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inklore · 8 months

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love lies

premise: the love you have for your fiancé is a farce that you’ve perfected for three years that has gone unnoticed by everyone, except her.

pairing: villanelle x (f)reader

word count: 1.7k

contents: cheating, fingering, choking, sort of knife play, getting off to the talks of blood and murder, dirty talk-ish, they’re both a bit unhinged but that’s ok.

note: this is an au obviously so take v’s character as you will and not as what’s canon ok, but cheers to my gay ass finally writing for her!

haunted hoedown day one.

The fake smile that you know has to be hurting the blonde’s face from being held for the entirety of the night makes something in your stomach curdle.

Makes your nerves sit on edge at the agitation, the secrets, and the lies that the smiles hold. That the owner of it is hiding. She deserves applause for keeping up with the act. The nice neighbor. The befriending of the nice couple who just moved in next door, getting close to the soon to be wife who left all her friends and troubles behind to move to Paris with her fiancé.

A move you agreed to.

A move you imagined would bring you and your fiancé closer. Would change that pit in your stomach that has since become a gaping hole every time you planned for the wedding. Planned to spend your life next to this man you only seemed to love when he was suffering.

When he was vulnerable. Brow pulled down in sadness. A cut done by a kitchen knife while he was cutting vegetables that you pushed down on harder than you needed to while cleaning it. When you accidentally put the wrong salve on it, just to watch him wince and squirm.

That look in his eyes when you were on top of him and you wrapped your fist around his throat to watch that sheen in his eyes question if you were going to let go. The last hitch in his lungs before you cut the air flow off completely.

“I just get really into it, I'm sorry.” You had told him when he asked about it after the first time, and who was he to take away from the pleasure of the woman he loved?

His ignorance was bliss.

But it was also tiring. Creating that gaping hole that the love he poured out to you ran through endlessly where it should have made you whole. Full. Better.

And yet you agreed to wear the ring he saved up to get you. Followed him across the ocean.

Your ignorance was a farce you didn’t know how to get out of. A farce that you’ve perfected for three years. That has gone unnoticed by everyone.

Except the blonde to your left.

The blonde, who had almost lost her touch on pretending to care about whatever was coming out of your fiancé’s mouth the longer the night went on. The longer her eyes caught yours. The longer her knee had pressed into your inner thigh after leaning herself further against the table—giving a look of fake eagerness—the more she pushed her legs between your open ones.

Your look of warning made her fake smile twitch into her real one—devilish, mischievous.

But now both smiles are gone and the two of you are standing in your kitchen, and you’re thankful for the dishtowels in your hands that are keeping them busy with drying because you know her resistance is running thin.

The patience she’s had all night that has threatened to come out in the possible slip of her false accent—the accent you only found to be fake when she cornered you in the entryway of your flat, her lips against yours, your name sounding better in her rigid Russian accent than her fake French one.

Your hands had gone from being in her hair to pushing at her shoulders, removing her from your body not because of the lie but because you needed the excuse to stop this, where every part of your being was sighing in relief from finally giving into the tension. To finally being touched by someone you actually desired.

You may not have loved your fiancé, but starting a torrid affair with your new neighbor didn’t seem like the right way to get out of your current situation—something you eventually learned was the exact opposite.

“I’ll be your dirty little secret, if that’s what you’re into. If it makes this easier for you. We both know he’s not your type.”

And if there was an award for reading someone completely through to their core and being right, Villanelle would win, and you’d be the loser.

“He is a very annoying chewer.” She breaks the silence, “did you know this when you accepted his proposal?” Your silent raised brow is enough for her to put her hands up in defense. “It was just an observation.” She sighs, picking up another dish, “a very annoying observation.”

Your mind scatters to scrounge up something that sets your nerves on edge about Villanelle. To what? Stick up for the man you don’t love? Or to try and prove to her that you actually do have feelings for the man who’s in the next room carrying on with his night happily, thinking he just had a great dinner with his soon to be wife and their hospitable neighbor who’s definitely not fucking his fiancé?

But there’s nothing to prove to the woman who can read right through you.

Who’s gotten off at the palms you’ve both wrapped around each other's throats.

You can’t disguise yourself in front of the queen of them.

It’s a losing game.

A game you’re not interested in playing, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself to.

A game you should play. To resist this woman and the detrimental feelings she brings up. The feelings that fill the void inside of you with the toxic waste of your shared fucked-upness.

Your eyes catch the glint of the knife in Villanelle’s hands. The way her fingers run along the blade to clean it. The tight grip she has on the handle. The confidence she has in knowing she’s not going to slip and cut herself—like she’s held worse in her hands and done worse with it.

The sight—the thought—makes you swallow harder. Makes those dark feelings and thoughts light something deep in your stomach that has you aching. That has your eyes looking up through the doorway towards the room where you know your fiancé is.

“I could do it, you know, quick, painless. He wouldn’t feel a thing.” Her accent is thicker when she’s whispering. When she’s this close, leaning into your side, breathing against the shell of your ear.

Her words make your grip slip, the glass in your hand tumbling into the sink, making you jump; making your thighs press together, your lungs forget how to take in air as you envision the blood that would stain your rugs, that would stain Villanelle’s skin.

“Everything okay in there?”

His voice is like a cold shower to the heat burning through your nerves like wildfire.

“Yes!” Villanelle pipes up in her fake French accent, “just a case of slippery fingers.” Her laugh is short and looks misplaced with the lack of smile on her face. With the fire that’s burning in her eyes when you look up at her, that glint of something you’ve yet to see but know is within her. That you know is within you. That has always been within you if you’d just dived deep enough to face the inevitable instead of letting her touch, kiss, fuck it out of you.

He’s still talking, saying words your ears—and your mind—refuse to register as Villanelle grips your waist and pushes you against the counter.

The knife still in her hand, the tip pressed to your breast bone, more distracting. More worth focusing on. Stealing all your attention and breath, even as she’s replying to him. As she’s keeping up with surade like her eyes aren’t burning through you. Like you can’t see how heavy she’s now breathing. How the sheen in her eyes is the complete opposite of someone who is weak, and it turns you on even more.

“It's worse when I push it through slowly.” Her breath ghosts over your lips as she whispers, as she leans forward, the tip of the knife presses further into your skin, making your breath catch at the sting. “I would do it so he would have already bled out before he knew what had happened to him.” The edges of her mouth rise in a soft smirk, “or would you rather me show you? So you can understand how it feels and do it yourself. You would look so good doing it.” The arousal in her voice that leaks through in the rough kiss she presses to your mouth is just as intoxicating as her words.

You don’t have time to mourn the loss of the blade at your chest when she moves it to press the two of you closer, to grip the sides of your neck to keep your lips on her mouth. To give her easier access to lick and bite into and against your open mouth, willing—needing—all she is giving to you.

When her hand slips up your dress, your thighs spread to give her access to where the both of you need her to be. To the cotton of your underwear and past the elastic band, to that ache that has you wet and warm and throbbing against her palm and fingers.

Her middle finger presses against your clit, your gasp concealed by her lips, your fingers digging into the side of her shirt.

“God, you’re so wet.” Her finger leaves your clit, the heel of her palm flush against it as she pushes a finger inside of you. “Is this all for me or for wanting him dead?” She teases and smirks when you can’t answer because you know you’ll do it too loudly.

When you both know the answer already.

If the two of you were alone, if you weren’t trying to be quiet—to stop the inevitable of your fiancé finding out or worse happening to him—you’d want Villanelle to keep talking. To coax you to your orgasm with her teases and remarks. To drop down to her knees and bury her face between your thighs until you were begging her for more, and then begging her to stop when she gave you too much.

