Who leaves hickeys where they’re going to be visible on the other’s neck? Who is the one going to a family gathering wearing 10 scarves? (finding these on one of those imagine your OTP twitter accounts and there's just sooo many caskets possibilities)
She’s going to kill him for this. Slow, long, and brutally punish him just as he has so blatantly punished her, because that’s what the obscenely visible hickeys on her neck are – punishment.
Kate told him about the family gathering she was guilted into attending with her dad this weekend and Castle wanted to go with her, meet her family.
She said no.
“Are you – do I embarrass you?” he asked her the night before, genuine hurt seeping into his eyes, his brow furrowed deep in question, as if he just couldn’t fathom why else she wouldn’t want him to come along, like the only conclusion that made sense was her being ashamed of him.
“Castle, no,” she sighed, crossing the space of her living room between them. It was her place that night; they’ve been taking turns. “I could never be embarrassed by you, us. I just know if I brought the person I’m seeing, certain members of my family would turn your presence into a spectacle, followed by an interrogation. Asking about marriage and babies and-”
“All of which you don’t see yourself having with me?”
He tilted his head to the side, the statement more of an assessment than the question he posed it as, but then his lips quirked in the corners, amused, most likely, by the horrified expression she wore. “Kate, it’s okay.”
“No, no, it’s not that,” she sputtered anyway, raking a hand through her hair while he continued to watch her from the sofa. “I’m not ashamed or embarrassed and it has nothing to do with our future together, I’m just not-”
“Ready,” he finished for her, the amusement gone from his lips, an understanding smile in its place. But she hated it, hated herself for it, for making him wait yet again. They’ve been together for over a month, she loves him, but she wasn’t yet ready to share all of this with her gossipy Aunt Theresa or her hopelessly romantic cousin Sophia, or the slew of other nosy relatives who cared more about using her life for new conversation material than anything else.
“Not ready to share you with them yet, no,” she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders, drifting in closer to bump her knees against his, let him see the smile blooming on her lips. “But if you really want to come, Rick, then come with me. Charm my relatives that I see maybe twice a year and finally shut them up about how I’m going to die alone.”
Castle scoffed and reached for her hips, drawing her forward until she folded into a straddle across his lap.
“Well, they’re definitely wrong,” he mused, gliding his broad palms up the backs of her thighs, cupping her ass through the tight denim of her jeans. “But I’ll pass, wait for the next gathering when you’re telling me about it because you’re begging me to accompany you.”
“Begging, huh?” she smirked, rocking her hips forward and dropping her fingers to the buttons of his shirt. “What if I’m begging you to accompany me this time?”
“Too late,” Castle sighed, his lips in a wicked grin that he pressed to the exposed skin of her neck, opening his mouth at the hollow of her throat and setting her on fire. “But I’ll make you beg for an entirely different reason in just a few minutes.”
And damn him he did. He turned her into a writhing, pleading mess, crying out beneath his mouth as she clutched the sheets beneath her and arched her spine. All while he was purposely mapping out her skin with his tongue, his teeth. Decorating her neck in varying shades of purples and red. And it felt so good, she never even considered stopping him.
Even now, standing in her closet, debating which scarf she’ll be banding around her neck to attend Aunt Theresa’s 67th birthday party despite the warm forecast outside, she still can’t say she would have stopped him.
Kate plucks a creamy white scarf from her collection, wraps the soft fabric around her throat, only to notice another blooming bruise behind her ear, vibrant and low enough to be seen even through the curtain of her hair.
“Castle,” she growls, stalking out of her closet to head for the bathroom, digging through her makeup bag for her liquid concealer.
At least, her mind supplies while she dabs makeup onto the stain of color, there is no risk of anyone seeing the others.
Her stomach flutters.
No, the marks on her hips, her thighs, her breasts… those weren’t punishment at all.
Can you fill this prompt? Secret Dating Caskett "My friend set me up on a blind date and I can’t really refuse because they think I've been single for ages so they think they’re doing me a favor and we have a massive fight about it that ends with us saying “I love you” for the first time."
Hi Anon! I am so sorry it has taken me forever to write this for you. I hope you’re still out there and if you are, I hope you like this!
A Season 5 AUish Ficlet
He’s annoyed with her.
She feels it in his silence, sees it in the stiff hunch of
his shoulders, the way his nostrils flare and his breath spills from his chest
in heavy puffs instead of his normal, steady rhythm. He’s been agitated for
hours, since they left the morgue, since Lanie had put her on the spot and
given her no choice but to agree to some stupid blind date.
A date with someone other
than her current boyfriend. Just weeks after agreeing with said current
boyfriend that they would, under no circumstances, actually date other people
just to keep up the secrecy of their relationship.
After all her posturing about what she would and wouldn’t
have done had she been in Castle’s shoes, she’d done the same thing. She’d been
cornered just as he had, and she’d done the same thing he had, stuttered and
stammered a response – the wrong response. And just as hers had been, Castle’s
reaction was almost instantaneous. He’d shut down on her, squaring his jaw and
taking a step back from his usual spot at her side.
Which means she has some serious damage control to do now
that she’s stopped the car outside her building. She hadn’t asked whose home he
wanted to go back to, preferring the privacy of her own space to have this
discussion, but as he unbuckles his seatbelt and slips from her car, it occurs
to her that she probably should have.
Though she knows he can get in on his own, he waits for her
anyway, opening the door and gesturing for her to precede him into the lobby.
Ever the gentleman, even when he’s pissed.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, feeling like it’s the first
thing they’ve said to one another in hours. His forearm jumps under her
fingertips, but he doesn’t shy away from the touch. He doesn’t lean into it,
nor does he clasp her hand in his and allow their palms to kiss, but she takes
it as a positive sign that he isn’t pulling away from her touch.
They’ve been through far worse than this; her friend’s
meddling is not going to be what ruins them.