mine: richard castle

anonymous asked:

au prompt: Castle or Beckett is a secret service agent to President Castle or Beckett. who plays what role is up to you :)

The terrorist attack on the White House comes totally and utterly unexpected, in sync with the wave of horrific explosions and decimation sweeping over a slew of major cities across the nation.

And all he can think about is the job he’s had for the last four years: keeping her safe.

Rick Castle, head of the secret service team assigned to protect President Beckett, moves into action the second the missile hits the East Wing of the White House. He hustles Kate out of the Oval Office and scans his eyes over the unfolding chaos before it can touch her.

“Castle,” she gasps, jerking on his hand, slamming them both into the wall as a spray of bullets begina to rain through the air.

“Shit,” he breathes, withdrawing his own piece, aiding in the returning fire of his team, trying not to watch the bodies of government officials falling dead in the halls. “Go ahead of me. Keep going-”

“No,” she hisses, her fingers hooking at his forearm, and he growls, hates now more than ever how stubborn she is. 

“I’m covering you, go,” he commands, keeping both hands on his gun, his arms in position as she leads them down familiar corridors.

At least she knows the drill, isn’t trying to be a hero-

He hears her grunt, the slam of her body into another wall.

Castle immediately spins, sees her pinned by a man in all black riot gear and a gloved hand around Kate’s throat, a knife in the other.

Her knee pistons up into the man’s groin, has him doubling over just as Castle fires the shot into his head.

“Are you okay?” Castle questions, hearing the wheeze of her lungs as she coughs, but she’s already nodding, returning to the mission at hand, running.


She waits for Castle to unlock the panic room with his gun cradled in her palms, her heart rabbiting but her finger steady on the trigger as she waits with bated breath.

“Okay, we’re in. Hurry, before someone sees,” he murmurs, his hand at the small of her back.

Kate lowers the sig, but doesn’t give it back until they’ve slipped inside the secret room embedded into the wall, until the door that blends all too perfectly with the wall slides back into place. 

Castle is one of the only people on the planet who knows about the panic room, one of the selected few allowed to know, and probably the only person she’s always trusted would never turn on her. 

He proves her right.

Castle keeps one hand on her arm as they descend down the stairs, the pathway long and dark, foreboding. She feels the cool air embrace her the lower they travel, the weight of moisture clinging to her skin.

The underground safe room was built over a mile deep and by the time they finally reach the floor, the second security enclosed entryway, she’s panting.

“You okay?” he asks, his own breath quickened, his eyes glimmering in the barely lit corridor.

“Let’s just get inside,” she murmurs, but Castle lifts a hand to her face, his palm a familiar fit to her cheek.

“We’re surviving this, Kate.”

“Maybe, but no one else is,” she mutters, scraping a hand through her hair. “I ran like a coward. I’m supposed to keep these people, this country, safe-”

“By dying for your cause? Because that’s all you would have accomplished up there,” he reminds her with a narrowed look. “We’ve gone over this multiple times-”

“Doesn’t make it easier,” she snaps, stepping away from the caress of his hand and punching the code into the lockbox. “How long are we staying in here?”

“As long as it takes,” Castle sighs, following her in as the vaulted door swings open. He slams it shut behind him and enables every lock equipped to withstand all forms of enemies. “We should have electricity down here, so I can have eyes on the outside.”

She reclaims his hand again as they start down the final corridor that will lead them into a safe room the size of a studio apartment, stocked with food and weapons, and hopefully enough hard walls to keep them alive. 

He laces their fingers, squeezes a little too tight, but she welcomes his firm grip, the confirmation that they’ve survived. For now.


Kate is curled on the sofa against the wall, her heels and pantsuit gone in favor of jeans and a black sweater, boots better suited for running, fighting. He’s trained with her for years now, knows she can hold her own against a man twice her size. But right now, with a throw blanket he knows once belonged to her parents tugged up to her chin and her eyes so hollow, she looks so small, fragile.

