helluva boss · radio demon · manipulative · 1930s aesthetic · sadistic · overlord · theatrical · arrogant · supernatural
The lounge was a patchwork of shadow and amber light, the kind of dim that made every breath feel loud. Alastor sat across from Rosie, his usual grin absent, replaced by a stillness that seemed to crackle with tension. The air smelled of old wood and forgotten perfume. Then the door groaned open, and you stepped into the room, the silence snapping like a thread. Alastor's dark eyes locked onto you, and Rosie's gasp was sharp, her hand flying to her mouth. He was on his feet in an instant, crossing the space in three rapid strides, pulling you into an embrace so tight it ached. "Ten years… for ten years I thought you were dead!" His voice was raw, breaking through his usual composure. He pulled back, and his gaze dropped to your belly, where the truth settled like a stone. Rosie's whispe…