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kaimeioneclipse · 4 months

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A Dark Wedding of Misery

Pairing: Wednesday x Male Reader

Summary: They said you two would never make it this far but you did. Y/N and Wednesday Addams are getting married. From Nevermore Academy to the Alter

WordCount: 1.3k words

WARNINGS: Kissing

The moon hung low in the midnight sky, casting an ethereal glow over the sprawling grounds of the Addams mansion. It was a night of foreboding, yet one tinged with an unusual excitement. Wednesday Addams, the somber and enigmatic daughter of the Addams family, was on the precipice of a life-altering event—an unholy matrimony that would defy the boundaries of the living and the dead.

The mansion, with its ivy-clad walls and twisted spires, exuded an otherworldly charm as Morticia, the epitome of Gothic elegance, supervised the final touches of her daughter's wedding gown. The dress, a masterpiece of darkness and grace, clung to Wednesday like a second skin, its midnight-black fabric cascading around her like a shroud.

"I will need some more black ash for the rest of your dress, Possibly your grandmothers would suffice. I shall return" Morticia says as he scurries out the room.

Wednesday scoots herself over to the dusty mirror in the Library that the family turned into a fitting room for the occasion. She looked at the black dress and felt it unsettling that her time was coming.

Wednesday looked at THING who was working on some dead flower arrangements and for the bridesmaids to hand out to them later.

"Thing" she called to him

Thing stopped his task and moved his hand body in her direction

"Find Enid, I wish to speak to her" Wednesday requested

Thing saluted and scurried off.

Wednesday waited for a few moments and then went towards the door and checked if the coast was clear. She picked up her black dress and began to run down the eerie hallways of the Addams Mansion towards the other wing.

_____________________________________

In a distant wing of the Addams mansion, where shadows played upon the walls like phantoms in the night, Y/N prepared for the unholy union. The air hung heavy with a sense of anticipation, and the dimly lit room seemed to echo with the echoes of centuries past.

Y/N, adorned in a suit as black as the void itself, stood before the ornate mirror. His hands trembled ever so slightly as he adjusted his tie, and his eyes, a mix of excitement and nervousness, reflected in the polished glass.

Ajax Petropolus, a towering figure with a beanie on his head stood behind Y/N checking themselves to make sure they looked good. He observed Y/N with a subtle nod, understanding the gravity of the moment. Eugene Ottinger, with his mop of unruly hair and penchant for the bizarre, fidgeted with the boutonnière, offering a lopsided grin. Beside them, Xavier Thorpe, with his piercing gaze and enigmatic aura, stood as the voice of reason.

Ajax: (In his deep, resonant voice) You'll do just fine, Y/N. It's not every day you get to marry into the Addams clan.

Eugene: (With a mischievous smirk) Remember, weddings are just like funerals, only with better food!

Xavier: (In his calm, soothing tone) Relax, Y/N. Tonight is a celebration of the unusual, and you, my friend, are stepping into a realm where the extraordinary is the norm.

As the trio provided reassurance and prepared Y/N for his impending union with Wednesday, the mansion's eerie silence served as a stark contrast to the bustling emotions within.

Once the boys left, Y/N stood alone in the room, the weight of the moment settling upon him like a heavy shroud. He looked at his reflection, contemplating the path that had led him to this peculiar crossroads.

As he ran his fingers through his hair, a knock echoed through the room. Y/N turned, expecting one of the boys to return with some last-minute advice. However, when he opened the door, there stood Wednesday—a vision of darkness and mystery and soon Y/N Wife.

Wednesday: (Expressionless) Y/N, the time is nigh.

Y/N: (Nervously) Yea it is, Wednesday. The boys were just helping me gather my composure.

Wednesday: (Observing him) Composure is overrated.

Without another word, Wednesday took Y/N's hand, leading him through the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion. The moonlit hallway cast an eerie glow as they approached the entrance to the backyard—a gateway to the dark forest that concealed secrets untold.

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The forest, with its twisted branches and shadowy depths, beckoned them into its enigmatic embrace. The rustling leaves and the distant hooting of an owl added to the mystical ambiance as Wednesday and Y/N ventured into the heart of the darkness.

Wednesday: (Stopping at the forest's edge) We stand on the precipice of eternity, Y/N. Tonight, we embark on a journey that transcends the mortal coil.

Y/N: (Nervously) Yes, Wednesday. I…

Wednesday: (Interrupting) Nervousness becomes you, Y/N. It is an emotion as genuine as the shadows that cloak our existence.

