the beginning of this song reminded me of beckett so here we are

Ready to Run | uno

Summary: (Modern-Day AU) In which a two youngsters come to know how important it is to live your life to the fullest, leave an imprint of every single moment you’ve lived, on your heart, because you’re given the chance to live only once. [Movie AU]

Word Count: 2053

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (female)

Genre: RomCom (a wee bit of drama)

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I think I love marrying Bucky with everyone except the reader. But y’all will read it anyway, bc I know you guys love slow burn. So here’s my Road Trip au that I promised you guys! Enjoy reading and please give me feedback, bc I love reading your comments and opinions. 

A special thanks to my wifey, Yvy ( @minervaem ​) for reminding me and pushing me to write this and also for being my beta reader. You know I love you more than dinosaurs

“Ready to Run” Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The Beginning

Could there be any other place where he could do this?

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Castle Fanfic: An Entirely Different Dance 1/1

This is an extremely, extreeemely late birthday fic for the amaaazing @allylobster. I hope you like this! <3 <3 

An Entirely Different Dance

A post 2x24 AU

Caskett

T


Stalking into her apartment – her temporary apartment – Kate Beckett has to fight the urge to slam the door behind her.

She shouldn’t be pissed. She has no right to be pissed.

And yet, she is. Her chest aches with it, the anger, the frustration.

The mortification.

How could she have been so stupid? For a quiet, insane moment, she had thought that he had wanted her. That they could’ve been something more, something real. Something terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time. Something she had been running from ever since he offered her seven different kinds of fast food as penance for Dick Coonan slipping away.

Well, that joke is on her, isn’t it? Because he’s off to the Hamptons with his ex-wife and publisher while she is, and will continue to be, here in the city alone.

Especially since even Lanie has bailed on her.

Albeit yes, her friend has a reasonable excuse for postponing their hastily made plans, and if she weren’t still so embarrassed that her boss and her colleagues had witnessed her attempt at going away with Castle, she would be ignoring the fact that she had asked for the weekend off and working the case with her team. Instead she’s home, clutching the neck of a too-expensive red wine in her fist and wondering exactly how bad it would be to just pop the cork and drink the damn thing straight from the bottle.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Ugh.”

Her groan echoes around her sublet, bouncing off the empty walls, serving as a reminder for how little she has settled in, how warm and cozy her old place and Castle’s loft had been. Maybe that’s what she’ll do this weekend: she’ll finally make this place feel like home, even if it’s only for a few months while she looks for another apartment. She can make this place hers. Just hers.

But first, she needs to rid herself of this day. No, this year.

Her shoes are the first to go. She loses almost four inches, but her feet celebrate being free of their confinement, and some of the tension in her spine melts away.

She leaves the heels in the middle of the walkway, allowing a smile to touch her lips as her mother’s chiding voice echoes in her head.

One of these days, Katie, you’re going to trip over those.

She hasn’t yet.

Her slacks are next to go. They land in a crumpled heap halfway between the door and the kitchen, where she sets the wine down on the counter and fishes a corkscrew from one of the drawers. She’ll pick everything up later, right now she’s cutting loose.

Yeah, she’s a cop gone wild, all right. Leaving her clothes all over the floor like regular rebel.

Her first swig of wine goes down a little rougher than she expects, leaving her swallowing hard, swiping the back of her hand over her lips. Her eyes water – because it burns, damn it – forcing her to set the bottle down and suck in a few steady breaths.

Well, at least her pity party is hopping. For the next bit of entertainment, maybe she’ll spill on herself and ruin a perfectly good work shirt.

“What a mess,” she mutters, curling her fingers around the wine bottle once again and pushing away from the counter. “All this over one irritating, immature, self-centered jackass.”

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