Handmaid's Tale Tattoo Novels & Stories

“I’ve never counted. At least three.” Her hand glides over my chest, slow and grounding, drifting downward — anchoring me to the present, to being alive, to her. And for the first time in a long while, the demons hesitate. “Is this where the iron went through you?” she asks after a while, her voice barely louder than a breath. Her fingers trace the tattoo on my hip, slow and reverent, following the ink that hides the scar beneath it. Two laurel branches — a symbol for her name — curve like angel wings, delicate yet strong at the same time. And a tiny heart.

That night, Henry finally let go of all restraint. The room lay in shadow, and he pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of Riverton flickering like stars beyond the glass. “Claire…” “Yes?” “I want to get another tattoo.” “Where?” He gripped my hand and pressed it to his lower back, mirroring the spot that corresponded to mine. There, with each of his breaths, a faint outline of a feral totem emerged. “I want to tattoo your image. I want to carve you into my bones forever.”

Confusion flickered across my face until she added, “Get a tattoo of her name. Etch her into your skin, Richard. Every time you see it, you’ll remember she’s still worth fighting for.” Her words struck deeper than anything I had ever heard. I had judged tattoos once, thought them reckless… but in this moment, it felt like redemption. A vow carved into my very flesh. I swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “A tattoo.” The decision burned into me with certainty. I pulled out my phone with trembling hands, scrolling to the one person I knew could make it real. Jaden. The man tied to Elina and Luna in ways I had yet to fully grasp.

“I, Estrella, pledge my love and life to you, Anwen. The other half of my heart.” Estrella slips the ring into place on my hand. The moonstone glimmers a pale rainbow. I’ve always liked these rings, but our promise feels steadier with the tattoo underneath. No matter what happens—if they break, get lost, anything—we’ll always have proof of our commitment to each other. Yana joins our hands then pulls a length of silvery ribbon out and wraps it around us, up onto our arm. Estrella’s palm is warm and soft against mine. “Both of you now,” Yana says. “I thank the Goddess for joining our hearts across all time.”

On the left side of his back, I saw a compass tattoo. But what piqued my curiosity the most was a lone tattoo at the left bottom of his back. There were two hands. One was big and bulky, indicating that it was of man's. The other was slim and slightly smaller in size, indicating that it was of a woman's. Both hands were at a little distance away from each other and were connected through the chains. They were facing away from each other as if trying to oppose the chains. Beneath the tattoo, I noticed some lettering.

Her photo no longer came up on the evening news. “When we had asked her about the tattoos she explained each one. The one between her breasts represented all the parts of herself she was able to salvage, the place where her heart longed to be. Among the waterlilies, beneath the moon, at home with us where she belonged. The flowered vines wrapping down her arms and hands to twine around her second finger on each hand represented the tethers she had accidentally created between us, the bond she couldn’t break, the thing that nearly destroyed her. The magnolia symbolized a loss up to now she carried very much alone, now we all carried that weight together as we looked at tomorrow; towards a pin

I smile down at it fondly. I used to have a similar one when I was a child. I open the other pouches; they are all similar with only the colours being different. Thank you, Madre… I look at the bracelet that Kataleya has on her thigh and cock a brow. It’s the Taino symbol of Yúcahu, the god of fertility. Madre sure wants us to have pups fast. I hear a small sob and look up at Kataleya, who is reading her letter, tears flowing down her cheeks.

Adam's tattoo was a design of a one-winged butterfly. "It's a reminder of something important to me," Adam said. "Something that I carry with me every day. A reminder of the struggles that I had to face in my life.” Adam's black eyes shone at her, as Althea felt him draw nearer to her. She didn't move an inch and kept looking at him. Althea's fingers traced the lines of the tattoo, and she felt a strange sense of connection to it, as if she could understand the meaning behind it just by touching it.

she confessed, pulling me by the hand as she dragged me into the parlor. I had never gotten any tattoos. For me, it was a combination of being cautious due to my job and a fondness for my plain skin. But now, everything was shifting with this woman—my wife. The tattoo artist was a female whom Gianna called Weed, though her name was actually Reed. Unlike me, Gianna had a decent collection of tattoos, but I noticed they were mostly minimalistic designs—a small crescent moon on her wrist, her name written in cursive on her thigh, and a cross on her index finger. I even caught sight of something on her chest.

She had reached her goal and was now the Bellator champion. An arm encircled her waist with a familiar hand pulling her into his side. Instinctively, Taz reached down and touched the tattoo on his outer wrist. A small bill of sale declaring that his body, heart and soul had been sold to the Devil herself. Linking her fingers with his, she played with his titanium wedding band. Running through the center was a rainbow in support of his daughter. Beneath the ring, in the style of her trademark rainbow braids, TAZ was tattooed on his ring finger.