#crimson crisis | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sephirthoughts · 27 days ago

Text

Vincent's New Kid Just Dropped CH 17:

Back at the Valentine Household Where Things are a Little Too Quiet

prev. chap here

RATING: teen and up for some swears, PG-rated physical affection, and references to mature topics, such as household management

WARNINGS: a baby's wet diaper is changed onscreen. proceed with appropriate caution/approved safety equipment

Summary:

not the longest chapter but there was not a less awkward place to cut it and i didn't want it to be like 3 usual-chapters long

LOOK AT HIM. LOOK HOW SAD AND BEAUTIFUL HE IS. FORGIVE HIM FOR EVERYTHING YOU GUYS DON'T BE MEAN

“Seph.”

“Mm?”

Ollie was napping, Cid and Vincent were out in the workshop with Reeve, and Nero was upstairs, probably starting an emo band or something. Sephiroth and Cloud were lying on the living room sofa, taking advantage of a rare lull in family activity, to enjoy some (admittedly PG-rated) physical affection.

Cloud lifted his head from his beloved’s broad chest to look into his face. “I was thinking. Since you’re here all the time, anyway, wouldn’t it be nice if, say, you had a space of your own? With like, four walls and, I don’t know…a door. Oh, maybe even a bed.” He frowned and tapped his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I feel like there’s a word for that…what was it?”

Sephiroth sighed. “Bedroom.”

“Bedroom! That was it! You need a bedroom. And, as it so happens, there are three empty bedrooms, in this house. Which means…”

“It isn’t my house.”

“It’s your dad’s house, though. Do you really think Vincent would have a problem with you borrowing a spare room? I think you should ask him about it.”

“I know what you think. You’ve been dropping not-so-subtle hints, all week.”

“Then why haven’t you done anything about it?”

Sephiroth looked away, shifting uneasily. “There’s not been a good opportunity to bring it up. Besides, if he wanted me to have a bedroom here, he would have offered.”

“Sephiroth. He’s your father,” Cloud said sternly. “He’s likely just as dense and socially maladjusted as you. He probably assumes you have your own place, since you’ve never mentioned anything about wanting to stay here. If you don’t bring it up, how is he supposed to know?”

“My father has had enough on his plate, since Nero arrived,” Sephiroth hedged. “I don’t want to overload him by making such a presumptuous request.”

“Overload him? You’ve taken a huge burden off him, by doing half the cooking and taking care of your sister, all the time. This household wouldn’t function without you. You at least deserve temporary accommodation.”

“I don’t do those things hoping to be rewarded.”

“Ok babe, listen. I didn’t want to do this, but I’m putting my foot down,” Cloud said, as he pushed himself up from the sofa. “Either you talk to your father about using one of the spare bedrooms, before I get back, or I’ll talk to him myself.”

“Back? Where are you going?” Sephiroth asked, getting up as well.

“Midgar. Gonna check in on Tifa and the kids.”

Sephiroth’s expression darkened. “Why?”

“They’re family, Seph,” Cloud answered wearily.

“They are not.”

“They are to me. People don’t stop being family when you have a falling out.”

“A falling out? Is that what you call it?”

Sephiroth’s normally gentle voice dripped with disdain. Whenever this topic came up, he was the most like he’d been, before. Sharp and acerbic, pupils contracted to slits in the blue-green irises, with an expression of icy hauteur on his beautiful face.

Fortunately, Cloud knew him too well, now, to fault him for it. Arrogance and sarcasm were Sephiroth’s last line of defense, when he felt particularly insecure and helpless. There was nothing that made him feel more insecure and helpless than Cloud’s foundling family, back in Midgar.

“I don’t expect you to forgive them, but I can’t just ignore our entire past and act like Tifa doesn’t exist,” he said, as he pulled on his boots. “Even if I could, I have a responsibility to those kids.”

“You are referring to the children that are not your biological offspring, and which she is currently raising with another man.”

“Yeah, well, at least Barrett’s there for them. That’s more than I ever was.”

A sneer curled Sephiroth’s pale lip. “Indeed, how selfless of him, to take time from his busy schedule, to care for the woman and children he voluntarily acquired. Acquired while you were away from home, as I recall.”

“I was away from home for almost a year. You can hardly blame him for using that time to win over the woman he’d always loved, who I was never romantic with, in the first place.”

“I can, however, blame them both, for treating you as deranged and dangerous, and organizing others to ambush and attempt to abduct you, rather than hearing you out.”

“They learned their lesson, didn’t they? And they heard me out, afterward.”

“Because they had no choice.”

“Yeah. Well. The important thing is that they know where I stand, and what happens if they try to corner me. No point dwelling on it.”

Sephiroth crossed his arms defensively. “I do not understand why, after they behaved the way they did, toward you, you would continue to associate with them. You are only putting yourself in a position to be mistreated again.”

“It’s not about that, Seph. Regardless of what happened between the adults, the kids still think of me as a parental figure. Denzel’s counting on me to be there for his first bike race. I’m not gonna let him down.”

Sephiroth was still stewing as he walked Cloud to the front door, and gave a disconsolate ‘hmph’, when Cloud kissed him goodbye, which made Cloud laugh and kiss him again.

“You’re adorable when you’re acting like a wet cat. I’ll be back in a few days. Promise me you’ll talk to your father about the spare bedroom, before then.”

“I promise,” Sephiroth said gloomily.

Cloud turned back and waved, after he started up the big, black Fenrir bike, and then roared away down the private drive, leaving a trail of dust clouds behind. Sephiroth lingered in the doorway, gazing the way he’d gone, well after he was out of sight.

“You really should lock that down,” Nero’s serpentine voice said, behind him, drawing him out of his ruminations.

Sephiroth turned an unfriendly eye on him. “What?”

“Your little lover, running off to see his friends, without you. Tsk tsk.”

“So, you were eavesdropping.”

“Who knows what they’ll say to him,” Nero went on, as if he hadn’t heard the remark. “Who they’ll introduce him to, hoping he’ll be enticed to greener pastures. If I were you, I would lock him down, before it’s too late.”

“What do you mean ‘lock him down’? Is he a military facility?”

Nero rolled his eyes. “I mean marry him. Make him truly and legally yours, before someone else tries to get their hooks into him.”

“Cloud and I do not need a certificate from some paltry human authorities, to declare our bond. We are not separable, by any power in this world, or otherwise.”

“Then why are you so jealous of his ex-lover and their children?” Nero asked pointedly, raising his black brows.

“They are not his children! And she was never his—why are you even talking to me? Do you enjoy provoking me, that much?”

“I am simply attempting to be a good brother,” Nero replied righteously. “Since it’s clear to me that you are staggeringly inept in matters of the heart, I thought you might benefit from some advice.”

“Ridiculous,” Sephiroth snorted. “I’m a grown man. You are a child. What could you possibly have to teach me, about such things?”

“Correction: you are a ghost. And child or no, I’d wager I’ve got more relationship experience than you. Tell me, were you a virgin, when you bedded that pretty blonde?”

“Was I—that’s one of your business!” Sephiroth fired back.

“So, yes,” Nero replied glibly. “I thought so. You do seem like the mates-for-life type.”

“I am not ashamed of that, and I won’t deny it. What is it to you?”

“Then we have that in common. So, it stands to reason we also share the desire to keep our chosen mate firmly in our hands.”

“Are you coming to a point, Nero?”

“Only this: you need to stop getting your hackles up, when he talks about his ex-whatever-she-is. When he goes to visit her and the brats, you have to stop making him feel like it’s at the cost of wounding you. Your jealousy isn’t going to keep you safe. You’re only going to make yourself miserable, and hurt him in the process.”

Sephiroth clenched his fists at his sides. “I am not jealous.”

“Well, yes you are. It takes one to know one, dear brother.”

“You’re admitting that you’re jealous, with Weiss?”

“Oh, very much so,” Nero laughed. “Extremely, monstrously, violently jealous. But Weiss likes that. Your little blonde does not. Your jealousy only makes him feel that you don’t trust him, and that you want him to choose between you and his friends. You don’t see that he has already chosen you. He’s not going to leave you for them, so stop acting like he might.”

Sephiroth wavered. “He has…already chosen me?”

“You really are an idiot,” Nero sighed. “I will only say this once, and I will deny it, if you ever repeat it to anyone. There is more of you in that boy’s heart than there is of himself. Weiss is literally my other half, and even I can’t make such a claim. Cloud Strife might love you more than any person in this world has ever loved another, and yet you’re still so cripplingly insecure, that you can’t let yourself accept it.”

“I was never loved, before.” Sephiroth lowered his eyes, passing a hand over his brow. “I don’t know how to go about it. I don’t know how to say the right words or make the right gestures. All I know how to do is hold on to him, with everything I have.”

“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn, is just to love and be loved, in return,” Nero said, in an odd, sing-song cadence.

Sephiroth blinked. “Are you…are you quoting Moulin Rouge, at me?”

“Mm-hm,” Nero nodded jauntily. “Cid and I watched it, last night, while father pretended not to be sleeping through it.”

“I love that movie,” Sephiroth pouted. “Why didn’t you tell me, so I could watch it too?”

“You and Cloud were asleep in the living room, with Ollie. Cid didn’t want to wake you. Also, you’re huge and the sofa in the den is too small. It would’ve been cramped, with all of us.”

Just then, both young men suddenly looked up at the ceiling.

“Ollie’s awake,” Sephiroth announced. “Time for her bottle.”

“Why don’t you take a break and let me do it,” Nero offered.

Sephiroth paused and eyed him suspiciously. “Do you know how to warm the formula to the correct temperature?”

“The warmer chooses the right temperature automatically,” Nero riposted.

“Do you know how to feed her?”

“How complicated can it be to hand a baby a bottle?”

Sephiroth crossed his arms. “And what if she needs to be changed?”

Nero staggered under that master stroke, and went a little green in the face. “On second thought, m—maybe you should do it, after all. I’m clueless about children, who knows what havoc I may cause.”

“Nonsense,” Sephiroth said, grabbing his wrist as he was about to flee. “You’re her brother and you should know how to take care of her, too. I’m happy to teach you. Let’s go.”

With that, Nero was herded into the kitchen, made to warm the bottle, under Sephiroth’s appraising eye, and then dragged upstairs toward the little goblin’s room, looking like he was going to his own execution.

Ollie’s soft, ultrafine baby hair already exhibited some of the same gravity-defying tendencies as Vincent’s and Nero’s. Thusly, it was sticking up all over her head, making her look like a scarlet-eyed hedgehog, as she stood in the crib on wobbly legs, hanging onto the rail for support.

“GUH-GUH-GUH!” she wailed, suddenly piteous and aggrieved, the moment she saw her brothers coming down the hall. “BABABABAAA!”

