twisted wonderland one-shots (requests CLOSED! for now)

rook x zombie!fem!reader

Rook's breath leaves him in one long, fast exhale. He recognizes the look of a predator, and yours matches it exactly. You've gone statue-still, not a single muscle moving, not even to breathe.  Rook is just waiting for you to pounce, and even though you look so human there's just something telling him that you're not like him; you're different in a way that—

You're already crawling over as fast as you can, hands outreached to grab him. Rook releases the string, feeling the whoosh  of air right before the arrow hits its mark in your chest, just right of your left shoulder.

You fall back soundlessly, looking somewhat shocked, and Rook thinks that there's no way a person as young as you can get up from that easily, but when you reach up and rip the arrow out of yourself without so much as a sound coming out of your mouth, that's when the true panic begins to set in.

He turns and sprints as fast as he can, regretting his decision to have ventured so far away from his dorm. There's no way he's going to be found in one piece, not with whatever you are barreling right after him. Rook is an impressive runner, so when he hears you catching up just as quickly he knows  he's fucked. He doesn't even know if he's going in the right direction anymore.

Just because he wasn't fucked enough as it was, his foot catches on an odd root and he tumbles down face-first, smacking his head against the dirt hard enough for tears of pain to spring up as his nose throbs dully from the impact. He turns around, scrambling for his bow and arrows, all of which have been scattered across the leafy ground, but he knows it's too late when you're suddenly standing right over top of him, looking down at him with those bloodshot eyes of yours.

Rook almost wants to laugh. He, the hunter, being hunted down by something as strange and unusual as you and losing  because somehow, you're better.

The look you're giving him is unreadable. You open your mouth a few times, as if you want to say something, but not a single sound comes out of your throat. Are you...playing with him? Like a cat toying with a mouse just before their meal,  thinks Rook, and when it's clear you're not going to make a move yet, he pounces, stabbing an arrow into the meat of your thigh as hard as he can.

You don't flinch. You don't even blink. Slowly, your gaze travels down to where the arrow is sticking out, and, just like last time, you reach over to grab it and pull it out.

Your hand brushes against Rooks and—you're cold.  Freezing, even, and when you pull the arrow out of your leg with a sickening squelch,  Rook is beginning to get an idea of what's going on.

You stare at Rook while Rook stares at the hole he's made in your leg, swallowing thickly as he watches the torn flesh slowly mend itself together once again. He's caught off guard when you suddenly drop to the ground, face mere inches away from his, and now Rook is catching on; you're studying him, too.

You don't seem to be a threat. You've clearly got a few supernatural abilities up your sleeve, and even though you haven't made any of your intentions known, you haven't attempted to hurt him, either. Rook isn't sure where you stand.

Well. He's already gotten this far, and since you don't seem mad at him for spiking you with an arrow—twice—he decides to push a little further.