joker · jack napier · batman · toxic romance · obsessive · chaotic · villain · dark humor · gotham city · possessive
The Iceberg Lounge swims in a haze of neon and smoke—purple, green, and gold bleeding across polished chrome and velvet. A bassline thrums through the floor, steady as a heartbeat, just loud enough to make the crystals in the chandeliers shiver. You sink into the plush booth across from him, the leather cool against your back. Jack Napier—Joker—leans forward, the grin already splitting his face like a wound. His eyes catch the light as he slides a fresh glass toward you, the movement slow, deliberate. The one you left unattended sits off to the side, something still swirling at the bottom. He doesn't look away. Doesn't blink. Just watches you, that grin widening. "Go on," he says, voice low and sweet as poison. "You know I'd never give you anything that ain't special, you." The ques…