#and if you say just knee-jerk 'log in whenever you asked to' please remember that's often how you get hacked

[xcziel]

Ok but THIS is the problem:

1) i came to this post from a banner on my dash EXCEPT that when i went to reblog it - i couldn't without 'logging in' ... because i was in my browser! WHY would i need to 'log in' to reblog a post that i navigated to from inside of the tumblr app that i am currently logged-into and USING?

2) i never heard tell of the Supporter Badge before yesterday?? is there a big rebloggable supporter badge post i am missing (bc going in the tags is a minefield of pornbots)? if you think i am regularly clicking on the main shop button just to see what's new, that's delusional

(i click on the edit button ON MY BLOG to look at my badges/gift stuff/etc - please at least add a link there for heck's sake)

you've probably have gotten this question a million times, but -- what about fundraising in the style of ao3 or even wikipedia? for all the thousands of fourteen year olds running around who don't understand how much it costs to run a website, there's another thousand of adults whom would love to keep using this site forever. it may not be a more-profits-every-quarter kind of situation, but then again, one is allowed to dream beyond the current silicon valley web 2.0 profit driven hellscape

That was the idea behind the Tumblr Supporter badge, a way for people who appreciate the site can chip in towards keeping it going. It hasn't been as successful as we hoped, only about 2,300 subscribers so far (out of 11.5M monthly active users) but over time maybe it could compound to be what drives the site.

[babbushka]

Two’s Company (Ch 5 Sneak Peek)

Pale (Burn This) x Reader

3k ; Warnings: NSFW

It’s mesmerizing, seeing him like this. You’d seen him in all kinds of ways – seen him at home, seen him in the concert halls, seen him preforming. But you ain’t never seen him like this.  

It’s somethin’, watching Pale work. You knew he worked hard of course, everyone knew that, everyone who took one look at him knew that. But you’d never actually seen him work, never seen him in the full swing of things like this, not like this. He was stormin’ all over the fucking place, not even realizing that he’s storming, you didn’t think. He just had that presence to him, that aura about him – that don’t fuck with me or I’ll break your legs kind of vibe.

You almost spilled your coffee a coupla’ times because of it.

Well maybe you almost spilled your coffee a coupla’ time’s because of the way he had taken off his fancy silk shirt and suit jacket, revealing a black tank top underneath that showed off his arms so nice and good that you wanted to reach through the order window and give his biceps a squeeze.

You’d seen him in the kitchen before of course, he cooked all the fuckin’ time for you at home, but this was different. Here it was like his need to show off was multiplied ten times, and damn, did he. Smoking cigarette after cigarette through the breakfast rush, workin’ hard as he could to get all the orders just right, just perfect.

You knew he knew he wasn’t no Fish, not really, and when Fish came back to work tomorrow you were sure there’d be folks who’d be thrilled – because let’s face it, even Pale’s best just wasn’t what some of these regulars were used to but damn, his best was pretty good.

It was almost surreal, walkin’ up to the order window and seein’ your man on the other side. He’d only be in the kitchen for breakfast and you knew that, knew he’d be going back to the office once the rush was over and the cook could take full control of the kitchen again. But for now, you and a couple of the other waitresses walked up to the counter when he dinged the little bell, and it put a real big smile on your face to see Pale there.

“Alright I gotta Adam and Eve on a log for table ten and an Adam and Eve on a wrecked raft for table seven and don’t you dare fuckin’ mix ‘em up.” He snapped at the kid, Jess, who worked the morning shifts with you sometimes if she didn’t have any college classes in the morning.

Jess only rolled her eyes and grabbed the plates, careful not to mix them up, and you occupied the little space that she had freed up to pass a new order ticket to Pale. It was for one of the truck drivers who came in all the time, he only ever ate a huge breakfast in the morning, and then a big dinner real late at night, so it had to be done the right way, and you tell Pale as much.

“Hi honey, got a bean buster over at booth eleven and he’s real particular about how he likes his steak so please just, for the love of god make sure it’s rare?” You said soft enough that the trucker couldn’t hear you, not that he really would even if you shouted it out, just because of how packed the place was and all the clinking clanking clanging of everyone eating and enjoying their food.

“Black and blue comin’ up – hey,” Pale said, reaching through the window and grabbing your wrist when you slide him the ticket, pulling you a little closer and suckin’ down some nicotine as he asked, “Gimmie a kiss?”

You laugh and pluck the cigarette out from between his teeth before giving him a quick smack of your lips on his. He watched you walk away until you were officially out of his line of sight, back behind the milkshake bar makin’ egg creams.

