Finders Keepers, ch6, is finally complete. I’ll have to perform one last inspection before I’ll upload it to AO3 either today, Friday, or Saturday morning.
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SUMMARY: By some miraculous twist of fate, Jack stumbles across an Atlas android hidden smack dab in Hyperion headquarters. Obviously, what is he going to do with it? Keep it for himself, of course, because as the saying goes, "Finders keepers, losers weepers." What he didn't anticipate was the clusterfuck he'd find himself in, when he discovers the valuable model he'd been hoarding has a hidden backstory. There is more than meets the eye. (It's a sort-of tie-in to the Borderlands and Tales from the Borderlands universes. This is another attempt at an AU, although I hope to pay homage to elements from canon.)
Ch 1-5 can be found on AO3! Link is in my profile.
for the abo prompts?: rhys and jack have been trying for a baby for a while. nothing seems to be working until one morning jack wakes up with his scent different and sweeter, and as it turns out, rhys is prolly a little too into the pregnant jack smell.
✨💞 Done and posted over on AO3 💞✨
Feel free to send any more prompt ideas 💘
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Jack lets his head hang like dead weight, trying to enjoy the feeling of Rhys' knot swollen inside him. His body is aching, only the sweet bliss of endorphins from his alpha knot relieves the pain. They've been having sex every available moment, it's only just starting to become tiresome and more of a chore than a pleasure. Jack always feels content afterwards, when Rhys is practically ready to pass out, and they just stay together, quiet, enjoying the release of their bonded pheromones wrapping around them both like a blanket.
It's more enjoyable for Jack when he's laying on his back, of course, but they've tried that dozens of times, they wanted to test other positions. Admittedly, appreciating how thick Rhys' knot is works best when he's sat up straight, riding him.
He rests his hands on Rhys shoulders, watching the younger man's chest slowly rise and fall with each steady breath. He doesn't even notice the touch of Rhys' flesh hand against his hip - not until there's an accompanied voice to match.
"Jack," his voice is barely even a whisper. It's wrecked from exhaustion, cracking under the weight of itself, but still manages to be quintessentially Rhys' at its core. Jack lifts his eyes to look at the younger man. His heart flutters when he sees him smiling. "How you feeling?"
There's a sorrowful silence for a mere second, before Jack exhales the heaviness cluttering his chest. "I'm fine, kiddo. How's your dick feeling?" He does his best to act normal, but the withering corners of his smile are more of a give away than he realises. Rhys extends a hand to stroke his cheek - the cold metal is surprisingly soothing against Jack's bare cheek, nice against the rough edges of his scar.
"It'll happen, Jack. These things just take time for some people."
Rhys' optimism is warming. It does surprisingly help Jack feel less broken, but it can't work miracles. They've been trying for months to get pregnant, but to no luck. They've seen doctors, fertility specialists, voodoo witches, and hippie love gurus claiming to know the secrets to a bountiful fertile bond, but nothing. There's nothing wrong with either of them, they're both perfectly fertile, everything is in working order, it's just a lack of lady luck, so to speak. Jack doesn't want to admit it, but having no success is beginning to weigh in his self worth more than he appreciates. He's never been a lovey dovey, family oriented, domestic omega, but something about starting a family with Rhys feels unexplainably right. He'd say it's destiny, but that's too cheesy for his liking.
Why couldn't they make a baby then? It seemed like child's play, any moron with a knot and an above average IQ could make it happen, but inexplicably Rhys and Jack couldn't. They'd synced their ruts and heats, they'd used fertility enhancements, they tried every old wives tale as far back as they went, but it seemed like fate had other plans. After a while, the frustration began to infuriate Jack. He wanted this so bad - to give Rhys the family he deserves. It's the one thing he can't threaten or bargain his way into getting! His status as an omega hasn't bothered him since he was a teenager, but now he can't help but resent himself.
