#and it's not flat out abusive like every other dynamic in bill's life but man. Man.

[irregularbillcipher]

"if you think that kryptos was from flatland and you believe bill genuinely cared about him, meaning he had some fort of actual human connection to another flatlander, why did bill still end up destroying the place? wouldn't kryptos trying to stop him have either made him reconsider his actions, or made him get rid of kryptos entirely?" well you see when bill was burning flatland, kryptos was whooping and hollering and breaking out the champagne

[angry-geese]

Jotaro Kujo x reader

Warnings: nsfw. Smut, fingering, oral (masc reciving), unprotected sex, not the healthiest relationship dynamic, implied age difference, daddy kink. Fem!Reader

Notes: Jotaro being a sugar daddy. College student!Reader, pt4 Jotaro- sort of takes place before the events of DIU but it really isn't clear

It only took a call.

You were still a college student at the time, taking a semester off of your studies. You had no idea what direction you wanted to go with your life, and wanted to get things sorted out before you dove head-first into a major you'd hate. Putting it lightly: the future was terrifying. For the time being, you were working at a coffee shop. It was a decent job- at full time it covered rent for an apartment you shared with a friend. You weren't rolling in it by any means, but you were comfortable enough.

Jotaro frequented your work. You had his order memorized: a single black coffee and a bagel- if he was getting something to eat that morning. Rather boring. A boring order for a seemingly aloof and uninteresting guy. From the very beginning you piqued his interest. You were just bubbly enough to break through that shell of his. He often asked you how school was going. Having thought about majoring in marine biology, it gave you two a lot to talk about. In the end you decided against it, but by then he was already head-over-heels for you.

It wasn't often you found yourself giving out your number to customers. Something about him interested you. It wasn't an immediate thing, taking you weeks to work up the nerve to do it. His reaction was hard to gauge.

You wouldn't receive a text until later that night.

He spent the entire day trying to figure out what to say. So he went with something simple: How are you?

It didn't take long for the two of you to make plans to see each other again. Your first date was to a fancy restaurant. Fancier than you were used to. Working as a barista wouldn't cover a dinner like that, even with tips. Seeing the bill nearly made your soul jump out of your body, but you gritted your teeth and figured you'd eat nothing but ramen until payday. You tried not to look too relieved when he said he'd pay. It was a first date, maybe he was trying to be nice. Then it happened on your second. Then again. No matter how much you offered to pay, he always refused, going out of his way to cover your half. At times it was irritating. It didn't feel fair to let him pay for everything.

You weren't exactly dating, but if someone asked you would deny being single. There was little you knew about him. Obviously you weren't entirely clueless; you knew about his occupation, some small things he liked, one time he even mentioned having a daughter. But it was all very basic, something you could get from one conversation. He was very reserved,

He's not quite sure how it happened. It was only a necklace.

Jotaro just wanted company. Dating someone so much younger made him a bit uncomfortable. To him, there was an obvious power difference. A man his age shouldn't be dating someone as young as you. Sure, you were an adult who could make their own decisions, but it felt wrong. He felt like he was abusing his position, but seeing you bent over his desk wearing nothing but that necklace changed that.

Any time you called, he'd come running. It wasn't always sex. He slept better with someone next to him. Sometimes you'd call him to fuck you against every flat surface of your apartment.

His rough hands trace over the delicate lace of your bra- a gift. Most of them were. Through his pants he hardens against your thigh. You grind down on his lap, your fingers working the buttons of his shirt. His fingers ghosts across your clit through your panties. Wetness pools between your thighs, making the thin fabric of your panties stick to your skin. You're almost embarrassed at how quickly you melt under his touch. Almost.

You should be glad the door to his office locks.

His fingers trace around your clit- not enough to get you anywhere fast- before moving to your thigh. His spare hand palms himself through his trousers. He presses a kiss to your bare shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. You shift, almost unnoticeable so, desperate for more friction. His expression darkens. In retaliation you grind harder against his thigh.

"Don't be a brat."

"Sorry daddy."

He grunts, seemingly unimpressed with your apology. As much as he pretended to hate the nickname, it made something deep within him stir- almost shamefully so. His hands move to unhook your bra, tossing it aside. Often he ruined them, tearing them in the heat of the moment. He always bought you more.

Anything you wanted he would give to you.

He pulls you so your back is flush to his chest, gently tugging your legs open. Part of you is glad he can't see how you're blushing. His erection presses against your back, painfully hard and leaking against his thigh. From behind, he sucks a dark mark into your neck- you'll have a hard time covering it up in the morning. Not that you mind, you don't have much to do tomorrow anyway. For a moment his hand dips under the waistband of your panties. His free hand kneads the soft flesh of your breast, working your nipples into stiff peaks. He could watch you writhe under him all day. You maneuver your hips so he can pull them down, baring your sex. The sight of him fully clothed while you're completely naked sends a heat straight to your core. When you cross your arms over your chest to cover yourself, he's pulling them away, huffing in frustration. He'd never force you to do something you're uncomfortable with, but he sure did push your limits.

His fingers trace up the soft skin of your thigh. You jolt as his thumb briefly traces across your clit, before his hand comes to a rest on your leg. You know better than to grind against him. Though sometimes you do it just to piss him off. Roughly he shoves presses two fingers into you, moving with quick, short motions. Idly his thumb brushes over your clit. You can't help but squirm. Your moans and pleas only spur him on more. The sounds of your slick sex fills the room. Heat rises up in your cheeks at the lewd noises.

"Please daddy,"

"Please what?"

"Fuck me."

"Not until you cum on my hand first."

You whine. He only picks up the pace. This isn't the first time he's had to stretch you out before fucking you. The building tension in your stomach only serves to make you moan louder, crying out when he brushes against a particularly sensitive spot. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck, goosebumps rising up on your exposed skin. Your breathing grows unsteady the closer you get to your own release. Against your bare thighs, Jotaro's cock hardens, leaking precum into his white pants. Your thighs clamp around his hand as you cum hard. He grunts and nips at your neck, letting you ride out your orgasm on his hand. It's only when the overstimulation becomes too much and you cry out that he pulls away, making a show of licking his fingers.

"On your knees."

"Yes daddy."

You slide off his lap so you're kneeling in front of him. His hands rest at his sides.

You waste no time in freeing him from his pants, his hardened cock springing free. Precum weeps from the head, which is flushed and angry looking. He grunts when you finally take him into your mouth. Your hands work the part of his shaft that won't fit- he's to big to fit in entirely. You press kitten licks to the head, slowly pumping him in your fist. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard, his breathing is shallow and shaky. He groans at the warm, wet feeling of your mouth.

He doesn't want the moment to end just yet.

Jotaro's hand tangles in your hair, pulling you off of his cock with an audible pop. He hauls you into his lap, your knees on either sides of his thighs, your chest pressed against his. Slowly he guides you onto his cock, his hands kneading at the soft flesh of your ass. The sent of his cologne is heady and intoxicating. You're half drunk from his touch, your pupils blown, lips bitten pink. Even with the prep, it stings a bit. As you let out a hiss of pain, he presses a kiss to your bare shoulder, smoothing a hand over your hair. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size, before guiding you down more. You bottom out on his cock, moaning at the feeling.

Your lust-addled mind barely registers the way he begins bouncing you on his cock, guiding your hips with his hands. The sounds of your moans mix with the noise of skin slapping on skin. His fingers dig into your hips- not hard enough to leave bruises, but hard enough to hurt. You're so overcome with a mix of pain and pleasure that you can't focus on anything but him. He pulls you in for a kiss, but ends up nibbling at your bottom lip until you let him in your mouth. When Jotaro pulls away, a trail of saliva connects the two of you. A splotchy blush creeps up his neck, reaching his cheeks. He's unbuttoned the top few of his shirt, exposing his collarbone. Sweat beads on the planes of muscle of his chest and neck. He groans sinfully as you clench around him. You scramble for purchase against him, your arms wrapping around his neck, nails digging into his back.

His free hand moves to toy with your clit, the other gropes at your hips. He's can't pry his eyes from the way your tits bounce as you fuck yourself on his cock.

"Where do you want me to cum?" He asks.

"Inside!"

Your answer catches him off guard, but he's too close to his own orgasm to refuse. Your own release rolls over you like a wave, spitting you out and leaving you ruined. He clings onto your shaky form, pulling you close to him. Mascara streams down your face, your lipstick is smeared. His hot cum spills into your unprotected womb, leaking from you as he pulls out.

Jotaro takes a moment to admire your fucked-out expression before pulling you into his lap, cradling you in his arms. Your breathing evens out after a moment. You could fall asleep there if he'd let you. He just might. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, content where you are. The sight of your relaxed form makes affection swell in his chest. He uses the moment to press a kiss to your forehead.

