#schaddenfreude prompts

[schaddenfreude]

Stay With Me

Villanelle doesn't know how long she's been unconscious when the light of Helene's immaculately decorated mansion comes back into focus.

Was it five seconds or five minutes? Five hours? Five days even.

All that mattered was the only thing that ever mattered. Even as her life drained from her,  carried adrift on the river of warm, sticky, oozing red liquid. Even as she sputtered for breath to form the name on her lips on a strangled cry, Eve was all that mattered.

Was she safe?

Villanelle's mind wouldn't allow her body any respite from the torment of her injuries until she knew. So she clung on, screaming for Eve; reaching out through the thick forest of ever encroaching slumber.

Helene had fucked off already. For all she knew, her old boss was already dead, but she had made certain that she couldn't, or at the very least wouldn't, hurt Eve anymore. That was all that mattered. Her mind drifted back to a conversation they had shared some six months ago in this very room. She couldn't help the painful laugh that spilled from deep within her only to end on a gargled, hacking cough as coppery blood expelled itself from her lungs.

Helene had told her with such certainty that she could kill Villanelle before Villanelle got the chance to do the same. A victorious smile split her bloody lips at the thought that she had thoroughly proven her old boss wrong.

A warm pair of arms wrapping around her shoulders pulled Villanelle from the haze of her injuries

Eve?

When did she get here? Ah! Yes! She is the reason Villanelle is lying in the floor bleeding out in the first place. Helene was going to kill Eve. The only thing Villanelle remembers clearly after that is a blind fury unlike anything she's ever felt before. And then, after it was all spent, she came to on the floor of Helene's conference room.

"E..Eve." She mutters weakly as she feels Eve pull her into her lap. Eve is frantic and Villanelle doesn't quite have the energy to understand why. Everything feels so peaceful. Everything is okay.

"Shh...dont talk. Just stay awake!" She feels fingertips stroking gently at her face, and hears the warbled conversation Eve is having on the phone, but it all feels so distant. The only thing she can cling onto is Eve's face. Such a worried expression she has. It makes Villanelle frown to think that Eve is fretting for.

Everything is peaceful. Why isn't Eve peaceful?

If she lets herself, she thinks it might be nice to just slip away into darkness, but something about Eve keeps her holding on. Eve needs her to hold on.

"Stay with me." Eve pleads over and over again, trying to stop the bleeding with so much futility. And just where the fuck is that medic she called for? The minutes tick by like hours and she grows more anxious with each passing second.

She can't watch Villanelle die. She can't!

She would've rather been tortured and killed by Helene.

Eve holds on tighter to Villanelle as if that will make her stay just a little bit longer; as if she's playing tug of war with the grim reaper for Villanelle's very soul.

She cries, letting out a frustrated angry sob and beating a fist into the ground with rage. Villanelle looks curiously up at her through foggy, mostly vacant eyes as if to say "why are you upset? You should be at peace."

That's the last thing she can be when her only family is fading away under her fingertips and she's helpless to stop it.

Then, Villanelle reaches a shaky hand up to stroke Eve's hair, caressing down the side of her face. There's a smile on her lips and and unspoken apology in her eyes. Eve knows she can't stay awake any longer.

"Beautiful..." She breaths out, and her hand slips down Eve's chest to fall limp at her side.

Eve feels her heart rip from her chest and throw itself into a chasm full of spikes.

[schaddenfreude]

Forever

Here we go! Part 3 of my post-bridge drabbles and part 2 of smut! Enjoy!

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"Are you sure?" Villanelle asks, her hands hovering around the waist band of Eve's trousers. She can feel her whole body thrumming with anticipation. Then, in the next moment, she's enveloped by Eve as their lips and tongues find each other once more. Eve nibbled a hot, wet trail down Villanelle's long, graceful neck and then she's taking an earlobe into her teeth.

"Yes."

Such a small word; a simple affirmation. But, like a spark in a pile of hay, it ignites a blaze that threatens to consume these two women. And they are content to let it.

In another time, Paris maybe, Villanelle would've been aggressive. She usually is when it comes to sex. All predatory dominance and lust. She takes joy in invading her partners' senses; consuming them entirely until they have nothing left to give, then discarding them for the next fuck toy.

But Eve is different. As she is in so many ways. Villanelle wants to take her time; wants to truly know Eve. So, she slides the trousers down inch by glorious inch, each patch of skin there is to caress proves more thrilling than the last. She follows her hands will gentle kisses and nips down Eve's thighs.

There's a small cut on Eve's right leg just above the knee and Villanelle frowns when she sees it.

"Shaving accident." Eve answers the silent question and Villanelle almost purrs reverently as she bends down to kiss that spot.

Eve positively aches at the care and attention Villanelle is showing. She's fascinated and enamored with every side of the younger woman, but this caring and attentive side is quickly becoming her favorite. She feels uncomfortably distant suddenly and all that matters is the need to be near Villanelle. To feel flesh against flesh.

She grabs at Villanelle's shirt again, ignoring the surprised huff she receives in response, and yanks it right off of Villanelle's back, pulling them back into each other.

"That's rude." Villanelle whispers, smug and defective, before they are kissing again. Without the clothing between them, their hands are left free to explore. The only sound in the room is the rustle of bed sheets and the signs that escape them as hands wander over each other's bodies, sending shivers through both of them.

Neither quite remembers how, but somewhere along the way, they've both come out of their bras. Villanelle pulls her attention away from Eve's mouth and begins a journey down.

Down...down...down.

Down past Eve's neck, and over her collarbone, and finally to her breasts. Eve lets a sigh escape as Villanelle takes a breast into her mouth, bringing one hand up to play with the other has her lips suck and her tongue laves over the sensitive mound of flesh.

Her free hand snakes down lower, toward Eve's underwear. She pauses once more, silently asking permission as her mouth continues to worship Eve's breasts.

The hand that Eve doesn't have gently nestled in Villanelle's hair slides down to hold Villanelle's hand at her underwear, sliding then both down past the cotton barrier together.

They both groan at the contact when Villanelle makes the first experimental strokes around that delicious heat, reading at Eve's folds, but not quite going where Eve needs her most.

Eve is deliciously wet, and this small act of intimacy feels so...so utterly right. Villanelle actually sheds tears. Eve's hand in her hair coaxed her to make eye contact and they look into each other with a wide eyed wonder as they feel something else lock into place, joining them even tighter together. This is where they are meant to be.

"Please." Eve repeats for the second time that night. It makes Villanelle want to kiss her, and so she does. Their lips meet as Villanelle finds Eve's clit and Eve moans into the kiss at the jolt that starts in her core and emanates through her entire being.

"God, I love you." Eve whispers after, head lolling back into the pillow as Villanelle sets a deliciously, agonizingly slow pace between her legs.

"What?" Villanelle's pace falters only slightly, and she pulls back from Eve's forehead to look at her. In the moon light, with her chest heaving in desperate need, and her face flushed with desire, Villanelle thinks this is the most beautiful she has ever looked.

They've both imagined this scenario countless times, though Eve would be more reluctant to admit it. But here, in the moment, it was unlike anything either had dreamed of. They both felt as if they would come from the sheer intensity alone.

"I love you." Eve repeats, savoring the words on her tongue and finally admitting out loud the truth of them to herself and to Villanelle.

The flame roars ever larger at the gasoline that's just been thrown on it and Villanelle's pace grows more urgent as Eve fights amid her building pleasure to be coordinated enough to pull Villanelle's trousers down.

