floydstruly

[floydstruly]

fallin’, fallin’, frozen, slowly.

synopsis: ice skater au featuring you and the tweels! a short birthday special I wanted to do for them

cw. none! as always, this is not proofread!! but also, reader wears hair clips in jade’s part (?) if you’re worried about that also jade calls the reader princess oopsies??

note. working on my requests I swear ^__^ also!! thank you to platinum jacket floyd for coming home I have all the birthday floyd cards now <33 (blatant floyd bias)

pairing: floyd leech x gn!reader / jade leech c gn!reader

Floyd Leech as the most snarky, smug captain of a hockey team. He’s prideful, almost too prideful you’d say. He’s loud and rowdy, just like the rest of his team, you hate him, you hate him to all hell.

You, on the other hand, are a figure skater, with the misfortune of sharing an ice rink with Floyd. 

Whenever he watches you practise, he cheers you on, but in a way that makes you embarrassed, in a way that makes your face red, in a way that makes you just wish he was dead already. 

To him, it’s friendly banter, to you, it’s mocking. 

Before he knows it, he falls in love with you, it’s hard not to, with all the time you spend together. But really, you wouldn’t dream of dating him. So every time he confesses or asks you out on a date, you refuse. He takes it as a challenge.

A sharp turn, a twirl–the thin fabric of your sparkly costume does no favours to keep yourself warm. Though, on the contrary, you’ve never felt more alive. Your cheeks puff out, red, your body cutting through the cold wind as you land, the blades of your skates shaving off the ice into little shards when you halt to an abrupt stop. There’s clapping, whistling, and hollering in the distance, then, a familiar–annoying–shrill voice cheering for you.

There is no mistaking it, really, it was hard to do in the first place. Floyd Leech, the insufferable captain of the local hockey team. You scoff at the title though, it’s not like they’re very well known–and yet, they play with so much vigour every time you spare a glance at them.

You hate the hockey team, they’re loud, they’re rowdy and on the off chance that they show up to practise before you, they ruin the ice. Floyd is no exception, actually, he may be the one you hate most, chaotic. He’s the embodiment of chaos–the complete opposite to your composure. 

You heaved a long sigh, still out of breath as you took a bow for the judges–your eyebrows furrowing when you were forced off the ice and met with those two mismatched eyes. His lanky body blocks your way, his arm leans against the exit. 

“What do you want? You’re early today.” you ask, arms crossed and not even bothering to look him in the eyes. Yes, he was early today, usually, he’d come a couple minutes later, your practice wasn’t even close to finished yet, “you’ve come to annoy me, is that it?”

“No!” he insists quickly, for a moment, he almost seems hurt. That would never be the case, you know better–he laughs after his initial response and backtracks with that smug smile on his face. One that you would do anything to wipe off. “Well, yes! I always do that, y’know that already, shrimpy. That’s besides the point.”

“Then get to the point.”

“You’re always so mean!” he whines, how childish–you can only roll your eyes, with nothing left to say, you try to leave and slip out of the small free space by his side. He’s quick to block your way, it’s not hard, he’s so freakishly tall.

“Hey! I have something to say!” 

“I gave you a chance to say it.” you dodge when he tries to hug you, nearly slipping on the ice. God, how embarrassing. 

He plays the hero, he catches you just barely as you are falling. The air is knocked out of your lungs, your eyes find anywhere else to look at but him–he would be the last person that you would expect to help you. Yet, there you are, your cheeks red from the cold and your heart pounding in your eyes from the adrenaline. You look him in the eyes.

“Hah! You’re real pretty like that.” he pulls you up, perhaps with a little too much strength because he falls over too, your head lands on his chest. You can hear the gentle thump of his heart. 

“Let's go on a date!” he says abruptly, “yeah, I just remembered what I wanted to say just now.”

“On a date?” you look up at him, his arm still wrapped around you. It’s warm now, yet, your cheeks are still red, not from the temperature, but from something else, something new, something you refuse to admit. 

