#(dane voice) promise? promise? pinky promise ?

[hoofpeet]

Cultural barrier

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Silver Fox

Calum’s been a dad too long, all alone. But Anahera wants her dad to take the leap. 18+ Content, (it’s a smut fic)

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Anahera was not oblivious to the way people looked at her dad. She was however worried. Women had approached him, unabashedly, in front of her, about "going for coffee" or "meeting up for dinner". He always responded the same way, if she was present, with one arm slung over her shoulders, 'It's just me and my girl right now.' It's not that Anahera disliked hanging out with her dad. But she worried. Why did he always turn down these offers? She was nearly sixteen at his point. For the last sixteen years, it had just been him and his girl. He could stand to care for himself just a little.

This Saturday starts no different than the others. Calum wakes first, an hour after dawn. He starts a load of laundry, takes the dogs out for the morning. After watching the morning news, he messes around just a little with his bass and guitars and then finally decides he should cook breakfast. It's only the smell of sausage that wakes her and she shuffles down to the kitchen. She mumbles a good morning and happily accepts the plate loaded up with waffles and sausage.

Calum watches her shuffle back to the living room and plop onto the couch. One of the dogs, it's usually Tammy, the corgi mix that, climbs into her side on the couch and they watch cartoons. Calum walks in after her, settling into the cushions as well. "I gotta go to the library," Anahera mentions around a mouthful of waffle.

It's the second time this week. He knows there some sort of project for her literature class. "Should I hang out or just drop you off?"

"Just need to grab a book."

Calum nods, rubbing the top of Jake's head. He's a gentle giant and the eldest of the dogs. Anahera picked him out of the shelter. She was three, staring up at the big Great Dane with such adoration. Calum was terrified that he and Tammy wouldn't get along or Tammy would get hurt. But he was so gentle around Anahera that during the ride home with him, Calum figured he'd be the same way around other dogs.

With plates cleared, Anahera looks over to his father. His curls are now salted with some gray but are still mostly black. His smile lines have worn ever so slightly on his face. She sees her grandmother in his face. So much of her grandmother. "So, like, is dating completely off the table for you?"

Calum shakes his head, a sigh falling from his lips. "It's not your job to worry about me."

"I'm your kid. Of course, I worry about you."

"You don't have to worry."

"That doesn't answer my question, Dad."

It's not that Calum has actively given up on dating. He just hasn't actively tried to date anyone. It's hard. It's just been him and Anahera. It's just been him taking care of his kid. Her mother left. Some bullshit reason that it wasn't the baby that drove her away, she just needed time. But it's been a little over fourteen years since she's actually seen Anahera in person. So how much time she needed, Calum's not sure. "No one wants to date someone with a kid," Cal answers.

"So you've gone on dates?"

God, he really wishes she'd drop this. Dating is meaningless. No one ever sticks around. He's getting older and he's tired. His patience hardly exists for dating. He exhales, the sigh and pursed lips tell her not to push it. But she goes for it one last time. "I just want you happy. That's all."

"And do you think me unhappy right now?"

She's an idealist. She knows it. "No, but do you want to grow old with somebody?"

Calum wants to be truthful. He can see the hope burning behind her eyes, the way she consumes the rom-coms, the novels she reads. Calum wonders for a fleeting moment if she wants this. If Anahera so deeply desires him to find love, so there's not a hole missing. He knows Mali does what she can, but she's not her mother. "Do you miss your mum?" He's not really sure how to ask. He could try 'Do you wish you had your mum?' but that feels too direct and too cold-hearted.

On the one hand, how can she miss something she's never really had. But on the other, the ache, the hole left behind reminds her she can miss something she's never had. She can long for it. "I don't know if I miss her or just want someone to fill that void."

"I'm sorry," Calum whispers, pulling her into his side. Her curls tickle his nose, but he doesn't dare move as she clutches his shirt. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." He curses his cynical heart. No matter how many times he tells her that he loves her, it's never quite the same as having a mother.

His mother urged him to find somebody, scared that without a mother Anahera would be troubled. But she too was not blind to the pain Calum had endured, so over the years, she dropped the subject. The pair was generally happy, Anahera knew her father was always there. She knew no matter what happened, Calum would never falter.

Calum didn't want to leave Anahera without a mother, but did that mean he had subjected himself to suffering? What the hell did he do here?

___

Calum doesn't push the library or schoolwork. After breakfast, she went to her room. Her music started up and not her usually pop favorites. It's heavy guitar and scornful cries and he knew not to push it. As morning rolls into early afternoon, he decides to see if she wants lunch. The music has since quieted when he reaches her door. Two soft knocks are all he dares try.

"Yeah?" Her voice floats in from the other side of the white door. Paws clicking on the hardwood floors also sound from the other side. It must be Jake. Tammy already at his feet. He hears the creak of her bed. This reminds him to look into a new bed frame for her. He waits until the door opens.

He gives a soft smile, noting her change from pjs. She's done that much, so things are looking good. "Hungry?"

"A little." A little, code for yes, she just hasn't gotten hungry enough to the point where she storms out of room to find food.

"Your favorite?"

She grins with a nod. "I can go for a Killer stromboli right now. Can I drive?"

Calum resists the urge to roll his eyes. Her permit is almost burning a hole in her wallet. "Later. In an empty parking lot."

"Pinky swear?"

Locking his pinky around her, he nods. "Pinky swear." She slides into shoes close to her door and grabs her wallet.

The car ride is almost deafening in the silence. Anahera messes with her phone, not even attempting to overtake the radio as usual. "Sorry," she whispers. "You hurt too. After all, that's happened."

"You hurt too. And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to create a situation like this for you."

"You didn't know she'd leave."

"But I never want you to think that I am purposefully putting you here. Or that I'm ignoring your concerns. It's just...difficult."

Difficult is an understatement. Calum's terrified and angry and tired. He can trust no one. No one ever. It's not lost on Calum that he could have whatever or whomever he wanted. It's not lost on him that even if he didn't want a relationship that he could have other things, but he doesn't want to set that example for Anahera. So he chooses to not deal with that part at all.

