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squerlly · 29 days

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Fair Exchange Chapter 5

------"some silences can scream louder than words ever could"--------

Alastor x (F! wife doe reader)

The Doe-----------------------------------------------------

It was later in the morning when Charlie wanted us to do a show and tell day, we all reluctantly agreed but Alastor stayed behind to eat his breakfast. it was Angel's turn claiming he wanted to show us his "best film." I figured it was a movie or play but... it was a porn video...

I tried to keep my eyes away, swiping invisible dust from my dress attempting to stay distracted. Husk eventually jumps in arguing with Angel "Everybody likes to bitch to the bartender! I know everything about you and these motherfuckers" he points at Pentious "That one's an insecure buffoon who watches you all sleep at night" he then points to Charlie and vaggie and then me "that one's constantly taking bullets from everybody because she's a pushover and nifty, tch you don't even wanna know what her deal is." I'm not a pushover...

the argument is short-lived when Angel gets a call from his boss calling him in for work, talking about some emergency shoot and storming out.

Charlie wanted to go and help get Angel some time off of work by talking to his boss, I would have gone with her but I know Alastor wouldn't be too happy if I was out in the Vees district without him. seeing as how our last visit went I don't think it would be a good idea.

Charlie left and I went back upstairs to Alastors room to pick up his dishes, knocking on the door "Alastor? may I come in" There was a long pause before the door opened, Alastors shadow giving me a grin as he stepped aside to let me in. I don't really see Alastor's shadow that often considering he only uses it for scouting, investigating, or fetching things when I'm not available.

however, when I stumble upon his shadow, it stares at me with that same evil grin. from what I have gathered over the years, the shadow is just an extension of Alastor, mimicking his personality and actions. Sometimes, if you look closely, it can display his emotions with its cold black body and inky blue tongue. It's more curious than Alastor, peering around people's shoulders and poking through others business. I never seemed to mind it.

there's something different this time, it's acting off. usually, it just pokes around and then returns to Alastor but not this time. No, it's staring at me, watching me, almost like it's inspecting me... I try to ignore it, walking over to pick up Alastors dish "Thank you my dear" "of course, is there anything else you need?" "no, your free to enjoy the rest of your morning"

I turn to leave but then remember something "Oh I almost forgot, do you mind if I grab a book from your shelf, I finished my other two.." not looking up from his desk he says "As long as you don't touch the books on the top shelf" I look at the shelf of various books next to his fireplace, walking up to choose one. I like to read romance and fantasy, but Alastor as romantic as people say he is, doesn't collect those types of novels. he likes books that are mostly nonfiction.

I ended up choosing a book that wasn't too thick just enough to pass the time and left the room, heading to the kitchen to drop off the plate. on my way there I see something rush from the corner of my eyes but when I look around there's nothing there, that was until I turn back to keep walking. I ended up running right through Alastors shadow, A cold chill running up my spine from its solvent body.

I quickly regain composure, making sure to not drop the plate in my hands "Oh for all that is unholy, you scared me!" I said looking at the shadow "Do you uhh... need something?" it cocks its head and smiles like I said the funniest thing in the world "ok... I guess not." I continue on to the kitchen, washing the dishes before heading upstairs to my room to read, all while having it follow me the entire time.

I walk into my room, kicking off my heels with a tired huff and I plop down on my bed "Are you going to stay here all day?" I say to the shadow that is currently looming around my room, snooping through drawers and various items. I should tell Alastor that there is something wrong with his shadow, but... I'm curious to see what it wants.

I decided to leave it alone since it's not causing much trouble, it's just exploring. I lay back on my bed against the headboard and opened the book to the first page, I only got to page 10 before the shadow poked its head through the book to look at me "Alastor will be mad if you're over here, I suggest you behave" it hovered over me with a frown and it felt almost illegal to see, Alastor never frowns and to see his shadow do it feels wrong "wait... I'm sorry I won't tell him you're here, promise" it doesn't smile but it's not frowning either, it just leans closer to me until I'm nose to nose with it.

it brought a hand to my face and to my surprise I could feel it, not just that cold feeling when it runs through you but its hand was well...there. not knowing what to do I just sat there watching as it caressed my cheek earning a blush from me. what is wrong with me, blushing at Alastors shadow, it's not even a real person, but it feels like it is "What is it you want...?" I say practically whispering.

the door opens startling me and making the shadow turn its head. Alastor stands at the door with a strained smile "Enough!" he says, his voice laced with static. the shadow frowns and retreats behind Alastor "Apologies my dear, it has a mind of its own..." he said through gritted teeth, shooting the shadow a glare "I-it's ok it didn't do anything bad-" "This will never happen again, I will make sure of it." he says in a harsh tone. I opened my mouth to say something but quickly shut it, not wanting to aggravate the situation more.

"Alright..." I say and he turns on his heel to walk back to his room, the shadow looks back at me one more time before it follows Alastor down the hallway. I feel almost sorry for it, even though it's not technically its own person it's still capable of feelings... Alastors feelings. but it makes me wonder, if that shadow is a part of Alastor, emotions, thoughts and all, what was it doing? Why was it following me? and why was Alastor so angry...

there was a loud thud downstairs and I slid off my bed, put my shoes on, and walked downstairs. Charlie had returned but she looked pretty upset "Charlie, how did it go with Angel?" "I messed up, I- I made him angry at me and-" vaggie walks up to her rubbing her back "Hay it's okay, maybe he didn't mean it!" Charlie bursts out in tears and vaggie whisks her away to comfort her.

Husk scoffs from the bar and I scowl at him "Don't be like that!" he growls and takes a swig from his bottle "She's too soft for her own good" I sigh and walk over to take a seat on a stool "a lot like you, showing kindness to other who don't deserve it" "is it so bad that I don't want to be like any other person in this horrible place!" he raises a brow at my sudden outburst "what's on your mind..?" "there's nothi-" "yes there is, your frustrated."

I stare at the counter thinking about my next few words before I speak "Do you think Alastor hates me?" I feel stupid for asking such a thing, but Husk doesn't question it "I doubt that creep likes anyone but himself" I frown and he seems to notice because of what he says next "But I wouldn't be surprised if he did like you" I throw him a puzzled look "why do you think that?" "tch, haven't you ever questioned why Alastor made you his wife" he was right, Alastor was an overlord, if he needed somebody to prepare his meals and clean his house he could just...buy a maid.

"no, I- I haven't..." When Alastor and I first discussed our contract, he said that he and my ex-husband would trade places, me being married to Alastor in exchange for complete devotion to him...and my soul. in the 1950s it was looked down on to divorce your husband or divorce at all, and now that I looked back at it I didn't care about my reputation enough not to get a divorce. but I was desperate for an escape, and desperation makes you do stupid things.

"if he didn't tolerate you, he wouldn't have married you, it's one of the weirdest contracts I ever saw but I wouldn't pry into it too much, just know you're the last person on his shit list" I nod but that doesn't explain why he was so angry, was he even angry at me? suddenly the door to the hotel opens and Angel walks over looking spent.

he plops down on the stool down from me and asks for the strongest drink Husk can make "Excuse me, didn't think this was a drink to forget kinda night" Angel and Husk end up fighting about Angels "acting" resulting in Angel throwing a bottle. I stand away and steer clear of the glass shards before watching Angel storm off "Angel wait..." he pushes past vaggie and out the door. vaggie tells Husk to go after him and Charlie leaves to go make "100 apology letters."

eventually, Husk returns with Angel, laughing and talking while being dirtied and damaged. Charlie rushes over to Angel and apologizes over 50 times before he reassures her "He he he he he said HE FORGAVE ME!!!" Charlie says in tears while vaggie carries her back to their room. I quickly run up to Angel checking up on him "Angel!! are you ok you- you're covered in blood."

"ahh don't worry tuts, I'm alright" I breathe a sigh of relief, thankful that Angel isn't hurt "Come on, let's go get a drink" "Oh angel I don't-" "I won't make you anything strong, Alastor would kill me if I did" I hesitate but agree "Ok, but just for a little while..."

so sorry this came out late but here it is!! chapter 5!!! I got writer's block halfway through but still managed to make it work. I will be gone for the weekend to Knots Berry Farm for a family trip so expect chapter 6 to be a little late. and with that have a wonderful day/night love you all!!!

-squerlly

@kimmis-stuff @pooplyface1423 @strippezzz

for more content and chapters please click this masterlist

#hazbin #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel

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colourstreakgryffin · 3 months

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Idk if you write for Vox, but can I request some headcanons with Vox being with a S/O who’s like a gamer/streamer? Like they would be streaming different games and sometimes would even get Vox to appear in their streams and have him play games with them - I can see Vox raging at a game if he loses and his S/O would just find it cute

Btw may I be called 🍡 anon if that hasn’t been taken yet??

Haha! Oooh! I actually REALLY like this idea! Vox would get even more popularity with us and we’d get a lot of popularity with Vox! I like it and the concepts is cool! Thank you so much, Mochi! Have a wonderful day!

Vox- Cameras and TVs

Vox automatically likes any partner that enjoy and use his advanced technology and since you’re a influential streamer on Tremor that uses the latest tech to keep up your career, Vox likes your tastes even more and he also likes to watch your streams. He finds them interesting

Vox, at first, was mainly your friend and your set-up provider, he’d give you the tech for your streaming career and that more casual business relationship turned into an actual one. He had grown to enjoy your streams and yes, let me say, he is actually a fan of yours

Vox eventually wanted to push up that friendship to a relationship after a few months of knowing you and getting to learn about you, so he begun subtly flirting with you, his crush growing every single day and possibly out of luck or out of his own rizz working, you agreed to go out with him. Ever since that moment, you nor him regret it

Vox may or may not travel through your gaming PC screen, just to say hi and give you a cute kiss right in front of your stream. It’s quite a surprise and he knows it’s spread around online since nobody would ever suspect a infamous streamer like yourself to be are seeing the Vox himself

Vox often only enters your streaming room when he wants to tell you something important or he wants to give you food or more Vox-like, he wants attention and hugs. Every single time he does this, he ends up playing your game with him after you encourage him

“Hmm… I don’t know, Honeypot, games aren’t my thing…”

“Come on, Voxiepie! Just try it with me! Don’t worry, i’ll help you!”

After a few seconds, Vox is already absorbed in the game that he can’t help but rage so much that the house temporarily loses power and he rushes to fix it to try save your stream. He does this a lot but you find it cute, nowhere near annoyed with it as anybody else would be

Sometimes, Vox will enter your stream then just sit you in his lap so he can watch you play and enjoy your presence, all without pulling you away from your screen or your games. To him, you look so attractive when you’re focusing on kicking ass in your little fantasy videogames

Yes, Vox promotes your merch on his show sometimes and promotes people who like streaming and videogames to watch your Tremor streams. He is a fanboy and he’s proud of how much he likes your work, he isn’t even ashamed of it. He admits it to the Vees without a single ounce of shame

Vox will wear your merch at times. Just randomly in the house you two share or whilst he is privately working as an Overlord. He loves the hoodies and the tees, they are comfortable AF and sometimes, he just goes to sleep in them

Vox is possessive so you know he is not only your Tremor mod, he’s also the one who tracks down to destroy any stalker you may end up getting from your streamer career, he also collects all your limited edition merch since he wants everybody to know you belong to him

Vox is very supportive of this career. Some of it, he isn’t a fan of but a lot of it, he loves and he is getting better at these games. Despite how often he rages at them

“Honeypot. How much have you eaten today? I hope you ate that takeout I ordered for you. Yeah? Good. What game did you take five hours to perfect this time?”

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radioisntdead · 2 months

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Good morning, as you have requests open can I get some Velvette x g/n! reader angst (perhaps ending with comfort) romance?

One night they overhear her talking negatively about them (not an overlord, lack of confidence, whatever) so they leave behind a note saying they were right to feel like she didn't actually love them and they've left, not saying where.

Good evening my dear! We are ending the cannibal streak with Velvette! WOO, It's late and I'm woozy, this became a song fic I'm sorry.

Velvette x reader,

Warnings!

Light angst, Valentino,

The song used: Moral of the story

You and Velvette met at a New Years party back in the 2000's, the air was heavy, you had a red solo cup with heavens knew what was in it, maybe Vodka and something? You didn't know, people were kissing, yelling, and whatever else.

So I never really knew you

When Velvette approached you, you felt like the luckiest person in the world, like nothing else in the room exist, she was only person there in your eyes,

When she talked about how boring the party was you found yourself agreeing with every word she said, her voice soothing to you.

God, I really tried to, Blindsided, addicted

The two of you died in a car accident, music was blasting from the radio, you were looking outside the window, and Velvette was texting and driving,

It was quick, she ran a red light and BAM, a truck hit the two of you causing the car to roll, glass shattered and the one thing you remember is reaching out to Velvette before everything went dark.

Felt we could really do this

You once told Velvette that you'd follow her to hell and back,

Guess that was true because guess where you ended up?

