how castle and beckett look on :')

anonymous asked:

I have a prompt for you if you're taking them! In 5x02 what if instead of Rebecca Fog it was a man, and the whole situation that Castle got in to with her somehow happened to Beckett instead with their roles reversed? And Castle walked in on a man on top of Beckett?? I'd love to see how Castle would react!

“How could you agree to a date with that stupid weatherman,” Castle hisses, striding out of the news station on her heels. “Rainer Shine? What kind of name is that?”

“He wasn’t so stupid when he was interviewing you on TV,” she tosses back over her shoulder, fishing her car keys from her coat pocket and unlocking her cruiser. “And he caught me off guard. I didn’t know what else to say.”

“Uh, how about no?” he grumbles, his frown falling into a pout as they venture through the parking garage together and Beckett huffs.

“When he asked me if I was seeing someone, I just panicked, okay?” she defends, still hating the look that had flashed across her partner’s face when the weatherman gunning to take their victim’s place on the station had walked off the set with Castle after their on air interview and promptly inquired about her status. “And after what Miles said when we interviewed him about coworkers dating and secret workplace romances and imploding, I just-”

“Beckett, that’s not going to happen with us,” he argues, catching her hand before she can curl her fingers around the car door handle. “We’re not going to drown in any lies. And you - you just ensured that by taking the date.”

Kate purses her lips and glances up at him, the strained smile he’s attempting to hold for her, and sighs, shakes off his hand so she can touch her fingers to his jaw in the darkness of the parking garage.

“Will you come over afterwards?” she murmurs, painting her thumb to his chin, relief skittering through her chest when he grins.

“Of course. Text me as soon as it’s done and I’ll be on my way.”

She drifts forward in her heels to brush a kiss to his mouth, to steal a moment in the shadows before they head back into a reality where he’s still her writer, she’s his muse, but they aren’t together. 

And something about that continues to make her stomach churn.

-

Beckett isn’t exactly comfortable with Randall (Rainer Shine’s actual name) coming over to her apartment after their somewhat uncomfortable dinner at the fancy restaurant uptown, but he insists on walking her to her door, and then sharing a glass of wine, and she’s just desperate to ditch the guy so her actual boyfriend can come over.

“You know, Miles told me he was convinced that you and that Castle guy were together,” Randall muses, his green eyes scanning over her bookshelves while she reluctantly pours two glasses of wine in the kitchen. “And Rick is a cool guy, I’ve interviewed him a handful of times on the red carpet.”

“Yeah?” Beckett answers, placing the bottle back on the countertop. 

“Obviously not very smart, though,” he chuckles, sauntering into the kitchen to stand beside her. “How long have you guys been working together? Years? And he never made a move?”

“Well-”

“Quite the idiot, if you ask me,” Randall smirks, reaching out to graze his knuckles down Kate’s arm. 

She’s wearing a simple black dress, pretty enough to be formal, not special enough for her to feel like it was being wasted on the wrong man, but the sleeveless piece has her wishing she’d gone with something more matronly now.

Kate shrugs him off and holds out his wine instead. “How about we sit? I’d love to hear more about your transition from entertainment to meteorology.”

“Ah, well, I’ve always had a passion for the weather,” Randall begins, following her to take a seat on the sofa, a little too close for comfort, but the further Kate scoots away, the closer he gets. “But I wanted to explore all of my options.” 

She nods around a sip of her wine, withdraws her phone from her clutch on the coffee table while Randall continues. 

“And pop culture reporters can be found anywhere these days, a good meteorologist? Much more valuable. And after years interviewing celebrities, this new opening to do the weather was just too good to refuse.”

“Makes sense,” Beckett mumbles, checking for any updates on the case, withholding her smile at the goofy messages Castle’s been sending her all night. 

She begins to type out a reply when Randall’s arm drapes across the head of the couch, his fingers dusting at her neck.

“Detective, am I boring you?”

Kate glances up from her phone, tries not to roll her eyes at the man staring back at her with a lazy grin. He was good looking, built and born with a killer smile, she wouldn’t deny that, but he wasn’t her type.

And these days, no one but the blue eyed writer with the crooked smile fit her criteria anyway.

“No, I was just making sure the precinct hadn’t-”

Randall reaches for her phone, causes her thumb to slip when she has to tighten her grip to stop him from slipping the device from her fingers. 

“I’d kill for your full attention,” he states with a wink, releasing the phone, but stealing her other hand. “Besides, didn’t you take the night off for our date?”