Maybe that was a mistake. Maybe he should still give it a go. But to be so vulnerable, to bear his entire soul requires too much. It will force him to deal with things rather than just burying them. Ignoring, burial, denial—it's so much easier when he's got a kid, two dogs, and a job. There's no room for dealing with the mess of his emotions.

Finding a seat at the local Italian restaurant is not difficult, however. Tucked away in a both, Calum knows Anahera will not need anytime to debate what she wants. The hostess that seats them warns that their server will be shortly. It's a couple of minutes before their waitress arrives and when she does, Anahera gaps. "Miss Bee?"

"Hey, Anahera. How are you? How's the project coming along?" Calum looks over her face and it takes a moment for it to register. It's the librarian. The one Ana always talks to her if she's at the desk.

"Good."

"A long way from those bookshelves," Calum teases. He's talked to her a couple of times. Bee is nice. He had no clue however that she worked outside the library.

"Got a kid in college. Tuition ain't cheap," she returns. "What can I get you guys?"

Anahera lists off her order. But Calum is too caught up in her previous statement. He had no clue she had a kid. Much less one in college. There's nothing to suggest it. Not wrinkle on her brown skin or a gray hair on her head. He can't even tell she's had a kid, not physically at least under the gray t-shirt and jeans. He hadn't put her anywhere near his age. He wonders if she's older.

"Dad!" Anahera's voice cuts through his thoughts. "God, hello. Earth to Dad."'

"I'm here. I promise."

"So will you be having the same as her or something different?" Bee asks with a grin tugging at her lips.

Calum rattles off his order. It's his standard order, the chicken Parmesan. She smiles with a nod. "I'll put that right in for you." When she turns, Calum watches. Anahera's talked about going to school. It's not the money that worries Calum. It's the how does she choose, how to apply, where should she be looking that worries Calum.

"God, if you were going to check out her butt at least do it discreetly."

Calum sputters, he wasn't even thinking about that. But his gaze does drop for half a second before he finally turns back to his daughter. "I wasn't even—"

"Yeah you were," she laughs. He sees so much of himself in her. The same nose, same smile. Her hair's dark too. Just a little bit straighter than his.

"Totally was not."

Bee returns with their waters and utensils, alerting them that their orders are already put in and will be done shortly. Then she's off again, tending to other tables. Anahera snaps her fingers. "Forgot to ask her if they even have that book. But I doubt that she would know right now at least." And before Calum can respond, she's back to her phone, pulling up some new video that she wants to show him.

He sits and watches, but wonders if Bee could give him any pointers. So after a moment, he excuses himself to the restroom. He finds her leaning against the bar. Maybe now's got a good time. Maybe he should wait. She turns, smiling. "Something wrong?"

"No, no." Calum shakes his head. "I just—I had a question. Anahera's a couple of years out from university. And that world is completely lost on me. I was wondering if you had any pointers."

"Uh, that really relies on what she wants to do, ya know? But there's plenty of great schools. Besides, Anahera's a bright girl. She'll get in anywhere."

Calum can't help the smile that overtakes his face. He's proud of her. He might not have enjoyed school, but he can see her passion for it. The way she lights up when he asks about what she's learned if it's anything she enjoys. Currently, she's taken a big liking to her physics class. She enjoys Literature too, mostly reading it though, not analyzing it. "Thank you," he grins.

"Of course. You're welcome. If it helps, I'll gather up some literature on overall good schools. Hand it off to her or something."

His hands shake just a little and he's glad there's tucked into the pockets of his pants. It's the way she says or something. Calum knows that small smirk, he knows the glint in her eyes. He would be all over it in his twenties. Hell in his twenties, it would've have been this sly. "How about over coffee?" He suggests.

"Sounds good to me," she pauses, here is where she would have used his name. But she doesn't know it, she realizes.

"Calum."

She grins. "Sounds good to me, Calum. I'm Bee. Really it's Brynna. But I like Bee."

They agree on a day during the week at a local shop and Calum returns to the table. Anahera wiggles her eyebrows, a teasing laugh falling from her lips. "Still got your game?"

"Never lost it," he snorts. Lunch goes by smoothly and Anahera finds her book easily in the library. Thanks to Bee making a quick call so it's already at the desk for her.

Calum pulls into the school's parking lot. It's completely empty and hands the keys over Anahera. "Ready?"

With a dazzling grin, she takes the keys. "Born ready."

___

As Calum enters the shop, he peels the shades up, into his hair. His boots make a soft click on the floor. He searches the room, waiting to spot black hair with caramel-colored highlights. She's not sitting so he finds an open table, facing the door and settles down. Calum's really not sure what happened in that restaurant, what overtook him to suggest this.

But his nerves are at a 10. What the hell is he even doing here? But as Bee walks in, eyes flickering over the shop. He remembers. It's not that he didn't think she was attractive, but he was also preoccupied. It was always about what did he have to do next, where he needed to go if Anahera was okay.

When Bee walks up to the table, Calum stands, noting the folder in her hand. "Thank you. For doing this for me."

"Never a problem." The conversation has a natural flow. As they wait in line, Calum asks about her kid to find out they're a freshman at university. A son, Terence, plays basketball. So she works two jobs to help with the commuting she does to his games when she can. She used to work the weekday dinner shifts. But started taking on the weekend shifts here and there. The father's in the picture, only for the kid. The best-case scenario for the two of them.

Bee hums, listening as Calum skirts around the fact that Anahera's mother is not in the picture. "Don't talk too much about yourself," she notes, sipping at the green tea still steaming in her cup.

"Never know what to say. And really not used to it."

"Even with all those songs, you write?" He stutters, the cup hitting the saucer with a sharp clank.  Bee laughs, tucking a curl back behind her ear. "I'm a librarian. I do my research. I will say. I took a listen to some songs. Quite enjoy Talk Fast. Granted, haven't step foot into a bar in nearly twenty-some years now."

"What are you saying then? Kind of hoping forever?"

She shakes her head. "More like I'll take what I can get from you. Besides, I ruin all my relationships. The only one I didn't fuck up was the one with my kid by a fucking miracle. I'm too old to play games."

Calum can feel his cheeks lifting as he shakes his head, starting down into the coffee cup. His fingers spin it around. He's twenty again, it feels. Except instead of it being exciting, his heart feels like it's in his stomach. He recognizes the feeling of nerves. They've never gone away even in all his years of performing on stage.

