#rook fluff

Your shoulders ached before you even reached ramshackle’s creaky front door. The week had been merciless. Sam’s shop had been packed with new supplies, Grim had knocked over three potion bottles and then demanded tuna as “emotional support” and your own notes had blurred together after hours of staring at them. You were running on coffee that had gone cold hours ago, a half eaten sandwich you’d forgotten about, and the stubborn belief that if you just pushed a little harder, everything would fall into place.

You hadn’t seen Rook properly in days.Not because you didn’t miss him. You did, terribly. But every time he offered to help, you smiled tiredly and said “I’ve got it.” You hated feeling like a burden, hated the idea of dragging your overworked mess into his perfectly composed world. So you kept shrinking your needs, kept saying “later” kept promising yourself that once exams were over you’d make it up to him. Rook never complained. He only watched with those sharp eyes, soft concern hidden behind his smile.

Today you planned to collapse at your desk for one more hour of flashcards. Maybe two. Grim was already snoring somewhere in the lounge. You pushed open your bedroom door, dropped your bag, and headed straight for the desk. Only… the desk was empty. No towering stack of notes. No color coded flashcards. No textbooks splayed open. Just one bright yellow sticky note placed neatly in the center

“Follow the yellow arrows”

You blinked, exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “What…?”

Curiosity tugged you to the window. Outside, you noticed an arrow stuck into a tree trunk. A strip of bright yellow cloth was tied to it as well. Your heart gave a small, surprised flutter. You didn’t even think twice. Shoes still on, you slipped out the front door and jogged toward the tree. As you approached the arrow you noticed another yellow arrow deeper into the woods. You followed. Then another. Each one led you farther and deeper into the forest. The sunlight was softening, but the arrows were impossible to miss.The air grew sweeter, carrying the scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers. Your tired legs protested, but something lighter kept you moving. Anticipation. A tiny spark of joy you hadn’t felt in days.

The trees finally thinned. You stepped into a wide field bathed in golden spring sunshine. Wildflowers stretched in every direction in every colors soft pinks, sunny yellow, delicate purple. The field rolled gently, alive with color and the hum of bees. Golden light poured over everything, turning the petals almost translucent.

In the middle of it all, on a large blanket, sat Rook. He wore a light cream shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A picnic basket rested beside him, lid slightly open to reveal bright red strawberries, sliced peaches, and grapes. In his hands was his beloved camera. The moment you emerged from the trees, he lifted it. The shutter clicked softly. Your surprised expression, eyes wide, lips parted, hair slightly windswept, was captured forever in that single frame.

“Rook…?” you breathed, stepping closer through the flowers.

He lowered the camera slowly, that signature warm, adoring smile blooming across his face. “Bienvenue, mon amour. You found the path.”

You stopped a few steps away, still trying to process the scene. The exhaustion that had weighed on you all day felt suddenly distant, like someone had lifted it. “What is all this?” you asked.

Rook set the camera gently on the blanket and rose to his feet. He crossed the distance between you, hands reaching out to cup your face with infinite tenderness.

“This” he said quietly, thumbs brushing your cheeks “is an intervention of love. You have been running on empty. Studying until your eyes ache, working endless shifts at Sam’s shop, taking care of Grim, carrying the weight of an entire world on these shoulders…” His gaze softened. “I understand your pride. I admire how fiercely you manage things on your own. But seeing you neglect your own heart hurts me more than you know.”

You opened your mouth to protest, the familiar guilt rising. “But Grim… and my shift…”

Rook silenced you with the gentlest kiss on your forehead. “Already taken care of” he murmured. “Epel volunteered to watch over Grim. And Ruggie was more than happy to cover your shift at the shop. In exchange for a few favors, of course, but nothing you need worry about.”

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “Now your only duty is to rest. To breathe.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. The fight drained out of you all at once, leaving only grateful exhaustion and overwhelming love. “You did all this… for me?”

“Oui…” he whispered. “Always.” Before you could say anything else, Rook slipped one arm behind your knees and the other around your back, lifting you effortlessly into a bridal carry. You let out a small surprised laugh as he carried you the short distance to the blanket and set you down with care, like you were made of fragile porcelain. He settled beside you, long legs stretched out, and opened the picnic basket fully.

The scent of fresh fruit rose. He picked up a plump strawberry, held it to your lips with a playful little tilt of his head. “Open up, mon cœur.”

