Deathly Hallows Tattoos Novels & Stories

The four types of tattoos were the Alpha tattoo, the Beta tattoo, the Zeta tattoo, and the member tattoo. My tattoo had seven moons at the top of my back with two versions of the Helm of Awe on each shoulder blade. In the middle of my back was Yggdrasil, the tree of life with a wolf head coming out of the roots. Finally, below the wolf and running down my spine was my name in Old Norse. In the middle of Yggdrasil’s branches, the Alpha sign of our pack was cleverly blended in.

Thor killed his third attacker and stepped back toward me. “How many?” he asked. I did not answer. Because I was counting differently. Not how many remained. But how many were designed to die. That was when I saw it. On the wrist of one of the fallen wolves, partially exposed beneath torn fabric. A mark. A tattoo. Recognizable. I froze for a fraction of a second longer than I should have. Thor noticed immediately. “What is it?” I knelt slowly, pulling the wrist closer. The symbol was burned into skin with deliberate precision.

My mind was everywhere as I wash my body because jack never told me what happened at the end of everything and I was fucking dying of curiosity and my mind was doubting if he did the right thing. As I stepped out of the shower, my eyes caught to the second mark on my skin in the fogged-up mirror and I almost gasp at the sight of almost a tattoo, it was ten times bigger than the first. I wiped away the condensation that blocks my view and stares at the large rose above the two wolves on the base of my neck, it was beautiful.

“My name is Stace. I come from a realm very far away. I shouldn’t be here, doing this, but Death has become too much of a threat.” “So you’re going to kill her?” The words feel ashy in my mouth. He nods grimly. “It is what must be done. Powerful immortals are becoming a threat to my kind.” “And what exactly is your kind?” I ask warily, my gaze falling to the tattoos on his neck, depicting patterns I’ve never seen before, a foreign story I don’t even want to begin deciphering. Not to mention the way they drift and curl tauntingly, ever so slowly that they nearly convince you that you’re just seeing things, and they are in fact nothing but normal tattoos.

The door to his room was half open and I could see him changing, he was muttering something while undoing his shirt and revealing my greatest desire, I stood there, my body leaned against the door frame as I cross my arm and look at his perfect muscled body, His back was facing me as he rummaged through the closet to find a t-shirt, my lips voluntarily curved as I imagine my lips on those babies, Without any layer not only I could see the perfect mysteries but now his tattoo was also fully exposed, I drool my eyes at the first tattoo he had on his shoulder blades; two wings, one broken, the other hand stitches to support it, there was a phrase written in cursive that said " Love cures Poison

His cock stood rigid against his stomach, already leaking from the slow, teasing prostate massage she’d given him while the plug still nestled deep inside. He heard her moving—soft footfalls, the metallic clink of tools, the low hum of the tattoo machine being tested. When she removed the blindfold, the first thing he saw was her: naked, skin gleaming with oil, Harlan’s heavy signet ring hanging between her breasts on a thin chain. In her hand: the tattoo gun, needle already loaded with black ink. Alex’s heart slammed against his ribs. “The family crest,” she said softly, almost reverently. “On the shaft. Permanent. Unremovable. The final seal that you belong to the line—and to me.”

“The one I cut on the back?” I blinked at her. “You mean the little asswipe with the shitty tattoo who wanted to fuck up my pretty face with his brass knuckles? Yeah, I’m fairly positive I don’t care if he’s okay. But from the way he lit out of there like his tail was on fire, I’d say he’s just fine.” “It wasn’t a shitty tattoo,” she mumbled. “It was the eye of Horus. Some thought it was a symbol to ward off evil, but it’s actually supposed to symbolize healing.”

EVANGELINE. My gaze snaps back to the tattoo on his torso, realising it’s not just any snake but the symbolic sea serpent of Hades… The symbol of the Night Shade Pack, how did I not realise! I look up at him, grasping onto the fact that I had gone straight from the wolf’s den into the monster’s lair…

In a matter of seconds, they collapsed to the ground, lifeless. My heart raced as I knelt beside one of the witches, my eyes widening as I noticed a tattoo on her neck. It was a symbol I had never seen before. “What is this?” I asked, pointing to the mark. Seraphina’s expression darkened. “It’s a tattoo of vow. It means they swore not to reveal their plan, and if they did, they would die. That’s why they died when they started talking.” I stood up, a sense of dread settling over me. “So, they were willing to die to keep their secrets?”

He closed his eyes, his jaw slackening as I scrubbed his scalp. A comfortable silence soon settled between us. As I leaned forward to rinse the shampoo from his hair, my eyes caught the tattoo inked across his back and upper arm. The design was bold against his skin, curling like claws and wings. Black flames wrapped around a serpent swallowing its own tail. "What does it mean?" I asked, my fingers lightly brushing the ink. He didn't answer at first. "It's a symbol of resurrection. Power earned through suffering." I traced the outer edge. "You got it before or after everything?"