ch1hvro

[ch1hvro]

you're cute and it's tuesday

[ch1hvro]

Bad Little Bunny🐰🃏💘

Take your pick of which Joker you’d like! Joker x reader fic, Unhinged joker, bold reader, p n v sex, MDNI, violence, abuse, smut, I will add more later!

Part 2, repost appreciated! (Part 3 coming soon)

The line outside The Purple Room curled around the corner like a velvet snake. Cameras flashed.

Someone in a coat that probably cost more than Winter’s rent brushed past her, laughing too loud.

She adjusted the strap on her thigh-high boots and stepped up to the front door, her ID in hand, jacket draped over one shoulder, face beat like war paint.

Tattoo-face bouncer saw her coming and immediately shifted. He turned his back.

Winter frowned. “Excuse me?”

The other bouncer — younger, broader — cleared his throat and stepped slightly into her path.

“You’re not on the list tonight.”

Winter laughed once, incredulous. “I don’t need to be on the list. I work here.”

He didn’t flinch. “Not anymore.”

Her smile dropped.

“Say that again?”

“I said you don’t work here.”

She looked past him to the glass doors. Through them, she could see the foyer, red-lit and busy.

Music pulsed through the floors. She recognized the coat check girl. She waved. The girl looked away fast, face folding like paper.

Winter’s voice dropped. “You serious right now?”

The bouncer gave a single, apologetic shrug — the kind that didn’t mean shit.

“I danced here last night. I have clothes inside. My name is—”

“We know who you are,” the other one said, finally turning to face her. His eyes were like marbles.

“And he said no.”

There was a moment. Just static in her ears. Wind from a passing cab rustled her jacket.

Winter stepped back.

“You’re kidding,” she said softly. “Over a dance?”

The bouncer blinked. Didn’t respond.

She shook her head, half-laughing, half in disbelief.

“So that’s how it is? I made him twitch in his seat and now I’m poison?”

No one spoke.

She adjusted her jacket, turned sharply, and walked away without looking back.

The city didn’t blink when you bled.

By midnight, she was in another bar — her heels clacking against slick black tile, smoke curling up from someone’s cigarette.

It wasn’t The Purple Room, but it was a room — loud, grimy, full of men with heavy wallets and heavier sins.

It took her twenty minutes to get the manager’s attention. Another ten to be handed a drink tray and a skimpy dress.

An hour later, she was dancing on a plexiglass cube to industrial techno, with Rico Salas himself watching from the back corner.

She didn’t smile. Didn’t wink.

Not this time.

She just danced.

Two booths over, a man in a long green coat sipped from a wine glass filled with nothing but ice.

He said nothing.

Watched everything.

Then he leaned toward his phone.

“Tell him,” he whispered, licking his teeth,

“our girl’s found herself a new little sandbox.”

One week later.

Winter stepped out from behind the curtain — back arched, lips glossed, bathed in red strobe and sin.

The Scorpion was hotter than The Purple Room, more violent in its energy — no glass chandeliers here, just exposed iron and sweat. The crowd was dirtier, hungrier.

She liked it more than she’d admit.

Her boots hit the stage in rhythm. Her body moved slow. She didn’t wink anymore. She didn’t tease.

She commanded.

Rico Salas watched from his corner booth, drink untouched. He never touched her. Never offered.

But his eyes followed her like a laser sight, and the way he smiled when she took her bow made some of the girls whisper.

Winter didn’t care. Let them talk.

She’d made it through exile. She’d made it through him.

Or so she thought.

It was just past 1:12 AM when the air changed.

The front doors slammed open — not pushed. Ripped.

People turned. A few stood. One man in the crowd muttered, “Oh, shit.”

In strolled him.

Joker.

Green hair slicked back, a long crocodile coat swaying with each step. White shirt, collar open, two buttons missing. No tie.

Gold grill catching the light when he smiled — and he was smiling.

The kind of smile you give a locked door right before you kick it in.

Behind him came five men, dressed in dark suits, walking like wolves.

Rico stood slowly from his booth, one brow raised.

“Well,” he said aloud. “We weren’t expecting you.”

Joker didn’t even look at him.

His eyes were already locked on the stage.

Winter had frozen at the edge of her dance — one knee bent, hand behind her head.

The music still played. But the moment was still.

He walked right through the club like he owned it.

Sat in the middle of the front row like a king in the dirt.

“Don’t stop, sweetheart,” he said, voice loud enough to carry, full of that jagged sugar. “I came for the show.”

Winter’s mouth opened, but no sound came. Her chest was tight, but her eyes — her eyes stayed locked on his.

Not scared.

Not quite.

She turned back to the pole. Finished her spin.

Slower now.

She could feel the heat of his stare in her spine.

Back at the bar, Rico whispered something to one of his men. The man didn’t move.

“No guns,” Rico muttered. “Not yet.”

Winter finished her song.

The lights dimmed.

Before she could exit stage left, he was on the stage.

No one saw him move. Just blinked, and he was there — beside her, grinning wide, one gloved hand resting on her lower back.

The room held its breath.

“Now, normally,” Joker said casually to the crowd,

“I’m a patient man. I give people space. Freedom.”

He looked down at her. “But you, sugarplum, you walked outta my house like it was just some hotel.”

Winter swallowed. “You threw me out.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Details.”

Then — he grabbed her.

Lifted her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing, a sack of diamonds and nerve.

The club exploded. Chairs scraped. Voices shouted. Someone stood — and then quickly sat again when Joker’s men all reached into their jackets in unison.

Rico rose from his booth, palms out.

“Put her down, clown.”

Joker laughed so loud the room flinched.

“She’s mine,” he said cheerfully. “Was just borrowing her. Can’t have my toys wandering off — they get dirty.”

Winter, upside down, smacked her fist against his back. “Put me down, you green-haired freak!”

He patted her ass like a drum. Kissed it through the leather.

“Shh. Daddy’s talkin’.”

He turned to Rico. “Don’t worry. I left you a tip.”

Then he tossed a single gold tooth onto the stage.

The room went silent.

Winter kicked.

Joker threw his head back and laughed as he carried her straight out the front door — whistling all the way.

-

@ch1hvro only bc you said you’d give me your soul🥰

[ch1hvro]

every single person who reblogs this

every

single

person

will get “doot doot" in their ask box

[ch1hvro]

A talented boi

(via)

[ch1hvro]

Do you think they scouted Christian Bale as Batman because the director saw American psycho and thought Bateman sounded like Batman, then took a look at Christian, and thought '...perfect'

[ch1hvro]

im both

[ch1hvro]

"It's a dog!"

"Yeah, he's not even a very good one. But he's out there alone, and probably scared."

[ch1hvro]

OH MY GOD I DISCOVERED MY NEW OBSESSION

[ch1hvro]

did you hear. the sun loves him

go see my son, the poster child for uncomplicated good

[ch1hvro]

i hate him so much

[ch1hvro]

First thing you see after you zoom in is how you die

How you dying 👀

[ch1hvro]

This is nice.

[ch1hvro]

heath ledger as the joker (the dark knight, 2008)

[ch1hvro]

[ch1hvro]

Superaudio Matcha 83 (wallpaper version)

[ch1hvro]

ough oh ah yeah oh yeah ya yes yes yes yesssss