Discover Top Posts Tagged with #agentinred

" the look on your face says there's more on your mind . " @ Ben

the sounds of nightmares from here.

A slow exhale releases from Ben though the height of his shoulders do not lower. As he gazes out of across of his window from his London office, Ben offers a small smile that doesn't quite reach all the way to his eyes. For all of her teasing, and for all of her seduction, Carmen had slid into his world in such a way that was unforgettable.

And yet, unlike the many that had filtered in and out of his life like a rotating door, she had stayed. Sometimes simply just out of sight, but never far. It gave a man like Ben Callahan the idea of control -- that control he so prides himself on in every aspect of his life... but it's not really there, is it?

"You coming in and out---... it catches me off guard."

With all of her research, with all of her...check-ins, she had managed to pin him down and put him under a scrutiny that made him uncomfortable. Vulnerable was a persona and a uniform he had not worn since he was eight years old and shaking in the presence of a father who mocked him, mocked his stutter, and was beaten into him that silence and submission kept one safe. To shrink yourself away. That love.... to love was transactional, performative, and the moment your usefulness went away, then so did the love.

"I can't ever --..." He pauses, withholding. It used to work for him. Their little midnight tête-à-têtes, the secrecy, the casual intimacy. But casual intimacy only worked when it was fleeting. It only worked when he was able to control when it started and when it began. That's why all of it before had failed. A self-destruction of his own making. He preferred it that way.

But he reigns it all in, because he knows he's supposed to exude strength. The...masculinity, the steadiness.

"-- Maybe a heads up every now and again, yeah?"

#b. callahan: responses.#agentinred #ben lore #; sad face ;

do you remember our encounter in paris? - @agentinred

The slow raise of his brow the same time his lips quirk up into a mischievous grin. “We’ve been to Paris a few times, darling, but I seem to remember,” He drawls, leaning back in his chair as he stares up at her, “You decided to go au natural when you realized I had a conference call. Showed up in my hotel room with just that little red scarf on - a little present — mind you, a distraction while I was presenting to a group of third year law students.” Ben’s grin grows wider as he reaches out for. “I was speechless for long enough that the kids thought my camera had froze.”

#**HEART EYES**#agentinred

| | | ‣ @agentinred ⤷ ONE LINER.

❝ this is the third time i'm seeing you today — following me now? ❞

#agentinred #∣∣∣ ⚕ ‣ ʀᴏʙɪɴᴀᴠɪᴛᴄʜ * 𝒗 : main

A concerned citizen. Really? Eve bit back the urge to scoff, managing—barely—not to let her face betray her thoughts. It wasn’t like this was their first time working together; they’d had their share of back-and-forths before. Carmen was annoyingly resourceful, the sort of person who could dig up secrets even MI5 didn’t know existed. That alone made her both intriguing and dangerous. But the next thing Carmen said made Eve pause. She wanted to fire back something sharp, something that would cut through the ridiculousness, but what was the point? Carmen wasn’t the type to be rebuked.

The truth was, Eve had changed. A year ago—no, longer—her life had been so meticulously ordered. She’d known exactly where she stood, what her mornings would bring, what she’d eat for dinner, and which polite conversations she’d have to endure. It had all been so perfectly, maddeningly structured.

She didn’t even realize how detached she’d been from it all, going through the motions like a well-rehearsed actress in a dull play. She’d smiled, crossed the road when the light changed, and nodded at the right moments during dinner parties. And yet, somewhere along the way, that version of her—the precise, predictable Eve—had become a stranger. An empty shell she’d long since discarded. Eve tilted her head, studying Carmen. “So, what’s your angle here? You’re suggesting we work together? Why? What’s in it for you? Because let’s not kid ourselves—you’re not doing this out of the kindness of your heart. You want something, and if I’m going to agree to any of this, I need to know the whole picture. No games. No half-truths. We lay it all out.”

Her voice was firm but low, just enough edge to make the words stick. There had been moments—fleeting, maddening moments—when she could’ve walked away. Slipped back into her old life, and convinced herself this was just a detour, some absurd midlife crisis. But she hadn’t, and she wouldn’t. It was too late for that.

