Flash Ghostface Tattoo Novels & Stories

I bent over the dead soldier, my heart heavy as I realized that the same tattoo adorned his neck as well. he design was unlike anything I had seen before, yet there was an unsettling familiarity about it, a memory tugging at the edges of my mind. The tattoo depicted a flying demon, its wings outstretched, eyes aglow with an otherworldly luminescence. The level of detail was astonishing, every line and curve capturing the essence of the creature in a way that was both mesmerizing and disconcerting. The artistry was undeniable, but there was an underlying malevolence that sent shivers down my spine.

she looked at Nyx’s sleeve of tattoos. “Yes, and she really doesn’t like my black hair.” “What does it say?” Precious pointed to a tattoo on Nyx’s forearm. “It says best friends forever and says Famke underneath it.” “You have Famke’s name on your arm?” Precious eyes were huge. “She has my name on her butt.” Nyx grinned at her earning a squeal from the child. “I do not,” Famke shoved her playfully. “It’s on my leg.” “You have a tattoo?” Precious was clearly intrigued and flabbergasted Famke would have such a thing, her laughter immediately stopped.

I approach the covered painting board and try to look under it. " WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Shouts a male voice. His voice invades in me chills, warm chills and when I turn to look at the person who shouted of anger, I realize it is still him. Zack Torneur, with a tower attached around his waist, living his naked well-sculptured chest seen with his wings tattoo. When I analyze him more deeply, apart from his curly hair and his light brown eyes, he has a light stubble beard. On his forarm the word GO in very big capital letters had been tattooed, on his biceps a big moon tattoo and on his thorax a rose surrounded by thorns. All this tattoo? What for? It seems he has other tattoos, but right n

Like an electric static on my skin, a sharp tingling that doesn’t belong. Opening my eyes, I break the kiss with Kian and look at him, confused. His tattoos are moving wildly. I pull back, glancing at Malix, and then at Frost. All three of them go still, their gazes locked on me. Their tattoos—the black marks that show the shadows beneath their skin—are going crazy. Spirals and swirls and spikes wave like flags in hurricane winds. Then, as I watch, mesmerized by the display, the shadows begin to crawl off their bodies… and onto mine.

She could never have imagined that the brushes in front of her had been intended for guests. When the fog faded from the mirror, she opened her eyes and swore at her reflection. She could see the red and purple marks of the hickeys he had given her on her chest and neck. Then she put a trembling hand at the base of her neck. A kind of black tattoo had taken shape there. Three parts stood out. At the top stands the head of a black wolf baring its fangs. Then, behind the head of the animal, a crescent moon was drawn. And finally, just under the wolf's mouth, two elegantly intertwined letters: M.B.

“Let me remind you—since you seem to have forgotten—I am your superior, and you will treat me as such!” The tension crackled between them like static electricity. Hound stood his ground, but suddenly, the tattoos on his face began to burn. Not a physical heat, but a searing pain that tore through his very soul. The invisible tear-shaped marks he had once chosen now glowed as if etched with fire. He staggered, clawing at his face, his wails of agony echoing in the lair. The burning sensation spread across his body, unbearable and relentless. His legs buckled, and with one final scream, he collapsed.

I have my own loved one to worry about. I put my forehead in my hands and close my eyes. “Milo, please, Babe. Please answer me. I can’t take it anymore. Just tell me you’re safe. Tell me you’re alive in one of the ambulances or something.” A sooty hand rests on my knee. My breath catches in my chest when I see it. There’s a tattoo of a wolf covered in a floral bed sheet on top of his wrist. The wolf’s tail is sticking out from under the sheet and there are holes for his nose and steel-gray eyes. He got the tattoo because we were drunk one night and thought the idea of Ghost being terrible at being an actual ghost was hilarious. The next morning, we woke up naked in the meadow. He had the tat

A smile blossomed on her face, and that very moment, he saw her surrounded by a golden and reddish glow. In between her forehead, a small red lotus mark appeared and it looked holy. The tattoo on his arm felt itchy for a moment before calming down as if accepting the baptism of that forehead mark. Once the glow vanished, the mark vanished as well as if I wasn’t there. Then something happened that he wasn’t expecting. ‘I was wondering when you were going to arrive. Since you are here, how about we have a talk. This lady has so much to do!’ Inside his head, that familiar voice seemed to be talking, but how?

Spiked through the heart like a goddamn vampire kill. I stilled. “And there’s a name carved into his chest.” He handed me a photo on his phone. Scarface. Written with knives. Sloppy. Angry. And under it—a lipstick kiss, smeared across the shirt like a threat. My cocky smile came easy. “Well, well,” I muttered. “Looks like our ghost finally has a face.” “Sir?” “Cherie Noir,” I said, low. “That woman’s got fire.” I laughed—dark and deep.

His husky voice seemed like a promising warning to her and she fluttered her eyes open. His dark eyes and devilish side smirk didn't seem sincere to her at all. But from the close she dared to see his face clearly, that dark spot was actually a tattoo which was a black snake. Half of it was drawn on his temple area and the other half started from the under corner of his left eye, running across his left cheek, sinking to his ear. She could tell that under that tattoo was the deep scar which was perfectly hidden by the art. He looked scary with that thing, like a demon. Cruel Damon.