L'appel Du Vide
ch. i - ch. ii - you are here! - ch. iv - ch. v - ch. vi - ch. vii - ch. viii - ch. ix - ch. x - ch. xi - ch. xii
A/N: I had found inspiration and motivation once again. I hope that this is pleasantly unpleasant to read.
tags: Rook Hunt x fem!reader, bath time , tw suggestive content wc: 5k+
The sun had gone down for the night. You were hand fed your last meal of the day with Rook smiling down at you. You nervously asked what it was, as you had never seen the dish before. Rook pretended not to hear you again. It looked somewhat like a quesadilla, closer to a smashed grilled cheese. Rook had dressed you in your new shirt and handpicked panties. He had brought you a thick quilt and loosened your wrists and feet for the night. In case you had to use the other puppy pad he generously laid out on the floor for you to use. You considered using the opportunity to escape. But your eyes were so drowsy from crying and enjoying a full stomach. The stress of today has worn you out. You couldn’t muster the strength to struggle as he assisted you in laying in the large pet bed and how he laid the weighted quilt over you.
Rook’s hand stroked over your covered body. Kneeling on the cement floor beside you with a soft smile. He truly looked pleased with himself. He looked pleased with you. The rich red, the soft cream, and the inviting black colors of the textile patterns of the weighted quilt comforted you. Rook wished you a good night, and the light was cut. Leaving you in the pitch-black basement.
This was a dream. A long, scary dream. That’s all. You blinked a few times, rolling around in the dog bed before finally getting comfortable. Despite the ropes rubbing your wrists raw. When you woke up again you would be in your tiny apartment. You would eat your breakfast under the citrus colored sunrise. You would text your parents and ask if you could pay them a visit. You would take time to self-reflect on what freedoms you took for granted. You would go right back to work and speak with all your favorite nurses. All of this would happen when you woke up from this nightmare.
Your eyes blinked slowly. Heavy with exhaustion as you noticed the basement starting to brighten via the small square window high above your head. You didn’t sleep. You couldn’t. You nodded to yourself with a frail sniffle as tears rolled down your face. You had to stifle your sob. It was pointless to exert the energy now. It’s all a dream. It must be. You heard the familiar swing of the door, and heavy boots touch all 18 wooden steps. “Mon lapin?” Rook called out with an uncomfortably sweet tone.
You rolled over in the small pet bed to see him standing at the foot of the stairs. He was dressed in a grey long sleeved shirt, dark green sweatpants, and black boots that were tracking sprinkles of dirt on his way over to you. There was the lingering scent of soil and something sugary coming from him. An odd combination. You could see that Rook was holding a small bowl that had steam rising from it. Tucked under his arm looked like another language book for you to busy yourself with.
Rook wished you a good morning in French. His voice sounded distant as you remained on your side from beneath the heavy quilt. After yesterday you felt like this was the end. The hopelessness was shockingly underwhelming. At least you thought it was. No big mental breakdown in the dark. No screaming and lashing out. Just an indescribable emptiness. When Rook kneeled in front of you, only then did you move your body to sit up. The heavy quilt sliding down your shoulders as he showed you the contents in the bowl. There were colorful fruits decorating the top in a heart shape. After expressing to you that it was not poisoned as he took the first bite. Leaving the heart untouched for you to enjoy.
The phrase ‘ouvrir’ was repeated and you parted your lips to accept the food in silence. Chewing and swallowing with your eyes downturned. All of Rook’s words had become empty air to you. All you could focus on was the scent of soil clinging to his flesh and clothes. When the bowl was finished, he gently rubbed the top of your head with his palm. Patting the top twice with a soft smile as he promised to bring you down some water.
You didn’t realize that you were crying. Or even how long you had been until Rook was kneeling in front of you. The glass of water in his hand. You looked up with your eyes tired and burning from the salty tears and lack of rest. Rook looked upset. Not remorseful. It was like he was disappointed with you.
You didn’t move or react when Rook assisted you with drinking. Only opening your mouth per his request and swallowing tiredly. He left you with your new children's book. It was for English speakers. One that would teach you basic French words like colors, shapes, and animals. You didn’t bother to look at it. Instead, you decided to go to sleep. You continued with your silent treatment for a week.
After a day you began to feel sick from your lack of nicotine. You were getting irritated by everything, and the only thing you said to Rook was for him to give you your vape. Or at least some form of nicotine. Apparently, your captor had known about your habit before he had brought you into your new environment. He refused to feed your habit. Instead, with a trip up and down the stairs, he had a small box of nicotine patches. He wanted to ween you out of the addiction. Saying that it was ‘bad for you’ like every health teacher and doctor usually would.