“Don’t fuss, mei-mei, I’m right here,” Sephiroth said softly, but much in the tone with which one would address an adult. “Your er-ge wants to learn to care for you, so he’ll be assisting, today.”

“Ah-ah-ah bababa,” Ollie burbled woefully, reaching for Nero, as Sephiroth lifted her from the crib.

Sephiroth spared her no mercy. “Patience, miss. You’ll have your bottle in a moment. You have to be changed, first.”

In protest of this unjust treatment, Ollie thrashed and kicked uncooperatively, as her brother laid her on the changing table and unsnapped her onesie—a candy-apple red number that had the words, ‘Daddy’s Little Devil’ embroidered in black, on the front.

There was an attached hood, too, that when it was pulled up, displayed a pair of mini devil horns. The overall effect was decidedly adorable, but Cid was no longer allowed to purchase baby clothing, unsupervised.

“The wipes are in the warmer, and the ointment, powder, and fresh diapers are in this drawer,” Sephiroth explained to Nero. “After you remove the soiled diaper, it goes in that device over there, which I’ll show you how to operate, momentarily.”

All the while, Ollie was squirming and whining with increasing energy, striving to get at the bottle in Nero’s hands. When the wet diaper came off, Nero averted his eyes reflexively, and Sephiroth was reaching for a baby wipe. Thus, both of them missed the thin, black tentacle that appeared out of nowhere, and flew toward Nero.

Nero gave a yelp of surprise, as the bottle was yanked out of his hand, making Sephiroth turn to look, just in time to see the darkness tendril that was coiled around it placing the bottle in Ollie’s eager hands.

“I thought you had control of those things,” Sephiroth scolded Nero. “Why did you let it do that?”

“I didn’t,” Nero said. “It’s one of mine, but it…it didn’t come from me.”

“If it didn’t come from you, then where in the ten hells—” Sephiroth stopped short.

For a moment, both men stood there, staring at the baby, who was reveling in her ill-gotten bottle, and gleefully kicking her chubby legs.

“But she can’t control darkness…can she?” Sephiroth asked. “She’s only a baby.”

Nero only shook his head dazedly. Sephiroth decided he’d better test it out, first, before they decided how to proceed.

“Sorry, meimei,” he muttered, and abruptly snatched the bottle from her hands.

The infant’s entire, round head turned bright pink, as she revved up for a piercing yowl of indignation, directing all her ire at her cruel eldest brother, who had taken away her prize. As quick as a whip, the darkness tentacle shot out from somewhere on her person and jerked the bottle right back out of Sephiroth’s hand, promptly returning it to the wronged party.

Sephiroth and Nero looked at one another, then back at their little sister. There was no mistaking it, this time. The darkness tendril had originated from Ollie, and appeared to be at least partially under her control.

Sephiroth’s brow furrowed. “I can overpower and grasp your darkness strands, temporarily, but I can’t take them from you. How could this happen?”

“I have no idea.” Nero swallowed hard. “Maybe…maybe one got loose and attached to her, somehow.”

“Well un-attach it,” Sephiroth said peevishly. “Have you any idea how dangerous a baby with darkness abilities could be? To herself, as well as others?”

“They’re my abilities, you don’t have to tell me,” Nero retorted.

“What are you waiting for, then? Command it to return.”

“If I could do that, I would have! Shut up and let me think, for a second! And will you please put a diaper on that gremlin? She has no sense of modesty, whatsoever.”

Sephiroth turned to finish cleaning and diapering the little miscreant, pulling her onesie legs back on, while she smiled and cooed beatifically, as if she were one of heaven’s most innocent cherubim. Which was especially incongruous, at the moment, considering the black hair, the red eyes, and the devil costume.

Nero was in a quandary. He hadn’t intended to tell anyone about the incident, with the small spider, least of all the house’s overbearing guard-dog, Sephiroth, but there was nothing for it. They were in this together, now.

“There’s something else,” he said, with deep reluctance. The look Sephiroth gave him did not inspire a feeling of camaraderie, but he forged ahead. “A few nights ago, I think…I was with her, on the other side.”

Blue-green eyes flashed with deadly intent. “You what?”

“I didn’t bring her there! I didn’t even suspect it was her, until I came back out of it, and put the pieces together. But I have no idea how she’d be able to connect to my darkness, let alone trespass in my void, without my knowledge. I was planning to…ahem. To try to bring her back there. If she appeared in the same form, I’d be able to—”

Before he finished the sentence, Sephiroth’s big hand had already closed around Nero’s throat. “You were planning to take my little sister to the void? Give me one reason I shouldn’t twist your head off, now, and spare my father the trouble.”

Nero couldn’t answer, with Sephiroth choking him, but he didn’t have to. A shrill wail erupted from the changing table, and that little tendril flew out again, this time constricting around Sephiroth’s wrist, trying with all its might to tear him away from Nero.

“Guh-guh-guh! Ah-guh-guh!” Ollie bawled, big tears pouring down her apple cheeks.

Sephiroth let Nero go immediately. “I’m sorry, Ollie. I wasn’t really going to hurt your er-ge, I promise. I’m so sorry I scared you.”

Ollie kept sobbing and gurgling nonsense at him, till Nero got fed up and translated.

“She thinks we’re fighting. She wants us to…” He sighed heavily. “…to hug and make up.”

Sephiroth made a face. “Hug who, each other?”

“No, jackass, a behemoth. Of course each other.”

Sephiroth looked at Ollie, who was peering up at him with big, round, teary eyes. He had no power to refuse his baby sister anything, let alone when she looked so sad.

“Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

With the air of children about to take bitter medicine, the two erring brothers reached out and embraced one another stiffly.

“Look, mei-mei, everything is alright,” Sephiroth coaxed, patting Nero’s back. “No one is angry with anyone.”

“Yes, your big brothers love each other. See?” Nero added, also patting Sephiroth’s back.

Ollie stopped actively bawling, but kept watching the two warily, sniffling and gnawing on her fingers, and drooling copiously in the process. One of Nero’s purple-black tendrils emerged and snaked over, heroically submitting itself to be used as a teething toy, for the greater good. Ollie, who liked the tendrils, for their springy texture and soothing coldness, was successfully pacified.

Sephiroth turned to Nero, keeping his expression placid and his voice mild. “Please explain to me why, when you believed my sister to be at large in the metaphysical plane, you thought it was a good idea to not only conceal it from her family, but to try to take her back there.”

“In my position, would you have told anyone? Would you have said to our father and Cid ‘Hey dads, your precious infant daughter may be leaving the material plane by traversing my darkness realm, oopsie doopsie.’ How do you think Cid would handle that?”

“I suppose I see your point,” Sephiroth conceded. “But that does not explain why you would risk taking her there, again.”

“It’s not like I was going to endanger her,” Nero said defensively. “I can keep her safe, if she goes with me. If she’s running around in there, by herself, I don’t know what could happen to her. I can communicate with her through the darkness, and explain all that to her, but it’s much safer to do it on the other side. That way, even if the connection goes haywire, there’s no risk of damage to her physical body.”

“Just to her psyche and soul.”

“How do you think her psyche and soul would fare, if she were to become lost, and unable to find her way back?” Nero contended. “There is no concept of time or space, there. It is literally infinite. The only way to ensure her safety, is for me to connect with her. Once we’re connected, I might even be able to find out how she’s getting in, and stop her. If I can’t stop her, I can at least keep a tether on her.”

Sephiroth eyed him cagily. “Why are you suddenly so concerned for her well-being? This seems like a lot of trouble to go to, for a half-sister by a father you don’t even acknowledge.”

“Worry not, brother, I haven’t suddenly turned altruist,” Nero sneered. “I only care because I think she might be able to help me find Weiss. She can’t do that if her soul is lost in the void.”

Sephiroth smiled bitterly. “I should’ve guessed. It always comes back to Weiss, with you. He’s the only person that matters to you, after all.”

“What do you care? You never wanted me here. The sooner I find him, the sooner I’ll be gone, and the sooner you’ll have your father all to yourself. Who knows, with me out of the way, he may even start to love you.”

“I don’t want his love,” Sephiroth said tonelessly. “I don’t need it. I am not a child.”

“You are, however, a terrible liar.” Nero’s taunting expression froze on his face, as his slit pupils dilated in the crimson-magenta irises. “A tug…a tug!”

“What?”

“There’s a tug, in the darkness! It has to be Weiss! I’m going after him!”

Sephiroth watched, fascinated, as Nero’s eyes seemed to fill with ink, turning pitch black—iris, sclera, and all. It happened so quickly, it was almost startling. He waved a hand in front of the young man’s face, a few times, and got no reaction. He must be on the other side already.

“Alright, Ollie, let’s go see if—” Sephiroth’s blood ran cold. His little sister was lying on the changing table, staring blankly into space, with those very same eerie, ink-pit eyes. “Fuck.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY yes barrett and tifa are a couple in this. like they always should have been.

29 notes · View notes

ratanslily · 1 year ago

Text

LMAOOOOOOOOO he's got a [redacted] and can't do shit about itttt

#romance club #rc amen #you're in a crisis? I'm on my way #song of the crimson nile #rc song of the crimson nile #literally salivating over him #my legs and mouth are open btw #mild nsft

269 notes · View notes

vertigoartgore · 10 days ago

Text

1982's Batman Annual Vol.1 #8 cover by artist Trevor Von Eeden and colorist Lynn Varley (the girlfriend of Eeden at the time). Source

10 notes · View notes

aceduooooooooooooooooooooooooo · 5 months ago

Text

19 notes · View notes

crimsonwing · 7 months ago

Text

Dino Crisis is 25 years old! Fun fact, while not really inspired in her personality, Regina Vulcan WAS named after the protagonist of this Shu Takumi cult classic. The name of other guild members also include references to different things.

#dino crisis #capcom #shu takumi #crimson wing

6 notes · View notes

rentherainbringer · 14 days ago

Text

A quick photo dump of Jonathan Steele (1/2 of my MC's for my fan-writing)

I realized yall have never seen him before and that's criminal, so here is the boy in question.

#original writing #(kinda)#its like two steps from being its own thing #pretty boy #vintage pretty boy #he was born in 1971 #i know cause i caculated it like a mad man with like three very obscure mentions of timeline in his media #i look like a mad man with red string and push pins in my walls #his trauma will gag everyone #pretty boy & existential crisis #my fav quote for him is “do my dark under eye circles and unwashed hair turn you on?”#hes my favorite little guy #if you couldntbtell #writing #fanfiction #aspiring writer #crimson idol #ao3 fanfic

2 notes · View notes

fightabear · 11 months ago

Text

jazzhands. i don't feel like maintaining multiple blogs so here is issue #1 of containment break.

