Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Veritas Ratio was an underground doctor, known only to those who lived and died beyond the law.

His clandestine clinic, expertly hidden beneath the neon glow of the city’s darkest alleyways, covertly treated the wounded and the wanted with equal care— no questions asked.

His values and life-choices were meticulously shaped and curated by his personal experiences as a resident doctor, having been exposed firsthand to just how corrupt and unfair the healthcare system truly was— prioritizing payment over patients.

— Catering to the wealthy while neglecting the less fortunate and underprivileged.

For the sake of sustaining his morals and worth as a respectable healthcare practitioner, Ratio closed the door on the comfortable and legitimate life he had worked painstakingly for since earning his bachelor’s degree - the life he always thought he was destined for - opting to provide aid where it was most necessary, regardless if it was licit or not.

From his standpoint, operating under the table was much more preferable to leading a contemptible existence as a biased and quaestuary individual; controlled by monetary gain rather than personal principles— the real low-lives of society in comparison to Ratio’s clientage, in his humble opinion.

The streets beyond his small clinic were cloaked in shadow, twilight having long since fallen over the land.

However, Penacony was a city that never slept— equipped with the best nightlife and entertainment.

Bars and nightclubs were lit up by dazzling neon signs, live music pulsed through brick and concrete walls, spilling into the bustling streets; as if the city had a heartbeat; giving the illusion that the city itself was alive.

When the sun went down, Penacony became the kind of city where you either lost yourself or found something you weren’t meant to see.

The small, extraneous light that spilled a pool of white light onto the doorstep of the back-alley clinic, denoting its location, flickered wildly above the door, the bulb fighting to stay lit.

The dull, monotonous sound of rain hitting the pavement put Ratio at ease as he diligently tidied his work space and sterilized his medical equipment for the umpteenth time that day— for what was possibly the last time that day, barring unforeseen circumstances.

The weather forecast hadn’t predicted rain, but he had long grown accustomed to the unpredictable goings-on of Penacony.

— In order to thrive in an avant-garde city like Penacony, one had to acclimate oneself to expect the unexpected.

The light from the clinic glinted off of the pair of glasses that were perched on the bridge of Ratio’s nose, creating a glare on the spotless lenses.

The relaxed ambience was shaken when the front door of the clinic was abruptly thrown open— more accurately, when it was practically kicked off its hinges.

“Help! Doctor— I need a doctor!”

Responding to the sound of panicked shouting, Ratio dropped what he was doing and leapt into action.

His white coat fluttered behind him, carried on a breeze, as he walked briskly towards the desperate cry for help. In a trice, Ratio emerged from the small room behind the front desk to investigate the commotion, his expression rigid and stern.

The crease between his furrowed brows deepened when his trained gaze fell on a pair of bloodied figures standing in the center of his clinic.

The smaller of the two, a young woman, was pale and shaking violently, looking at a complete loss of what to do. Her eyes were blown wide with terror as she stared back at Ratio.

The front of her bodysuit was soaked in blood— blood that Ratio could automatically tell wasn’t her own.

The blood belonged to the blonde gentleman that was slumped against her side, his arm draped over her narrow shoulders to keep him upright.

His appearance was more nightmarish and gory than hers, covered from head-to-toe in blood. The gentleman looked like he had just leapt straight out of a scene from a horror film.

His stylish clothes were in ruin.

He looked like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his body limp and lifeless. His head hung so low that Ratio was unable to get a proper look at his face.

Thick and sticky blood dripped from the pair and tainted the vinyl floor, pooling at their feet and dirtying their expensive footwear.

Ratio wanted to wrinkle his nose at the mess, but he knew that he couldn’t afford to react, he needed to act fast— especially at the alarming rate that the blonde was losing blood.

Ratio estimated hypovolemic shock would set in soon— that is, if it hadn’t already.

“Follow me. Come, quick.”

Ratio ushered the young woman forth, leading her through the clinic to one of his operating rooms. He moved with a sense of urgency, yanking a curtain back to expose an operating table.

“Set him down here. Quickly, mind you. There’s no time to lose.” The young woman moved posthaste, exerting herself as she dragged the dead weight of her companion towards where the doctor wanted him.

The metallic stench of blood easily overpowered the scent of medicine, permeating the small room.

Ratio was impressed when he noticed that the blonde gentleman was actually making an effort to move on his own, his movements sluggish and clumsy as he dragged his feet out from under him.

Good. That would entail that hypovolemic shock hadn’t set in— however, it was only a matter of time. The situation was still plenty dire.

“Tell me what happened.” Ratio barked, finally deciding to give the young woman a hand and help in laying her partner down on the table.

The blonde released a guttural groan as his open wounds were agitated by the sudden movement, coughing slightly when he was pressed onto his back on the hard surface.

“My comrade… He was shot.”

As the young woman relayed what had happened, Ratio retrieved a pair of sterile gloves, slipping them onto his hands with practiced ease.

Afterwards, Ratio moved back towards the blonde with a sharp scalpel in-hand.

The distinct sound of fabric ripping was grating as Ratio began to cut away the blonde’s blood-soaked clothes in order to properly assess the damages, as well as determine if the gunshot wounds were high-velocity.

“Hey, hey… At least… buy me a drink first… doc.” The blonde on the table croaked. Attempting to lighten the mood with a wisecrack, albeit his voice came out weak and broken.

Ratio briefly deadpanned at him.

“Save your breath, you idiot!” The young woman shot him a glare.

“How many times was he shot? Where?” Ratio fired off the questions in rapid succession, brushing the pair off.

— Such information was crucial. Ratio needed to know in order to avoid overlooking a bullet wound, which could lead to infection. He also needed to know in case there was a chance of a damaged artery, or any damaged organs.

“I-I don’t know… It all happened so fast.” The young woman admitted, dropping her face.

Ratio clicked his tongue.

At the offensive sound, the young woman recoiled, her body flinching and her head snapping back to stare fixedly at the doctor, her eyes wide.

Nevertheless, her look of disbelief was fleeting.

Her brows furrowed and her mouth fell open, ready to jump to her own defense— but, much to her chagrin, Ratio spoke quicker.

“If you don’t know the answer to such elementary questions, then wait outside.” Ratio’s tone left no room for argument as he shot the young woman a pointed look from the corner of his eye. “I don’t need superfluous individuals taking up valuable space.”

The young woman bristled, resembling a cat with its tail fluffed up and its fur standing on end.

Her glare intensified, yet Ratio remained focused on the task at hand and cool as a cucumber. “You—”

Before she could complete that thought, the blonde spoke in a low, admonishing voice. “Topaz…”

— The fierce heat behind Topaz’s eyes wavered, being brought to a simmer, meanwhile the tension in her jaw was lost to the unexpected sound of her name being said.

Turning her head, her concerned gaze flitted from Ratio to lock onto her companion on the table, who was struggling to give her a reassuring look through the pain and severe blood-loss.

Topaz stiffened her upper-lip and her eyes narrowed once more as she trained her gaze back on the doctor, who was bustling about and fetching the necessary medical equipment.

With a shout to capture his undivided attention, she jabbed a finger at Ratio in a petulant manner, “You better not let him die, doc!”

“Hmph. You underestimate me.” Ratio mumbled, swiftly returning to the side of the operating table with a surgical mask over his nose and mouth.

“And as for you, Aventurine—” The young woman looked daggers at the blonde, the surly expression contradicting the concern in her voice. “You better not kick the bucket because of something like this. You still owe me for saving your sorry ass!” As she shouted, her eyes became wet with emotion.

The corners of Aventurine’s lips twitched into a thin smile.

His chest spasmed as he tried to respond with an amused laugh, but the sound came out wheezy and pathetic.

“Heheh… Heh… Who do… you… think I am?”

With a strict huff, Topaz spun on her heel and stormed out of the small room, her movements stiff and ungainly.

She lifted her hands to her face and Ratio could tell straight away that she was wiping away tears as he briefly glanced at her retreating form.

The doctor could hear the young woman sniffling; the soft sounds were brought to an end when the door slid shut behind her, leaving Ratio to operate in peace.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor finally emerged from the small room— his clothes pristine and perfectly preserved. There wasn’t a speck of blood to be found on his person, in spite of the gruesome state that Aventurine was in.

Ratio’s glasses now dangled from a thin chain around his neck, resting against his broad chest.

His eyes were sharp, yet there was a modicum of weariness behind his stern look.

— Without his glasses on, it was easier to notice the soft, red makeup around his eyes which emphasized the rich mauve color of his eyes, though there was a subtle splash of saffron around his pupils.

He softly shut the door behind him, his calculated gaze smoothly sliding over to the only other occupant in his clinic.

Topaz shot to her feet at the first sight of Ratio, the young woman having been restless since she was booted out of the operating room. The legs of the chair that she had been sitting in scraped noisily against the floor, which was pushed back by the abrupt action.

Her clothes were still filthy and caked with dried blood, but she didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“How is he looking, doc? Is he going to make it?” Topaz asked without hesitation, wringing her hands nervously in front of her.

She waited for his response with bated breath.

Ratio was able to swiftly close the distance between them in a few strides, his movements graceful. He came to a stop just a few feet from her, maintaining a respectful distance.

“His condition is stable and he is expected to make a full recovery,” he avowed. “I was able to stop the bleeding quickly and effectively. I administered a light sedative, so he’s resting now. But he should regain consciousness soon.”

With a hand over her heart, Topaz breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing the news, her small shoulders slumping as if a physical weight had been lifted from them.

“The bullets missed his vitals by a hair's breadth. Your comrade is very lucky— if the entry point of any of those bullets had been altered by a fraction of an inch, or the caliber was a touch bigger, he would have bled out long before you set foot on my doorstep.”

Topaz pushed a shaky hand through her silvery hair, sweeping a lock back behind her ear.

“Thank you… Thank you, doctor. I’m so glad you were here. I don’t know what I would have done if you—”

Ratio abruptly raised a hand, effectively cutting Topaz off before she could finish her thought. The action simultaneously warranted her undivided attention.

“There is no need to thank me, I was merely doing my job. On a related note, there’s no point in focusing on downward counterfactuals, what’s done is done,” Ratio assured her with practiced professionalism.

Topaz shook her head, as if trying to physically shake any and all negative thoughts from her mind. “Ugh. You’re right. It isn’t like me to chew the cud like that; I guess I just got a little too in my own head there for a second.”