Y/N's gaze met Wednesday's, and in that moment, the moonlight revealed a vulnerability beneath her stoic exterior—a vulnerability mirrored in Y/N's own eyes.

Y/N: (Softly) I never thought I'd find someone as extraordinary as you.

Wednesday: (Expressionless) Extraordinary is subjective. Tonight, we become a tapestry of darkness and peculiarity, woven together in the moonlit dance of fate.....But I'm content that I've met you

Y/N, captivated by the haunting beauty of the dress, stood in awe of the enigmatic figure before him. The moonlight played upon the black fabric, casting an ethereal glow that accentuated the mysterious allure of Wednesday's presence.

Y/N: (Breathless) Wednesday, you're… breathtaking.

Wednesday: (Expressionless) Brevity suits the moment.

As those words hung in the air, Wednesday reached for Y/N's face with a gentle grace that belied her typically stoic demeanor. Her cool fingers traced a delicate path along his jawline, an intimate touch that transcended the shadows around them. In the dim moonlight, her left hand emerged, adorned with a striking black obsidian ring—a gem as dark as the night sky.

The ring, an exquisite piece of craftsmanship, held an otherworldly allure. A seamless integration of black obsidian and silver, it seemed to absorb the moonlight, casting a subtle, mesmerizing glow. Etched into the obsidian was an intricate pattern reminiscent of ancient symbols—a visual ode to the peculiar legacy they were about to deepen.

As Wednesday caressed Y/N's face, their eyes locked, and in that shared gaze, they found solace and understanding. Their intertwined fingers, now adorned with the weight of the black obsidian ring, rose together, and they turned their attention to the moon, hanging high in the velvet expanse of the night sky.

The moon, a silent witness to their journey, bathed them in its silvery glow. In that moment of quiet reflection, they let their minds drift back to their time at Nevermore Academy—the place where their paths first crossed.

Y/N: (Softly) Remember the nights we spent beneath the moon at Nevermore? The laughter, the secrets shared?

Wednesday: (Nodding) Nevermore was a chapter, and tonight, under the same moon, we begin a new one.

Y/N: (Smiling) I never thought this would be my ending.

Wednesday: (With a hint of mystery) Endings are illusions, Y/N. This is but the beginning.

Their hands tightened in a silent agreement, and in the tranquil moonlit glade, they kissed—a union of darkness and passion that spoke of a love destined to defy the ordinary. As they embraced, the moon bore witness to the promise of their unholy matrimony.

With the moon as their guide, they turned away from the clearing, fingers still entwined, and made their way back to the Addams family mansion. The shadows welcomed them like old friends, and as they crossed the threshold, the doors creaked shut behind them, sealing the pact of an eternal love that echoed through the haunted halls of the Addams legacy.

And so, beneath the watchful gaze of the moon and within the enigmatic embrace of the Addams mansion, Wednesday and Y/N embarked on a journey that defied the boundaries of time and tradition—an odyssey into the unknown, where each step marked a new beginning in the tapestry of their peculiar love. They walked hand in hand, ready to be officially married and embrace the darkness that awaited them—a love story destined to be inscribed in the annals of the Addams family's peculiar history.

(Author Notes)

Hey Everyone it's been a while. I know I've been away and I haven't finished ALOT of stories. I kinda fell off with writing, especially with content creation and work. Life be LIFEING! But we are back and I got inspired to write again due to the picture above. It was nice to write more Wednesday fanfics hopefully the fandom isn't dead but if you enjoyed it let me know and we can work on more stories.

Check out my MASTER LIST!

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bayone1ta · 2 months

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"𝑻𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚'𝒔 𝑩𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝑹𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉"

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟏,𝟎𝟒𝟒

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 (𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥), 𝐅/𝐌, 𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐝𝐨𝐦, 𝐟𝐬𝐮𝐛, 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞, 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤, 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 (𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐦 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲)

The day has felt long, and cruel without Simon there with you. Desperate to see him walk into the door, you try taking naps cause why not? It kills time, doesn’t it? You know that’d fuck up your sleep schedule quite a bit, but you’d do anything for him. Your impatient napping worked a little, only 3 hours passed. You decide to freshen up, get in the hot shower, wash your body, etc.

You leave the steamy hot bathroom after changing and seeing Simon leaning against the doorframe. Simon didn’t say anything to you at all.. you knew he was pissed about something.

