#ingeminis

[apocalyptiiic]

@ingeminis continued from (x)

He missed her? She didn’t even know that was possible. Coming forward, she brings him into a warm embrace, “I’m glad you are okay. How’ve you been?” she questions before withdrawing from the hug to get a proper look at his face once again.

[jamesholden]

53 + luke & giselle

send a number and two characters || 53. Keeping a Secret

The office is quiet, save for the heavy breathing of its two sole occupants. It’s dark, but the city offers plenty of light through the large windows. They don’t want to broadcast their presence in the room to anyone who may stop by. It’s late on a Friday, they are the only ones who could possibly be there. But when it comes to this… better safe than sorry. 

She lies on his chest, nuzzling the spot right behind his ear that makes him shiver. His fingertips trail down her bare back. They live for moments like this. Just the two of them, somewhere quiet, somewhere they likely won’t be disturbed, tangled up in each other. They’re so often surrounded by people, so often out and about taking care of the company that they long for small moments like this one. 

It hadn’t been planned, like most of their trysts. They have to plan. They have to be meticulous. They have to be careful. But he had looked at her and threw caution to the wind. And she’d joined him. It’s hard to be careful when emotions are constantly bottled up. He’d helped her out of her dress and she’d undone his tie and his shirt and they ended up on one of the sofas in his large office. She hums and kisses the ridge of his jaw.

“So much for a quick stop at the office, Luke…”

He laughs, tilting his head to rub his cheek against her forehead. “Something always keeps us here longer than intended, Giselle. It might as well be something we want for once.”

“Very true,” she whispers, scratching lightly at his chest.

They go quiet again. It happens a lot. With all the time they’ve spent together over the years, it’s easy to slide into moments when they don’t need to talk. The distant sounds of horns from the street barely interrupt them. They could do this for hours. If they had hours.

Giselle sighs and straightens, moving to sit by his feet where there’s room. He groans and she laughs. “We should get up before security comes around again. Just in case.”

She’s right. She’s always right. That’s why he had hired her. They can’t be caught like this. Word could get to anyone. To the board. To his mother… He couldn’t do that to her. She’d worked too damn hard for this to lose all credibility because of him. Because of them. He watches her as she picks up her panties, her bra. She’s as beautiful in the light like this as she had been on top of him. Her necklace catches the light, and he grins. 

He’d bought that for her for Christmas. She wears it every day. Given it to her the night he finally kissed her. The night they decided to give this a try. A jeweled star in a blue pendant. His “true north”, he had called her. He’d been very honest about that. He wishes they could be honest about this. About them. He can’t stand all this caution. He wants to just be with her. Without worrying about security catching them like this, without masking dinner dates and business meetings, without thinking about how many days they get to spend together versus how many nights. 

Jealousy burns in him whenever he sees his twin Mark with his girlfriend Emma. He’s thrilled that his little brother is happy, but… he wants that same happiness. He wants to flaunt how lucky he is, how this gorgeous woman wanted him. It gets worse on visits home for the holidays. Luke can’t bring Giselle home. Mother would just know. And who invites their assistant to a week’s jaunt home for Christmas? Giselle doesn’t have many friends. She spends those days alone. And Luke watches his brother and his girlfriend smile and laugh, while feeling like he’s not wholly there. Giselle deserves better than he. And yet…

Gentle fingers trail down his jaw and tip his chin up. Soft lips press to his forehead, and he closes his eyes, reveling in the warmth it sends through his body. When Giselle pulls back, she’s grinning lovingly. Guilt settles in his stomach.

“You look so far away, mon cher,” she singsongs, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “What’s wrong?”

He blinks, certain that he looks dreamy and unfocused. He should say something. He should make a joke, tell her not to worry. The things he usually says. But he says something else entirely.

“I’m sorry.”

Giselle blinks herself. Luke’s always loved how she looks when she’s confused. Her eyes widen, and her mouth drops open just a tad. Kissing that look from her face is always a joy. But something in him won’t let him do that this time. He wants her to see. He’s so sorry. He never says it, he rarely shows any sign of being sorry for anything he does. But this? He can’t hide how all this secrecy, and forcing it onto her, gnaws at him. No one can find out, for how knows how long. The board would want her transferred. His mother would want her fired. Doesn’t matter what good she’s done for all of them, how she was dutifully professional for years before they’d even kissed, how well liked she is. They’d just see her as a woman who got on her knees for her position or something worse. Luke respects her too much to let that happen to her. 

Giselle grins, laughs. Luke’s heart skips a beat. Her expression shows nothing but affection as she leans close to him, her nose almost touching his. “Listen to me,” she whispers. He’d listen to her forever. “I knew what i was getting into, Luke. I understand what could happen if we’re found out. I don’t want it to happen to me, and I sure as hell don’t want it to happen to you. Not after all the hard work you’ve put into this. I do this to protect you, just like you do it to protect me.  I’d rather have you like this than not at all.”

