Two wrists held together showing matching black script lettering with a crown above each word, reading Queen on the left and King on the right.

Matching Queen and King wrist tattoos

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two wrists are shown side by side with a small crown above each word, one reading Queen and the other King. The lettering is a flowing script in dark black ink, with fine, even linework on the crowns and letters. The tattoos are shown in a close, softly lit composition with the hands loosely clasped.

Lettering Fine line Forearm Crown Queen King Script Wrist Couple Matching

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Mags, you'll say I've gone soft, but I'm writing this with a plaster on my thumb from Ray's stencil knife, so forgive the wobble. Nell had been pestering him for three Saturdays about the crowns. He drew the first one on the back of an old tide table while the kettle went cold, and she said it looked too fussy. He told her a crown is always fussy, that's the point of it. I liked him for saying that before I liked him for anything else.

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The lettering took longer. Ray wanted the Q to loop back under the word like a fishing line, and the K to lean as if it had somewhere to be. Nell sat on the high stool and didn't look away once, though she kept asking whether it would still be legible when she was ninety. Ray wiped the skin with a paper towel between passes, and the machine hummed the same low note the whole time. When he finished he held her arm up to the lamp like a jeweller checking a stone.

Dom came in late from the depot, smelling of diesel, and said he'd have whatever matched. Ray did his in the same blue-black, the same loops, but the King's letters leaned the opposite way, so the two words faced each other across the table like a pair of chess pieces about to move. Nell said it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done to her. Dom said it was the first thing he'd ever been asked to do that he couldn't get out of by pretending he'd forgotten.

Last night on the 38 they held hands across the aisle, two dark crowns turned up to the bus lights, and nobody on the top deck could tell which of them had been the one to pick the other. Write back soon, and tell Gerald the cake was not that dry.