These prompts pulled my brain in directions I never thought I'd venture with writing, but I'm very satisfied to have completed the lot! The original prompt list can be found here. Thank you again to everyone who requested and read, I hope to bring this event back again in the future!
Hello, friends ❤️ I hope you are all having a good week!
As I mentioned in my latest update, I am opening requests for a mini Ikemen Prince writing event: my Grab-bag Prompt List! Below the cut line you will find a list of genres & dialogue prompts I've recycled from abandoned WIPs. Help me give these scribbles a second chance to tell a story!
Each piece will be a short ficlet between 500 - 1000 words set in the middle of the story (no intro, and no ending). Please read the following guidelines before making a request. And remember this is all for fun, so mix and match and make it a challenge if you'd like!
❓ How to make a request❓
Submit your request as an ask in the following format:
Character(s) / Prompt # / Genre / POV
You may list up to 2 characters in your request, not including a reader if you choose 2nd POV.
Only 1 dialogue prompt and 1 genre and 1 POV allowed per request.
(Please note that 2nd POV will be written as a female reader)
You're free to keep your ask as plainly as above:
Leon / 5 / Comedy / 2nd
OR add some more detail for me:
Licht, Nokto / 7 / Adventure / 1st
Licht's POV. They're about to go to battle.
❓ Rules❓
I will only be accepting the first 6 requests that follow the above guidelines.
One request per person please!
All requests and writings will be SFW. Any triggering content will be listed in the header and tags once the fic is posted.
I reserve the right to refuse any prompts that I cannot fulfill. I will also be crossing off characters, prompts, and genres as they arrive so we don't get duplicates.
**Please understand that I set these restrictions to give as even a chance for anyone to request their favorites and myself the time to give each story the attention it deserves. Thank you all in advance for your interest and your understanding, now on to the prompts!
✔️ Characters✔️
All 13 Ikemen Prince suitors
✔️ Dialogue Prompts✔️
"What are you waiting for?" "That, I cannot say."
"When a flower doesn't bloom you fix the garden, not the flower."
"That's harsh. I prefer to call it 'returning the favor.'"
"I'd agree with you, but then we'd both be liars."
"Do you want to talk about it, or do you want a distraction from it?"
"I'd rather die with memories, not dreams."
"Don't worry about winning. Worry about coming home."
"Just once, I want to hear you say it."
"Why would I be worried? I'm with you."
"That's the thing about betrayal. It never comes from an enemy."
Summary: It’s time for the young princes to take part in high society. That means fancy gatherings, hunting trips, and waaaaay too long cramped carriage rides. The real question is if they’ll catch any game before they end up hunting each other!
Summary: New title? New father? New brothers? Jin didn’t sign up for this, but reality has something different in store for this young prince as he learns to navigate palace life, charm the nobles that loathe his existence, learn what it means to be a big brother, and watch his new family grow.
AO3 Link
Warnings: [to be added by chapter]
Spoilers for the following princes' childhoods: Jin, Chevalier, Clavis, Leon, Yves, Licht, Nokto
Summary: You and Clavis and little duckling. What more could you ask for?
Word Count: ~1000
A/N: Yes, I am aware this is a Spring fic in October... but Clavis's route left some sad spots in my heart, so let me have this. Besides, it's Spring somewhere~
Inspired by @venti-tangents's interpretation of a silly little drawing I posted a little while back.
Dandelion dandruff tickling your nose didn’t wake you. Neither was it the cool taste of pond water splashed on your lips. Or the curtain of sun rays squeezing in-between the canopy of infant leaves from the ancient tree you perched underneath.
No, you were rustled awake by the sound of something much more sinister.
“Peep peep!”
Your eyes shot open only to immediately shut again against the onslaught of the shining spring sun. Gently rubbing your pained peepers, you sat up and stretched your stiff limbs, inhaling your surroundings in an effort to kickstart your senses. There was that dainty smell of dandelion again, mixed with the bubbling perfume of the pond and the airy aroma of your tree trunk bed. Those you could pinpoint easily even with your eyes closed, but it was that last lingering, tingling scent that dangled before you like a pair of carrots on a stick.
