Bleach Captains Jacket Novels & Stories

The streets were his home, a cardboard box was the only roof he had over his head, an old jacket he found in the trash was his only blanket and for his meals. He stole and made sure that he was the first to get to one of the restaurants' trash every night to make sure that he had something to eat. His life changed when he stole from a mafia boss, whom everyone was scared of, he was known for being ruthless and killed without mercy especially those who betrayed and stole from him. He was a Russian man with a thick accent and a very powerful aura, that made many shivers at his presence without him having said a word. But when he met him, he gave him a job instead of killing him like everyone thought he would, his job was to be his right-hand man. He was the one who did all the killings and dealing with his rivals. He gave him the name White tiger, one that was born once in every generation, he gave him this name because he said that he had the courage, was smart and cunning. The man was very handsome, tall with broad shoulders and he looked very big for his age. His eyes though were distant, cold, and deadly. One could not look at them longer than a second. His name was Antonio Rodrigues, The White Tiger.

My name is Dakota Wetherby. On the very day my husband, Theodore Aldridge, and I get legally married, he brings his ex-girlfriend, Sofia Moretti, into our home. "Sofia recently suffered a miscarriage, so she's going through a very difficult time. I'm genuinely worried about her," he says. "We're just friends. It's only natural for friends to comfort each other," he adds. Sofia is Theodore's college sweetheart. Rumor has it they separated on good terms when she went abroad for further studies. Clad in Theodore's jacket, she curls up on our bed. Her pale, ashen face is streaked with tears. "I'm so sorry, Dakota. I had no idea you two were getting married today. "I was too upset and didn't know who else to reach out to, so I called Theo. "He was only comforting me because I lost my child. It's completely my fault for overstepping and ruining your wedding day. "You can ask for whatever compensation you want. Just please don't blame Theo for this." I hold the freshly issued marriage certificate from the courthouse and walk up to her. "Since you've brought it up, I suppose I'll reluctantly accept your compensation. "Theodore and I are married for business reasons, with billions in projects hanging in the balance. "Tell me, how exactly do you plan to make up for all of that?"

*My mate turns out to be the mafia king?!* “Stop flirting with my staff.” My head snaps toward the guy I’ve run into twice today. I thought he was just an average school playboy. “Your staff?” I ask stupidly. He smiles widely. “That’s right, sweetheart. This is my club.” * “W-what are you doing?” I whisper, but the look in his eyes says it all. “Do you feel that?” He asks. It takes a second, but then I feel tiny sparks racing along my skin as his hand slips under my jacket and over my skin. I gasp, and then his lips are on mine. *** A few years ago, a series of scientific research buildings were attacked. The chemicals from those research facilities had seeped into our water supply and slowly manipulated our DNA. Last year was the first report of someone showing a hint of supernatural abilities. Then another and another until suddenly, there were people with abilities popping up all over the place. People with abilities were either feared or envied. I have tried hiding my ability for as long as I can. My ability would have me locked up and used until there was nothing left of me. The ability to heal is a gift everyone would want to take advantage of, so I never use it…ever. Until... I meet him. Julian. My schoolmate. The boss of The Hell Club. The Mafia King. My...mate. What we didn't know at the time was that these so-called DNA alterations were all werewolf genes growing inside the human body. And he, Julian... is my mate.

A Golden Cage. A Secret Predator. An Unyielding Obsession. My family sold me as collateral to a monster, but the man who dismantled my hell was a coffee-brewing widower with a trillion-dollar secret. To Manhattan’s elite, I, Claire Desmond, am nothing more than a flawed asset—ready to be liquidated to save my family’s throne from bankruptcy. Jake Floyd, the arrogant billionaire holding my father’s debt, wants me as a submissive trophy in his golden cage. Amidst the desperation and the betrayal of my own flesh and blood, my only sanctuary is the warm embrace of Gareth Hamilton—a single father and SoHo cafe owner who looks at me as if I’m the only woman left on earth. But Gareth is more than just the scent of espresso and the denim jacket he lent me on a stormy night. Beneath his deadly calm, he is a cold-blooded apex predator capable of erasing my enemies with a single snap of his fingers. He quietly hacked his way into my life, bought out my family’s debt, and built an impenetrable fortress around me—all without letting me see the chains he was forging. When the lies about his true identity unravel and the ghosts of his dark past come seeking vengeance, I’m forced to face a reality that shatters my sanity. Is the man who claimed me with an intoxicating kiss the home I’ve been searching for... or just a new master, far more dangerous than the devil I left behind?

I used to be a top ballet dancer. The year I was diagnosed with a spinal hemangioma, my boyfriend Julian Blackwood said, "Wherever you go, I go." We'd been together three years. He walked beside me as I went, step by step, from the most luminous dancer on that stage to a woman in a wheelchair. Every time the nerve pain hit and I collapsed, he was the one who lifted me off the floor. Every round of electrostim and acupuncture, he sat in the corridor outside the therapy room and waited for me to come out. Before I got sick, he promised me—the night I finished my final performance of Swan Lake, we'd sign the marriage license. He'd bought tickets for that show three months in advance. I never stood on that stage again. And the marriage license never came up. Until the morning I noticed the collar of his white dress shirt carried a smudge of lipstick that wasn't mine. I heard him on the balcony. A woman's voice on the other end. "Mr. Blackwood, you left your jacket at the hotel last night. I'll bring it over." I stared at that smear of red, and something in me snapped. I laughed. "Send me to Westbrook. The locked-down rehab facility. I don't want to drag you down anymore." Something flickered in his eyes—a brief, animal panic. Then he nodded. He thought I meant rest. He didn't know I'd already signed the papers to donate my body to science. I was going there to die.

