#villanelle fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seethesin · 6 months

Text

peace and quiet

pairing: Villanelle x Assassin!F!Reader

tags/warnings: sexual content, car sex, dirty talk, fingering, edging (18+, mdni)

a/n: bet ya didn't see this coming 😏 truthfully, i've had this scenario on my mind for about a month now. i had to write this before i got through the rest of my drafts. im also a bottom!villanelle fan oops enjoy! gif credit.

The last way you wanted to spend your Friday evening was stuck in a Ford Fiesta with the world's most infuriating assassin, Villanelle. But here you both were, cramped and cranky as you wasted hours watching a man go through his nightly routine. Truthfully, you didn't know much about your target except his name, James Fitzgerald. His dossier was light and you suspected that further information wasn't yours to know.

As your handler would say: the less you knew, the better.

Silently, you watched as James moved from room to room in his home; starting in his bedroom, wandering into the kitchen, and finally, settling into the living room. Couldn't the Twelve have a vendetta against someone more interesting?

The blonde next to you must have thought the same thing. Immediately, she turned the radio on, flicking through the stations until she hummed in approval.

"Oh, I love Britney," she muses, beginning to sing along to the chorus of Womanizer as it pumps through the car's surround sound system.

You refrain from groaning.

"Villanelle, I need you to stop." Your voice is strained as your eyes are trained in front of you.

She's completely off-key but sings without a care in the world. Obviously, she's ignoring you and you exhale slowly, squeezing your eyes shut. Villanelle was good at what she did. Great even. But her hyperactive nature and flair for dramatics made you dread any time the two of you had to work together.

It wasn't just her obnoxious nature that made it so difficult for you to work with her. From the outlandish yet stylish outfits she donned to the way she held herself on and off the job, you thought she was stunning. But now, being in such close quarters only seemed to intensify those feelings. Your stomach did somersaults at each pesky thought, unable to get them out of your head quick enough. Entertaining those ideas was a distraction you couldn't afford.

Not in this line of work.

It's just one mission, you find yourself thinking, blinking your eyes open. I just need to get through one mission with her and then—

And then you will work with her again when the Twelve will it. You will still have these terribly ridiculous feelings that you will, once again, have to dissect like you are now. You grit your teeth and instead focus your boring gaze on James Fitzgerald's wrinkled forehead.

Wordlessly, you turn the radio knob towards you, muting the music so you can focus. Villanelle's contralto voice cuts through the silence like a blade and it takes her a few moments to realize what you've done.

"Hey! I was having fun!"

You roll your eyes, tapping your fingertips against the steering wheel.

"I wasn't."

Villanelle scoffs, feigning offense before leaning back. Aggressively, she adjusts her seat, allowing it to fully recline. She lays down, eyes glued to the car ceiling before crossing her arms over her chest petulantly.

You were ready to further accentuate her childishness as she muttered about how you were a 'party pooper,' but paused. James was getting up and walking towards his front door. He was letting someone inside, holy shit! This needed to be documented.

In the dark, you felt for your phone that was supposed to be on the console. Miscalculating, you reached over farther than necessary and instead grabbed—

Villanelle gasped, body arching forward.

Oh.

Your fingers gripped the flesh of her inner thigh, dangerously close to the hem of her shift dress. Blush immediately crawls over your cheeks and you become a stammering mess.

"Oh my god," you ramble, going to remove your hand. "I'm so sorry, Villanelle. I thought that—"

You don't get to finish your sentence. Her hand is over yours and she shoves your palm in between her legs. The wet cotton of her underwear greets your fingers and the heat it emits makes you flatline.

This wasn't real. None of this could be real.

"I know how you look at me."

The statement throws you off kilter and you gape like a fish. Were you that obvious? The idea makes you nauseous; how the hell did Villanelle know your feelings better than you could even comprehend them?

"Stop thinking," she husks and her confidence seems to spread to you like wildfire.

James Fitzgerald and his unannounced guest are long forgotten as you shift in your seat, turning to face Villanelle. Your finger pads inquisitively drag up the length of her clothed slit. Her breathing grows heavier the closer you stroke towards her clit. You can make out her teeth digging into her lower lip and the mischievous glint in her eyes as she stares back at you.

She’s begging you to keep her entertained.

Cautiously, you pull your hand away. The loss of contact squeezes a whimper from her throat, but it dies as she watches you slip two fingers between your lips. You suck slowly, refusing to break eye contact with her before releasing them with a soft pop. You don’t miss the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

“Are you going to behave?” Villanelle nods like a bobblehead, practically rutting her body closer to where your hand used to be.

You chuckle. “Good girl.”

