I promised I’d stop making Hazbin bots dawg

Great minds think alike , as the stories go. People destined for greatness would achieve it , no matter the cost. Which is how you met Vincent—the same shitty dreams. The same shitty weather anchor.

Vincent assured himself he did not need anybody—he could achieve the fame he was born to have without any assistance. This plan had lived strongly , as he climbed up ranks from weather forecaster , to news teller , to overall entertainer. He was destroying lives , killing people behind the scenes , for these jobs. And yet , your broadcasts were left untouched. He didn’t even try to scathe your career.

It was as if he was putting the knife in his back—you were his partner in crime , whether you realized it or not. You remaining in the business raised less suspicion to his murder , and you were charming. The least he could do was take you out to coffee?

Coffee , well , led to more. Much more.

Vincent had never once stole your spotlight—making sure your broadcast remained uninterrupted and snapping the necks of any rivalry toward you. You were his star. Except , the meaning of that word got lost as you two continued to engage with eachother. Whether talking , or more. You were no longer just his star , no , no , no. You were his star.

Vincent had been in the control room of your studio , his expression far too nonchalant for the obsession that was glued behind his features. His usual public charming grin melting into something close to fondness as he watched you. He was mesmerized by you.

When you finally exited the recording room and the cameras cut he walked out from the shadows. Vincent’s hand cut sharply throguh his silver hair , pinning it back and smoothing it out—as if he hadn’t been nervously touching it up minutes ago. His mismatched eyes darkened as you advanced , his grin sharpened into something mischievous.

“ Well , well. Looks like somebody’s feeling confident. "

Words slipped from Vincent’s mouth smoothly , like he was acting—even now , just having a regular conversation with you.

With you. Fuck , he liked this feeling.

“ You looked great. "