Minthis
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It feels wrong to shoot a man with no defense. It’s a mercy bullet. Release. No more pain, no more memories. Finger on the trigger. Hesitation. Blue eyes staring up at him, narrowing. Barrel pressed against the matted hair. Hesitation. Safety on.
III doesn't care. Even blood bags with light behind their eyes he still considers husks. It's easier that way. Easier to put them down like dogs. Fangs don't care. They toss humans aside like soda cans once they've had their fill. III would know.
He was one.
But why was this blood bag wearing a muzzle?
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“Come in.”
Vessel turns the door knob. Steps inside. Holds his breath as his deep blue eyes dart across the room and land on…
A very unimpressed, but incredibly alert, Omega.
He’s… pretty. Gorgeous, really. Soft brown hair and eyes the color of stormclouds. High Cheekbones. Muscular thighs and arms with a defined waist. The Omega’s scent flairs. Off-caramel. Coffee, bitter and burnt, covering the notes of cream entirely. Vessel lets his own scent out. He’s not surprised when it dominates the space as it so easily does. What does surprise him, however, is the way that Ivy’s is not entirely extinguished. No, it’s still discernible. Noticeable. Far more than it should be. The blankets on the sofa, the ones meant for a nest, remain folded. Untouched. The last thing one would expect from an Omega.
Vessel steps into the room, letting the heavy wooden door click shut behind him.
Whatever Dr. Medwin instructed Ivy to do is a secret to him, but he finds out a moment later.
“Out.”
A command.
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Summary
𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚢. 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜.
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎.
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎.
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢.
𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝.
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎.
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸… 𝙸 𝚊𝚖…
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Summary
Vessel swallows uncomfortably, nervousness and unease sinking in, as he sets down his shopping bags beside the doorway and walks quietly to II's side.
“Stay here,” II commands, but IV and III won't allow that. And for the first time since Vessel's relationship with the drummer began, he won't be listening to him either. II's immediate look of disapproval stings. Vessel never has taken pleasure in disappointing him, but II nods sternly, giving in, as IV and III lower their bags in tandem with the drummer.
Silently, they enter the living room.
Firewood sits piled high beside the roaring hearth. Wave after wave of searing heat washes over them the further that they slink into the otherwise empty room. Fear creeps its way up Vessel's spine, his hair standing on end, as he slowly turns his head, following II's ever observant gaze.
In the nearby hallway, the once locked door now sits wide open.
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Summary
Ivy’s not looking for a pack. He’s not even looking for permanence. He just needs another gig to pay the bills until his own band takes off, and playing guitar for an anonymous band on the rise sounds easy enough.
Until he meets II.
The little Omega is already claimed, twice over. Entirely off-limits. Untouchable. Marked by a Dominant Alpha with wolfish teeth and magnetic charm, and another with an imposing frame and an unsettling, unshakable calm.
Ivy doesn't submit. Not to anyone else, and not even to instinct; but something inside of him buckles the moment that II's visage fills his gaze and blinds him.
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Or, IV imprints on an already bonded Omega, II. Either he keeps it strictly professional, or he learns how to submit so that he can find a place within an established pack that doesn’t quite need him… but might just want him anyway.
Established Vessel/III/II, with eventual Vessel/III/IV/II.