Spy Rivals in Love Pt.2 - vick (iris)
Summary | You, known as the 'Scarlet Lady,' are a spy for the NSS in Korea. Your greatest rival is Vick, an agent from an enemy organization. Although you both despise each other and face off with all your hatred, every time you meet, the tension turns into something more intense—a connection you can't ignore, despite everything that separates you.
Pairing | iris!vick x fem!reader.
Genre | 2000s era, enemies to lovers.
Warnings | explicit violence, use of weapons and chase escenes, strong lenguage, tension, blood, explicit sexual contest, nudity, sexual tension (lots of it), trust issues.
Author's note | English is not my first language, so I apologize for any spelling mistakes.
Vick slowly raised both hands, as if surrendering to the threat of your gun, but he kept smiling with that arrogant confidence that had always characterized him.
"Easy, Scarlet Lady," he said in a low voice, almost mockingly. "I didn’t come to ruin your operation. Just wanted to see if you still had your style. And damn, you do."
Your hand was steady, finger on the trigger, but something inside you knew you weren’t going to shoot. Not yet. He was an annoying adversary, sure, but also a useful informant when he wanted to be. Sometimes too useful.
"What are you doing here, Vick? Who sent you?" you asked harshly, not lowering your weapon.
"Let’s just say… our goals are aligned, for now." He lowered his hands and started walking toward one of the terminals without asking for permission, as if you weren’t pointing a gun at him. "I want that information too. But not for the NSS or any corrupt government."
"Then who for?" you shot back, eyes tracking him like a hawk.
"For me." He shrugged. "You have your reasons. I have mine. But if we collaborate, we might both get what we want without leaving bodies behind."
"And if I don’t want to collaborate?" The threat in your voice hung like a sharp needle.
"Then one of us dies here, in this quiet bunker, and the other escapes with everything. It wouldn’t be the first time we played this game."
He stopped in front of a console, turning the screen on with a few commands he seemed to have memorized. That caught your attention. He knew more than he was letting on.
"How did you get in?" you demanded, more than asked.
"Through the front door," he replied with a smile, not looking at you. "Of course, using another face."
That only confirmed your suspicions. You weren’t dealing with just any intruder. Vick was as slippery as you—maybe even more. Years of espionage, betrayals, and covert missions had made him unpredictable.
You pressed your lips together and slowly lowered your gun. Reluctantly.
"Five minutes," you warned. "After that, you’re out. I don’t want to see you when the file transfer starts."
"How generous," he mocked, glancing sideways at you. "Always so professional."
"And you always so unbearable."
While he worked at the terminal, you moved silently around the room, checking for other access points or traps. The walls were lined with touch panels, some of which opened with a simple tap, revealing racks full of servers and classified files. Everything was more sophisticated than you expected.
Suddenly, a silent alarm flashed red in the corner of the screen Vick was using.
"What did you do?" you asked, spinning around.
"Nothing I wasn’t supposed to. But I think I just triggered an emergency protocol. We’ve got less than three minutes before reinforcements arrive."
"Damn you!" you exclaimed, rushing to the console and shoving him aside. "I told you not to mess this up."
"Relax, we can still get out of here. But you better run like old times."
You bit your lower lip in frustration while activating the rapid transfer system. The data began copying onto your external device, but the percentage advanced at a maddeningly slow pace.
"Come on, come on…" you muttered, clenching your fists.
From the hallway, you could already hear the guards’ footsteps—fast, coordinated. They were close. Too close.
And you weren’t done yet.
"Get ready to fight," you said without looking at him.
"With you or against you?" Vick asked, smiling as he pulled out his combat knife.
"For now… with me. But don’t let your guard down."
"I never do, sweetheart."
And with that, the two of you turned toward the door. The sound of boots grew louder. Lights started to flicker. Time was running out. And the battle was about to begin.
The guards burst into the room like a stampede, weapons ready, their shouts filling the air. But you and Vick were no longer just spies on a mission: you were a silent storm, a lethal choreography of precision and strength.