“Yeah, which I’m starting to regret,” she mutters, yanking her hand from his grasp, but it only falls to her knee and Kate squares her jaw. “I actually think you should go.”

-

The sight of her photo illuminating the screen of his phone has his heart exalting in relief and Castle tightens his grip on the bouquet of flowers in his grasp, swipes his thumb over the device to answer her call. 

He’s been waiting around on her block for the last half hour, wandering around Tribeca and growing more anxious the later the night became, but he starts towards her place now with a spring in his step.

“Hey Beckett, has your disaster date finally come to a close?” he greets, waiting for her reply, but instead, he hears nothing.

Nothing but muffled voices, a brewing argument, and he hastens his pace down the sidewalk.

“Kate?” he tries again, still receiving no answer. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to share the dessert we brought back from the restaurant first?” He can hear the weatherman, Rainer Shine, attempting to coax. “I’d hate for this night to end so prematurely.”

“No, thank you,” the clipped response of Beckett’s voice fills his ear next, the rustling sound of movement following, the telltale click of her heels. “I think it’s best I show you out.”

“Aww, are you sure, beautiful?” the other man sighs. “Tell me I can’t change your mind.”

Her apartment comes into view and Castle ups his speed to a jog, dodging other pedestrians and a speeding car to reach her security door. He uses the key she had given him to shove the door open and takes the stairs to her floor so he won’t lose service in the elevator.

“You can’t,” Kate answers flatly.

“Oh, come on,” the other man pushes. “I hate being told no.”

Rick grits his teeth, tries not to crush the flowers in his fist.

“Well, get used to it. Hey, let me go-”

He can hear the shift of furniture, the stumble of Kate’s heels and the protest in her voice, and Castle’s blood boils just in time to overflow as he reaches her door. He doesn’t hesitate, finding it unlocked when he tries the handle and stumbling into her apartment, his gaze snapping to the living room and the man pinning his girlfriend on the sofa.

“Kate!”

“Rick Castle? What are you doing here?” Randall questions, glancing up in surprise from the couch, where he’s straddled over Beckett.

Who promptly knees him in the groin.

Randall yelps and collapses sideways and Castle rushes into the living room, reaches for Kate’s hand as she sits up, her cheeks flushed with rage and her eyes dangerously dark.

“Kate? Hey, are you okay?” he murmurs, cupping her shoulders in his palms, feeling her bones tremble beneath his hands even as she nods, rakes her fingers through her hair to pull it together.

“Was that really necessary?” Randall huffs, pushing himself up from the sofa, and Castle releases Beckett, inserting himself between her and the other man. “And hey, what are you-”

“Castle!” Beckett hisses when Rick connects his fist to the other man’s jaw, sending him spiraling back down to the floor.

“It was necessary,” he growls, not resisting the tug of Kate’s hand on his arm, following her into the kitchen while Randall remains groaning on the floor. 

“Why is he in your apartment?”

“How did you know to come here?”

They both pause and Kate sighs, glances back to the living room.

“I didn’t want him here, but he walked me up after dinner and then wanted to talk and wouldn’t leave,” she grumbles, returning her gaze to him with an arch of her brow. “Your turn.”

“You must have butt-dialed me,” Castle explains, nodding to her phone, tossed on the floor of her living room now. “I got a call from you, but when I answered it, all I could hear was you telling him to leave. And him not complying.”

Kate takes a step closer, narrows her eyes on him. “How did you get here so fast?”

“Well, I - may have been… nearby,” he hedges, unable to quell the desire to place his hands on her waist, feel the bones of her hips through the fitted fabric of her dress. “I’m glad I was, though.”

“He wasn’t going to get any farther than he did,” she assures him, snagging her fingers in the edges of his jacket. “Trust me.”

They both turn towards the sound of rustling near the couch, Randall heaving himself up from the ground. 

“I’m just going to go now,” he states, wincing as he limps through a few steps towards the door. “Sorry if I got the wrong idea, Detective Beckett.”

Kate doesn’t answer, glaring at the man throughout his entire stagger towards the door, making him look like a cowering fool as he finally shuffles through it and out into the hall. 

“You could press charges,” Castle murmurs as soon as Randall is gone, tightening his hands on her hips, the image of her pinned beneath another man without her consent reigniting the fire in his blood. “Assault. Harassment. Something.”

“I’m considering it,” she sighs, drifting forward and dropping her head to his chest. “I’ll think about it more in the morning. But you know our cover may be blown, right?”