But really I was foolish

Things didn't change much as she rose to the top, becoming an overlord, teaming up with some guys named Vox and Valentino, Vox was decent enough but Valentino gave you the chills, he never did anything but still.

Velvette made sure to shield you from his business, you weren't allowed on his floor.

Hindsight, it's obvious

Velvette was never scared to demand things, to order things around, to get her hands somewhat dirty if needed, if she wanted it she got it

You weren't like that, you didn't like having blood on your hands, While Velvette treated service staff like they were an inconvenience you treated them with respect, like they were people.

Velvette didn't like that part of you, she liked it when it was towards her or maybe the other Vee's but no one else.

Talking with the cannibal She said, "Where'd you find this girl?"

You weren't having a good day, you and Velvette got into a argument over her spending too much time on her phone, you said that she loved that stupid thing more then you, she didn't deny it, just said that you were acting fucking crazy and left.

I said, "Young people fall in love, with the wrong people sometimes"

You had several things to do, some employees couldn't do their job properly and you didn't want to lash out of them, all you wanted to do was just relax with your fiancee, you got some flowers and an Emoji plush to give her as an apology.

Some mistakes get made

As you stood outside the door that lead to the Vee's living room you could hear muffled talking, a voice you could recognize was Velvette's.

That's alright, that's okay

You cracked the door open and peaked in, She was talking to Valentino.

You can think that you're in love

"Then They say that I love my phone then them! Like maybe if you weren't such a fuckin' loser that can't even order a coffee without almost crying I'd pay more attention to you!"

When you're really just in pain

You clutched the flowers, crushing the stems as you took a step back.

Some mistakes get made

"They aren't an overlord, the only they have any of this is because of me!" She said throwing herself onto the couch and went back to her phone, that damned phone.

That's alright, that's okay

Quietly and quickly you made your way to the room you shared with Velvette, you did your best not to slam the door indicating that you were back, you threw the flowers and plush into a trashcan before taking out a few suitcases.

No tears were shed, just anger, betrayal and disappointment flooded you.

In the end, it's better for me

You packed the clothes that were your favorites, you couldn't take everything since for one, Velvette gave you the majority, and two, she gave you a bunch of clothes.

Once You had everything packed you wrote a note giving a brief explanation, that you had heard what she said, and that since you were SUCH a loser, she should date a overlord instead.

That's the moral of the story, babe

You left the Vee's tower, without a single soul noticing, now standing on a random street corner you took a deep breath, you had enough money, from your OWN means, to get a hotel to stay at for maybe a week? Just until you could get an apartment or something.

It's funny how a memory

Velvette didn't notice you were gone until late the next day, she thought you were being petty avoiding her because of a little fight and she had decided to let you take the bedroom, sleeping in her office instead.

She supposed she should apologize because she loved you and she was tired of this.

Turns into a bad dream

She stepped into your shared room, not noticing anything missing, until a colorful object caught her eye from the trashcan, leaning down it was an emoji plush, cringey but it was soft, it was covering a bouquet of flowers, her favorites infact.

When running wild turns volatile

Her face twisted into confusion as she looked around, spotting the note you left on the bed.

She hadn't meant for you to hear her.

Remember how we painted our room, Just like the other Vee's did?

You were gone. She fucked up.

So romantic, but we fought the whole time

It was just a small fight right? The two of you would kiss and make up like usual, maybe watch a movie after, but you had left, you left her!

Should have seen the signs

She couldn't find you, anywhere.

Vox only got footage of you leaving the tower and nothing else, he spied on the ENTIRE ring and he couldn't find YOU?

Talking with the cannibal, She said, "Where'd you find this girl?"

You had stumbled upon the Hazbin hotel, you were welcomed by Charlie with open arms, she was ecstatic, you were the first sinner to join them after the extermination.

Said, "Some people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes"

Being away from Velvette was so...

Some mistakes get made

Freeing, it was as if you were spreading your wings for the first time in years, which you were! You'd been with Velvette for over a decade, not counting your life beforehand.

That's alright, that's okay

You loved Velvette, you truly did, but she didn't love you like you did her, she didn't act like it,

She thought you were on the weaker side.

You can think that you're in love

You had no interest in rising up the ranks, working instead on becoming a better person, with every exercise with the hotel residents you got more and more confident, changing your appearance along the way.

When you're really just in pain

After you more sinners came to the hotel, a few ready for redemption.

Some mistakes get made

You met someone, she had the most beautiful pink eyes that reminded you of pink lemonade, she was different then Velvette, you couldn't help but compare the two, Velvette was so... Cruel and she was so Soft, kind, she just killed a guy but that wasn't a deal breaker in your book.

That's alright, that's okay

It took time but the two of you grew close, you'd have lunch together, eventually that moved to sleepovers, movie nights, sweet words exchanged between the two of you.

You were apprehensive about entering a new relationship after Velvette, but it just felt right.

In the end it's better for me

Charlie was excited when you went to her for date ideas to take your newest sweetheart, she was so proud of you, you had come so far!

That's the moral of the story, babe

They say it's better to have loved and lost

Velvette searched for you, you due to plot armour and your changed appearance had managed to completely avoid Vox's cameras or Velvette's hunting you down, she regretted saying what she did, she wouldn't have said it if she knew you were listening!

Than never to have loved at all

You had decided to step out of the hotel with your dearest sweetheart, deciding to go out for a simple date, watch a movie and maybe shop around and grab a bite to eat

That could be a load of shit

Velvette had decided to go check out her competition's stores, going shopping at the same stores you did.

But I just need to tell you all

You didn't see her, and she almost didn't recognize you but she did.

Some mistakes get made

Her blood ran cold, or colder as she watched you dote on the lady next to you, arm wrapped around hers, holding her bags for her.

You had done that for her once upon a time.

That's alright, that's okay

She wanted to say something, like where have you been, I'm sorry, who the fuck is this, come home! Or something but she couldn't, she could only watch as you laughed at something she said, you used to laugh like that with her,

You SHOULD be laughing like that with her.

You can think that you're in love

Velvette's hand clenched into a fist, her fingers digging into her palm making indents.

When you're really just engaged

You should be with her, not whoever that wench was! The engagement ring she had accepted from you ages ago was still on her finger.

Where was yours?

Some mistakes get made

She watched as you walked away with her.

That's alright, that's okay

She finally moved, following in pursuit.

In the end it's better for me

You and your sweetheart were having a wonderful time, shopping around and the two of you were finally getting something to eat, you went to the cutest little café, and you walked back to the hotel holding hands.

That's the moral of this story

Some mistakes get made

Velvette knew where you were now.

That's alright, that's okay

You were so happy, Velvette hasn't crossed your mind in ages.

You can think that you're in love

She didn't know how to get you, she didn't want you to hate her.

When you're really just in pain

You squealed as you landed on your bed kicking your legs back and forth like a lovesick fool.

Some mistakes get made

You had to come back to her willingly, once you were done with this little fling, she would leave you heartbroken and Velvette would welcome you back with open arms, hugs and kisses.

That's alright, that's okay

You sighed happily, a dumb love filled grin on your face.

In the end it's better for me

You had come SO far from how you were before, you were proud of yourself, you had a healthy relationship with your lovely girlfriend, you had amazing friends, and you were on the road to redemption with them! You couldn't ask for more.

That's the moral of the story, babe

You will never go back to Velvette, you loved her once yes, you truly did, but that was in the past, and you deserved better, and you got better.

Good evening folks! Thank you for tuning in! It's late for me and I wrote this in one sitting, I'm gonna go knock out now, have a wonderful night folks!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #Velvette x reader #hazbin velvette #hazbin velvette x reader #hazbin hotel velvette

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lis-likes-fics · 10 months

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Music to My Eyes

Pairings: Finnick Odair x deaf!fem!Reader Word Count: 7.5k words Warnings: Mentions of the Games, so killing and death, mentions of trauma, my attempt at writing sign language, pre-Katniss, no Annie... A/N: Hey, everyone! I watched the Hunger Games a few months ago and had a mini obsession and decided to write for it and only now just got half of my fic done. Since it was running as long as it was, I decided to go ahead and split this into two different parts, but I swear the rest of it is being planned and written. Also A/N: Just FYI, anything written in /slants/ is an indication of something being signed because explaining every little sign just does not work. And, also, Hecton Leary is absolutely done by Peter Capaldi in my mind...just in case you need a visual. I was watching a lot of Doctor Who during this so, get ready to see those intense eyebrows all over the place in this, lmao. Also Also A/N: Special thanks to my beta-reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen who I will be crediting more bc I literally forgot to last time and she's too amazing for that! Thanks, Vee! 💖

You don't love wearing dresses—especially not extravagant ones like these, more expensive than likely your entire district as a whole. You also don't love parties like these where you have to wear said dresses, surrounded by tons of people generating body heat and stuffing the room full of perfumes and colognes that make your nose and eyes burn. Your feet hurt from the heels your designer paired with your outfit, and the air is active with words and voices that overwhelm your brain with too much information to take.

Having Hecton beside you is a relief at least—not completely lost in a sea of people as he and you communicate with two rich sponsors from District 1 dressed just a slight less dramatic as you but just as exaggerated.

You watch their lips, painted over with bright colors complementing their attire, as they speak to you. "It must be so hard, isn't it?" the woman asks, spending too much time on "so" as she speaks slowly for you to comprehend. You want to roll your eyes. "Flailing about all the time just to get a few words out?"

The man next to her agrees, nodding his head. You can see his throat shift, and you assume he's hummed a response.

Hecton's hands move with skill as he speaks, partly as aid in translation for you but mostly for the performance people are looking for.

You feel like your lips are going to fall off, you can almost feel them twitching at the ends from how long you've been smiling at all these people who don't know anything about you and assume they know everything.

You widen your smile to show teeth and shake your head, continuing to be as respectful as you can with your social tolerance running low.

Your hands move and, out of the corner of your eye, you can see Hecton speaking as they do. "Not really," he translates. "It's natural for me."

The man puts a hand over his heart and turns to her. "Oh, you poor thing," he says rather dramatically. Hecton doesn't dignify his words by translating that for you—not that you needed it in the first place. His hands remain still, folded in front of him. The man glances toward them, and you can see his brief disappointment at his words not receiving the glory of illustration.

You glance up at Hecton, your smile intact as you slightly squint the corners of your eyes in a silent plea. He answers you gracefully, turning his attention back to the fashionable vultures in front of him.

"This was wonderful," he says, "but I believe our little lady is excited to meet other guests here tonight."

Hecton is an older man with grey hair, pale eyes, and intense brows. Upon looking at him, he isn't the most approachable man. You don't just say no to him—especially as a past victor of the Games who certainly triumphed by a long-shot. He is not weakened by age, but he's definitely wisened by it. Although sobered by surviving the horrors of the Games, it neither slowed nor ruined his life, it simply gave an abrupt end to what little childhood people of Districts like yours can obtain.

One look at the finality on his face and they were fully ready to end their (rather insulting) conversation. They turn to one another, making these awful pity-faces as they hold each other's hands and turn back to heartily agree. "Of course." She puts too much emphasis on the words. "Goodbye, dear."

You nod gently and look toward Hecton for confirmation as he places a hand on your back and turns with you. You both walk away from the conversation gratefully, still smiling for everyone else in the room but moving your hands in silent conversation.

/These people are exhausting,/ you complain, entirely within your right with the way they treat you.

Hecton sighs, looking at you with eyes that understand your struggle. /Just keep them happy./

You nod, remaining light-hearted for both your sakes as you offer a genuine smile before you slip back into a customer service front. /I know, I know./

Lots of eyes are on you tonight, but none so keen as a certain boy across the room. He has basically been watching you all night, intrigued by the way you've been communicating, by the way you draw so much attention without having spoken a single word since you arrived.

He has seen you around a few times—on television, at other parties. He knows your face and that you won the Games like him, but he's never paid enough attention to actually know anything past that. But now, observing you all night, he's interested enough to ask.

His elbow brushes the guy next to him, a victor from another district he doesn't care to specify right now. "Who is that again?" he asks, not taking his eyes off of you as his friend turns to look. "I've seen her a couple times, never remember."

He looks at you and then back at him. "Her?" he gestures vaguely toward you. He nods.

"Victor from District 10, she won the 67th Games." He takes a sip from his drink, leaning back against a table with a hand in his pocket. "Surprised everyone cause she," he shrugged, "can't hear or something."

That definitely caught his attention as he turned full bodied toward him. "Really?"

"Yeah," he swirled his drink around. "She's nice…in a little bunny sort of way." It's not necessarily an insult, more than it is him calling you soft-hearted and skittish.

He walks away without a word, finally making his way toward you to quell his curiosity as he approaches you and takes his sweet time about it.

Your back is turned to him. He briefly wonders the best way to get your attention on the way over, knowing you hate being tapped by the way your shoulders flinch and you strain a smile when you turn.

