(no subject)
Title: One Is Silver, The Other Gold
Pairing: Spencer/Ryan
Rating: pg
Wordcount: 507
Summary: Spencer doesn't want to be in this situation, until he is, and then he likes it.
Prompt used: dub-con
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Spencer’s not sure how it came to a showdown in the middle of a parking lot. There’s no reason for Ryan and Jon to be here. As far as he knows The Young Veins aren’t touring. Not that Spencer follows them. In his mind it all works better if he doesn’t know. Brendon does though. He has their myspace bookmarked. If they were passing through the same state Brendon would have told him.
Spencer thinks he's still in control right up until the moment that Dallon shifts. That changes the whole game. Because the truth about werewolves is the human has less control than the general public would like to think. It should be obvious; the human is in charge of the human form, the wolf is in charge of the wolf form. If the human was in charge of the wolf form they wouldn't be a fucking werewolf. So it follows that human!Spencer will behave differently than wolf!Spencer.
It's a cascade effect. Stick one werewolf into a crowded area and force him to change and the pheromones that change produces causes nine out of ten werewolves to change along with him. It's the easiest way to out a werewolf. Legislation has been put in place to make such an act illegal, but of course it's illegal like beating up someone transgendered is; only select people will care at select moments.
Some werewolves get better at stopping themselves from scent-enforced change as they age, a product of discipline and less hormones. At nineteen Spencer can't do fuck all but change along with Dallon, no matter that he doesn’t want to. And he’s hardly the only one. So does Brendon, and Ian, and Ryan.
The moment he's covered in fur, Spencer pads across the parking lot to stand beside Ryan. He licks his snout, and sniffs him. He's missed Ryan!smell, it's been lacking lately. Brendon whines, torn between the two groups as Ian and Dallon growl. Spencer doesn't care. Ryan smells good, like things he's been missing without knowing why or where they went.
He shifts back five minutes later. It's the standard duration for daylight shifting, unless the wolf is extremely strong. He's draped over Ryan. Ryan's makeup is smeared with Spencer's saliva, which would account for the awful chalky taste in his mouth.
Ryan smirks. "Nice making a point, Weekes. Bet you thought he was gonna pick you."
Dallon doesn't reply. His throat probably grates a bit from five straight minutes of growling. Spencer knows Ryan's right. It's obvious Dallon shifted to show off his new pack in order to make Ryan jealous and regret his stupid choices. Spencer knows it, Ryan knows it, Brendon knows it.
Spencer's not sure what it means for the band that Dallon didn't get the answer he wanted. But he can't bring himself to feel guilty about it. As much as human!Spencer is pissed about Ryan Ross and Jon Walker, maybe even hates them a little, to wolf!Spencer, Ryan will always be pack.
Title: The Baseball Bat Talk
Characters: Gerard
Rating: R
Wordcount: 576
Summary: You know that thing all older brothers tell potential suitors? Gerard means it.
Prompt used: serial killers
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
There are a lot of things Gerard can tolerate being done to himself. He doesn't tend to stick up for himself. Under the radar has always been a more comfortable place to fly.
Mikey though. When it comes to Mikey, Gerard's willing to do anything.
Gerard holds Ray’s iPhone for a minute, unable to look away from the offensive picture Ray said he needed to see. Eventually Ray takes the cell back and shows Bob and James and Pete. They're all angry, the typical teenage boy cursing with clenched fists. Frank would be too, if he was here, not at home sick. Gerard is more than angry. He's so furious he's calm, like he jumped into a supernova and came out the other side.
“Do we tell him? I didn't want to without proof, but I dunno now.” Ray shrugs helplessly.
“Seeing this is going to hurt him.” Pete says it like it's the worst thing in the world. Gerard understands that.
Bob shrugs. “If Justin cheated somewhere you could see it, then other people probably saw too. Better coming from a friend than Corinne and her evil glee club bitch squad, right?”
Gerard walks away from them. They'll take care of Mikey, he's got his own things to take care of.
Justin owns a brand new car. He’s one of three people at Jefferson High that do, and the count of Rich Asshole is three for three. It's a showy car, the kind that shouts a douchebag drives this the second you look at it. Somehow Mikey always looked past the custom rims to the band stickers all over the bumper. Gerard doesn't look at anything, just sits on the hood and stares into the middle distance, waiting.
Justin's spooked when he sees him. Probably not as much as he should be. “I guess you heard, then?”
Gerard decides to get straight to the point. “Remember when I said on your first date if you hurt him I'd kill you?”
“What, the Willow-talk? Life isn't tv, man. Everyone says that stupid phrase.”
“I'm not everyone.”
The baseball bat nestled against his back rolls down the hood of the car as Gerard stands. It clatters against the sidewalk before Gerard has a chance to pick it up. He’s only used it once before. Just like last time, it feels right in his hands. The solid pressure of the wood against his fingers tells Gerard he’s doing the right thing.
“What, you're gonna break my windshield to teach me a lesson about how to tolerate your boring in bed brother? The boy that thinks rimming is wild and crazy? Yeah, I'm so over vanilla. Go ahead, bash the car. You know if I called the cops that's vandalism, right?”
“I'm not interested in the car.” And he's really, really not.
He doesn’t have the time to do all that he wants. It’s the downside to giving in to his whims; the middle of the parking lot adjacent to the school has more foot traffic than is good for this type of thing. Sooner than he wants to Gerard is smashing the baseball bat against Justin’s neck, and the screams fade into gurgles as Justin drowns in his own blood. A good sound, no doubt about it, just not as lovely as screams. But he’ll take what he can get to pad his ears and his heart for the next month as Mikey cries.