It's not like she's gonna run around and destroy his name. They're in the same boat. "How far away from here are you?" Calum asks, finally lifting his gaze. His stomach guts as he asks the question.

"Literally a seven-minute walk."

He's impressed that she knows the time. "You're a librarian," he laughs. "Didn't think that included timing things."

"It's a complex job. You've got to be a person of many talents."

"So let's test those talents. If you know it's a seven-minute walk, do you happen to know how long of a drive?"

"I'd guess a minute, minute and a half."

Calum pulls his keys from his pocket, sitting them on the counter. She's grinning behind the cup of tea. "Is that including the time it takes to finish the coffee and walk to my truck?"

"It's not. But I'm in no rush if you aren't."

He doesn't want to rush this. But he's also afraid if he draws this out too much longer, he'll find some sort of reason to chicken out. He only has a few sips left. So he polishes off his drink, putting the dishes up and by the time he turns around, hanging from the tips of her fingers are his keys, holding them out to him.

"Didn't want you to forget."

Calum plucks the folder off the table as well. "Trust me, I wasn't." As they start for the door, Bee rattles off the directions and true to her calculations it only takes a minute and a half to her place. It's a small condo. "I know. What am I do lighting a check on fire by renting? I wonder the same thing," she laughs stepping out of the trunk.

"I mean it makes sense. Just you and your son."

"And the cat, Jewels."

"And the cat, Jewels," Calum corrects, standing behind her as she unlocks the door. "More of a dog person."

"I'm aware." As the lights turn up, Calum sees the dark wood and teal decorating her living room. There are some metal pieces thrown in as well, giving way to a rustic modern look.

"Anahera talks about them a lot doesn't she?"

Bee steps into him, eyeing his chest. He suddenly worries that he hasn't made it to the gym in a couple of weeks. Everything is so much harder to maintain now. It takes twice as long to lose weight, but nearly no time to gain it. She pulls at something on his shirt, holding out an orange-colored strand of fur to Calum. "That gave it away."

He laughs, looking over the gray t-shirt and seeing Tammy's fur coating him. "My corgi mix. She wasn't happy with me as I left, so I gave her extra cuddles. Guess I didn't think to double-check for fur."

"Much better than my morning routine. Jewels sat on my face and decided 5 am was a great time to screech to the cat gods."

It's only as the silence settles that they both realize just how close they are to each other. At this distance, Calum notices the moles decorating her nose and cheeks and Bee notes a small scruff on his jaw. Her eyes have a few spots around the white. It's a crazy thing to note, but he only notes it because she hasn't quite met his gaze.

Bee sees that tattoos decorating his wrist and left arm. With a soft touch, she turns it over to read the word Alive inked across the top of his wrist. His right-hand finds her cheek, fingers brushing over the skin before his palm cups it. "It's crazy to think we're still alive," she breathes. "You'd think we'd give up by now."

"Got too much to live for, more so now than ever."

"Such a poet," she teases. He's a good head taller than her, so it takes a moment as she stretches up to brush her lips over his. His lips are bitter and hers are sweet. Calum thinks for a moment he should've grabbed a mint from his car, something because he knows the taste of coffee must be strong.

He gets caught up though on the way her fingers gently trace up his arm. As she pulls back, he pulls her in. His skin feels hot, electric as she touches him. It's been so long. Too long without a touch like this for him. He finds her waist, a little doughy beneath his grip and slides his arm around her. Bee buckles, knees, and legs quaking when he squeezes her.

"Okay?" He asks with a soft smile on his face, eyes not fully opened from their kiss.

She should be embarrassed. She should be downright mortified by her own body's reaction to just being held. But she be damned if she finds any amount of shame in it. She can't remember her own name at the moment, but all she wants is to mark his skin. Rather than answers verbally, she winds her arms around his neck and kisses down his jaw, and then up and over the small moles decorating his cheek.

As she kisses down he throat, taking just a small lick at his Adam's apple, she feels the deep shake as Calum groans. It's deep from his throat. She wants to hear it again and bites down just a little, nothing crazy, just a tiny nibble at his skin and he groans again. "You like to tease I see," Calum huffs, breath coming out in tufts.

Holding her thumb and forefinger a few centimeters apart, she laughs. "Just a little bit." She takes a step backward and Calum follows closely behind.

Shoes are toed off. His shirt is shed first. She rakes his fingers down his chest, carefully tracing the tattoos on his chest. There's a tiny footprint that decorating the ends of a feather, or maybe some sort of plant. She's not sure. But she has a guess who's footprint it is. Close to his heart too.

Her kisses are light on his chest and Calum drops his head, holding himself above her. Bee knows he holds a lot inside him. A lot of love, but also a timid-ness and pain. She doesn't fault him.

Calum finally gets her shirt off, eyes dancing over the chest tattoo, reds, yellows, and purples dazzling against her skin. It's a bouquet of flowers, right in the center of her chest, some of the foliage spilling over to the swell of her breasts. He kisses over the ink, gently running his fingers over her stomach to the back of her bra. With his teeth, he pulls the straps down one at a time while his finger unlatches the clamps. "Never said you had ink too."

"Now tell me would it have made a difference?"

"Not in the slightest."

As the bra is discarded, he brings a nipple into his mouth, drinking in the sounds of her pleasure-filled whines. She hums before bringing his head up and kissing him again. They climb up higher onto the mattress. They wiggle themselves out of their jeans. Calum notices the stretch marks. More ink decorates her hip, he can see the black line work and two little footprints rest on top of right one.

"Guess I'm not the only one," Calum teases, tapping the tatted foot.

"No, it would appear not."

Bee watches him climb over her, the silver chains that tap his chest, the small streaks of gray decorating his black hair. His fingers dance over her hips before they brush over a thin tough line hidden by the band of her panties. Calum doesn't waste a moment to kiss down her stomach, over the tiny pouch left behind. As the thin cloth material is peeled away from her body, Bee wonders a moment if this is the end of the line, if the scar is too much.

Her stomach twists into knots, waiting for the pullback, the rushed and excused exit. Instead, Calum kisses over the scar and continues on fingers brushing over her core. But just a brush. "Who likes to tease now?" Bee huffs, holding herself up on her elbows.

