Realistic Broken Clock Tattoo Novels & Stories

"And my mum will literally kill me if she ever finds out that not only did l break a rule in a few weeks but also got a tattoo ." "Good thing I'm an artist." Mara picked up her fork, unbothered. "We don't need real ones. I just need the right ink. Temporary, convincing, close enough to pass a door check in bad lighting." She speared a piece of fruit. "I've done harder things." "That is genuinely not the reassurance you think it is." Mara smiled. Then, like it had only just occurred to her — "How did you get back last night, by the way?"

Saint was about to look away grudgingly when Nicholas's towel lowered itself and then fell to the floor, revealing a tattoo. His gaze snagged on it before he could even stop himself. The tattoo rested low on Nicholas's back, directly above his waist. The design climbed the base of his spine in elegant black lines. Sharp points and sweeping curves intertwined around a narrow central shape that resembled a watchful eye. Thorn-like flourishes stretched outward before curling back in on themselves, giving the impression of something dangerous held barely under control.

The three marks on Wren’s inner forearm itched with a low, persistent thrum, a living tattoo of longing etched into her skin by a ritual gone beautifully, catastrophically wrong. They weren't scars, but claims waiting to be made. One for tender worship, one for rude praise, one for slow dominance. Tonight, the first of them, a silvery crescent like a wolf’s gentle bite, burned with a need that was becoming a torment.

It was a finely detailed pocket watch, the glass cracked right in the center. "I like that one," I said, pointing to his wrist. "Did it hurt?" Iris glanced down at the ink. He rubbed his thumb slowly over the cracked watch. "Yeah. It took about four hours. Got it when I was nineteen. It's supposed to remind me that time runs out faster than you think." "That's surprisingly deep for a guy who spends his life standing in corners," I joked softly. Iris actually let out a short, quiet laugh. It was a rough sound, like he didn't use it very often. He uncrossed his arms, resting his hands flat on the counter.

~Punch’s Point of View~ “Stop! I don’t know anything else,” the male squeals, as I stand back and admire my handiwork. I’m a sick fuck, but something more than pride swells in me when I see the hourglass carved on this bastard’s back, over his pack tattoo. Out of time. I know exactly how deep you can cut someone and where, to get the most pain but always ensure they won’t bleed out. This bastard ain’t getting off that quick.

"And you wouldn't be the first." Paul put down his pencil and tensed and relaxed his fingers a few times. "I quite believe that. So you say good?” He nodded his chin at the picture. There was an image of a compass crossed by an anchor with a broken rope. He managed it down to the detail and if he can get it tattooed exactly like this (which he can), it will be a real blast. I grinned at him. "It's great. Of course he is,” I began hesitantly.

Slowly the pain ebbed away and my neck felt numb with the occasional stinging. “Hazel? There is something on your neck?” Lorena stopped dabbing the wound and I felt my neck. The burn was gone but I couldn’t feel anything. Everyone was staring at me now and Cassie handed me a mirror from he purse. On my neck, was a freshly done tattoo, of a blood red eye next to a black crescent moon, intricately designed, with every detail standing out. I rubbed at it but it didn’t come off. Maybe the ritual did work.

He seethed angrily and hissed. Raze ignored him and sat down, sighing in frustration. “ I saw a tattoo this time around in one of of their wrists, pyramid shape with three dots at the top.” Brent immediately knew what he was driving at and shook his head. “Don't tell me you're still having nightmares! Because that tattoo isn't real!” “Don't piss me off Brent, I know what I saw and a search must be conducted.” He fired back and Brent placed a mid finger on his forehead.

I was trying to be as careful as possible so I wouldn't wake him up, so I steadied my hands against his chest and placed my head down until I was sure he'd fallen back asleep. When he began to snore lightly again, I raised my head and uncovered his arm slowly. I glanced at the tattoo. My mouth gawked open at how beautiful his tattoo was. It was a picture of a wolf and a girl. The girl had a pair of broken glasses on the bottom, making her own eyes seem more beautiful. 

The same round bolt that could be used to open the secret door layer. My heart began racing so badly I could feel it logging in my throat begging to be relieved. The leg made a movement that drove their combat pants up their ankle and it revealed hairy legs along with a tattoo that was a little too familiar. It was the tattoo of a wolf moving around in a circle chasing its tail. I could swear I had seen it somewhere before.