You pouted, sitting up as you allowed him to gently hold your arm in his large, calloused hands. He applied the small square patch to an upper section of your bicep. You felt instant relief. You mumbled a thank you, and in response he rubbed the top of your head with two pats following. The next few days you didn’t talk to Rook. You avoided it as much as possible. You ate in silence and stared off into space when the blond kept you company. Rook would read quietly in his chair and glance at you. He would give an occasional comment, but you had shut down completely from interacting.
When he retreated upstairs you would finally relax again. The lack of his presence breathed life into you. When you heard his heavy boots leave the house, you would entertain yourself quietly with his peace offerings. You filled in most of your coloring book. Wearing down some of your favorite crayons to the point of having to peel away some of the vat dyed construction paper.
The blond brought you more gifts and became much more talkative over the next few days. Albeit the conversation being one sided. Rook claims it was all thanks for your recent ‘good behavior’. A one hundred piece wooden puzzle, a new coloring book with more neon animals on the cover, a rubber ball with a wrist strap so you could easily pull it back to yourself, a small stack of colorful wooden blocks, a red, heart shaped pillow, and a pair of black shorts. A soft cotton material that was likely made with the intent to be slept in. You were very excited about the shorts. All as a thank you for being ‘good’.
You were starting to lose track of time, but you knew that seven or eight days had passed now. After awkwardly letting Rook wipe you clean from your last puppy pad of the night, you settled back into your pet bed with the quilt hanging over your body. Dressed in fresh clothes and new underwear he had brought you. Rook wished you good night and left you in the dark of the basement. With the moon pooling through the small storm window, it acted as a spotlight for your most recent source of entertainment. A soap opera. Written and directed by you.
Using your blocks, you had made a tower. Your beloved crayons were dolls. You had three characters as of now. Your cherry red crayon, your grape purple crayon, and your dusty gray crayon. The gray crayon was being held captive by the grape crayon. Gray had escaped into the wild and bumped into the cherry crayon, begging for help and to be whisked away from the vine fruit tyrant. Unfortunately, your soap opera did not have a happy ending tonight. You had accidentally snapped your cherry crayon in half. Which you translated to the once heroic character being killed by the antagonist. You would pick your story back up in the morning since a devastating death had taken place so soon. You wanted the dusty gray crayon to have a happy ending.
Morning had rolled around again. You had finally slept a full eight hours. At least you felt like you did. When you stirred and stretched as much as you could with your wrists and ankles bound, you noticed your creation from last night. Now sitting up in the pink dog bed, you yawned as your blanket began to slide down your shoulders. You were supposed to clean up before falling asleep so Rook wouldn’t see that you were amusing yourself. But it was too late. The door swung open, and you could hear his footsteps coming down the eighteen stairs. “Bonjour mon lapin!” He called out to you with a cheerful tone. He was holding a bowl in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
The ceramic dish looked new.
Rook would always bring down a plain white bowl. This time it was a soft, olive green color with little white flowers painted around the rim. A shiny spoon was protruding out of the dish. There was a fruity scent wafting in the air that made your stomach growl in excitement. “Vous avez faim? C'est l'heure du petit-déjeuner.” He cooed sweetly as he approached and kneeled before you. Your captor had taken on a more mundane appearance for his visit in the basement. He was dressed in all black. A long sleeved turtleneck, black slacks that fit pleasantly over his built lower body, and he was wearing white bunny slippers.
His hair was pulled back in a ponytail and the freckles lining his nose appeared prominent. You could tell it was purposeful. That he didn’t want to frighten you. He had to have dressed this way to look less intimidating. “You stink.” Rook chuckled and gently rubbed the top of your head with two good pats. You jerked out of your thoughts and your eyes met his. A burning sensation in your face as you tried not to scowl. “Up the stairs. I will take you with me.” He beamed as he scooped up some yogurt in the bowl. Collecting shiny yellow fruit and blueberries to feed you. You opened your mouth, and he continued to grin.
This was a good thing. Either your tantrum worked, or not actively making things difficult has pleased him. “It’s not my fault I stink.” You grumbled the moment you swallowed down the fresh fruit. It was his. The humiliation of peeing on a puppy pad and more was traumatizing enough on his own. Especially when Rook was happily waiting with baby wipes. But you haven’t bathed since you arrived. “Yes, I have been, eh, cleaning. Upstairs.” He explained with a light chuckle as he fed you.