"Still you," he laughs, squeezing at her thighs and trailing a finger up from the entrance to clit. Her head falls back and he takes his time, slipping two fingers into her heat. He kisses over her. Her fingers tangle into his hair, trying to urge him just an inch down on her.

He knows what she wants, but he takes her wrist, threading his fingers through hers and kisses down her inner thighs, slowly working her with those two fingers. She squeezes at his hand, that warmth in the pit of her stomach growing warmer. She mashes her lips together, whines falling over her throat anyway.

Finally, he brings his mouth to her core, sucking at her clit. "Fuck," she cries out. Her breathing is ragged. Calum wraps his arms around her legs, holding her still as she begins to squirm. There's a spark of pride to know he's still got it. That he hasn't lost his touch just yet.

He continues to work over her, sucking, licking, fingers a constant pull at her. She unravels rather quickly, thighs shaking just a little. But the cry of his name over her lips is more than just fuel to the fire. Calum kisses over her inner thighs, a groan falling over his lips. "God, my name sounds good from your lips."

Sitting up, Bee slides out from beneath him. Her chest falls rapidly. Her brain still feels foggy in the post-orgasm haze. But something about this—something about Calum, keeps her going. She pats the bed and Calum lays back, falling into space she once occupied. She slides a hand over his cock through the boxer briefs. "You know what will sound even better?" She quips.

"Tell me."

"My name from your lips." The end of the sentence is punctuated by her pulling down his own underwear. She wraps one hand around the base, licking a strip up to the head and sucking on it lightly.

Calum's whole body tenses, there's no hesitation on her part. Either. "Bee," he hums, reaching for her head. She moans, the vibrations shooting a tingle up his spine. She definitely knows what she's doing, working for another sound, working for another groan, another hum of her name.

She takes him as far as she can into her throat and holds it there, slowly twisting her hand that's wrapped around the rest. As she pulls back away from him there's a line of saliva from her mouth to his cock and the sight lights his gut on fire.

"Come here." His voice is low, demanding. All but a growl and Bee doesn't dare disobey. She keeps one hand on him, pumping as she stretches upwards and he cups her face. They share a searing kiss, exhales tickling over their faces, moans being swallowed.

The apartment was cool, a nice airy feel to it, but now the bedroom is thick with heat and sweat. Bee's a little shocked. She didn't think it would turn out like this. Didn't think she would be so hungry to please somebody. But even as they kiss, she wants him to be weak with pleasure. She wants him to cave to every carnal desire that plagues him.

Calum pulls her hand off him, kissing down her neck. "Thought you were too old to play games," he breathes into her ear.

"How dare?" The words fall with a tuft of laughter, but she pulls away, reaching into her bedside table. She finds a foil packet and opens it. "May I?"

"Be my guest."

Her touch is light as she rolls the latex down his length. Calum notes the snake tattoo on her left hip. The way her skin still glows and still has a rich warmth to the dark brown. The way her cheeks are still full, but the cheekbone and brow bone are strong. A small groan leaves him as she settles on his length.

They rest chest to chest as Bee rocks her hips. He kisses at her shoulder, arms wrapping around her waist. Soft sighs escape them. The room is nothing but an echo of their bodies. Her pace isn't slow, but methodical. She knows there's no rush. Calum leaves a reddening spot on her neck. He would apologize, but she works one onto his chest as well. So now they are even.

Bee feels that sting in her right hip, the pain of a tightening muscle and stills. A hiss leaving her lips. "Sorry. Just an old injury."

"No, no, don't apologize." An awkward shuffle ensues, Bee having to climb off and Calum kneeling next to her. He helps stretch out the muscle. "Our bodies aren't what they used to be. I get it," he utters in a soft tone.

"Let me guess. Football. And I'm not talking American either."

Calum nods. "Your guess would be correct."

"It's the slight accent you still have."

"Tell me more. Something else gave it away."

"Your physique. And it might've come up during my google search, but that's neither here nor there."

Calum releases a small laugh, palm still rubbing deep at her muscle. "So you're no psychic, just a good reader, huh?"

"What can I say? It's my job."

"You're very good at it from what I can see." Bee grabs his hands, mentioning for him to come down. He does so and she cups his face, kissing his soft lips. The kisses grow deeper, more desperate. Calum settles between her legs, thumbs caressing her right hip. "You okay now?"

She nods, lips brushing over his. "Yeah, I'm good." His necklaces are no longer cold, but as they brush over the valley between her breast, a shiver runs down her spine.

Calum is careful as he re-enters her, taking it slow. She holds onto his biceps and smiles, though a moan falls over her lips. Calum buries his face into her neck, hips a ready pace. "Feel like heaven," he whispers into the hickeys he's put there.

Bee can't help the giggle. "Never heard that one before." Calum huffs at her comment, the start of his own orgasm building. Grabbing the back of her thighs, he pushes her hips up just a little.

Her mouth falls open, a groan falling over her lips. "Shit, Calum."

"That's more like it." He leans back, thumb rubbing over her clit. One hand reaches out for him, holding onto his wrist, the other falls to the sheet, grabbing a tight fistful. Her second orgasm hits fast and she cries out, no real words in particular, just a deep guttural sound ripping over her throat. "Oh, what a beautiful sound," he encourages, still slowly circling her clit.

Her whole body shutters and Calum knows he's done for. He spills over into the condom. But bends over to kiss over the column of her throat. The haze is heavier this time. It takes longer to reconnect to her head but she manages to direct Calum to the bathroom before rolling over to her side.

Finished with his business, Calum opens the door and right on the other side is a black cat. Bright green eyes staring up at him. "Nice to meet you Jewels," he greets. She meows and then continues on to the bedroom. It sounds a little aggressive, but he takes it in stride.

She enters the room first and Calum finds his boxers, watching the cat jump onto the bed and then climbing onto Bee's shoulder. "Yes, Jewels?" Another meow. "Uh-huh. But you weren't rude were you? Did you at least say hi." Another meow. "Good," she coos, holding out her arms. The cat leaps back down to the bed.

Bee gapes. "I don't get a hug, nothing." She sighs as Jewels saunters out of the room. "I feed you, you know. Me."