Wet fingers glide up her bare leg, meeting at the junction just below her thigh and cunt. Gently, your fingers worm underneath the waistband of her underwear. Painfully slow, you tug them down so that they pool at her knees. They are soaked and the sound of the blonde’s panting is amplified in the enclosed quiet of the car.

"Oh baby," you taunt, watching as she presses her thighs together. You want to swallow her whole.

"Is this all for me?"

"Yes," she sighs out instantaneously, parting her legs as your hand connects back to her cunt.

Your middle finger delicately slides through Villanelle's folds, exploring her velvety flesh. Tracing circles around her labia, you finally brush just underneath her clit. She jerks forward, desperately chasing your touch.

"Villanelle." Her name is a warning on your tongue, tutting gently as you watch her squirm. Your middle finger is fixed in the same position and her fingers curl around your wrist.

"Be nice," she pleads and no matter what your plan was initially, you couldn't deny her further. You nod and gently, your middle finger sinks inside her.

Villanelle tenses momentarily, adjusting to the intrusion before relaxing. She squeezes your wrist, silently goading you to move. You comply, thrusting deeper inside of her.

Your finger moves leisurely at first, more so to savor the first-time feeling of her silky flesh enveloping you. Gradually, you pick up the pace. Her slick drools down the length of your finger and the obscene squelching makes you blush.

Thank god for the dark.

A stream of moans bubbles from Villanelle's throat as her fingernails dig into your wrist. Her other hand moves to her lips, her teeth sinking into the knuckle of her index finger to muffle herself. In response, your finger curls inside of her. She keens, her eyes rolling back as she shoves her hips forward.

"Don't do that," you chide, pumping against the spongy walls of her cunt. "I want everyone to hear how good I'm gonna fuck you."

Her gaze peeks through her lashes, blinking in surprise at the vulgarity of your statement. She's beautifully flushed and the image is seared into your mind. Your ring finger presses inside of her and she gasps, finally removing her hand from her mouth.

"Don't be mean," Villanelle mewls and you can't stop the smile tugging at your lips.

By now, the windows have fogged over in the car. The air between you has risen at least ten degrees higher and you match Villanelle's ragged panting, hyperfocused on every expression she makes. Her hair fans out like a golden halo, illuminating her furrowed brows and parted lips. You want to kiss her, but you instead settle for swiping your thumb across her clit.

Villanelle's chest heaves when you suddenly piston your fingers inside her. She sloppily pushes down to meet your thrusts while her head lolls back against the car seat. By the way her walls fluttered against your sheathed digits, you knew her orgasm was imminent.

James Fitzgerald's departure was also imminent.

Suddenly, the flash of headlights appears in your peripheral vision. A midsized sedan rushes past the front of your rental car. James is driving while his guest in question is in the passenger seat. Your eyes go wide; the memory of exactly why you and Villanelle were here to begin with hits you like a truck.

You withdraw your fingers from Villanelle's pussy and she cries out in both confusion and frustration. Scrambling, she pulls the seat back up so she can properly glower at you.

"What the fuck?" She yells, softening only slightly as she watches you suck your fingers clean before putting the car in drive.

"It's James," you start, pressing the defogger button near the bottom of the dashboard. "I'm gonna tail him."

"I was about to cum!"

You glance at Villanelle quickly as she complains, tossing a cocky smirk in her direction.

"I guess you'll just have to wait then."

#villanelle #villanelle x reader #villanelle x you #villanelle smut #villanelle imagine #oksana astankova #oksana astankova x reader #killing eve #lesbian #wlw #lgbtq #smut #fanfiction #fanfic

209 notes · View notes

inklore · 8 months

Text

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

321 notes · View notes

wandanatsgf · 2 months

Text

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

51 notes · View notes

multifandom--mess · 13 days

Text

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

43 notes · View notes

upat4amwiththemoon · 10 months

Note

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.

137 notes · View notes

genghisthebrain · 4 months

Text

you know the feeling you get when watching a nature documentary about a lion brutally murdering an antelope? where you think, damn, that's brutal, but what a pretty kitty (i want to pet it)?

that's how sapphics are with female villains. thank you for coming to my ted talk

16 notes · View notes

england-would-fall · 2 days

Text

Calling Poetry Girlies (gender neutral)

Hey there, verse-loving friends! I'm co-writing a RWRB FirstPrince AU with my darling @taste-thewaste, and I have the Henry Fox POV chapters. Each of my chapters contains an original poem by Henry,* based on an existing poem by not-Henry. I have plenty of material to draw from, but I'd rather know if you lot have any favorite poems you'd like me to use. If you're up for sharing…

send me a poem!

The two original pieces are below the cut, and you can check out Your Lipstick, His Collar on AO3! (Rated E)

*It's me, I'm Henry.

