Captain America Fanfiction 소설 & 이야기

“Stay away from me.” “You say that, but your eyes tell a different story,” I challenged, stepping closer, refusing to back down. “It’s Uncle Jax, and stop this nonsense before I throw you out myself.” “Tch tch. The mighty Alpha is flustered,” I teased darkly, then leaned in and whispered, “Then make me leave.” His eyes darkened. “Is that how you tempted that football captain while spreading your legs for others?” he sneered. I blinked. Then I slapped him—hard.

“We’ve got your back on the ice, Captain. But you gotta be careful. The fan club is funny now, but if we lose Game 6 because your head’s somewhere else… a lot of people won’t forgive you. Including your dad. He’s already calling around asking questions.” I nodded, staring at my phone as more notifications flooded in. The campus was completely split. Half were rooting for the enemies-to-lovers story, making edits and fan art. The other half was calling me a sellout and a traitor who was costing the Wolves their shot at the title. And somewhere in the middle was Danica — holding my gift, caught between two teams, two captains, and two very different futures. I opened our chat and typed a short

"It's over." The Captain's face was gray. His hands were empty, his chest heaving, his eyes darting between them. "You think this changes anything? You think putting me in a cell brings your father back? Brings back any of them?" Alex picked up the folder, tucked it under his arm. The pages were scattered across the floor, the truth finally in the light. "It brings you where you belong. That's enough." The Captain's laugh was hollow. "You're a fool. Both of you. You think you've won. You think this is over." He reached into his jacket again, slower this time, his hand coming out with something small, black, plastic.

He reminded me of someone else. The bathroom stank of bleach and lemon. I kicked open each stall. Making sure they were all empty. Daniel posted up by the door, arms crossed, eyes on the sliver of hallway visible through the crack. “You better not be trying anything funny,” he told Derrick. But you could hear the tension in his tone. Derrick rolled his eyes. “Relax, Captain America. I’m not here to confess my undying love for Oliver.” “Both of you, shut up,” I muttered. My pulse was in my throat. “What do you need my help with?”

gaze. She jumped, frantically double-checking the documents in front of her. Did I screw something up? Was yesterday’s report late? No... even the punctuation was perfect. But the captain didn’t look away. His stare was deep, contemplative—a look she had never seen directed at her before. “Cap?” Manning finally broke, her voice hesitant. “If I did something wrong, just tell me. Please don’t look at me with that terrifying stare...” Then, she remembered what Ethan had whispered earlier. Rumor had it the captain was in love.

Through the ground. Through me. Recognition. The captain’s eyes widened. “…No.” My lips curved slightly. Not in amusement. In understanding. “You didn’t know,” I said. And that— That shook him. “Impossible,” he muttered. But it wasn’t. Because I felt it. All of it. The connection. The pull. The reason. “Say it,” I whispered. The forest seemed to hold its breath. The captain stared at me. Really stared. Like he was seeing me for the first time. And then—

One in particular caught my eye. Dante Kade. Captain. Number 17. Ice-blue eyes. A name that came with a hundred headlines and at least five fangirl forums I pretended not to browse. He looked lethal. The kind of lethal that made smart girls run and stupid girls fall. I wasn’t here to do either. I tore my eyes away from the poster and squared my shoulders. The heel of my boot clicked against the tile with more attitude than I felt. I could fake it. I’d faked worse.

He looked less like the untouchable club captain and more like a very dangerous domestic hazard who had wandered out of a romance novel. "We need to talk," he said, his dark eyes finding mine immediately before flicking toward Lucía. "Alone, if that's alright." Lucía looked between the two of us, back and forth, her gaze lingering on the state of my hair and the fact that I was wearing his clothes. Something in her expression shifted from protective suspicion into something dangerously close to enthusiastic approval. "I'll be right outside," she said, gathering her bag with theatrical slowness. She paused right beside Tiago, leaned in, and delivered a stage-whisper loud enough to rattle the

“Whatever you say, Alpha. Don't blame me when you’re too stiff to walk tomorrow.” He leans in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial, filthy whisper that only I can hear. “Unless... you want to be too stiff to walk tomorrow? Because we can arrange that, too. I’m very accommodating.” My face is on fire, my heart is hammering, and I’m trapped between a rock, my unreadable Captain, and an insufferable, intoxicating bastard who is methodically tearing down every wall I have. I turn my back to him, pulling my cloak tight. It’s a childish, petulant move, and I don't care anymore. I’m more than half-tempted to stamp my foot at well.

Her mouth actually fell open. Brad, to his credit, tried to play it cool. He smirked and gestured between us like we were old friends. “Stacey, this is Sebastian,” he said smoothly. “Sebastian, this is my girl, Stacey.” I gave her a small, polite nod. “Hey.” Her face was surprised with her mouth almost opening wide, like she had just discovered the juiciest piece of gossip in all of Hawthorne. The captain of Westfield suddenly living under the same roof as her boyfriend?