elora-opulence

[elora-opulence]

“A beer… I can do that. We’ve got… you’re normally a pale ale girl aren’t you? You’ll like this, it’s new on the tap,” Elora hummed, reaching for a pint glass and tilting it against the spout of the beer tap, watching as the amber liquid filled the vessel. There was a moment of slightly awkward silence as she did this, setting the glass down carefully in front of the siren with another small smile. “Let me know what you think,” she offered, picking up a nearby tea-towel and slinging it over her shoulder as she leant forward onto the work surface in front of her.

It was quiet and there was no-one else to serve, so she supposed the polite thing to do was to have some sort of conversation with the woman. But what to say? “So- you- how are you…?” she asked, the question hanging in the air as her head tilted to the side slightly, watching the woman closely for her response.

elora-opulence​:

STARTER: Naz & Elora LOCATION: The Den STATUS: CLOSED

Elora had just finished preparing the garnishes for the cocktails when Naz appeared as if out of nowhere, pulling herself into a stool directly in front of where Elora was working at the bar. It had been a few months since she’d seen the woman - she’d always gotten on reasonably well with Naz when her and Jeremy had been together. They’d been a cute couple, and Jeremy had been quite clearly infatuated. It had come as bit of shock when they had broken up - it had taken Jeremy a wee while to actually tell anyone, and Elora had felt so sad for the wolf. He’d been soft and sweet with Naz, and Elora couldn’t understand what could’ve gone wrong.

It was a surprise to see the woman at The Den all things considered. She wasn’t a wolf herself, and the connections she’d made at The Den and with the pack had all been through Jeremy. Elora wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to do. Her loyalties lay with Jeremy, but she didn’t know what had exactly happened, so she wasn’t sure whether to be frosty or kind. Settling for a neutral “hey,” she cast a brief smile over at the siren, tilting her head to the side. “Been a while. You want a drink?”

@naz-ozdemir​

-

Naz still felt relatively new to the town. While she moved there about a year ago, there weren’t many places she felt comfortable going out to by herself. In her months of being friends and dating Jeremy, she had come to enjoy visiting the Den. The people were nice to her and the drinks and food were good. After their break up, Naz hadn’t dared to step foot in there again until today. It was hard to know if she would be welcomed, given she had hurt a member of the pack. While it had been for Jeremy’s own good, she knew not everyone would see it that way. Hell, sometimes she second guessed her choice. Or she did until the high tide rolled around, then she was certain she had done the right thing. 

Stepping inside the Den, she froze in the doorway, eyes flittering around the bar to see if anyone was watching her or glaring in her direction. When it felt safe, she pulled up a spot at the bar in front of Elora. She could see Elora’s surprise clear as day. The bartender had always been kind to her before and now Naz worried that might change. “Hey,” she greeted, giving her a sheepish smile. “Uh yeah, you know,” the siren replied with a shrug. “But uh, yes please. Just a beer, please.” 

[elora-opulence]

Cass seemed to go quiet as he considered her question. It was a simple enough one, one that Elora felt he should be able to answer with ease. What was the point of a relationship if you had nothing in common with the person you were with? Elora and Fionn were almost too far gone in the other direction, so similar in so many ways that they were sometimes indistinguishable from one another. They both dressed a little androgynously, both sported a messy head of curls and chewed up nails. They liked to smoke weed, watch cartoons, nerd out about rocks and birds and nature. Fionn was the person she felt safest with, because she could be entirely herself around him. He seemed to love her even more when she let herself go, when she allowed herself to be weird, silly, childish even. And she loved it. Loved him.

So she couldn’t imagine being with him if this wasn’t the case. It was the thing she treasured most about their relationship - their innate understanding of one another. Sure their lives had been a little different, their experiences nowhere near identical, but they understood each other on a fundamental level, and Elora relished that feeling. The feeling of being seen, of being accepted. It was magic.

“She understands you,” Elora repeated back to him, brow furrowing slightly as she tried to understand what it was that he was really saying. “She makes you feel… seen? Like you belong?” she questioned, taking another bite of the meal he’d prepared. “Cassian, is that your full name? You never told me that.”

