Red Hood Face Novels & Stories

"At least take your hood off, Robbi!" With a sigh, Robyn reached up and pulled down her hood, exposing her hair and her face. She had thick, rich brown hair that was artlessly piled up on top of her head, leaving bits and pieces to fall around her angelic face. Her eyes were large and wide-set, giving her an exaggeratedly innocent look. Her nose was small and pert, and her lips were sweet and plump, even though they were pressed into an unhappy expression. There were freckles across her cheeks, and even without make-up, she was devastatingly beautiful. Nope, not a fourteen-year-old.

There is a man, his face half covered with the hood of his jacket as he sits on a wooden stool, his back against the stone wall. "Welcome back, sleeping beauty." He says with a laugh, his voice gravelly and harsh. "Where am I? Who are you? What do you want with me?" The words tumble from my mouth in a desperate jumble. He quirks his lips in an attempt to smile and pulls his hood back to reveal a face that could be something out of nightmares - his left eye clouded over so that it appears white and most of his face scarred by what could only have been fire, the scar running down his neck.

"Because direct contact is too dangerous." I looked back at the photograph, the little girl, my dark hair, my face, unmistakably mine, standing beside a woman in a red coat whose face had been deliberately destroyed, not worn away, not faded, destroyed, someone had held something burning to that face specifically and removed it with intention. "The woman." Adrian leaned forward slightly. "Her coat." "Red." "Do you recognize it."

Rhyder was a Verdi-bearded Vampire with high-arched brows over his monolid brown eyes, which were the same color of his short spiky hair. He stood just as tall as Colt when he came forward and stooped to peer at the dour face of Damien. The latter could not help but feel irritated now at the other man’s attitude towards him. He could not understand why he seemed to despise him so much when they were just barely meeting.

I sat closer to Jedrick, not wanting to be left alone in this ungodly place. His face had a long scar that starts from his left eyebrow and ran down to his jaw. He was bald and his entire body was covered with tattoos except for his face. He was so buff. He looked like a real-life hulk, except for the green skin. I gulped with anticipation.

He or she was on hoodie and facemask" "Wait, that thief?" She scoffed. "I guess" He shrugged. "Anyway, I called to ask this… Did you see the person's face?" "Hmm... Not at all. The person concealed their face" "Oh" "Why? Do you know the person?" "Huh... Not at all" "Though, I remember something about this person" "What's that?" He asked. "The hoodie had the letter H on the front" She said. "Alright then. Thanks" He said and ended the call.

Then, slowly, she reached for the edges of her hood. With a deliberate motion, she pulled it back, letting her dark, flowing hair cascade down her shoulders like a waterfall of ink, contrasting sharply against the hues of the shop. The action revealed her face fully, illuminated by the warm, golden light filtering through the room. Her features were striking—her soft features gave structure to her delicate face, lending an air of ethereal beauty. Her skin was smooth and pale, almost luminescent, with a faint rosy glow on her cheeks that suggested a vitality beneath her often solemn demeanor. But it was her eyes that truly captured attention.

Her head is bowed, her face hidden by a deep hood. She isn't an Ironclaw mercenary. She isn't a rogue. She stands with a stillness that is wholly unnatural. "Step away from him," I growl, my Alpha voice rolling like thunder. She lifts her head and lowers her hood. The air leaves my lungs. It’s Charlie. But... it’s not. The face is Charlie’s. The same high cheekbones, the same gentle curve of the jaw. The same beautiful mouth. But this woman is a few years older and she lacks Charlie’s warmth.

He was wearing a hoodie and she was unable to see his face clearly because of the tears that were still rolling down. April wiped her tears then she asked. "Who are you?" The man who didn't spare her a glance, pulled down his hoodie then he turned to face her. He looked..........he looked breathtaking. She had never seen anyone as good looking as him but then.............he had red eyes. April subconsciously moved back when she saw his claws. This man standing in front of her was definitely not human. He walked closer to April and touched her face so gently.

"Why does it have your face?" The Bloom shivered, the obsidian leaves peeling back to reveal a figure emerging from the dark nectar of the Heart. It was a woman, tall and ethereal, her skin the color of a bruised moon. She was a perfect, dark reflection of Rhea—but where Rhea was filled with grief and fire, this construct was made of absolute, clinical coldness. Her eyes weren't amber or violet; they were mirrors, reflecting the worst fears of anyone who looked into them.