Joker X Ryuji Novels & Stories

Ryu chuckled. "What's up, looser."

Jaxon asked, eyes on the road. "Dumbo, your single drops today! I'm so happy for you," Ryu squealed and kissed Jaxon on the cheek. "I'll kill you," Jaxon glared. Ryu stuck out his tongue playfully. "Watch the road, not me—I don't wanna die young," Ryu teased. Jaxon flipped him off. Ryu laughed like he was possessed. "Vin, tell Ryu to stop—he's distracting me," Jaxon said, fighting a smile. "Ryu... uh... please stop laughing," Vincent said calmly, heart racing.

“I used to love red but I recently realized that I don’t look good in it. Because you know, with my hair and all of that, every time I wear red, I look like a rip off version of Hanamichi Sakuragi.” “Hahaha, wait up.” I immediately paused from walking just to let out a hysterical burst of laughter. I just imagined Xavier Rockwell being an anime character that’s just stupid, arrogant and narcissistic as Sakuragi. Somehow, in a way, it’s parallel with him. “Why are you laughing?” He blabbered out. “I just pictured you in a red jersey and yeah, you probably look like him and maybe act like him too.” “What the fuck, Jordi. I’m not like him.”

It was then that he realized why they had nothing better to do, after all, Dark-Dragon seemed the only one they could challenge with intelligence. Besides, the other heroes were just wall-breakers, and mania for punching others in the face, it was when it should be commonplace, the plots of each of them, against Dark - Dragon, so there were countless catalogues, graphics, and spreadsheets on the walls of whose turn it was, at what time, it was indicating... Joker... - So, what's your plan today, Joker? – Asked the Riddler. They were gathered playing cards around a table with countless villains around, tables full of villains, some drunk and others smoking.

“You just remorselessly killed your companion, guy named Ox. Or should I say, a ringer assassin called the Joker of the Cards of Reapers?” Ox laughed lightly, bandages on his left hand suddenly fall when Aoi cut it with a sharp knife. On the back of his palm, a tattoo of a skeleton in a pitch-black cloak was holding a grayish scythe. On the side of the box, vertically written in a scary font the word “J-O-K-E-R.” A tattoo of the Card of Reapers indicating he was in a high-rank. “What's your business with me?” Aoi Akuma asked voice in a threat.

“When?” “Right now.” Without one second of hesitation, Joker said to Cruz, who was sitting on Ace’s other side, and Port, who was in the back on a mattress. “Hold him down.” The massive men shoved Ace down to the van floor, and he went, unresisting. Joker reached into his pocket and pulled out his beloved signature knife, flicked it open. This knife had slit the throats of six women for fun, and countless rivals for club honor. Now it was going to make a painful point with Saint Ace.

Amelia’s POV Ryder’s shout still echoed in my ears as he stormed toward Jasper, his eyes blazing with fury. Before Jasper could react, Ryder’s fist slammed into his jaw, sending him stumbling back. Jasper hit the wall with a thud, clutching his face. “What the hell, man?” Jasper yelled, scrambling to his feet. “It was just a joke! Chill out!” Ryder stepped closer, towering over him. “Get out,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Now.”

Ryujin against Ashura were the greatest world champions of Japanese origin, they were brute and strong men with an enviable physique at the height of their physique, with each of them, with their bodies defined in the prime of life, with their 22 years each one of them, childhood friends. Tsuki remembered that their teacher, he trained too, but he didn't follow the career, at that time, when everyone saw the competition, a turn of his body, in which he saw a badly placed punch when both were on the limit, a of them, he fell awkwardly towards the ring, where he did not get up again. - Call the ambulance. – The judge asked. Reporters and newspapers televised the brutal clash that ended with Ry

The same guy from the station. Even the guys who’d been talking shut up. Ryder took off his jacket, slowly. His arms flexed. The biker mumbled something I couldn’t hear, and Ryder hit him. Just one punch, but the sound of it made me flinch. He didn’t shout. He didn’t look angry. He was just calm. I mean extremely calm. Every punch after that looked like it had a purpose. He wasn’t just beating the guy up. He was teaching him a lesson.

"A fight. But know this—if you quit, if you fold, you're gone. Out of here and out of Jolie's life. Understood?" "Understood." Gio raises his fists. They clash in the center of the yard. Ryder doesn't hold back. His first punch catches Gio in the ribs, and I hear something crack. Gio staggers but doesn't go down. "Hit me back." Ryder growls. "Or is guilt all you've got?" Gio swings but Ryder blocks it easily and counters with a blow to Gio's jaw that snaps his head sideways. "Harder." Ryder demands. Through my empathic sense, I feel what Gio's feeling. Every punch Ryder lands reminds him of times he hurt me. Every hit echoes with memories of my pain.