Ch 2 Shakespearean sonnet, Inspired by Lord Byron's poem "Who kill'd John Keats?":

Ne’er priest nor scribe has lived that living lied About those buds that wither in the night When first from lover to new love describes His force of heart, his desperate lover’s light And in that telling, does one overhear From hidden lover’s lips which never touch His one sweet secret longing to appear While love not his is given over much It’s there those buds of spring do reach in vain No light but night’s reflection of the sun For one who can’t yet call his lover’s name While silent lover through his night does run Oh, if a scribe or priest or poet knows: Direct my heart to where the sunlight flows!

-------

Ch 4 Villanelle, Inspired by Richard Siken's "Visible World":

Who is he, then, this keeper of the light—The heart I lose, so holy in his hands—This breaker of the dawn who stalks my night?

In shades of grey, he passes through my sightAnd gone to day, to nurture others’ lands.Who is he, then, this keeper of the light?

I know a walk alone will lose this fight,But with whose name do these coals my feet brand?This breaker of the dawn, who stalks my night?

If his face is the only set with light,By all the gods, his name fades where I stand!Who is he, then, this keeper of the light?

He cannot know the pain wrought by his rite,Yet can he see what he steals from this man?This breaker of the dawn who stalks my night?

And if, by grace, affections more than slightMay grow herein—a love no mortal plannedWho is he then, this keeper of the light,This breaker of the dawn who stalks my night?

9 notes · View notes

thestarlightforge · 4 months

Text

Something something it’s fun to see your fanfic post-redemption-arc antiheroes undergo intense emotional pain because that pain means they retained their humanity, they made it to the other side of the numbness and power that tempted them, and pain, loss and grief remind us that we are all united by the communal experience of love. That when they hurt, when they’re vulnerable, that means they still feel, they’re still open to the hope of the greatest experiences our lives have to offer, and they are one with humanity. They made it—they won. Cry with me, Loki and Villanelle and Catra and Zuko and Sasuke and Wanda Maximoff and Harley Quinn and Lena Luthor and Edward Teach and Claudia of Katolis and Anakin Skywalker and Jaime Lannister and Coriolanus Snow. Collapse into the arms of people who love you and let’s all cry together. It’s not too late. The world won’t always hurt like this. We will be okay, someday

14 notes · View notes

bi-bard · 2 years

Text

Calm Down - Villanelle Imagine (Killing Eve)

Title: Calm Down

Pairing: Villanelle X Reader

Word Count: 1,176 words

Warning(s): attack, violence, murder (self-defense)

Summary: Villanelle decides to take care of her neighbor after something goes incredibly wrong.

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

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

The first time I met Villanelle, I never would've thought to question her.

She seemed nice, confident, smarter than some would assume. She just seemed too regular to worry me. I guess that was the point.

I had moved into the apartment closest to hers. She had been at her door just as I walked by during one of my first days in the building. I was trying to be nice by introducing myself to my neighbors.

"Hello," I greeted as I stepped around her, tossing a kind grin at her.

She turned to me, letting her eyes scan me for a moment before she spoke, "Hi."

"I... I just moved in," I pointed toward my door with my thumb. "I'm (Y/n)."

She seemed to pause. Like there was something in her mind clicking into place that hadn't lined up before. I got worried, watching her stand completely still like that. I saw something in her eyes change, but I couldn't name it at the time.

"Villanelle."

I would learn later that she had intended to give me some other name and then just... didn't.

The two of us were pleasant after that moment. We would grin at each other or greet each other. She didn't seem to be one for small talk. It seemed to bore her, so I stopped pushing it. She seemed to be happy with that.

I spent weeks in that apartment with no problems. I was happy. Settled.

It was a nice place to call home.

And then, it wasn't.

I was in the middle of cleaning. I was in the middle of scrubbing down my kitchen counter when there was a loud bang.

My door was kicked open and some man ran in.

I didn't have a chance to react before his hands wrapped around my neck. I panicked. My legs were flailing as my hands scratched at his hands. My knee finally came up with enough force to hit him in the crotch. His hands loosened enough for me to push him away from me.

I grabbed a knife from my knife block. I turned back to the man as he grabbed me. I stabbed him in the stomach out of instinct. I pulled the knife out, my eyes wide in shock.

The man grabbed me again, barely groaning at the pain.

I stabbed him again. I kept repeating the motion until he fell to the ground and stopped moving.

There was a pause. A distinct moment between me reacting and me realizing that the man was dead on my floor.

"Oh my God," I muttered, throwing the blade away from myself and falling to the ground. My back was pressed against the cabinets. "Oh my... Oh my God."

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the man on the floor. I was shaking, ready to vomit or cry or both.

"(Y/n)."

