Rose Forearm Tattoo Female Novels & Stories

It was she who looked two-dimensional, like a cardboard cut-out against the Victorian clutter. It seemed that the house looked at her. Rose let it look. Stroking her hands over her breasts, she moved them downwards over the slight pout of her belly. She caressed the rose tattoo on her left hip, dipped her fingers between her thighs and stroked the dark hair that poked through the fishnet.

Diana sat in the lounge chair, hugging her knees close to her chest. A small, hitching sigh wracked throughout her. She inspected her hand for the thousandth time, peering at those crescent-shaped marks that Hecate's touch had left on her skin. They looked like tiny tattoos, drawn with black lines and resembling little moons. She had one on the inside of her wrist, another on that soft part beneath her thumb, and another right in the middle of her palm.

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.

"She deserved it! She was so terrified with the rabid dogs barking all around her, even sending a voice message where she was crying so pathetically!" Hearing that, my departed soul turned away, smiling miserably. He was the one who had said he loved me, promising to protect me for the rest of my life and vowing that no one would get to lay a finger on me. He had smiled at me so lovingly when he passed me the black rose seeds. "It is believed that black roses embody a deep and timeless love, just like the love I share with you." Yet, he had a change of heart and loved Lara instead, believing her one-sided claims that I had led a workplace ostracising campaign against her.

A looked crossed his eyes,but it went away as quickly as it came, and soon he was looking at me amused again. "Of course, I didn't anticipate finding raunchy books in a sweet girl's bag, you're definitely right. Noted, I'm never doing that again." I scowled and he smirked. "So Rosie?" He asked, I couldn't help it, I rolled my eyes at that, rubbing at my temples. "No, my name's Rosette, not Rosie. That's childish." "Okay, so Rose. Well that's a pretty name for a very pretty girl, as cliché as it sounds, it's the truth, you're a pretty little flower." And the blush that was barely receding was back again.

Five days before the wedding, Zach’s mother asked me to meet her to review the final tattoo design. When I arrived, Julie was already there. She was sitting in the tattoo chair, holding up her left hand under the light. The rose on her ring finger had begun to heal, a thin layer of scabbing covering the ink. Hidden among the petals, the letter A stood out with startling clarity. Zach’s mother smiled warmly. “The rose looks beautiful on Julie.” There was no way I could put on a smile.

His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and Janet noticed the ink on his wrist, which stretched upward and vanished behind his shirt as he raised his hands in surrender. Her eyes traced the intricate details of his tattoo, starting with a black rose blooming from his wrist. As her gaze moved along, she noticed the date 19.08.16 etched underneath. Her focus then shifted to the clock above the rose, frozen at eight, before finally resting on the compass.

Mom with her wild auburn hair whipping in the wind, Dad grinning beside her, and me as a gangly teenager, my arms wrapped around a much younger Aofie. They looked so alive, so unbreakable. A perfect family portrait, or so I'd always thought. I stared at the photo under the dim bulb's flickering glow, my breath catching. My eyes lingered on Mom's wrist, where a bracelet of seashells partially obscured her skin. I squinted, tilting the photo closer to the light. There, peeking out from beneath the shells, was a tattoo — a bold, stylized letter V, etched in delicate black ink, the lines curving like a serpent's tail.

Liam placed sweet kisses on her face, as though trying to take away the pain. ''Do you want her to stop?” ''Nope!” Kate exclaimed even before Liam could finish his question and he laughed. ''Then you have to bear with the pain okay? It'll be over soon.” He encouraged. Kate nodded and bit on her lower lip, her face all red. The tattooist had drawn the butterfly wanted on her boobs, it was very pretty but it was still red and hurting so Kate didn't want to touch it. After which, she opted to get a red rose design on her ankle, Liam was against it, because she was already red from the one she had gotten but she had insisted.

Grabbing the hem of my hoodie, I threw it over her head and let my eyes feast on her beautiful body, her slightly tanned skin glistening in the moonlight and decorated with black ink similar to mine. Eight tattoos, she had told me. The first one I had already seen before was on her right upper arm, a wolf standing over a half moon, howling. I knew there was an infinity made of flowers on the inside of her right wrist. I found the next on her sternum, another half moon but with a sword piercing through it. But what took my breath away was the intricate flowers and branches beneath her left breast that stretched up all the way to her back. There were two birds sitting amidst those bloomed flow