being a lotus in the room, but nonetheless. It's positively stunning!” Y/N exclaimed breathlessly, as they marvelled at how gorgeous Rook could make his work. They were so caught up in examining the almost finished painting that they didn't hear Rook approach until he wrapped an arm around their shoulders.

Rook hummed pleased at the praise from his model,“It's not as stunning as it will be when we're done. But I’m very glad you like the lotus, it’s my favourite flower and actually… It reminds me of you.”

As soon as they moved to get into the pose Y/N immediately felt a tidal wave of exhaustion wash over them. They swooned nearly falling to the floor, when two arms rushed up to meet them. Rook had caught them right before they hit the ground. Their vision began to blur and it started to scare Y/N. They could barely lift their eyelids let alone say what happened to them. They tried focusing on Rook's voice which was trying to tell them something but alas their brain simply wouldn't allow it. Rook safely laid them down on the couch with their back exposed to the air, before walking away.

‘I’ve always known Hunt Rook was an extremely attractive man but I never knew he was this handsome, it's almost too much to bare… wait since when were his eyes purple!!” Y/N thought as he knelt next to them in an attempt to explain what he was about to do. It was difficult for Y/N to concentrate let alone move so they settled for making a soft noise to let him know that they were conscious. He grabbed a hold of their hand and squeezed it gently before disappearing from Y/N’s senses for a moment. When he returned Y/N had completely fallen into a sort of trance. He sighed softly as he began to paint a cherry tree on the back of his muse.

”The process is happening much faster than I expected. I knew I shouldn't have tried to paint so much with you in the room. I guess I took too much from you, my Muse. I hope you can forgive me for my mistake. But don't worry I'll fix you right up,” He murmured. His painting was reflexive, as Rook’s mind wondered elsewhere. Plus the actual image didn't need to be that beautiful, it was the feeling that he needed to focus on, that's what would draw them back.

“Before meeting you I was incomplete, I didn't truly understand the world. I had lost my passion for life, but you brought it back to me. In all my many years on earth I never would have believed that in the century I most despised I would find the person who was meant for me. Do you know how many times I've dreamed of pulling you close to me and kissing you breathless. I want to do so many wonderful things to you my Muse. The only things you will ever feel with me by your side is love and indescribable pleasure. I fully intend on making you mine. Only mine.” He closed his eyes in bliss at finally saying the words he wanted to say more than anything. He trailed his hands down Y/N’s sides, then their hips and finally resting them on the skin of their thighs.

Rook slowly leaned down placing a kiss behind Y/N’s ear. “I love you. No I don't just love you, I worship you my Muse. Nothing will ever come between us I'll make sure of it. We are each other's forever.” He purred into their ear.

With a smirk he finished the painting, leaving a note for Y/N to find when they woke up, he disappeared. There were some arrangements that had to be made before anything went further.

✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧

It has been nearly 2 weeks since Y/N had last seen Rook. They had both agreed that some time to rest was needed before they would reconvene to finish the painting off. When the day came for them to work together once more Rook eagerly awaited the knock that would signal the end of his search and the start of something absolutely beautiful.

However his Muse hadn't shown yet, they were a half an hour late and they didn't even text him to let him know they're stuck in traffic or something. It was starting to worry Rook that they’d no show on such an important day but he could be patient. Plus the extra time it gave him was a perfect chance to think about what he was about to say when the time came for the painting to be finished.

What felt like hours to Rook but was in reality merely a few unfruitful minutes of staring out the window facing the road passed; when an unfamiliar car parked on the street directly under Rook’s window.

Removing his face from where it rested on his palm, Rook leaned forward, arms on the windowsill bracing him as he watched the car intrigued.

A tall blonde man exited on the driver’s side of the vehicle. Circling around the vehicle after shutting his door behind him, the stranger opened the passenger door.

Rook’s eyes widened as the passenger took their first delicate step out of the car. His breathing quickened in both anger and anticipation as Y/N stepped out of the passenger's side.

The anger heating his breath spread quickly across Rook’s entire body as the stranger swiftly wrapped his arms around Y/N’s waist, pulling them into a heated kiss. It lasted for a full minute, the stranger eventually even groping Y/N’s buttocks.

The behaviour that man was displaying was sickening. The exact thing Rook was trying to prevent was happening right below his window. When they pulled apart his muse was blushing bright red, and was grinning from ear to ear. It made Rook sick, nobody gets to touch what was his. Especially in such a crass and disrespectful way.