The more he tried to convince himself he wasn't in love with you, the worse it got.

[killian-whump]

What can I do if every character Colin plays makes me feel uncomfortable? I liked Hook as a teenager but now as a woman in college I've experienced sexual harassment and I think most Colin characters fall into that category, even Hook. I feel I cannot support the Me Too movement and the victims and yet stand characters who are full of sexual inuendos and violence not even for fun. I love Colin as a person but I can't like his characters and that makes me sad because I don't know what to do.

This Ask is bordering hella close to my new “Colin negativity gets tossed” rule, but I’m going to answer it anyway, because I feel VERY strongly about the shit you’re trying to sling here and how absolutely shitty it is that you’re even trying to sling it in the first place.

For starters, lemme back up your puritanical train for a minute. Sexual innuendos, promiscuity, and even womanizing behavior DO NOT constitute “sexual harrassment” or “violence”. The “Me Too” movement isn’t about stopping men from expressing their sexuality or engaging in sexual behaviors or flirtations unless they can pass a piety test. If a man is an asshole or a user and a woman voluntarily sleeps with him and ends up getting treated badly or used by him in a non-sexual way... it is not a sex crime, simply because sex happened to also occur. JJ Sneed, for example, is a reprehensible human being who steals and kills people indiscriminately, but Maddie Hawkins voluntarily slept with him, knowing he was an outlaw and having been told (by him!) that he could not be trusted and she should not trust him. She was not coerced. She was not forced. She chose to sleep with him, even made the first move, and his ultimate betrayal and mis-treatment of her were not sexually based in any way. Yes, he knowingly slept with a woman he was not in love with - but if that constitutes a sex crime, then almost every sexual creature on the planet’s a criminal now. Furthermore, Captain Hook never ONCE engages in any behavior onscreen that would constitute sexual harassment or violence. He alludes to such behavior once or twice, but these are merely off-handed comments made to other characters for the obvious purpose of maintaining his fearsome “pirate captain” persona - a persona that we are repeatedly shown throughout the series does not fit who he truly is. We are NEVER shown anything onscreen to support the idea of either of those statements being true. Again, he kills and steals, he is NOT a good person - but he is also NOT any kind of sexual predator.

And when the “Me Too” movement and words like “sexual harassment” get used to condemn totally voluntary sexual encounters between men and women, or blustery heresay, or mere innuendos and innocent flirtations - it cheapens the movement itself and weakens the gravity of the actual crimes and abuse that such a movement was formed to combat. It is not “okay” to throw these heavy words and notions around to back up your fandom biases or try to create new ones. It’s shitty behavior, and it can do REAL damage. EVERY time you point at a completely non-criminal sexual behavior and claim it falls under the “Me Too” umbrella, you are actively contributing to and encouraging the mistaken notion that the movement is a farce aimed at vilifying and punishing men for being sexual creatures. It’s BAD and you should feel bad for doing it.

That all said... you’re also flat out WRONG. “Most” of Colin’s characters do not fit the description of sexual predators, and do not engage in any form of “sexual harassment” or misbehavior. There are TWO who do. TWO.

First is Professor Harrison in Carrie Pilby. Not because he coerces Carrie into sex or abuses her - but because he is obviously mis-using his position of power to sleep with his students, and because in this particular case, Carrie is woefully young and possibly even legally underage. Second is Peter in What Still Remains. He actively ignores Anna’s multiple rejections and even tries to physically force her to have sex with him. He is, by any and all definitions, a sexual predator.

Like I said: That’s TWO characters. As mentioned above, Hook and JJ Sneed can be argued to be sexual miscreants in one way or another, but they don’t truly fit the bill of sexual predators. We have no proof that either of them has EVER engaged in sexual misbehavior of any kind. Beyond those four characters, Colin has also played Rowe, Brendan, Peter (Sheerin), Jamie, Conor, Duke Philip, Ben, Michael, Mark, Brennan, Deuxie, an unnamed security guard, and a sweet florist in a music video - ALL of which engaged in absolutely NO sexual misbehaviors of any kind. To claim that “most” of his characters are sexual harassers is a flat out LIE, and if I wasn’t so pissed at you for sullying a valid and important social movement with your nonsense, I would’ve thrown this Ask away entirely for being a flaming pile of bullshit.

Lastly, works of fiction exist in order to explore stories, dynamics and characters that are not real. Fiction portrays both the good and bad traits of humanity - no matter how reprehensible - in order to explore the full gamut of human experience. It is important that “bad” things, like rape and sexual harassment and other criminal behaviors, are presented in this medium - because it enables us to learn about these things and understand how to recognize them and handle them when they (unfortunately, but inevitably) occur in real life. By vilifying actors for playing those kinds of roles, you’re condemning such content for existing in the first place - content that, in many cases, helps to define and set the standards for human behavior.

As always, if you don’t like a role or feel uncomfortable watching a fictional work - opt out of it. No one is forcing you to watch anything. No one is forcing you to support a work. And if an actor’s roles aren’t enjoyable to you? Find an actor whose roles ARE enjoyable to you and support THEM. Don’t expect an actor to change the kinds of roles he takes to please YOU, and DON’T expect the fans of an actor to put up with your condemnation of that actor or the work he has produced because of YOUR discomfort. That’s not our job. That’s not MY job. If you don’t like Colin, or his characters, or his work... too fucking bad. Find someone you DO like and go be a fan of them.

Further Asks in this vein will be thrown out on sight.

AND QUIT USING IMPORTANT SOCIAL MOVEMENTS TO SUPPORT YOUR STUPID FANDOM BIASES.

[isthisfilmgay]

More book recs!

Apologies to the people who want movies and movies only, but I’ve been reading more than watching movies lately so I thought I’d share regardless. (Also reading is fun!)

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

Warnings/Notes: 😢 ☠ Summary: Achilles, "the best of all the Greeks," son of the cruel sea goddess Thetis and the legendary king Peleus, is strong, swift, and beautiful irresistible to all who meet him. Patroclus is an awkward young prince, exiled from his homeland after an act of shocking violence. Brought together by chance, they forge an inseparable bond, despite risking the gods' wrath. Recommend?: Yes Why: Everyone has probably heard of this one already, and as sad and tragic as the ending is, I personally think the softness and (very latent) growth that the characters undergo is beautiful. I think the empathy afforded to them and the entire situation of the Trojan War is really well done, and it offers us a better version of events that aren’t so violent against women for no reason (homer sux pass it on). If you’re into Greek mythology, Miller knows her stuff and this will be a fun, quick read.

Lie With Me by Philippe Besson

Warnings/Notes: 😢 ☠ 🏳️‍🌈 Summary: The award-winning, bestselling French novel by Philippe Besson about an affair between two teenage boys in 1984 France, translated with subtle beauty and haunting lyricism by the iconic and internationally acclaimed actress/writer Molly Ringwald. Recommend?: Yes Why: As much as I dislike tragic endings in gay books (in fact usually I rage about it bc it’s so boring and stupid) this one really got me. First of all it’s heavily implied by the author that the story is autobiographical, so it’s hard to get mad at a real series of events. Second, the tragedy is treated with deeper empathy than I’ve ever seen it. Even when the protagonists do things to hurt the other or make bad decisions, it’s so clear why they’re doing it, and all you feel is what they’re feeling. Short and well written. 

The Music of What Happens by Bill Konigsberg

Warnings/Notes: 👊🏼 🏳️‍🌈 Summary: Over the course of one summer, two boys will have to face their biggest fears and decide what they're willing to risk -- to get the thing they want the most. Recommend?: Yes Why: I was challenging myself to read more YA this year and I think I finished this book in a single sitting. I usually find a lot of queer YA problematic but this one was really good! It avoided a lot of romance tropes which I greatly appreciated. It breaks the mold of what you’d expect from these character archetypes and handles heavy issues like parental neglect/abuse and sexual assault with surprising empathy and also without a heaviness that would drag the narrative down. There were times the dialogue made me gag but it’s for kids and overall a fun read.

Lot by Bryan Washington

Warnings/Notes: 🚫🏳️‍🌈 Summary: Stories of a young man finding his place among family and community in Houston, from a powerful, emerging American voice. Recommend?: Sort of? Why: This is a collection of short stories surrounding characters in a particular neighborhood of Houston, with one character who is revisited every other chapter. The prose is solid and the voices are engaging, if not repetitive. I found it to be a little bit of a slog to get through considering how short it is, mostly because the characters never seem to grow and all have very similar perspectives. It’s all very ~vibey. However, a lot of people like vibey so if you do, then this is for you!

