wrote something small with rival CEOs AU and Jack violently protecting Rhys from a random alpha trying to hurt and assault him.

Oppressive hands close around Rhys’ throat before he realizes what’s happening.

It should be impossible to take Rhys unawares, not with the upgrades to his ECHOeye and his own, well-conditioned paranoia, but he can’t deny the fingers closing around his throat nor the pain as he draws in one last gasp of air.

But Rhys is a fighter—even the most extraordinary omegas have to be, have to do things twice as well to be considered half as good as any common alpha—and he claws at the broad hands wrapped around his throat, nails digging hard into the skin and flexing tendon and drawing whiffs of blood. He hears gruff swearing behind him as he kicks, raking the heel of his boot down his assailant’s shin.

But his victory is short lived as the fingers around him tighten, and before Rhys can react the world blurs around him and his forehead smashes hard into the wall, steel reverberating around in his skull. The assailant slams his head again and again, pulping his mouth and nose and flooding blood into the back of his constricted throat.

Whoever’s attacking him is a brute, larger and stronger than Rhys is and easily able to get him on the ground now that Rhys is dizzy and stunned and bleeding. A heavy presence looms over him as the hands gratefully move from his throat and allow him to take a rough gasp of air. Before he can call for help, however, a palm slams against the side of his face and crushes his jaw out of place.

Pain lances through his brain and a strangle noise falls from his lips. Numbness rapidly spreads through his jaw but the other parts of his body are painfully aware—especially as his assailant slides his hands down the curve of his sides before settling on his hip.

Blood seeps from between Rhys’ teeth and pools out of his slack lips, his ECHOeye glaring up in glowing hatred but all he can see through the frazzle curtain of his own hair is dark eyes glimmering from behind a black cloth mask. He can’t focus properly, subsystems beyond the reach of his injured consciousness and unable to fish anyone information on the attacker as he starts to grope Rhys’ body.

The reek of dangerous alpha stuffs up Rhys’ nose, struggle renewed when a hand fished beneath the hem of his coat and tries to tug off his belt. His most intimidating snarl comes out little more than an agonized choke as he kicks out above him, trying to catch his attacker in the groin, mutilate him before he even dares to think about defiling the CEO of Atlas like this.

But the dizziness and pain starts to get to him and nausea bubbles in his stomach, mixing with horror and panic because damn it—it shouldn’t be this easy to get him down, he commands respect and power and no one should be allowed to do this to him and get away with it—

But just as the alpha’s hands pull at his waistband and Rhys squeezes his eyes shut, ready to fall into unconsciousness, the weight and heavy, vile breathing above him rips away with a rough, deep snarl that has Rhys’ heart leaping in his chest. It’s familiar, as is the smell that cuts clear through the suffocating smog of the other alpha’s stench.

Rhys braces his hands on the ground as soon as the other man is ripped off of him, gloved fingers digging into metal flooring as he slowly pushes himself off. Growls and screams swell up behind him but all he can focus on right now is sitting up and moving away.

He drags himself over to the wall—speckled with his own blood—and with no small amount of effort slumps against it. Now, braced upright, he can finally watch as Handsome Jack pins his assailant to the ground.

Rhys has never seen Jack so angry, and Jack isn’t a calm man by any means. But the look on his face right now contorts in fury so fierce Rhys worries his skin might break apart, but the blood splattered on the pale, synthetic flesh of his mask isn’t his own.

Rhys never sees the real face of his assailant before Jack pummels it into wet mush beneath the mask. With one final, wet thwack he lets the man’s head hang back, fabric covering the face glistening. Jack stands hunched above the dead man, hand still fisted in his shirt. He breathes heavily, body shuddering with each twitch of his lungs as he falls back from the state of pure animal rage. Rhys doesn’t think he could say something, even if his jaw hadn’t been popped out of place, but he manages a low whine—more of a gurgle, really—that catches the alpha’s harried attention.

“Rhys.” Jack lets the man fall with a splat against the ground, shoes skating through the puddling blood before he falls to his knees in front of Rhys. A big hand—strong, but filled with warmth and safety—cups his cheek, thumb touching just below the split in Rhys’ lower lip.

“Can’t believe—dared to touch you, frikkin’ son of a taint, wish—should’ve done more, bastard, made it last longer—“ Jack spits out, sentences fractured even through his diminishing rage. Rhys forgets for a moment and forgets his jaw, blood and spit at the corner of his mouth.

Jack’s fingers shake, and anger flares up in the depths of his eyes once more. He hisses under his breath, his other hand coming to stroke Rhys’ hair, clumsily petting it back into place.

“…Let’s get you to medical bay, ‘kay pumpkin?” Jack swallows and speaks after a moment, his own voice hoarse and worn-out. Rhys’ throat works though he doesn’t try to speak again, saving his words for later when he can properly speak them.

He doesn’t complain when Jack picks him up, the broad arms around a thousand lightyears away from those that had pinned him down and pummeled his face moments earlier. He rests his head against Jack’s shoulder, finally allowing himself to slip into a daze as colors and shapes fade around him.

Rhys wakes up in a temporary bed in the medical bay with a nurse swabbing his wounds. A low whimper builds in his throat when he can’t detect Jack beyond the cling of his scent to his skin and clothes, but when he looks down he sees a Hyperion brand nova shield clipped to his lapel.

Even so, as he settles back into his bed, wounds bandaged and jaw wired back into place, he hopes Jack will return to visit him soon.

idk where this came from, dont @ me

It was easier to give Jack what he wanted.

After all, his position as the man’s personal assistant had given already Rhys his heart’s desire. A position higher than those of his many nemeses. A salary that allowed him to upgrade his wardrobe, to move him and Vaughn from their class-C apartment to a luxurious class-A. He had shoes for every day of the month and a jacuzzi tub that dispensed aromatic oils into the water. He could order out at his favorite, expensive restaurant whenever he wanted without worrying if he’d still have enough left over to pay utilities. Life was good.

He wasn’t about to throw that all away rebuking Jack’s advances. Even if they came at the most inopportune moments, when Rhys was deeply focused on work and far from interested in satisfying Jack’s needs.

“You’re tense, babydoll,” Jack growled as he licked the back of Rhys’ neck, breath hot against his skin. “Feels like you need daddy’s touch to help you unwind.”

It was hard not to be tense when he was about an hour behind work thanks to Jack’s tardiness, but there was no use in telling the CEO that, not when he was already panting like an animal. So Rhys left his hands slack against the arms of his chair, not resisting as Jack loomed behind him, one arm slinking down over his front.

Rhys had fucked far worse men than Jack—in both looks and temperament. The man had certainly earned the title “handsome” and though he often fell into fits of violence, if one was useful as Rhys had proved to be he was easier to mollify. Jack wouldn’t harm his tool, his toy, as long as Rhys did exactly what he wanted.

“You’re so damn sexy.” Jack’s hands slid to Rhys’ chest, groping his pecs through the material of his shirt. Rhys tilted his head back, moan parting his lips. Teeth worried against his neck as Jack bit him, drawing reddened bruises out of his skin as he popped open the buttons on Rhys’ shirt.

“I miss when you used to wear ties…” Jack’s hands pulled open the two undone sides of Rhys’ garment, revealing the paper-thin fabric of his undershirt. “I liked having something to pull.”

That’d been Vaughn’s idea. He’d fretted when Rhys came home with a ring of bruises around his neck for the fourth time in two weeks. Rhys had shrugged, willing to shake it off but Vaughn wouldn’t let it go. He’d gradually phased out the ties, hoping Jack wouldn’t notice.

But the CEO didn’t dwell on it now, not when he switched focus back to Rhys’ chest. Jack’s hands cupped the fullness of his assistant’s pecs, the bud of Rhys’ nipples pressing right up against his palms. Rhys moaned as they hardened with the massaging movement of Jack’s hands, obviously poking out through his undershirt when the CEO pulled away to look.

“You’re so damn sensitive, kiddo. Some guys might be ashamed if their boss touched them like this, but you really are a sick little trooper, ain’t you?”

Rhys was. Any reasonable person would have called HR months ago, when this first started—but a reasonable person has no business working under Handsome Jack. Only people like Rhys, who could tolerate and in some cases match Jack’s desires and inflated ego could survive under him for this long. Rhys took pride in that, like he took pride in the less degenerate aspects of his work.