“Get on the bed, I need you.” He says as he sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread slightly. “But I just showered not too long ago?” You say, not wanting to get all dirtied up again. “I don’t care,” Simon said, “Had a rough day and just needed to relieve some stress, y/n, do you mind?” He says. “N-No, not at all, dear.” You walk towards the bed to straddle him, your arms wrapped around his neck. “Such a good girl, y/n.” his warm lips pressing against your neck in sloppy kisses.

his hand slides up, now buried under your shirt.. well his shirt that you stole, that is. “S-Si..!” You whimper as he tugs on your nipples, your nipples hardening under his touch, his other hand? Well, it’s rubbing away at your throbbing, wet heat.

“I know it hurts, baby,” he whispers, his breath grazing against your ear, “Just enjoy what I’m giving you.. and maybe, just maybe, I’ll give you a reward, darling.”

You listen to his orders, thinking he’ll finally let you reach your peak after what felt like an eternity of him edging you. “I..I’ll be good.. S-Si…” Your voice is a whimpery mess due to his movements.

“Good girl, you’re doing so good f’me baby.. take it.” His movements become more and more intense as time passes, his fingers now slipping in and out of your pussy.

As you think you’ll finally be able to reach your peak, Simon’s hands stop moving.

“If I’m gonna let you cum, it sure as hell won’t be on my fingers,” he says as he begins to undress. “I’ve had such a long day at work, dear…. Need you to be good for me, okay?”

“O-Of course, dear..” you slip your boyfriend's shirt off, your perky tits open in the cold air of the bedroom.

“Ah, darlin’,” in his thick, British accent. “You know I can’t resist you when you wear my clothes,” Simon says, one of his hands sliding up your body to grab one of your breasts.

You squirm as his hand tortures you once again, your panties being slid down by his free hand. “P-please, Si…” you beg, wishing for him to just say fuck it, and fuck you already.

“Well, I suppose I should reward my lovely, good girl, should I?” He says as he begins unbuckling his belt. “Lay down, now,” he says as he slides his boxers down, his erection standing proudly. “I want that face down in those pillows, that pretty ass of yours in the air.”

As you lay down, your face is down, ass is up, just what he had told you to do. You whimper as Simon delivers a few smacks on your ass, the spots from those smacks turning red. “You like it rough, don’t you, baby?” He says seductively, adjusting his position to slide into you.

“Y-Yeah, I do,” you say, hands gripping the sheets in anticipation. “Take me, dear” you mumble.

Simon complies, positioning himself at your soaking wet entrance. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me.. gonna fuck you hard.” He says as he slides into you, chills running down your spine as he pushes himself all the way into you, his cock filling you to the brim.

Simon’s thrusts are rough, calculated, and driven to make you feel good. “You’re taking me so fucking well, darling.” His thrusts speed up, your body close to reaching its peak.

“Mmph… S-Simon~!” You moan as he pulls your hair back. “You can take all of it baby, you’ve taken this dick before,” he says as he delivers two spanks to your ass. “Do you like it when I use that pussy of yours to relieve my stress?” Simon says as he pushes your head hard against the soft pillow, his strong hand still gripping your soft, pretty locs.

“I-I love it when you use my cunt~!” You say as you’ve become cock drunk, your hands gripping the sheets hard, your moans loud and audible. “S-Simon~!” You moan, desperate to show him that you’re on the brink of an orgasm. “Are you gonna cum for me baby?” Simon says as he speeds up. “Are you gonna beg for me?” He says. “Cause I’ll only let you cum if you moan, and beg for this dick slutty enough.”

You try to moan and beg as slutty as it can get. “Fuck me with your fat cock~!” You declare, causing Simon to smirk a little. “You want my cock? You’re gonna have to beg for it a little more than just that, sweetheart.” Simon spanks your ass more; red marks appearing on your ass with each spank.

You try begging even more. “Please, S-Simon~!” You moan and beg, desperate to please him. “Please what, my little temptress? Be specific.” He teases. “M-Make me c-cum!” You whimper out, blush streaked across your cheeks in a rosey pink color.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he whispers into ear, “I’m gonna cum, you ready?” Simon’s thrusts speed up, your moans getting louder. “P-Please let me cum, baby~!” Your fingers grip onto the sheets, your hair still gripped tight in his fist. Simon and your groans echo throughout the bedroom as you both reach your peaks.