“Go to hell!” you shuffle back onto your feet, or, you try to, the ground is still slippery–you’re still in your skates. You fall back onto him.

He only laughs, “I’ll take that as a yes!”

Jade Leech as a figure skater, your upperclassman, someone who you admire. He’s always so graceful, elegant, calculated with the way he moves his body.

He practises with you frequently, only because you catch him when he is headed on the ice and soon, it becomes a friendship, then something that’s borderline partnership when he decides he wants to skate with you as a partner. 

When you watch him practise, you’re always mesmerised, even more so when you are there with him, close to him, he’s almost within your grasp.

He’s cheeky, teases you. But it’s fine, you suppose, you get to see a side of him that very few get to see. Something sincere underneath that mask of his, that always cold wall that separates him and the rest of the world, save for a select few people.

Your heartbeat drowns it out. Everything, the judges watching the two of you intently, the clash of your skates against the ice, his breath against your skin–it’s warm, the only thing that keeps you in reality while you are in his arms dancing an elaborate waltz on ice. The music plays, you make a couple missteps, you can’t help it. He’s gorgeous.

The gentle sway of his body as he guides your amateurish steps into the routine. You really don’t even care that you are being graded on this performance nor the fact that you are embarrassing yourself. At least you think you are. He looks down at you with such a gentle smile, you nearly forget everything you’ve learnt. 

Then the music ceases with one final beat, he stands beside you, his body in a deep bow–you can barely see him breathing. Meanwhile, you are trying to catch your breath frantically. Only now, do you see the distance in skill between the two of you. Not that you mind, it gives you more time to spend with him, look at him, at those fascinating eyes of his. 

“Good work today.” he says, he’s already back into his regular running shoes, as you fumble back onto the ground outside the ice rink–clumsily, still in your godforsaken skates, his soothing voice snaps you out of your thoughts. 

“What?” you look around, there’s no one else he could be referring to, still, you think you’ve done far from ‘good’, maybe mediocre or bad would be the right word to describe it, “me?”

“Yes, you.” he places his hand on your cheek, it’s still cold. You notice, but you don’t flinch, he’s always cold. He always seems distant, in another world, one that you can’t reach, one that keeps you so infatuated with him. Everything about him seems almost otherworldly. He carries himself with such refined movements.

He ruffles your hair, undoing all the knots and hair clips that you put in earlier. The accessories fall out of place and onto the floor. He laughs, his usually gentle–yet, never over the top smile is broken, he seems human again, if not, only just for a fleeting moment.

“Hey!” you chase after him as he runs away from you, kicking away all your hair clips all over the place. Of course, you don’t catch him, you fall face flat onto the floor when the blades of your skates slip. 

“Oh my.” he’s still laughing, hysterically–or, as hysteric as he can get. He helps you up, almost like a prince would a princess and you swear your heart skips a beat. Perhaps he notices too, because he kisses the back of your hand. 

“Are you okay, my princess?” 

“Oh, shut up!” you push him away, despite enjoying the moment, a part of you doesn’t want to admit it. But you know that he knows, he knows every little detail about you.

“Now, now, that isn’t any way to speak to an upperclassman.” he brings himself closer to you, closer, and closer–close enough to give you a kiss on the lips. Of course, he doesn’t, he sweeps you off your feet and holds you in place.

You squeeze your eyes shut, there’s something faint on your cheek, it lingers for quite a while–his lips.

“Now you’ve done it!” before you know it, you are chasing him again, falling–head over heels again.

[floydstruly]

i’ve been waiting so long for love like this.

synopsis: on a silver platter, you give yourself away in small pieces and he takes more than you can offer; for floyd is a very greedy man.

cw. not proof read, cannibalism as a metaphor for intimacy, among other things, mild gore (?), implied suggestive content but nothing descriptive because. Yeah. Unhealthy relationships, mention of body parts but there is no description of appearance, dub con and dubious content

an. I’m working on your requests I swear ^__^ just let me get a couple Floyd brain worms out and I’ll get to it.

pairing: floyd x gn! reader

They consume.

