Author:somemaycallmesunshine Pairing: Young John!Michael x Prophet!Reader
Reader Gender: Female
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: violence, blood, gore, anxiety attacks, ANGST, swearing, death, huge changes in season 5’s plot, implied God!Chuck, Lucifer being a dick
A/N: And that’s a wrap on Crossfire, everyone! It’s been such a thrill for me to write it and honestly, it’s become such a huge part of me that I’m very bittersweet that it’s ending. But fear not! There will be a sequel soon. Until then, thank you infinitely to everyone who liked, reblogged and followed this story. Thank you to everyone who has become my friend on Tumblr and everyone who’s messaged me. You guys are the reason I could keep this going and the reason I am so thankful to be a part of this fandom. I love you guys. This is Sunshine, signing out for now. Parts of the episodes are weaved in through the plot with some changes for the sake of the storyline. (Visions as well as internal thoughts are in italics). And a final song for the final chapter.
Summary: Takes place during season 5. With the apocalypse at foot, Team Free Will and the reader are doing everything in their power to stop it. But when their plans take a wrong turn, the reader gets kidnapped by none other than their enemy, Michael the archangel
Regina has lived her whole life being trapped, first she was trapped under her mother’s thumb, then trapped in an unwanted and loveless marriage, trapped by the Dark One and his long con scheme, she even fell victim to her own mind as she was trapped in the memory of Daniel dying but this current situation was a trap she didn’t fully mind being in. It played off of all her insecurities but it also gave her everything she was looking for, everything she wanted for her happy ending and more. Unconditional love was what she wanted the most and now she gets it from three different sources: Henry, Emma, and the baby.
No one knew how it happened, not even Rumpelstiltskin could give them an answer. Regina took to blaming Emma, “Why are you pinning this on me, Regina!? Every time something goes wrong, I’m always the one you point fingers at!” “Because, Emma, every time something unexplainable having to do with magic happens, it’s usually your magic at the center of it all!” No one could really argue against her statement but no one could prove it either. Magic, not even True Love its’ most powerful form, had ever made a child. This was uncharted territory and while everyone else seemed excited for what it could bring, the Saviour and Queen were scared for what it meant.
Emma had tried to take off to Boston, “I wasn’t running away! I just wanted some time to breath and work everything out!” but the further she got the more sick she became. Eventually a call came in, as she sat on the side of the road (deciding it was the safer option over pushing herself to keep driving), Regina and the baby were both in distress currently in the hospital although no clear signs as to why it was happening had been clear just yet. She forced herself to get back into the bug and turn around and found that she slowly but surely started to feel better. By the time she made it back the Storybrooke she felt just fine as did the mayor and child. Emma didn’t think much of it but Regina didn’t believe in that strong of a coincidence and ran a few tests. None of the trio could be further than roughly five miles away from the others without feeling the same sickness that overcame them before. “I mean, I can definitely start to feel it but it’s nowhere near as bad as when I tried to leave town. I more just feel a bit nauseous mixed with the feeling of missing a piece of myself. Does that make sense?”
Regina had taken everything in stride. Other than when she had blown up in the beginning with anger and accusatory towards Emma, she held herself with poise as she had been trained to do since birth by her mother. Though all facades must come to an end as every night was filled with long forgotten fears as she slept and her darkest memories when she was awake. She was used to facing her problems head on but no matter how long or how hard they searched there simply wasn’t a way to fix this. She wasn’t a runner by nature like Emma but she couldn’t get away from this even if she wanted to, and that’s what really frightened her. She was once again trapped, the only difference being that she knew murder wasn’t the solution. She may not be a runner but everyone has their limits, as long as she didn’t go too far they’d be fine. Her crypt seemed the best choice as it was secluded and gave her a sense of privacy despite everyone already knowing about it. There she stayed, researching, eating, sleeping, all was fine for a few days until the sickness came back with a vengeance. At first the brunette suspected the blonde of trying to take off again but as she slowly climbed the stairs she found herself not really believing it. Emma was a runner yes but even she’s not dumb enough to repeat such an action, not when the consequence was the pain of others. As she exited the the mausoleum she could hear the familiar sound of David’s truck pulling up to the cemetery, she’s about to call out to him to alert him to the situation when Emma, all but flies out of the back of the truck towards her. As soon as green meets brown eyes their pain begins to fade and they are physically well once again. Some more tests later finds that they can’t be apart for too long without the effects of the sickness starting to set in. They were truly stuck with one another with no end in sight.