She’d stepped too far into the unknown, and now, the thought of returning to the person she used to be felt as impossible as it was unappealing.No, the map was gone. The structure she’d clung to for so long? Shattered. It terrified her—and thrilled her in equal measure. She was alive, more than she’d been in years, and though she had no idea what came next, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Eve leaned back, exhaling sharply. “I think I’ll need another drink. You?”

continued from here with @agentinred !

#agentinred #v: undecided #MUSE : EVE POLASTRI #WORLD : KILLING EVE

@agentinred said : i try not to think about how things might’ve been.

through sherlock’s cases often drew him to the rich and the powerful, he still couldn’t stop the excitement that burst through his chest at seeing carmen again. you just didn’t track down a masterthief without a few good memories crawling free from it [ of course, there had been no arrests from such a case : the pure glee of finding someone was worth the trouble sometimes -- especially as he’d buried himself in a dry patch in the long weeks before ]. and now they find each other again, but not because sherlock had spent any time looking. IN FACT, HE IS FRESH IN HIS SUIT AND TIE, A BALL THROWN IN AN OLD FRIEND’S HONOUR ... victor had always been a friendly man and the occasion had drew people from all across england, from farther than just england. still, carmen is a surprise. ‘‘ i’m afraid to say you’ve stumbled into the wrong bathroom. ’’ he offers a smile before noticing her disheveled appearance, the fact she remains out - of - breath. ‘‘ running from someone? this reminds me of -- alright, best not to get ourselves lost in remembrances, perhaps you’re right. ’’

#agentinred #put them immediately into antics

@agentinred asked: ‘ i’ve got to take a chance and keep on moving. ’

SHE MAY NOT LIKE THE ANSWER VERY MUCH BUT SHE’S SWORN HERSELF to not be so selfish, for the sake of both their hearts. entwined with the lovely image of a woman who always seems to slip from her fingers, samantha tilts her head slightly away, holding back the countless pleas to keep carmen from what she wants to do. if she wanted to go, seek the world in pursuit of her dreams, who was she to stop her? “ --i miss you, ” she speaks, muted in her sorrow. her expression remains to be stoic, itching to strip back more emotion. alas, her voice betrays her and carries out her feeling. god, she missed her-- sweet scents of rose, the shades of crimson will always remind her of carmen no matter what. lips roll in briefly as she swallowed her soul down her throat, “ but i can’t stop you. and i know this is what you want. just know that you’re always welcome to me. doesn’t matter where you are. ”

#agentinred #jfc we're back at it with the angst again

@agentinred 💀 : ❛ Anything you need, tour guide, lunch date, shoulder to cry on? ❜

❝ well, if i get to choose freely— ❞ it doesn’t take long before he slips back into his brazen self, now does it. ❝ a booty call would be nice. ❞ near-empty bottle is lowered, the realization that he can’t even have that taking a whole new toll. a sigh. ❝ what service can you mortals even offer? ❞ talks ahead of himself, finger soon pointing directly at her as new ideas shoot through drunken mind. ❝ hey, what if you start a cult in my name, huh? that would serve everybody— ❞

#agentinred #♰ answer #♰ tied #oh my god

The newspapers were calling it The Summer of Theft, where a number of valuable paintings were being removed from their places of rest ( that being the houses of very prestigious member of society and museums frequented by such folk ) with surgical precision. He dared to find the art in the thief's method itself, but having checked precisely which paintings were taken from whose houses, he cannot help but pity the poor burglar. So much trouble, such artistry, only to be mercilessly shadowed by his own. Rendered useless, really.

By the time the second piece that had been conceived in his studio is reported stolen, the artist begins to expect a visitor. He figures, of course, that someone with such an understanding of art and, more to the point, crime would be remiss to let him get away with his part of the ordeal when he had inadvertently impeded their efforts.

Which is all to say that when he enters his hotel room at the Parisian Ritz that evening, he is not the least surprise to find that he was not alone. Granted, the figure with a hat and a long coat isn't quite what he expects –– she seems like a character out of a novel –– but he doesn't let it sway him. No, the artist remains a cordial host regardless.

❛ I thought you'd show up. ❜ He confesses, loosening the tie around his neck while making his way to the minibar. ❛ But I did imagine you all in black rather than red. ❜ He opens an aged bottle of whiskey and pours it into two tumblers; takes one for himself and leaves the other at the edge of the surface. Turning to face her, he leans against the bar.