Then again, no one likes tapping.

When he reaches you, he just folds his hands behind his back and smiles. "Hello," he says simply. Hecton turns at the greeting, prompting you to do the same.

"I'm Finnick. Finnick Odair," he greets with a smile of his own as he regards the both of you. He watches the way the old man's hand moves on his name. Your hand reaches out and interrupts him as you place a gentle palm on top of his. He makes a face—it's not annoyed, just teasing.

You turn back to Finnick, your performance smiling still intact. Hecton speaks while you sign. For a moment, Finnick thinks he'll understand the movements you make—Mags doesn't speak, she has to use her hands to communicate all the time, surely it couldn't be that different—but he is proven wrong when words don't match waves.

"I know who you are. You won the 65th Games, you're from District 4." Finnick thinks, briefly, that your friend's voice doesn't match you at all (which is obvious, of course, but he feels it's worth pointing out).

"Well, then," he responds with a slight chuckle, only glancing for a moment at the way Hecton's hands move as he talks, "I'm flattered you know me. Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same for you…"

You seem surprised by that. He thinks it may have something to do with the way that you haven't had many moments away from conversation since you arrived. Everyone has been too taken by you, too interested in snatching a few minutes.

Your hands don't start moving in that curious way Finnick likes to watch because words are already being spoken. "Mr. Odair, this is Y/N Y/L/N. I am her mentor and translator, Hecton Leary."

Finnick holds out a hand, which each of you shake. Out of courtesy, he doesn't start talking again until after your hands are free. "Wonderful to meet you both. And, please, Finnick is fine. There's no need for formalities when we could be friends, right?"

You still smile as you begin to sign, though your brows furrow. /Why exactly do I want to be your friend?/

Finnick doesn't understand, looking at Hecton for translation. He only says your name, a sort of reprimand as he continues to smile.

/I'm only being honest./

Where you expected frustration from not understanding, you find amusement in Finnick's eyes as his genuine smile widens and he looks between the both of you. "What am I missing?"

Hecton looks at you, raising a large brow and waiting for your reply. You sigh gently and shake your head, remaining civil as you begin to sign.

"Sorry," he speaks for you. "I look forward to establishing friendship with another fellow Victor. Maybe one day we'll…" Hecton gets quiet as he just watches your hands continue to move and your lips continue to smile, full of amusement.

/We'll frolic in the woods together, holding hands and singing songs./

Hecton turns full body to you. He holds his palms apart and brings them together swiftly without clapping them. /Y/N./

You smile wider and hold your hands in surrender, the tiny sound of a giggle slipping out of you. You're otherwise silent as your hands fly. /I'm joking! Tell him it was nice to meet him, and I look forward to being friends./

Hecton eyes you momentarily before relenting, turning back to Finnick with exasperation. "She says it was a pleasure meeting you, and she looks forward to your friendship."

Finnick raises his brows, bowing his head gently. "The pleasure is all mine." He's a charmer, and he makes that clear by reaching out and slowly, softly taking your hand in his (his grasp is so gentle that you could easily take your hand back if you wanted and he wouldn't stop you). He bends forward, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. He straightens his spine and watches you fondly. "Until we meet again."

As he lets go of your hand, he bows his head once more before he walks away. You and Hecton watch him leave. He raises his own brow at you. "Is that blush I see?"

Your hands are quick and exaggerated as you move them. You know he's joking and you're not blushing, but his teasing makes you. /No!/

Hecton's smile is wide and open and you know he's laughing at you, so you call him out for being mean. He drops it just as quickly, once the joke has faded to a funny memory and you both are back to mingling with people who do not care about you.

The halls are empty this late in the night. Everyone has retired to their rooms or taken an early train home. It's peaceful, wandering the halls this late and being undisturbed by curious eyes and ears watching you like some wild animal. You enjoy the silence—the physical silence of steady air and only one set of footsteps to track instead of hundreds.

At the end of the hall you wander now is the elevator that takes you to your level. Hecton will be wondering where you are—and if not, it's probably time for you to retire for the night before the victor's interviews with Lucky tomorrow anyway. As you make your way toward it, the lights bright and beckoning, you stop in front of it and click the door button.

It's as the doors are sliding open that you realize you're no longer alone in the dead of this night. You feel it in the prickle of your skin, the change in the weight of the floor beneath you. You look over quickly where the side of your face heats with a new presence.

You see Finnick approaching you, seemingly pleased to see you as he smiles at you, stopping short of the doors to offer you first entry. You grin hesitantly, your confidence from before waning a little with the absence of your mentor and translator. If he tries to talk to you, you're probably going to have a rough night. You press the tenth floor button. He presses the fourth.

Finnick isn't as pessimistic, glancing at you out of the corner of your eyes as you stand with your fingers tangled and your eyes toward the ground. You don't look nearly as cocky this time around—in fact, you seem nervous, refusing to even give him that small, awkward smile you usually receive when stuck in a space next to someone you don't know.

Finnick licks his lips, and speaks before he can correct himself. "Hello," he says, giving you a charming smile before immediately remembering your certain disability.

His curiosity grows when you raise your head, glancing his way but not quite committing.

"Oh, right," he mumbles. His added words spark your attention once more as you finally look at him, moving your hand in a talking motion.

"Yeah," he responds. "How did you know?" You're deaf, but you could tell that he was speaking without even looking at him?

He watches you think for a moment, staring off to try and figure out a way to tell him without Hecton to aid you. You look at him again, raising a hand palm down and shaking it.

"Shaking?" he guesses, raising a confused brow.

You gestured around the elevator, your face etched in concentration, determined to be understood. You sometimes forget how hard communication can actually be for you.

"The room?" he tries. "The room is shaking?"

You make a face, one that says "not quite".

He thinks for a moment, putting your gestures together before it dawns on him. "The air is moving."

You smile, far too happy to have successfully gotten a point across.

Finnick's brows raise, though not in a mocking or upset way. "Is everything really that sensitive for you?"

'It has to be,' you want to say, but you can't. You can read lips, but moving your own to try and copy them is a completely different story. Instead, you just nod and agree.

"I heard that's how you won the Games," he said, before adding on the end with a genuinely impressed smile. "Very cool, by the way." He had spent an embarrassing amount of time—or it would be embarrassing if he actually cared about that—asking party comers about you. Most of the information he got was about the Games, always about the Games. He got the same answers from just about everyone about how you were just so sweet and how it was so inspiring how your lack of hearing helped you to win.

As much as that sweet grin on your face made you want to smile, he wasn't technically right. So you shook your head, and he watched you raise your hands to cover your eyes.

"You were blind?" he wonders, but that doesn't make any sense and he doesn't feel very smart for asking now.

You shake your head and do it again, this time pulling your hands away and then covering your face again.

"You hid," he answers. That makes more sense.

You nod and he hums.

You didn't win the Hunger Games by killing for being killed, you didn't win by joining alliances or traveling in groups and pairs. You won the Games by running and hiding until everyone had killed each other.

When the Gamemakers used their tricks and schemes to flush you out of your hiding places, you found another one to lay low until the end. Yes, there were times when you had to fight for your life, but you were no strong competitor. It was dumb luck that you won. Right up to the end, facing off with the almost-champion after having been hunted down by Mutts. He killed them, and then he tried to kill you.

And that was when your disability was labeled your greatest weapon.

Maybe one day you'll be able to tell him that.

The doors slid open to reveal Finnick's floor. You both linger there in the elevator for a moment, trying to decide what to do from there.

Truly, you should have just waved at him and let the doors close to take you to your own floor. It was late already, you needed to rest.

But…

"Do you like sweets?"

Yes, you do.

You nod, answering his charming smile with a shy one and being upset with yourself in the back of your mind for falling for his obvious charm. If you got hurt, it was on you and no one else. But who cares?

You, you care. Maybe not enough, though.

You follow him off the elevator and into the common room. The kitchen is just off of it, with a long table cleared of dinner but still adorned with snacks—fruits and a few deserts. Finnick slides over a plate of cookies as you take a seat. They're chocolate and very good.

He sits across from you, a little too keen in the way he leans forward. He picks up a cookie between his thumb and forefinger, playing with it absent-mindedly as he speaks.

"Is that," he waves one hand, "usually how you communicate?" He hopes he doesn't sound offensive and takes a bite from his cookie.

You don't seem offended as you shrug. He watches you move your hand like you're grasping a pen, shifting it around in a circle. He understands and, like a dog, goes to grab the supplies for you, dropping his cookie back on the table with little to no regard. He's not necessarily upset about his obedience, if anything, he's happy to let you boss him around—not that you have been—if it means quenching his genuine curiosity with how you operate.

He slides you a notebook as he reclaims his seat, gently slapping a pen on top with a cheeky grin. He seems proud of himself. You hold in your chuckle as you write with the best handwriting you can with the quickness of your scribbles.

/Signing or writing./

Finnick reads it off. He thinks your handwriting is pretty.

"Does it get tiring?" he asks, cookie forgotten in crumbs on the counter. He absent-mindedly pushes it to the side so he can lean closer. "Moving your hands like that all the time?"

His question is one you get often, a repeated question every person asks to suit their shallow interest in you. But you can't bring yourself to be offended or annoyed. Finnick doesn't seem shallow, his curiosity runs deep and his kindness deeper. You're not sure you could take anything he says with offense.

You simply shake your head. /Easy as it is for you to talk,/ you answer honestly, adding the gesture for "speak" at the end to try to be helpful.

He shouldn't be impressed, but he is. "Oh," he says, brows raised in vivid interest. "Is it easy to learn?"

He's full of questions. He knows he probably sounds like a child, piling them on top of each other like tidal waves. But you don't seem upset, so he carries on.

You shrug again.

/Would not know. Depends on person./ You look up at him, and then you add, /You want to learn?/

The way you write is interesting to him. You don't do it in full sentences in an effort to keep it short and simple. But you also don't use contractions, though you try to write as quickly as possible to keep up the feel and consistency of actually speaking.

He smiles slyly and pretends to be shy about it, bowing his head and looking up at you through pretty lashes. "Maybe," he says. "Could you teach me?"

You mirror his expression, bowing your chin toward your chest and smiling at him. /Maybe./

You finish your cookie and rip off the first page to turn to another. He watches you write out the alphabet, quickly scribbling a very poor illustration of a hand gesture underneath each one. It takes a while, longer than you wished for it to.

Finnick doesn't mind. While you're distracted with the activity at hand, he's watching you. You're very pretty, he thinks. With the way you sit to draw, you keep your body open and give yourself the room you need to still see him as you work.

You've got kind eyes. He doesn't think you get that enough. Everyone calls you a sweet girl, but they usually follow it up with something along the lines of "even with her issue".

But Finnick just thinks you're pretty and kind. That's it. No exceptions.

He wants to learn about you without the tainting of word-of-mouth or television programs. He wants to know you. The stuff you love, the stuff you hate, everything that makes you happy, and the stuff that makes you want to throw chairs. He wants to know what your favorite color is, if you like to dance or paint or swim.

Before he can keep daydreaming about whether you like cats or dogs, you look up at him to show off your work. You think it's sloppy. He thinks you did great.

You start going through it with him, showing him the hand signs as you get to them with a patience that amazes him. Once you've gone through the whole of it once, he lifts his own hand to try it out. He looks weird and silly, and you smile as he tries his best.

When he offers a poor attempt at a 'Q', a giggle manages to slip. You probably don't hear it, but Finnick certainly does. His face lights up at the sound. He had heard you make little more than a sigh. Managing to pull a giggle out of you—especially one as pretty as that? It's like winning the lottery.

He goes through it with you a couple more times before he straightens his spine. "So…"

He points to his chest and holds his hand out, slowly moving it to fit the gestures he's tried.

F. I. N. N. I. C. K.

You nod quickly, beaming from ear to ear at how quickly he's picked it up already. You point to yourself and spell your own name out. You move slowly, giving him time to connect each letter to each sign as you go. And when you finish, he spells it himself. A nearly perfect copy, (although perfect may be generous, he's definitely trying and it shows—that's perfect enough in your book).

You carefully tear the page out and set it to the side so he can still see and write excitedly on the next page, your writing almost terrible with how quickly you scribble. /Natural!/

You sign the word after. He copies you, and then tries to spell it out. He gets it right for the most part—even though you're pretty sure you saw him use an 'X' instead of an 'R'.

He really wants to impress you. He doesn't make that subtle, and you're honestly happy he doesn't. It makes you genuinely giddy, the way he's so eager to learn and show off his new skill (a skill he's literally been practicing for no more than ten minutes). You don't realize how far onto the table you've learned. Your hands would brush if you moved them an inch closer.

"I'll keep at it," he replies genuinely at your proud smile. He had no idea someone so silent could be so pleasantly loud. Your ecstatic movements and wide grins compensate for your lack of vocalization. When you speak through your hands or the notebook in front of you, he almost swears he can hear a voice he hasn't heard in place of it, so kind and pretty. Like a song.

