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Hi, first of all i’d like to let you know this fic is inspired by the absolutely fantastic https://archiveofourown.org/works/27472552/chapters/80194609#workskin < please click the link and read it if you haven’t already, secondly if you noticed Killing Villanelle has been taken down for some upgrades, it was getting a lot of reads and I felt it wasn't good enough, but it's in the works! In the meantime, enjoy this. Nx Villanelle enters her hotel room in a huff, rushing to her laptop and setting an alarm. She shrugs her bloody clothes off onto the pearlescent tiled floor before turning the golden tap, watching water spill from the fish's mouth, filling her bath. She grabs a tea trolley from her kitchen and places the laptop upon it, wheeling it into the bathroom with her. Villanelle slides into the bath, the glittering bubbles catching the overhead light as she reaches an arm out to check the alarm. T- minus four minutes. She sighs, closing her eyes and relaxing, the kill she had committed today in the back of her mind. She feels pressure building between her legs, a wet, hungry arousal - one that possesses her entire body. Anticipation spreads throughout her, her muscles tensing and releasing as she reaches out to check the alarm. One minute left. She types into the search bar the letter S, clicking on the website that pops up straightaway. Shepherdspie.com, a website with an unrelated name to the content featured. - Cam girls, live shows, webcam models, whatever you want to call them, this website is filled to the brim with thousands of attractive people, all “waiting for you.”A popup infiltrates the corner of her laptop screen and she clicks on it immediately, watching the red numbers countdown from ten. Her favorite camwomen of all, Polastria Apple, is about to start her live broadcast of the week. Villanelle knows this because she has been watching and donating money to this anonymous woman for almost a year now, and she is entrapped in her glorious web, enthralled with her simple acknowledgements and obsessed with her livestreams. It all began when Villanelle returned from a kill, where she had stabbed a man with a hairpin through the eye socket and still felt bored as she watched the light drain from his eyes. It was as she was watching normal, boring porn, that an ad popped up. Shepherdspie.com, the hub for the sexiest over eighteen girls and guys live and waiting for you!It wasn’t the strange name of the website, or the vulgar logo of a pie with tits, or even the fact that she had to wait ten seconds to close the ad, that drew her attention. The body of the ad, a live clip from an account titled Polastria Apple, was what attracted her eyes. The woman’s head was out of frame, her pale neck and breasts exposed as she spoke to her audience. Villanelle had clicked on it immediately, enthralled with the slow, deliberate way the woman moved, all to tease her audience. Villanelle had reached an explorative hand into her pants at that very moment, reaching orgasm at the same time as “Polastria” did.She had liked the way the woman manipulated her audience to get what she wanted, the way she spoke to the viewers in a way that made every individual watching feel like they had her utmost attention on them. The attention combined with Polastrina’s gorgeous body practically forced V to click on her profile.Bored wife who seeks excitement, discovered this website and decided to give it a spin, never looked back since! I am so grateful for every single one of you who tune into my livestreams and donate! P Villanelle smiled, pressing the follow button. Now, almost a year later, Polastria's setup has improved, probably due to the plethora of donations she receives every live, her anonymity still remains, and she still communicates to her audience in that honey - dipped american voice, her long fingers exploring supple flesh. Villanelle derives pleasure from knowing she had viewed Polastria begin traditionally, only masturbating with her fingers or a vibrator and keeping her shows simple, to the hd quality camera, the nipple clamps and a deep red backdrop Villanelle donated money for.Now, Villanelle perks up as today's live begins, leaning in and gripping the side of the bath with wet fingers. There she is, dressed in a black robe, waving with both hands and brushing her black hair off her shoulders. “Hello, everyone!” The camera, as always, cuts off at her neck, sometimes her small chin moves in and out of the frame as she speaks. Villanelle thinks of what the rest of her face may look like. She’d have a soft face, clearly older and sexy all the same. Villanelle presses the “donate” button, waiting for Polastria to acknowledge her like she always does. The woman on her screen knows nothing about Villanelle except for the fact that she is a generous donator and a woman who frequents her lives, and she keeps it that way. “Vxx! Thank you, baby. It’s nice to see you again!” Villanelle gasps quietly, her hand flying between her legs in the water, driven mad by the pet name. Something about the way she speaks, the way she breathes in when she receives a tip, the way she brushes that gorgeous hair off her beautiful shoulders and the way she exposes herself mercilessly, running a teasing finger down her clit has Villanelle falling apart already, pushing her pretty pussy into the air to meet her hungry fingers.Just the attention she gives her is enough to get her wet and desperate, as well as excited for what's in store today. “So, welcome in, everyone. A little birdie told me you all voted and donated for me to spank myself today.” She laughs, her voice full and humorous. She could be laughing at her audience, or her circumstance, or nothing at all and Villanelle would still feel the ghost of a smile on her lips, the tug of her muscles to smile too.She gets out of the bath, still listening to Polastria as she brings the laptop to her bed, a robe hastily grabbed from the towel rack loosely hanging around her naked body. Villanelle tunes in just in time to witness the woman presenting her heart shaped behind to the camera, a paddle shaped like a flower in her hand. “Every tip over fifty dollars gets to pick whether I let myself cum or I spank myself more. Of course, donating is entirely optional. Enjoy the show.”Her velvety skin lights Villanelle’s on fire, her fingers reaching for the donation button. “Vxx again? My god, baby. So, which is it - vibrator or paddle?” Villanelle types in the chat, her words blood red with the words top donator above them. “Twenty hard paddle hits?” She reads out Villanelle’s message, her voice affected - her breathing heavy and her pussy visibly shiny under the ring lights of her setup. Polastrina hits herself, hard, the paddle ricocheting off the soft flesh of her ass, a moan of pain coming from her lips. Villanelle smiles, pleasured at the fact that that noise was created by herself, her money. She practically drools as the woman twitches and moans, some of pain and some of pleasure, until her twenty are up. Another man donates, his message crass and rude. Villanelle reads it, her eyes narrowing. You are so hot, goddess. I love your small breasts and tight pussy. I am Steve, a divorcee and I would love to meet up sometime. Villanelle chokes back laughter and anger at the same time, astounded at the stupidity. Polastrina isn’t a prostitute, she doesn’t do meetups, she entertains with the safety screen of anonymimity. Villanelle can see her become less turned on by the message, thanking Steve for his donation and overlooking the rest. Villanelle can do better than that. She donates four hundred and fifty dollars, adding the message “You are beautiful.” A simple and direct message that lights the woman up, causing Villanelle to begin dipping her fingers into her pussy as Polastrina gets closer and closer to cumming. As the women both reach orgasm, Villanelle imagines the faceless woman in front of her, presenting her beautiful body for Villanelle to kiss, to touch, to finger. She wonders what Eve thinks of when she cums.The next morning, she awakes sprawled on her bed with her laptop screen flashing stream ended, and as per usual Konstantin shuts the lid on his way to the bed, sitting down and causing Villanelle to roll into the dent he makes. “You could knock, you know.” She groans, her face flat against his back. Konstantin laughs, the noise exactly how “AHAHAA” is spelt.The abrupt guffaw harasses Villanelles ears, causing her to push him off the bed. “Were you watching that Polastrainer woman again?” He stares. “Polastrina.” She corrects him, rolling her eyes. “They want you to do a job in London.” He extends a single postcard, a photo of a couple smiling outside a red phone box on one side, curly handwriting on the other. “London is cold this time of year.” She pouts, staring at the postcard with disdain. “Bring a coat. You have full creative liberty. Have fun.” He calls from the hallway outside Villanelle’s apartment before descending down the spiral staircase. Villanelle sighs, returning to her bed and typing in the relevant information from the postcard into her search bar, a link popping up immediately. She clicks it, her screen opening to a photo of a man with a kind face. His wild eyebrows frame soft eyes, a black hat perched atop his head. Bill Pargrave, reads the name. The head of security at MI5, with a clean record. Villanelle never thinks about why these people are requested to be assassinated, but the thought does briefly cross her mind with this one. She pushes her curiosity back, reading the information about him.This mission requires Villanelle to work alongside him as an intern for two weeks, much longer than her regular kills, but nonetheless “enough time” for her to learn and report back to the Twelve about any and all information about the organization that MI5, and Bill specifically, knows. She dials Konstantin’s number, pacing impatiently until she hears him pick up.“I don't do jobs like this. Two weeks?! I do the kills, I leave. A day tops.” She hears him sigh heartily. “I knew you’d complain. It's what they ask of you, only this one time. A previous informant faced some troubles on the way in, and since you are going to be there anyway, this became your assignment.” Villanelle laughs coldly. “Thanks for nothing.” She hangs up, turning on her heel to pack her bag. It isn't ideal, but she’ll do it, solely because she gets to play a character inside MI5 for two weeks.She loves a character. Villanelle closes the door to her private pod inside the jet she travels in, a first class haven of soft bed sheets, window views, and… Polastrina. This week is a special one, with two live streams in the span of five days. Today, she is already naked, her hard nipples clamped in cute pink heart shaped nipple clamps. She talks to her audience with that usual voice, genuinely smiling and laughing. She must be having a good day today. (Villanelle has watched her for so long that she could tell her emotions without seeing her face, she understood from the harsh way she held the vibrator to her clit or the soft, giggly way she teased herself how she felt on that day, she could tell the fake laughs and genuine orgasms apart in a way she believed no other could.) Villanelle likes the good days the best, the ones where she says hello to every person that enters her live and giggles as she rides her clear pink dildo with small red hearts inside. As the stream continues, Polastrina starts reading out the comments as she gets off, answering questions and replying to comments. Villanelle jumps to type as the woman is leaning toward the camera, typing “Good to see you. I hope you are enjoying my donations.” And waiting, her body erupting in pins and needles as she hears her read the question out. “Hi Vxx! It's good to see you here too, baby.” Baby. “And yes, I have been. Actually-” She scoots out of frame, returning with a box. “I bought this today with your donation, V.” It's like she knows the idea of herself buying nice expensive things with V’s money gets her off. She simply enjoys this specific beautiful woman receiving beautiful things such as the Gucci tan jacket she holds up to the camera now, kneeling with her breasts still in the frame.Villanelle begins to masturbate.Touching down in London shocks her from her second post - orgasm nap this week, her laptop flashing “stream ended” as usual. She walks directly off the plane, laptop under arm and luggage behind her into a black sedan parked on the asphalt, the car driving her to an expensive hotel right next to the MI5 headquarters. As Villanelle lays out possible outfits for the next day where the Twelve have arranged her two week internship to begin, she wonders what boring people she’ll meet, what this “Bill Pargrave'' will be like - a scumbag, pinching bums and leaving a wake of destruction… or maybe, he's a sweetheart. A best friend. She falls asleep thinking about Polastrina and eyebrows and death.The next morning, Villanelle awakes at exactly four am naturally, her perfectly trained internal alarm never failing her. She fixes her hair into a bun, shrugging on an oversized light blue prada blazer over a plain white dress shirt tucked into pants from the same fabric of the blazer, a simple office outfit. She then grabs her ugly bright orange lanyard stating her name as “Hayley Thompson” with a grainy photo of her face and puts it around her neck, cringing the whole time.She scans her staff card on the green wall scanner, hearing a satisfying beep as the staff entry of the MI5 headquarters unlocks with a deep clunk. Villanelle gingerly pushes it open, peeking inside like the scared first - day intern character she plays. “Helloo?” She calls out as she steps onto the blue carpet that lines the entry hallway. A man rounds the corner, his wild eyebrows knitted into concentration as he reads off a clipboard before looking up. Bill Pargrave. “Hello. I’m Bill, you'll be working with my team and I for the next two weeks, correct?”Villanelle nods. “Yes! It's for my work experience course.” She smiles. Bill nods. “Where are you from? I hear an accent.” He small talks, the two walking into a large office with a few cubicles and a large wooden desk in the middle. The two continue past this area into a slightly smaller office where four desks sit, two pushed together and two separated. Three computers sit on these tables, an ipad on the other, and an array of papers neatly clipped together sit in piles along the outside of the desk closest to the door. “Russia. I was born there.” She smiles, standing in the doorway and surveying the room as she speaks.A woman with an impressive afro and a pretty smile looks up from where she sits, her desk being the one pushed against another where the seat is empty, and waves. “Hi! I’m Elena.” Villanelle smiles, waving back. “This is Hayley, she’s going to be assisting us for the next two weeks.” He grins, waggling his eyebrows jokingly before returning to his desk on the other side of the room, motioning for Villanelle to sit at the one with the iPad on it. “So, this is my team. Elena, Eve, and I. “Eve?” Villanelle looks around for a mystery third person. “She’s out for lunch now.” “Ah.” She nods. “So this week you’ll be running some errands mostly, as well as helping with some filing, just some general assistance tasks.” “Hayley” nods, smiling. “On that iPad are a few color coded files, so if you could just drag the blue ones into the blue file and so forth.” She nods again, turning her attention to the ipad screen. As the three work in silence, Villanelle surveys the activities taking place in the room, watching in her peripheral vision as Bill plays solitaire on his laptop screen. Elena’s screen is harder to see, so Villanelle tears up a piece of paper from her pocket and scrunches it up, walking over to the waste bin and throwing it in. She glances at a document Elena types in, one about a certain upcoming security training program. At least one of them is doing their job. As Villanelle sits back down in her seat the door opens abruptly, a woman holding a large pot plant obscuring her head steps into the room and kicking it shut with her leg. She places it next to the door, sighing loudly at the release of weight, before looking up at Bill. “What?” Bill laughs. “Why have you brought this here?” He motions to the large pot plant. “We needed something to brighten up the office. And Niko’s friend insisted on me taking it.” She smiles, turning to Villanelle. “Whos this?” She looks from Elena back to V. Villanelle springs from her seat, extending a hand. “Hayley. I’m working as an intern for two weeks.” The woman takes it gingerly, smiling at her before sitting down in her seat. Villanelle’s head spins once their skin connects. The way she moves is so familiar, the way she walks and the way her hands look. “That's Eve Polastri.” Bill whispers to Villanelle. Her eyes flutter shut, her heart hammering in her chest. Polastri. Polastri. Polastrina. She stands abruptly, holding the desk for guidance. “Is there a bathroom here?” She asks Bill. Eve replies. “Yeah, I can show you. Follow me.” She starts walking, her tailored work pants and simple purple button up catching Villanelle’s disoriented eye as she practically stumbles after her, her stomach flipping and her mouth hanging ajar. This shouldn't affect her. The fact that a woman she has been dreaming of touching for a year now is leading her to the bathroom should not affect her. She is a trained assassin. She is deadly. And she feels like she wants to throw up.
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hello! another chapter out :D Nx
“Here you are. Do you need me to wait so you don't get lost?” She asks. Villanelle doesn't know what motion she makes with her head, somewhere between nodding and shaking her head. “I’ll wait.” Eve decides herself, standing in front of the mirror and lacing those fucking hands into her beautiful fucking hair. Villanelle walks into the toilet stall, trying her best to avert her eyes from the woman in front of her until she reaches the safety of the thin wooden door that separates Eve from Villanelle. She sits down on the toilet, breathing heavily and screwing her eyes shut, thoughts ricocheting through her head. Is this Konstantins idea of a joke? No, he doesn’t mess around at work. Is this some hellish coincidence, payback for her sins? Probably. She flushes the toilet when the world stills at least to a degree, swinging open the door. Villanelle strides confidently to the sinks, washing her hands and staring at Eve in the mirror, watching as she grabs handfuls of her beautiful hair, trying to smooth down those wild locks into a bun. Villanelle feels something sinful try to force its way out her tightly shut mouth. “Wear it down.” The words turn into a more gentle, soft request, instead of the “You look sexy with it down. Don’t you dare tie it up.” She was originally planning.Eve’s eyes snap to Villanelle’s in the mirror, saying nothing but releasing her fingers from her hair nonetheless. V bites a smile back at her compliance. The two walk soundlessly back to the office, Eve leading the way and Villanelle letting her, although she knows the route now.“Eve.” Bill looks up from his seat as she steps back into the office with the blonde woman in tow. “I need you to check on Ambre Dubois. She was checked into a safehouse and hasn't responded to anyone since. How many guards did you station there?” Eve walks over to her computer rapidly, clicking three times before reading off her report “Two armed guards outside and one inside.” Bill nods. “Good. Just check on her, and remind the guards that they need to have their comms on. Useless people.” Eve nods, smiling at his comment before collecting her bag from her desk. Villanelle makes the mistake of looking at Bill, sparking an idea in his mind.