They ended up fucking on Rhys’ desk, this time, Jack too worked up to bother hoisting Rhys over to his own. He kept Rhys on his back, dark blue pieces of clothing fluttering to the side, exposing his bare stomach where Jack had rucked up the filmy undershirt. Moans of praise and honey-sweet thanks danced on Rhys’ tongue, flattering Jack to finish, when he pulsed inside of his assistant and filled him with the sticky weight of come.

Jack left a trail of it when he pulled out, dripping down the edge of Rhys’ desk and onto the floor. Rhys shot him a slightly annoyed pout, knowing Jack would leave him to clean it up, but the CEO only laughed and reached forward, gripping his face.

“Don’t look so pissy, pumpkin. Everyone on Helios would be clamoring to take your place if they knew.”

Rhys understood. Which was why he’d never give up his position, no matter what Jack did to him.

Once the CEO retreated, satisfied and lazy as he sprawled into his chair, Rhys fixed up his desk, wiping down the cum and sweat clinging to the surface with a packet of tissues he kept in the left cabinet. He disposed of the soiled paper in the trash can by his feet and sat back straight in his chair. He pulled his undershirt back down and buttoned his shirt up, tucking the hem into his pants and bucking his belt.

Rhys left his collar undone, fingers brushing up against the swollen, bitten skin all around his throat. He wondered if by the time he left for home it would start to bruise, or they would merely stay red and chafed.

Rhys swallowed, closed his eyes and counted his breaths, throat twinging against the marred flesh.

He really should start wearing ties again.

idk i just wrote this because

i really wanted that hurt atlas rhys from earlier

i gotta satisfy this appetite for hurt pretty guys

It’d happened too quickly for Jack to react.

One moment he’d been following Rhys off the stage, the applause of the audience echoing in their ears as they descended down the little wooden stairs behind the curtain. It was darker in contrast to the bright stage lights, and there were too many people for him to notice the pistol whipped out and aimed right at Rhys’ head.

Screams cracked through the air moments after the the gun fired. The entire backstage area exploded with a flurry of activity. Jack’s heart leapt in his throat, his hand instinctively clamping to his holster, only for something heavy to crumple against him. It nearly knocked him over as he grabbed onto it, palms finding padded shoulders and holding them tight.

“Rhys? Rhys?” Jack shouted, his own ears ringing with screams and the vibrations of the gunshot. He couldn’t see the assailant nor any more shots, assuming they’d fled or been apprehended. Their identity didn’t matter for the time being, especially when Rhys’ head tipped back and flopped lifelessly against his shoulder, revealing a bright red hole punched into the side of his throat.

Any strength remaining in Rhys’ legs waned and he collapsed completely against Jack, his head lolling against the alpha. One of Jack’s hands left Rhys’ shoulder to desperately loop around his shoulder, getting a better grip as he sagged to his knees.

“Shit,” Jack hissed, watching blood bubble up from the omega’s wounded throat, thick and shiny even in the low light of backstage. Even with just a cursory glance, Jack could tell it wasn’t any superficial wound. The bullet hadn’t grazed him, it’d gone right through. Footsteps clumped and gathered around him, faint concern prodding at him but all he could care about in the moment was Rhys, and the way his still-pink lips tried to move around words that were more breath than sound.

Jack strained his ears, trying to listen, but all that came out of Rhys’ mouth was a dribble of blood.

“Why don’t you make yourself useful and get a damn medic!” Jack finally roared back to one of the voices calling to him, causing every bystander to take a step back at the alpha’s anger. Jack quickly turned his attention back to Rhys, lifting the hand still clamped on his shoulder to cradle the back of the omega’s head head.

Rhys’ already pale skin grew whiter with each passing second as he bled out through the neck, soaking the high collar of his coat and dripped onto Jack’s hands. A couple spots made it onto the concrete floor, flecking it darker.

The tattered flesh within the wound shifted with each labored breath. Rhys’ neck now looked more red than white. Jack could see inked skin at the edges of the wound and grimly recalled Rhys’ tattoo, a pretty set of concentric circles that Jack had joked resembled a target.

Such a joke seemed less funny now.

“Hey,” Jack growled, his voice rough and crawling against his own throat. “You really going to let yourself go out like this, pumpkin? Thanks to some asshole’s bullet?” Rhys’ human eye looked flat, lacking the usual depth and intelligence, and the usual glow in his ECHO was fading.

Jack hissed, carefully laying Rhys onto the floor to free up the hand already slicked with blood. He hadn’t much medical knowledge but knew he had to staunch the bleeding until the medics arrived and shot Rhys full of Anshin.

“You were schooling me out there on the stage, you know. Like a damn orator. You had them captivated, sweetheart. Begging for more.” Jack shifted, pressing his palm down over the wound in Rhys’ throat. “Don’t leave ‘em disappointed.”

Pink blood frothed at the corner of Rhys’ lips, and Jack thought he heard a little sound, felt a little vibration underneath his slick fingers as he pressed onto the wound.

He thought it funny, almost, that after years of fantasizing how it would feel to wrap his hands around Rhys’ scrawny little neck, he now had one pressed down against his wound trying to save his life.

“Hey. Don’t frikkin do that,” Jack scowled as Rhys’ eyelids began to drift over his glassy eyes. The CEO’s typically well-kept hair flared around him like a corona, the strands near his neck sticking dark and wet with blood.

“Rhys.” Jack pressed down harder, as if he could hold Rhys’ life deep in his body with enough physical force. “Don’t go. Come on. Don’t go.”

The medics came when Rhys could only keep his eyes open a sliver, and Jack couldn’t tell if he was gone or not when they nudged him away and lifted Rhys out from under his hands. He watched as they slipped him onto a stretcher, emergency Anshin already loaded and glowing into a syringe. They rolled him off and Jack, too numb to follow, just stood, his hand coming up to cradle his face before he remembered it was still slicked with blood.

Jack didn’t know anything about flowers. He has Meg order them for him. He doesn’t know the names of the yellow and pink buds cradled in the delicate bouquet paper, but they look nice enough to the layman’s eye. He hoped Rhys would like them.

When the nurse opened the door Jack saw natural light filtering in through the slats in the windows and over the rumpled bedsheets. He poked in nervously after her, fingers gripping tight around the bouquet in his hand. His eyes quickly landed upon Rhys, tucked away in a bed near the corner of the room. He still sat surrounded by machines, but only a few still hooked up to him, feeding him fluids and monitoring his heartbeat.

Rhys turned away from the window to look at Jack when the alpha drew closer, nostrils widening at the scent. He looked more flush than the bedsheets, a lot pinker and healthier than he had been while bleeding out backstage. His hair was down and free from gel, usual primping routine shaken by the sudden hospitalization, but Jack thought it suited him. Maybe that was just because he’d never seen Rhys like that before, and much as he considered the man his rival he liked learning new things about him.

“Hey,” Jack managed as he drew close enough to Rhys’ bedside to merit speaking. “Got you these.” He awkwardly held the bouquet out to Rhys before second-guessing himself, but the omega blinked and carefully lifted his hands to cradle the flowers. His eyes fluttered closed as he sniffed them, the light puff of pollen floating in the glow of the sunshine.

Jack’s eyes fell below Rhys’ jawline to find where a medical patch lied taped against the side of his neck, the area of the wound a lot smaller than it’d seemed beneath his hands. He wondered if they’d got the Anshin in him early enough to prevent scarring and save the tattoo. And if Rhys might get a replacement if the opposite proved true.

The nurse eventually took the flowers from Rhys’ hands and placed them in a nice crystal vase by the window sill, sun silhouetted them in a comforting light. Jack sat in a chair by Rhys’ bedside, looking down at his hands when he realized the omega was watching him.

“You know…I’m…jeez, this is corny and totally not like me, but…” Jack twiddled his thumbs, picking at the bit of dried red still underneath his nail. “I…I’m really glad you’re okay, kiddo. Wouldn’t be the same without you. Whatever boring Atlas clod they’d get to replace you wouldn’t last ten minutes before I stuck a bullet in his head.”