Luke gapes at her. God, is he lucky. He tilts his head up and kisses her. She smiles against his lips, slides a hand back to rake through his hair. She’s right again. It’s not ideal, but until that time comes, this has to be enough. And it can be. He pulls away with a hum. Giselle gives his jaw a light tap. 

“Now get dressed, Luke. Hurry.”

They help each other dress. They hand each other clothes. Luke zips up her dress, stopping to press a kiss to the nape of her neck. Giselle buttons his cuffs and ties his tie. She gathers their bags and he grabs their coats. She smiles as he holds her coat out for her, gestures for her to turn. She does more for him than almost anyone else. The least he can do is help her with her coat. Luke locks up when they leave. They pass the security guard as he steps onto their floor. They laugh the entire elevator ride down to the lobby.

Luke drives Giselle to her apartment building. She tries to take a cab, but Luke has none of it. He wants to spend as much time with her as he can. He holds her hand as he drives. It’s a cliche. But then again, so are they. He never thought he’d find himself here. It’s a good thing he has.

They arrive at her building far too soon. Luke spots her doorman, Jack, looking out into the street. He waves, earning a wave and a smile in return. He likes the older man. He’s looked out for Giselle since she moved in almost seven years earlier. He was always happy to talk to Luke while he waited for her in the lobby or while Luke was on his way up. Giselle has nothing but kind things to say about him. Luke looks at Giselle and sees her looking back at him. 

She’s beautiful. He’s always acknowledged that. He loves her bright, mischievous brown eyes. Her dark wavy hair that just touches her shoulders. Her lips, always quirked in a grin that makes one think she knows something they don’t. A thought comes unbidden to him. He’s thought it before but… it’s right on the tip of his tongue this time. He swallows. Could he say it? Would she want him to say it? Would she even feel the same? He starts to speak, and soft lips press against his. 

Luke kisses Giselle back. She lets go of his hand to touch his jaw, and when she pulls away, Luke tries to follow her. She’s grinning at him. There’s a touch of sadness in it. Her thumb strokes over his cheek, just like back in his office. 

“Oh, Luke,” she sighs with a shake of the head. “I know, mon cher. I know.” A weight comes off his chest, he takes a breath. He didn’t know he’d stopped breathing. She knows? How? He’s never said it. Or gotten close to saying it… Or has he? Mark’s mentioned there being “more than one way” to tell someone. Asking if she needs something while he’s out or up, asking how she’s doing, making sure her seat belt is buckled and telling her to go home to sleep and texting her at night to see what she’s reading. Maybe even his impulsive apology for their situation. 

Or maybe he’s shown it. Taking her elbow when she walks down the stairs in heels, giving her his water after a workout, reading her his favorite emails from the week, or wrapping his arms around her from behind and resting his head against her neck. Calling her from half a world away to ask how the weather is, changing to a radio station she’d prefer when on long drives, writing her notes in paper airplanes and trying to get them to her as she works on the sofa, brushing her hair and watching her smile through the mirror. Could that have done it?

Luke snaps back to the present when Giselle kisses him, lightly, Sweetly. He blinks at her. Her serene smile doesn’t fade. “I do too.”

Before he can react, before he can say anything, she pecks him once more on the lips and climbs out of the car and shuts the door, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. He gapes as she saunters away. Thoughts still escape him as she turns to wave, her smile now a smug grin. She steps into her building, greets Jack, and disappears around the corner. It’s a few long moments before the weight of what Giselle has implied really settles on Luke.

She knows. And she feels the same. 

She feels the same.

Could he have known? Did she ever say anything? He settles into his seat, a slow smile growing on his face. Yes, he could have known. The same way she must have known.

It must have been the gentle reminders to sleep, the way she lists the day’s activities with inflections that show how she feels about each one. Or when she speaks French to make it easier for him to speak his mind in front of others, or how she assures him always that he looks well-dressed and handsome, or how she insists that he read his paperwork before she hits him with it. And what she’d said to him, back in his office.

He thinks of her kissing up his back in the morning to wake him slowly and happily, and of her pulling off his shoes when he falls asleep on his office sofa. He thinks of her placing cups of coffee in front of him and of her turning down the lights when he rubs his eyes or temples. He thinks of her fixing his tie and of her humming as she brushes her fingers through his hair. He thinks of her smile, and the warmth in her brown eyes that seem reserved only for him. He should have known. He giggles to himself as he pulls into traffic to drive to his own apartment.

Of course, there’s the ultimate sign. The real cause of his smile and the one that cements the idea. She could tell he isn’t ready to say it. She can see that he wants to, but he can’t. But she can assure him that she understands. And she can ease his concern and tell him she knows he loves her and she loves him too.

And that certainty will make their secret easier to bear. 