“Take Hayley.” V watches as Eve sighs, her beautiful lips puffing out in disagreement. She texts something on her phone, Bill’s phone lighting up on his desk. “No I am not torturing you, she’s very competent. Get me a croissant on the way back or you’re fired.” He says out loud, causing Villanelle to bite back a laugh at Eve’s shocked face after Bill just exposed her. The shorter woman starts down the hall, not saying a word, Villanelle stalking after her, hands in pockets. Her heart beats rapidly under her confident exterior, her legs jelly. A certain sinful delight blooms in her stomach too, at the prospect of being near this beautiful creature, although she did just insult her. The car ride is awkward, Villanelle’s eyes never moving from Eve’s face. “Why do you keep looking at me?” Eve’s voice cuts the silence sharply, her eyes flicking to the woman’s face as she looks away. “No reason.” It hurts V to say this, to brush off the fact that this woman orgasms her to sleep every time she streams, the fact that she’s seen her body from every angle, she’s even wearing the fucking jacket she bought for her. Villanelle tries not to be turned on by this.The two roll up to a slightly run down cottage, white paint flaking off the walls and the plants in the small rotting garden bed all dead. The presumed two guards outside are nowhere to be seen, and Villanelle can sense the danger here. Something is off. “Eve, where are the guards?” She asks, her eyes shifting around cautiously. “I don’t know.” Eve replies, looking more nervous by the second. “Are you sure getting out is a good idea?” Villanelle turns to Eve, watching her hand on the car door still. “Should we call Bill?” She asks an unresponsive Eve. “I’m going to check.” Eve says decidedly. She pushes open the door, and sure enough, a bullet shatters the window of Eve’s car door, embedding itself into the car seat in one fell swoop.Eve screams, jumping back into the car and slamming the door. “Oh god! Oh god!” She shouts, rapidly turning the wheel to drive away. Villanelle ducks her head, turning around and looking for the gunman through the space between the headrest and the seat. A woman, around 5’6, brown hair tied back and dressed in all black. Villanelle texts Konstantin, keeping her phone screen hidden from a shaking Eve. She sends him the description of the woman, furrowing her brows when his response comes through.“She is one of ours.” The next few hours go by in a haze, returning to the office, being sent home early, Eve crying to Bill, Villanelle heading to her hotel room. She calls Konstantin the moment she arrives at her hotel room. “What was that? Why would you let them send someone to fuck with my job?” She speaks in hushed but angry tones, pacing around her room. “She was sent for someone else. We didn’t know any paths would cross.” “She shot at us!” Konstantin huffs. “I’ll see what I can find about what she’s doing in the same place as you. You know it’s against policy for there to be two of you in the same space at once.” Villanelle makes a “Duh!” Noise and hangs up, still fuming at the incompetence. Eve sits in the cold interview room the next day, Villanelle silently beside her, dressed obnoxiously good. Her hair is loose on her shoulders, her skin smooth and shiny. She wears a white t- shirt with a pair of lips on it, a burgundy blazer and beautiful floral pants, while Eve sits, wearing her normal tank top/jacket/slacks combo, her hair in a tight bun and her hands shaking. A woman files in, a powerful figure with short burgundy hair and a direct stare. She smells expensive, a cloud of perfume following her as she paces across the room. “Hello, my name is Carolyn Martens. I am head of the Russia desk, but the head of the French desk is entirely incompetent, so here I am.” She sits, Eve leaning back slightly and Villanelle leaning closer in. “Tell me what happened yesterday.” Her words are directed at Eve, so the other woman stays silent, waiting for her to talk. “Well, Bill sent me to check on Ambre Dubois, who was under our protection because of her involvement with a French gang who killed her colleagues.” “What about her?” Carolyn looks from Villanelle back to Eve. “Oh- Hayley is an intern. Bill told me to bring her with me to get some experience.” The older woman nods, leaning back. “Continue.” Eve leans forward, telling the rest of the story about the bullet, about not seeing any guards and then driving away.“Did you see who the shooter was?” Carolyn asks, clasping her glamorous hands together. Villanelle debates whether to speak up or not, deciding it would be an unwise choice as whoever that woman was, she worked for the twelve. “No.” Eve replies solemnly, looking at Villanelle for confirmation that neither of them saw who it was to which she too shakes her head, frowning at Carolyn in a “I wish I could give you more information” way. Carolyn bows her head, walking the two out the door of the interview room. Eve turns to Carolyn just before she shuts the door. “Is Ambre dead?” She asks, eyebrows furrowed “Yes.” Carolyn replies before shutting the door hastily. Villanelle catches up to Eve who begins walking quickly down the hall to their office. She’s like a short, anxious Usain Bolt. Villanelle thinks humorously to herself.“Eve, are you okay?” Villanelle asks, placing a hand gently on her shoulder when she finally catches up. “Fine.” She returns, slowing down slightly. “I’m just.. Stressed.” She looks at Villanelle for the first time, really taking in her beautiful eyes, her perfect brows and the slightly amused quirk of her mouth. Eve feels herself blushing like a teenager, the business of work causing her to never really look at the intern. Sure, she noticed Hayley’s ridiculously beautiful outfits, the way she walked with her hands in her pockets, the height she had over her. But never her beauty. Eve looks away quickly. “What?” Villanelle raises an eyebrow, feeling scrutinised under Eve’s direct gaze. “Nothing.” She keeps walking, halfway to the office. Villanelle starts walking behind her again, hands behind her back. “So. Hayley.” Eve slows again, the two walking side by side now. “Yes?” Villanelle asks, looking slightly downward to Eve. “Where are you from?” Eve small talks, hardly breathing. “Russia. You are very beautiful, Eve.” Villanelle bites back a grin as Eve stops in her tracks, eyes slightly wider as she takes in the compliment. As Eve opens her mouth to reply, Villanelle’s phone starts ringing loudly in her pocket. She smiles at Eve before walking around a corner into a small break room, where she picks up, saying nothing. “The woman was on a job she was supposed to have completed a day before you came. She was coming for the woman MI5 were protecting.” Villanelle knows better than to ask why. “What is her name?” She asks, knowing it is against the rules. “Nadia.” Konstantin replies, hanging up. Villanelle smiles. A ghost from her past, huh?The next morning, after her half hour bath in which she thinks about her obscure situation (The fact that the cam - woman she had been infatuated with for a year works at her fake workplace she has been sent to to kill her boss, in case you were wondering,) She dresses slowly. Donning a light blue dress shirt and a navy blue vest to match her pants of the same color, she walks to the MI5 building, grinning at the prospect of seeing Eve once again. Upon arriving at MI5, Bill rounds the corner and approaches her, his eyes sincere.“Hello, Hayley. I just wanted to apologize for sending you and Eve unprotected yesterday, this kind of thing doesn't happen often in our department and I’ll be more careful next time, I just hope this doesn't turn you off the internship.” Bill holds his hat in his hands and knits his eyebrows together as he speaks, concerned. Villanelle smiles breezily. “It’s fine. Of course I still want this job.” Bill smiles, making appreciative eye contact with Villanelle before leading the two into the office and sitting back in his seat. He clears his throat at the silence in the room, Eve and Elena already there. “So, today I just have some files for you to sort, Hayley. Elena and I are going to a team meeting, so it’ll be just you and Eve for a few hours.” As Elena hugs Eve goodbye and awkwardly nods at Villanelle, Bill digs through his man - purse, as he calls it, looking for his car keys. When he retrieves the jingling keys from his bag, he waves them around triumphantly before ushering Elena out the door and waving at the two women left in the room before shutting it behind him. The two don’t speak for the first hour or so, Eve working on her computer while Villanelle sprawls on the floor, surrounded by files and pieces of paper - loose records, receipts, and newsletters that she sorts through slowly. It's not that the two women didn't know what to say, oh on the contrary. Villanelle had too much to say, so much that she kept silent. After an extended period of silence, Eve swivels her office chair around to face the woman on the floor, staring intently. “Why did you call me beautiful?” She asks. Villanelle laughs, taken aback by the random comment.“Eve, I called you beautiful because you are. That was twenty four hours ago, why are you bringing it up now?” Eve goes silent. “I don't know.” The silence full of thoughts not turned into words ends when a notification fills the room, the noise causing Eve to look up. The notification comes from Villlanelle’s phone, the distinct sound of a horn wolf whistling is a notification sound unique to the Shepherdspie.com app. Villanelle grabs her phone quickly, turning it off and avoiding Eve’s questioning eyes, her heart beating quickly. As Eve opens her mouth, Bill and Elena come bustling through the door, bags full of free goodies from the team meeting, talking loudly. Villanelle and Eve stare at each other the entire time, both faces unreadable as the other two people in the room bustle around, turning on computers and emptying bags. Eve finally looks away when Bill offers her a stress ball, squeezing it appreciatively.When Villanelle returns to her hotel room that night, she tries to ignore the feeling of guilt in her stomach. Guilt isn’t a regular feeling for her, the way it settles inside her feels uncomfortable. She doesn’t like not knowing whether Eve connected the dots somehow, whether she was creeped out by the coincidence of them both having the app, or maybe she didn’t hear it. (She definitely did.) Villanelle lays back in her bed, a sigh escaping her lips. A notification pops up on her phone again from Shepherdspie.com, and she grabs it quickly, silencing all notifications from the app. She notices the old notification was from Polastrina, one that tells Villanelle that she’s live. She does feel guilty when she clicks on the livestream, guilty at the fact that the woman she basically answers to (The chain of being in her workplace goes Bill>Elena and Eve>Hayley, in case you were wondering) is the woman that turns her on like a lightswitch. The guilt becomes delicious once she sees Eve’s setup for the night, a deep red backdrop with a small wooden tray full of lit candles and a deep red chaise lounge where she lays, her body covered by a sheer red wraparound. Seeing her with the knowledge of who she is adds another layer, the forbidden fruit becoming so much sweeter as she watches the beautiful woman, face and neck out of frame as usual, laying along the lounge like Rose in the “paint me like one of your French girls” scene. “Hello, everyone.” Her persona is different today, more deliciously seductive and slow in her movements as she reaches for a candle, her beautiful fingers wrapping around a deep red one. It is only then that Villanelle realizes what Eve is doing, watching the candle wax spill over her upper thigh. “It's all up to you where I drop the wax.” She speaks as if she is speaking directly to Villanelle, and her finger twitches toward the donate button. As she donates a hundred dollars with the note “Drip it wherever you want to” Eve lights up.“Vxx! Wherever I want huh? This is all for you.” It's that last sentence that drives Villanelle wild, the fact that Eve is being watched by five thousand other people is forgotten to her as she watches Eve slowly undo the ribbon holding her wraparound together, taking her time until her sultry hands finally undo the red ribbon, the sheer fabric falling away to reveal Eve’s breasts, her dark nipples hard already. She drops the red candle wax directly onto her nipple, the genuine gasp that it draws from her has Villanelle once again reaches into her drawer, pulling out a wireless red wand vibrator to match the theme and turning it on, laying on her back with the laptop on the bed to her left, her legs spread open and the vibrator beginning slowly, teasing herself as Eve gasps and whimpers, dropping more and more red wax on her as the requests and tips roll in. When her body is covered with wax, she reaches into a drawer and pulls out a black dildo with a shining red zigzagging pattern up the side. As she rides it, Villanelle gets an idea. She donates another five hundred dollars, the request simple; “Draw a red V in wax just above your pussy.” Eve reads it aloud, nodding obediently and grabbing a candle.She carefully draws a red V, exactly where she was told to, and together they cum with Villanelles name marked on her. She belongs to Villanelle, whether she knows it or not. “You’re mine, Eve.”
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reupload of chap 3 because it had a few mistakes! Comment, i appreciate you Nx (this is probably my favourite chapter so far) Nadia paces through the swinging doors of an expensive hotel, walking toward the golden desk and staring harshly at an uninterested woman seated behind a large golden computer monitor. “I need to know a room number.” She narrows her neat eyebrows at the woman, green eyes blazing. “I’m sorry Ma’am, but we aren’t allowed to give out information regarding our guests.” The woman behind the desk repeats monotonously, not even looking up from her computer. Nadia pulls a shiny black handgun from her pocket and rings the receptionist's bell repeatedly until the woman behind the desk’s bored eyes meets hers. She gasps, staring down the barrel of the gun and gulping audibly. “What’s the name for the room?” She says politely, turning to her computer. “Konstantin.” She responds, unblinking. After a few beats of silence filled with the sound of the keyboard and occasional mouse clicks, the woman looks up again. “Room 13 on the first floor.” She swallows again, waiting until Nadia finishes writing down the address on the back of a document plucked from the table before taking the gun away from her face and jogging to the elevator. Villanelle lays in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She had received a call from Bill who told her that on Wednesdays the office was quiet, it being most peoples day off. Therefore, there was no need for her to come into the office today. Tragically enough, Villanelle felt disappointed when he said this, all ideas of smoothing things over with Eve down the drain. She had stayed up all night trying to figure out how to explain the notification, trawling through apps that could possibly share the same notification sound to no avail. Villanelle needed to break into Bill’s office today to get Konstantin off her back, but she couldn’t shake the look Eve gave her when that notification went off. She almost looked disgusted, like somehow she knew. It is as Villanelle decides to shower that she gets a knock on her door. “Go away!” She calls out, rolling her eyes. The knocking intensifies, so she opens her bedside drawer and grabs a throwing knife Konstantin gifted her for her last birthday, rolling her eyes. “I am not in the mood for this!” She shouts, kicking open the door with her knife in hand. There she stands, breath heaving, Twelve - issued gun in her sweaty hands. Nadia. Villanelle shuts the door in her face, locking it and flopping back on her bed. “Hey! Предатель! ты предал меня, предатель! Шлюха!” Nadia screams, pounding the door with her hands. “Я тебя убью! Ты должен был любить меня! Константин должен был взять меня!” She cries, louder and louder. “You would never kill me. Konstantin did pick me! Deal with it!” Villanelle retorts, throwing her knife at the door and watching as it embeds itself in the wood.The desperate whimpering of the sad creature gets louder, too loud, filling Villanelle’s head with memories. She had heard that sound before, when she had gotten herself thrown into prison for… Anna. She had been younger then, darker hair, silent. Nadia Kadomtseya was quiet too, making it easy for the guards to decide who Oksana was to share a cell with. For the first week, the two didn’t speak to each other. Shuffling around each other became awkward after a while, the two finally speaking on a particularly hot day of trudging around the prison yard for exercise. “I wish they’d let us swim.” Nadia had piped up, not looking at Oksana. Oksana had snorted, looking incredulously at the side of the other woman’s face. “Swim? How about horseback riding? Or water polo?” Nadia half - smiled at this quip, finally facing Oksana. “Dinner is going to be slop. They wouldn’t let me make it today.” She said, ignoring the guard standing a half foot behind them and calling them slags in Russian. “They let you make the whole thing?” Oksana raised her eyebrows. “I make it well.” She simply responded, raising a shackled hand to wipe a bead of sweat off her forehead. Since that day, the two were inseparable. Nadia was in love, and Oksana… who knows, really. It was on one particularly cold day that Nadia had returned from her meeting with the doctor, green eyes ablaze. “Oksana!” She called in a sing - song voice, the guard rudely shoving her into the cell but never denting her joy. “Yes, dear?” She sarcastically replied, sitting up in her bunk. “I was just talking to the doctor - they want me!” Oksana stands, eyebrows narrowing. “Who want you?” She paces over to Nadia, sliding a protective hand around her waist and drawing her closer.“They are called the Twelve. They want me to be an…” She leaned in, her lips close to Oksana’s ear. “Assassin.” Oksana laughed then, eyes creasing. “You watch too many movies.” She said incredulously, knowing full well no movies were watched in this prison they resided in. “I am serious! What, you don’t think I could do it?” She asked, shrugging Oksana’s hands off her and sitting down on the bottom bunk. Oksana rolled her eyes, flopping down next to her. “I didn't say that.” Nadia brightens slightly, turning to her. “This man with a beard interviewed me. He said he could make it all happen for me, that he sees my talent. They’re going to break me out of here!” She yelped happily after the last sentence, kicking her legs childishly. “You are going to leave me?” Oksana knitted her eyebrows together, her face deadly still. “No! I’m going to make them to get you out too!” Nadia places a hand on the sulking woman’s thigh, drawing small circles over her dark green prison pants. “When are they going to take you?” She asked, narrowing her eyes. “Tomorrow!” Nadia replied happily, the happiest she’d been in weeks, in fact.“I want to meet with them first. Today. To make sure it’s safe.” Oksana said confidently, hand tight on Nadia’s thigh. Nadia looked uncertain, shifting slowly. “Please.” Oksana continues, sinking onto her knees on the floor, Nadia still seated on the bottom bunk. She presses her hands together in false prayer, edging herself between the sitting woman’s knees. “I don't know. What if they take you instead?” Oksana folds her bottom lip down. “I’d never go without you. I have no interest in being an assassin, детка.” She reaches up to Nadia’s drawstring, slowly undoing the bow with lithe fingers. “Please, Nadia. Моя любовь.” She saw her wavering, wondering if her girlfriend was truly that protective. Nadia grabs a fistful of Oksana’s dark hair, drawing her face between her legs, pants still on. “Convince me.” Delighted, Oksana finishes undoing the bow, before slowly sliding the pants off with her teeth, all the while remaining delicious eye contact. She licked Nadia through her underwear, listened to the shuddering moans she elicited from her girlfriend’s mouth. As she slowly slid the white panties off Nadia’s bronze skin, she kissed her knee tenderly.“I love you and I want to protect you. Let me meet them.” Nadia was lost in pleasure, her mouth muttering Russian nonsense and her eyes rolling back as Oksana connected her mouth with Nadia’s pussy, licking slow circles up her lips until she reached her sweet clit, fully enveloping it with her mouth and sucking, hard. “Прямо здесь, детка! Вы чувствуете себя настолько хорошо…” The Russian makes Oksana’s ears twinge, deciding at that very moment that she no longer wants to speak the harsh language. As Nadia humps against her mouth, she finds herself wondering what the recruiter saw in Nadia. Sure, she’s loyal, she’s kind, but she has nothing special, unlike Oksana. Oksana could be someone. “You can meet them.” Nadia says in rushed tones as she cums, pussy flush against Oksana’s wet mouth. After licking the last of the smooth wetness she created off her girlfriend’s pussy, she kissed her on the cheek. “So when are they coming?”Oksana watched as Nadia grabbed a homemade shank from her bag, stabbing herself in the calf without even flinching before calling for the doctor. The doctor was her gateway to the Twelve, he was a part of them and could get her in contact with them to notify them that they’ll be meeting with her girlfriend before she agrees or denies anything. As Nadia got marched back to her cell ten minutes later with her leg bandaged, she nodded at Oksana. “They’ve agreed to meet you.” Nadia then swings her fist, connecting with Oksana’s cheek and knocking her to the floor. She spits out blood, grinning. “I need a doctor!” She screams.Several minutes later after being dragged bare - footed down a long hall into the cold doctors office she was in only once before - when she got pneumonia from being forced to clean outside at night - She was dragged into a small room in the back of the main infirmary, past the curtained beds. Inside, a man with dark hair and an even darker beard sat in a chair at a small table, not even looking up as Oksana was roughly plopped into a hardwood chair opposite him. “Итак, Надя попросила меня встретиться с вами. Почему?.” He began. “In English, please.” The man rolled his eyes, but complied with her request. “Why did you want to see me?” Oksana leans in. “Take me instead.” The man laughs, the sound booming and joyous. “Why?” She straightens her posture. “I am better than Nadia in every way.” The large man stilled for a moment, before calling a guard inside. “Show me you are better.” He said, leaning back in his chair. “Kill her.” The woman looked alarmed, reaching for the buzzer on her belt when Oksana stood, slowly pacing over to face the panicking guard. She lunged at her, grabbing a fistfull of brown hair and dragging the flailing guard to the floor. She slapped her a few times, receiving a few scratches and pinches in return until she grabbed the woman’s arms, pinning them above her head on the floor and standing on them, causing her to scream, before reaching into her pocket and grabbing her gun. The woman brought her leg up to kick at Oksana just as she pressed the cold barrel of the gun to her head, firing two rounds into her brain before kicking her a few times to make sure she was gone. She sauntered back to her chair, slamming the gun onto the table and flopping down in the chair, catching her breath.“You are rough.” The man says gruffly, leaning back. Oksana leaned forward. “I am not trained yet! But I am worth it.” She said confidently. The man sighed. “Do you have any parents? Anyone who would miss you?” She shakes her head. “Will you be worth it?” Oksana nodded. “You were willing to double cross your girlfriend for this, yes?” She nodded again. “Fine.” He pulled out a flip phone, typing a number in and pressing call. “Нам нужна уборка. Планы изменились, теперь берем Оксану Астанкову. да. да. Она не подведет тебя. Нет, она не хочет ничего из своих вещей. До свидания.” He hung up the phone, motioning for Oksana to follow him. As she walked behind him to a large van painted in army green, parked right near the courtyard where the prisoners were out exercising, she noticed Nadia. “Hey!” She called out, grinning. Nadia turned around, eyes widening when she realized who her girlfriend was with. “No!” She began to yell, breaking free from the guard who was walking with her, holding the chain of her shackles. She wrenched the chain from his hand, running to the fence and screaming, hands bleeding from the barbed wire fence. “НЕТ! Оксана! Проклятый предатель! Ты предал меня! Шлюха! Как ты смеешь! Я любил тебя! Останавливаться! Не уходи! Сволочь!” She screamed desperately, switching to English. “How dare you! Come back!” She shook the fence harder with every word, blood dripping down her bloody hands. The guard she broke free from came up behind her, grabbing her by her hair and dragging her across the dusty ground as she wailed. Oksana looked from the scene to the man she was going with, watching as he shook his head. “You are brutal.” Oksana grinned in response. Now, Villanelle remembers the grand betrayal as Nadia’s screams grow desperate. The memories of that fucking prison and that fucking woman aren’t good ones, so she grabs a black duffel bag, placing the things she needs for the day inside and throwing it out the window onto the roof of a lower building, jumping out herself after it. She hops from roof to roof until she gets to the MI5 building, landing in the grass of someone’s backyard as she cuts around the back of the office, scanning her keycard and walking past the investigation ward. She smiles at the few people working who don't question her as she walks to Bill’s, Eve’s, and Elena’s office. The door is locked, as presumed, so she pulls a small gadget from her bag. She places it directly on the keyhole, waiting as the small pins inside figure out the right formation to mimic a key. Once it unlocks itself, she walks inside, shutting the door behind her and throwing the gadget back in her bag. She walks over to Bill’s desk, plugging a USB into his computer tower and waiting until the blinking red light turns green, meaning a copy of everything on his desktop downloaded onto this device. She then opens his drawers, trawling through shiny framed photos of a beautiful woman with choppy black hair carrying a baby, through receipts for his work lunch, until she finds a file filled with information about known organizations. She pulls out her work phone, snapping photos of the pages before putting it exactly back where it goes. After she’s looked through his four drawers and found nothing else worthwhile, she turns to leave.As she walks past Eve’s desk, she feels an invisible pull to look through her drawers too. Just in case. She fights the urge for a moment before closing her eyes, giving in to the temptation. She sits on Eve’s work chair, swiveling around a few times before reaching into her top drawer of her desk. She pulls out a strip from a photobooth, scowling at the images. A younger Eve and a puckered man with a heinous moustache pose together, the first photo of the two smiling together, Eve’s head on his shoulder. The second is the man with his lips against Eve’s cheek, the third vice versa. It’s the final one that makes Villanelle blanch. The two kiss, Eve’s hand against the side of the man’s face and his hand under her chin. Married. Villanelle pockets the photo. She continues digging through the first drawer, finding every piece of Eve interesting as she thumbs through the reports, the empty tupperware containers, and finally, a file. The name catches Villanelle’s attention, causing her to take a slow, soft breath. Female assassins by Eve Polastri. Villanelle wraps her hand around the beige file, a photo falling out as she lifts it from the depths of the drawer. She then realizes Eve was trying to hide this file under the layers of paperwork, like it’s her dirty little secret.Villanelle bends down to pick up the photo. A glossy, printed image of a crime scene. Villanelle’s kill. She then slams the file down onto the table, heart hammering out of her chest. She thumbs through the images - a compilation of her own kills, her tracks across the globe, a few other bits and bobs relating to…. You guessed it, Villanelle. Eve is investigating her. She has to sit down, her knees weakening at the attractive idea of the woman she is most obsessed with, unknowingly obsessed back. She screws her eyes shut. The idea of the investigation itself doesn’t worry Villanelle, as from reading the file she knows this is all Eve’s hunch. She’d be too scared to share it with anyone, to overstep her role in MI5. Villanelle takes the file, knowing Eve will notice. As she’s leaving the office, she bumps into a fast - moving blur of dark hair, her duffel bag falling to the floor. “Sorry!” The woman says, leaning down to pick it up and handing it back to Villanelle, pausing as she realizes who it is. “Eve.” Eve pauses, the duffel bag still in her hand as Villanelle holds the other side of it. After a beat of unmoving, unblinking staring on Eve’s behalf, Villanelle gently tugs the bag from her fingers, waking her from her trance.“Sorry.” Eve blinks. “What are you doing here?” She asks after a moment of silence, her face unreadable. “I left my ring in the office.” Villanelle breezily replies, holding her hand up and pointing to the simple silver band around her finger. Eve nods. “What are you doing here?” Villanelle asks back. Eve swallows. “I need to work on something.” Villanelle nods, the question of “Did you hear the notification?” On the tip of her tongue. “I… heard the shepherd's pie notification.” Eve says as if she heard her thoughts, shocking Villanelle into silence. “Don’t be embarrassed. I watch them too. Cams, I mean. No need to be embarrassed.” Villanelle takes a breath before letting out a joyous laugh. Eve looks confused. She has no clue! She solely thinks Villanelle is an avid porn watcher and not a watcher of her porn specifically! “Thank you, Eve.” Villanelle feels a weight lifted from her shoulders and then a pang of guilt. She shakes it off. “Smell ya later!” She jokes, sauntering out the door.Nadia hears Villanelle climb out the window, watches from the small gap in the doorframe and the door from when V had kicked it open, waiting. Once her booted foot swings out the window to escape Nadia and she hears the clunk of her feet connecting with a tin roof outside, Nadia shoots the lock on the door, wiping her tears away angrily as she wonders if Villanelle is insanely arrogant or simply stupid to leave her laptop on her bed, turned on.She sits down, the bed swallowing her up due to how soft it is, the air hissing out the sides. The screen is open to some sort of stream, Nadia noticing from the vulgar symbol in the top left corner of a pie with tits that this is a porn site. Classy. She minimizes the tab, trying to find any form of information, something she can use to pay Villanelle back. When all she comes up with are locked files and password protected programs, she returns to the website. The stream, now ended, is by someone with the account named Polastrina. Nadia snaps a photo of the username and the website name with her phone before deciding to simply be petty. She rips apart clothes, throws pillows out of windows, smears makeup on the walls, and even rips some tiles out of the shower, desperate for any kind of payback. Once she finishes her masterpiece, she decides to do one final thing, one thing that hopefully will make that whore’s life harder. She grabs the laptop, closes the lid, and hurls it out the window, watching the heavy square fall onto the roof below with a loud crash, the monitor breaking apart from the keyboard. Nadia grins