You obeyed, biting into the berry. Sweetness burst across your tongue, delicious. Rook’s eyes never left your face, drinking in every small reaction like it was the most exquisite sight in the world. He fed you another, then a slice of peach this time, then a few grapes, each one offered with the same patience. Between bites he would lean in and press soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

“You are glowing in this light” he murmured, reaching for his camera again. “Like the flowers themselves decided to crown you.”

Click. Another photo. Your cheeks flushed, a genuine smile breaking through the tiredness. “Rook, you’re going to fill an entire album with pictures of me.”

“An excellent plan” he said without shame. “I intend to document every moment you finally allow yourself to simply be.”

The sun dipped lower, bathing the field in gold light. You leaned against his side, head resting on his shoulder as he continued feeding you small bites and occasionally stealing a kiss when fruit juice lingered on your lips. His free arm stayed wrapped around you, fingers tracing slow, soothing circles on your arm. For the first time in weeks, your mind quieted. No flashcards. No shift schedules. No guilt. Just the warm of Rook’s body, the sweet taste of strawberries, the gentle rustle of flowers in the breeze, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“You really took care of everything,” you whispered after a long, comfortable silence.

“Oui. Because you deserve to be taken care of too.” He tilted your chin up gently so he could look at you. “You are not a burden when you need rest. You are my greatest treasure. Letting me spoil you is not weakness, it is allowing me to love you the way I wish to.”

You felt your throat tighten with emotion. “I’m sorry I neglected you these past days.”

He shook his head, smiling softly. “You did not neglect me. You were simply carrying too much alone. Now… let me carry some of it.”

He pulled you fully into his lap, arms encircling you. You melted against him, letting the last of the day’s tension unravel in the safety of his embrace. Rook pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

“Look,” he whispered.

You lifted your gaze. The field seemed to glow even brighter as the sun painted the sky in soft pinks and oranges. Flowers swayed like they were dancing just for the two of you. Rook’s voice was low and full of wonder. “Spring does not rush. It blooms in its own time. You are allowed to do the same.”

You turned in his arms and cupped his face, pulling him into a slow, sweet kiss that tasted of strawberries and gratitude. When you parted, you rested your forehead against his. “Thank you” you breathed. “For the arrows. For the picnic. For knowing exactly what I needed even when I wouldn’t admit it.”

His smile. “I will always find you, mon amour. Even when you try to hide behind work and duty. Especially then.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while. He fed you more fruit. He took dozens of photos, Every click of the shutter felt like a promise

I see you. I cherish you. Rest.

When the sky finally deepened Rook packed the basket with the same careful grace he’d unpacked it. He helped you to your feet, then surprised you by lifting you again refusing to let your tired legs carry you back.

“I can walk!” you protested weakly, though you were already looping your arms around his neck.

“You can” he agreed cheerfully. “But tonight you will not. Tonight you are carried.”

You laughed and hid your face in his shoulder. As he walked you back through the woods he hummed a melody under his breath.

“Tomorrow is yours as well,” he said softly. “No shop. No desperate studying. Only rest, and me, and whatever small joys you wish.”

You smiled. “Stay with me tonight?”

His eyes sparkled. “As if I could be parted from you after such a perfect day.”

The exhaustion that had ruled your life for weeks felt distant and manageable. You had been reminded that you didn’t have to do everything alone. And that being loved didn’t mean being smaller. It meant letting someone carry you when you needed it most, and trusting that the flowers would still bloom even if you paused to enjoy them.

Rebooting.

“Ah-ha!” Rook almost cheered in glee, but you were able to stop him from doing so—because you were sure the librarian was keeping a stern eye on you two by now. He chuckled, murmuring this time, “Merveilleux. (Marvelous!) You speak French.”

“I—“

He, however, was already leaning closer, his grin full of delight—as if unable to stop himself from chatting your head off upon this revelation. “Why have you hidden this from me for so long? Ah, quel bonheur. (What joy!) I had thought myself alone in this vast sea of languages, but to know that you too carry the melody of French upon your tongue—it is as though fate has brought us together.”

Caught somewhere between embarrassment and amusement, you duckled your head, resting your head against your propped arms on the table. “Ce n'était pas intentionnel. (It wasn’t intentional.)”

“But why?” Rook pressed, tilting his head. He almost looked like a child—unable to hold his curiosity in one place. “Was it shyness? Or perhaps… a desire to keep your origins a secret? Oh, the mystery only adds to your allure.”

“I just... didn’t see the need to?” You mirrored his head tilt, now pondering why you never spoke much French when you got to this college.

He gasped.

“But why deny yourself the pleasure of our beautiful language?”

“Je ne sais pas, Rook. (I don't know, Rook.) Maybe I just liked keeping it to myself? I’m not really sure.”