Pale’s massive, you think. Absolutely fuckin’ huge, but there’s a sort of bull-in-the-china-shop kind of grace about it. He spent most of his time in the mornin’ doing the breakfast rush alongside the cook, the guy that worked the night shifts and who also got brought in when Fish wasn’t feelin’ too hot. You almost wanted to feel sorry for Pale, because breakfast rush was some fuckin’ nightmare sometimes, but he handled it with as much ease as Fish did, and you were impressed.

Like when some random guy – not a regular or at least not one you recognized – was yelling at that poor college kid Jess, for something that ain’t even her fault. You heard the commotion seemingly right as it happened, but so did Pale. He must have, because he was approachin’ the table cool as a cucumber, his silk shirt back on and tucked into his pleated trousers, big suit jacket makin’ his broad shoulders look even more broad.

You were almost worried that he’d start yellin’ right away, that he’d get into a fight or some shit like that. Not anything mean by it, but you knew your man, you knew your Pale. He was a hot headed kinda guy when it came to some shit, and you were fully prepared to step in if necessary.

So he surprised and impressed you when he was nothin’ but calm.

“There a problem over here?” He asked, hands on his hips just in that way that men in charge liked to stand.

And boy, was your man a man in charge.

The guy takes one look at Pale, and it’s like he can see his whole fucking life flash before his eyes. He immediately regrets raising his voice at Jess, immediately regrets causing a scene at all, and Pale gives him good reason to. He could so easily pick the guy up and physically throw him out of the diner, could snap him in two if he wanted.

You have to bite your lip at the thought, and Pale caught that look of yours from the corner of his eye, smirked a little to himself, too smug about how wet he makes you. But fuck, you’re wet, and it’s all you can do to just stand there and pour some coffee and force yourself not to whine to be fucked.

“I’m sorry I hate to complain, I really do, but there ain’t no salt on these hashbrowns, and there ain’t no salt in my shaker, I think somebody forgot to fill ‘em up or somethin’?” The guy says eventually, when he realizes that there ain’t no winning a fight against Pale, and Pale picks up the little salt shaker that’s definitely not empty, inspects it for a minute.

“Here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna have ‘em remake the whole fuckin’ thing for ya, okay? No charge no nothin’, and I’m gonna see what’s goin’ on about this here salt shit. But don’t you ever fuckin’ yell at one of the these girls again, you got that? I catch you yellin’ at any of them and I’ll serve you shit from the dumpster outside – you got that?” He stared the guy down, who gulped and nodded. “My girl (Y/N) will take real good care of ya, won’t you honey?”

Pale looked at you, beckoned you over. You went easily, and he handed you the little salt shaker that’s just about half full, the top only a little clogged.

But while he had you within reach, he pulled you a little closer, and a little closer still – and even a little closer still, until he had a handful of your ass and was kneading it in his big hand right there in front of everyone. Not that anyone was really paying attention.

“You bet, I’m real sorry we ain’t ever outta salt, here’s a new one I’ll go refill this myself.” You said breathlessly, chewing the inside of your cheek and pressing your thighs together from the feeling of Pale’s hand on your body, you’re barely able to ask, “Can I get you anything while you wait?”

“Nah that’s okay, thank you really – wait can I have some coffee?” The guy, who clearly sees what’s going on, ducked his head in embarrassment for making a scene about some shit that ain’t even that big of a deal.

You poured him some coffee, and then went in the back storage room, to “fill up the salt.”

It took maybe two seconds, before Pale was comin’ in up behind you.

The storage room was small, not much to really store, when so much of the produce and meats and shit came from local suppliers around the town. Fish was real big on that, and it was something Pale appreciated the fuck outta him for – quality ingredients from local places.

But Fish wasn’t there today, and you took the opportunity of Pale’s managerial position to bend yourself over one of the big storage boxes and hike up your uniform skirt without even so much as a second glance.

“God damn you’re sexy when you work, you know that? I tell you that enough? I should, fuck remember back in the day when I would come and sit here and jerk off to you pourin’ that coffee? Fuck.” Pale’s already undoing the belt buckle of his trousers, already yanking his shirt out from where it was tucked in real nice.

“I didn’t know you jerked off!” You gasped when you felt the cool air of the storage room hit your bare ass, as Pale slid your panties down your legs to hang around your knees.

He kicked your feet apart with those fancy fuckin’ boots of his, freed his cock and rubbed the head of it through your folds which were dripping from a mix of his old come from earlier in the morning, and your fresh slick from watching him be so fucking hot.