But you’re not alone, and there’s only so many gasps and pants she can swallow down. Can lick out of your mouth with her tongue, thanks to her skillful fingers.

Thanks to the palm around your throat and the thumb pressing against your pulse point.

“One day I will kill him, and you will be mine.”

And as you come with her name breathed into her satisfied smirk, you believe her.

You want her to.

You know she will.

#villanelle x reader #villanelle x you #villanelle smut #killing eve fanfic #villanelle one shot #villanelle fic #villanelle fanfic #killing eve one shot #villanelle imagine #killing eve fanfiction #oksana astankova #oksana astankova x reader #villanelle x y/n #villanelle astankova #hauntedhoedown

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 6 months

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~𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓜𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓼 (𝓚𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓔𝓿𝓮) 𝓢𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓼 1-4

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wandanatsgf · 2 months

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Date Night & Murder

Pairing: Villanelle x Reader

Word Count: 691

Summary: What a date night between two assassins looks like

“Oh come on,” you hear your girlfriend, Villanelle, say. Crimson liquid seeps out of your latest victim and onto the floor. It stains her new boots. “I just bought these.”

“I’ll buy you another pair baby,” you say, soothing her over for now. You look around the now dead man’s apartment, making sure you left no evidence.

“Oh please you owe me more than just a pair of boots. I’d like three…and maybe some drinks.”

“Fine,” you agree, not wanting to argue with the blonde woman. You double check everything before making your way to the fire escape. You climb down, making sure Villanelle is right behind you.

“Now come on, we need to go so we can change before the movie. I want to have the best seats,” Villanelle says once the two of you are on the ground.

“Of course you do. You only want the best. The best food, the best clothes, the best wine,” you ramble on, teasing her.

“I think you’re forgetting the most important one baby. I wanted the best girl and now I’ve got her.”

You can feel your heart melt for the woman.

“We’ll I can definitely say you got her and you got her forever.”

The two of you quickly walk back to your shared apartment. After quickly showering and changing, the two of you walk hand in hand out the door and towards the theater.

The walk there is rather peaceful, which surprises you considering who you're walking with.

"Ok you get the snacks and I'll get the tickets," your girlfriend says as you walk through the doors.

"Ok," you agree. You wait in line for the food and decide on a large popcorn and two soft drinks for the two of you. Just as you finish paying, your girlfriend walks up to you with the tickets in her hand. She takes the popcorn and her drink from you and hands you your ticket. You look down at your ticket and a look of confusion sets across your face.

“Oksana. You said this was going to be an action adventure movie. What about Minions: The Rise of Gru screams action?”

“Are you kidding me Y/n? Minions is full of action. And don’t act like you don’t wanna see it. I’ve seen you watching the commercials,” she retorts back.

While she’s not wrong, this isn’t the movie you were expecting to watch during date night. Not to get you wrong but being in a theater with a bunch of children doesn’t exactly scream date. But as long as you’re with V you’re happy.

The two of you walk hand in hand into the theater and take your seats, only after V not so politely asks two children to move. She really was serious about getting the best seats.

The two of you sit down just as the commercials start. You glance over at Villanelle and she is enthralled by the screen. It brings a smile to your face. After the hard life she's had, she deserves a little happiness.

The two of you munch on popcorn as you watch the screen. You laugh at the funny parts and (as ashamed as you are to admit this) you cry at the sad parts too. The movie ends all too soon as the credits start to roll and the lights turn on.

You move to stand up, but your girlfriend pulls you back down.

"That's it?" she questions.

"Yeah it's over baby."

"But I don't want it to be over," she pouts.

"We can always go see it again," you tell her.

"I guess that will work," she says. "But I want to come back and see it first thing tomorrow."

"Whatever you want baby," you say, trying to convince her to leave. She finally gets up and the two of you walk back to your shared apartment.

After you get home and into bed you look at the beautiful blonde next to you.

"What are you staring at baby?"

"You. You know I love you V, right?"

"I know baby. I love you too," she says. She pulls you closer into her and the two of you fall asleep just like that.

#killing eve #villanelle x reader #oksana astankova #oksana astankova x reader #jodie comer #jodie comer x reader #villanelle x you #killing eve fic #killing eve fanfiction #villanelle fluff

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multifandom--mess · 13 days

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hannigram x villaneve crossover fics bc hell yes!

mlm/wlw solidarity if you know what i mean 🤭

《☆☆☆》

》 Summertime in Marseille - (12k)(Mature)

Murder wives across the pond? The London area manhunt for pay to play assassin Oksana Astankova continues tonight after the gruesome discovery of the bodies of two M16 agents and the unsettling disappearance of a third. The missing agent Eve Polastri’s checkered history with the femme fatale stirs up a sense of deja-vu to a case stateside involving the (still unsolved) disappearance of a certain disgraced psychiatrist turned psychopath and his companion Will Graham. Both pairs vanished without a trace, leaving behind only a couple of corpses in the hands of, debatetly inept, law enforcement. Longtime readers will remember the debacle on the rumors of the relationship between Lecter and Graham. Fresh faces should expect much of the same insight when it comes to Astankova and Polastri. -Freddie Lounds [Tattlecrime.com] Or: Villanelle takes Eve to visit an old friend.

》 Wintertime in the Atlantic - (10k)(Mature)

Dear Hannibal and Will, [Eve warned me I really shouldn’t write Hannibal and Will but I don’t think you two are stupid enough to let other people read your mail and the consequences are on you if you are.] A recent client has gifted me four first class tickets for a cruise to Australia on the 11th of December! The ship leaves from Lisbon which is a wonderful coincidence since Eve tells me that’s where you’re currently living. We never got the opportunity to repay you two for helping us during our time of need back in Marseille. My fiancé and I would be delighted if you would accompany us. The tickets are attached! -xoxo Villanelle Or: Eve and Villanelle meet up with the Lecter-Graham’s once again.

》 Rhapsody in Brashness - (4k)(Mature)

“We understand,” says Hannibal. The vibrations of his voice rumble against her the way that thunder does through storm clouds. “You are unique, as I am. And she insinuated herself into you, as Will insinuated himself into me. The blind, pearly rootlets of human connection have burrowed themselves too deeply into the fertile soil of your soul to be killed, now, no matter how many times you hack away at the verdant growth which springs anew into the air, again and again. The intricate underground web of them merely spreads implacably further and deeper and will continue to do so until they smother you, or until you allow the leaves to fully unfurl into the light.” “But she stabbed me,” Villanelle exclaims petulantly.

》 A Cannibal, A Dog Lover, and an Assassin Walk Into A Bar - (1.7k)(G)

Hannibal and Will wanted a quick getaway to Rome, but end up with a little more adventure than they anticipated.

》 Murder Pals in Alaska - (1.5k)(Mature)

Eve and Villanelle make their home in Alaska and befriend Will and Hannibal.

》 Cannibal vs. Assassin: The Showdown - (5k)(Mature)

“Obviously, they do kill people based on those dance moves alone,” Hannibal tittered, but quietly enough as to not attract attention. Will stifled a laugh. “That is not a reason to ruin their night though,” Hannibal decided, following Will through the crowd.

》 Taste and Temptation - (18k)(G)

Eve and Villanelle have gone off on their own, traveling and getting to know each other better. Hannibal and Will have too. Both couples happen to have dark pasts and trouble with the law, but that hasn't really put a damper on their vacations. The four of them happen to meet at an opera in Florence but when they keep running into each other, they have to wonder if their meetings are coincidence or something that could put their travels in danger. Villaneve meets Hannigram on the run.

