Do Not Go Gentle Tattoo Novels & Stories

“Err, yeah. What can I do for you?” She smiled, showing off a set of perfectly white, straight teeth. “I want a tattoo.” “Ok, what are you thinking about getting?” I asked. “I want this.” She took a piece of paper out of her purse and passed it to me. It was a picture of a compass, an arrow pointing to the North. The caption said, “Don’t look back, you’re not going that way.” It was a pretty powerful message. I looked back up at her face, looking closely, I could see the worry lines, the fear behind those beautiful honey-colored eyes. “What’s your name?” I asked her. “Why?” she asked, almost defensively. “Just interested, that’s all. This will take me around an hour to do, it would be nice i

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.

Gianna gazed down at her wrist, looking at the small tattoo she got in her teenage years. It was a dandelion, some of the seeds scattered as if blown by the wind, forming a small musical note. Nothing about the drawing was unique, as surely, a lot of women already had the same tattoo as hers now. She had been thinking about erasing it many times over but decided not to. The black ink looked good in her milky skin, but she would rather it stayed hidden.

Battered hands, inked with tattoos: MAMA on his knuckles, a dove, and more ink disappearing beneath his tank top. Another man chuckles under his breath. “She stays, maybe we talk more,” Green Eyes says. I glance at Angelo. His face is stone. “She’s not payment,” Nate growls, fighting back the urge to stand. “Oh, come on. She’s a gift to the room,” another pipes up. “You sure you don’t want to share?” “Ettiene,” Angelo warns, voice low and lethal. But Green Eyes doesn’t stop. Maybe it’s just me or maybe I’m naive but I didn’t expect this from a man with MAMA tattooed all over his skin. Then again, what do I expect from unethical thugs?

"Alpha, what about the children. I mean, we know our Luna and her friends from the north all got their tattoos when they were twelve before they got their wolf. Will kids be getting pack tattoos as well before they get their wolf?" "I will leave that up to your discretion. If they are 12 they are allowed to get a tattoo but no younger and the ink will be regular not wolfsbane. Personally, our children, when Luna and I have them, will get tattoos at the age of twelve." I looked at Kaya, who smiled. Another man stood he was young maybe sixteen. "Can we get other tattoos, too alpha?" "If that is what you want, then yes. Just make sure you are getting them for a reason not to just get one." The

"Then why not a tiger, a dragon, or whatever else is trendy right now?" "I got it when I was sixteen, and like any teenager, I saw deep symbolism in the tattoo." "What kind?" “People can shoot at the target as much as they want, thinking they're hurting me. But in reality, they'll be killing a butterfly.” Tenderness and admiration flood my chest, and my eyes begin to tingle. Obeying the impulse, I lean toward him and touch the black circle with my lips. "That means they're bad shots. I know she's alive and will always be here."

Me staring at a naked guy for the second time in my damn life. My breath caught in my throat, trapped. I was trapped. My eyes completely rebelled against my brain's frantic commands to look the fuck away. Instead, they traced the dark, heavy ink of a tattoo etched across his upper shoulder blades. Three words, bold and unyielding: "Built Through Pain." The script wasn't flashy or arrogant. It felt heavy. It looked like a scar turned into art—a quiet testament to something survival-driven. A strange, unbidden ache blossomed in my chest just looking at it.

He patted my shoulder with his tattooed hand. I stared at it, his body was so beautiful, it was like a display of art. Various inks and pictures went up his arms, to his neck and his back. It was truly beautiful, there was a wolf, a symbol, a date, a quote, a picture of some guy and my favorite tattoo was on the back of his hand. It was, 'Fuck you. It's my life' written in italic letters. "Someday you will have something meaningful enough kid." He wound his arm around my neck and practically dragged me to the back of the shop where most of the piercings were done. "Now, wait here while I get the equipments ready."

Doris fell into deep thought, her mother also has HIV, the disease cannot be cured, there is only one way to die, it is only a matter of time, now she too, what should they do this. Calliope says that Riffen can also have this disease, but Doris doesn't believe it because she fully understands how much Riffen hates Calliope, the relationship between a man and a woman is completely impossible between them. When Doris looked up at Calliope, she had already left without realizing it, Doris was left quietly alone, she quickly returned to her place and waited for Riffen. The special thing is that on the sleeve of her white shirt there is still a red color, even if it is wiped away, it is difficul

The icy blast would’ve made anyone else recoil, but Dante stood there, solid and unmoving, like he was made of stone. His back was a canvas of ink, just like his front. The artwork was nothing short of breathtaking. Spanning across his entire back was a massive, detailed tattoo—an angel, powerful and divine, standing within the ruins of an ancient temple. The wings spread wide across his shoulder blades, reaching toward his arms, while crumbling pillars surrounded the figure in dramatic grayscale contrast. It wasn’t just a tattoo; it was a story, a testament, a work of devotion etched forever into his flesh. It was absolutely beautiful—mesmerizing, even.