”It’s not so much…. having things in common.” Actually, if you looked at Cass and Isabelle closely, he was sure that most people would come to the same conclusion. That they were opposites, complete and total opposites. Her straight blonde hair counteracting messy dark curls. Her upbringing standing in stark contrast to his own. When she rode in his car she complained about his choice of playlist until he caved and let her put Taylor Swift on, and when they got ready for dates Isabelle took three times as long as Cass and then looked in despair at his outfit and requested he change. Even their careers took them on different trajectories, Isabelle graduating with a flawless high school record and going on to college, Cass failing to graduate at all and spending more time joyriding stolen cars than thinking of his future. Izzy sat and waited to be fought over and Cass always, always did the wooing and the pursuing.

And yet there was something about her, despite their differences, that had Cass in far too deep. An iron grip held over his heart that refused to let up despite the time since their breakup and despite the way in which it had ended. He had thought once that he’d be able to forget Isabelle, but the sight of her in that elevator had proved him conclusively wrong. Maybe that was it, he was forever doomed to walk around as Isabelle Carlisle’s loverboy, always there for her even if she never again let him in. Would he be invited to her wedding, if she ever got married? Watch her walk down the aisle in a white dress and smile at another man? The thought made him feel nauseous and he pushed the bowl of pasta away, untouched.

“Isabelle understands me,” he said eventually. “As much as anyone can. She’s…. different, inside. So am I, I guess. I never liked people knowing shit about me. I don’t even like people knowing my name and then Isa calls me Cassian out of nowhere and it feels… right.”

[elora-opulence]

“A sweet potato latte…? How do you get the sweet potato into the latte?” Elora giggled softly, brow furrowed slightly as she looked back at the server. Something about them seemed familiar - perhaps it was the Australian accent? She had only ever met a couple of Australians in her time, and the last time had been when she’d been in California. Or was it New York? The time between leaving France and settling in Greywood was all a little bit hazy at this point, something Elora wasn’t particularly proud to admit. “A cookie latte sounds good. Can you make it iced?”

She couldn’t help but crinkle her nose slightly at the mention of blood, shaking her head quickly. It was something she was more than used to now, especially with Jean-Claude needing to feed so regularly, but the thought of it made her squeamish. “No- thank you. I’m a wolf,” she explained, smiling back at him before almost squinting slightly, inspecting their features closely. “Are you- sorry- this probably sounds so weird but do we know each other…?”

The worst question to ever be asked because the possibilities were literally limitless and more often than not people tended to steer toward their own preferences so their recommending something without knowing a few things about the person first would result in a poor recommendation. Oreo was unphased though and went through the motions of proper customer service, smiling brightly all throughout as they replied, their Australian accent drawled through elongated vowels, "Awh, well, we've got a few limited items roight now. One's a cookie latte," with their accent, the end of their sentence lilted upwards sounding like a question, "then if you're not much a fan of coffee we have an iced peach tea and a sweet potato latte that we can add a shot of espresso or not."

The longer they spoke, the more they were getting a sense that they'd seen this woman before, which was odd considering they were new in town. "Uhm... awh yeah and if you're a vampire then, yeah, everythin' we can add in a shot of... blood... if you need it." They'd been informed about some key features that vampires tended to share, paler looking skin, sometimes they didn't blink, sometimes they seemed stiff, sometimes you could see the fangs in their mouth. Oreo was still learning and so they ended up staring at the woman a little bit more intently trying to discern whether or not they were a vampire; there were less vampires that visited the café during the day time but sometimes it happened.

[elora-opulence]

“Alright, alright, so you’re not lying,” she sighed a little defeatedly, busying herself with filling the two bowls he’d collected from his cupboard. It was hard with Cass - you pushed even the slightest bit too firmly and he closed up like a scared hedgehog. That really was the best way to describe him - to most he seemed prickly, eager to be left alone. But Elora knew he had a soft underbelly so to speak, one he only showed to those he deemed trustworthy. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to his selection process, but somehow Elora had fit the bill.

Carrying the bowls over to Cass, she set one down in front of him, pulling herself into a chair opposite him as she picked up her fork. She didn’t speak as he tried to explain Isabelle to him, instead offering a few soft hums here and there to indicate that she was listening. But she knew she needed to pick her words carefully. “Princess type? That… I dunno. That doesn’t sound like you,” she offered eventually, taking a bite of the pasta. “So… what drew you to her in the first place? Do you have anything in common?”