“It happens.” Ratio responded with a dismissive half shrug, his tone lacking inflection.

“If you are amenable to it, I would like to keep your companion overnight for observation, as well as for his own benefit.” Ratio proposed. “It would be best to restrict his movements and keep him on bed rest for the time being.”

With one hand on her hip, Topaz dropped her face and brought her vacant hand to her chin, appearing pensive as she mulled over Ratio’s proposition with calculated intensity.

“If it’s what the doctor orders, then…” Topaz muttered something to herself, her voice tapering off before falling eerily silent.

Ratio waited patiently as she deliberated, his stance steadfast and boasting confidence.

After a minute or so, she lifted her face and briskly cleared her throat— this time around she spoke with conviction. “I’ll just have to make a few phone calls, and fill a few people in on the situation.”

Topaz pulled out her smart phone from a pocket in her bodysuit, already typing out a specific number with razor-sharp focus.

“I understand. Do what you must.”

The young woman only responded with a firm nod to express her gratitude for his understanding before placing the phone to her ear and mouth and walking off in a set direction, likely to find someplace more private.

In the meantime, Ratio pivoted on his heel and decided to check on his prospective inpatient— curious to know if he had regained consciousness and gauge his condition.

Without knocking, Ratio assertively turned the door handle, pushed the door open and slipped inside the small room, shutting the door behind him.

He confidently walked over to the operating table that was bolted into the floor and situated in the center of the room.

He slipped his glasses onto his face with refined delicacy and practiced ease, pushing them up the bridge of his nose as he studied his inpatient.

Aventurine hardly stirred as Ratio loomed over him— his expression was relaxed and peaceful.

His bare chest steadily rose and fell in tandem with each slow and even breath he took.

Ratio noticed how blood faintly seeped through the outer dressing of the deeper wounds, despite having packed the wounds tightly and cleaning each site meticulously.

His lips looked petal-soft, parted ever so slightly as he soundly slept.

Ratio had been unable to get a proper look at him earlier - due to dire straits - but he had strong, yet effeminate features, as well as exceptional facial structure; complemented by the heart-shape of his face, defined cheekbones, and sharp jawline.

His eyelashes were long and dense, fluttering subtly and casting long shadows over his soft cheeks.

On the other hand, his body was slender and lean; his abdomen and chest packing an attractive amount of muscle that suited someone of his stature.

— Speaking of stature, Ratio estimated that he was a head or so shorter than him; the doctor would likely need to bend a little at the waist in order to be eye-level with him.

‘… Surely this person is an Omega…’

As if on cue, just before such a banal thought could surface and take root in Ratio’s brilliant mind, a pleasant scent breached the metallic scent of blood that lingered in the air and tickled his nose.

A familiar heat pooled in the pit of Ratio’s stomach, making the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and giving rise to goosebumps; his instincts urged him to lean closer—

Ratio gasped and recoiled, his body moving on its own as he leapt backwards— acting as if the scent had burned him. The action was enough to knock his glasses off his face.

‘Impossible… This person is an Alpha…?!’

Ratio interrupted his current train of thought, the tension slightly bleeding from his taut body as another thought crossed his mind.

— Aventurine might not look like the standard, run-of-the-mill Alpha, but wasn’t Ratio technically in the same boat? With his above-average height and muscular build, he didn’t look anything like the average Omega.

With a deep sigh, Ratio corrected his posture and dragged a hand down his face, his eyes briefly rolling up into his head.

He could already sense a headache creeping up on him upon realizing that he had suggested to stay in his clinic alone - all night - with an Alpha, while he himself was an unbonded Omega.

— If Ratio had known Aventurine was an Alpha, he definitely wouldn’t have suggested such a thing!

When it came to Ratio and Alpha’s, the sooner they were treated and sent on their way, the better.

Reason being: it mitigated the risk of his secondary gender being exposed, which deterred them from trying to either court him or look down on him and his practice.

— Alpha’s in Penacony were known to get pretty aggressive when it came to courting Omega’s that they were interested in.

Ratio was often mistaken for an Alpha or a Beta, which he preferred.

If Aventurine was an Alpha, then that would further explain how he hadn’t gone into hypovolemic shock and was still conscious in spite of the severe blood loss— his biology having blessed him with the ability to regenerate red blood cells at a quicker rate.

“Ngh…”

Aventurine softly groaned and turned his head sharply to the side, his brows twitching and face scrunching in discomfort.

That was when Ratio was forced to realize that he had lost control over his pheromones while he had been lost in thought, and was permeating the room in the bitter scent of distressed Omega.

Wrinkling his nose in disgust at the smell of his own pheromones, Ratio wildly fanned the space around him with his whole arm, the action doubled in clearing his mind as well as the air of his scent.

After regaining his composure and fighting off the scent of anxious Omega, Ratio’s attention was grabbed by an intricate, black marking that was horizontally inked into the side of Aventurine’s fair neck, printed just above where a folded, button-up collar would reach — Ratio had caught a brief glimpse of the marking while he was packing and dressing Aventurine’s wounds, but he hadn’t been able to inspect it thoroughly.

Ratio recognized the brand as how law enforcement tagged repeat offenders and highly-dangerous individuals, such as cold-blooded murderers.

— The system was meant to alert the public and encourage citizens to either steer clear or keep a watchful eye on these people when they’re in the vicinity.

Just when he thought his feelings of self-reproach was at its highest point, his eyes were coincidentally drawn to an ornate holster that was belted to the thigh of the Alpha, the material bulging with a handgun.

The grip of the firearm stuck out of the holster.

Ratio was seriously disappointed in his observation skills— or lack thereof.

Needless to say, the sight of the mark and the heavy implication it carried, as well as the gun strapped to his thigh, only unnerved Ratio and made him regret his decision even more.

Ratio was pulled from his train of thoughts by the sound of knuckles rapping lightly against the door.

“Are you in there, doc? It’s Topaz.”

Turning on his heel, Ratio swiftly made his way to the door, taking Topaz aback when he abruptly threw open the door and stepped out of the room.

The young woman was forced to take a few steps backwards when Ratio emerged, shutting the door behind him. He unwittingly towered over her, his emotions expertly hidden beneath an aloof mask.

Topaz quickly regained her composure, clearing her throat in a vain attempt to cover up her earlier surprise.

“I’ve finished my phone calls, and let some people know that Aventurine would be out of commission for a while.” As she spoke, the corners of her lips were curled upwards in a small, self-satisfied smile. “Rest assured, you shouldn’t be bothered by any unnecessary visitors— Aventurine’s relationships are strictly business.”

Ratio opened his mouth to voice his concerns and renounce his earlier words, but, for once, he was the one that was cut off as the young woman stretched her arms over her head and breathed a big sigh.

“If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to reach out. Which reminds me, I wrote my number down on your sign-in sheet on the front desk. Hope you don’t mind. Well then, I’ll be heading out now. I’ll come back tomorrow— Oh, I have some important “appointments” in the morning, so I’ll likely drop by a little later… Thanks again, doc!”

Ratio could hardly get a word in as Topaz spun on her heel and made a beeline for the door, slipping into the dark and cold alleyway without so much as a backwards glance.

Ratio was left alone with his thoughts, regret incessantly nagging him and taking the form of a throbbing headache.

His expression fell, the corners of his lips weighed down by a scowl. He pivoted on his heel and made his way to a nearby medicine cabinet, desperately needing acetaminophen.

— Yet another life saved, but at what cost?

Chapter Text

The world outside of Ratio’s clandestine clinic was curtained in nightfall, yet the city just beyond the narrow alleyways was vibrant and teeming with life.

Street lamps lined every inch of the city’s streets, casting soft pools of light on the dark pavement— like brash spotlights that attracted and guided nightlife enthusiasts, pulling them along to find their next cheap thrill.

The percussive, pitter-patter of rain broke the stillness of twilight— another cold and rainy night.

After some time, the sound was accompanied by the soft humming of an incandescent bulb in one of the light fixtures, as well as the gentle whirring of the air conditioner.

Ratio was in the midst of preparing himself a cup of green tea when the tinkling of a bell broke his concentration, the sound alerting him that he had a guest.

Briefly glancing in the direction of the sound, Ratio turned his head back to the hot plate on the counter in front of him. Swiftly pressing the power button, he switched the electric tabletop unit off.

Turning on his heel, Ratio stuffed his hands into the deep pockets of his white coat and emerged from the small room behind the front desk, leaving the kettle on the burner and a tea bag sitting in his ceramic mug nearby.

The ever-present crease between his brows immediately deepened and he could not hold back an exasperated sigh at the sight that greeted him—

Standing in the middle of Ratio’s clinic was none other than Aventurine, looking completely out of place against the stark and sterile backdrop.

The Alpha was dressed to the nines in showy, peacock-esque attire— a splash of greens, teals and gold. His sandy hair was combed and neatly styled like usual. And his predominant grin was in perfect order, not an inch out of place.

The light of the clinic glinted off of the peacock feather that dangled from his ear.

One of the perks of Aventurine’s biology as an Alpha was his above par recovery rate; his wounds had long since healed, regardless of the severity, likely with little to no scarring.

That said, he clearly wasn’t there for a follow-up.

Aventurine’s charming smile broadened and his face lit up at the first sight of Ratio.

His fedora was tucked close to his chest as if to pay his respects, Ratio noticed how his grip tightened on the article and his spine straightened when their eyes met.

In his other hand he held a long-stem rose, holding it out to the doctor— adding to Ratio’s growing bouquet of red roses. It had been one week since Ratio met Aventurine; one week since Aventurine had been dragged into his clinic, covered in blood and on death’s doorstep.

Since then, the Alpha made it a habit of dropping by every night to deliver Ratio a rose and invite him to dinner— or a movie; it depended on if there was a movie in theaters that Aventurine was interested in seeing. However, Ratio’s answer was always the same:

“No.”

Aventurine barked a dry laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling with wry amusement, “I didn’t even say anything.” Despite the stinging rejection, the blonde still radiated confidence.

Ratio folded his arms over his broad chest, his eyes narrowing a fraction.

“You don’t need to. Based on previous encounters, I am conversant with what you are going to say.” He spoke slowly— not because he couldn’t articulate, but because he enjoyed hearing himself talk.

“What’s with the hostility, dear? I simply want to return the favor— after all, I always repay my debts,” Aventurine’s voice was light and airy and lyrical as usual, almost like a charming purr, yet his upbeat tone was inharmonious with the perpetual darkness lingering behind his eyes. “And I strive to pay you back tenfold.”

