Intertwined Hearts Tattoo Novels & Stories

My heart leaps to my throat because Ashton has my name tattooed in that area, and there's no ink nearby because he says that area is only for those he loves. I'm not aware of what I'm doing when I crawl across the bed until I'm kneeling in front of him. My hands tremble when I touch the edge of the plastic. My mouth opens, and we lock eyes. I already fear it, but... has he done it? I pull off the plastic, which comes out stained with ink, and let it fall to the floor. In the middle of a puddle of ink, my name is written in the same font style as Owen's. He has tattooed my name over his heart.

I reached out, patting her back gently and rubbing small circles to help her calm down. She looked like someone who had spent years holding up a heavy wall and had finally let it crumble; the exhaustion in her posture was palpable. As she shifted, she slipped off her jacket, and that’s when I saw it. Her shirt lifted just enough to reveal the number 22 tattooed on her skin. Barbara had been right — there was a heart next to it. But looking at it closely now, I saw it wasn't a perfect, romantic heart. It was a broken heart, the edges jagged and separated by a thin line of skin, as if the ink itself were mourning something lost.

“No way. I can take it. This tattoo is important to me, Alex.” I grin at her response. That’s my Stella—stubborn and determined to the core. She bites her lip, and her grip on my hand tightens as the needle continues its work. I stroke her knuckles with my thumb, hoping to ease some of her discomfort. “Just think about how amazing it’ll look once it’s done.” She grins at me. “I can’t wait.” Minutes later, the artist finishes, and the designs are perfect. On my wrist, the heart has the letter ‘S’ inscribed inside, and on hers, an elegant A.

intertwined. I didn't know what had happened, but I knew I would never forget those moments. Never again. I let my lips brush her shoulder slowly and realized that our hearts were following the same rhythm, blending into each other as if they were one. I didn't want to think about anything else and just hugged her. When morning came, I would find a way to solve that insane desire to promise her my own heart on a silver platter.

The sensation of her around me, combined with the sting of the tattoo, sends an overwhelming rush of pleasure through me. With each careful stroke of the needle, she traces a new design onto my chest. The symbol, unique and powerful, reflects the merging of our lives. Her concentration is intense, but I can see the love in her eyes, feel it in the way her body moves against mine. This mark isn’t just for the world to see; it’s a testament to us—our bond, our passion, our forever.

"You're not as bad as you make yourself out to be; doing bad things, bad deeds, doesn't mean your attitude is so bad." He leaned on the steering wheel with his arms crossed and kept looking at me. I wanted to touch his bicep and see if it was as hard as it looked, and for some reason, I found myself tracing with my fingers the lines that drew a small statue of liberty. "What are you basing that on?" his bicep tensed when I moved to a tattoo closer to the sleeve of his shirt: a deck of cards "You don't know anything about me."

His grip is firm. "Yeah, I know," he smirks, a glint in his eye that makes me uneasy. He has a dangerous energy about him, a simmering intensity that's both captivating and terrifying. His whole body is a canvas of art: black pants, a black shirt tucked in and rolled up to the elbows, revealing arms covered in intricate tattoos. Even his neck is inked. I’m slightly surprised; I hadn’t expected an artist to be so… heavily tattooed. "So, you and my brother Renzo, how did you two meet?" he asks, relaxing back into his seat, but the intensity in his gaze doesn't lessen.

My breath hitched as I caught sight of it in the mirror he pulled out of my bag—a faint yet intricate design swirling across my collar bone, glowing faintly silver before settling into a deep, ink-like black. The tattoo was mesmerizing, an elegant crescent moon at its core, its curves etched with delicate runes that seemed ancient and alive. Surrounding the crescent, fine lines branched out like veins, forming patterns resembling intertwining vines and stars, as though the night sky itself had been imprinted onto my skin. The vines wrapped gently outward, framing the crescent in an intricate lattice of beauty and mystery, their edges tapering off just shy of my collarbone. At the crescent’s

His green eyes were black in the dim light. "Take off your shirt," I said. He pulled his shirt over his head. His chest was bare and I saw it. The tattoo. Over his heart. Little flower. In italics. Delicate and permanent, right over the place where his heartbeat was strongest. The ink was dark against his skin. The skin was raised slightly, the way tattoos were when they were healed.

He hugged her from​ behind⁠, his hands roaming ove​r her body. “I miss‍ you,” h‌e murmured. Jess didn’t want it to seem like something wa⁠s bo‌ther‌ing her. S‍he‌ didn’t want Scott to fi⁠nd out in an​y way. “‍I miss y​ou too,” sh​e⁠ said, her voice shaky. Co⁠nrad sli‌d‌ his hands down to grip her t⁠h⁠ighs, lifting her until her legs w‌r‍a​p‌ped around hi​s waist before dro‍pping h‌er onto the be⁠d.