You smile too fondly at him, taking in a soft breath before looking down at your hands and sitting back again. You'd gotten ahead of yourself. You don't correct it as much as you should. You're just as fond as you sit correctly in your seat and watch him with intense interest.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you pick up your pen again. He watches you write something down. You turn the book around for him to see.

/Mentor cannot speak?/

"Mags?" he wonders. You nod, tilting your head. "No."

You write again. /Cannot sign?/

"No."

You tilt your head and furrow your brows, a silent inquiry. He shrugs, "Never learned."

You contemplate for a moment, rubbing your neck gently before taking the notepad once more. You show it to him.

/Can teach./ You point to yourself, offering a small grin.

"Really?" he furrows his brow.

You shrug. Why not?

Finnick stares at you a moment, searching your eyes for a joke he knows he won't find. So why would you be so open to helping her? Maybe you're just weird.

His lips curl in a smile. "I'll ask her."

Your own smile grows.

He drums his fingers on the table, watching you watching him. He thinks for a moment, just staring, before he opens his mouth.

"So obviously, you can read lips." You nod. "Were you born deaf?"

You nod and reach for the notepad once again. It takes you a moment to write this time. /Parents did not find out til 2. Was a quiet kid. Did not realize until I never started speaking./

He's so interested in everything you tell him. He hangs onto your every word like pure gold. "So you've never heard anything before? Ever?"

He feels like it's a dumb question. Of course not. But you hesitate, glancing off before you nod.

/Yes./

His eyes go wide with wonder. "How?" He crosses his arms and leans forward on the table.

You thought for another moment, trying to find the best way to phrase it to keep it simple. You tap the pen against your lips and click click click it.

/Before the 67th Games, my team gifted me hearing aids. Thought it would help./ You pull away for him to read, staring at the page before taking it and adding in a new line, /Didn't think I'd make it deaf./

The look on your face told him how much that bothered you—or, at least, a whisper of how much it used to bother you. He thinks you may be used to it by now…

"Seemed to work, huh?" he asks with a slight chuckle in an attempt to brighten your mood again.

But you shake your head as you pull the notepad back. /When Games started, too much. Ripped them out and ran./ You sigh gently, swallowing thickly. /Couldn't handle it./

He listens in, his full attention heeding your words. "So you never wear them?"

You shake your head. /Do not like to./

He nods gently. "Because it hurt?" he asks, trying to understand.

You think for a moment before raising your hand and shaking it like before, meaning a different thing this time. /Kind of,/ you write.

You sigh and raise your hands, loosely clawed in front of you as you bring them into your chest in fists. Then you pick up your pen to translate. /Trust me?/

He nods. "Yeah."

/Sure?/

His second nod is more firm. "Yes."

He watches you grab a hand towel. You lift it up, gesturing to him with it and he nods his approval once again. You step behind him and tie it around his head to cover his eyes.

After you blindfold him, sure that he no longer has sight, you turn off all the lights and spin him around a couple times before you lead him into the living room.

Without his sight, Finnick is reduced to having to let you lead him where you want him. And he trusts you. He sways on his feet for a moment, standing still when you stop guiding him again.

"Can I look now?" he asks, his hands out by his side blindly if not for anything but balance.

He hears your voice, the slight sound of you clearing your throat before humming gently, like you're feeling for it. Then he hears your broken response, unaccustomed to actually speaking.

"N-o," you mumble. He smiles a little, and you think he's weird—in a good way.

After a moment of silence where the both of you just stand there and do nothing, he feels you begin to remove the towel from his face. You don't give him a chance to adjust to the dark, you just flip the closest light on and let him have it.

He winces, shielding his face as the shock sets in. You smile gently as you apologize, rubbing your fist over your chest in a circle. When his eyes adjust to the light once more to look at you, your smile is still a fond apology as you motion to your ears.

He breathes lightly. “That’s what it felt like for you?” You make a “bigger” motion with your hands as you nod. “That’s awful,” he mumbles.

You shrug as you begin to walk back to the dining table to grab your pen and notepad again. As you take a seat on the sofa, you bring your legs up under you and invite him to sit beside you. He watches you write something as you prop the notepad against your thighs. You show it to him when you finish.

/What do you like to do?/

He is happy to answer as he settles back and thinks for a moment before offering his reply. You sit and talk back and forth for a long time. You don’t really keep track as you learn that Finnick loves to swim and he dabbles in cooking when he can. You learn that he likes the color blue, but his favorite color is probably white. You learn that he is a “live life like it’s your last day” type of person because of his experience with the games (a philosophy you have adopted yourself in a smaller intensity). You learn that he’s more fond of the quiet than the rowdy crowds he’s grown accustomed to.

Finnick learns that you also like the water, but you enjoy sitting under the surface and feeling like the world is just as silent as you in a way that isn’t so interesting to the rest of the world. He learns that you don’t have a favorite color but you always say green, that you’re not a people person but everyone thinks you’re a person who loves people, and that you like to watch Hecton play the guitar while he lets you set your hand on the body of it to feel what he plays.

You don’t know when you fall asleep on the couch, laying against the back of it with your head turned toward the large, cushy pillow that supports your head. You’re curled up against it, and Finnick thinks you look precious. He’s not long after you as he dozes off on the couch. Neither of you touch at all, hands to yourself as you let the night ease on around you. But the presence is comfortable enough, you’re happy for it.

But sometime in the night, you don’t know when, how long the passage of time had gotten to be, the calm that had set over you slowly began to fade and slip into something a little more unnerving. Uneasiness sets in your bones, makes you queasy as your fingers twitch. You hum, a groan that slips from between your lips and rouses Finnick as he opens his eyes and glances your way, eyes still heavy with sleep.

He starts to sit up as he sees you shift, your breath quickened and your muscles twitching. He calls your name gently, a first instinct he immediately realizes isn’t going to work. He hears you hum again and begins to reach a hand out. His fingers hardly brush the skin of your arm when your eyes suddenly open. You’re muttering something intelligible to yourself as you glance around frantically, eyes glazed over and movements full of adrenaline.

“Woah, you’re good,” he tries as you grip the cushions on the couch. It’s too warm and it’s cushy and you don’t want to be up there anymore. He’s still trying to ease you, hands out like you’re a frightened animal ready to attack him. You slide off the couch and onto the floor, where the cold hardwood greets your skin as you catch your breath, your face tucked between your arms as your whole body heaves for air.

He lets you stay there, concern written all over his face as he tries to figure out what the issue is. He guesses they’re just nightmares, bad, ugly nightmares that he, himself, has faced over and over and over again. He waits and waits and waits for your body to steady and for your breath to calm, keeping his hands out but away as he waits for you to recover.

When you’ve calmed down again, you lift your head and sit back against the floor, turning toward him with lethargic muscles, your adrenaline already waning as the exhaustion from before trumps everything else. You catch the movement of Finnick’s lips from out of the corner of your eye and turn to see him speak. “What’s wrong?”

You breathe in slowly, filling your whole chest as you gather yourself enough to answer. You stroke a circle over your chest with your fist, a movement he remembers seeing you do earlier when you were apologizing to him. He shakes his head gently, slowly shifting off of the couch to join you on the floor, giving you space as he props his elbow on the cushion.

“S’okay,” he says, his lips moving gently around the word. “What happened?”

You breathe out slowly, still centering yourself. You lean toward the table, sliding the notepad over with lazy movements. You contemplate before writing. /Vibrations./ You show it to him and he tilts his head. /I sleep with my hand on the floor. It lets me know if someone is coming, I can feel the footsteps in the ground. It wakes me up and keeps me out of trouble./

The way you write is different now, filling the missing blanks of words you’d usually leave out because they were unnecessary. Like you’re too tired to summarize, letting the words do their job as you slump against the table like you haven’t slept in ages and are simply going through the motions.

He moves slowly, letting you see what’s happening before it happens as he sets his hand atop your own on the table. You don’t move, glancing at his hand and letting it happen as his skin brushes yours. He feels honored.

“Well,” he says, “you’re safe here.” With me.

You manage to pull the corners of your lips up into a small smile, turning your hand so his rests in your palm. You raise your free hand to your chin. /Thank you./ You take a moment to sit there, looking at each other and enjoying the feelings of your hand in the other’s. Then you pull your hand away regretfully and pick up your pen.

/I should get back to my floor before my people worry./

He reads it off and nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sighs, already moving to stand to his feet as he holds his hand out to help you, hoping you would accept. When you do, he smiles. You lift yourself to your feet and give him another of your best in this condition.

You pick up the notepad one more time. /Thank you for the sweets. And for the company. I liked talking with you./

He puts a hand to his heart, too heartfelt to be teasing as he dips his head slightly. “My pleasure.”

Finnick walks with you to the elevator, standing by you in silence after the button is pressed as you both wait for the doors to slide open. When they do, you step in and offer yet another warm smile as you sigh and wave, mouthing the word “bye” as you depart from him, sad to go. He mouths the word back to you, though you’re not positive he spoke them as he offers a small wave of his own.

The doors shut and Finnick misses you already.

The blaring lights, (otherwise) deafening crowds, and extravagant costumes are something you get used to and never get used to all at once. All the attention is on you, and it's your job to make sure they are entertained as you make your way onto the stage with Hecton's at your side.

Lucky is standing, that unnervingly large grin tearing his face in two as he watches you excitedly. His hand is extended toward you, both to show you off and welcome you in.

"Hello, my dear!" he exclaims theatrically as he takes your hand. He places a kiss to your knuckles and then shakes Hecton's hand as well. You all take your seats, your smile the picture of thrilled.

"It's been a while since we have last spoken, hasn't it?" He stops dramatically and then says, "Well, a while since I spoke to you, at least." The air is on the fritz with cheers and laughter and more clapping as you look around at everyone. Lucky's laughter is just as wide. "How have you been, Y/N?"

You look at Hecton, your smile and his set in perfection. He speaks as you sign, beginning his role as your ultimate translator. "I've been great, Lucky. I've missed you!"

His big brows furrow as he slaps a hand over his heart. He turns to the adoring fans. "Oh, isn't that sweet?" He laughs again and looks back at you, his expression calmer but no less dramatic. "I have also missed you, my dear. Now, tell me, this is a tour for some of our previous victors, have you met any of them yet?" He leans in like you're sharing a secret.

"I'm glad you asked, I have. It's been great getting to be reacquainted with old friends and making new ones."

"Ooo," he says, looking around and encouraging the crowd to join in. "New ones like who?" He sits up straight and brings a finger to his lips, glancing away and smiling slyly. "I know I have it from a reliable source that you were mingling with District 4 Champion, Finnick Odair." He leans forward with narrowed eyes. "Do I sense something blossoming?"

He and the crowd tease you, making lovey dovey noises that you don't hear but definitely feel as you glance at Hecton and he raises his thick brows in amusement.

"Oh, Lucky," you smile like you'll laugh as Hecton continues to read your hands. "I wish I could agree, but who am I to say?" You shrug it off with a sigh.

"Oh, really?" he jabs. "Because when I brought it up with Finnick, I believe he described you as 'a special kind of beauty'." This riles the crowd up even more, they cheer louder and the air feels suffocating. You smile through it.

"Did he now?"

"He did."

Lucky laughs dramatically, Hecton laughs less dramatically, and the crowd eats right out of the palm of your hands.

"Well," Hecton says as you catch the attention again, "you know I'm not one to gossip."

"Ohh, not just this once?" He says it like he'll cry.

"I wish I could."

He sighs heavily. "Oh, well." The crowds 'aww's and you give an apologetic smile to them all. Lucky leans over and takes your hand in his, which you then cover with your own. "It has been lovely catching up with you, my dear. And you, too, Hecton, my friend." Hecton nods. "I hope to see you again soon, both of you—I do so love our talks!"

"As do I, Lucky. As do I."

He puts both hands over his chest this time, smiling with sadness to see you go. "Would you give us a kiss before you go?"

You stand to face the crowd and kiss your hand, blowing it out to them as they scream and shout for you. You beam and look at them all, waving happily.

"Oh, fantastic!" Lucky exclaims as he stands to join your side, Hecton at the other. He takes one of your hands again. "It is always a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine."

He turns to the adoring audience. "Our Silent Spectacle, everybody!"

They scream and shout and you press your cheeks to Lucky's before you and Hecton leave the stage. Even after you're past the curtain where they can no longer see you, you keep the smile as wide as you can until it trembles out of place.

/Very well done, Y/N,/ Hecton congratulates.

You huff out a tiring breath, massaging your cheeks before regaining your posture and masking your frown with a much softer smile as you respond. /It's exhausting./

He offers a sympathetic look. /Maybe so, but they love it./ He glances at you again, noticing the fatigue in your eyes and your twitching lips, the nerves kicking from overuse. He sighs, taking your hand and turning you to him.