Ratio responded with an indifferent scoff, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “If you truly wish to return the favor, then simply taking care and looking after yourself will make the grade.”

When Ratio made no move to accept his rose, he gently set the flower down on the counter— which was usually how this exchange went.

Thus far, the doctor had yet to accept any rose Aventurine offered with his own hands.

— Ratio’s hand was reluctantly forced to take the flower and add it to the glass vase - which he kept in the small room behind the front desk - when the Alpha left it behind; of course, this information was unbeknownst to Aventurine, and he planned to keep it that way.

Aventurine set his fedora down in the same place as the rose and took a step closer, his movements measured and predatory. When Ratio offered no reaction, he took it as permission to repeat the action.

“Where’s the fun in that, doc? The world is my oyster, so why play it safe? Didn’t you choose this lifestyle because you don’t want to conform?” The sound of Aventurine’s expensive footwear striking the vinyl floor acted like a countdown.

“No. The healthcare system is corrupt; I chose this life to help those in need.” Ratio stated plainly, his voice lacking inflection.

Aventurine chuckled darkly, the sound bubbling in his throat before filling the space between them— which Ratio noticed was rapidly shrinking.

The sound sent a shiver down Ratio’s spine.

— At that moment, the Omega could not help but wrack his brain, wondering what part of what he had said was so laughable that Aventurine would find it so amusing.

“How admirable— how pure. Ah, you’re just too good to resist, doctor. I don’t know whether I want to protect you and preserve your purity, or ruin you and stain you with my own two hands.”

Ratio’s breath hitched, taken aback by the startling proximity— all too suddenly he was aware just how close Aventurine was standing. Those cyan and magenta eyes practically dominated Ratio’s vision.

In spite of the fact that Aventurine was shorter than Ratio, his imperious presence made him several times more imposing— Ratio felt like the Alpha was looking down at him, rather than leering up at him with that winning smile.

Aventurine’s honeyed pheromones curled around Ratio like velvet, binding and immobilizing him.

The pleasant and light scent felt like concrete weighing down Ratio’s body; it was oppressive and heavy, making it difficult for the Omega to even breathe.

With a soft chuckle in his throat, the Alpha reached out to gently trace his gloved forefinger along his jawline, delighting in the flinch the action elicited. The light of the clinic glinted coldly off the golden bands around his lithe fingers.

The delicate touch betrayed the sinister glint in his eyes, which darkened and smoldered with predatory intensity and seemed to generate their own glow— cyan and magenta cut through the ominous shadows that sliced across his pretty face.

Aventurine’s smile warped and turned predatory.

His eyes turned half-lidded, meanwhile a low and guttural growl rumbled in his throat— the sound pleased and expressing approval. It soon melted into a soft gasp.

The distinct and familiar scent of fear breached the heady mix of Alpha and Omega pheromones that tangled in the air around them, easily cutting through the tension.

Aventurine slowly and greedily licked his chops, as if Ratio’s fear was palpable enough that it was dripping off his lips.

Ratio was unable to catch the action or see the face that was inches from his as his vision began to waver and blur.

Ratio’s pulse rabbited, his spine went rigid and his eyes snapped comically wide as a cold sweat beaded on his brow— for the first time in his life, Veritas Ratio felt vulnerable and small and afraid; like prey; like a true Omega.

“Fear smells good on you, dear.” Aventurine murmured, his tone low and seductive.

His breath felt hot against Ratio’s flesh as he leaned close enough to drag his tongue over the column of the Omega’s throat, humming his approval when he felt the cartilage bob beneath the skin as an abrupt gasp tumbled past Ratio’s trembling lips.

He repeated the action, shivering at the divine taste of Ratio’s sweat-slicked skin.

Ratio’s knees automatically buckled beneath his weight. But just before he could gracelessly crumple into a heap of limbs on the floor, the Alpha slipped an arm around his waist and slotted a thigh between his quaking legs, supporting him and keeping his larger body upright with surprising ease— as if Ratio weighed nothing to him.

Unfortunately, Ratio was unable to turn the hidden strength of the Alpha over in his mind for long as a familiar heat began to creep into his lower belly— before long, the warmth coiled into a sharp, painful cramp; the likes of which Ratio was unable to ignore.

— The startling sensation saw a cold, sharp panic lancing through Ratio, filling him with frigid dread.

Ratio took his heat suppressants religiously— he was very meticulous in the matter of inhibiting his monthly heat cycle. Not to mention, his dosage was stronger than most, and he renewed his prescription annually so as to mitigate the risk of developing a resistance to the medication.

With that said, his estrous most definitely should not be happening— additionally, the onset shouldn’t be quite so spontaneous nor intense!

His thoughts were cut short and fizzled into static as a pulse of euphoria involuntarily wracked through his flushed body when Aventurine bit into his neck— just hard enough to leave a mark without breaking skin.

Ratio nearly choked on his airflow from how fast he sucked in a breath, squeaking at the intense mix of pleasure and pain.

A wave of vertigo suddenly washed over Ratio— in his dazed and frenzied state, the Omega was unable to register how Aventurine had begun to walk him backwards through the clinic. Ratio stumbled gracelessly, clumsily tripping over his own feet as his sluggish, heat-addled brain struggled to keep up with his body.

The last thing Ratio remembered was Aventurine’s lips dominating his in a fierce and violent kiss; the first thing he forgot was his own name.

Aventurine quickly removed Ratio’s layers, letting the articles drop to the vinyl floor with a muffled sound.

His hands impatiently roamed over his exposed skin as he shoved Ratio’s back against the wall, gaining control over him in spite of his smaller stature. He closed in on Ratio in the blink of an eye.

— Ratio’s body trembled with each touch, his rosy nipples hardening as the cool air licked them.

His shaking fingers caught Aventurine’s lapels, tangling in the material of his expensive clothing as he desperately pulled him in for another deep kiss— the action forced Aventurine to stand on the metatarsal regions of his feet.

Aventurine broke the kiss so as to trail his lips down Ratio’s neck, peppering wet kisses and love bites along the sensitive flesh. Ratio accommodated him by tilting his head, baring his throat in a submissive gesture.

Aventurine’s hands traced the curve of Ratio’s spine with practiced finesse— slowly sliding down, down, down, before finally settling on his ass.

Ratio released a soft sound when he flexed his fingers and gave the supple globes of flesh a firm squeeze, the springy flesh bulged between his fingers.

He paused briefly to suck a dark hickey into the Omega’s fluttering pulse point before playfully nipping at it, satisfied with the soft moan he was rewarded in response.

He then moved back up to capture Ratio’s lips in another messy kiss, assertively pushing his tongue past the seam of those trembling lips to lick inside his mouth.

He thoroughly and hungrily swallowed every needy sound that bubbled out of Ratio’s throat as he took to blindly fumbling with his belt buckle.

Afterwards, he hastily began to work his pants open, unafraid of wrecking the fastenings in his rush to liberate his throbbing cock.

He shucked the waistband of his underwear down, growling against Ratio’s lips when his heavy, rock-hard cock sprang forth from the tight confines of fabric.

The shaft was long and thick enough to have Ratio’s mouth running dry and his cunt aching, growing wetter at the sight of it— it was curved just right, angled to hit and stimulate all the right places to drive Ratio wild with pleasure.

The base was slightly flared, the outline of his knot visible.

The tip was bulbous, inflamed and already overflowing with pearly pre-cum.

Aventurine broke the kiss with a pant, excited to hurry things along and get inside Ratio.

Without further ado, Aventurine hooked an arm around Ratio’s supple thigh and hiked his leg up to rest against his waist, pinning it there. Ratio’s hands automatically flew up to grip his shoulders in search of stability, the throes of heat making it a challenge to keep his balance.

The gloved fingers of his vacant hand curled under Ratio, swiping between his hot, dripping, petal-soft folds and earning a sharp intake of breath.

After gauging his wetness, the Alpha wrapped his sticky fingers around his pulsing shaft and smeared the fluid over his cock with a pump, half-assedly lubricating it. The coldness of his rings felt pleasant against his heated flesh, earning a soft hiss.

He then lined the tip up with the soft hole of Ratio’s cunt, having to stand on the balls of his feet, and sharply pressed his hips upward. Aventurine’s grip on his leg tightened, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as his member cleaved apart soft, swollen walls.

His brows twitched in pleasure, meanwhile a feral growl rumbled in his throat in response to the tight, velvety heat that sheathed his cock.

— However, Aventurine soon became frustrated by the height difference, which prevented him from reaching deeper.

Fortunately, Ratio inadvertently bent his knee and dropped his hips as he suddenly lost the strength to stand, his leg shaking violently beneath his weight. He yelped when Aventurine’s cock sunk deeper as a result, carving a space for itself deep inside.

After what felt like an eternity, Aventurine finally bottomed out with a snap of his hips, his hard glans pressed snugly against Ratio’s soft cervix.

Ratio was allowed a brief moment of respite before Aventurine was swinging his hips backwards, only to thrust back inside at breakneck speed.

He pressed his full weight into Ratio as he began to jackhammer his waist with vigor, thrusting with reckless abandon.

The intensity had the Omega tossing his head back, his eyes pinched shut and his mouth open in pleasure. Aventurine was unable to resist biting his vulnerable throat; the pain had Ratio bucking, and his pussy tensing.

Neither of them paid any heed to the fact that the front door of the clinic wasn’t locked, or that anyone could walk in from the alley and see them straightaway; the couple conspicuously mating against the wall that was opposite the front door.

The vulgar, sloppy sound of squelching as Ratio’s pussy was ravished was accompanied by his soft, punctuated sounds of pleasure, which sounded loud in his own ears— unlike Omega’s that Aventurine had bedded in the past, Ratio wasn’t particularly vocal or noisy. The only sounds that escaped him were loud, ragged breaths and the occasional moan or grunt.

— Aventurine was probably being more vocal than he was— growling and groaning and panting as his big cock was squeezed and stroked by those velvety walls.

Nevertheless, the need to draw noises out of Ratio had Aventurine redoubling his efforts, pounding into him until he crumpled to the floor in a panting, shaking mess. Of course, the Alpha was more than happy to follow him down to the ground.

Ratio was pushed onto his stomach and positioned on his hands and knees on the vinyl floor, his hips raised and his head lowered in submission.