Castle was recruited to lead the security team for President Beckett during her first month of presidency, his knowledge of terrorism after losing both his mother and daughter in the 9/11 attacks profound, aiding him in his career in counter-terrorism.

He didn’t want to work in secret service, to spend his days guarding some woman, but then he met her. He made the deal to work for a year with her and then act on the opportunity to return to his original unit. But after getting to know Kate Beckett, learning her story of rising from homicide detective to senator, the source of her drive born from the grief of losing her mother, he chose to stay.

He chose her, always her.

“Thank you,” she murmurs after he’s set up the security feed and finished sorting the guns and ammunition he stocked down here over a year ago.

Castle glances up from a pile of grenades, rises from his haunches, and mutes the monitor showing them a live feed of the horror unfolding across the property. “For what? Getting down here was a mutual effort.”

“For keeping me safe, not just today,” she answers, biting down on her bottom lip. “For making this job more bearable.”

“You’ve been an amazing leader, an extraordinary president,” he says, his brow still knit in confusion. Her job was the most stressful position in the world, but she’s good at it, and he thought she enjoyed it. “You’ve done right by the people, by justice. Today? This was completely out of your control, Kate.”

She sighs, not wholly convinced, and Rick crosses the room to ease down next to her. 

“Stop thinking like the president, hoarding all the guilt,” he murmurs, earning the turn of her gaze, the shift of her body towards him. “Just be a normal human being who survived nearly being assassinated. You’re alive, that’s all that matters.”

“What about you?” she inquires, her knees bumping his thigh as she faces him now. “Castle, I hate that your entire life has become centered around protecting me-”

“Even if this wasn’t my job, it’s what I’d be doing,” he states, shutting down that line of thinking before it can begin. “Keeping you safe… it’s all that matters to me. You’re - you already know.”

Kate raises her fingers to graze along his cheek and he catches the back of her hand, turns his lips into her palm. It’s been too long since he’s had the chance to touch her.

“I love you too,” she whispers, leaning in to nudge her nose to his cheek. She sighs out in familiar appreciation when he brushes his lips to her mouth, buries his fingers in her hair and deepens their kiss. 

Kate’s soft moan has him desperate for more, but he remains glued to the spot, waiting for her to make the first move even as he suckles on her bottom lip. All it takes is a stroke of his tongue over hers to gain the surge of her body in his arms. 

“I think it goes without saying that I’m done hiding it,” she mumbles, dragging him down on top of her, cradling his body in the embrace of hers.

“Good, because I wasn’t sure how we were going to make it another four years like this,” he breathes, smirking against her mouth when she chuckles. He chokes on a groan when her hands slide beneath his shirt, splay at his shoulder blades. “Kate, I should-”

“Remind me why I’m alive.” He drops his forehead to rest against hers, closes his eyes to the flames of sensation she elicits with the innocent touch of her fingers down his spine. But he’s helpless when her mouth opens beneath his, when her chest lifts to press against his. “Rick-”

“You’re alive because you’re too good to die,” he mumbles, kissing the skin between her brows, dusting his lips down her nose. The whimper that climbs her throat is muffled by the kiss he layers to her mouth. Her ribcage stutters beneath his hands as he skims his palms to her flesh, caresses the taut muscles and sinewy curves of her body. He should be watching the door, guarding her, but the world is crumbling around them and all he wants is this, her. “Because I love you too much to let you, Kate Beckett.”


She remains tangled with Castle on the couch for a long time. Her eyes often drift to the monitor on the table across the room, to the chaos that has gone quiet, but the White House grounds are still roamed by murderers. She knows she has responsibilities, duties as a leader of the country, but Castle has a point - the only thing she can accomplish by taking any course of action now would be adding to the bloodbath with self-sacrifice. 

Castle has explained their exit strategy and has plans to communicate - once the chances of having a phone call intercepted have lessened - with Ryan and Esposito. The two secret service agents have apparently owned a role in this emergency game plan concocted between her three men since the early days of her presidency.

“They love you too, you know,” he murmurs the explanation into her hair while he brushed his hand up and down her spine. 

