Bleach First Captain Novels & Stories

“What.” “So…the hockey coach decided that the team can’t stay without a captain. So, uhm…he made Lenard the new captain.” She winces, taking a hold of my shoulders. “But it might just be temporary! Like, he’s standing in for him for now, but they could always give the position back to him. So, like, it’s not like they think he’s dead, but the team still needs someone to lead them. You know what I mean?” For a moment, I stare at her. I don’t realize I’m not blinking until she glances away uncomfortably.

Ace yelled punching him again and Sarah whimpered looking at the brutal blow. This is the first time she is watching Ace like this. Xavier was standing there in his white shirt and trousers, he has rolled up his sleeves and hands has blood on it like he is actively participating in the beating. The blood was already making her nauseous. Her eyes met with Xavier's and he tilted his head up gesturing her to go to the room. Looking at his hard expressions it seemed like he is dead serious about it. She wasn't planning to stay there anyway, she quickly looked away from him and was about to walk upstairs but the man who was getting beaten by Ace started running towards her.

"Last night was... a mistake," Alexander said. He walked over to the bed, picking up his watch. His hands were shaking slightly. "It was the adrenaline. The stress. I had too much to drink." "You were sober, Alex," Oliver corrected him gently. "We both were." "Don't call me that," Alexander snapped. He finally looked Oliver in the eye. "I am the captain of the New York Glaciers. I have a reputation. I have sponsors. I can't... I can't do this."

"Not a Ghost. Not a symbol. Just a man who bleeds like they do." ​The First Council ​A shadow fell over the cot. Leo opened one eye to see a man standing there, not the man in the suit from his "hallucination," but someone he recognized. It was Captain Kael, the commander of the Peacekeeper unit that had first lowered their rifles when the broadcast hit. ​Kael looked out of place in the grimy warehouse. His silver-mesh armor was scuffed and cracked, and he had removed his helmet, revealing a face scarred by years of enforcing "order" in the Gutter.

I gritted. He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, love." Love. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Stop calling me that. Actually—don't—but still stop. What's happening, again? I kept my eyes narrowed at him, ignoring how fast my heart was beating. "You're evil. Cruel bastard." He laughed. "Am I? You did it first, Bloom." I rolled my eyes playfully, grabbing a napkin off the counter and wiping my now sticky and cold face.

“I’m not exactly a sports person.” “You will be after tonight. The energy is addictive. Hawthorne versus Westfield is always brutal—especially because of the captains. Brad Walker versus Sebastian Hale. Pure rivalry.” I raised an eyebrow. “Sebastian Hale?” “Captain of Westfield. Tall, insanely talented, and actually a decent guy from what I’ve heard not the cocky asshole type like Brad and his crew. The stands go wild whenever he’s on the ice. Total heartthrob material.” She winked. “You’ll see why.”

My condition couldn't handle the amount. I spilled the water out of the blue. "It's salty!" Haiban takes the glass from my hand and enchants it. "You're not good with visitors as always, captain," he teases, then gives me the glass with purified water in it. "You," the captain leans his elbows on his table, "brought a woman with you. What do you need to talk about with me?" he asked. His cold sharp eyes and the monotone are so unwelcoming unlike his laughter while slaughtering his people a while ago. What a psycho.

I had earned this. But then the Captain moved. Caleb Ruiz detached from the cluster of players with a slow, deliberate glide that claimed every inch of ice between us. Six-three of lean muscle and quiet authority, dark hair damp at the edges beneath his helmet, grey eyes sharp as winter steel. He didn’t rush. He let the distance close like a sentence being pronounced. When he finally stopped, the spray from his blades dusted the toes of my skates. Too close.

But at the moment, I’d much rather be involved with bringing down a werewolf-run drug running operation instead of a vampire-inflicted human homicide bordering pack lands. “Detective Fergeson, it’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry it has to be under these conditions.” I say, turning to shake his hand. “I’m Alpha Scarlett, the Alpha of the Crimson Snow Pack and these,” I point to Bree and Dax, “these are my Gamma and Lead Warrior, Bree and Dax.” Motioning to the others, I tell him, “this is Blake, Serafina, Theo and Conan, four more of my warriors. And this is Tasha and Channing, two of my trackers. Channing is the one who found the deceased.” I hear someone clearing their throat near me. “Oh, for

Daisy, as if the entire novel weren’t a slow-motion warning about mistaking obsession for love when Priya dropped an iPad on top of her homework with the reverence of someone delivering a subpoena. “You need to see this.” “I need to finish grading these or Professor Alden’s going to make me retake comp myself.” “Bella. Look.” She looked. It was a video some hockey player, dark hair, broad shoulders, absolutely leveling another player into the boards while the crowd screamed. The caption read: NORTHRIDGE CAPTAIN LUCA DE SANTIS GOES VIRAL FOR ALL THE WRONG REASONS. “Okay,” Isabella said slowly. “And I care about this because…?”