Aventurine wasted no time positioning himself behind the doctor, mounting him like the bitch in heat that he was; right there in the middle of Ratio’s clinic where anyone could see; like a couple of feral animals driven by instinct— which, technically speaking, wasn’t erroneous.

— If Ratio were of sound mind, he would’ve been mortified and ashamed; hell, he would have passed away from shame the minute Aventurine got him naked.

Aventurine rutted into Ratio more insistently and forcefully than before, his fingers possessively digging into the flare of the Omega’s hips as he pitched his hips with fierce momentum.

His peacock feather earring swayed wildly with his movements— violating Ratio without a shred of mercy; it was like he was trying to fuck his cock into Ratio’s womb.

His neatly styled hair had become untucked and slightly mussed, and a light perspiration had long since broken out across his brow. His eyes were unfocused and glazed over by carnal lust, similar to Ratio’s.

Ratio came first— a burst of euphoria building and washing over him. The pleasant sensation had his breath catching in his throat.

His thighs shook violently and his pussy twitched wildly, growing slicker as it milked Aventurine’s cock.

Aventurine groaned in satisfaction when he felt Ratio orgasm. One hand slipped around to massage his lower stomach, pushing on his womb. The pressure made Ratio gasp in pleasure.

With one final thrust, Aventurine pressed his cock deep inside just before his knot could fully inflate, locking the Alpha and Omega pair together. The stretch and swollen pressure was enough to pull a moan from Ratio’s mouth.

He tightened his grip on Ratio as thick, white ropes of his warm seed were poured directly into Ratio’s uterus.

Aventurine’s cock twitched powerfully, grinding against Ratio’s cervix to ensure his cum reached its destination, as he shot bucket-loads of cum deep inside of the Omega.

— Under the influence of Ratio’s pheromones and primitive desire, Aventurine lunged forward with a snarl, his mouth wide open and the sharp points of his pearly teeth on full display.

The post-coital exhaustion that weighed down Ratio’s eyelids and limbs was quickly forgotten, replaced by an intense, fiery pain, which radiated from his nape.

The pain was accompanied by a grotesque squelch, which turned Ratio’s stomach. It was unbearable, like nothing Ratio had ever experienced before; the pain had his vision turning almost completely blank and sobered his mind instantaneously.

The metallic, sweet scent of blood sliced through the heady cloud of pheromones; Aventurine having sunk his teeth into the swollen mating gland on the back of Ratio’s neck without a second thought— establishing a mating bond.

Ratio’s jaw fell slack and he choked on a scream— the loudest he had been since their intense coupling began. “— No!!” He tried to shout his protests, but it was far too late; the damage was done. And it was irreversible.

The white-hot pain was followed by a maelstrom of emotions— some pleasant and some not so much.

Ratio was unable to wrap his frenetic brain around if the emotions wracking his body belonged to him or not.

The feeling was disorienting and euphoric and overwhelming all at the once, overloading and wreaking havoc on him both emotionally and psychologically.

His thoughts were a chaotic mess. His heart pounded in his chest, thundering in his ears and hammering in his neck.

He hadn’t even realized when he started crying; not noticing until he felt something warm and wet roll down his cheek. At that point, Aventurine had released his nape with a satisfied growl and was admiring his handiwork.

He lapped up the blood that was dripping from his grinning mouth before lazily dragging his tongue over the razed skin and nasty puncture wounds that his teeth had made, slurping up the warm blood that bubbled to the surface; the secretions of the scent gland dulled the metallic taste, making it taste more saccharine— the Alpha relished the taste.

Aventurine continued to clean and massage the deep teeth-marks with his tongue, licking it over and over until the wound began to throb and the bleeding tapered off into a slow ooze.

Afterwards, he took to affectionately nuzzling his face against Ratio’s sweat-slicked back, meanwhile one of his hands reached around to stroke the toned planes of his stomach, patting right above where his womb was nestled.

His chest vibrated against Ratio’s back as he leaned over the Omega - his Omega - rumbling with a contented purr as he groomed his mate.

— Mine. The word was never said aloud, but Ratio heard it loud and clear in Aventurine’s actions; hanging in the air like a bad perfume. Evidently, the Alpha had yet to return to his senses.

For a long while, Ratio remained stock-still— his eyes were wide in disbelief and panic was set in his pallid expression as he fretted over what the future held.

Chapter Text

That night, Ratio’s clinic was silent as the grave, with little movement and activity.

After a long and arduous, but productive, workday, the doctor rewarded himself with a much needed moment of respite.

As per usual, there was no shortage of cases, and Ratio treated each patient with equal care and professionalism— no questions asked.

Just then, the familiar chime of the bell that dangled above the front door rang out, shattering the delicate silence of the clinic and altering Ratio to a potential client.

Without missing a beat, Ratio walked briskly into the small reception area, his expression schooled— he kept his true feelings expertly hidden beneath a stony mask.

The moment he emerged, Ratio’s gaze automatically locked onto a familiar figure.

Sunday greeted the doctor in turn with a handsome and deceptively gentle smile.

Albeit, his facial expression was incongruous with the deadened appearance of his golden eyes, which seemed to peer straight through Ratio, rather than at him.

The white lights of the clinic caught in his silvery hair, creating an ethereal halo. The pristine, white clothes he donned from head-to-toe, as well as the sterile, barren walls of the clinic, gave him an angelic appearance.

With his back straight as an arrow and the heels of his expensive shoes pressed together, Sunday stood with his hands folded neatly behind his back and his head high— overall, his bearing was disciplined and commanded respect.

— Judging by the way he carried himself, one could easily infer that Sunday was an Alpha.

“Greetings, doctor. I trust you’ve been well? It’s been a while.”

“I’m managing,” Ratio replied with a sigh, pausing concisely between words to wrack his brain for a trustworthy, yet vague response. His tone lacked inflection when he talked.

Much to his chagrin, he found himself unable to meet Sunday’s gaze— ever since Aventurine had claimed him, Ratio could not help but act strangely and not like himself around other Alpha’s; he found himself lowering his head and appearing timid and meek and insecure.

Fortunately, Sunday seemed none the wiser and simply nodded his acknowledgement— though, Ratio sincerely doubted that his odd behavior had actually escaped his calculated gaze; Sunday having always been too perceptive for his own good.

“As you may have already speculated, I am here to redeem Robin’s prescription.” Sunday’s voice was polite and suave as usual, like the gentle coo of a dove.

“Naturally.” Ratio huffed, as if Sunday had just stated something that was glaringly obvious.

Pivoting on his heel with practiced grace, the doctor assertively walked in a set direction before ducking into the small room behind the front desk, briefly disappearing from sight.

Hardly a minute passed before Ratio re-emerged, a tamper-resistant, security-enhanced prescription notepad in hand.

Sunday typically dropped by Ratio’s clinic once every few months to have many prescriptions renewed for his only blood-relative— his precious younger sister, Robin.

The teenage girl had a weak constitution, having been frail since birth. She grew up with a plethora of health conditions, each one ranging in severity.

For Robin, some days were better than others— and the same could be said for Sunday, who cherished his little sister dearly.

With his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, the doctor nimbly, yet legibly, scribbled on the paper of the notepad— abbreviating whenever it was necessary as he filled the small page with patient information and names of different medications respectively.

The crisp and clean sound of the pen as it scritched against the pad occupied the silence, which had settled over them like a thick blanket.

The moment Ratio signed off on the bottom of the small page and tore the sheet clean off of the pad with a fluid flick of his wrist, Sunday opened his mouth so as to voice a concern of his; one that had been weighing heavy on his mind.

— Ratio couldn’t help but wonder if it was the true reason the Alpha had decided to pay him a visit.

“With all due respect, my sources tell me that Mr. Aventurine has been coming to your clinic quite often these days.” Sunday accepted the small paper between his fingers when it was held out for him. As he spoke, his golden eyes flitted up from the prescription so as to analyze Ratio’s reaction to the hearsay with calculated intensity. “If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly is your relationship with that man?” Sunday’s eyes suddenly narrowed dangerously as a notion abruptly surfaced in his mind. “He’s not trying to extort you, is he? I heard that you closed your clinic for a few days a while back. He wouldn't perchance have had something to do with that, would he?”

Ratio fought to maintain his composure, resisting the instinctive urge to cower and hide, as a wave of hostile and territorial Alpha pheromones suddenly washed over him, permeating the air— the bite mark on the nape of his neck throbbed painfully.

The doctor cleared his throat loudly in an effort to keep his voice from wavering. “No, no. It’s nothing like that. I merely performed my due diligence in a life or death situation, and he’s been insisting that he repay my good deed,” he kept his tone flat and neutral, speaking with total conviction as he vaguely gave his reasoning. “As for why I had to close my clinic for those few days, it was for personal reasons.” He supplied, hoping his words would be enough to satisfy Sunday’s curiosity.

— Of course, the real reason Ratio had closed his doors was to wait for the bite wound on the nape of his neck to fully heal. The last thing he wanted was to publicly announce his secondary gender and social standing as a claimed Omega!

— On a related note, it took a painstakingly long amount of time and effort to successfully clear out the stench of rut and heat pheromones from the clinic.

“Hmm, I see.” Sunday murmured, his suspicious expression from before turning thoughtful in the blink of an eye. Placing a hand over his heart in a well-mannered display, he stared fixedly at the doctor with that same ambiguous smile from before. “If he’s too much of a hindrance, I would be more than happy to lend you the protection of The Family. You are a very valuable person to me, after all. I wouldn’t want to see you or your clinic fall victim to…” Sunday paused for dramatic effect, building a brief moment of suspense, before resuming, “unfortunate circumstances— whether it be at his hands or by way of association.”

Ratio deferentially shook his head in response, his violet hair swaying gently with the action. “While I appreciate your concern, that won’t be necessary.”

The Alpha responded with a humorless chuckle in his throat, the sound low and dry.

“While I admire your self-assurance, you must have unequivocally noticed the danger you face,” Sunday raised a hand and slowly tapped two of his fingers to the side of his throat, touching the same place that Aventurine’s tattoo was located— obliquely emphasizing the blonde Alpha’s status as a highly-dangerous individual.

“Allow me to elaborate— the reason I turned down your generous offer is because Aventurine actually hasn’t come around here in two weeks.” Ratio stated, deliberately ignoring the pang of instinctive longing in his chest and the ache in his nape.

The second Aventurine’s cognizance returned and he analyzed the horrific scene before him, he looked absolutely mortified— both at himself and at his egregious actions.