(NOTE: unfinished but still worth the read!)

》 The Professionals Series - (12k)(T)

A Hannibal/Killing Eve crossover AU where Hannibal and Villanelle are best buds. Theoretically set after "The Wrath of the Lamb" and "God, I'm Tired" for parts I and II and after "You're Mine" for part III.

#been missing my faves a whole lot recently #so i decided to provide these recs for you all to devour #also they put killing eve on netflix !!!#hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannigram #will graham #hannibal lecter #murder husbands #hannibal fanfiction #hannigram fanfiction #killing eve #villaneve #eve polastri #villanelle #murder wives #killing eve fanfiction #ao3 #fic rec

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upat4amwiththemoon · 10 months

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Can I request mom!villaneve where r and villanelle are arguing but they’re arguing in a different language and eve is just standing there and villanelle like can you believe what she just said and eve is just confused

Bilingual beauties

Summary: Eve tends to stay out of her wife and daughter’s fights, because usually they happen in Russian.

Pairing: VillanEve x daughter!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 344

a/n: I didn’t want to use google translator this much, so whatever is in italics is spoken in Russian!

masterlists | guidelines

”I don’t get why you have to be such a fun killer!” Y/N shouts at Villanelle, her brows scrunched together and eyes glaring holes into her mother.

Villanelle gasps, slapping her hand against her chest, ”me? A fun killer?” She quickly glances at Eve who is staring at the two with raised brows. ”how can I be the fun killer, when I’m the more exciting parent, huh?”

Y/N lets out a sound that’s a mix of a laugh and a scoff. “You’re always nagging at me! Y/N don’t do that. Y/N, you’re not going out in that outfit. No sleepovers allowed.” She changes her voice to match Villanelle’s, of course, it’s more mocking than realistic. “Eve is the fun mom. She actually lets me leave this hell hole.”

”This isn’t a hell hole! This is a nice apartment that I chose.” She turns to Eve, looking for back up, but the older woman just shrugs, not understanding a word coming from either of their mouths. With a dissatisfied huff, Villanelle crosses her arms over her chest. “Excuse me for thinking about your safety. You going to a party with people I don’t know, is not safe.”

”You mean people who you haven’t thoroughly background checked and stalked.”

”Yes!” She throws her hands in the air, as if that is what normal parents do.

Y/N’s head goes back as she groans. ”You’re so annoying.” She starts jogging up the stairs.

”Go to your room!”

”Already going.” She stomps her feet harder, making her feelings very clear.

”And don’t you come out of there.”

”I wasn’t going to!” Is the last thing Y/N shouts before slamming her room’s door shut.

Villanelle whispers Russian curses under her breath, annoyed she didn’t get the last word. “Can you believe her?” She scoffs, looking at Eve with wide eyes

Shaking her head, Eve stares as her wife walks out of the room. Her lips are in a thin line. “I need to get a dictionary.” She mumbles with a sigh, rubbing her forehead.

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peach-and-bugs · 3 years

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Masterlist

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

characters that I write for are organized in alphabetical order by fandom and by name. links will lead to my complete list of posted work for said character:

willing to write for characters: romantically (➵ ) platonically (✸) or nsfw (✧)

Character Alphabets (sfw ✸ & nsfw ✧)

Ask Box Headcanons and Blurbes

Agents of shield

Bobbi Morse ✸ ➵ ✧

Daisy Johnson/Quake ✸ ➵ ✧

Jemma Simmons ✸ ➵ ✧

Jiaying ✸ ➵ ✧

Leo Fitz ✸ ➵

Malinda May ✸ ➵ ✧

Phil Coulson ✸ ➵

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Hilda Spellman ✸ ➵ ✧

Madam Satan/Lilith ✸ ➵ ✧

Sabrina Spellman ✸ ➵

Zelda Spellman ✸ ➵ ✧

Doctor Who

Amy Pond ✸ ➵ ✧

Bill Pots ✸ ➵

Clara/Clara Oswald/Oswin ✸ ➵ ✧

Eleven/Smith!Doctor ✸ ➵

Jack Harkness ✸ ➵

Missy/Gomez!Master ✸ ➵ ✧

River Song/Melody Pond ✸ ➵ ✧

Simm!Master ✸ ➵

Thirteen/Whittaker!Doctor ✸ ➵ ✧

Twelve/Capaldi!Doctor ✸ ➵

Five Nights at Freddy (movie)

romantic (➵) platonic (✸) nsfw (✧)

Mike Schmidt ➵ ✸

William Afton ➵ ✸

Vanessa Shelly/Afton ➵ ✸ ✧

Killing Eve

Eve Polastrí ✸ ➵ ✧

Villanelle ✸ ➵ ✧

The Legend Of Korra

Asami Sato ✸ ➵ ✧

Bolin ✸ ➵

Bumi ✸ ➵

Izumi ✸ ➵ ✧

Korra ✸ ➵ ✧

Kuvira ✸ ➵ ✧

Kya ✸ ➵ ✧

Kyoshi ✸ ➵ ✧

Lin Beifong ✸ ➵ ✧

Mako ✸ ➵

Opal ✸ ➵

Tenzin ✸ ➵

The Last Of Us (Games)

Abby Anderson ✸ ➵ ✧

Dina ✸ ➵ ✧

Ellie Williams ✸ ➵ ✧

Joel Miller ✸ ➵

Tommy Miller ✸ ➵

Marvel

Agatha Harkness ✸ ➵ ✧

Bucky Barns/Winter Soldier ✸ ➵

Bruce Banner ✸ ➵

Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel ✸ ➵ ✧

Darcy Lewis ✸ ➵ ✧

Drax ✸ ➵

Gamora ✸ ➵ ✧

Hela Odendottir ✸ ➵ ✧

Hope van Dyne/Wasp ✸ ➵ ✧

Jane Foster/Mighty Thor ✸ ➵ ✧

Kate Bishop ✸ ➵ ✧

Layla El-Faouly/Scarlet Scarab ✸ ➵ ✧

May Parker ✸ ➵ ✧

Mantis ✸ ➵ ✧

Maria hill ✸ ➵ ✧

Monica Ranbough ✸ ➵ ✧

Natasha Romanov/Black Widow ✸ ➵ ✧

Nebula ✸ ➵ ✧

Okoye ✸ ➵ ✧

Peggy Carter/Captain Carter ✸ ➵ ✧

Peter Parker/Spider-Man ✸ ➵

Sam Wilson/Falcon/Captain America ✸ ➵

Scott Lang/Ant-man ✸ ➵

Sharon Carter/Powerbroker ✸ ➵ ✧

Sylvie Laufeydottir ✸ ➵ ✧

Thor Odenson ✸ ➵

Valkyrie ✸ ➵ ✧

Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch ✸ ➵ ✧

Yelena Belova ✸ ➵ ✧

Parks and Recreation

Ann Perkins ✸ ➵ ✧

April Ludgate ✸ ➵ ✧

Donna Meagle ✸ ➵ ✧

Jennifer Barkley ✸ ➵ ✧

Leslie Knope ✸ ➵ ✧

Star Wars

Ahsoka ✸ ➵ ✧

Captain Phasma ✸ ➵ ✧

Finn/FN-2187 ✸ ➵

General Hux ✸ ➵

Han Solo ✸ ➵

Leia Organa ✸ ➵ ✧

Luke Skywalker ✸ ➵

Padmé Amidala ✸ ➵ ✧

Rey ✸ ➵ ✧

Rose ✸ ➵ ✧

Stranger things

Argyle ✸ ➵

Chrissy Cunningham✸ ➵

Dustin Henderson ✸ ➵

Eddie Munson ✸ ➵

El/Eleven/Jane ✸ ➵

Erica Sinclair ✸

Jim Hopper ✸ ➵

Johnathan Byers ✸ ➵

Joyce Byers ✸ ➵ ✧

Karen Wheeler ✸ ➵ ✧

Lucas Sinclair ✸ ➵

Max Mayfield ✸ ➵

Murray Bauman ✸ ➵

Nancy Wheeler ✸ ➵ ✧

Steve Harrington ✸ ➵

Will Byers ✸ ➵

misc.

