Ghostemane Ghost Tattoo Novels & Stories

Nobody trusts anyone until you shove proof into their face. I sighed and lifted the hem of my shirt, revealing the black dragon tattoo inked deep into my skin—the symbol of The Ghost. The mark that made nations tremble. The emblem that ensured every enemy took their final breath in fear. The man’s eyes widened in shock. The room gasped collectively. “I—I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered. I smiled sweetly, stepped closer, and before he could blink— CRACK. His neck snapped between my fingers like it was made of thin wood.

The words kept echoing inside my head, replaying over and over like a dark promise I couldn’t escape. I sat up fast, pulling the oversized silk shirt down over my thighs. Julian was already awake. He stood by the window in nothing but black boxer briefs, his broad back and strong legs fully on display. The Ghost of Wall Street looked untouchable, like he didn’t belong in the same world as anyone else. He turned. His sharp blue eyes moved over me in the bed. For a second, hunger flashed there, then it was gone, locked back behind his usual control.

He said while moving towards me , i started moving backwards because i didn't want him to get too close to me. "What do you want from me ?" I asked. "Wow nice question, i just want to replace you" he said and then he disappeared, i looked around but i didn't see him, i remembered that Mr Franklin said he was a ghost. "But why me?" I asked, although he was not visible but i knew he was around. "Because i am you" he said and appeared in my back. "I swear to God i will shut you off" i said in anger. "Are you crazy , you can't kill a ghost boy!" He yelled and laughed.

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

Ghost is a dark fae, which means he’s greedy, likes death, and likes pretty women with spunk. His short white hair is spiked. Ghost wears a black sleeveless hoodie and black and white checkered jeans with black boots. His eyebrows, nose, and lips are all pierced with gages in both ears. His pointed ears give him away that he is fae. Ghost has all black eyes, much like one would think a demons would be if they were real. Some things are just stories made up of distorted truths. Demons and angels fall into that category. Ghost's pasty white skin almost glows under the glow of the flashing lights.

"Wait. I need to know. Why did, uhm, whatever, carelessly pick me?" "Go back." The woman wasn't paying her any attention. She kept on plucking cowries and attaching them to her head. "What is he? Oh, don't answer that one. He's a ghost. I know that. Why is he in that state? No, no, why can I see him? Why can l feel his touch, ghosts can't do that, can they? What does he need me for?" The old woman stopped her scaly hands from further movements and stared directly at Geneva through her foggy eyes that obviously saw clearly.

Damon sighed, polishing off his Manhattan in a single gulp. Ghost shimmered into existence and pulled out the chair beside Damon. He sat down and ran a hand over his buzzed head. He wore a plain leather jacket—one less flashy than Knight’s—and a pair of dark wash jeans. As usual, his eyes and cold expression gave nothing away. “He can’t seem to help it. I think he’s trying to compensate for something.” Knight snickered and leaned back in his chair even further. He spread his legs and gave Ghost a mocking smile. “I have nothing to compensate for. Feel free to check if you’d like. I bite, but I happen to know you like that kinky shit.”

"Elle, you need to see this.” Ghost calls out. I push the knife a little harder into the Collector’s shoulder before jumping to my feet. I give him one last look before turning my back on him. His fingers have stopped twitching; even if I take the knife out, the damage is most likely permanent, and he’s no threat to me anymore. I see Ghost has walked behind the counter; he has a computer in front of him and the glow of the screen is lighting him up, making him look like some kind of otherworldly ghost. I kind of get the name but it seems more like a punishment to me, like his parents judged him on how he looked when he was born and decided to brand him with the name forever.

Everything was a mess! The man immediately turned his face at the little boy. His face darkened. "Tell me, Little Veen, how did I frighten her? I was merely showing her the memories of my real appearance but, I do not understand why she was so frightened and kept denying my existence even in her sleep." He said in dissatisfaction that reflected on his handsome face. The little boy called Veen coughed softly in a polite manner. "Your appearance now is similar to those of what humans called a ghost. You have not fully recovered your body yet, so you cannot do anything. Just let her be for now."

He hated that he had any similarities with them. Ghost had a hard time accepting that weird part of him. And he never disclosed it to anyone in the Mafia, not even Scar. They might as well tag him as a freak, or some kind of beast. He didn't want that. He placed his glass on the counter with a thud. He just had over ten shots of tequila and was getting impatient. What was taking that bitch so long? He glanced up and found Viper on the rails, eye-scanning the place for the girl. Their eyes met and Viper flashed him a grin. Ghost looked away, muttering curses under his breath. He's never lost to Viper, and he's not about to start. The girl better fall into his grip or he might just send every