The color drained from his face, meanwhile his eyes shot wide at the sight of the deep, jagged puncture wounds on Ratio’s pale nape, which had already started to bruise.

The ovular imprint of teeth marks was consistent with his own dental arches. Not to mention, the coppery, yet sweet taste of blood overflowed in his mouth, staining his palate— he could taste it every time he swallowed his spit or ran his tongue over his teeth.

Aventurine had exerted enough biting force to tear through multiple layers of skin and expose the soft tissue beneath.

Although the flow was weak, blood continued to pool in the wound, which throbbed in tandem with Ratio’s heartbeat.

The cold air licked the broken flesh, aggravating the wound further. However, the Omega hardly stirred from the raw, swollen heat that radiated from his injured nape— having been knocked out cold by several more rounds of frenzied mating, which was brought on by the abrupt return of his estrous.

The couple regressed to primitive states, fucking on every available surface of Ratio’s clinic for hours on end— the doctor was monumentally grateful that no one had needed to be evaluated or treated during that time; it was truly a miracle.

On the other hand, Aventurine was thankful that he had managed to stay dressed and keep his clothes intact throughout the entire ordeal— aside from the disheveled and rumpled appearance of the fabric, the articles hadn’t been torn to shreds in a sexual frenzy; which was a common occurrence.

As he took stock of his appearance, Aventurine’s train of thought was interrupted by the shrill and upbeat chime of a ringtone, the sound easily shattering the oppressive silence.

His face briefly lit up with recognition and he shot upright.

Aventurine dug a hand into one of his trouser pockets without missing a beat and fished out his smart phone— the source of the commotion.

The light of the clinic glinted coldly off the golden bands around his fingers as he loosely curled his lithe digits around the device to uninterestedly check the caller ID.

Ratio’s brow twitched at the first sight of the garish and vulgar design of his phone case; solid gold with blue gemstones— which just so happened to be the first thing that caught his eye when he glanced over his shoulder, the offensive sound having woken him up.

Ratio was lying next to Aventurine completely naked, his broad back turned to the Alpha.

With a huff, Aventurine shut the phone screen off, effectively silencing the call— but not ending it.

He pocketed his device and swiveled his head so as to meet Ratio’s sluggish gaze, his eyes having been drawn to the subtle movement beside him as the Omega forced his heavy limbs to move, rolling onto his back with a soft groan.

He deliberately ignored the ache in his muscles, his sore body protesting the action; a dull pain radiated in his lower back and hips. As his body fully came into view, Aventurine’s breath audibly hitched when he noticed the innumerable bruises and hickeys and bite marks that decorated every inch of his flesh, the doctor looking as if he had just been mauled by a feral beast.

Fortunately, the couple had fallen asleep on one of the medical beds, rather than the hard ground— the only downside was that the bed was narrow, which made it cramped and uncomfortable trying to fit two adult bodies on it, especially when said bodies were lying side-by-side. And Ratio’s large frame certainly did not help the situation.

The ambiguous smile that Ratio was familiar with had returned to Aventurine’s face— but this time around, the look had taken on a sheepish and guilt-stricken edge.

After tucking himself back into his pants, the Alpha fastened his trousers and worked his belt closed with practiced movements, his hands neither showing signs of shaking nor incoordination.

“Good morning… How are you holding up, doc?”

Ratio squinted at Aventurine— partly because he was miffed by the marginal question, and also because his eyelids were weighed down by fatigue. “How do you think?” Ratio huffed bitterly, his voice sounding hoarse and raw.

Aventurine responded with a rueful laugh, which sounded forced and unnatural.

A beat of awkward and tense silence came to pass before the Alpha opened his mouth— only to shut it immediately after. As he organized his thoughts, he distractedly twiddled his fingers and toyed with his rings, unable to meet Ratio’s probing gaze as the doctor anxiously waited for him to speak.

What followed after was a heartfelt and scared apology, Aventurine then turned to Ratio with a strained smile and saddened eyes.

He actually had the nerve to take it upon himself to tell Ratio what was best for him at that moment— which was space; to decompress and recover and, most importantly, think.

Without listening to what Ratio had to say - that is, if Ratio had anything to say; he wasn’t sure, as what had come next happened so quickly - so abruptly - that he couldn’t even speak, much less think about what he could say - Aventurine leapt out of the bed and made haste for the exit.

He slipped out of the room with neither a sound nor a backwards glance, leaving Ratio confused and shocked and sore as he stared at his afterimage.

However, what hit Ratio the hardest in the bonding mark was the fact that Aventurine had left him completely and utterly alone.

Aventurine had abandoned Ratio— that was essentially the gist of what had transpired from his point of view.

Intuition told Ratio that Aventurine regretted the bond to the point that he decided to make off with his tail between his legs, and never look back— leaving Ratio in the lurch and vulnerable.

But not before justifying his actions by distributing sordid guidance; speaking on Ratio’s behalf in terms of what he allegedly needed— what a load of utter nonsense.

Succinctly put, Alpha’s possessed the ability to bond as many Omega’s as they saw fit without complications or consequence. On the other hand, their Omega counterparts could only carry one bond throughout their entire lifetime— and it was a permanent affair. There was no reversing or dissolving a mating bond.

— It was unkind and unreasonable, but that was just how nature worked; life was made to be unfair.

Of course, in modern society, there were methods in place to back Omega’s in deterring sustaining an unwanted mating bond— such as reinforced, bite-resistant collars.

Unfortunately, the accessories inherently advertised an individual’s secondary gender, hence why Ratio typically went without one.

He instead relied heavily on his robust physique and potent heat suppressants to protect him from an unwanted claiming bite, lulling himself into a false sense of security that such an incident was too much of an impracticability for the likes of him— Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

To make matters worse, emergency contraception was ineffective against Omega’s that had recently undergone heat, this was due to the presence of ovulation during estrous.

In addition, due to a dramatic increase in fertility during estrous, an Omega was able to conceive in under several minutes at the time of ejaculation. Though the time was drastically decreased to under a minute when knotted and inseminated by an Alpha, as their sperm was stronger and had unequaled motility.

That said, Ratio prayed that his estrous had merely been a withdrawal-heat, which was typically a result of repressing the body’s natural cycle for an extended period of time with suppressant medication.

If that were the case, ovulation would not have been present— in layman’s terms, these types of short and spontaneous heat cycles were known as: ‘blank heats’.

Hell, for all Ratio knew, Aventurine was snipped. It was fairly common for those who operated in the shadows of Penacony to get sterilized— children were a liability and a weak point, after all; something to be targeted and exploited.

All in all, the last thing the doctor needed was to be a single mother on top of being a ruined bonded Omega.

So long as Ratio’s menstrual cycle turned up around the usual time, everything would be just fine. He just needed to be patient and wait— just a few more days.

Ratio took a deep and calming breath, repeating words of reassurance in his head like a mantra.

Chapter Text

The darkness didn’t bring silence, only a new layer of sound— the clatter of a late-night diner, the distant beat of a bass line, and the endless thrum of the streets.

Beneath the neon glow and the perpetual noise, Ratio walked through the dim city streets; in a city that never sleeps, you were never truly alone, but you were never truly with anyone either. Without his white coat or the stethoscope he wore around his neck on occasion, he was just another face in the crowd.

Penacony did not have a heartbeat; it had a pulse, a frantic, electric thrum that vibrated through the concrete and steel.

Ratio deliberately strayed from the street lamps that illuminated the sidewalk, preferring the anonymity that the shadows of the night provided. However, cars on the road would drive past at intervals, their headlights passing over Ratio and bathing his solitary figure in white light.

The pronounced sound of rustling plastic acted as ambience throughout his excursion, as the plastic bag that was dangling from one of his hands was jostled with every rhythmical step.

The moment Ratio reached the inlet of a familiar alleyway - where a formidable darkness overflowed and blacked out everything within - his body moved automatically - almost instinctively - and he turned into the daunting alley without hesitation, ducking out of sight.

His feet carried him through the narrow passageway with controlled quietude, his footfalls echoing off of the concrete walls that loomed over him on both sides.

After a short while, Ratio caught sight of the small, extraneous light that sat just above the door of his back-alley clinic, illuminating the doorstep and denoting its location. The Omega’s vacant hand dug into one of his pockets and fished out his keys, the jingling breaking the stillness of the alleyway— his shoes scuffed against the doorstep as he slid in front of the door.

Ratio plunged the key into the lock with practiced ease, the action eliciting a grating, scraping sound as the jagged teeth of the key grinded against the inner mechanisms.

When the doctor flipped the key with an innate turn of his wrist, he was taken aback to discover that the door was already unlocked— more accurately, it was already open.

Ratio’s heart skipped a beat and he resisted the urge to leap backwards as the front door slipped out of its frame and eerily creaked open; the slow, hesitant motion created a gap, revealing a sliver of the space beyond. The hairs on the back of his nape prickled and stood on end, and consternation rooted him to the spot.

Ratio acted against his better judgment and pressed his hand against the smooth, wooden door— the Omega deliberately rebuffed his instincts, which alerted him of danger and screamed at him to turn tail and flee. He then tentatively, and very lightly, nudged the door open, mimicking the force of the wind.

He watched with bated breath as it crept open further, gliding agonizingly slow.

The small reception area of his clinic immediately came into view— but it looked different than usual.

— All at once, Ratio’s eyes widened and several different emotions flickered across his expression, ranging from disbelief to outrage. The plastic bag in his hand slipped from his fingers and dropped to the ground with a light thump.

The small clinic had clearly been marauded.

Furniture was overturned, cabinets and drawers had been violently thrown open; pill bottles, loose pills, papers, and equipment laid scattered across the floor— the place looked a total mess; as if a hurricane had blown through.

As he stepped over the threshold to investigate the damage more thoroughly, Ratio knew that he had to proceed with utmost caution— after all, whoever it was that had plundered his clinic could likely still be inside; and the person responsible could either be an armed felon, a manic junkie, or worse - both.

Fortunately, that wouldn’t be the case; which was a monumental relief.

At the end of his systematic and careful inspection, Ratio ultimately found nobody within the vicinity— he was completely and utterly alone.

As he looked over his disorderly and devastated surroundings at a complete loss, Ratio felt a sense of unease and disconcertment creep into his heart.

Ever since he had laid down roots in Penacony, he could not recall one time he had ever been a target of trespassing, burglary or vandalism; this instance was a first for him.