He's lucky to be bonded with the most level-headed, docile alpha known to man. Jack could easily put down any knucklehead that pushed him too much, it didn't matter if they were an alpha or not, but having someone with patience and understanding certainly helped Jack's blood pressure. Sure, stereotypes about alphas and omegas weren't inherently true - Jack and Rhys were proof of that - but Jack couldn't deny when his hormones and pheromones for their heaviest and clouded his judgement, he certainly appreciated the loving embrace of an alpha that adored him no matter what.
After a while, Rhys' knot begins to go down, and Jack, with about as much grace as an oversized gorilla, pops off his lap and flops down beside him on the bed. His eyes shut the second his back meets the mattress. A hand rests against his flat stomach, playing with the coarse hairs covering his skin. Jack peers down to see Rhys watching him, content to do so forever.
"I should probably elevate my hips or some shit, right?" Jack teases, lifting said area and holding himself in position with his hands propped against the small of his back. "Keeps the baby goo inside or whatever."
Rhys grimaces, shaking his head. "Don't call it 'baby goo', that's disgusting."
"True though."
"It's cum - just call it cum!"
Jack laughs. He lets the lower half of his body fall back down, bouncing slightly against the springs. Rhys goes back to mindlessly playing with his belly hair, twirling it, sweeping it one way, enjoying how it feels. Jack tries to ignore the pestering voices crawling out of their hiding holes, telling him he's worthless, that all his accomplishments have been for nothing if he can't have a baby with Rhys. They tell him he deserves this, for all the bad he's done, for being a dictator, for being so selfish most of his adult life.
Rhys can see the wheels turning in Jack's head. The older man thinks he's subtle, but he's as easy to read as a kid's book. He rolls on to his front and crawls up to rest on Jack's chest, pouting playfully, walking his fingers up his biceps. Jack smiles softly.
"It'll happen." He says quietly, but it does little to reassure Jack. Rather, it makes him frown.
"What if it doesn't, huh? Will you be okay without a brat to take care off?"
"You're really convincing me you want this to begin with when you call it a brat." He laughs, but Jack rolls his eyes and turns away. It's harder on him, Rhys knows - it's always the way with omegas, but when your partner is hell-bent on denying old fashioned stereotypes associated with his status, it likely will result in deep seated repression, only to finally show itself in abrupt murderous rampages. Getting Jack to admit he even wanted kids to begin with had been a tedious trial, and it hurts him to know he opened a wound he can't heal.
Rhys takes Jack's face in both his hands and kisses him tenderly, drawing out the passion so it sinks in deep with Jack. He loves him more than words could ever begin to convey, even on his worst days, and he hates to know he can't immediately make things better with the flip of a switch.
"It," he kisses him again, "will," and again, "happen. I know it will." Rhys says on the end of a heavy breath, kissing him one more time for longer. Jack moans softly, his hand looping round to hold Rhys' waist.
"Will you be okay if it doesn't?" Jack sounds so fragile, maybe even a little scared. Rhys looks at him shocked before kissing his forehead.
"If we've still got each other, that's all that matters, okay?"
Jack accepts it for now, just so he can settle in for the night and get some sleep. It won't keep him happy forever. The inevitable self loathing will come back, stronger, but all he can do is keep going. He doesn't think Rhys is lying either - he probably will be okay with just Jack if they never have kids, but it's still scary to imagine a world where Jack's better half leaves him because he was some kind of detective omega. He puts his arms around Rhys and does his best to think of good things. Against all his instincts, he even says a soft prayer to himself, hoping for good news.
-
A few weeks go by with no change. They still fuck like rabbits and research any new fertility treatments available, but it's boring routine at that point. Eventually Jack suggests they think realistically about giving up, which Rhys fights him on and insists they just need to stay positive, but the older man gets serious fast. It's easy to assume Jack's just being his usual aggressive self, dominating the conversation, belittling Rhys to feel like a tough guy, but the truth is he can't handle feeling like a failure much longer. Waking up, taking tests, seeing no change, it's starting to seriously break his heart.
