Cross Stitch Tattoo Novels & Stories

The tattoo artist, immersed in his art, glided the needles with grace, revealing the constellation with each brushstroke. The man, looking up occasionally to evaluate his work, captured the young woman's expression. Her eyes twinkled with a mixture of emotion and awe, while her lips curved into a shy smile. As the constellation was revealed on her skin, Athena sank into a state of calm, as if the cosmos had aligned to give her this moment. The tattoo artist, upon completing his work, looked with satisfaction at the constellation that now was part of the young woman's skin. A piece of the universe, immortalized in a delicate corner behind her ear.

It’s like a really faint tattoo without the ink. I shut the water off so I can look at it closely. It’s an infinity mark with a single vertical band running around the middle, and two dots on both ends of the band.

“Yeah? Maybe once my ass is healed you can turn the puncture wound into one of them cool, fake bullet holes you see on motorcycles and pickup tailgates.” “Please. I’m an artiste. I have something way better in mind. Something hip-fun-sexy-cool.” Suspicion clouded Colt’s face. “I already told you. You ain’t tattooing the area around my nipples. Ever.” “But this new pattern is so awesome. Turquoise and orange outlined in black and red, that looks like flames—” “No way, no how.” “Just hear me out.” “Dammit, Indy, I said no. Why are you so dang fired up about doin’ this?”

His eyes, a startling shade of amber, held a stillness that felt ancient. “I need a cover-up,” he said, his voice a low rumble. He shrugged off his leather jacket and revealed an old, poorly done tattoo on his left pectoral, right over his heart. It was a mess of faded lines, but beneath the jumbled ink, Sloane could see the faint, elegant shape of a Celtic knot. “Something to bind it. To make it permanent.”

I twist a little to the side so I can see it clearly—the mark. It's truly red, like a bold, fearless tattoo shaped like a sun with sharp pointed rays stretching out in all directions. At the center, there is a large crescent moon cradling a five-pointed star, as if the crescent moon is protecting the star. Around the moon and star, there are small dots growing bigger with each next dot, and below the crescent moon, there is a bigger dot and even more dots that trail down in a straight line, leading into two sharp triangles pointing downwards. How did this mark end up on my body?

Closer. Closer. Closer. “A tattoo,” I yelled. “They both had the same tattoo.” How did I miss that earlier? “Are you sure?” Prince Dante asked. “Positive, Master. I remember it now. Coral had a tattoo on her right forearm and so did Zane.” Master went quiet for a minute, then he asked. “Can you describe the tattoo?” “It was a cross in the midst of thorns.” When Coral raised her hands to pierce my neck, I saw it.

The lights flickered. “Do you feel that?” she whispered. Kian’s jaw tightened. “Keep going.” Her tattoos — the ones across her own arms — began to shimmer faintly through the gloves. The crescent on her wrist pulsed in sync with the design she was drawing on him. “Stop,” Kian said suddenly, voice rough. “That’s enough.” She lifted the needle. The symbol was unfinished, but it glowed faintly before fading into his skin. “What the hell was that?” she demanded.

It's simple, yet, captivating. It features the Italian flag in colour, a black and white rose, rosary beads entwine with the stem and thorns, and the Esposito name is carved into the rose's shaded knuckle busters that rest beneath the rose with a single petal beside it. "I'm going to cut this from your body," I tap the scalpel against his tattoo, "And I'm going to keep it as a souvenir in my husband's family home." I sneer with a wicked smile playing on my lips.

The others backed up, mumbling under their breaths. Before he could so much as check if she was hurt, pain seared the inside of his left wrist. He cursed and watched in horror as black lines formed on his skin, burning as they merged into a...trinity knot. A symbol he recognized only because of his Irish heritage and the countless Galloway Wiccan documents he'd examined through the years. Slightly larger than a quarter, it branded him like a tattoo. Kaida cried out, grabbing her arm as the same pattern emerged in the same spot on her inner wrist. Breaths soughing, she sat up and glanced from the mark, to him, and back again. "Oh God. Did I...do that?"

I was so speechless, I just jumped on him and he winced, the tattoo was still hurting a bit. My fingers traced another ink one on his shoulder, he got this one after his dad died, in memory of him. "Do you always do this when I'm asleep" Bryne's husky voice jolts me back and I quickly remove my hand from his chest. He frowns and sits up, resting his back on the headboard. He yawns and stretches. I gulp, watching his thick muscle extends and flexes. "Come here" I nod and crawl to his arms obediently. He draws circles on my back and hums an inaudible tune.