can’t start a fire without a spark: a castle fanfic by liviafan1
But if there’s one thing he’s realized over the last few days, it’s that her theory is only the tip of the iceberg. If his feelings are any indication - his heart collapsing into his stomach when Demming is around, his fingers clenching against his thigh to keep from slipping his hands into her short waves and caressing her perfect mouth with his lips, his mind shuddering with images of her supple body beneath his, sighing his name as she clings to him -
He’s a man wrecked.
A man in love.
women like that don’t become mystery writers, ch.6
“I’ll skip over your commentary about my age since you called me cute.”
“That’s nice, Castle. I’m sure your ego really needs that boost,” she says wryly.
Cover Art by: Jade
women like that don’t become mystery writers, ch.4
“Is that a ‘No, shut the hell up, Castle,’ or a ‘No, he actually doesn’t have any details?’”
Cover art by: Jade
women like that don’t become mystery writers, Ch. 2
A Co-written story by liviafan1 and FanficwriterGHC.
Cover art by: Jade
After they’d hashed everything out and he slid his warm mouth over her wet cheeks in apology, she huddled into the corner of the couch under a big blanket, quiet and small as she watched the tv flicker without the sound on.
He tried to tug her into bed, knew they were both exhausted and had an early morning ahead of them, but she shook her head - needed a few more moments of quiet. He left her in her spot only after she assuaged his worry with a gentle kiss, sweeping an I love you across his jaw before promising to join him soon.
Complete.
women like that don’t become mystery writers: chapter one
A writer’s blocked, post-Derrick Storm Castle meets Kate Beckett, a rising young mystery novelist acquired by Black Pawn to replace him. Despite their instant dislike of each other, they are given a month to co-write Black Pawn’s bext bestseller, or lose their advances, and possibly their jobs. A co-written story with FanficwriterGHC.
Special thanks to mjsofter for the lovely cover art!
I’m not sure what story that is, anon. But I’ll post this and tag it and hopefully someone will be able to answer it.
Looking for something to read tonight while I chill at home.
I’ve read a LOT of stuff, so think obscure, but awesome.
:)
Shoot me an ask or reply to this post.
Public Announcement (for our writerly kick-our-butts-into-it-ness):
Olivia (Liviafan1) and I will be writing the temporarily titled “Manuscript Fic” within the coming month:
A writer’s blocked, post-Derrick Storm Castle meets Kate Beckett, a rising young mystery novelist acquired by Black Pawn to replace him. Despite their instant dislike of each other, they are given a month to co-write Black Pawn’s next bestseller, or lose their advances and possibly their jobs.
“I just - I need you to take me with you next time, Castle.” She kisses him, brief and soft. “I need you to take me with you so I don’t have to wonder if you’re going to make it home.” She takes a breath, her eyes slipping closed. “So I don’t have to keep kicking myself for waiting so long to tell you how much I love you.”
He holds her tighter at the sound of the crack in her voice. “I knew, Kate,” he reassures her. “Your eyes give you away, you know.” He smiles. “So if you wanted to keep it a secret, you weren’t doing a very good job.”
Post-Ep for Hunt. One-shot. Complete.
She’s tight-lipped around Lanie for a few days until she can’t keep it to herself any longer. She bursts in the day after Castle’s drop-in, knows she can’t hold him off any longer.
She needs someone to tell her what to do.
“I need your help,” she confesses, all breathless and flustered.
“You finally gonna tell me what happened between you and Castle the other night?” Lanie asks, lifting her head away from the body she’s examining.
“We kinda…” She bites her lip. “We made out a little.”
She flicks on the faucet and plugs the drain before she rolls up her sleeves.
“You know you don’t have to do that.” His breath is warm against her neck, his hand solid at her back as he slides to her side. She swallows hard, clenching her fists under the trickling water. She shifts her weight and waits for his hand to fall away.
“You made dinner,” she starts weakly. “Least I can do.” She picks up a glass and a sponge, busying herself with the mundane task.
“But we haven’t even had dessert yet.” His voice is low, raspy, practically dripping with sex and oh, she’s a little dizzy. The cup slips out of her fingers and falls into the water, splashing her in the face, prickling awareness back into her vision.
“You’re calling about a body, right?” he asks inanely as he steps into his bedroom, shucking his pants for more appropriate attire.
“No, Castle, I’m calling to ask your opinion on what I should wear into the precinct today.”
He stops, perks up immediately. “Really?”
“No,” and he can see the all-too familiar roll of her eyes. “Of course there’s been a murder, Castle.”
He scrubs a hand down his face. “It wouldn’t happen to be in Chelsea, would it?”
She lets out a low groan. “Is this your way of telling me that I’m going to have to arrest you?”
He smirks. “No, but let’s come back to that later.”