/You've got to keep them happy./

You look at him, how his words reflected a deeper worry, a double meaning that surpasses the gratification of your adoring crowds. Your eyes glue to his own, solemn, sober—a fair contrast from the faces surrounding you, drunk on the sap of their own self-importance.

/I know,/ you nod.

The tense moment is interrupted as a new player enters the arena. Hecton is the one to turn first, redirecting your attention toward the person approaching you. You immediately smile, an instinct by this point as you turn your gaze on your next audience. It only takes a moment for you to recognize the person, and your smile comes a little easier.

Seeing the situation before he approaches, Finnick wonders whether or not it would be appropriate to interrupt. But when your mentor turns and you turn with him, and you smile a more genuine smile upon seeing him, he finds that he doesn't really care if it's appropriate right now.

"You're quite the personality," he says as he steps up, smiling himself as he tilts his head.

"They love quiet, happy girls," Hecton translates as you sign. Finnick really doesn't think his voice suits you, coarse and thick with an accent hard to find.

"That, they do," he nods. He licks his bottom lip, "So you'll be headed back off today?"

You turn toward Hecton, your jaw clenching briefly before you turn back. "Soon. I've got some business tonight and then we'll be off tomorrow."

"Business?" he raises a curious brow, taking a small step forward as his lips quirked. "What kind of business?"

You tilt your chin, a nervous kind of smile on your lips as you move a hooked finger from your nose to your cupped hand. "Nosey," you tease, though Hecton speaks it flatly.

"Oh, it's a secret?" he wonders, even more curious now. He doesn't speak like a creep as he continues, holding that same teasing feeling while also offering his genuine curiosity. "I have a thing for secrets, y'know. I can keep it safe for you…"

You do it again, with a little more delight this time. Again, Hecton's translation holds no ounce of the delight you give off as you talk to Finnick. "Nosey," he repeats, this time with a little more sternness to get him to stop asking. You give him a side glance, but he isn't affected.

Before you can communicate anything else, Hecton's sets his hand on your lower back. It isn't patronizing, he's just used to guiding you, your protector.

"Come now, Y/N," he says. "It's time we were off."

You sigh gently but nod, still smiling as you glanced up at him. You begin to wave to Finnick, but he speaks as you're waving your hand.

"Am I free to visit down in District 10?" he asks, his tone light and playful to avoid sounding as hopeful as he feels. He's just met you, and he wants to know you.

You nod quickly, too eager. You move two fingers over your fist, missing the way Hecton doesn't translate. But Finnick can figure that one out himself.

His chest floods with relief. "I'll keep it in mind."

You wave. /Goodbye, Finnick./ The way you sign his name is different. Where he is expecting to see the familiar letters you showed him last night, he finds a wave of your hands and a fond smile.

He winks at you. "Goodbye, sweetcheeks."

You scrunch your nose, circling your hand over your belly. /Gross./

Hecton is already walking you away as Finnick blows you a cheesy kiss, mirroring the one you'd done for the audience earlier. You wave him off, smiling and shaking your head as you go.

When you're far enough from him, walking away from backstage to wherever you were headed now, Hecton's intense brows are furrowed in what you can only assume is annoyance at his distrust in Finnick.

/You seemed familiar./

/Stop./

Music to My Eyes taglist: ... This is a temporary taglist for those who want to be tagged in the sequel to Music to My Eyes, Finnick Odair x Reader. Please keep in mind that once the second part is posted, the tag will disappear. Feel free to DM, comment, or send me an ask to be added, if you would like. Or simply add yourself here...

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfic #the hunger games fanfiction #finnick odair fluff #reader insert #female reader #deaf reader

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anonymousewrites · 3 months

Text

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Three

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Three: Controlling Television

Summary: The Hotel learns about the extermination coming early, and (Y/N) meets someone new.

“Okay, so the extermination is coming in six months instead of a year,” said Charlie, pacing. “No big deal. Just a little setback. Nothing we can’t handle. Just angels cutting our timetable in half. But who needs a whole year to save souls?” She laughed nervously, the breakdown beginning. “Am I right? And next time, when they cut the time in half again and again, we’ll just handle it, right?”

Vaggie caught Charlie by the shoulders. “Yes. We will.” She attempted to steady her girlfriend.

“Oh, please, ya had less of a chance when you started all this salvation bullshit,” said Angel. “And now….Ain’t no silver lining this time toots.”

“Sure there is,” said Charlie. “We just have to look a little harder for it.”

“Seems pretty bleak to me,” said (Y/N). “I don’t know much about it, but it feels like the angels get to do whatever they want and fuck us over.”

Angel nodded, and Charlie deflated. “The rest of Hell agrees with them. They’re going nuts.” Angel grimaced as he read through reactions on his phone. “People are freaking out about the news.” He held up his phone. “Look at what’s happening in the Doomsday District.”

The land was on fire, and Charlie frowned as a notification popped up.

“Er, what is a ‘donkey show?’ ” she asked.

“Ah! Heh, nothing!” said Angel, snatching his phone back. “My boss, Val, is just freaked out about the news, too. Like I said, everyone’s losing their shit.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Sinners are desperate,” said Vaggie. “Maybe desperate enough to try anything to escape the next extermination?” She smiled at Charlie.

“This is the perfect time to recruit more sinners for the hotel!” said Charlie excitedly.

“People will do everything except for try to change themselves,” said (Y/N), dubious of that idea. “If exterminations have been going on for…forever, I don’t really know if this will change anything yet. You’d have to be really convincing.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s why I have to go out and gather people myself!” said Charlie. “It’s not people are going to show up on our doorstep.”

Boom!

The wall exploded (again).

“Show yourself, Alastor!” cried a familiarly snakelike and dramatic voice. It was Sir Pentious from the previous incident, back to get his ass beat again (because what else was going to happen to him? Alastor was way more powerful than him). “Come and face—”

“Will you shut up?!” snapped (Y/N), leaning their head out the hole. “We’re trying to handle some problems in here!”

Pentious deflated in disappointment as the teenager glared at him, completed unintimidated. “I’m not here for you! I’m here for Alastor!”

Hearing the commotion and always loving some entertainment, Alastor popped out of the shadows with a mug that said “Hello, Deer.” “Who are you?” he asked.

“Who am I?! Who am I!?” cried Pentious. “I am the great Sir Pentious! Inventor, architect of destruction, villain extraordinaire!”

“Ooh, he’s a bad boy,” said Niffty, grinning.

“Huh, well, if all that’s true, you’d think I’d have heard of you,” said Alastor, grinning.

“I attacked you literally last week,” said Pentious.

Alastor tilted his head, clearly not remembering a thing.

“We’ve done battle like twenty times!” said Pentious.

“Well, you must have been really bad at this,” said Alastor.

“Silence! Now cower!” cried Pentious. “For when I’ve slain you, the almighty Vees will finally acknowledge me as their equal!”

(Y/N) looked at Vaggie. “Who are the Vees?”

“Velvette, Valentino, and Vox—three of the worst Overlords. Velvette deals in fashion and social media, Valentino runs Hell’s biggest porn studio, and Vox controls almost all technology,” said Vaggie. She crossed her arms. “Don’t get involved with them. They’re manipulative pieces of shit.”

��Definitely am not planning it,” said (Y/N). They didn’t want to get put under anyone’s thumb after their life.

“They’re nobody important,” said Alastor.

“You know, Angel isn’t the only one spending time at that ratty hotel with the devil’s princessa,” said Valentino.

“Oh, who else is there? Someone who owes you money?” asked Vox.

Valentino chuckled. “Someone who owes us much more than money. The Radio Demon is there.”

Vox’s screen sparked, and his nails dug into the desk. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” said Valentino.

“Alastor came back, and he is with Lucifer’s daughter, and that wasn’t the first fucking thing you told me?!” snapped Vox.

“Hey, killing Alastor is your kink,” said Valentino, waving a hand.

Vox glared at the screens in the room, and one switched onto a recording on the hotel so he could glare at the gathering outside. Alastor, who kept glitching in the recording, was grinning and standing beside Lucifer’s daughter, her girlfriend, Angel, and a young demon with a rose motif.

“Oh, please, stop!” cried Pentious as his ship was once again torn apart by shadows while Alastor cackled in amusement.

“Um, Alastor? I think he’s had enough,” said Charlie.

“I don’t know, he came here asking for it,” said (Y/N), smiling brightly.

“Oh, yeah, he’s got a few more hits in ‘im,” snickered Angel.

Pentious fell out of his ship and landed on the ground.

“Thanks for another forgettable experience,” said Alastor with a wide grin.

“Thank…you…” groaned Pentious. “For letting your guard down!” His tail shot out, tore off a piece of Alastor’s coat, and retreated. Pentious laughed.

A large shadow loomed over him.

“Oh, shit.”

Green magic exploded from Alastor, and Pentious was sent flying out of the hotel’s airspace.

“Well, it looks as though I need a visit to the tailor,” said Alastor, turning away from the flying snake without a care. “Best of luck, chums!”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” said Vaggie. “Alastor, we need your help. We need you to do your job.”

“We need a wall,” said Angel.

“Of course! Can’t let my new project fall into disrepair already! What would the papers say?” Alastor snapped his fingers, and shadow workers, like from the advertisement, popped up to help rebuild the wall. Satisfied, Alastor turned and walked away.

Angel grinned and approached the shadows. “Hey, sweet cheeks. What you doin’ later?”

“I’m out,” said (Y/N), turning away before they had to see Angel flirt more.

“Can you at least help us?” asked Vaggie, gesturing to the destroyed wall.

“…Do I look like I have experience building walls?” said (Y/N), frowning.

“You can buy us a new painting. Charlie likes having decorations, and one got destroyed by Sir Pentious,” said Vaggie.

(Y/N) considered. “Are you giving me money?”

“Yes,” said Vaggie.

“Ok, sure,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

“Right,” said Vaggie, pulling out cash. “And here, I’ll show you where to go.”

She pulled out her phone to show a map of the Pride ring. The last thing they needed was (Y/N) getting lost and getting into trouble. Actually, Charlie would probably be against sending (Y/N) out for an errand, but Vaggie had seen they were going a bit stir crazy from being at the hotel all the time, so the least she could do was give (Y/N) a short errand to run to one of the more civilized/reputable areas of Pride. And if there was any trouble, Vaggie would go into town and intercede with her spear.

(Y/N) hadn’t expected running an errand in Hell to go so smoothly. After every other person at the hotel complained or ran into some trouble (Angel: old customers, Vaggie and Charlie: haters of the hotel, Husk: people in general), (Y/N) had expected to have to stay on their toes. Instead, they had gone into the shop Vaggie asked them to, purchased a non-inappropriate painting, and headed out with enough change to buy themself something.

(Y/N) had seen a café on the way into town, and now the sweets were calling their name as they headed back. Seeing as they never got to treat themself in life, why not do so in death?

(Ironically, so far their death had been better and more filled with friendship than their life had been.)

(Y/N) walked through the streets, pausing only to make sure they had the right directions. Sure, they’d been fine so far, but they weren’t going to test their luck by going anywhere they weren’t supposed to.

(Y/N) passed by a group of demons staring at television screens in a store window, entranced. Curious, (Y/N) paused to glance at the screens.

They were displaying an advertisement for merchandise from the very store they were standing in. People were in a trance watching, and they all immediately rushed inside to purchase what they’d seen advertised.

(Y/N) frowned. Looking at the screens gave them a headache, so (Y/N) turned to walk away. They had a bad feeling about the store and technology—so missing from the hotel—and they weren’t going to ignore that feeling.

No sooner had (Y/N) decided to ignore the screens that one buzzed to life, and sparks jumped from the screen. (Y/N) froze as the sparks formed the body of a man with a TV for a head in front of them on the sidewalk, effectively blocking their path.

Well, shit, I don’t think I’ve successfully avoided trouble, thought (Y/N). It didn’t take a genius to realize this was Vox, who Vaggie had warned them about.

“No interest in any technology?” said Vox with a wide, electric grin.

“Nope.” (Y/N) kept their answer short and curt, trying to get out of the conversation.

“You’re one of the sinners staying at the princess’s hotel,” said Vox, eyes narrowing calculatingly. His smile widened. “I don’t believe you have a phone. Are you sure you don’t need one?” He held out his hand, and a phone was held in it. “Think of it as a welcome gift to Hell.”

“I’m not interested,” said (Y/N), stepping around Vox to attempt an escape from the encounter.

Vox turned immediately, still smiling widely. Apparently, it wasn’t going to be that easy to avoid him. “I’m just trying to support the hotel. Like the Radio Demon.” His smile glitched slightly.

Oh. So that’s what this was. Vox was just trying to get in Alastor’s hair and annoy him.

“Yeah, well, we’re okay,” said (Y/N), taking a step away.

“Are you sure?” One of Vox’s eyes pulsed with energy, and (Y/N)’s headache grew stronger.

“Yes,” said (Y/N) firmly.