Villanelle continues to plunge her fingers into the depths of Eve, not once faltering as she kicks off her boots to allow Eve to remove her pants. Someone growls a little bit, someone else hisses, nails drag down Villanelle's back over the taught muscles that are dancing in effort just under the skin.

And then Eve manages to flip them, bracing her hands on either side of Villanelle's face.

The predator becomes the prey.

Villanelle swallows down her pleasure with a gulp, regarding Eve's predatory expression with wide, surprised eyes. A smirk makes its way across her face as she watches Eve lick her lips.

"You're not hiding any weapons, I hope."

In truth, Eve could utterly destroy her and she thinks that she might say thank you as she feels her blood pool around her.

"Asshole." Eve observes with a fond acceptance, delighting in the response she gets when she brings her hand down to cup Villanelle at her center. Her finger slides up and down over the fabric, encouraging the growing dampness.

"You're going to ruin me." Villanelle says wistfully, reading Eve's mind.

"But you'd like that. Wouldn't you?" Eve taunts, feeling a rush of power and confidence that only add to her arousal.

Yes! Villanelle wants to scream. Instead, she reminds Eve with a thrust of her fingers into sweet, damp heat that she is not entirely powerless.

"What do you want, Eve?" Her voice drops into that husky, sultry tone that brought Eve to ruin on one late night in Rome.

"You." Eve sighs out, grinding herself on both Villanelle's fingers and her lap with an urgent, instinctive need to chase at that feeling of release. Her control of the situation is slipping, and Villanelle is all too eager to catch it.

"Say it again, Eve" Villanelle flips them over and they are skin to skin, chest to chest, body to body, once more.

They both shiver at the intensity of their eye contact as Villanelle resumes making love to her and Eve teases Villanelle's clit.

"I want you." Eve repeats, breathless. She raises her head to kiss Villanelle once more, drinking in everything she has to give and offering herself in return.

"For how long?" Villanelle's palm brushes against Eve's clit on each thrust, unforgiving and just...so... right. In turn, Eve works Villanelle to her own release, holding their faces close with her free hand.

She presses soft kisses to the side of Villanelle's face, her hairline, her temple, pulling back to make eye contact as they both threaten to come undone.

"Forever." The statement turns into a whine and Eve comes suddenly and violently on Villanelle's fingers. In the throes of her passion she misses the elated sob that is pulled from Villanelle's throat at her words.

And after the waves of her orgasm subside, she crawls on top of Villanelle, and joins their fingers over Villanelle's heart, repeating herself before she crawls down the length of Villanelle's slender, toned body to finish what she started.

"Forever."

[schaddenfreude]

Thoughts on Love

Cordelia was no stranger to love. At least, that's what she thought.

In the months after Misty's return from hell, where they could properly get to know each other without the worry of outside threats weighing on them, Cordelia realized that she had been show few instances of real love.

Fiona. God there was so much to say about Fiona.

She could never really say her mother tried to be a good mom. She was manipulative, emotionally (and occasionally physically) abusive, and just an all around spiteful bitch. Maybe she had always known somewhere deep in whatever remained of her heart that she would be succeeded to the throne by her own daughter.

Whatever her flaws, Cordelia knew that Fiona did love her, in whatever twisted way she was capable.

And then there was Myrtle. Her true mother.

Myrtle seemed to be everything that Fiona was not.

Kind. Gentle. Eccentric. Diplomatic.

In her first few weeks at the Academy when she was a child, Myrtle had taken to her instantly. She treated Cordelia with soft praise and gentle affection where her previous experience had been with harsh, biting resentment and relentless criticism. This was her first experience in forming a healthy relationship with another person.

Hank loved her; she knew. Hell, he got himself killed because he loved her. But it was always doomed. He'd been deceitful and unfaithful since the beginning. But Cordelia was foolish. Her mother's influence had blinded her to the gaslighting and bullshit of those around her. In part because she came to be numb to it and in part because she wanted to see the best in people.

Meeting Misty completely rocked the foundation of everything she thought she knew about love. Where others took and took and took from her until she was left destitute, Misty gave. It was as if she breathed life back into Cordelia a little bit at a time like she was one of Misty's deceased swamp creatures.

Where Myrtle was everything Fiona was not, Misty was everything Hank was not. She was refreshingly honest, easy going, and she had a way of lighting up the room, as cliché as it is to say.

There was no fear or uncertainty in loving Misty. Only a safety and security unlike any she'd ever known. It was easy, not an arduous task like her marriage to Hank had seemed at times. Everyday she felt her self pulled a little further into Misty's orbit, one inch at a time.

Cordelia had learned real love, and it was the best think she'd ever learned.

[schaddenfreude]

What Are You Wearing?

Eve liked to think that she was something of an expert on Villanelle. She often knew and accepted the younger woman for who she was rather than what she could offer, as most people viewed her. Still, if there was one thing Eve knew absolutely unequivocally about Villanelle, it was that she was full of surprises.

It happened a few moments after their talk on the bridge. They had effectively moved in with each other into an off the grid safe house and spent this time together exploring the facets of this new dimension to their relationship.

Naturally, cohabitating came with the discovery of various idiosyncrasies. Villanelle liked to sleep spread eagle across the bed, snoring like a chainsaw. Eve had a bizarre need to always shut the door whenever she was in the bathroom. It didn't matter what she was doing at the time.

The most surprising aspect of their mutual discovery of each other was, to Eve's judgment, Villanelle's bedroom attire. Even in her wildest imaginings, Eve had always assumed the assassin's pajamas would match the expertly crafted bespoke outfits she wore on a daily basis. The first time she saw Villanelle come to bed in a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles tee, Eve could hardly explain herself.

Villanelle had shot her a sexy little pout to make her forget about teasing and a few moments later, that shirt was crumpled in the floor.

Her absolute favorite of the cartoonish bedtime outfits was a pair of superhero pajamas that were about eight sizes too small.

"What are you wearing? Where on Earth did you get those?" Eve stifled a giggle the first time Villanelle wore them in front of her.

"Not important." Villanelle shrugged, making herself comfortable in the bed and wrapping herself around Eve, ridiculous pajamas and all.

"Seriously. Are you even comfortable in that?"

"Would you rather I wore nothing, Eve?" The way she waggled her eyebrows was positively criminal. And Eve almost fell for it.

Almost.

She swatted playfully at Villanelle's shoulder.

"No! This isn't happening! I'm not getting seduced while you wear super hero pajamas. "

Then came the anticipated guffaw, and then Villanelle's lips were against Eve's ear, her amused, sultry purr casting puffs of air against the older woman's neck as she invaded Eve's space.

"Oh, Eve...you say that like it would the first time."

Eve was a proverbial pile of putty in Villanelle's hands, and she damn well knew it. That voice never failed to turn her compliant, even when she was at her most obstinate.

"Okay..." Eve conceded, sighing as Villanelle's kisses burned a trail up her neck.

"Maybe just this once."

"Once." Villanelle repeated, her tone teasing and sarcastic. Eve pulled away to get a good look at her in the moonlight, in all of her super hero pajama clad beauty. She fixed Villanelle with the most stern look she could muster under the circumstances and playfully wagged her finger.

"Don't be a dick."

[schaddenfreude]

I'll Take The Couch

Quick note: just pretend for the sake of this story that Eve has a really tiny bed in her flat.

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They made it a whole 20 feet before turning around to look at each other.