Jack tensed at his own comment, wondering if it was way too soon to be bringing up guns and bullets around the injured CEO—but a soft noise caused him to lift his head, and once he did he could see Rhys smiling softly at him, lips parted slightly in as much a laugh as he could muster.

They moved again a moment later, mouthing something to the alpha that rung with more meaning than any sound he’d heard in ages.

Thank you, Jack.

“Retroduction”

Though the expertly fine-tuned result of a lot of research and prototyping, there were still little things that set Rhys apart from the average human. His skin looked colder, muscles in his face less accustomed to human emotion. But never had he looked this pale, this still, not since Jack had first seen his unactivated body hanging in stasis in R&D.

He took in the grievous wounds littered over Rhys’ body, each worse than the last. Cuts and scratches around his port and left eye told Jack they’d tried to get into his brain, rip out those delicate Hyperion processors. A thin scalpel glimmered like a bloodied clue on the ground besides Rhys’ head. Even more tools sit scattered atop the table. Jack can only guess at their use and where they’d cut into his android’s body like the god-damn butchers they were, with none of the finesse and care Jack used whenever Rhys needed repairs or updates.

Bastards. Jack’s teeth ground together. They’d harvested his Rhys for parts then left him here to die.

I got a random urge to write robot gore, so some android!Rhys fic was born. Hope you guys like it 🙂

Jack didn’t think he’d get attached to the android this quickly.

Of course the development team that’d helped him bring Rhys to reality had warned him it might happen, especially if he meant to spend long stretches of time with the android at his side. Which Jack did, considering Rhys was instrumental in his plans for Pandora, but he figured he could keep his wits about him and not forget the android was just that—an android. Didn’t matter how realistic he looked or acted.

Still, he preferred Rhys at his side, if only to keep him company. His impassive demeanor and occasional snark, learned from downloaded updates and observations of other employees, always had Jack in stitches. And he wasn’t too bad to look at either, designed with Jack’s taste in pretty boys in mind.

Too bad going down to Pandora solo played an important part of the android’s mission. Until Hyperion wrested complete control away from the shambles of mercenaries and bandits and conflicting companies, Rhys couldn’t yet rest safe and secure within Helios.

So Jack was feeling a little bit lonely in his office with Rhys’ usual spot empty. And maybe just kind of uneasy.

Rhys had gone on the Pandora mission two days ago. Typical sweep of bandit activity in areas steadily coming under Hyperion control. His programming instructed him to report to Jack three times a day—morning, noon, and night.

Rhys had missed this morning’s check-in.

Jack tapped his fingers on the monitor in his desk, trying to distract himself with a colorful bubble-popping game as the deadline for Rhys’ afternoon update inched closer. He doesn’t need to waste his energy worrying about an android designed to succeed.

His fingers missed a yellow bubble and instead popped a blue one, causing the entire stack to fall and mess up his score. Growling, he slammed his fist against it and glared at his still-silent ECHO. The clock on the display clicked on, each passing second winding the worry Jack definitely didn’t have.

Skipping two check-ins was really unlike Rhys. Anything abnormal was unlike Rhys, considering both his loyalty and programming kept him on target with any of Jack’s orders.

Jack drummed his lips with his other hand, frustration puffing between his lips. He waited another minute, watching the throbbing GAME OVER screen on his desk, before grabbing his ECHO and swiped open Rhys’ communication channel.

“HP-6969, this is Big Daddy. Requesting mission briefing and status update.”

Jack waited for Rhys’ usual prompt response, but only silence greeted his ears. He counted to twenty, before trying again.

“HP-6969, respond. Status Update.”

Jack thought he heard something just as he finished speaking, like a huff of a static. He tried straining his hear to listen for any more, nerves now sitting on edge, but he couldn’t make out much more.

“Rhys.” Jack hissed into his ECHO. “Pick up.”

Nothing.

His fingers clenched tightly around the device, before switching connections and getting in contact with the head of his militia.

Jack amassed a small squad in no time, rumbling planet-side with his men until the transport zeroed in on the spot they’d traced Rhys’ tracker to. Jack could see the encampment from the sky—small, not one of the more impressive ones he’s seen in all his years of killing bandits. Rhys should’ve been able to wipe a place like this off the map.

Jack’s stomach sunk into his hips as the transport’s thrusters powered on, slowing their descent until the entire hull shudders with the impact of the landing. He was on his feet as soon as the transport ceased vibrating, muscling towards the entrance of the transport and letting only a few armed guards out to clear the immediate perimeter before he stalked out into the open air.

Even the deserts of Pandora grew horribly frigid at night, not that Jack could feel much of the cold with his blood and rage pumping so furiously in his veins. The soles of his shoes stamped so hard against the ground it sent shocks of pain up to his knees. Rhys always bitched at him about fitness and keeping healthy as he aged, especially if he wanted to see his rule of Pandora come to fruition. Jack had quipped back more than once that if Rhys didn’t keep his lips closed, he’d deactivate him.

Jokes like that seemed a lot less funny now.

The red light of the tracker still blinked on his ECHO. Rhys hadn’t moved and the dot hadn’t disappeared. He already knew Rhys must be injured or otherwise compromised, but as he raced forward behind the line of guards, he hoped he could hang on for a little bit longer.

Just until Jack got there. The hero always arrived just in time, after all. Even when things looked hopeless.

The bandits that appeared at the partially barricaded entrance of the compound vanished a moment later—either ducking back down or collapsing after a bullet slammed into their skulls. Jack saw blood splatter in the air, color dark black and glistening in the light of Elpis. One of his soldiers fell into a crouch, shouldering a sleek rocket launcher and aiming right for the flimsy barricade. Flames quickly lit up the dark Pandoran sky as the entrance to the encampment exploded with the impact.

Jack races after his men as they stamp through the smoldering wreck of the barricade, throwing aside metal scraps and burnt hunks of wood to clear a path for the CEO as their contingent pressed forward.

Most of the encampment is indoors, a tangle of hallways half tunneled into the ground. His soldiers cut through the bandits easier, splattering them against the walls and dropping them to the floor as they fan out through the bowels of the outpost. Jack followed the men branching off to the left, towards the blip on his tracker.

This close to Rhys’ position Jack could finally access the program on his ECHO that tapped into his android’s vitals, though a split second later he wished he couldn’t, because the numbers that flashed back to him were dire. Rage had already nearly made Jack to his stomach, and now it threatens to boil over. He swallows an unpleasant taste in the back of his throat down, eyes roving over the display, struggling to focus and calculate how much time Rhys had left as shots and shouts ring out all around him.

He finally shoved the ECHO back into his pocket once his men have cleared out the hallway leading to Rhys’ location. The rusty metal door in front of them sat riddled with bullet holes and nearly hanging off its hinges, and it jarred off its frame with only a couple heavy kicks from one of his guards as soon as Jack gave the word. The first line of soldiers flooded into the room to secure it, but no weapons fired as Jack stepped forward through the broken door and shouldered through two of his men to scan the room himself.

The first thing he saw was the blood.

It dripped from a huge pool in the middle of what looked like the planet’s filthiest operating table onto the floor. Jack felt himself grow numb and hot at the same time when he followed the drops of faintly glowing, purple fluid down to the body lying in a crumpled heap on the ground. This far away, with such a lack of decent lighting apart from the dingy ceiling panels, he couldn’t make out a face but he knew. Nothing else had that color blood.

The bandits had stripped Rhys of the tactical vest and holsters he wore on missions and ripped at the black and yellow bodysuit underneath, leaving width swaths of skin exposed and yawning with open wounds. Little of the familiar white and blue of Rhys’ bare, tattooed body was visible thanks to the blood streaked over his flesh and soaked into his clothes. The bright purple looked unsettling, almost like paint splattered all over like this was some kind of prank. Like Rhys would just sit up with a playful smile on his face and laugh all tinny at the misdirect.

Jack desperately wished that was the case.

He dashed over to the android’s side, knees smearing through the pool of blood as he came to rest on the gritty, nasty floor. Rhys did not sit up, nor smile and laugh, nor move at all. He laid completely still, limbs tossed about his body as if he’d been shoved off the table and onto the floor in haste.

Jack could see Rhys’ face now as he leaned over him, and his mind couldn’t figure out whether that was a good or bad thing.

