Not A Villian Novels & Stories

I was still speaking when Maya smacked my hand softly. “Nah-uh, don't you dare feel bad for nobody's betrayal…. you're not the villain in this goddamn story girl!! He and his entire sicko family are the devil here, remember? They tricked you, lied to you and now they're trying to play some goddamn supero spy shit with you, that is some villain type of bullshit and you don't have any right to feel sad about getting up in their ass and sniffing them out.” She said then crossed her arms.

"If I’m not perfect—if I don't get the best grades, the best social standing, the best husband—I’m a 'failure.' Asher was supposed to be my escape. He’s a Vale. My father would have respected that. But he chose you." I froze. The wit that usually sat on the tip of my tongue felt like lead. I looked at the bruises, then at the terror in her eyes. In this world of elite schools and fast bikes, I’d forgotten that every villain has a origin story. Vivian wasn't just a mean girl; she was a victim who had decided to become a monster to survive. "Vivian," I said, my voice softening despite myself. "That doesn't give you the right to destroy people."

“Damian will be the protagonist male. Yeah…. yeah…. before you say anything, I will tell you who will be our protagonist female and the villains. The story is set in North city, it is about a man who doesn’t want to marry the woman that his family wants because he doesn’t like her. On the other hand, the male villain has a beautiful wife but he doesn’t love her. When Damian laid his eyes on the villain’s wife, he fell in love with her immediately.”

"You're not frightened at all are you, ? You, of all people, should know that I do not make empty threats." His fingers dug deeper into her skin. "I know you ran to your little hero, thinking he'd save the day. But let me tell you right now, your Prince Charming is no match for this villain standing next to you. Valtor's breath danced across Valeria's ear, sending shivers down her spine.

“I should probably introduce myself properly. I’m Valeria Castillo. Vicente’s daughter. Killian’s cousin.” “I remember,” I said quietly. She smiled slightly. “I’m not like the rest of them. I don’t think you’re some scheming spy sent to destroy the pack.” “Thank you,” I said, surprised by the warmth in her voice. “Don’t thank me yet,” Valeria said with a wry smile. “I’m just honest. And honestly? You’ve got guts. Running away from your mating ceremony, standing up to Killian’s father, surviving poison. Most people would have crumbled by now.”

She was honest, resilient, and surprisingly, fiercely loyal to an unspoken code of conduct. "Isabelle Dela Cruz," he said aloud, testing the name. He still didn’t understand her fully. But he was undeniably intrigued. The game, he realized, had just become far more interesting. And for the first time in a long while, Damian Villareal felt a flicker of something beyond just strategic calculation. He felt curiosity. And that, for him, was a dangerous and utterly unexpected emotion.

I told her softly, admitting the truth. All my life I'd been treated like shit for something I'd had absolutely no control over. So could you really blame me that I felt intensely attracted towards the one person who didn't see me as just a slave? The one person who actually saw me as a living, breathing individual? Cared enough to have an actual conversation with me? "Oh, Mel," Miss Lillian sighed from behind me, and I squeezed my eyes shut as she wrapped her arms around me from behind, providing motherly affection.

“You guys have no idea how much humiliated I felt in front of Fernando.” “I’m afraid he might tell Marcellus about this recent incident,” Noah says, voicing dreadful. I swallow the lump in my throat. There we go, another maniac who willingly wants to die at my hands. Isn’t it better to put the whole world on fire so that no one can lift their finger against my lady? “He won’t,” Bryce wheezes, taking his statement as a joke. “Yet,” Noah warns. “Relax, we will find her till then,” the black-haired guy says.

dissolves into nothing. This is what I wanted. In my past life, I was a victim. I was the pathetic, low-ranking omega who got backhanded into a concrete pillar and left to rot on a narrow cot in the infirmary while Willow sat softly in the sun, protected and adored. I hated Asher for his cruelty, but I hated Willow more. I hated her gentle smile, her soft voice, her fake innocence that kept everyone blind to the rot beneath it. I am a villainess. I have always known what I am. I didn't come back to this second life to be a hero, or to save the weak, or to live a quiet, peaceful life in the lower ranks.

“Oh yeah? What do you call gathering all of our soldiers to fight Canum’s rogues? A tea party?” I opened my mouth. Then closed it. Because unfortunately, she wasn’t entirely wrong. “And now,” Vahlia continued, “suddenly you’re talking about mating Bailey?” I looked away. The pressure behind my eyes returned. Heavy. Persistent. “Sometimes people realize they’ve been chasing the wrong person.” Vahlia studied me. For a long moment neither of us spoke. Then her expression softened. Just slightly. “I like Maryelle.” There it was. The real reason. “I consider her my friend—I’m not friends with crown chasers. In fact, I can spot them from miles away.”