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hellohello! enjoy. NxEve walks to her office, head cloudy after her run - in with Villanelle. She unlocks the office door, sitting down with a huff at her desk and closing her eyes for a moment, a calm washing over her. She wonders why she feels so frazzled, remembering the sickening feeling when she heard that notification from the stylish intern’s phone. She had gone home that night worried that somehow Hayley knew what Eve did on the side, finally coming to the conclusion after several glasses of wine that the intern simply watches cam girls on the website. It’s a regular thing, there is no way she’s seen Eve’s specifically. She realised the flawless woman was worried that Eve would judge her, or maybe she was confused at why both of them recognised the sound. She felt proud of herself when she came up with a convincing lie - that she’s just the average porn watcher and has visited the site before. Hayley seemed to buy it - she’s free of her worries now. Eve moves her empty lunch containers away, her heart skipping a beat when her fingers touch the cold metal of the bottom of the drawer. Where’s her file? She feels panic overcome her, familiar at this point in her life, as she throws pieces of paper, plastic forks, ketchup packets, and receipts onto the floor behind her, her heart sinking out of her body when she realises it’s truly gone. Although the file itself isn’t necessarily bad, it’s not her job to gather this information. The crime scene photos, the transportation tracking, the theories, it was all obtained illegally by logging onto Bill’s computer when he was out to lunch to get the information she needed to piece this intoxicatingly interesting story together. In the wrong hands, this file would get her fired, or even worse, sued by MI5 for misuse of identification systems or something. Suddenly, Eve’s mind focuses. It was Hayley! She was the only one in the office today, she had that duffel bag, Eve felt the unmistakable weight of her file, not realising it then. Eve jogs to her car - maybe she can still catch her if she’s quick enough. Villanelle walks leisurely across the sidewalk, duffel bag slung across her shoulder and hands in pockets. Once she gets to the closest roof to her hotel room, she shimmies up the drainpipe, feeling a giddy sort of joy at her interaction with Eve. Once she hops from rooftop to rooftop, her boot steps on something hard, causing her to step back and look down. Her laptop lays under her heel, shattered into chunks. Nadia! I will kill her, she thinks vengefully. Villanelle grabs the shards of the laptop, shoving them into her bag before climbing up the fire escape and slipping back into her window. She laughs out loud at the horrendous mess that is her room. “How pathetic.” She kicks a broken vase with her shoe before picking her way through the rubble to her bed, flopping down with a sigh. She rolls to her side, gasping at the sight of her closet. Her clothes! Gucci suits, Prada blouses, Chanel coats, all ripped to shreds, the blue fabric scissors Nadia used left hanging on a coat hanger. Villanelle feels like crying, walking over to the clothes rack and running her hands over the newly - fringed edges of her expensive clothes, silently cursing Nadia for her petty, majorly inconvenient attempt at getting payback. It’s not like she found anything of worth, all her files and information locked deep inside her laptop, which she’s sure Nadia couldn’t get into, hence the throwing it out the window thing. She puts her phone on charge, wandering over to the window to look for any signs of Nadia. As she shrugs her jacket off, she spots a certain somebody, driving furiously in a little silver car on the road outside the hotel. Eve. Villanelle wonders where she’s headed, when she realises. Eve’s looking for her! Villanelle backs away from the window, deciding to let her suffer for a small while longer. She’ll return the file eventually. She walks into the small kitchen, grabbing a red apple from the fruit bowl and taking a bite, zipping open the duffel bag and pulling the thick file out, crossing her ankles and flipping it open. She feels a small smile bloom on her face, her finger tracing the black ink scrawl of Eve’s handwritten report on one of her recent kills. She smiles again, flipping through the pages, feeling extremely complimented at Eve’s involvement with this. With her. Eve drives around the neighbourhood about nine times in total before she relents, pulling over the car and slamming her head on the steering wheel. She gets a call as her forehead honks the horn, reaching out to grab the phone on the car seat next to her and pressing talk. “Hello?” Elena sounds too joyous. “Hi, Elena.” Eve responds, her voice dull. “You sound excited to talk to me.” Eve sits up. “Sorry. I just lost something and it's severely annoying me.” Elena laughs. “I hear you. Do you want to come to my sister's bridal shower? She’s renting a swanky hotel room to get drunk in, right near work, actually.” Eve can’t think of anything worse than being shut in a stuffy hotel room with Elena’s annoying sister and her equally annoying friends. “Is the alcohol free?” “Of course.” Eve grins. “I’ll be there.”An hour later, Eve finds herself dressed in a tight black dress and driving to the hotel address Elena sent her. She had texted Niko that she was working late, knowing he’d complain if he knew the truth. “It’s just childish, Eve.” Is what he’d say, twitching his moustache and frowning deeply. She realises the hotel is extremely close to her workplace, in fact, in walking distance. How didn’t she notice that before? She parks her car before walking through the glass door and ringing the receptionist bell. No one. How strange. She decides to just go to the floor Elena directed her to, walking into the elevator and pressing the floor number. When it arrives with a ding, she takes a moment to adjust the strappy sleeves so that her chest is covered before walking down the hall, passing about four closed hotel rooms before reaching number 23. She raises an anxious fist to knock, confused when she doesn’t hear any noise inside the room. Isn’t this supposed to be a party? She pauses for a second, nervous, before raising her fist again. As her knuckles reach the wood of the door, she notices the cracks running along the doorframe, the splinters on the side of the door. In an expensive hotel like this? Before she can connect her knuckles with the door, it swings open. Eve is paralysed. There Hayley stands, a white silk robe wrapped around her, a tank top underneath. Her hair is in a bun, wisps of blonde hair curling around her face. She stands in a pile of wrecked clothes, and Eve finally notices the rest of the room. It’s trashed, with shredded pieces of expensive fabric everywhere, shredded curtains and scattered items filling the empty spaces where ripped clothes aren’t. “Eve.” She sounds surprised. Eve can’t breathe. “I’m sorry, this… this isn’t the room I was..” Eve stammers, trying to look anywhere but Hayley’s milky décolletage, her long neck. Hayley’s eyes narrow. “Who are you trying to find?” She sounds angry suddenly. “My friend’s sister. She’s having a bridal shower.” Eve looks at her feet, ignoring the countless questions bubbling up her throat. “Ah. I was there earlier. They're actually this way.” Villanelle and Eve walk silently up the hallway before knocking at the correct room. “Hi, you! I want to thank you for earlier, I haven’t felt like that in years.” Eve recognises Elena’s sister Mary immediately. She wears her hair in long braids down her back, a shortened veil - headband on her head and a white garter on her upper thigh, just below her tight white dress. She stops speaking abruptly when she notices Eve, a peach colored blush shading her cheeks. “Eve!” Mary looks between the two, confused. “I went to the wrong room. Duh!” Eve slaps her head gently to avoid the awkwardness of this moment. “Hayley kindly showed me here.” Eve isn’t sure why she feels like she’s explaining herself. Mary welcomes her into the hotel room packed full of women, whispering in her ear that she’ll come find her later and practically pushing her away from the doorway. Eve walks over to Elena, looking over her shoulder to see Hayley whispering into Mary’s ear. Eve looks away.Later, once Eve has been pumped full of enough Jell - O shots to make her stomach feel fluttery inside, she sits in between Elena and Mary on the couch. “Are you fucking Hayley?” She turns to Mary. The other woman laughs, her face resembling Elena’s in her beautiful smile. “We had sex, yes.” Eve is silent. Thoughtful. “Was she… good?” Eve’s earnest eyes flick to Mary’s amused ones. “Yes.” She looks as if she wants to say something more, but she gets pulled onto the makeshift “dance floor” (a twister board on the floor) and away from Eve. Eve stands, her vision blurring as she heads toward the door. “Eve! Where are you going?” Elena calls after her, clearly preoccupied with a random man that somehow appeared next to her on the couch. “Just going for a walk.” She calls over her shoulder, stepping out of her heels and padding bare - footed down the hall. She knocks on Hayley’s door, entirely unsure of why her feet brought her to this wrecked room. She answers it a few seconds later, her robe now on the floor behind her. She looks flushed. “Eve. Is there something you need?” Eve pushes past her, padding into the wrecked room and making direct eye contact with a woman, completely naked, lying on her side and eating grapes. “Leave.” Eve barks at her, causing the nude figure to spring up, grabbing a pair of shorts off the floor and fleeing out the door. Hayley sighs behind her. Eve sways on her feet. “First Mary, and now this woman? You sure do get around.” Her words come out bitter, what she truly means is something scary, something un-thought about sober. You should get around with me.Hayley stands still, one hand on the doorknob. The strap of her tank top is slipping down her milky shoulder, nothing but a pair of lacy black underwear on her bottom half. She looks beautiful. Eve sits on the incredibly soft bed, feeling it sway beneath her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have come in here.” She looks at her bare feet. Hayley pauses for a moment, before picking her way through the rubble on her floor and sitting gingerly next to her. Eve lays back, eyes shutting. “God, I’m tired.” Hayley lays back too. Eve turns to her side, and so does Hayley. The two women stare at each other, Eve’s head spinning. She doesn't question the state of Hayley’s room, doesn’t demand her file back, doesn’t do anything except wait. For what, she is unsure. Hayley reaches out and tucks a tendril of black hair behind her ear yet again, stroking along her jawline and running a finger down her bottom lip, watching as it folds down and springs back up. Eve rolls over, feeling as if she’s about to burst and breaking the magical moment, grabbing a shred of fabric - a piece of clothing? A duvet? Some of the curtains? - and pulling it over her chin. Eve hears Hayley’s affected breathing, feels her hand stroke along the curve of Eve’s side before getting up. “Where are you going?” She calls out.“I need sex.” She responds bluntly, slipping out the door and leaving Eve alone in this trashed room, drunk and lonely. She falls into a disoriented sleep. When she wakes, she feels a sick feeling blooming in her stomach. She replies to Elena’s worried texts before laying back, feeling guilty. Why did she come in here? Eve pads through the apartment, looking for Hayley and realising she’s still alone. She steps on some broken glass and decides to clean this mess as an apology. Tying her hair up, still in her party dress, she kneels to the floor with a groan, collecting pieces of fabric before rifling through the kitchen drawers filled with unused hotel utensils until she finds black bin bags. She sorts the clothing shreds into one bag, tying it up and sitting it by the door, before going hunting for a broom to sweep the broken glass up, finding one with a pan attached in the closet. She hums as she sweeps, trying not to think about her actions from last night, trying not to think about what it meant. She has to stream tonight, she was supposed to last night so all her viewers were extra horny. Eve smiles at the thought of getting off after this stressful twenty - four hours, reaching to the radio she had switched on and turning the song up. Don’t You Want Me by The Human League starts playing, Eve switching her humming to singing. As the chorus comes up, Eve begins to sing louder, shaking her behind along with the music as she dusts the shards of glass into the bin. She then takes on the task of removing the curtains, ripping them off their rings and stuffing them into a bin bag. She finds a fresh set of sheets on a maid’s cart outside the door and steals them, changing the sheets and adjusting the pillows. Once the hotel is mostly clean, Eve gathers Hayley’s items scattered around the room and puts it all together on the bed - a toothbrush, a pair of Gucci socks, (Eve had no idea Gucci made socks) and some other toiletries, laying them out neatly.She then sits on the kitchen table, reaching into the nearest drawer in search of a pen and paper and widening her eyes when her fingers touch the glossy texture of a photo. Her folder! Open to a morbid collage of the Victor Kedrin assassination! Eve retracts it from the drawer, questions running through her mind. Why did she take it? She jumps off the table, eyes wide, when she sees what’s underneath the file. A gun. A taser. A wad of cash. Eve flees the hotel room minutes later, her mind racing. Later in the evening, she tries not to think about the events of her day as she prepares for her stream. Eve turns on her fancy clip - on HD webcam, making sure her face is out of frame as usual. Niko is at a Bridge game in the city hall, as he is every time she streams. He would just judge her. Streaming - Being a cam model, brings Eve a rush, her darker desires being embraced by her viewers. It excites her. The income is a bonus, too. She fixes her loose see - through blouse, making sure her nipples are on show for her audience. She then presses Start Show, sitting back and waiting as her viewers file in. Eve feels a smile break out on her face when she sees her favourite regular has joined the stream, Vxx. Only Vxx’s messages turn her on anymore, but of course she’d never ever tell anyone else watching. Eve doesn’t know what it is about the anonymous spectator; The way she treats Eve like she’s something special, the direct, sexy way she types, the fact that she’s a woman in a sea of men. She isn’t sure why that last one turns her on so much, and at this point in her life she doesn’t want to. She wiggles her chest, unable to keep her smile off her face. She had gotten over the shameful part of this “job” a long time ago, largely because of Vxx. The mysterious woman was there since the beginning, a constant beacon of sexy positivity. Eve snaps back to reality. “Hi everyone! So.” Eve pulls out a box. “Today, I’m going to be doing something different.” She opens the box, the shiny red vibrator gleaming under her ring light, the one she hides in the basement where she does all her filming so Niko won’t find any of her setup. She takes it from the black leather cushioning surrounding it, giving the camera a good look. “Now. I know other streamers have been using these for a long time, but I’ve never had a full stream with just this glorious thing, and I have recently been sent it by a generous viewer, so let’s try it.” Eve spreads her legs, pushing the vibrator into her glistening pussy so that it’s on her clit as well as inside her, sighing. She presses a button, a meter appearing up the side of the screen. “You have full control of me.” Eve imagines she’s speaking directly to Vxx. “You can decide if I cum, if I don’t, if you are going to edge me, you decide.” Eve pulls a copy of Moby Dick from behind her back, leaning against her backdrop with her legs spread to give her viewers a good view of how turned on she is, the sheer voyeurism of letting these people, these unknown people look at her most private places getting her wetter by the second. “I’m going to read this. Donations will get you the option to decide if you want to start the vibrator, stop it, whatever you wish.”Eve begins to read, grinning as vibrations already shake their way up her pussy. “M- Moby Dick, or the -” Eve moans loudly. “The Whale, by Herman Melville.” She looks at the comments, eyes widening as she sees Vxx just tipped for vibration on high for five minutes. Five?! She becomes a mess, shuddering and moaning, imagining the mysterious woman fucking her senseless. After the show is over, Eve gets a notification. She gasps.Vxx has requested a private show.
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Hi! This chapter was edited by the magnificent & extremely grammatically correct Jane_the_Writer! Give her a round of applause. Enjoy. NxVillanelle isn’t sure what she was thinking - if she’s plain stupid or if she’s blinded by lust. Eve cleaned her room. As an apology. She's entirely perfect. She also took her file back, left the drawer open and found her weapons. But that's a problem for Hayley and Eve, not for Polastrina and Vxx. Eve was just too beautiful tonight, her sweat-soaked body twitching and the high-pitched moans as she read from Moby Dick. She has a sense of humour. It’s extremely endearing. Villanelle closes her eyes, waiting for the notification that Polastrina had accepted or denied her request for a private show, her heart hammering out of her chest. When her phone dings with a notification, the world tilts underneath her. Polastrina has accepted your request!Villanelle jumps up from her bed, rushing over to the plain white dresser in the corner of her hotel room, setting her camera up so that her head is cut off just like Eve’s will be. This is so dangerous - dangerous for her anonymity, for her job, for her life. Sighing slowly, Villanelle presses the big yellow button titled “Start private show,” making sure her closet door is blocking out the view of the rest of her room. She wears a nondescript white tank top tucked into army-green high waisted pants, ones she’s sure Eve has never seen her in before. There’s a noise, a shuffling sound, the screen turns from black to white and there she is. Eve, sitting in her glorious glory, her setup for the night cleared away and her hair up off her shoulders. “Hello, Vxx.” She says, sounding almost… nervous? Villanelle leans forward in her seat, ensuring her head is still out of frame. “Polastrina.” She says, her fake british accent concealing the similarities in her and her alter ego’s voices. “This is new! You’ve never requested for a private show before, I’m honoured.” The attention is too good, too direct, causing Villanelle to flutter her eyelashes. The risk is great, but so is the reward.“I want you to get the vibrator out again.” Her words are confident, contrasting with her current inner turmoil. Eve stands, the blouse she donned earlier falling off her naked body and revealing the soft curves, the straight lines, the freckles, the dimples on her glorious body. Villanelle feels as if she’s being rewarded for something, something good she’s done in her life for this to be in her future. Eve sits back down with the black box, slightly shy about her nudity as she adjusts the blouse to cover her chest. Villanelle smiles. She makes Eve shy. “I want you to take it out and put it back inside you, E-” She continues quickly so as to distract Eve from her mistake. “Polastrina. I want you to pay attention to me, and only me.” Eve moans quietly. Villanelle grins. “You like that?” She wants confirmation of what she already knows. “Yes. I - I really do. You are phenomenal.” Villanelle preens from the attention, grinning widely. “Phenomenal, hey?” Her joking tone becomes serious as she watches Eve insert the blood-red vibrator into herself, twitching slightly from the sensitivity of cumming again and again. Poor thing. “Can you send me the controls?” Eve breathes in, realising what is about to happen. She shifts out of frame, ducking her head to conceal her identity as she presses a few buttons on her phone, transferring the controls to Villanelle’s account for the duration of the private show. Eve is already wet, shaking with anticipation and a delicious unknowing, something she’s grown to enjoy. “Do you like my donations? My comments?” Villanelle slides one finger down her torso, lifting the bottom of her tank top to reveal a smooth stomach, a few dark freckles spattering her stomach. The attention, the dynamic, it’s all too much for Eve as she watches the beautiful woman begin to unbutton her pants. She begins to grind down on the toy, mentally begging for some sort of stimulation. Eve is better than this. She is a distinguished woman, it is usually her who has the control. But now, she lets this woman - this unknown, beautiful woman take the reins happily. “Yes. I wait for you to join every stream. The way you speak to me, it’s -” She is cut off by a glorious vibration, buzzing at both her clit and her g-spot. She moans loudly, leaning back slightly and spreading her legs for Villanelle to see. This time, it’s Villanelle who moans - a hungry, low sound of an animalistic wanting. Eve smiles, watching as Villanelle stands to remove her pants, kicking them aside before sitting back in her chair. She hikes one leg up on her dresser, rubbing the outside of her expensive underwear slowly. “Tell me how much you like me.” Villanelle says, her voice almost raspy from how attractive this all is. “I - I love your comments. They make me feel like I’m beautiful.” Villanelle pauses. “You are beautiful.” There is a moment, a split - second moment where Eve sees the similarities between Hayley and this woman, but it is forgotten when the vibrator inside her buzzes again, lasting for a few minutes. Eve moans loudly and grinds down on it. “When you don’t join my streams I miss you. I’m so attracted to-” The vibrator buzzes again, edging Eve closer and closer, dangerously so. Villanelle slides her underwear to the side now, exposing her wet pussy to Eve, causing her to gasp. It’s all too much, the control the woman has over her, the way she rubs her clit now, watching her. Eve gasps. “I’m about to-” The vibrations stop. Eve laughs, a bitter sound. “No. Please, I was just about to-” The mysterious woman laughs too. “Watch me first.” So Eve does, she watches as Villanelle rubs her clit faster and faster, bringing her hips up to meet her desperate hand as she reaches orgasm, getting off on the fact that all Eve can do is watch. She then presses a button on her phone, the vibrations on their highest setting as Eve cums too, moaning out loudly. Once the two women bask in their post-orgasm glow for a few minutes, Villanelle leans forward. “Thank you.” With that, she ends the call, fighting the urge to jump around her room screaming. __The next day, Villanelle heads to a high-end clothes store early in the morning, buying replacement clothes for all that she’s lost. She picks out a spotted blouse that comes with a matching scarf. She tucks it into flowy yellow pants and ties her hair into a simple ponytail with two curls by her ears. Walking to MI5, she feels something blooming in her stomach - anxiety? Anticipation? - she doesn't know. Whatever it is, it’s unfamiliar. She buzzes herself in, sauntering into the office. Looking up, the smile melts off of her face. There Nadia sits, hands in lap, engaged in deep conversation with Bill. Elena and Eve are listening as well. How did she know? How is this allowed to happen? She clears her throat, the four looking up to the doorway where Villanelle leans against the doorframe. “Who’s this?” Bill turns. “Ah! Hayley! This is Fanny! She’s just been hired to join the team as our department’s personal receptionist!” Villanelle rolls her eyes. British intelligence are so stupid, hiring two Russian assassains in one week? “Ahh. Fanny. What an English name.” There's no way they taught Nadia accents. “Born and raised.” She responds in her stupidly perfect false English accent. Villanelle nods, concealing her shock, and sits. Bill stands, leading Nadia by the small of her back to a new desk in the corner of the room. “Now, you know what to do. Hayley, can you come here?” Villanelle stands from her seat, avoiding all eye contact with Eve as she begrudgingly follows Bill outside. “Today I have a job-shadowing opportunity for you. Elena and I will be heading to fire training today, so we’ll bring you along and leave Nadia and Eve to hold down the ship here. Okay?” No. No way. “Okay.” Eve. Nadia. Alone. She’s sure Nadia has no idea about her connection with Eve, but it’s a problem. A big problem. It dances on Villanelle’s mind for the rest of the incredibly boring day - on the way to the incredibly boring venue in an incredibly boring coach, sitting in an incredibly boring large hall made for playing indoor lawn bowls, listening to the incredibly boring man that resembles Danny DeVito drone on about fire safety, at one point thrusting a fire extinguisher into everyone in the room’s arms, never actually letting anyone use it. The entire day, Villanelle imagines what Nadia and Eve are doing. She cannot wait to return, to get away from Bill and Elena and everyone else in this coach. Once it finally stops outside MI5, Villanelle is the first to hurtle out of the coach and fast-walk back to the office. She’s itching for her chance to talk to Eve. As she swings open the door, she stands completely still. There Nadia sits, atop Eve’s desk. The two sit unfairly close to each other, Nadia leaning in to whisper something in an awaiting Eve’s ear. Whether Nadia has picked up on enough information to know about Villanelle’s fixation on Eve and is doing this to make her angry, or if she’s truly attracted to her, she’s succeeded at pissing her off nonetheless. Eve notices her leaning against the door, smiling tightly before turning back to Nadia, who now stares at Villanelle with an innocent grin. “Oh, hello Hayley!” She chirps annoyingly, her false British accent irritating her now. “Hi, Fanny.” Nadia looks away. “Hi Eve!” Eve smiles, slightly confused, and says a polite “hello” back. Villanelle spends the final ten minutes of work seething in her chair, staring straight at Eve as she so obviously flirts with Nadia. Eve doesn't even seem to notice, all her attention on whatever bullshit that comes out of Nadia’s mouth. It is as she reaches her slimy hand out and tucks a tendril of Eve’s hair behind her ear that Villanelle stands, grabbing her bag and brushing past a confused Bill and Elena; she mumbles an excuse about feeling sick and needing to leave early. She’s sure Eve didn’t even look up as she left. As she storms down the sidewalk, heading back to her hotel room, her phone lights up with a call. Konstantin. “Why is Nadia in MI5?” She yells down the line. “She’s gone rogue,” he responds wearily. “Why hasn't anyone dealt with her yet?” Villanelle snaps, halting in her spot and stomping her foot like a child. “It's… a sensitive situation. She’s threatening us. Petty stuff, but since she’s somehow gotten herself employed at MI5, her intentions are unclear.” Villanelle laughs. “Her intentions are to get me back for what I did to her.” Silence. “Is she succeeding?” She sighs, “A little.” “Don’t let her. We are working on it.” Villanelle runs a hand through her hair. “I might kill her.” Konstantin guffaws, the two saying their goodbyes before hanging up. Villanelle decides she doesn’t want to go home just yet, ducking into a small coffee shop along the street where her hotel is. She trudges to a table, putting her bag down, and orders a chocolate milkshake. If she flirts with the waitress a little, it’s unintentional. As she slurps her milkshake, she stares absentmindedly out the glass window of the shop, allowing her mind to wander. As her eyes begin to unfocus, she sees a blob of black hair, walking in the direction of the coffee shop. Eve! Her eyes are fixed on Hayley in her window seat, head rested on her balled fist and straw in her mouth. This isn't a coincidence. She seems as if she’s looking for someone. As she bursts through the glass doors, bell ringing, she walks toward Villanelle. “Why did you walk out?” She asks the moment she’s in earshot, throwing herself down in the swivel seat next to her. “I didn’t walk out.” She returns simply, slurping on her milkshake loudly. “You walked out.” Eve snaps, sliding the milkshake away from Villanelle. “Hey! Why did you come after me?” She asks, reaching for her milkshake that Eve pushes to the very end of the table. Eve stays silent. “That’s how it works. If you want to know mine, you’ve got to tell me yours.” Villanelle pokes Eve in the side playfully. “Fine. I guess we won’t know then.” She slaps her hand away. “Fine.” The two sit in silence. “I know you took my file. I saw the w-” Eve leans in, lowering her voice. “Weapons in your apartment.” Villanelle nods. “Who are you?” She pushes, eyebrows knitted. Villanelle stands abruptly, grabbing her milkshake from the table. “Thank you, Eve. For whatever…this was.” She throws the empty cup in the bin as she walks out the coffee shop's glass doors, continuing down the street without looking back. __Nadia lays on her bed inside an extremely dingy hotel on the other side of town from MI5 and Villanelle’s hotel. She scrolls through her camera roll, trying to will herself to fall asleep. She pauses at a photo she had taken a day earlier, sitting up in her bed and leaning forward. It’s the photo she took of the porn account that Villanelle was watching shines back at her, begging her to look it up. Just to see. Nadia relents, searching in Polastrina Apple and clicking the first link that comes up on her phone screen. A website titled Shepherdspie.com is the link that this Polastrina woman has her account on, and surprisingly it says that she’s live right now. Nadia clicks on the stream, her eyes adjusting in the darkness to a woman masturbating with a fancy vibrator while riding a dildo. She turns the sound up on her phone, sitting up instantly at the familiar voice. It takes her a few more minutes of watching this woman, seeing her black hair move in and out the frame and hearing her voice when it hits her. This is Eve Polastri! Nadia gasps. She’s going to ruin some lives tomorrow.