Though the expertly fine-tuned result of a lot of research and prototyping, there were still little things that set Rhys apart from the average human. His skin looked colder, muscles in his face less accustomed to human emotion. But never had he looked this pale, this still, not since Jack had first seen his unactivated body hanging in stasis in R&D.

He took in the grievous wounds littered over Rhys’ body, each worse than the last. Cuts and scratches around his port and left eye told Jack they’d tried to get into his brain, rip out those delicate Hyperion processors. A thin scalpel glimmered like a bloodied clue on the ground besides Rhys’ head. Even more tools sit scattered atop the table. Jack can only guess at their use and where they’d cut into his android’s body like the god-damn butchers they were, with none of the finesse and care Jack used whenever Rhys needed repairs or updates.

Bastards. Jack’s teeth ground together. They’d harvested his Rhys for parts then left him here to die.

Not all the injuries looked as deliberate—some screamed out sadism, rage against something Hyperion-made. Rhys’ belly was cut, silvery tubes slicked with purple spilling out over the gash splitting him from hip to hip. His knees were bound together with ratty, bloodstained rope, and one of his feet had been chopped off mid-shin, the end ragged as if the blade used had been chipped and dull. The artificial flesh curled away from every wound like slashed bits of paper, revealing tattered strands of silvery biomuscle tissue beneath.

Jack slipped his hand underneath Rhys’ skull, trying to lift his head up off the floor, only to hiss when his fingers found a wide tear in the synthetic scalp. He could feel the cracks in the metal plating of Rhys’ skull, gooey wires tangible and leaking blood all over his fingers.

Jack winced as it burned his skin. Eridium-treated fluid flowed through Rhys’ veins, fueling his life systems and bandit-killing powers, and wasn’t mean to make contact with human flesh. Still, he cupped the back of Rhys’ skull and lifted his head, needing him to react.

“Kiddo. Hey.” Jack took a moment to breath before he spoke up, trying to keep his voice steady. Rhys always responded well to firmer commands. “Really gonna need you to wake up here.”

Blood spilled out of Rhys’ frozen lips as Jack lifted his head and shook him, purple drooling onto his chest. A weak cough—like metal scraping rough against a speaker—followed. Jack’s heart thumped loud in his ears, louder than the heavy footsteps and shouts of his men as they cleared out the rest of the hallways, yet not enough to drown out the faint sound of Rhys struggling to speak.

“Sir…” Rhys managed, his throat twitching unnaturally with the effort. Jack wondered if they’d damaged his vocalizer. His neck looked bruised, the flesh twisted and marked like kneaded clay.

Had Rhys tried shouting out? Maybe started contacting Jack? He recalled the little, static huff he’d heard through the ECHO back on Helios. Had the bandits used their filthy hands to put a stop to any cry for help his android could muster?

Rhys coughed again, his eyebrows twitching up as he looked up at Jack. His expression stayed too impassive for someone who’d been mangled so badly, too focused on the comparably uninjured Jack. He cradled Rhys’ head closer, a human instinct to bring him comfort that the android probably wouldn’t understand.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack someday, sugar…aren’t you programmed to protect me? Make sure I stay healthy enough to conquer this hellhole? You’re kinda doing a shit job,” Jack tried to tease, though the joke sunk like a rock in his stomach at the response he got.

“Oh…” Rhys’ eyelids shuddered, movement glitched. “I a-apologize.”

“Don’t…it’s fine, kiddo. Don’t be sorry.” Jack swallowed tightly as he tried to shift Rhys onto his lap, wanting the assurance of the android’s weight against him. “Can you tell me what they did to you, pumpkin? Gimme a status update.”

“F-Fluid loss…thirty-percent…” Rhys struggled to relate even as more blood drooled from the corners of his lips. “Cerebral casing breeched…thoracic cavity compromised…stress levels…s-seventy-three percent…”

“Not great then, huh?” Jack turned his head over his shoulders, shouting to the men that’d stayed to guard the room as he hunched over his android. “Get me medical repairs! And quick!”

When Jack turned back around he scanned over hole opened up right beneath Rhys’ sternum, like someone had tried to punch right through the android’s body. The worst of Rhys’ wounds glistened with blood, ruined flesh pumping and twitching slightly as more fluid leaked down into his tattered clothes.

“They try to take your core, sugar?”

“Don’t ‘member…” Rhys’ voice slowed, crackling slightly at the edges. His vocalizer was failing.

Jack hushed the android before he brushed aside the ripped synthetic skin around the chest wound, trying to get a proper look inside even as the blood stung against his skin. He tried to keep steady but a wince still whispered past his lips. Rhys, even with his sensors badly damaged, noticed, his mangled fingers lifting to push away Jack’s hand. He could see the little muscles in his hand beneath the torn flesh, struggling with waning strength.

“Sir….should not b-be touching me…my fluids will…”

“Don’t lecture me, pumpkin. I know what your fluids do.” Jack gripped Rhys’ wrist and pressed it back against his chest, above the wound. “I frikkin’ made you, remember? And I’m not about to let some damn braindead bandits take you away from me.”

He’d been with Rhys since the beginning, since he was just a fledgling idea. Jack had brought him though months of rewriting code and testing parts, through prototype after prototype. Endless blood, sweat and tears sunk into the project until Rhys emerged, fully formed and perfect. Jack still remembered the moment he’d activated the android. He’d seen the fingers of Rhys’ right hand twitch first and grabbed them in excitement, watching with bated breath as the movement quivered up his arm and through the rest of his body until finally, his eyes opened—not for the first time, no, considering how many tests they’d run on Rhys’ facial muscles—alight with curiosity as he really saw.

Jack had been the first thing the android had ever seen. And as he coughed and struggled to stay online in the man’s arms, he worried it might be the last.

“Rhys. Repairs are on there way, so don’t you leave me. That’s an order.”

The android’s body twitched, synthetic muscles escaping control of his floundering nerves. Loops of slick tubes slid further out of the hole in his stomach, and above the wound in his chest continued to trickle blood. Jack hoped the blow had just nicked some ancillary vessels and not the pump embedded deep beneath his sternum. His grip tightened on his android.

“I…I don’t understand…why…” Rhys breathed, his head lolling against Jack’s chest. The CEO cradled him now like a child, uncaring of the blood stinging his skin and soaking into his clothes. His lips pulled in an angry snarl at the plaintive confusion in the android’s flagging voice.

“Why? Because they’re insane, pumpkin, because they see something perfect and mine and they wanna break it—!“ Jack started to spit, only for Rhys to shake his head.

“N-Not them…you…” Rhys’ throat worked as more blood bubbled in his mouth. “I’m not…sir…I’m only…m-machine…”

“What?” Jack’s voice grew high, disbelieving.

“So don’t…don’t be so distraught…” Rhys continued as his eyelids fell to half mast, perception slowly fading from his irises. “Just a machine…weapon…don’t…”

Just as Rhys’ eyes slipped closed the repair medic ran through the busted door behind them. Jack numbly relinquished his hold on the android, Rhys last words circling in his head as the medic slit away the remaining fabric of his bodysuit and pulled it apart to get at the emergency port on his thigh. Jack managed to hobble away, leaving space as the emergency gurney and several more repairmen pushed past the empty doorframe. They loaded Rhys up as soon as the tube of bright purple fluid connected into the thigh port, pumping fluid into the android’s limp body as they pushed him through the hallways and back out through the desert night towards the waiting transport.

Jack left a small portion of his guard behind with orders to raze the entire encampment to the ground, before following the repairmen up the gangplank.

Systems Online. Resuming Prime Directive. Reboot in 005 seconds.

5…

4…

3…

2…

1..

Rhys slowly blinked away the status notification, dim sight slowly coming back into focus. His tactile sensors came back online slowly. The first thing he felt was something soft underneath his body, followed by a pressure on his right hand. Not an unpleasant nor alarming feeling—in fact, it called back a memory embedded deep in his subsystems.

“Jack?” He turned his head to look down his arm and sure enough, those familiar broad hands, decorated with a single silver ring, held tight around Rhys’ own. Jack had laced their fingers together, the palm of his second hand resting atop their joined hold. As soon as Rhys spoke—voice still scratchy and low, recovering—Jack jolted, knee accidentally knocking into the bed the android lay upon.