CONTAINMENT BREAK is a FFVII AU webcomic taking place in a world where President ShinRa decided to leverage Deepground to take care of his SOLDIER problem. Nero the Sable is sent out with Zack Fair on that fateful mission to Banora, thereby altering the course of all events to follow. It’s a story about friendship, family, and maybe even a little love down the line.

You can take a look on the #Containment Break tag on my blog for more content.

#nero the sable #dirge of cerberus #weiss the immaculate #final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii remake #final fantasy vii reunion #crisis core #rosso the crimson #containment break

18 notes · View notes

mobilesuitmidas · 9 months ago

Text

Improving my painting skills a bit...

#mood #personal #vibe #chillin #marvel #shadow king #captain america #crimson dynamo #human torch #professor x #marvel crisis protocol

2 notes · View notes

lunarfeat21 · 9 months ago

Note

I'm so glad someone else asked about an extension of your TUGS yandere au into y/n's home world. I wanted to hear more about it but I had no idea how to word it as an ask!

If/when you write a fanfic of this would it be a part or plot line, because I really love the idea of the Fleets chasing y/n in the place they feel safest!

Well, it would be part of an another plot line (after the first fic lol) as I was considering making this a series of some sort (3 or 4 fics in total), but I’m still debating.

And while writing the fic, something hit me out of nowhere that I haven’t thought about: locations of Bigg City Port. Where on earth would Star Tug Marine & Zero Marine Bigg City located at?

Like, I have so many questions, is there even a map of it as reference? I’ll look into that tonight if I had time.

EDIT: it's been resolved and currently doing some research too!

#feat21 speaking #this is tugs #Sirens of the Crimson Sea #yandere tugs #platonic yandere #familial yandere #platonic yandere! tugs #I’m having a mini location crisis rn (it will be over soon)#ask #ask and ye shall recieve

5 notes · View notes

bunnywand · 1 year ago

Text

i remember feeling kind of confused and or/burnt out when the "/assault mode" cards first came out in crimson crisis, cos the deal being made abt them at the time made it seem like they were gonna be the Next Big Thing and i was like aw man, i've only just got the hang of synchros and now there's Another new mechanic?? 😫

but i've found out recently that the gimmick p much only stuck around for that one set, and apart from a new card a few years ago there were only ever like. 6 "/assault mode" monsters released 😭

#i remembered this cos i was wondering when they were gonna show up in 5d’s and then they never did??#so i looked it up and they were only ever in a special that was made to like promote crimson crisis 😅#ellie talks ygo

0 notes

sephirthoughts · 2 months ago

Text

Vincent's New Kid Just Dropped CH 16:

Meanwhile, in the snow-scoured wastes of the polar north:

subtitle: guess who's back

prev. chap here

RATING: teen and up for some canon typical violence and nonsexual nudity that you can't actually see cause it's just words on a screen

WARNINGS: tooth-rotting family fluff

By the time the little girl saw the beast—a tower of black hide and sinuous muscle, huge horns and slavering maw, filled with fangs as long as her arm—it was too late to run. Too late to hide. Her final thoughts were not of her mother, or her little brother. Her mind simply went blank with terror, and she stood paralyzed, staring up at certain death, as it emerged from the darkness beneath the trees.

Behemoth, these things were called. Creatures of tremendous power and human-like intelligence. The only beasts that, even in her village of skilled hunters, children were taught to fear and avoid at all costs. There was no hunting the behemoth, for there was no steel that could pierce that hide, no shield that could resist those claws, and once you were caught in its fell gaze, no escape. All you could do was pray the goddess would grant you a quick death.

For a long and breathless moment, there was silence. The child’s hand reached up of its own accord, to clutch her goddess amulet. With a low growl, like the distant roll of thunder, the beast sprang. Her basket fell to the ground, and the mushrooms tumbled out, rolling about on the frozen soil.

Just before the jaws of hell closed upon her, a miracle occurred. A roaring rush of wind and burst of brilliant fire brought the answer of the goddess from the heavens. The behemoth was thrown away, by the blast, and crashed into the trees.

Before the girl had time to blink, the deadly beast was back on its feet, roaring with rage at having been interfered with. But its murderous eyes no longer saw her. Rather, it bounded forward and made a tremendous leap, into the air, determined to destroy the presumptuous fool who would dare to attack the king of the beasts.

An arc of flame, from a blazing crimson blade, so bright that dazzled the child’s eyes and left trails in her vision, flashed out toward the beast. But…it missed. Or it simply passed ineffectually through the behemoth's body, because nothing happened.

The girl’s heart sank, but then she saw it. A molten-red line vertically bisecting the creature’s face. Before it even comprehended how it died, the behemoth fell, severed cleanly down the center, into two halves, which crashed to the earth in bloody, steaming heaps.

Only then did the girl realize the forest all around her was burning. She ran about, looking frantically for a way out, but the flames were rampant. She was trapped on all sides. Had she been saved from the beast only to die in the fire?

Just when she thought hope was lost, through the haze of smoke, a figure descended and stood before her, backlit by the raging inferno. Its pale face was more beautiful than any woman’s, and yet its features were fierce and noble, and it had the proud bearing of a warrior. Its hair was a river of molten copper, glimmering in the red firelight, flowing over its shoulders and nearly reaching its waist. Behind it, were stretched out a pair of huge, vermillion wings, each feather tipped with gold.

Coughing and blinking away tears, the girl gazed up at it, in fear and wonder, thinking she had died already and this angel had come to claim her soul.

With a gentle smile, which seemed to contain all the mercy and compassion in the world, her savior bent and held out a hand. The girl threw herself trustingly into the angel’s strong arms, where she was held securely and whisked away into the air, leaving the burning patch of forest far below them.

The angel flew at a dizzying speed, but the girl felt no fear. She clung happily to her savior and even peered down at the landscape, as the trees flashed by. A blizzard was blowing in from the east, and the icy winds of the northern climate, especially at this elevation, should have frozen her solid. The angel, however, had surrounded them with a halo of golden fire, that kept the driving snow at bay.

She’d only been out gathering herbs and mushrooms, not far from her village, and so within a few minutes, the angel was descending again. Its black boots touched down lightly upon the inch of snow that had already fallen, and it set the girl gently on her feet.

A cry went up from the watchers, and the villagers came running, many falling on their knees in awe and terror. When the girl's parents saw her and heard what happened, they knelt down right there in the snow and kowtowed to the angelic being, which had delivered their child to safety.

It became quickly apparent that the people thought this was the goddess, herself. But then the angel spoke. It was a smooth and lovely voice, with the music of the divine in it, but it was a man’s voice, nonetheless.

“Please, do not bow to me. I am not—no, no, that is unnecessary,” he was saying, to little avail, as the chief and others rushed to bring out the finest things the village had, as offerings of thanks. “I suppose…if you insist, I am a little hungry.”

With his reluctant consent, the angel was half dragged by the women to the main village hall, where councils and communal feasts were held, and everyone got busy preparing an impromptu banquet. The small children who were trailing after him gasped and ‘oohed’ when he retracted his enormous wings, and began clamoring for him to bring them out again.

The girl he’d saved, whose name was Atka, tossed her braided head and scolded them to behave themselves. Her parents were just regular tribesmen, with no special status, but after being personally saved by the angel of the goddess, she had climbed to the sky in one step. The other children quickly did as she said, all determined to bask in her reflected glory.

To the villagers’ surprise and hearty approbation, the angel didn’t object to sitting right at the communal table, with everyone else, and didn’t turn up his beautiful nose at their simple fare, of roasted game with dried fruits and cheese, millet porridge, and coarse but fresh-baked bread.

He had a strangely archaic way of speaking their language, but everyone thought that was perfectly fitting, for an angel. The only problem was that he was rather softspoken, which made it hard to hear him over the commotion. As a result, everyone hissed and told each other to shut up, when he talked, which drowned out whatever he said, just as surely.

The chief commanded that barrels of wine be brought out and passed around, making the atmosphere festive, as Atka was made to stand up and repeat the tale of how she was saved from the beast, about ten times. All the while, people were unconsciously scooting and leaning toward the angel, as his person was actually radiating soothing warmth, like a brazier.

At length, he rose and announced his intention to depart. Of course, everyone wanted to beg him to stay, but no one dared make any demands of a messenger of the goddess. In the end, the whole village accompanied him out, leaving the feasting hall deserted, but for several opportunistic cats.

Refusing all gifts but for some dry goods, medicine, and a large, warm pelt, from the chief’s personal store, the angel finally departed. When his wings unfurled and he shot away like an arrow, into the dark, snowy sky, trailing brilliant, crimson fire, all those doubters who’d arrived late and hadn’t seen him do anything particularly angelic, were silenced for good.

After he left, Atka naturally became the center of attention. She was practically mobbed by invitations from other children to stay at their houses, and had all manner of trinkets shoved into her hands. Her father, who had been a little concerned for his daughter’s prospects, given her well-known fiery temperament, was already fending off marriage proposals from the best families in the village, while her mother and the other women got to work planning to build a proper shrine to the angel.

———

Somewhere in the windswept snowscape, of the uninhabitable northern tundra, a cyclone of crimson flames roared to life and blazed in the darkness, swirling around a specific spot, till a layer of ice and snow was melted away, revealing a massive, iron hatch. When it was sufficiently thawed, a gloved hand, belonging the very same angel from the village, took hold of the twelve-ton hatch and easily lifted it open, to drop down into the inky blackness inside.

The huge launch door had been buried in snow and frozen shut, in the brief hours he’d been away, but that was usual. When he wanted to open it from the inside, he had to heat the metal, to melt the layer of ice. The freezing over was a little troublesome, but didn’t annoy him, since it was essentially a free security measure.

Not that anyone ever trekked all the way up here, to potentially stumble upon his lair. Even the hardy, northern tribes only went up as far as Atka’s little village. No one tried to cross the mountains, into the frozen plains of the polar region. No one but him. Even Shinra had long abandoned this underground outpost, which he now inhabited.

The facility had only been a remote launch base, which was sparsely manned. The whole of it consisted of a single missile silo (sans missile), a small control center, crewmen’s quarters and lavatory, a galley kitchen, and an infirmary/lab.

The place had never been powered down, because it was a lot of bother to depressurize and close up the mako pumps, and Shinra was highly irresponsible, to say the least. That benefited the current occupant, because so long as the pumps functioned, the power would last nearly forever. Not actually forever, which was a concept he had to confront regularly, these days.

“I’ve returned, brother,” he said, seemingly to no one, as he switched on the infirmary lights.

In the center of the small lab, was a restorative pod, for one patient, which included a lot of internal diagnostic equipment, and valves at the head, which released pure, atomized mako, either manually, or according to a pre-set schedule. It was cylindrical, metal on the bottom half and glass on the top half. Through the glass was visible the body of a man, who lay unconscious inside.