One morning however, when Rhys had to spend an all nighter at the office, Jack wakes up with what feels like a groggy hangover. Everything is just slightly discombobulated, his limbs feeling heavier than usual, and his eyes take a lot longer to adjust before he can confidently sit up without getting dizzy. He's not sure why he feels so peculiar - he hasn't been drunk in God knows how many months - but he's too tired to really ponder it. He rubs his eyes tirelessly with the balls of his palm, followed by stretching his arms out wide above his head until he hears a distinct crack from his back.
He thinks about getting himself breakfast, but the comforting heat of his bed is too intoxicating. He wants to snuggle down again, bury himself under his duvet and sleep away his day without a care in the world. Thankfully, just as his stomach begins to rumble, he hears the front door echo, and Rhys' tired voice call up to him.
"Before you collapse in bed, do me a favour and make some French toast, will ya, pumpkin?" Jack yells out. He grins victoriously when he hears Rhys groan in response. The sound of cutlery clinking together is like music to Jack's ears.
When Rhys looks shattered when he walks into the bedroom with Jack's food. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, along with his shirt untucked and left scruffy after popping a few buttons, and his eyes struggle to keep themselves open. When the plate is in Jack's hands, he haphazardly clambers out of his suit pants and collapses with a thud into the bed beside Jack, face first in the pillows.
Jack eats his toast, staring at Rhys, amused by the sight of his wonderful alpha disheveled. It takes a few minutes before Rhys moves again, lazily sitting up and running a hand through his hair. The only sound between them is Jack's crunching.
Then Rhys frowns. He turns sharply to face the older man, staring at him quizzically. When Jack catches him he pauses mid bite.
"Wha-?" He mumbles past the toast in his mouth before taking a bite and swallowing. Rhys flares his nostrils and sniffs the air loudly, to Jack's dismay. "What's the deal, cupcake? You're being a freakin' weirdo!"
"Something smells good…" Is all Rhys can say before he's feverishly sniffing the air again. Jack rolls his eyes.
"I'm eating French toast, it's probably that."
Rhys shakes his head. "No, this is different...it's kind of sweet."
"French toast can be sweet--"
"It's not French toast, Jack!" Rhys snatches the plate from his hands to put in the bedside table. Without warning he grabs Jack possessively and sticks his nose flat against the crook of Jack's neck, scenting along their bonding point. It causes the older man to shudder, a sudden spike of heat rushing through his veins and lighting every muscle he has aflame. Rhys inhales deeply up and down his neck repeatedly. It's really sweet - almost sickenly so, but not so much Rhys would want to pull away. It's like a familiar smell, homely, that makes him want more and more so he can unlock a treasured secret. He inhales more, as if even possible.
Jack starts to feel wavy. Rhys' own alpha pheromones begin to fill the air, possessing Jack, gently rocking him into a tranquil trance. He's fully aware of what's happening, but his body is lighter than he remembers it being. It's a safe feeling, an uncontrollable peace that happens when Rhys is blissfully possessive. He moves his arm to touch Rhys' face, wanting to stroke his cheek and maybe try persuade him into a kiss if he's coherent enough to do so. He gets as far as Rhys shoulder before the younger man takes his hand in his own.
Then Rhys licks Jack's sensitive skin, and moans like he's experienced food for the first time after being starved. He licks again, then nips him softly, stopping when Jack starts purring a little too sensually. It takes a lot to pull himself away, but when he does he immediately knows the answers to all his questions. He takes Jack's face in his hands and kisses him excitedly, knocking Jack out of his state.
"You're pregnant!" Rhys cheerfully yells, bombarding Jack with congratulatory kisses. The older man mumbles in confusion, eventually able to detain Rhys from his wild excitement to actually understand what's happening. He stares at Rhys, his eyes wide like dinner bowls.
"Run that by me again, kitten?" He asks urgently, and Rhys obliges, taking his hands in his own.
"Your smell, Jack, it's different! It's us, it's a mix, and it's the most amazing smell I've ever smelled in my entire life!"