His eyes flickered down to your small tower of blocks and your trio of crayons. There was something in his eyes that changed. Like he was happy with what he saw. He said nothing, and you remained silent as he continued to feed you. Down to scraping the bowl clean and offering you water. You looked forward to bathing. Washing away the grime and sweat that clung to your skin. Washing your hair and scrubbing away dried tears.
“I come back.” He smiled as he rose to his feet, holding the empty glass and the bowl. The spoon spun around against the smooth ceramic, and you looked up at him in silence. “Je vais te faire couler un bain.” His tone was sweet as he looked down at you. His expression was loving. A shiver crawled up your spine as he made his way up the stairs. You would be swooning if not for the situation you were in.
You listened to the door shut and you sighed to yourself. Looking down at your knees with impatience. Your thoughts seemed much louder in the silence of the basement. There should be people looking for you. It’s already been a little over a week. There should be news coverage or something similar. But you remembered what it was like entering the grocery store growing up. Turning to see a wall of photos showcasing people who were missing. And you subconsciously knew they would never be seen again. You had no idea that one day a photo of you would be taking up space on one of those grocery store walls.
You regretted not caring more. But now there was nothing that could be done. The door swung open, and Rook made his way down the stairs. His pace was slower. You could hear the creak of the wood beneath his weight as he appeared with smile of content. “Now we can go.” He purred and approached you slowly. You felt the muscles in your body tighten with anxiety. Fear had taken hold on your heart. Forcing the muscle to pound and constrict, leaving you short of breath.
You had no idea what was upstairs. You had no idea if Rook was telling the truth. What if this was it? What if this was him preparing to strip you bare and filet you like the deer he fed you days ago? What if that ‘deer’ was a previous victim. The blond could see your visible anxiety and he halted. Raising his hands with his palms facing you. His smile remained. His eyes devoid of light per usual. “Non, I cause no harm. I must take you upstairs.” Rook’s voice was silky, smooth and gentle. It was his attempt to ease your worries. To gain your trust.
Like you were a frightened animal. And it was working. You began to relax as he came closer and closer. He kneeled and tucked his arms underneath your body. A frightened yelp escaped your throat. Rook lifted you into his arms like you weighed less than a sack of potatoes in the grocery store. His body was far more built than you thought. His chest was hard muscle, and his arms were thick and strong as he adjusted you against his chest. Your nose close to his neck as he began to carry you out of the dim and cold basement. There was a faint scent of earth clinging to his skin.
It didn’t stink. But it reminded you of forest air. Like a sunny walk in the park. It reminded you of the world outside of the basement. He said something in French before carrying you up the wooden stairs. You could see the door at the top. A dark colored wood that looked weathered and loved. It gave the house age and told you that this wasn’t a newly built dungeon. As you reached the top, you gained a variety of smells through the door left open. Floral and earthy, assortments of spices and more. It was shockingly pleasant versus the mildew and must of the basement.
The house was much prettier than you expected. There floors were dark wood. Shiny and lacquered. There was a long red runner rug at Rook’s feet. Adorned with a gorgeous black, gold, and white pattern. A depiction of apples and fern lace, and small dancing rabbits all along its length. Dangling from short chain links were dark, possibly iron chandeliers. In each of its black arms were yellow roses with lightbulbs embedded in the center of every flower. Offering a golden illumination to the home. Rook carried you away from the basement after nudging the door shut. Walking down a small hallway towards what you assumed would be the bathroom. The walls had pictures of animals, plants, and empty sceneries. He had no photos of himself or anyone else on the walls.
That made sense since he was alone in this house with you living under his feet. “Rook?” You decided to speak, not looking up at him as he opened the door to the bathroom. “Oui?” You swallowed nervously as you were given a new set of surroundings to soak in and adapt to. “I uh... I like your house...” You compliment quietly with a flutter of your eyes. You could feel Rook’s smile start to grow.
“C'est très gentil de votre part, mon lapin.” The bathroom was beautiful. The tiles were pristine and white, accompanied with patterns of reds and violet floral designs. The wall was wainscot panel. That same dark wood that matched the rest of the house with a smooth, shiny white quartz above it. There was a small divider that was made of wood. More for art reasons since it was carved with abstract floral patterns, doing nothing to hide the person bathing from anything. Of course, there are sinks and a toilet. The sinks were on a floating quartz platform, the bowls looked like wicker with a large vanity mirror in front of them. A pink towel was folded neatly and left on the edge of the sink. More importantly was the bathtub. Round and ceramic, one that begged you to sink into and relax with soaps and small dishes near the edge. It had already been filled with steaming water. And there was a large window hidden behind a sheer white curtain with sunlight pooling in. You noticed a chair with a book left in its seat. About two feet away from the tub. But that was to be expected.