Alma LeFay Peregrine (mrs peregrine's home of peculiar children)✸ ➵ ✧

Elizabeth Corday (ER) ✸ ➵ ✧

Laura DeMille/Madame Rouge (Doom Patrol) ✸ ➵ ✧

Lily Lebowski (Crossing Jordan) ✸ ➵ ✧

Marilyn Thornhill/Laurel Gates (Wednesday) ✸ ➵ ✧

Millie Rusk/MolotovGirl (Free Guy) ✸ ➵ ✧

Miranda Croft (The Flight Attendant)✸ ➵ ✧

Dr. Olivia Octaviouse (Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse)✸ ➵ ✧

Yellowjackets

Jackie Tayler (1996) ✸ ➵

Laura Lee (1996) ✸ ➵

Lottie Mattews (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

Misty Quigley (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

"Nat" Natalie Scatorccio (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

Shauna Sadecki (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

Taissa Turner (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

Travis Martinez (1996/2021) ✸ ➵

"Van" Vanessa Palmer (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

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bi-bard · 1 year

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So I Will Not Ask Where You Came From - Villanelle Imagine [Killing Eve]

Title: So I Will Not Ask Where You Came From

Pairing: Villanelle X Reader

Based On: Like Real People Do

Word Count: 655 words

Warning(s): none that I can tell

Summary: Like any other couple, Villanelle and (Y/n) had an arrangement that worked for them. Villanelle did her work and (Y/n) gave her a place to eat, shower, and relax. (Y/n) didn't ask any questions and Villanelle offered them attention and affection. A perfectly balanced relationship.

Author's Note: God... I am so bi.

HOZIER [2014] WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

--------------------------

I was woken up by the door opening and closing.

I rolled over and looked at the clock before just closing my eyes again. It was late, I was tired, and I knew who it was.

My assumptions were confirmed when the weight on the mattress shifted. I felt an arm wrap around my torso and lips press to the skin of my jaw.

"I can tell that you're awake," Villanelle muttered into my ear.

I rolled onto my back, forcing her to lean back enough to make room. "How was your trip?"

Trip.

That's what I called them.

Those work trips that she went on that always conveniently happened just after she got a new postcard from her dad. I wasn't blind. Our brains are trained to see patterns and that was one of the most obvious patterns I had ever seen.

"Good, good," she nodded. "Quick."

I grinned. "Good."

When I first noticed the pattern, I assumed that she was cheating on me. But once I caught sight of the writing on a few of the postcards, I knew it was something different.

I didn't understand fully. I don't think I ever would.

Mostly because I didn't want to know.

It was so much easier to turn a blind eye to it all. It was so much easier to deal with her coming back to me late at night and never questioning where she had been.

She seemed happier with that arrangement too.

What I had was enough for me to hold onto this pretty little world that I had. The affection and company were enough for me. They call them rose-colored glasses for a reason.

I had spent a long time feeling completely isolated from everyone around me. I felt like I was a ghost. I didn't have anything solid to hold onto. I was just... there.

But with Villanelle, I didn't feel like that. I actually felt like I was wanted somewhere. By someone.

I don't know why she stayed with me.

I don't know what I offered her that was enough for her to keep coming back.

I stopped thinking about stuff like that after a while. I had asked her once, but I didn't get a straight answer. I saw no point in dwelling on questions that I wouldn't get answers to. Especially when I was happy. Why try to ruin a good thing?

Villanelle leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips. I hummed as I kissed her back.

I pulled away a few moments later to look up at her. I caught sight of a cut on her cheek. I furrowed my eyebrows before reaching up to touch her face. I barely touched the skin under the wound.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded. "It's nothing."

"You're hurt-"

"It's nothing," she repeated. She looked at the clock. "You should get back to bed. You are very cranky in the morning when you don't sleep enough."

"Fuck you," I chuckled, playfully hitting her arm.

She smirked at me. "In the morning."

A stunned scoff escaped my lips.

She moved to lie down next to me. I looked at her, watching her shrug with that smirk remaining stuck to her face.

I rolled over to face her.

"Sleep," she instructed.

I reached out and pulled her back over to me. She let me wrap my arms around her and hide my face in her neck.

She let out a quiet sigh as she wrapped her arms around me again.

These were the moments when I knew my blindness was worth it. I had no care for what she did outside of my door. All I cared about was that she came back to me.

All I wanted was this feeling.

All I needed was her.

I would like to believe that she needed me to.

I would like to believe that's why she didn't mind me never asking questions.

--------------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

#villanelle imagine #villanelle x reader #villanelle fanfiction #killing eve fanfiction #killing eve x reader #killing eve imagine #imagine #fanfiction #x reader

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come-along-pond · 2 months

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Killing Eve OC

Everyone meet Viktoria Morozova,

also known as ‘Victoria Frist’, a Russian-British MI6 agent who was formally an assassin for hire. She met Villanelle briefly on a job and surprisingly they didn’t kill eachother.

Now she works for Carolyn and lives in a shitty flat.

A Kenny ship because I love him.

#oc: Viktoria Morozova #killing eve oc #killing eve original character #killing eve fanfiction #killing eve fanfic #ocappreciation #allaboutocs #ocapp #ochub

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hellisheavenwithyou · 7 months

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*·˚ ke kinktober 2023 *·˚

🖤 thank you @flightlessangelwings for the prompt list 🖤

all trigger warnings will be tagged in each chapter. 18+ only. minors do not interact.

after a few years of wondering whether to participate in a KT, this year I've decided to do ten of my favourite prompts from the list for Eve + Villanelle.

prompts and the corresponding dates their chapters will be uploaded to my ao3 are in the banner above and in text form below. all dates are in Australian Central Time.

happy kinktober all! i hope you enjoy.

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prompts and dates

2/10 - overstimulation 6/10 - knifeplay 11/10 - 69 13/10 - sex pollen 18/10 - sexting 20/10 - slow and soft 22/10 - squirting 23/10 - somnophilia 27/10 - hate sex 29/10 - voice kink

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #killing eve #villaneve #eve x villanelle #killing eve kinktober #writeblr #writers of tumblr #ao3 #writing #fanfiction #killing eve fanfiction #fanfic writer #writing community #writers on tumblr

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scouser-villanelle · 2 years

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3.7k Villanelle x Reader 😈 (explicit 18+) one shot. First story I've written in years, and I endeavour to write a few more before I run out of steam. If you choose to read, thank you!

#villanelle #villanelle x reader #reader insert #oksana x reader #killing eve #ke fandom #killing eve fanfiction #killing eve fic #villanelle smut #villanelle x reader smut #there's plot if you squint #fanfiction #fanfiction smut #archive of our own #villanelle reader insert #villanelle x reader insert

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gotobsessions · 2 years

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I finally finished my 8 chapter season 4 epilogue, Rebirth last night! It starts with Eve dealing with the aftermath of the events of the finale. Broken and despondent, she boards a plane home to the US, but a surprise is waiting for her when she lands… There will be fluff and there will be SMUT. Also, a murder. READ IT HERE on ao3.