"I'm not lying," he said forcefully, and put the bowl down on the table as gently as he could, although he conceded control over the spoon and subsequently the pasta to Elora and reluctantly shuffled to the table, trying to avoid any remaining shards of bowl and opening the fridge on his way to retrieve a can of Red Stripe and opening it to drain half the contents before Elora had even finished filling a bowl with pasta, sitting at the tiny table and shrugging.

"I've been fine," he said again, teeth practically gritted with the effort of the lie despite how obvious it came out. "Tell you about her? Isabelle's...." He shook his head. Letting the memories in was always a dangerous game. He could never just look back, it always ended with his mind flooding with them, playing them over and over again when he was trying to sleep, reminding him of every night he'd spent with her in his arms, every time she had smiled at him, every time they'd kissed. "She's frustrating," he settled on as a descriptor. "Calls me loverboy. Or Cassian. Never Cass. Short. Says she's not short, but she's tiny. Princess type. Rich daddy." He thought for a moment, allowed his features to soften, his tone of voice become more gentle. "She knows me. More than anyone."

[elora-opulence]

Elora was a creature of habit for the most part and tended to go to the same cafe, the same bookstore, the same bar (The Den of course) - her course didn’t tend to vary much day to day, but she felt like something different and Fionn had mentioned walking past a cute, bat-themed cafe, or perhaps it just had bat in the name… either way, he’d seemed excited by it and so she’d decided to pick up a coffee for each of them on her way over to his.

Stepping inside she took a quick look around, finding it hard to even take in the full extent of the decorations and many delicious looking treats in the cafe cabinet. “Mm? Oh- um- well…” she frowned, eyes scanning the menu, although it didn’t seem to contain anything she recognised as coffee. “What would you recommend?” she asked with a smile, eyes finally turning their attention to the server who had greeted her.

Location: Pouty Bat Face Café With: OPEN [0/5]

It was literally their third day on the job within their first week and already Oreo was wondering if this had been the right choice. It had seemed like a fun themed café when they'd first applied and it was still true, only stipulation it seemed was the clientele were on occasion actual vampires. When Oreo had learned the existence of supernatural beings they'd only known about fae and witches and those around them had conveniently failed to mention there were also vampires, werewolves and apparently sirens and all of this new information was quite exploding their head on top of the added struggle of trying to find out who his apparent family member was that was in town. There was apparently some help desk at the Town Hall that could help but they simply hadn't gotten around to it yet, still trying to get their bearings and more importantly, money for they had spent all that they had to get here in the first place and had quite exhausted their funds. Hence the need for a quick job and now the debate. They were mulling this over while proceeding a mindless action of wiping a damp rag over the black marble countertop, cleaning up a spill that didn't exist just to look occupied, entirely oblivious that someone had approached the counter until their supervisor appeared behind their shoulder and cleared their throat, loudly.

Oreo's shoulders jumped, eyes blinked into focus and they stared now at the person in front of them in muted horror, "Oh. Oh! I'm sorry. Uhm. Welcome! To..." they blanked on the name for a second then it hit, "Uh.. The Pouty Bat Cafe!" Their supervisor hissed lowly in their ear, "Bat Face Cafe," Oreo repeated themself, "Welcome to The Pouty Bat Face Cafe!" They smiled, "What can we prepare for you?"

[elora-opulence]

She wasn’t sure how she expected Jeremy to react - this was awkward and embarrassing but she simply couldn’t stop the tears from flowing - and then his hand found her hair, patting it clumsily, affectionately even. Elora turned to him, looking up at her sweet, gentle friend with a stricken expression, the tears continuing to roll down her cheeks as he drew her close to him. Her arms slid around his waist loosely as her chin rested in his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut as she allowed herself to cry.

She let herself stay there, wrapped in the embrace of her friend, so soothed by his simple attempt to help her feel a little better. “Sorry- sorry. Just been a lot lately. Fionn and then Jean-Claude and Matty, and my drinking and- now the car- I just- been hard to k-keep it all together,” she mumbled, voice breaking a little as she buried her face in against his neck, trying to swallow a fresh wave of tears. Perhaps she was revealing too much but it had been so long so since she had really just let everything out like this, instead telling little bits to different people. Jeremy she trusted, she had no reason not to. 