We Contain Multitudes by Sarah Henstra

Warnings/Notes: 👊🏼 🚫 Summary: Jonathan Hopkirk and Adam "Kurl" Kurlansky are partnered in English class, writing letters to one another in a weekly pen pal assignment. With each letter, the two begin to develop a friendship that eventually grows into love. But with homophobia, bullying, and devastating family secrets, Jonathan and Kurl struggle to overcome their conflicts and hold onto their relationship...and each other. Recommend?: No Why: This is one of those problematic YA books I talked about earlier. It’s a little on the longer side but I also read it in one sitting. To begin with, there’s a large-ish age difference between the main characters for seemingly no reason, pairing a 19-year-old with a 15 year old (which in high school is a large inequity). I found the voices a little unbearable and the epistolary format felt extremely contrived throughout. There’s a lot of completely unnecessary conflicts and leans in to unhealthy romance tropes rather than putting anything fresh on it. At times I flat out didn’t want the characters to get together because their whole dynamic was so unsettling. Also, the shoe-horned family drama side-plot was unengaging and forced. Also I think the author is straight so I’m not that surprised lmao. 

Sissy: A Coming-of-Gender Story by Jacob Tobia

Warnings/Notes: ⓣ 🚫 🏳️‍🌈 Summary:  A heart-wrenching, eye-opening, and giggle-inducing memoir about what it's like to grow up not sure if you're (a) a boy, (b) a girl, (c) something in between, or (d) all of the above. Recommend?: Yes (with conditions) Why: This book is a memoir written by a 27 (?) year-old, so that’s something to keep in mind. It’s fairly long considering how short of a time period is covered, but overall this book would be a great tool for young readers. The prose is written a lot like a twitter thread too, which younger audiences will find more palatable than I. You 'll probably be left with more questions than you started with if you’re a complete newbie to non-binary identities and trans people, but it’s a good place to start. 

Looking for Lorraine: The Radiant and Radical Life of Lorraine Hansberry by Imani Perry

Warnings/Notes: ☠ Summary:  Lorraine Hansberry, who died at thirty-four, was by all accounts a force of nature. Although best-known for her work A Raisin in the Sun, her short life was full of extraordinary experiences and achievements, and she had an unflinching commitment to social justice, which brought her under FBI surveillance when she was barely in her twenties. While her close friends and contemporaries, like James Baldwin and Nina Simone, have been rightly celebrated, her story has been diminished and relegated to one work—until now. Recommend?: No Why: To be honest, I couldn’t finish this book. It’s not long at all but it felt like it was written in another language, so, it reads very slow. Lorraine Hansberry herself is very interesting and I would love to read a biography about her, but not one that focuses just as much on the biographer as the subject. Also, if you don’t have an in-depth college-level knowledge of american literary history you’ll likely have a hard time keeping up with the cast of characters. 

Anyway that’s it! Happy queer reading!

[winedwords]

Pete| Animals |Dunne

Title; Animals

Words; ~9000

Pairing; Pete Dunne/Reader, Trent Seven/Reader if you get drunk and squint

Summary; The cost of my dreams, also known as you, will be you.

Warnings; NSFW. HEATHENS VERSE SO AU AF. Smut, semi  public sex, latex free, werewolves, pack dynamics, VERY unhealthy relationships. Mentions of past child abuse and child exploitation. Not a happy ending. Shit editing because I’m sick.

A/N: repost from the old blog

“This is important, (Y/N). Do you know what you need to do after this?”

I wrapped my arms around myself, my hands rubbing at my sides more for comfort than warmth. I was wearing a thick parka, my most prized possessions and a couple of changes of clothes in the backpack slung across my shoulders.  I was exhausted emotionally and physically and the intent way that Trent was focused on me only made me want to curl in on myself. I only glanced at his face for a moment, before turning my eyes to the concrete below my feet, giving a miniscule nod.

“A nod is not good enough, sweetheart. I need you to repeat the plan back to me. We don’t have much time and I need to make sure that you know what to do from here.”

What did I do to deserve Trent in my life? He didn’t have to do any of this. He didn’t have to look out for me, a person he’d only known for a couple of months, like family. He didn’t need to come to my rescue on more than one occasion, but he did it without complaint.  If only things had been different…

“I board the train out of Birmingham and head towards London. From London, I will take the Chunnel to France. Once I am in Paris, I’m to meet Ygritte at the small cafe with the red door near the Louvre. She’s to take me to Berlin, where I will fly to Madrid, then New York.”

The bearded man nodded at my near verbatim recitation of the plan he had come up with, his face set in fierce determination. The journey across Western Europe sounded excessive, but in reality, it might not be enough.

“And you don’t stop until you’ve gotten to New York. You don’t pick up the phone, no matter who is calling. Better yet, give me your phone.”

He held out a large and calloused hand expectantly. I didn’t move to grab the small mobile phone from my purse, shifting uncomfortably and hesitant to hand over the last piece of this life. Trent’s brows shot up into his perfectly coiffed hair at my reluctance to hand over my cell phone.

“He’s smart, love. He will track your phone. You know how good he is at hunting, and for you, he won’t ever stop. Don’t make it easy for him.”

Trent’s foreboding words hung in the air of the crowded train platform like a hangman’s noose, the words intended to both frighten me into action and to warn me.

I knew Pete would never stop looking for me once he realized that I had run from him. For all of his flaws, of which there were many, he was as tenacious as a terrier and fiercely possessive of his things and his people. At the beginning, those were two things that had endeared him to me but now…

My phone began to screech a painfully familiar ringtone from the bottom of my purse before I could contemplate further.

“You’re the pulse in my veins You’re the war that I wage Can you change me? Can you change me? You’re the love that I hate You’re the drug that I take Will you cage me? Will you cage me?”

I scrambled to grab the small mobile phone from my purse, a confusing and heady mix of fear and affection pulsing through my veins. My hand closed around the small rectangle of glass and plastic, pulling it free from the depths of my purse. The ringtone cut off abruptly.

Twenty three text messages. Fifteen missed calls. One voicemail.

I turned with wide eyes to Trent, before I unlocked the phone with shaking hands and checked the lone voicemail.

“I hope I’m just misunderstandin’ this situation, mouse. I know you and Trent did not send fuckin’ Tyler to try to keep me occupied. I know you’re not at Leila’s house. There must be some explanation as to why you’re not pickin’ up the phone. When I find you mouse, we’re goin’ to have a nice, long chat about why you shouldn’t try to run from me. You’re mine.”

My face was ashen and Trent just growled as he snatched the phone from my shaking hand. He dropped it to the ground and with a stomp, my phone was in pieces of broken glass and shattered plastic.

“That fuckin’ prick I swear…”

He froze, clearly intending on continuing to elucidate his feelings for the situation, his head tilting up ever so slightly with nostrils flared.

“He’s here. Where is that fuckin’ train? You need to go. Now.”

It wasn’t always like this. There was a time when all I felt at the mere mention of Pete was liquid fire in my veins and my stomach doing somersaults. When his presence would make my knees weak and my head swim. All those things still happened, but the cold touch of fear always made its way down my spine. My fight or flight instincts would war against what the rest of me wanted.

I guess that’s what happens when you fall in love with a predator.

I see a bad moon a-rising, I see trouble on the way…

When I had first met Pete, it was at a house party that my roommate Leila was throwing.

Leila was the polar opposite of me. She was an extreme extrovert, the life of the party, and a mouth that went a mile a minute. Her social circle was absolutely massive and she was honestly very rarely at the flat we shared. We got along though, it was impossible to not get along with Leila. She paid her half of the rent and bills on time, she cleaned up after herself, and she always made sure to make small talk with me.

It was times like this though, that I regretted my decision to be roommates with her.

I had come home rather late from the university library to find a veritable sea of people in your flat, loud music pulsing through the small unit and rattling the windows.  I gave an exhausted groan at the sight, and began to attempt to push my way through the masses of bodies. For as often as she throws these impromptu parties, Leila was good about locking my bedroom door, so no drunk and frisky partygoers would be taking advantage of the empty bed.

It was that empty bed that was calling my name. I could feel the sirens song of my warm flannel sheets and fluffy comforter with every bump into a stranger’s shoulder and with every drink that sloshed dangerously near me. I was close, so close. It was just another dozen yards and I would be unlocking my bedroom door, flinging my heavy backpack to the ground, securing the door behind me, and then flopping onto my bed for what would hopefully be a dreamless sleep.

But the universe just had other ideas.

I was passing the living room, which had been turned into an impromptu dance floor, when I was grabbed roughly by the elbow and spun around. I stumbled into whoever grabbed me, the heavy backpack having shifted my center for gravity.

