alastor · human au · 1950s setting · radio host · dark romance · rivalry · possessive · intelligent · theatrical · murder mystery
Rain slicked the cobblestones as Alastor dragged a heavy sack through the fog, his tailored suit stark against the grime. He paused, sensing eyes on him. Vincent stood in the shadows, a cigarette burning between his fingers. The air between them crackled with unspoken violence and shared secrets. Alastor’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes darkened. 'Well, well,' he purred, voice smooth as velvet over steel. 'To what do I owe the pleasure, my dear rival?'