You allow them to take, and take, they do. They take until you have nothing more to offer them, then they disregard you with a look of disgust in their eyes when you are nothing but skin and bones. You allow them to cut you down with their hungry eyes into small, palatable pieces. You don’t mind. Let them feed on you.

They take a moment to chew on you but they never swallow. Eventually, they spit you back out again, deeming you tasteless, bland, rotten. Then you mould yourself back together again, each time, worse than the last until you are nothing but what they all perceive you as. Not the you that they never got to know, but the persona you give them to work with. A waste of space, a nuisance.

You put yourself upon a silver platter again, torn apart and bloody–your heart still beats. The steady rhythm alures. 

Floyd is no different.

He comes and he goes, he wants something quick, something that will fill him up–after all, the best meals come the easiest. What he wants is not you, not something, someone, that requires time to care for, time to nurture and build trust. He does not want to give you what you want, he wants to take and from you; he takes more than anyone else has. 

You know very little about him, he knows very little about you, after all, he spares very little time for introductions. But when he calls out your nickname in a shrill voice as he saunters up to you during the passing periods and wraps his arms around you, you can’t find it in yourself to push him away. 

Where others would only sample you, he devours you. There is nothing behind his eyes, no hesitation and for a moment, it makes you hopeful when he asks to stay over at your dorm. You’re blinded because he is the only man who has shown you what love tasted like. It’s sweet–sickly sweet, but you keep coming back for more and Floyd is a greedy man. 

You reside yourself in a comfortable silence, the most at peace you’ve ever felt before when you are beside Floyd. He is rowdy, unruly, at times–he can be obnoxious, even this cannot slip past you. Though, as you sleep, in your dreams, Floyd is a courteous man, he brings you flowers and makes you laugh, he gives. He gives you what you are looking for.

You feel full for the first time in your life.

Candles line the long tables draped in a white cloth, the towelettes are shaped like swans, some are shaped as hearts. But all of it is a pure, unadulterated white.

There are eyes in every corner of the banquet and they all watch, curious, they are. Through the dim light, you can see Floyd at the head of the table, his fingers plucking off a grape from a vine greedily, his legs resting on the armrest of the velvety chair. No one dares to speak up about his manners. Perhaps they fear him, you don’t.

At the centre of the table lay you, your body resting on a bed of sugar and whipped cream. Something sweet to end the meal with. Hands claw for you, forks stab into the table, coveting just a small taste of something that was previously rotten, now, a beautiful dessert to be desired. There is no doubt in your mind that if they take a bite, they will spit you out just as fast.

Floyd is different, he slams his fist on the table and demands the waiter to bring you to him. He’s like a child. 

The waiter picks up your platter and suddenly, you are presented to Floyd. He looks at you the same as the others, with hungry eyes. Unlike the others, he succeeds in having a taste of you. His fork stabs into your flesh and you start bleeding, like strawberry jam.

His eyes only light up at this sight–seeing you writhe in pain when he picks up your small body and dangles you in the air for others to see. Eventually, he puts you into his mouth.

It’s warm as he chews and grinds into your bones, your organs–even your soul. It’s a sharp feeling, but the longer it goes—the more accustomed you grow to it. He swallows your flesh, but spits out your heart, it’s much too bitter for his taste–or anyone else’s for that matter.

He watches as your heart beats, slower and slower, until it stops. He doesn’t want it. Just as he spits it out, the guests turn their back on your all but empty platter, no longer appealing to them, because in your heart, his initials are engraved into it–you wake up in a cold sweat.

Floyd is no longer beside you.

He’s on top of you, staring down at you with those crazed eyes of his. He takes. More, this time than the last, more than anytime you’ve seen him. Hugs, holding hands–he’s thrown all of that away in favour of a more carnal desire he must satisfy.

Satiated. That is how you feel when he brings his lips to yours. There is no passion behind it, only a feeling that is bubbling inside him that he wants you to indulge. But you finally feel warmth, you finally feel wanted. You want to shy away from him but you don’t, embarrassing as it is, you’ve never kissed anyone in your life. He doesn’t mind, just as you don’t mind when he becomes greedy. 