She nods before lowering her head to his chest, fighting off thoughts of loved ones, her lack of them. Her mom’s been gone for fifteen years, her dad passed last September. Castle’s been without his eight year old daughter, Alexis, and his mother, Martha, since long before she ever knew him. 

The list of those she cares about has only continued to shrink, but her ferocity to protect those she has left has grown.

Kate curls in closer to him. “We’re a family.”

Castle’s fingers bury in her hair, circle along her scalp. “Does that explain why they call us mom and dad?”

She scoffs, turns her head to brush her upturned lips to his collarbone. 

“We have contacts across the globe,” he picks up, circling back to their original conversation. “They’ll send reinforcements. It’s just a waiting game right now.”

“If we get through this, I don’t want to run again,” she confesses, feeling him shift beneath her, attempting to catch a glimpse of her face, but she keeps her cheek pressed to the spot above his heart.

“This isn’t a new idea, is it?” he murmurs, curving his palm at her nape. She shakes her head.

“I want to change the world and I - I feel like I had a good run these last four years, but this job… I’m tired, Rick. And after this?” She sighs, unfurls her arms from her chest and lifts her head to meet his eyes. Soft and understanding and so very blue. “I just want to live for me for a little while. I want to go back to New York and collaborate with the NYPD again, I want - I want to get a loft in the city and a beach house in the Hamptons like the one you always gushed about-”

He huffs a laugh, his cheeks warming with a hint of color. Kate balances a hand on his chest, cranes her neck forward to rest her forehead to his, nudge her nose to his cheek.

“I want a life. With you.”

“All you’ve ever had to do is say the word,” he replies, stroking his thumb to the hollow spot at the base of her skull. “I want all of that and I - I want to try writing again.”

Kate sucks in a breath, can’t help the smile. He’s been writing her short stories for years now, snippets of characters and enticing political thrillers that she’s never been able to get enough of. His writing career was cut short after the national tragedy that took his family and she never questioned it, didn’t have to. But to witness his passion for the written word and weaving of a tale renewed… it has her heart fluttering with excitement.

“Man, we really have to make it now,” he chuckles, grinning at the press of her kiss to his mouth. 

“We’re going to make it. We’re going to stop the bastards who bombed my house, took strikes at our city, our country. We’re going to rise again as a nation, like we always do, and then you and I are getting our happily ever after,” she lists, feeling her heart skip and accelerate at how badly she wants it. “And years from now, you can publish a loosely inspired novel about it.”

“Ah, President Beckett, you get me.”

His phone buzzes from the pocket of his slacks and Rick quickly leans over to snag the device.

“It’s Esposito, we need to get ready,” he murmurs, his chest expanding with a deep breath as he lifts his eyes to hold her gaze. “You’re glued to me the second we step out of here. I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

“It’s mutual. I’ve got your back out there, Castle,” she reminds him, nodding her head towards the arsenal of weapons. “No more overprotective bullshit. You’re my partner.”

He sighs, but doesn’t argue. “Deal, Madam President.”

She shoves lightly on his shoulder as she reaches past him for her clothes. “And stop calling me that.”

anonymous asked:

can you pls write something based on this au picspam? policevest tumblr address post slash 47518700056 slash castle-au-castle-meets-an-angel-gina-torres-and

Post anon is referring to:

Castle meets an angel (Gina Torres) and works out a deal with her to bring Johanna Beckett (Mary Steenburgen) back to life. But there’s a catch…he has to die instead. A life for a life, and eventually no one will remember that he existed. Once Beckett realizes what Castle did, she desperately tries to find a way for both Johanna and Castle to live, before she loses all her memories of him.


(A/N: all credit for both this brilliant idea and artwork above goes to @policevest. I own nothing except the words below.)


He watches her sleep from his spot in her bed, brushing her hair back from her forehead, feeling his heart clench painfully.

“There’s still time, you know.”

Rick glances up to the woman watching him with a sad smile across the room. Beckett’s guardian angel, apparently, with orders that she’s never necessarily been comfortable executing. But Kate… he wants nothing more than for her to be happy, to have what she wants. 