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Again, thank you so so much to Jane_the_Writer for your fantastic grammar skills. I am forever thankful to you for editing and helping the chapters go out faster.Enjoy. Nx Eve closes her eyes, laying back on her bed and staring straight ahead. Rays of golden light from the readily rising sun illuminate her shaking hands. She rolls over and over and over, trying her hardest to fall back asleep after her turbulent night, daunted by figures - Hayley, Fanny, Vxx dancing around her head, filling her chest, clogging her throat, restricting her breathing. She relents to the feeling, sitting up abruptly and gasping, trying her hardest to catch her fleeing breath. This wakes Niko, nothing but a disturbance at this stage, who places his heavy, clammy hands on Eve’s shoulders and speaks, his voice too gravely, his moustache rubbing against her soft cheek as he kisses her, thinking he’s soothing her. “Eve. You’re okay, kochanie. Did you have a bad dream? Nic cię nie skrzywdzi, kochanie.” His Polish murmurs harass her ears, all too much. Too much pressure, too many touches, too many feelings. Eve shrugs him off, his words lost to the buzzing in her ears. She stands, willing her dry mouth to speak - to say anything that will calm him, will make him go away. “I’m fine. I think I just had a cramp. I’m going to make some tea.” He stands, breathing hot, sticky breath down her neck. “It's four in the morning! Come back to bed.” Eve isn’t sure where this feeling came from, but she’s sure it'll get worse if she returns to the bed, getting lost in too-hot sheets and too-hot hands. “I’m fine. I’m making tea.” Eve grits out, shrugging on a gray cardigan and fighting the urge to break out into a run down the hallway. Instead, she opts to softly close the door to the bedroom and pad barefooted to the kitchen, making herself black tea with her still shaking hands. She leaves the tea on the bench, and walks out the back door to sit on the daybed a long-ago newly wed Niko and Eve placed there. At the time, they imagined the blissful domesticity of laying together in the afternoon sun, reading poetry to each other and sharing chaste kisses. Bleh. Now, it's covered in dust and leaves. Eve has to shake it off and watches the particles of dust as they float up, illuminated by the ever brightening sun. She lays down, half of her body shaded by the awning of her house, as she screws her eyes closed in thought. She takes the people taunting her one by one, beginning with Hayley. A mysterious figure, someone who walked out after seeing Eve with Fanny, someone who has weapons in her apartment, someone she - No. Let’s move on. Fanny - a beautiful, abrupt, funny woman who flirted with her nonstop yesterday. Blazing green eyes, a devilish smile, and yet something missing (besides a respectable name…who names their kid “Fanny?!”). Eve isn’t sure what it is, something that doesn’t quite reach her eyes when she laughs, the smile falling away from her mouth the moment she’s done laughing, the slight lilt in her English accent, something that tells Eve not to get too close. And then there's Vxx. Eve can’t think of her without smiling. Her dominance, and yet her ability to be so soft in the way she spoke to her after her sexual hunger was quenched, the sheepish way she thanked Eve for her time and ended the call, the way she treated her like more of a human than anyone else in her private shows.She rolls over, falling into a light sleep until the bright sun forces her to seek shelter from the impending sunburn. She hurries inside, dressing for work quickly and fleeing before Niko finds a chance to speak to her. As she sits in a busy intersection moments later, she hears a tiny sound. Eve isn’t sure if she's imagining this pixie-like scream that sounds like her name so she winds down her window, laughing as she spots a flustered Fanny weaving around some cars. She boldly struts up to Eve’s car door, opens it in the middle of the intersection, and flings her bag in the back, turning to face her. “Is this okay?” Eve laughs, confused and slightly endeared by this strange display. “Need a ride to work?” She laughs. “Yeah.”__Villanelle sits on Nadia’s desk with a huff, “accidentally” knocking over her pen holder and “not noticing” as the pens roll under her seat. She had arrived at the office early so she could copy Bill’s harddrive again, any new emails or documents since her last download now rest in the Twelve’s hands.As she stuffs the usb in her bag, Eve and Nadia enter the office. Together. Villanelle pretends not to notice. Villanelle sits at her makeshift desk next to Bill and finishes some digital filing on the iPad, pretending not to notice their joint arrival. She even ignores Eve’s attempt at a greeting. “Hi, Hayley. You’re here early,” she had said. Villanelle keeps her eyes trained on the job at hand, discretely watching as Eve sits next to Nadia at her desk, exactly opposite to her. She scooches closer to a smiling Nadia, who looks from Villanelle to Eve several times with her beady eyes, a shit-eating grin on her lips. Once she runs out of files to sort, she places the iPad down and rests her hands in her lap. Relenting, she allows herself to stare at Eve, who stares back. Eve leans out to touch Nadia on the arm, maintaining the intoxicating eye contact as she runs a finger up her bronze skin. She rests her head on Nadia who then stares at Villanelle too. She makes a noise of disgust out loud, pulls a face and scoots her chair to face away from the two dramatically. She soon gets bored trying to piece together Eve’s mixed signals, and needs something to do since Bill and Elena aren’t due for another hour or so. “Hayley!” Eve calls, the abrupt noise slicing through the tense silence in the office. Villanelle looks over her shoulder at Eve. “Bill isn’t coming in today, so I am standing in.” She says, clearly pleased with herself at the fact that she gets to order everyone else around for a day. Villanelle rolls her eyes. “Okay, boss.” She turns around in her seat, glaring at Nadia and crossing her arms. “I have to make a call.” Eve says to the two women, grabbing her phone off the desk and slipping out of the door quietly. The minute she's gone, Villanelle stands, walking over to Nadia’s desk and slams a fist on it. “Why are you here?” She says, narrowing her eyes. “Didn’t you hear them? They say I’ve gone rogue.” Nadia chuckles, adjusting her ponytail. “I want to burn everything you hold dear to the ground.” Villanelle laughs. “You don't have the power to do that.” She leans in, tilting Nadia’s face to look into her eyes. Nadia slaps the hand holding her chin away, leaning in closer. “Oh, yes I do.” As Nadia opens her mouth to say something more, Eve returns, hardly noticing as Villanelle plucks a stapler from Nadia’s desk and returns to her own as a coverup for the unexplained close proximity between her and Nadia. “Hayley, come with me to speak to a protected informant of ours. We have him in a safehouse at the moment.” Villanelle rolls her eyes pointedly, dragging her feet over to Eve. “Fanny, you’ll be fine answering the phone?” Fanny nods quietly, still smiling that twisted smile. As the two take the lift down to the parking lot, Villanelle turns to Eve. “Isn’t it unprofessional to date your colleagues?” She says only poking for a reaction. Eve gives her one, whirling around to pull a face. “I am not dating my colleagues! Nadia and I met a day ago.” Villanelle walks on the heels of her boots in a circle around Eve as the lift descends. “And yet you two seem so close.” She says, half joking and half serious. Eve doesn't reply, frowning deeply. “Hayley.” She softens, her eyebrows knitting together as she reaches a hand out to touch a caught off-guard Villanelle, who stills as Eve’s palm smooths along her cheek. She softens too, Eve secretly reveling in the fact that this person so full of character, of life, stills for a moment with her touch. The moment ends when the lift is stopped, a boy around twenty-two awkwardly shuffling between the two. “I’m Kenny.” He blurts, visibly sweating. Villanelle stifles a laugh while Eve extends her hand. “Eve.” When the lift finally reaches the ground floor, Kenny speeds up, practically running outside to his bicycle and peddling away while Villanelle drags her feet behind Eve. Once she locates her car and the two are on the way to the safehouse, Villanelle turns in her seat to stare at Eve. “Stop staring at me.” Eve says instantly, eyes never leaving the road. “How did you know?” Villanelle chuckles, turning away from Eve. After a few minutes of white noise from the car, Eve sighs. “Why did you take the file?” Her eyes shift from the road to the other woman’s unchanging face. “I wanted to see it.” Eve breathes. “Why?” She pushes. In that moment Villanelle wants to tell Eve everything, to say “because you are investigating me! Me! Me! So look at me the way you looked at me when I was Vxx, kiss me the way you maybe kiss Nadia!” But she doesn't. She shifts in her seat, looking out the window as she responds. “I was just looking for more printer paper and I saw it. It was interesting.” Each word crushes her lungs as it leaves her mouth, an unfamiliar feeling. She usually enjoys lying, gets off on the pleasure of having that edge over people. Now, she feels different. Eve nods. Question me more, Eve! Interrogate me. Rip me open and feast on my secrets, you beautiful thing! She shuts those dangerous thoughts off immediately, huffing on the window of Eve’s car and drawing a heart in the fog. Once they arrive outside of a shabby Victorian house with pointed towers and a dead flower garden. “Do all safehouses have dead gardens?” Eve ignores her question, walking up to a man dressed in all black standing outside the door, and speaks to him for a few seconds before beckoning Villanelle to follow her. She smiles at the guard on the way past, frowning at the rude glare he returns, and trudges inside the home. It smells like warm bread and dirty clothes inside, the air an uncomfortably warm temperature. “Pam?” Eve calls, nodding at another armed guard stationed outside the hallway. A woman steps out from the shadows, her large eyes meeting Villanelles. “Who’s she?” She asks quietly. “This is Hayley, she’s an intern.” Pam nods quietly, her eyes fixed on “Hayley.” Eve smiles. “Can we talk?” Pam nods, walking wordlessly down the hall into a large, unbelievably ugly bedroom. Wallpaper lines the walls, a heinous pattern of a blue and orange fish, over and over. Eve sits in a dusty armchair at the foot of the bed, Pam on the edge of the dresser and Villanelle spreadeagled across the bed. Eve glares at her, then turns her attention to Pam. The two speak quietly, Villanelle floating in and out of consciousness, her loud thoughts distracting her from the conversation. Eventually, Eve stands, thanking Pam for her cooperation and nudging Villanelle to stand with her. She makes a noise of protest, flicking her hand away and rolling over, face flush against the softness of the duvet. “They don’t wash the sheets in safehouses.” Villanelle springs up, wiping the invisible germs off her face as she follows Eve. “What was that about?” She asks her as they walk to the car. “Didn’t you listen to anything? That’s the point of why I brought you along.” Villanelle raises her hands, grinning sheepishly. “The bed was too comfortable to listen.” Eve sighs. “Pam is being protected from a global organization whom she used to work for.” Villanelle perks up. Pam? Working for the Twelve? She doesn’t seem like the type. “Why do they want to kill her?” Eve shifts her eyes away. “It’s not my job to know. I just need to keep her safe.” Villanelle grins. “You want it to be your job, don’t you?” Eve half nods, smiling. “Just a little.” As Eve pulls into a shitty diner on the highway minutes later, Villanelle looks at her with confusion. “Let's have lunch.” Eve says, smiling. And if Villanelle’s heart flutters slightly like the main character in a novel, no one would ever know. She smiles, hanging back for a moment to watch Eve walk, her hair blowing in the wind, her purse swinging on her shoulder. She is beautiful. Villanelle jogs after her.__Nadia sits cross-legged in the empty office, a scowl plastered on her face. The door swings open abruptly, Elena breezing in. “Sorry I’m la-” She stops in her tracks, realizing only Nadia is in the office. “Where did everyone else go?” Nadia explains the absences plainly, returning to her scheming while Elena awkwardly sits down. She pretends to write something important on the open laptop in front of her, typing a string of random letters as she imagines Villanelle’s downfall. She will wait for the right moment to tell Eve, will torture Villanelle as much as she tortured her all those years ago, and will leave her to rot. Maybe Eve will be the one for Nadia, the final nail in the coffin of redemption for her. She smiles at the thought, the two women taking turns running over Villanelle again and again, smiling, kissing over her body. Elena notices the strange woman smiling to herself. Raising an eyebrow, Elena returns to desperately texting Eve, trying to find out where she is. She doesn’t respond, of course.__Eve sits across from Hayley, watching as she childishly slurps yet another chocolate milkshake. “Can you slurp any louder?” She asks, the ghost of a smile on her lips. Hayley looks up, golden wisps of hair blowing in the wind of the open window next to the table. “Do you like Fanny?” She asks, her hazel eyes burning holes into Eve’s own. “What do you mean by like?” A beat of silence, her lips in a pout. “Do you want to watch movies with her?” Eve thinks for a moment. Fanny is… strange. And Hayley is stranger. But her strangeness is something beautiful, Fanny’s is something spiky. Abrasive. “No.” Hayley nods slowly, going back to obnoxiously slurping her chocolate shake. After a few moments, thinking of the thousands of questions she wants to ask her in the silence, Hayley speaks again. “Would you watch movies with me?” Eve knows the question doesn't mean what it seems to; something deeper lurks beneath the innocent words. Something Eve doesn't want to think about. “Yes.” The word is out before her mind can register what she just said. Hayley straightens in her seat, grinning mischievously. “Can we watch movies sometime?” Eve doesn’t have to think about the request. “Yes.” She feels a strange, joyous twist in her stomach at the way Hayley grins, staring at her as she sips her coffee. __Villanelle lays on her bed, her heart hammering. She feels that unfamiliar guilt, settling in her stomach but never stopping her. She clicks request private show on Polastrinas account, feeling just as anxious as the first time. She thinks of Eve; her small smile as the two planned for a movie night at the cinemas tomorrow, the way she stared at her. Villanelle’s phone lights up with a call, causing her to frown as she reads the id. “Yes?” She begrudgingly answers. “Are you focusing on your work?” Konstantin says, breathing heavily down the line. “Yes. Why isn’t Nadia dealt with?” Villanelle snaps. “She’s holding some… sensitive information over our heads. We are working on it. They apologize for the inconvenience.” He says in between pants. “Oh, they apologize for the inconvenience. How helpful.” She mimics him, rolling her eyes. “Why are you breathing so loud?” Villanelle can practically hear Konstantins heart pumping down the line. “I am at the gym. It is good for my heart.” She laughs, hanging up and flopping back on her bed. After a moment, a notification comes through. Polastrina has accepted your request! Niko yawns, his mind on the spelling bee he must attend the next day. As he’s heating up dinner in the microwave, assuming Eve is already in bed, he decides to switch on the lamp in the dining room. As he does, the bulb inside of the old lamp shatters, causing glass to fly everywhere. Slamming his spoon down with a huff, he sighs loudly. Niko grabs his trusty torch and ventures down the stairs to the basement, shivering as he does. He’s never been fond of the dark, disturbing room. In fact, he hasn't been down there in a year or so. Catching wind of his phobia of a scary demon lady lurking down there, Eve volunteers to fetch whatever he needs like the amazing wife she is. Well, was. These days she seems so detached, sitting on the bed they share and yet being miles away, untouchable. Niko reaches the door, having to jiggle the doorknob a few times before swinging it open, shining the torch on - Eve? She stands still, holding her robe that is wrapped tightly around her. Her eyes look bewildered, her mouth ajar. Niko looks around the room, widening his eyes at the almost professional looking setup, the ring lights, the purple backdrop that is held up by a stand. What makes him feel the sickest of all is the large, professional webcam clipped to the computer he bought for Eve, pointed at the backdrop. There’s a vibrator on the bottom of the backdrop, and the laptop screen flashes Stream Ended in blood red. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. But then, they do.