Ah, oh no, she was crying. Jeremy hadn’t anticipated this sort of response. Car troubles were certainly stressful and he could understand entirely when certain situations became overwhelming to the point of crying or wanting to cry so he didn’t mind it so much that her emotions now took over. He just didn’t know how to deal with it and for a few moments sort of just stood there not looking at her wondering if this was the sort of thing he should do or say something for or if he should just sort of politely try to ignore her and let her have a not so private moment to cry.

Ultimately he decided that pretending to act like he wasn’t aware she was crying was the wrong move, they were stood directly in front of each other, it was impossible not to notice her tears. So the decision came that he must do something. What something was the next problem which needed solving. Jeremy referred to the old internal handbook of appropriate social responses that he had in his brain, flipped through the pages and determined that a hug was usually comforting and so proceeded to do just that. He stepped forward, closer to her and first landed his large hand on top of her curled head. She was a bit shorter than him, not by much as she was quite a tall and slim woman, but a few inches at least. He rested one hand on top of her head and the other reached for her shoulder to draw her in close to his chest and if she did not refuse the action, would embrace her in his warm and thick arms, gently patting her softly on the back.

[elora-opulence]

Elora’s mind was still racing, trying and failing to process the news that Jean-Claude’s sire had returned. It felt like too much for her to handle - how was she supposed to be there for him when she couldn’t even comprehend what she had told him? The memories, the countless times she had touched him only to see him buried alive, waiting, slowly slowly turning to stoned, abandoned by the man  he had trusted the most, the man who had first taken his heart only to stamp on it more violently than felt possible.

With her arms still tight around him she let out a series of soft little shushing noises, any words of comfort stuck in her throat. There was nothing she could say that would make this better for Jean-Claude. The trauma was too vicious, too debilitating. It had been 240 odd years and yet this man could still bring Jean-Claude to his knees. “I know. I know bub,” she murmured, pressing as many kisses as she could to whatever skin her lips could find. “C’mon. Sofa,” she murmured, although she didn’t pull back until he would.

he didn't know what to do - it was that simple. he didn't know what to do, how to process and work through this - jean-claude thought of the countless auctions chasing artefacts that had been his and duncan's. j.c thought about all those letters he kept bound together, crumbling parchment that spoke of their shared love for the other. how keeping all of those memories had reminded him that it happened, that he had been loved and still might be but -

why? why did he do that to himself? hold on for so long only to have it thrown back at him. jean-claude felt as he had when he first awoke in that museum - afraid, unsure, ultimately heartbroken again.

jean-claude plastered himself around elora, something he felt he did often as of late, seeking her comfort and closing his eyes as he buried himself in her scent, her heartbeat, every aspect he could. anything to take his mind off the vampire on the other side of town.

"he's got a fucking antiques shop," he eventually choked out. it felt like a trap set deliberately to catch him, the honey-sweet smell of something so irresistible to many immortals. "on the other side of town. i don't even know how - how long has he been here?"

[elora-opulence]

zendaya 💞

[elora-opulence]

STARTER: Naz & Elora LOCATION: The Den STATUS: CLOSED

Elora had just finished preparing the garnishes for the cocktails when Naz appeared as if out of nowhere, pulling herself into a stool directly in front of where Elora was working at the bar. It had been a few months since she’d seen the woman - she’d always gotten on reasonably well with Naz when her and Jeremy had been together. They’d been a cute couple, and Jeremy had been quite clearly infatuated. It had come as bit of shock when they had broken up - it had taken Jeremy a wee while to actually tell anyone, and Elora had felt so sad for the wolf. He’d been soft and sweet with Naz, and Elora couldn’t understand what could’ve gone wrong.

It was a surprise to see the woman at The Den all things considered. She wasn’t a wolf herself, and the connections she’d made at The Den and with the pack had all been through Jeremy. Elora wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to do. Her loyalties lay with Jeremy, but she didn’t know what had exactly happened, so she wasn’t sure whether to be frosty or kind. Settling for a neutral “hey,” she cast a brief smile over at the siren, tilting her head to the side. “Been a while. You want a drink?”