Calum laughs as she walks to the bathroom next. "This is why I'm more a dog person."

Spinning around, she levels a finger at him. "She does love me. She's just acting out because there is a strange man in the house."

"Should've greeted her at the door, huh? How rude of me."

"Nah, she's a little skittish and probably hid. Which is why she hasn't made herself known until now." Once Bee exits, Jewels comes back standing at the door. Calum only notices after pulling the t-shirt back over his body. Nothing is said. But he does squat down, holding a hand. He wonders if she'll come closer.

She looks at his hand then back to his face before sticking her paw out. He chuckles and Bee walks up behind her. "Oh, she's sassing you. Gotta watch out."

"This is her house. So it's okay."

Bee picks her up and walks into the room kissing her head. "We talked about this. No sassing guests, Jewels. Do you need anything? Water?"

Calum stands, with a shake of his head. "Thank you though." Bee nods. He finishes getting dressed. It's not awkward when he heads out. Though something is different. She does hand him her number.

"Call me. Doesn't have to be for sex. Just whatever."

He smiles softly at her leaning forward and kissing her cheek. As he walks back to his call, stares down at the numbers. Just whatever, he thinks. Could be about anything. Inside the truck, he programs her number into his phone and sends a quick text with his name.

___

When Anahera climbs into the truck after school, she immediately launches herself into a spill about a fight that happened at school. It didn't get worse, but it did disturb the lunch schedule. Which wasn't fun and made her ten minutes late to a class. Calum listens, nodding along, paying attention to traffic. "Do you know why the fight started?" He asks.

"No, I heard it was over some girl. But then someone else said it might've been a drug thing. I'm not really sure."

"Drugs?"

"It was two seniors fighting. I figured one of them might've owed the other."

He's not too pleased to know that if it were a drug issue that she's so close to it. But Calum also knows that the in life she'll be exposed to things like that. That he can't protect her from everything. "Is there anything—," Calum starts.

Anahera rolls her eyes. "I can't. No Dad. I don't do drugs. I hate the smell of weed anyway."

He nods, it's not a pleasant smell. "I'm not asking to punish you. Just curious. Because if you did, I'd rather you be smart about where you're getting it from."

She laughs. "Making sure I do it legally."

"Well, yeah. Or at least with people you're safe around."

"I appreciate that. But sometimes I wonder why you don't freak out."

"If I panicked over everything, you'd never tell me anything. You're okay to tell me things. You should feel safe around me."

"I do. What I don't feel safe around is this Lit essay."

Calum laughs. "You've got it, sweetheart. You're smart."

"Can you read over it? I just feel like I have a bunch of word vomit on the page and it's not making any sense."

"Sure thing." As they pull into the driveway, Calum takes her backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. Anahera grabs her jacket and closes the door behind her. She watches a mark, dark on the small sliver of skin that's exposed due to the pull of her bag, but thinks nothing of it.

Calum looks over what he has in the fridge, trying to put together what to make for dinner while she prints off her essay. He knows he wasn't a good student, but he does what he can to help her out. Luke usually gets the math-related questions though those are rare. He takes the Lit stuff.

Calum lets the dogs out and Anahera comes back with her essay. It's only three pages right now and she brought the prompt along with her. He stands in the backyard, reading and pacing. Anahera watches him from the steps of the deck. She looks at that dark spot again and it's clear it's something new. Her eyes widen and she jumps up. "Is that a hickey?"

Calum looks down his heart racing. "What? No!"

Hooking her finger into the seam of the neck, she pulls it back. "That's totally a hickey and you have multiple!"

"How do you even know what a hickey is?" He counters. He feels like a teenager again, caught by their parent. This time he is the parent. "What a second? I'm the parent! Why does it matter?"

"Since when did you get a girlfriend?"

"She's—she's just a friend!"

"That's one heck of a friend, then." Truth be told, she's a little giddy. Maybe her dad's finally getting back out there into the dating world. It's one hell of a way to jump back into the pool. But who is she to judge that. "Do I know them?"

Calum turns back to the essay. He's trying not to give it away. He knows she'll figure it out. "Wait!" She exclaims. "It's not Miss Bee is it?" Calum can feel his cheeks growing hot. He stares harder at the paper in his hand. "Oh my god! Dad! I like Miss Bee! No!"

"She just helped me with some university stuff for you in the future."

"Dad, I'm not even done with my sophomore year. I still have like a year and a half left."

"I just wanted to be prepared, that's all. I didn't even graduate secondary. I have no clue what to do or where to be looking for you. I just asked her for some help."

"Oh and you got help alright, too," she mutters. When he lands a stern eyebrow raised at her she apologizes.

"Apology accepted. But no, she agreed to put together some information for me and we talked over coffee."

Anahera sees the small grin that overtakes his face. She holds her hands up in surrender. "If things go poorly, I just don't want her to hate me for it. I still need to get into university, Dad. Miss Bee is literally the only librarian that goes like out of her way to help us at the public library. She knows that place like the back of her hand and she has connections. I need her. Don't blow this, Dad."

"Oh, c'mon. Have a little faith in me."

"She's not even your girlfriend. You called her a friend. You're rusty!"

An incredulous tuft of laughter falls from him. "What do you know about being rusty? You haven't dated anyone that I'm aware of."

"Did you get her number? Please tell me you got at least that."

"As a matter of fact, she gave it to me."

"Did you text her? How long has it been?"

Okay, now he can admit he is rusty about that. After he left Bee's he went into the studio until it was time to Anahera from school. "Phone's inside," he says quietly. Ana screeches and runs inside. She finds his phone right where it usually is, right under the key rack. She looks over the notifications and sees Bee. The last message was at 10:42 AM. Oh my god, she chants to herself. They had to have met soon after she got on the bus.

She knows his passcode; he gave it in case of emergencies. He has her passcode too. Calum never goes through her phone. Doesn't even think to touch it in all honestly unless she's left it behind and only then does he grab it to pass it along. "Dad! It's nearly 4. Please text her back."

"What did she say?"

"I'm not reading your messages. What if I read something too impure for my virgin eyes? You'll have scarred your precious daughter for life."

Calum sighs, handing her the essay and taking his phone. He reads over the text message. "She just said she hoped my day goes well."