Rook studied you for a moment before smiling, softer this time. “Well then, [Name], if I may be so bold… would you indulge me in conversation every now and then? It is rare to find someone who understands the true essence of our mother tongue.”

There was something warm about the way he said it, a genuine happiness beneath his usual theatrical flair. It’s that unfiltered, unparalleled joy of finding that specific connection with someone.

You said yes, of course.

And just like that, things changed.

Where before Rook had simply been another student you occasionally encountered and was in the same dorm as you, he now became a frequent presence at your side, always eager to chat. At first, it was strange—you weren’t used to speaking French so casually in this school, but with Rook, it felt natural.

“Regarde comme le ciel est beau aujourd'hui! (Look at how beautiful the sky is today!)” Rook says as you two walk through the gardens, gesturing delicately.

“Mhm, it’s nice out,” you replied, amused at his enthusiasm.

Or, when you were focused on something, he would suddenly appear beside you, whispering in your ear, “Tu as un esprit si captivant… Que pourrais-tu bien être en train de penser? (You have such a captivating mind… What could you possibly be thinking about?)”

To which you’d flick his forehead and respond, “Que tu es agaçant. (That you're annoying.)” He’d laugh as you continued, “Really, stop creeping up behind me like that—I could’ve elbowed you.”

“Violent, how endearing.”

He, of course, took it all in stride, laughing as if you had just paid him the highest compliment.

Despite his dramatics, you found yourself enjoying his presence more than you expected. There was something comforting about having someone else who understood your language, who could switch between playful teasing and deep, poetic musings without hesitation. It felt like home in a way you hadn’t realized you missed.

A friend that made you feel at home. As you did with him.

One evening, as you sat by the lake, watching the water ripple under the fading sunlight, Rook sighed contentedly.

“Tu sais, (You know),” he said, voice softer than usual, “depuis que je suis ici, je me suis souvent senti comme un étranger dans mon propre monde. (Ever since I arrived here, I’ve often felt like a stranger in my own world.)”

You were surprised by his change of tone.

“Pourquoi? (Why?)”

Rook smiled, but there was a wistfulness in his expression. “Parce que la langue est une chose étrange. (Because language is a strange thing.) It is not just words—it carries culture, memories, the very essence of who we are. And though I love the way words dance in many tongues, there is a loneliness in being the only one to understand a particular melody.”

You had never thought about it that way.

He really had a way with words.

And an even more

You nudged his shoulder lightly. “Tu n’es plus seul maintenant. (You’re not alone anymore.)”

Rook blinked, then beamed at you, warmth radiating from his smile. “Ah, quelle déclaration magnifique! (Ah, what a magnificent declaration!) My dear [Name], you are truly a treasure!”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“Ne sois pas dramatique. (Don’t be dramatic.)”

“But it is my nature!” he declared, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You sighed quietly but didn’t move away.

You supposed that, just this once, you could let him be as dramatic as he wanted. Because Rook really did feel like he was home whenever he was with you, and that made his heart more contented than anything.

You don’t understand; how did Rook make it look so easy? You’ve been trying to hit the target that was only a short distance from you for over an hour. However, you could barely knock an arrow, much less try to let it fly or even hit the target.

“Why does archery have to be so difficult?” You whined.

“Oh, mon trickster! What is it you’re trying to do?” The sultry, accented voice of your crush called out to you.

You jumped, dropping the bow with a loud clatter. “Rook! What are you doing here at the Ramshackle dorm?”

He chuckled. “Well, I heard from a little birdie you were busy practicing your archery just for moi. I only wanted to look in on your progress, that’s all.”

“Ah.” It didn’t take a genius for you to deduce that Epel was the one who gave you u[. He’s always been a bit of a weak link and when he found out you were interested in impressing Rook, he never let you live it down. You made a mental note to destroy him later.

The man you were trying to impress shook his head, clicking his tongue as he picked up your fallen bow. “Mon cher, I’m disappointed in you. You should know better! You’re using the wrong bow!”

“I-I am?”

“Indeed. No wonder you are having such a tricky time trying to hit the target. Here,” He handed you his bow. “Try this on for size.”

Your eyes widened at his gesture, afraid of even touching it. “Oh no! I couldn’t! It’s your bow, Rook! I don’t want to accidentally break it or anything!”

“Nonsense!”

He chuckled before standing behind you. Instantly you were aware of every movement he made, your heart beating erratically in your chest. You flinched as his chest bumped into your back. Taking his bow, he placed it into your hands, placing his own on top of yours.

Rook then whispered in your ear, “Let me help show you how it’s done.”