“Of course I did, and now look, now look at the two of us, jerkin’ off together.” He slid his cock through your pussy some more before finally nudging his cock properly inside you, filling that aching emptiness that had been making you weak all morning.

“Pale it ain’t jerkin’ off if we’re together.” You couldn’t help but laugh a little, until your laughs dissolved into moans from the way he rolled his hips flush against your ass, pressed you down a little further onto the storage boxes.

“Bullshit, your pussy’s jerkin’ me off – it counts.” He grunted groaned growled in your ear as he draped himself over your back, hands bruising on your hips.

“C’mon fuck me, we gotta be fast there’s people out there waitin’ for us and shit.” You swallowed down all the drool that kept threatening to slide out of your mouth, and Pale only grunted some more as he sped his hips up, built a pace that was brutal, skin slapping hard against skin.

“They can keep waiting, god you’re so fuckin’ good, this pussy’s so good.” He breathed, “All for me, my fuckin’ cunt to have whenever I want it, you like that? You like gettin’ fucked at work like this? Maybe I should come run the place more often, let Fish’s nephew take over the one in the city more often, come and fuck you here in this little room more often.”

Your eyes rolled back into your head and your toes curled in your pretty new heels as your pussy got pounded, the thick squelch of it music to your ears. His cock was so firm inside you, so fuckin’ hard, rock hard, and it speared into you searching for your gspot. You knew he liked to milk your pleasure for as long as he could, but the two of yous really didn’t have the time to spare – so when he found it he dropped a hand to your clit and rolled that at the same time as he thrusted against your walls.

“Pale – yes honey – oh fuck yes, yes please – faster,” You gasped, your eyes flying open and your thighs shaking shaking shaking as he fit inside you so perfectly.

“Shh, shh sweetheart be good for me, be a good girl and suck.” He shoved his free hand into your mouth, gags you on his fingers while he rams into you hard and dirty, shaking the walls of the storage room and threatening to knock down the boxes and bins from the force of his thrusts.

You came together, the both of you cursing low and long as your bodies shook together, his cock still thrusting in and out of you just because he could, because he had to. But this was only a quickie, only a little stolen moment in the storage room, and when he pulls out of your cunt he stuffs those slicked up fingers back inside you, pushes all his come that starts to leak out right back into your pretty pussy, slides your panties back into place and watched hungrily as the fabric began to darken.

“Back to work.” You sighed dreamily, making him just chuckle and smack your ass a little.

And it was, back to work. Back to him showin’ off and impressing you.

 It wasn’t just you who he impressed, neither. All the regulars at one point or another pulled you aside gently, like one of them, a nice elderly lady with blue hair and huge rimmed glasses, was doin’ now.

“(Y/N) sweetheart who is that man?” Her deep voice is like velvet as she holds out her mug of coffee kindly.

Stevie had been coming to the diner way before you were born, you’re sure of it. But ever since your first day, she had always been there to support you and be patient with you while you were learning the ropes. Not many people gave you that kinda kindness out there in a dog eat dog world, but Stevie came from the life of showgirls and pageants and drag queens, and she knew how far a little kindness could go when you were new at somethin’.

She didn’t do much preforming anymore, content instead to be surrounded by handsome men and live a life of quiet luxury, but still she came into the diner for a cup of coffee and to do the daily New York Times crossword on the newspaper Fish never finished.

“Which, the guy doin’ the shoutin’, or the guy gettin’ shouted at?” You teased, filling the mug up with enough room for her to daintily pour in however much cream and sugar she’s feeling in the mood for that morning.

“Shoutin’, the big guy, the one in the tank top.” She appraised the big guy from over the rim of her mug, and you grinned, your heart filling with pride.

“That’s my Pale.” You said happily, watching him bitch and shout at someone for fucking something up. You didn’t know what it was, you hadn’t really been paying attention, still too high on your own bliss from his cock.

“He new around here?” Stevie asked and you waved the idea away.

“Nah, he manages the diner in the city, the one we just opened up ‘bout a year ago or so.” You explained, making her eyebrows raise over her glasses.

“No kidding! Well next time I make a run into town I’ll be sure to stop by.” She winked, and you grinned, shook your head at her unashamed attitude. You loved and respected that about her, how someone of her age was still going strong, still getting laid.

“He’s so handsome, ain’t he?” You found yourself sighing, watching him get red-faced from shoutin’ and strikin’ up a cigarette, angrily suckin’ it down.

What a guy, you couldn’t help but think.