“Woah there, you’re Leila’s roomie right? I haven’t seen you at one of these parties before! Who knew you’d be so cute!”

The obviously intoxicated and wiry man kept a firm grip on my elbow with a wide leer on his face as he spoke. I was uncomfortable with his touch and this limited interaction and I just wanted to go hide in my bedroom.

“Um, this isn’t n-normally my thing. I stay in my room for the most part. Look, I n-need to get going, I got some more homework…”

I moved to jerk my arm from his grasp, but the grip on my arm grew tighter.

“Why so quick to leave baby? C'mon have a drink with me, we can have fun!”

The rising panic left my body feeling terribly cold and clammy in the stifling heat of the crowded apartment. I began to struggle to try to break free, but the grip of his has was too tight and was sure to leave bruises in the morning as he began pulling me to the crowded dance floor. I hadn’t been pulled far when the lanky partygoer was stopped abruptly by something.

I didn’t see what had stopped my assailant or what made him drop my arm so quickly. I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I was about to bolt when over the rhythmic thumping of the music that I heard it.

“Didn’t ya fuckin’ hear the lady mate? Piss off.”

I couldn’t see my rescuer right away, until the partygoer with scrambled away with a gasp of, “You can have her, dude. I don’t want any trouble.”

And then there he was.

He was certainly taller than I was and easily twice as broad. He cut an imposing figure, wildness practically oozing from every pore, danger and the threat of violence practically crackling in the air around him. It was his gray blue eyes, as cold and as sharp as flint, set above regal, if scarred, cheekbones, that held me in place and made me flush from my roots to my toes.

“Th-thanks, I appreciate it. I-I should go.”

The snarl that was on his lips transformed into the tiniest of smiles. It was the subtlest of shifts, but it brightened his face and shifted him from being roguishly handsome to devastating.

“Don’t mention it mouse. You should probably scurry back to your hiding spot.”

I frowned at the pet name and his words. This was a total stranger. He had no right to make aspersions upon my character or assume anything about me. I burned with embarrassment and a little humiliation. It stung, because he was right. I was prone to hiding in social situations, but he didn’t need to know that.

I opened my mouth to retort, using the embarrassment as the fuel for something, anything, to make him burn as much as I was right now.

But I didn’t get the chance.

The music cut and then Leila was screaming at the top of her lungs, “The fuckin’ police are on their way! Everyone out!”

Chaos, utter chaos.

It was a swarm of bodies, pushing all to get out. Our living room window opened, partygoers climbing down our fire escape. Others were bottlenecking themselves to get out the front door. It was in that sea of humanity, that I was pushed forcefully and repeatedly. It was the third push, coupled with someone stepping on my ankle, that sent me crashing into the blonde man with the sharp gray blue eyes.

He caught me with ease, wrapping a thickly muscled arm around my shoulders to press me securely against his chest, and snarling at the persons responsible.

Then we were moving.

He’d shifted me just enough so that I was pressed against his side, instead of against his front, and dropped his shoulder as he began to push us through the horde of humanity. This blonde stranger was a force to be reckoned with, easily making his way against the flow to the hallway where my room was with a series of strategic snarls and shoves.

We didn’t stop moving, my shorter legs struggling to keep up with his longer strides, until we were outside of my bedroom door.

How the hell did he know this was my room?

“Try not to get into anymore trouble, mouse.”

I looked up to him again and my heart rate picked up. That little smile was back on his face and the air seemed to crackle with electricity around when our eyes locked. My breath caught in my throat and it felt like time slowed. Lust spread through my veins like wildfire when it finally clicked that I was pressed up against his large, well muscled body. He’d cocked his head ever so slightly to the side and his nostrils flared. Not a second later, his pupils dilated so much that only a sliver of the entrancing steel color was left visible and his tongue sneaked out of his mouth just enough to moisten his lips.

The arm that was around my waist tightened by a fraction and his other hand reached up to cup my cheek. My eyes darted towards his almost femininely pink lips and then he was leaning in to press his mouth against mine.

My backpack dropped to the floor with a loud thud and I gasped as the heavy, pink haze of lust took over my senses. He was quick to take advantage, his tongue slipping between my parted lips to coax a reaction from me. The press of his tongue against mine was like a livewire of sensation, all of it directed towards my core, and I whimpered against his lips, eyes screwing shut. He took a sharp inhale of breath and then groaned so deeply, I could feel it reverberate in my chest.

My face burned and I shyly moved my tongue against his, my motions a little clumsy and unsure. I wasn’t the girl to normally do things like this, with men that looked like him. Everything about him screamed danger, violence, and aloofness and I was a bit of a bookworm who’s idea of danger and excitement was watching Netflix instead of studying for an exam. I couldn’t deny the attraction or the draw I felt and I was not about to look this gift horse in the mouth. The blonde man wrapped around me certainly didn’t seem to mind my obvious inexperience, pushing us a short distance, mouths still connected, until I was pinned against the wall with his hard body pressed flush against me.

The hand that was cupping my face slowly began to trail down my jaw and then my neck, my skin prickling and breaking out in gooseflesh wherever the rough pads of his fingers trailed. His hand traveled over my chest and cupped a breast, a rough thumb caressing over my clothed nipple. I moaned and arched up into his body and his mouth.

A wolf whistle broke us apart.

“Ow owwwww, (Y/N) is getting it! Get it girl, get down with your bad self!”

God damn it Leila.

His face was sour as he pulled away, my body cold from the loss of his touch. He turned to glare at my roommate and she just laughed, before turning on her heel, with an announcement that she was going to make a sandwich and to not do anything she wouldn’t do. He turned back to me.

“Name’s Pete. Pete Dunne. I’ll come over around ten tomorrow and we’re going to go get coffee, okay mouse?”

Your voice makes my heart skip beats. So, keep quiet before it quits on me.

Pete: Are you still at the library?

I glanced up from the stack of books that I was absorbed in at the loud vibrations of my phone. I looked over my shoulder cautiously, hoping that the elderly librarian who was here late this evening didn’t hear. I was more than a little stressed out and the last thing I wanted was a scolding about noise in the library.

Me: Yeah, I have a PolySci exam in the morning to study for. What’s up?

He didn’t respond right away, which was fine. I knew he was busy training from the show coming up this weekend. If you had told me a month ago that I would be dating a professional wrestler, I would have blushed furiously and scoffed, that would have never happened to me. Yet here we are, three weeks of dates and little gifts. Three weeks of mind warping kisses, late night phone calls, and practically walking on clouds.

I’d met his closest friends, Tyler Bate and Trent Seven. Pete wouldn’t say anything, but I could tell that he was nervous as he was introducing me to them. Trent was charming and worldly, practically sweeping me off my feet by asking about my studies and not looking bored when I rambled on about my classes. Tyler was almost impossible to dislike, practically vibrating with energy and fast with a smile and a joke. I had warmed up to them almost immediately and it appeared that they had felt the same.

I felt like we were in a good place, even if our schedules sometimes conflicted with each other.

I set my phone to the side, and returned to the stacks of books piled perilously high across the table. I was deeply engrossed in Rousseau’s theory of the social contract when I felt a slightly chapped pair of lips press a wet kiss against my neck.

I jumped out of the chair and would have shrieked loudly if it weren’t for the large hand that covered my mouth and an all too familiar chuckle from behind me.

“Easy there mouse, it’s just me.”

I turned, outraged, with a hand pressed against my heart and the other swatting at the dumb blonde man that I called my boyfriend.

“Pete! That wasn’t funny! What are you even doing here? I thought you were in Glasgow.”

He was completely unfazed by my strikes against his chest, a self satisfied smirk taking over his face.

“Left early. I missed you, mouse.”

My face did the best impression of a tomato and I spluttered to find any sort of response, or even to find my ability to form words.

His smirk grew wider as he crowded me up against the table I had previously been studying at.  His arms bracketed my torso, hands planted on the table behind me, and his hips essentially pinning me in place.

“Missed this.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine hungrily, the touch sending shivers up my spine and liquid fire rushing to my core. I forgot where I was and kissed back, my response every bit as hungry and as passionate, arms looped over his shoulders and hands buried into his hair. I arched my body into his and gave the smallest of mewls when Pete nipped my lower lip and gave it the barest of tugs.

I came back to my senses when his hands had traveled to cup my rear  and gave my flesh a firm squeeze.

I pulled away and he groaned in protest.

“We shouldn’t be doing this here, any one could see! I’ll be free in two hours, I promise.”