They decided there wasn’t a point in denying the unavoidable truth they were faced with. Emma moved into the mansion so distance wasn’t a problem at all, they had a schedule which lead them all home to have dinner at the end of the day so time apart was never a concern and everyone had their own room for which they could at least have the semblance of privacy and freedom that existed not all that long ago. Moods and attitudes improved as time went on, “We aren’t enemies in this, Regina. We’re stuck in this together and we need to start acting like it.” “I agree.” “I know you think- wait did you just say you agreed with me?” “Don’t get use to it. Why are you looking at me like that?” “I don’t know to react, this wasn’t on my cards that I wrote out.” The blonde took to helping out more around the house and at the insistence of Archie, made the effort to see things from the mayor’s point of view. The brunette in turn toned down her nitpicking and with the help of Archie pushed herself to be a bit more open with her thoughts and feelings. They soon found a rhythm and despite past fears and actions both were surprised to find they loved the domesticity of their arrangement.
So yes, Regina was trapped but for once in her life, she really didn’t mind. Of course there was still ups and downs especially with the added aspect of her and Emma’s relationship progressing from platonic to romantic but the joy she felt on a day to day basis outweighed anything negative. She had the three most important people in her life, accepting her and loving her with no ulterior motives. She was trapped but in many other ways, she was more free than she had ever been.
Chapter 11 summary: Oswald visits his father’s grave on the anniversary of his death, as he has done for the past several years but a flash storm has his mother worried, especially after Oswald left home without his umbrella and mobile phone. A call to Edward has him travelling to the cemetery to draw Oswald out of the storm and out of his grief.
Chapter 12 summary: Oswald and Edward continue to spend a peaceful night together in the comforts of Ed’s apartment as they work towards solidifying their blossoming relationship.
I know I promised that chapter 12 would be the start of the angst but the boys had other plans and I didn’t want to shove 22,000 words into one chapter. It needed to be split in half, so as an apology, here is a little teaser for what lies in store.
Chapter 13 teaser (be warned, it still needs editing):
OUAT, Captain Swan, rated T, ~2,900 words, spoilers for 3.15/3.16
Summary: Emma picks a fight right after the funeral
Note: This fic plays directly off of Emma’s charged conversation in the woods with Killian in 3.14 and also off of her conversations about Henry and New York with Neal and Charming in 3.15, only lightly brushing on spoilers for 3.16.
Emma lingers at the graveside a bit longer than she needs to, letting Mary Margaret and Regina take Henry ahead to Granny’s.
She doesn’t linger out of grief (she’s grieved for Neal two times over already). Instead, what she feels is regret. Not over what might have been—she knows now (knew the instant his name came up her first night back in Storybrooke) that ship had long since sailed. But there is still so much to regret. Regret that he’d only just started to become their son’s father before their time was cut short. Regret that Henry still doesn’t remember the few precious weeks they had together. Regret that they could never grow to be the friends she’d hoped they could be. Regret that Neal could never have the family—father and son—that he’d always wanted.
A cold breeze whips around her face and she shivers, pushing her hands a little deeper into her pockets.
In a way this grave lies as a symbol of all her regrets—and all her failures. The things she wanted and could never have. The life she lost to one abandonment after another. The evils she couldn’t stop in time, and all the lives that were lost as a consequence.
It’s starting to sink in that as long as she stays in this town—in this world—all her choices can have life or death consequences, and that scares the hell out of her. A part of her still wants Henry to remember—but another part just wants to take him back to where he was safe and happy.
But we were never really safe, she reminds herself, her thoughts lingering on Walsh.
“Do you want to talk about it?” says a low, emotion-roughened voice from just behind her.
Caskett prompt where Beckett is the one kidnapped in 7x01? P.S. Everything you write is beautiful.
He’s waiting at the altar, his daughter at his side, his nerves growing worse with every passing second. She should have been walking down the aisle to meet him by now. Kate would never be late, not for their wedding, and god, something is wrong. He can feel it deep in his gut.
When they hand him the phone and he’s met with the voice of the chief of the fire department, his blood runs cold.
She should have been here hours earlier, should have spent the last hour getting ready with her bridal party in one of the guest rooms of his massive vacation home, but she had never made it. She had gone to visit her mother’s grave before making the drive up and she had even called him on her way out of the cemetery, her voice soft and watery while she flirted with him and expressed her quiet excitement to make her way to him, to marry him.
She had never made it and he falls to his knees at the sight of why after he’s driven down the road, to the site of the fiery crash that consumes the Mercedes he had insisted she borrow (can’t have you driving to our wedding in the same car you escort criminals around in, Beckett).
He hears the shout of his name from his daughter, the calls from Esposito and Ryan to get back, but it doesn’t stop him from tripping down the embankment, tears blurring his eyes as he races towards the burning vehicle, a symphony of no, no, please no spilling from his lips.
“Kate,” he breathes, heart pounding with adrenaline and panic and need. Need to see her alive, alive and not engulfed by flames.
The flames grow the closer he tries to get, needing to know, to see inside, and he stumbles to the ground, dirt that turns to mud under the sudden downpour staining his knees.
Once the fire has been tamed, he rises, forcing himself to learn the truth, fearing the potential of what he’ll see when he finally looks into the driver’s seat.
But it’s empty.