As it turned out, Eve was terrible at taking direction from Villanelle, Villanelle had poor self restraint, and "never look back" went to shit in less than two minutes.

They stood matching each other's gazes for several more moments from across the 20 foot expanse that suddenly felt as if it were the whole fucking bridge. They needed to be close to one another, but neither could seem to make the first move.

Villanelle stepped forward first and what happened next was a whirlwind of emotion. They were crying and hugging in each others arms as swiftly as they had parted from each other only moments before. Passersby on the bridge spared them a passing glance, but otherwise, this moment belonged only to them; as it had on the dance floor mere hours before.

They pulled apart and their gazes connected again. Villanelle noted the brief flash of longing in Eve's eyes.

They had stood on each side of this chasm for so long; an eternity, really. Villanelle wondered if she should finally cross that gap, but dismissed the thought shortly thereafter.

No. Not just yet. They needed to be completely alone.

And so the pair made their way to Eve's shabby little flat overlooking the Thames.

Villanelle had effectively quit The Twelve and had nowhere to go. The Twelve did not take kindly to resignation and so none of her safe houses would be as "safe" as they once were.

"Sorry." Eve shrugs once they make it into her bedroom only to be met with the sight of her small, single person cot that was masquerading as a mattress.

"I can take the couch." Villanelle offers as the mood in the room shifts to the awkwardness from earlier when they were figuring out who would lead their dance.

"No!" Eve says a little too quickly, surprising both of them. "I mean...please stay."

This time it's Villanelle who takes the lead in their little dance, laying herself down across the far side of the mattress and beckoning Eve to join her.

The older woman hesitates for a moment, noticing how little of the mattress is left and suddenly feeling incredibly nervous. Villanelle just offers her a soft smile as she opens her arms to allow Eve room to scoot towards her.

Eve frowns when Villanelle doesn't make a move to embrace her. Besides the facr that Eve craves her touch, cuddling is really the only way that they'll both fit on the mattress.

"I have to hold you, Eve." Villanelle announces in a soft whisper, her breath fanning out against Eve's cheek as her arms move to encase her bed partner.

They both melt into the embrace at the same time. It's like a feeling of coming home after a long journey, and they're all too content to bask in it. Before she can fully lose herself to the feeling of sleep, Villanelle feels compelled to raise one final question.

"Is this okay?"

Eve responds by turning over in her arms to face her, drinking her presence in for a long moment. It's just like when they met on the bus, Villanelle thinks. That spark of desire is in Eve's eyes again.

She closes that space between them, literal and metaphorical, and meets Villanelle's lips with her own. When they break apart she's got a sleepy, blissful smile on her face.

"Even better now."

[schaddenfreude]

A Friendly Visit

Madison Montgomery is a stone cold bitch, thank you very much. She's breezed through life since childhood on the wings of that carefully crafted reputation; using it as a tool to keep people at arms length. Most people didn't bother to look any deeper at her. Those that did knew the truth, though Madison would never admit it.

She supposes that soft inner coating inside her bitch exterior was to blame for why she had decided to take a little detour to Hawthorn while in California for an audition.

You see...Madison is something of a protector. Fiercely so with Stevie and the young witches in the coven. She puts on an act and rationalizes it to her coven, but inside she knows that she's fucked. She knows what it's like to have someone at her beck and call, wrapped around her finger. Over the years she finds herself doing the wrapping around the fingers of small child hands.

So she finds herself in California. That movie was all bullshit anyway. From the moment she'd seen bruises on Stevie that he made her swear not to tell his mom's about, she knew she would be here, choking the living fuck out of Ariel while his minions watched, completely immobilized by her mind control.

She isn't the Supreme, but damn if she's not a powerful witch. Still far more powerful than Ariel and his ilk can ever hope to be.

Finally, she releases Ariel from the grip of her magic and he slumps to the floor, gasping for breath. The magic subsides but her rage does not and she considers him for a moment. A hundred ways that she could end his miserable life flash before her eyes.

"Cordelia will hear about this." He sneers, feeling insulted at being attacked in his own domain.

Madison pretends to ponder that for a moment, resting her pointer finger to her chin in thought.

"Hmm...before or after you tell her that you allow her son to get beat up?" Madison laughs at his terrified expression. "She might even kill you herself."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Ariel insists.

"You know" Madison lights a cigarette. "You're a terrible liar." She points her attention to the warlock council. "At least these guys are half decent at it...when they can move."

"Anyway," She kneels down closer to Ariel, looming over him menacingly.

"If I have to make this visit again, I will kill you."

[schaddenfreude]

I Know A Guy

Villanelle stumbled as she wandered through the streets of London. It was well after dark, and to the casual observer, she would appear as a drunkard making her way home after an evening at the pub. But the truth of the matter was that she had been careless. Too careless.

She clutched the gash in her side, wheezing with effort. Each step seemed to make her vision blur ever closer toward unconsciousness.

She considered her options with what little was left of her rational thought. Last she knew, Konstantin was in London again. She could seek him out. But then he would end up in more trouble than he already was in. Also, their relationship wasn't exactly on great footing at the present. This choice would be shit.

She considered hailing a cab, but a cab meant a driver, and a driver she could not trust to keep this quiet. Also shit.

She sighed a little, both in resignation and at the burning pain fogging her senses.

It always came back to Eve, didn't it?

That night on the bridge, they agreed that they needed each other, no matter where that might lead. They both knew it would be mutually assured destruction, but they agreed to face it head on. Still, Villanelle determined that she would keep Eve safe for as long as possible. She couldn't involve her in this mess!

But then Villanelle was left with the truth that Eve was already involved. They practically lived together at this point. And Eve's entire job had put her squarely on the Twelve's radar even before Dasha. They were both in a constant state of danger, she reasoned. Fortunately, Eve's flat (their flat if she were being perfectly honest) was in a reasonable distance. She could make it before she passed out.

The steps dragged on like a slow march through town to the guillotine. Each block seemed impossibly longer than the last. The rows of town homes on either side of the street seemed reminiscent of large, monstrous gargoyles in the combination of the moonlight and her growing delirium. She pressed herself to focus, thinking of anything and everything she could to keep her moving. Finally, she tripped and fell against someone's front door with a loud thud that was completely devoid of any of her normal grace. She slid down to the ground, wondering if Eve would somehow find her as her eyes looked up at the porch light. It flickered to life suddenly and burned her eyes. If she had the strength, she would blink.

She could feel the warm, sticky lifeblood oozing through her fingertips.

Eve.

It always came back to her.

Her smile, her voice, her unconditional acceptance of Villanelle even after the fucked up things Villanelle had done. If this was the end, she was glad to go with thoughts of Eve on her mind.

Then she registered movement in her blurry vision. Her dulled senses began to sharpen, trying to make sense of it when she felt herself being moved. And was that a person's voice?

She felt a sharp sting in her face from someone's slap and her eyes grew wide when she finally began to register what happened.

Eve.

Her Eve.

She looked around to realize that she was slumped into their doorway. Eve had one of her arms slung around Villanelle just trying to keep her legs from crumbling like a stack of cards under her own weight. She brought Villanelle to the couch and made a mad dash for first aid supplies.

"We need to get you to a hospital!" Eve remarked, frantic. She was just composed enough to be able to think clearly.

"No! No hospital!" Villanelle vehemently objected, punctuating the point with a hiss of pain when Eve put an alcohol soaked rag over her.