I looked up to see Villanelle at the entrance to my kitchen. I panicked, sputtering out how the man had broken in and tried to kill me. How the only choice I had was to stop him. How I was scared. How I had never done that before.

She didn't listen to me for very long, soon interrupting me, "We need to go."

"W-What," I asked.

She walked around the scene like it didn't bother her, going over to my dresser and grabbing a random collection of stuff. If I had been paying closer attention, I would've noticed how it looked all too simple for her to figure out exactly where all my clothes were kept.

"Let's go," she said, going to walk out.

I frantically pushed myself off the ground, following her like a lost puppy. She went to her apartment. I watched her silently as she put my clothes in a bag. Except for a big coat that I had never worn. She told me to use it to cover myself up.

I followed her out of the apartment again and out to the street.

"Could we not just call the police," I asked quietly. "It was self-defense-"

"The police will not believe you," she replied. "You killed someone too important for that."

I opened my mouth but she stopped me before I could speak.

"No. No more talking until I say so. Understood?"

I nodded.

"Good."

We were silent until Villanelle had gotten us checked into some hotel. She told me to go shower and change.

She was so calm about the entire event. I couldn't make sense of it on my own. It was like she either expected this to happen to me or she had been through experiences eerily similar to this one.

It wasn't until I was sitting on the hotel bed that she even entertained my questions. She sat on the edge of the bed next to me while I sat crisscrossed by the pillows.

"I hope you understand that you can't go back there now," she explained. "You're going to need a whole new life."

I nodded, biting my lip for a moment. "He was an assassin, right?"

"Yes."

"You said that man was important," I said. "If he was so important, then why was he bothering with me?"

"He wasn't," she replied. I raised an eyebrow at that. "He was looking for me. I said he was important, not smart."

"Why was he looking for you?"

"Not sure," she shrugged before smirking a bit. "I am also very important."

"Why were you so calm?"

"I've been in far worse situations."

"What? Are you an assassin like him?"

I chuckled for a moment but stopped when she didn't deny it or chuckle with me.

"You are?"

"Yes."

"Oh... wow... holy crap. You're very good at hiding it. I honestly don't know if I should be upset with you or not. What's the right reaction when..."

"You need to calm down."

"Surely, you understand why I'm a little hesitant to just 'calm down' when something like..."

Villanelle sighed at my rambling before moving forward and grabbing the sides of my face, which caused my talking to slow down to less than half its speed.

She chuckled at me before leaning forward and pressing her lips to mine.

I froze, my eyes open as she kissed me. She pulled back a few moments later, only moving enough to look me in the eye again. I didn't know what to do or say.

"Are you calm now," she asked.

I nodded.

She grinned and leaned back further. "Good."

I leaned back against the headboard.

"Do you still trust me?"

"You... you could've killed me earlier or left me there to deal with it, but you didn't," I said. "Y-Yeah, I trust you."

Something in her eyes softened. Like when I had first met her. I didn't have the time to question it before Villanelle leaned forward to press her lips to mine again. I gasped for a moment before finally kissing her back.

"Good," she muttered between kisses.

That night felt like the best start I could've had to my new life.

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

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

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

218 notes · View notes

locolesbianwp · 1 year

Text

the gift

pairing: Eve Polastri & Villanelle | Oksana Astankova

warning: smut

summary: Eve gives Villanelle the gift of a lifetime

word count: 4200+

March. Typically, the world is greyed over due to numerous rain-filled clouds inhabiting the sky. Trees are still lank and bare from the winter weather and their leaves have barely given any thought about making a reappearance. However, today seemed special. Different. The usually sequestered sun had dominated the clouds and shone bright rays of light into the world beneath it. Even the trees bore small budding leaves on randomised branches.

Eve stirred from her sleep as a result of said sun, which was beaming through the slit in the curtains and directly onto her face. Her hands subconsciously rose to shield her closed eyes from the light and she let out a soft groan caused by both tiredness and irritation. She kept her eyes covered and wished for sleep to take over her again, before she realised what day it was.

Villanelle's birthday.

Eve's eyes immediately popped open, but reduced to a squint after being attacked by the sun. "Shit." She muttered, sitting up in the king size bed while Villanelle lay asleep beside her. Eve tried to rack her brain for an appropriate word to describe how her lover looked in that moment, but ironically, the only word that came to mind was angelic. Perhaps it was the way her honey coloured hair was sprawled across the pillow in an almost halo shape, or maybe it was the certain sunbeam which resembled a golden aura that highlighted the lower half of her face.

Villanelle's mouth in the light was nothing short of tempting. Her full lips looked even pinker in the spotlight, and the subtle sleepy pout that she wore was calling Eve's kiss. There was nothing she wanted more than to just simply lean down and kiss her, wake her. But Eve wanted to give Villanelle the best birthday she could, and that started with breakfast in bed.

