Storyline Tattoos Novels & Stories

It was one of my best quality, I would say. If it wasn't for that, these fucking flea-ridden bastards would have ended me way before I had started to live. The tattoo artist had done a very good job covering the scars up, but I knew what was there underneath the ink, underneath the pretty flowers, moons, dream birds, daggers and swords. I knew the stories of each and every one of them.

Touching her tattoo, I ask her what it means. “I don’t know how to explain it. You’ll think I’m crazy if I do,” she says. “Try me. I’ve had my fair share of crazy,” I offer in response. “I had the tattoo done after suffering a loss a few years back,” she explains. Pointing at it, she continues, “You see this? It’s called a Nautilus shell. Can you see how it curls up into itself, almost like it’s never ending? For me, that represents infinity with no end and no beginning.”

A story I wanted to read. “Hayden…” I whispered. “What’s that one?” He stepped out, shirtless. Shadows hit his tattoos. Each one alive. Dangerous. Marked. Mine to claim if I dared. “You’re staring,” he said, voice low. “I can’t help it. You look… tempting.” That made him laugh. “But seriously, do your tattoos tell stories? Why mark yourself?” “To remind me of things that changed me,” he said. “And mostly because I like to feel the pain of being marked.”

~ NATALIA ~ His tattoo was gorgeous for me to look away. It was like it was telling a story. “Do you like it that much?” Romeo chuckled, his chest bounced when he chuckled. He caught me checking out his tattoo. It was like I couldn’t admire his tattoo and I was never a shy-away- girl, “Yes. It’s beautiful and my thought was clouded with guesses of ‘what could be a story behind this tattoo.’”I told him honestly. I wouldn’t have told him that if we were at the packhouse cause he let me around me and we never really spent time so that our bond could get stronger.

Here is the beginning of me, you, and our beloved child Here is the beginning of a new round of great love for you my princess I promise I will never abandon you I promise I will never make you sad I swear that I love you more than anything or anyone in this wide world And that I will keep my little family with love until the day I lose my soul in it Telling you that you are the only ones who fill my eyes, and who make me love the days I live more It's bad to make me so real..too bad. In the end, they realized the reason why tattoos did not appear from the beginning is that they cannot transform.. their tattoos will appear if they are tattooed just like omega wolves

Something about the adrenalin of the tattoo gun I guess. I did get a tattoo added for Roxie in the end. It took me a while to think about what I wanted but in the end I had a twisting, mixed up lightning bolt. Not a cheesy, pointy outline, but the crackling, thin shards that splinter across a dark sky. It is on the side of my ribs, surrounded by the constellations of the Fyrestone compound.

Luke's awe was clear as Clay finished my tattoo, his skilled hands bringing to life the intricate design we'd agreed upon. It was more than ink on skin; it was a symbol of our intertwined lives, our shared journey. The art was so quintessentially us, capturing the essence of our bond in bold, swirling lines and shaded crescents.

,he answered. “Stupid people.If they’re hiding you,why would they even bother to put a tattoo on you if they’re protecting their surnames?It’s nonsense”,he added. “I have no idea,I have a tattoo”,she said curiously. “Seriously?”,he asked sarcastically. “It’s here.It’s hidden”,he said then touched the tattoo. “An infinity line with three lines below it”,he added describing the tattoo he saw. “Every Silvenia has a tattoo like yours but it was displayed.While yours was hidden”,he said. “Now I know why,You are Silvenia’s hidden treasure”,he added.

I want to touch her so badly it’s starting to drive me mad. I grab her hands and place them on my chest, I let her continue to wash me, feeling the electricity of the bond bounce back and forth between us. She appears memorized by my tattoos, “They all have a story, one day I’ll tell you.” I tell her as she continues to slowly wash me.

I bow my head, pretend to focus on the screen. "You were staring," he says in a low, amused voice. He leans against my desk, arms crossed, towering over me. "My tattoos interest you?" I shake my head, too quickly. "No, I… it's nothing." He chuckles softly. "Liar." He pulls up the left sleeve of his t‑shirt, revealing more of the raven and other symbols: a miniature cathedral, eight‑pointed stars, Cyrillic numbers. "Every design has a story. The raven… it's for memory. For those we've lost, but never forget. The stars are rank. The cathedral… the faith you keep even when everything else goes to hell."