“Nothing interesting, today, I’m afraid,” the angel went on, as he approached the pod. “Just a behemoth, lurking near a little hunting village. They were grateful that I’d killed the beast, which had been troubling them and scaring off game, so they insisted on giving me supper and some gifts. Speaking of which, I brought you a present.”

From a storage materia, he summoned the things from the villagers, and placed them on the steel exam table, near the restoration pod, as if to display them to the other man.

“Look at this, little brother,” he smiled, hoisting up a heavy, luxurious, snow-white pelt, which was both longer and wider than he was tall. “It’s from a snow lion, that their chief hunted. Isn’t it gorgeous? I’m going to make it into a coat for you. The leather is white and supple, but very strong, and the fur will keep you warm, even in this dismal place.”

As usual, the comatose man in the pod made no reply.

“The rest of this is mostly dry goods to add to our stock, and some healing potions, made by their medicine woman. They also gave me this skin balm, that the village women swear by. They say it’s made from rendered whale fat, but it doesn’t have an unpleasant smell, because of their filtering process and the herbs they infuse into it.” He removed the lid from the earthenware jar and gave it a few sniffs. “It does smell rather nice. I’ll put some on you, after your bath.”

So saying, he put all the things back into his storage materia, then went to a monitor and tapped a few keys, triggering the release of a glowing-green mist into the restoration pod. After peering into the pod again, he went away to shower and change his clothing.

He knew all about mako, now, but he felt no guilt taking the lifeblood of the Planet, to nourish his little brother. The Planet had a responsibility to provide for them, as its anointed guardian and its precious Weapon. That was why the child (as he thought of the tall, muscular, young man) was in this state, to begin with.

Guilt did torment him, but it was of another kind. After his little brothers rescued him and brought him to Deepground, he refused to assist them in their revolt against Shinra. Seeing, now, what had become of them, his soul was racked by remorse, but at the time, he was too weary and borne down by grief to take part in their revolution. Selfishly, he buried himself in that crystalline cave, where he fell straightaway into a deep sleep.

It seemed to him that no time had passed at all, when he was suddenly awakened from that peaceful oblivion, by the urgent distress of the Planet. There was only a moment of disorientation, however. The Planet made him aware of the time that had passed and of the significant events. The geostigma, the rise of Jenova’s remnants, and the short-lived resurrection of Sephiroth, whose mind had been fully corrupted by Jenova.

The current emergency, was that Chaos and Omega had awakened. Not only had they awakened, they were apparently in deadly conflict. He knew without the Planet telling him, that something had gone terribly wrong. There was no comprehensible reason a Weapon and its herald should fight with one another.

On top of that, his function was to prevent their awakening, in the first place. Not that he was meant to interfere once the apocalypse had begun—he was no match for Chaos or Omega—but he was supposed to be awakened in time to get ahead of the circumstances that would lead to it.

That he hadn’t, could only mean they’d awakened prematurely. Which meant someone had tampered with forces they had no right to and did not comprehend. And ‘someone’ almost always meant Shinra.

When the kings of hell fight, it’s the underlings who suffer, so it seemed that his role was to be shielding humans from the worst of it. But their fight was astonishingly brief. By the time Genesis arrived, the battle was over and the dust was settling. Chaos had defeated Omega and was nowhere to be found.

Both appeared to have been vaporized, reentering the Planet’s atmosphere, but with the last of its fading awareness, the heart of Omega cried out, in desperation and tremendous pain. He flew to the location from which the cry was coming, only to find the last person he expected.

When Genesis laid hands on his genetically-spliced brother, a torrent of memories, from both Weiss and Nero’s perspectives, flooded into his consciousness. Unfortunately, the memory streams were jumbled and fragmentary, with large gaps, due to mental and physical trauma, Hojo’s interference, and the heavy psychic toll of joining with Omega.

After ensuring that Weiss was safe, for the moment, Genesis searched for the younger brother within a wide radius of the fight area. Try as he might, he could discover no sign of Nero, nor could he sense his darkness anywhere. In the end, all he could do was carry Weiss away, to a hidden place in the north.

The abandoned missile base was discovered by the three Firsts accidentally, during extreme climate survival training. After finding that any record of it had been long purged from Shinra’s databases, the three agreed to keep it a secret between them, as their last-resort fallback point, should they ever need it. It was the safest place for Genesis, now, since the only other people in the world who knew about it were dead.

After he showered, Genesis pulled his long hair into a braid, to keep it out of the way, then rolled a medical cart over to the restorative pod. The glass cover opened obediently, letting out the acrid-metallic tang of mako, which tickled his nose and made him sneeze.

With a basin of warm water and a washcloth, he carefully bathed Weiss, and then towel-dried his body. As promised, he took out that herbal ointment and rubbed it on his flawless skin, from head to toe. It smelled lovely and gave his chiseled muscles a slight sheen, making him seem even more like a deity in repose, than usual.

“Comatose for three years, and another two like this, and you still look like a marble sculpture of a god,” Genesis chuckled. “The perfect SOLDIER, indeed.”

When he was finished bathing Weiss, he took away the basin and towels, then scooted a chair up beside the pod. He intended to read aloud to him, like he did nearly every night, but in something of a self-indulgent mood, he laid his head on that big, broad chest and closed his eyes, instead.

Weiss’ heart beat once, every ten minutes. Slow but steady, was that infinitely comforting sound. The heartbeat that proved he wasn’t absolutely alone, in this world. That he still had someone. One with whom he shared blood and the burden of consecration, after all that they loved had been taken from them.

Genesis drifted off to sleep, that way, lulled by the glacial heartbeat of his only person. In his dream, that sound became the heartbeat of the Planet. It was dying, a long, natural death. In a few million years, it would die forever. Then Genesis and Chaos would accompany Omega, in carrying the lifestream to the new world.

In that new world, life would begin anew, civilizations would rise and fall, gods would be born and die, while they slept, deep in the earth, awaiting another end. Another planet’s death. Another journey, another rebirth, another long sleep. Such was the cycle. In their innocence, they had become eternal, and now they must walk the road they had paved.

“It’s not so terrible, as long as the three of us are together,” said Weiss, who was standing beside him at the edge of creation, gazing out into the vastness of space and time.

“But if we’re not all together…” Genesis murmured, hardly daring to look into those icy eyes. “I can’t find him. I can’t feel him. I’m afraid he—”

“We will be together,” Weiss answered calmly. “You need not worry about such things. He lives, and I will find him.”

“How do you know?”

Weiss smiled down at him, a pure, white star, shining in the void. “How could I not know?”

When Genesis woke, Weiss’ bare chest was wet with tears, and his cheekbone had left a pink mark on the bulging pectoral muscle. Which definitely meant he had a mark on his face too, he thought, as he sat up, irritably rubbing his cheek.

“Nero…”

The weak, cracked whisper may as well have been a thunderclap that shook the heavens. Genesis jolted and stared dumbly, for a moment, before he’d gathered his wits enough to even lose his composure.

“Weiss! You’re awake! You’ve come back!” he said, leaping bodily onto the man, to drag him into his arms. “Was that you, in the dream, just now? Speak to me! Say something!”

Weiss’ eyelashes fluttered, as he struggled to open his eyes. “You’re…heavy.”

“Only just woke up and already being a baby,” Genesis sniffled, continuing to hug him tightly.

Nevermind that a six-foot-two-inch tall super-soldier was sitting on his lap and manhandling him like a sack of rice, Weiss was already groggy and disoriented, and weaker than a kitten. He guessed having awakened from a coma, via fusing with a demigod, and then diving directly into another coma, would do that to a person. When Genesis finally let go of him, he flopped limply onto his back and lay there, helplessly.

“What’s wrong with you?” Genesis frowned, dabbing his tears with his sleeve. “Can’t you sit up on your own?”

Weiss, who could hardly even open his eyes on his own: “…”

“Ah, of course. I don't know why I assumed that when you woke up, your recovery would be immediate.”

Pale lips curved into a faint smile, as Weiss studied his face.

“I know, I know. I fell asleep on you again,” Genesis grumbled, giving his cheek another rub.

White eyebrows made a tiny upward twitch.

Genesis flushed pink with embarrassment. “It’s nothing weird! I lie on your chest to listen to your heartbeat, and sometimes I fall asleep like that! It…does sound a touch weird, now that I say it aloud. But I never meant it in a weird way!”

Weiss looked down at his bare waist, which Genesis was still straddling, then back up.

“Also not weird,” Genesis defended, crossing his arms. “I was simply overcome with joy, to see you awake, and became demonstrative. Anyway, why can’t I sit on you, if I want? It’s perfectly normal unless you make it weird.”

“Nero,” Wiess whispered. “Where is Nero?”

Genesis dropped the banter and his expression became grave. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. I looked everywhere, but I couldn’t find any sign of him. When do you last remember seeing him?”

“He was with me. With Omega. Chaos. Tore us apart. There’s no…nothing else.” His voice was thin and shaky, and he was quickly becoming less coherent.

“You need to rest,” Genesis said decidedly. “We’ll talk about this when you’re feeling better.”

He climbed off Weiss and took a thick, wool blanket from the storage materia, which he spread over him, before he went to turn the lights down.

“Big brother?” Weiss called after him, in a plaintive, almost childish tone. “I’m hungry.”

Genesis smiled over his shoulder. “I’m going to cook you some rice porridge. That should be easy on your stomach. I’ll wake you when it’s ready.”

Weiss, despite his superhuman body maintaining itself in near perfect stasis, using mako alone, had not eaten in five years. That meant the process of getting his stomach used to food again had to be undertaken cautiously. He objected to what he termed ‘pointless fussiness’, saying he would be fine, but Genesis pulled rank as big brother and got his way (though, it did help that Weiss was too weak to hold the spoon on his own).

As it turned out, big brother was right. He had to thin out the porridge till it was basically just rice-infused water, before Weiss could tolerate any, without vomiting. For several long days, Genesis tended assiduously to his recovery, helping him stretch and massaging and his weakened muscles, and patiently hand feeding him, spoonful by spoonful, like a mother caring for a severely ill child.

Gradually, he was able to increase the rice ratio, and add more broth to the plain water. By the time the porridge was at full strength, Weiss was sitting up and eating on his own. He still had to be carried to the bathroom, but after a five year coma, getting this much better in a little over a week, was downright miraculous.

“Eh? Meat today?” Weiss asked, looking up delightedly from his bowl.

“Just a bit of steamed white fish,” Genesis said. “You’ve been tolerating the porridge well. It’s about time to try something a little more solid.”

He swallowed the hearty bite he’d taken. “Did you find it, here?”

Genesis looked theatrically offended. “I, feed you deep-frozen Shinra mystery meat from Goddess knows when? Never! I threw out all the old food and gave the kitchen a good cleaning, before I put our things in there.”

“There’s a lot of food,” Weiss remarked, after swallowing several more large spoonfuls. “Frozen meat, dried fruit and herbs…I can smell it all. How did you get so many things?”

