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Of Love and La Villanelle

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“What’s the feeling that I get

Every single time I look deep in your eyes?

What’s tingle that I feel

At the touch of your hand up and down my spine?”

-Chrisette Michele, “Is This The Way Love Feels?”


One year later…

Paris, France, June 

Let it never be said that Villanelle did anything half-assed. Passionate impulse is how she made her choices and Eve loved her for it. Except when it came to wedding planning because she had been a monster . City Hall would have done quite nicely for Eve, but Villanelle scoffed at the idea. 

“Eve, your face deserves to be bathed in the light of the soft sunset with the Eiffel Tower as the backdrop with all of our friends and family around.” She had said. 

That was how Eve figured out that Villanelle wanted to get married in Paris. 

It was perfect really since that was where Villanelle’s internship was. 

If Villanelle had accepted it. No, instead she’d taken up the offer for an apprenticeship at Ralph & Russo, the London-based designer that Eve had arranged for her. 

“But, you love Paris.” Eve had mentioned. 

“Yes, but I love my dignity more. Besides, I am not willing to see Nadia’s stupid face or stupid designs every day for the next year.”

And even without any Nadia drama, the couple had been a rollercoaster of emotions in the last year. Niko hadn’t made it easy on Eve during the divorce process. But eventually, their divorce was granted and the two wasted no time on sending out invites for their destination wedding.

So, finally, there they were on a terrace of a lavish hotel in Paris, holding hands as the sun set across the sky. 

“I now pronounce you Mrs. and Mrs. Astankova.”

Villanelle’s eyes reached the heavens and she gave a dramatic bend backward as she groaned, “ Finally !”

A wave of laughter floated around through the congregation of witnesses to their holy union ending with Eve who shook her head.

“You both may now kiss your bride.” Villanelle wrapped one arm around Eve’s waist and pulled her flush against her own body, and kissed her to the sounds of their friends and family applauding. Fresh white and red rose petals were tossed their way while the two-headed back down the aisle, hand-in-hand. Out of the warm sunset terrace and into the stunning ballroom that held their reception, Eve and Villanelle stole a moment to themselves in the small corridor from which they would be announced. Pressing Eve against the wall, Villanelle kissed her properly, making the brunette’s knees wobble just a bit. One hand on the wall beside Eve’s head and the other tucked into the pocket of her couture pants, Villanelle allowed her eyes to drop for a moment.

“I cannot wait to get you naked.”

“We could’ve done that immediately after the ceremony but you wanted a reception.”

Villanelle groaned again. “I don’t understand why you let me have my way all the time.”

“Because I love you. And because you let me have mine.”

Pouting, Villanelle remarked, “You know, this is quite a private hallway. I am sure I could—.”

“There you two are!” Elena interrupted. “They’re announcing you now.”

“Elena, please, I am trying to get Eve to have a quickie.”

Elena’s brows rose and she looked to Eve who gaped at Villanelle. Both shocked and turned on, just the way Villanelle liked.

“I can’t believe I’m stuck with you now.” Eve laughed. Villanelle squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek. “‘Til death do us part.”

“Oh, so murder’s always an option, good to know.”

Villanelle scoffed. “Eve, please, save the dirty talk for the honeymoon.”

Villanelle took her wife’s hand and followed Elena into the reception hall to mingle with their guests.


A tipsy Villanelle pulled a drunken Eve through the doorway to the honeymoon suite, laughing in between kisses as they went. 

“You’re so happy here in Paris,” noted Eve, plopping down on the foot of the bed. She watched as Villanelle bent over to take her own shoes off before pulling Eve’s off as well. 

“I am.”

“Do you regret not taking the internship?”

“Of course not. I have learned much from Tamara and Michael.”

It was true. The owners of Ralph & Russo had been the topic of most conversations. Something about how they ran their company gave Villanelle a renewed passion for design. They’d even bought her collection, asked her to revamp them with the tools she’d learned while under their wing and they were presented in the ready-to-wear line during London’s Fall-Winter Fashion Week. And much to her delight, Villanelle had made a killing . The money was still rolling in and widely enough, she spent most of it on creating a new line and trademarking her own brand for when she finished her apprenticeship. 

Eve, also more inspired as ever, had spent the first six months working vehemently on her own collection. Villanelle had turned her London flat into a design studio and would force Eve to use the space because she believed in Eve’s dream. Little did Eve know that as a wedding gift, Villanelle had also bought a stunning shop where Eve would be able to open her first store after her re-entry in the fashion world and secondary debut at London’s Spring-Summer Fashion Week. Genesis, Eve’s collection would be called. The beginning. The moment that Eve’s namesake began to think for herself.

“Would you,” Eve shrugged nonchalantly, “want to live here? Eventually, I mean?”

Villanelle tilted her head. “Maybe. Eventually. Would you?”

“Of course.” Eve tossed her hands up as if to say ‘look at this place’. “It’s Paris!”

And she had a point. Villanelle turned her head to the opened French doors. The night sky held brightly blazing stars and they could see the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower. The warm night breeze carried the scent of freshly baked goods and the sounds of Parisians enjoying their nightlife. It was intoxicating. 

And being here with Villanelle, it was like a fairytale.

“I think we can arrange to have a home here, too.” As she spoke, Villanelle walked over to the chilled champagne bucket that room service had set out for them. 

“Too?” Eve wondered. 

“Of course. We'll have one in every major fashion city in the world.” She poured them each a glass of the bubbly liquid and crossed the room once more, handing a glass to her wife. 

Eve shook her head. “Is that so?”

The blonde nodded. “Yes, because everyone will know our names. To Genesis. To love and to La Villanelle.”

“Cheers.”

Eve sipped the champagne as did Villanelle, each eyeing the other over the rim of the glass. 

“Now,” Villanelle smirked, “can I fuck you on the balcony for all of Paris to see?”

Eve tossed her head back and laughed as Villanelle pulled her up and over to the bay window.

“Yes, dear.”