Captain America Fanfiction Novels & Stories

The kidnapper laughed at her and asked his fellow rogues to video Camille as she looks well beaten and send the video to Alpha Aiden, that should make him work faster. "Your mate Should better act fast , he wouldn't want to find out what I personally will do to you next", the kidnapper smirked, grabbing a handful of Camille's hair and making her scream in pain and then releasing it. "Don't give her any food or water", he ordered to his boys and left the room. One of them then bent down to Camille's level, holding up her chin, "I wish boss would let us play with you for a little while", he said making Camille try to shift away from his touch in disgust but unable too.

In the next second and due to his heavy breath and cold sweat, his eyes opened with a shot and he heard the same dialogue again and also found someone was gently pinching and caressing his cheek. " Mishu baby, let me massage your cheeks. Please don't be so rude to me. I love you so much. Sorry, Janu." Vihaan twitched his mouth with great annoyance. He struggled hard to release himself from Captain's grip. " I am not your mishu. Captain! Wake up… leave me… Otherwise, I have to use my power on you. C'mon wake up." After a few efforts, he succeeded to release himself from Captain's grip. But the Captain was still in deep sleep. Vihaan's rudeness did not bother his sweet dreams. After that, Viha

It was why I had feared for my life when Axel mentioned the love bite. "I am not entirely sure what you are getting at Mister." I forced my hand out of his grip and he allowed it. "Do I look like I am a freak to you?" I was sure to even add. "If I were a freak, do you think Alpha... I mean Jason would be able to hold me captive?" That seemed to catch his attention. "What do you mean by captive? Aren't you his mate?"

Oliver stood under the hot, white spotlight. The bright light burned his eyes. He stared at the tall man holding his hand. The truth hit him like a heavy, cold rock. Alexander Whitman. The famous hockey captain. The man who fucked him so hard in the hotel pool. He was actually a Montgomery. He was the son of the enemy. Oliver pulled his hand back. He pulled very hard. Alexander’s fingers were strong, but Oliver ripped his hand away. The skin on Oliver’s wrist burned red from the tight grip.

It was still there, simmering under the surface, possessive and controlled and entirely too intense. “Marcus,” Ward called without looking away from me, “leave.” Marcus looked between us, smirking despite his obvious pain. “Well, I’m your best friend, so I don’t see why I have to miss the reunion scene.” “Marcus.” Ward’s tone dropped lower, colder, carrying that command I had only heard in fragments before. Not the hockey captain. Not the man from our past. This was the businessman who could make rooms fall silent with a single word. I exhaled and rubbed my temple. The emotional whiplash of the day was beginning to catch up with me.

My mind snaps back to the present, the outcome of the risk crashing down on me. I'm the Captain. I'm the Salvador Alpha. And I have the enemy omega pinned to my bed, drenched in my scent, while my best friends are inches away. I look down at Everett. He's staring at the door, paralyzed, his eyes wide with a terror so pure it almost makes me come right then and there. The handle rattles.

Dexter's chest was heaving, his eyes locked on mine over her shoulder, gold burning bright even in the dim light. "You want to do this here?" he asked. "In front of her? In front of the cameras three doors down?" "I don't care where we do it." "You should care," he said. "Because the second either of us shifts in this building, it's over. Both of us. The whole thing unravels. Is that really what you want, Captain?" The word came out mocking, sharp, like he knew exactly how much I hated hearing it from him. "Don't call me that."

“Well, well.” Captain followed James’ gaze a beat later, and his whole body shifted when his eyes landed on me. His smile didn’t return right away. Instead, it softened into something else—something careful and tentative, like he wasn’t sure if I was a mirage or a mistake. “Guess your boyfriend was worried about me too,” James said with a shit-eating grin, nudging Captain with his elbow. Captain rolled his eyes and stood up from the plastic chair, brushing his hands down his jeans like he didn’t know what to do with them. “You’re here,” he said quietly, stepping toward me.

That cocky part of me wanted to wink or flash a grin but I was too locked in. I adjusted my gloves, rolling my shoulders as I skated to the faceoff circle. Carter was already there with the team, warming up. He was crouched in a squat, probably trying to loosen his hips as he scraped his stick over the ice. Captain fucking America. Through the helmet, I could see his jaw was tight and blue eyes narrowed in concentration. I fucking hated him. And I wanted him too.

I've turned them into my adversaries without even trying. Someone is leaning above me. I hold my breath so they won't notice that I'm awake. That same someone surprises me by kissing my forehead. My eyes widen. I blink until my vision clears, but even then, I refuse to accept what I'm seeing. Dan smiles, his skin wrinkling over his lovely hazel eyes. "Hey." I keep staring. This is a fantasy. This is not true. It's not possible. Nobody is supposed to care if I live or die. Simon was the only one who cared, and he paid with his life.