Jack is still visibly confused though, baffled by the frantic happiness his partner displays. He lets the words sink in for a moment, then moves to get out of bed, pacing the spot. He thinks about the impossibility, how it's a cruel prank, or a trick, or maybe even a dream. Is there a smell? The French toast still smells pretty good, he doesn't want to say it's him in case it's just his own gluttony tricking him.
Then Rhys pounces out of bed and nuzzles into his neck again, sniffing in short bursts before inhaling deeply again. Jack's legs go tingly, and he has to catch himself against the wall before he falls in a slump. He can feel Rhys' cock tenting his boxers, pushing up against him eagerly.
"Kid, slow your roll," Jack manages to get out, pushing Rhys off him so he can see his face, still lit up like a Christmas tree. "I'm still catching up. What's that nose of yours trying to tell me?"
Rhys composes himself best he can. He takes Jack's hands in his own and pulls them to his chest. His heart is beating like a jackhammer, fearing it might burst any second. Jack can't fault him, his is about the same if Rhys is really about to confirm what he thinks he is.
"It worked, Jack. You're pregnant."
The words carry such weight to them, Jack's embarrassed to say he actually tears up. It's a surprise to Rhys, he hadn't expected the older man to shed a tear for just about anything, but there he is, waterfalls falling down his cheeks despite his best efforts to stop. Jack frowns despite them, says it's Rhys' fault for inducing some omega hormone in him, but it doesn't ruin the moment. Rhys pulls him in for a long, loving hug and squeezes tight. He takes joy in nuzzling his nose into his neck again, scenting what he's now sure is their offspring, snug and protected inside Jack. It's the sweetest smell he'll ever know, he's sure.
They book a doctor's appointment to make sure it's all true, and sure enough it's confirmed. Jack gets a scan and they see their pea sized baby on a blurry black and white monitor. It's almost surreal, Jack's convinced he's still dreaming hours after the appointment. It doesn't fully register until he's back home standing in the kitchen, and Rhys has his arms wrapped around his middle. His hands are placed gently over where their child will grow. It makes both their hearts flutter to think about.
When Jack feels an airy fuzziness coming over himself again, he groans, trying to knock Rhys off. "Stop scenting me, for God's sake, or I won't be able to stand the next 9 freakin' months!"
Rhys chuckles. He kisses their bonding spot softly and leans over his shoulder slightly. "It's a really good smell though, Jack."
"Well what do you expect, it's me you're talking about. I produce only the best."
"Yeah," Rhys spins Jack around so they're facing one another and holds him in his arms. He can't help the huge, dopey grin lifting the entirety of his face. "You really do."
Summary: Jack has vanished without any trace. One night, Rhys starts to get weird visions of him when he sleeps, asking Rhys to help him out. When Rhys finally does as he is told, he gets thrown into a wild adventure containing Vault Hunters, roadtrips, and the various joys that a journey to Pandora has to offer.
The events of BL2 have not taken place here.
BL3 does not even exist in my universe.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Borderlands (Video Games)
Rating: Explicit
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Nisha/Rhys (Borderlands)
Characters: Rhys (Borderlands), Handsome Jack (Borderlands), Nisha (Borderlands), Fiona (Borderlands), Yvette (Borderlands), Sasha (Borderlands), Vaughn (Borderlands)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, radio shows, Films, Mental Health Issues, Threesome - F/M/M, Slow Burn, Porn With Plot, Therapy, Trans Rhys (Borderlands), Everyone Has Issues
Summary:
Jack and Nisha want to make a movie, and they certainly can't back out now they've mentioned it live on their radio show. And they certainly can't do it without Rhys, who is somehow the only competent one. Except he isn't competent, is he?
Nisha needs to come to terms with Loving.
Jack needs to come to terms with being Loved.
And that's fine, and all, but Rhys has to learn that love won't save him, and that's the hardest thing he's ever had to do.
"After all," says Jack. "We're not mediocre, are we?"
well hm, lookie there, there's a lot of interesting fics in the tag today...hm? whole lot of Dead Dove fics, hm i wonder wh- it's October isn't it. Goddamnit.
