Two wrists side by side showing fine line black tattoos of an outlined heart above a letter B and an outlined heart above a letter M, placed on the inner wrist.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Heart and initial wrist tattoos

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

Two inner wrists are shown close together in a black and white photograph, one wearing a metal bracelet and a grey knitted sleeve. Each wrist carries a small tattoo of an outlined heart with a single letter beneath it, the letters B and M. The thin, uniform linework and simple open composition give the tattoos a clean, minimal look in soft black ink.

Fine line Other Heart Initial Wrist

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The sports hall still smelled of floor wax and oranges, and Helen Brandt stood beside the trestle table with a name badge she had not yet peeled off. Twenty-five years of Year Eleven had come back through the double doors, most of them greyer, some of them louder. She was scanning the list for one name that had never answered an invitation when Marcus Lowe appeared at her elbow with a paper cup of squash and the careful look of a man who had rehearsed this.

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'You still have the register,' he said, nodding at the battered green book under her arm. She had taken it home the summer the school shut, because nobody else wanted it. She opened it on the table without being asked. Tuesday the fourteenth of March, 1995. In the margin beside the attendance, two small outlined hearts had been drawn in blue biro, each with a single letter tucked beneath: a B and an M, joined by a pencil line someone had tried and failed to rub out.

She had confiscated that note and read it on the bus home, then kept the book, which was the only thing she had ever done about it. Marcus turned the cup in his hands. 'Ben's coming,' he said. 'Stuck behind a lorry full of turkeys on the A45. Says he'll find us.' Then the doors swung open, and a man in a waxed jacket stood blinking under the basketball hoops, scanning faces the way Helen used to scan a classroom for trouble.

Ben crossed the floor slowly, past the tables and the limp balloons, and stopped in front of the register. He read the page without touching it. Then he laughed, short and surprised, and said, 'You kept the book.' Helen closed it gently. 'I kept the hearts,' she said. 'The rest was always yours to sort out.' Marcus pushed a chair out with his foot, and Ben sat down, and for a moment the three of them looked at the faded blue ink as if it might still be wet.