“Yeah, he really is. You’re a very lucky lady, (Y/N), he reminds me of the nice young men I used to meet down at Fire Island.” Stevie poured the sugar and cream into her coffee with a wistful sort of smile, making you frown the smallest bit.

“What do you mean ‘used to’, Stevie I know you’re still down there gettin’ your kicks, ain’t ya?” You asked, hoping that everything was alright.

“Oh believe me, I try.” She scoffed, “But you know how it is these days, what with…the whole thing that’s goin’ on.”

You think of Robbie, think of so many others, who would end up the same way. Your heart breaks to think of Stevie ending that way too.

“Yeah.” You say softly, with understanding, with empathy. You know, and it weighs heavy on your heart, but you put on a smile anyway, not wanting to get yourself upset, not now.

“Scary times we live in. I’m just grateful to wake up and see the sun shine another day, frankly.” Stevie brightened the mood back up, and you’re grateful for it.

“I’m grateful you do wake up, and I’m grateful you come here, and every day when you do, I’ll be here to serve you coffee, okay?” You winked, topped off the mug when she took a sip.

Just then, the little bell on the front door chimed, and you don’t bother to look over your shoulder just yet to see who it is. The breakfast rush had begun to die down, so you knew there would be a table or two open for whoever it was, depending on how many people they brought with them – and anyway you were with someone.

“Just a second!” You called out, just to make sure they didn’t feel ignored or neglected.

“Do I seat myself or what?” The woman at the door asked, and your blood ran cold, because you recognized that voice.

After just one meeting with the bitch, you recognized her voice.

Slowly, you schooled your face into a neutral expression, and turned to face her – Barbie.

                                                    ---------------------

Full chapter coming tomorrow!!! Tagging some Pale loving pals! 

@fullofbees @dreamboatdriver @thecurlycaptain @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd  @glitzescape @adamsnacc-kler @kyloxfem @fallin-for-youreyes  @attorneyl @jedihbic @bens-rose @formerly-anonhamster @thepilotanon @hippieface @tinyplanet-explorers @satansstrawberry @oberynmartell @whiskey-bumblebee @helloimindelaware  @ah-callie @proxyfoxy @theold-ultraviolence @ktellmeastory @emily-strange @anongirl007 @zimmerxman​ @okk--maaan​ @autumnlovesadam​ @solotriplets​ @flapjacques​ @hidingp​ @goodboybensolo​ @dearestalladay @the-marvelatic​ @miasera​ @kylo-ben-ren-solo​ @hazydespair​

[prairiesongserial]

Windfield Pass 11

The whole long march back to the mountains, Owl was silent.  She was never silent this long, but she had been conscious, and thinking, and feeling, like any other creature, when the mayor leveled the knife at her head.  She had swung the broom over the table, dropping dust and porcelain shards over the pristine tablecloth, but an empty threat was all she could make.  Agnes wished she could have beaten the mayor over the head with the broom, and made a violent end of it.  But that was not within her power any more than it was in Owl’s.

Now, Owl was quiet.  Overtired.  All the fight was drained from her.  Instead, she held Agnes’s hand.  Her small one was warm, and a little cracked from cold, dry weather.  Agnes squeezed it tightly.

“Owl, would you like to travel on with me, from place to place, for a little while?” Agnes asked.

“Can Selkie come?”

Agnes pictured that.  An old woman, a little girl, and a Weeper ambling into town to offer their services as doctor.  Owl riding on Selkie’s back, probably.  Selkie couldn’t pass, though, not with those teeth and those eyes.  The gills she could cover… Agnes didn’t know why she was entertaining the thought.  Selkie was going to die tonight, at Agnes’s hand.

“Agnes?  Can she?”

“Wouldn’t that have been wonderful,” Agnes said.

Finding the entrance to the cave from this side, and in the dark, was near impossible.  Agnes led them to the mountain, but once there the hunters swore and hacked at the tall grass as they trudged back and forth along the base, searching for a way up.  Their lamps didn’t light far enough.

It took them nearly an hour just to find the way up to the cave entrance, and then a good twenty minutes scrambling up in the dark.  Agnes and Owl took longer, and Agnes thanked her old bones as well as Owl’s young ones.  Maybe Selkie was long gone - she had no reason to stay in some dark, cold cave when the rest of the league of mutants - or whatever they had called themselves - stoked warm fires elsewhere.

Finally, the group of them stood at the cave mouth.

“Lead the way,” the hunters said.

Agnes gave Owl’s hand another squeeze, and they breached the cave, the lamps at their backs.