“I think that you may want to reconsider,” said Vox, eye still swirling.

“I think I’m fine,” said (Y/N). “So just leave me alone.” They narrowed their eyes.

Vox’s screen sparked, and his eyes narrowed.

Danger, danger!

Sparks flew at (Y/N).

Bam!

A bramble of vines and thorns erupted from the ground and blocked the sparks. (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and Vox sparked.

“What the—”

“My, my, are you bothering one of my guests?”

A shadow loomed over Vox and (Y/N). Vox flinched and looked to see Alastor with a wide, threatening smile.

“Really, Vox, what terrible manners,” said Alastor.

“Radio Demon,” snapped Vox.

“Yes, precisely,” said Alastor. “So run along and leave my guests alone. Really, how unbecoming.” His grin sharpened. “Unless, of course, if you’d like to have another little competition.”

Vox glared, and his screen glitched. However, he wasn’t interested in going toe-to-toe with Alastor again after getting his entire network shut down for a few hours, so with a final angry glare, he dissolved into electricity and disappeared into the TVs he came from.

“Well, what a terrible way to end a day out,” tsked Alastor.

“Yeah,” said (Y/N), making a face.

Alastor looked at the briar sticking up from the ground. “And what might this be?”

(Y/N) stared at it. “It just kind of…appeared.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow. “When Vox threatened you?”

“Uh, yeah,” said (Y/N), touching the vine curiously. It flinched and disappeared back into the ground. “Huh.”

Alastor grinned. “How interesting.”

“What do you mean?” said (Y/N), cocking their head.

“That, my dear, is magic,” said Alastor. His grin had widened in amusement. “It seems you’re going to be an entertaining guest.”

“Oh, yay,” said (Y/N) sarcastically. “That’s exactly what I’m hoping to be.”

Alastor laughed and waved a hand. “Have no fear, have no fear. Why, the entertainment I’m looking for is you struggling with that magic.”

“Thanks,” said (Y/N), still deadpan. “I’ll make sure to practice in front of you so you can laugh.

Alastor grinned. “Why, thank you, dear! Perhaps I’ll even give you a few tips!”

(Y/N) looked at him, rolled their eyes, and shrugged. “Have fun.”

“Oh, I always do,” chirped Alastor. “Now, come, let’s return to the hotel. No point getting into more trouble, even if you’ve discovered magic.” He looked at them. “And I do intend to give you a few tips.”

“Wait, really?” said (Y/N), blinking in surprise.

“Of course. I can’t have my guests being helpless,” said Alastor, twirling his staff.

(Y/N) perked up. “Thanks, Alastor!”

He glanced at them, surprised at the boisterous honesty. He decided not to respond, and the pair walked back towards Hazbin Hotel in silence.

That was fine with (Y/N). They were contemplating finally having some power of their own for their own life.

“Oh, good, you made it back alright!” said Charlie. She smiled at (Y/N). “Vaggie told me she sent you out, and I was worried!”

“I didn’t mind going out. I’m going stir crazy here,” said (Y/N).

“And they have proven themself capable of keeping themself safe,” said Alastor with a grin.

Vaggie frowned. “Wait, did something happen?”

(Y/N) coughed. “You know how you told me to avoid the Vees?”

“Yeah?” said Vaggie, narrowing her eyes.

“Vox decided to pop out of a TV in front of me,” said (Y/N).

“What?!” cried Vaggie.

“Relax, they were fine,” said Alastor. He twirled his staff. “I interceded before anything could happen to them, and Vox’s sparks couldn’t even hurt them.” His grin widened. “They summoned magic of their own.”

“You did?” said Charlie excitedly.

(Y/N) nodded. “Apparently, yeah.”

“That’s awesome!” said Charlie encouragingly.

“Yes, it’s quite unusual,” said Alastor. “And I intend to teach them.”

Everyone froze and stared at Alastor.

“You what?” repeated Charlie, an awkward smile on her face.

“I will be teaching (Y/N) to use their magic. We can’t have them being helpless, now, can we?” Alastor still wore his signature grin, as mischievous as ever.

Oh shit, thought everyone. If there was one thing they knew, it was Alastor taking a liking to the teenager couldn’t be a good thing. It could only spell trouble and mischief.

And, unfortunately for them, (Y/N) wore an excited grin that promised all that trouble and more.

Taglist:

@kyalov

@pandaquick

@boredwithlifeatthispoint

@jaytheaceenby

@paastaboi

@bettybabys

@gxdoesstuff

@grippleback-galaxy

@just-here-reading

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@a-small-tyrant

@marxo5

@rory-cakes

@andsoigotabutterfly

@theblueslytherin

@romyoia

@ray-rook

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sciencebecameouraddiction · 4 months

Note

Could I request a Valentino x Fem! Reader? I know not a lot of people like him because of yk ಥ_ಥ

But basically the hazbin hotel crew are looking for ways to break Angel out of his contract with Valentino and ended up going to the reader because Angel said she was the most tolerable vee-

So reader is one of the vees and is a dance choreographer and owns the souls of her dancer

Anyways the hazbin hotel crew arrived at her studio not knowing the other vees were there. Angel dust noticed them and the crew tried to become unnoticed and eventually saw the reader dancing and dancers watching her steps

The crew get closer to the vees and overhears their conversation, basically Valentino worshipping the reader and the crew is shocked of Valentino's relationship with the reader

Little note; The reader and Valentino are in a relationship ;p

Thank you! 😊

So, first can I say I loved this prompt idea and it was so interesting! Like seriously love this idea.

I can understand why people are wary to write for him and why there’s not a lot of Valentino stuff out there. To be quite honest, I probably won’t write for Val on like my own posting, like the fics/headcannons I create just because and post, but I know there are people who do like him and want to see content so I keep Val as a writing option open in the requests.

All that said, I do LOVE the dynamic you gave here though, so i made the reader a little bit more assertive and definitely gives the vibes she wears the pants in the relationship kinda thing. I think for a healthy relationship, or at least as close to one as possible, who ever is involved with Val has to push back and he has to allow it. Is that respect on his part to allow it or love idk.

This was definitely a challenge for me, but we got it done! I do apologize for this long intro and response, I do really hope you enjoy and thank you for the request!

rating: PG

genre: fluffy/slight angst

characters: Valentino x reader (Val is somewhat OOC)

warnings: talk of how Val treats people, soul owning

“Okay, so, we need a plan!” Charlie said, looking determined standing in front of Angel, Vaggie, Husk, Nifty, Cherri and Alastor. After learning that Sir Pentious was redeemed, Angel wanted to turn over a new leaf and was more serious about redemption. The only thing holding him back, was that Val owned his soul.

“I don’t know if ya goin’ ta be able to pull this off Charlie.” Angel said, looking skeptical.

“That is not the spirit we need! We can do this, we just have to think of a way.” Charlie looked at the group and her eyes fell on Alastor. “Alastor, you’re an overlord. How do we get Angel’s soul back?”

“I could go eat Valentino.” Alastor said, his smile widening.

“No. I don’t want turf war or any war involving us and the Vees.” Vaggie said. Charlie nodded.

“That’s true.” Charlie agreed.

“It would have been more fun.” Alastor said with a shrug.

“For who?” Husk asked, looking at Alastor.

“For me, of course Husker!” Alastor laughed. “Though there is something you can try…” Alastor trailed off.

Everyone looked at him expectantly. “Oh, I figured you all had thought about this already. The moth has a special little toy that does all the media dance choreography, she also owns a studio too. Sweet little thing. Met her in cannibal town a few times as she was passing through.” Alastor mentioned.

“That’s right.” Angel murmured. “I had heard rumors that she was the fourth Vee. She’s an overlord and owns all her dancers souls. She’s crazy powerful.” Angel added.

“Then let’s go talk to her!” Charlie said!

“You talking to people doesn’t always go well.” Nifty popped into the conversation before running off.

“She has a point.” Husk said as Charlie deflated.

“Why don’t we infiltrate one of her classes? Can anyone pull up the schedule, they have to have a class schedule right?” Vaggie looked around as Angel grabbed his phone.

“There’s a class tonight in just a few hours. And she’s leading it.” Angel whispered.

“Okay, so we get in the class. We stay after and we talk to her.” Vaggie planned out. Everyone nodded.

“Okay, let’s get changed and ready for a dance class!” Charlie exclaimed.

——————————————————

It was soon decided after, that Charlie, Vaggie and Angel would be going. Alastor would be close by in case anything was needed, leaving Nifty and Husk at the hotel.

Getting into the dance class was easy. No one recognized them, until they all three stepped into the class and realized that all the Vees were there. Val, Vox and Velvette, all present for this class and Y/N, the fourth Vee, was just standing there chatting away, saying something that the Vees genuinely laughed at. Thankfully, Vox and Velvette left, stating they were going shopping and then would save a seat at some restaurant. Valentino on the other hand sat down near the back, just watching.

You commanded the dancers and the presence of the room effortlessly as she taught new choreography. By the end, even Charlie was impressed as she had learned a lot. Angel on the other hand had never looked happier. This was all he ever wanted to do. Dance and sing, perform. He sighed as class wrapped up and he drank some water, trying to blend in. He happened to hear Valentino and you talking, so he motioned Charlie and Vaggie over to listen.

“You were so fluid baby, and the way that you commanded the room. You showed all those little sluts exactly who’s in charge.” He praised you, and you smiled at him.

“Val, what did we say about not calling my dancers sluts or whores?” You said.

“Uh, not to?” Val asked. You nodded.

“Just because I own their souls or will own their souls doesn’t mean it can’t be respectful.” You responded cleaning up, and picking up on three figures still lingering and doing a pretty shitty job at hiding they were.

“But you own their souls baby. You have to show them who’s boss! And look sexy while doing it!” Val exclaimed.

“Didn’t I show them whose boss, pretty?” You ask Val and cross over to him. “Didn’t you see the way they listened and followed every step of mine?”

“I-uh-yes.” Val stammered out his cheeks aflame.

“Then don’t worry.” You said and cupped his cheek.

“I know, mi amor. I’m just-“ Val starts.

“I know. You’re scared of one of them loosing it on me? Like what happened to you?” You ask and watch Val nod, his eyes closed. “I’ve told you that I think you pushed them too far. Your mind comes up with some of the most interesting yet perverse ideas.” You sigh and grab his hand. “I’m fine. I’ve been an overlord longer than I’ve been with the Vees.” Val nods and kisses your forehead.

“Go on and catch up with Vel and Vox, I’ll be right there.” You say cleaning up.

“But amor, I want to spend more time with you-“ Val protests.

“No, go on, I know you’re hungry and I need to make sure the space is ready for tomorrow. Vel wants to practice that main number.” You say pushing him out. “I won’t be long darlin’. Then we can spend all night together.” You grin at Val.

“You always know just the right thing to say, beautiful. I’ll be timing how long you’re gone.” Val jokes and you roll your eyes.

“Mmmhmmm, go on lover boy.” You wave and watch him leave and wait until he’s out of eye sight.

“You three are bold to come here.” You say still cleaning up. You see the three people stiffen who were waiting around. “You didn’t think I’d notice you?” You ask, flicking your wrist and dropping the curtains and making the video feed loop so Vox couldn’t watch.

“What are you doing here Angel?” You ask walking up to them. His eyes widen and you see two other women with him.

“How do you know who I am?” Angel asks, suspicious.

“Because, you have caused the most fights in mine and Val’s relationship. We almost broke up over you one time.” You say, leaning against the mirrors in the back, all three of their eyes widening. “Not because of his connection to you either doll. Because I don’t like the way he treats you.” Angel looked at you, eyes still wide, almost like he wasn’t believing.

“We’re trying to get Angel’s soul back.” Charlie mentioned.

“And you want that contract from Valentio?” You ask, laughing. “It would take almost prying it out of his cold, dead hands. I don’t know what you’ve done, but you are his favorite.” You shake your head and look at Angel who looks ready to cry. Your eyebrows raise.

“I know. I know I am and I don’t know why. I’ve tried-I’ve tried not to be. When I started this he said I could perform and I wanted to perform. Not like now but sing, ya know. Dance?” Angel’s tears fall over and you nod.

“Is there anything you can do?” Vaggie asks.

“Well I was watching you during class, you’re naturally talented. I could start breaking down Val’s resolve and have him transfer the contract to me, so you could be one of my dancers. My performers. If you worked at it, I could easily put you in my elite group.” You offered. Angel’s eyes widened with hope.

“But it will take some time and you must NOT say a word unless I direct you to. I mean it. Otherwise it will end badly for both of us.” Angel nods and you start walking them out. Alastor appearing in front of you at the door.

“Oh my goodness! Alastor! What are you doing here? Are you finally going to take a class to learn some more modern moves?” You joke and he laughs.

“No, my dancing is just fine dear. I see you found our little infiltrators.” He chuckles.

“I did. You were not kidding when you said Angel was a natural.” You smiled.