Pairing: Spencer/Ryan
Rating: pg
Wordcount: 507
Summary: Spencer doesn't want to be in this situation, until he is, and then he likes it.
Prompt used: dub-con
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Spencer’s not sure how it came to a showdown in the middle of a parking lot. There’s no reason for Ryan and Jon to be here. As far as he knows The Young Veins aren’t touring. Not that Spencer follows them. In his mind it all works better if he doesn’t know. Brendon does though. He has their myspace bookmarked. If they were passing through the same state Brendon would have told him.
Spencer thinks he's still in control right up until the moment that Dallon shifts. That changes the whole game. Because the truth about werewolves is the human has less control than the general public would like to think. It should be obvious; the human is in charge of the human form, the wolf is in charge of the wolf form. If the human was in charge of the wolf form they wouldn't be a fucking werewolf. So it follows that human!Spencer will behave differently than wolf!Spencer.
It's a cascade effect. Stick one werewolf into a crowded area and force him to change and the pheromones that change produces causes nine out of ten werewolves to change along with him. It's the easiest way to out a werewolf. Legislation has been put in place to make such an act illegal, but of course it's illegal like beating up someone transgendered is; only select people will care at select moments.
Some werewolves get better at stopping themselves from scent-enforced change as they age, a product of discipline and less hormones. At nineteen Spencer can't do fuck all but change along with Dallon, no matter that he doesn’t want to. And he’s hardly the only one. So does Brendon, and Ian, and Ryan.
The moment he's covered in fur, Spencer pads across the parking lot to stand beside Ryan. He licks his snout, and sniffs him. He's missed Ryan!smell, it's been lacking lately. Brendon whines, torn between the two groups as Ian and Dallon growl. Spencer doesn't care. Ryan smells good, like things he's been missing without knowing why or where they went.
He shifts back five minutes later. It's the standard duration for daylight shifting, unless the wolf is extremely strong. He's draped over Ryan. Ryan's makeup is smeared with Spencer's saliva, which would account for the awful chalky taste in his mouth.
Ryan smirks. "Nice making a point, Weekes. Bet you thought he was gonna pick you."
Dallon doesn't reply. His throat probably grates a bit from five straight minutes of growling. Spencer knows Ryan's right. It's obvious Dallon shifted to show off his new pack in order to make Ryan jealous and regret his stupid choices. Spencer knows it, Ryan knows it, Brendon knows it.
Spencer's not sure what it means for the band that Dallon didn't get the answer he wanted. But he can't bring himself to feel guilty about it. As much as human!Spencer is pissed about Ryan Ross and Jon Walker, maybe even hates them a little, to wolf!Spencer, Ryan will always be pack.
Title: The Baseball Bat Talk
Characters: Gerard
Rating: R
Wordcount: 576
Summary: You know that thing all older brothers tell potential suitors? Gerard means it.
Prompt used: serial killers
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
There are a lot of things Gerard can tolerate being done to himself. He doesn't tend to stick up for himself. Under the radar has always been a more comfortable place to fly.
Mikey though. When it comes to Mikey, Gerard's willing to do anything.
Gerard holds Ray’s iPhone for a minute, unable to look away from the offensive picture Ray said he needed to see. Eventually Ray takes the cell back and shows Bob and James and Pete. They're all angry, the typical teenage boy cursing with clenched fists. Frank would be too, if he was here, not at home sick. Gerard is more than angry. He's so furious he's calm, like he jumped into a supernova and came out the other side.
“Do we tell him? I didn't want to without proof, but I dunno now.” Ray shrugs helplessly.
“Seeing this is going to hurt him.” Pete says it like it's the worst thing in the world. Gerard understands that.
Bob shrugs. “If Justin cheated somewhere you could see it, then other people probably saw too. Better coming from a friend than Corinne and her evil glee club bitch squad, right?”
Gerard walks away from them. They'll take care of Mikey, he's got his own things to take care of.
Justin owns a brand new car. He’s one of three people at Jefferson High that do, and the count of Rich Asshole is three for three. It's a showy car, the kind that shouts a douchebag drives this the second you look at it. Somehow Mikey always looked past the custom rims to the band stickers all over the bumper. Gerard doesn't look at anything, just sits on the hood and stares into the middle distance, waiting.
Justin's spooked when he sees him. Probably not as much as he should be. “I guess you heard, then?”
Gerard decides to get straight to the point. “Remember when I said on your first date if you hurt him I'd kill you?”
“What, the Willow-talk? Life isn't tv, man. Everyone says that stupid phrase.”
“I'm not everyone.”
The baseball bat nestled against his back rolls down the hood of the car as Gerard stands. It clatters against the sidewalk before Gerard has a chance to pick it up. He’s only used it once before. Just like last time, it feels right in his hands. The solid pressure of the wood against his fingers tells Gerard he’s doing the right thing.
“What, you're gonna break my windshield to teach me a lesson about how to tolerate your boring in bed brother? The boy that thinks rimming is wild and crazy? Yeah, I'm so over vanilla. Go ahead, bash the car. You know if I called the cops that's vandalism, right?”
“I'm not interested in the car.” And he's really, really not.
He doesn’t have the time to do all that he wants. It’s the downside to giving in to his whims; the middle of the parking lot adjacent to the school has more foot traffic than is good for this type of thing. Sooner than he wants to Gerard is smashing the baseball bat against Justin’s neck, and the screams fade into gurgles as Justin drowns in his own blood. A good sound, no doubt about it, just not as lovely as screams. But he’ll take what he can get to pad his ears and his heart for the next month as Mikey cries.