“We’ve lived here for two years,” Genesis reminded him. “While you’ve been malingering, I’ve been helping remote villages deal with monsters and whatnot. They often feel moved to thank me with gifts of food and other sundries, so who am I to reject their kindness? Besides, it saves me the bother of flying a thousand miles to go shopping.”

Weiss nodded. “You don’t have any money, do you.”

“I do not,” Genesis admitted, with a scowl. “Shinra froze my personal accounts, when I abandoned ship, and my adopted parents’ estate all went to a variety of charities, since I’d been declared dead.”

“Mm,” Weiss hummed, licking the last of the porridge from his spoon. “This is really good. Maybe you could get work as a cook.”

“A cook?” Genesis sputtered. “Are you—I am the Planet’s guardian! Chosen by the Goddess, herself! You want me to get work as a cook?”

“No, I just wanted to see your face, when I suggested it,” Weiss grinned. “It’s beneath you to cook for humans. It’s beneath you to be helping them with monsters, too.”

Genesis took his empty bowl and refilled it, from the steaming pot on the cart. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, little brother. Since I’ve awakened before my appointed time, I’ve decided to use the gift of the Goddess to give aid and protection to those in need of it. I…would like you to help me do that.”

“No,” Weiss said flatly.

“As you pointed out yourself, I have no money, and neither do you,” Genesis continued, unperturbed, having expected this reaction. “We must support ourselves somehow, so unless you’d like to take a post as a menial laborer, this is the best option.”

“We are the strongest beings on the Planet,” Weiss laughed. “Anything we want, we can have. Who would dare hinder us?”

Genesis’ brow furrowed. “You mean to set yourself up as a warlord, then? Taking what you will from the weak and defenseless, simply because you can?”

“Why not? What have humans done to deserve mercy from me?”

“You know I won’t allow it.”

“And you know that at my full strength, you are no match for me,” Weiss challenged. “Will you be able to stop me?”

“No,” Genesis replied. “But I will be…very disappointed, in you.”

Weiss’ smirk vanished, and he quickly scooted over to take Genesis’ hand. “Brother, I was only joking. I have no interest in being a warlord. All I want is to find Nero, and to live peacefully with him, in a place of our own, the way I promised him we would.”

Genesis was mollified and squeezed his hand back. “I, too, wish to find him. I sorely regret that I didn’t stay, to help you, when you asked. I was stricken with grief and had no will to go on, at the time.”

“You couldn’t have helped much, if you had stayed,” Weiss reassured him. “We both saw how weakened you were, from the degradation. Even with the gift of the goddess, you needed time to regenerate.”

“So smart, seeing through your big brother, like that,” Genesis complained, roughing up his white mane, for good measure (which would have amounted to begging for death, for anyone aside from himself and Nero). “You could at least pretend to think I’m amazing and powerful.”

“I do think that. It’s just that I’m stronger,” Weiss reasoned. “There’s no one stronger than me, now that Chaos is gone.”

“Chaos isn’t dead, little brother. It’s not so easy to kill the old gods.”

“But he returned to the Planet, which is almost the same. Didn’t he?”

“He did, and he didn’t. The Planet felt Chaos return, and yet it still feels his conscious will, separate from itself.”

“I see. What is he doing?”

“He’s not doing anything. That’s part of why this is so strange. We should only be awake when we’re needed, but we’re all conscious, even though nothing is happening.”

Weiss considered this, for a moment. “I think we should look for Chaos.”

“How do you propose we do that? The Planet doesn’t let me feel his location, only his consciousness.”

“When we fought, Chaos was possessing a human. If it’s awake, then it’s probably still with him.”

“But how could it…that’s impossible,” Genesis objected. “Its power would obliterate a human’s body.”

“Not this one,” Weiss shrugged. “He was able to contain it and even control it.”

Genesis went a shade paler. “Control it? Are you certain he was human?”

“He was, at some point. I didn’t get much of a chance to observe him, because of that scheming worm Hojo. But I did hear a name. Vincent Valentine. He’s the one we have to look for. Find the man and we find the monster.”

“The situation is even more complicated than I thought, then. You are severely weakened, and separated from Omega’s body. If this Vincent Valentine is truly possessed by Chaos, and you try to fight him, the consequences—”

“I don’t want to fight him. I just want Nero.”

“What if he wants to fight you.”

“It’ll be alright,” Weiss said cheerfully, patting his back. “I’ve got big brother to rely on, now.”

“Oh…joy,” Genesis sighed.

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY genesis i'm sick too come take care of meeeeee

NEXT CHAP. LINK

21 notes · View notes

liliallowed · 1 month ago

Text

I'm so fking sorry if a dust exist I will make crimson a Christmas serial killer

Dust adoptable ref done for @shadowwolffang!

#merry crisis #crimson the scrooge #im so sorry

76 notes · View notes

soaps-mohawk · 2 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 42: Comfort and Joy

Summary: Tis the season to be jolly...

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8, 417 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, omegaverse, alternate universe, slight angst at the beginning, blood and disturbing imagery, nightmares, PTSD, lots of comfort, holidays

A/N: Yes, CRCB is getting its holiday episode. Something holly and jolly before Christmas, some sweet comfort for the last chapter of this year. It's kind of rough but I don't hate it. I hope everyone feels the same. Happy Holidays to everyone

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

It’s quiet in the house.

There’s a stillness in the air that seeps into your very soul. The only light is from the street light outside. Your father never allowed you a nightlight despite your fear of the dark. You weren’t allowed to show such weakness in front of him. God forbid his family have any flaws.

You’re the flawed one.

It’s too quiet in the house, not even your brothers’ snoring audible in the tense quiet that has settled over your safe space. It has your breathing shallow so as to not disturb the heaviness in the air. Your sister is asleep in the bed across the room, tucked under the blankets safely. Sleep evades you however, something tickling in the back of your mind.

Something is off. Something is wrong.

“Hannah.” You whisper, disturbing the darkness in favor of not feeling so alone in the oppressive silence. “Hannah.”

Yet your sister does not stir, showing no sign of even acknowledging a disturbance as she sleeps deeply. You bite your lip, sinking back further under your covers. You could wake one of your brothers, but the likelihood of one of them helping ease your fear is small. They’ll just usher you back to bed and tell you to grow up. You could attempt to rouse your mother, but that runs the risk of also waking your father. If nothing is wrong, it will be your doom.

Maybe it’s all just in your head. Some terror brought on by a lingering nightmare.

You need to get up. You can’t lay in the darkness anymore.

So you rise from the safety of your blankets, padding silently across the wood and out into the hallway. There’s a nightlight allowed out here to prevent stumbling in the dead of night. There’s nothing in the hallway, no silent spectre waiting to grab whoever leaves their room first. You creep silently down the hallway towards the black gaping maw of the living room waiting just beyond the edges of the light.

You stand there at the end of the hallway, gazing into the darkness for a moment. It’s not truly dark, light filtering in through the curtains from the streetlights outside. Yet the darkness feels thicker than it ever has before as you stand there, waiting for a shadow to move.

Nothing moves, and after a breath you turn to the left, cutting through the dining room straight towards the kitchen. It’s darker in here, cut off from the street, yet you navigate it with ease. You’ve spent many nights navigating through the darkness, creeping around the house when you can’t sleep.

You enter the kitchen, heading for the cupboard that holds the cups. Your mother used to give you warm milk when you couldn’t sleep. Sometimes you’d rise to find her awake, sitting in the living room. Sometimes she’d be crying. Sometimes she’d just be sitting with the lamp on, staring into the distance.

It always made you wonder what she was thinking about.

You stand on your toes, reaching up for a glass. It nearly falls and hits the counter but you manage to catch it, preventing what would no doubt be a crisis. You let out a breath before moving to the sink, filling the glass up. You stare out the small window that shows nothing but the fence between your house and the neighbors. All the houses are the same, built after the same model with the same green grass out front. It’s like a movie set, some suburban setting for a drama or a horror movie.

The oppressive darkness feels like a horror movie.

You turn to head back to your room, but you’re stopped by a figure standing in the entrance to the kitchen. You can just make it out, large and looming in the darkness. For a moment you think it’s your father, awakened by something, some instinct telling him there’s something moving around in the house. It’s not the right size to be your father, though, too tall and long.

You stumble back towards the light switch, your fingers shaking as you flip it on.

“Phil?” You ask quietly, staring at your father’s best friend in shock. You haven’t seen him in almost two years.

His mouth opens in a haunting grin, blood pouring down his chin. You stare in horror as blood soaks into his white shirt, dripping onto the floor below. The cup slips from your hand, shattering on the floor as his hand wraps around the knife stuck in the side of his neck, pulling it free. Blood sprays across the white cupboards, painting them like some gruesome work of art.

“Look...what you did...to me...” Phil says, his voice nothing more than a gurgling wheeze.

He reaches out a blood soaked hand towards you, sending you stumbling back. Glass cuts into the bottoms of your feet, sending shards of white hot pain up your legs. You don’t care, too busy trying to evade the bloody hand trying to grab at you. You slip in the water on the floor, falling backwards, the back of your head seconds from hitting the side of the counter...

“Easy, easy.”

Arms are around you, holding you tightly as you sob. Your feet are burning as you sit there on the kitchen floor. It’s not the kitchen in your old home, though, it’s the kitchen in the cottage. Your feet are burning with sharp stabs of pain. There’s water soaking into your pajama pants.

“You’re alright.”

The light is on, raining down bright yellow light from overhead. You hate it, the oppressive light burning your eyes. You squeeze them closed, trying to ease the pounding in your head that pulses in time with your heart.

“...sleepwalking I think...”

Voices float in and out as you sit there, leaning back against something solid and warm. There’s arms around you, holding you tightly, your own arms trapped up against your chest. You tilt your head back, resting it back against the solid warmth.

“Almost hit her head...”

“Move her to the couch...”

“It’s not that uncommon during times of extreme stress.”

You wince as another tiny piece of glass is pulled from your foot.

“Even if someone has never experienced sleepwalking before, it can start at any age.”

“Is this something we need to worry about now?”

“It’s hard to say.” Dr. Keller dabs at your foot with a damp towel streaked with pink from your blood. “It’s one of those things we’ll just have to wait and see if it was a one-time thing or if it will become a regular occurance.” She dabs at your feet with the towel before shining the flashlight on them again. “You want to talk about the nightmare?”

She’s talking to you now.

“No.” You say, the word strained and weak from your lips. Your face feels tight from the tears you had shed in your confusion and delirium. The nightmare is still fresh on your mind, replaying like some sick television show, over and over in your head.

She gives you a look, but doesn’t press anymore. She won’t ask again, not in front of your pack at least.