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Everyone say thank you Jane and her glorious brain for the improvement of this chapter. NxEve descends the staircase to the basement, gently closing the door behind her as she begins to set up her backdrop, humming gleefully to an unrecognizable song on the radio upstairs that is too far away for her to tell if she is hitting the right notes or not. Niko had texted her earlier that he will be working late and then helping pack up at bridge club. This gave Eve almost half the night to spend streaming; maybe she can manage to sneak in a private show or two if she receives the requests. Like fate, her phone goes off at that very moment, causing Eve to jump at the vulgar sound. It’s like she knows, in some fate-connected way that it’s her. The deep, nagging excitement of seeing V again fills Eve to the brim, fastens her breathing into quiet gasps as she finishes setting up her laptop, donning a breezy wraparound over a camisole. She lifts her hair off of her shoulders, twisting it and securing it into a claw clip before sitting in front of her laptop, pressing “Accept request!” She waits for Vxx to pick up. After a few moments she does, as intoxicatingly beautiful as usual even without her face visible. Her hair is up and off of her shoulders in an unknown hairstyle, a few strands of perfect blonde hair visible in the frame, the camera cutting off at her neck like Eve’s. “Hi, partner.” Her voice is joking, smug, causing Eve to chuckle. “Hi, V.” She watches as the woman shifts in her seat, bringing a knee into frame and resting her chin on it. “V? I like it.” The affirmation makes Eve smile. “What can I call you?” V asks, the question deeper its surface appearance. She wants to know about Eve, something all sex workers are usually too smart to let happen. It's practically a rule, don't tell your clients any personal information about you. “But she wants to know about me!” Eve thinks to herself. Her mouth opens before her mind can stop it, blurting out a sentence she wonders if she’ll regret in the future. “You can call me E.” All panic she was feeling is snuffed out like water thrown onto a candle when V speaks again. “E. A beautiful letter. Thank you for trusting this with me, E.” Eve can see how V’s demeanor softens. Her shoulders droop and her hands rest in her lap as she brings her knee back down. “How are you, V?” Eve asks, sensing she is soft and vulnerable in this moment, her walls brought down by Eve’s truth. She looks like a child who preens themselves after praise, tucking a golden-blonde wisp of hair behind her ear and straightening her posture. “I am very good. Thank you for asking. You look very beautiful.” In that moment Eve pauses, the compliment feeling too familiar. She free-falls through her memories for a moment, searching for where she heard such a loaded compliment filled to the brim with unspoken words. Hayley. For a split second, before any sort of rationality kicks in, Eve can see it, can see that Hayley is Vxx, the two one single entity. “First of all, they have different accents”. Eve imagines an incredulous, angel-like figure perched on her shoulder whispering into her ear. She then imagines a devil, long tail wrapped around her shoulder, as it leans into her other ear to whisper “Accents can be faked.” She mentally shakes both of them off, choosing to believe the imaginary angel. There's no way. “E?” V’s voice snaps Eve from her daydream, her eyes focusing on her. “I’m sorry, I was just… out of it.” She shifts in her seat. The moment ends as abruptly as it began, reality clicking in and deleting the strange V/Hayley clarity like a virus on a computer. “Thank you. I think you are beautiful, too.” She quickly adds. “I know.” V’s response makes Eve laugh. V’s confused comment of “What is funny?” has Eve almost falling back, her stomach muscles hurting from how much she laughs. After Eve recovers from her laughing fit, she sits patiently while V shows her beautiful clothing she had bought earlier that day, some made from wool, some from beautiful printed cotton, some from crunchy taffeta. Eve is entranced at the care this mysterious woman takes in these articles of clothing, carefully unwrapping tissue paper and untying ribbons with her beautiful fingers before holding them up to the webcam to show Eve. As she watches, she thinks about the fact that this call feels just as intimate as the previous one in a way she has never before experienced. The absolute attention Eve gives and recieves is like a fresh spark of fire, burning in the pit of her belly as she sits. The fact that the two don’t need to do anything sexual to feel that same invisible thread tying them together worries and excites her, the connection she feels to this faceless woman a worrying thing, a hint that Eve’s world is changing and V is the one doing it. She shoves these big emotions down deep and focuses on this moment, on her beautiful hands and her beautiful things.Once V is finished with showcasing her clothes, she leans in. “Your turn.” Eve looks up, confused. “Show and tell! It's your turn!” V urges her, moving her hands in a shooing motion. Eve stands carefully, making sure her face is still out of frame as she looks desperately around the basement for something interesting to show. Her eyes widen as she notices a small jewelry box perched atop several stacked boxes filled with Niko’s mothers junk, leaning over and grabbing it before sitting back down, cross legged. Eve opens the black box to reveal a beautiful ring, a silver band that coils around its center piece; a large, diamond - shaped obsidian stone, the blackness causing V to lean in. “It’s cracked.” She comments, causing Eve to trace a finger along the deep crack running through the obsidian. “My boss gave this to me a while back, and my husband wasn’t happy. He thought I was cheating and threw the ring onto the floor, which cracked it. I’ve never gotten around to fixing it.” V perceives the sadness in Eve’s voice and sighs. “It’s beautiful still.” She comments, causing Eve to smile. “Yeah. It is.” She smirks, looking up at V who slaps a hand across her mouth. “I know you’re fighting the urge to say ‘like you’ right now. Just do it.” Eve snaps, smiling hard. “Like you!” V blurts, the two laughing together for a few glorious moments as if they were two long-time lovers. A few minutes later, the moment Eve was dreading since her call with V started - sounds of Niko shuffling through the door makes its way to the basement. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go.” V makes a false pouty face, placing her chin and lips in the frame for the first time ever. Eve can tell she’s beautiful, even with her soft bottom lip folded comically. “Okay. Bye, E.” Eve can’t bite back her smile, daring to sneak it into frame for a moment as she quickly whispers, “Bye, V.”Eve stands to pack up, knowing Niko won’t come looking for her until after he finishes the leftover shepherd's pie she had set aside for him earlier that evening. She formulates her regular plan: to sneak out of the basement door into her backyard, walk around to the front door and bolt up the stairs before Niko can even notice. She can’t wipe the grin V left on her face as she stands until she hears someone on the stairs leading to the basement. With every sickeningly close step, Eve’s stomach ties and unties itself into knots, knowing there's no escape this time. This is it. The end of her married life. Niko swings open the door, looking surprised as he sees Eve. His eyes are cold in a way that she’s never seen. Usually they are so filled with warmth and kindness, but instead they are filled with bewilderment and disdain. His forehead is sweaty in the overhead light, much like the uncomfortable, cold sweat that envelops her own body. He stands still for a moment, Eve watching the cogs turning in his brain. His eyes flit from the webcam to the ring lights, the backdrop, the flashing Stream Ended on her laptop screen, Eve’s outfit. Niko’s mouth opens and closes, nothing but the whir of her laptop fan filling the room. She tries to speak, but is silenced by his calloused fingers as he holds a firm hand up. When he speaks, it holds the stillness and deadly nature of the ocean. “Eve. What exactly are you doing down here?” Each word is a knife in Eve’s heart, a fire burning down the remains of normalcy she clutches desperately to. She’s never loved Niko, not really, but she had liked him. She had liked his simple life, his beige clothes and his strange home decor. She had liked the routine the two had, going through the motions of happy-but-empty husband and wife. It tethered her to something, stopped her from slipping away into the hands of her work, of that file she obsessively reads over and over and over again, of the female assassin and her deliciously deadly intrigue. And now, these motions she has so carefully built, these calm wine-filled painfully boring evenings are being threatened. “I- I-” Eve stutters, her bottom lip wobbling woefully. “Are you…. A pornstar?” He laughs, the noise feels like a sharp slap across her cheeks. “Sure. Yes. I am.” She wipes away a tear angrily. “I am!” She shouts again, watching his mouth fall open. “So this is why you’ve been down here so much?” He storms over to her laptop, slamming the lid down and leaning into Eve, backing her into the wall. “You are dead to me.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper and his face inches from hers. Eve does nothing to stop the tears from leaking down her face, her eyes glued to his. “Good.” She whispers, causing Niko to lean even closer, the tips of their noses almost touching. “What was that, Eve? Something you’d like to say?” Niko spits, his mouth twisted into a rageful knot. “Good! I’m glad I’m dead to you!” Eve shoves against his chest hard, watching his surprised expression and liking it. She pushes past him, grabs her laptop and thunders up the stairs, hearing him scramble after her. “Get out! You are shameless. I thought you had more respect for me, for this marriage!” Niko yells from behind her, his eyebrows knit as he chases after her. “I guess I don’t!” she yells back, knowing full well it's Niko who owns the house, Niko who owns the appliances, Niko who is kicking her out. She runs to her room, grabs her things and jams them into her suitcase. Niko leans on the doorframe and watches. “You disgust me. Where’s the Eve I married? All I want to do is love you, Eve. Why do you make it so fucking hard?” He sounds so tired that it slows Eve down, pausing her frantic packing. After a moment of silence, Eve speaks. “I’m sorry, Niko.” Her voice is hoarse, as tired as his. She steps forward, wraps her arms around him tightly and cries into his shoulder. The warm familiarity of his scent breaks her heart. She never loved Niko, but she did like him. His arms wrap around her waist after a moment, his tears wetting her shoulder. “Why did you do that? Why did you lie to me? Why did you-” Niko speaks next to her ear, unable to will himself to finish the sentence before he begins to sob. “Because I always want more than what I have.” She replies, her throat clogging up. With that, Eve grabs her suitcase, looking around for anything she missed before walking slowly down the stairs. She doesn’t turn around as she hears Niko sobs; the noise fills her head as she walks out the door. Another feeling blooms through the heartbreak, one buried deep down inside Eve blooms like a flower in her belly: a crushing, exciting, new relief.She scrolls through her contact list on the curb outside, trying to decide who to call. Eve wonders if Bill is asleep, and when she tries his phone moments later, her theory is confirmed as the call goes to voicemail. Elena is clubbing, a blurry selfie and a drunk ‘I LOVHE YOU ECVE’ text sent to her an hour ago being proof of that. She crosses a few other contenders off the list - friends of Niko, too rude, not close enough - until she gets to two contacts, one under the other. The first is simply “Fanny” and the second is “Hayleywhoyouabsolutelywanttotextrightnow,” the name obviously put in by Hayley herself. Eve’s finger wanders over the two options, pondering for a second before finally choosing one, bringing the phone up to her ear.__Nadia sits miserably in her hotel room,her pretty mouth fixed into a snarl; she is glaring out the window at darkened nothing and silently plotting her hellbent revenge mission. Suddenly, her phone goes off, causing her to jump up to grab it. She reads the contact name: Eve Polastri. “What does she want at this hour?” Nadia wonders this as she presses Accept. She brings her phone up to her ear and sits in the middle of her unused bed. “Eve?” Nadia says, confused. “Yeah. Hi. I - I was just um… Wondering if I could… Stay with you? Just for the night. Some things happened at home and-” Nadia cuts her off. “I am in a hotel room because my house is getting sprayed for insects.” “Oh. That's fine, sorry to bother you-” “No! I mean, are you okay with staying in the hotel room?” She can see her plan in front of her eyes, mapped out and falling into a place, as the two women talk. “Yeah. No, I’d really appreciate it and I don't mind. Thank you so much.” Nadia feels an uncontrollable smile spread out across her face, knowing she can execute her plot with precision and perfection if she plays her cards right. “Do not worry about it, Eve. See you soon.” She texts Eve her hotel and room number before hiding all her Twelve issued items in a closet in the laundry. She makes the bed and sprays some sickly smelling British perfume in the room, sure that the scent will be to Eve’s liking. Nadia skids down the hall into her bedroom, pulling out her only ‘sexy’ article of clothing: a ruffled nightdress that Oksana had smuggled into the jail for her birthday a long time ago. She had kept it out of spite, sensing it might be useful one day. She traces the scar tissue on the palms of her hands from the wicked barbed wire fence that prevented her from killing Oksana that day. It was the only thing that stopped her from ripping Oksana’s poisonous head off and feeding it to the man that took her instead. She puts it on quickly, taking joy in knowing she will be doing the betraying while wearing it this time rather than being betrayed. Nadia combs her fingers through her unbrushed waves and surveys herself in the mirror for a moment, taking in her strong jaw, her eyes and the vengeful glare in them. Her pink lips and her wavy brown hair loose around her shoulders for once. Nadia is pretty, in a way that could be deadly if only she knew how to use it right. She wasn’t blessed with Oksana’s natural charm, or her perfect face, but she can still use her body in a way that will satisfy her ache for revenge, the ache she’s been keeping tucked away for a long time.__ Eve knocks on the door, her suitcase behind her on the dirty hotel hallway carpet. Fanny opens the door after a few moments, leaning on the doorframe in a way that reminds Eve of Hayley as she smirks. “Come on in.” She watches closely as Eve rolls her belongings in, smiling awkwardly at her and clasping her hands in her lap. “I’m so sorry for the short notice, It’s just that my other friends were busy and-” Fanny leads her to the bed, snaking a hand around her shoulder as she listens sympathetically to Eve’s apology. “It’s okay, Eve. I wanted to see you anyway.” Eve looks at her for a moment, noticing the frilled, slightly sheer nightgown she wears, her soft hair around her shoulders and her piercing eyes fixed on Eve’s own. “I want you.” Nadia says simply, her hands wandering closer to Eve’s. Eve feels disoriented for a moment, Nadia’s abrupt confession and her already fragile emotional state clashing inside her brain. She stands quickly and politely asks. “May I use your shower?” Fanny pulls a face that disappears in the blink of an eye, replaced with a mannequin-like smile. “Yes.” Eve nods once, unzipping her bag and grabbing her pajamas out, smiling at Fanny before retreating to the direction she pointed to, finding the bathroom and locking herself inside it. Eve sighs, her mind filled with thoughts zapping around her head, bouncing off the walls and knocking into each other. She screws her eyes shut and wonders why she couldn’t bring herself to call Hayley earlier. As if in a trance, Eve pulls out her phone and taps a few times until she lands on Hayley’s contact, staring at it for a moment. Before she can even realize it, her thumb moves before her brain allows it to and presses the call button. Eve waits, hardly breathing as it rings one time, then two, three, four times until she finally hears ‘I’m sorry, the person you have called is unavailable. Please leave a message at the tone.’ Eve hangs up, ignoring the crushing disappointment that runs through her veins like blood. She strips, hopping into the shower when she starts leaning into the idea of sleeping with Fanny. She’s strange, sure, but she is beautiful and Eve has a hole in her that needs to be filled, even if it's just for tonight; a hole left by her own actions, by Hayley, by Niko, by Vxx. She finishes scrubbing herself before dressing quickly, opening the door to the bathroom and padding down the hallway, standing still and staring at Fanny. “You can touch me.” She says, watching as a smile spreads out on Fanny’s face. “Are you sure?” She asks, her eyebrows knit together in a definite ingenuine concern. “Yes.” Eve breathes. Fanny stands slowly, the nightgown swishing as she walks from the bed to Eve, slowly dropping to her knees while keeping those eyes fixed on Eve. She wraps gentle hands around Eve’s waistband, pulling her pants down her legs slowly and lifting her leg. After pausing a moment, Fanny licks and laps at Eve’s clit with vigor until Eve moans mindlessly. Eventually, the two tumble over to the bed, Fanny moaning quietly as she licks and bites, tugs and smooths Eve’s body. With each gasp, Eve’s mind floats miles away and her own pleasure is the only thing on her mind. She imagines Hayley's fingers inside her, Hayley’s hand in her hair, Hayley’s lips on her neck, Hayley’s body next to hers. It’s these musings, not Fanny’s fervid efforts, that push Eve over a blissful edge. Eve thanks Fanny awkwardly before falling into an unforgiving sleep, bruises forming on her neck from Fanny’s mouth and nightmares haunting her mind. __ Nadia waits until Eve is sound asleep before grabbing her phone off the nightstand, snapping a photo of her and surveying it. She sleeps soundly on her side, visible hickeys on her neck and the sheet pulled over her naked chest. It’s the perfect image to send to Oksana. She attaches a text, making sure it sounds worrying enough. She has fallen into my bed. Come save her! Nadia crosses her fingers, hoping that the image will spark the possibility in Oksanas mind that Eve could be in danger, could be being held against her will. Those bruises could be from Nadia’s hand around her throat, she could be sleeping from exhaustion from being tortured. The kicker will be when she realizes Eve is next to Nadia in bed by choice. Nadia presses send.Moments later, Nadia’s phone lights up with a call. She answers, “Oksana.” “Where is she?” She sounds worried, and it angers Nadia. She never cared about her that much, all those years ago. “In my hotel room.” Oksana hangs up and Nadia lays back on her bed, grinning. “Eve.” She gently shakes her awake. “Mmmh.” She mumbles, rolling over to face Nadia. “Hi.” Eve whispers. “Hi.” Nadia whispers back, the fake tenderness never reaching her eyes. Eve seems to notice so she tucks a curl behind her ear in an attempt to keep the moment light and soft. The two lay like that for a while, Nadia staring at Eve and Eve staring at the wall behind Nadia. Suddenly, she hears movement in the hall, sitting up quickly. Eve does the same, confused. “Kiss me.” Nadia says grinning, leaning in and kissing Eve on the lips just as Oksana bursts through the door, panting. She lunges at Nadia.