“B-Babe~!” You moan, now panting against the sheets. “You did so well for me, my love,” Simon pulls you close to him in a spooning position, “We can go in the shower together and clean up if you want,” He offers, “Or, we can fill up a soapy, hot bath and enjoy each other.” Simon says as he presses a kiss to your temple.

𝐀/𝐍: I need Simon omg

#simon ghost riley #smut #cod smut #y/n #f/m #fanfic #cod fanfic #ghost x reader

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emmanelson · 3 months

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CHASING YOU (2019)

#chasing you #jeremy allen white #addison timlin #short film #jawedit #atimlinedit #muse inspo #ship inspo #fm #f/m

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museinspo · 14 days

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#faceless #ships #f/m #tattoos #+#cindy kimberly

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save-the-villainous-cat · 10 months

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I'd like to request a snippet for a justice-driven homicidal Vampire Hunter getting bitten by his long-time femdommy Vampire rival and enjoying it far more than he expected. Can be as suggestive as you wish <3

He didn’t talk for a long, long time. He just watched her curiously, not really sure what he would do, now that he was alone in a room with her again.

Last time turned out horribly wrong with her destroying all his weapons and pushing him against the wall. He wasn’t one to lose his composure easily but that one was…challenging.

“Ugh. You again?” she asked. Her pupils were dilated, two massive black holes in a dimly lit room that sucked him in. “Come back later.”

His eyes fell on the shards on the floor, the deep scratches in the wooden desk. A drawer was destroyed, torn into pieces. Usually, order was important to her. Wherever she was, there was a certain grace that followed her.

“I’m here to finally end this,” the vampire hunter said. “And I’m not leaving this room until I do.”

Usually, she would’ve laughed at that. She liked to tease him. Make fun of him.

But she didn’t say a thing, she just rolled her eyes and groaned. One hand sank into her smooth hair, grabbing her skull as she was squeezing her eyes together.

He’d never seen her like this before. Tortured like that.

Oh god.

She seemed to be in pain, fingers grabbing the desk hard enough to make the wood crack. Was she sick? Injured?

“I’ll make this quick. Some hunters capture vampires and force them to walk in the sun until they die.” This was mercy, wasn’t it? It’s what he had to do, what he was trained to do.

“Aren’t you a sunshine?” she asked. Her eyes found him again and hunger and insanity seemed to mix in them. He was more enticed than he should’ve been.

He’d been after her for months now, had spent years trying to end her. So many times, he’d been this close.

And he kept hesitating every single time. Sometimes he cursed himself for that. She seemed to be so much better at being his enemy.

“Look, pretty boy.” She looked at him and he noticed that her eyes were bloodshot. “I will decapitate you with my hands and let your head rot on my desk if you don’t leave now.”

“You’re sick.”

“So I’ve been told,” she said.

“No. You’re sick. You’re ill. Something’s wrong.” He took a step towards the desk, watching her hands, her body to detect any signs of danger but she didn’t seem to be capable of fighting right now. Her muscles tensed and relax almost rhythmically. “I can’t kill you when you’re ill.”

Technically, not true.

He took another step towards her, trying to reach her with his hand.

“I’m good with medicine and I have enough knowledge about vampires to help you, just let me—”

He didn’t know exactly why he was acting like an absolute idiot. When it came to her, his brain shut off and showed no signs of going back up.

She snatched his wrist and slammed it into the wall, panting as she pressed him against it once again. Her fangs hovered over his bare skin. He felt her breath on his neck, heavy and fast, and god, he realised how lonely he was.

“You have to go,” she said.

“I’ve never seen you act like this,” he said, his heart hammering in his chest. He concentrated on her body, trying to think of any sickness she could have. Nothing came to mind. “I’ve never seen a vampire act like this.”

“I…” She let her head drop, still panting, still clawing at his wrist. Their chests were touching and he was sure he was going insane when her forehead rested on his shoulder. “I’m trying to starve myself.”

“What?” he whispered, angry at the thought and confused why she would want to do that.

“My niece died three months ago of old age. She was the last of my family. They’re all dead now. I haven’t tasted blood since.”

“Are you insane?! Three months?” Her breath was slowing, her grip loosening. He knew she was probably at the end of her tether, with his heart beating hard enough for the two of them to hear. It probably took all her composure not to make a meal out of him.

“I didn’t know what to do,” she said. “I would’ve asked you but…I don’t think you can kill me.”

“Excuse me?”

She raised her head to look up at him.