She lets your feet rest on the coffee table before moving closer to you. Her hands cup the back of your head, pressing down on certain spots. “Does your head hurt?”

“No.” You say, ignoring the throbbing behind your eyes.

“Well, thanks to Kyle’s quick reflexes, I think we’ve avoided a concussion.” She says, turning to Kyle. “How’s your hand?”

“Fine.” He says from where he’s sitting next to you, flexing his fingers. “I’ll take aches and pains if it prevents a hospital visit.”

“That’s the last thing we need right now.” John says.

You can’t help but wince at his words.

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Thankfully there wasn’t any serious damage.” Dr. Keller says, wrapping your feet in gauze. “Just try to take it easy for a couple of days. Walking isn’t going to feel very good for a while.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“I think it might be good to talk about it.”

“You’re as bad as Dr. Keller.”

“Well, she and I agree that holding everything in isn’t going to help anything.” Kyle says, taking the seat next to you. “We just want to help you.”

“Unless you can crawl into my mind and fix my memories, I don’t think you can help with this.” You say bitterly.

“Well, I can’t do that, but I can listen.” He gives you a look.

You choose to ignore it.

He continues to stare at you as you turn your gaze out the window. It’s raining again, light droplets hitting the window. You can feel yourself beginning to crack as he continues to stare at you, his gaze not sharp and prying, but instead soft and inviting. He really wants to know, not out of curiosity or need, but because he cares. He wants to help, even if it’s just listening.

Can you be brave enough to share?

“I woke up in bed, but not in the cottage. I was in bed at the house we lived in before I was sent to the institution.” You swallow the lump in your throat threatening to choke you and cut off your words. “It was the house we moved to shortly after Phil left. I remember feeling something was off after I woke up, something was wrong but I couldn’t figure it out.” Your mouth suddenly feels dry. “I went to the kitchen to get some water and Phil appeared there in the darkness. He...”

You trail off for a moment, the memory of what he had looked like in your dream sending a spike of fear through you. You had thought the one positive of Phil being dead was that he couldn’t haunt your dreams anymore. He’s not out there hunting you, seeking you out. He’s dead, burned to a crisp in that barn. You made sure of that.

“He had a knife in his neck. He was bleeding.” Your voice shakes as tears prick behind your eyes. You hate it that you’re still crying over Phil and his hold on you even in death. “He said....he said ‘look what you did to me,’ and pulled the knife out. I dropped the glass of water and slipped in it. I was falling but then I woke up.”

Kyle is silent after you finish, the quiet settling heavy between you, as heavy as it had felt in your dream. You know you sleep walked through part of your dream. You went to the kitchen for water and dropped the glass. You slipped in the puddle and nearly hit your head on the counter if Kyle hadn’t found you seconds before and cushioned your fall with his hand. Your feet still sting from stepping in the glass, even though the puncture wounds and cuts have mostly healed.

A warm hand touches yours, fingers curling around yours. Kyle’s rough skin, calloused by handling weapons and fighting for so many years, drags against yours as he slowly lifts your hand away from the arm of the chair and up towards his face. His breath is warm as it hits your palm, his soft lips pressing against your skin. You turn to face him, tears still blurring your vision as you sit there, staring at him.

“It was just a dream.” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. “No one is going to hurt you. Phil is gone and we’ll be damn sure nothing else can even try.” He presses your hand against his cheek, your fingers trembling against the smooth skin. “You have nothing to fear.”

“Only what’s in my head.” You whisper.

“What can we do? How can we help you defeat those demons plaguing you?” He asks, threading his fingers through yours.

You stare at him for a while, taking in his face again. It feels like so long since you’ve really looked at them, since you’ve truly taken in their features. You’ve almost forgotten what they actually look like, your mind always conjuring up muddy images of their faces in your memories.

You’ve forgotten just how pretty and perfect he really is.

How...disarming his face is.

“I don’t know.” You whisper, your thumb stroking his cheek. “I don’t know.”

The breeze is cold, whipping around you and biting at your cheeks. The blanket tucked tightly around you stops the wind from chilling you to your bones. You don’t care about the cold, your gaze out on the waves crashing against the shore.

“Cold?” Johnny asks, tightening his hold around you.

“No.” You say, fighting back a shiver as you lean further back against his chest. The last thing you want right now is to leave the beach.

“Somethin’ tells me I shouldnae believe you.” He says, squeezing his body around yours.

“Well, whatever it is, it’s wrong.” You say stubbornly, shoving your hands in your armpits to keep them warm.

“Stubborn little thing.” He says, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Should be headin’ back soon anyway.”

You let out a whine in protest, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here forever.”

“I know.” He says, letting you go just enough to pull his phone out of his pocket. “Wish I could let ye.”

You can’t stop the shiver that shakes through you at the loss of his warmth. It is cold and getting colder as the sky gets more grey overhead. The sun is going down, the darkness of the evening rolling in earlier and earlier every day.

“Time to head back.” Johnny says, pocketing his phone.

“Five more minutes.” You whine, trying to lay all of your weight against him.

“I have direct orders to get you back stat.” He says, pushing himself up to stand.

You let yourself flop back on the blanket you’ve been sitting on, looking up at him as you lay there in the sand. The wind is picking up, blowing some of it onto your face. You sputter, pulling yourself back up to sit.

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, tucking his hands under your arms before lifting you to stand. “Let’s head back before it gets dark.”

He brushes the sand off of your blanket before picking up the other one and shaking it. He drapes it over his arm before guiding you back up the path towards the car. You take one last look over your shoulder at the water before following him to the parking lot.

It’s dusk when you get back to the cottage, the lights from inside glowing warmly through the windows. Johnny takes your hand, leading you up the steps and into the cottage.

It’s warm inside, the rest of your pack moving around in the kitchen and dining area. You kick your boots off, passing your blanket off to Johnny before heading into the living area. The table is all made up, many dishes sitting out ready to be served, all of them looking very familiar.

“What is this?” You ask, stepping closer to the table.

“It’s Thanksgiving.” Dr. Keller says, stepping out of the kitchen with a tray of meat in her hands. “I thought you might like to celebrate.”

“Oh.” You stand there for a moment. You didn’t even realize what day it was. Time has been so strange with no phone or television to give you an idea of what day it is. It’s been moving quickly, almost four weeks since the day you were taken. “Is that why you let Johnny take me to the beach?”

“We wanted to surprise you.” John says. “I know you don’t like surprises, but this felt like a more appropriate one.”

“I don’t like surprises, but this is really sweet.” You move towards your normal seat at the table, looking at all of the dishes laid out.

“We made all the classics, or at least as close as we could get with what we have available.” Dr. Keller says.

“It’s pretty close, but then again I’ve only had Thanksgiving once.” Ashley says, coming out of the kitchen. You hadn’t even noticed her car parked outside.

“Thank you for this.” You say, still a bit taken aback by the gesture. “I didn’t even know it was close to Thanksgiving. Time...time seems so weird now.”

“A lot has happened in a short amount of time.” Dr. Keller says, rubbing your back. “That can skew how we perceive time passing.”

“I also don’t have any way to tell time.” You shrug.

Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile. “Well, we’ll see if we can rectify that.”

Everyone takes their seats at the table in their usual spots, except for the extra chair next to Dr. Keller for Ashley. You recognize the strategic move, even if the rest of your pack pretends not to notice. Dr. Keller also pays it no mind, but you can’t help but notice the bashful look that flashes across her face when her hand brushes Ashleys as food gets passed around the table.

You load up your plate, digging in almost immediately. You hadn’t realized how hungry you got down at the beach, not until you came back to a cacophony of delicious smells. It all tastes good, all of it throwing you back into reminders of your childhood and Thanksgivings with your family. While your father still had expectations of proper behavior from you and your siblings, it was tradition that he’d spend most of the day in his chair. Your mother did all of the cooking, you and your siblings helping when she’d allow.

You never truly understood how much work she put into every holiday until you were older.

Thanksgivings at the institute were never the same as Thanksgivings at home. You got the day off of course, and there always was a better meal that day with the classics, but it always felt so manufactured, not unlike the food on base. You never realized how much you missed home cooking until now.

You never realized how much you missed your mothers food until now.

Tears blur your eyes as you continue to eat, trying to distract yourself with heaping spoonfuls of food.

“You doing alright?”

Of course the one time John would notice your melancholic state would be right now. The entire table pauses, turning to look at you. You start to curl in on yourself, not wanting all the attention all at once on you.

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, wiping the tear that betrays you and falls down your cheek. “Just tastes really good. Reminds me of my mom’s cooking.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, tumbling out onto the table and landing among the mashed potatoes. Things suddenly feel very vulnerable, very raw. You wish you could grab the words, shove them back in and make them all forget your admission. You don’t want the soft stares, the sympathetic looks in their eyes, the understanding. You want to crawl under the table and hide until the moment passes.

“I-I think I just missed home-cooked food.” You try to save the moment from growing more embarrassing for you.

“I second that.” Johnny says, the tension in the room lightening just a bit. “Easy tae forget what good food tastes like sometimes.”

“I’ll give it to the Americans.” Kyle says, recognizing your desire for the attention to be off of you at this moment. “They do know how to do a good feast.”

“We can do more than good food.” Dr. Keller says, sounding almost offended.

“Like Halloween.” Johnny says. “What I wouldnae give to have an American Halloween.”

“You just want an excuse to eat candy until you’re sick.” Simon rumbles.

“I wan’ tae do more than that.” Johnny gives him a look. “Costumes, the parties, trick or treatin’. All of it.”

“Maybe we’ll have to take you to America next Halloween.” Dr. Keller says. “Let you get a proper taste of the holiday.”

Next Halloween.

You’re not even thinking a week ahead, much less a year. You’re not even sure the others have thought much about what the next few months will look like. Where will you all be in a year? You can’t stay at the cottage forever, as much as you would enjoy it. At some point a decision has to be made. Where do the five of you go from here?

The conversation begins to lighten, the attention thankfully being drawn off of you again. That doesn’t save you from John’s gaze, though, his eyes flicking up to you every so often. You try not to meet that gaze, keeping your eyes down on your plate as you eat until you’re stuffed full. Yet you can’t help but look up when his gaze lingers too long, when your omega shifts under the scrutinizing gaze of an alpha. He’s trying to read you like he used to be able to. You wish you could hide better from him, but you’ll never be able to truly keep your thoughts and feelings under wraps.

Not from him.

You’re banned from the kitchen as food is cleaned up and placed in the fridge and dishes are washed. Instead you find yourself on the couch, staring into the flickering flames of the fire. Kyle takes a seat next to you, sitting down with a quiet groan.

“How are you?” He asks, draping his arm on the back of the couch behind you.

“Fine.” You say, still turned to face the fire. “Full.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle. “Same. Don’t think I’ve been this full in a long time.”

