Joker Tattoo Forearm Novels & Stories

He grabs a coffee and starts to head towards the door but before he can get outside a couple of the pack teenagers come rushing in resulting in one of them bumping into him and spilling his coffee all over his wife-beater. He laughs it off and sends Coby the boy responsible for the mess off to make him another coffee while he takes his shirt off and the second the black material leaves his back a gasp leaves my throat. There on the bottom of his neck is a bright and colourful tattoo. It's a large stem with 4 or 5 flowers coming off of it, each flower a different colour and brightness, and underneath the flower, there is a name in big red letters saying J.A.Y. Immediately my heart starts poun

Aesthetic's POV: “ Let me introduce myself first. “ The man with a friendly personality exclaimed and stand up with full of excitement. He have this very alluring smile but an eyes that can make thousands of women cry. His hair was shaggy, opposite to his face but his presence was very light. As if he can't hurt you, but I know that those fangs of him can torn my own flesh apart. Though I’m not that scared to him, but I won't let my guards down. “ My name is Joker, but I prefer to be called as Jake. “ He said while looking at me with his lips stretched widely. I don’t know if I'm gonna laugh or what, but his name sounds so funny. Joker? Well, his sunny personality proves it. “ And yeah! I’m

I watch as his gaze slides over to Theo and he sees something that has his mouth falling open, a laugh escaping. “What the hell is that?” he asks, pointing to Theo’s bare chest. Theo furrows his brow, looking down at himself. “What?” I follow where Jax is pointing and right away, I see it. The name ‘Brooke’ in thick black ink, tattooed in large, swirly lettering across Theo’s left pec. Over his heart. I snort, shaking my head. “Jesus, man.” “What?!” Theo demands, looking from me to Jax.

It took us so long to get her back, I was dreading losing her, but I wouldn’t keep her in the dark about it. Walk into the room and see Joker with a new tattoo on his forearm; it appears to be a symbol and a pattern of something ancient. Something you would think a warrior would choose for himself for protection. All of his tattoos made no sense to anyone but Joker. I doubt anyone would be brave enough to question him. Glancing over at Queenie, I see her left forearm has black lace starting to connect the empty spaces to complete her sleeve. It looked so real, like you could pick it up off her skin.

Then he looked at the fourth one and just waited. The fourth one stepped back. Smart. The referee rang the bell. The crowd went loud. The man stood in the middle of it all, chest rising and falling, sweat gleaming under the lights, and looked completely unbothered. Like he had just taken a short walk. Then I saw his forearm. The tattoo. Dark ink, detailed, curling up from his wrist toward his elbow. A dragon, scales and lines I could actually make out now in the better light. My breath left my body.

It was the voice of a woman who had already buried every soft thing she used to feel for him, and was speaking now from whatever was left standing in the ashes. His fingers moved to the edge of the bandage. Slow. Like every inch hurt more than the accident itself. Sandra watched. She didn't blink. The gauze came away in a strip, then two, then his skin showed through — pale, bruised at the edges, and there, just above his wrist, dark against the white of him. A tattoo. Fresh. Still healing at the rim. Two letters, wrapped in a small broken heart. J & R. The room tilted for Sandra. Just slightly. Just enough that she had to put a hand flat on the bed rail to feel something solid.

The man placed his hand on the Joker's shoulder and squeezed it, "My girlfriend causing you some trouble?" The joker just stared at the tall, dark-haired man in a bomber jacket. The two men were of the same height, the darker-haired one was a few inches taller than the Joker. He wore a black leather jacket over a black t-shirt and ripped blue jeans. His face was painted in a skull. He grinned at the Joker. "She's a handful when she's drunk, sorry if she put her hands on you by mistake."

The bitch is supporting his son and the others in doing this so he can go to hell for all I care. "The decorated one." Shade says nodding to the stencil in Rux's right hand. Mr. Rux beams and hands the stencil over to the tattoo artist. The bald man with a bushy beard is covered in tattoos and seems to in his fifties. He doesn't spare the chains around my wrist a glance as he grabs my forearm and twists it so that the underside of it faces upwards. All business, he shaves and cleans where the tattoo will be. He places the stencil so it begins right beneath the crease between my forearm and arm. I stay still. If this is going to happen then I at least don't want it to be a shitty tattoo. It'l

After I shower, I opt for a wife beater and a pair of loose-fitting shorts. My right forearm is still scabbed over from my latest tattoo. Every time I look at it, I am proud that I now have my pack displayed on my body. It had taken me a while to draw out the design just the way I wanted it to look. It depicts a full moon coming up over a hazy horizon. A wolf's head with bright red eyes is baring its teeth as it emerges forth from the moons' surface.

The rest of the day seemed like a blur, filled with pats on the back and admiring glances from the younger boys who now saw him differently. Night eventually settled over the orphanage. Jack lay face up on his cot, the ceiling above him dissolving into shadows. He was thinking of Harley. She was the only girl on his mind, her image flickering behind his eyes like a candle he refused to let burn out. Jack held up the Joker card, turning it over in the moonlight that slipped through the window. He twirled it in his fingers, watching the way the light caught its worn edges. Jack smiled, a small, private smile meant only for himself. "Harley," he whispered, "you could be the start of my better l