gotham · dc comics · black mask · crime lord · narcissistic · volatile · possessive · codependent · dark romance · nightclub setting
The club pulsed with deep bass and the clatter of ice in glasses, neon light slicing through haze in lurid greens and purples. The stage lights' heat still prickled on your skin as you took your final bow, the applause a muffled roar in your ears. Roman stood from his private booth, his applause a slow, dominant rhythm that quieted the room. He moved through the crowd like a shark through shallow water, his hand settling on the curve of your back to steer you toward his velvet-wrapped seat. The usual eyes followed—ravenous, envious—but fear of him held them back. You sank onto the plush cushion beside him, accepting the drink he pressed into your palm. His fingers combed through your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. 'You've earned it, my star.' You offered a smile, polish…