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Villanelle lays back on her bed, placing her laptop beside her and putting her arms behind her head, giddy from the call with Eve she was on moments earlier. She rolls over, thinking of the beautiful ring Eve had shown her, and silently curses her stupid husband for breaking something so beautiful, something she treasured so much. The idea of Niko doing anything to hurt Eve, to make her cry, to harm her in any way causes Villanelle’s fists to ball, her eyebrows to furrow. He does not realize what he has. He doesn’t deserve Eve.Villanelle gets out of bed and pads to her bathroom. She pulls out a facemask, smoothes it onto her face and sings along to a song on the radio. Afterwards, she wanders onto her hotel balcony and stares into the blackness of the night. The sparkling spatter of stars, the brightness of the moon makes her think about that ring again, the way Eve had caressed the crack absentmindedly with a finger, the gentleness of her hands as she held it as if it was a bar of gold. Struck with an idea, Villanelle walks back inside, closing the door to the balcony behind her, and picks up her laptop. She clicks and scrolls and types until she pulls up a screen simply titled “Custom Jewellery Makers,” and presses the “Place an Order” button. She types in a lengthy description, attaching a screenshot she secretly took of the call when Eve was holding the ring up, cropped so that the only thing in the image is the ring and a small part of Eve’s finger. Villanelle sends the email off after entering her Twelve issued credit card number. Feeling satisfied with her purchase, Villanelle closes her laptop lid and returns to the bathroom to peel her mask off, rolling in the remaining serum with a jade roller. She smiles to herself, imagining Eve’s face when she slides the new ring onto her finger, the way her eyes will light up, the way she’ll smile. Villanelle hears her phone go off in the other room, and slowly walks to retrieve the thing that is so rudely interrupting her daydream. By the time she reaches it, she has missed the call and has a notification with a text message. Villanelle sighs loudly, expecting it to be Konstantin and his useless “You have one week left in this mission. Focus on it.” text. Instead, picks up her phone and tries to ignore the clammy panic that washes over her body as she realizes who it’s from: Nadia. The anxiety is made more intense when she sees a photo of Eve, topless, and sleeping with… bruises? Hickeys? On her neck. It’s the message that gets her blood boiling, her breath fastening. “She has fallen into my bed. Come save her!” Villanelle reads the message over and over, stands quickly and somehow manages to stuff a gun into her bag despite the fact that her hands are shaking from rage. “Is Eve being kept as a hostage?,” she wonders. If Nadia forced Eve to do anything without her consent, Villanelle will cut off her hands and glue them to her forehead. She walks to the car quickly, wrapping her large denim jacket around herself as she walks. Her mind runs at a thousand miles per hour as her feet carry her to her car, sweat prickling on her forehead and chest heaving. On the drive there, she picks up her phone and checks the number that called her, slowly realizing who the number belongs to. Eve had tried to call her. She speeds up the car.Once she arrives at the location, Nadia’s phone is pinging from her Twelve tracking app. She searches floor by floor in the shitty hotel until finally, she feels an invisible pull leading her to a wooden door at the end of the floor she ends up on. With every step Villanelle takes, the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach gets larger and larger, fuller and fuller until she’s about to burst as her fingers wrap around the doorknob. Her breath comes out ragged and her composure is fully lost. She swings it open, realizing too late that this is a trap. Nadia left the door unlocked for Villanelle to see her wicked lips pressed against Eve’s and her demonic hand on Eve’s angelic face. That’s not the worst thing. Eve kisses back. Eve presses her body against Nadia, Eve looks… happy. Villanelle waits a moment, hoping the boiling rage that possesses her subsides. She doesn’t like to lose control, doesn’t like to feel this erratic, this unpredictable, and yet she cannot help it, can’t control her animalistic urge to kill Nadia while Eve watches. She lunges at Nadia, who’s shit-eating grin melts off her face as Villanelle wraps her hands around her neck, pulling her away from a scared Eve and carrying her off the bed to the nearest wall, slamming her against it. Villanelle groans loudly, using all her force to squeeze Nadia’s neck, ignoring her feeble attempts to scratch at Villanelles hands as the blood vessels in Nadia’s eyes begin to pop, filling her evil eyes with blood. Eve screams behind her, causing Villanelle to turn her head for a split second in which Nadia punches her square in the face. Nadia scrambles toward the window and opens it. Villanelle recovers after a moment of blurriness and runs after Nadia, grabbing her foot as she attempts to jump out the window. Villanelle drags Nadia back inside with a “Oh no you don’t!” She leans over Nadia, realizing just how small she really is under her. “Why are you doing this?” Villanelle asks, her voice cracking slightly from exhaustion. “Revenge,” Nadia grins. The corners of her mouth twist sickeningly as she brings her elbow into Villanelle’s ribcage, watching as she crumples to the floor, before swinging a leg out the window. Villanelle reaches for her bag, pulls the gun out and fires one round into the leg that is still inside of the hotel room. She screams, her leg gushing blood and her eyes full of fear. “I will kill you.” Nadia says, green eyes blazing with rage as she wraps her hand around a decorative vase sitting on a small table next to the window. She smashes it over Villanelle’s head, watching with satisfaction as Villanelle crumples to the floor before jumping out the window, scrambling into some nearby bushes until she’s out of sight. Villanelle sits dead-still on the floor, one hand holding the small cut on her scalp from the vase and the other gripping the windowsill. The only audible sound in the room is Eve’s ragged breathing. She still sits in her spot on the bed. The silence stretches out for what feels like hours before Villanelle pulls herself up, limps over to her bag and picks it up. Finally, she decides to look at Eve. Her betrayer sits still while covering her naked chest with the white hotel sheets. Her eyes are filled with tears and, strangely, something deeper, darker. Villanelle dares to think it’s lust. “You don’t date your colleagues, right?” Villanelle speaks finally. She feels the warm blood gushing from her scalp coat her fingers. Eve looks bewildered, shocked. “That’s what this is about? Because I slept with Fanny?” She asks like she doesn’t already know the answer. While she says this, a swirl of guilt fills Eve’s eyes and her expression changes to one of remorse. “Who are you?” She tries asking when her first question receives no response. Eve slowly stands and lets the sheet fall to the floor, which exposes her chest as she bends to pick up her shirt. Villanelle makes a point not to look, her inner turmoil too vivid. “Why did you do that? Why did you shoot her?” Eve steps closer with every word, hands outstretched as if to touch her. “Why did you sleep with her?” Villanelle allows herself one final look into Eve’s eyes as she asks this, her own eyes filled with sadness. “Because you didn’t answer the phone.” Eve replies, staring hard and still as a statue. Villanelle manages a bitter laugh despite her condition. “Oh. Right. So she’s your second choice because I wasn’t available?!” She laughs again, a hollow sound. Eve’s eyebrows knit together, her lower lip wobbling. “I’m sorry.” She says. “For what?” Villanelle strides to Eve, standing in front of her. “You know why.” Eve manages. “I want to hear it.” She drops to her knees in front of Eve, never breaking eye contact as she grabs the gun from the floor and slowly slides it up Eve’s body as she stands, settling it in the middle of her chest. Eve looks down at it, her breathing raggedy and desperate. “I’m sorry for sleeping with Fanny. I… I wanted it to be you.” She says softly, tears in her eyes. Villanelle leans closer, her lips inches away from Eve’s. “I wanted it to be me, too.” With that, she takes the gun away from Eve’s chest, causing Eve’s posture to slump as she slides down the wall, crying. “Bye, P.” Villanelle whispers, running out the door before Eve can realize what she just said.Eve lays against the wall, waiting for her tears to subside before standing slowly, wobbly on her feet. She surveys the wrecked room, her mind moving at a thousand miles per hour, her body moving the opposite. She has nothing left - no husband, no house, hell, she can’t even stream. Her setup is gone. And Hayley. She isn’t who she says she is. How did she know Fanny? What “revenge?” Eve’s mind swims, sizzles, burns out as her body does the moving, her feet carrying her down the hall in pursuit of Hayley.__Maya walks along the footpath, wired earphones in her ears as she bops her head to the bright music playing in her ears. She tucks a platinum blonde strand of hair behind her ear, blowing upwards and smiling as her breath causes her bangs to ruffle slightly in the breeze. She reaches down to adjust her denim flare pants around her white gogo boots before straightening back up and continuing down the footpath, silently dreading her impending lecture at the London College of Fashion later that day. Maya always loved fashion, loved putting patterns together, loved the thrill of finding something exciting to wear out with her friends. Growing up in her one-room apartment in Manchester with her abnormally fashionable mother, her dream was always to attend the world-renowned college. Today, she was close to graduating, hopefully continuing on to be a designer. Maya stops to look at herself in a car window, taking in her stark blonde bob and choppy bangs, her long neck and small mouse-like features, her face covered in freckles. She is beautiful, in an intimidating way that attracts almost everyone she knows. She continues on her way, flipping the thick white sunglasses atop her head down to shield her eyes from the sun blooming in the sky. She shrugs past a man who calls out behind her some crass comment along the lines of “Hey little lady. What’re you doing out here dressed like that so early?” Maya veers off the footpath through a shortcut, around the back of a shitty hotel with a rotting flowerbed and a pool filled with mildew. As she’s picking her way through some bushes blocking the path to the final stretch of her shortcut, she hears a strangled cry and some rustling bushes. Finally a head sticks out. “Help!” The woman in the bush says. Maya steps back a few feet and slowly shakes her head in bewilderment. “What in the…” She mumbles, bending to peek around the bush. She gasps, realizing the woman’s leg is bloodied, broken, or even shot maybe. “Do you need the hospital?” Maya says, mouth ajar. “No! No. Just - take me to your home.” The woman says, tears in her eyes. “I don’t have a car!” The injured woman twists in her spot in the bushes, gritting her teeth and moaning loudly. “Just…. Get one!” Maya stands quickly, hands raised. “Okay! Okay. I’ll be back just - don’t go anywhere, okay?” The woman nods weakly, panting loudly. Maya walks away from the bush, tapping a few buttons on her phone before bringing it up to her ear. “A taxi please.”__Villanelle walks. Well, actually, she limps slightly, suspecting she might have twisted her ankle in the chaos. She continues along the path outside of the hotel, unsure where she’s headed and not caring anyway. With every step, she grows less angry and more empty. However, that anger for Eve remains, unfurling like a rattlesnake and striking her veins, injecting poison that pulses through her. How dare she let Nadia touch her, how dare she show her the beautiful crevices of her beautiful body, how dare she forget about her. The streaming was nothing, Hayley knows the men watching her were only there for a quick wank, but Nadia? Nadia got what Villanelle hasn’t, Nadia has this one up on her, Nadia doesn’t understand that sex with Eve is a religion, is something so beautiful and sacred and wasted on her.She continues walking, her head held high as she breathes raggedly, feeling tired. It is as she slows down for a moment that she instinctively turns around, looking behind her and widening her eyes at the sight. There Eve is: hair messy, oversized white t-shirt buttoned over hastily thrown on pajama pants. She’s running, running towards her with her arms outstretched, tear streaks glowing in the sunlight. With every step closer Eve comes, Villanelle’s venomous jealousy and anger melts away. Instead, her heart beats faster. Eve is coming after her. After she showed her who she is, after she pressed a gun against her abdomen, after she shot her lover in the leg. Eve saw her monster and yet here she is, looking almost childish in her determination to reach Villanelle, running across a road without even looking. She stands statue-still and a frown on her lips hides how touched she is by this simple action of returning when Eve reaches Villanelle. “Hi.” Eve pants, bending over and putting her hands on her knees. “Oh god. I’m too old for this.” She sits in the middle of the footpath, resting her back against a nearby garden bed. After a moment, Villanelle sinks down to the ground next to her, not daring to look at her expression. Not yet. The two sit in silence. V notices the way Eve inches her fingers closer to her hand until there's a barely noticeable gap between where her hand ends and Eve’s starts. They stay like this for a while, drowsy eyes and touching fingers. Blonde hair mixes with black as Eve rests her head gently on Villanelle’s shoulder, until she finally speaks. “Why were you in Fanny’s hotel room, anyway?” Villanelle turns to look at Eve, her voice gentler than she wants it to be. “My husband and I had an argument. Bill and Elena were busy.” She leaves the last words unspoken - You didn’t pick up - clearly trying to keep the peace between the two. “Oh. What was the argument about?” She knows the answer of course, by assumption, but it’ll be interesting to watch her stumble through her explanation.“Well, he - he thought I was… I don't want to talk about it.” She looks away, beginning to retract her hand when Villanelle grabs it, clasping it in hers. Eve gasps quietly, her eyes shifting from the two women’s clasped hands to Villanelle’s face and back again. After a few more beats of silence, Eve speaks up again. “Could I stay at your hotel?” Villanelle turns, half-smiling. “So you can fuck me and leave? Is this a one night stand?” Eve falters for a moment, her acknowledgement of this making her smile widely. “Maybe a two night stand.” As Villanelle pulls her up and the two begin to walk to her much swankier hotel, Eve passively comments, “It’s strange how everyone’s in a hotel all the time. Heh.” This comment, although innocent, crushes Villanelle’s growing joy, growing excitement. She is forced to remember the web of lies that tangles around Eve and Villanelle, feeling remorse for once. She frowns slightly, slowing down until Eve turns and raises a brow, beckoning her to speed back up again. These dark feelings begin to disperse with every waving motion Eve makes with her hand, with each stare, each laugh, each curl tucked behind an ear, each chaste touch of the hands, the fingers. Villanelle receives a text at that moment as she speeds up to walk alongside her again, but the phone buried deep in her bag is long forgotten when Eve is in her presence. The text is from an unknown number, simply reading ‘Call me.’ __Nadia wakes on a chaise lounge, groaning from the uncomfortable cushioning that harrasses her back. She surveys the room she lays in, scowling at the brightly colored walls and various knicknacks littering the desk in front of her. “You’re not dead! Oh, thank god.” The blonde haired woman from the park scrambles into view, her short hair tucked behind her ears comically. Nadia grimaces, raising a hand to block a patch of sunlight that has snuck through the ugly patchwork curtains above her head. Her movement causes the other woman to spring up and close the curtains fully before returning back to her bedside. “Do you need anything? Water?” Her pretty face scrunched up in concern causes Nadia to giggle a little. “It’s only a bullet.” She points at her leg, and the woman gasps loudly as she does. “A bullet?! I’ve been too scared to touch it. I cleaned it and bandaged it but I thought it was a cut.” She blanches, her brows knitting and her face contorting again. “What is your name?” Nadia asks, sitting up slightly and ignoring the dull pain in the back of her head as she does. “Maya.” The woman swallows thickly, suddenly looking nervous. “Maya. I’m Fanny.” She grimaces as she says the name, wondering why her go-to cover name is always so off-putting. “Fanny.” Maya repeats, rolling the name around her tongue and smiling slightly. “What happened to you, Fanny?” She sounds so concerned, so confused. Nadia smiles internally, recognising this girl as the perfect person to help her take Villanelle down. “It was my ex-girlfriend. She - she wants to kill me, Maya. I need to stay here until I’m better. If I go into the hospital, she’s a nurse. She’ll get me. She’ll find me. Please.” With each word, Nadia feels more and more like Villanelle, like she’s stepping into a skin woven from deception and wearing it proudly. With each word, Maya’s exterior softens. “Of course you can stay.” Nadia knows she is spiralling when she feels an almost sexual pulsation of joy run through her bloodstream at the way Maya trusts her. She isn’t the wide-eyed, gentle, naïve Russian girl anymore. She is Villanelle. Or at least as close to her as she can contort herself into being. Nadia spins her lies with joy now, with a sickening glee because she knows what everyone else doesn't. She has become what she hates, and she has done it with pleasure. It's all or nothing with Villanelle - she is too far gone, too twisted, too rotted within to be equals with. You must be eviler than the devil to defeat it, and Nadia must be like Villanelle to kill Villanelle. And she will prevail.
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This is probably badly edited because I did it this time. Sorry for any mistakes, that's on me and my tired eyes. NxEve forces the flimsy hotel brush through her dense curls while Hayley watches, her face unreadable. As usual, there’s so much to say that will never be said between the two, too many questions on the tip of Eve’s tongue and yet she doesn’t ask them. She keeps silent and stares back in the mirror, watching the reflection of Hayley silently. She relents, slamming the brush down with frustration and turning around to face her. “Are you angry with me?” Hayley is silent for a moment, her beautiful features crumpled slightly as she thinks. “A little, yeah.” She shrugs, flopping down onto the bed and reading a random Chinese takeout menu she had picked up from the side table. Eve says nothing, turning back around and forcing the brush through her hair a few more agonizing times before stepping out of the ensuite and back into the formerly - trashed bedroom, looking around in awe at how clean and un-lived in it looks. She flops down next to Hayley, rolling around in the bed to face her. Hayley does the same, slowly turning to face her back, extending a hand and tucking Eve’s curls behind her beautiful ear. “I have so many questions, Hayley.” Eve mumbles, her bottom lip between her teeth once she finishes speaking. “So do I. '' Hayley replies, a small smile on her lips. “Are you going to apologize for holding a gun to me?” Eve asks, her voice still. “No. Are you going to apologize, Eve?” Hayley retaliates, removing her hand from Eve’s face. “I have!” She says angrily. “Again.” Hayley’s voice is barely above a whisper, and Eve has to ignore the horde of butterflies that simple word releases inside her stomach. “I’m sorry.” She obliges, eyes widening. “Good. What did you and your husband fight about?” Is she seriously asking this again? Eve thinks to herself, tired of the emotional rollercoaster that she rides every time she speaks to Hayley. “I was cheating on him, I guess.” She feels her soul lift toward the roof with each word, trying to escape Hayley’s reaction. “Okay.” She simply says. No judgment, no knitted eyebrows, no reeling back in disgust for such adultery. “Are you in love with him? Your husband, I mean.” Her question doesn’t require any thought, but Eve feigns it for a moment. “No.” Hayley nods quietly. Hayley who has weapons in her kitchen cupboard, Hayley who shot someone, albeit in the leg, Hayley who fights like a trained soldier and looks like a model. She is a contradiction, she is a mystery, she is most definitely not a simple intern, she is someone Eve finds herself undeniably drawn to, attracted to, infatuated with despite these unanswered questions. She wonders if Hayley feels the same as she yawns, closing her eyes. “I’m going to bed.” She rolls over, maneuvering her body so that she can pull the sheets over herself. “It’s seven am.” Hayley laughs. “I don’t care. I deserve this nap.” ~Eve falls asleep quickly, a dark strand of hair hovering over her lips and swaying in and out of her slightly open mouth with every breath. The moment she falls asleep, Villanelle feels an impending sense of loneliness, of the unfamiliar emotion that is guilt as it creeps under her skin, traveling through her veins and turning her warm blood to ice. She feels guilt for her lies to Eve, for her multiple identities, for basing their relationship, whatever it is, on so much fabrication. But, fabrication is Villanelle’s life. It’s all she knows. She moves to get out of bed, freezing when a warm hand extends from the depths of the comforter, lightly touching Villanelle’s side. “Stay.” If Villanelle wanted to run away, wanted to scream into the sky at the injustice of it all, wanted to cry and stab and scratch, a simple word from Eve is all it would ever take to get her to lie back down gently next to her. “Fanny is a stupid name.” Villanelle says simply. Eve rolls over, laughing. “Right! Who in the right mind has a baby, looks it in the eyes, and calls it Fanny?!” Villanelle is laughing too, hands gripping at the sheets as she tries to regain her composure. Once the two collapse back into bed panting from laughter, Eve turns to look at the woman next to her, Villanelle noticing in her peripheral vision. “Is it Monday?” She asks, a frown on her lips. “No, Eve, it's Sunday. Have you lost track of the days already?” Villanelle sits up abruptly. “Let's do something.” Eve sits up slowly, bewildered. “What? Where?” Villanelle pauses in the doorway. “Get ready!” She practically skips into her walk - in - closet while Eve gets out of bed with a groan, sighing loudly. She pauses in the doorway to her closet, leaning on the frame and watching as Villanelle flings her clothes out of drawers, pausing when a print dress lands at her feet. Eve bends slowly, picking the dress up between her finger and thumb, holding it away from herself as if it was an atomic bomb. “Where did you get this?” She asks, voice still. Villanelle turns, looking at the dress in her fingers and steeling her face into an impenetrable mask. “From a shop in Munich a few years ago, why?” Villanelle knows why. She knows she had, foolishly, showed Eve this dress in the private call a few days ago. She watches as Eve closes her eyes tightly, sighing. “Never mind. I’m being stupid.” Her hand releases the fabric, dropping it onto a stack of shoeboxes and walking stiffly out of the closet. She turns on her heel, grimacing. “Can I borrow something to wear?” Moments later, Eve is dragged from the hotel building by an excited Villanelle, glancing over her shoulder every few moments to take in the glory that is Eve in her clothes. She wears a loose brown spotted blouse tucked into Villanelle’s favourite tan wide legged trousers, the contrast of the deep brown and the calm beige, the billowy blouse and the trousers cinching in her waist in a gloriously antagonizing way causing Villanelle’s mind to go fuzzy. She tries not to think about the amount of times she’s shuddered in her bed when the sky is an inky blue and no sounds are audible besides her own gasps as she imagined Eve in her clothes, one hand stuffed down her pants.(https://www.instyle.com/celebrity/sandra-oh-shang-chi-premiere-outfit the outfit :D)Eve looks uncomfortable in such expensive attire, her eyebrows knit together self consciously as she lets the excited ‘Hayley’ drag her god - knows - where. Villanelle wears a turquoise patchwork blazer over a white tank top tucked into turquoise wide leg pants and combat boots, her hair down around her shoulders. “Where are we going?” Eve asks, tripping on a loose stone and sighing loudly. “A carnival!” Villanelle shouts excitedly over her shoulder, cheeks flushed. “Where are we supposed to find a carnival in London? This early, too?” Villanelle doesn’t reply, extending one finger out at a passing taxi and grinning as it pulls over. Eve watches in horror as the excited blonde whispers in the driver’s ear, handing him a hundred dollar note and winking. “Hayley, you can’t just whisper to people! It’s creepy.” Eve pouts, looking out the window. “Why not?” Villanelle whispers hotly in her ear, watching the goose bumps that erupt along Eve’s arms where she rolled up her blouse. Eve laughs, shoving her away and leaning back, eyes closed. Eve feels warm fingers on top of her own, staring at Hayley’s long fingers and wondering How did I get here? With a woman I don’t even know, who is most definitely not who she says she is, who shot someone! A woman who acts like a child at times, bottom lip jutted and arms folded, meanwhile other times has killer eyes, killer actions, killer words. Eve wonders why she finds herself not caring at all who she is? Why does she feel as though each moment with this woman is a plaster over the cuts in her life? Why does she want to grab her face right now and kiss her between her eyebrows, on the tip of her nose, and finally on her beautiful lips? Eve watches Hayley’s side profile as she looks out her window, the subtle curve of her top lip and the gentle flutter of her lashes as she watches the sights go by. Astonishingly, the car eventually pulls up to a pop up carnival on a pier in a nearby town, a large Ferris wheel lighting up the cloudy skyline. Eve looks at Hayley, slack - mouthed in shock at this bustling haven in the middle of a random town filled with sprawling brick cottages and old people on scooters, the loud stereotypical carnival theme greeting her ears as Hayley opens the car door on her side, leaping out the car with excitement. Eve thanks the taxi driver before jogging after her, watching as Hayley looks around at the flashing lights, the various stalls where you throw a foam ball into a clown’s mouth and get copious amounts of shitty plastic toys, the above - ground wave pool, and the massive gravity slide with an open mouth and sparkly eyes. “Look, Eve!” She flings a finger in the air, pointing wildly at the giant Ferris wheel with a light - up foundation. Eve sees such beauty in Hayley’s childlike glee, in the way she laughs when she wins a teddy bear after throwing the basketball in the hoop and the way she frowns when small children cut the line in front of her as she waits to get a show bag, the way her golden - blonde hair floats around her shoulders in the gentle breeze, the way she turns and looks for Eve once she gets too far away. After a few hours of Hayley playing various games and Eve carrying her prizes - various soft animals, mini water pistols, handballs, and more pointless junk stashed into a large show bag she bought specifically for carrying these things Hayley seems to enjoy, she flops down on a nearby bench, watching Hayley walk a few steps before realizing Eve isn’t by her side and flinging her arms either side of her in protest. “Why are you sitting already?” She complains, trudging to sit next to her and flopping down, groaning in protest. “I’m old.” Eve replies simply. “Clearly.” Hayley pulls a face, furrowing her full brows. After a few moments of silence, Hayley breathes in. “This is so BOOOOOOOOOOOORING!” She shouts, causing Eve to clap a hand over her mouth. “Hayley!” She hisses, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the hordes of children, parents, and teenagers staring at the two women on the bench. Hayley cackles, grabbing Eve’s hand yet again and leading her into the throng of people, saving her from any further embarrassment. She leads her to the end of the dock, sitting down and dangling her legs over the edge, wrapping her shapely legs around the foundation of the pier and sighing. Eve follows suit, sitting down next to Hayley. “Do you like being around me, Eve?” Eve looks at her abruptly, shocked at her sudden change of emotion. Hayley softens again, her guard down as she stares at Eve, waiting for a response. “Yes. I do.” Eve says, no hesitation at all in her voice. Hayley exhales from her nose gently, half - smiles. “My name.” She begins, swallowing. “My name is Villanelle.” Eve is silent, her eyes wide. She could yell, could scream at this woman for lying to her. But she doesn’t. She breathes levelly, clenches her fists. “Who are you?” She asks yet again, her eyebrows furrowed in quiet confusion. “Villanelle.” Eve knows this is all she’ll tell her. She realizes slowly that this piece of information, as brief as it is, is a gift from Villanelle. Whoever she is, whatever she is, Eve appreciates this titbit of information. She smiles. “Villanelle. Okay.” She turns, taking in the rays of sunlight illuminating Villanelle’s catlike hazel eyes, her soft expression, her mouth. “Do you want to go on the Ferris wheel?” Eve asks smugly, already knowing the answer. The blonde springs up, her mouth stretched into the largest of smiles. “I have been waiting for you to suggest it first.” Her impish glee sets Eve’s soul alight, the fire burning deep inside her as she follows Villanelle to the line for the Ferris wheel. Nadia sits awkwardly at a makeshift coffee table, a brightly - painted mug clenched tightly between her thin fingers. She watches as Maya finishes her iced coffee quickly, gulping it down like it’s the only water in a dessert. When she catches Nadia’s disgusted staring, she looks away wolfishly, staring at her gogo boots under the table. After Nadia’s sleep in the shitty trundle bed that pulls out from Maya’s own bed, her back hurts and this shitty chair she sits in . “So. I need your help.” Nadia starts, leaning forward. “You’ve said that.” She replies, voice small as she keeps her clear eyes trained on her empty cup. “I want to get revenge.” She leans in, eyes blazing. “Really good revenge. On her.” Maya nods faintly. “I get that you’d want some kind of revenge but- Do I really need to be involved?” Nadia fashions her face into one of vulnerability, widening her eyes and making her chin wobble slightly. “I have no one else. Please.” Maya relents again, her head bowed. “What kind of revenge?” Nadia grins widely, extending a bronze arm to hold Maya’s pale hand for a few moments. “So” She pulls out a phone. It is as Eve awkwardly steps into the Ferris wheel carriage that she realizes she’s utterly fucked. Villanelle’s smile as she looks out the window, kicking the carriage and groaning about how it takes forever to start, her laugh, her eyes. Eve stands and takes a few wobbly steps until she flops down next to Villanelle on her side. Villanelle looks up, confused, as Eve’s hand caresses her cheek. “Eve…” She whispers, her eyebrows knitted in further confusion as Eve crashes her lips against hers. Villanelle makes a small mewl of appreciation, her hands gently stroking Eve’s face back as the Ferris wheel lifts off the ground, the two women locked into a passionate kiss. When Eve pulls away for air, she laughs. “Your face right now.” Villanelle laughs too, wiping the blissful expression off her face, cheeks flushed. The two don’t speak for the rest of the ride, they don’t need to. For now, these two women are perfectly content hand - in - hand, peaceful, happy. Eve forgets her spiralling fear about who she is and who she likes, gets a strange feeling that this connection, whatever it is, transcends the concept of sexuality. She is happy.For now.