“Rhys? Rhysie, you with me?” Jack scraped his chair closer, lifting their joined hands almost to his chest. Rhys blinked carefully, testing the responsivity of the biomuscles in his face.

“I think…yes.” He managed a small nod, though his head felt heavy. Everything did. A full systems reboot wasn’t an instant fix, it would take a little bit of time before he returned to one-hundred percent effectiveness.

His eyes roved over Jack, noting oddities. He’d shed most of his layers, leaving only his pants and yellow sweater. The bags under his eyes hung heavier than usual, almost resembling bruising. Most concerning of all were the bandages up his arms. Rhys squeezed Jack’s hand, feeling similar wrappings around the CEO’s fingers.

“I…I told you not to touch me while I was bleeding…” Rhys frowned, remembering the hiss of his fluid against Jack’s skin. His master had harmed himself so senselessly, it was—

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Jack’s face was suddenly a lot closer than it’d been a moment ago, his grip on Rhys’ hand a lot tighter, clinging as if afraid he might fall apart. “You think I care about a couple burns, pumpkin? I’ve had much worse.”

“I—“ Rhys started, only for Jack to smother any argument with his lips. The android’s eyes remained open, his eyebrows pinched up in confusion. He understood Jack was kissing him—but why?

Rhys got no answer when Jack finally parted their lips. The hand not entwined with Rhys’ reached up to pet his hair back. Though confused, the android felt calm, safe as Jack touched him.

“You’re not just a machine, you hear?”

Rhys blinked.

“But I am—“

“Nuh uh! I don’t wanna hear it!” Jack shook his head, hand sliding down to cup Rhys’ face. “You’re more valuable to me than any other human on this station. In the whole galaxy. I don’t care about technicalities, and neither should you.”

“I see…” Rhys replied, though he didn’t completely understand. But if Jack wanted him to, then he’d certainly try.

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t want you thinking you’re disposable. Do you even know how long it took me to get you perfect?”

“There exist other clones, sir, I’ve seen them, even if something happened to me you wouldn’t—“

“Kiddo, you know I don’t mean just programming and hardware.” Jack lightly patted Rhys’ cheek, eyes oddly fond. Rhys wasn’t sure he’d ever seen this kind of expression on his creator before, but perhaps he hadn’t been paying attention. Maybe he should, from now on, because something feels changed between them. Perhaps Jack had updated his subsystems before the reboot.

Whatever it was, Rhys found himself enjoying it. The endearments Jack loved to use rung with a little more fondness than before, though perhaps Rhys had just been unable to perceive it properly.

He squeezed Jack’s hand, smiling at the little thrilled feeling that ran up inside of him when Jack squeezed back. The feeling of being wanted, valued.

“Sir?”

“Yeah?”

The memories were sketchy, but Rhys could recall the way Jack held him deep in that compound, refused to leave his side until he was repaired. Rhys lifted his other arm until his fingers brushed lightly against Jack’s face.

“Thank you for coming for me.”

Kinktober 2018 Masterpost

Thank you for everyone who sent in requests and suggestions! Sorry I couldn’t get to them all, but hopefully all this will tide you over!

Day 31: Pantyhose/Tights/Stockings, Hate Sex, Face-Sitting

You got it!

“I can’t believe I never thought about this before…but this is a really great way to get you to shut up,” Rhys laughed as he looked down at what part of Jack he could see between his legs.

They’d been having another argument—not something uncommon between the CEOs of Hyperion and Atlas—but this time, instead of letting Jack get away with the upper hand, he’d decided to try something a little different.

Knocking Jack back against the desk had been the hardest part, but once he’d laid the alpha out against the surface and crawled atop him everything became an absolutely pleasure. Especially when he decided Jack’s now-silenced mouth could actually be used for something useful.

With his pants now halfway down his thigh and the sheer tights he liked to wear close and silky against his skin, Rhys ground down rubbed his lightly covered groin against Jack’s lips and protesting tongue. Not that the alpha could do much with Rhys’ weight entirely pressing down atop him.

“You feel so good…for once you’re being useful.” Rhys moaned, feeling wet and aroused against the fabric of his tights. The way Jack grabbed at his thighs and tried to push him off only added to the omega’s pleasure, knowing his rival must feel humiliated at being bested by Rhys and forced into submission so easily.

“You better be a good boy and get me off….unless you wanna be suffocated like this,” Rhys laughed as he rolled his hips down, rubbing Jack’s mouth in a line from his balls to his ass and back. “Just imagine the headlines…imagine what people would think if they learned the King of Hyperion was smothered between his hated rivals thighs…”

Jack’s protest was well muffled beneath Rhys, though the words vibrated sensually into his loins. The omega purred, enamored with his own dominance.

Even if their little tryst didn’t end up in the news, Rhys would carry the memory of how Jack looked pinned and helpless below with him for the rest of his days.

“A Haunting in Helios”

A company like Hyperion never truly slept, especially running on an artificial day-night cycle. Though plenty of businesses shut down after the workday many more stayed open, serving those dedicated or crazy enough to pull all nighters all in the name of an extra hundred bucks on the next paycheck or an inch above the competition when it came to promotions.

Rhys slipped into the sparse crowds pretty inconspicuously, looking little different from the rest of the late-night crunch crowd. As he walked, he accessed one of the more reliable forums he’d found on the rumors of Handsome Jack’s ghost, refreshing himself on the personal accounts he’d been pouring over for the past day.

Maybe Jack’s soul wasn’t at rest. That’s why ghosts happened right? Like, hypothetically? Spirits with unfinished business? Pandora was still a mess and Hyperion was dealing with a serious power vacuum. That screamed pretty unfinished to Rhys.

If that was true, maybe he could help him out?

Ha-hah. Rhys snorted at himself. As if Handsome Jack would ever accept help, even in the afterlife.

Rhys chases a rumor into the bowels of Helios and winds up having a life-changing encounter with a “ghost.”

Considering they were employed by one of the most advanced, technologically savvy arms companies in the galaxy, Hyperion workers could be surprisingly superstitious.

Rhys knew some guys who carried around lucky skag’s paws in their pockets or dangling under their clothes. He’d witnessed people skipping the third and fourth steps in stairwell J-4 off the Hub because allegedly that’s where the bodies of unfortunate interns were buried.

Even Rhys had a pair of special socks he would wear on days that he had to make important presentations.

But a ghost?

That extended beyond mere good-luck charms and forces of habit. And yet, that was the rumor Rhys had been hearing about the water cooler. That down in the depths of Helios, in some long-forgotten and rundown old hallway, haunted the ghost of none other than Handsome Jack himself.

“Can you imagine? Walking down the hallway, minding your own business, and bam! Jack is just there.” Rhys waggled his spoon in emphasis, before digging it back into his half-eaten ice cream sundae.

He always saved the cherry for last. A weird habit people always commented on, though Vaughn was long used to it. He watched as Rhys nudged the bright red fruit around in the melted puddle of ice cream at the bottom of the bowl, coating it in a mixture of strawberry and chocolate.

“Well you know. It’s all just stories, right?” Vaughn scoffed, digging a spoon into his own, much smaller sundae. “Right?”

Rhys swirled the ice cream soup at the bottom of his bowl.

“I mean…who knows? If there’s anyone who I’d bet money could come back from the dead…it would probably be Jack.”

“God. No, Rhys, no. Don’t jinx it with your obsession!”

“I’m not. Shut up, dude.” Rhys rolled his eyes, dropping his spoon back into the bowl with a clink. “And finish your ice cream! I’ve been done for like ten minutes.”

“Oh, it definitely hasn’t been that long.” Vaughn slipped an ample morsel between his lips. “You’re just a garbage disposal when it comes to this stuff.”

“If you mean the most handsome garbage disposal this side of Helios…then yes.” Rhys pretended to slick his hair back and shot Vaughn his sleaziest look. This earned him an eye-roll.

“Well, I guess Handsome Jack lives on in one of us.”

“Oh sure,” Rhys smirked. “You know I always had the better hairstyle.”

It probably was crazy to go chasing a rumor as insane as “Handsome Jack’s ghost haunts the abandoned halls of Helios” but well, Rhys had grown a little restless lately. And with no big projects to distract him, all he could think about was the stories of those employees who had allegedly come into contact with him.