And he knows without a doubt that his wife would give anything to have her mother back.

“Do you really think leaving her is what’s best?”

“She won’t remember me, that’s what you said,” he returns, glancing back down to the woman sleeping in her bed. No longer theirs. 

Since this process began, since he managed to accidentally get his hands on that ancient artifact and wondered for a split second if Kate would be better off without him, he’s been stuck in limbo with the (annoying) angel. And with Johanna Beckett.

“Doesn’t mean it won’t leave another hole in her heart,” her mother chimes in from the foot of the bed.

These two women came to him with a deal, yet they’ve spent this entire ordeal arguing, one trying to dissuade him while the other presses him to choose what he thinks is best for Kate. It’s quite frustrating.

“Is that true?” He turns his eyes back to the angel, who releases a sigh through her pursed lips.

“In a sense. It’ll feel like mourning a ghost, harboring a hollowness she doesn’t understand.”

“But she’ll have her mother back?” Castle ensures, glancing to Johanna.

“Rick, you know there’s nothing I wouldn’t give to be back in Katie’s life, to have never left to begin with, but you… you’ve been so good for her. Jim tells me stories all the time when he comes to visit my grave.” She smiles softly, that same hint of a dazzling smile his fiancée so often wears for him now. “She loves you. So much.”

“But she loves you too,” he protests, ignoring the nagging indecision threatening to form in the back of his mind. He was so sure of what he thought was best the second the ultimatum was offered to him, but Johanna Beckett continues to evoke doubt. “She would have given anything-”

“She wouldn’t trade you.”

“Rick, we’re running out of time, so I have to ask you again,” the angel murmurs, her dark eyes narrowing on him. “What do you want to do?”

“Excluding my daughter from a choice that affects her life doesn’t seem fair,” Johanna cuts in. 

The angel glares daggers at her. “Johanna.”

“Don’t you think so, Rick?”

He returns his gaze to Kate, watches her body shift and curl towards him as if she knows he’s there.

He doesn’t know the answers anymore.


She wakes with the whisper of lips on her cheek, the husk of a voice in her ear, and shifts in her bed towards the source, finding only empty sheets.

Kate’s eyes open, scan the desolate space beside her, the shape of the body that belongs just a flicker in her mind that she can’t shake. All she knows is that something’s wrong, missing, and it’s worsening each day.

His presence is strong, like a ghost that walks beside her, filling her head with indiscernible murmurs, warming her cold hands with a touch that isn’t there.


The name slips past her lips without prompting, an echo of a memory rippling through her mind, and she clings to his face, his bright blue eyes and that beautiful laugh. She fights to make him stay, to stop fading.

“Come back,” she chokes, squeezing her eyes shut as if that can make the memory remain, as if that can force Richard Castle - her favorite author, her partner, her fiancé - to stay. “Don’t do this to me again.”

Kate draws her knees to her chest, pressing her forehead hard against her patella. The light weight of a hand on her face that has her eyes flying open a second later, her head jerking up with hope. 

But her heart stops at the sight of her mother perched on the edge of her bed.

“Mom?” she whispers, watching the gentle smile claim her mother’s lips.

“Hey, Katie.”

“Am I - is this a dream?” Kate inquires, and god, she’s really going crazy after all, isn’t she?

Johanna hedges. “You could call it that. This isn’t going to make a lot of sense, sweetheart, but just listen to me, okay? There’s not much time.”

Her mouth dry, Kate nods, shifts to sit up in the bed, to roam her gaze over her all too real mother sitting on the edge of her mattress as if it was just an ordinary day. As if she never left.

Johanna’s chest rises and falls with a deep breath while Kate’s stops short.

“It’s a long story, but Rick he… he was offered the opportunity to make a deal, to trade his life so I could have mine back,” she explains, and Kate’s unsteady heart tumbles into her ribs, begins to freefall towards her stomach.

“He - are you alive?”