Rook felt his blood boiling as he rushed out of the apartment, calling his muse on the way down. When he reached the bottom of the stairs he ran directly into the pair.

“Rook, we were just on our way up to see you. This is Vil , my boyfriend! Pumpkin meet my friend Rook.” Y/N chirped, still blushing slightly.

When Vil pulled Y/N against his side with the arm that was still wrapped around their waist. Rook had to force himself to not wretch and instead smile. Against his better wishes when Vil offered his free hand for a handshake Rook shook the man’s hand, only offering polite greetings in return.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Vil. I'm Rook Hunt,” He quipped. Motioning for the couple to follow him up the stairs he formulated his plan of action. Vil was taller than Rook by a few centimetres and exuded grease. It honestly reminded Rook of a rotting pizza, greasy and positively revolting.

Vil also didn't appear to have an ounce of the chivalry that his Muse deserved in a partner. He wore perfectly pressed, immaculately tailored, designer clothing, and kept fussing with his hair which had been gelled and braided into a slick look. And what really pissed Rook off about this was the fact that despite the clear wealth this Vil person exuded, he had neither the common sense nor care to extend that wealth to his lover.

As they climbed the stairs up to Rook’s studio, the artist felt the heated anger he started out with chill into a raging blizzard. Revenge after all, is a dish best served cold. And as was taught to him in his youth, Rook found that the punishments resulting are often are best when wielded by the coldest of hearts.

If he had any doubts about his next course of action before, he was determined to get rid of Vil now. Rook grinned devilishly as he opened the door to his studio. “Welcome to my workroom Vil…” Rook didn't finish the last part of his statement out loud.

✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧

“My Y/N is so sexy naked. Aren't they Mr. Hunt~” Vil smugly quipped to Rook from his position beside his easel.

For the final session of painting Y/N was reclined on the chaise, completely nude this time as Rook needed to define the shape of what was hidden by the silk sheet covering their modesty.

Rook ignored everything Vil did, preferring to admire his Muse as they posed for him one last time. Eventually Rook turned his attention to the man beside him,”Vil, I need your help with something. Mind following me for a second?”

Vil agreed without a seconds pause, eager to assist in the making of a masterpiece. Rook stood up and guided Vil down into the basement of the building. “Mind grabbing that board for me? It’s the one covered by the tarp” Rook asked as he flicked on the light. Vil nodded and began to search. As he turned his back to Rook, Rook began to look for something himself, all the while he continued to talk.

“The building manager lets me use the basement as a storage facility for all my extra works, and any supplies I could ever need. It's quite nice of him actually. And you know what the best part is? Only I have the key.”

Vil cut Rook off, “I got the board, what should I do with the tarp?”

Rook smiled, his teeth practically gleaming in the dim light as he responded, “Just leave it on the floor. I’ll clean it up later. Mind putting the board by the door we came in from?”

Vil shrugged his shoulders as he carried the board across the tarp strewn on the floor.

“This room means that I can ensure nobody else can access what belongs to me and ruin it.” Rook said to Vil’s back, twirling the finest tool in his collection between his fingers. “You see Vil, that's one of my biggest pet peeves, nosy annoying people who think they have a right to rub their grubby little hands all over the beauty in this world. Most humans are like that actually. ”

“Is there anything else you require from me?” Vil questioned, bored by the artist’s rambling and the menial task he was given. Deciding he had enough of Rook’s antics after the artist refused to respond, Vil made to leave. He reached for the doorknob but was surprised by a hand clamped over his mouth and a deep pressure across his neck, gone as soon as it came.

It took Vil a few seconds to realize what had happened through the fog of shock. The first thing that alerted Vil to something being wrong was the sudden pouring of warmth down his chest. The coldness that began to set in shortly after the warmth began to flow was another. But the final sign of what had happened that shook the shock away was the pool of crimson forming on the tarp beneath his feet. In the seconds after the blood loss began to rapidly set in, Vil acknowledged that the pressure was in reality quick deep slice of a knife across his throat. And as Vil’s consciousness faded, he could hear that damned manic artist still babbling on.

“And you did exactly that Vil, you touched what was mine. You ran your disgusting hands all over them, and I refuse to ever let a pitiful, disgusting little human like you, ever taint my beloved muse,” Rook stared down at Vil as he bled out. A pleased smirk resting on his face, he wiped at the blood on his hands and knife with a cloth. The whole thing had taken less than five minutes.