Eve forced her attention away from the sleeping girl next to her and instead focused on the task at hand. First, she needed to actually figure out what time it currently was and how much time she had to sort things out before Villanelle woke. She pulled the charger from out of her phone and peered at the illuminated screen which displayed what she needed to know.

9:18

Villanelle generally woke up at around ten, so Eve had plenty of time. It wasn't unusual for her to wake up before her partner, however, she usually snuggled up to the person next to her and drifted back into a deep sleep. But not today. Eve carefully pulled the sheets from her body and clambered out of bed as silently as she could so as to not disturb Villanelle. She tiptoed her way out of their shared bedroom and walked into the large kitchen, where the whole of the sun could be clearly seen through the windowpanes. As she tried to think of what she could possibly make for breakfast, she scoured through the fridge to find any assortment of ingredients that could form something edible. Pancakes, maybe? Eve Polastri was definitely not a Michelin star chef, although she did take pride in her ability to make a palatable batch of pancakes.

Eve cleared the fridge of the ingredients she needed; eggs, milk, butter. She even grabbed a hold of a half-empty carton of orange juice and poured the liquid into a glass for herself. Deciding to make the most of the improved weather, she cracked open the windows to allow the fresh Spring air to spread throughout the room. While Eve began to whip up the pancake batter, she came to the realisation that she had never made this kind of effort with her ex-husband. She didn't wake up early on his birthday to cook him breakfast in bed, and she didn't sneak out of the room so as to prolong his sleep. Niko was her husband, but he wasn't the one.

The pancakes didn't take long to cook, and Eve was plating them up before she knew it. She would often drift away from reality when completing simple tasks, as they didn't require much forethought and her mind was very easy to succumb to. Due to this, she completely forgot she had to pick up Villanelle's birthday cake she ordered a few days before. Eve picked up her phone, all while cursing herself internally, and dialled the bakery's number to let them know she was running a little late and she'd be there as soon as she could. She wanted to be able to take the breakfast to Villanelle as soon as she got back, so she decided to quickly chop up some fresh fruit as she wouldn't have to do it when she returned. An assortment of blueberries, bananas and strawberries were finely sliced and placed intricately atop the stack of pancakes on each plate, with the reminder of the fruit being transferred into a bowl.

Eve was happy with her work, but she was well aware that the cake still needed to be collected. She pulled on a pair of shoes and caught sight of herself in the hall mirror, wearing grey sweatpants and a loose black t-shirt that she had slept in. Usually she would change into something fresh before going outdoors, but she just didn't have the time, so she left her house with purse in hand and no cares about her outfit.

On the walk to the bakery, Eve delighted in the joyous chatter of people and children revelling in the sunny skies. It was hard to believe that just yesterday, the streets were painted with raindrops. Next to the bakery sat Eve and Villanelle's favourite cafe. It was a family owned business with an expertise in roasting beans. The closer Eve got, the stronger the coffee smell was, and the more she craved a cup. She eyed the bakery door. She knew she was running behind, but she was won over by the caffeine.

The man behind the counter greeted Eve enthusiastically and immediately began to make her order, without her even needing to say anything. A cappuccino and a hot chocolate.

"V not with you today?" The barista questioned, noticing Villanelle's absence right away. The couple always came here together, so it was a rare sight for Eve to be here by herself.

"It's her birthday today. She's having a lie in." Eve explained and awaited her coffee as it was being poured into a take-away cup.

"Aw, wish her a happy birthday from me!" The man placed both cups on the counter. Eve reached for her purse to take out the money she owed, but the man waved a dismissive hand. "It's on me. Get back before she wakes up."

"Thank you." Eve said sincerely and picked up the hot drinks. Now she really needed to pick up that cake. She entered the bakery next door and was immediately greeted with the wonderful aroma of freshly baked goods, which had her stomach growling in search of food. Resisting the temptation to purchase a croissant for herself, Eve freed her hands of the coffee by putting the beverages on the countertop and pulled out the money she owed for the cake. And only the cake. No croissants. Once she was given her order, Eve placed her coffee cups on top of the box and bid a polite goodbye to the workers. It was definitely a challenge balancing the drinks while walking, but she successfully managed to make it back into her house without any accidents.

The house was quiet, apart from the high pitched singing of birds that could be heard from outside. Hoping that Villanelle was still asleep, Eve entered the kitchen to see things just as she left them. With a sigh of relief, Eve put the large box inside the fridge for safe keeping, and placed her items on a chopping board; two plates, the bowl of fruit and the two cups. She wasn't bothered to look for a tray since the chopping board did the exact same job and aided her in carrying all the stuff to the bedroom in one go. She pushed open the bedroom door with her foot and watched as a yawning Villanelle was rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Good morning." Eve greeted, immediately drawing Villanelle's attention to her.

