this is not as much as advice as “jack celebrates his kid having a kid of their own” but well
Rhys had been fussing about Cyrus’ mate all night, finally, ushering the poor omega away from the living room and off to bedroom to show him the wide variety of skin creams and medications he recommended to deal with the woes of pregnancy, leaving Jack and Cyrus sitting alone in the living room for the time being.
“Well well well, kiddo,” Jack grinned, shaking his head at his son, “gotta say, really nice work. You two aren’t even hitched yet and you’ve already got a pup on the way.”
Cyrus blushed, hunching his neck into his collar.
“Daaaad,” he whined, awkwardly rubbing his knees together, “we definitely plan on getting married before Thomas gets too far along, we promise—“
“Pffft, kid, really, you think I’m concerned about the sanctity of marriage or something? I was plowing into your mom like no tomorrow before we tied the knot, in fact I even think you were conceived bed—“
“Okay! I get it, stop,” Cyrus clapped his hands over his ears, making Jack laugh and slap his knees.
“Hahah, god, your face…ah…well, anyway, in the end the bonding is more important than the marriage, and you already bonded with him, so there’s no problem.” Jack rose to his feet, clapping his son on the shoulder before yanking him upright.
“C’mon, wanna show you something.”
Cyrus soon found himself tugged in front of his dad’s liquor cabinet, left to look at the shelves upon shelves of exotic and expensive alcohol as Jack opened it up, taking out two crystal glasses and an amber bottle etched with the pattern of honeycombs. Jack unscrewed the cap, seal already broken, before pouring the golden liquid over spherical ice from the built in dispenser.
“I crack this open every time Rhys gets pregnant. Figure I should continue the tradition with you.” Jack grinned as he raised his glass, tipping it in Cyrus’ direction.
“Cheers, to nine long months of doing whatever your omega wants, kiddo,” Jack snickered as Cyrus shyly picked up his own glass, gently clinking it with his dad’s.
“Hah….guess I’ll drink to that…” Cyrus smiled softly as he tipped the drink to his lips, coughing a little as the intense alcohol slid down his throat. Jack deftly drained half his glass, crisply smacking his lips.
“Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll give ya plenty of advice on how to deal with preggo omegas. Yours seems like a regular puppy dog compared to Rhysie but still…watch out. Never really know when the claws will come out.” Cyrus nodded, daring to take another sip of his drink.
“Guess so….mostly, I just wanna be a good dad n’ alpha…” Cyrus mumbled, feeling his belly tingle from the alcohol, Jack finished off his drink, setting it down on the cabinet shelf as he reached forward and affectionately ruffled the young man’s hair.
Jack should be pissed that his lovingly crafted picnic lunch was being so rudely ignored—in fact, he could feel his back pressing up against the puddle of hummus that had spilled from its container when he had been pushed back flat against the blanket. He growled softly, praying that the cheese and meat board that he’d so delicately laid out hadn’t been disturbed because damn it, that had been expensive and he had gone all out agonizing over pairings and taste profiles and if he didn’t at least get to shovel some Humboldt Fog down his throat. Preferably with some of those green apples he’d sliced so thin and atop some crispy wheat crackers. With the pinot grigio that was still chilling in the ice bucket to wash it all down.
However, Jack’s annoyance at his disturbed meal was being placated by the soft movements of Timothy’s tongue. His boyfriend was seated snugly atop Jack’s hips, body bent over him as he did his level best to kiss Jack breathless. It was slowly working, too, as Jack’s concerns drifted from the state of his carefully prepared meal to how to best get Timothy off without making too much of a scene. The park was largely deserted but it was still technically public, and no one should be able to see Tim’s cute freckled butt on display but him.
“Mmm….you pick the worst times to wanna make out, don’t ya sugar?” Jack chuckled as Tim finally broke for air, taking in deep lungfuls of air as he looked down at his boyfriend. Jack swallowed, Tim’s feathery hairs shining bright red with the sun behind him, face cast in shadow not dark enough to cloud his breathless, brilliant smile. Jack frowned, shaking his head as he reached up to brush his fingers against Timothy’s cheek.
“If ants eat my cheese, you owe me big time.” Timothy snickered, turning his head to kiss at Jack’s fingers.
“I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to make it up to you somehow.”
Thank you for the request! Mixing it up a bit with some Jackothy.
Jack’s heart stops when he realizes that Rhys is missing.
The bodyguard had fallen asleep upright in the chair in the young man’s bedroom, arms folded tightly over his chest. He had not tried to worm his way into Rhys’ bed, despite knowing for a fact the omega would have welcomed him, so he had stayed up, keeping watch until exhaustion had eventually tugged him downwards, only to let him go in a flurry of heavy limbs and the chilling realization that Rhys was not where Jack had left him.
Jack snaps to his feet, ripping aside the blankets to see little more than stark white sheets beneath, rumpled with weight but still warm to the touch. Jack’s eyes sweep about the floors, looking for a dark shape of a body, hissing for Rhys’ name. There’s no light on in the bathroom, no sound to be heard, and the utter absence wrenches at his heart.