Castle shakes his head and lifts his hands from her waist, wraps his arms around her body and holds her close. “After tonight, I honestly don’t care. We’ll figure something out, hopefully be able to keep working together, but I don’t want to see other people.”

“Me neither.” Her head lifts from his chest and she musters a small smile for him. “Will you stay?”

“I had no intentions of leaving unless you told me to,” he murmurs, brushing his knuckles between her shoulder blades, attempting to soothe the tension that resides there. “You should run a bath, relax for the night. I’ll straighten up out here.”

Her lips quirk as she nods, leans in to dust a kiss to his mouth. 

“I’ll run the bath, you can straighten up, but I’d prefer to relax together.”

Castle grins and nudges his nose to her cheek. “Date night is saved.”

The sound of her chuckle is soft, the apple of her cheek rising to touch his lips, and Kate squeezes his hips before letting go, drifting out of his arms and stepping out of her heels.

“Meet me in the tub, Castle.”

Prompt: Still happens before they’re together, preferably in season 4.  From @castlefanficprompts.  Sometime between 47 Seconds and Always, because of course it is.

It’s lucky that she hears the click, really.  She’s been distracted the last little while, and annoyed with herself for it, which is a distraction in and of itself.  She shouldn’t be pining for Castle like a teenager with her first crush.  If he’s over her, well, she can get over him too.  Plenty of fish in the sea.

(She doesn’t want another fish, though.  She wants him.  Loves him.  And she can’t simply switch that off because he’s found himself a shiny new stewardess - flight attendant - whatever she is.)

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anonymous asked:

OMG that interview with Nathan,he's a bless. And that makes me wondering if you could write a castle fic about it? Like Castle makes snuggies for everyone in the Castle household? Or like he makes one for Beckett the first year they work together, and Beckett just can't believe he makes it himself ?

Hi Anon! I hope you like this! :)

Snuggie Love

A post-2x18 ish ficlet


“For you.”

She blinks, staring at him with a blank face, the gift in his outstretched arms ignored for the time being. He makes no move to take the bundle back, though, instead shifting his grip to make it easier to hold onto – just in case they’re here a while.

“What are you talking about?” Beckett asks finally, her brow wrinkling in confusion. “What is this?”

“A gift?” he says, his eyes opening wider. “An object given willingly to someone else without expected repayment; often in celebration of a notable event in the recipient’s life?”

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Thanks, Merriam Webster. I know what a gift is. What I don’t know is why you’re giving one to me.”

Another sarcastic response almost rolls of his tongue, but he curbs it, licking his lips and going for honesty instead. “Because you’ve been through a lot recently, and I thought having something comfortable and warm might help make things a little easier as you look for a new place.”

Beckett softens a hair, her eyes darting to the fleece in his hands. “That's… actually kind of sweet, Castle.”

“I know,” he says, allowing his smile to widen when she purses her lips in an attempt to hide hers. “But seriously, I know when your apartment exploded, you lost a lot of the little things like throw pillows and blankets. The comforting stuff. So here’s a piece to start off your replacement collection.”

At long last, she takes the bundle from his hands, trailing soft fingers over the vintage, colorful elephant pattern.

“I made it,” he adds proudly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Beckett freezes, her eyes lifting to meet his.

“You… made this.”

His head bobs. “Uh huh. It’s really easy once you get the hang of it. I made one for Alexis and one for my mother – though she never uses it – a few years ago, and I made one for myself last winter.”

Beckett nods, looking almost thoughtful for some reason. His fingers itch to reach for her, to brush his thumb over her lower lip before she can pull it between her teeth.

“What?” Rick asks, tilting his head. “Is it the pattern? Because I debated, but I remembered seeing that painting in your old place, and then there are the elephants on your desk, and–”

“No,” she interrupts, flattening her palm against the fleece, protective. “No, the pattern is beautiful, Castle. It’s just… I didn’t know you even knew how to sew.”

“I taught myself after Mother refused to make me an ET Halloween costume. She said I was too old.”

Beckett’s lips purse, her eyes sparkling with something he’s come to recognize as her own eagerness to hear his stories, to know what makes him tick. “How old were you?”

“Thirty-two,” he answers, delighting in the bark of laughter that spills from her mouth. “It was Halloween, Beckett. There was a theme Alexis and I were working with.”

“Sure it was,” she laughs again, shaking her head. After a moment, the mockery falls from her face, leaving a gentle, soft smile on her cheeks.