“Peep peep peep!”
“Yes, indeed. How very sad.”
Mind adequately alert and elbows and knees appropriately popped, you gave your face a final wipe before testing the waters again. You opened your eyes and scanned the modest clearing only to find everything precisely how you left it before your little nap. Towering cattails growing by the bank. Silky lily pads lazily floating nearby. A picture book you brought along for light reading. Everything just the same… save for the cross-legged prince sitting at the opposite end of the pond.
“I’m so sorry to hear that happened to you. But there is no need for tears now, for you are in comparable company, little one.”
Seemingly oblivious to your waking, possibly even to your presence, Clavis hung his head and spoke to his cupped palms in a light voice barely above the tepid burbling of the pond. Afraid to interrupt the discussion but curious to know his conversation partner, you ducked your head and scooted closer to the bank, your wild bedhead blending brilliantly among the flowers and weeds.
From this vantage point, you could just make out the tiny ball of yellow fluff wiggling in his hands. It couldn’t be, was he talking to a flower? A dandelion, like the ones currently brushing against your forehead? Could this be the day Clavis Lelouch finally jumped off the deep end?
Perhaps it would be best if you slipped away before he noticed.
You began the delicate process of backing out of your foliage hideout, shimmying one leg at a time, taking note of every crack and rock and root that could catch on your skirt. Book safely retrieved, you properly turned around and maneuvered your way farther, hoping to conceal yourself behind the massive tree before making a break for the palace.
That would have been the ideal happily ever after, right?
“How curious! I’m used to people running away, but never plants! I must have really outdone myself this time!”
His breezy laughter cut your eardrums like a weed wacker, making you freeze in place. Back still towards him, you sheepishly raised your hands in silent surrender, only to feel them brush against something unfamiliar. Your hair may be a sleep-ruffled mess, but this felt thicker and stringier than usual. You plucked the unknown strand and frowned when it revealed to be a dandelion stalk.
Great, now you topped him in the flora-related insanity department.
Confident footsteps approached in no time, and while you harbored no desire to look upon that irritating triumphant grin he was no doubt wearing, you wanted to retain at least a sliver of your dignity, as subatomic as it plummeted to now.
Jaw rigid, you turned to face him with a challenging glare, only to be stared back at by a pair of beady black eyes and a wrinkly orange bill.
“Ack!”
You dropped the flower and book and sprang up, back colliding with the tree. If you weren’t fully awake before, now you got your jumpstart for the rest of the year.
“Dearie me, it is only the first day of Spring and already I nabbed a baby duckie and a baby bunny. I see this as glad tidings for the season ahead!”
You swatted the tiny leaves that fell on you away and properly looked at Clavis again. Just as you suspected, a smile sat plastered across his face, though it harbored neither the sense of mischief nor teasing you’d come to associate with the third prince.
It was a sweet smile, like the first blossom of the season, innocent and bright and filled with promises of more to come, and you couldn’t help but feel entranced by the sight as he lifted a gloved finger and gently rubbed the yellow fluff still sitting in his palm.
“Peep peep peep!”
“Oh,” you whispered, crawling closer. “Poor thing.”
“Is he not? I said the same when I found him all alone by the pond,” said Clavis, moving to stroke the duckling’s wing with the gentlest precision. The bird ruffled its feathers appreciatively, raising its cracked orange beak to the sky and letting out more tiny sounds.
You moved closer until you sat directly in front of Clavis, the only thing separating your knees from touching a few wayward bits of fresh grass. This time he turned that syrupy smile to you as he lay the duckling in your lap. “Like a scene from a fairy tale.”
Your head automatically turned to the forgotten book inches from you. Golden embossed letters spelling The Ugly Duckling reflected back in the warm sunlight, and you gently curled your hands around the youngster in your care. The words “comparable company” echoed in your ears, but before you could ask, Clavis stood in a gentlemanly fashion.
“I can see one thing wrong with this picture.” The leopard bowed his head courteously and turned toward the palace. The duckling began to peep louder as his figure faded behind the massive tree, its tiny flippers wagging in distress.