Rook sat you on the toilet, reaching into his pocket to pull out a knife. The discomfort returned and Rook held it up to your face to show it to you. “I have to cut the rope.” He was calm while scanning your expression with his empty eyes. He lifted your wrists, and with only a light use of force the rope had been torn. The rough cotton and manila being removed left you sighing in relief. You looked down at your raw wrists. Small blistered had formed, the skin was bruised and sore. You felt even better when he cut your legs free next.
Rook put the knife away as you rubbed at your wrists. The blond then grabbed the hem of your shirt, and you felt a burn in your face that crawled up to the tips of your ears. You shook your head and push him away, ready to punch and kick if necessary. To your surprise he pulled his hands back, looking down at you in alarm. “No? You dislike?” Rook sounded puzzled by your reaction. You covered your hands with your chest as you curled up on the toilet lid. Defensively crossing your arms with a frown. “I can undress myself.” You would rather do this on your own.
It was horrific enough that he wiped for you. You at least wanted the dignity of getting to undress on your own. Rook looked hesitant, almost dejected as he stepped away, and stood near the door to give you space. You waited, watching him as your eyes locked with his. Of course the pervert was planning to watch. With another anxious swallow you moved to your feet. The tile was cool beneath your soles. Your knees shook from doing so long without standing and carrying your weight. It wasn’t long before you sat again from the aching in your knees. You slipped off your panties, unsure of where to discard them as you awkwardly grabbed the hem of your shirt to cover yourself.
You looked at Rook again. A mistake that you found yourself regretting instantly. He looked enchanted. Under a state of hypnosis as he looked you over. Eyeballing your body hidden beneath a filthy shirt with a craving you didn’t plan to satiate. You looked away, deciding to just leave them on the floor. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask Rook. Mortified by the idea of him shoving them in his pocket to do who knows what with them.
You moved to stand again, fighting against the ache in your legs as you walked past the parted divider and towards the ceramic tub filled with steamy water. It was cloudy with a faint sweet smell. You could hear Rook approaching from behind, his eyes burning into your bare flesh. You grimaced at the sensation of his gaze. Like the flesh was being fileted from your bones and leaving you exposed to his hunger. Something carnal that could be found in a starving, wild animal. One that wanted to lick you clean from your bones and then some.
The feeling of being admired in such a way made you embarrassed as you stepped into the steamy water, covering yourself the best that you could and ignore the shiver of discomfort shooting up your spine. It’s because you were in this situation unwillingly that you couldn’t feel excited about the situation. Rook is handsome and, in some ways, very pleasant. But he’s also very sick. And entertaining him beyond casual conversations could become very dangerous very fast. You relaxed in the milky water with a sigh. Rook shut the divider and walked over to the chair.
Dragging the wooden legs across the tiled floor until he was right next to you. The scraping sent an anxious shiver up your spine as you glanced at the book in his seat. Portrait of an Englishman in His Chateau. You had never read the book or seen it before. It looked like a horror novel, and Rook had placed a small yellow sticky note inside of it. You sank deeper into the water, ensuring your chest was hidden in the water as you stretched your legs. Rook sat with his book and began to read quietly beside you.
Of course you wouldn’t get the luxury of privacy. That was something you had to work up to. “Um... The soap-” “Small wooden bowl mon lapin.” He responded with a soft flick of the paper page and the peeling of his yellow sticky note being removed. You sat up on your knees. The water cascaded down your body and you leaned forward to grab a small square brick of soap from the bamboo dish on the corner. “This is the one?” You asked, eyeing the soap with a small frown. It looked like a brown rock. Or packed clay. But when you ran your wet hands over the lumpy, brown ‘stone’ you could see the suds forming.
“Mm, oui.” He cooed as you peered over your shoulder, quickly lowering your exposed ass into the water once again with a frown. You lathered your hands with the thick brown lump of soap. Coating your body in suds with your back facing Rook at the farthest end of the tub. You could hear the occasional flick of pages in his book. You could feel his eyes roaming over the exposed parts of your skin covered in foamy white soap. The scent of roses and vanilla was divine on your skin. It reminded you of a performance. One that you didn’t mind having if you couldn’t see the audience present. You wanted to get clean. You wanted to enjoy the sweet and pleasant smells and soak in the warm water that enveloped you like a comforting hug.