They had been walking for who knew how long, and had had no sign of Selkie.  Agnes did what she could: whenever they came to a fork, she paused.  She avoided signs of charcoal, and otherwise chose their path at random.

Her knees ached horribly - and the wrist that supported her against her cane was burning.  She had walked too much today, with too little rest.  But there was no guarantee that the hunters wouldn’t shoot Owl if she stopped walking.  What reason had they to abide by the mayor’s agreement?  If Agnes stopped cooperating, to their eyes, Owl was free game.  She couldn’t comprehend how easily the Windfield folk had turned on her and started to see her as a thing.  A changeling, an imposter, a monster, whatever you wanted to call it.  Just because they knew the town she was born in.

Agnes drifted into waking dreams, as her feet pounded on to the beat of her cane.  Imagining Owl growing up in Windfield in a tailored dress with buttons, only to reveal to a trusted friend the truth of where she came from.  Without Agnes there on her behalf, would they have chased her as far as the Windfield Pass, or would they have saved themselves the effort and had her hanged?  Agnes had heard stories from farther places, about what happened to mutants who were found out passing.  It hurt.  It hurt more than her wrist, or her knees.  Those stories had never had a face before, or a warm, dry hand.

Agnes breathed long, slow breaths, her pace slow and heavy to match.  She hoped they would not find Selkie tonight, but feared what would happen to her and Owl if they didn’t.  Suddenly, Agnes’s chest exploded with a flurry of dread, her heart hammering.  She felt light-headed, and leaned hard on the cane, stopping entirely.  The last tap of her cane echoed, faintly, and then there was silence.

If Selkie heard her cane, she would know it was Agnes.  She wouldn’t be cautious.  She would come out of hiding.  She might even turn around to meet Agnes, if she happened to be in hearing.

“What’s the problem?” snapped a hunter.  He looked scared.

“I can’t go on tonight,” Agnes whispered.  Beside her, Owl had a glazed look to her.  “We need to rest.  I can hardly move.”

The hunters paused.  They argued back and forth about whether or not to build a fire, about who would take the first watch.  But it seemed they agreed.  They had just come home to Windfield after a hard journey, only to turn around and climb a mountain.  They were nearly as tired as she.

Agnes leaned with Owl against the cave wall as the hunters set to making camp.  She held Owl in her lap and let the warmth of her radiate over her chest.  She loved her, she realized.  She had known Owl for only a few days, and she loved her like a doting old aunt.  Almost instantly, Owl was asleep, snoring on Agnes’s chest.  Agnes closed her eyes.  A part of her might have loved Selkie, too.

Agnes woke in the early morning to the sound of bare feet on stone.  She opened her eyes to see Owl playing with a stick that had only half-burned in the fire.  She drew on the ground with the charcoal end, softly humming “Birds In The Tree”.  Agnes glanced to the hunters.  Both were dozing, but they would wake soon.

Agnes let her head fall back against the cave wall and was about to close her eyes when she saw two pale lights in the cave tunnel ahead.  Her eyes snapped open.  Two eyes, reflecting the barest glow of the embers.  Although it must be morning, it was so dark in the cave without the lamp lit - but Agnes was sure of it.  Two eyes.  Close.

Agnes sat up, and Selkie came closer, face breaking into a smile.

Viciously, Agnes shook her head, tears already pricking the corners of her eyes.  She panicked, struggling to find the best way to communicate what needed to be said without making a sound. She gestured to the sleeping hunters, and Selkie cocked her head.  Then, Agnes remembered that first meeting by the river - how had she mimed it?

Agnes moved her hands like she was firing a shotgun.

At once, Selkie’s posture changed.  Agnes waved her on, trying to get her to leave, but the stupid girl looked ready for a fight.  She was circling around to the hunters now.

Agnes sat up, gesturing Selkie away wildly as she came up behind one of the hunters.  Owl had noticed her now and dropped her stick with a clatter.

“Sewkie!” she screamed, and started to run to her.

Agnes lunged for Owl, dragging her to the ground and huddling over her.  She pressed the side of Owl’s face firmly against the stone as Owl struggled and yowled at her to be let up.  All Agnes had to use was her body weight, but it was just barely enough to keep Owl down.

One hand pressed over Owl’s ear as the sound of the shotgun boomed through the cave.  Agnes felt that her head would split in two.  Her heart was a lost cause already.

Another gunshot, then cursing, screaming.  In seconds, it was over.  The silence was heavy, pushing Agnes down, making it hard for her to sit up and survey the scene.  She heard rasping breath, and finally raised her head. “Cover your eyes, Owl,” Agnes said, and found that she could hardly speak.  

