Chapter Text
Rook hunt! And.. leona and Vil?
The sun hadn’t even peeked over the forest yet. Dawn clung to the horizon, still pale and gray, when Rook Hunt jolted awake.
His sheets clung to his skin like a second layer, damp with sweat. His hair stuck to his forehead, and his breath came in shallow puffs, like he’d been running. But there was no danger. No nightmare.
Just the dizzying pulse of nausea twisting deep in his gut.
He groaned softly, curling in on himself. His legs ached like he’d run miles—no, like he’d been trampled by a herd of magical tuna hungry Grims. Every inch of him throbbed in a low, feverish hum.
Something was wrong.
Not the kind of wrong you could shake off with a cup of tea and a good hunt. This was… internal. Unnatural.
He dragged himself out of bed, limbs shaky, and stumbled into the dorm bathroom. The cool tile against his bare feet made him wince.
He gripped the sink edge with trembling fingers, pale knuckles standing out.His reflection stared back at him: flushed, hair wild, green eyes dimmer than usual.
“Mm, oh non…” he mumbled, swallowing thickly.
“I look like I’ve been kissed by death and fondled by regret…”
His stomach gave a threatening lurch.
He didn’t even have time to brace himself.
He dropped to his knees and dry-heaved into the toilet bowl, body wracked with every heave like it was trying to eject his soul.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours.
When he finally stopped, he slumped back against the cold wall, breath shuddering, sweat cooling on his brow.
Silence. Deathly quiet silence..
After a while Rook rinsed his mouth, still kneeling, the cool water not doing much to calm the burn in his throat. He stared at his reflection again—there was a faint puffiness under his eyes, his cheeks a little fuller, but maybe that was just the nausea talking. Or the lack of sleep. Or—
He groaned softly. He did not have time for self-analysis at this hour.
By the time he emerged from the bathroom, towel draped around his neck and hair slightly damp from a rushed rinse, the dorm halls were just beginning to stir. The sky was growing bluer through the windows. Still far too early for proper movement.
But apparently, not too early for Epel Felmier.
The boy was stomping down the hallway with a scowl carved into his face like a fresh wound, muttering angrily under his breath. His school blazer was half-on, crumpled, and his tie looked like it had been strangled by a raccoon.
“Bon matin, petit pomme,” Rook offered smoothly, masking his unease behind a tired smile. “You are up rather early, non?”
Epel didn’t even slow his stride.
“Don’t ‘bon matin’ me, Hunt. Vil yelled at me ‘cause of my posture again, said I looked slouchy and bloated. And you look like you’ve put on some fuckin’ weight, so I ain’t even listenin’ to you.”
Rook blinked.
Epel had already stormed past him, muttering some choice curses in his native dialect as he vanished around the corner.
Silence followed.
Rook stood alone in the hallway, still half-sweaty, half-sick, and now… half-shattered. Usually he was persistent and would follow but for some reason that hit him..
"Put on some weight..?" He glanced down at his abdomen and like the dawn knights sword towards maleanor it struck him.. this stupid French man was pregnant or well ce stupide Français était enceintel..
Well for some reason he wasnt able to process it straight enough to be freaking out, but that would leave one question.. who's fucking kid was this.. Maybe Vil? Maybe Leona’s.. Hell either way it wasnt good as neither necessarily would want a baby, especially not Vil. Or maybe he was just fat like Grim.
After Epel’s offhanded comment, Rook tried—truly tried—to brush it off.
He went to class. Sat gracefully with his legs crossed. Took notes in his loopy cursive with a quill that smelled faintly of lavender. Smiled politely at everyone.
But his mind wouldn’t stop circling.
"Put on some weight…"
"You look tired, Hunt."
"You alright? You’ve been a little pale lately."
And then the worst sin of all—his uniform felt just the tiniest bit tighter around the waist. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But Rook? Rook noticed everything.
“Maybe it’s just stress…” he whispered to himself between classes, fanning his face with a stack of graded essays.
“Perhaps I am retaining water. Perhaps my internal organs are in quiet rebellion. Perhaps I am dying.”
He walked past the cafeteria and nearly puked at the smell of cooked mushrooms. When he passed Trey carrying a strawberry tart, he had to physically hold back the urge to lunge for it.
This wasnt like him, but hormones were going to fuck him in the ass.. (almost as well as I do..)
The breaking point came when Vil arrogantly said something..
Vil was lecturing the first years and Rook about posture and presentation again—something about the way sitting too stiffly could cause premature wrinkles or collapse your “energy lines" or something weird like that. Rook usually would have swooned at the passion in Vil’s voice.
But today?
Today Rook had had enough.
He shifted where he stood, uncomfortably. The waistband of his pants dug into his stomach. His back ached. The room felt like it was eight degrees too hot.
Vil turned towards him of course.. and said coolly:
“Rook, you’re slouching.”
Silence.
Rook’s eye twitched.
“Mon dieu,” he muttered.
“Vil… if you speak to me again I will climb onto the desk infront of me and scream in six languages.”
Vil blinked.
“Excuse me?”
Rook, usually so "well-mannered", for the most part looked like he was going to fucking explode like Pompeii.
“I said…”
“If you speak to me again I will throw this fucking table into the astral plane and hunt you like Grim when the prefect is keeping the tuna hidden from him...”