"Dude! You still have to reply. Say thanks at least."

"I know that."

"I'll leave you to that." Stepping inside, Jake right at her side. She watches through the back door as he types away at his screen.

"I can see you watching me," he calls through the glass. It's muffled, but still clear enough to make it out. Anahera bolts from the door to be room, laughing as she goes.

[lauwrite1225]

Broken Crown || Finan x OC || Chapter 13

Summary :  Since the day he has been enslaved, Finan never thought that he would have to face his origins. But when an old friend made her arrival to Wessex, the Irishman is forced to deal with his past.

Other chapters

English isn’t my first language, if you see any mistakes, tell me :)

Warning : fluff ??

13|| DANELAND 

Finan woke up at the feel of a hand shaking his shoulder. He snapped his eyes open, his own hand grabbing the one on him. Through the darkness, he distinguished Ailis’ features and he immediately let go of her wrist.

“Sorry.” He grumbled, his voice still sleepy.

“That’s alright.” She briefly smiled, standing up.

He passed a hand on his face, rubbing his eyes before leaving the furs. He was the last to take the watch tonight. He stared at Ailis while she was undoing the belt holding her sword and saex. They didn’t talk much since they left Navan Fort, and even less since Rohan joined them. He needed to talk to her and he didn’t know when would be the next they could be alone.

“You’ve been hard with him.” He said, gazing to Rohan to whom the fire’s light was drawing the shape.

Ailis look down to him, a certain anxiety revealed in her eyes. “I’m just trying to protect him.”

She dropped the belt next to the furs and Finan took the opportunity to stand just in front of her.

“Ailis, I know I haven’t been here, that I don’t know anything of him or what happened, but… He is almost a man. Let him be one.”

He was almost surprised by his own words. Seeing his eldest son here was the last thing he expected. He had known a little boy who barely knew how to speak, and now it was a young man almost as tall as him.

Ailis’s eyebrows furrowed and she narrowed her eyes. “No, indeed Finan, you know nothing of it.” Her voice was colder than he expected. “He wants to be a warrior. If I let him be one, Conall will make him kill because he’ll feel threatened by him.” She explained him, restraining herself to not speak to loud.

Finan look down, understanding her opinion but he couldn’t help but feel some sort of pride knowing his son wanted to be a warrior.

Ailis let herself drop on the furs, crossing her legs and burying her face in her palms. “Why does everything have to be so difficult?” She asked herself, exhausted by the past days and probably by the ones coming.

She was giving so much to peoples, to protect and help them, and never had anything in return. And even to him. She promised him to keep Conall to hurt him. The task was difficult but he knew she was doing her best.

And as he watched her run a hand in her hair, exhaustion deepening her features, he knew he had something to give her back. It was a feeling uncertain and blur until the banquet. Until she pressed her lips against his.  

“We didn’t talk of the banquet.” He finally said.

For a moment, he thought silence would carry his words away, but Ailis looked up to him. “Do we have to?” She sighed.

Finan sat down and reached for her hand. His thumb ran along her skin, feeling little scars left by battles. His hands too were a jumble of white and pinky lines. He could feel Ailis’ gaze on the one going around his wrist, one of the many that would eternally remind him of his days into slavery. Her fingers slid along it, her touch feeling like a burn and a tickle.

And as he studied every inch of her delicate face, he felt like they were back in the corridor, his heart racing in his chest in an unexpected way. He knew it, that feeling. He felt it before, more than once to be true, but never that strong. Words were still hard to put on it, but he knew actions could tell a thousand words.

So, he pulled her into a kiss and maybe she expected it because she immediately responded. Her hand left Finan’s one to put it on his thigh so she could lean further toward him. He hummed when her lips were pressed even more against his. His own fingers reached for her shoulder and slowly they slid to her neck. He felt the bad scar close to her jugular. He caressed it with his thumb but she immediately froze, her fingers tensed, squeezing his thigh. She pulled away from him, and as he met her eyes, he could read the deep sadness hide behind them. She pressed her hand on her neck, covering the scar. She was still close enough for him to hear her trembling breath.

“Ailis…” He whispered, tilting his head, searching what he did wrong.

She shook her head before lifting it. “It was stupid of me Finan, I can’t keep you here. You have to leave.”

Finan frowned. “What if you leave?” He asked, the solution seeming so simple to him. But it wasn’t for Ailis, and he understood it the moment her face became cold.

“I can’t.”

…

 The morning light was passing through the leaves as they prepared to leave once more. Finan was crouched near a stream, filling his flask with the clear water. His mind was troubled by what happened with Ailis during the night. Somehow, he was angry, because he knew she wanted the same thing as him. But her loyalty to his bastard brother was keeping her from letting go.

But he didn’t overthink longer, the feeling of being watched growing in his mind. He looked above his shoulder and distinguished the silhouette of Rohan. Even after being caught, he didn’t move, so Finan stood up and turned on his heel. It still was hard to believe how he had grown. He was far from looking like a warrior, nor a monk. He was thin, his tunic quite too large for him. Some of his hair was falling on his forehead, almost reaching his eyebrows. Only his green eyes hadn’t changed, they were the same as Dealla, maybe a little lighter, and he remembered his fascination for them when he could still hold him in his hands.

“If you have a question, ask.” Finan broke the silence, noticing the hesitant look of Rohan.

Rohan looked briefly around him, as if Finan could have talked to someone else, but they were only the two of them. “Is it true?” He began. “That you were saved by Ragnar Ragnarsson.”

The Irishman sighed. Of course, now, it was spreading in the whole city. “Yes, it is.”

“But you were enemies.” He retorted, his face twisted by incomprehension.

“He wasn’t here for me, but for Uhtred, his brother.” Finan explained, clogging his flask.

When he lifted his head, Rohan seemed glad to hear that, slightly nodding.

“Ailis says that I have your smile.” He said, visibly not knowing how to continue their conversation.

“I’m not sure you want it.” Finan grimaced. He stepped to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He leaned towards his ear before adding. “It means the devil smiles through you.”

Rohan twisted his neck to look at his father, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes opened wide. Finan chuckled and patted his shoulder before walking to the camp.  He heard the young man ran quickly the few steps separating them.