With his hands carefully directing yours, he helped you knock an arrow against the bow string. You tried to focus on what you were doing, but you were very aware of his gentle yet commanding touch. He smelled like the forest and his hands were soft, despite how often he used his bow. Your heart was practically beating right out of your chest but you managed to hold it together.

“Ready?” Rook murmured in your ear and you realized then that he had helped you pull the bowstring back to your ear already.

You just barely nodded, your voice not even a whisper, “Yes.”

The arrow was released, sailing through the air and hitting the bullseye dead center.

You couldn’t help but shriek with delight. Jumping on the balls of your feet you squeezed Rook tightly, causing him to stumble a little. However, he just laughed and even patted your head.

“I can’t believe I did that! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re amazing!”

“No you’re amazing and no thanks are necessary, mon cher.” He assured you. “Now, are you ready to try on your own?”

With a sudden burst of courage from the adrenaline still coursing through you, you said, “I still think I need your help please.”

Soon you were swept away into the routine of the day. The chattering of students filled your senses as you groaned once again.

Even Ace and Deuce, your closest friends, were annoying you that morning. It wasn’t in the usual playful way, though. You felt exhausted just being near their bickering and antics.

At lunch you had to set your boundaries by sitting somewhere by yourself. You felt horrible for isolating yourself from them but it was necessary in order to cleanse yourself mentally.

After lunch, you sought him out. The one person you knew could help get you through this overwhelming day.

Rook Hunt found you before you found him, pulling you into a hug and singing your praises.

“Rook?” You wiggled away from his arms. Once again, you felt bad, but being enveloped that tightly gave you a sick feeling in your stomach.

“What’s wrong, ma jolie?” He could already tell, but wanted you to be the one to open up.

“I’m mentally and physically exhausted, I keep getting overwhelmed by everything, my body has been hurting since this morning, and I just don’t think I can do it today.” You explained as he carefully listened.

“May I tell you something?”

You nodded, shuffling closer to him. You felt you suddenly needed his warmth.

“When cast adrift on the furthest tides,” he spoke softly, “just breathe, float on your back and look upon the stars. Those stars will guide you home. Wherever that home may be, I’ll be there for you, mon cherie.”

You slowly looked up at him, a smile crossing your features. The first smile you had all day.

When he saw you for the first time

He was captivated.

The very way the you held yourself was interesting to him, and while others might not notice it, he saw the way your body shifted with the conversation, matching your emotions, who you were talking to, a slight confidence with those you knew, a slight nervousness with those you didn't. He knew from that very moment that he was going to like you, a simple "How lovely" would do for now.

When he realized he liked you

It was just after he had helped you with a task given to you by Crowley, you there in the evening light, slightly disheveled and yet you were still grinning at him widely while thanking him for the effort he put in. He did not say but rather he thought, "A darling sight" watching the last few rays of then sun on your features and the way it was slowly drifting away, turning to dusk.

Now what to do?

When he confessed

A quiet morning together on a bench in the courtyard, him next to you while you spoke of something he couldn't quite focus on. Taking your hand and bringing it upwards, he then looked directly in your eyes, lips parting and, barely above a whisper, speaking to you, "Le coeur veut ce qu'il veut, et le mien te veut, (name), The heart wants what it wants and mine wants you"

When you said you liked him

Gently smiling, he took your hand closer, kissing the knuckles and then letting it down. "Thank you"

When he asked you out

Several days later, he came to Ramshackle's door with a bouquet in one hand and the other with a picnic basket. "The day's beautiful, and someone as gorgeous as you should enjoy it, for only good things can come of adding you to it"

When he first said he loved you

Two months passed since the picnic, and he had decided that he was sure in his feelings for you. He wordlessly passed a small purple teddy bear to you at lunch, and it had a bow and arrow sewn to its paws. Around the arrow was a letter addressed to you. "From the day we first met, I have only been able to keep my eyes off of you for what feels like mere seconds. And in where my eyes are lacking, it is there my mind takes its place, for I have never stopped thinking of you even in all the moments you are gone. You seem to know this already, as you have taken most of it, but know that whatever love I have is all for you."

When he asked for you to marry him

Holding you close to him, his head resting on your neck, leaving a small trail of kisses to your jaw before leaning away to converse "Merci de m'aimer, mon trickster (thank you for loving me my trickster) I am yours for as long as you will let me be, and I hope that will be for a very long time. Will you marry me?"

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Now let's play the game of how poetic and invested can I get in a fic made from a filler prompt I didn't care about until now 🕺

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Thanks For Reading!