“Wait!” You swiveled your stance toward him, knocking the book aside, your voice startling you more than it did him. But under the shining sun, behind the puzzled expression of the beast you could make out the ugly duckling crying within.
“There’s nothing wrong with this picture.”
*lowers teacup* Oh, this is sweeter than how I typically take my tea. I guess that means the next Clavis fic will have to be extra bitter to balance it out...
If things go well, the next fic I post will be properly Fall-related, I promise.
Tagging: @atelieredux @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus
If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message
hello darling :) In honor of clavis route i thought about a request involving him, only if you feel like accepting of course, i was thinking of clavis and a mc, future lover, who loves doing pranks an telling jokes mostkl to make the other laugh I can not help but have this idea in mind and seeing the announce of clvisb route finally pushed me to write it to you :D
Julie! You wonderful person you!! 💚💚
This month I've just been itching to write this guy, thank you for another grand slam of a prompt.
Here's the fic (there's some Luke in it for you too!): Lot of the Leopard
Summary: Whatever you do, do NOT leave Clavis alone in the faction office. Especially on a boring summer day.
Word Count: ~2300
A/N: A request from @queengiuliettafirstlady for the prompt: a Belle who likes jokes and pranks as much as our favorite third prince. Thank you for fanning the flames for this fool, Julie!
Today is very boring. It is a very boring day.
It is a day without joy. It is a day without play.
It is a day without laughter in every which way.
Clavis sucked the tip of his quill for so long he was certain he’d rid the nib of decades-old dried ink. Though the gilded stones and metals of Chevalier’s cherished chair glinted opulently under the noonday sun, the wooden legs creaked disconcertedly as Clavis rocked back and forth in a lazy rhythm, his legs propped atop the grand desk in front of him. He padded the sweat building on his brow before flipping over the document in his free hand, barely digesting the proposal he was supposedly reviewing.
It is a day without the fox, off perusing the gray.
It is a day without the bear, napping under hay.
It is a day without the tiger, on duty far away.
So the leopard is left alone, and someone must pay.
When he finally gave up making sense of the words, he chomped down on the quill neck to keep it in place and crumpled the page in his hands. Then he winded his arm and tossed the paper ball to the wastebasket on the far end of the room. The ball landed on the rim of the basket, teetered on the edge for a moment, then fell unceremoniously to the ground, joining the dozens of other discarded decrees and reports.
Sore from all that reading, Clavis rested his neck on the top of the chair and leaned his head backwards to look out the great windows towering behind him. The glittering summer sun mercilessly beat down on his face, but since he’d been cooped up in the office since dawn he welcomed the tingling sensation it offered. He could do without the perspiration though. Maybe if he could open the windows up more than the measly crack Chevalier allowed he could catch a whiff of a breeze. But alas, the threat of incoming arrows was a greater risk than heatstroke.
He locked the quill in his front teeth, bobbing it up and down as he contemplated all the things he would rather be doing than paperwork. And quite the long list it was. He would rather peel globs of honey out of a gluttonous Luke’s hair barehanded. He would rather listen to Jin present his thesis on the true merits of the female body with tape over his mouth. He would rather endure hours of Sariel’s lectures about decorum sitting on a bed of needles. He would rather refill every pitfall he ever dug in his life.
He would rather sift through the twins’ baby portraits and pick out who was who for thralls of overcurious doddering nobles. He would rather have Yves nag his ear off over what an embarrassment to the royal family he was. He would rather clean and organize Leon’s faction’s office top to bottom. He would rather hang out with Chevalier reading books in his library.…
The nib snapped as Clavis bit down hard in frustration. Okay, he wasn’t that bored. The heat and the solitude were just sending his mind to places it never ventures when sane.
Today is still boring. It’s still a very boring day.