Relief floods him as he calls up to the small, terrified crowd of his family and friends, but the relief is short lived. Because she may be alive, but she isn’t here.
Being in the precinct without her leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He sits in her chair, traces his finger over her elephants, her name plate, and does what little he can to help work her case. But it isn’t easy and he nearly gets kicked out when an FBI agent accuses Kate of being nothing more than a runaway bride looking for a way out and he shoves the guy into the wall with a little too much force.
She never would have run away, not from this, not from him, not again. He doesn’t care what they say.
The call comes in two months later and the sight of her nearly sends him to his knees on the hospital floor. Her face is colored red with burns from the sun and her hair is limp, dirty and untamed, but it’s her.
“Kate,” he whispers, his voice breaking along the single syllable of her name, but her eyes remain shut.
Alexis and his mother stay for a while, tears of relief glazing their matching blue eyes, and to have his entire family back together is the greatest gift he could ask for.
She wakes when it’s just the two of them, her slim fingers twitching beneath his palm just seconds before her eyes slide open.
Castle lifts from the uncomfortable plastic chair at her bedside and her eyes find him instantly.
“Castle,” she rasps, reaching for his cheek when he lowers himself to hover above her, needing the closeness, needing the reassurance of her soft voice and her trembling touch. “Castle, the wedding - I missed the wedding.”
Her eyes darken with the realization, filling with sorrow and tears, but he shakes his head, brushing his thumb along the paper thin skin beneath.
“It’s okay,” he promises her, dusting a kiss to her forehead. “It’s okay. We can get married some other time, any other time. All that matters is that you’re back.”
Her brow furrows and her tired eyes search his face.
“Back?” she echoes, confusion rippling through the word. “Where - where did I go?”
It’s his turn to feel confused.
“You were gone,” he chokes, swallowing it down when the concern pools in her eyes, etches into the lines of her face. “For two months, Kate.”
“Two months? No. No, there was the accident and - and then I was here,” she argues, panic slowly threading into her voice, and he tries to calm down, to keep her calm.
“That’s all you remember?” he whispers and she nods her head, but the panic is embedded into her eyes and he knows she isn’t lying this time.
“Two months,” she repeats, clutching the hand residing near her hip and he quickly threads their fingers, brings her knuckles to his lips. “Castle, if - how can I not remember two months? How-”
“I don’t know,” he breathes, cupping one of her cheeks with his free hand and he knows this much touching all at once would usually drive her crazy, but she presses her cheek into his palm, holds tight to his hand, and he’s grateful. Because he couldn’t let her go if he tried. “I don’t know what happened, but we’ll figure it out.”
She nods and laces her arms around his neck, her grip secure and tight, and Castle cradles her body in close, whispers reassurance into her hair. He doesn’t know what happened, and he knows she already needs answers, but for now, he has the love of his life back.
John at the grave - definitely would not call it restrained. More like a man desperately trying to hold it together but mostly failing. "I was so alone and I owe you so much" He actually weeps. He actually begs. "Please, for me Sherlock, just for me". I still can't believe that Sherlock actually witnessed all that and still thought it was OK to let John grieve for 2 years.
Given the depth of John’s feelings, I’d definitely call him restrained at the cemetery. He didn’t collapse on the grave and scream in agony. I’m pretty sure that’s what he felt like doing.
Let’s take a moment, though, to consider what Sherlock was doing during those two years. We don’t know a lot yet, but what we do know for sure involves Sherlock chained up and tortured sporting so much facial hair we don’t recognize him until he speaks. How long do you think he was like that? How long do you think he was undercover beforehand? He wasn’t exactly in a position to disabuse John of his erroneous notions at that point, was he.
But that said: I’m not sure if you’re aware, but Sherlock is an asshole. It’s kind of a critical thing about him. He has canonically drugged John to make him terrified and delusional, and then drugged him again so that he passed out and missed an entire day just for fun, apparently. Remember how he took a traumatized victim and shouted at her in a threatening way just to make her speak quickly? Sherlock thinks you could torture an owl and laugh hysterically at the same time. Sherlock is not a nice man. Letting John believe he was dead and feeling it was unfortunate but necessary, and won’t it be fun to jump out of a cake and surprise him when I’m back, is not actually such a shocking thing for him to do, considering his past behaviour. Sherlock is an absolute cock.
in what episodes is it stated that carlos is attractive?
The pilot episode and episode 16, where Cecil describes him. “Perfect and beautiful. Dark and delicate skin, black hair with a “dignified, if premature, touch of gray at his temples”, a strong, square jaw and teeth like a military cemetery. In episode 46 He calls him “a really handsome scientist”.
People have said that Cecil is unreliable and that’s just his opinion, but in episode 4 Josie says Carlos is perfect and in the TAH crossover episode other characters point out that Carlos is in fact quite handsome.
Plus there’s that gifset I just reblogged where Cecil Baldwin calls him a brazilian model with glasses and i think that counts.