With that said, Ratio decided that it was in his best interest to not let it trouble him too much. Instead, it was best to call it mere misfortune, sweep it under the rug, and move on.

However, unbeknownst to him, the harrowing phenomenon wouldn’t be a one-time experience like he initially thought.

It would happen again and again and again; always without fail; always whenever he set foot outside of his clinic to run errands or go anywhere. It recurred enough times to drive the poor Dr. Ratio to his wit’s end.

Ratio lifted the brim of the ceramic, ergonomic mug to his lips, leaning in for a sip of the green tea he had just prepared himself.

His movements were graceful and controlled, betraying the tensity in his furrowed brow.

Steam lackadaisically billowed off of the surface of the amber liquid, a wispy exhalation into the cold air. The vapor curled and twisted in slow motion— absentmindedly caressing the cup's rim before spiraling upward in a lazy plume

The tension automatically bled from his stiff and taut facial muscles the moment he felt that first puff of moist heat ghost over his nose and mouth. The rush of warmth accompanied by the refreshing taste of the green tea had a restorative effect, distracting him from his grievances.

The beverage was hardly given the chance to cool before Ratio polished it off.

Afterwards, he diligently washed his mug off in the sink and toweled it dry before putting it away on a high shelf— the mug was the only drink-ware that he owned at the moment, his other cups all having been thrown from the cupboards and smashed to pieces.

Ratio then washed his hands with antibacterial hand soap. He lathered and scrubbed the appendages as thoroughly as possible; as a proper and reputable medical practitioner, the Omega valued sterility and practicing good hygiene above all else.

As if on cue, the second he finished drying his drippy hands with a paper towel, the familiar tinkling of a bell disturbed the silence of the clinic.

“Doctor!” Ratio was taken aback by a frantic shout. The voice of a man was carried through the small space, echoing off of the barren walls. “Please, is there a doctor here… Come quick!“

Without missing a beat, the Omega sprang into action and rushed towards the sound of perturbation—

— Only to immediately regret his decision.

The moment Ratio emerged to assess the severity of the situation, he found himself staring directly down the barrel of a loaded gun.

Naturally, realization hadn’t dawned straight away, and the Omega needed a moment to register what it was that was being shoved in his face. However, when reality finally - and very abruptly - clicked, Ratio’s breath caught in his chest, his eyes shot comically wide, and his body went rigid.

Ratio’s panic-stricken eyes immediately flitted to the face of the stranger behind the firearm, which was warped into a calm and ambiguous grin.

The gentleman was smartly dressed. The long overcoat he wore was various tones of brown, just like his hair— while the majority of his hair was dark brown, Ratio noticed that the underside was a dark vanilla. His hair was neatly combed, with a few locks hanging in his scarlet eyes.

Speaking of his eyes, their pupils were a unique and otherworldly shape; they were deceptively gentle, though the Omega could see something manic looming in their depths.

Judging by the pheromones that subtly breached the spicy scent of his cologne, Ratio was able to gather that the brunette gentleman was an Alpha.

“Greetings, little bird.” He purred, his voice was airy and playful. As he spoke, he kept the gun steady and level with the center of Ratio’s face. “Sorry for the deception, but what did you think of my marvelous performance? Very convincing, no?” He chuckled and narrowed his eyes in amusement, “I mean, clearly— if it was enough to get you so worked up and have you rushing to my aid.”

Ratio regained his bearings and schooled his facial expression, hiding his emotions behind an icy glare and a deep scowl. Unfortunately, he was unable to hide the shaking in his limbs.

“What do you want?”

The corners of the Alpha’s lips abruptly fell, weighed down by disappointment by the question— he looked almost bored.

“Tsk, tsk. What a boring reaction. And such a cliché line,” the Alpha rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. He shoved the gun more insistently in Ratio’s face, as if emphasizing its intimidating presence.

— Before Ratio knew it, a wicked smile abruptly bloomed across his handsome face and he began to trail the cold muzzle of the firearm down the side of the Omega's face, the touch like a lover's caress.

His eyes slid down, tracking the movement of the weapon with predatory intensity, meanwhile his voice dropped to a low murmur, “Ah, yes, I get it now. You’ve never been in this type of situation before, so you need some guidance.”

Before the doctor was given the chance to analyze his oracular remark and register the movement that followed, the Alpha sharply pulled the gun back.

He skillfully rolled his wrist and abruptly cracked the end of the grip against the side of the doctor’s face, pistol-whipping him with enough force to knock him to the floor.

An intense pain bloomed on the side of Ratio’s face and his head quickly snapped to the side on impact. Completely caught off guard by the action, Ratio’s mouth fell open around a pained cry as he hit the ground.

The coppery taste of blood flooded his mouth, meanwhile his eyes stung with tears as his smarting cheek throbbed in tandem with his erratic heartbeat.

The owl-eyed Omega stared at the floor in shock for what felt like an eternity, unable to wrap his mind around what had just happened.

His hand instinctively moved to hold his cheek— as if doing so would somehow alleviate the ache or shield the wounded area from further pain.

— Ratio wasn’t even remotely conscious of the fact that he had begun to shake in fear, nor was he aware of the distressed and frightened pheromones that he was pumping into the air, his instincts screaming for the protection and safety that only his mate could provide.

The Alpha’s chest rumbled with throaty laughter.

His expression from before warped and melted into morbid satisfaction as he stared down the bridge of his nose at the doctor.

“Ah, that’s more like it; that’s what I wanted to see. Oh, and this scent…” the Alpha’s eyes slipped shut and he took a minute to breathe deep through his nose, loudly relishing the scent of the Omega’s fear, “— Lovely. Absolutely brilliant!” His eyes flashed with manic delight as they flew open, automatically locking onto Ratio’s crumpled form, the Omega still unable to grasp the unpleasant turn of events.

“Well now— now that I’ve quite literally wiped that insufferable look off your face, allow me to answer your question and explain to you why I’m here, little bird.” With a predatory smile, the Alpha brought his foot forward to nudge the golden toe of his shoe into Ratio’s abdomen. Although it was slight, the pressure was effective in snapping Ratio back to reality, the doctor flinching away from the unwanted touch. “My client would like to have a word with you about this.”

Ratio instinctively curled into himself and covered his stomach with his hand in an effort to shield it from the Alpha’s foot, his maternal instincts making him fiercely protective of the fragile, little life inside.

With his jaw clenched tight, he raised his gaze just enough to stare fixedly at the Alpha from beneath his thick eyelashes, “Client? Actually, wait a moment. How do you know about…?” Ratio purposely trailed off, unsure if he even wanted to know how someone had found out about his pregnancy— he hadn’t shared that information with anyone; not even his own Alpha - the father of his baby - knew.

The corners of the Alpha’s lips stretched and his eyes softly narrowed, his expression softening with a mix of morbid amusement and pity when he heard the trembling in Ratio’s voice.

The Alpha successively clicked his tongue in mock disappointment as he wagged an admonishing finger at Ratio. “Tsk, tsk. I thought you knew better than to ask questions. Isn’t discretion your personal philosophy?”

“That’s irrelevant,” Ratio’s eyes narrowed a fraction. He fought the instinctive urge to avert his gaze, lower his head and cower before the other.

“Well, I’m afraid it’s not up for debate, little bird.” The Alpha chuckled. As he spoke, he lifted the gun that had been acting as dead weight in his hand until then, leveling the muzzle with the crease between the Omega’s brows; Ratio’s hand clutched his belly tighter in response. “You’re coming with me, and that’s final.”

The second the words registered in his brain, the Alpha scowled before mumbling something under his breath, “Ugh. Did I really just say that out loud? How platitudinous and uninspired.” As he grumbled to himself, he dragged his vacant hand down his handsome face.

The moment Ratio parted his trembling lips and took a breath to respond, a sharp click and metallic clatter beat him to the punch.

— The sound would soon be revealed to be the hammer of a single action revolver being thumbed back, which rotated the cylinder in turn.

The doctor watched as the Alpha before him stood erect and squared his shoulders; surprise flickered across his face before quickly melting into a look of mild annoyance. Ratio had initially thought that the sound had startled the Alpha— however, he would soon come to learn that his reaction was due to the gun that was suddenly digging into his spine; the pressure a silent threat.

Ratio had detected his scent before he even spoke.

The Omega’s body automatically relaxed when the familiar and comforting scent of his one and only Alpha washed over him, his shoulders sagging as if a weight had been cut from them.

Ratio’s instincts persistently screamed at him to seek the protection of his mate; to run to him and hide in his embrace. But alas, Ratio resisted— not because he was against the idea, but because the last thing he wanted was to hinder Aventurine during such a critical moment.

“Well, well— what do we have here?” Aventurine purred from behind the other Alpha.

The ominous smile on his lips was evident in his voice, which was low and dangerous and dripping with animosity. The striking colors within his eyes smoldered strongly, the shadows that darkened his expression only intensifying their glow.

The pheromones that radiated off of the blonde Alpha were weighty and thick with unrestrained hostility and aggression.

“You’re either incredibly brave or really stupid to be pointing a gun at my Omega,” Aventurine growled.

The brunette Alpha responded with a chuff of dry laughter, yet he proceeded to cautiously lower his weapon without protest.

“Come, come. You know as well as I do that I’m not here of my own volition; your malice is misplaced.” In spite of the dire straits, the Alpha spoke calmly.

“Is that right?” Aventurine huffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Without missing a beat, he grinded the cold muzzle of his revolver more insistently into the other Alpha’s spine; clearly not persuaded to show mercy and let bygones be bygones in the slightest. “Yeah, you see, I don’t really think that’s for you to decide. After all, it’s one thing to threaten my Omega— but it’s a whole other matter entirely to touch him.”

Aventurine’s blood boiled and crimson misted his vision when he thought about the dark bruise that was blossoming on Ratio’s cheek, having caught a glimpse of it when he had crept up from behind the unsuspecting Alpha— it was a miracle he hadn’t squeezed the trigger yet.

Just before the silver-tongued Alpha had the chance to open his mouth to defend himself, Aventurine cut him off.

“As much as I’d like to kill you where you stand for daring to lay a hand on what’s mine—” Ratio was taken aback when Aventurine suddenly took a calm and collected step backwards, though he kept his revolver steadily trained on the other Alpha, his forefinger hovering over the trigger in a silent promise of violence. “I won’t.”