#killing eve #killing eve fanfic #killing eve fanfiction #villaneve #villaneve fanfic #villanelle x eve #eve x villanelle #spoiler: villanelle is alive

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 6 months

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Usual Terms Ch 1: Back in Town and Reunited ~Carolyn Martens xFem DGSE!Agent!Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, cheeks kisses, teasing, alcohol consumption, meantions of bribery, implied past smut, implied smut, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

“Darling…!” Carolyn exclaimed, walking through the hotel lobby, towards you.

The woman was wearing a dress that clung to her frame oh so elegantly. It made you double back and your eyes take up and down her figure a couple of times. You kissed each other’s cheeks, before having a quick hug.

Carolyn’s eyes also widened at your classy, brown suit. She always loved how fashion played a big part in your diplomacy.

“Carolyn…! It’s been too long!” You exclaimed through your smile.

“I know…” Carolyn sighed dramatically, “Thank you for meeting me at my hotel, love” she smiled.

You nodded.

“Of course. Shall we?”

Carolyn nodded, linking her arm to yours and leading you to the high status restaurant in the hotel. It was Paris after all.

A waiter showed you to the table, and you both took a seat and started glancing at the menu.

“So, how’s Paris treating you?” Carolyn asked.

You sighed and smiled, meeting the woman’s gaze through the sides of your menus.

“It’s good.” You chuckled.

At this, Carolyn smiled and nodded.

“Good.” She stated emphatically.

“How’s London…?” You asked.

You had now picked your food, and so you put your menu down.

“It’s…” Carolyn began, while scanning her menu at the same time.

She then sighed and placed her menu down as well, having decided.

“It’s chaotic. And very busy…” the older woman chuckled in confession.

You could see the stress on the woman’s face. Sympathetically, you placed your hand on Carolyn’s hand, squeezing it with reassurance.

“I’m sure you’re amazing, and that they are so extremely lucky to have you.” You reassured the woman.

The woman flipped her hand up and squeezed your hand back in return. She smiled in comfort.

“Thank you, Darling.” She hummed.

Dinner went by with ease, the two of you chatting and drinking away. Pretty soon, you had both finished your meals and were sipping away at your wine.

“So…” you breathed out, placing your glass down on the table for the moment, “What is it that you want, Carolyn…?”

Carolyn put on a shocked face of mock-offense.

“Why Darling…! Why would you ever assume that I want something from you??” She exclaimed dramatically.

You took up your glass and took a sip, amused by Carolyn’s little performance.

“Come on… You always wine and dine me before asking for something…” you teased the woman, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

Carolyn chuckled.

“Alright, you’ve caught me, Darling…” she hummed, raising her hands a little in surrender, then taking a dip of her own wine before telling you.

“I need access to the French crime database.” Carolyn admitted, “Specifically a file on one woman, who my team and I are tracking.”

The woman tilted her head at you, as you listened and processed her words.

“I see… And what do I get out of this…?” You asked, taking a sip of your wine.

“My undying gratitude” Carolyn teased with the a smirk, taking another sip of her wine.

You giggled at her words.

“Very funny…” You chuckled, rolling your eyes.

“Only teasing, Darling…” Carolyn chuckled with a wink, “We’d go by our usual terms...”

“Usual terms…?” You chuckled yourself, “Can’t bring yourself to say that your bribing me, Carolyn…?” You teased the woman.

Carolyn had been refilling her glass as you spoke, and she smirked at to your words. She then offered to refill your glass, but you shook your head.

“If we’re going by our usual terms, you shouldn’t have any more either…” you teased lightly.

“OhLove… You’re no fun…” Carolyn grumbled, taking a big sip from her glass.

“What was it that you called it once…?” You continued to tease Carolyn, “Ugandan discussions…?”

Carolyn was sipping more wine as you said the last two words, and she nearly choked on her own wine. She quickly put the glass down, grabbed a napkin, and sent you a very intense yet playful death stare.

You couldn’t help but giggle at Carolyn’s reaction, being very proud of yourself, for the reaction that you’d managed to pull from the older woman.

“So you’re agreeable…?” Carolyn asked.

“I would also like access to your investigation. My people might be interested…” you explained, nodding your head and setting your terms.

The woman nodded in agreement.

“I can do that.” She breathed out.

She then pulled out a key card, her dark gaze meeting your eyes. She set the key on the table.

“Room 307. I’ll pay and meet you up there…” Carolyn hummed, leaning back in her chair.

You took the key card with a smirk.

“Don’t bother, already took care of the bill.” You hummed, “We can head up together…”

“Together it is…” Carolyn hummed, nodding with a smirk.