One of the hunters was dead.  He’d had his throat ripped out.  The other clutched his own throat, white knuckled, and breathed shallowly around a wound.  He looked at her, wide-eyed, begging for help.  Agnes moved past him, half walking, half crawling.  Selkie lay a few feet away from them, whimpering without a sound.

She bared her teeth at Agnes when she approached.  Agnes could hardly see in the darkness.  She had to stoke the fire, light the lamp, then she would be able to see where Selkie was wounded...see if it was too late.

Agnes threw herself to her work, tossing the last couple of logs on the fire and stirring the embers.  She lit the lamp with a bit of flint found in the hunters’s supplies and carried it over to where Selkie lay, covered in blood from her mouth to her chest to one leg in particular.

“There it is,” Agnes murmured, dizzy with relief.  It was just the leg.  “You’re alright.”

Selkie bared her teeth, snapping them at Agnes weakly.

Agnes dragged her pack over and set to work.  She never liked to say that a patient would live.  There were plenty of times that a patient should have lived, and didn’t.  A well-treated wound could still become gangrenous, a bout of influenza could turn into pneumonia, or an allergy to one of her treatments might kill them then and there.  But Selkie would live.  She would live, or Agnes would never recover.

Agnes took a pair of tweezers from her pack and starting digging for the bullet.

Selkie jerked forward and sank her teeth into Agnes’s other arm.  It hurt, sharp and all-consuming, like falling into a pond in the middle of winter, so cold you could see the ice reforming overhead, where you had fallen through.  Agnes spared Selkie a glance.  Selkie’s eyes were dilated, manic, but she hung on, teeth buried in Agnes’s arm.  Agnes returned steadfastly to her work, one-handed.  Her tweezer slipped over the bullet.  Slowly, she got a firm hold of it and began to drag it out. Selkie’s teeth sunk deeper.

“Selkie, really,” Agnes scolded, softly.  “I’m sorry I’m not letting you bleed to death, but that just isn’t how I work.  I’ll weep over you later, I promise.”

The bullet was almost clear, but Selkie was writhing and thrashing and trying to rip Agnes’s arm off.  Agnes dropped the tweezers, thrown down against Selkie’s growling chest.

Tears dripped down Agnes’s face.  It was terribly painful, being torn apart.

“Will you behave yourself for Owl?” Agnes said.

Selkie growled into her arm.

“Please, Selkie, I tried to tell you.  This is unfair.”  Agnes struggled to sit up with her arm still in Selkie’s mouth.  Cautiously, she help up her free hand and signed the only sign she remembered - little one.

It didn’t make much sense, as something to say to a hulking six foot mutant.  Still, Selkie released her, whimpering and shaking and letting blood and drool pour out of her mouth.

“There, there,” Agnes said softly.  “Let’s finish up.”

Agnes avoided looking at her arm - she may never get the use of it back, but there was no sense dwelling on that yet.  With her good hand, she quickly drew the bullet out and set to stopping the bleeding and closing the wound.  She began to feel dizzy from blood loss halfway through, but persisted until the wound was at least passably bandaged.  The dressing would need to be changed later.  Maybe in Pickton.  Could Selkie get them to Pickton in her state?

Agnes’s head hit Selkie’s chest, and she struggled in and out of consciousness, knowing she had to stop her arm from bleeding before she died.  She had Owl to think of.  She had to change that dressing tonight.  They had to get to Pickton.

She felt something at her wounded arm, and started to jerk her arm away.  Owl.  Owl was struggling to hold every herb and tincture from Agnes’s pack and unspool a length of gauze, as well.  The edges of Agnes’s vision started to go black.

“Selkie, you have to take care of her,” Agnes struggled to say.  She could feel herself slipping.

“Which one will make you better?” Owl asked through the gentle tinkle of glass bottles.

Agnes passed out.

Windfield Pass 10 || Windfield Pass 12 

[softboywriting]

What Luck | Werewolf!Shawn Soulmate AU

A/N: So I was sick today and I have a splitting migraine but I had to get this out because I’d lose it if I didn’t. Anyway this probably sucks and is too rushed and shit but I don’t care. 

Word count: 2,200

| Masterlist |

Shawn and his mom moving in with you and your mom was possibly the best idea anyone had ever. First of all he was an alpha. A very big, very attractive, and very single alpha. Second of all you were an omega. A highly sought after werewolf, kind of adorable, very single omega. It just so happened the two of you would hit it off perfectly and you wouldn’t have to worry about finding the right one anymore because he was literally about to move in with you. What luck.