So late that evening, Rhys left Vaughn sleeping on the couch with some dumb late-night ECHO program running, moving as quietly as possible as he slipped on his boots and slid out the door.

A company like Hyperion never truly slept, especially running on an artificial day-night cycle. Though plenty of businesses shut down after the workday many more stayed open, serving those dedicated or crazy enough to pull all nighters all in the name of an extra hundred bucks on the next paycheck or an inch above the competition when it came to promotions.

Rhys slipped into the sparse crowds pretty inconspicuously, looking little different from the rest of the late-night crunch crowd. As he walked, he accessed one of the more reliable forums he’d found on the rumors of Handsome Jack’s ghost, refreshing himself on the personal accounts he’d been pouring over for the past day.

Maybe Jack’s soul wasn’t at rest. That’s why ghosts happened right? Like, hypothetically? Spirits with unfinished business? Pandora was still a mess and Hyperion was dealing with a serious power vacuum. That screamed pretty unfinished to Rhys.

If that was true, maybe he could help him out?

Ha-hah. Rhys snorted at himself. As if Handsome Jack would ever accept help, even in the afterlife.

This whole excursion was a really, really stupid idea, and he should just turn around and head back home to Vaughn. But if he didn’t go and at least take a look, it would eat at him for days. Better just go and confirm it wasn’t true sooner rather than later.

The instructions on the forum lead him to one of the auxiliary elevators in the hub and told him to punch in a floor he was pretty sure he’d never visited before. A couple other people got in with him, inputing their own floors before the elevator started to descend through the space station. Gradually everyone else filtered back out, until once again Rhys was left all alone, with nothing but the hum and click of the machinery around him to keep him company.

Finally, the display above the door lit up with a cheery ding that belied the sight that opened up in front of Rhys’ eyes. Swallowing, his finger briefly danced on the button to take him back up to the Hub as he gazed out into the empty floor extending out from the elevator’s entrance. Just as the doors were about to close however he took a step forward, then another, until he was too far away to run back as the elevator slid shut behind him.

This far away from the central hub and offices of Helios things looked a lot less like the polished, colorful corporate environment Rhys had grown used to and more like of the abandoned facilities on Elpis he’d seen through photographs and holograms. The hallway he now braved walking down thankfully didn’t look infested with torks or any other horrible creatures found moon-side, but dust flaked down from the walls and any doors he passed were broken or locked. Rhys took a peek inside one, finding nothing more then shattered cubicles and conspicuously spaces on the floor when computers and appliances used to sit.

Rhys tightened his jaw, wrapping his arms around his stomach as he willed himself to keep walking.

As the hallway continued, the light fixtures above grew less and less reliable, with some panels completely broken, leaving bands of the ground in the dark. Some stretched longer than others, with a good couple yards of hallway dim and even more eerie than the rest of the deserted floor. Rhys walked especially quickly through these portions, mind creating terrors in the busted doors and empty walls even when his ECHOeye told him nothing was there.

As the hallway turned around a corner, he slowly realized the usual cool, re-circulated air he’d grown used to living on Helios felt stale and stiff here. Still breathable, sure, but like dust clung to every atom of oxygen.

He didn’t know how far this hallway went, or if he might end up encountering a collapsed ceiling or flaw in the life support systems. Readouts on his ECHOeye fed back data on the composition and quality of the air around him, but this far away from the center of Helios—far enough that even the holographic map he brought up on his palm—his connection to the net could get a little spotty.

Still, creepy as this part of Helios was, Rhys hadn’t seen any evidence of the supernatural yet. Nor, honestly, any sign this hallway had been touched by Handsome Jack’s presence at all. Even now, after his death, the rest of the space station remained stamped with his mark, his posters and advertisements plastered everywhere and his statues lovingly tended to. But here?

When Rhys actually stopped to take a look at the faded images on the walls or scattered on the floor, none looked anything like those iconic images of Hyperion’s most illustrious CEO. He could make out an old logo here and there, colored in passé red and white, alongside some pictures of what had to be long-passed company leaders. Rhys felt less like that elevator had taken him to another part of the station and more like it’d transported him to a completely different time.

Looking at these relics actually helped to distract him from the reason he’d come here in the first place, at least until he lifted his head to glance towards one of the deserted doorways—and there he stopped in his tracks, at first unable to process what he was seeing.

Just above the darkened entrance, emblazoned in sloppy, blue lettering, read:

WELCOME KIDDOS.

A weight dropped in Rhys’ stomach, rooting him to the floor as he stared at the words, trying to process their existence.

Oh fuck.

It was probably just random graffiti, maybe sprayed there by someone trying to mess with people who came here looking for the ghost, but it had Rhys on edge. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore his panicking heart as he took a step through the doorframe. He’d come this far, already sunk enough time into this rumor. Creepy as it was, he wasn’t going to let some message scare him off.

Rhys turned the light in his cybernetic palm on, using it to scan over the floor to make sure he wouldn’t trip over any debris.

It looked like one of the many other offices he’d walked by so far. Anything useful had been ripped out long ago, leaving snapped wires and noticeably cleaner spots in their wake, with only real clunky, useless technology still sitting besides cracked desks and stains cubicle walls. Rhys moved the light carefully over his path, securing each step before he moved forward. He peered around, hoping to find something interesting, but the office looked similar to the hallway outside—decrepit, and covered in old Hyperion advertisements that might’ve sold for a pretty vintage penny if they weren’t tattered and spotted with mold.

The office looked old and creepy, sure, but as he scanned around the room, he couldn’t find much else of interest. But just so nobody would doubt him when he told this story, he decided to peel one of those old posters off the wall. One of the smaller ones, that he could easily fold up and put inside his pocket without risking it disintegrating.

Just as he finished and he turned to leave, however, something suddenly prickled through the air like static electricity. Rhys tensed, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up if someone had traced a cool finger down it.

“Who…who’s there?” Rhys whispered, feeling less isolated and alone than a few minutes ago.

He expected—and hoped—for no answer, but the moment he finished speaking a hush of static brushed up against his ears like an eerie kiss, and even as Rhys desperately tried to grasp for a rational explanation an erratic, electric blue sheen cast upon a broken cubicle wall, silhouetting his terrified shadow up against it. He whirled around, eyes wide and heart pumping, only to regret his choice a mere second later at the sight in front of him.

His first thought—holy shit, the rumors were true—couldn’t hold a candle to the second, more alarming realization that raced up right after—that’s Handsome Jack’s ghost and it’s going to fucking kill me.

Because there was no doubt that the brilliant blue specter hovering in front of him belonged to Jack. It looked exactly like him aside from the color and unsettling transparency. The ghost’s brilliance sucked all remaining light out of Rhys’ surroundings, leaving him swallowed in black as he tried convincing himself to move.

Gold eyes suddenly fixed upon him, too bright and alien even against the already surreal, glowing body.

“Hey pumpkin!”

Rhys screamed. He screamed a scream he might be embarrassed about if anyone else had heard him, but right now with a jagged, neon blue ghost hovering in front of him he didn’t care how he sounded. Or how he looked, as he spun on his heels and lunged in the opposite direction, fleeing from the apparition as quickly as he could manage.

“Woah, wait! Hang on!”

Rhys wouldn’t “hang on” for anybody in this creepy part of Helios, especially not a real fucking ghost. Unfortunately, he only ended up running couple of yards before his body betrayed him—or rather, the heel of his boot did, as it landed wrong on a slat of debris and nearly snapped. Rhys screamed, even louder this time, his arms pinwheeling out as he tripped, landing with a smack and a squeal against the floor. He even skidded a bit, knocking fallen ceiling panels and loose wires out of the way as he ground to a halt. His heart hammered in his chest, sending shocks of pins-and-needles pain all the way down to his knees and palms.

A harsh noise sounded too close behind him and he quickly flipped onto his back, Rhys’ stomach nearly dropping out his ass when he saw the ghost floating towards him, arms crossed tightly about its chest.

Rhys could nearly see right through him, glowing blue form as translucent and intimidating as a bolt of electricity. He could almost feel the energy in the air, the hair on the back of his neck standing up as if he’d rubbed his socks against the apartment carpet. He tried to push himself up off the ground but his ankle protested, still recovering from the tumble. He managed to squirm only a couple of inches, the distance between himself and the ghost easily overtaken as Jack floated closer, his ghostly form looming large, ready to engulf him whole.

