Simple Deathly Hallows Tattoo Novels & Stories

Tha- He-' His mind was almost refusing to register what was in front of him. Braum slowly raised his hand and pointed towards Christopher his hand shaking, and mouth agap. Everyone followed his finger and jaws dropped. On Christopher's chest was a large tattoo of a Wolfs head with blood dripping from it's fangs. It was The crest of The Black Guard.

As my eyes follow his neck I find our mark sitting there like the most beautiful tattoo with its simplicity. The triple moon sits on our neck, the outlines clean and crisp. Inside the full moon sits two paw darkened paw prints. Three stars connected by thin lines rest above the full moon and waning crescent. Tracing the image I enjoy watching Damon shiver while I whisper, "it's beautiful."

He stood up holding her straddled against him and took her to the bedroom when he felt her dozing off, the poison transferred to her is getting detoxified. He gently laid her down and covered her with a duvet, he pushed the shirt she had on off her shoulder exposing a small but detailed tattoo of a dragon entangled with a Phoenix in a bright red ink shimmering under the ray of setting sun, the tattoo shone for sometimes before fading out slowly. His eyes darkened as the tattoo faded. Raymond!!! *** The two-year-old boy stared at the fish tank from where he sat with kin interest, his finger tapping the armrest in a rhythmic best, he hardly blinked.

I have my own loved one to worry about. I put my forehead in my hands and close my eyes. “Milo, please, Babe. Please answer me. I can’t take it anymore. Just tell me you’re safe. Tell me you’re alive in one of the ambulances or something.” A sooty hand rests on my knee. My breath catches in my chest when I see it. There’s a tattoo of a wolf covered in a floral bed sheet on top of his wrist. The wolf’s tail is sticking out from under the sheet and there are holes for his nose and steel-gray eyes. He got the tattoo because we were drunk one night and thought the idea of Ghost being terrible at being an actual ghost was hilarious. The next morning, we woke up naked in the meadow. He had the tat

he replied. His scent filled the space between us..cleaner than anything in this rotting dungeon. It made something deep in my chest twist. I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust him. But I wanted to. He leaned back just enough to look at me fully, hood falling away from his face. A tattoo peeked from the side of his neck…two crescent marks overlapping. Purplemoon. Old-blood. Rare. I stared before I could stop myself. Before I could ask. Before I could breathe.

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.”

It was odd that their dead flesh still burned, but then again, they were already dead while alive. Abby and I moved our lights up and down the dead vampire's body, legs, feet, all toes and even other parts of the body that were less nice. I moved my light back up his chest, then down his arm to his hand, then stopped. “Here.” I said, motioning to Abby. I shined the UV on his index finger and there was a tiny tattoo resembling two crosses, one on top of the other and a blood drop in the middle, the line through each cross wrapped around either side making a circle around it.

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.

"He told me they weren't there to kill me. And he had this mark." Selene’s brow furrowed. "Like a scar?" "No, a tattoo," I said, shaking my head. "Black ink. It was a wolf’s head with a circle and a triangle around it." Selene pressed a finger to her lip, her frown deepening. "When we get to the Anatolikos packhouse, can you draw it for me?" "I think so." I reached up, my fingers brushing the metal pendant at the base of my neck. The tattoo looked almost exactly like the second charm on my necklace, just with a wolf added.

“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.”