Pete sneered halfheartedly, distracted by my fingers scratching at his scalp. He ignored my words, leaning down and brushing my hair away from my shoulders  to press open mouthed, swirling kisses and love bites to my neck. The sensations were a shock to my system and my fingers reflexively tightened in his hair, pulling inadvertently.

“I’ve waited two days, not waiting longer. Not when I’ve got you wrapped around me.”

His hands returned to my rear and with little to no effort, he’d lifted me into his arms and began walking towards one of the private study rooms that lined the back of the library. I gave a quiet squeal as my feet left the ground, legs wrapping around his waist, just looking for any purchase.

That was a mistake.

Every step of his made me bounce ever so slightly, so that with every step, my core was pressing up against his groin. Based off of the hard length that I kept brushing up against, Pete was every bit as affected as I was by our kiss. Every little bounce sent jolts of pleasure and anticipation from my core to every nerve ending that left me panting and fighting back whimpers.

My face was on fire by the entire situation. We’d fooled around plenty, enough to know what the other looked like naked, but we hadn’t actually had sex yet. And he seemed very, very intent on doing this here, of all places.

Pete kicked open the door and marched in, pushing the door shut again with his foot and ensuring it was locked.

“Got you right where I want you.”

I didn’t get a chance to respond as he set me on the long conference table of the study room, his lips sealed against mine again in a mind melting kiss. I knew I shouldn’t, not here anyway, but I was a slave to the sensations that Pete was able to elicit out of me. His hands dragged up my sides, his fingers dragging my t-shirt up, the touch of his fingers against my bare flesh like brands.

He pulled away for just a moment to wrench his sweatshirt and shirt off in one fell swoop, baring the vast expanse of his chest to me. My eyes caught on the stark red and purple bruises on his chest and that shook a little of the pink fog of lust from my brain.

“We shouldn’t do this here…”

Pete shook his head with a feral grin.

“We’re gonna do this here mouse. We’ll just have to be quiet.”

He pulled my t shirt over my head before I could protest and his mouth was back on mine. One hand was swift to try to unclasp my bra, whereas the other snuck under the wire and the lace to pinch and roll my already pebbled nipple. His mouth swallowed my surprisingly loud moan, as the hand working to remove my bra won the battle against the clasps.

“Gonna have to be quieter mouse. Unless you really want to get caught.”

He muttered the words against my lips, before kissing his way down my jaw and my neck. I shivered as the air struck my bare chest, gooseflesh appearing all over my skin. Pete appeared to be in a hurry to have me completely nude, making short work of the buttons of my jeans. I lifted my hips to assist him in his quest to work the denim off of my body. He flung them and my moccasins to the other end of the room, before pressing a hand against my chest, pushing me to lay down along the top of the table.

What was he -

Oh.

Pete had kneeled down, hooked my left leg over his shoulder, pushed my right leg to make room for his body, and pressed his mouth against my lace covered center. My hips arched up sharply at the sudden touch of his mouth against the soaked lace of my panties. He took a deep breath and gave a rumble of satisfaction before pulling my panties to the side and suddenly his tongue was on the place where I needed him the most.

I was swept away by pleasure and didn’t pay any mind to his erratic pace. What Pete lacked in finesse in eating a girl out, he more than made up for in enthusiasm. My hands had shot down to grasp fistfuls of his hair as I panted with every swipe of his tongue against the tight little bundle of nerves. One thick finger pressed into me and I damn near bit through my lip to mute the loud whine of pleasure.

Pete was encouraged by the noise and he added another finger to join the first. I could feel the ball of pleasure in my lower abdomen tightening to almost painful levels with each thrust of his fingers and clever twist of his tongue. When I glanced down, his eyes were screwed shut and his free hand had disappeared into his joggers, the jerks of his arm and his hips couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

Then he hooked his fingers in a come hither motion against the secret spot inside of me and I was breaking apart.

Pete slowed his tongue against my clit and his fingers inside of me as I panted my way through my orgasm. Once the aftershocks of pleasure had slowed and the shaking had ceased, Pete pressed his lips to my inner thighs and looking up at me.

“Tell me you want this.”

I looked back at him, my own eyes half lidded and hazy with pleasure.

“I want all of you.”

He stood up quickly, my leg falling from his shoulder, as he pulled his joggers down around his ankles. His thick cock had sprung free and he was quick to rub the head against my entrance. I jerked at the touch of the blunt head against my over sensitive flesh, wrapping my legs around his waist, and then he slid inside of me to the hilt, the pressure and the stretch knocking the air out of me. Pete was not a small man, I knew that, but having him inside of me was an entirely different story. I felt overly full and my muscle walls burned in protest at the intrusion.

Pete left no time for me to adjust, his hips snapping into mine at a bruising pace, his hands gripping my waist tightly. I was going to be sore tomorrow, with a possibility for the perfect imprints of his fingers along my hips. I placed my hand over my mouth to quell the noises that were falling out of my mouth recklessly. I had to be quiet, but Pete wasn’t making it easy.

The table was scooting along the floor of the study room, the screech against the hardwood floor only adding to the symphony of sounds in the room, mixing with my muffled noises of pleasure, the wet sound of flesh slapping against flesh, and Pete’s mumbled curses. Every movement of his cock inside of me felt like someone was setting off fireworks of pleasure inside of my body. Pete’s eyes were half lidded, barely able to make out the color - wait were they gold now?-

A particularly hard thrust had sent that thought flying from my brain, my own eyes screwing shut as the table smacked against the wall of the study room. Each thrust made the table give a dull thump against the wall.

“Oh god, so close, Pete. Please, I need more.”

His speed was picking up, his mouth was pressing sloppy kisses along my breasts, and one of his hands left my hips to roughly circle the tight little bundle of nerves and my vision went white. He pressed his mouth against mine to swallow the screams of pleasure.

The spasms of my muscles around him made him groan and his hips jerked once, then twice. Warmth filled me and my legs shook.

We laid there for a moment on that table, my legs loosely wrapped around him and his head resting against my breast.

“Pack up. We’re going home. Don’t plan on sleeping.”

We’re young and in love, heart attacks waiting to happen.

I could remember clear as day when I found out about them.

Pete and I had practically moved in together, seeing as I spent more time at his flat than at my own. I had let the boys know I was going to the shops to pick some things up and they had just waved me away, too intent on the football match on the television.

I don’t recall where I had stopped but I had been gone for maybe thirty minutes. It was in those thirty minutes that Pete’s flat was utterly destroyed. I had walked in, a couple of bags in one hand and an too sweet, large coffee in the other. I dropped the bags upon seeing the broken dining room table and scrambled towards the shouting and what sounded to be growls from the living room.

It sounded and looked like someone had let a wild pack of beasts into my flat. There were holes in the walls, the flowers that Pete had purchased for me the day before were scattered across the carpet with the crystalline shards of the vase they were in mixed in, and the photos on the walls had been sliced to pieces.

The sight in the living room made me scream and the large coffee I was holding went crashing to the carpet with a muted splatter.

Pete had Tyler pinned with his hand around the younger blonde’s throat in the remains of our coffee table. Pete had a hand stretched over his head in preparation to strike at Tyler. I would have brushed it off as one of their testosterone fueled tiffs, if it weren’t for all the things that sent fear crawling up my spine.

All three men in the room were snarling with fangs exposed. The hand that Pete had stretched over his head had wickedly long and curved claws.

Three heads snapped towards me at the sound of my scream.

Three pairs of amber eyes so bright and so feral, that they appeared to glow.

Pete opened his mouth to say something, but I never heard his words.

I had crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

I was told after the fact that I was unconscious for only a minute or two at max. It was in that one hundred and twenty seconds, that  it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Pete had released Tyler and lunged for my prone body on the floor, his ear pressed against my chest to check for a pulse and to make sure that I was still breathing. He couldn’t smell any blood, but the panic was too much for Pete to just rely on his senses. His hands were quick to check my body for any bumps and bruises. Once satisfied that I was just unconscious and did not hit my head on anything on the way down, he let out the breath he didn’t know that he was holding.

“You haven’t told her what we are have ya, mate?”

Pete was silent for a couple of moments, but his body had become rigid and tense as soon as Tyler had spoken.

“It hadn’t really come up and I wasn’t ready to tell her,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, the words barely audible. Trent and Tyler had heard his words just as clearly as if he had shouted them.

The older of the three men just shook his head and sighed his disappointment while Tyler face palmed and groaned out loud. Pete scoffed and rounded on his two friends. “It’s not like I’m exactly prepared for this situation. Like, yes, oh hello babe I’m a fuckin’ werewolf and once a month I can hear your pulse so loud that it makes my mouth water. Get the fuck outta here.”

