Small Delicate Poppy Tattoo Novels & Stories

My breath hitched as I caught sight of it in the mirror he pulled out of my bag—a faint yet intricate design swirling across my collar bone, glowing faintly silver before settling into a deep, ink-like black. The tattoo was mesmerizing, an elegant crescent moon at its core, its curves etched with delicate runes that seemed ancient and alive. Surrounding the crescent, fine lines branched out like veins, forming patterns resembling intertwining vines and stars, as though the night sky itself had been imprinted onto my skin. The vines wrapped gently outward, framing the crescent in an intricate lattice of beauty and mystery, their edges tapering off just shy of my collarbone. At the crescent’s

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?”

I said shaking my head sideways and looking around the class to see all the people still looking at me. "Then why that cute little pout on your face?" he asked booping my nose with his index finger and I noticed a small tattoo on his ring finger on the inside that is lying in between his ring and middle finger. I pulled his hand towards mine and tried seeing his tattoo. But he winced when I pulled his fingers. "Sorry, I was just curious to see your tattoo" I said giving him a sorry look. He just giggled and gave me his hand. There was a beautiful iris resting on his finger. The flower looks soo very beautiful and it looks elegant. "That looks soo very beautiful" I said gasping in awe.

Zoey “What’s this about?” Bri asked, sitting back in her chair. She wore Wyatt’s shirt open with only a thin low-cut bralette beneath. The new tattoo she’d had Issac drill into her skin was simple and elegant as it rested on her sternum just below her breasts. Up the center of her chest, the water lily bloom birthed a crescent moon, a series of lines and dots indicating its glow in a circle around it, and above that a dainty fleur de lis. It paired with the twin Hyacinth Bean vines that now wrapped around her biceps and snaked down her arms and around each ring finger all in elegant black and grey. She and Issac had this thing about being in each other's company in companionable silence. The

My mind buzzed, refusing to process any of it. The pumpkin tattoo in the photo was identical to the one on my wrist. I’d gotten it with my best friend, Lily Green. We both loved a niche gothic animation—the ever-grinning pumpkin figure in it had become our symbol of friendship. Lily had said, “Sophie, look at him. No matter how bad things get, he’s always smiling. We should be like that too.” And now, that tattoo had become evidence against me.

"Look at this. I took this last week when we were at the gym." I looked at the screen. It was a photo of Roman’s arm. He was lifting a heavy weight, and his sleeve was pushed up high near his wrist. There was a tattoo there. It was a small, delicate flower. "It’s a flower," I said. "So what? Lots of people have tattoos." "It’s not just a flower, Scarlett," Zane said. "Do you know what kind of flower that is?" I looked closer. "It looks like a daisy."

A pretty love tattoo that looked embroidered with red and green flowers adorned one and bloomed right after each other seated on one of her laps. Without thought, which was extremely unlike me, I reached out to touch the flower. Goosebumps sprouted on her skin along the path of my dragging fingertips. She was as soft as she looked, like a soft moist cream. “Perfect__love them,” I murmured. “Th-thank you.” She said, exhaling a jagged breath when I moved to the other leg, trailing my fingers along the star flower tattoo that looked like they were made of thread, a brilliant illusion created from ink. “They were done by an artist that works close to a club, I met with her a couple of times.”

Hazel P.O.V. When we woke the next morning we realized the mark was not just a bitmark anymore. Where his teeth had been, the warm notch where neck meets shoulder, ink had bloomed like a dawn I could wear over night. Not needle-black the way a tattoo artist would do it, but river-dark, soft and alive, catching light as I moved. A slim ring of iron-ash dots circled the mark like a whispered boundary, and through it braided two lines; a sycamore leaf vein and a thread of current. Between them, tiny white stones marched in a crescent, one, two, three like the reclaimed lullaby counted into my skin. At the edge, a silly hat perched on the moon so small only I or Grady would ever see it.

“In the evenings, when your kids are home, they can help teach Poppy. Then, once she has a solid foundation, we can enroll her in the Alternative Learning System. It won’t be daily; it’s modular, so we’ll still be the ones teaching her.” We continued discussing how we could all pitch in to help teach Poppy. While we were all seriously sharing suggestions, Hope suddenly noticed something. “Sugarpops, is that a birthmark near your ankle?” He pointed at Poppy’s right ankle, making all of us glance over. It wasn’t very noticeable—it was kind of faint and small, about the size of a cent. Poppy looked down as well and nodded. “Yeah, that’s a birthmark. I’ve had that since I was born.”