You slid under a table while firing your mini pistol, knocking out the first guard with a stun dart straight to the neck. Vick lunged at another with agile, almost elegant movements, twirling his knife between his fingers before disarming him and knocking him out with a single sharp blow to the chin.
One tried to catch you from behind, but Vick, alert, intercepted him, rolling across the floor with you just in time to dodge a burst of bullets. You ended up pressed against each other, breathing the same air in an eternal second, the world slowing around you.
"We always end up like this," he whispered with a breathless grin.
"That’s because you’re always a mess," you replied, though your tone lacked its usual edge. In fact, it trembled a little… like your lips.
The fight went on, but every enemy who approached fell like flies. You were fast and precise, and Vick, brutally graceful. Together, you were unstoppable. When the last guard hit the floor with a dull groan, the room was filled with a near-sacred silence.
Both of you were panting, drenched in sweat, bodies tense, but eyes locked onto each other. The transfer device beeped. Data complete.
"You did it," Vick said, stepping closer, still watching you.
"We did it," you corrected, lowering your weapon slowly.
The tension between you wasn’t new. It had always been there, since the first time you clashed during a failed mission in Prague. Since the second time he saved your life when he shouldn’t have. Since the third time you said you’d never trust him again—yet did anyway.
He took one step closer, and you didn’t back away. Your trembling fingers unfastened the belt of your suit, now unnecessary. The distance shrank. The panting turned into soft breaths.
"It was always you, Y/n," Vick murmured, voice deep and rough.
"And you were always an idiot for taking so long to say it," you replied.
There were no more words. None were needed.
Your lips met his in a kiss that exploded with all the rage, tension, desire, and unspoken history between you. It was a collision of broken pasts and uncertain futures. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he held your waist like he feared you’d vanish into smoke. The world faded, leaving only the two of you—among stolen data, fallen enemies, and a connection as dangerous as it was inevitable.
As you slowly pulled away, breaths still ragged, your eyes remained locked. No words were necessary, but still, you broke the silence.
"I’m not going to ask why you’re here… not yet."
"And I won’t lie to you," Vick said, brushing his fingers along your jaw. "But if you let me… I’ll explain everything. This time, no half-truths."
You hesitated for a second, but his eyes… that transparent, tired gaze, full of everything left unsaid for so long, was enough. You nodded slowly, lowering your gun completely.
The walk was quiet, almost melancholic. At some point, Vick took your hand without saying a word—and you didn’t let go. You headed to a discreet hotel on the outskirts of the city, far from the noise, far from everything you were during your missions: cold, lethal, distant. Here, you were just two tired people, with broken souls, who had found each other once again.
The room was warm, with soft lighting and a wide bed that invited rest. As soon as the door closed, your lips met again—this time with more calm, more hunger. Your hands explored, memorized, remembered what you had longed for but never allowed yourselves to have.
Vick slowly undressed you from your latex catsuit, as if disarming you was an intimate act and not part of protocol. You helped him remove his jacket, sliding it off his shoulders while kissing his neck, feeling his skin shiver beneath your lips.
The movements were slow, almost reverent. He looked at you like you were a sacred secret. You touched him like you feared he might vanish with the dawn.
When you were finally skin to skin, there were only whispers and caresses. Vick held you as if you were fragile, and you returned every gesture with the same care. You made love without haste, as if the night was endless, as if your bodies spoke what your hearts could not.
Afterwards, tangled in the sheets, he rested his head on your chest, breathing peacefully for the first time in a long while. You ran your fingers through his hair in silence, remembering the time you said you’d never trust him again.
And yet, here he was. With you.
"Can I stay this time?" he whispered, barely audible.
"Only if you promise not to disappear when the sun rises," you said, kissing his forehead.
And he nodded, closing his eyes as your warmth surrounded him.
That night, finally, you were no longer enemies, allies, or spies. Just two souls, finding each other in the midst of chaos… at last.
