Captain Hook Face Novels & Stories

He didn't answered he was all quite . He stopped when he was only a feet apart from me . As he was near The moon's light lit his face . My mouth parted as my eyes admire his face . His face appeared as oblong shaped , his jawline was sharp with thick beard , his eyes were white like a diamond and his hairs were gelled back . It seems like he is a devil from hell . His face was rigid . It reflects no expression no emotion .

A fresh gnarly scar marred the left side of his face, but he still looked handsome. His eyes are creepy, Chanda thought, staring at him. He looked familiar. “She attacked me, sir.” Hugo turned and complained to the man, but he still lowered his hands. “I’m sure she had her reasons.” The man said, causing some of the men to laugh again. Except for Fang. His eyes had turned dark again, as he stared at the new face before them. The man stopped in front of Hugo. “I didn’t know we captured a female rogue too.”

Sleepy glared at him. Hisoka felt wrong but he said nothing. Instead, he smiled wickedly at Smart that seemed to be taking his sweet time. “How about we start?” Smart nodded his head as he beckoned his backup partner. “Mind if I summon our dearest Captain?” Hisoka raised his brow and stared at the other man who was wearing the snarling mouth of the mandrill monkey - from the bridge of his nose till his chin. “Sure, whatever you say.” “Oh yeah.” Captain snapped his fingers out of excitement.

Aria POV "Alpha." The captain said adjusting his shoulder with a low bow to Lucian. He removed his hood and I blinked at the sight of his face. Apparently the hood has been meant to make me scared and to force me to bend to his will during the walk over here but it did not work on me. He looked young and for me he was too young to be a captain. His hair was black and he had a golden brown eyes that always caught my attention. His faces was not particularly handsome but there was a little bit distinction that I found strangely appealing.

The captain shouted, and for the first time, I got a proper look at him. He looked to be in his late thirties, he was large, muscular with tan weathered skin. Scars littered his face, but the most prominent was the long thick, puffy scar along his neck. He smirked, flashing his gold tooth at me, his piercing green eyes bore into me. "That’s a story for another night lass. Now tell me, what is your pretty name?" His voice was deep, guttural, and he had a rough accent.

One white skinny man stood at the front of the boat, throwing the anchor down to the black water, and another white medium-built man, bending beside the captain, was drawing the gangplank down towards the concrete land. The captain wore a devilish smile as he walked through it in a manner like he was a pirate captain - self-confident, egoistic and boorish - even though he wasn’t even in fact a pirate. He was tall, medium built and muscled for a man his age. He had a short jet black hair, a short gray beard, and a unibrow that highlighted a pair of sky-blue eyes. His nose was a bit crooked, with a stud earring pierced at the left nostril. He wore a black long leather coat going down to his an

And as she got closer, her eyes changed colors from brown pupils to what looked like amber. I told myself I imagined it, she wasn’t a witch or something, right? I braced myself for what she was about to do to me, ready to retaliate. "Let it go, Fanny." The voice came from behind me — deep, calm, and so unexpectedly smooth that I actually flinched. I turned around and froze Hockey uniform. Helmet in hand. Built like he had never missed a training session in his life. And when his eyes landed on mine, I recognised him immediately.

The pain filed me down to the edge I needed. “Captain,” I said at last, blowing hair out of my eyes, mouth desert-dry. “We make port tomorrow.” “Yes.” He didn’t even sound winded. His chest rose like the sea, measured, and indifferent to storms. “Am I off at noon?” The mask slid over his face, the kind that never has to be put on because it never comes off. He watched me like I’d brought him a contract to read in a language he’d already learned and refused to pretend was new.

To make sure I’m not hallucinating because of some clinic drug or stress or whatever the capital likes to hide behind paperwork. She’s older. Sharper. Her cheekbones more defined, her mouth more set. There’s a faint scar near her hairline I’ve never seen before, white against her skin. But she’s her. It’s her. My hands fly up to her face. I cup her cheeks like I’m confirming she’s not smoke. “You’re, how, why didn’t you.” Melody’s eyes flick toward the door, toward the place Captain Rook stands outside like a shadow with a spine. Her gaze returns to me, urgent.

She said, “I think your son and parents would be very happy to see you restored to your old look.” For the third time, I lay down on the operating table. This time, the operating table no longer felt cold. Suzanne and the medical staff kept encouraging me. “When you wake up, Mr. Quince, everything will be back to normal. Things will get better.” “Alright.” I forced myself to suppress the immense fear and grief and closed my eyes. When I woke up again, the surgery had ended. However, because the injuries on my face were severe, the recovery period would also be longer.