“Thank you. I can’t believe you made me a blanket.”

Just like that, his anxiety over the gift is siphoned away; she likes it.

“Oh, it’s not a blanket,” he says, watching her eyes narrow in suspicion at the correction. Maybe he should’ve allowed her to discover it on her own, but oh well; the cat’s out of the bag now.

“It’s not?” Beckett asks slowly, studying the fabric in her hands like she’s afraid he’s given her something that might explode. “What is it then?”

“Well it is a blanket, kind of. But that’s not all it is.”

She exhales, dropping her head. “Do I want to know?”

“It’s a Snuggie, Beckett,” he announces, nudging the bundle until it unfurls, the bottom hem nearly touching the floor. “Here, look. These are the sleeves, and I put Velcro on the back so you can close it and it keeps all of you warm. Nobody wants a hospital gown version. And oh! Best part,” he says, manipulating the fleece until she can see the front, “is the pocket. That’s my personal addition to the design. That way you can store your phone, or snacks, or just keep your hands warm while you watch TV.”

“You made me a Snuggie,” she repeats after a long pause. “You made me an actual Snuggie like they sell on late night TV infomercials.”

“Yes? They seem silly, I know, but they’re so comfortable. Once you’re wearing it, you’ll forget that you ever felt ridiculous!”

To his astonishment, instead of shutting him down with a sharp barb, she just laughs. “Somehow I doubt that, but thank you. This really was nice of you. And ET costume or not, I’m still surprised you know how to make something like a Snuggie.”

Rick smiles again, preening a bit harder. “I have many, many talents, Beckett. And I’d be happy to show them all to you, just say the word. Any time, day or night.”

‘Mhmm, I’m sure you would,“ she murmurs, folding the fleece with unexpected care. Once she’s done, she cradles the gift to her chest, regarding him with soft eyes. “See you tomorrow, Castle.”

“See you tomorrow,” he echoes, watching her hoist her bag onto her shoulder and slip away from her desk, never loosening her hold on the fleece.

He can’t be sure, but he’s sure he sees her press her face – and a sweet, shy smile – against the fabric before the elevator doors close.


A/N: I hope you liked this! For anyone curious, this is the interview with Nathan the prompter mentioned. 

anonymous asked:

3 words prompt: you were wrong :D

#313 

(for @muppet47 and @aspenmusing and @dtrekker and @castleincalifornia and @kathrynchristie for the convo about angst)

—–

He made it as far as the lobby of the Twelfth.

It’s pathetic, and he knows that, but his hands are empty and so is his heart.

He bows his head, elbows propped on his thighs, and he tries to stop thinking. Only goes in circles, terrible awful circles, her face hard and unforgiving in the interrogation room, her words as convicting as the obvious truth.

She remembers everything.

She remembers everything. It wasn’t even a confession in there. It wasn’t even a gritted-teeth, avoiding eye contact reluctant statement. It was just point blank and pointed. A tool she used to dig.

A tool she used.

He’s in love with her and it’s a tool she uses.

Rick scrapes his hand down his face and tries to swallow past the tightness in his throat.

He really needs to straighten his spine and stand up and walk out of here. He needs to bow out gracefully. He needs to stop hanging around like a whipped dog that doesn’t know any better. 

Take a hint, Rick.

He squeezes the bridge of his nose, realizing with brutal clarity that her performance piece inside interrogation was probably partially for him. Take a hint, Rick. How much nicer can she say she’s not into him? Her silence all summer spoke volumes, but he just didn’t want to hear it.

And the swings? He’s been seeing what he wants to see, hearing what he wants to hear. She was trying to repair a damaged friendship, at best, and at worst - and most likely now - she needed his leads, his notes on her shooting, the case she wouldn’t be allowed to touch.

He’s in love with her and it’s a tool she uses.

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Castle Ficlet: Stranger in the Mirror

Title: Stranger in the Mirror

Pairing: Castle/Beckett

Note: So many, many months ago, a wonderful anon prompted me to write: A parallel of how happy Beckett looks at castle and then how sad she looks when she thinks he’s dead.

My first two tries fell pretty flat and I didn’t want to post something I wasn’t happy with. And then this struck me today. This takes place during 7x01 - Driven. It’s not exactly the prompt, but hopefully it works anyway!

Summary: She hated looking in the mirror now.

