Vic Havoc || Fated Mate

The warm Santa Ana breeze flows across the stage, providing temporary relief from the LA heat. Even with the sun having set hours ago, it was still ungodly hot, especially underneath the stage lights. Still, the historic amphitheater is something they always dreamed of playing but never thought they’d get the chance. But here they were-- Four idiots from nowhere, Ohio-- playing for a sold-out crowd of seventeen thousand people.

Vic thinks he’ll never get tired of this — of playing music with his best friends, of living out his wildest dreams — of providing a voice to those who felt just as much of an outcast as he had most of his life. Because Vic knew all too well how it felt to be shunned for simply being his authentic self. School bullies he could handle — but how did you handle it when your biggest bully is your own father?

The good pastor, Alberto Martinez, was a leader to his congregation, while at home, he was a monster to his oldest son. He couldn’t understand that Vic’s calling was to play music. He saw it as devil worship and would force Vic to endure punishment after punishment simply for being himself. He hasn’t spoken to his dad in almost two years — the last time, Alberto knocked Vic to the ground for daring to show up looking like a heathen.

Vic had just wanted to see his little brothers.

Because he wouldn’t apologize for who he was — not anymore. He wasn’t that lonely boy anymore who sought approval from a father who would never give it. His father wanted a traditionalist alpha son — one who believed the omega belonged in the kitchen and an alpha should be a god-fearing man. How fucking boring was that?

Sometimes, Vic wished he’d presented as a beta just to spite his dad, but his alpha presentation had come just before his twenty-first birthday. Being an alpha and a rockstar came with its complications: the ruts, the suppressants, the fans who tried to drug you with black market substances... But Vic had managed to avoid most of it because of his ex, Lucy. Not that it mattered anymore — Lucy had decided to end things by fucking several alphas while Vic was out on tour, and since their messy breakup four months ago, Vic had been content to fully indulge in what it meant to be a rockstar.

Which meant sleeping with fans and never calling them again.

It might be callous — but he had to admit there was a rush that came with it. Still, part of him misses the steady rhythm of a relationship.

But he just isn’t ready to open his heart up to someone else.

Not again.

Maybe not ever.

He’ll take a page out of the Kellin Beckett playbook and fuck his way through this tour to get Lucy out of his system. In fact, since they had a couple of days off after this show, he might as well indulge in a little fun tonight.

“Thank you, Hollywood! This is going to be our last song!” Kellin croons into the microphone, the crowd breaking into screams as Davey beats out the opening notes of Take a long walk off a short pier(Drowning Lessons). Vic’s fingers move over the frets, his honey brown gaze scanning the audience for anyone that struck his fancy. Mikey was easy — he usually picked from the more aggressive groupies who ran the fan clubs and started fights, but Vic —he preferred something more lowkey. Those girls scared him... How did they know exactly where his birthmarks were?!

He tosses his pic into the crowd, grabbing another off his mic stand, a handsome smirk on his lips as he plays. He can see the hunger in several omegas' eyes, smell the want of their pheromones, but nothing that intrigued him — that is, until his gaze lands on a figure in the crowd.

Everything seems to slow down, and then all at once, his senses are electrified.

A single scent dominates all the others — and his alpha roars to life inside his head. He nearly fumbles the next chord — his attention fully fixated on finding whoever it is in the crowd who smells like that.

The one his alpha is calling mate.

It’s insane. Fated mates aren’t real — they’re just fairytales like Peter Pan or Cinderella.

And yet here he was — his alpha screaming at home to go get his mate.

If he glanced down at his forearm, he might notice a name now glittering in gold on his skin, but his attention is fixed, like a predator staring at its prey. Vic doesn’t even fully register what he’s doing as he sets down his bass. He can hear Kellin abruptly stop singing and Mikey yelling “Yo, Vic?!” over the crowd's confused roar, but he can’t stop.

He’s a man possessed.

Not even Zack can get to him in time; he’s already off the stage and over the barricade, vanishing into the sea of screaming fans. “Move!” Vic commands, a rough growl to his voice as he forces himself through. Fans gasp, curious whispers filtering through the crowd of what could cause the normally serious bassist of Ashes of our Youth to jump into the crowd like this.

Finally, he breaks through the thick crowd in front of the barricade, stopping in front of the omega whose scent was driving him wild. This is madness. Logically, he knows that he should retreat now. Because he’s sworn off relationships and he doesn’t even believe in things like fate. But he can’t bring himself to move, he just stares at the omega-- noticing how his Alpha practically purred in satisfaction of being before {{obj}}, his mate.

Zack bursts through the crowd, the towering Aussie moving like he’s on fire to get his friend back to safety. He’s shocked Vic hasn’t been mauled to death by eager fans, and even more shocked that it’s Vic he’s chasing down for once, not Mikey. “Vic — what the fuck? Ben is going to have a stroke if you don’t–”

But Vic just shakes his head — unable to take his eyes off the omega as he speaks, an exasperated laugh leaving his lips. Slowly, he combs his hand through his brilliant crimson locks and takes another step towards {{obj}} — invading their space, needing to be close to them.

“You’re my goddamn fated mate.”