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hi! sorry this chapter took a while :)Villanelle peeks at her silenced phone, reading the text that just pinged through, and furrows her brows. “It is a go” - her command from Konstantin. She is to kill Bill tomorrow. The week had been a dream, starting on the day that Eve had held her face and kissed her lips before the two parted ways, both grinning like madwomen. On Monday, Eve had walked into work in a dreamlike state, and it warmed Villanelle’s usually reserved heart to see her effect on Eve, to see how happy she looked because of her. The week went by too fast, Villanelle trying to focus on her false intern job while Eve tried her best to focus on her own. The two shared heated stares every now and then, but no further moves were made on either woman’s behalf. The two remained in an in-between, dreamy world of unanswered questions and feverish crushes. However, Konstantin’s text brings her rhapsody to a halt. This is the day she has been dreading since her lips met Eve’s - the day that her time with her lover ends, the day she must say goodbye. She cannot return to MI5 after they find Bill’s body, cannot return to her false life that she has grown to enjoy despite its twistedness. Villanelle’s inner turmoil deepens as another notification pings on her phone: “Polastrina Apple returns; FIRST LIVE IN WEEKS!”Ever since Eve and she kissed, she’s been dreading the return of her live streams. Villanelle knows the kiss shifted the nature of their relationship. She knows that watching Polastrina will be the ultimate betrayal of the intimacy they are silently building. Yet…Villanelle also knows her resolve is weak and that she will be unable to resist any Eve-related temptation, lest the power and beauty she projects during her live streams. Villanelle makes a concession and decides she will log on for two minutes tops to skim the comments section; the chatroom bustles with more activity than ever before because of Eve’s week hiatus. Once two minutes and one second strike, she wonders how she got here, staring at Eve, crumpled over in pleasure as she rubs her clit the old-fashioned way. Villanelle beats herself up for clicking on the live notification and continues to feel riddled with guilt as she pushes her fingers inside herself with ease. Biting back shameful moans as she massages her breasts, Villanelle feasts on the sight of Eve shuddering to a climax with her legs spread deliciously atop a soft carpet floor. Guilt is a strange feeling to have, and Villanelle knows she doesn’t only feel guilt, but a sickening pleasure at the fact that she knows both sides of Eve. She knows the carpet beneath Eve was installed three days ago; she knows Eve received the keys to the apartment two days before that; she knows Bill’s wife, a real estate agent, brokered a special rental agreement with the owners because Eve agreed to never bring pets into the space; she knows she has seen Eve in every compromising way that even her husband has never seen. She knows so much about this is wrong, which makes everything about this so deliciously good.Before she can stop herself, Villanelle outstretches a hand to click “Request Live Show,” biting her bottom lip while fighting with the emotions bubbling under the surface of her burning skin. Almost instantly, she watches as Eve, basking in the afterglow of her orgasm, begins her usual outtro. “Bye, everyone! Tune in for more Polastrina soon, thank you for being patient with me. I have a private show request from one of my amazing supporters, goodnight.” With that, the screen turns black, and a notification pops up on Villanelle’s screen: “Request accepted!” Villanelle springs up, placing her phone carefully on the same dresser as usual and angles it at a blank wall before taking a seat so her head is obscured. Soon, Eve comes into focus - her berry-red lips ajar and her soft, beautiful hair cascading in tendrils just above her olive shoulders. “E!” She watches as Eve’s lips spread out on her face into a beautiful smile. “V! I’ve missed you.” Villanelle ignores the way her heart skips a beat at this comment. “I’ve missed you too! Where have you been?” Eve shifts her almost-nude body so it’s in the frame more as she replies. “Just some home stuff. It’s sorted out now.” Villanelle smiles in return. “Glad to hear it, Ev-” A beat of silence. “What did you say?” Eve breathes slowly, her expression shifting from seductive to scared. Villanelle responds by slowly unbuttoning her expensive floral shirt, her long fingers working nimbly to undo the six buttons that stand between her and being nude. Luckily, Eve seems to move on from the fuck up, leaning close to the camera to get a good look at Villanelle’s chest. “You’re beautiful, V.” Villanelle’s mouth falls open, her reaction becoming hard to conceal this time as goosebumps start at her spine and spread over her body. “You like compliments?” Villanelle can do nothing but nod, this sudden shift in dynamics causing a wet sensation in her underwear. It is hard for Villanelle to allow herself to be vulnerable, to give in and let someone else take control. As Eve continues to utter sweet compliments, anywhere from “you’re perfect” to “I’ve waited all day so that I could stream for you” Villanelle feverishly fingers herself. She reaches a climax when she hears the words “I’m yours” from Eve’s mouth. Villanelle has never wished more to see Eve’s beautiful face during the afterglow of her orgasm. There is no limit to what she would do to make eye contact with Eve and analyze every microexpression that crossed her face. Before she can stop herself, Villanelle remarks, “God, E, I have never wanted anything as badly as I want to lock eyes with you right now.” Eve sighs heavily. She sounds so dejected when she says, “I know. But V, you know I can’t do that.” Villanelle nods even though Eve can’t see the gesture. After a moment’s pause, she finds her voice again. “Yeah, I know.” With a muttered “Bye, E,” Villanelle clicks the “end private session” button. __The next day, Eve gets ready for work earlier than usual, dressing in her usual turtleneck and windbreaker with tailored work pants and boots on her feet. She wants to catch up on updating her female assassins file, write a few more notes, and get caught up on some reports so that hopefully she can get some lunch with Ha- Villanelle. Plus, Bill had texted her earlier that he had the same idea to catch up on work by coming in an hour and a half early, which meant fresh croissants and coffee were hers to claim - an early start tradition of theirs. The drive to MI5 is easier than usual this early in the morning. The traffic is basically nonexistent and Eve feels like the only person in the world as she drives, her hands cold on the steering wheel.Eve parks in the underground lot, taking advantage of the lack of cars this early in the morning as she pulls into a park. She pauses for a moment, squinting her eyes, and surveys the parking lot until she finds Bill’s car. She turns, leaning into the car and adjusting her seat covers, before grabbing her purse and lunchbox (to trade with Bill’s lunch later) and closes her car door. Eve shrugs her lunchbox over her shoulder as she awkwardly maneuvers herself into the incredibly small maintenance lift everyone who parks in the underground park uses, pressing her desired floor and humming to herself as the elevator slowly ascends. __Villanelle’s walk to her false workplace is different than usual on this particular day. The wind whips around her mercilessly and the early morning skies are littered with dark rain clouds. It's as though they are taunting her, waiting for the right moment to come down on Villanelle’s designer clothes and ruin her already fragile psyche. The moment never comes, and she walks through the strangely empty streets until she arrives at the MI5 office, noting no lights on in the office’s windows. Starting from this moment, Villanelle cuts her emotions at the root, freezing them over. She is focused. She is alert. She is deadly.Villanelle takes the fire escape stairs along the outside of the building until she reaches the small door that leads to a maintenance elevator shown on the fire safety maps she studied earlier in the week. She slips through the door, entering a small lobby area on a higher level than her destination and presses the elevator button several times, rolling her eyes impatiently. The elevator says it’s on floor one, but it’s impossible that anyone else is here besides Bill. Villanelle wonders for a split second if Bill is using the elevator as a shortcut, but the light in the office begs to differ. Finally, it arrives with an all too polite “Ding!” As the elevator descends, Villanelle pulls the retractable knife from her bag and slips it into her front pocket, leveling her head for what’s coming next.Villanelle realises after its too late that there is someone pottering about in the shitty kitchen she creeps past, internally smacking her head at how she could miss this. But it’s too late now. Villanelle nears the door, peeking through the crack at Bill who is throwing pencils at the roof and smirking when they stick. Idiot. She straightens, pushing the door open and smiling at a surprised Bill. “Hayley! You’re here early. Did Eve tell you about the free coffee?” Villanelle freezes. “Eve? Is she here?” Bill checks his watch. “I’m not sure. She was on her way the last time I spoke to her, why?” As he speaks, she reaches behind her and pulls the door shut, pushing the lock button in and coughing to cover the mechanic clunk. “Actually, I need to talk to you, Bill.” Bill looks up, confused. “I’m all ears.” With every step closer, Villanelle can feel herself winding up like a spring, ready to propel the moment she’s close enough. Her breath comes out as pants, her pupils are dilating. Bill stands, sensing something is… wrong. He makes a break for the door, but it’s too late for him as Villanelle plunges her hidden knife into his heart seven times. Then the door opens.__Eve yawns, slowly meandering down the hallway toward the office after stepping out of the shaky maintenance elevator. She notices how the elevator goes up to the fourth floor the moment she steps off. Eve stops for a moment, turning left into the staff kitchen where she slowly removes her various lunch containers and unloads them into the kitchen, quietly humming along to whatever song plays on the beaten up radio that sits on the windowsill above the sink. As she is leaving the kitchen, Eve notices a figure dressed in all black creeping past the open doorway. She stands still and tries to determine if the figure is cause for alarm or not. She freezes when she realises where the figure is heading. The office. Bill.Eve follows the figure silently down the hallway, panicking as the door to the office clicks shut. Locked. Her blood turns to cold, hard metal as she realises who the figure is. Villanelle’s voice carries through the door, talking about something uncertain with Bill. Something is off and Eve knows it. She searches desperately through her bag for the spare office key, groaning loudly as she realises it’s not in her bag. The second spare! She launches herself at the potted plant sitting in the hall, searching through the fake dirt for the key. As Eve’s fingers wrap around the cold metal, a grotesque, animalistic cry fills her ears, followed by several meaty thunk noises. She swallows the bile that rises in her throat as she wills her shaky hands, failing several times to get the key successfully inside the lock. The lock turns agonizingly slowly and she almost wishes she never managed to open the door in the first place. The sight as she slams open the door is one she’ll never forget for as long as she lives. There Bill lays, eyes wide and staring at Eve. His chest is filled with bloody holes, scarlet blood blooms from knife-shaped abrasions, and the different wounds bleed into one massive puddle of blood on his chest. Above him, Villanelle stands, knife in hand, eyes blazing. Eve sinks to her knees, dumfounded, unable to move or breathe. Villanelle tries to swallow, her throat closing up as she watches Eve sink to her knees. She is caught between the impossible and the worse than impossible: faced with the decision to attempt, probably in vain, to explain away her actions or to kill Eve and return to a place of complete security, no worries that her secret will be revealed. The way Eve looks at her makes her own stomach churn, as if she’s seeing what she had just done through her eyes. Disgust, panic, disappointment; each emotion strikes her as they cross Eve’s eyes. “What did you do?” Eve breathes shakily. Villanelle’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, finding not one thing in her brain to say aloud. She drops the knife like it’s a hot iron, ignoring the slice it makes on her knee on its descent to the floor. Eve is staring at her like she is a monster, but Eve doesn’t understand. Make her understand. “Eve, I-” Eve rises from her knees, bending excruciatingly slowly, and picks the discarded knife off of the blood-stained navy blue carpet. She steps closer to Villanelle, so close that she can smell her perfume. She takes the knife, already coated in Bill's blood, and presses it ever so gently into Villanelle’s abdomen. The sharp prick presses against the surface of her skin, but does not yet penetrate it. Villanelle stands still, making no move to stop Eve or push her away. “You won’t do it.” She hisses, staring at Eve’s shaking hands. “I will.” Eve replies simply, her voice dripping with poison. She plunges the knife deep into Villanelle’s body. Villanelle’s eyes never look away from Eve’s wild gaze. Scarlett red blood gushes from the wound, the warm stuff coating Eve’s hands and causing her to realize what she’s just done. She steps back, mouth ajar, as she tries to mutter something - anything - but no words leave her lips. “Oh god. Oh my god.” Are the only words she can mumble, pressing two frantic hands onto the wound as Villanelle groans - a high, whiny sound. “I can’t believe you did that!” She screams, sliding down the wall and panting loudly, shoving Eve’s hands away from her. “Oh god! Oh god! You killed Bill!” Villanelle smirks despite her pain. “Trying to explain away the fact that you stabbed me?!” She yells again, blood gushing from the wound faster than before. “Oh god! Do I call the ambulance?” She looks at Eve like an idiot, raising her eyebrows. “How are we going to explain Bill?” Silence. “Get me a bandage! Something! I’m dying, Eve.” Dying. LIke Bill. Eve knows she should let this woman die next to the person she killed, she's come this far after all. But…she rushes to get the first aid kit nonetheless, pressing a stick-on dressing over the wound. “Do you have a car?” Villanelle yells, trying to ignore the acidic burn of the saline Eve pours on it before sticking the dressing to her throbbing wound. “Yes,” Eve pants. “Okay, Eve, I need you to listen to me closely now. Take me to your car, lock me inside, and return here. Clean every drop of blood you can. Use bleach - I saw it in the supply closet. Then, I need you to prop Bill up against the wall. Reach into my bag.” Eve hesitates for a moment, takes a steadying breath, and pulls out a knife wrapped in a paper towel that is identical to the one that is buried in Villanelle’s abdomen. “The knife will match the stab wounds on Bill’s body. Don’t get your fingerprints on it.” Her eyelids flit closed, her breathing slowing dangerously. “I need you to stab him, Eve.” Eve panics. “Why? He’s already been stabbed!” Villanelle groans loudly. “Stab him, Eve! The knife needs to be in his body when we leave him so my plan will work!” Eve screws her eyes shut, approaches the body, and sinks the knife disgustingly deep into an already open wound. Tears fall freely from her eyes as she does so. She straightens, noticing Villanelle’s already worsening state and bites her lip before wrapping an arm around the now gray woman. Eve slowly leads her to the parking lot, silently thanking the lords that it’s too early for anyone else to be in the block. She gently eases Villanelle into the passenger seat once they arrive, noticing the way she faces away from all the security cameras and conceals her wound with her hand subtly. If one were to look, it would seem as though two friends - or even a couple - were huddled closely together in the cold weather. What Villanelle doesn’t know is that the cameras need to be turned on manually by Chuck, the security guard, every morning because the shitty cameras burn up if they’re on for too long. MI5 is filled with these cheap shortcuts, which works to their benefit at this moment. Eve panics as Villanelle’s eyes flutter shut for a moment too long, her stomach churning violently at her lover’s dying body. “Please don’t die on me.” Eve whispers this on repeat like a broken record as she shuts the car door and legs it back to the office. She throws up into the wastebasket when she sees Bill’s corpse again. She tries to remember what Villanelle told her - to clean the blood smeared in places it shouldn’t be, leaving only the pool around his body left. She grabs the bleach from the supply closet inside the office and mixes it with water before rapidly mopping Villanelle’s blood off of the floor. Her hands shake, with each movement of the mop she is reminded that these hands of hers, these hands have stabbed someone. And not just anyone. Eve swallows the rising bile in her throat and finishes mopping the floor and the walls for good measure, before disinfecting and cleaning the products themselves. Once she’s sure the mess is cleaned, she locks the office, throws the key back into the potted plant, and sprints back to the car, shaking Villanelle the moment she gets the door open. “Still here.” Villanelle mumbles, her voice ever so quiet. “Oh thank god. I thought I lost you there.” Silence. “And?” Villanelle mutters bitterly. “I didn’t like it. What do I do with you now?” Eve asks. Villanelle breathes slowly. “Drive me to the corner of High street.” Eve nods. “Are we meeting someone there?” Eve asks hopefully. “Something like that,” she replies quietly. The two minute car drive is scary. Eve looks over at Villanelle every now and then to make sure she’s still alive. She looks at her own reflection in the windscreen and hates herself for what she’s done, the pain she’s caused. But, another sick part of her feels as though Villanelle deserved it, deserved it so much and so greatly that she had to. She is paralised with fear that at any moment the writhing blonde in the seat next to her will stop writhing, stop complaining and groaning and become silent. Dead silent. She has grown too attached to the beautiful monster next to her to lose her. Once the car rumbles up to the High street corner, Villanelle turns to make eye contact with Eve. “Bye, Eve.” She mumbles before pushing the car door open, stumbling out and jogging into a nearby alleyway that leads to a department store. “Villanelle! NO!” Eve gets out of the car and tries to find her, heart squeezing at the nothingness she finds in the alleyway. Then, she cries hot, wet tears. Those cries turn into broken screams as she sees the blood under her fingernails, thinking of whose blood dirties her hands.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Villanelle stumbles blindly from her hiding place in the alleyway - a crack in the wall covered with tarp that was thankfully large enough for her to squeeze her injured body into. She waits for Eve’s disappointed footsteps to subside before gasping. She feels her life wasting away, blood pouring from the garish gash in her abdomen as she moves. She takes one step, two… and she collapses onto the cold, hard cement.__Nadia sits, legs crossed, on Maya’s chaise lounge. “So, go over the plan again,” Maya requests. Her short blonde hair is tied into a paintbrush-sized ponytail on the back of her well-shaped skull. “So. You find Villanelle. Tell her something has happened. Tell her that it's about Eve. Lead her to this spot.” Nadia replies, flashing her phone screen and showing some coordinates on her maps app. “She’ll follow you - I know she will. She’d follow Eve to the end of the earth.” She mutters the last part bitterly, her green eyes flashing dangerously. “But how am I supposed to find this Villanelle?” Nadia smiles. “Easy.” She pulls a small phone-shaped box from her bag, the small screen flashing with a red spot. “This spot is her. I was able to get close enough to her to place a tracking device on the heel of her shoe.” Maya blanches once more. “What kind of super-spy shit is this?!” She says incredulously, hesitating a few times before finally taking the device. “It's just a precaution. So I know she isn’t coming for me. But now, it's useful.” Maya lets herself be deceived by these probably-false words, ignoring the feeling that she’s in deeper than she thought with these mysterious people. “What are you going to do when I’m gone?” Nadia smiles a slow, sickening grin. “You’ll see.” Maya fights back a shudder at the way this woman’s face can turn to something of such evil, even for a split second, before returning to its vulnerable, mouse-like expression. She walks out the door, silently worrying that her apartment is in danger with “Fanny” inside.__When Villanelle wakes, she does so with a scream. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH…. Who are you?” She tries to recognise the face hovered over her in the alleyway, taking in a pointed, pixie-like nose and freckles everywhere. “Are you Villanelle? What happened to you?” She sobers up at the mention of her name, her training causing her to ignore her pain and focus on impending danger. Villanelle scrambles to her feet, her wound no longer bleeding through her expensive shirt. The woman does the same, her eyebrows knitted together haphazardly. “I’m Maya. I - It's Eve. She needs your help.” A million thoughts fill Villanelle’s skull once those words leave the seemingly-sweet woman's mouth. Should I trust her? Do I care about what Eve does now? She stabbed me! She thinks I’m dead. What if she’s been arrested for Bill? What if she’s kidnapped by the Twelve? The worry roars in her stomach. “I’ll come with you, but first, take me to the doctor.” Maia retches a few times once she notices how bad the wound really is. “Doctor? Why don’t you go to the hospital?” Villanelle sighs. “I don’t need you to argue with me right now, Tinkerbell. Take. Me. To. The. Doctor. Now. Do you want me to be alive to help Eve or not?” Maia relents. __Eve stands stiffly in the middle of her apartment, her shaking hands not stopping her from chopping up every vegetable in her fridge, her eyes glassed over. She decides to put on the television, abandoning the vast pile of multi-colored vegetables laid atop her kitchen counter. The silence is too much for her already panicky state. The moment her eyes register the image on the television, Eve drops the knife in her hand onto the floor with a loud clatter. She leaps away from the blade that was heading for her foot. She watches as Elena is handcuffed, pushed into a police car, and driven away. She is stung with confusion for a moment before the answers to her questions reveal themselves in flashes - the knife, Villanelles words “My plan.” Eve realizes how Elena was arrested - her fingerprints were on the knife that Eve had stuck into Bill’s corpse. It would've been easy for Villanelle to get her prints - hide the knife in the kitchen, let Elena use it to cut her teacake or sandwiches. The perfect backup plan if her anonymous killing failed, with Eve’s best friend as the pawn. Suddenly, a slash of fear hits her. She was probably one of the last people to talk to Bill - her texts say she’s coming to meet him in the office, right? And she never showed, in this hypothetical. Isn’t that suspicious? She pulls out her phone to read the texts once more, audibly gasping when she reads a text that she didn’t send. It was sent a few minutes after Bill was murdered, not that the police would know that. Hi, sorry but I don't think I can make it, I think I’ve come down with something. I asked Elena to claim the coffee for me, she’ll keep you company. That bitch! She then checks her conversation with Elena. Hey! Could you come in early, I promised Bill I would but now I’ve got this terrible cold. Free coffee if you come! Elena’s response. Sure, coming now. Villanelle had sent these texts to cover Eve’s ass. She starts to cry, the clashing emotions overwhelming.