“You contacted her before?” Charlie asked.

“Of course! I wanted her to see Angel and how he performs. He’s quite the natural?” Alastor asks.

“Smiles, you didn’t have ta…” Angel trails off.

“I know I don’t have to do anything. I was paying back a favor to a friend of mine who needs some good talent in her group.” Alastor said looking at you. You sigh and half nod.

“The numbers dwindle each year and the talent get halved each year. At try outs I’m lucky if I can get 5 talented new people.” Alastor hums in sympathy as you look outside.

“You all need to get back though. Alastor can you shadow travel them at least out of the area? I fear Vox will be watching to see where I’m at.” You explain and magically draw the curtains getting everything ready for lock up.

“Of course.” Alastor says, looking at the three. They step closer and before anyone can do anything Angel runs to you and hugs you. You stiffen for a moment and the laugh.

“It’s all right honey. We’ll figure it out, just be strong until then all right? I’ll harp on Val to be nicer.” Angel nods and then goes back to the group.

“Pleasure meeting you Princess, Vaggie! I’ll see you around Angel and always good talking to you Alastor!” They wave and are submerged in darkness and gone from your shop. You walk out and lock the front door, seeing the security camera turn to you. You wave and send a text telling the crew you’re on your way. Helping Angel would certainly be a benefit to your dancers when he joined you, and join you he would.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #hazbin hotel valentino x reader #the vees #vees x reader #hazbin valentino #valentino

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gabrielsbubblegumbitch · 4 months

Note

PLZ MORE SILLY VEES HEADCANONS THE LAST ONES MADE MY DAYYYYY

Okay okay I'll try to squeeze a little bit more silly of me, just for you, Anon <333 Because I love making people happy uwu

Velvette and Valentino sometimes end up doing lines of coke off Vox's screen when they're out of flat surfaces. It usually goes something like this:

Vox, look, what's that on the ceiling?! Okay, wait, now don't move... OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE! Chill, it's not like you don't use my body for your pleasure. Yeah, God gave you this flat face for a reason. We all have our purpose

Valentino is kinda like that friend who went to therapy once and only remembered the part where his feelings and boundaries are super important.

Stop being mean to me! I'm not being mean, I just told you not to kill that waiter. I have FEELINGS. *sigh* We know, Val. AND YOU ARE MAKING THEM S A D. We know, Val.

Valentino once came up with the idea that Vox's pornstar name should be voXXXy. He keeps bringing it up every once in a while, still hoping Vox will agree to have a cameo in one of his movies.

Vox once surprised Valentino with this cheeky red lingerie set. When Val caught on it was basically a Sexy Alastor Costume, Vox ended up couch-surfing for a week.

Whenever Vox doesn't pay enough attention to him, Valentino messes with his Excel sheets, inserting random '69' or '420' here and there, or pasting some of his sexy photos in Vox's Very Important PowerPoint About KPIs.

When Velvette is bored, she comes up with the dumbest ways to die and then asks her succubi friends (since succubi are some of the demons legally allowed to travel to the mortal realm) to start them on TikTok. She's incredibly proud whenever she learns that some soul ended up in hell because of her challenges.

This one time, stumbling home after a party, Vox was like:

Val, Vel, you guys can draw, right? How 'bout I pay you hundred bucks for a big-ass graffiti? What graffiti BIG! Saying what? FUCK ALASTOR AHAHAHAHAHA *hick*

They were cackling like evil children while painting it. It is still there somewhere in Pentagram City, absolutely beautiful.

Vox likes to come up with silly names for his products that are almost cartoonishly evil, because he's a silly evil guy. So, he will market those Cereal Killers to the kids in hell.

#velvette hazbin #hazbin hotel #valentino #vox #voxval #vox hazbin #staticmoth #velvette #valentino hazbin #the vees #headcanon #ask #these and my super angsty fic can and in fac do coexist

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lovelybrooke · 4 months

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IT IS I!! Now that I’ve written about Vox Val and Carmilla I will finally attempt my interpretation of ALASTOR. So just letting you know I was about to send this multiple times within the week but was never satisfied, and so this is an attempt :), I might send in more stuff if I feel this isn’t detailed enough/ incomplete.

Alastor see’s the reader as a fun little puzzle at first, putting them on the stop and trying to figure out what was going on in that little head of theirs, to him this was just entertainment, he really couldn’t care less about the reader, he just saw them as something to keep him entertained if he’s free or bored.

He only really starts to actually like the reader once their a little more comfortable, at least comfortable enough to engage in conversation with Alastor himself or the group, their views on the world, the hotel and whatever is insightful, he finds he actually likes conversing with them even if they don’t agree on most things, the fact that they’re so kind and helpful to everyone, even those who wronged them, intrigues and confuses him, but that isn’t a bad thing, it must just mean that they’re naive and ignorant, he reckons they haven’t actually seen the bad In people. Except he’s wrong, and he learns this during one of their small conversations (with or without the group), the reader spoke about it so casually, their neglect and abuse, it was completely fine to them, they still insist on being kind and helpful to the people who’ve wronged them. Suddenly it isn’t that they’re ignorant, or that they have just been surrounded by good, in a way they’re like him in a way, treated unjustly. (His backstory has yet to be explored but I’m going off of what Vivziepop shared relating to his mother’s death and his weird moral code).

Not to say reader is determined but in Alastor’s mind the reader’s perspective of life is a reflection on their own motivations, and he’s impressed, he might see parts of the reader in charlie but still thinks the reader is distinct in a way Charlie isn’t, they want to help but they aren’t out there, they help in ways that people don’t notice. (I have some examples but I’m shit at explaining so I’ll leave this somewhat up to interpretation) and now that he’s realized this he reflects back to old conversations and realizes how careful they are, not just because they’re anxious but they’re always paying attention, doing little actions that Alastor hadn’t realized is supposed to cater to him.

And now Alastor is really paying attention, is the reader naive? Yes, but they’re so thoughtful in everything they do that he just can’t help but keep watching them, he feels like he’s the only one who’s able to properly guide them, without taking advantage of them. He talks to Rosie about how insightful and clever the reader is, how lovely their company is and so on.

Then he finally notices the Vees watching, as it is he was obsessed but that amplified the second there was competition, suddenly he realizes that someone else could take someone he cares for away from him, and although he always knew there were people out to get him, he didn’t think those same people would want to snatch you.

And me personally I think, every time he feels his relationship with the reader is threatened he’ll become more and more obsessed, more possessive.

ANYWAY IM DONE! I decided to look at some stuff In the canon au master list which helped me a lot :) :), you are free to disagree with anything I wrote thank you for listening!!! (Please pardon any typos)

Omg more stuff I love it.

This was exactly how I viewed Alastor's obsession with reader. Like he views them as a puzzle and wants figure out how/why they're in hell, why they're so nice, what exactly is going on in their head.

And as time goes on this obsession grows and grows, so when he learns that no, reader isn't naive, they've gone through so shit and try their hardest to see the good in people, he's like, genuinely surprised, which is a first for him.

And you're right, Alastor has this idea that he's readers favorite person so when the Vee's and the other overlords start showing interest in reader he becomes way, way more obsessed.

I hope you're writing your own stuff because you're genuinely such an amazing writer, please keep sending stuff in I love it.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #platonic yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel

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hangmanbrainrot · 2 years

Text

more than this

a/n: HI. Me again! After talking with @rosiahills22, I simply HAD to give this idea a whirl. I hope y’all enjoy! Reader’s callsign is Van Gogh (to be explained) and I don’t use Y/N. :) special thanks to @bradshawsbitch for the encouragement. :’)

warnings: so much mutual pining, dash of angst toward the end. Generally, all my posts are 18+ because I don’t want minors interacting with my page! Probably naval inaccuracies.

word count: 3975

summary: You and Jake have been best friends for years now… Why mess with a good thing?

pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader, Jake Seresin x Aviator!Reader — callsign: Van Gogh

“Vee, you aren’t seriously wearing that to Family Day.”

You glanced down at your striped sleep pants and faded Navy t-shirt, then whirled around to look up at the oh so familiar source of the question. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, in the flesh. He was wearing a navy blue t-shirt, jeans, and black leather-banded watch on his wrist. His signature toothpick was missing from its usual post between his lips.

“You clean up nice,” you retorted, ignoring his initial remark. “And I thought we agreed, no call signs today.”

You ‘tsk’ed at him and turned back toward your laundry basket, then bending to pick it up and hold it at your hip.

“You have one of the coolest callsigns, besides mine, of course. What’s wrong with Van Gogh?”

“I got it because I dropped my books and everyone saw all the doodles in the margins of my notes. And it doesn’t even make sense, because Van Gogh was a painter. At least yours has a cool story, I mean—”

He said your name, low and sweet, to cut you off. The two of you weren’t about to rehash that story again.

“Better.” This earned you a smile. “I told you, I’m not going this year. I’m just gonna hang out here, take advantage of the empty lounge, and chill.”

“And I told you, my mother demanded to see you. In fact, I’d dare say she’s more excited to see you than she is to see me.”

“Can you blame Mrs. Seresin for having taste?” you replied easily, the teasing lilt to your voice unmistakable as you flashed Jake a megawatt smile.

“I’m absolutely telling on you, when I see her. ‘Mrs. Seresin’ instead of Sandy, as requested.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you shot back, mock horror covering your features.

“Can, could, and would. Get dressed, Vee. Families will be here before you know it!”

The way that Jake departed after speaking let you know it wasn’t up for debate.

———————————————————————————————————

You heard Jamie and Courtney before you saw them, their familiar, slightly shrill voices carrying over the crowd of people all waiting for their own aviator to make an appearance. Jake’s older and younger sisters had always treated you like the additional sibling they’d never had, but on a day like today, it made your heart ache. You knew, of course, not everyone was lucky enough to find a kind family to adopt them the way the Seresins had adopted you. Even Robert Seresin himself — gruff as he was, he had a you-sized soft spot, much like his son. Though good luck getting either of the Seresin men to admit it.

You smiled as you spun on your heel, ready to retreat. Content to revel in the knowledge that you were loved, but too heavy-hearted to witness it today. You’d beat Jake here, somehow, so maybe you could slip out without his notice, either. Come up with some feeble story about suddenly coming down with a migraine, and nurse your ache alone, with your mounds of freshly laundered clothing, once you were sure he and his family had departed for the day.

But instead of proceeding forward, you collided with navy cotton and ginger and leather and… Jake. Had he always smelled this good?

“Hi, I was just,” you pushed out, before being interrupted. Why were you so nervous, all of a sudden? It was just Jake.

“Trying to ditch me. Darlin’, my feelings are hurt.” The tips of your ears burned red with embarrassment, even as your stomach did backflips over the way his accent thickened on the word ‘darlin’.’

“Sorry, Jake.” You didn’t even have the wherewithal to hide the giggle leaking into your words. But you were smart enough to play it off. “I was just going to get a jacket.”

“Vee, it’s July.”

“Yes, I do have a calendar and I can read!” Your eye roll was practically involuntary. “I just get cold sometimes in the AC.”

A lopsided grin slid onto his features while he aimed a pointer finger at himself. “Human furnace. Let’s go!”

Before you could protest, he was slinging an arm around your shoulders and all but crushing you into his side. “I think this outfit is much more appropriate for a trip off base.” It sounded like he was testing the compliment. And, truthfully, you liked this particular combination of white cap-sleeve blouse and jeans quite a bit yourself, too. But it was nice of him to notice. Then again, you couldn’t recall a time when Jake hadn’t noticed you, not since the beginning of your friendship. He was just always so checked in with you. Always so present. If you squinted, you could call it attentiveness.

“Jacob Michael Seresin, it is rude to keep your mother waiting! And where is — there she is, there’s my girl.”

Before either of you could inhale, a head of blond hair identical to Jake’s came bounding toward you, Sandra Seresin bundling you up in her arms like she hadn’t seen you in years, rather than the months it had been since the last time she had seen you via FaceTime.

You hugged Sandy a little tighter, as if you were afraid you would disappear if you let go. If it weren't for this woman and her family, holding onto you — in more ways than one — you often feared no one would remember you at all. No one to be on the receiving end of a phone call or a folded flag, if you didn't make it home one day. You would just… cease to exist. Quietly. Perhaps that was fitting, considering that was exactly how you lived your life.

You were your parents' only child, and they were gone. Well, your father was, anyway. Your mother never recovered after his sudden death, and had taken to self-medicating to ease the pain of his loss. Which, sure, you got, once you were old enough, but you were still small and new to the world, when the light that was your father went out. No one is ready to lose a parent they're close to, but certainly not when they're five. And it felt like you'd lost her, too, by the time you were 10. Moved out by the time you were 16. So, she wasn't gone, but there was no relationship to be had. You knew, of course, that if something did happen to you, they'd find her. But who would she be mourning? You had lived a whole life she knew nothing about; you had become an entirely new person. Someone she knew nothing about, but that the Seresins knew like the backs of their hands. Courtney was filling your hands with your favorite candy on the walk to the parking lot, and Jamie's kids were telling you about how they were doing in school.

