HC idea: first kiss with the ROs 👀 (I need Maeve kisses STAT)
Thanks for sending this anon I love u 🥺
First Kisses 💕✨
Shae
You visit one day, and catch them outside their outpost, picking juicy, tart blackberries off a bush.
you sneak up behind them, but they seem preoccupied, jumping and scraping their hand against some of the thorns on the vine.
guiltily, full of apologies and despite their protests, you pull their hand over to look at it, noticing that there’s a bit of blood welling up
maybe I don’t have healing magics, you say, but a bit of love always helps to chase the pain away.
Shae gives a chuckle.
I’m serious! Me mam always used to kiss my scrapes better - who knows, maybe she had a little magic in ‘er too, cause I found it to help with the sting.
Shae blushes, looking away from your gaze. Well... d’ya think it still works the same here...?
A small smile plays at the corners of your mouth. Only one way to find out, don’t ya think? you lean down and give the scrape a kiss, smiling up at them. Well? Does it feel better?
Their expression goes from surprised, to bashful, to... a smile.
Aye, they say. Much better.
Keagan
You were heading to Galway, not Germany - you didn’t pack your wardrobe. You didn’t even pack a change of clothes. It was only meant to be one night-!
The master of secrets is a very perceptive man, but it does not take his skill to notice that you stick out like a sore thumb in this strange world of decadence and beauty.
Come with me, he had said. His tone was authoritative enough that it only occurs to you when he’s ushering you through a doorway that he hadn’t told you why, or where.
That second question is answered easily enough though, when you see the fabrics and muslins and mannequins and racks and racks of sumptuous clothes. A tailor.
Perhaps he just wanted company…?
That little wisp, the glowing moth that often is seen about him, flies from just above his shoulder over your head and alights upon the gilded frame of a floor length mirror.
Your eyes skim over your reflection, and you choose instead to peer at the fabrics and textures, reaching out to run your fingers over a pretty brocade, admiring the finely woven fabric.
Pretty, isn’t it?
His voice comes from just behind your ear, startling you. A rich chuckle follows when you jump.
Ah-!! Yes, yes it’s lovely.
You tuck your hair back, and look over your shoulder at him. He’s smiling at you, catlike eyes promising nothing but trouble.
It would bring out your eyes.
Before you have a chance to respond, a tailor bustles over, ignoring you completely but all smiles for him.
Master Keagan, to what do they owe the pleasure of his patronage? Might he be seeking a new robe, they have just received a shipment of quite lovely silk?
He smiles, and then nods at you. My… friend here could benefit from your expertise.
He lays his hand over yours, his thumb sweeping across the fabric, and your heart skitters. We like this.
The tailor’s gaze turns from him to you, and turns a tad colder. But of course.
When they turn back to him, their smile is warm again. Anything for him, master Keagan.
You are focused on the gentle touch of his hand on yours and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, so you simply follow when you are led to a smaller, more cosy room off the main chamber.
The tailor gets in close, using a soft measuring tape and scribbling down your measurements, under Keagan’s watchful eye. He’s not looking in the mirror, and your back is turned, so really it can’t hurt for you to take him in, the strong line of his nose, the part of his lips, the curl of his hair and bright gold of his eyes.
His eyes, which, as the tailor fades into the background, flick up to meet yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth when he catches you staring, and you redden. You don’t look away.
He steps up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders, his thumbs brushing at your neck.
I cannot deny, I am eager to see you in garments befitting you.
You blink. I… I cannot afford this- I don’t have- do they even accept pounds here? And even they do, you do not have any to spare for frivolous luxuries.
Nonsense. You are my guest. Consider it my treat.
You can feel his breath against your neck, the warmth of his hands seem to burn through the rough linen at your shoulders, and it scatters your thoughts
Ah- but- however could I thank you-
His voice is almost a purr as he leans in closer, his eyes in the mirror taking in your flushed face, your tongue darting out to lick your lips.
Consider it a treat for myself, too. His lips press to your neck, and you shiver, leaning back against him. I like to take care of what’s mine, after all.
He presses another kiss to your neck, open mouthed and warm, and you swallow hard. Keagan-
At that moment, the tailor re-enters, a scowl overtaking their face when they see him up against you.
