I'm Not A Villain Novels & Stories

The fucking bastard. Of course he did. Of course he had to ruin it. Again. He ripped her away. Just like before. Always taking what wasn’t his to take. Always stealing the one thing that ever mattered to me. But not anymore. Not anymore. I’m done playing the good guy. The patient one. The background character in my own fucking story. No more watching from the sidelines. No more pretending. I’m ready to go full villain mode. If that’s what it takes, so be it.

Nothing to do with me my ass! Look at me now, stuck in this world where in the end it would be destroyed and ruled by those protagonists! Damn it! I am not a Mary Sue, a saint nor a protagonist who would plan to save this world and save those countless innocent lives that were killed by the war because of the schemes of those so-called protagonists in the act of saving the people from the villain boss but they are the real villain in the end. While this so-called villain boss... I glanced at Phoenix whose hand was tightly wrapped around my waist as if he wanted to tell everyone that I'm his.

It broke something inside of me. I absolutely hated it when people made me feel like the villain of the story. But trust me, I’m not. I’m really not a bad person. I’m just the kind of moth that didn’t just dance around a fire because it was alluring. I liked to get right into the center of it, get burnt to a crisp, and get completely consumed by the heat.

But I lost everything. Because of my greed. Because of jealousy. Because of Diana. Or maybe… because of me. My cellmate laughed in her sleep, breaking the silence. I turned away and faced the wall again. I would never wear a wedding dress. Never open a business. Never hear anyone call me “Mommy.” I destroyed too many lives, including mine. Maybe… I really was the villain. And villains never get happy endings.

I’ve parked my car far enough away, so that no one will find it and if they do they won’t be able to find the hiding spot right away. Right now, a group of rogues are taking us to their leader. Crieg, the bad guy in everyone’s story, just like me. I never wanted to think myself as the villain, but everyone loves to paint as one, so why not wear the colors that everyone has painted me as. They want me to be a villain, I’ll be a vilian.

People going about their days, unaware that mine was imploding again. "What if he's right?" I whispered. "What if I am the villain?" "Then we're both villains." Damien's arms tightened around me. "Because I'm about to burn Victor Kane's empire to the ground."

"The kind that make you wonder if you've been the villain in your own story." She didn't laugh it off, didn't deflect with a quip. Instead, she turned fully toward me, her expression shifting—softening into something serious, unguarded. The food truck's neon sign cast a warm glow over her face, highlighting the curve of her jaw, the faint worry line between her brows that appeared when she was piecing together a puzzle. "Nolan," she said quietly, her thumb tracing idle circles on the back of my hand, "you're not a villain. You're just... human. Messy. Like the rest of us."

That picture wouldn't leave my mind any time soon. Not typical of a villain, huh. Exactly. I was an upholder of the principle: action speaks louder than voice. My behavior, my interest—they all were pointers that I was a unique breed of villain. It got me squealing—mentally, because I'd begun to worry I was an empty vessel. One—like the other villains—that faked the extent of their wickedness. I didn't scowl like them. Didn't dress like the devil's right-hand man. I was genuinely quirky.

I took a few steps forward, "Believe me, this life hurts hell a lot more." And I am so tired of getting hurt. I am so tired of battling with this life and losing...of searching for something I'll never find. I am tired of trying. Of everything. I speak to the old me, the one I barely remember, the victim; and to the man I've became today, the villain of my own story. And I realize, every villain must die. I finally give up on the fight warring my mind. I don't want to fight anymore,

I said before opening my fist as a small flame appeared in the middle of my hand, making me look at the blue flame proudly. Smiling at the small flame, I twirled my fingers before looking at Marissa, who looked back at me with wide eyes, and I couldn't help but smirk. “What did you say? You will end my life and throw me down a cliff? I don’t know why people misjudge me for those weak heroines in the movies who always get bullied and rely on the hero. I am a villainess, sweetheart. I don’t need anyone to protect me. In fact, people need to be protected from me,” I said before sighing.