Jack would not have been so concerned about Rhys leaving his side, if not for the fact that his father’s funeral and wake had been earlier that day.
Jack has heard the talk. He can predict which gears are turning in the brains of the mob bosses looking to the sudden vacuum of power. He knows there is going to be a challenge to Rhys’ inheritance, justifications based on his endotype, even violence to push Rhys away from seizing power rightfully his.
He just prays no one has decided to strike so soon.
Jack thuds throughout the house, voice raising louder and louder the longer he goes without getting any reply. His heart beats quicker and quicker, until he notices that Rhys’ boots are missing. Swearing, Jack foregoes his own shoes, deciding to check the backyard before he scoures any of Rhys’ usual haunts.
He opens the heavy backdoor, racing out onto the porch as soon as he sights Rhys standing on the steps descending into the garden.
“Зайчик!” Jack shouts, bare feet slapping against the brick. He feels the patter of warm droplets against his dress shirt as he races out from underneath the awning. Rhys doesn’t respond at first, chin tilted upwards towards the grey, dawn sky sprinkling summer rain down upon him.
“Зайчик?” The alpha repeats, slowing to a stop in front of the stairs. Through the heavy smell of petrichor Jack can detect the barest hint of Rhys’ scent, so subtle and soaked to the point that it almost seems lost in such a wide, changeable world.
Jack had not heard the rain come. There had been no tempo of water droplets against the window in Rhys’ room.
American summers are strange.
Rhys slowly turns around, and at first Jack wonders if the omega had been sleepwalking because his eyes are glassy, his lips slack and pale as he tilts his head at Jack. Recognition finally dawns in the young man’s eyes, droplets streaking down his cheeks and dripping off of his chin.
“…Jack?”
“What are you doing out here? Is…is not safe for you…” Jack carefully grips Rhys’ biceps, holding him close, their damp clothes sticking together as the alpha presses his face into Rhys’ wet hair.
“I…” Jack can feel the way Rhys’ trembles against him, swaying and shaking but standing firm despite the downpour.
“I’m sorry…”
Jack wraps his arms firmly about Rhys’ waist, daring to scent just about Rhys’ ear, his lips just barely brushing up against his chin.
“No…”
He hushes the omega softly as Rhys burrows in closer, craving the bodyguard’s warmth and protection and everything else Jack is willing to give.
Jack should be pissed that his lovingly crafted picnic lunch was being so rudely ignored—in fact, he could feel his back pressing up against the puddle of hummus that had spilled from its container when he had been pushed back flat against the blanket. He growled softly, praying that the cheese and meat board that he’d so delicately laid out hadn’t been disturbed because damn it, that had been expensive and he had gone all out agonizing over pairings and taste profiles and if he didn’t at least get to shovel some Humboldt Fog down his throat. Preferably with some of those green apples he’d sliced so thin and atop some crispy wheat crackers. With the pinot grigio that was still chilling in the ice bucket to wash it all down.
However, Jack’s annoyance at his disturbed meal was being placated by the soft movements of Timothy’s tongue. His boyfriend was seated snugly atop Jack’s hips, body bent over him as he did his level best to kiss Jack breathless. It was slowly working, too, as Jack’s concerns drifted from the state of his carefully prepared meal to how to best get Timothy off without making too much of a scene. The park was largely deserted but it was still technically public, and no one should be able to see Tim’s cute freckled butt on display but him.
“Mmm….you pick the worst times to wanna make out, don’t ya sugar?” Jack chuckled as Tim finally broke for air, taking in deep lungfuls of air as he looked down at his boyfriend. Jack swallowed, Tim’s feathery hairs shining bright red with the sun behind him, face cast in shadow not dark enough to cloud his breathless, brilliant smile. Jack frowned, shaking his head as he reached up to brush his fingers against Timothy’s cheek.
“If ants eat my cheese, you owe me big time.” Timothy snickered, turning his head to kiss at Jack’s fingers.
“I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to make it up to you somehow.”
Thank you for the request! Mixing it up a bit with some Jackothy.
handsome jack cake pop
we keep giving cyrus more children…he started off with 6 and now he has 8
this is not as much as advice as “jack celebrates his kid having a kid of their own” but well
Rhys had been fussing about Cyrus’ mate all night, finally, ushering the poor omega away from the living room and off to bedroom to show him the wide variety of skin creams and medications he recommended to deal with the woes of pregnancy, leaving Jack and Cyrus sitting alone in the living room for the time being.
“Well well well, kiddo,” Jack grinned, shaking his head at his son, “gotta say, really nice work. You two aren’t even hitched yet and you’ve already got a pup on the way.”
Cyrus blushed, hunching his neck into his collar.
“Daaaad,” he whined, awkwardly rubbing his knees together, “we definitely plan on getting married before Thomas gets too far along, we promise—“
“Pffft, kid, really, you think I’m concerned about the sanctity of marriage or something? I was plowing into your mom like no tomorrow before we tied the knot, in fact I even think you were conceived bed—“
“Okay! I get it, stop,” Cyrus clapped his hands over his ears, making Jack laugh and slap his knees.