The two of you then left the restaurant to the elevators, arms linked and walking in tandem.

~~~

Part 2 with smut… in the works… 😏

Carolyn Martens Masterlist

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traumatisedfangirl · 2 years

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SURVIVOR’S GUILT

pairing: eve polastri x villanelle | villaneve

word count: 870

warnings: extremely angsty. discussions of what happened on the boat and how losing someone you love can affect you. also discussions of maltreatment in mental hospitals and descriptions of a panic attack.

summary: eve is in therapy trying to deal with what happened on the boat.

author’s note: i am aware this can be seen as anti recovery, but it’s just a description of eve’s mental state at the time. if anyone is struggling please seek help. there are good mental health professionals out there.

thanks to @funnyflamboyantfruity for proof reading this.

“Have you heard of survivor's guilt? After having survived a life-threatening situation some people can feel really guilty that they survived while others didn’t.”

Eve huffed at that. What is even the point of paying for these appointments when the therapist is just telling her what she already knows. She already knows she feels guilty for surviving.

“Other people might feel like they could have done more to save the lives of others. Maybe that’s how you feel about… what was her name? Victoria? Vivan?”

That’s another thing Eve hates about therapy. The therapists don’t really care about you, or what happened to you. They get paid to pretend like they do, and most of them aren’t even that good at it. He doesn’t even remember her name. She has seen him twice, to help her deal with what happened last month. He isn’t really helping her, so she doesn’t even know why she showed up today. Maybe she was just too drained to make the decision not to. Or maybe it’s because she doesn’t want to end up in the psych ward again. Yeah, it’s probably the latter.

“Eve? Are you listening to me? Remember to breathe, breathe in a square with me.”

She also hated that stupid breathing exercise. No one even explained to her what they mean by breathing in a square. The first person who told her to do it, one of the nurses in the ambulance that picked her up after… well, she doesn’t want to think about that. She doesn’t want to think about what happened on that boat and she doesn’t want to think about what happened to her afterwards. Psych wards aren’t really that bad, not compared to what she had imagined. But they still strap you down to a bed and force medications into you if you won’t behave like they want you to. The worst part was probably not being allowed to go out. No one else is going to arrange the funeral, she doesn’t have anyone else that cares about her. Or, didn’t. She didn’t have anyone else that cared about her.

At first it was easy to pretend she was coming back. But as time passed, that wasn’t a possibility anymore. What are you even supposed to do after you have lost your soulmate? What is the point of continuing on when the only person who truly understood you isn’t here anymore?

She dreams about her every night. The medications they have been giving her aren't helping. Sure, some of them might knock her out, but the nightmare is still there. She doesn’t want to sleep, because she doesn’t want to have to face what happened yet again. Every night she sees her smile, feels her hugging her, hears her say she did it, we did it. And then, a gun shot. They have to jump. More gun shots. Water and blood everywhere.

Fuck. Her hands are beginning to cramp up. It is happening again. Stop thinking Eve, stop thinking. She can’t get any air into her lungs. The world around her is fading away. Breathe. Why can’t she breathe?

“Eve, you are having a panic attack. Breathe in a square with me now.”

No shit. Of course she knows she is having a panic attack. It has been happening a lot lately. The first time she thought she was dying. She had heard people say panic attacks felt like dying but when it happened to her for the first time, she couldn’t think. She couldn’t remember people had told her that, she could only focus on the fact that she couldn’t breathe.

It kind of feels like tripping and falling, but lasts much longer than that. Or like drowning. No. Don’t think about drowning. Do not think about her floating around in the water completely lifeless, surrounded by blood. Do not think about it Eve. You’re just making this worse for yourself.

“You are safe Eve. You are here at the clinic with me. She isn’t here, whatever her name was, you aren’t in danger anymore.”

That is the problem. She isn’t here anymore, but Eve is. She survived, but for what? To be miserable for the rest of her life? To live in regret and sorrow forever? And how is being reminded of that supposed to make her feel any better?

No one ever really thinks about what happens to the people who survive. Everyone focuses on the people who died. But what about the people who didn’t? At least you don’t feel any more pain after you die. Eve will be in pain forever. Isn’t that worse than death?

If she’s being honest she would rather have died with her that night. Weren’t they supposed to consume each other before they got old? Eve wasn’t consumed. She is still here. And she hates it.

She wasn’t even the one who consumed her in the end. Who it was, she isn’t even sure of. Didn’t they take down the twelve? Weren’t all of them on that boat? And if there’s still some of them out there, are they still out for her? Was she supposed to have died too? Why didn’t they kill her too?

#killing eve #villaneve #eve x villanelle #eve polastri #villanelle #oksana astankova #killing eve fanfic #killing eve fanfiction #villaneve fanfic #villaneve fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #lesbian #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+#lgbtqia #lesbian fanfic

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killingg-eve · 2 months

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If you haven't read my friend's fic, "Or Die Trying," I highly recommend. It is dystopian, original, raw,... and I'm in love with the world-building.

#killing eve #killing Eve fanfiction #fic

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upat4amwiththemoon · 1 year

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🌻Masterlists🌻

Marvel masterlists

Killing Eve masterlist

Station 19 masterlist

Grey’s Anatomy masterlist

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peach-and-bugs · 2 years

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❤️You Shouldn't Hide In The Dark - Villanelle x fem!Reader❤️

Fanfiction master list buy me a Ko-Fi if you'd like to show some support :)

Summary: y/n, Villanelle's unsuspecting target, finds herself in an unprecedented situation when she's attacked in the parking lot outside her flat, only to be saved by said hired assassin instead of killed...

Warnings: Dark themes, such as being followed at night, knives, biting, attempted murder and actual murder, graphic stabbing, mention of stalking, assassins (obviously), tending to and cleaning injuries, blood, and generally canon-typical violence

Word Count: 4,338

A/N: I wrote my first Villanelle fic! I only recently got into Killing Eve and I'm still on season one, but I'm loving it so far and adore the chaotic yet mildly gruesome nature of Villanelle and just had to try my hand at writing for her. I'm hoping this feels somewhat in character for her, and if I write for her again after watching more I hope to get her quirks and mannerisms down, so let's just say that this is only a practice for now. But besides that, I do hope you enjoy and as always, feel free to leave questions or thoughts in my comments or ask box, and happy reading! ❤️

Villanelle Tag List:

General Tag List:

On most occasions, you would have refused to walk home alone, especially in the middle of the night like this. If you’d checked your watch before leaving, you’d know that the clock was creeping towards two in the morning. Yet here you were, walking with long strides away from the pub, where you’d left your friends as they sang the night away at karaoke. You were reminded now of the benefits that came with driving alone rather than carpooling. Paying for your gas would have been better than this, you thought, blowing a puff of visible breath out of your lips. You wrapped your coat tighter around your shoulders as a midnight chill caught up to your brisk pace.

The fortunate part of this situation was that you didn’t live far from the pub. Only a few blocks and then you’d be at Hyde park where your apartment was waiting with the heat on high. Your heels however had your feet begging for you to take them off. They were a new pair that you had stupidly decided to break into tonight. Granted, you hadn’t planned on walking home initially. You stopped with a mutter under your breath, leaning forward to slip the heels of your feet, letting the cool concert seep through your tights and soothe the arching ache from your new shoes. Standing up straight, you nearly sighed at the feeling.

A ding from your phone distracted you from continuing your journey. Curiosity clouded your judgment as you pulled it from your pocket, only to find your friend drunk and texting you about what was happening at the pub. She promptly sent a video, which you watched without hesitation. You smiled, rolling your eyes as you find belted what you thought was meant to be Wonder Wall, but easily could have been something else. You began to type a response after saving the video. Something stupid about her needing alive in the morning. You weren’t even sure. You forgot your intentions the second you heard a rustling sound from the bushes that lined the sidewalk behind you.

Your muscles went rigid and you squeezed your heels tighter in your hand. You felt a prickling feeling crawl up your spine and through your neck, warning and urging you to move. Footsteps clicked along the pavement from behind you but stopped just far enough away. You turned around, trying your best not to stumble over your own feet, but there were no shadowy figures to be seen. Your breath intensified and you felt like you could hear every sound around you. You began to walk again, faster than before. With a little more energy you’d be sprinting if necessary. The feeling intensified as you moved and now you couldn’t be more confident that you were being followed.