But his mind is running ahead to what his mouth would never say
He spit out the quill and examined the tip. As he suspected, the nib split in two vertically along the seam, like the perfect parting of a pear. He sniffed and ran the feathered end side-to-side under his nose, hoping to elicit some sort of reaction to brighten his mood. Maybe a giggle from a tickle? Or a sneeze to make him freeze? Nope, nothing but bits of dried snot sticking to soft plumage. Gross. He almost chucked the darn thing to join the paper balls when remembered it was a piece of Chevalier’s stationery collection. It wasn’t its fault; anything even remotely related to Chevalier was doomed to an insipid ho-hum existence.
Well, anything except Clavis, of course. Although you’d be forgiven if all you saw of him was from today.
He lowered his legs and tilted the chair back upright, then leaned over the desk to rest his chin on one arm while he listlessly tapped the uneven tip with the other. Ta-tap ta-tap ta-tap. The mangled beat offered some distraction from his perpetual ennui, but his bustling mind still sprinted planes ahead with longing for entertainment and intrigue.
Truly, what he yearned for most was a break from his boredom. A bit of spice to sprinkle the stale. A jumpstart to jest. But with his fellow faction members all preoccupied for the day, the burden lay on Clavis to hold down the fort until whenever they decided to return. This wasn’t the first time he’d been left behind, but it certainly stung more than the others. Rhodolite now teetered on the precipice of collapse, and Clavis wanted nothing more than to stand atop the cliff and watch it fall.
Or balance itself up again. He wasn’t picky on the details, so long as he could claim he was a major player in the action and got a good laugh out of it by the end. But he’d get nary a chuckle trapped behind this accursed desk at this rate!
Clavis sighed, ceased his tapping, and picked another paper from the neverending pile beside him. There was still a full month for the Belle Selection to run its course, surely he’d find his golden opportunity another day.
Buzz buzz buzz!
But today was not that day, it would seem. Just as it were, the windows could prevent an incoming human attack, but failed against the might of bug intrusion.
He can confound the masses, solace quick to slay.
He can survive the Brutal Beast, a quitter he is nay.
He can wipe out an army, watch the bloodline spray.
But a pesky whizzing fly? He cannot keep at bay.
Clavis whipped his head around and swatted his hands in every direction, not caring in the slightest whenever he accidentally smacked his face in the process. The fly persisted its pilot prancing, hopping from Clavis’s head to his elbow to skipping across the assorted materials and tchotchkes neatly lined up atop Chevalier’s enormous desk. Clavis retrieved the broken quill and proceeded to jab at wherever the pesky fly made its perch.
Stab! A delicate tea set knocked over, smashed to hundreds of puny porcelain pieces.
Pierce! An ink bottle impaled, spilling black across the once-luxurious wood grain.
Thrust! The remaining pile of documents fluttered through the air, floating down like gigantic rectangular rose petals.
Squish!
…Uh-oh.
Oh… no no no…
Clavis slowly lifted the quill from where it skewered the poor fly. Beneath the splattered remains of goopy green innards a noticeable nick poked its head. He frantically rubbed away at the buggy gore, hoping it was just his mind playing tricks, but to no avail. A jagged chip the size of his fingernail jutted out from the center of the grand desk, and suddenly Clavis didn’t feel so warm anymore.
Today is very boring. It is a very boring day.
But the leopard prayed it would remain boring anyway.
“Oh, bother,” he whispered to the fly carcass. What was left to make out of it, anyway. A battered wing and a couple of mangled legs. Or were those antennas? He shuddered and slumped back in the chair, shutting his eyes and pressing his temple in thought. Why, oh why did Chevalier always leave his belongings so vulnerable? He never left his room locked, present or otherwise. He left his office easy pickings for insipid invading insects. And he left Clavis alone to face off against boredom in an arena of at-risk artifacts.
Yes, that was the story he was going with. It was Chevalier’s fault, just like everything else. That’s the fate of the leader, isn’t it? To take the fall for his followers? To claim responsibility for the shortcomings of his lackeys?
