#i hope this js okay i had to take a xanax halfway thru so it mifht be a bit whack

[carsonshawson]

For soft!Villanelle—5 years later, after the Villanelle goes through a spree across Europe and finally dismantles the 12, and Eve just welcoming V home with open arms.

she didn’t think she’d be this nervous.

she’s never nervous.

people like her don’t get nervous.

but now, her clammy hands grip the cab door handle and nearly slip off, and she is proving all the psychology textbooks wrong.

it wasn’t hard to find her new address. a quick google, and eve’s name showed up in an article about her receiving an award for her work in taking down an international terrorist conspiracy. she’s the head of her own department at mi6. carolyn martens was fired shortly after she was charged with treason for trading state secrets with other nations and organizations.

villanelle phoned the department, disguising her voice as a bubbly british government official looking to mail a certificate to eve’s home. the assistant, who sounded remarkably like elena, gave it to her easily, and villanelle wondered if she knew who she actually was.

they haven’t spoke in the five years since the shooting. a text message here or there about the locations of safehouses for high ranking members of the 12, but nothing more. she never tried to communicate further. she was afraid. afraid eve wouldn’t forgive her.

but most of all, she was embarrassed. embarrassed of her actions. the hurt, the pain and rejection, she couldn’t handle it, and she dealt with it the only way she knew how. and god what a stupid fucking decision that was.

she turned around after a few steps, realizing her mistake. she ran faster than her legs could carry her and scooped eve’s unconscious body into her arms. she carried her outside the ruins, hot wired a car, and sped to the hospital as fast as she could. eve was just starting to gain consciousness as she placed her outside the emergency room entrance.

she let out an audible groan when villanelle propped her up.

villanelle pulled her close, burying her face in her hair. “i’m sorry. i didn’t—“

eve doesn’t let her finish. “i know.” she coughs and looks villanelle in the eyes. “i know.”

she slowly cocks her head at the car, and villanelle takes the signal to leave. she gets up, stiff, and climbs back in the vehicle. she can feel eve’s eyes burning into her as she turns the ignition.

eve recovered, obviously. villanelle would call the hospital every day for updates, each time using a different accent and name for both her and eve’s amusement. then, a few months later, she received a long text from eve, describing how she planned to take down the 12 using a new informant, and she needed villanelle’s help to take care of the less legal aspects. villanelle agreed. she would always agree.

so began a partnership of few words. an address, a name, a picture. and villanelle would be off. she snapped their necks one by one over the course of five years. she thought of eve for every moment of it. until it was over.

she debated contacting eve for weeks after she killed the last of the 12. she wondered if eve forgave her. if she still wanted her the way she once did.

it was the article that made the decision for her. eve’s bright smile as she accepted her award for her service to the country. villanelle traced her thumb over the outline of her lips, and now she is in a car outside eve’s new london flat.

the cabbie clears his throat, annoyed. “we’re here. are you going to get out or should i keep the meter going?”

villanelle shakes her head and shoves a wad of bills into his palm. “keep the change.”

“th-th-thank you, ma’am,” he sputters as she climbs out, slamming the door behind her.

the journey to the front door is treacherous. sheer willpower drags her feet forward. her heart attempts to claw it’s way out of her chest.

she shakily raises a finger to the doorbell. and honestly, this nervous feeling kind of sucks. she remembers when she couldn’t feel things. the overwhelming numbness and boredom. now, she feels so much, and she realizes being normal is fucking annoying. here she is, a cold blooded killer, terrified to talk to a woman who can barely shoot a gun.

but, she guesses, eve is more than that.

she takes the leap and presses the bell. it rings loud and clear, and she hears footsteps flurry from upstairs.

“coming!” a voice calls. villanelle freezes. she’s back at the hospital again. i know, eve says, i know.

before she has time to react, the door swings open, revealing a disheveled eve. she wears a loose t shirt and a pair of joggers. her hair is down but in complete disarray. she’s holding at least 2 packed binders in her arms.

and god, is she beautiful.

eve raises her eyebrows, but is clearly not surprised to see villanelle at her doorstep.