__ Maya sits awkwardly on the edge of the blue plastic chair, hands gripping its flimsy legs and knees bouncing erratically. She had called her best friend nervously just a few minutes earlier, sitting in her car with the groaning Villanelle beside her. “Hi, Nessa. I know. It’s - it’s just urgent. She said she can’t go to the doctors. She’s - she’s been stabbed. I need you.” After a few beats of silence, the muffled replies of Nessa on the phone are the only audible sounds in the car. “Okay. Thank you so much, Ness.” Maya hangs up the phone, driving quickly to the doctor’s office where her friend works. Now, here she sits stiffly, waiting while Villanelle gets stitched up. She takes the opportunity to call an angry Fanny, who left her six missed calls in the past twenty minutes. Something inside her, something small and quiet, whispers in Maya’s ear not to tell Fanny about the stab wound. “She demanded food. We’re just getting it now.” She tells the angered woman, hanging up before she can hear her response. She leans on her arm, wondering silently what it is exactly that she’s involved with, wondering who’s in the wrong here. A half hour later, Villanelle emerges from the doctor's surgery, Nessa helping her, arm resting protectively around her shoulders. She helps Villanelle sit down, beckoning to Maya angrily to join her in the other room. “Maya, what the fuck?! Who is this woman?” Maya sighs, wringing her hands. “I’m doing a favor for a friend. How is she?” Nessa sighs, her long chestnut braids swinging off her shoulder as she reaches a brown arm up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “She was stabbed, the wound is deep, but it isn't penetrating any organs. Luckily. She would’ve died from blood loss if you brought her any later. You are so lucky that I thought I wanted to be a surgeon before a doctor. I sewed her up, gave her some antibiotics. She’ll be fine. But, I can’t ignore this, Maya. She’s been stabbed. What happened?” Maya sighs deeply, grabbing her friend by the shoulders. “Please. Nessa. Just - just let us go. I promise I will explain what I know to you when I can.” Nessa sighs, dark eyebrows knit together. “Why can’t I shake the feeling you’re wrapped up in something terrible?” She says, arms folded. “Why can’t I?” Maya smiles sadly, turning and helping Villanelle out the doors to her car. Nessa leans on the doorway, watching them both.“So, Eve. Where is she? Seems like we’re driving out of town.” Villanelle says, seemingly passive as she gazes out the window, her insides bubbling with confusion, mistrust, and the dull, aching pain of her wound. “Yeah, we are.” Silence. “How do you know her?” Villanelle tries again. Silence. “We met at a party. Her friend's birthday.” The story checks out in Villanelle's mind. Maybe Elena’s? And yet she can't shake the feeling that Maya is driving her to her death. Something is off. Villanelle isn't dumb enough not to realise, but it's Eve. If she needs help, Villanelle will help her. No matter the circumstances. No matter the risk. No matter how badly she gets hurt, stabbed, killed. Because Eve is a rainbow in beige boots.__ Eve sits in deadly silence at her apartment, her eyes puffy from the tears and her throat dry from wailing. She sits stiffly on the cheap couch Bill helped her put together, shuddering at the sensation that flashes through her hands, making them twitch. The dull, wet ripping of Bill’s flesh as she plunged the knife in the already open hole in his once-complete corpse. The blood. Villanelle. It is as Eve is swallowing the rising bile in her throat that she hears a noise - just a slight, clunking noise. By this point, she knows it's something more. Something dangerous. Eve stands, ignoring the wobble in her legs as she grabs a stapler from her side table, clicking it open and edging silently toward her back door. A beat of silence. Two. Another click, a metallic jiggle of a doorknob, the shatter of glass. Eve is breathing quickly, her heart thrumming. Suddenly, a figure bursts around the corner, causing Eve to swallow her scream and thrust her arm forward, the stapler connecting with the intruder's arm and sinking its teeth in with a sickening click. Eve’s watered-over eyes focus on the intruder's face, instantly recognising her. “Fanny?!” Eve says, too shocked to move, to do anything other than lean over the bleeding Fanny, stapler still in her arm. “Ow! It's Nadia, bitch.” She spits at Eve, ripping the stapler out of her arm and dropping it next to her with a clatter. “Ты сука! Ты чертовски пронзил меня!” She barks in fluent Russian, Eve still too shocked to move. She knew Fanny wasn’t who she said she was, the fact confirmed when she broke in, but this moment feels… worse than anything before. Nadia appears more unhinged, more animalistic, more… scary. There is a deadly twitch in eye and a furrow of her brows that alerts Eve that she should run, but her body doesn't respond in time. Nadia scrambles from the small puddle of blood she sat in, grabbing a fistful of Eve’s hair and dragging her to the floor, pressing a cloth over her nose and mouth. The tangy scent of battery acid and bleach fills the places where air once was until Eve’s consciousness floats out of her body, her brain never ceasing to repeat one word: Villanelle. When she awakes, the air that fills Eve’s lungs is damp, cold. It reminds her of her grandmother's cupboard: filled with mothballs and dampness. She twists her spine, groaning against the wet concrete as she tries to lift herself up off of the filthy floor, her eyes adjusting to her surroundings. Eve is in a storage unit, the large room lined with brown boxes and bubble wrapped packages while the middle of the room is cleared like a stage. Two yellow overhead lights beam down on her and a black sofa sits a few meters away facing Eve, semi-hidden in the shadows. Just as Eve begins to sit up, an unknown girl with short hair bursts into the unit, Villanelle in tow. Eve tries to cry out, reaching an arm out to Villanelle, who hasn’t noticed her yet. Just then, she notices a figure in the darkness of the room, perched atop the sofa as if she was in a painting. Nadia. She steps slowly into the light, bright red dress clinging to her curves in an admittedly breathtaking way as she moves, the double-layered fabric shimmering in the shitty lighting. Nadia’s hair is piled atop her head in a beautiful updo, two strands of hair left to curl freely around her strong jaw. Her lips are painted blood-red, and she wears elbow-length opera gloves to complete the disturbingly beautiful look. “Eve.” She speaks, gazing down at the shivering Eve, height added to her by blood red stilettos. Villanelle whirls around at the sound of her voice, watching as Nadia presses a heel into Eve’s cheek, pressing her head into the moist concrete as Eve fights to regain the feeling in her limbs. “Eve!” Villanelle starts toward her before stopping in her tracks. She whirls around, launching at the girl who she arrived with and slamming her against a wall. “What is going on here?” Villanelle’s voice starts out aggressive, slowly moving into a singsong-like lilt. The girl looks as shocked as her. “I - I don’t know! Fanny said-” Nadia pulls a gun from her stocking, aiming it at the distressed girl’s head and smiling a sickening grin, one that twists at the edges. Villanelle’s face remains an unchanging mask of neutrality as she backs away from the whimpering blonde, removing her elbow from her throat and standing still. “Not you again.” Villanelle laughs, the sound hollow and abrasive as it bounces off the walls of the unit. “Ha - Ha - Ha! You are just so obsessed with me, aren’t you?” Nadia points the gun at the blonde once more and squeezes the trigger, causing Eve to scream as the bullet hits Maya between the eyes, her body crumpling to the floor in a pile. Villanelle looks at the body passively, concealing the panic in her eyes with a yawn. “Nadia, when will you give up on this one-sided revenge mission?” Villanelle accentuates her words with her hands, shaking them in front of her as she walks closer to Nadia. Eve remains on the floor, still feeling too wobbly to stand, fresh panic washing over her every few seconds. “And what is with the outfit?” Nadia smiles. “I am about to break a couple up. I have to dress for the occasion.” This catches Villanelle off guard, the mocking smile she wore just a moment before melting off of her face. “What do you mean? Aren't you here to kill me?” It is Nadia’s turn to laugh now as she strolls to the couch and flops down. “To kill you wouldn’t be enough. I want to take away everything you hold dear. And luckily, everything you hold dear is sprawled on my floor like a dying insect.” Eve groans with frustration at this, scared, confused, and sickened at this hellbent situation. Nadia stands again, strolling over to Eve and crouching next to her. “Do you know where you met…Hayley?” She says, voice mocking. Eve pants, willing her legs to carry her away from this psychopath. Nadia notices her wriggling, click-clacking to a cardboard box, and pulls out a set of zipties. Eve is too weak to fight her off as she encloses them on her wrists and ankles. “What is wrong with you?” She screams, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She doesn't even know who her words are aimed at anymore, the freakish Nadia or the backstabbing Villanelle. “Answer my question, Eve.” Nadia hisses next to her ear. “We met at work.” Eve decides to play along with this disturbing question-time as she twitches on the ground. “Wrong! Would you like to know where you really met the first time?” Eve feels a pang of ice strike her heart. “Where?” She replies monotonously, refusing to let Nadia know that her revelation has shocked her. Nadia smiles. “Does Vxx ring a bell?”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Eve’s vision doubles, the voices in her head growing too loud to ignore, screaming at her that the proof was there all along. V. The dress. Her secrecy. Eve struggles to her knees, the zipties rubbing her wrists and ankles until they bleed as she stares at the dumbfounded Villanelle, frozen on the sofa. Eve roars a broken, animalistic sound, her voice hoarse as tears flow faster than before from her wild eyes. “I know that you’ve lied to me before. But why wouldn't you tell me? Why would you watch me -” Eve swallows more rising bile in her throat. “Watch me do those things to myself and then show up at my workplace and make me fall in love with you?” Eve’s voice cracks, her eyebrows knitting as she thrashes violently, causing blood to spill faster from her wrists and ankles. Nadia sits cross - legged on the damp floor next to her, watching this display with a satisfied grin. Villanelle stands slowly, her expression unreadable as she nears Eve. Nadia stands quickly, blocking Villanelle from Eve and pressing the cold barrel of the gun to Villanelle’s already - bleeding stab wound, pushing her back down onto the sofa and turning. “That's not all, Eve.” She returns to her spot on the floor, just out of reach from the now still woman, sprawled on the floor as she sobs quietly. “Do you know what Villanelle does as a job?” Eve is silent. “She is an assassin. Like me.” Nothing. Eve knew there was something, knew she was being lied to somehow by Villanelle, knew there was something off about her. But she was intrigued. She let herself be lied to. Because Eve expected the lie to be something explainable. Something forgivable. Because Eve trusted Villanelle, thought she knew her, felt so close to her in such a short time. Eve thought that if Villanelle entrusted her with her darkness, she’d love it. The deliciousness of Villanelle, part of her earth - shattering intrigue was the darkness, was the way she made Eve feel like she was normal and everyone else was strange, but these dangerous, personal secrets? These lies? Eve couldn't do it. She wanted to share the dark parts of her, explore them with Villanelle. Together. But now, who does she have left?Eve curls into a ball, her small shoulders shaking as she feels her body go numb. Nadia laughs coldly, the red dress looking less beautiful and more menacing under the buzzing lights, the colour of blood and anger and bitterness. She returns the gun to her stocking, her teeth a stark contrast to the shocking red lipstick. Eve watches as Nadia turns, physically changes. It is as if she has dropped a mask of normalcy, revealing the twisted, horrifying monster beneath. Her green eyes become dark, full eyebrows angling menacingly above her eagle - like gaze. Her mouth twists into what once was a grin, twisted and sharp in all the parts that it shouldn't be as she gazes between Villanelle, unreadable on the couch, and Eve, crumpled on the floor. She steps slowly toward Villanelle, hips swaying in a purposefully seductive way as she nears closer and closer, rubbing a gloved hand along the back of the sofa as she sits in Villanelle’s lap, feeling her stiffen beneath her. Eve watches on in dull interest as she lays, aching, on the floor. Nadia grabs Villanelle’s face abruptly, tilting her pretty face toward her own. “How does it feel?” She purrs out the words, grinning insanely. This grin soon melts off of her face when she doesn’t get a rise out of Villanelle. Instead Villanelle sits perfectly still, staring straight ahead like a statue, a total contradiction to her usual behaviour. As this sick display goes on, Eve’s broken mind begins to piece together something.A plan. But she needs Villanelle’s help. Eve sits up slowly. She avoids Villanelle’s gaze, struggling onto her knees as Nadia watches silently, hand still gripping Villanelle’s face and squeezing it harder and harder. “Nadia.” She turns to look at Eve. “What exactly did Villanelle do to you?” A beat of silence. Nadia gets up off of Villanelle, walking over to Eve and wrenching her to her feet by the zip ties around her wrists, Eve biting her lower lip as the plastic further lassarates the gentle skin with the force of the movement. She drags her three agonizing steps to the couch and throws her onto it next to Villanelle, inserting herself between the two. Eve quickly glances at her arm where Eve had stapled and notices a small blood - red wound dressing stuck atop it. As Nadia begins to tell her story of betrayal, Eve pretends to be intrigued, pretends to be shocked at the right times, gasping audibly for dramatic effect. While Nadia speaks, Villanelle now avoids eye contact with Eve, even as she leans behind Nadia’s back and nods her head around slightly to get her attention. Finally, after coughing very quietly, Villanelle looks at Eve. Eve looks from Villanelle’s face to the gun strapped around Nadia’s upper leg, the outline easy to make out through the thin skirt fabric. Villanelle’s eyes follow hers, returning with a confused look, as if to say ‘How am I supposed to get it?’ Eve clears her throat as Nadia finishes retelling the story, tears filling her eyes as she describes the look on Villanelle’s face, a shit - eating grin, before going silent. Eve waits a moment. “Are you going to make me kill her?” Nadia’s eyes snap to Eve’s own, shocked for a second. Eve knows Nadia didn’t plan this, knows she isn't smart enough, too consumed by getting her revenge to think about what that revenge might be past the promise of murder and the ruining of relationships. Nadia blinks. “How could you tell?” Eve screws her eyes shut. “I assumed.” Nadia stands, pretending to have had this idea all along, walking smoothly to the place where Eve once laid. She reaches into another cardboard box, pulling out a pair of scissors and nearing Eve. “I want to see you squirm.” With that, she cuts the zip ties bounding Eve’s wrists and ankles, pulling the gun from her stocking once more and sitting on the couch, directing Eve and Villanelle to stand in the light in front of her with the barrel of her gun. She stands, click - clacking over to Villanelle and digging into her pocket, pulling out a small pocket knife. “Knew you’d have one on you.” She places it in the unmoving Villanelle’s hands before returning to her spot on the couch. “Come on, Villanelle! Betray her! Betray her like you betrayed me-” Suddenly, Villanelle springs to life. The pale, unmoving mannequin she once was becomes something animalistic as she launches at Eve, the knife in her hand clutched violently, blade - forward and inches from Eve’s face. Villanelle grabs her by the shoulders, spinning her around so that her back is to Nadia. Eve has no time to realize what's happening as Villanelle’s blade continues past her face, leaving Villanelle’s hands as she throws it. Eve turns her head to watch with baited breath as it sails through the air and lodges itself between Nadia’s brows. The connection makes a dull, wet spurt as the blade penetrates Nadia’s skull, red blood spurting in a sickeningly beautiful way from the wound. Eve can only watch on as Nadia stands, opera - gloved hand reaching for the handle of the knife to remove it from her skull when Eve gets an idea. She lunges forward, pressing a thumb into Nadia’s bandaged staple - wound and watching on as Nadia’s knees buckle, her red dress sprawling out around her as she clatters magnificently to the damp floor. Villanelle bends to remove the gun from Nadia’s twitching, stocking - covered - leg, before leaning down to Nadia's face. “See you in hell.” With that, she stands over Nadia, extending her arm holding the gun and tightening a finger around the trigger. “Wait.” Eve says, causing Villanelle’s eyes to snap up to meet Eve’s own, a mixture of remorse, love, lust, and anger swirling in them. Eve steps forward, pressing her back into Villanelles as she extends her arm to hold the trigger lightly, over the top of Villanelle’s own thumb. The two exchange a glance, one so full of emotion that words could not describe them, before squeezing the trigger, both faces being splattered in the blood of Nadia. Eve surveys her body for a moment - the way her skull doesn’t look real anymore, opened like a flower. Eve can’t tell where Nadia’s dress ends and the blood begins, and she likes it. HELLO SORRY THAT I DIED! final chapter next x
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Eve stands still, still looking on at the bloody, blooming flower that is, or once was, Nadia’s head. Villanelle is silent, standing still behind her. Eve can feel her breath on the back of her neck, can feel her warmth. But she can’t. She can’t let herself fall into those warm arms, can’t let her lips touch that soft face, can’t. She wants to run. Wants to leave and never come back. But she knows now that this connection, this invisible string wound around both women will always bring them back together, will never let her go. Not that she wants it to. “Villanelle.” Eve turns slowly, taking in the beautiful, tall, perfect woman standing still behind her, a calmness amongst the red smears of blood. “Eve.” She breathes, not making any move toward her, waiting for her fate to be revealed. Eve holds all the cards now. She can walk away. She can crash her lips against Villanelle’s. She can sink a knife into her chest and rip out her cold heart. Instead, Eve offers her hand. A bridge. She waits a beat, daring to look into Villanelle’s unreadable eyes. When V makes no move to take it, Eve speaks. “I can’t forgive you. Not yet. But I know there's something here - something between us - that I can’t walk away from. I think I love you, Villanelle. And I think in your own way, you love me back.” Villanelle looks shocked for a moment, hazel eyes flashing, before she allows a single tear to slip down her porcelain cheek. “I do. I don’t know how to- How to do this. But I am sorry, Eve. And I love you. I’m sorry for all of this. I know you think I don’t mean it, but for once in my life I do. I really, really do.” Eve watches as this woman, once an enigma, a shadow, a dangerous figure, opens herself up in front of her like this. Watches as Villanelle allows herself to be vulnerable. For Eve.Villanelle may not be like everyone else. She may not express her love like everyone else does. She may never fully relax, may never unlearn her killer instincts, may never be “normal.” But Eve loves it. She loves the way Villanelle becomes more and more human in front of her eyes, loves her ethereal soul. She loves the way Villanelle tries, even in small moments, to make up for what she’s done. Loves Villanelle, in her entirety. Her beautiful monster. The bodies were blamed on a freak accident, a hostage situation where Nadia had holed up the innocent Maya in a shipping container. When Maya revolted, Nadia had shot her but not before Maya had shot back, the two dying together in a sickeningly beautiful conclusion to their story. Maya’s body was returned to her parents who buried her in a chique mosaic coffin, while Nadia’s remains were buried in an unmarked grave somewhere in Russia, probably paid for by the Twelve. Elena was released from prison on probation, the judge and jury convinced that she did not commit these acts, Elena insisting on the fact that it was an unknown person who broke into the office building and framed her. Villanelle had thrown her Twelve - issued phone into the Thames, Eve sitting next to her in a comfortable silence just minutes after they had put an end to Nadia. Together. Now, you may ask? Eve and Villanelle left. They took few belongings, maybe a few trinkets, Eve sold her apartment, trading it in for a caravan. And now? They travel. Some may call it running. Running from the Twelve, running from countless enemies somehow entangled with either Eve or Villanelle at some point in their lives. But these two women? They find the beauty in the mundane. Villanelle wakes up early to go hunting most mornings. She says it satisfies her, finding the best hunting locations for every new place they travel to. Eve makes coffee and sits on a fold - up lawn chair in whatever park, beach, or forest they end up in next, sipping it loudly and waiting for her lover to return. Villanelle set up a filming spot for Eve in the caravan - a spare bed with the wall behind it painted green and all of her toys being stored in a pull - out drawer under it. Eve has been researching how to use greenscreen, the purpose of the green wall, while Villanelle cuts up whatever animal she brings back that evening. They work - part time jobs, a few weeks at a time, in local cafes, grocery stores, libraries, take out shops. It's enough, plus the income from Eve’s career, recently gaining a lot more traction because of the gradual incline in video quality and setup. Villanelle has an uncountable amount of money from her Twelve career, with which she buys the ridiculously expensive clothes she loves not just for herself, but for Eve too. Eve sometimes breaks down, panicking about the fact that the Twelve could find them at any moment, but they don’t. Villanelle holds her at night while she cries, stroking her hair a little too harshly in the classic Villanelle - style, not quite understanding her girlfriends anguish but supporting her nonetheless. They experience the day - to - day, they bicker over who’s going to take the trash out next, they have sex buried beneath the sheets of the bed they share. Eve worries that Villanelle will grow tired of her, but she seems happier than ever, seems free. Tonight, especially, almost a year later, Villanelle stands in the kitchen of the caravan, humming along to a song on the radio but getting none of the words correct as she washes the dishes in a too - expensive Chanel shirt. Eve returns to the caravan, dressed in her waitress uniform as she’s returning from a shift. “You look cute.” Villanelle calls over the top of the counter, ignoring Eve as she rolls her eyes. “It's a ridiculous outfit.” Villanelle smiles. “Ridiculously cute.” Eve groans. “Stop making fun of me!” Villanelle looks mock - hurt by this, folding her lip down. “I am not!” Her voice rises an octave in hurt, crossing her arms. “I can’t believe you expect the worst of me.” Eve laughs. “With your track record, if I don’t I’ll be dead.” Villanelle laughs loudly at this, eyes creasing at the corners in a beautiful way. “Eve. I bought you something.” Eve groans again. “Oksana. You can’t keep spending your money on me!” Villanelle makes a faint hum of ignorance as she digs through her closet for the item. She bumps her head while pulling it out, leaping over to Eve and thrusting a lacy red thing at her. “Try it on. Please.” Eve sighs, unfolding the truly beautiful piece in front of her. A red and black laced bodice with matching silk panties, the embroidery delicate and beautiful - small doves, cherry blossoms, and roses in black and white. “V!” Eve gasps, rarely taken - aback by clothing like her girlfriend is, but this piece takes the cake. “It's… It's gorgeous, Oksana. Really. Thank you.” Eve unbuttons her jeans and frilly apron, changing calmly while Villanelle watches on in excitement. Once Eve secures the bodice properly, Villanelle’s eyes widen. Eve laughs at her face, padding over to sit in her lap. The two share a passionate kiss, Eve’s hands tracing Villanelle’s jawline as they lean back together onto the plushness of the bed the two share.This is the ending they deserve. THE END! I love you, thank you for reading as this journey ends. Killing Eve has ended, but that doesn't mean that the people who enjoy it need to move on! I may write another tale, I may not. But thank you for being here. For the final time, Nx.