Oh, that wouldn’t do either. It made his skin crawl to ever suggest he was a mere lackey of Chevalier, even if he was stuck inside picking up his paperwork. Call him Paperwork Prince, the bane of sophisticated stationery and fancy furniture across the lands. How positively preposterous. He was the Third Prince of Rhodolite, the awe of children and adults alike. Scourge of the stuffy and savior of the spirited. The reason you checked twice you locked your door at night. The recipient of the sprightliest shrieks ever uttered by man. Not quite an Aaaaaah! of terror, nor a Gyooooh! of panic, but something perfectly in between. Something like—
“Aaagyouyeeeehhhh!!”
Yes, something like that.
…Wait.
“Prince Clavis, I will drown you in a vat of honey when I get my hands on you!”
“No! That would be such a waste!”
Clavis jumped off the chair and hurried to the window. On the cobblestone walkway leading to the grounds stood a now-awake Luke and a fuming Yves stamping his feet on the ground beneath a rose archway. But even under the scorching summer sun, Yves’s fair hair seemed to glow more brilliantly than usual. Sparkling, as though the honey-blondeness was enchanted.
“Stop that, Luke! You’ll pull my hair out!” screeched Yves, swatting Luke away.
“Well, we gotta salvage as much of it as we can before it’s all ruined. Stand still, will ya?” Luke hovered over Yves’s head, scooping globs of gold and shoveling what he could into his mouth.
“Cut that out! This is highly undigni— Whaa!”
Backing up, Yves tripped and fell on the path, Luke tumbling down after him. Like a chain reaction, bunches of rose petals and feathers descended upon the pair, sticking to them like a flurry of multi-colored snowfall.
“Oh, please try pulling them off,” Clavis begged from his perch, nose glued so firmly to the glass it started fogging up with his breath.
Yves desperately tried plucking the scraps away, but all that achieved was more of the flittering pieces sticking onto him. Luke sat up and tried to help, only to find himself unable to pry his fingers off Yves’s coat. Several guards finally began to take notice of the commotion and hurried over, only to slip and slide the moment they set foot off the grass and onto the stone path. Clavis counted thirteen unlucky soldiers meeting their doom before the others finally wisened up and backed off.
“Prince Clavis!” a new voice roared, and Clavis steered his gaze all around to locate the stodgy Sariel. He finally found him bounding up from the castle gate, whip crackling and head steaming. Clavis gulped a heap of air ready to call out to him, but deflated when he saw a second figure trailing behind the minister.
Clavis stepped back and quickly wiped the condensation off the window before pressing his cheek on the glass again. Just as he thought, it was Belle walking up beside Sariel, looking every bit as perfect and innocent as her title claimed. But Clavis made a living out of feigning appearances on this battleground, it was his life’s work, so there was no chance he’d miss the wayward petals and feathers that dusted off her dress. Nor the honey jar barely peeking out from her pocket. Nor the vials of slippery cleaning solution she surreptitiously stuffed into her sleeves.
He trained his eye for a while longer as she and Sariel approached the wreckage and called out to the distressed victims. Sariel stopped just before the slick stone path and warily contemplated his options. Taking her chance, Belle sneakily extended her foot and lightly kicked the back of Sariel’s knee, sending him tumbling face first onto the walkway and sliding up to join the other casualties. Those soldiers had just started to stand up again, and Sariel knocked them down as brilliantly as a bunch of bowling pins. The onlookers all looked bemused at Sariel’s blunder, all except Belle who daintily hid her laughing face behind a perfectly positioned palm.
And then Clavis was laughing too. He was wheezing. Hollering. Howling so freely the window scene fogged up again in an instant. He peeled his face off the glass and grabbed at his stomach, squeezing tighter and tighter for fear he’d vomit out of glee. When at last he could stand again without wobbling, he turned back to the desk, raised his leg, and in one clean motion swept it across the surface, sending all that remained flying down the floor. Then he picked up the broken quill and jabbed it straight into the table just beside the first hole. Then he did it again. And again. And again.
Stab! Stab! Stab! Stab!
He kept stabbing and stabbing, digging out chunks of wood and splinters from the desk until he completed a full circle. Then he ripped open a drawer and extracted a second quill, this one still untarnished, and proceeded to stab some more, drilling two smaller circles side-by-side in the center of the first.
Sta-stab! Sta-stab! Sta-stab!