“That’s the point of the holiday.” You say. “Eat until you pass out.” That’s what your father used to do, slipping into a food coma after dinner in his chair. As much as you hate him, you do miss those quiet evenings where you could loosen up and not care about his calculating gaze.

“Feeling tired?” He asks, and you can feel his questioning gaze hitting the side of your head.

“No,” You respond, and it’s the truth. There’s far too much going on in your head to even nap right now.

It falls silent for a few moments, only the sounds from the kitchen and the crackling of the fire breaking the silence. You’re far away in your thoughts, replaying the last few weeks over and over in your head.

“Penny for your thoughts?” John asks, breaking you from your reverie. He takes a seat on the other couch, facing you.

“Just thinking about how much time has passed.” You answer, tucking your knees up close to your chest. “It’s been almost a year and yet it feels like it’s only been a few weeks.”

John hums. “You would have been with the CIA already by this time.”

You nod. “Yeah. I was picked up just after Halloween. Didn’t really have Christmas last year. The CIA wasn’t exactly the most festive place. They had bigger things to worry about.”

“Did you miss it, Christmas?” He asks.

“Well, yeah. Of course, even if we didn’t really celebrate much in the institute either. We didn’t have any gifts to give each other outside of things we were supplied with by the institute. They didn’t really bother decorating either. We got the day off, of course, and we had a nicer meal than usual, but it wasn’t really some big festive celebration.” You shrug. “It was always a big deal in my house. It was my mom’s favorite holiday.”

You cut yourself off before the emotions can get to be too heavy. You’ve already almost lost it once in front of them today. The last thing you want is to risk that again. You’ve spilled too many words already. The last thing you want is to spill more.

John’s gaze leaves you to look at Kyle next to you, the two of them sharing a silent conversation. You’ve always envied their abilities to speak to each other without words. You wish you could know them that well, you wish you could understand them on that level. You wish you shared the bonds they have with each other. You’ll always be the odd man out, the outsider. You’ll never have that closeness, that ease with which they exist around each other.

You’re beginning to see it again, the fluidity between them, moving around each other without needing to look, always aware of the others. Here you are again, on the outside of that once more. Things really have gone back to the way they were before, back when things were new and foreign and unknown. You’re an unknown factor in this dynamic again, all of them tiptoeing around you like you might explode if they get too close, if they push those boundaries again.

Part of you hates it. Part of you likes it.

You’re not sure what to feel anymore.

You tilt your head back, thumping it against Kyle’s hand. “Sorry.” You quickly sit yourself back up. “Done that twice now I guess.”

“No need to apologize.” He says, his hand dropping to your shoulder to lean you back again. His hand gently cups the back of your head, rubbing soothing circles into your scalp with his fingers.

You let out a content hum, your eyes fluttering closed. It falls silent between the three of you as Kyle slowly works you into a comfortable, content state. Your omega begins to almost purr contently, and for the first time in a while, she doesn’t feel quite so out of control.

The days start to make more sense as you now have an idea where you are on the calendar. It’s the end of November, meaning in just a few weeks it’ll be Christmas. The guys haven’t said anything about celebrating, so you haven’t gotten your hopes up. Still, you can’t hide that itch in the back of your mind, that desire to have a proper celebration for your first year out of the institute.

“You know you can tell them what you want.” Dr. Keller says, sitting in the chair next to you. “We’ve gone over this. I’m sure those guys would turn the world upside down if you asked them to.”

“I just...I don’t know how.” You say. “What if they have no plans for Christmas? What if they weren’t planning anything? What if this is too last minute?”

“There’s a little under a month till Christmas. It’s hardly last minute.” Dr. Keller says. “Even if they say no, then we’ll have a celebration. Just the two of us.”

“You’d do that for me?” You ask, turning to look at her.

“Of course. If you want to celebrate Christmas, then we will, no matter what the others decide.” She says firmly. “If they don’t wish to participate, then they don’t have to.”

“That’s...really kind of you.” You say. She’s done so much for you already, and here she is offering to do more.

“It’s what I’m here for.” She says. “Whatever you want to do. Decorate, bake cookies, go shopping. All of the above.” She reaches over, squeezing your hand. “You’re in charge.”

You’re in charge.

Your omega nearly preens at the words, starting to get excited. Yet, you’re not quite sure how you feel about that kind of pressure being placed on you. It’s not in your nature to be in charge...or at least that’s what the institute taught you. Omegas are submissive and follow their alpha’s orders.

The institute was wrong about a lot of things, though. Maybe you do want to be in charge. Maybe if you’re in charge, things will start to get better. Maybe if you’re in charge, you can finally get your pack in line and get them doing what you want them to do.

It’s far too early for you to be awake. It’s still dark out, no light filtering through the gaps in the curtains. There’s light coming through the gaps in the door, though, and you can hear quiet rustling.

“It’s still crooked.” You hear Kyle’s voice through the wall.

“I’m doin’ the best I can.” Johnny retorts.

More rustling and quiet tinkling sounds through the wall. There’s no more hope for sleep for you now, your interest far too piqued as to what they’re doing. You slide out of bed, rubbing your eyes as you pad across the cold floor to the door.

You’re not ready for what you find on the other side.

All four of them pause as your door opens and you take half a step out the doorway. You freeze, hand still over one of your eyes. Johnny is standing on a stepstool, leaning over a tree. Kyle is standing next to him, peeking around him to look at you. Simon is frozen in front of the fireplace, garland hanging from his hands. John is standing between the couches, a round ornament in each hand.

You slowly lower your hand from your eye, sweeping your gaze over the four of them once more. “What are you doing?” You ask, even though you already know the answer to that question.

“Decorating.” The four of them say all at once.

“We were going to surprise you when you got up.” Kyle says.

“We were trying to be quiet.” John says. “But those two muppets can’t get the star properly on the tree.”

“You’ve got it on the branch wrong.” Kyle says.

“It won’t go any other way.” Johnny argues.

They go back to what they were doing, almost as if you’re not there. You’re glad for it as tears begin to fill your eyes. They’re decorating. They were decorating to surprise you. You can’t help but wonder if Dr. Keller expressed your desire for a proper Christmas to them on your behalf, but part of you knows she wouldn’t do that. She’s pushing you too hard to take control to do that.

Maybe they’re doing it because they want to. Maybe this was their plan all along.

“Let me do it.” Kyle says, tugging on Johnny’s shirt.

“I can do it just fine.” Johnny persists, still fiddling with the star on the tree.

You roll your eyes, moving over to them. “Move. I’ll do it.”

Neither of them argue as Johnny steps down off the stool, letting you climb up. You can feel their hands hovering as you stand up on your toes, reaching for the top of the tree. You bend the top branch, situating the star on properly for them.

“See! I told you.” Kyle says, his hands still hovering as you climb down off the stool.

“My way would have worked just fine.” Johnny pouts.

“I’m sure it would have.” You shrug, patting his arm before walking away.

You join John in sorting through ornaments as Kyle and Johnny finish adjusting the lights on the tree. They’re all brand new, sealed in the boxes still. So they went shopping for all of this. You don’t suppose a summer house would have Christmas decorations laying around. It’s touching that they did this for you, even if they didn’t know you’d want it.

“Thank you.” You say, fiddling with the hook on one of the ornaments. “For doing this.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to not give you a proper Christmas.” John says. “Not when it means so much to you.”

A small smile tugs at your lips, tears starting to fill your eyes again. “I appreciate it. More than you know.”

You don’t flinch as he reaches out, gently running a hand over your head as you wipe the tear that falls. It’s nice, feeling his touch again. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, holding his hand against the side of your head. You barely realize you’re doing it as you press your nose into his wrist, breathing in his fresh, woodsy scent. Petrichor, damp earth. It fills your nose like it did the first time you scented him, making your head spin.

For the first time in a while, your omega lays comfortably in the back of your mind, settled contently back into her cage.

You stand there nervously, staring at your alpha. He hasn’t acknowledged you yet, giving you a moment to gather yourself. You’re nervous, your palms sweaty, even if you have nothing to be nervous about. The worst he can say is no, and then you’ll have an excuse. Or he’ll say he’ll do it himself, then one surprise will be ruined at least.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard that nickname spoken in such a way. Your omega rolls over and shows her belly, ready to submit to his quiet purr of your nickname.

“I...I wanted to ask you something.” You say, shifting nervously on your feet. Now is the time. Now is when you have to be brave and voice your wants.

“Go ahead.” He says, putting his phone down and turning to face you.

You almost wish he wouldn’t. You wish he’d stay turned away, attention on his phone so he can half pay attention to what you’re saying. No, instead he has to give you his full attention and put even more pressure on you.

The words catch on your tongue, choking you as you attempt to be brave, as you attempt to take this leap into unknown territory.

The worst he can say is no.

“I want to go Christmas shopping.” The words come out fast, almost slurring together in your haste to voice them before you lose all the courage that led you to this point.

He leans back in his seat and you prepare for the worst, you prepare for the no waiting to come out and put an end to your silly little request. You’ll sulk and cry about it in the safety of your room. Now you have to be strong.

“Okay.” He says.

You nearly turn and run in shame before the meaning of the word settles into your brain. You stand there in surprise, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Okay?” You parrot, your brain still trying to comprehend what it is he’s saying.

“Okay.” He repeats. “You’ll have to take one of us with you, though. You can’t leave unprotected, even with Christine.”

“I’ll go.”

The voice makes you jump, spinning on your heel to face Simon. You hadn’t even heard him approach. You stare in surprise at the other alpha. He hasn’t made much of an effort to insert himself back into your life. You were half sure he hated you again with how he’s been acting.

“Alright.” John says, his voice almost as surprised as you feel.

It will be nice having the hulking alpha following you around. You think back to when you went lingerie shopping with Johnny. How long ago that seems now. People had gone out of their way not to walk too close to you and your protector. No one will want to mess with you with him around.

“Go with Christine.” John says, making you turn back around to look at him in surprise.

“Really?” You ask in disbelief.

He nods. “I think it will be good for you, getting out of the house. Just don’t stay out too long.” He turns back to his phone and you turn back to look at Simon, but he’s gone.

“This might be a tad bit overwhelming at first.” Dr. Keller says as she drives through town. “It’s been a while since you’ve been in a populated place.”

“I’ll be fine.” You say, even if you don’t really believe it. You had prepared for this possibility in the days you’ve thought about this trip.

John wanted you to go early on a weekday, when it was less likely to be too crowded. While crowded might hide you better, it also left too many possibilities for someone to sneak up on you.

“You say the word and we’ll go.” Dr. Keller says. “I can always come back later and finish shopping for you.”

“Okay.” You say, still staring out the window at the buildings. It’s been a while since you’ve seen so many buildings all in one spot.