She thrashed and swear words from a menagerie of languages poured from her lips. The pain was absolutely searing!

She ought to be accustomed to it by now. Pain and death defined her existence for such a large portion of her life that she could hardly imagine what it must feel like to be a person who has rarely been physically hurt.

"It hurts." She settled on a whimper, somewhat soothed by Eve's gentle touch.

"Shh" Eve whispered, gently brushing sweaty strands of hair from Villanelle's forehead. She was open and vulnerable in that moment, as she had often been since that night on the bridge.

"No hospital." Villanelle repeated weakly, imploring Eve to understand.

Eve did understand. Villanelle would be a sitting duck for anyone who wants her dead if she went to a hospital.

Eve ran her hands through her hair, not caring that Villanelle's blood was getting smeared all over her.

"Oksana, you'll die if you don't get help. I can't fix this by myself!" She met Villanelle's eyes with a desperate, tearful expression.

The sound of her name falling from Eve's lips seemed to trap Villanelle's attention. Her eyes grew less foggy and her expression more alert. In them, Eve recognized something. Sorrow? Reticence? It flickered so quickly that Eve couldn't be sure if she saw it at all.

"I know a guy." Villanelle relented, struggling to speak. "He owes me a favor."

Of course she knows a guy, Eve thinks. A former assassin is bound to amass countless contacts.

"There," she gestures vaguely in the direction of where she thought she last saw her coat. "In my phone."

"But you will have to do some of the work." She said, her head lolling back into Eve's (their) couch. "We don't have time to wait."

That grim prognosis seemed to stir something in Eve, and she began digging wildly through a veritable sea of medical supplies before she emerged with a thread and needle.

Villanelle chuckled weakly in amusement, gripping at her wound as it pulls.

"I like the enthusiasm, Eve, but that is not what you need yet."

And God when did her head get to be so heavy? It felt like her brains were made of cement and her neck was too weak to lift them from the pillow.

"You know what? You're gonna live."

"How do you know?" Villanelle asked, looking up at Eve with all the curiosity she could muster.

"Because you feel good enough to be a little shit."

[schaddenfreude]

Rage Against

This prompt is by anon request so I am only half responsible for what you're about to read. Enjoy! 😇

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"I am going to bring her back, and then I'm gonna kill every last one of you."

Those had been the last words Michael spoke to Cordelia before vanishing off of the coven's, and even the warlock's radars. They had tried unsuccessfully to track him for months. Cordelia figured his Father must be protecting him well.

For months of radio silence, that ominous parting oath played itself over and over again in her mind. But no magic in the world could have prepared her, prepared them, for Michael's reappearance.

He had bided his time well. Waited until they were unsuspecting and vulnerable. And then he rained hell down upon them. Just as he had promised.

It was absolute slaughter.

Each broken and ravaged body of a fallen witch was a knife to Cordelia's chest as she moved through the manner in her astral state. The dread filled her as she steeped herself for the worst.

There was a body just past the upstairs landing. Small, maybe one of the younger witches. She hoped against any ounce of reason that it wouldn't be what she thought. Blood pooled around the body and dripped downstairs through the poles of the banister.

Drip....

Drip...

Drip...

With each step she took closer, the dripping seemed to echo through the foreboding silence of the manner. And then she reached it...reached him.

Stevie.

All at once, the weight of losing almost her entire coven and her son slammed into her. The instant onslaught of grief threatened to shatter her. She felt an important piece of herself ripped from her chest and she sank to her knees, utterly consumed with the most excruciating pain she had ever felt. More terrible than if she had been tossed into a pool of acid.

She jolted back to the reality of Misty's shack with a heart-wrenching sob that only a bereaved mother could conjure. Any hope of this all being a horrible nightmare was brutally destroyed when the remnants of her coven, her family, came into view and she felt the solid warmth of Misty and Myrtle's arms around her.

"What happened, Delia?" The battered, worn out, mournful tone of Misty's voice said she knew that the very worst had happened.

What was the point of telling her, any of them, the details?

In an instant, the Supreme found herself filled to the brim with a violent rage and everyone flinched as Misty's rocking chair suffered for it. This was Cordelia like they'd never seen her before.

Vengeful. Cold. Unforgiving.

It was absolutely terrifying.

"I'm going to rip that motherfucker apart."

[schaddenfreude]

Lay With Me

This is a continuation of the post-bridge scene drabble I wrote. It's going to be 2 parts, so I guess including that drabble you could consider this the 2nd of 3 parts. This one is fluff and a hint of smut. Part 3 is gonna be full on SMUT. I will also probably post both parts into one complete story on AO3.

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The metaphorical Earth shifts under them again when they enter Eve's tiny apartment. As the quaking subsides, Villanelle and Eve are left on two sides of the fault line, encompassed by a growing sense of awkwardness that neither knows how to approach just yet. It's the kind of discombobulation that new couples feel when they sense an incoming next step in their relationship. It settles around them and somehow, there is room among Eve's tiny, cluttered apartment for the elephant in the room.

Eve distracts herself by setting about the task of gathering a small duffel bag for the trip ahead. Villanelle pretends to inspect the apartment, looking around as if it's the first (It isn't) and the last time she'll ever see Eve's home.

They both need space to work out the feelings coursing through them before the new dynamic in their relationship can be explored.

Villanelle plops herself down rather unceremoniously onto Eve's mattress and the springs underneath groan in protest. She picks up the nearby picture frame and examines the photo inside. Eve and Niko are pictured in happier times. A honey moon, maybe? Eve looks considerably younger.

Villanelle decides she doesn't want to ponder that and turns the photo face down on the window ledge, curling her lip in displeasure.

She sprawls herself back against Eve's pillow, turning to borrow her face into it. Eve's scent overwhelms her senses on her next breath and she relaxes deeper into the mattress.

Home.

The word turns itself over and over again in her mind. She is home and she is safe for perhaps the first time in her life. Well, maybe 'safe' is still to be determined, if indeed she ever will be, but being in Eve's presence provides her with an undeniable sense of security.

She wonders if Eve feels the same.

Her arm shifts underneath pillow and catches something solid. Curiously, Villanelle curls her fingers around it and slips it from it's hiding place.

It is a heart. Not just any heart. It's the heart she gave Eve nestled inside of a teddy bear. A physical representation of her own heart, which already beat for Eve Polastri long ago, she thinks.

"Admit it, Eve. You wish I was here."

Her own voice pours from the heart as she toys with it in her hands. The sound brings Eve to step slowly out of the bathroom where she had been collecting toiletries. She takes a moment to watch Villanelle, who looks thoroughly fascinated by the object she holds in her hands. Eve wonders what she must be thinking.

"You were right." Eve steps forward and Villanelle sits up, intently meeting her gaze. Suddenly Eve feels a weight on her chest and she struggles with the conflicting emotions that have been brewing inside her since before that first dinner with Villanelle in her kitchen. She thinks she catches the ghost of smug satisfaction in Villanelle's eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it comes.

"I did wish you were here. God....even-even after everything, after Rome. I was furious. I wanted to hate you so badly, but I could never escape wanting to have you with me."

Villanelle lets out an audible, quivering sigh at the admission. She sets the heart down in the window and focuses solely on Eve, like she wants no distraction from the moment that is developing between them.

"I...um" Eve stutters. "I just think about you. All the time."

