Zayn Tattoos Novels & Stories

A knock on the door pulled me out of my thought, feeling decent enough in my silk short and camisole, I padded bare footed towards the door. "Hello there." Zayn's length was rested against the doorframe. Gone was the suit, instead, he was dressed in a pair of loosely fitted black pants and shirt. A black sandals adored his feet and on his wrist was a black Rolex watch accompanied by a black beaded bracklet. "Hey." I mumbled feeling shy and suddenly not so decent. "What are you up to?" He asked, his eyes fixed on mine, not my exposed body. "Nothing much." I answered, stepping away from the door while holding it ajar.

Jace with his bunny tooth said as he walks toward the exit. " sounds goodie! been dying to have some melon guard smoothie!" Shane exclaimed " ewwwwwwww " we all cover our mouth. " Thanks I'm good with water and i'll be going to our booth now, goodluck guys !" Zadie waves walking away. We walk towards the exit when I felt a Burning gaze I immediately turn my head and there I saw those cold amber pair of eyes I haven't seen for 5 years. P A Y N E. . .

I sit on the sofa, watching from the corner of the room as he takes off his shirt. It clings to his skin, and I catch a glimpse of blisters forming where the liquid struck. My heart aches at the thought of him getting hurt because of me. Even he isn’t immune after all. Yet his body looks like it’s carved from stone—hard, perfect, and almost unreal. The tattoos on his skin make him look even more dangerous and—though I hate to admit it—extremely tempting. I’m not usually attracted to men with tattoos, but Zayn—

Alright, I am gonna look back and give him a my sweetest smile. As I did, I saw the face of an angel. Deep set eyes and chiseled jaws and brows that are so thick, I wanted to get lost in them.I am not kidding. Men with these features should be illegal in Alabama. “I am Zayn.” Offering his hand to me. I hesitantly gave mine and believe it or not, I freaking felt a jolt of electricity. Not the subtle ones but the kind that makes you jerk your hand away and i gave him my ‘what the fuck was that,do not tell me you did not feel that’ stare.

The first thing he came across was his reflection in the mirror. He was shirtless with his pants hanging around his waist. His hairs were a little dishevelled covering his forehead. There was small tattoo of a tornado. It was just an inch tall as he made that when Kaz and Conner challenged him to do so. He never liked to ink his skin as he liked it clean devoid of any absurd pattern on it. The scars he got from the wars he had won were enough for him and he cherished them on his skin. But they, especially Kaz loved to ink his skin or he should say he liked to be penetrated by a needle to ink his blood. Zackarya never had these types of likings.

“Mi è mancata la mia migliore amica.” Sienna blinked. “Okay… not bad. Still sounds like you swallowed a vowel, though.” I threw a pillow at her. “Stop it” She caught it midair. “And you’re blushing again.” “Stop saying that!” Just then, footsteps sounded again from the top of the stairs. Instinctively, I glanced up, just in time to see Zayne descending this time, his phone in one hand, the other shoved casually in his pocket. He looked…effortless, tattoos trailed from his neck down to his chest and arms, grey pants, hair slightly tousled as if he’d run his hand through it too many times.

Now that he knew, he too reveals that he had a scar on his belly, but like two scars intersecting each other. **** The concern was spreading across their faces. "What the fuck did we do?" "Some crime maybe." Cassandra answers casually. He shakes his head, looking out to the abyss. "These aren't scars of a blade. I know it's not." Says Zayn. He begins to research alongside Cassandra on birthmarks and their importance. They scroll to infinity, none of the sites seemed authentic. That was until they bumped into one of the sites that declared— "Free tantric and karmic resolution chart? The fuck is that?" Inquisitively, Cassandra asks Zayn as she sat on his lap.

I feel embarrassed in front of them because of your behavior," I whispered, not wanting her to listen. Now, if she sees Zayn here, she will tell everyone outside, and they will look at me again with that look on their faces. I looked at the door and then at Zayn, who was staring at me. He clenched his jaw, making it sharp, and I felt a shower of fear all over my body. Within seconds, he got up from me, and I took a deep breath to control my heartbeat, which was going crazy. He stood up and, looking at me, he... He removed his shirt and threw it on the sofa, making his tattoo which was on his chest it was written something which i never noticed before and I looked at him with widened eyes. It

My gaze drifted unconsciously to his collarbone. There was a new tattoo there. Red, still swollen from being freshly inked, but unmistakable. It was my name. The characters were rendered in the most ancient, wild cursive form of script, like an old, binding sigil. My fingers trembled as I touched it. “When did you… get this?” Henry caught my hand and rubbed it gently against his palm. “Last night, after you fell asleep.” “Did it hurt?” “It was better that it hurt.” His eyes darkened, and a satisfied smile curved his lips.

Instead, he brought my arm to his mouth and kissed my scars one by one. "Sorry, does that count as romantic?" I giggled, "Would you kiss your friend’s scars?" Zayn winked at me, "probably not. But ya amar, you are just as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside. Nothing could change that. I understand why you don’t like them, but they don’t bother me. They’re part of you, and I like every part of you." Zayn suddenly looked away, as if he were thinking about something. It took a few seconds for him to speak again. "Are you still sleeping badly?"