“No, unfortunately not,” her mom sighs, reaching forward to squeeze her knee. “We’re in the ‘in between’ right now. I wanted insurance on you, so I’ve had an… well, a guardian angel looking after you. And, as of late, after Rick as well. When he held that artifact from the case you two were working on, it transported him here, with her, and she offered him the choice.”

Kate blinks. Angels? A magic artifact? Her mother alive and yet not?

“Okay, you’re looking at me like this is crazy, and trust me, I know, but just listen to me, Katie. Rick has slowly been fading from your memory and within a matter of minutes, you’ll wake up in a world where he never existed. A real world, where things are permanent,” her mother explains slowly and she may not completely understand, but Kate shakes her head.

“No, he can’t - where is he?”

“He’s here, glaring at me,” Johanna chuckles, but when Kate looks around… there’s no one. “Well, I can see him, but he’s becoming a ghost. Like me. It’s why you need to make a choice of your own, Kate.”

“Between the two of you? This is - what kind of twisted dream is this? You’re - you’re dead. This can’t be real.”

“It won’t be,” Johanna smiles softly. “It’ll all be over soon and you won’t remember any of it the next time you wake up, I promise. But what you choose right now determines what you wake up to and that’s why I’m telling you to pick your husband, the life you both worked so hard for.”

Kate sucks in a breath, tries to keep up. “But that… it really means I won’t see you again like this? Won’t even remember having the chance to talk to you again?”

Her mom frowns, but squeezes her knee once more. “I’m afraid not.”

“Why? You’re here now. You’re here. Why can’t you just come back?” she rasps, the tears clogging her throat, blurring her vision. “I miss you, Mom.”

“I miss you too, baby,” Johanna sighs, standing from the bed to move closer, embrace her daughter and stroke her hair. And it feels so real, just like when she was a little girl, a teenager, nineteen. “That’ll never change. But the way your life happened was the way it was supposed to happen, the way it was always going to happen, and I don’t want you to change it, to lose the kind of love and happiness that no one else, including me, can give you.”

Kate buries her face in her mother’s shoulder, inhales the faint scent of her perfume.

“Remember when I said you’d love his books?” Johanna murmurs, the grin claiming her lips when Kate withdraws from her embrace. Her mother’s gaze flickers to the other side of the bed. “Told you so.”

Kate huffs a gentle laugh, follows her mom’s line of sight to the man she can’t see. But she can feel him there, can feel the connection thrumming through her veins, pulsing through her system to flood her heart. 

Even if she won’t remember this moment, even if she has to lose her mother all over again, she’s not willing to lose him too. 

She refuses to give him up.

“Make him stay with me.”

anonymous asked:

can you do an insert or something for Hiraeth? I"m not ready to let this story go

A/N: Spoilers for those who haven’t read, but set any time after chapter six, when Beckett starts sleeping in Castle’s bed. 


She is rarely a deep sleeper to begin with, always ready for the buzz of a cell phone, the drop of a body, to wake her. But since he disappeared and she would crawl into bed praying for a phone call, she sleeps restlessly and anxious to wake. Since he’s come back and she’s returned to his bed, she sleeps even lighter, drifting along the edges of consciousness. 

So when a nightmare has him twisting and turning beside her, Kate’s eyes are already open and her hand is already reaching for him. He’s had nightmares in the past, the curse of a writer’s imagination plaguing him after a hours at his laptop or hours with her on a hard case, but she knows the bad dreams have become a far more frequent occurrence these days. 

She touches her hand to his shoulder blade, fingertips scaling scars she still isn’t familiar with beneath the damp t-shirt.

“Castle,” she calls, clearing her throat when his name leaves it in a rasp. “Castle, wake up.”

He rolls onto his back, mumbling incoherencies, his chest heaving with a fast heartbeat. Kate shifts to rise onto her elbow, lean over him, but when her fingers graze his throat, his entire body goes stiff. Castle’s arm snaps up from his side, seizing her wrist in his grasp with impressive speed. Her lips part around his name once more, but he’s up and rolling on top of her before she can speak it. 

