Crypt Keeper Tattoo Novels & Stories

Below it, I wore faded denim shorts that showed off my long, dusky skinned legs paired with a fashionable pair of black heeled boots that went just above the ankle. So the spreading, navy blue tattoo was clearly visible for the world to see and it formed a tribal tattoo exactly identical to the one Chester had on his chest !! “That’s the mark of my father’s clan,” he revealed. “It is said that only true lovers are able to get exactly identical tattoos which is the rarest of rare case, believe me, specially if the lover is not from the same clan,” he elucidated. “This mark will always protect you and give you my part of the courage and energy if you ever need it when I am not with you. It is

It was a testament to his unwavering dedication to all aspects of his physical fitness. One of the most striking features on Logan's left arm was the anchor tattoo, a symbol known to represent strength and stability, perhaps even serving as a connection to his time in the marine. Yet, what made this tattoo particularly intriguing was an unexpected addition. Just below the anchor, a smaller, seemingly incongruous tattoo came into view. This tattoo was a depiction of a little girl holding a toy, a charming but puzzling image etched onto his skin. It seemed to tell a story of its own, one that didn't readily align with the symbolism of the anchor.

The hoodie draped loosely over his head, obscuring his face, but the flicker of city lights occasionally illuminated the sharp lines of his jaw and the hints of a sinister smirk playing on his lips. The wind picked up, a fierce breeze whipping across the rooftop and causing the hood to flutter. As the fabric shifted, it revealed a chiseled, muscular torso adorned with intricate tattoos, each line telling a story of violence, power, and mystery. Prominently displayed on the left side of his chest was a large, bold tattoo—the words *Nosce Hostem* inked in a jagged, menacing script that seemed almost to pulse with life against his skin. The tattoo, a clear message, spoke of a deep connection to

I’ll never be able to drink tequila again without thinking of him, that’s for sure. I see Erik still watching me. I hand him his shirts. “Five black belts? That’s incredible. All this time you never mentioned it.” “That was a long time ago, I’m not that person anymore.” I can’t help but ogle him and he catches me checking out his Nordic styled tattoos. There’s a chariot on each pec, one pulling the sun, one pulling the moon, each being chased by a wolf. “This is Sköll,” he points to one of the wolves, “and this one Hati. They chase the sun and moon.”

Before he can reach me, Carlos intercepts him, slamming him against the hood. I pull my kids out one by one, hugging them so tightly it hurts. “My babies—oh God… you’re okay, you’re okay—” Killian sobs into my shoulder. Cherry clings to me tightly. Carlos is still wrestling the second man to the ground when I try to move back and spot something. On the kidnapper’s neck, partially hidden beneath his collar, is a strange tattoo. A circle. A broken arrow through it. Faded, but unmistakable. The moment it glows lightly, a cold shiver crawls up my spine.

They were grateful they hadn't provoked him, or they might have been the ones lying on the floor. Frederick lifted the nearly unconscious brute off the ground. "Answer my question. Where'd you get that tattoo?" He was curious because the tattoo was Organization V's symbol, but the brute was just an Aflon Grandmaster, the lowest rank among Savant Grandmasters, making it impossible to be a member of the organization. Nevertheless, Frederick was certain that he must have some connection with the organization. The brute, bloodied and trembling, begged for mercy. "Please spare me! It's from a notorious serial killer of women—Ripper. I thought it looked cool, so I got one too."

One look, and I can tell that the tattoo has been there for a long time. My heart is pounding now. "Ulyana told me about how the Bratva marks its members. But she said the women only get tattoos if they're the last living heirs." "Heirs!" That gets a bitter laugh out of her. It's loud enough that I glance around nervously, worrying someone might hear. "Ulyana wants to protect your tender heart, Katerina Koslov." She covers the fox up, standing over me again. "Do you know what that tattoo actually means?"

“Not constellations of teenage girls, Ms. Cruz. Men who keep their hands in their pockets like they’re used to having something else there.” I stare. He swipes. Another clip. I'm going into a radio station, sunglasses on, hood up. Same men on the corner, smoking, not smoking, watching. My skin crawls. “You’re making this up,” I say. He scrolls back and freezes on a close‑up. It’s enough resolution to see the tattoo peeking over one man’s collar. A sigil I don’t recognize. But he does. “This one’s with the people who killed my mother,” Kael says. “They don’t watch for fun.”

He say but I'm to focused on his tattooed body to care about anything he says right now. My fingers trace the inked skin. He has a huge tattoo of Kali, the goddess of destruction, on his front. Different designs litter his skin but my favourite has to be the flower on his neck. It is the only tattoo that has colour out of them all on his front. He has his nipples pierced and I never thought I would say this but it looks really sexy.

"All the brigadiers and lieutenants have arrived, Pakhan. They all are waiting for you. As per your order, the official tattoo artist is here too." Aleksandr nodded while Aria frowned at the information. "Tattoo artist?" She asked her husband. "Yes, if you had been my wife only, there would have been no need for a tattoo but you want to be a power partner. It means you are officially joining Bratva. This tattoo is going to be your crown, Aria. This is your last chance, if you want to back out do it now, because the tattoo is sacred. You have to wear it whole your life like a religious sign "