@naz-ozdemir​

[elora-opulence]

He agreed with her, made a soft little promise that he wouldn’t worry her again and yet- she could tell by the look on his face that he hadn’t fully registered what it was that was so inappropriate about what he had done. Elora loved her work - sure she didn’t make much, and sure she was just in hospitality, but her job at The Den meant so much more to her than just a steady pay check. She worked for her pack leader for a start, and Ryden was not someone she ever wanted to let down. Not again anyway. What’s more, The Den was a place where she felt welcomed, where she belonged. It was a place where wolves could meet in safety, could be free and comfortable around each other. Take communion together so to speak. And in that way, Elora considered her work almost sacred.

Therein lay the problem. Fionn decidedly did not care about his work. He cared about many things - birds, Echo & the Bunnymen chord progressions, spending time with Elora, searching for pretty rocks. But work? It was just the way he made his money, and nothing more than that. So Elora supposed it shouldn’t surprise her that he didn’t understand why her ditching her shift over nothing was such a big deal.

“I know. I know you would have, but I-“ she sighed softly, running an exasperated hand through her messy curls once more. “You don’t really care that much about your work, right? Like… it’s not a super important part of your life. But for me, my job is really important to me. Cause it’s more than just work. It’s… it’s the pack. It’s a sense of belonging, of accomplishment and competency,” she shrugged, trying to find the words to describe it best in a way that he would comprehend. “After being such a- after being unreliable for so long, y’know with the using and everything, it’s- it’s really important to be that I’m considered dependable. I don’t know.. does any of this make sense?” she asked, turning to meet his eyes, searching his face for any sign of understanding.

Without Fionn even registering it happening, his hands had begun to fidget together, slim fingers intertwining with each other and twisting, turning, his nails sometimes digging into his own palms and leaving little crescent moon marks in his pale skin. It wasn't something he was aware that he did, when he became stressed, nor within his control - sometimes when he was younger he'd felt his parents or his sister push a Rubik's cube or a book into his hands to force him to stop, usually some comment regarding him being embarrassment. Nowadays it was normal for Elora to stop him, put her hands in his. But he never realised he was doing it, and so he continued without her stopping.

"I won't worry you again," Fionn said obediently, because he knew the right thing to do when he annoyed people was usually to agree with them and say he wouldn't do the thing that annoyed them again. "I just- I would have left work for you?" If he sounded confused, it was because he was, and he didn't want Elora to be upset or mad and it upset him that she was, and yet he didn't understand how to rectify the situation. "I sometimes do anyway," he admitted with a shrug.

[elora-opulence]

“I’m not-“ she began, although the words seemed to catch in her throat as his fingertips touched skin they never had before, goosebumps prickling over her skin as a soft tremor of pleasure ran down her spine. The tiniest little whimper escaped her lips and her eyes flickered for just a moment, allowing her hands to drop from her chest as one pushed carefully into Fionn’s hair, kissing him back slowly at first and then with just a little more vigour.

His soft little words as his eyes scanned over her bare chest made her almost want to cry, the pure honest ringing true in each syllable. Fionn was practically incapable of telling anything other than the truth, something Elora had figure out early on in their friendship, and now, his eyes looking from her breasts up to her eyes with so much love and adoration, Elora felt she might just melt, so overwhelmed with love for her boyfriend. Her tilted to the side instinctively as his lips trailed a soft line of kisses down her jaw, over her warm skin, mouth now close to her breasts. Her breath hitched in her throat as he spoke, a hand tracing patterns on his cheek as he chuckled softly.

“Fionn. I- I find you really sexy too. I- I want you. So bad. I think about you all the time, like this… when I- when I touch myself,” she practically whispered, cheeks flushing as her fingers moved to cup his jaw, guiding his lips to hers once more. Her tongue darted out against his lip as they kissed, bodies moving now as they laid back, her pussy pressed to his thigh through her jeans as she hovered over him. “I- I’m wet,” she breathed against his lips, kissing over his jaw a little messily as she propped herself up to look down at him.

"What do you mean?" Despite the desperation with which his fingers undid her bra and slipped it off, he was looking at her with round, innocent eyes. Not through misunderstanding what was taking place, it was clear he wanted this as much as she did. But from the words falling from her mouth. A tentative hand reached out, nervous, to gently caress her side, cup her breast, as Fionn leaned in to kiss her again, his tongue running over her lower lip, so gentle, so hesitant as if afraid to scare her or do anything she might feel the slightest bit uncomfortable with.