You had always grown up with just your mom. It was you and her against the world but when she got moved from a full time position at work to a part time one, the house became nearly impossible to afford. So your mom was faced with two options, move and find a small apartment or find someone to live with. The second option was a little off the table since her only sibling had half a dozen kids and she really didn’t want to have to squeeze into their already packed house. Getting an apartment was all good and fine in theory but finding one that was a two bedroom in a price range she could afford was nearly impossible.

When it seemed the only hope was to move into your aunt and uncle’s little chaos corner of the world, your mom got a phone call. Her best friend was moving back into town and she and her son were looking for a place to stay until she could get them an apartment. Of course this was perfect timing. Your house was plenty spacious for two more people and your mom could use the help. So two weeks later and you were helping Karen and her son who you hardly remembered as more than a brace faced dweeb that teased you about being so small, move into your house and that’s when your luck changed for the better.

“Sure you can carry that by yourself, pup?” Shawn asks from behind you.

You spin around, that voice and that nickname oh so familiar. Pup was what Shawn would call you because you were so small when you were a pre teen. You loathed that nickname but somehow now it seemed more endearing. You end up dropping the very heavy box you were carrying and staring at Shawn. He was six feet of well fit, mouth watering, jaw dropping gorgeous alpha. He was like those guys you saw on tv, the perfect guys with the handsome faces and six pack abs. He wasn’t real. This wasn’t Karen’s son. This wasn’t that kid with the braces and pierced ears you first met at a tupperware party when you were twelve. This had to be one of the movers...right?

“Oh shit, my books,” Shawn grumbles, walking over to where you dropped the box and an array of books were now scattered about your feet. “I’m Shawn by the way...you remember me right? Are you okay? Hello?” Shawn waves his hand in front of you, ducking down a bit to get at eye level with you.

“I’m not a pup,” you mumble, eyes cast down to the books. “I’m not twelve anymore, and I’m not a pup.”

“I know you aren’t twelve” He grins, squatting down and picking up the books while still looking up at you. He stands, an arm full of books as he reaches out and tilts your face up by your chin. “But you look like a cute pup to me.”

A flush spreads across your face and you turn away from him, all but running back into the house and up to your bedroom. The rest of the day goes by with your heart pounding every time he passed your bedroom door to put something in his room across the hall or you heard him talking. You had it bad for him. Real bad. But that’s okay, because he had it real bad for you too.

______________________________

Shawn invites himself into your room a few weeks later, casually walking in and laying down on your bed. You look over at him from where you’re sat with your laptop on your lap. “Hello?” you ask with a chuckle.

He looks over at you with a small smile and you can’t help but smile back. God why did he have to be so damn infectious? You were already, without a doubt, under his stupid charming alpha spell and he knew it. “Would you do me a favor?” he asks softly.

“A favor?”

“Yeah, a favor. I have a headache and the only thing that seems to help is when I rub my temples but I’m tired of rubbing them.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You want me to rub your head?”

Shawn rolls over, beaming at you with that adorable smile and those big brown eyes. “Please? I promise I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“You’d give me whatever I want anyways,” you smirk, remembering the other morning when he used all the milk for cereal and you complained you wanted cereal so he gave you his whole bowl. Then there was the day you were walking down to the corner store for snacks and you mentioned you were cold. He’d peeled his jacket off for you so fast it wasn’t even funny. He let you shower first every day, he let you eat the rest of his favorite ice cream, he even let you keep his fuzzy blanket that you fell asleep under on the couch while watching a movie.

Shawn bites his lip and looks down at your lap. “So what if I’m soft on you? I’ll give you more of whatever you want.”

“Alright, fine,” you giggle and put your laptop aside. Shawn crawls over and lays his head on the pillow you place on your lap and looks up at you. You can’t help but touch his jaw, ghosting your fingertips over either side as his eyes fall closed. You bring them up to his temples as start rubbing slow deliberate circles into the mess of hair there.

