Romance Prompts

12 Feb

…feat. what’s essentially fanfiction written for my own characters? Either way, I kind of wanted to post these because I was pleased with how they turned out. So why not. Characters are from a fantasy story I’m still just plotting out at the moment.

First Prompt: Holding Hands/Uncontrollable Laughter/Amazement

(hello exposition city, why did i take so long to set this scene up)



“Well, it is a monument, I’d hope so.”

Firdaus nodded, transfixed upon the massive statue before them covered in a veil of hanging, verdant mosses. Many a tale had sung the praises of the Temple of Sorevel’ahn and of the glory of the titular deity’s idol within.

“Glory,” perhaps, was no longer the right word for it. The moss and vines and nests belonging to creatures of indeterminate identity and origin obscured much of the statue’s detail. At this point, the face and torso of the great Sorevel’ahn had become a towering but rather formless obelisk affixed to the temple wall.

“Clovis,” said Firdaus.


“Is there supposed to be…an altar?”

Clovis put a hand to his sharp chin, offering a slight nod. The light from the temple’s long-ago-destroyed ceiling glinted off his gray eyes like the sparks of a forge as he looked the statue up and down.

“I’d wager there’s a door somewhere on the statue,” he replied.

“Sounds reasonable.” Firdaus sauntered forward to the massive idol’s base and grasped a handful of vines.

“Firdaus, wait–” Clovis lunged and gripped tightly to his hand, tugging him back as the stone panels beneath his feet opened up in the same manner a hungry but especially tired dragon opens its maw.

With Firdaus, of course, came the enormous network of vines that had lain across the face of Sorevel’ahn. They fell almost with grace, had they not landed with an unnerving series of plunks.

Still lying supine on the ground, Firdaus turned; Clovis sat to his left, long legs sprawled out across the stone floor. His hand was still clasped tight around Firdaus’s, and Firdaus felt his face grow hot in spite of himself.

In any case, it wasn’t as though Clovis was overly inclined to hold his hand otherwise. He smiled softly, and realized that Clovis was shaking, his free hand covering his mouth. Firdaus followed the wind mage’s gaze, coming to face the now-bare image of Sorevel’ahn.

Or, what might have been Sorevel’ahn at one point. Its face was…tuberous at best, but–as hard as Firdaus tried to stave off the thought–phallic at worst.

Firdaus bit his lip, but a snort escaped his mouth; Clovis slammed his hand down on his knee, buckling over with a laugh uncharacteristic of his normally-cool exterior.

“It–look at it’s face…”

“I know, Firdaus…”

“By the GODS, what could have happened to make it look like–”

Don’t say it don’t say it we’re in a temple–”

“But it’s so–”


Clovis squeezed his hand, erupting into a mess of uncontrollable chuckles. Firdaus in turn rubbed his thumb over the back of Clovis’s hand before throwing a forearm over his face in a feeble attempt to muffle his laughter at Sorevel’ahn’s undeniably suggestive face.

“We’re probably condemned now,” said Clovis, auburn hair rustling as he raised his head. “You know that, right?”

“Oh, I know. I know.”


Second Prompt: Makeout Session/Bathing Together/Wistfulness

Clovis pulled away for a moment, pressing his wet fingertips to Firdaus’s bearded chin. The prince raised one dark eyebrow and grinned, blue eyes shaded by his long lashes.

“Am I not to your liking, Duke Clovis?”

With a scoff, Clovis flicked his cheek and withdrew back into the water. He pushed himself to the other side of the tub, the gold and periwinkle tiles cool against his back.

“Do shut up.”

“Mm, why? I was wondering why you stopped kissing me.”

“Maybe because I happen to like being able to catch my breath every once in a while,” Clovis replied, eyeing Firdaus as he followed awkwardly, coming to put an arm around Clovis’s shoulder. He tilted his head, letting Firdaus press a kiss to his jawline.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Firdaus’s breath hissed across Clovis’s damp skin. He shivered at the sensation, and swore under his breath; Firdaus was clever and observant and one day Clovis would learn not to take that for granted. “You know you can tell me.”

The wind mage let out a hum, shutting his eyes and turning to press his forehead to Firdaus’s.

“Is it about Rhenze?”

With a jolt, Clovis pulled away again, lifting himself halfway out of the soapy water before losing his balance. He came down surprisingly hard, one bent arm hitting the tub’s edge and the other finding its way around Firdaus’s broad, dark shoulders.


Firdaus’s hand trailed across his arm, firm in an endeavor to steady him.

“You alright?”

“I–yes, I’m fine, what did you just say to me?”

“…I asked about Rhenze.” His hand came back to rest on Clovis’s cheek. “Do you miss it?”

Clovis swirled one hand in the water.

“No.” He answered with a trembling conviction; it was not a lie, per se, but he knew that the foul memories of walking among the thieves and scoundrels that might be called family far outweighed the creeping nostalgia. Nostalgia was a trickster and a con, of that he was certain, and a clever one at that.

“It was quite beautiful, when we were there. I’d fully understand.”

Clovis snorted, and leaned up to meet Firdaus’s lips once again. They were pliant and warm against his own, and with a subtle smirk, Firdaus tilted his head ever so slightly into the open-mouthed kiss he had instigated.

Beautiful, Clovis mused as he put both arms around the prince’s neck. They had practically been in the gutters of Rhenze when they had last gone, on the border of the rat’s nest of criminals and corruption of the city. And Firdaus had thought it beautiful.

He hadn’t even seen the bright ivory spires of the nobles’ towers, or the vibrant marketplaces that had been one of the few highlights of Clovis’s own youth in the floating city. Clovis broke the kiss for a brief moment, savoring how Firdaus’s damp curls tickled his face, how the warm water felt on their skin, how steady and reassuring Firdaus’s heartbeat felt as he pressed close to Clovis.

As much of a liar as his nostalgia may have been, Clovis couldn’t help but feel a pang of gratitude, of pure and raw affection for the way Firdaus had spoken of his old home, even in its most deplorable states; it felt like something that ran deeper than Rhenze itself, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Still, a warmth stirred in his chest like a phoenix in a flame. He pulled Firdaus back down, letting himself sink back as Firdaus nipped softly at his lip. The water was only lukewarm now, but he could care less.


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