In 1612, he couldn’t save her. In 2026, he might not want to. Elias Thorne was a man of maps and measurements, the King’s most trusted surveyor, until the smoke of the Lancashire witch trials choked the life out of everything he loved. Catherine wasn’t a witch—she was just an innocent woman caught in the gears of a superstitious world. When Elias was turned into something monstrous that same year, he didn't see it as a curse; he saw it as a deadline. He had forever to find a way to bring her back. For four centuries, Elias moved through the shadows of history, building an empire of wealth and dark influence. He hunted every myth, funded every occult discovery, and bled for every lead—all to find a soul that refused to return. He grew bitter, his heart hardening into the very stone of the London streets he walked. He eventually gave up on the heavens and the hells, settling into a life of cold, immortal apathy. Then, on a Tuesday afternoon, he sees her. She’s standing in line for coffee, wearing headphones and a denim jacket, looking exactly like the woman he watched die under a grey Jacobean sky. She has no memory of the fire, the maps, or the man who has spent four hundred years hating the world for her sake. Now, Elias faces a choice: Walk away and let her live the peaceful life he once prayed for, or reclaim a love that doesn’t belong to him anymore. But Catherine has secrets of her own—and in the modern world, the ghosts of 1612 are finally starting to catch up.

Five years ago, Jessica made the ultimate sacrifice for the love of her life, Davis. When a horrific car accident left him on the brink of death, she didn't hesitate to donate her own kidney to save him. She worked herself to the bone, juggling multiple grueling jobs to fund his dream of studying overseas, believing they were building a future together. But when she discovered she was pregnant, she kept it a secret, refusing to let anything hold him back. She waited. Months turned into agonizing years of dead silence. Her texts went unanswered, her phone calls ignored, and his ruthless family eventually threw her out onto the streets with her beautiful daughter, Catherine. Now, Davis has returned—not as the loving man she saved, but as a cold-blooded billionaire CEO celebrating his grand opening and his engagement to a wealthy heiress, Valerie. Hired as a desperate waitress at his event just to afford her daughter’s medicine, Jessica accidentally crosses his path. Instead of a warm embrace, she is met with absolute ice. To protect his pristine status, Davis shoves her away, pretending she is a lunatic stranger while Valerie publicly humiliates her, shattering a glass over her bleeding head. As the elite crowd laughs, Marcus—the untouchable son of the richest man in the city—steps in. Wrapping her in his jacket, he vows to make Davis pay. Davis threw away a diamond, but Marcus is ready to claim his queen—and when the truth of the kidney and the secret baby comes to light, the billionaire's regret will be absolute.

Warning: DARK ROMANCE Story contains detailed mature scenes possessing dubious consent not recommended for age group below 18 years old. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Prologue Shadows engulfed him in a beautiful embrace. He looked like an angel with devilish intentions. It wasn't until he took a step towards her did the gravity of situation descended upon her and even then she couldn't do anything but shake in fear. She knew making a run for it won't do a thing, calling was not an option and if she screamed...she opened her mouth to scream but a meek plea came out. Her body's lack of response terrified her, tears gathered in her orbs with horrible anticipation. With his each step nearer she gripped the frame of her window tighter hoping to keep her balance. It took him three steps to be inches away from her body. He slowly took his suit jacket off, making himself comfortable as he amusingly watched her shaken face. She was so horror-stricken to even look at his face. She gulped as his hand cupped her neck in a gentle grip, guiding her eyes to his. His eyes slipped from the hold of her eyes to her lips in a second. She grew self conscious all over again. His heated gaze on her lips was unwavering. In the moment of bewilderment and growing self awareness her tongue unconsciously wiped her lips wet and it was all it took for him to descent on her lips.

I cringe in fear, he traces his finger down my half naked body feasting his eyes on me, I can tell my already wet transparent outfit isn't helping matters, I feel his hand graze through my nipple slightly he turns me over making me face the wall, I feel his bulge rub against me,I try pushing him but he pins me down with no effort at all, "It won't be fun if you don't resist" I'm hit by a sharp wave of pain as he thrusts into me gradually it turns to pleasure as he thrusts faster,harder and quicker my brain tells me to fight him off and run but my body aches for more pleasure than ever,I've always been this kind of slut but tonight I feel violated, He turns me over to face him I watch his lips move closer aiming for a kiss,disgusted and irked I kick him in the groin causing him to fall and sprawl on the ground ,I reach for my jacket, he pulls me by my ankle I try kicking him off but he's holding on too tight, restless and impatient I reach for the gun just before me pulling the trigger without second thought, he stays still not moving seconds after blood come gushing out from his abdomen,I hear claps come from behind "Well-done Nikita, welcome to the crib"

Three years after I died, my mother sent me twenty dollars for living expenses. Three years before that—the first time I ever asked my family for money—she said to me, offhand, "Sometimes I think you're just putting on an act. What's so unsanitary about a thirty-cent boxed meal? And why can't you wear a five-dollar down jacket? Face it, you're just more high-maintenance than your little brother." Later, when I needed twenty dollars to buy some cheap medicine for my stomachache, she blocked me immediately and cut off all contact—along with every relative we had. "Don't contact me anymore. I'm clearly not a good mother. I can't afford to give my son a life of luxury." But for my younger brother, who had just started high school, she spared no expense—renting him a three-bedroom apartment. Even the family dog got its own room. In the end, on the day my brother became the top scorer in the state, she finally remembered me. She took me off her block list and transferred twenty dollars. "It's only twenty dollars. Was it really worth giving your family the silent treatment for three whole years?" What she never knew was this— On the night my stomach ruptured, three years ago, I had already died. I couldn't afford to go to the hospital. I froze to death in the snow.