Simon is quiet in the passenger seat, also watching out the window. You wonder what’s going through his head, if he regrets volunteering to come along. You wonder why he did volunteer in the first place. You know safety is of the highest concern now while Shepherd is still out there. Does he not trust anyone else to protect you? That’s a possibility.

There’s another rift in the bonds.

Dr. Keller pulls into the Tesco parking lot, many cars there even for so early in the morning. Everyone else had the same idea as John.

“Try to make this as quick as possible.” Simon says as you undo your seatbelt. “The sooner we can get in and out, the better.”

Dr. Keller gives him a look, something passing between the two of them before she opens her car door. You get out as well, pulling your jacket tighter around you as the cold air hits your skin. It had been warm in the car, the heat cranked for your sake.

You’re half tempted to hold Simon’s hand as you cross the parking lot. You doubt he’d let you. He might pull away and that would be worse. That would ruin the whole trip. Old habits, you think. He’s barely spoken to you, so much as made an effort to rekindle the relationship between you. That would be pushing things too far.

Instead you stick close to Dr. Keller, trying not to panic as you walk into the building with the bright lights and the people. It’s gross, making you squint for a moment as Simon grabs a cart, your eyes taking a moment to adjust.

“What are you planning on getting?” Dr. Keller asks, trying to distract you.

“I-I don’t know.” You stay, blinking at aisle after aisle of products. “I didn’t think this far ahead. I thought John would say no.”

“Well, what do you think they’d like?” She asks.

What would they like? What do they like? You’re drawing a blank as you think about them. How little you know about them too.

Kyle. Kyle likes skincare. He’s always prioritized that on base. Maybe you’ll get him something related to that.

You start for the cosmetics section, Simon following like a shadow behind you and Dr. Keller. What kind of skincare does Kyle like? You know he uses coconut oil after he showers. He always smells good. Maybe something exfoliating? Something moisturizing? Both?

You stand in front of the skincare, drawing a blank as you look at the many options. Dr. Keller and Simon stand there quietly as you deliberate, suddenly overwhelmed by the choice you have to make.

“Who are you shopping for right now?” Dr. Keller asks, obviously picking up on your discomfort.

“Kyle.” You say. “I know he likes skincare.”

“Hmm.” Dr. Keller hums, looking at the options as well. “How about something like this?” She picks up a gift set with cleanser and moisturizer. “Something to cover all the basics?”

You nod. “Okay. That sounds good.”

Simon says nothing, offering no words of advice as she puts it in the cart. Maybe he doesn’t even know his own pack that well. Or maybe this is his way of showing his displeasure for you. Let you flounder and get the wrong thing. You want to believe he wouldn’t be that cruel.

You wander the aisles, looking for gifts for the other three. You pass by a spa kit, pausing for a moment. You should get one for Dr. Keller. She deserves some pampering and relaxation after weeks of taking care of you.

You put two in the cart, grabbing one for Ashley as well.

Johnny. What does Johnny like? Art. He likes art. Maybe something with art supplies.

You head for that section, Simon still following behind silently, aside from the clinking of the cart as he pushes it.

You pause as you pass by a display of teddy bears. Johnny sleeps with a stuffed bear. You know that. You’ve cuddled with it yourself. It’s probably back on base with the rest of your belongings. He must miss it.

You grab one, putting it in the cart.

“For Johnny.” You say as Dr. Keller gives you a look.

Simon still doesn’t say anything, but his scent reaches your nose as you walk past him.

The alphas. John and Simon. The two you seem to know the least. What do they like? What would they want as gifts? Simon likes knives and masks, but you’re not sure you could just buy a knife in the UK like you could in America. You could just ask him, considering he’s here with you, but that feels almost intrusive. He’ll know what you get him regardless, but asking him seems like a daunting task.

You continue wandering the aisles, looking for something that John might want.

You pass by a gift set of tea, pausing as you stare at it. He likes tea. He might like some other options than what’s at the house.

You put it in the cart.

Now Simon. The hardest of the four.

You continue wandering the aisles before you pause in the books section. Simon likes to read. You do know that. You’ve scoured the shelf at the cottage enough to know what’s there and what’s not. Maybe you’ll get Simon some new books. Something that’s not available to you currently.

You pick out a couple before putting them in the cart.

“Okay.” You say, staring at the selection you’ve grabbed. “I think I’m done.”

“You’re sure?” Dr. Keller asks.

You nod. “Yeah. I don’t want to do anything too over the top.”

You really don’t. The last thing you want is to do too much too soon.

You pause as you walk past the candy aisle, grabbing a handful of candy canes and putting them in the cart before heading for the checkout.

Dr. Keller pays with cash as you load the bags into the cart. You’re ready to be out of the store with its bright lights and loud music and people. It’s starting to get busier, more and more people coming in the doors there to do their Christmas shopping as well.

Simon loads the bags into the trunk as you climb into the car with Dr. Keller.

“How do you feel?” She asks as you let out a breath.

“A bit overwhelmed.” You say honestly.

“It’s a lot going from isolation to a supermarket. I think you did good, though.” She praises you.

The door opens as Simon climbs into the passenger seat. He’s barely said a word the entire trip, looming in silence like he used to. Part of it makes your chest hurt, that he would regress so much after what happened, but part of you understands. He had to make a big decision on your behalf, push himself past his comfort zone to save your life. Of course he’d want some distance after everything. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want anything to do with you again.

It’s far too early when light seeps into your room before disappearing. You keep your eyes closed, willing whoever had just entered your room to vanish before they reach the bed.

You’re not so lucky, a hand settling on your shoulder and gently shaking you.

“Time to rise and shine.” A soft voice says.

You let out an irritated grumble, trying to pull the blanket up over your head.

“It’s Christmas morning, don’t you want to go open your presents?” That hand shakes you again.

“Sleep.” You murmur, curling up in a ball under the comforter.

“It’s already 10 am.” The voice says again, tugging the blankets down. “They let you sleep longer than they wanted.”

Last night was a rough one. You had laid awake far too late, staring at the ceiling and then you woke from a nightmare in the middle of the night, and it had taken time to calm yourself and fall back asleep. You’re still exhausted, your eyes burning from tiredness.

You let out a grunt of displeasure, but you know there’s no getting out of this one. You’re going to be getting up no matter what.

You slowly stretch out your limbs, rubbing your eyes. “Fine.” You yawn, turning over to press your face into the pillow. “Be up soon.”

“No going back to sleep.” The hand rubs your back gently. “Then I’ll have to send one of them in and they won’t be quite so nice about it.”

You hum into the pillow, already feeling sleep tugging at your brain. Despite the warning, your mind sinks back into the comforting realm of rest as your body relaxes back into the bed.

You’re not sure how long you get to rest before the comforter is torn off of you, landing somewhere on the floor. Hands roll you over and sit you up before your brain can even process. You blink the rapidly fading sleep from your eyes as you’re hauled up, flying through the air for a moment before you’re tossed over a broad shoulder.

“Time tae get up.” Johnny says, packing you towards the light filtering in through the open door.

You let out a whine as he packs you out into the warmth and the light before lowering you back down on your feet. Hands stop you from falling backwards, Johnny’s t-shirt clad chest coming into view as you blink the blurriness from your vision.

“Happy Christmas kitten.” He says, grinning brightly at you.

You mutter something that sounds like ‘Merry Christmas’ back to him. His hands slowly spin you around, turning you to face the tree.

You blink in surprise as you stare at the many presents on the floor under the tree. You weren’t expecting that much, though you suppose with six people in the house there would be quite a bit. It’s one gift though that draws your attention. It’s seated on the far side of the tree, nothing but a bow on top of its head.

“You...you got me a giant bear?” You ask in surprise.

“Was Si’s idea-oof.” Johnny coughs as Simon hits him on the back.

You walk over to it, pulling the bow off of its head. You’ve missed your giant bear and the comfort it brought you. That’s the one thing you wish you still had from the barracks, that you’ve been wanting for for weeks. It’s bigger than the one at the barracks, the top of its head reaching your chest when you’re standing in front of it.

You let your hands run over the soft fur, squeezing its plush face. There’s no cameras in this one. You know they’ve checked, ensured its safety. There’s no one looking back at you as you stare into its dark eyes.

“What do you think?” Kyle asks.

“I love it.” You say, trying to stop the waver in your voice. The last thing you want is to cry on Christmas. “Thank you.”

“Come on.” Hands guide you to the chair, letting you sit down. “You’ve got a lot to open.”

The next hour is a flurry of wrapping paper and bows as presents get passed around. You open up new shoes and clothes, a set of lacy panties courtesy of Johnny, new books, strawberry scented soap and shampoo, and some other comfort items.

You’ll never forget Johnny’s face when he opens your gift to him, his eyes lighting up as he stares at the soft bear you picked out. It gets you a big hug and a kiss to the cheek from him, and you know he’s going to be sleeping with it tonight.

You’re exhausted by the time the last present is opened, rubbing your eyes again. You hadn’t even changed out of your pajamas, feeling underdressed compared to the others. Yet at the same time it makes you feel like a kid again, tearing into presents on Christmas morning, excited to see what you got.

You look around the room, John and Kyle starting to bag up wrapping paper and clean, Johnny on the couch next to Simon holding his bear, Simon sitting near the fire already cracking open one of the books, and Dr. Keller and Ashley on the other couch talking, sitting very close. It brings a small smile to your face. You’re happy for them. It’s nice to see Dr. Keller getting something positive out of this stay at the cottage.

You can’t help but think that whatever happens next, maybe it might not be so bad after all.

“Think we should wake her up?” Kyle asks.

“No.” John says, standing next to him. “It’s the most relaxed I’ve seen her in weeks.”

They both stare at you where you lay near the tree, draped over your large bear. You’re sound asleep, mouth slightly parted as you snooze away.

“I think she likes it.”

“It was a good choice.” John agrees. “It will certainly help make her more comfortable.”

“I can’t wait to see how she’s going to fit that on the bed.” Kyle says with a soft smile.

“Well, you certainly won’t be joining her when she does.” John smirks.

“I think I can live with that.” Kyle says. “Like you said, whatever makes her more comfortable.”

“I’m glad she’s loosening up a bit.” John says, turning away from you to head back towards the dining table.

“So am I. She deserves to feel safe and comfortable.”

“She does. We need to make sure she feels that way all the time, no matter what.”

“I want to help her.” Kyle says longingly.

“I know. And we can, but we have to let her lead.” John says. “The best we can do is listen to her and give her what she needs, even if it's not what we think is best. We don’t really know what’s best for her in the end. Only she does.” He reaches up, cupping Kyle’s cheek. “We need to focus on each other too.”

“I know.” Kyle says, leaning into his touch. “I want to.”

John’s lips twitch in a small smile. “Good. Because so do I.”

NEXT ->

To be notified about new chapters, please follow HERE and turn on notifications

#call of duty #cod fic #call of duty fic #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

1K notes · View notes