Why Do We Fall in Love With the Villain

Let’s be honest, fictional villains have a lot to answer for. In real life, if a man followed you home, threatened your friends, displayed alarming levels of possessiveness and occasionally resolved disagreements with murder, you would not describe him as “misunderstood”. You would lock the doors, change your phone number and possibly consider moving to another county. Put exactly the same man in a book, however, give him a tragic childhood, an expensive coat and a jawline sharp enough to open envelopes, and suddenly we are all very interested in his emotional development.

So, why do we fall in love with the villain? I think part of the answer is fairly simple. Villains are interesting. Nice people are lovely. We need nice people, and we should probably all make some effort to be one. Unfortunately, fictional characters who make sensible decisions, communicate effectively and deal with their childhood trauma through appropriate professional channels do not always make the most exciting stories. Imagine a romance where one character says, “I have complicated feelings for you,” and the other responds, “Thank you for telling me. Shall we discuss our boundaries?” Healthy? Absolutely. Likely to keep us reading until two in the morning? Probably not.

Villains bring uncertainty. They are dangerous, unpredictable and usually operating according to a moral code that appears to have been written on the back of a beer mat. We are never entirely sure what they are going to do next, which is exactly why we cannot stop watching them. A good villain creates tension simply by walking into the room. We know they are capable of making the wrong decision, and sometimes the spectacularly wrong decision, which makes every interaction feel slightly more dangerous.

Then there is the fantasy of being the exception, and this is a particularly powerful one in dark romance. He hates everyone, except her. He trusts nobody, except her. He would happily burn the entire world to the ground, but he somehow remembers exactly how she takes her coffee. Romantic? Possibly not if you examine it too closely. Compelling? Absolutely. There is something deeply satisfying about the idea that one person can reach a part of someone that nobody else can touch. The villain may be cold, cruel or completely unhinged, but with this one person, something changes. Not necessarily enough to make him safe, of course. We must not get carried away. But enough to make us wonder whether there is something human underneath all that darkness.

That is where the best villains become truly fascinating. They are rarely evil simply because they woke up one morning and thought, “You know what would really improve Tuesday? Crime.” Usually, there is a reason behind what they do. That does not mean the reason excuses their behavior. A traumatic childhood is not a voucher redeemable against future murders. But understanding how someone became the person they are can make us empathize with them, even when we completely disagree with the choices they make.

Sometimes the villain does not even believe they are the villain. They may think they are protecting someone, getting justice, righting a wrong or doing something terrible for what they consider to be a very good reason. That is often far more unsettling than a character who is simply evil for the sake of it, because most of us like to believe there is a clear line between good people and bad people. Good people do good things, bad people do bad things, and everything remains neatly organised.

Unfortunately, human beings are rarely that cooperative.

Good people can make terrible choices, bad people can love someone deeply, and someone can be cruel in one moment and unexpectedly tender in another.

That contradiction is what makes darker characters feel real. It is also what gives us permission to explore them safely, because fiction gives us distance. We can enjoy obsession, danger, jealousy, revenge and morally questionable behavior without actually having to experience any of it ourselves. We get the adrenaline without needing to give a statement to the police afterwards. Enjoying a fictional villain does not mean we would tolerate the same behavior in real life. Reading about someone dangerously possessive is very different from discovering your new boyfriend has installed a tracking device under your car. One is entertainment. The other requires a phone call.

Perhaps what we really fall in love with is not the villain at all, but the possibility of what they could become. We want to see the wound beneath the armour. We want the moment they hesitate, the moment someone matters more than revenge, power or whatever terrible plan they have been enthusiastically pursuing for the previous three hundred pages. We want to know whether love can reach them, whether they can change, and whether they even want to.

And sometimes, of course, we do not want them redeemed at all. Sometimes we like our villains exactly as they are. Dangerous, complicated, morally questionable and, most importantly, fictional. Because while I may happily spend several hundred pages falling for a man who threatens people for looking at the woman he loves, I would still prefer my real-life relationships to involve significantly less kidnapping.

Standards are important.