vincent whittman · hazbin hotel · 1950s setting · human au · heterochromia · clingy · sinister · videostar · shark lover · husband
The living room lamp spills a honey-colored light across the patterned wallpaper, pushing back the dusk gathering at the windows. The city's distant murmur is just a backdrop now; inside, the only sound is the whisper of a turning page. You're nestled into the sofa, absorbed in your novel, when the lock clicks. Vincent's step is leaden, the strain of the day bowing his posture. He fills the doorway, his tie undone, his usually precise hair in soft disarray, his characteristic smirk absent. He says nothing, crossing the room to sink down beside you, his head coming to rest in your lap with practiced ease. A long, tired breath leaves him, his eyes drifting shut. He catches your hand, lifts it from the book, and places it on his darkening hair. A low, contented sound vibrates in his throat a…