“S-S-Stay back! Back!” Rhys cried, holding his hands out defensively in front of him as Jack advanced upon him, those eerie golden eyes blazing above an aggravated looking frown. Surely, the last thing many employees had seen from Jack in life, and now probably the last for Rhys too, before the ghost decided to suck out his soul or drain the air out of the hallway or whatever horrible thing it was planning to do with him. Rhys shut his eyes tight, shaking with fear as he thought of all the worst torment the ghost of a man like Handsome Jack would do to him.

But the ghost didn’t try to asphyxiate him, or try to take his soul. He didn’t try to bring the whole hallway down around them or shock Rhys with his freaky blue spirit energy. No, instead, it did something familiar, something Rhys recognized from recordings and public appearances back when Jack had still been alive.

It laughed.

The sound crackled and broke, as if fed through an old speaker. It twisted Rhys’ stomach further into knot, his fear so strong now he could feel it in the back of his throat. The ghost laughed like someone had taken Jack’s voice and pulled all the life out of it, leaving it a cold, improperly preserved recording.

“You’re…would you believe you’re the first one to frikkin’ face-plant like that, kiddo? Jeez. Lots of dummies have come down here but…man…” The ghost mimed wiping a tear away from its eye before it leered down at Rhys.

“Well…I’m not about to say no to a free lunch. Finally got one of you small fry right where I want you.”

Rhys jolted when the ghost floated towards him. He grabbed around with his hand looking for anything to fend it off. He grabbed only a broken piece of molding but still swung it in front of him, a last ditch attempt to look intimidating.

“Back off! I’m t-telling you!” He managed to squeak. The ghost’s eyebrows slid up, unimpressed.

“I’d say kudos for trying, pumpkin. But this is pretty lame.” It laughed again, sound this time edged with a darker humor that chilled Rhys’ bones. “Too little, too late. You’re mine.”

Rhys saw the movement to his left a moment too late. Before he had a chance to move out of the way or even turn his head, something long and yellow and much more solid than Jack shot out and struck him right in the temple. Rhys screamed, cupping the side of his head, expecting searing pain or blood, but after a moment of terrified groping finding only something firmly stuck into his port.

“W-W-What? Huh?” Rhys babbled only for a sudden shock to ring around his port. He jerked, feeling something probe into his brain—no, his very mind itself—out from the thing stuck in his temple. He twitched involuntarily, a little bit of spit running down the side of his mouth. The visual feed of his ECHOeye glitched violently, warnings and pop-ups full of gibberish flashing in his vision as he writhed against the floor.

God. No no no no, this can’t be happening, this can’t—

And yet as soon as the shock had started it stopped, retreating back through his body to his port. He flopped against the ground, a light tingling in his extremities the only sign anything had gone wrong. He took deep breaths, trying to expand his lungs slowly—only for Handsome Jack’s face to appear inches from his own and scare the shit out of him once again.

“Jeez, kiddo.” The ghost grimaced, sticking a finger in its ear. Rhys scrambled back, heart again beating against his chest as he stared incredulously at the figure before him. The ghost crouched, still hovering a good couple of inches off the ground. An eyebrow raised above one yellow eye, watching him as Rhys struggled to comprehend what had happened.

“Wh…what did you do to me?” He finally drummed up the courage to speak, but couldn’t overcome the stutter in his voice.

“You know. I’m like. Inside you.” Jack waved his hand. “Well, you know. Not inside but like, inside your mind. Really lucked out, didn’t I? You’re just the vessel I needed.”

“You mean you’re—you’re possessing me?” Rhys cried, voice edging up hysterically. “Oh god, am…am I gonna have to get a fucking exorcism?”

“Watch your mouth, kiddo, I—wait a sec, no. You—” The apparition pinched the bridge of its nose and shook its head. “—You still think I’m some kind of ghost, right?”

“I…well…” Rhys swallowed tightly. “That was the most logical…well…that’s what I was assuming.”

“Logical?” Jack snorted, looking at Rhys like he was stupid. “You live in a frikkin’ space station with guns and tech that work like god-damn magic, and you still believe in ghosts?”

“But the stories said—“

“Yeah, ‘cause I play up the act to get some frikkin’ entertainment. Else it’d be a total snore-fest around here.”

“So what…what are you?” Rhys propped himself up on his elbows. Still on edge, but feeling a less tense and sick to his stomach than before. If Jack was in—inside him, then he wouldn’t try to hurt him, right?

“Not a frikkin’ ghost, I’ll tell you what. If I was a ghost, I wouldn’t have needed that—“ He pointed to the plug still stuck in Rhys’ temple. “To get inside of you. Or I’d be able to phase through walls and not have to deal with this damn isolated subsystem.”

“Subsystem?” Rhys furrowed his brow. If this part of Helios was long abandoned, it might’ve wound up cut off from the rest of the space station’s network. If Jack was reliant on that then yeah, he wasn’t a ghost, but then—?

Wait.

“Nakayama’s lost AI…I thought it was destroyed when he…” Rhys’ eyes widened, the pieces suddenly clicking into place. “So you’re…you’re Jack, you’re the real Jack…”

Well. As close as the real Jack as they were ever going to get again. Rhys wasn’t about to anger the AI any further by nit-picking.

“Of course I am. This—“ Jack gestured around the hallway, “—was just a stupid little setback. A mere bump in the road of my awesome heroics.”

He turned to look down at Rhys, who’d managed to wedge himself into a crouch but still wobbled on smarting feet.

“Well? I’m finally ready to move on out of this crap-pile and back to the top where I belong. Who knows what you dimwits have been doing to my company.”

Rhys bit his tongue, figuring he’d let Jack deal with the current power squabble on his own. Best not to get in the middle of something like that, especially with an unpredictable AI now throw into the mix.

“Of course, I…I don’t mind taking you back, sir, but uh…” Rhys rubbed the back of his neck. “What if no one believes me? There’s been a lot of uh…conspiracies and rumors and stuff ever since you’ve been gone.”

“No biggie.” Jack shrugged. “Anyone doesn’t believe you, just plug me back into Helios. Give them all a real fright once they see daddy’s back in action.”

“Right. Um. Guess there’s no point in hanging around. Guess I should…get you back…” Rhys finally pushed himself to his feet, his limbs still shaky and numb. He still felt a little disconnected as he pulled the plug from his temple, the reality of the situation yet to set in even with the AI of his dead boss and idol following him as he turned around to walk back the way he’d came—back to civilization. Back to Hyperion.

Rhys had gone in search of a rumor, and had instead come back with a legend.

He swallowed, looking over his shoulder to watch as Handsome Jack floated after him.

Wait ’til Vaughn heard about this.

Kinktober Day 31: Masks, Against a Wall

This previously lame Halloween party had taken a turn for the interesting the moment Rhys encountered this handsome stranger.

Of course, Rhys couldn’t see much of his face behind the ornate masquerade mask he wore, but the intense eyes and charming flash of teeth he could see behind the decorated holes quickly won him over. This guy was quite the flirt, too, complimenting the construction of Rhys’ angel costume and how well the short white tunic and golden heels showed off his legs. Considering the young man was already a couple of beers into the evening, he’d easily fallen for the masked stranger’s charm and let him lead him out of the apartment complex and into the little alley out back. There, Rhys let the man push him up against the cool alley wall where he worked his thigh up between his shaky legs.

The alcohol and rush of the sudden fling didn’t much help Rhys’ composure, and he had a hard time keeping quiet as the stranger’s hands peeled up the hem of his tunic and started to pull his cock out of his boxer briefs. Rhys moaned and tossed his head back lightly against the wall, feeling the stranger’s warm hand squeeze and pump at his cock. Rhys wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, too drunk and needy to realize just how warm the stranger’s hands—and really, his entire body—was getting. If he was paying attention to anything other than the pressure and pleasure in his belly, he would’ve noticed the strange flickering in his partners eyes, or the way his body grew until he nearly lifted Rhys up and off the ground, the toes of his golden heels just barely brushing up against the asphalt ground of the alleyway.

In fact, the only thing Rhys did realize as he clutched and humped against the stranger, was that he hadn’t tried to kiss him yet.

