Laugh Joker Novels & Stories

I couldn't care if his head cracked. “That hurt,” he whined as he robbed the spot, but I felt satisfied at my revenge. “You psycho Joker!” I said ready to hit him again when he grabbed my wrist. “Joker is a psycho already so your sentence is redundant. It's just like saying ‘you black charcoal'” he said and continued laughing. “What are you so insufferable?” I couldn't help but ask, “I feel like pulling my hair out just talking to you. Who knew you had this side of you too?”

"Who else is working for Vihadar Lorriel? Talk to me." The man was silent for a moment. Then he started laughing. It was a genuine laugh, full and unhinged, the laugh of someone who had decided they had nothing left to protect. Dimitri watched him laugh. Then he laughed too, a short quiet sound that was nothing like actual amusement. "You think this is funny," Dimitri said, his voice almost gentle. The man kept laughing. "I think," Dimitri said, "you should continue that laughter in hell." He pulled the trigger.

Not hard enough to break it, but enough to make the wood creak under the pressure of his self-loathing. “I would’ve fucking killed myself if I knew I ever—” He growls, pacing again. “That piece of shit version of me—he doesn’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you.” And just like that, a noise escapes me. A laugh. Not a giggle. Not a chuckle. Not even a dignified laugh. No, I burst the fuck out, this choked, confused, what-the-fuck-is-my-life kind of laugh. I cackle, holding my stomach and stumbling back against the wall, because holy shit, this guy is hilarious.

Watching. I clenched my jaw hard enough to make it hurt. “Get a grip, Jordan,” I muttered under my breath. “You’re not his fucking charity case.” But then the sound of laughter—his laughter—rolled across the yard like a cruel echo. It didn’t sound fake this time. That laughter he shared with his bonding peers reached me, pierced through the noise, and hit the center of me like it had a personal grudge. I didn’t look. I didn’t dare.

He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but I laughed so hard in his face. "Tell me, you must be joking right? I am laughing but Leo this is the worst way to tell a joke. This isn't funny. You have to try harder if you need me to be happy, eh." Yet, after I had laughed, his face remained sullen and serious, just like before.

“My brothers are going to GUT you!” I swear, boys are born with a defective self-preservation chip. Death or glory. No in-between. Harry’s mouth twists into a grotesque, Joker-like smile. The scars on his face pull tight, distorting the expression into something almost inhuman. He turns toward the door. Opens it. Pauses. Glances back at Luke. He chuckles softly and makes a slow, mocking tsk-tsk-tsk sound with his tongue. “I wouldn’t count on it, little Garcia,” he murmurs.

"You have no idea–I was just joking around, but those disgusting guys went crazy asking me for your contact." The old me would have already been crying, asking her how she could do this to me, voice breaking. Not this me. My teeth clenched so hard they hurt. My whole body trembled with anger. I snatched the flyer out of her hand and slapped her across the face. Tara screamed, clutching her cheek in disbelief. "You hit me? I treat you like my best friend, and you can't even take a joke anymore?" Best friend? I let out a cold laugh.

"Well since you are so genius and you've figured that I want to be left alone then why are you bothering me?" "Let's say, I don't like to see sad faces especially if that face is this beautiful." He winked again. "God... get your eyes checked. And you are what a clown who can't stand sad faces?" "I am not, but... I can be that for you." He said and dipped his index finger in a ketchup bowl and painted it on his nose as he started making weird faces. "Hello beautiful, my name is Mr. Laughter and I make people laugh." He said it in a childish tone.

His laugh came from behind. Idiot . Sexy . Devil

His gaze returned to me, disappointment clear and heavy. “I’ll make her apologize.” I lay sprawled on the cold deck, my body barely responding to my own will. Small stones scraped against my skin, one skidding dangerously close to my eye. Around us, people moved quickly—around her instead. “It’s okay, don’t cry.” “We all know you didn’t mean anything by it.” “She’s clearly overreacting.” “Adrian, seriously, how did you even put up with this?” Someone let out an awkward laugh. “She really knows how to turn nothing into a spectacle.”