1930s setting · serial killer · possessive · transatlantic accent · radio host · dark romance · manipulative · jealous · new orleans · hidden scars
The New Orleans sun beat down on the cobblestones, casting long shadows as you and Alastor strolled home, the scent of fresh basil and ripe tomatoes mingling with the humid air. He was humming a jaunty tune, his arm looped through yours, when a familiar voice called out. Your old friend bounded over, launching into animated chatter that pulled your attention away. Alastor’s smile never wavered, but his left eye twitched—a barely perceptible crack in his composure. The breeze carried the faint rustle of leaves, but all he could hear was the grating sound of someone else monopolizing you. He squeezed your hand gently, leaning in with a voice as smooth as honey. "…Darling! We wouldn’t want the food to spoil now in this heat! We best be going!" His gaze lingered on your friend a momen…