Scars Joker Novels & Stories

I never liked people getting too close to me. It might have been my survival instincts and trust issues, but I'm used to people being cruel. With both my parents gone, years of surviving as a lone wolf taught me to expect only the worst in humans. Kindness isn't something I see every day. Scar watches me as I wrap up the cuts around my hand with a white cloth. As his name says, he has quite a glaring scar that runs from his left eye to the side of his jaw. His bare chest shows numerous tattoos and battle marks. A leather belt hangs on his waist, securing a pair of cargo pants.

I wish I had it in a little flask so I could smell it any time I wanted. “Get her out,” Jagger says to someone, and when I notice, there’s another guy standing next to us. He is as big as Jagger but not as beautiful. He has a scar on his face, and he is very pale. “No, don’t leave me,” I say, wrapping my arms tighter around Jagger’s neck, keeping myself close to him. “Don’t go back in there, please,” I let out as tears finally ran down my cheeks, and I felt the fear take over.

The Adversary Dark Prince (POV) When people notice the jagged scar on my arm, their eyes often widen with worry, and they jump to conclusions that are far from the truth. It's a common reaction, especially in a world where scars usually hint at pain or violence. But this scar tells a different story—it's not a sign of suffering; it's a symbol of something beautiful and meaningful in my life. Each curve and line of the scar represents resilience and a deep bond that has lasted through challenges, showing that not all scars are reminders of hurt. Instead, it reminds me of love and the strength I've gained along my journey.

A 6’3” man with a buzz cut swaggered out, his lips pursing a cigar. His presence seemed to suck the air out of the room. The man had a long, thick scar along his cheek, extending from the corner of his eye to his lips like a centipede. The jagged scar added a menacing edge to his appearance. The scar writhed and contorted along his facial muscles as the man spoke, heightening his already scary presence. “I heard you wanted to tear down Bronze Sparrow, boy. Come on. Just who are you? Who are you with? You’re sure cocky.”

He’d beaten three men damn near to death, and truthfully, he’d have loved to have had a few swings at Joker. I’d have fucking knocked his head clean off his shoulders, I swear. “No,” she said at last. “I wasn’t scared. But…” Her voice trailed off. “But what?” “But I saw a side of you that I’ve never seen before.” Her eyes held his, not letting him off the hook. “I mean, I knew it had to be there… you said you had a tough childhood, and that does something to people.” She looked down at his naked chest. “I can see the scars on your body, and all these tattoos… I’m no expert, but some look like prison ink to me. And those punches tonight weren’t anything like the first you’ve ever thrown.”

"It's nice to meet you too, but just a small correction, we aren't mates...we're just companions for now." "Ohhh...my bad." "It's fine." 'So this is his beta?' Linessa thought, rumoured as a Demon by the Devil's (Zhamar's) side. He didn't seem like much of a demon right now. From what she could see in the darkness of the evening he looked pretty innocent with his blonde hair and blue eyes. But she could see his thick, bulky muscles and as the sleeve of his shirt shifted while he drove, she could see the jagged scar that tore from his wrist to his elbow. It was a brutal map of a past battle, a reminder that his bulky frame wasn't just for show.

My knees hit the floor the second they let go. I looked up and my stomach dropped. He stood there like he owned the fucking universe. Jax. Older, maybe mid-forties, broad shoulders stretching a black shirt that clung to thick muscle. A nasty scar ran down the left side of his face, pulling at the corner of his mouth into a permanent sneer. His eyes locked on me, tattoos crawled up his neck and over his knuckles. He looked like every danger my dad ever whispered about rolled into one terrifying man.

Layla scrambled back in terror, but it was too late. My claws ripped her dress, revealing the pale skin of her back. It was smooth. Flawless. There was no scar. And Myrna... Myrna had a hideous scar running from her left shoulder to her right hip. The scar I had touched a thousand times, but never once asked where it came from. "Moon Goddess," I collapsed. "What have I done?" "You regret it now?" Layla sat on the floor, her eyes filled with malicious glee. "It's too late, Clark. It's far too late."

Burned and half-blinded, he staggered to his feet, fury radiating off him. “You think you’ve won?!” His golden eye blazed, cracking with unstable energy. “I AM ECLIPSE!” The runes on the walls glowed bright red, their light sinking into his body. Cracks split the ground, fire spilling through them. Grayson immediately pulled Elena back, shielding Rose. “He’s going to bring the whole mountain down.” Damien cursed under his breath. “Then we'll end him first.” Monroe roared, unleashing a wave of power that sent Rosa crashing against the wall. Grayson fired again and again, but the bullets vaporized before even reaching him.

“Certainly not one of our men. This guy had an ugly scar on his face according to Jazz.” Jack immediately looked at the three letters, remembering the man with the scar face. “Find Jazz immediately.” He orders. “What the hell was going on here? What’s with the scar faced man?”