He straightens, and turns to talk to them, about fabrics and cuts and silhouettes, but his thumb, gently rubbing circles at your neck, tells you that he’s not done with you yet.
Aífe
You know they whisper about you. You’re common, you never seem to say the right thing, you are dazzled by the stark opulence of the seelie palace, and you feel out of place, even though the queen outfits you in gorgeous clothing, finer than you’ve ever worn.
You feel out of place, and you stick out like a sore thumb amongst these aristocrats and nobles. And they look down upon you for it, too.
Really, why should you worry? Why should you care what these people think of you? You shouldn’t care.
But still, it stings when you pick up the wrong fork, only realising it’s wrong when a titter runs through those sitting by you. When a servant delicately leans in over your shoulder to correct you. It’s kind of them, but nonetheless embarrassing. You know how these people think of you.
But… you look over, to the head of the table. Aífe is laughing, her eyes sparkling, her lips shining, her hair bouncing at her shoulders.
It’s rude to stare, but you do it anyway. You can’t help but feel entranced.
She catches you staring, and blows you a kiss. It catches you off guard, and it takes you a few moment to realise that she’s beckoning you over.
You scramble out of your chair, and perhaps you’d care about how undignified you look if it weren’t for the warmth in her eyes as she waits for you.
Darling! She reaches up and squishes your cheeks with her hands.
You beam back at her, feeling your cheeks grow warm under her palms. Hello, your majesty. I hope you’ve been enjoying the feast.
I hope that you have too, darling~
Something in the way she says it tips you off that perhaps she had noticed your hunched shoulders and downturned gaze earlier. However, those darker thoughts have been chased away by her warm smile, her soft skin on yours, and the way that her hair curls against her cheek, making you want to reach out and touch it.
She leans in, her voice lowering so only you can hear. Darling, I hope you know not to let them get to you. Jealous minds seek to destroy that which they cannot have.
You blink, not really following. They do…? But- I don’t- what do I have that they don’t…?
Aífe laughs, and tugs you down into her lap. The nobles at the table, the noise of chatter and laughter and clinking cutlery fades into the background as you blink at her, looking into her eyes, mouth turning dry.
She leans in, murmuring into your ear. Why, you have me, of course~
I have-?
You are cut off by her lips pressing against yours, and yes, they are just as soft as you had imagined.
Maeve
It has been a little heavy, the past few days. So Maeve wanted to take you somewhere fun, to cheer you (and herself) up.
She tells you with a wink and a grin to wear something you can move in.
After dinner she whisks you away, walking down side streets and alleyways, she stops outside a door.
Pushing the doorway open, light floods into the dark streets, and the sounds of people laughing, plates and tankards clattering against each other and onto wooden tables, the thumping of footsteps and, above all else, the sounds of lively music
C’mon! Maeve’s fingers curl around your elbow and tug you inside, a wave of warmth suffusing you, a welcome change from the chilly outdoors.
She gets the both of you a drink - taking longer than it should, as people you don’t recognise chat to her and smile at her and offer her a seat at their table. But eventually she gets to the bar (drinks slide across the bar for her, on the house), and back to you
Popular, aren’tcha?
Maeve laughs. The townsfolk are good people.
You chat and laugh together for a while, watching the dancing- until you feel Maeve touch your hand.
Wanna dance?
She looks so pretty in the lights, and her fingers are soft against yours. There’s nothing you’d like more.
So you take her hand and she leads you to the dance floor, pulling you close and leading you in an energetic, boisterous dance that you’re certain you are messing up but you’re having far too much fun to care.
The band picks up, and it must be nearing the end of the song, because she throws you out and then spins you back into her arms, yours catching her around the shoulders as the piece finishes on one long note.
You’re laughing, breathless, and then breathless for another reason entirely, as you see the way she’s smiling at you and leaning closer.
Your hand curves around the back of her neck as she leans in, pressing those soft lips to yours, and you can’t help but grin.
Flannán
You’re pretty sure he’s been avoiding you. The two of you have been getting closer and closer recently, but… clearly something changed.
You weren’t sure what to do. Leave it be? Confront him?
After all, you had thought, maybe, he might feel… similarly to you?