The park was in view now, just another street away. All you needed to do was get to the parking lot and you prayed you’d be home free. Blood pumped through your ears and neck as your eyes darted all around you. The clicking began again, moving along the sidewalk behind you. The parking light laps were lit, guiding you home like the lights of heaven when you die. When you reached the corner, the footsteps intensified. You ran across the street, completely disregarding the notion of potentially oncoming traffic.

Your ears were filled with the sound of your rapid breathing, pumping blood, and the pattering sound of your bare feet as they hit the assault. The tapping was now full-blown pounding behind you and with pure desperation, you darted under a lite streetlamp. Your heels dropped to the pavement with an inharmonious clatter as your hands began to frantically rummage through your bag, pulling out your keys and uncapping the attached pepper spray you carried for times like this.

You listened carefully, finger pressed firmly on the trigger of the pepper spray. The pounding steps began to circle from the shadows just outside the sanctity of your streetlamp. You felt like a moth, hovering under the only light insight in hopes that some good would come out of your situation. You swallowed quickly, trying you’re best to keep track of where he might be, lurking just beyond your view. That’s when you heard the clicking. It was a back-and-forth sound, similar to the flickering of a lighter, on and off. Only this was loud and clean. He entered your view now, passing through the wall of light you’d been praying to with ease as you passed backward.

He was large, larger than you’d ever seen, and smiled a crooked grin, toying with a butterfly knife between his fingers. The weapon appeared small in his hands. You felt yourself tremble, but you held your ground, pointing the spray to eye level.

“I’ll do it!” You warned, though your voice shook more than you’d have liked, letting on your fear as you gritted your teeth. The man only laughed, continuing to pass forward, you felt the chill of metal behind your back, freezing your spine to the lamp that had offered you such promising sanctuary, only to fail you. As he stepped closer, knife clicking and swishing over and over, you realized you’d been attracted to a bug zapper the whole time. In a panic, you released the spray which fizzled out of the tiny can. He maneuvered out of the way just in time and slammed his hand into your shoulder. Your keys dropped from your hand with a metallic clatter. You felt air rushing down your throat as your jaw was unhinged. Your scream was suppressed by the ball of his palm, which only made him chuckle. he held you still against the poll, the knife flickering in the light of the lamp.

“You're a pretty one, aren’t cha’?” He cooed, his words slurred from the alcohol on his breath. “Almost a shame. But I’d prefer a pretty penny, I think,” he trailed the tip of the knife over the curve of your cheekbone and down your jaw, knocking the edge. You winced, face squeezing tight as he laughed again, leaning in closer. Other than that, you didn’t make a sound.

“Hmm, you are pretty tough,” he scanned the parts of your face that weren’t covered by his hand, which was coarse and tasted of dirt between your teeth. He ran the knife over your forehead again, adjusting a loose bit of hair that fell in front of your eyes.

You frantically began to search for something or anyone around you to escape his tightening grip. Your heart races faster with the periodic clicking of the knife as it inched toward your throat. The man maneuvered your head upward, exposing the skin of your neck. The knife clicked again. He laughed as you resorted to squirming, trying anything to move as you watched with frantically wide eyes. You squealed as the chilled metal of the knife met your throat. He began to laugh and you shut your eyes, frantic cries still suppressed by his palm.

“Oy! That laugh isn’t very pretty,” a voice with a thick Russian accent called from the shadows, followed by clicking heels walking casually into the light. The man before you turned his head to look. You felt the knife slip ever so slightly across your skin and you had to refrain from shutting your eyes as you whimpered ever so slightly. You could hear the man grit his teeth angrily as the mystery woman approached with a condescending smile. Her eyes were wide and fixated, hands shoved into the pockets of her slacks as she stood proudly in a pair of black stiletto heels.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings?” She asked, her smile managing to grow like a Cheshire. The man’s nostrils flared now and the gleam in his eye warned you to keep still.

“There’s nothing for you to see here, bitch,” the man spit. you could practically hear his grip on the knife tighten. When he decided to jump you, he hadn’t planned a course of action in the event he got caught. The woman continued to smile, shrugging her shoulders comically.

“Then maybe you should have been better at your job,” she scrunched her nose as she spoke. With that, the man lunged, finally releasing you from his grip, allowing you to draw in a long, deserved breath. Every cell in you vibrated, telling you to run, escape to your apartment and report what had just happened to the proper authorities, but not even the adrenalin pulsing through your blood could get you to move. You were planted to your place, unable to leave till you know how the story truly ended. So, you slid down the pole, onto the cold ground and watched blood that wasn’t your spill.

When your attacker had lunged at the mysterious woman, she cackled proudly, maneuvering away from his outstretched grip and shimmering knife ass he pulled one of her own out of the concealed part of her pocket. She crouched ever so slightly, waiting for him to try again, and with a growl of pure anger, he did, knocking both himself and the woman to the ground with a loud exhale of breath from both parties.

You stared with wide, unblinking eyes as they grappled with one another on the concrete. At some point there was a clatter of metal, signaling one of the knives had been lost. This gave the woman time to overtake the man fully, punning him down by his waist as she shouldered him in the chest, knocking the remaining air out of his lungs with a disheartening wheeze.

You expected her to execute him immediately, but instead, she made sure to catch your eyes with hers, smiling as though she was performing. There was a ripping motion of her throat as she began to laugh again. The fleeting distraction gave your attacker time to gain his breath and he lunged forward, grabbing the woman's arm with his hands and biting down like a dog. Her laugh turned into an enraged shriek like the ocean’s sirens your mother had told you stories about as a girl. Her cry of both pain and frustration became one of force as she plunged the knife into the man, releasing his mouth from her limb.

Your eyes stayed wide open and your hands came up to cover your mouth, suppressing any sound or shriek you might let out. It was now his turn to cry as the weapon moved up and down, in and out. But it didn’t click, like the butterfly knife, now discarded had. This knife sheathed and unsheathed from a casing of warm, wet flesh. His body was hot, spewing blood that squirt across your cheek. Your mystery woman continued to hack away at him till she was satisfied, though he was likely dead or nearly there by now.

Then she suddenly stopped, knife half plunged into her chest once more as she stared into his eyes like she was watching whatever life might be left in him as it trickled away into the pool of red that surrounded him. She decided that the deed was done, she stood above his corpse, brow furrowing only for a moment before she smiled again.

“He wouldn’t have made good bacon anyway,” she said casually to you as though she hadn’t just grizzly killed a man in front of you.

Your hands stayed clasped over your mouth, watching as she approached you with a curious tip of her head. You felt your hands begin to tremble as he crouched down to your level, her elbows laid casually on her knees, knife healed lazily in her right hand.

“Why so blue, boo?” She asked frowning mockingly as she scrunched her nose again. up close, you could make out the red blood, sprinkled and smeared across her face. She didn’t seem to mind the sickeningly sticky feeling. Her gaze trailed from your eyes and she tisked. She reached her empty hand up to your face and you flinched away with a loud gasp, hands finally moving from your mouth.

The woman furrowed her brow and shook her head as you pulled from her, but she didn’t recoil. Instead, as you screwed your eyes shut, she reached forward and made contact. Her palm was warm and soft against your jaw as his thumb brushed gently across your cheek, leaving a wet stream behind. You opened your eyes slowly, reaching up to touch the same spot. You hadn’t even noticed you’d started crying during the whole situation. You timidly met the woman’s trained eyes and swallowed.

“That’s much better, no?” She asked casually, her smile returning with another tilt of her head.

“Y-you killed him,” you stated, trying to look over her shoulder back at the corpus that had previously threatened to kill you. The woman moved again, obstructing your view and catching your gaze once more.

“Did you want to?” She asked. Surprised, you shook your head.

“But why did you?” You asked. Her gaze darkened at the question, but the curious glimmer in her eye remained.

“I wasn’t going to let him take my job,” she said seriously. You felt your whole body urge you to recoil, but the light poll behind you kept you in place once again. The woman stood up after this, removing her hand from your jaw.

“You-“ you stalled, swallowing thickly. “You were sent to kill me?” You pointed to yourself watching carefully as she began to clean the knife in her hand with the hem of her top. She said nothing more, nodding instead.

“Are you still going too?” You began to stand, your eyes shifting, searching for a way out once more. Here you were, about to be killed by a man, only for a woman to come along and kill him, then explain that you had been her target all along. The whole idea felt straight out of a movie. The assassin sighed contemplatively, pressing her lips firmly together in thought.

“I’m not sure,” she said, crossing her arms as she turned to fully look at you. Her eyes scanned up and down your frame like she was trying to analyze if killing you would be worth it or not in the long run. “I was supposed to be the only one on this job, then piggy here came along and ruined that,”

“He smelled drunk,” you commented, unsure of what else to say. You looked down at her feet, grimacing at the clouded look of your original attacker's gaze.