“hi,” villanelle manages past the lump in her throat.

“hi,” eve replies.

they stare at each other for a couple seconds.

“you called my office. elena told me.”

villanelle nods slowly, eyes caught on eve’s lips.

eve steps to the side and turns her head away. “do you want to come in?”

villanelle blinks in surprise. “yes.”

“okay.” eve opens the door wider, and villanelle crosses the threshold.

the inside of the flat is very eve. it’s walls are bare, papers and photos are strewn across every surface. there’s some old takeout containers on the countertop. eve looks sheepish.

“sorry for the mess. it’s been crazy.”

“i don’t mind.” villanelle glances around more, appreciating her idiosyncrasies.

silence again.

eve runs a hand through her hair. “you look the same.”

“so do you,” villanelle smiles back.

eve laughs. “oh god no. i must be almost completely gray at this point. me and hair dye have become best friends.”

villanelle shakes her head, stepping closer, palms still sweaty. eve sucks in a breath but doesn’t move.

“you look beautiful,” she murmurs, desperately wanting to touch her. she refrains for the time being.

brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, eve puts her gaze to the ground. “thank you.” her voice is lower than before.

she jerks her head to the mess of a kitchen. “do you want water or a drink? some champagne maybe?”

villanelle chuckles. “i am okay, eve.” she tries to act blasé and hopes it isn’t abundantly clear she doesn’t know what she’s doing. around her, she never does.

“i poured some wine before so i’m just gonna...” she makes a gesture to a mug sitting on the countertop.

“please go ahead.”

eve pads over and takes a sip. “it’s over, huh. weird, isn’t it?”

villanelle follows. “it is.”

“what will you do now? there’s no one left to kill.”

“oh eve,” villanelle sighs. “there’s always people to kill.”

eve snorts into her mug. “i guess that’s true.”

“but,” villanelle shrugs off her coat and puts it over a chair with a metric ton of papers stacked onto it, “i’m thinking of retiring. or at least, a long vacation.”

“yeah?” eve takes a big sip. “where will you go?”

they lock eyes.

“i don’t know. i was thinking alaska. i haven’t forgotten about it.”

“mm.” eve muses. her sip turns into a swig.

villanelle clenches her teeth, drinking in eve’s appearance, her smell, her everything. she decides to open the floodgates because she might as well. “remember what you told me in my apartment? that day you stabbed me.”

“i remember.” eve’s expression is unreadable. it’s ironic because the diagnosed psychopath wears her heart on her sleeve, but this seemingly normal woman can hide herself in plain sight.

villanelle takes a deep breath.

“i haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

she doesn’t dare look at eve. she’s too afraid of what she’ll see. anger. rejection. amusement. all possibilities at this point.

she hears eve’s mug clatter as she puts it down. suddenly, eve’s body is next to hers. they haven’t been this close since rome. heat radiates off of her, their chests almost touching.

she feels a cool palm on her cheek, turning her head in eve’s direction, gently but with purpose, so she is forced to look at eve in the eyes.

the shorter woman is staring at her, ferocity burning in her expression. one of the things villanelle loves about her.

“me neither.” eve whispers. villanelle feels herself tremble and silently scolds her body for betraying her.

“i’m sorry.” villanelle echoes the words she said five years ago on the emergency room steps. a tear rolls down her cheek.

arms wrap around her in a tight hug. eve’s pulls her close, squeezing as much as possible as if to stop the tremors wracking through her. villanelle wraps her fingers in eve’s hair and soaks her in.

“i know.” eve’s breath is hot on her neck. “i know.”

and villanelle knows too. she knows.

#soft!villanelle #killing eve #i hope this js okay i had to take a xanax halfway thru so it mifht be a bit whack