Natsu Dragneel Tattoo Novels & Stories

Doughy from good living and laziness. Drakon is carved from granite. His chest is a landscape of muscle and violence. A jagged white scar runs from his collarbone to his ribs—a knife wound, old and deep. Another scar, a bullet graze, marks his side. But it’s the ink that holds me. A massive tattoo covers his torso. Wolves. A pack of them, snarling, fighting, running. They wrap around his ribs and disappear onto his back. It’s a masterpiece of shadow and ink.

Darius shot his brother a scathing look, but Draven didn't flinch. “What tattoo?” Darius pressed, his voice cold. I wiped off the tears hastily and cleared my throat as I forced myself to speak. I needed to save him. “They normally have a red bird tattoo. The man I saw had it, if he's one of them he would have the tattoo behind his ears,” I answered. Darius frowned and stared at his guards, giving them a curt nod. I watched as they searched my father, yanking his head to the side and pulling at his collar for any sign of a tattoo but there was nothing.

Dragon starts rolling up his sleeves, revealing faded Calavera tattoos, “Chain’s fine. Got a tension tool in my box. I’ll fix it antes de que (before) sundown.” Poking at the rusted exhaust, “Pfft. Tool ain’t magic, kid. And this exhaust? Sounds like a dying chupacabra.” Dru stifles a laugh. I shoot her a glare, but I'm trying to hide my own smirk with my beard. Dragon shakes his head, then glances up towards Dru on the porch, “¿En serio (Seriously) You think I’d let her hurt? I seen what happens when you don’t guard your crew.” Dragon rolls up his sleeve further, revealing a tattooed date—“2003–2019”—inked beneath the Calavera’s hollow eyes. The numbers curl like smoke from a prayer candle,

The revelation about the masked man having a dragon tattoo had struck a chord within him, sending his thoughts spiraling. A surge of memories flooded his mind, memories he had tried to bury deep within his consciousness. The image of a fierce dragon tattoo, its intricate design etched upon a powerful Lycan King's arm, resurfaced in his thoughts. Xander knew all too well the significance of such a mark. It was a symbol of authority, a mark reserved for those who held immense power within the Lycan community.

But for Raeherys they had none. “All is well, Your Grace,” replied Igryth. The scale tattoos on their arms and neck signified one of the old traditions in Draconos. However, it slowly faded as thousands of years had passed—forgotten. Only the people in Seagrad remained true to their tradition as they believed dragon tattoos symbolized their strength and vanity.

Chasm always thought her eyes were sad but hauntingly beautiful. "I'm Petey." Peltratria reached between the bars, and his tentacle followed the black tattoo band around Norwell's neck. Chasm's friend had strange dark marks around her wrists and ankles as well. The young Dagerstanteen stared at Norwell's bands, and then he gazed at the purple rose tattooed on Chasm's chest. After the short inspection, the Dagerstanteen retracted his appendage. Peltratria straightened and stood in front of the older Dagerstanteen. The move was borderline aggressive.

***** As Astrid and Phoenix found themselves enveloped in the warmth of the shower, the steamy tendrils of water swirled around them. Astrid's eyes traced a path down Phoenix's back, following the mesmerizing lines of a majestic black dragon tattoo that adorned his skin. The dragon's head was a focal point of the tattoo, its features fierce and noble. Eyes that seemed to follow Astrid's gaze held an otherworldly intelligence, while its sharp fangs hinted at the creature's primal nature. Its neck arched gracefully, giving it a regal posture that commanded attention. From the powerful shoulders down to the tapered tail, every contour of its form spoke of strength and resilience. The artist had

He beckoned me over. I walked to the corpse of the assassin, the one with the poison spear. Drax was holding the rogue's arm up. He had ripped the tattered sleeve away to reveal the forearm. There, branded into the greyish skin, was a tattoo. It was a black circle with a jagged red lightning bolt cutting through it. "I know this mark," Drax said, his voice grim. "It’s the sigil of the Iron Hounds. Malakar’s elite guard from the old wars."

And then I noticed a snake tattoo, elegantly etched onto his body. He got tattoos? Lucian isn’t a fan of tattoos. The black snake tattoo on his shoulder was truly a work of art. The texture of the snake's skin seemed to leap off his shoulder, giving it a lifelike appearance. The snake's eyes were particularly captivating, as they were jet black and seemed to stare right into your soul. Its gaze was intense and piercing, adding to the overall power and presence of the tattoo. Moving down his arm, another striking tattoo caught my eye. A beautiful rose adorned his skin, with delicate petals and intricate shading. The colours used were a mix of vibrant reds and soft pinks, giving the rose a lif

He paused his ministrations on my neck and with one flick he stripped of his tee. "There, touch me." He groaned and I didn't want any further persuasion. My hands glided over his toned chest, running over the dragon tattoo. "Why is this for?" I asked, my fingertips grazing over the fire tattooed on his abdomen. He bit his lip. "It represents power and victory over bad. I had it engraved when I couldn't take any more of my step-mother's false accusations and controlling nature. I was feeling weak and I needed to feel something. I went to a party and got dunk and somehow landed up in a tattoo parlor. He decided to draw this a sign that I am powerful and can rise from ashes." He paused and grin