Rhys shifted his eyes to the stranger’s ornate mask, the holes there now darker and less distinct than they had been when Rhys’ had first met him. He tilted his head even as the stranger continued to pump his cock, suddenly overcome with the urge to properly kiss the man bringing him so much pleasure in the midst of such a dull party. His fingers trailed up the man’s neck, brushing over the spikes of hair at the nape as they started to fiddle with the strings tying it to his face.

All of a sudden, the mask fell away, clattering onto the ground with a crack. An apology died on Rhys’ lips as his eyes widened with horror, taking in what lay beneath the stranger’s mask.

Or rather, what didn’t.

All Rhys saw at first was a swirling, metallic void where the man’s features should be, as if someone had scooped out his face and replaced it with endless miasma. Horror gripped him in the heart even as the clawed hand continued to squeeze and pump at his cock.

Rhys struggled, escape fruitless thanks to the creature’s grip and the fact that he was now pinned against the wall several feet off the ground. As he watched, terrified squeaks edging out of his throat as he tried to scream, a pair of searing, purple eyes sprung up out of the void of the man’s face, followed by a nightmarish neon grin.

“You’re mine, pumpkin.” It laughed as the void surged out beyond the boundaries of the man’s face, engulfing Rhys whole just as the grip on his cock brought him over the edge.

OH MY GOD FOR THE HALLOWEEN FIC Okay, you had a few omega fics where Rhys was pregnant & by himself & Jack was this sorta creepy alpha who lived next door and kept trying to get Rhys’s attention? What if Rhys and the toddler knock on Jack’s door and they’re dressed up and Jack just shoves a check in the kids toy pumpkin with a few snickers and Rhys shows up the next day and its basically enough for the kid to go to college and Rhys is pissed and won’t accept it??? (Idk I just like your AUs😍)

i just wrote this real quickly but i liked the idea c:

Nine o’clock at night on Halloween was about when Jack called it on leaving candy out for trick-o-treaters. Most kids would be back at home and maybe even in bed at this point, and all that remained usually were teenagers looking to raid any candy left at the bottom of the bowl and smash pumpkins if they didn’t find anything. Not that many nefarious younguns would get away with their mischief thanks to Jack’s high-tech security system.

Still, by the time it got properly late, Jack was ready to turn the lights off on the outside decorations and settle in with a pumpkin cider and his annual re-watch of The Shining. He’d been entertaining all the kids swarming to the doors of his huge, elaborately decorated home all evening, and as cute and easily excitable as they were, Jack was tired of getting up and answering every knock at his door and was looking forward to turning in for the evening.

He switched off the billowing, inflatable ghosts on his yard as well as the strands of orange and purple lights planted along the walkway and strung along the gutters, and had just opened the doors one final time to blow out his jack-o-lanterns when he saw someone strutting quickly up the walkway.

Jack raised his eyebrow, about to tell the stranger off when they stepped into the light emanating from his front door. A wide grin spread across his face as he recognized the boxy, metallic costume from earlier. More than recognized, considering this particular omega had drifted in and out of his thoughts for most of the evening.

“What? Cyrus ask you to shake me down for some more candy? Well, considering you two were the cutest pair of robots I ever saw, might as well give you seconds,” Jack chuckled, lifting the pumpkin-shaped bowl off the little table besides the door and giving it a little jiggle. His lighthearted tone didn’t seem to defuse Rhys’ angry pout, though, and the omega didn’t quite his stomping march until he nearly got right up in Jack’s face.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Rhys hissed as he angrily flapped a slim piece of paper against the alpha’s chest. Jack continued grinning blithely, holding up his hands against Rhys’ offensive.

“Whaaat, this?” He feigned ignorance even as the check he’d filled out only a couple hours ago waved under his nose. “Just…consider it an extra treat, pumpkin.”

“Snickers and lollipops are treats, Jack. This is…I don’t even know what this is!” Rhys hissed, the springy antennae on his head wobbling with an angry shake. “A bribe? A joke?”

“No no, Rhysie, though if I wanted to play a prank on you, guess Halloween would be a good night for it, huh?” Jack carefully placed his hand on Rhys’ wrist, trying to calm the pissy omega down. “Look, I knew you’d never accept something nice from me, so I slipped it in with the kiddo’s candy.”

Rhys puffed out his cheeks, anger reduced to a simmer as he settled back on his heels, no longer trying to intimate Jack as much as he had a few moments earlier. He looked down at the check, then back up at the alpha.

“This…this is too much. I can’t accept it. We might be neighbors but…I…we barely know each other!”

“Just take it as a bit of good Halloween luck, then. Stow it away for when the kid wants to go to college.” Jack lowered his hands to place them on his waist, amused smirk turning into a more affectionate smile. Rhys worried his lip but slowly folded the check back up and placed it into his pocket.

“Well…thank you. I guess.” Rhys shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just don’t go around thinking I owe you anything.”

“Of course not, sugar. I’m not that much of a dirtbag, no matter what you might’ve heard.”

Jack rifled around the candy bowl, grabbing a handful and pushing it towards Rhys.

“The kid will appreciate this lots more than college savings, though. Tell him I said hey and that his costume was the best one I saw tonight. ‘Kay?” Jack winked, pleased to see a little tinge of blush on the omega’s cheeks followed—finally—by a small smile.

“I will…he’ll be really happy about that. He hasn’t stopped talking about you since he got home…he…” Rhys looked away from Jack for a moment. “He wants you to be robots with us next year.”

“Oh?” Jack’s grin grew wider, already envisioning a robot costume that would knock everyone’s socks off. “Well, I’ve got three-hundred and sixty-five days to think about it.”

“Well, I…I’ll leave you to think about it, then…” Rhys stuttered, holding the handfuls of candy to his chest. He took a slow step away from Jack, working his lips together like he wanted to say something else, only to turn and shuffle back down the pathway until even his shiny metallic tights were out of sight.

Jack chuckled to himself, before hefting in the rest of his jack-o-lanterns and shutting off the porch-light, finally ready—for sure this time—to unwind on the couch with a beer, a movie, and the adorable omega haunting his thoughts even harder now.

Kinktober Day 30: Breast Worship, Tights/Stockings/Pantyhose

Hormone imbalances were a bitch, but they weren’t supposed to affect Rhys this much.

He’d already been to the doctor and acquired some meds that were supposed to correct the issue, but they were taking their sweet time, leaving him to deal with the extra sensitive and…swelling in certain areas.

Specifically, his chest.

Omegas, even males, could develop more softness and tenderness in that area, but usually only if they were rearing pups. And while Rhys had never ruled out the possibility of having kids, that was a long way off and these changes, however temporary, weren’t supposed to affect him yet. Suffice to say, he was feeling pretty embarrassed about the whole thing and couldn’t wait for it to pass quickly and without anyone else noticing.

Unfortunately, he could never hide anything from Jack for very long.

“Jack, no, don’t touch them—“ Rhys groaned from atop the alpha’s lap, squirming in embarrassment as warm hands groped and massaged his chest. His breasts were small, barely able to fill out Jack’s palms and only slightly bowing out his pre-existing tattoos, and yet they felt highly sensitive to the pressure of the alpha’s fingers. Rhys bit his lip, his thighs clenching together as he fought off the arousal brewing in his groin.

“Why not, pumpkin? They’re beautiful. Just perfect little morsels made just for me,” Jack growled in his throat, forefinger rubbing over a sensitive nipple and earning a tiny mewl from the omega.

Rhys had been in the middle of changing out of his work clothes when Jack caught him and pulled him into his lap to grope at his chest. And of course it happened to be a day where Rhys decided to wear his favorite pair of sheers blue stockings to the office. Considering his discomfort and anxiety lately, it’d made him feel better to wear something soft and sexy and hidden beneath his clothes. He knew how much Jack liked them, too, so maybe it wasn’t that much of a surprise to find the alpha worming his cock between Rhys’ silky thighs even as he stroked the omega’s small tits.

“Hmm…wonder if I can get you come just by touching them. What do you think?” Jack pressed Rhys’ breasts together as he rutted up between his legs, cock sliding easily thanks to the sleekness of the stockings.

Rhys answered him with a needy cry, louder than before, as he squeezed his thighs tighter about Jack’s cock and finally let himself melt into his alpha’s sensual touch.