"I think you're perfect," he said earnestly, gazing down at her and then looking up again to meet her eyes. "I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I don't- I don't like how you can't see yourself the way I do," Fionn murmured as his lips found her jawline and began to trace kisses down the side of her neck, down her collarbone, down to her chest and her breasts, "I find you sexy. I think you're really sexy," he admitted with a nervous laugh. "I worry about whether you'll... think I'm weird looking or-"

[elora-opulence]

Sure Elora knew that Isabelle had messed Cass up in ways he would never dare to admit to her, but even she was surprised at the reaction just the mention of her name had elicited from the fellow wolf, the sound of the bowl smashing causing her to jump slightly, eyes widening as she surveyed the mess. Thankfully she still had her shoes on and so the risk of bowl ending up in foot was minimal, but she kept her distance regardless, noting how shaky Cass seemed, his hands almost trembling as he retrieved a fresh bowl.

Hesitating a moment, Elora finally crossed the kitchen to him, a hand moving to still his arm from its erratic movements. She took the bowl and the serving spoon from him and set them down, hands finding his shoulders as she turned him to her, brown eyes seeking his own. "Cass. You don't need to lie to me. Or pretend," she murmured softly. "You know me. I- I would never judge you. Or tell anyone what you tell me. It's- it's okay. To struggle. To need help. I know it doesn't feel comfortable but-" she paused, shrugging a little as she let out a soft sigh.

Her hands moved from his shoulders to the bowl, taking over the serving of the meal as she cast him another reassuring smile. "G'on. Go sit over there. I'll dish up. Tell me about her. How have you been feeling?" she asked tentatively, hoping and praying that he would be receptive her attempts at help.

“Yeah,” he agreed. Not that the apartment was particularly comfortable, he couldn’t fool himself on that, but he’d just found himself constantly with better priorities than furnishing it. He was preoccupying himself with serving up the pasta when she spoke again, pulling two bowls from his cupboard and putting one down on the counter, when Elora spoke her name and Cass was completely unable to hide his shock, the bowl in his hand dropping suddenly to the tiled floor, smashing into smithereens and each fragment sliding across the floor.

“Ah. Fuck,” he forced his tone of voice to be measured and cool as he surveyed the situation. “Careful, don’t step around here, it’s kinda ….. messy…..” He let his voice trail off, stepping gingerly over the pieces of broken bowl to fetch a dustpan and brush, quietly beginning to sweep up and silently hoping he hadn’t stepped on any because frankly the last thing he needed was the aforementioned neighbour hearing him swear the building down if Elora had to pull a piece out of his foot. Dropping the swept up pieces into the trash, he gave it one last glance with unspoken gratitude for the way he seemed to have cleaned it all up. Small victories.

“Yep.” He suppressed a shudder, picking a fresh bowl out of the cupboard and continuing to scoop pasta into it with slightly more force than was necessary. “Isabelle’s back.” He hated using her full name, now. It felt so wrong. But the affectionate Isa was wrong, too, now that he didn’t have the right to call her sweet nothings, and he wasn’t sure what else to say, whether he ought to be calling her by anything at all. “It’s fine,” Cass said harshly. “Fine.” Which clearly couldn’t be any further from the truth. “I’ve barely seen her,” he lied. “Just the once, in the lift, really.”

[elora-opulence]

Jeremy felt badly for Elora, car troubles weren’t fun to deal with especially not when considering the cost, which unfortunately in her case would be quite extensive. He couldn’t keep it off his features, the look of one who had bad news he was about to share but didn’t want to. His lips pursed to the side in the way they usually did when he wasn’t sure what to say or when he was considering his words, which was often, lips rubbing together before he parted them to speak, “M-m-might c-c-c-ost two g-g-gra-and…” at the very least and that was with a discount, because while they were more than willing to help their fellow pack members when it came to costs they couldn’t always work miracles. She might be better off buying a new car for that money instead of fixing up the older junker which might have another failure in a few months time.

[elora-opulence]

Finally inside the flat, Fionn began to pull her towards his bedroom, the pair of them stumbling slightly, giggling against eachother's lips as they pressed needy kisses to the other's mouth. This moment had been building for so long - they had been together for a decent amount of time and so far they had done nothing more than kiss. Joining him on the bed, her hand moved to him his jaw as she leaned in to kiss him, nodded against his forehead as he made his little request.

