Lettering Soul Tattoo Novels & Stories

My footsteps echo softly against the floor as I walk toward the altar. My dress glides with every movement, but I barely feel it. All my focus is on them. My heart beats hard, a swirl of anxiety and resignation tightening in my chest. The golden phrase "Bonding Ceremony" glows with an ethereal warmth at the center of the floral arch. The curtain of lights illuminates each white petal, creating a solemn atmosphere. The glass tables with golden bases reflect the brilliance around us, and among the decorations, the phrase "Forever" rests in silence, a reminder of the inevitability of this union.

With every lift of his arm, I noticed a different pattern of tattoos etched into his skin. “What do they mean?” I finally asked. “Hm?” “The tattoos on your arm,” I clarified softly. “You have a lot of them.” He shifted, sitting up slightly and taking me with him until I was straddling his lap, the sheets the only thing separating us. He pointed to a heart inked solid black, names etched into it. “For my brother and my father.” Then his finger moved lower, to two names framed by flames. “Aurora and Sophia.”

‘’Yes,’’ I answered sheepishly. Apart from his beautiful features, I get to admire some ink of his that are visibly available for my eyes. There was this one quote that caught my attention though, it’s written in Cyrillic script. ‘Life is nothing more than a nightmare, but death, the longing sleep dreams of life.’ The letters are in cursive writing tattooed on his neck, barely noticeable because it was being toppled over by a few stronger marks. A tail of a dragon was creatively cloaking the script, I’ve seen that dragon ink once, in that bathroom incident. I averted my gaze from him as soon as I realized I was staring too long. Scolding myself for being stupid. I shouldn’t be admiring him.

on his chest beckoned me, its tiny letters igniting a spark within. My mind's eye roamed to his hands, where a skull sat regally at the back of his long fingers, and a wolf's head gazed fiercely from the right hand's backdrop. An eagle soared on his left, wings spread wide. On his upper arms, colorful flowers bloomed, their petals unfolding like tiny works of art. As I committed each design to memory, I marveled at the tapestry of his tattoos, I was too far gone in my head that I totally forgotten I should be thinking of a way to leave this place, not thinking about his tattoos.

was written in cursive writing On the other there was nothing on it, it was empty without a single tattoo On his thumb, there was a cross symbol that was long, thick, and highlighted. On his right hand, there was a single letter on each finger that spells " fear " it was written beautifully and at the tip of the fingers, there was water drop, king crown, Music, dollar symbols they were beautiful to look at. And on his right wrist, there was a tattoo started with a single bent feather as I looked up it disappeared in his shirt sleeves.

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.

I resisted the urge to fan myself as my body temperature shot up. Other than bulky muscles, black ink marked his back with various tattoos. My brain had melted the moment I saw his hot, muscular body, so before I could think about it, I took a step in his direction and then a few more until I had a clear view of his tattoos. At a little distance down the neck, there was a tattoo that portrayed eight phases of the moon in a horizontal alignment. On the right side of his back, the anatomy of a wolf heart was tattooed with blood dripping down in drops. A date, 12-08-1994, was etched beneath the wolf's heart.

Nikolai is a god among men, and I am fortunate to be embraced by his presence. Nikolai’s tattoos are sexy, and I find myself unable to resist tracing them with my finger. The stars inked on both his shoulders catch my attention, making me curious about their meaning. However, it’s the eagle tattooed on his chest that truly captivates me. The majestic bird exudes power and strength, its wings spread wide as if poised for flight. The intricate details of the tattoo come alive on his skin, and I can’t help but admire its beauty. The eagle symbolizes freedom, and in that moment, I feel as if I am soaring alongside it.

An artist from the wrong side of the river who didn't belong here. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> "A tattoo artist," he said. "That explains the ink. May I?" _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> He gestured to my arm, and I extended it without thinking. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> His fingers wrapped around my wrist, cool and precise, turning my arm to examine the tattoos. A geometric mandala on my inner forearm. Script in Sanskrit along the outer edge. A phoenix rising from ashes near my elbow.

I don’t know, but I wouldn’t definitely do the second. After 2 months of ignoring me, he decided to come to me at night, while I was sleeping, and leave the letter. These words weren’t definitely empty. They were full of sense. I could feel that he was putting each part of his soul to write that poem. And to be honest, it was the best thing that I got today. But it made me smile and want to cry at the same time. Leo and Pisces. It was his tattoo. So that what meant his new tattoo. He knew that I was Pisces and that meant he was born in August, because he is Leo. So he wanted to give me sign, not even admitting it to yourself.