His greed feels good. You claw at him, your nails sinking into his flesh as you are pushed back into the bed. His hands are on your body, your hips, your thighs, and you can feel it, you can feel him. He proves to you just how gluttonous he can be.

Floyd is a courteous man in your dreams, not so much in real life.

He sinks his teeth into the flesh you’ve served to him and he swallows it whole, that’s what you’ve wanted all along, is it not? For someone to eat the pieces you give to them, for someone to deem you worthy of love, sick and twisted as it may be. Even then, you know Floyd will leave eventually.

This was what you wanted.

[floydstruly]

thinking of a secret relationship with jamil....

Ugh yes >__< here's a couple headcanons idk how to write for jamil so this is experimental but you’re so right!! Also ugh so sorry if this isn’t what you wanted!! ;; thank you for talking to me though ily forever! Also stupid tumblr is killing my formatting ummm

cw. none! Not proof read but that’s about it this is just fluff

pairing: jamil viper x gn!readet

Jamil doesn’t particularly like attention, let alone being the spotlight, he’s grown accustomed to being a wallflower–after all, he’s been in Kalim’s shadow his whole life.

His family and friends would also probably pester him about the relationship (especially his sister and Kalim, they will not shut up about it).

Even after his overblot, nothing really changes about him, so he doesn’t see the point in announcing his relationship to the whole world. He’d much rather take things slow and steady with you.

He isn’t too big on PDA either, it’s embarrassing–the farthest he’ll go is holding your hand in the hallway and even that is pushing it.

Just because he is secretive and non vocal about his relationship with you does not mean he doesn’t love you, in fact, he loves you more than anything in the world.

He’s not one for grandiose gestures. He’d rather just spend quality time with you in private or helping you with anything and everything no matter how trivial it may seem–taking care of you when you’re sick, making you a cup of coffee in the morning, etc. He just absolutely loves pampering you.

You frequently sneak into his dorm at night even after he’s scolded you multiple times after Kalim caught you at ungodly times of the night. Sometimes, Kalim invites you to stay over–thinking you are simply, really, really, close friends with Jamil. Friends sneak over to see each other all the time!

He’ll show you his affection in very subtle ways, such as if he’s cooking for the day (which he usually is), he’ll give you a slightly bigger portion than the rest of your dorm, or even Kalim, for that matter. Don’t worry if you can’t finish it either or you don’t like the food he’s made, he’ll pick up after you.

Although, he is very careful about keeping your relationship a secret–it’s bound to come out one day.

It’s uncharacteristically cold in the usually scalding Scarabia, the moonlight frames the dorm, the peaks, edges and sharp angles seem so much softer at night, as if they were extending an invitation to you. And that is an invitation you accept ever so graciously, you sink your head into the pillow, your body resting on the hard, carpeted floor. You can still smell a faint aroma of food from the previous banquet.

Jamil is most likely asleep at this point, you think and the screen of your phone flickers. 2:00 AM. The time reaffirms your thoughts, you’d snuck into the dorm far too late to speak to him, let alone see him off to bed. Oh well, you’ll just stay here until dawn comes–but it’s hard to sleep, you shiver.

Then, you hear a shuffle, sometimes more like a couple mice scurrying across the floor, but as it grows louder and louder, it is unmistakably human footsteps–heavy and dense as they draw closer towards you. This doesn’t worry you, the worst they’ll do is kick you out–but hopefully they would extend their hospitality to you and offer you a spare guest room.

You see a head of black hair whisk by past you, the person pauses and steps back when he sees your head just a little visible over the pillow–his eyebrows furrow.

“Jamil!” You said, loudly, loud enough to make Jamil wince and look around out of panic, he wouldn’t want anybody hearing the two of you at night (although, most of the dorm knows already). Your eyes light up.

“What did I tell you about sneaking in?” He asks in a hushed tone–or more accurately, scolds you, “and in this weather, it’s freezing..”