A realization hit you as you sat up on your knees. You rubbed your foam covered hands over your chest with a frown. “Rook?” You called out to him, refusing to look over your shoulder at him. “Oui?” You hesitated before continuing. “What happens after my bath?” You asked as your heart began to thud against your ribs. You didn’t want to go back to the basement. Not at all. “Hmmm...” Rook hummed thoughtfully with a small click of his tongue. “I have errands today.” He had an errand every day. “I will go for few hours, then you have lunch.” Your shoulders began to sag as you slowed your pace.
If you had to go back to the basement, you wanted to take your time in the bath. You muttered a soft ‘okay’ as you washed your legs. Sitting on your butt and carefully lifting them out of the water. “Oh, mon lapinou don’t be that way to me...” You slowed even more. Rook’s pleading sounded genuine. “I just... I don’t want to be in the basement.” You sighed, trying to sound a little more upset than you already were. You knew deep down you couldn’t trick the blond. But you knew he liked to talk.
You could see that he actively wanted to gain your trust. “Maybe I could go-” “Do not ask me that ever again.” His voice was sharp and stern. You flinched, nearly dropping the soap into the milky water. You held your breath, and you listened to the chair creak under the blond’s weight. “You will not like the world. It is ugly. Je ne veux pas que tu sois blessé.” He sighed and your hands began to shake. You had already messed up your plan to avoid the basement. You had overstepped to soon.
Your bath had ended sooner than you wished. You washed your skin and your face with two different lumps of soap. And Rook assisted you with scrubbing your scalp with his calloused hands. You wished that you hated the sensation of him washing your hair for you.
The drain growled as it drank up your cozy water and you stood on the tiled floor. Rook was standing before your nude body as you covered yourself. You allowed him. You weren’t sure why you did. It could be exhaustion. Or maybe fighting naked was just an awful idea. After carefully drying your hair and face with the soft pink towel he wrapped it around your shoulders with a soft smile. “Je ne suis pas en colère contre vous. Not angry.” His brows knit together as he looked down at your expression. “Ne fais pas la tête mon lapin...” He pulled on the towel and got you to walk with him out of the bathroom and down the hall. You could see the basement door.
You wanted to cry. To kick and scream and throw a tantrum at the reality that waited for you. The cold and lonely basement and a small pet bed. Being bound with rope and surrounded with toys and the fresh puppy pad waiting for you on the floor. Tears started to roll down your cheeks and you sniffled pathetically. Breath hitching in your throat as Rook stopped and turned back to face you. “Non!” He blinked in shock, his expression mortified as he shook his head. “S'il vous plaît mon lapinou! Ne pleurez pas, il n'y a pas de raison de pleurer.” You had no idea what he was saying. It frustrated you into sobbing harder.
You lifted a hand from beneath the towel, and with a weak swing of your arm you hit Rook’s chest with your curled fist. You knew it didn’t hurt him. But you wished that he would burst into smoke and leave you free of his presence. You wanted to go home. You wanted to leave. Running from him was pointless. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t know what to do. All you could find the strength to do was sob with an incoherent string of requests not to go back to the basement. You hated it. Especially at night. You hated the puppy pads the most. “Enough mon lapin.” Rook’s voice was firm but not harsh. Not like before in the bathroom. “I cannot, eh, the basement. No. We are not going.” He held onto your wrist, speaking slowly. Very much aware of your language barrier as you sniffled. Your eyes tired and smearing the world into a watercolor through your hot, salty tears. “Come. Viens avec moi.” He instructed as he led you away from the basement door.
You continued to sniffle and hiccup behind him as he held your wrist in his large hand. Taking you through the house as you soaked in more of your surroundings. You passed an entryway that revealed a kitchen. But you didn’t have enough time to take it in other than how vintage it looked. You could see animal heads mounted high on the walls. More of the chandeliers. Flowers and photos, and eventually a door. “Here. Until I am back.” He pointed at the wooden door with a small frown. “You cry... I cannot bear it.” Rook grumbled and you quickly made a mental note. He was weak to your tears. As long as said tears were genuine.
He opened the door and nudged you inside. You could hear a distant sound that startled you. A jingling bell rang out from somewhere. Not too far from the new room. The moment your feet crossed the small threshold that separated you from the room and the hall, the door shut behind you. Your heart jumped into your throat as three heavy locks clicked behind you. You knew instantly that you would be trapped until he came back for you. Whenever that would be. You whipped your head towards the door, rushing over and grabbing the doorknob. Making a futile attempted to twist the cool brass. Nothing happened. “I come back with lunch. Veuillez vous habiller.” His voice was on the other side of the door and muffled through the thick wood. You could barely hear him walking away as you were left to explore yet another surrounding.