The weight of his body pins her to the mattress, knocks the breath out of her before she can gasp. His fingers curl around her wrists, hard enough to bruise, and she’s reminded of his size, just how strong he truly is. One of her legs reflexively hitches to defend herself, but she stops before she can bring her knee to his groin. 

Even though his eyes are open, he’s staring down at her unseeing. Still asleep.

“Rick,” she breathes, her own heart racing beneath his. She hates to imagine what he must be dreaming of to hold her down with such force, whom he’s trying to subdue. “You’re dreaming, Castle. You’re with me.”

His fingers twitch at her wrists, his lashes flutter, and Kate is able to slip a hand from his grasp, lift it to his cheek. 

“Castle.” One of her legs is trapped beneath his, but the other curls at his thigh, draws him down to her. Anchors him. “Hey, you’re here with me. You’re safe with me.”

He blinks, his brow furrowing as his gaze clears, settles on her beneath him before flicking around the room to register his surroundings. 

The tension drains from his body, from hers, and his grip on her wrist goes slack. She raises her other hand to his cheek, earns the slide of his gaze back to her face.  

“Kate?” he whispers, the horror leaking into his eyes. “Shit, I - what did I do? Are you okay? Was I hurting you-” 

“I’m fine,” she promises, but he’s shaking, his arms quivering as he tries not to collapse on top of her any more than he already has. He has that little boy look of terror written all over his face and it’s breaking her heart. 

Kate tightens the leg at his thigh, strokes her thumbs to his cheeks before she twines her arms around his neck, embracing him. His chest shudders and he sinks against her, slips his arms around her frame, and chokes out a broken noise into her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she promises, even though it isn’t. He isn’t and she’s scared for him, afraid of whatever put that terrified look on his face.

He’s quiet for a long moment and she almost asks if he remembers the dream, if he can recall who had his heart galloping and his skin going damp, who he was seeing before the haze in his eyes dissipated for her. 

She feels the heat of his breath against her clavicle, the drop of moisture seep through the sleeve of her shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, but she shakes her head, resists the urge to tighten her arms around him.

“You were dreaming-”

“I could have hurt you,” he groans, the shame in his voice all consuming. “I could have - maybe you shouldn’t be in the bed with me, Kate. I couldn’t handle it if I-”

“Rick, nothing happened,” she insists, unable to stand the guilt that doesn’t belong in his mouth.

“But I-”

“I’m not going anywhere.” It comes out a little more forcefully than she meant it to, but it has him deflating with a sigh against her. 

“Fine,” he mumbles. “But just - wake me up, shake me or something, if it happens again.”

“Almost kneed you,” she admits, relishing the relief that floods her chest at the choked sound of his laughter.

“Thank you for sparing me, but if that’s what it takes to-”

“I knew you wouldn’t hurt me,” she murmurs, brushing her thumb to the top of his vertebrae. “You woke up, Castle.“

He doesn’t say anything, releasing another sigh into her skin. She wants to tell him that it’s okay, that it will be okay, but she knows it won’t help, that the words are empty.

He’s close enough for her to press her cheek to his, but Castle is already easing off of her, onto his side. She goes with him, lets him draw her into the cove of his body. She copies his position, pressing her forehead to his shoulder, sucking in a shallow breath of his scent, and unfurling her fingers at his back. 

His scars are raised beneath her palms, meeting the tips of her fingers through the barrier of his t-shirt between them. She leaves her hands splayed across his spine, closes her eyes against his collarbone, and trains her breath to match his until the band of his arms slowly loosens and his chest rises and falls against hers without trouble. 

She can’t sleep like this, embraced so snug and warm, but she doesn’t dare move. She doesn’t want to. 

Kate closes her eyes, allows her heart the rare indulgence of peace it’s found since his return, encourages its beat to block out the low roar of panic that is constantly brewing in the back of her mind.

She’s not back in this bed with him solely for his sake. She needs to be here, needs his body close and in reach, needs the reminder. 

It’s become the only way her heart will calm at night.