When he was satisfied with the mini craters, he buried the nibs into both ends of the equator of the first circle and carved an inverted arcline that joined at the bottom. He straightened his back to admire his work, a deranged smiley face beaming back up at him for a job well done. Lastly, he gave a final jab just beneath the right end of the mouth. An adorable mole for the adorable masterpiece from the adorable little brother.
Clavis tossed the quills aside and trampled across the broken porcelain and papers toward the door, positively giddy with delight at the prospect of meeting Belle again. He gave one last look at the ransacked shambles of the office as he twisted the knob and let out a dreamy sigh.
Truly, this was a boring day. But it was one he would not trade for the world.
Two weeks to go!
The premise of this fic was inspired by the poem "Today is Very Boring" by Jack Prelutsky. Give it a read if you have time, it's very short :)
Tagging: @atelieredux @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus (if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message)
Hello Scorchie 👋 Do you have any more details about Silvio and Silvio's mom's 👠?
Only because that cinematic masterpiece reopened the flood gates. These are for you too @toshipingu 😉
(Disclaimer: I don't actually know anything about Silvio's mother or their relationship, but I really do hope she is a lovely woman and that he has fond memories with her)
Young Silvio and His Mother's High Heeled Shoes, A Love/Hate Relationship
Young Silvio would rather die than be caught dead in only the most exquisite apparel (he is a prince, after all.) To him, his mother is the epitome of fashion and grace. Head held high adorned with dazzling jewelry clinking whenever she turns, a waterfall of the softest silks and fabrics articulating her beauty in every hue of the rainbow, and only the most delicate of accessories to complete the look, like her petite jewel-encrusted earrings and her pristine satin gloves that tickle his skin as she lovingly strokes his cheek when they cross paths in the halls. She is elegance and poise in every manner of the phrase, and he made it his goal to imitate the level of grandeur and respect she attained.
But the crown jewel of her ensemble, so to speak, is always her fabulous footwear. Never shorter than her pinkie, her heels add that final touch of sophistication and refinement to her already graceful look, elevating her among the frivolous nobility to her rightful title as Queen.
Silvio vowed he would grow up to be just like her; every bit as regal and mature as the clothes he wore so that no one would dare address him like just another puny prince hiding behind his mother's skirts. And what better way to practice than to copy his role model, starting of course with her most striking wardrobe piece.
With the grace of a newborn fawn, Silvio toppled face-down on the marble tile floors of his mother's closet trying on every pair of heels within reach of his tiny arms. The stunning silver pumps, the pencil-width ankle straps, the spine-crumbling stilettoes, all those and more spelling defeat in the form of a new addition to his quickly-growing collection of forehead bumps.
After hearing the thumps for an hour from the level below, the servants finally decided to inspect the source. They opened the closet door to find the young prince barefoot amid a sea of discarded shoes throwing a tantrum and ripping all the clothes he could reach off their shelves and hangers.
The closet has since been set under constant guard and Prince Silvio banned from his parents' bedroom unless one of them is present with him. But Silvio still finds a way to sneak in, usually by bribing the guards with jewels. It is his investment towards a future of perfect posture and promenading, after all.
Of all the heels, his favorite is the flamingo-pink pair with the diamond-studded toes. They are the tallest and gaudiest in her collection, and he's made it his childhood goal to tame them. He likes how they demand attention whenever he strolls around in them more than any other pair, he especially enjoys the shell-shocked expression the king wears, though he makes sure to always have a roll of bandages on hand for the inevitable faceplants.
He'd constantly heard rumors of the notorious "sea legs" being the true mark of a seaman from captains and sailors who returned from the seas, and he always secretly feared he'd develop an embarrassing bout of sea sickness when the time came for him to set sail. To his and the entire crew's shock however, when the captain called him during his first voyage, he paraded across the deck to him even faster than when the ship was still at the dock. His crewmates patted him on the back and claimed he was a natural because of his blood, but Silvio smiled to himself and thought of his mother's gentle cheek caresses, sending her silent thanks as he watched the receding Benitoitian coast from the stern.