Now that they were in the confines of his bedroom it all felt so much more real. They were going to do this. All her previous confidence and excitement seemed to be replaced by anxiety so suddenly. Waves of varying emotions came crashing down upon her - would she be good enough? Would he like what he saw when her clothes came off? What if she was awkward, what if she fumbled? But then her eyes met his, his hands gentle as they tugged at the thin fabric of her shirt, and she remember - this was Fionn. He loved her, and she loved him. They would figure this out together.

Once her shirt was discarded she helped him with his own, a hand trailing tenderly down his chest as she leaned in to kiss him gently, breaking away reluctantly just to rid herself of her bra. Her nipples were hard - a mixture of arousal and axniety, and she couldn't help but flush, arms folding over her chest as she looked up at him. "I- I'm not very- I-" she stammered quietly, cursing herself internally for not having more charm. "I'm not very sexy," she finally managed, cringing slightly at her own words.

“I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying,” it felt like it took an age for his keys to reach his hand from his pocket and then a century longer for them to even reach the door, turning at the speed of a snail before he eventually got the door open and pulled her in, shutting the door behind them as he pulled her close once again, his lips finding hers with ease and his tongue running over her lower lip with a sense of desperation matching her tone when she had asked him to find his keys quicker. It was such a different dynamic to how they had ever been before, so much more intense, deeper. Part of Fionn worried - would he say the right things, do the right things, would she be disappointed in him? But it was Elora, the person he was most comfortable with in the world. There was nobody he’d be happier with, he knew that.

Between kisses, he pulled her toward his bedroom, the affection causing them to slow down even though his flat was so small that the distance to the bed was tiny, in reality, the only thing causing it to take so long their insistence on kissing and soft laughter between kissing and breathless words of affection and caring. He’d made the bed, for once, it was ready when he sat and pulled Elora onto it, giving her a look of nervousness and yet excitement too. “Can I- can I take off your shirt?”

[elora-opulence]

Normally Elora had endless patience for Fionn. He viewed the world a little differently, tending to take things literally and finding it hard to always register when someone was joking. He got overwhelmed by loud noises, or lots of people talking at the same time, and he hated being squished in a crowd of people. Elora could always tell when he was starting to feel antsy - his brow would furrow and his fingers would begin to fidget, and usually she was able to calm him, to soothe him just by taking his hand and getting out of the situation. But this time? This time he had unfortunately crossed a line.

"It’s never been that bad but I didn't know that it wasn't this time! You said it was urgent, you- your texts made it sound so bad Fionn, I was so worried! I thought- I thought you might even need to go to hospital, I was-" she cut herself off, continuing to pace as she let out an exasperated sigh. She could tell that she was making him feel guilty, uncomfortable even, but she couldn't help herself, the words pouring from her lips before she had a chance to really consider the impact of what she was saying.

His meek little question softened her slightly and she paused mid-step, turning to face him with a resigned expression on her face. "No... no. It's not bad. It's- it's lovely. That you wanted to," she murmured, crossing to him and sinking down onto the sofa next to him. "But that wasn't the way to do it my love. You- you had be really, really worried. And I can't just leave work mid-shift because you want to see me... you understand where I'm coming from yeah?" she asked, her tone much more even as she looked over at him, her hand finding his.

“But you know it’s never that bad?” If the words carried an air of confusion, that was because Fionn was confused. He’d not given her any reason in the past to be concerned in this way, had he? No times when she’d had to be actually worried about his breathing? Then, in his mind, there was surely no reason for her to think there ever would. He didn’t understand the conclusions she’d drawn, didn’t understand how to think in that way - his brain didn’t even consider it as a possibility. No, to him, there was simply no reason to ever be concerned for him.

“I- knew you were at work……” It seemed he’d messed up, he was just starting to gauge this from Elora’s expression probably far too late for him to make a difference. Fionn gulped, mouth suddenly dry. He’d done the wrong thing, again, and no part of him could come up with a solution that would make it alright again. The guilt in his stomach only increased, to the point where it hurt and he felt ill. He’d not wanted Elora to be upset in this way, and yet he still didn’t entirely understand why it had gone wrong. “I didn’t mean for you to drive recklessly,” Fionn said quietly, innocently. “I just …. really wanted to see you. Is that bad?”

