Whitebeard Pirate Tattoo Novels & Stories

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.

He took a deep breath, his chest rising slowly. When he was finally naked, the contrast between his refined aura and the body marked by maritime tattoos became impossible to miss. Across his chest, a map intertwined with a compass; on his left arm, an anchor plunging into rough seas, wrapped in a ribbon that read “Mother” at the top and a date engraved beneath; on his other arm, an old-style ship, as if lifted straight from pirate tales. Symbols of direction, loss, and belonging—ones few people knew how to read.

Marcus said. I lifted my head and looked at the bike again through tears. Now that I could see past the shock, I noticed the rest. The new paint was deep black with a subtle shimmer that only showed when the light hit it just right. Along the side of the tank, worked into the design so delicately I almost missed it, was a dagger. Behind it, a crown. Around both, the fine lines of a compass, woven together in the exact shape of our tattoo. My hand pressed against my chest.

"And we're taking this ship as a gift for King Thorne." The Iron Will limped into the harbor of Scrimshaw at sunset. It was battered. The paint was scorched. But it was flying the flag of the Shattered Isles—a black skull on a torn white sheet (Vane’s coat). The pirate fleet came out to meet them, cannons ready, until they saw Tristan standing on the prow. He looked different. The white glow had faded, but it hadn't disappeared. It had settled into his skin, giving him a permanent, ethereal pallor.

I really did not want to feel weak ever again. My parents totally thought I was crazy when I decided to get a few tattoos. I had a big one slung over my shoulder that reached down to my bicep—our crew's tribal symbol. I also had another large one on my back and a warrior symbol on my inner bicep, courtesy of Gaspar. But my favorite was a cool tattoo guys get when they find their match. It sat just below my waistband, right in the middle of my stomach. A symbol that looked like this: ∞.

’ He turned to the pirates at work, ‘Good morning comrades. ‘Good morning, Captain.’ And continued to row the ship; all were busy at their different posts. The flag was flying high on the mast, showing the image of the eagle with an axe, reflecting out. A tall and athletic man, with a scar on the right side of his face, walked down to Captain Casablanca. ‘Aye, Captain!’ He said. ‘Zealot, how long shall it take us to get to Island?’ ‘Not too long again, Captain.’ He stared at the sea, wishing they get there soon.

Grace long to explore it, but she respected Xan's wishes. “Grace, you shouldn’t be out here by yourself!” Xan said coming up behind her and putting his hands around her waist. Xan softly kissed the side of Grace's neck where her Gang mark was. The mark was a Phoenix and a Lion rearing on its hind legs with a harp in between them. All three gangs are represented in a beautiful coat of arms style tattoo. Xan had repeatedly told her that she did not need to have it on her neck, but Grace wanted to show who she finally was. Yes, it hurt like a bitch, but it was something that Grace truly wanted to do and her family could not be prouder.

I retort. He lets out a huff, glaring at me before gesturing towards himself. "Take off your shirt, and we'll settle it." I pop my gum, relishing a good challenge. Swiftly, I remove my V-neck, casting it onto the nearby mattress. His gaze sweeps over the black ink that envelops my chest, ribs, and abs. Nearly every inch of my fair skin showcases a mosaic of vivid skulls, crossbones, swords, tumultuous waves, and sailing vessels. The grayscale pirate imagery intertwines with vibrant sparrows and swallows. His eyes continue their descent, tracing the ink until they reach the hem of my black pants.

I whispered, “You were amazing.” He pulled back and beamed at me. “Did you see my roll? And—and how I dodged and flipped him?” “I did! I don’t even think I could have done that,” I laughed, brushing his hair from his face. He puffed his chest. “The warriors say I’m strong. That I’m brave.” I kissed his forehead. “You are. You always have been.” He held up his arm, showing me a fresh tattoo inked onto his forearm. A beautiful phoenix with its wings spread in mid-flight as it stood in flames.

" On his arm was a dagger. The blade was cut in half and the word 'Blade' was written there. He had other tattoos covering his whole shoulder blades and biceps. He turned around and showed me the tattoos on his back. He had one on his back for the mafia. It was a crown with devil horns poking out of it. He had lots of other ones there but majority of his back was empty. "It's empty for my kids. When I have them, I'll get something done there for them." I gave a small smile at that. I slightly lifted up my shirt and pulled my pants down a tiny bit so my hip was exposed. He trailed his finger over the word. My tattoo simply says 'RED' in bold.