"I thought about you all the time." Villanelle admits. She remembers feeling regret for the first time after shooting Eve. Everything that came after: the wedding to a woman she didn't love, throwing herself into her work. It was a distraction from the gnawing regret of killing the woman she loves more deeply, more purely, than anyone before.

"I masturbate about you a lot." Eve says as she comes to stand in front of Villanelle. Both of them smile at the callback to Paris and then Villanelle scoots over, patting the empty space beside her.

"Lay with me? Please?"

Eve complies, shimmying into her side of the bed and then they're laying on their sides facing each other. It's another callback to Paris and both can feel the deja vu.

Eve remembers what it was like to look into Villanelle's eyes then. God she was so arrogant. And ignorant, really. She thought a handful of files could show her everything she needed to know about the psychopath looking back at her. But she learned that she had only just scratched the surface of what it meant to be Oksana Astankova.

In a weird way, she thought that she deserved to be shot for her hubris just as much as Villanelle had deserved a knife in the gut. Like a zoo keep forgetting his place in the food chain and getting mauled by a tiger.

The pair of hazel eyes looking back at her are different than they were then. The touch against her cheek is softer. Villanelle radiates the same genuine love and devotion that Eve feels herself, and there's not a trace of possession to be found in her eyes. This Villanelle feels so warm, so familiar, and yet she's a complete stranger compared to the petulant, spoiled Villanelle Eve last knew.

There is that pull again. The one that drew them back to each other on the bridge. The one that always drew them back together, as if the cosmos itself refused to separate them. Eve found her eyes flickering to Villanelle's lips. They are so impossibly close. Just one tiny move and this tension between them would snap in the most glorious way.

"What do you want, Eve?" Villanelle sighs in a voice thick with barely contained desire. She knew what she wanted. And she knew what Eve wanted. Now Eve just needed to admit it out loud to herself.

Eve is tired. Tired of running tired of games. Tired of bullshit.

"I want this. You. A future. With you."

And Villanelle springs forward, surging into Eve and crashing their lips together for the second time that night.

Someone, maybe both of them, moans into the kiss. They can't really be sure. All of the waiting. All of the anticipation. All of the confined intensity and heat between them. It all melts into this moment.

Villanelle allows Eve to turn them over as their mouths dance against each other, pulling Eve into her lap before the kiss breaks with an audible smack and her lips burn a scorching path down Eve's neck. Eve's hands find purchase in Villanelle's hair, both threatening and promising to ruin the perfect bun on blonde hair.

This is what home feels like.

Both of them think that as they feel their hearts beat together where their chests are joined.

Eve lets out a wanton groan as Villanelle's hands find tender purchase on her backside. Then she's scrambling to tear her own shirt of and Villanelle stops. Eve finds her staring in awe, positively marveling at Eve's uncovered body with a dopey, slack-mouthed expression full of desire.

She's seen Eve topless before, but she finds that the cheap light bulbs of Eve's kitchen pale in comparison to how luminous Eve looks in the moonlight.

As if from some form of muscle memory, Villanelle's fingers automatically trail up Eve's body, and she delights at the tiny shivers they leave in their wake on the way up to the shimmering, glossy looking scar tissue on the left side of Eve's chest.

Acting on some unknown instinct, one of Eve's hands mirrors the action. It leaves Villanelle's hair and trails down her body stopping above her yellow cloak on the spot where she knows the scar from Paris is. She can almost feel the heat from it radiating through Villanelle's cloak and scorching her fingertips if she tries.

Their eyes meet again and Villanelle nods, allowing Eve to remove that ridiculous cloak. Then her fingers are on the faded knife wound. The skin of Villanelle's stomach shudders at her touch; shying away in fear of being marred again. She runs her thumb over the scar on a delicate, tender promise.

Never again.

And just like that, Eve finds her self being flipped back onto the mattress. The scales of their balancing act are tipped yet again.

Push and Pull

Pleasure and Pain

They both think that if this is what consuming each other feels like then they'll gladly spend the rest of their lives trying.

Villanelle's lodge lodges in between Eve's thighs in just the right way and she gasps. The younger woman pulls back to marvel at her again. She's spent countless hours invested in fantasies of this very moment, but it is so beautifully different from anything she had conjured up in her mind's eye. It makes her feel like a virgin again; experimenting with uncharted waters in a sea of sexual possibility.

She grinds herself experimentally into Eve once again and Eve groans out in frustration again.

"Get on with it. Please..." She hisses with desire.

"You're sure?" Villanelle asks, hands hovering over Eve's trouser button like she's about to unwrap the most precious treasure imaginable.

Eve grabs her by the t-shirt she is still wearing and brings their lips together, sliding her tongue into the waiting hotness of Villanelle's mouth. She breaks the kiss to trail seductive kisses up Villanelle's neck and stops to nibble at her ear lobe.

"Yes."

[schaddenfreude]

School's Out

For the anon prompt: Stevie reunites with Misty and Cordelia for the first time after being sent to the outpost.

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

The Hawthorn school was different from Miss Robichaux's Academy in a multitude of ways. Chief among those was that warlocks do not receive quite as lengthy an education as witches due to their magic being significantly less nuanced.

This was the fact Cordelia had leaned on when the time finally came to send her son, her 13 year old son, half way across the country for six months. She just kept telling herself it would fly by in no time. Especially compared to the longer 10 month term of Miss Robichaux's. Just half a year; he could do that. Or rather, she could bear that.

Since the day he was born, Stevie hadn't been away from either of his parents, let alone the entire Academy, for longer than a few days. Six months seemed like an eternity. Indeed, Cordelia had spent half a year trying to hide her fretfulness and wringing her hands each time a lull in her work would allow her mind to stray to her only child.

Comparatively, Misty had taken the transition in graceful stride. Then again, free spirit that she was, it didn't surprise anyone that she was among the most supportive of her son's trip across country. This vast difference in their outlook had proven to be an enormous boon to Cordelia over the months.

But that was the past.

The term was over and it was finally time for them to see their son again. The plane ride on the coven's chartered jet felt as if it dragged on for ages. They were all eager to see Stevie again.

Madison huffed as the group stepped out of their private limo on Hawthorn grounds. Each dressed in their finest black.

"Imagine six months in this place. There's not even a Starbucks."

Beside her, Mallory tensed a little. She still retained memories of a different timeline. One where she had to spend months in the same place. She had to agree it was awful.

"Do you have any idea how many calories are in a Starbucks?" Coco asked neurotically.

"Who gives a shit?" Madison rebuffed, leaning in conspiratorially. "Just between you and me...being resurrected is great for metabolism."

"Girls, focus." Cordelia chided gently, secretly amused at the banter.

"Yes, mom." Came Madison's cheerfully sarcastic reply.

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

The warlock's had insisted on a dull, tedious meeting. More like a pissing contest, to be perfectly accurate. By the end of that figurative display of swinging dicks, the entire council was exhausted and impatient. Cordelia seemed about ready to pull her own hair out in desperation to see her son again.

John Henry, usually the most diplomatic, finally took it upon himself to have the boy summoned. When he stepped into the room it was like Cordelia and Misty were seeing him for the first time. In a sense, they all were. This boy standing before them was not the same one who had left 6 months ago.

He had grown noticeably taller, and his figure showed definite signs of the beginnings of puberty. He was always lanky, but that was starting to be complimented by the tiniest development of muscle. He had shed some baby fat as well, showing chiseled facial structure that was the spitting image of Misty with the brown of his hair and eyes passed to him from Cordelia.