With the firearm no longer pressed against his back, the brunette Alpha visibly relaxed. Of course, the tension remained in his muscles and his posture maintained its rigidity.

The Alpha mirrored Ratio’s confusion, appearing almost skeptical.

An unspoken question lingered in the air— one that Aventurine was happy to answer after a suspenseful beat of silence.

“I don’t think my dear Omega would be too pleased if I were to execute you right before his very eyes— he’s a respectable doctor after all. His mission is to save lives.”

Ratio was moved by Aventurine's words, feeling his eyes grow misty with emotion. His heart throbbed in his chest when their eyes briefly met— he noticed how his mate’s expression softened a touch during the fleeting moment of eye contact.

“Yes, yes!” Ratio was startled and the atmosphere popped like a soap bubble when the brunette Alpha abruptly shouted, his voice loud and abrasive. “What a moving performance! The raw emotion, the romantic ambience! What a captivating scene! Bravo!” His manic grin broadened and his eyes widened as he praised the couple, tucking his gun away into his overcoat.

Aventurine’s expression darkened and his brow twitched with annoyance as he shot the other Alpha a pointed look. “Leave now, before I change my mind,” he growled.

With one arm folded across his midsection and the other arm out at his side, and his long legs crossed, the eccentric Alpha gracefully bowed as if he was some sort of performer before taking his leave.

The moment he was out of sight, Ratio shot to his feet, only to immediately lose his strength to stand and fall into the arms of his Alpha, who caught the larger Omega with ease. Ratio snagged the front of Aventurine’s dress shirt in a white-knuckled grip, clinging to him as he let the Alpha gently guide them to the floor.

Ratio reflexively pushed his face into the juncture of Aventurine’s neck and shoulder, breathing in his pheromones.

Naturally, the Alpha wrapped his arms around the Omega’s frame, holding him tight and close.

Ratio’s body shook violently in Aventurine’s warm embrace, wracked with choked sobs as he finally let his emotions show, uncaring that he was bawling like a child.

“I’m so sorry, Ratio. I’m so, so sorry. This is all my fault; I shouldn’t have left you. But I know that it’ll only be more dangerous if I stay—”

“No!” Ratio effectively cut Aventurine off, his loud and abrupt shout taking the Alpha by surprise.

The Omega instinctively tightened his grip on the fabric that was caught in his fists. “Don’t go… You can protect me— protect us.” As he spoke those last two words, Ratio released the front of his shirt and grabbed Aventurine’s hand instead, guiding it to his stomach and holding it there.

Aventurine’s eyes shot wide, tracking the movement of their hands before realization dawned on him.

With his hand firmly pressed to Ratio’s still-flat abdomen, the Alpha’s head snapped up and he frantically began searching Ratio’s face for confirmation.

“Wait. You mean…— You’re…?”

Ratio didn’t need to hear the rest of Aventurine’s question to know what his mate was asking, and he nodded with a shaky sigh, “I’m pregnant.”

In a trice, Aventurine’s astonished expression melted into unrestrained joy and adoration as he excitedly pulled Ratio into a tight hug.

Without missing a beat, Ratio eagerly returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around the small Alpha and crushing him to his broad chest as tears clung to his lashes.

With Aventurine’s head cradled against his bosom, Ratio was unable to see the dark and possessive smile that unfurled across Aventurine’s face, the Alpha buzzing with triumph as he reached up to stroke Ratio’s hair.

— Yes. Everything had worked out exactly according to plan.

Chapter Text

— ‘Shot Loaded Right’.

Everyone comes here to find something, but some come only to lose something.

Beneath the strobing lights, faces flashed and disappeared like a deck of cards shuffled by a head case.

Neon light bled across the floor, painting a lurid, psychedelic landscape of strangers and forgotten conversations.

The smoke machine churned out fog that obscured faces and intentions, turning the dance floor into a sea of anonymous, swaying figures.

The air was thick with the scent of spilled whiskey, cheap cologne, and poor decisions.

The bass drum was a heartbeat against Aventurine’s chest, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the echoes from the life he was trying to forget. From his stool at the bar, the nightclub was a frantic, blinking diorama of desperate people.

The private viewing area at the back of the lively establishment was exclusive to select members of the public; sectioned off by two satin drapes and fiercely guarded by a stony-faced, broad-shouldered bouncer.

As for what the long curtains obscured— it was none other than an underground, high-stakes casino.

High rollers insouciantly gambled the night away, meanwhile the working-class lost themselves in the anonymity the flashing lights provided and good alcohol.

And if you were well versed enough - regardless of what you came for or your social stratification - you could score some top-quality recreational drugs from the staff: cocaine, methamphetamine, ecstasy, marijuana, opioids— so long as you could afford it and pronounce it, it was accessible.

At the end of the day, ‘Shot Loaded Right’ was the kind of club where the people of Penacony came to ignore their problems and enjoy themselves to the fullest, blissfully unaware of what was going on behind the scenes— that is, that the surreal club existed solely to launder money; and, of course, traffick illicit drugs for The Stonehearts.

The Stonehearts were a powerful and transnational organized crime syndicate, whose influence over Penacony could rival that of the Penacony Mafia - who were more commonly known as ‘The Family’.

The two groups were constantly engaged in a power struggle, fighting for control over territory and the illegal goods and services markets of Penacony.

The Stonehearts and The Family were the most dominant organizations, as well as the most notorious crime syndicates within the boundaries of the city of Penacony— with law enforcement on both of their payrolls, and their names striking fear into the hearts of small-time suppliers.

“Well, well— that’s a million-dollar smile, if I’ve ever seen one.” Aventurine was shaken from his reverie when a suave and whimsical voice sliced through the pounding bass line.

The blonde Alpha had been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed when his companion had slinked into the vacant bar stool beside him.

Aventurine turned his head just in time to watch a knowing, easy grin lazily creep across the other’s handsome face, his downturned, mint-green eyes glinting with amusement.

The other rested his cheek against the palm of his gloved hand, with his elbow braced against the smooth bar counter. The lithe fingers of his other hand drummed rhythmically against the countertop.

The strobing lights glinted off of the silver cuff on his ear.

“Sampo Koski, just who I was hoping to run into.” Aventurine mirrored Sampo’s relaxed grin; albeit the upturn of the corners of his lips was sharper, with a touch of ambiguity.

“Judging by that radiant smile of yours, I’m going to assume that all’s well that ends well with that Omega of yours?” Sampo’s expression was hopeful and his smile broadened as he clapped his hands together in premature congratulations, the sound muffled by the dark gloves he wore.

Aventurine responded with a short laugh. “That’s right. And it’s all thanks to yours and Mr. Boothill’s contribution and extensive network of connections.” The blonde Alpha paused as if he had suddenly remembered something. Aventurine turned his head so as to properly look at the informant— for once, the look on the blonde’s face was almost gentle, and the darkness in his eyes had weakened. “Which reminds me, would you prefer hard cash or to be wired your remuneration?”

“Aw yeah, now we’re talking!” Sampo beamed at the mention of payment, his eyes lighting up with unrestrained excitement— like a kid in a candy store. “Oh, you know me. Cold, hard cash always works best for your pal Sampo!”

Aventurine responded with a knowing smile, having expected as much— after all, paper money couldn’t be traced, which was something they both preferred. “Of course; I’ll have your remittance sent to your office like usual.”

“Because I’m feeling generous, I’ll take things a step further and throw in an added bonus for your hard work these past few weeks.”

Sampo feigned a flattered look and gallantly placed a hand over his heart, as if having been moved by Aventurine's generosity. “But of course, what are friends for? Breaking and entering is at the top of my list of specialties!”

The informant puffed his chest out with pride and, with a swipe of his hand, he pompously flicked his dark blue bangs out of his face with a haughty grin.

As he fondly recalled the disorderly and ruined state of Ratio’s clinic in the aftermath of his break-in’s, Sampo’s smile took a guilty and apologetic edge.

“Though, I’m afraid some of the ‘friends’ I brought along may have gone a bit overboard in destroying the doctor’s things; I hope I didn’t cost him too dearly in damages.”

Aventurine’s eyes narrowed in wry amusement, and dark laughter bubbled in his throat in response to Sampo’s sheepish mien.

“Don’t worry about it. The devastation was perfect; it was exactly what he needed to shake him up and shatter his self-confidence. Besides, I’ve been thinking about persuading my dear Omega to give up his clinic, and exclusively become my little housewife.”

— Of course, Aventurine had used the word ’little’ ironically, seeing as Ratio was physically bigger and taller than him.

Sampo dropped his chin into his hand and huffed a short laugh the moment the blonde Alpha's words registered in his head, the sound humorless and hesitant— and in harmony with the pity that flashed behind his eyes.

His heart truly went out to the poor Omega that had caught Aventurine’s interest— the blonde Alpha was, quite honestly, the worst of the worst.

Sampo and Aventurine had been acquainted for a long period of time - Aventurine (and his money) was a valued customer to the informant— hell, Sampo practically considered him a friend! - yet, despite having known each other for years, Sampo still couldn’t figure the blonde out.

However, if there was one thing that Sampo Koski could tell you about Aventurine - the cruelest and most cold-hearted executive of The Stonehearts - with total confidence, it was this:

When Aventurine wanted something, he was the type to pursue it aggressively and relentlessly— regardless if it meant hurting others - including the object of his affection - or resorting to underhanded tactics to get it.

If only Ratio hadn’t accidentally nodded off with his suppressant medication in plain sight when the wounded Aventurine had been admitted into his clinic.

The moment Aventurine had staggered out of his room in search of fluids and stumbled across the sight of the Omega slumped over and dozing next to the prescription bottle - vulnerable and blissfully unaware of the cruel fate that awaited him - the Alpha plucked up the plastic bottle and inspected the label thoroughly, turning it over in his hand.

The minute he registered that the bottle contained none other than heat suppressant medication, his lips stretched into a dark and twisted grin, meanwhile possessiveness flashed in his beautiful eyes at the wondrous revelation— Ah, so the pretty doctor is an Omega.

With that thought in mind - which made him feel unbelievably giddy and delighted - the gears in his brain began to turn and he hatched a terribly wonderful scheme.

Without missing a beat, Aventurine gripped the pill bottle tighter and twirled on his heel before quietly tip-toeing in a set direction.

After rummaging through a few medicine cabinets, he finally found what he was looking for— a small, plastic bottle of placebo pills.