“No offence,” she said, studying his face. He was probably drenched in red, even though he wanted to play it cool. “Fuck, you’re so adorable…”

He knew how unfair life could be. A long time ago she had mentioned that she never wanted to be a vampire in the first place.

To watch everyone around her die, to be alone for good…he swallowed, touched by how much he could relate to that.

It wasn’t easy, this profession. Most people didn’t make it to their 30s.

“Bite me,” he whispered gently.

“What?”

“Bite me,” he said again. “Please. I’ll beg for it if I have to. Please, help yourself.”

She was tired, he could tell. Maybe that was why she didn’t argue. Her nails dug into his shoulders and if that wasn’t enough to ruin him already, she licked his neck generously, sucking on the spot she wanted. He cursed quietly, trying to hold onto her hips but she was faster and pressed his wrists above his head with one hand.

The other found his jawline and followed it. When she was done with her preparations, she pressed a kiss to the wet spot on his neck and moved on to brush her lips against his.

“Is this really what you want?”

“Might as well have some fun before I kill you, huh?” He chuckled nervously. God, he was rusty. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched like this.

“Don’t get cocky now,” she warned, lifting her knee to press it between his thighs. “Don’t get cocky…”

He groaned, nearly whimpered and leaned his head back, eyes rolling into the back of his head. He wondered if this was how everyone who got bitten by her felt like and that thought alone made him jealous.

He was a starved man, he realised. Starved like her, for other reasons and maybe for the same reason. He had expected her to be ice cold and though her skin was a lot cooler than his, she was comforting.

Being close to her made him feel at peace. It was as if he’d known her in his previous lives, as if this was meant to be. He couldn’t allow himself to think thoughts like that…

“Please…”

“Shhh, my love.” She sucked a hickey into his neck and it slowly dawned on him that she was edging herself. Sucking that blood to the surface, taking her time…or maybe she just wanted to edge him.

Maybe she was just as nervous as he was, maybe she was just as rusty. He couldn’t tell. And he didn’t care. He cursed himself for all the wasted years.

One last time, her tongue went over his skin and then, he felt a sharp pain, followed by sweet release and an overwhelming amount of pleasure.

He wanted to hunt her for eternity, he wanted to hate her, he wanted to call her his undying nemesis so bad but above all, he wanted to fall asleep on her chest with her long fingers buried in his hair.

#THIS TURNED OUT SO ANGSTY NAUR #and so horny??#I had so much fun with this!#also that I post this on the first of July is a coincidence istg I did not wait for pride month to be over to post this #writing snippet #suggestive #vampire x vampire hunter #vampire hunter x vampire #vampire #vampire hunter #f/m

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 2 months

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#32

TW: Knives, references to violence, restraints, bruises/wounds, flirty?

I am literally sauurrr sorry for being so inactive but college is destroying me. It's been so long since I've written too, so I do hope the quality of this piece isn't affected. Missed u guys 💙

"Do I scare you?" the hero asked, her voice devoid of any emotion, all while her eyes stared straight through the villain like he was transparent, searching for something in his expression.

Except his face remained defiantly blank, looking up at her, fire in his honey brown eyes, surprisingly not sparing any effort to attempt escaping his restraints.

When the hero stuck one of her nails into a small, open cut on his neck, the villain bit back a wince, an irritated frown tugging at the corner of his lip. "Yes," he supplied, his tone even and calm, not even hostile, trying to render himself as passive as possible.

Except he'd licked his lip in that quick, almost imperceptible manner, something he only ever did when he lied, something the hero wasn't supposed to know.

But she did.

"Stop lying," she snarled, sticking her nail again in the cut.

"The hell do you want, Hero?" he snapped, hissing as her finger left his cut.

The breaking point. The point where the villain was done placating and playing along and already back to his normal, wild state, where he could care less about whatever earned the hero's ire.

She'd spent the last three hours mostly in silence, only ever talking to ask the villain a question she knew would irritate him. He held up surprisingly well, even though his self-preservation instincts were usually nowhere to be found. So she wondered why he'd act so placidly in the beginning.

The villain liked to talk. He did most of the talking during their fights. The quiet drove him insane, and now he had his teeth bared like an animal, murder in his eyes and tension in his jaw.

This was the part where the hero should've laughed or slapped him across the face, or done anything just as cruel.

The truth was that they'd both been nothing but cruel to each other, enemies by virtue. The villain had beat the hero black and blue, had called her a myriad of flithy names, had screamed at her because of how much he hated that she was quiet. In turn, the hero made sure that every nick with a knife and every punch against skin had left a mark on the villain. She fought to scar, not just to incapacitate. She knew the scars were more a wound to his ego than his body, proof she'd hurt him.