“Hahah, god, your face…ah…well, anyway, in the end the bonding is more important than the marriage, and you already bonded with him, so there’s no problem.” Jack rose to his feet, clapping his son on the shoulder before yanking him upright.
“C’mon, wanna show you something.”
Cyrus soon found himself tugged in front of his dad’s liquor cabinet, left to look at the shelves upon shelves of exotic and expensive alcohol as Jack opened it up, taking out two crystal glasses and an amber bottle etched with the pattern of honeycombs. Jack unscrewed the cap, seal already broken, before pouring the golden liquid over spherical ice from the built in dispenser.
“I crack this open every time Rhys gets pregnant. Figure I should continue the tradition with you.” Jack grinned as he raised his glass, tipping it in Cyrus’ direction.
“Cheers, to nine long months of doing whatever your omega wants, kiddo,” Jack snickered as Cyrus shyly picked up his own glass, gently clinking it with his dad’s.
“Hah….guess I’ll drink to that…” Cyrus smiled softly as he tipped the drink to his lips, coughing a little as the intense alcohol slid down his throat. Jack deftly drained half his glass, crisply smacking his lips.
“Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll give ya plenty of advice on how to deal with preggo omegas. Yours seems like a regular puppy dog compared to Rhysie but still…watch out. Never really know when the claws will come out.” Cyrus nodded, daring to take another sip of his drink.
“Guess so….mostly, I just wanna be a good dad n’ alpha…” Cyrus mumbled, feeling his belly tingle from the alcohol, Jack finished off his drink, setting it down on the cabinet shelf as he reached forward and affectionately ruffled the young man’s hair.
What made Rhys think he could have a nice afternoon out?
It had gone well enough in the beginning. He and Jack had pulled up to the quaint little vineyard, chatted a little bit with the other couples, and even sampled some fruit and cheese that was absolutely to die for. Rhys had relaxed, figuring that nothing could possibly go wrong.
But then they’d brought out the wine. And Rhys had realized far too late that Jack had no idea how to properly do a tasting.
For someone with millions of dollars to spend at his leisure, Rhys figured Jack would know at least a little bit about the kind of procedural etiquette that came with bougie activities like tasting wine. At the very least, Rhys thought that Jack understood the concept of tasting, that this wasn’t a frat party or a competition, and that the emphasis was on variety rather than volume.
They were four wines into the tasting when Rhys had realized that his husband had drunk his entire glass instead of spitting, and by then it was far too late to do anything except fervently apologize as he tried to pry his tipsy husband off of the poor, balding accountant Jack believed had been making eyes at Rhys.
“You think I didn’t notice…notice the way you’re lookin’ at him?” Jack slurred, shaking the man by his grey blazer. “I’ll frikkin’ kill you…idiot…”
“Jack, stop it, let go of him!” Rhys hissed, arms wrapped tightly about Jack’s waist, trying to pull him away while not yanking his tipsy ass completely, likely taking the hapless young man with him. Jack swayed with Rhys’ efforts but still shook the terrified man in his clutches.
“You…you think you gotta bigger dick n’ me or somethin’? Thinkin’ you can just whip it out and steal my husband…well guess what, dumbnut? I’ll show ya exactly what you’re up against—!”
“Okay, no!” Rhys screeched, cheeks bright pink as Jack finally let go of the man only to start fumbling with his zipper. The young man slapped aside Jack’s hands, cupping his own over his crotch as to shield it from Jack’s drunken machismo. The older man stared dumbly at the hands covering his junk, only for a lecherous, drunken grin to spread over his face.
“Oooooh, Rhysie, you sly little thin—“ Jack belched loudly, swaying in place as Rhys carefully turned him around, sliding his arm underneath Jack’s pits to support him as he tried to drag the older man back to their car.
“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry….sorry…” Rhys apologized limply, digging in Jack’s pocket for his wallet and shoving some hundred dollar bills to the poor accountant’s stunned wife, as well as the sommelier who had been running the tasting. No one was going to call the police on the CEO of Hyperion, but damn it, Rhys felt really bad that his asshole of a husband had caused such a scene for these people.
“I’m never taking you anywhere ever again.” Rhys hissed as he shoved Jack into the passengers seat, aggressively belting him down as the older man tried to get handsy with him, only for Rhys to slap him away and wag a stern finger in front of the man’s dazed eyes.
“You’re not getting any of this until you make it up to me. And you’re going to have to get me a whole new wardrobe to make up for this.”
Jack responded by pitching sideways and throwing up all over Rhys’ slacks.
I love Jack being bad at Rich People Things
Fiona can make fun of Rhys’ fashion sense all she wants but she’s still got a stupid corset-cravat-titty window thing and an asymmetrical coat
i keep forgetting to link to my kofi and commission info on my fics gdi
TheSpaceCoyote 