He began to pace the destroyed living room, running his hands through his hair in frustration, as he was speaking. He didn’t notice that I was beginning to stir until he saw Trent and Tyler kneeling next to me.

Coming back to consciousness was an experience, blinking the bleariness out of my eyes only to be met with Trent and Tyler’s faces almost uncomfortably close to mine.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)? I’m sorry I scared you.” Tyler was so earnest as he spoke that it tugged at my heart strings.

Pete scoffed, still pacing.

“It wasn’t that fuckin’ scary mouse. Don’t know what you went faintin’ for.”

Trent narrowed his eyes and turned to scowl at Pete.

“If you had told her earlier, we would  not be in this situation, now would we? Tyler and I are going to go for a walk around the block, and you’re going to explain everything to her.”

Pete opened his mouth to protest, but the older bearded man cut him off.

“I said to tell her everything, Peter. You are going to tell her everything.”

There was something different, just then, about Trent’s voice. It was still him, but there was weighty power behind the words, something that made me want to run and hide. Pete clearly felt it too, by the way that his mouth clamped shut with an audible click and the grinding of his teeth.

Both of the members of Mustache Mountain stood and made for the door to our flat.

“(Y/N), if it’s okay, can we talk later?” Tyler was just so eager that it was impossible to not nod back to him. His grin was blinding as he exited.

Trent gave Pete a meaningful stare, before turning to me.

“We trust you, (Y/N). I just hope that you’ll trust us.”

Trent turned to leave but paused, clearly mulling something over, right before the door.

“And just for future reference, stay away from Scurll- he collects pretty things like you.”

With those cryptic last words, Trent exited our flat, as Pete scoffed again while still pacing. I sat up from my position on the ground and just stared at him for a couple moments, the silence uneasy around the two of us. Seconds ticked by uncomfortably and I cracked.

“Pete? What’s going on?”

He stopped his pacing and he turned to face me, those gray blue eyes impossibly deep and fathomless boring into my own.  

“’m a werewolf. Trent and Tyler are too.”

My mouth was dry, my mind went blank, and I could feel my eyes widen in shock. Pete stood stock still, tense and his eyes searching my face for a reaction. I’m sure I looked a little ridiculous, my mouth gaping open closed like a fish.

Werewolves. The kind from monster movies, that changed during full moons and were characterized as mindless killing machines. How was it possible that my sweet, if a little rough around the edges boyfriend, was one? Sure he was more than a little surly and had a reputation for biting others, but this was pretty wild.

It would explain everything that I had walked in on minutes ago.

The silence must have continued too long for Pete as I was processing, as he began to shift uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Say something.”

His words were a gruffly spoken command, but I knew him well enough to see and hear the anxiety and insecurity underneath. My heart ached and then all the questions just came pouring out faster than Pete could ever hope to answer them.

“Is the full moon a thing? How often do you do the wolf thing? Are your senses heightened? Does it hurt?”

I kept rattling off questions, but he didn’t try to answer them. His face had softened in relief, his eyes warm and a small little smile pulling at his lips. I hadn’t run screaming from the room and I wasn’t looking at him like a monster. If I had been paying attention to his body language and not working on satisfying my never ending curiosity, my stomach would have done somersaults and my face would have flushed from the way he was looking at me.

Faster than I could blink, Pete was on  his knees on the floor in front of me, cupping my face with both hands.

“Shut up.”

He pressed a soft, emotion filled kiss to my lips. I could practically taste the relief in his lips. We sat there for a moment, embraced, before I pulled away.

“How long have you been a werewolf?”

He laughed sharply and shook his head.

I practically interrogated him for a solid hour about what it meant to be a werewolf.

Pete was born a werewolf, as was Tyler and Trent. When I asked him about his childhood, he clammed up and brusquely informed me to ask another question.

Their social hierarchy was similar to an actual wolf pack, but there was no hard and fast caste system as the media liked to imagine.

They could shift at any time, but the moon was a strong pull that most, including himself, could not resist.

The reason they were vegans? The taste of flesh brought the beast much, much closer to the surface and made it all too easy to lose control.

In hindsight, I really should have asked how it would affect our relationship.

It was after that revelation that things began to… change.

Trent, Tyler, and I were thick as thieves. We became so much closer once I was told of the furry little problem that made up such a large portion of their lives. They were able to be much freer with themselves and more comfortable around me. Tyler was my partner in crime, constantly roping me into mischief and activities I would have never normally even considered. Trent was my closest confidante, whom I could discuss pretty much anything with, without judgment.

Things changed with Pete too.  

Pete was affectionate before the confession about what he was. Now? He was overbearing. Everywhere we went, his arm was over my shoulder and he was snarling at all passersby. Even when we were at home, just hanging out with the rest of the pack, he was more prone to displays of possession and snapping at Trent and at Tyler especially, the younger man having little to no sense of boundaries.

Our lovemaking got rougher.

Never enough to seriously worry me, as this must be the way that he’d always wanted it. The bruises and bite marks did make me purchase a lot more scarves and long sleeved shirts, in addition to learning how to creatively cover love bites.

It never struck me as something that was wrong.

At least, until he took me on a romantic getaway to celebrate my graduation from my program in March.

Don’t go around tonight, it’s bound to take your life.

I could hear him.

Claws digging deep gouges into the heavy, weathered wood of the basement door. Growls and snarls as he paced back and forth. The dark chuckles that would rumble out of him when he heard me whimper or sniffle.

“C'mon out little mouse and I promise we’ll… Talk. This door can’t keep me out forever and the smell of your fear is like heaven.”

My hands were shaking so hard, that I dropped my phone twice while trying to dial Trent’s phone number. I was unable to choke down the sob of fear in my throat as Pete slammed against the basement door, knowing he heard me dialing.

This was supposed to be a romantic weekend getaway. Just Pete and I, together in a cabin in the wilderness. He’d always seemed to be so in control with me around. I’d even fancied that I had the ability to calm his rages after the encounter with an Unseelie prince by the name of Scurll. The older fae had gotten a little too curious about me while backstage at a show and Pete went postal. I had just placed a hand on his shoulder and the rage seemed to evaporate from his body. Pete had released the Unseelie man with a growled warning before hauling me off to “make sure I was okay” with his fingers and his mouth.

I’d gotten it into my head that I was special, that I was gifted.

I’d really thought that I could soothe the beast that lurked underneath his skin.

How stupid I was.

“He can’t fuckin’ help you mouse! You’re mine!”

His words made me shudder, another sob sneaking past my lips.

The line rang once.

SLAM.

Twice.

SLAM.

“(Y/N)? Sweetheart are you okay?”

Why did Tyler have Trent’s phone?

SLAM.

I wasn’t able to respond with more than a whimper of fear at the sound of Pete’s body slamming into the heavy door to the basement yet again. Trent was roaring in the background and I could hear the crunch of the plastic phone case as Tyler was gritting his teeth.  “Hang in there, sweetheart. Trent and I are coming. We tried to tell Pete that this wasn’t a good idea this close to the moon. You need to hide somewhere safe until we get there. We’re less than five minutes away.”

I could hear Pete laughing from up the stairs and behind the heavy door as Tyler was speaking. I scrambled to follow the younger blonde man’s advice, moving to hide behind a large stack of dilapidated boxes, dropping to the basement floor, and curling in up on myself.

“Tyler, I don’t know what h-happened. We were just h-having dinner and then something changed. I don’t know what it was, I did everything right just like I was told! And t-then he’s chasing me through the cabin and-”

My words were cut off by my shriek of terror as the heavy basement door gave way under the force of Pete’s body slamming into it. I slapped my hand over my mouth, to stop my cries and whimpers. On the other end of the line, I heard the crunching of glass and plastic, before the line went dead.

I was on my own for now.

“Come out mouse. This has been a fun hunt, but I want my woman,” He called out from the top of the stairs, his voice caught in what felt like a permanent bestial growl. I didn’t respond to his call, my body frozen in place. Moments passed in silence, and my heart was racing as I tried to control my breathing and shaking body. I couldn’t make any noise for fear of being found and I couldn’t move even if I had wanted to.

“Mouse, you have five seconds to come out before we do this the hard way. Meaning it’ll be hard for you, not for me.”

I stayed still, my hand now clasped over my mouth to silence my whimpers, tears of fear now streaming down my face.

“Have it your way.”

He stomped his way down the old rickety stairs, each wooden step groaning in protest. Every thud and creak  had me flinching and trying to stifle whimpers with little success. I was frozen by fear as I heard him reach the bottom of the stairs.

The crack and splintering of an old wooden crate caused me to sob out loud, my hand clapping over my mouth in vain to catch the sound before it escaped. Through the gaps in the boxes, I could see Pete’s head snap towards me, fangs peaking over his lips and predatory amber eyes locking onto mine for just a moment before I ducked my head again.

