Harry Styles Tattoo Novels & Stories

His dark hair falls in a disturbingly sexy mess across his forehead, glittering like literal diamonds beneath the lights. His tanned skin gleams like burnished rubies — I'm convinced he bathes in expensive oils every morning. And on one arm, a tattoo slithers from his sleeve, snaking down and ending abruptly at his wrist. I can’t make out the tattoo’s design from all the way up here, but for a moment, I can’t shake the mental image of running my tongue across its length while Harlan’s long fingers tangle in my hair. Snap out of it, Scarlett!

“Lower back! So scandalous!” “The absolute peak of seduction!” “I heard Henry has a private tattoo of his own, in the same spot, hehehe.” Henry swallowed. “You sure?” he asked hoarsely. I hadn’t thought it through at all, so I tried to redirect the firepower. “I heard… You have one too?” I had overheard a staff member mention it once, but I had never seen it myself. Henry’s breathing became louder. He pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as if struggling desperately to restrain himself.

The world knew that Harry, the heir to the Hendrix fortune, was more dangerous than anyone could handle. Today, everything was about to change. Harry stepped out of the prison, flanked by two policemen, his hands still cuffed. His tall posture unfolding from the prison doorway commanded attention even under the watchful eyes of the guards. Tattoos snaked across his arms, each one telling a story, while a tiny scar near his eye only added to the dangerous edge of his handsome face. He didn’t look like a man who’d spent five years in prison. If anything, he looked like he’d been waiting for this moment.

He’s attractive too — I’ve often thought his smile, in particular, is rather distracting. “Do you have a mate, Henry?” Renee asks, smirking when she catches me checking him out. I flush. Henry settles on his lounger, getting comfortable. “No. I can’t find my mate while this is active,” he says, pointing to the tattoo on his shoulder. I’ve noticed it before — a black circle with a howling wolf’s head in the centre, and calligraphy looping around the inside rim. I frown at him. “What do you mean?”

The couple exchanges the bracelets and leaves happily, holding hands. They walk by the beach, snapping pictures here and there to post them on their social media accounts after the trip. As Eden positions the camera to focus on Harvey, he finds himself charmed by his looks. Harvey went for an exotic look with a white and turquoise shirt and a pair of white shorts. His hair is growing longer again, and he pushes it behind his ears, uncovering his piercings and the tattoo around his neck. "Beautiful," whispers Eden, clicking on the shutter. Harvey matches colours with the sea, both competing with blues and greens. The picture Eden takes looks like a commercial for a resort. Harvey should have

"You happy you did it, sis? The tattoo?" I opened my eyes and looked at Harry. I looked at his blonde curls and his brown eyes. His slightly crooked nose and tanned skin. Then I looked at me. My black hair, grey eyes and white skin. Red plump lips and a tiny sharp nose. You couldn't find one thing in the both of us that was similair. "Yes. Yes I do." I replied, "I really hope it came out good, though." He grabbed my hand and squeezed softly. "Yeah, me too, sis, me too."

Bleh! "Thank you, I'll be back in 10." I told the both of them. Harry Earnest. The pro-gamer slash playful playboy, will be my date for tonight. He came to pick me up dressed in a tuxedo minus the bow tie and tacky shoes, he just wore sneakers. And instead of a bow tie, he chose black shades which made him cooler. "Ey, you look so cool!" I praised and he was stunned for a while and didn't answer. "Hey, Harry?" I waved my hand in front of him.

Proved he wasn't invincible. Harold hadn't meant to but as he hiked beside me my gaze kept going over to his tattoos. Without the jacket I could clearly see the sleeve of tattoos running up his arms. I wanted to know what made him get them since he didn't have any the last time we were together. But I held my tongue and instead enjoy the view while hiking the dreaded stairs.

He had heard that. "Make yourself comfortable, babe," Harry said and Brooklyn sat down on the bed and crossed her legs over each other. "And ask away." "I..." Brooklyn's thoughts were distracted when Harry took his top off and her eyes were drawn to something on his side. "What's that?" Harry sat down next to Brooklyn. "What?" "That," Brooklyn said softly, her fingers grazing Harry's side, just above his hip were a mark was. It was more like burn, but in the shape of a W.

he declared. His tone was husky, causing her to speculate how he'd sound in bed. Mesmerized, she noticed a small Celtic knot tattooed on his neck. She’d seen these sometimes on Harvard students—book boys trying to act badass. Hayworth wore his differently, his toughness maybe not put on. The possibility added a whiff of mystery to his buffed stylishness, reminding her people got inked for other reasons than showing off. Maybe Trey Hayworth was more than a spoiled tycoon.