Rook very quickly went to work disposing Vil’s corpse. Hammering at the important joints to break them and make the dismemberment process easier sped it up considerably. After an additional half hour, the body was split into six parts, the face was unrecognizable, he had no fingerprints and Rook had painstakingly removed all of Vil’ teeth. It would be a long while before he was identified, if he was even discovered. The clean up was easier than he expected due to the replaceable tarp that Vil had laid on the floor. It was now in a trash bag which was in a dumpster, he washed the wall with bleach and he was done. Later he would do a more comprehensive clean but for now Rook had a more important task to return to.

✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧

By the time Rook returned he was greeted by his Muse lying silently where he left them an hour and a half ago. His timing was as it always had been, perfect. Rook liked to believe all the years of practice had given him a sort of internal alarm clock for these things.

Rook knew he had just enough time to complete the painting properly. Practically skipping over to where his muse lay immobile, he joyfully placed a crystal cup half filled with white paint under their wrist; before collecting what he needed from their wrist. Rook adored the irony that came from him using the same knife he had used to carve Vil open and end his life to finish up the very thing that would make his Muse immortal.

The blood from his muse’s wrist poured out slowly, as their heart had nearly slowed to a halt from the oppressive magic permeating the room.

When he had collected enough from them, Rook didn’t bother cleaning off the knife before he opened his own wrist so he could add some of his own blood to the crystalline glass.

He mixed the three together, pleased with how the crimson and sapphire swirled into the paint. Oh how quickly the pieces were falling into place.

The next step was Rook’s favourite, it always gave him chills to see his work come to life. Dipping his fingers in the mixture Rook began to draw the necessary runes onto the back of canvas. When he was done he stood back and spoke in a steady voice, one woven with a hidden power, “Par mon sang, Je crée. De ton sang, tu ressuscites.” The second the last word left his mouth the mixture absorbed into canvas leaving no trace of its existence to be found.

✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧

Y/N’s consciousness had been slowly drifting into a cold black abyss. The last thing Y/N heard before it all went black was Rook purring what Y/N could only assume was supposed to be a comforting phrase into their ear. ”Don't fight it my dear, let it take you. It's just like falling asleep, you have nothing to worry about.”

Y/N wanted to cry, they should have listened to Kalim about Rook being a murderer. But they didn't and look where it got them.

Suddenly there was a burst of warm light and Y/N could open their eyes again. Shooting upright, their mental breakdown barely restrained by hope.

They laughed in relief believing it to be just a bad dream until they realized that they didn't fully recognize the room they were in. They were lying on a couch nearly naked, covered only by a single silk blanket and their underwear. Shooting up Y/N frantically looked around the room, searching for anyone, anything that could give them a hint to their location or their clothes.

Everything within the room seemed so familiar to them and yet no location was coming to mind.

Luckily they were completely alone and there were clothes scattered across the ground leading up to the couch. It wasn’t clothing that they owned, looking to be far too old for their time, but for modesty’s sake they would have to make do. Picking up the shirt at their feet and putting it on Y/N walked towards the open window.

Looking out the window they were shocked at what they found. There was nothing there. The window led to nowhere, there wasn't even a view to look at. Only a soft light. It was as if someone placed a lightbulb behind a frosted glass panel. Which is certainly not how a view from a window should look.

In a huff Y/N sat down at the desk, almost knocking over the vase that held a single white lotus. “A lotus, what a weird choice of decor.” They mused, considering their options.

They stood up and moved past where the couch was to see an even more peculiar looking doorway. It was gold only around the edges with a cream coloured centre, and it had no way to open it. There was no knob, no handle, no cut out, absolutely nothing. In a desperate attempt at freeing themself Y/N tried kicking the door down. It didn't budge, the door absorbed the shock entirely and didn't even make a creak. Suddenly a shadow came across the doorway. Backing away in fear Y/N looked for something, anything that could be a weapon. The shadow was tall and broad, and very familiar.

With the sound of water echoing through a cave, the door rippled with a motion not unlike a pebble creating waves in a calm pond. When the ripples cleared the shadow became more defined. With the ease of moving through two curtains instead of passing through what was just an impassable wall, Rook Hunt stepped quietly into the room.

He looked and felt more relaxed than ever before, after all he no longer needed to lie. A smile settled on his face when he spotted his muse. Alive and well in the world made just for them. “I'm so pleased to see you, my Muse,” He gently tugged them to his chest, wrapping them in a warm embrace. One that Y/N didn't reciprocate.

“Rook, what's going on?” His Muse asked, their voice breaking due to the overwhelming emotions they were experiencing. His eyes were the same vibrant purple they first saw a brief moment all those weeks ago.