After tidying up the cabinet - meticulously fixing the medicine bottles on the shelves - Aventurine took the two pill bottles into the bathroom, where he proceeded to pour Ratio’s suppressants into the toilet and flush them down the drain.

Afterwards, with keen precision and a steady hand, Aventurine ultracarefully transferred the placebo pills into the now-empty prescription bottle, taking care to match the exact weight that the bottle was before he had emptied it out, so as to avoid rousing suspicion.

Once his task was completed, the Alpha returned the half-empty placebo bottle to the medicine cabinet, deliberately placing it at the far back of the shelf, before putting the suppressant medication back where he found it— right next to Ratio.

While he waited for Ratio’s heat suppressants to lose their effect, Aventurine would visit his clinic everyday thereafter - a red, long-stem rose in-hand - under false pretenses - that he was merely there to invite the Omega out and repay his kindness— in actuality, it was to acclimate Ratio to his pheromones.

On the other hand, the rose Aventurine would deliver to Ratio - while it may have seemed like an innocent and romantic gesture from a detached viewpoint - the petals of each rose were lightly perfumed with a top-of-the-line heat-stimulant; subtle enough to go undetected, but potent enough to be efficacious from the faintest whiff - without any undesired, addiction-inducing aftereffects.

— Hence Ratio’s intense reaction to Aventurine’s Alpha pheromones; which was enough to send him spiraling into a short, impromptu heat.

Coincidentally enough, the heat-stimulant doubled as a fertility booster, guaranteeing that Ratio would conceive thrice over from their frenzied mating session— honestly, Aventurine wouldn’t doubt if he had knocked Ratio up with triplets.

Speaking of Ratio’s pregnancy— that first night Sampo had forced entry into his clinic, Aventurine was ecstatic when Archer - one of his subordinates whom he had tasked with shadowing Ratio, on top of reporting his every move - relayed that the doctor was at the pharmacy, buying pregnancy tests; which he toted back to his clinic in a plastic bag. His eyes flashed with wild exultation at the news.

— Now that the Omega was Aventurine’s - in both body and blood - there was just one more matter to deal with.

As if on cue, Aventurine’s phone rang— the ringtone familiar.

When he fished the mobile device out of his pocket and confirmed the caller ID, his lips stretched into a devilish grin and his eyes glinted with wicked delight.

Without missing a beat, Aventurine leaned over and insisted Sampo order a drink on his tab; Sampo’s eyes automatically lit up and his smile broadened. He saluted Aventurine with two fingers and a wink, happily taking him up on the offer.

With his phone jingling in the palm of his hand, Aventurine swiftly took his leave to search for a private - quieter - place to talk.

Taking a break from the thumping bass and kaleidoscope of lights, Aventurine stepped into the cool, dark alley, the ghoulish glow of his phone illuminating his face as he brought it to his ear.

The Alpha casually leaned against the brick wall at his back, his posture slack and carefree— with his other arm folded over his chest and his vacant hand resting in the crook of his elbow.

“Aventurine speaking.”

— “‘Bout damn time you answered, fucker. Was startin’ to think you had gotten yerself a nice pair of cement shoes to bring out those pretty eyes o’ yours.”

In spite of the muffled quality of the low and rough voice that came through, the thick country accent of the person on the other end was unequivocal as it flowed through Aventurine’s phone, filtering directly into his ear.

On a related note, Boothill was foul-mouthed as he was impatient - typical of the small arm’s dealer.

Regardless, the blonde Alpha could not help but find amusement in the unrefined greeting— it was refreshing, as not many people dared to speak to him in such a boorish manner.

Aventurine responded with a thoughtful hum; as if he was seriously chewing over Boothill’s concern, and debating over whether or not he agreed with the comment about cement shoes complimenting the color of his eyes— in actuality, he simply wished to test Boothill’s patience.

Just as Boothill reached his breaking point, opening his mouth and taking a short breath, ready to snap, Aventurine finally retorted, the playful smile on his face evident in his whimsical and joking tone.

“Hmm. No way - slate grey is so not my color.”

— “Ugh! I was bein’ sarcastic, you cocksucker!”

“Alright, alright— I’ve had my fun,” Aventurine chuckled softly at Boothill’s outburst.

With that said, his expression turned solemn and his tone took on a staunch edge. In the blink of an eye, the atmosphere surrounding the blonde had changed drastically. “Tell me what this is about, Mr. Boothill.”

— “Heh, it’s about fuckin’ time you asked.”

Aventurine could practically visualize Boothill’s sharp, toothy smirk upon finally getting down to the nitty-gritty.

— “It looks like our good friend Lyndon Skott is gettin’ antsy about that rat-bastard he hired to kidnap that Omega of yours turning up empty-ended; I overheard him talking ‘bout skippin’ town for a while to lay low.”

The corners of Aventurine’s mouth curled into a disdainful smile, meanwhile acrimony flickered behind his colorful eyes.

His fingers tensed around his phone, greatly displeased with the sheer audacity that Skott possessed.

“Really now— that won’t do.” Aventurine huffed a derisive laugh, the sound mirthless and dry. “Well, Mr. Boothill, you wouldn’t mind keeping our good friend busy until I get there, would you?”

Boothill responded with a dark chuckle of his own.

— “Not at all. It would be my pleasure.”

“Wonderful. Send me the address, I’ll be there soon. Oh, and one more thing—” Aventurine paused for dramatic effect, encouraged to continue when he was met with confused silence in lieu of a verbal response. “Do try to refrain from finishing him off; I want that bastard to suffer before I ventilate his skull.”

With that said, Aventurine ended the call and incisively dialed the number of his chauffeur.

The moment the call connected, a text from Boothill came through on his burner phone; the message contained his location.

Smoke curled around Aventurine’s face, a thin gray halo against the red glow of the city lights, as he stared down at the lifeless body of ‘The Lone Wolf’ with cold indifference.

Aventurine always repaid his debts— which included returning the favor of the hitman that intuition told him Skott had hired; the unforeseen ambush having been what landed him in Ratio’s clinic on that fateful day.

Without a shred of mercy, Aventurine emptied the chamber of his single-action revolver into Skott.

The blonde Alpha put his marksmanship and expert precision on display as he discharged the firearm in rapid succession, striking Skott in the exact same places where he himself had been shot.

— The muzzle of the gun flashed wildly and the cylinder made a full rotation as the hammer was constantly thumbed back and the trigger was repeatedly squeezed.

However, just before he dealt the finishing blow - intent on driving the last bullet into Skott’s head - Aventurine crouched down so as to be eye-level with the other - the excruciating pain from that first blow having sent him crumpling to his knees in agony, while the gunshots that followed had him rolling around on the floor - and offered him a few heartfelt words of gratitude.

After all, if it hadn’t been for Skott and his petty need for revenge against Aventurine for slandering his precious father’s reputation - and inadvertently forcing him to take his own life for the sake of his wounded pride - Aventurine would have never met Veritas Ratio, nor would he have been able to possess him entirely.

Aventurine’s breath came in a slow, controlled stream of white smoke, mirroring the last exhalation of his adversary. The lit end of his cigarette burned red-hot, the red ring smoldering intensely with each steady drag he took.

Aventurine filled his lungs with the bitter nicotine, relishing the pleasant burn in his mouth and throat.

The blonde Alpha was pulled from his headspace by the sound of Boothill’s gruff voice. “Damn, ya got bigger cajones than I initially gave you credit for.”

Aventurine’s eyes slowly slid in the direction of his companion, his colorful eyes devoid of emotion and light alike.

— Boothill recognized them as the eyes of a seasoned, cold-blooded murderer.

“Purposely tellin’ tales out of school about an Omega you knocked up - yer seriously one ballsy son of a bitch.”

Boothill barked a sharp laugh, leaning over Skott’s lifeless body with a wry grin. Naturally, he kept his distance, not wanting to get blood or gray matter on the soles of his shoes.

“I mean, usin’ yer pregnant mate to bait this no-good motherfucker into targetin’ him to win over his affections, and make yerself seem like some fuckin’ hero— shit.” With the brim of his cowboy hat pinched between his fingers, Boothill breathed a lot of emphasis into his expletive and shook his head, in a clear state of disbelief at the mere notion, “I reckon to scheme up somethin’ like that, ya gotta have a few screws loose.”

In spite of the practiced smile that appeared on his face, Aventurine continued to regard Boothill with a detached stare; his eyes blank and unblinking— he resembled a re-animated corpse.

— Hell, the literal dead body probably had more feeling in his eyes than Aventurine did at that moment.

His eyes narrowed a fraction as he plucked the cigarette from between his lips and tipped his head back ever so slightly, exhaling a steady stream of white smoke into the air.

At that point, the scent of cigarette smoke greatly overpowered the stench of blood.

“Hm, it was more of a gamble, really.” Aventurine hummed. “In the end, I managed to kill two birds with one stone— I eliminated the biggest pain in my neck and I captured the heart of my Omega. I’d say the reward greatly outweighed the risk in this situation, wouldn’t you agree? It’s a win-win.”

Boothill heaved a deep sigh and folded his arms over his chest, as if reluctantly agreeing with the blonde Alpha.

“I bet the son of a bitch who you just pumped full of lead would beg to differ.” He grumbled under his breath, tilting his head down and deliberately hiding his reproachful expression beneath the dark brim of his hat.

Whether Aventurine had heard Boothill and chose to deliberately ignore him or actually hadn't heard his remark, Boothill hadn’t a clue.

In a trice, Aventurine flicked his cigarette to the ground and snuffed it beneath his shoe.

In the exact same motion, he brandished his cell phone, intending to call a few experts who were well-versed in disposing of bodies.

The second the call ended, he spun on his heel and decisively pushed waiting for the clean-up crew entirely onto Boothill, who recoiled in response.

After recovering from the initial shock of Aventurine’s spur-of-the-moment decision, the small arms dealer belligerently began to shout expletives and hurl insults at Aventurine’s retreating form.

Although he adamantly protested, spitting venom and claiming that he wouldn’t act in accordance with Aventurine’s adjudication, the blonde Alpha knew that he would acquiesce — his sense of obligation was just too strong; which was both a blessing and a curse.

His colorful words ultimately fell on deaf ears as the blonde Alpha slipped into the city streets, which were bathed in a neon glow, his mind occupied with only one thought:

In spite of the fact that his clothes reeked heavily of cigarette smoke and gunpowder, Aventurine wanted nothing more than to hurry home to Ratio.

— His Omega.