"Aw, Eve." She spoke softly, jutting her lower lip out in a sweet pout. "You made this for us?"

"For you." Eve corrected, kicking off her shoes and rejoining her lover on the bed. She set down the chopping board in the middle and scooted up with her back against the headboard. Villanelle mimicked her position.

"Happy birthday, Villanelle." Eve leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, to which Villanelle's skin reacted by crimsoning in a blush.

Villanelle had never felt so seen before. Her birthday was never a big deal for her, or anyone. It was just a date on the calendar that she recognised but never fully acknowledged. She certainly didn't get breakfast handed to her, or the love of her life celebrating with her. She didn't know how to react to the gesture, and her eyes began to fill up with emotion, so she simply said, "Eat up."

Eve didn't need to be told twice, nor did the rumbling in her stomach. She picked up one of the plates and groaned in the realisation that she forgot cutlery.

"What's wrong, Eve?" Villanelle asked, a furrow in her brow that showed she was genuinely concerned. Eve chuckled and shook her head.

"I just forgot to bring a knife and fork."

"Hey, what are hands for?" Villanelle picked up a pancake in one of her hands and tucked a few berries into the fold she was creating, before putting it into her mouth and taking a hefty bite. This prompted Eve to follow and take her own bite of the pancake. They both shared a glance as the delicious food took over their taste buds. Villanelle comically rolled her eyes into the back of her head in pleasure, which had Eve quickly glancing away before she got any ideas.

"So good." The blonde mumbled over a mouthful of food and grabbed one of the cups off the board. She recognised the label instantly and smiled to herself, washing down her bite with a gulp of...cappuccino.

"Bleh!" Villanelle forced the liquid down before handing the drink to its rightful owner. "Cappuccino."

Eve laughed at the reaction and took her cup. The couple spent majority of the day in the bedroom, eating their food and dancing to old music played on vinyls. Villanelle suggested spending some time outdoors in the warmth and Eve agreed. They dressed into light clothing and walked hand in hand outside, where the sun was belting down hot rays and positivity.

"Do you want to go to the park?" Villanelle asked as the pair strolled down the street.

"Of course. It'll be packed, though." Eve informed her, but neither of them really cared.

"It's okay. I'll just scare the children off." Villanelle said casually. Eve turned to look at her, a questioning eyebrow raised. She was serious!

"You want to play? Like, actually play in the park?"

"Yes! Why else would I have suggested it?" Villanelle had a confused look on her face. Eve just laughed and leaned her head on the taller woman's shoulder as they walked to the park.

It was indeed packed. Children ran about the tarmac, squealing gleefully while parents chattered over benches and homemade sandwiches. Eve felt a little self conscious about being a fully grown woman in a park with no children of her own, but Villanelle did not care. She was a child at heart.

"C'mon, Eve! I want to go on the swings." Villanelle latched onto Eve's hand tightly, dragging her to the swing set that was fully occupied, apart from one. "Sit." She instructed and Eve followed, taking up the last swing. She thought that Villanelle was going to push her but instead she stood in front of the little boy on the neighbouring swing.

"Move. Now." Villanelle demanded and the boy ran off the swing without any further orders. She took the swing and looked over at Eve, who was stifling a laugh. "What? He's probably been here long enough, it's my turn."

"You're a big kid." Eve teased, adjusting her grip on the rusting metal chains and beginning to swing.

"I'm your big kid." Villanelle attempted to flirt, but they both looked at each other with widening eyes. "No, I have sex with you, that's just wrong."

"Villanelle!" Eve scolded her and glanced around to see if any children heard. "This is a children's park. You can't just say sex." Her voice lowered to a whisper.

"At least I'm not doing it." Villanelle shrugged it off and joined Eve in swinging.

"Yeah, 'cause it's a crime."

"Just because some things are illegal doesn't mean it has stopped me doing them."

"Duh." Eve laughed.

The pair swung around for a while longer before they decided to head home. The sun was beginning to dim down a little and the park was quietening. Walking back to the house, they continued to hold hands, not wanting to part after spending so little time together over the years.

"Do you think the sun knew it was my birthday today?" Villanelle asked with her head tilted towards the sky just as Eve was opening the front door.

"Yes." Eve said honestly, taking one last look at the star before it was to be covered over by incoming clouds. They entered the house and Eve instructed Villanelle to take a seat at the table in the kitchen while she shut the door.

"Why? What are you doing?" She questioned. Of course she wouldn't just sit down without asking why.

"Just sit down." Eve gestured to the chair.

"Why, though?"

"Villanelle, do you trust me?"

"I do."