“Oh, who cares?” You cling onto him. He sighs, a thorn by his side, you were–but he won’t be getting rid of you anytime soon, “you can just warm me up, yeah?”

He rolls his eyes at your remark and starts to walk back to his room, your arm slung over his shoulder when you follow him. No one is here to embarrass him, but he still feels his face getting warmer with every moment he spends with you.

“Just.. don’t pull this stunt again.”

“I won’t.” your lips curl into a cheeky grin, you definitely will do it again.

[floydstruly]

i know it’s been too long.

synopsis: it’s cold, much too cold for a student from Royal Sword Academy—so Floyd figures out a solution that benefits the both of you.

cw. nothing! Yay! It’s just pure fluff >__< not proof read though also! No use of y/n or any mention of name I hate using that so umm not really warning free but still! Whatever!

note. someone give me a request or talk to me in my inbox I’m so bored

pairing: floyd x gn!reader

Winter break is just a week away but even so, it is needlessly gloomy today, clouds shroud the tops of the school and the rain falls down relentlessly, the class is all but silent as your teacher forces you to sit down, lecturing you on the past monarchies–princes, princesses, kings, queens.

You're sure if Floyd was attending Royal Sword Academy with you, he’d be bored half to death. You jot a couple notes down with your ink pen, in the corner of your page is a doodle of what is your best attempt at an eel–or more like Floyd.

Oh, that’s right. You sit up straighter and shudder at the sound of his name in your mind, you promised that you would go and see him during winter break. The thought of going to Night Raven College by yourself, with no entourage or teachers or friends terrifies you.

You think of all the eyes that will follow you around the halls and rude remarks you will receive–it scares you enough to listen to the professor. You immerse yourself in the lecture, trying to keep your mind away from all the possible things that could happen over the break.

Maybe it’ll be worth it if you get to be with your boyfriend, but still, hopefully winter break doesn’t come soon.

No one is around.

You can hear little woodland creatures chittering and the echoes of laughter amidst the snow. The plants are covered in a thin, fragile layer of frost–once green, but now, all wilted and lifeless from the relentless weather. The snowfall flutters down in a serene, peaceful way; like powder, covering the once barren rival campus in a pure white.

Along with the winter season comes the cold, crisp air that continuously nips at you, your skin red with what is reminiscent of blush. You should’ve worn a layer more–you feel as though you will freeze over the longer you spend outside.

You can’t help but admire the spectacle, although it may not be anything special, it reminds you of your home, which doesn’t seem so far away anymore. As you reluctantly trek through the snow and towards the college, it crunches down under your weight.

A cold breeze passes by as you walk, you shiver, burying your face into the scarf Floyd gifted you not so long ago. It craves itself with the image of an eel, wrapping around your neck and comforting your loneliness with what is reminiscent of him. You take a breath in, it still smells like him, sort of like fresh river water.

It’s hard to remember the last time you’ve seen him.

“Shrimpy!” A shrill, excited voice calls out to you when you poke your head into the Monstro Lounge curiously.

That’s right, it’s been at least four months since you’ve last heard that voice in person. Knowing the contempt that Night Raven students have for the ‘pissy and pauper’, you’ve never once tried to venture too far outside of Royal Sword Academy, let alone think about it with the exception of school events.

That’s what you look forward to most–because those are the only times you see Floyd, really.

You can feel a couple watchful eyes on you and your uniform as white as snow, completely untarnished and the face of perfection. You adjust your clothes under the weight of their gaze nervously, you’re starting to think that maybe you shouldn’t have come to spend the holiday with Floyd.

“See? Told yah this was a good idea, they like you already!” You’re not sure that ‘like’ was the right word, maybe something more akin to disdain or loathing. He smiles and waves his hand to beckon to follow him, his rows of pearly, sharp teeth only add to your unease.

You oblige, allowing yourself to be whisked away by merman.