“You know, I am not the most pious of monks. In fact, I am far from it. Bran, he is quite one. Or maybe he is just less stubborn than me…” He blathered, losing himself in his words. Finan stopped near his horse, scratching its ear as he listened to Rohan. But the boy suddenly stopped his monolog with an embarrassed expression. “Hum… I’m sorry. I talk a lot.”

“You do.” Finan confirmed, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows.

“It’s just… I have never been so far from Navan Fort, nor the monastery.” Rohan explained, his hand nervously sliding in the back of his neck. “And it’s also the first time I meet my father again.” He added, stifling a laugh.

“That’s alright, lad. Last time I saw you, you were barely speaking. You have some time to catch up.” Finan joked.

Rohan laughed and Finan felt Ailis’ gaze from afar, the woman readying herself too. The smile disappeared from his face as he watched her turn away from his sight. He held back a sigh and stepped towards Rohan instead.

“Prepare yourself, we are leaving soon.”

…

 Few days passed since Rohan joined the group warriors and he grew to love their company. They always had a story to tell, or a joke to light the mood. He learned a little of each of them, and he found himself quite appreciating Osferth. The blond man told him one night of his childhood in monastery and how he decided to follow Uhtred. Their similar story made him almost immediately feel close to the former monk.

Uhtred and Sihtric on the other hand were the first Danes he ever met. He learned little of the younger, he wasn’t talkative and most of the time it was to joke with his father or plan the watch for the night.

He didn’t talk much with his father directly. In fact, each time he had been alone with him, he didn’t find a lot to say. Rohan had been living most of his life in a monastery, and the rest of it he was spending it in an alehouse where he was drinking, joking and humping. He found far more interesting to listen the four friends sharing their adventures through the years.

“What will happen when we’ll arrive?” Rohan asked, gazing at the horizon to perceive the Danish camp.

They crossed into Dane land the day before and since then, the warriors had been more than alert. They knew they were certainly watched, so they remained careful on their conversation and silence had been reigning since the morning.

“They’ll probably sacrifice the youngest.” Osferth answered with a smirk as the three other men laugh.

Rohan glared at Ailis with wide eyes, but the woman just shrugged, an amused smile threatening to spread on her lips. The monk sighed, and concentrated himself back on the road.

They reached Annagassan in the afternoon and were welcomed by Danes depriving them from their weapons and escorting them to Thorvard. Earlier, Ailis had warned him to not catch the attention, but even if he tried his best to make himself the smaller possible, Danes’ eyes were on him anyway. And he would be lying if he’d say they weren’t frightening him. But at least, he soon enough noticed that they were staring at all of them.

They finally arrived in a big hall in the middle of the city. As they entered, a huge man was waiting for them, sitting lazily in a chair. Rohan swallowed, of all the Danes he saw that day, he probably was the most terrifying. He had an impressive beard, ornamented with bones and small braids. His hair, brown and thick was giving him an unkind expression, increased by the tattoo covering one half of his face. Instinctively, Rohan’s fingers grazed on the cross under his tunic.

In the other hand, Ailis did not seem afraid. She stepped forward, Uhtred by her side, and the Dane, whom Rohan supposed to be Thorvard, sat correctly in his chair. One of the Danes escorting them joined him and the monk noticed how similar they looked even if he was younger.

“Shieldmaiden.” Thorvard welcomed her, opening his arms. “I’ve been wondering when I’d finally meet you out of the battlefield. And the gods answered me.” He smiled but A  ilis didn’t show any sign of fear, even when he stood and stopped just few inches from her. “What’s your pretty name, Shieldmaiden?”

“I am the Lady Ailis.” She answered, her words as cold as the ice.

“Ailis.” Thorvard repeated, appreciating each syllables of her name. “And who are your friends?” He asked as he stepped back, now starring to Uhtred.

“It’s Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg.” Ailis presented him.

“Uhtred Ragnarsson or the Dane Slayer, right? You have a lot of names, it’s hard to remember them all.”

“Funny, I didn’t even know yours before the last full moon.” Uhtred grinned and Thorvard unexpectedly laughed.

“What are you here for?” He demanded, his laugh fading to let a seriousness grew on his face.

“We are here to settle a peace.” Ailis declared.

“Already? I thought you had more to show.” He smirked. Rohan thought about what his father told him a few days earlier, and he swore, this smirk was the devil’s one.

“We want to negotiate.” Ailis ignored his teasing. “You can keep the South and in return, no more attacks.”

Thorvard narrowed his eyes, his hands holding the belt around his waist. “If you are weak, what could prevent us to attack you anyway?”

“Ulaid and Wessex or now allies.” Uhtred replied. “If you refuse the peace, Wessex will attack you. And Sigtryggr won’t come to your rescue, because he has a pact with Wessex.”

“We don’t fear the boy King.” Snapped the younger Dane, his lips drawn back as a mad dog. But Thorvard stopped him to step more forward, his hand on his chest. He glared at him, reproving.

“Excuse my son’s rudeness.” He said, not letting his gaze leave his son.

Now Rohan could understand their similarities. Thorvard’s son was as tall as his father and the same muscular body. But no beard was surrounding his jaw, giving a look less frightening than Thorvard.

The Dane’s hand fell back on his side and he turned again to the group of warriors.

“I have to think.” He declared, his fingers scratching his beard. “For now, you are my guests.” He grinned, all his teeth showing.

A/N: Hehehe have you seen ? I am posting almost regularly lol. I hope you appreciated the little reference to Osferth first meeting with danes lmaooo Also, the other day I listened to Rewrite the Stars by Zac Efron and Zendaya, and I proclaim this song as Finan and Ailis song ! (problem : now I imagine Finan singing each time I listen to it D: Anyway ! I hope you liked the chapter <3

Tag: @geekandbooknerd​​​​ @sihtric​​​​ @queen-manning​​​​ @naihqh​​​​ @kelly-fasel​​​​ @cloudjuumpers​​​​ @limenal​​​​ @amyyreblogss​​​​​ @othermoony​​​ @obipoelover​ and @queerbroceliande​

[inthequeeryetgood]

workaholism

Future one-shot; established Chrave relationship.