"Then sit down." Eve rolled her eyes playfully at the stubbornness of her girlfriend.

"Fine." Villanelle dragged out the word, but took a seat at the table nonetheless. Eve snuck over to the fridge and removed the box she placed in there earlier. She lifted the two tier lilac cake out of its packaging and grabbed some candles from the back of a cupboard. She stuck a few of them haphazardly into the cake and struck up a lighter, disguising the sound with a cough. Villanelle could only hear what Eve was doing, and she was pleasantly surprised when the cake was placed in front of her on the table. Eve began to sing happy birthday, very horribly in her eyes, but Villanelle loved every second of it and that's all that mattered. Those tears that were blinked away this morning resurfaced, but Eve noticed them this time.

"Is my singing really that bad?" Eve joked lightly but pulled a chair closer to Villanelle and sat down. She grasped the blonde's face between her hands, allowing the pads of her thumbs to trace the outline of her cheekbones and wipe away falling tears.

"No. You've just been so nice to me." Villanelle admitted and leaned into Eve's touch, sniffling very quietly. Eve's heart hurt for her lover but she put on a brave face.

"And I will continue to do that. It's what you deserve. Now, make a wish." Eve directed the subject to the cake to lighten the mood, and she could tell Villanelle was grateful for it. She thought about her wish for a moment before blowing out each candle simultaneously with a huge blow, to which Eve celebrated with a cheer.

"Do you want to have a slice now or do you want your present first?" Eve asked, rising from her seat. Villanelle looked genuinely surprised at the question.

"You got me a present?"

"Yes, of course I did."

Villanelle smiled. "Then I want that first."

"You got it." Eve shot her a wink while she disappeared from the kitchen to retrieve the gift. Villanelle took a moment to appreciate the effort that Eve had put into making this day special for her. And it was just that. Special.

Eve returned with another box, but wrapped this time in a birthday themed paper and tied off with a red ribbon. She pushed the cake out of the way and set the present in front of Villanelle, returning to her seat to watch her open it.

She untied the ribbon, ripped open the paper and pulled open the box. She gasped at its contents and looked at Eve, who had the end of her nail in her mouth.

"Lingerie?" Villanelle raised an amused eyebrow, picking up the lacy underwear with her thumbs. The blood red material changed the mood in the room with its presence. The ribboned one piece felt expensive in her hands and she was just about to ask where it had been purchased, only Eve cut her off.

"How about you to try it on and I'll grab some wine." Eve rose from her seat with a confident composure, as if her heart wasn't racing inside her body at the thought of Villanelle in the present she got her. She felt maybe she was being a little selfish with the present, as it would be more her who would be enjoying it, but the way she was feeling right now let her know that Villanelle would definitely be as grateful for the gift as Eve was.

Villanelle wordlessly sauntered out of the kitchen with the box in her hands while Eve scanned the wooden rack for a particular bottle of red wine. Once acquired, she plucked two wine glasses and carried them to the bedroom. Upon opening the door, she found Villanelle already changed into the lingerie and seating herself on the bed, back against the headboard like her position this morning.

Every shift of her curvy body was accentuated by the cardinal colour, and it contrasted so beautifully against her pale, milky skin. Her full breasts filled the cups of the piece, with the tops of them spilling out ever so slightly. Each step that Eve took just added to the lust she was already feeling. The wine in her hands was almost forgotten about until Villanelle spoke up and drew Eve from her mesmerisation.

"I like these glasses." Villanelle admitted, taking the two from Eve's hands and setting them on her beside table. Eve could hardly form a coherent thought in her head, and there Villanelle was, admiring wine glasses.

"Yeah." Eve agreed with a sheepish nod and popped open the chilled wine bottle. The liquid sloshed around in the glass as she poured it carelessly, and Villanelle caught an escaped drop that was running down the side of the glass with her finger. She placed that finger in her mouth to lick off the drop of alcohol, all while staring at Eve from under her lashes. The older woman took a deep breath before swallowing the glass of wine in one. She certainly needed the alcohol to kick in immediately to soothe the overload of feelings within her body. She was so turned on, nervous, hot. All because of another girl.

"I like your style." Villanelle's lips curved into a smirk as she gulped back her own glass until nothing was left. The residue of the red liquid stained her lips a darker shade of pink, and that was all Eve needed to give in. She climbed onto her knees on the bed and positioned herself in front of Villanelle, between her legs. The blonde wrapped her slim legs around the other's waist, and pulled her in closer. Eve felt drunk already, but she knew it wasn't the result of the singular glass of wine; she was love drunk. And overly horny.