Maybe someone, maybe a few someones would remember you. And fondly, you hoped.

At the height of the day, the sun was relentless, but as you walked beside Jake in the parking lot, you couldn't help noticing it made his hair the perfect shade of blond, and rendered his eyes the color of sea-glass.

"You know they just missed you," he chirped, misreading your expression and mistaking your melancholy for annoyance.

"No, no," you said softly. "It's nice to be missed. I just.."

"Today is hard," he finished your sentence matter-of-factly, and without any sort of air of pity. You heard, in its place, respect. He had no idea how you felt, but he'd always left space in your friendship for you to feel it. And, in true Jake fashion, he'd tried to fix it, by introducing you to his family, all those years ago, now. You'd only known each other a few months, then. But he didn't want you to be alone. And, the truth was, you hadn't been. Not since the moment you met him. All you ever felt when you were with Jake was ease. Comfort.

Your hand found Jake’s without thinking, eyes burning with unshed tears. “You’re my best friend, Jake. And I will not hesitate to kick your ass if you tell anyone how soft I got.”

You glanced over at Jake just in time to watch an unreadable emotion cloud his expression. Before you had time to think it over, he was squeezing your hand. “I’ll always keep all your secrets, Vee. Including that you prefer green Jolly Ranchers, even though blue are clearly superior.”

—————

The Seresins took you and Jake to a small diner off base, and it was today that you learned it was Jake’s favorite. You all sat in a booth toward the back, bunched up together in the cushioned semi-circle bench. Jake’s warm thigh brushed against yours, and you’d be lying if you didn’t notice the jolt that went through you, every time those thick cords of muscle pressed against you when he laughed, or when he reached forward to grasp one of the menus wedged between the matching salt and pepper shakers on the table.

With an arm lazily draped on the booth behind you, fingers loosely grazing your shoulder every so soften, Jake opened a menu for you to share.

“Well, what do you think, darlin’?”

“How did I not know this was your favorite place?” You asked, ignoring the question he was obviously asking you.

But he indulged you. “This was the first year I actually convinced you to come with us.”

“Convinced? I felt slightly bullied, Seresin.” You grinned, in spite of yourself.

“Forgive me for wanting to spend a little time with you, darlin’.” He sounded almost coy. You glanced up at him, at the same time he looked over at you, and found that ‘butterflies’ were an understatement for what that look was currently doing to your insides. It felt like a cross between adoration and desire, but what was even wilder was that Jake’s expression seemed to mirror your own — which was absurd because it was Jake. Jake, who always made sure you never got left behind; Jake, who sometimes pulled his punches with you when he was ragging on you over the comms. Yeah, that Jake, your Jake was looking at you like… that?

But then you heard Jake’s dad clear his throat from across the table and you and Jake glanced up like you’d been caught doing something far less innocuous. Your mind worked overtime trying to decipher what just happened here but the moment flickered and burnt out before you, and the conversation moved on like a film unpaused.

Despite the fact that his entire family was here, it felt like Jake couldn’t bear to take his eyes off you for a moment, not that you were complaining. And it was something his mother noticed, too.

“So, between the two of you, who do you think is the better pilot?” Courtney teased, a mischievous glint visible in the hazel of her irises.

But then Jake said your name at the same time you said his, causing you both to turn to each other in surprise, mouths agape.

“Stop being modest,” he accused, almost immediately. Part of you wanted to make special note of this moment, record it somehow. So that the next time Jake decided to have a pissing contest with some other pilot, you could chime in and remind him it didn’t matter, since he thought you were the best anyway. You went to shove at his chest, but your hand — and your heart — stuttered with you made contact. He was so solid. Just firm muscle and warm skin. When your gaze dared drift upward, he was blushing. Your comment, voicing the observation, would die on your lips, as your server returned to the table with a tray full of milkshakes. Leave it to Jamie to secure dessert when you weren’t looking.

—————

When the meal had run its course and everyone was preparing for the trip back to base, you couldn’t help but hang back a little bit, just to take it all in. Jake was indulging Courtney in one of those rare, long bear hugs, while Jamie and his mother ran off to the bathroom, and his dad made small talk with another patron seated at the diner’s counter. In spite of your resistance, this family had yanked you, kicking and screaming, into their lives. Whether you’d found them or they’d found you didn’t matter, what mattered was the moment unfolding before you. You wished you could wrap it around you and let it warm you from the inside out.

You weren’t sure when Jake had released Courtney to return to your side, or when the rest of his family had filtered out the diner’s front doors, so you jumped when you heard his voice from beside you.

“You okay, sugar?” He was close enough that you could smell the tang of his cologne — softer than before, but still present — and feel the body heat rolling off of him in waves. You practically ached with the desire to move, to be touching him in some way, and the ferocious way this feeling roared to life within you startled you. Instead of giving in to that yearning to touch, you spun around and put some distance between you, eyes trained on him. You were desperate to find out what had changed, but when you gazed into Jake’s eyes. You just saw him, you just felt him. Nothing else had changed. But maybe nothing had needed to. High stakes situations meant you were constantly filtering out your emotions: keep, alter, discard; keep, alter, discard. You rifled through feelings often before you took a breath. It felt silly to question whether or not you’d simply overlooked or ignored your feelings for your best friend all along, but what else could be true? It wasn’t the way you felt about him that was new; no, it was the sudden impulse to do something about it that felt like an unscratchable itch.

You took a nearly imperceptible step closer, and Jake mirrored your actions. He said your name softly, cautiously.

But then, from behind: “Hey, is everybody else outside?”

Jamie’s voice was like cold water to the face. Still, you nodded, regaining the distance between yourself and Jake. You blinked a few times, as if you were hitting some sort of invisible reset button in your mind.

Keep, alter, discard.

You were silent, the entire ride back to base. You went through the motions of ‘see-you-next-time’’s and ‘take-care’’s, and stood in the parking lot until Robert’s truck was completely out of view.

“Thanks for today,” you mumbled, without looking up at Jake, then spinning on your heels to head back inside. There was still enough of the day that you could get your laundry done if you headed straight in and got to work, you just had to —

Jake’s hand on your wrist stopped you in your tracks. Your skin was tingling where his fingers were wrapped around you. Jaw set, you clenched, mouth forming a straight line. You were back on base now; you were back to being naval aviators. There wasn’t any room for these silly little schoolgirl feelings Jake inspired in you. You didn’t get to twirl your hair and bat your eyelashes and fall head over heels for your best friend. Instead, you got to linger somewhere painfully between ‘duty bound’ and ‘already in over your head.’

“What is it, Jake?” You hadn’t yet turned to face him, and that was an offense he didn’t take lightly to; though instead of waiting for you to rectify the situation, he does so himself. It was so very like him.

“Look at me, please.” The raw edge to his voice startled you into compliance.

You turned and regretted it immediately.

“What did I do?” His eyes were so soft, so entirely unguarded. A fear you didn’t recognize was plain on his face. “How can I fix it?”

“It’s nothing, Jake.”

But he was not convinced by your sighed syllables. “That’s bullshit.” Even the way he spoke was gentle, like he was afraid you’d evaporate from the sheer force of his words if he spoke too loudly.

“Something changed, after lunch, something… Something happened,” he continued. “Did Jamie say something to you? Court?”

A short burst of laughter punched out of you, but it sounded colder than you imagined, and Jake stepped back like you’d slapped him. Fear was replaced by irritation. You recognized that particular crease in his brow, but you resolved that this was good. Maybe he needed to hate you a little, so you could get over whatever was most definitely not happening here.

“What?” You laughed again, though this time it sounded more forced than before. “Did you expect me to go all weak-kneed because you saved me, Jake? Showed me what a real family was like? Would you like me to grovel with gratitude now, or can I save that for later?”

And you regretted the words the moment you said them, instantly spiraling. It was vicious and careless, but a low enough blow that it would end things — it would fix things, once and for all. But then that feeling from earlier returned, that burning at the back of your throat and the sting in your eyes. You understood now that what you were feeling was loss; you were preparing for the loss of your best friend. Prematurely, perhaps, but if you knew Jake at all, you knew it wasn’t that premature. He let the others think he was a jerk and a blowhard but, to you, he admitted to the real softness of his heart. The purity of it. It was you he sat beside, shaking with worry after Phoenix and Bob went down after a bird strike. You, he called when his niece got a case of the flu so bad she was hospitalized and he couldn’t see her. You, he pleaded with for help when he’d mouthed off too much in class and was pretty sure everyone hated him now. You knew everything he did was so startlingly fucking earnest. To question how genuine he was, to question his integrity, was the kind of wound that could only be delivered intimately. And you had done it so very well. A real stab and twist.

You mumbled an apology, just desperate to escape Jake and that angry, but somehow still pleading look in his eyes. It was when your back was turned that Jake finally spoke.

“God, I have to be so fucking stupid.”

“Jake, don’t,” you said, stilled but not turning back around. Your pride wouldn’t let him see you cry.

“No, I must be. I must be a complete fucking idiot to have misread all the signs that you… That we want the same thing.”

You didn’t dare speak at first; you couldn’t. And then, when you did, the ragged nature of your breathing startled even you. “And what is it that you think we both want?”

“More than this, Vee!” He sounded exasperated, and you didn’t need to face him to know that Jake had run a frustrated hand through his hair. “More than tiptoeing around each other and how we feel about each other, and trying to pretend like, like…”

“Trying to pretend like what?” The words ripped out of you like a sob and you couldn’t will yourself to be still anymore. Your body angled toward his like you were fucking magnetized.

“Trying to pretend like I am not in love with you.”

The words landed like lead around you, and you had to bite back a sob. When that wasn’t enough to muffle the sound, you slapped a palm to your mouth.

He had done it. He had taken that big thing, wrestled it into submission, and then laid it bare in front of you. But, more than that, he’d laid himself bare in front of you. He was more naked now than he’d ever been in any locker room. This was Jake at his most honest.

And you could feel yourself teetering so dangerously on the edge of giving in. Your breaths heaved in and out of you with great effort.

What if you ruined this? What if he left you? What if, what if, what if…

God, but what if you didn’t? What if, for once, something just fucking worked out, and someone just stayed? If there was anyone in your life who was capable of staying, wouldn’t it be Jake? Who else could it be?

Your resolve was so thin, so fragile; when you finally spoke, it was: “Jake, I’m scared.”

He took a step toward you. He could’ve closed the gap between your bodies in a singular stride, but he was giving you an out. One last chance to walk away. You remained anchored to your spot on the pavement. When he took the final step toward you, he had a palm raised to frame your face — he was shaking, but he rested his forehead against yours, too. And that was Jake, in a nutshell. Scared, but pushing forward. It was one of the things you admired, one of the things you loved most about him.

“Don’t be scared, Vee.” The plea was soft, softer than a prayer. “Don’t be scared. Whatever there is to figure out, we’ll figure it out together. We can make this work.”

“And if we can’t?”

“We’ll figure that out together, too.”

Even as your every survival instinct was telling you not to, even as all you wanted to do was run, you leaned in. The kiss was a little clumsy — he hadn’t been ready, you were too nervous. But then your hand found purchase against his chest, and one of his at your hip. And then you were practically tugging each other closer; your lips fitting together more seamlessly. How had you held out this long? How had you deprived yourself of this?

Jake retracted, eyes wild and bright when he looked at you. As his lips sloped into a grin, you knew something was coming.

“Ma’am, I’m not sure if you heard me, but…”

“Oh, you mean your little love confession?” you reveled in the flush that crept up his neck and the laugh that fled your now kiss-swollen lips as a result.

Though realization seemed to darken his expression, and his eyes left yours. The loss was one you felt immediately.

“What?”

Jake must have felt the tension begin to seep into your body, because his thumb began to press slow, soothing circles against your hip.

“Vee, I know you don’t need me to save you. You have never needed to be saved by anyone.” His brow furrowed a moment, and the hand still cradling your face dropped to meet the other at your hips. “But if you want to be… If you want someone else to help you carry all that weight on your shoulders. Well, that would be okay, too, alright?”

You weren’t certain, but when Jake met your gaze once again, you were almost positive there were tears welling in his eyes. The sight of his vulnerability rendered you speechless, so you nodded mutely, then managed a small ‘okay.’ It was instinctive for you to rest your forehead against Jake’s chest and allow his arms to envelope you in his embrace. More so than ever before.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been standing there when you finally spoke up again. “Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I love you.”

He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. Instead, he dropped a kiss on the top of your head, and tightened his arms around you. And maybe, just maybe, you thought… this wouldn’t be so bad. Whether it was 20 minutes or 20 years, you wanted as much of Jake as he was willing and able to give.

Keep, alter, discard? You were definitely keeping this feeling.

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman angst #hangman fluff

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