“I can hear your heart racing, mouse. The scent of your fear is so strong, I can practically taste it.”

His steps towards my hiding spot were deliberately slow and calculated. The sounds of his steps were the only sounds reverberating through the dark and slightly damp basement, though I could have sworn that my heart was about to beat out of my chest, given its frantic tattoo. My eyes stung from the bleeding mascara and my throat was raw from trying to quell  the sounds of fear that were threatening to escape.

Pete paused, his head cocked as if he were listening for something far away. In the distance, if I strained my ears, I could hear tires on gravel and shouting. The werewolf in the room with me was not pleased.

“And here comes the fuckin’ cavalry. Well I got news for you mouse, they can’t have you. I’m your alpha. You are my pack.”

He snarled his words as I heard the door of the cabin upstairs crack open violently. Boots were stomping across the floor above us, but Pete paid no mind to it, continuing his advance towards the stack of boxes I was hiding behind.

He threw the boxes away to reveal my curled up form and I screamed.

This was not my boyfriend, the man that I moved in with, the man I was in love with.

This was a monster.

Amber eyes aglow, features too sharp and too savage, his already sharp jaw line pushed forward even more to begin forming a muzzle, and dangerously sharp incisors peeking from his lips. The cracks I had heard upstairs had been the bones in his hands breaking and rearranging to become even larger and tipped in razor like claws.

There was a roar from the top of the basement stairs and Tyler had materialized next to Pete, half shifted and with fangs bared in a challenge. I scooted as quickly as I could, anything to put distance between myself and the two weres, from my position seated on the floor.

“I know you’re not challenging me Bate. You’re not that fuckin’ stupid.”

Pete gave a bestial laugh as he spoke and I pulled my knees tight to my chest. Tyler roared and tackled Pete, knocking the two men to the ground and then the fight started.

Snarls. Barks. Yips. The tearing of clothing and flesh. The snapping of jaws and the breaking of bones as the shift overcame the both of them.

And I was helpless to move. Fear had paralyzed my every muscle, terror gripping every nerve ending. My fight or flight response was completely overwhelmed and I was a sitting duck. Even if I could move, I would have to go through two werewolves that seemed rather intent on tearing each other apart to get to the lone exit of the basement.

I didn’t even notice Trent approaching me until he had set his hand on my shoulder. I couldn’t even muster a sound as I flinched away from his touch, eyes round with fright. Trent looked hurt by my flinch, the amber-gold eyes softening as he knelt down to be level with me.

“Take my keys. Drive out of here and do not come back till morning. Do you understand, (Y/N)?”

His voice was quiet and soothing, but the command was there in his face. I gave the barest of nods, not trusting my own voice, and Trent handed me his key ring.

“Remember, do not come back till morning. Bring a first aid kit if you do come around.”

I was too scared to examine the almost resigned way he murmured those words, too intent on getting myself out of this. I had the keys in hand and I scrambled out of the basement, dancing around the two fighting werewolves, and up the stairs.

The breaking of more bones as they signaled Trent’s shift and the last thing I heard before I exited that dark basement was a roar.

Of my name.

I practically flew out of that cabin, I’m still not sure if my feet touched the ground. I fumbled with the ignition once in the car and once I was able to start the car, I flew down that little country road like a bat out of hell, tears nearly blinding me.

I slept restlessly in the parking lot of an old diner that night, having pulled a spare sweatshirt found in the car tightly around me. How did it all come to this?

I was woken up the next morning by my phone ringing.

Pete.

I picked up, hands shaking.

“Hello?”

A deep breath from the other line.

“Good morning sweetheart. If you’re feeling up to it, can you come back to the cabin?”

It was Trent. He sounded utterly exhausted and weary to the bone.

“Trent, is he okay? Are you guys okay?”

He sighed.

“I’d rather have this conversation in person, if you can come back.”

I let him know that I was on my way.

That drive back to the cabin passed like a blur.

It was as I pulled up to the cabin and parked, that the door opened, and the battered forms of Tyler and Trent shuffled out of the house, a limp Pete’s arms draped over their shoulders. I threw off my seatbelt and stumbled out of the car.

“Is he okay?!”

Tyler mumbled something and Trent nodded. The older man shift Pete’s weight over to Tyler, who continued to shuffle him over to Trent’s car. Trent moved swiftly, even with a slight limp, to intercept me before I could reach Pete.

“He’s fine, luv. Or he will be. I’ll explain everything in the car. Tyler is driving Pete back, and you’re gonna ride with me. Is that okay?”

The question seemed to be rhetorical, based off of the tight look of determination on his face. I nodded stiffly and handed over the keys to Trent.

We clambered back into the car, and set off back to the West Midlands, Tyler and an unconscious Pete following behind.

The first half hour of the ride back home was silent. Trent’s eyes were firmly locked on the road as he was driving and I was playing with a fraying thread at the end of the sweatshirt.

“How long?”

My head jerked towards the other man.

“What?”

Trent shook his head, a wry smile on his face.

“The bruises on your neck are at least a week old, the bite just above your breast is newer, maybe three to four days based off of the smell of the old blood. How long has Pete been abusing you?”

I was aghast. Pete was not abusing me.

“W-what?! Pete would never. These are just from…”

Trent turned with an arched brow, skeptical.

“You know, as his mate, can tell him to be more gentle and he will do that, right?”

“M-mate, what do you mean mate?”

I blushed at the implication of Trent’s words.

He was much, much less amused. Trent practically roared, his hand denting in the steering wheel under the force of his grip. At my squeak of alarm, Trent forced himself to calm, but his jaw was still set angrily.

“I’m not mad at you, luv. Did Peter ever tell you about relationships among our kind? Of the mating bonds?”

I shook my head, not trusting my voice.

Trent sighed, and launched into an almost professorial explanation of what it was to be mates.

Life partners. Life bonds. No other options.

“He’s been going through the rituals with you, y'know? You essentially live together, sharing a den. He provides for you, bringing you meals. You bandage him up following hard matches, like a good mate would. He’s brought you gifts and declared his intentions to the pack. All that remains is the bite.”

I was stunned.

“He’s never told me any of this.”

Trent shook his head.

“I can’t imagine why. Not to excuse him taking your choice away from you, but Pete has had a… rough upbringing. His mother gave him up and he was taken in by a greedy, greedy couple. Once they had realized that he was… different, they set about making money off of him. I first met Pete when he was 13, fighting in an underground fighting club. He was half starved and feral, snapping at everyone and everything. He’s come a long way, but… I guess he never got over the fear of abandonment.”

I swallowed thickly, my heart raging in my chest.

“Abandonment?”

Trent ran a hand through his hair.

“I can imagine that he was afraid you’d leave if he told you he wanted you to take his mark. The mark is forever. Its not like a human marriage, where there is an option for divorce. It is quite literally till one of you dies. I think he was planning on giving you the mark while at the cabin, and only explaining to you afterwards what it meant. When it was too late for you.”

I couldn’t believe that he was going to take away my choice.

That hurt, so much deeper than anything I thought possible. The betrayal of trust burned in my veins, the tears burning against my eyes.

And so we made a plan.

So come a little closer, tell me those three little words.

I panicked at his words, the tremors spreading from my hands to my entire body. I was about to leave the little family I had made here, all because I couldn’t handle the intensity, if that was the right word, of my relationship.

“Come with me Trent, please. I don’t know if I can do this.”

The older man’s face softened in a way that just broke my heart even further. He cupped both sides of my face and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, the soft hairs of his beard tickling my skin. He pulled away to meet my eyes, his hands still cupping my face.

“You are part of my pack, dear girl. You are smart and strong and you will make it through this. You know I would do anything to protect you, but I cannot leave my obligations here. You know the route and you can do this. What are the rules?”

His eyes were intent on mine and my mind went blank for a moment. It was a moment too long, as Trent gently shook me.

“We do not have much more time, sweetheart. The rules, hurry.”

I swallowed quickly.

“Keep your head down and don’t speak more than you have to. Until I’m in Paris, wear the lavender oil on all pulse points to mask my scent. Once in Paris, Ygritte will be giving me a charm to wear that hides my scent entirely. Don’t stay in one place too long. Don’t rest until I’m in America.”

Trent nodded his approval, his face still soft and a smile curling at his lips. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a shout from the other end of the platform.

“(Y/N)!”

Trent’s eyes flashed gold and I felt the press of claws against my scalp for a brief moment before Trent dropped his hands and whirled around with a snarl.