The heart of the fireplace beats against the two of you, slowly chasing away the remains of the harsh winter cold. Floyd is sprawled against the velvety couch in the VIP lounge, his head rested soundly on your lap. You sit stiffly in place and push his hair aside to allow yourself to admire his features more closely.

You’re all alone again, but it feels much more welcoming now.

His fingers find their way under your eel-like scarf, you shudder at the touch of his skin against yours–fingertips pressing against your ever increasing pulse. It’s a foreign, his hands are cool. But you don’t try to swat his hand away, instead, you sigh and press the palm of his closer to your neck.

“You cold?” He asks, shifting his body, sitting up and pushing the scarf away from your neck. You nod quietly in response, underneath the soft, woolly fabric, he manages to make you grin for a moment–melting the confines of your enclosed heart.

He unravels the scarf and tosses it on the dirty floor, exposing your neck to the open air–it doesn’t help at all, but you can’t help but laugh. It takes a moment and comes out gradually, first, as a snicker, then into a giggle, and lastly, into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, “did I help?”

“No,” you shake your head, your smile finally reaches your eyes, “can I have my scarf back? That just made me colder.”

“You don’t need that stupid thing, you have me.” He buries his head into your neck in place of the scarf, his arms around your waist in a constrictive embrace. It doesn’t help either, he is cold blooded after all. You can feel his teeth nip at your skin, just as the air did outside not so long ago. But it’s much more pleasant.

“Stupid?” you ask as you return the hug, “you gave that to me.”

“You have the real Floyd right here! You can have it back after winter break, just pay attention to me for now, I missed you lots.”

For some odd reason, it feels a lot warmer now.

“Yeah, don’t worry, you’ll be seeing me more often.”

Maybe, you can ignore all the hate filled stares if it means just a moment longer with Floyd.

“I missed you too.”

[floydstruly]

find me in your heart. (I’m in need of your love)

synopsis: vil looks at you with disdain, his bride, the fairest one of all. That’s not right. The title is rightfully his, he’s never liked you anyways..

cw. not proofread!!! cannibalism, mild depictions of violence, blood, yandere themes (????) idk, obsession, death (vil orders a hit on you sorryy), implied body mutilation, no use of (y/n) or any mention of name, google translated french LOL

note! reine des coeurs means queen of hearts

pairing: rook hunt x gn! reader (slight vil x reader but it’s more of a one-sided hate relationship)

“Till death do us part.”

You smile at him and lean into him–the world is watching, you can feel the burden on you. The crowd, nay, the kingdom cheers when you finally seal, what would hopefully, be a long and prosperous bond between their beloved princess and the prince of another, foreign country. You never notice how Vil stares at you with such loathing–even hesitating to kiss you at the altar.

Nor do you ever quite notice how his groomsman–Rook, stared at you, your figure, with such adoration. His face dusted with a light pink whenever you would talk to him, oh, how he longed for a moment longer with you, his lord’s bride.

Perhaps, in the back of his mind, he hoped that you were his instead.

They’re watching you.

No, they’re watching him–the wayward eyes around the ballroom find their way to Rook dancing with you, or rather, an empty shell of what you’ve become. Vil finds his gaze wandering to the pair of you as well, up upon his throne, taking in the bounty of another successful hunt.

Your white dress torn and tattered, a distant memory of what it once was when you were betrothed to Vil, the flowers placed into your chest where your heart once occupied as if it were merely a broach.

Dressed in red, just as the blood that left Rook’s mouth–trickling down his chin and onto your already stained wedding dress. He swallows, savouring the taste of your heart–beautiful, he smiles at the thought, beautiful to him not to anyone else, for who would find beauty in a dead, humiliated queen?

No longer the fairest.

Rook dips your cold body down, your head limply falling back to meet Vil, his expression full of hatred, disgust, disdain for you beyond words. As do the noblemen, when they catch a glance of their drab queen, they quickly turn away–most of them scurry away like little mice until the ballroom is completely devoid of any life.

You, the heartless; Rook, the reaper, and Vil, the immovable monarch.

