Hey there. My name is Liz and I enjoy TV, Movies, fanfiction and her online life maybe a little too much.
I love Photography, Castle, the only ever seen unicorn Stana Katic, Jennifer Lawrence, political humour, non-bullshit, fun stuff, cute animals, DOGS and good people from around the globe. I don't judge, I try to not be prejudiced a lot and I hate intolerant, narrow-minded people unwilling to look at a problem from both sides. There, 's all.
Oh, and I love CASTLE. Did I mention Castle yet?!?!
when my family went to disney world we went on the haunted mansion ride and this actor dressed as a skeleton came up to our cart and got right in my three year old brothers face and whispered “are you scared?” and my brother kissed him on the nose and the guy laughed so hard he had to leave
I’m going to take this opportunity to answer one I’ve been wanting to write from the beginning, but no one has ever requested. Get your tissues ready folks, it’s a sad one.
41. Ghost/Living Person AU
The room still smells like her. That unmistakable combination of her cherry shampoo and her Jo Malone perfume is still dusted on everything. It’s like it has seeped into the furniture and the woodwork. It’s even on his clothes since she was always draping herself over him or just plain wearing them, and no matter how many times he washes them, he can’t make the smell go away. She has engraved her scent into the apartment.
Castle stands in front of his practically empty fridge, staring at its contents yet again. Some moldy cheese he should probably throw out, a rotten tomato, his takeout leftovers from last week, sour milk. He groans, shutting the door, picking up his phone, and calling the Chinese place from down the street.
He thinks about her while he eats and the way she used to insist on eating with a fork instead of with chopsticks. He used to argue with her about how he recalls her eating with them in the beginning, to which she would always respond, “Yeah I gave up on that.”
Castle’s ears perk up as he hears the noise of footsteps coming from his bedroom. Her scent, which lingers everywhere, intensifies as the footsteps get closer.
“There you are,” he says, smiling as she appears in the kitchen wearing a pair of her boxers and one of his too big for her sweatshirts. “You know that sweatshirt really does look better on you.”
“Take out again?” she asks, sitting across from him at the table. “Castle, you really need to go to the store.”
“Nah, this is easier. Do you want some?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Suit yourself.” He scoops noodles into his mouth as she watches with that cute little amused smile on her face. “Hey, you know what I was thinking about earlier today? Our trip we took to Paris.”
“Yeah? What made you think about that?”
“I found that stupid little Eiffel Tower trinket you insisted on getting that cost me ten bucks.”
“You’re good for it.”
He pokes his tongue out at her in a childish gesture which she returns, laughter bubbling out of her. He’s missed this; their childlike banter. It has been far too long since they’ve engaged in it.
“Well anyway,” Castle starts again. “Paris.”
“What about it?”
“It was a good trip wasn’t it? All of the scenery –”
“Of the hotel room? We didn’t leave much.”
“We left plenty.”
She raises an eyebrow at him, ghosting her hand over his.
“Okay well, it is called the ‘city of love’ for a reason,” he finally complies.
She laughs again, making his heart soar. It truly is one of his favorite sounds, one he doesn’t hear much of anymore.
“I tried to leave,” she protests. “You’re the one who kept pinning me to the door or dragging me back to bed.”
“I never heard you complaining.”
Her eyes grow dark and hooded and she smiles at him, biting her lower lip in that way that always does something to him. He reaches for her, his hand only passing through air.
“I miss you, Kate.”
“I miss you too, Castle. So much.”
“It isn’t fair,” he tells her, sadness filling his eyes. “You should still be here with me.”
“I am here with you.”
“I mean really here. Not just my writer’s mind making up fake conversations between me and a ghost.”
Her hand ghosts over his cheek and he swears he can actually feel the weight of it.
“Castle, I never wanted to leave you. But I guess my heart couldn’t handle being shot a second time.”
“You shouldn’t have even been there,” he chokes out, the tears starting to fall again. “You were supposed to be home with me. You weren’t even on call.”
“I know,” she says, softly. “I know, babe, I know.”
“How am I supposed to move on, Kate? You were supposed to be the last woman I ever loved.”
“Give your heart some time to heal, Rick. It’s not going to happen overnight.”
“Maybe I don’t want to move on,” he says, trying to reach out and touch her again. “Maybe I just want to keep pretending that you’re still here when you’re really not.”
His phone rings and he looks down at it to see who’s calling, some unlisted number. When he looks back up, his eyes searching for her, she’s gone. Her scent is still swirling in the air. He stabs a piece of sweet and sour chicken with his fork, having long since given up on the chopsticks himself.
“Happy Anniversary, Kate.”
Why would you…. how did you…. *ouch, ouch, ouch*!!!!!!!