[jamesholden]

74 + luke & giselle

send a number and two characters || 74. Are you challenging me?

Doors slam when Luke and Giselle return to the Gray estate. They’d been sent out to kill a banker. He was on to them. And the pair makes one hell of a team when they get along. It made sense to send them to eliminate the man. But something went wrong. Giselle is bleeding and furious and Luke is livid. They’ve been fighting. 

“Giselle, we’re not done,” Luke snaps, grabbing her seemingly delicate wrist. He knows how strong she really is. He tugs on her arm until she turns to face him. Fire and defiance burn in her eyes. Luke is unflinching. “What was that? Why didn’t you stick to the plan?”

The Frenchwoman rolls her eyes, trying to jerk her arm from his grasp. Luke holds fast. “Because the plan was shit Luke. He had guards posted everywhere. He knew we were coming! We had to find another way in.”

Luke scoffs. “So you just go and do it, without discussing it with me.” His eyes are drawn to the cut on her brow, the blood on her lip. Part of him wishes the banker were still alive, so he could kill the man himself. But Giselle had done it. And the furious parts of him are still in control. “I’m in charge, Giselle. You don’t get to make decisions like that without my say so.”

“Is that so?” Giselle steps close to him, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. Normally, Luke would dwell on how gorgeous she looks when she’s mad. He’d tell her. Make her smile and make the anger melt away so they can clean themselves up and joke about all this over some wine or something stronger. Forget all of this. But they’re both too angry for any of Luke’s compliments. “Maybe someone else should have a turn. Someone flexible. Adaptable. Someone who would actually listen.”

Is she challenging him? Really? Doesn’t she trust him by now? He’s saved her life and kept her secrets. He could have told Lily everything he knew, all about how she’d killed her father. How she’d been abused.  But she still can’t trust him, even in the field. He can’t have that. He can’t. Not when Lily questions him constantly already. Why do they have to question him? Hasn’t he proven himself to them enough? Words, most of them angry, spin through his mind. He speaks before rationality can stop him.

“Well, maybe we should have left you in that hole we found you in. Maybe we should have left you in Paris, all on your own. Picking pockets for a living because the only family you had left is dead.” 

The world seems to go silent. Giselle’s scowl slowly melts into some sort of look of horror. Of shame. Hurt. Or maybe Luke’s projecting. She lets out a shuddering breath, and Luke feels it in his bones. She looks down at his hand on her wrist and pulls out of his grasp. Luke doesn’t stop her. 

“Fuck you,” she nearly whispers, unmissable in the quiet front hall. She doesn’t look at him. He’s glad for it. Giselle turns on her heel and strides up the stairs. Luke watches until her door clicks shut. He doesn’t go after her. He’s numb as he walks up the stairs to his own room. As he strips off his own bloody clothes and steps into the shower. As he washes his hair and brushes his teeth and slides into bed. He sits in the dark. Regret gnaws at him in the quiet. He shouldn’t have said that. Giselle didn’t deserve it. He can’t think about why he said it. He won’t. But he can’t think about anything other than the look she gave him anyway. He’d never wanted to hurt her back. He’d never want to hurt her to begin with.

But he did. He can only hope she’ll forgive him. What would he do without his best friend?

[agentmikeweston-blog]

Things I currently love

I was tagged by tinytaissa

one song: Talking Body - Tove Lo two movies: Age of Ultron, Mean Girls three shows: The Following, How to Get Away with Murder, Sense8 four people: Shawn Ashmore, Mel, Cee, and my cat Phoebe who totally counts. five foods: Pizza, hamburgers, french fries, chicken soup, garlic bread six people to tag: agent-mika-weston, agentweston, agentmaxhardy, ingeminis, obsxrva, psych-as-in-gotcha

[operationophelia]

+ ingeminis

“Oh.” 

         It’s not a greeting, but it’s also not common to see other people in the theater twenty minutes before rehearsal. Script in one hand and a latte (how else are you supposed to fit in?) in the other, Jenn takes a moment to assess the stranger, too stuck in her paranoid ways to just be normal and say hi. 

              “Are... you with the cast? No one’s ever early here. Well-- besides                                                     me, I should probably add, it’s usually just me.”

[lagarrotte-blog]

ingeminis​:

“I’m trying.”

He doesn’t want to complain, he did ask for her help after all, but it feels like she’s rubbing sandpaper into his wound instead of stitching him up.

“Try  h a r d e r, mon cher. I can’t hold you still when I need both hands...”

Not that she doesn’t want to give him a comforting touch. She does. But it takes two hands to close the cut. Just one more  bandage and she can move on to the next injury.

[lagarrotte-blog]

♒

send me ♒ for a randomly generated sentence

“I’m not even jealous.”

[agentmikeweston-blog]

♒

25.

“You gotta be a little rougher.”