Captain Hook Face Novels & Stories

Three rows ahead, diagonally across from me. Hoodie up. His combat boots legs rests on the seat in front of him. His head leaned back against the window. He has the kind of face artists beg the universe to let them capture, a jawline sharp enough to cut, his lips full and curved into a resting smirk, and a scar slicing through one brow like a warning sign. One AirPod dangles loosely in his ear. He looks effortlessly dangerous. Beautiful, in that way you don’t want to admit out loud.

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.

Frowning, I slowly glanced over my shoulder and the world stopped as familiar bright blue eyes met mine. Hunter Fucking Beaumont? He stretched a hand towards me, lips pressed into a thin line. “Hello, Captain.”

I don’t have to rush and get myself in risky situations like the last time. I lit up a stick of cigarette and leaned against the wall while looking around for possible customers when I saw a familiar face show up. It was our senior captain and he was wearing a black hoodie purposely covering his face. I recognized him immediately because of his body build and how he used to easily shove me when we were playing on the field. “Hey, what you got there, brother?” He asked the first guy the he approached. “I’m not selling, bro.” The guy replied and I thought that’s my chance to get rid of the last three packets in my pocket.

“There he is.” “Son of a bitch. There he is. Right there,” the captain shook his head in disbelief. “Give me a name.” “Philip Carson.”