He, too, took a moment of pause to process the sight of his family here before him in the great Hall of Hawthorn Academy.

After a few seconds that seemed to stretch on forever, Cordelia let out a gasp that shattered the moment, and then she and Misty moved in tandem to embrace their son as their brothers and sisters looked on.

"You've grown!" Cordelia exclaimed, holding him at arms length to get a better look at him while Misty examined the shaggy, grown out curls of his wild hair.

"I missed you." He spoke to the pair of them, but referenced all of the group. His voice had begun to drop and cracked a little bit as he spoke.

Misty couldn't help but hug him again. "You've changed so much!" He reveled in the attention he was getting from his family after such a long time away, but he really just wanted to go home.

"I love you guys, but can we go now?"

"Of course." Cordelia smiled, reaching out to cup his face.

And not a moment to soon. Cordelia imagined if Myrtle were here she would be appalled at the fetid stench of unwashed boy that seemed to permeate the entire underground space.

Stevie fell in line with the group between Zoe and Madison. He could feel their eyes lingering on him from either side.

"So listen", Zoe spoke once she was satisfied that Cordelia was out of earshot, "Maddie and I got a ton of cheesy slasher movies. Do you wanna get a pizza and watch with us?"

"You bet your ads!"

"Language!" Madison chided before she could stop herself, actually surprised that this kid she had watched grow up was already trying out swear words.

"Really, bitch?" Queenie teased from behind her.

Madison ignored her and instead focused on Stevie.

"Never mind. By the way, I'm in one of those. It's a Friday the 13th knock off with a shit load of serial killers."

"Do you at least play the good guy in this movie?" Stevie smirked, poking a little good natured fun at his aunt.

"Maybe." She winked.

[schaddenfreude]

I Like The Monkey Bars

For some reason, I have a thing about writing fic for my ships inspired by Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol. Today is villaneve's turn. The following takes place about a month after 3x08.

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

"Would you lie with me and just forget the world?"

Eve was pulling a late night at the office. Had been for at least a week now. There was a hot case and she was so very, very close to figuring it out. Her sleepy eyes struggled to remain focused as she typed away at a report while also dissecting crime scene photos and guzzling a venti macchiato for energy.

It had been a long time, if she were being honest, since the thrill of the job alone kept her fired up on these late nights.

Not since....

Her phone buzzed in her pocket before her mind could stray too far down a rabbit hole of Oksana Astankova.

"I miss you. Vx" The text read simply. Speak of the devil.

Eve smiled, typing out her reply.

"I miss you too, but we just saw each other three hours ago, darling."

A major difference in this relationship from the one she shared with Niko was how effortlessly Villanelle was always able to distract her from her work. Except when she was Eve's work. She'd always told herself that she preferred to keep her work life separate from her home life, now she knew that wasn't true.

"That was too long ago."

Especially not when Villanelle was working sporatically as an undercover operative for MI6 now. It wasn't entirely the out they wanted for her but...baby steps. At least she didn't have to kill anymore.

Eve laughed at how that last text practically oozed petulance and sent a quick response. She resigned herself to not getting work done. Villanelle had clearly already decided that Eve was done for the evening.

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

"Villanelle?" Eve called, stepping into the clearing of a park that the ex-assassin had asked her to come to.

"Baby?"

Eve's eyes searched her surroundings, landing on a body laying in the middle of the clearing.

It was Villanelle. She was dressed in a sharp black pantsuit and white undershirt and her hair was done in an immaculate bun. She laid unmoving with eyes closed, a peaceful expression on her face.

Eve's first reaction was panic. Had someone managed to sneak up on her? Villanelle's list of enemies was rather long and distinguished. But then Eve noticed that nothing seemed out of place. There was no sign of struggle. Villanelle wouldn't just give herself up without a fight.

Eve grinned smugly as she stepped closer. She tapped the younger woman with her foot.

"Villanelle?" No response. "Villanelle." This time the name rolled off her tongue a bit more urgently and she made a mistake when she leaned down closer. It was apparently what the Russian had been waiting for. Her eyes popped open and she sprung up with a loud yell.

Eve was reminded of a Jack-in-the-box. God how she used to hate those things.

She leapt back in surprise at the sudden movement.

"Jesus!"

"I got you!" Villanelle cackled, and Eve was unlike Konstantin. She could admit defeat.

"Yeah, you got me." Eve sat herself down next to Villanelle. "So...a park?" She mused "Not quite where I imagined when you sent me gps coordinates."

"I like the monkey bars." Villanelle shrugged bringing Eve to chuckle at her childlike nature.

"I also like the sky, you know? It is nice sometimes to just look up at the stars and let everything else go away for a little while."

"It is nice." Eve agreed. In tandem, both women laid back into the grass, shoulder to shoulder. Eve's fingers found Villanelle's and their hands intertwined.

"Would you stay with me for a while?" Villanelle asked without either of them breaking their gaze from the bright lights above. It wasn't lost on them how this night mirrored that day in Villanelle's apartment that seemed so long ago.

Villanelle's breath hitched involuntarily as the fingers of Eve's free hand drifted underneath her shirt, finding that small line of raised scar tissue from the incident they were both thinking of.

"Do you still think about it?" Eve asked, but found that she needed no answer. The depths of Villanelle's eyes as they met hers told her everything.

"I'm glad you did it." Villanelle brought their joined hands up to her mouth and kissed her way along Eve's knuckles.

"This way I'll always have a reminder of you whether you are near or far."

"Such a romantic." Eve quipped, moving the hand that was tracing the scar she made over to drape around Villanelle's side as she cuddled into her.

Villanelle buried her nose into Eve's messy, dark curls of her. Her favorite place. She allowed them a moment to bask in each other and forget the world around them before she nudged Eve playfully.

"Have you ever done it in a park?"

[schaddenfreude]

You Should Go Now

To say that Eve was annoyed was an understatement of riches.

She'd been working non-stop on the Aaron Peele case for the better part of a week, she was sleep deprived, Hugo was getting on her last nerve, and Villanelle...

Where the hell was Villanelle?

She had suddenly dropped off the face of the Earth a couple days ago. No texts. No calls. Eve had left a thousand voicemails and rationalized them all with wanting to secure this case. Deep down, the truth of the matter was that she worried for the young assassin.

The smug little shit probably planned for Eve to lose sleep over her.

Exasperated, Eve slammed her laptop shut and marched toward the office door. There would be no progress made tonight. Hugo's protests and questions fell on deaf ears as the door slammed shut in her wake.

Her only thought was for Villanelle, and her feet followed that lead, carrying her over the few blocks between the office and the MI6 safe house the assassin was staying in. She was going to kick her ass for this little mind game. Eve busied herself during her walk with thoughts of exactly how she would punish the Russian woman for toying with her this way. To her surprise, some of these imaginings veered into sexually charged territory and she tried to push them down. After all, she was married for Christ sake! Okay, well, maybe that one was on shaky ground. Still, her obsession with Villanelle was purely professional. Right?

It was no use. The image of what she could do to Villanelle, what Villanelle could do to her, clung to her brain and created an ache in her trousers unlike any that had come before.

As she approached the safe house, Eve could hear sultry music coming from inside. Villanelle was home.

"Villanelle?" Eve knocked. "Open up, it's me."

There was no response. She heard a thud from inside that sounded like furniture getting knocked over.