And then he flipped the fucking desk and started having a full blown tantrum in French, which epel couldn't understand a single word of but almost wanted to laugh, yet got shot a glare from Vil.
After a moment he stood straight up and just nodded, "Pardon Roi du Poison" and then he walked off. Vil was too fucking flabbergasted to even understand what just happened so he stood there speechless.
The rest of the day? A blur.
Rook ran through campus like a tornado of passive-aggressive energy and unhinged French swearing.
Yelled at a third-year for wearing green poorly.
Told Ace, “You smell like broken condoms, get away from me.”
Bitched out a squirrel for looking at him weird.
Cried in a bush for six minutes before Leona unfortunately came across him and decided to drag him out so he could nap without having to hear the sobs of a seemingly on crack bowl cut blonde.
“…What the hell are you doing in my bush.”
Rook sniffled, clutched his stomach, and whimpered.
“I am fat.”
Leona blinked.
“What.”
“FAT, Leona. GROSS. Like an overripe fruit! A puffed-up pastry! A squishy, unwanted macaron! Epel said it—he sees the truth!”
Leona groaned and rubbed his temple, ruggie already pissed him off so he didnt want to listen to more problems. “You're not fat.”
“Then WHY—why do my pants not fit, and why do I crave strawberries with mustard, and why do I weep every time I see a mother duck with her ducklings!?”
“…That sounds like a you problem.”
Rook wailed.
“AND I FLIPPED A TABLE. IN FRONT OF ROI DU POISON.”
Now that caught Leona’s attention. Gay ass..
“You what?”
“He told me I was slouching, and I told him I’d scream in six languages and then I FLIPPED THE TABLE and then I ran and then I screamed at a squirrel—I’m losing my mind, Leona, I’m growing wide and emotional and WET—”
Leona let out a heavy sigh. “Alright. No more talking. Get the hell out of my bush.”
Rook sniffled, blinking up at him pitifully.
“Non.”
“I’m not napping next to a sobbing French omelette,” Leona growled. “Out.”
And before Rook could protest, Leona reached in, grabbed him by the back of the shirt, and hoisted him out like a wet towel with opinions.
He just kinda let it happen before speaking and to the sevens did each word feel like a bullet to the head.
"Do I look pregnant?"
"Hunt shut the actual fuck up before I kill myself."
"But-"
"No, you sucked me off once now let me sleep.. WITHOUT hearing overly theatrical sobs!"
So it was quiet for a moment as a few minutes went by after Leona had stuck Rook in a tree and tried to nap in the bush, but of course Rook just had to start whining.
"I want a tart with spicy red sau-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP"
Well after what felt like 28 years Rook finally went back to Pomefiore and decided to cry to Vil about his problems, well unlike Leona, Vil was just a bit nicer about it.. Just a bit not too much.
Sure enough, the dorm leader was waiting in the common room, arms crossed, face resting in a perfect look of exhausted superiority.
“So. You’re alive.”
Rook nearly flinched.
Vil didn’t even look directly at him—he let his eyes scan Rook from head to toe like a sniper.
“You look… puffy.”
“Excusez-moi?” Rook looked more offended than idia when the ghost bride tried to marry him.
“Your face. A little bloated. Your cheeks are uneven. And…” Vil tilted his head, “your uniform doesn't seem to be fitting the same. Are you retaining water? Your sodium intake is absolutely too high.”
Rook’s eye twitched.
“So I am fat.”
“I never said that.”
“BUT YOU THOUGHT IT.”
“I merely observed—”
“YOU THINK I’M FAT!”
Rook threw his arms in the air. “It is as I feared! I am a swollen frog! A blubbery little goose! A tragic pear with a glorious hairline!”
“So I am going through something—”
“Yes! Obviously!” Vil snapped. “You’re emotionally unstable, your face is flushed, your stomach’s bloated, your scent is weirdly sweet, and you nearly bit Trey’s head off when he offered you green tea!”
Rook opened his mouth to protest.
Vil cut him off, eyes narrowing.
“Are you pregnant because the only reason you'd act this batshit crazy is if you were knocked up..”
Silence.
Rook stared at him, breath catching.
His lip wobbled.
“I DON’T KNOWWWWWWW!!”
Vil flinched back.
Rook collapsed dramatically onto the chaise, arms flung across his face like a fallen opera singer.
“What if I am?! What if I’m fat AND pregnant?! What if I’m pregnant AND UGLY?! What if I’m a bloated pigeon of a man and I don’t even know whose child it is?!”
Vil sighed, walked over, and smoothed Rook’s hair with two fingers like he was dealing with a rabid cat.
“Okay. Listen. You’re not ugly. You’re not a pigeon. You’re just… probably insane. Temporarily. And hormonal. Which either means you’re pregnant or you need sleep. So.”
He pointed toward his dorm room.
“Go. Lie down. Nap. If you wake up and you’re still crying about being fat, we’ll get a damn pregnancy test and deal with it.”
Rook sniffled. “You’re not… mad at me…?”
“I’m mad you flipped a table in front of me. But that’s secondary to the fact that you’re leaking emotional fluids all over my common room floor! You fagg-"
Well rook pretty much rolled there and uh idk how to end this so think of your own ending because this is basically just a mix of hormones and an edgy French bitch who I still have reserved anger from.. also the kid isnt even Leona or Vil's it's mine so loserrrrsss