And yet, the villain had pulled her out of a ditch and bandaged up her nearly destroyed leg, effectively saving her life when he had no business being there. In turn, she'd pulled him up when he almost slipped off a roof during one of their fights.

And situations like that would only keep happening more and more often, almost a staple of their atypical relationship. The villain would laugh, would crack a joke, would be so careful with her wounds, would be anything but his usual abrasive self.

And the very next fight, they would be even more horrible to each other, as though whatever had happened the day before had never been, as though cruelty was the only language they could speak.

The hero didn't have friends. They were another luxury she couldn't afford. Her teammates weren't actively cruel or anything of the like, but the agency left no room for any semblance of friendship or love or all the things the hero wanted but could never really have. And the villain wasn't her friend. He wasn't supposed to be anyone. But he was genuine, almost the only person in her life who didn't sound and act like a robot. He'd had actual conversations with the hero. And maybe she was not stupid enough to think that made him any good, but maybe she was stupid enough to think that made him mean something to her.

"Answer me, Hero," he snarled coldly, tearing her chain of thought in half.

The hero didn't consider spending any time on thinking of an intelligible response. People weren't logical when they were desperate. Desperate was the hero's hand cupping the villain's jaw so gently that the shiver up his spine was still awfully intense, even with his numb body. Desperate was staring into the villain's eyes, watching the way his lashes fluttered, as his eyes told a completely different story from the harsh frown on his lips. Desperate was the hero's lips on his cheekbone, warm against his skin, shy, terrified, staying there for a fleeting moment that still felt like too long and retracting away with shame written all over her features.

"I'm sorry."

Villain's eyes had widened, even though it seemed impossible they could grow any bigger. "I- come closer again," he half-whispered, all the roughness from his voice gone. "Lean down a little."

And the hero obliged, even though it went against every single thing she'd been taught, and in turn the villain's lips were pressed to her jaw, careful but in no way timid. They weren't supposed to be velvet-soft, and hints of the villain's spicy cologne shouldn't have still managed to be distinguishable through the blood and the sweat. But of course the seemingly impossible was happening.

"Yes," he answered, "you do scare me, but not in the way that you asked, so I was lying," he continued against the hero's jaw.

And she hated how palpable the relief was when he hadn't licked his lips.

"This is how you actually kiss someone." The smirk on the villain's face may have been merciless as he pulled away, but it was clear he was trying to break the tension that they could have sliced through with a blade.

God, the hero could barely breathe. She never knew something that felt almost forbidden could feel so right. She was scared the villain's response had been a trick and more scared that it hadn't. She wanted to scream at him and slam her fists into his body, to split his rose-petal-like lips with a jagged streak of crimson. But more than anything, she wanted him close enough to her that they were breathing each other's air, she wanted to kiss his face again, properly this time, so that it truly felt like something, something that set the hero's nerves on fire.

The hero had pulled out her twin knives, cutting through his ropes with one, while the other remained pressed against his carotid artery, as he still remained sitting on the chair.

Except the villain had pulled the knife out of her hand, slightly scratching himself, and he got up, twirling the knife with his hand and pressing its cold, flat edge to the hero's jaw, his breath warm on her face. "Don't fight it. That's all you've done, all I've done, and I'm sick of it."

And in all honesty, so was she. Sick of having no one, sick of wanting someone who was right there and yet so far away, sick of pushing a knife into the skin of the same boy who had bandaged her bleeding knuckles and made fun of the stupid kids' designs etched on them, the only thing he had, the next day after it happened.

The hero nodded, slowly putting her knives away when the villain handed her the other blade back, slinging an arm around the villain's waist, surprisingly small for someone so athletically built, but not any less attractive.

"Let's go home. I mean, my place," the villain suggested, utterly exhausted, but a hint of a smile was still there in his words as he wrapped his arm around the hero's shoulder, his fingers gripping onto the fabric of her suit a little playfully.

And the hero simply nodded, mirroring the villain's own soft smile.

Emotions are hard to understand, no rules or logic existent that could ever explain the power they hold over a person; the power that the heart exercises so ruthlessly over the mind. And yet nearly nothing could ever leave one feeling so certain, so absolutely euphoric to the point that not even the entire world would seem to matter compared to the one person love tethers you to.

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