“I have a lot to tell you. I haven't exactly been the most honest man with you,” He hummed, looking at them amused.

“What do you mean?” They retorted.

“Well to start I lied about my age, I'm not twenty one. I'm six hundred twenty one,” Rook admitted with a shrug.

His beloved’s jaw dropped at how ridiculous he sounded,”If that were true you'd have to have been born in the fourteenth century. That's during the renaissance Rook.”

He nodded,”You're right. I was born in 1498. I was originally a young noble in renaissance France. I’ve gone by many names over the years Muse. Perhaps most familiar to you would be the name I used during the renaissance when I became a well known artist for the first time. Chace Beau; but I dare say Rook Hunt is a far nicer name than, non?” Rook, Chace, whatever he may be called, winked slyly, placing his hand on their waist, before he continued his monologue, “I was one of 12 siblings, and the only one who was immortal. In the age I was born in, it was theorized by some that I had a demon as a father. Which would explain my eyes and why I will never age.” He paused in deep thought before continuing. “Another strange talent that my supposed demon father gave me was the ability to immortalize the beauty in the living world by putting their souls into the art I create. I used this talent even back then to become even more famous than I would have been without, just like now. However I still refused to paint people, I just have never seen any good in keeping such filth around for centuries,” Rook caressed his Muse’s cheek as he continued speaking.

“Then I met you, and you were everything I could have ever dreamed of. You were the one human who I would make eternal. Originally I was planning on showing you off to the world but then I realized that I would much rather keep you all to myself. If you were to be exposed to the world then what made me love you so, your pure soul, would still be tainted even through the painting. People love to touch what doesn't belong to them. And as that pig Vil found out I really don't like people touching what's mine.” He once again pulled his muse to his chest, his arms wrapping loosely around their waist as he nuzzled his nose into their hair.

Ripping themself away from Rook's embrace. “What. Did. You. Do,” His muse spat.

Rook backed his beloved up against the wall, careful not to hurt them as he did so. He placed one hand beside their head while the other gripped one of their hips forcing the two even closer. He tilted his head and slowly leaned down so that his mouth was right beside his muse’s ear.

His words were like belladonna, seemingly sweet but in the end very poisonous, “I slit the fucker’s throat, that's what.”

Y/N squirmed in a futile attempt to free themself, positively disgusted by his actions. Rook only tightened his grip in response.

”You killed him? Why!” They yelled.

“He was going to sully you dear, and I refused to see anyone take away the thing I love the most about you. Those people out there, most of all him, didn't deserve you. And they still don't. So I’m going to keep you here. Safe from the world that wishes to take you away from my arms.” Rook commanded, his voice still sickeningly sweet.

His muse shook their head in absolute disbelief, their eyes shining with unshed tears of despair. Rook loosened his grip on their hip, his hand moving to gently cup their cheek. Sensing that his muse was distraught he placed a gentle kiss on their brow as a reassurance of his genuine affection for them. In response his muse grimaced. He frowned deeply, disappointed in the behaviour of the one he loved most, he tore himself away from them in frustration. He didn't expect a warm reunion, in fact their conversation had been going much better than he had expected. But the rejection still stung, deciding that what his muse needed was to be alone for now, Rook turned to leave.

“Why are you doing this to me?” They asked, their voice cracking from the pain and devastation they were overwhelmed with.

“You may not see it now but I'm only doing this because I love you.” Rook responded earnestly.

“I'll never love you!” Y/N called out after him.

That struck a nerve within Rook. His expression started soft in plain adoration but it quickly froze over, instead becoming hard with anger. Rook's temper never ran hot, preferring instead to chill those who displeased him with his control. He paused, turning back to face his muse.

“You say that now Y/N. But who knows what you'll say after fifty, twenty, or even as little as five years of complete isolation. So let’s start the clock from now. You will find I am an extremely patient man, my Muse. And I'm more than willing to wait until you gladly come into my arms. After all, I have all of eternity to make you love me.”

Hello Dears, i hope you enjoyed this labour of love. I simply adore this giant oneshot, and think that its honestly one of if not my favourite thing i’ve created. Yandere content isn’t something that i do often as its not requested, (probably due to the very dark post i wrote the one time it was requested). Rook is honestly very fascinating to me so writing him was fun!

If you liked this post and want to see more from me check out the previous wishes or make a wish yourself

Sincerely, Jupiter

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere rook hunt #yandere rook x reader #yandere rook #rook Hunt #twisted wonderland rook #twst rook #yandere pomfiore #twst x gn reader

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