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5

Castle: Kate Beckett [INTJ]

Ni: Kate is good at looking at a problem and figuring out how to resolve it in a creative way. She examines crime scenes and processes them backward, to determine where the crime started and the motivations behind it. She sets specific goals and works toward them (such as solving her mother’s murder, and bringing those responsible to justice), often with moments of intuition that astonish her coworkers, where she pulls a solution or theory out of thin air. Kate doesn’t have as many ideas as Castle; she focuses on one potential solution at a time and rules out anything too absurd. She has no problem breaking the rules.

Te: She is purpose driven in everything she does, and only questions things so that she can solve the case. Kate uses established logic and methods of investigation. She’s organized, dependable, and on time. Her world-based logic helps her rule out Castle’s fantastical suggestions (aliens! ghosts!). Kate finds it hard to understand others on an emotional level and relate to them – she’s all about the work.

Fi: It’s very difficult for Kate to open herself up emotionally to other people. She doesn’t like to talk through her emotions, but instead prefers to deal with them herself. That means that sometimes, she backs away from people and even shuts them out of her life for months on end, while she works through “her stuff.” She was wild in her younger years, and encourages Castle to let his daughter be true to who she is, and make her own mistakes.

Se: Her skills as a detective rely on her ability to notice what’s happening around her and take advantage of it – whether that means stripping down into a skimpy outfit to catch a bad guy off guard, or shooting someone at fifty paces. Kate has an adventurous side that often comes out to play. After a traumatic incident, Kate can get in a mental rut of reliving it again and again, focusing on every vivid detail.

anonymous asked:

you love me? three words

#126 (alternate season 4x01 Rise)

—–

Josh storms out of the hospital room, knocking into Castle’s shoulder as he goes. Completely unrepentant and entirely rude. But that’s fine, it’s fine, because she is fine. She’s going to be fine.

Castle hesitates only a moment, ducking to check his reflection in the sheen of the overhead lights. He looks as jittery and exhausted as he feels. The flowers are too garish, too vibrant, but he has nothing else.

He has nothing else.

Castle opens the door and takes a tight breath, hoping for courage.

Her head turns - slowly - as he walks in.

She’s washed out. Too careful, the way she holds herself, sitting upright in the hospital bed. Her skin so pale it looks like parchment.

“Castle,” she says, his name an undertone from her thinning lips. Thinning into a smile. 

God. 

That smile.

“Hi,” he says inanely. “Hey. Beckett.” He holds up the bouquet, and she lifts two fingers from the blanket, gesturing towards the table.

He adds it to her bedside, feeling inadequate, awkward. 

“Sit. Castle.”

He jerks his eyes back to her and sinks to the chair without even looking, nearly missing it. Her eyes are so darkly luminous that it steals his breath.

“Hey,” she says. Her lashes close and open again, a heartbeat.

“How - are you feeling?” he asks, leaning in so that his elbows are on his knees. “Do you remember what happened? The nurse said you were asking questions.”

“I have… questions.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promises, straightening up again, looking smart. He’s anxious, and he realizes it’s selfish of him, wanting to know where she stands when she can’t stand at all. 

Castle lets out a breath, scrubs a hand down his face.

“I should let you get some rest,” he murmurs. 

“You promised. To answer questions.” Her voice is like water over gravel, rough but beautiful.

“I will,” he says quickly. “But you should rest. I can tell you the story instead. How about that? You lie there, you rest. I’ll talk.”

Her fingers lift from the bed, her eyes so dark on him, so very dark and so very alive.

“Not yet,” she says. Her lids fall, lashes lacing together, delicate and dark like bird’s wings. And then part, each lash separating, and those eyes are on him again.

Hungry, absorbing all light.

“Not yet?”

“Answer,” she murmurs, her throat working. She looks like she’s going to fade at any moment. “One question for me, Castle.”

He leans forward, his hand coming to the side of the bed, arrested. “Anything.”

She sighs and her head tilts towards him, her fingers lifting and tracing the line of his thumb. 

“You love me?”

Everything sobers. Stops. Her eyes are heavy and dark on his.

“Yes.”

Her lashes fall. Her hand rests just beside his.

Her breathing seems easier.

She’s asleep.

—–

4

I love how her hand stays on his chest, caressing, the engagement ring sparkling on her finger, while she whispers his name trying to wake him up, how relieved she is when he does. And him saying it’s you, My you, after seeing how a world without them not knowing each other, not being together looks like, he’s back to the Beckett he loves, who loves him and wants to marry him.