He gets ready for the banquet. Brushing powder onto his already pale skin. He smooths down his hair, his clothes–not a single hair out of place or a wrinkle to be seen. He huffs, content with his appearance and asks the reflection in his mirror,

“Who is the fairest one of all?”

And, much to Vil’s dismay, the mirror replies back with your image–a soft smile on your flawed face, he grimaces, but that is the same answer that he’s received ever since your betrothal. He pinches the bridge of his noise in annoyance, and snaps his wrist.

“Please, get that.. thing away from me.” He says it as if he is eating something bitter, which in a way, he is. The mirror obliges, fizzling your image away as he falls delicately into the cushion of his seat, still frustrated but never losing his composure–it’s fine, he insists, because you will come to an end today.

He’s absolutely sure of it, his head turns to the window outside–already midnight, he hears the castle bells ring with a low chime, he simply cannot wait for the main event to start.

Rook takes a slow, deep breath and snaps the string back.

The arrow fizzles in the wind, cutting through the air so cleanly–as if it wasn’t even there to begin with and with a sharp snap, it passes into the glass window. It shatters into pieces, blows into your room. The tip of the arrow digs itself into the backboard of the bed, pining some of your hair in place–just barely missing.

To anyone else, they would assume it was but a mere slip of a finger, but of course, with all those years (albeit bitter ones) with Vil and Rook, you knew that the huntsman never missed. He aimed with deadly accuracy, more akin to the grim reaper praying on their next soul to drag to the underworld.

You have to go, quick–scrambling to leave, you forget to even put on shoes, opting instead to allow the glass shards to piece through the skin of your feet. Blood, there's blood, you don’t feel a thing. Your breathing quickens, no longer alone, you feel the eyes of a predator that is rapidly approaching.

Rook shivers when he sees your face glancing up in his general direction, but never quite knowing where he truly was, he must admire your fear up close–to see a prey at their most vulnerable is thrilling, beautiful even.

He will finish this hunt in a most beautiful way, rest assured.

“Where are you going?” His voice is quaint and quiet, his hand by your waist and his other holding your arm up in a waltzing motion. You feel his breath fanning against your neck before you can even react, “Reines des Coeurs.”

You hold your breath, wincing everytime he twirls your body around, dancing among the field of blades that was once your bedroom, the only place you felt at ease. Without the eyes of the kingdom looking up at you, desperate for guidance.

“Allow me one last dance.” An arrow straight to your heart, the last thing you feel is his teeth digging into the flesh of your neck, then there’s red everywhere–very fitting for the queen of hearts.

“What was it you said, Reine des Coeurs? That’s right, till death do us part.”

He can feel your flesh in his mouth. Exhilarating. Never wandering too far, you’ll always be with him in spirit. His, finally.

It was all but quiet, the soft taps of Rook’s heels on the blood-stained ballroom floor intertwined with yours, more dull, more heavy steps. Vil crossed his legs, his eyes fixed on you.

“Have you had your share of fun yet?” Vil asks, his patience wearing thin when he taps the armrest of his throne hurriedly, “it’s well past midnight, I’d like my beauty sleep.”

“Not quite,” Rook answers, “please, allow me one kiss.” he continues to talk to you as if you could respond, your mangled yet beautiful body within his grasp simply beckons him closer and closer, surely, you wouldn’t mind.

And so he kisses you, the taste your blood in his mouth is metallic, yet, he finds is addicting. Forever his, for as long as your spirit wanders the earth, for as long as your heart is inside him, for as long as your blood flows with his.

His.

[floydstruly]

the staff.

Dire Crowley the accommodating

nothing here yet

Divus Crewel the cruel

nothing here yet

Mozus Trein the intimidating

nothing here yet

Ashton Vargas the optimistic

nothing here yet

Sam the bountiful

nothing here yet

[floydstruly]

royal sword academy.

Che’nya the curious

nothing here yet

Neige Leblanche the golden boy

nothing here yet

[floydstruly]

octavinelle.