"Oh shit!" Panic set in immediately as Eve fumbled for the keys to the safe house, thinking the worst. She burst into the door in a panicked frenzy and two sets of eyes stared at her. She looked back at them, needing a moment to adjust to what she was seeing.

"...What's going on here?" Eve managed, dumbly.

She stared at the pair of women in front of her. Villanelle was clad in her blue, Tiger print robe just as she had been a week ago when Eve had last been here. God, the jealousy she felt when a parade of women left the flat during her conversation with the assassin seemed like a distant memory compared to now. Something about seeing this ditzy looking tramp half undressed and clinging to Villanelle as both of them stared at her in surprise proved to be her undoing.

Before she could entirely fathom her actions, or the consequences of them, her fist was full of brunette hair and she was yanking Villanelle's 'guest' to the ground. White hot rage blinded her senses and she was only vaguely aware of the screams from the woman below her and the touch of Villanelle's hands on her shoulders as she too tried to stop Eve.

"Eve! Eve! Stop it! Eve!"

Villanelle caught her hand before she could continue pummeling the frightened woman and the woman stopped shouting at the same time. She cocked her head rather quizically, looking past Eve and up to Villanelle.

"Wait...Eve? As in 'I'm going to call you Eve during sex?'"

With that revelation came a heavy flood of awkwardness. All three of them glanced back and forth at one another for what felt like an eternity. Eve cleared her throat and regained her composure as she stepped ofc of the woman, struggling to remember why exactly she'd come here in the first place.

Villanelle was the first to speak, addressing her would be fuck buddy.

"I think you should go now."

It was clear that she and Eve had a lot to discuss in order to clear the air. She had wanted to get under Eve's skin, but she had clearly underestimated her capacity for jealousy.

It seemed Eve preferred to be the center of Villanelle's attention, just as Villanelle thrived on Eve's.

"You know," Eve spoke, sounding as casual as she could manage. "It wouldn't kill you to return a phone call."

"Don't be jealous, Eve." Villanelle teased.

"I'm not jealous!"

Villanelle chuckled. A throaty sound that did things to her that Eve couldn't explain. "You are a tiny bit." She punched her thumb and forefinger almost completely together for emphasis.

"Okay, maybe a little." Eve admitted against her better judgment, "But you've ignored me all week."

Villanelle smiles that smug, shit eating grin that Eve hates to love so much. She's breezed into the kitchenette area where she holds up two mugs, understanding that they're going to be up catching each other up on the last week for a while.

"Coffee?"

Eve nods, and minutes pass before either of them speaks again. When Eve finally does, it's to take one final jab at Villanelle's sexual proclivities.

"So....Eve, huh? Is that like a biblical fantasy?"

[schaddenfreude]

Where Do We Go From Here?

Their relationship has always been this way.

Give and take.

Push and pull.

Good and bad.

Day and night.

Hurt and heal.

A carefully crafted balancing act between their monsters and their angels until they met somewhere in the middle.

So it was only fitting that they met in the middle of the bridge after turning back to each other. For a while, neither of them dares move. They both feel that familiar pull that urges them to close the gap, but they're too entranced by each other, by this moment, to get their legs to work.

Even across the expanse, Eve can see a shift in Villanelle's eyes. She's open; vulnerable. It's a look that mirrors the way it felt to hold her when they were pulled so close against each other in the dance hall. Eve can't quite name it yet, but she likes how it feels.

Safe. Comfortable. Intimate.

Across the space between them, Villanelle is coming to a similar realization. They both feel like the Earth moves beneath their feet as their jagged pieces shift and lock into place, connecting them on a level they can't yet fathom.

Eve had admitted that all she sees in her future is Villanelle, and now she sees that future walking toward her. Eve rushes forward in return, overwhelmed with these new emotions coursing through her, and the ebbing fear of facing a life without this beautiful woman before her.

There are no words as they reach each other. They both know that they share a singular brain cell in this moment, guiding them toward what ever the future may bring. It's terrifying, exhilarating and peaceful all at once.

They drink each other in for a moment longer after coming to a stop where they had started from a moment ago. Just standing and looking at each other as if trying to memorize everything before turning away from each other. Now, they're looking into each other, recognizing the shift that their decision to turn back has caused and fueling themselves off of each other's emotions.

They reach up in tandem to wipe a stray tear from one another's cheeks, both chuckling at the simultaneous gesture.

That ignites something inside them and they find themselves wrapped around each other.

Villanelle buries herself in Eve's warmth as Eve melts into her arms. Her face finds a home in those wild curls that she's as obsessed with as the woman they belong to. Her eyes drift shut and she feels a peace in the embrace. It's somehow more intense than the dance they shared earlier, but it's a heaven neither of them wants to leave.

Eve feels Villanelle's chin come to rest atop her head. The Russian's entire body is trembling in her arms at the intimacy of this moment. She quietly wonders if Villanelle can feel her heart pounding just as much as she can feel Villanelle's.

And she can.

She's never felt so keenly aware of herself or another person in all her life. Not even in her tears of hunting people for a living.

They pull back just far enough to rest their hands against each other's chests and hips. Villanelle's chin still rests comfortably on top of Eve's head and her eyes are closed in bliss. She notices Eve is still trembling in her arms and pulls back to look at her.

"Eve, you are shaking."

Eve's eyes are shut and brimming with unshed tears. She opens them when Villanelle gently pulls her chin up so their faces are level.

"Villanelle...I I'm...I need you to say something."

"What?" Villanelle tilts her head to the side like a curious dog.

"I don't know. This is so...I feel...everything!"

Villanelle smiles softly at Eve's overwhelmed mini outburst.

"I know." She says simply. Eve sees that look again in her eyes and hears an echo of "I feel things when I am with you" from somewhere deep in her memory.

Safe. Comfortable. Intimate.

And then they're being pulled together again by a force of attraction immeasurable greater than they are.

They move together this time, meeting in the middle again. Their lips meet and it's like everything in them was waiting for this very moment to spill forth. They're wrapped around each other again as memories of everything that's happened between them to lead them here pour into the kiss.

Berlin...Paris...Eve's kitchen...Rome...Dasha's murder...the bus...the teddy bear heart...

It's an absolute explosion of emotions, destroying everything in it's wake. They're left barren to each other, ready to build each other up together like a Phoenix rising from the ashes of its own destruction. The world outside of this moment falls away. There's no MI6, no Twelve, no London, and certainly no pedestrians on a bridge over the Thames. It's just them.

It's always been just them.

They finally pull apart; each of them is a mess of tears. They cry for the moment and the future that almost wasn't. Silently kicking themselves for being stupid just a bit ago.

"Wow." Eve recovers her voice first, her forehead pressed to Villanelle's and her hands cupping either side of her face.

Villanelle chuckles softly and the breath that fans out over her lips sends a new wave of shivers down Eve's spine.

"I'm glad you never listen to my directions, Eve."

"Where do we go from here?" Eve sobers up from the head rush just enough to realize they are both probably being hunted. And if not, they will be soon.

Villanelle gives a non committal shrug. She really couldn't care less as long as they went together.

"Villanelle! This is serious! We need a plan! We need--"

She's cut off by Villanelle's finger against her lips.

"Shh. It's not important."

"Not important??"

Villanelle nods. "We can plan later. I just want to be with you tonight. Is that okay?"

"I...yes." Any argument Eve has flies straight out the window when she sees Villanelle, truly sees her, open and vulnerable like she's never been before.

She takes a step back into Villanelle's space and clasps their fingers together.