He didn’t mention the work thing, and maybe that was to his detriment, but it barely crossed his mind. Fionn treated his work place with the attitude of a day dreamer. Showing up half asleep, not showing up at all, he was able to get away with it and so he did, unwilling to put in any more effort than that.

[elora-opulence]

She was quick to make sure he was settled into a seat, listening to him closely and clocking that he seemed able to talk with ease. In fact, if he hadn’t told her he was struggling she wouldn’t have been able to tell. Something felt off, and Elora frowned slightly as she stood in front of him, a hand moving to push affectionately through his curls. “I’m always going to worry about you Fionn, you know that. You… you texts, you seemed really scared,” she hummed, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead, listening as he spoke. 

Guilt seemed to flit across his features as he looked up at her for a moment, his next words coming out a little more slowly. And then the realisation dawned on her that he was fine. Completely and utterly fine, and this had just been some sort of stunt to get her over here, something he perhaps thought was a cute gesture but was instead causing anger to bubble up in the pit of her stomach, anger she had never felt towards him before. Her hand dropped limply to her side as her brow furrowed, head tilting to the side. “You.. missed me. Needed to see me..?” she asked, although it wasn’t really a question. She just needed to process, to figure out if this was really something he had thought was okay.

“Fionn. I left my shift. Like. I told people it was an emergency. They’re understaffed now. That’s- my job. And I drove so recklessly to get here..? I was so worried about you. You- you can’t do that, okay? That’s-“ she paused, letting out a frustrated sigh as she turned away from him, raking a hand through her unruly hair as she paced the length of the living room a couple of times. “Fuck- Fionn. That’s such bullshit. I actually- I can’t believe you’ve done this to be honest.”

”Oh, I-“ the sheer force of her concern and confusion pulled him into the apartment and obediently into a chair, even though he felt it unnecessary and his face probably said as much - Fionn had never been good at masking what he was feeling, and subsequently he was generally easily read, whatever emotion currently playing on his mind making itself more than visible through his expression. “You really didn’t need to worry,” he said faintly, frowning a little at her worry. “You know it’s never that bad.” He couldn’t recall, off the top of his head, a time when he’d been with Elora and genuinely unable to breathe. Maybe once, when they were still friends and he’d been ill anyway and he was certain it was long enough ago that it wouldn’t play on her mind. Maybe he could tell himself she overreacted, get rid of the guilt which was starting to belatedly inform him that he might have made the wrong call. Fionn often realised these things too late, missed all the cues to tell him no until he’d already done the thing.

“Honestly, I mean, maybe my chest was a little tight after I smoked….?” Little enough that he barely noticed. “I mean I really just needed to see you, so….. I missed you,” Fionn said carefully, suddenly with a pang of anxiety in his stomach which suggested to him this might be about to go horribly wrong.

[elora-opulence]

“Dunno- dunno,” she mumbled against his lips, kissing him back just as his lips sought hers once more. There was no part of her that wanted to untangle herself from him in that moment, but she wanted privacy. Wanted a room, a bed, him, her. Just quiet. Just them. There was something about Fionn that disarmed her, and while she would normally be so deeply alarmed by that, he made her feel safe. She could be entirely herself with him without fear of judgement, and it was an incredible feeling.

“Yours,” she agreed, kissing him just once more so delicately before pulling herself from him, offering him a hand as she helped tug him to his feet, arms around his neck once more as she kissed him. She felt dizzy from standing too quickly - or maybe it was just him, his hands on her hips, his lips on her own. “C’mon,” she giggled breathlessly, hand finding his as she started to take off in the direction of his apartment. It took much longer than it should have, the pair stopping every hundred metres or so to kiss once more, but finally, finally they were in front of his door, her hand on his back as he fumbled with his keys. “Hurry up,” she teased, kissing his shoulder as she beamed at him. 

"Who's is closer?" Was Fionn's breathless response, his lips already moving towards hers again for a gentle kiss. That was their dynamic, even as it deepened, even as it headed in a direction both of them knew was far different to anything they had done together before - a sense of gentleness toward the other. Accommodating each other. They both wanted this, he knew that, but still they treated each other with so much awe, so amazed were they to even get the chance to kiss. It was something he loved about them, something he hoped wouldn't end when the novelty of their relationship wore off.

"Let's go to mine," he whispered, buzzing with a sense of innate excitement. "I think it's closer."