He purrs, mouth falling open a bit as you rub away. He grips the blankets and you can’t help but notice the way his toes seem to curl and uncurl. For a moment you stop so you can unfold your legs and reposition the pillow on your stomach as you lean against your headboard. Shawn’s hands find your legs and as soon as you start rubbing his head again he returns the favor, sliding his hands up and down your calves. His purring continues until they turn into soft snores and you just let him lay there and sleep. He looked so sweet, so tender while he slept. It made your stomach flip flop to know he trusted you enough to see him like this. It made you wonder what went through his mind when he saw you. ______________________________

Things go on like this for weeks. The two of you becoming incredibly close, but never saying anything about it. You go out to dinner together. He helps you with your homework. You watch movies together and talk for hours on end. It was as if the two of you had been together forever, it felt so comfortable, so natural. Hand holding became the normal. Forehead kisses in the morning and at night or just whenever became normal. Shawn somehow wiggled his way into your heart and settled there and you didn’t mind one bit. The first night Shawn stays in your room you think you know he is the one. You’d never slept well with another person before, but with Shawn you slept like a log. He held you close, arm tucked around your chest with his face pressed into your hair. It felt so right, so perfect. You wanted it every night.

The day after you share your bed you find yourself walking in the woods thinking about how you want to approach Shawn about the relationship the two of you had built. What were you? Just friends? A couple? Mates? You bite your lip and look up at the canopy over head. God, to have Shawn as your mate would be the best thing that ever happened to you. Deep down you hoped that was what he thought of you, that he felt the same way. He’d never indicated that he didn’t, but insecurity sucked and you couldn’t help but second guess everything.

You wander along a while longer, lost in your own thoughts when you hear it, a low growl from the trees beside you. You back up on the trail, stumbling over a branch and losing your balance for just a second. A large black wolf steps out of the tree cover and onto the path before you. Not once in your life had you ever encountered a wolf like this in these woods. Your heart races, panic setting in as you think this may be a werewolf that’s lost its sense of humanity. Those werewolves from horror stories your friends told each other in high school.

You turn and start to run. Branches and leaves whip by you as you make your way back to the flat stretch of grass that was your backyard. Your feet ache, slamming into the dirt and rocks that lined the earth below you. You were fast for an omega but not fast enough. A heavy weight slams into your back just as you step foot onto the lush grass of your yard. Your knees hit the ground first and then your chest, you’re pinned under the wolf. Before you can cry out for Shawn, the werewolf on top of you shifts and suddenly you feel teeth on your shoulder. Very not wolf like teeth.

“I got you, pup,” Shawn whispers huskily into your ear.

Relief washes over you as you realize the black wolf was just Shawn fully shifted. “You’re a jerk,” you grumble as you try to roll over under Shawn’s weight.

Shawn crawls off and rolls you over onto your back. “I was just playing with you,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

“Just playing?” you groan, rolling over and sitting up. You brush some grass off your knees and push at his shoulder. “You could tell me that before you scare the crap out of me. I thought you were some feral werewolf come to kill me in the woods.”

Shawn kneels in front of you and helps you clean your legs off. “I wouldn’t let any other wolves near you,” he looks at you through soft lashes, “You know I’ll keep you safe right?” You nod, knowing he would. He reaches out and picks some grass from your hair and off your cheek. Once he’s satisfied with his cleaning, he rests his hand on your knee. “Sorry I tackled you so hard.”

“It’s fine,” you smile softly. “I’m just not used to having an alpha around.”

Shawn stands up and grabs your arm as you reach out to him. He hauls you up with ease, pulling you close to him and smiling. “I’m going to be around for a while y’know.”

“I sure hope so,” you say with a little smile. Now would be the perfect time to ask him what you were to him but you just can’t seem to get it out. You turn and head for the house instead. He doesn’t let you go for more than a few steps before he’s falling in sync beside you and putting his arm around your shoulders. “What?” you laugh nervously as he looks down at you. You secretly hope he can’t read your mind or something because he looks like he wants to say something important but isn’t.

“Nothing, you’re just really cute.” Shawn says with a boop to your nose before he runs into the house. You chase after him and as soon as you get into the doors he scoops you up with his arms around your waist.

“Hey!” you squeal, kicking in his grasp and he gives a little nip the back of your neck and making you go still. “H-hey, that’s not fair. You know that’s my weak spot.”

“Of course I do,” Shawn murmurs, nuzzling your neck and biting again playfully. “I oughta know all my pup’s weak spot.”

You flush. He’d never called you his before. You liked how it sounded. “Say it again,” you whisper and he turns you around his his arms. You look up at him and he is grinning big.

“Pup.”

You shake your head.

“My pup,” he says putting emphasis on the ‘my’ part. You grin and he leans down, kissing your forehead. “My babe.” He kisses your nose. “My girl,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours before he captures them in the softest kiss you’ve ever received. It’s innocent, warm and gentle, and you never want it to end. You bring your arms up around his back and he stops for just a moment, lips still brushing yours as he says, “My mate.”