Chelsea x Raven

1300ish words, rated K (for kissing)

Chelsea was a sucker. She knew that. She’d known since she was a kid. But there’d never really been anything she could do about it, especially when it came to a certain person with the big, brown eyes and the pouting lips that were currently pleading with her mercilessly.

The glowing green numbers on Chelsea’s watch glared at her with an angry, tired announcement of the time: 3:04 AM. She should’ve been asleep, she knew, but she was self-aware enough to admit that she could no longer sleep without a certain person by her side. A certain person named Raven. And that certain person named Raven was, unsurprisingly, not curled up behind her in bed. Hadn’t been all night, even though she promised, even pinky promised, that she wouldn’t be up past eleven. She was out there in the living room, working on a tuxedo for a Great Dane that she had technically finished the day before, but brought home that night to put on the finishing touches before presenting it to the client the next day… Well, that day, at this point. In just under six hours, actually.

3:06 AM.

Chelsea tossed the covers aside, sat up, and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet meeting the cold hardwood. The kids were long asleep and the apartment was silent except for the ambient hum of the sewing machine that had been moved from their bedroom to the living room (in the Special and Proper way that could only be accomplished by Raven herself and not with help from anyone else).

The bedroom door squeaked, her feet slapped softly against the apartment floors, but still, the whirring continued in its constant cycle, uninterrupted.

She stopped in the liminal space between the bedroom hallway and the living room, just to observe. She’d always loved watching Raven work. When they were just teenagers, Chelsea would sit on the bed in Raven’s room for hours, just watching and listening to the soothing click-click-click of the machine’s needle that filled the inevitable pauses in their gossip sessions as Raven finished her latest creation. She was never allowed to stay until the very end, though. It was always a surprise, only to be revealed the next day in the school hallway.

And after Booker and Nia had been born, Chelsea would sometimes come by to watch the babies and give the young mother a break from her newest, most exhausting job yet. But even after Chelsea arrived to relieve her, told her to lay down and take a nap, Raven would sit down at the sewing machine she’d set up in the corner of the small studio apartment she and Devon rented on his meager weatherman-in-training salary, and within the evening one of the twins would have a new pastel onesie (with a little somethin’ somethin’ extra, of course) for their burgeoning wardrobes. When the babies weren’t crying or vying for her attention, Chelsea would steal glances from across the room, always amazed to see Raven so at peace.

And so, there she was again, as she found herself doing so often anymore, watching Raven with complete and utter fascination. She watched as Raven tucked her hair behind her ear in a failing attempt to keep it from falling in her face, her hands shifting back seamlessly into working with the delicate fabrics on the machine with the power and control of a master seamstress. She listened as Raven mumbled corrections to herself, occasionally laughing at her own silly jokes. But through all of that, that night, at least, Chelsea could see that Raven was tired. Her movements weren’t as sharp, her mumbles not as clear, and the yawns that she was trying so hard to fight back were gradually making their way to the surface. It was time to step in.

Raven still didn’t look up, too fully immersed in her design, as Chelsea walked up beside her. Only when she sat down beside her, gently so she wouldn’t disturb the design, did Raven pause.

“Hey,” she greeted gently, her voice gravelly with the want of sleep. “I’m almost done, I’ll be in in a minute.”

“You said you’d come in by eleven,” Chelsea whispered, moving closer, their thighs resting against each other, warm and comforting.

Raven nodded, preparing to start her next stitch. “I know I did, and I will.”

“Rae, honey,” Chelsea leaned forward, covering Raven’s hand with her own. “It’s past three.”

“What?” Raven looked around wildly, searching for a clock. When she finally found one and confirmed what Chelsea had already said was true, she looked up in despair. “But I’m not finished. I’m almost done.”

“I know.” Chelsea wrapped her right arm around Raven, tugging her closely into her side, planting a kiss in her hairline. “You can finish in the morning.”

“Chels, I have to finish this tonight. I’m presenting it to the client tomorrow and it needs to be perfect.”

“It will be.” Her grip tightened, a silent promise, and she grazed another kiss to Raven’s temple. “But you need to come to bed, okay? You’re tired, baby.”

“Five more minutes, please?”

Chelsea was a sucker. She knew that. She’d known since she was a kid. But there’d never really been anything she could do about it, especially when it came to a certain person with the big, brown eyes and the pouting lips that were currently pleading with her mercilessly.

She gave in.

“Five minutes, but no more, okay? Or I’ll come back out here and drag your butt to bed with me.”

And for a moment, Raven appeared wide awake, with a twinkle in her eye to prove it. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

Chelsea gave Raven’s thigh a light smack, but her grin gave up her tough facade. “It’s both. Five minutes.”

Chelsea stood, but Raven grabbed her by the hand before she could walk away. She kissed Chelsea’s hand, her palm, the inside of her arm, that little spot where her bone juts out of her wrist, her knuckles, her—

“Four minutes and thirty seconds.”

Raven glared but swatted Chelsea away on her behind with a smirk. “Girl, get outta here.”

As Chelsea walked back toward the bedroom, she could hear the sewing machine whirring back to life.

—————

It was 3:12 AM when she got back to bed alone, and she was still alone at 3:16. She was about to get up again, this time a bit less filled with admiration and a bit more with annoyance, when she heard the door creak open. Her tensed muscles relaxed immediately.

She heard Raven shuffling in the closet they shared (which was still mostly filled with Raven’s clothes because, even though Chelsea had thought she’d had a lot of clothes, her wardrobe was nothing compared to her partner’s), clothes being tossed about in the dark, some light humming to a tune Chelsea thought she recognized from their high school days. But moments later, the bed dipped, a warm body snuggled up beside her own, and a nose nuzzled in that place between her jaw and her neck.

“I’m sorry I lost track of time,” Raven whispered, barely audible despite the now pure silence that had descended upon the apartment.

Chelsea turned herself over, brought a hand up to rest against Raven’s cheek. “It’s okay.”

“I just want it to be perfect.”

Chelsea nudged Raven’s hip, urging her to turn over to her other side, snuggling up behind her as she did so. “And I love that you care so much. But I also want to make sure you take care of yourself.”

Raven twisted her upper body so that they were face to face, yet again. Without either moving more than an inch, their lips met in a kiss, short and sweet, but more than enough to convey their next words, which didn’t need to be spoken at all but were, anyway.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”