You sit at dinner, slowly chewing your food, and watching him on his throne. He is listening to a stranger (strange to you at least - who knows how well he knows them).
The interesting part is not to whom he speaks, however. No. What interests you most is the way that his gaze slides away from them, seeking someone in the crowd.
Eventually, his gaze lands on you. His cheeks colour, noticing you’re looking right back at him. But it takes a moment or two for his gaze to return to his companion.
You continue watching him, and are rewarded when his eyes come back to meet yours, and- is that a blush upon the face of the unseelie king?
…hmm. Your mind settles.
He’s been avoiding you, but you won’t allow that for much longer.
Eventually, he gets up, leaving through a corridor leading deeper into the castle. You lay down your cutlery and hurry to follow.
You follow him to quieter halls. Flannán, you call.
He stops, his broad shoulders tensing, and does not turn. …I have matters to attend to.
You’ve had rather a lot of matters to attend to recently, you reply, stepping up beside him, brushing past him to get a look at his face. You’ve been avoiding me.
He goes to deny it, but then hesitates, looking away from you, and remaining silent instead.
I was rather concerned that… I might have misjudged our last interaction. I might have asked earlier, but you’ve been making that rather difficult for me. Do I owe you an apology…?
A line appears between his eyebrows, as they furrow together. An apology? For what?
Well… You consider him, consider your words. Whether you should just say it, or continue to dance around him. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to be coy, but. You are not the most patient sort. At least when it comes to the unseelie king. And, after all, not using your words was what got him to avoid you in the first place.
It seems that I misjudged your feelings. I did not intend to make you uncomfortable with me.
Misjudged… my feelings? He looks rather taken aback. Hm. Have you mistaken him once again?
Perhaps it’s worth one more try… Cards on the table, this time. Just in case.
You reach up, your fingertips gently brushing his cheek. Flannán, the last time I was able to get you alone, I attempted to kiss you. I assumed that, since you have avoided me in the days since, my advances are unwelcome.
You pause, assessing him. Pulling your hand back, slightly. My intention was never to make you feel uncomfortable with m-
They are not unwelcome.
There’s that pretty blush once again. He doesn’t meet your gaze, but his hand comes up and brings your hand back in contact with his cheek.
Well. There’s your answer. You smile, and stroke your thumb beside the corner of his mouth, your fingers curl around the edge of his jaw, admiring as his blush darkens.
In that case, your majesty, I would be most obliged if you allowed me to finish what I started, before we were so rudely interrupted.
It’s only because you are so close that you are able to notice the corners of his lips tilting up. When he leans down, you smile and press your lips to his.
Finally.
Robin
I’m booooooooooored!
Robin is laying sprawled across the table, their head hanging off the edge closest to you, and giving you their best upside-down puppydog eyes.
You raise an eyebrow. What’cha want me to do about it huh?
Hmm... There’s a flash and they’re gone- and the fingers poking into your ribs tells you that they’re behind you. Let’s play a game!
What kinda game?
A fun one!
You take a moment to think, but then inspiration strikes. Or maybe it was just the feeling of Robin’s head appearing in your lap.
C’mon! Tell me some human game or somethin’!
...Ah. You know the perfect one. Have you ever heard of truth or dare?
Their eyes sparkle. Totally! (An obvious lie, but it’s not as if the rules require explanation.)
All right then. Truth or dare?
DARE! Obviously. Heh.
...you look around for inspiration. I... dare you... to... smear mashed potatoes on your face!
In hindsight, you have no idea why you thought Robin would even hesitate. They’d probably have done it just for fun.
My turn! I dare you to... eat the mashed potatoes! They point to their gooey, mashy cheek, and wink at you.
You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks get a bit warm. But you can’t exactly say no to the dare now can you? You lean in, and lick their cheek. Mmm, mashy~
Robin licks you back. It makes you giggle, but then you fall silent, caught by the way the light catches the little flecks of colour in their bright amber eyes. You’re much quieter this time, when you ask again. Truth or dare?
Dare! Obviously!
You smile at them and their mashy face, and decide to be brave.
...Kiss me?
They do.
(You may also find them smearing mashed potatoes on your face, to be even, but you think it’s worth it.)