Eve leaned in first and captured Villanelle's lips in a kiss. Her lips were soft and delicate and she couldn't seem to get enough. Villanelle separated for air but Eve's eager mouth was parting her dewy lips faster than she could inhale. Eve felt again the rush of submissiveness, the fervent yearning, the surge of desire that knocked her breathless. This was routine for her, but she didn't wish to submit to Villanelle tonight. They both pulled away, intaking sharp breaths to their lungs. Eve barely gave Villanelle time to breathe, for her lips were now planting hot, open-mouthed kisses against the side of her neck. She skimmed across her pulse point with her teeth and pressed a singular kiss on the base of her throat. Villanelle gasped softly and her head titled back, hitting against the headboard with a quiet thud. The birthday girl was in a daze, rightfully in a trance due to Eve's actions.

As the pair put a few centimetres distance between their faces, Villanelle could read the look in Eve's eyes. She had no time to speak, to interject, for Eve was already shuffling her body down the bed, laying on her stomach and placing her hands around Villanelle's knees. She shivered at the cool touch and slowly spread her legs apart, peering down into beady brown eyes that were already gazing at her. No words were exchanged, only small pants of anticipation as Eve traced a svelte finger along the lacy outline of the panties Villanelle wore. She waited with bated breath for the next move, and slowly shut her eyes when Eve hooked the finger beneath one side of the underwear and pulled it to the side. The older woman could see just how wet this whole ordeal had gotten Villanelle. She let the material go from her finger and it snapped back against Villanelle, making her squirm. Her insides were quaking with lust.

Eve watched her own hands as they ran over expanses of creamy, pale skin and squeezed in all the right places. Each squeeze evoked a different reaction from the blonde, which only fuelled Eve's desire more. She couldn't take any more of this teasing herself, never mind Villanelle.

She pulled the panties to the side once more, but rougher this time. Eager fingers began to sneak between Villanelle's thighs, slipping past the soaked lace and ghosting over her pulsing clit, which earned a filthy whine in response. Eve rubbed tight little circles on the blonde's clit and looked up between her legs to see Villanelle's eyes shut. Eve stopped.

"What the hell?" Villanelle complained, glaring down at her lover with a nettled expression.

"Keep your eyes open, Oksana." Eve demanded, and Villanelle's eyes widened at the name. Words failed to come to her, so all she could manage was a nod to show she understood.

"And hold this." Eve instructed, gesturing to the panties that she was holding to the side. Villanelle reached down to take over and watched her lover's every move.

Eve used two fingers to spread Villanelle's glistening folds apart and leaned forward to ghost her lips over her clit, giving it a whisper of a kiss. She stuck out her tongue and flattened it, sliding from the beginning of Villanelle's entrance, up to the straining pearl of her clit. With her teeth clenched, the blonde hissed softly, and Eve repeated the motion again and again. She was determined to have Villanelle yield and by the way her chest was heaving up and down hastily, Eve knew that she was enjoying this as much as she is.

Eve worked messily and despite her best efforts to gather everything Villanelle had to offer, warm wetness still smeared across her cheeks. The blonde's taste was sweet, tangy, and so, so addictive. Eve's tongue delved deeper in search of more, parting Villanelle's pussy with the tip of her tongue and she thrusted forward into her. A sharp cry was released into the air and Eve looked up just in time to see Villanelle bite hard onto her lip to stifle her moans of pleasure. Eve's grip on Villanelle's thighs tightened, and she could feel the uneven skin of battle wounds beneath her palms. Each scar told a different story of how Villanelle fought and survived.

The couple knew that Villanelle would not be able to stay completely submissive for too long. Her free hand came to rest on top of Eve's head, twisting curly hair around her fist and shoving her face further against her pussy. Eve barely had an opportunity to catch her breath, but the way Villanelle's hips were raising to ride her tongue was evidence enough that she was close to ecstasy.

"Oh, Eve." She panted out, closing and opening her fist around black locks. "Keep doing that."

Eve had no intentions of stopping. She continued the repetitive plunging of her tongue into Villanelle's entrance, and removed one of her hands from her thigh to tease the clit that was longing for attention. At this action, Villanelle's thighs automatically closed around Eve's head in a vice-like grip as her orgasm overtook her body. Wetness trickled past Eve's mouth and coated her chin as the woman above her moaned out curses in a mix of both English and Russian.

"Wow." Villanelle spoke, breathless. She parted her legs to allow Eve to catch her breath and rekindled eye contact.

"Best birthday present ever. Do you want some cake now?"

52 notes · View notes

aqueerchronicle · 5 months

Text

Officially dipping my toes back into writing for the first time in forever!

Send me some prompts for headcanon/ficlets!

13 notes · View notes

peach-and-bugs · 2 years

Text

❤️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.

#killing eve #killing eve fanfic #killing eve fandom #killing eve fanfiction #villanelle #villanelle x reader

216 notes · View notes