We were out of time. He was here and the train was arriving not a moment too soon, the shrill of the train whistle and the screeching of the brakes cutting through the tension that had ratcheted up to a fever pitch. It wasn’t hard to see from which direction Pete was coming, one only had to listen for the surprised shouts of the other people on the platform.

The train doors opened behind me.

“Go. I’ll keep him from following. ”

Tears were building in my eyes and my chin quivered with the effort of holding them back from falling.

“Trent…”

He still didn’t turn, shaking his head.

“You need to go now, (Y/N), get on the train. Stay safe and remember that I- we, that we love you.”

His words struck me like a blow to the stomach. If it were any other time, any other situation, I may have examined his words under a microscope. I would have wondered if things had been different, if it had been Trent who had fended off the drunk partygoer in that cramped flat, if we’d still be in this situation.

“(Y/N)!”

The rage tinged with something frantic, something that sounded suspiciously like fear, in Pete’s voice spurred me into action. I turned and stumbled on weak and shaky legs into train car as one of the last stragglers to enter the car, an automated voice calling over the intercom for final boarding.

This was it.

It was with wide eyes that I witnessed Trent and Pete scuffle on the platform.  I could see clear as day, from over one hundred feet away the two pairs of burning orange gold eyes that marked the beginning of the shift. They couldn’t shift here, not in public, not with the hunters that Trent had mentioned days ago on their trail. The shouts were indecipherable from this distance, but the vicious shoves told me everything I needed to know.

The doors began to shut and Pete’s feral eyes met mine.

My heart stopped in that moment and time slowed.

As long as he didn’t shift, I was safe behind the plexiglass and steel doors. Pete was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid by any means. He had frozen as soon as our eyes made contact, a fist grasping the collar of Trent’s collar in a bruising grip, and the snarl that was on his face had fallen. His body language still read for aggression and violence, but the myriad of emotions that flicked over his face was dizzying.

Anger. Betrayal. Fear. Heartbreak.

It was the heartbreak on his face that broke the dam. The tears began to stream down my face and I sobbed.

“I’m so sorry.”

Pete released his grip on Trent’s collar and the older man stumbled backwards, his hand going reflexively to his throat. Pete began stepping towards the train menacingly.

I couldn’t hear his words, but it wasn’t hard to read his lips as the train began to leave the station, our eye contact never wavering until he disappeared from view. If it weren’t for my grip on the railing, I would have collapsed to the floor.

“I will find you, I promise.”

Girl, you’re mine forever.

[caffeineheroes]

Interesting article and a good resource for finding other Beauty and the Beast retellings, but ultimately an unfair assessment of the dynamic in Disney’s versions. If the Blue Fairy Book instructs men’s behavior, then the Disney version is the most successful in its lesson for men to develop the best part of themselves.

Making Beast into a dynamic character isn’t just an attempt to spice up the story–it deepens the meaning behind the Beast’s ultimate transformation. Saying Disney’s Beauty and the Beast promotes abusive relationships is insulting, crass, and blatantly wrong. If that were the case, Belle would have just accepted Gaston’s marriage proposal.

Moreover, Beast’s actions don’t make him an “abuser.” People are allowed to make mistakes! 

As I recently read on tumblr, men don’t always realize the extent that their raised voices and physical proximity have on women. It’s the failure to try to correct these behaviors once realized, or the use of these behaviors to intimidate once known that defines an abuser.

Beast screaming at Belle and scaring her out of the West Wing and the castle do not make him an abuser! He lost his damn temper because he was terrified that Belle could have hurt the rose and also because she was in his private space.

And the story addresses this! That argument Belle and the Beast have after the wolf attack? Her ultimate comeback is “Well you should learn to control your temper!” And that stops him short, because yes he does indeed need to check himself before he wrecks himself (further).

And where are Beasts further outbursts? Where’s the abuse? Oh yeah, THERE ISN’T ANY. Because the Beast listens and realizes that he needs to correct his behavior.

I mean, Beast is allowed to get mad. He’s allowed to be an EQUAL PARTNER IN THIS RELATIONSHIP WITH FEELINGS. But he realizes he can’t take this out on Belle.

Guess who doesn’t realize this? Gaston. In fact, I would argue that the new Disney version truly modernizes Villeneuve’s and Beaumont’s versions by shifting the “will you marry/sleep with me?” question on Gaston.

Back in the 18th/19th century, it would be quite the revelation for the Beast to actually ask if he could sleep with/marry Belle. But today? Of course the man has to ask before taking any liberties with a woman. Consent is necessary. Rather I would argue that in today’s context, this repeatedly asking is what’s ungentlemanly. She said no. Respect her answer.

It’s clear from the 2017 film, Gaston has repeatedly pursued Belle. She flat out says no to dinner with him–no reason, just no. And yet Gaston continues to pursue her with no respect for her feelings or desires. “Wearing her down” until she says yes is most certainly NOT good behavior to be modeled. Yes, Gaston looks like a man, but inside he’s a beast–or rather, a monster.

The Beast on the otherhand does not pressure Belle in this manner. Ever! In fact, I absolutely loved the new film’s take on how the servants and Beast don’t even tell Belle the details of the curse. Because they don’t want her to feel obligated to love him! Because they realize that’s not true love!

In the 1991 version, the ball is clearly set up as an attempt to “seal the deal.” This is made even more clear in the re-release that includes the song “Human Again.” The servants seem less concerned with Belle’s (or the Beast’s) feelings, and are planning–or plotting– the ballroom scene to become human again.

However in the 2017 version, Beast isn’t even keen on the dance! Belle’s the one who suggests it! (I apologize–I’ve only seen the film once so far. He might have been the one to suggest it, but only as an offhand remark and she’s the one who pushed for it.) And the servants help out, but it doesn’t feel like this sort of long-game plot to be “human again.” As Mrs. Potts tells Belle, “don’t you worry about [breaking the curse], that’s our doing.” (Or something like that).

Finally, the Beast doesn’t even pressure Belle to love him back, let alone sleep with or marry him! At the end of the ballroom dance–when he is planning to reveal his feelings–he doesn’t! He wants to know if she’s happy. And she asks can anyone be happy if they’re not free? So what does he do?

HE SETS HER FREE. WITH NO DESIGNS ON HER RETURNING. He gives her the mirror to remember him by and plans to sit in his lonely tower pining for her for evermore. He never let her know how he really felt because he didn’t want to burden her with that knowledge forever because he wanted her to be HAPPY AND FREE.

What did Gaston do? He tried to kill Belle’s father so she would be shackled to him for life or else end up like the spinster Agathe. Then when that fails, he tries to lock Maurice up in an asylum as a ransom for Belle’s hand. And when that seems to fall through, he leads a mob to the castle to murder the guy who has stolen Belle’s affection. The 2017 movie hits this more on the nose with Le Fou’s line that “I fear it’s a different monster that’s been unleashed.”

Also, remember that Gaston’s good manners are only an act. He asks for permission from Belle at first because that is the bare minimum society expects of him. But when that fails he gets angry, and more notably, violent.

He helps Maurice look for Belle because he wants to marry Belle. When Maurice refuses to give his consent, he punches him and leaves him for dead in the woods. THAT is what abuse looks like, folks.

When Belle wants to help Maurice, Beast doesn’t just agree but actually assists her, even to his detriment. That is love, not abuse.

Even at the end of the film, when Beast is holding Gaston by the throat, ready to kill Gaston for trying to kill him (and leading a mob there to kill his servants), he doesn’t. He has every right to be angry and want revenge. (At this point, everyone in the theater is like pleeeaaaaassseeee drop Gaston off the cliff–it’s self-defense, if anything.) But he sees Belle and remembers to check his anger, to his detriment later on when Gaston shoots the Beast MULTIPLE TIMES.

The Beast is not in any way an “abuser” in this relationship. The Beast’s and Belle’s relationship is not an abusive one!

In fact, Disney has has built on the original versions of the story in addition to the 1991 version to create an even more didactic fairy tale by juxtaposing the Beast’s relationship to Belle with Gaston’s. Not only does it model positive behavior, but the negative. And, moreover, it asks us not to just adhere to the bare minimum society expects of us, but to be our best selves. The Beast doesn’t keep asking Belle to marry him or fall in love with him like he does in the original tale. And he doesn’t just pay lip service to society’s definition of consent. The Beast respects Belle’s feelings and strives to make her happy. He doesn’t even tell her he loves her because he knows she can’t truly consent to love him back as she feels trapped in the castle. She may be happy, but without being free, how does she know what she feels is real?

Bravo, Bill Condon, Disney, and the whole Beauty and the Beast team. This is the remake, this is the retelling, we all wanted and needed. It’s an update that brings this tale as old as time into the 21st century and the new millenium.