"But surely you care where we stay."

Villanelle hadn't given much thought to it but she finds that she really doesn't. They could live under this bridge for all she cared. A light bulb goes off for her in that moment.

"Not really."

Eve sees it now, that feeling Villanelle gives off that she's been trying to name all night.

Home.

"Didn't you know, Eve? I am home when I am with you."

It takes every ounce of restraint Eve has in her not to take Villanelle right there on the bridge. They're already consuming each other. And God, is it worth it.

[schaddenfreude]

No More Tea Dances?

Neither woman has ever been much of a dancer. In point of fact, Villanelle has always been baffled by the idea of gliding around a dance floor hand in hand with another person while big band music illuminates the background with its melody.

Yet both women find that these moments where they sway softly in each other's arms are far too short.

This is only their second tea dance, but it feels somehow like they've been doing a well practiced waltz with each other for beautiful eternity. Eve leads and Villanelle is content to follow, burying her face in the curls of Eve's magnificent hair and feeling her body succumb to the warmth that is Eve.

It's only by the grace of their mission that Villanelle and Eve manage to keep from completely losing their senses to each other.

Eve pulls away slightly, hesitantly, to locate their target on the ballroom dance floor. She spots him off in the distance just over Villanelle's should. Eve squeezes Villanelle's hand to signal her and suddenly she finds herself being dipped as onlookers gasp.

It's a diversion to allow Eve's MI6 team a chance to close in, but the moment is no less intense. They're reminded of a bus fight not too far into the past as their eyes linger on each other's and their breaths mingle.

Villanelle chuckles as Eve quips "You smell like my perfume." The ghost of that exchange on the bus flickers between them.

The space between them grows smaller, smaller until their pulses race with a mutual anticipation and their breaths mingle.

Then...

"If you two are quite finished, we have a job to get on with."

Carolyn. Damn her and her impeccable timing!

Villanelle smirks an expression that Eve knows to be an equal mix of seduction and smugness and it cuts through Eve like a knife and leaves her weak in the knees; all while promising more when they are alone in private later.

"She's right, you know." Villanelle says, secretly disappointed that their dance has been interrupted again.

"Professional", she teases in a voice that could seduce the most devout nun into breaking a vow of celibacy.

Eve wanted to cry. It was pure artistry how this woman could tug at her heart one moment and then turn her on to impossible heights of arousal the next.

"Asshole."

[schaddenfreude]

Heeeey!!! I was wondering if you could write a prompt of Remember me where Cordelia is trying to get Stevie to remember her when they go get him Mallory and Coco after the apocalypse? I don’t know if you think it’s a good idea, anyway I hope you have a great day

Just to avoid confusion, the following takes in the continuity of "Does He Know About The Baby" in which Stevie is actually Hank and Cordelia's son. He would be about 7 in this prompt.

Remember Me

This night was a long time coming. For three years, the decimated New Orleans coven had forged on, strong in their resolve both to stop Michael and exact harsh revenge for the evil he had spilled upon the world.

That resolve kept them going even in their darkest, most desperate hour. It fueled them when they had to make the hard decision to split up their handful of remaining members. Cordelia had to try three times in order to complete the memory spell on her son, who was barely more than a toddler.

That shattered them all. How could they possibly send a child out into the world without the protection of the coven? It just wasn't right.

Well, tonight they would make it right.

As Madison, Cordelia, and Myrtle emerged from the fog surrounding the outpost, they seemed to move as one being. Each was intently focused on the mission at hand.

"Find them." Cordelia said, surveying the leftover carnage of some horrible event. Dread filled her gut as she considered the fates of Mallory, Coco, and her baby boy and she briefly entertained the notion that she would not be able to revive them if this had been the work of Michael.

The Supreme closed her eyes in concentration once four corpses were laid before her, trying intently not to focus on the motherly anguish of seeing her child dead on the ground before her. Instead, she allowed the merry Rolling Stones tune pouring from the radio to envelop her and bolster her confidence.

They had come here for a purpose. There could be no room for doubt.

"Surprise bitch," Madison kneeled over a revived Mallory with a fond look on her face. "I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me."

Coco groaned and Dinah Stevens looked around, trying to get her bearings.

Once everyone was sure their cohorts were okay, all eyes turned to the child in the room.

Cordelia knelt before a rousing Stevie and gently coaxed him back into consciousness, placing a motherly hand to his cheek. Her pulse seemed to stop as she waited to see those brown eyes again for the first time in 2 years.

"Stevie, wake up, darling." Cordelia's voice was feather light and carried a hint of a tremble as years of pent up worry threatened to spill forth.

"Who are you?" Stevie's drowsiness faded away in almost an instant and he looked around at Madison, Cordelia, and Myrtle with confusion written all over his tiny face.

Cordelia felt as if she'd actually been punched in the gut and felt the ear leave her as that invisible fist collapsed her diaphragm and left her to crumble to the floor in emotional agony.

Her council was around her in an instant, booth looking equally dismayed in their own way.

"I don't understand." Cordelia muttered to herself, "How could his memory not be restored?" She then addressed Stevie directly, gripping him by the shoulders with gentle, but desperate hands. "It's me. I'm your mother."

Myrtle and Madison shared a worried look as they stood behind their Supreme. What if this was the work of dark magic?

"My mom is dead!" Stevie shouted suddenly, jumping up and putting some space between himself and this crazy lady.

Cordelia stopped and considered that sentence for a moment. As gut wrenching as it was to hear from her own son, it offered some insight. She had never modified his memory to have him believe his mother died.

It could only mean one thing.

"Steven, honey..."Cordelia spoke tearfully "I'm your mother. I'm alive. Please. You have to remember."

"I don't know who you are." He looked frightened and on the verge of tears, himself. Cordelia swore she could live for 1000 years and never again see a sight so heart breaking.

She did the only thing she could think of, hugging her son to her and trying, with every ounce of her being, to will him to know the truth. She muttered memory spells under her breath over and over again until he became rigid in her arms. Cordelia pulled back; puzzled. She searched his face and found that he was frozen, like a statue. Rage flooded her senses as she sensed Michael's presence.

"Restore him." She commanded, her voice cold and her demeanor composed, but dangerous.

Michael laughed, enjoying her torment. "I shall in time.

"You will now." Cordelia repeated herself, exuding a menacing confidence as her girls fell in line on either side of her.

"And tell me: what would that bring you? You've failed. You only have a few moments left of your miserable existence. Or perhaps you missed the state of the world outside these walls?"

"It's almost as bad as your dinner jacket," Myrtle chimed in, "but at least the world can be saved."

Michael smirked bitterly at the insult, disregarding it entirely. These witches were beneath him. Not even fit to lick his boots.

"Join me. Sit at my table, and I'll give you your son."

Never in her wildest dreams had Cordelia imagined choosing between the world and her own child. But now, with the remnants of humanity in jeopardy, she knew what she had to do.

"The only way we would sit at your table is if your decapitated head were the centerpiece."

Michael let out a dramatic sigh. "Very well, I'll restore your son, but only just in time for him to watch his mother die." He gestured to his faithful android. "Miss Meade."

"Confringe." Cordelia growled, stopping the assassin in her tracks. A moment later, bits of robotic electronics were raining over the room.

They came here for a fight and they did not intend to lose.

[schaddenfreude]

Feeling kinda like shit tonight. KE prompt will be postponed until tomorrow with the AHS prompt. It's also gonna be smut if you're into that!