“That wasn’t a drunken decision this time,” she commented, though her attention had moved from you and to the red blotch of her arm. You touched the bite tenderly, hissing through her teeth at the sting. The action and the wound distracted you and you completely forgot about begging for your life.

“Do you want me to have a look,” you offered after some time. The assassin looked up, arching a brow, which added to her questioning expression. You moved forward with caution, keeping your hands where she could see them. She didn’t stop you as you approached but watched you intensely. “Can I?” You asked again when her arm was within reach of your extended hands. She nodded curtly, offering up her arm, which you took into your hands gingerly. You traced the outline of the wound with your ring finger, leaning in close to analyze the definition of the bite.

“It’s bleeding an awful lot,” you commented under your breath. You leaned in closer, your breath facing over the injury, which in-sighted a hiss from the limb's owner. You promptly pulled away looking at her face with concern for the both of you. Silence fell as she looked away and your eyes returned to the wound, but you didn’t touch it.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked her again, trying to sound firmer this time. She let out a huff of air, an annoyed crease forming on her brow. She looked down at the knife in her hand, rotating it as she said nothing. If she did intend to kill you, now would be her best chance. One swing of the blade and you’d be-

“No,” she interrupted your reading thoughts. She turned to you once more but didn’t smile. “If a client is going to post his price online, then he’s not getting my business,” the knife slid behind her, tucked away into her belt for now. You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding. Some part of that was reassuring, right?

“Well, thank you,” you said awkwardly. “Can I help you with that then,” you offered as she began to leave.

“The arm?”

“Yes, the arm,” you nodded, pointing behind you with your thumb. “I’ve got a first aid kit in my apartment. And I know how to sew up something like that,” she smiled again and you saw that curiosity from before.

“You’d invite the assassin hired to kill you in to stitch her wounds?” She was amused by the idea. You managed to laugh, albeit very awkwardly, and shrugged.

“I mean, you did say you weren’t going to,”

“I could change my mind,” she stepped forward.

“Then I hope that you don’t,” you replied, clearing your throat shortly after. “Not start putting pressure on that,” you remarked, pointing to her arm. The assassin smiled wide, teeth glimmering in the dark.

“Yes ma’am,”

-*-

Villanelle followed you quietly, noticing the tension in your physic. Granted, that tracked, seeing as that man had dared to lay a hand on you. It irked her that others would be after her target. It was very unprofessional in her opinion. She watched over your shoulder as you fidgeted with your keys, unlocking the door to your flat. Her eyes trailed over the apartment number till the door clicked open.

“Guess you know where I live now,” you said nervously despite trying to make a joke. Villanelle smiled promptly, entering the apartment as you offered. “Can you take off your shoes?” You asked, interrupting her initial response to your question. She arched a brow, turning to look your way once more as you nervously smiled.

“You know, just because of the blood and all,” you mumbled, glancing down at her shoes and then back up to her eyes. She chuckled, shaking her head, and did as she was asked, leaving them outside.

“I already knew you lived here,” she answered your initial comment and heard your slight change in breath as she passed, but rather than react she let her eyes wander around your apartment, taking in as much information as she could.

“Right, that tracks,” you mumbled under your breath, dropping your keys beside the door, along with dropping your heels by the door, which you’d remembered to pick up as you left the parking lot. “Do you want something to drink?” You offered, which Villanelle found strange, given the circumstances of your unprecedented meeting, yet endearing.

“Do you have wine?” She asked as she observed your shelves of books and knickknacks while you disappeared somewhere else in the apartment. She heard clanging around in what she assumed was the kitchen while she picked up trinkets to observe them closer.

“I’ve got a little bit of red,” you called from the other room.

“That will do,” she hummed as she moved to look at a framed photo on one of the shelves. You were wrapped up in the arms of a grinning man, a wide, laughing smile on your face, your eyes shut tight as he looked into the camera. She picked the picture up carefully, analyzing the creases of laughter on your face captured in printed form. She grimaced, wrinkling her nose in response with a furrowed brow. She put the photo back, through it toppled over flat on its front sash walked away, not bothering to fix it. Her attention was grabbed by a record player in the corner of your living space.

She heard a pop of cork from the kitchen as she traced over the edges of the machine with her finger. She flicked it on, not knowing what record happened to be playing already. the center circle began to spin slowly, then gradually pick up speed till she picked up the needle. Putting it down on the spinning record, there was a series of cracks before old jazz started to emit from the machine. She smiled as it played, but turned around as she heard the clearing of a throat.

“I just need to get the first aid kit,” you said anxiously, practically shoving the glass of wine into her hand and disappearing back into the apartment. “Can you sit down for me?” She asked, reappearing with a kit in hand. She obliged, slouching on the couch as she sipped her wine. you put down the kit and disappeared once more. After listening to the sound of rushing water from another room, you returned with a wet washcloth in one hand and a bowl of fresh water in the other. You sat down beside her but left a good space between the two of you. Villanelle stopped drinking, rather than focusing on the way you rummaged through the first aid kit, pulling out various instruments that she’d come to recognize at this point.

“Are you not drinking?” She asked, her head lulling onto the back o the couch. Your eyes darted to her face and back to your hands.

“I’d rather have a clear head for this,” Villanelle laughed into her glass as she took another sip of wine. She felt your fingers brush against her outstretched arm, moving her sleeve out of the way to observe the wound once more. She watched as you moved closer to her. You leaned in close to her arm to get a better look at her injury. Just by sitting up, she could take in the scent of your shampoo, right from your hair. She tilted her head, swirling the remaining wine in her glass as you began to work.

“Let’s get this fixed up,” you murmured, washcloth in hand as you began to dab the injury which had already started to clot. Fresh blood sprouted to the surface, only to be dabbed away by the cloth. You rinsed the cloth in the bowl perched on your coffee table periodically, repeating the process till the concerning bleeding had dissipated. “Ok, now this will sting,” you continued, picking up a bottle of general antibiotic cream. You glanced up into her attentive gaze before applying and she nodded, finishing the last of her wine. You moved forward, gently applying the cream but her hand began to tense. You stopped, looking up at the nearly invisible line formed on her brow. You continued, wetting your bottom lip with your young nervously, moving fast to get the job done as soon as possible.

“Do you have any idea why I was hired to kill you?” The assassin asked unprompted. most of the time she didn’t care about the reason she was hired for a job, but now your uncomfortable nature had her curious. “You don’t seem like the type,” You froze in your movement for a few noticeable seconds before you shook your head.

“No, not entirely,” you hesitated again before sighing. “I could have an idea though, actually,”

“Tell me,” the conversation piece began to put you on edge again, but you proceeded. Talking might be better than awkward silence.

“There was this guy I knew in college. Seems innocent enough at first, but after being friends for a while, he got all clingy and persistent in trying to ask me out. I tried to let him down gently, but,” the assassin tutted her tongue as she listened, knowing exactly where you were going. “I guess the rejection was too much. He started getting creepy. Took a job where I worked and got involved with my group of friends. Even told people we were dating. And after college, he started tracking my movements, still asking me out over and over. A few restraining orders later, he’s the most likely person to want me dead,” the assassin hummed, listening to your story with shut eyes.

She let out a huffing breath through her nose as you finished and moved on to apply the dressing. It had started to bleed again, but it wasn’t too concerning. Nevertheless, you chose a thicker, fiber dressing over a large bandage. You wrapped the dressing tight around the wound, checking with the assassin to ensure it wouldn’t be too tight. You sighed curtly as you finished and pulled away from her side once more.

“That should be alright. But you’ll want to check and redress it for the next few days,” you explained, collecting your supplies as you spoke.

“How’d you learn to do this?” Her eyes scanned over the dressing as she touched it gingerly, testing the tightness and integrity of your work.

“My mother was a nurse,” she hummed accordingly, getting to her feet as you left the room once more. You came back to find her at the door, shoes in hand and ready to bid you goodbye. “Well, thank’s for the help. And not killing me, I guess,” you halfheartedly laughed, crossing your arms and looking down at your feet when an alarming thought hit you. “Wait, am I going to be suspected of murder when they find that guy?” You felt your heart jump into your throat at the idea. The assassin only laughed as though the entirely possible notion was some silly idea to her.

“As far as any cops could be aware, you were tucked away in bed the whole time,” you nodded, then got another idea.

“Will he send others after me?” Her eyes softened, watching you carefully till she shook your head.

“I can handle that,” she left with one more smile on her lips, only this one felt different. It was warm.

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