Azul Ashengrotto the benevolent sea witch

nothing here yet

Floyd Leech the trickster

i know it’s been too long

synopsis: it’s cold, much too cold for a student from Royal Sword Academy—so Floyd figures out a solution that benefits the both of you.

i’ve been waiting so long for love like this

synopsis: on a silver platter, you give yourself away in small pieces and he takes more than you can offer; for Floyd is a very greedy man

fallin’, fallin’, frozen, slowly

synopsis: ice skater au featuring you and the tweels (birthday special! a short drabble)

Jade Leech the mastermind

fallin’, fallin’, frozen, slowly

synopsis: ice skater au featuring you and the tweels (birthday special! a short drabble)

[floydstruly]

savanaclaw.

Leona Kingscholar the lion king

nothing here yet

Ruggie Bucchi the loyal watchdog

nothing here yet

Jack Howl the moral

nothing here yet

[floydstruly]

scarabia.

Kalim Al-Asim the generous

nothing here yet

Jamil Viper the hypnotic

secret relationship with jamil.

headcanons!

[floydstruly]

heartslabyul.

Riddle Rosehearts the queen of roses

Nothing here yet

Cater Diamond the one with many faces

Nothing here yet

Trey Clover the kind and clever

Nothing here yet

Deuce Space the diligent

Nothing here yet

Ace Trappola the troublemaker

Nothing here yet

[floydstruly]

diasomnia.

Malleus Draconia the all powerful

nothing here yet

Lilia Vanrouge the general

nothing here yet

Silver the sleeping beauty

nothing here yet

Sebek Zigvolt the king’s guard

nothing here yet

[floydstruly]

ignihyde.

Idia Shroud the shut in

nothing here yet

[floydstruly]

pomefiore.

Vil Schoenheit the fairest one of all

how you mince my heart.

synopsis: two house wardens vie for your affection send their people after you when you escape their grasp, first one that captures you wins.

Rook Hunt the huntsman

find me in your heart. (I’m in need of your love)

synopsis: vil looks at you with disdain, his bride, the fairest one of all. That’s not right. The title is rightfully his, he’s never liked you anyways..

Epel Felmier the cute one

nothing here yet

[floydstruly]

twst masterlist ( of masterlists .. )

heartslabyul.

a dorm based on the Queen of Hearts' spirit of strictness.

savanaclaw.

a dorm based on the King of Beasts' spirit of persistence.

octavinelle.

a dorm based on the Sea Witch's spirit of benevolence.

scarabia.

a dorm based on the Sorcerer of the Sands' spirit of mindfulness

pomefiore.

a dorm based on the Fairest Queen's spirit of tenacity

ignihyde.

a dorm based on the King of the Underworld's spirit of diligence.

diasomnia.

a dorm based on the Thorn Fairy's spirit of nobility.

royal sword academy.

the rival school to night raven college.

staff.

the benevolent staff members.

[floydstruly]

rules.

hi! welcome, I’m pretty lenient with my rules, do feel free to talk/request/ask about my thoughts on anything. I love talking to people!

do note: I am most proficient in writing with vil and floyd as they my favourite characters. (also, rook)

requesting rules.

this blog is strictly sfw, I do not write any straight up nsfw at all, but I am okay with writing implied nsfw or suggestive things.

I can write mild gore, violence, obsessive/possessive characteristics. Also, some of my content is very dubious?

I can do a full fanfiction (if inspiration strikes), headcanons or drabbles

I only write x reader

You can specify reader gender, but I only do fem! or gn! because that’s what I’m most comfortable with.

I do not write for rollo (I don’t have a grasp on his character yet) and I do not write for ortho or any of the kid characters, if I do it’s platonic and platonic only.

I am not guaranteed nor required to do your request. I only do them if I feel like it!

[floydstruly]

navigation.

call me ai! i’m chinese and i go by any pronouns. please enjoy your stay here.

just twst for now but occasionally, I will write for different fandoms! (sometimes I need to indulge myself sorry)

note : I love love love vil and floyd to death

twst masterlist (more to come)

rules