Welcome <333
est. Nov 17, 2025.
Hey! My name is Daniella, and this is where I write. Temporary pinned until I get my life together, but I hope you enjoy what I write.
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@daniellaspen
Welcome <333
est. Nov 17, 2025.
Hey! My name is Daniella, and this is where I write. Temporary pinned until I get my life together, but I hope you enjoy what I write.
Me after actually ignoring the poll and immediately writing and posting all three fics for Vox, Vincent, and Alastor.
I saw the 700 VOTES and was pressured. LOL. love you guys! :))
Trouble in Paradise -- Vox x Reader My Fakest Condolences -- Vincent Whittman x Reader Welcome to New Orleans -- Alastor x Reader
<333
๐๐ เฃชห ึด๐ Welcome to New Orleans.
โ Human Alastor x Fem!Reader โ Summary: You moved to New Orleans in pursuit of a happier life. During your first week there, you meet a charming young man named Alastor, who offers to show you around.
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Alastor was far from holy.
And yet, he sat front row in the church's pews, every Sunday morning.
Truthfully, Alastor's pristine church attendance had nothing to do with the Lord, or even public appearances. It was just one of many ways that Alastor continued to honor his dear mother, long after her passing.
Growing up, Alastor's mother would urge him awake every morning at 6'oclock sharp. She would prepare him an outfit that both adhered to the Louisiana heat, and equally demonstrated admiration towards the Lord.
"There's a reason the term 'Sunday Best' exists." She would explain to young Alastor, as he would frequently complain about having to wear anything other than his lounge wear.
Complain, but never refute.
As again, Alastor had always adored his mother more than anything in the world. And he always would.
That's part of why you caught Alastor's eye so promptly. As he sat in his normal spot, waiting for service to begin, he caught a glimpse of your hair. It flowed against the wind slightly, as the church always kept it's windows open to encourage the breeze. It framed your face well, and looked so elegant resting on your shoulders.
And that's exactly what made Alastor so intrigued with you โ the fact that your hair was undone โ not neatly tucked away in a bun, as all the other women sorted their hair for Sunday mornings.
And Alastor never batted an eye about it. After all, even with the occasional breeze welcomed through the windows, it would still grow hot in the building. Which wouldn't be any different from the normal heat, if it wasn't for the collection of bodies that pressed together in one room, all seated for upwards of two hours. This preacher did thrill in preaching.
Matter-a-fact, Alastor only ever saw one other woman who dared leave her hair down in this chapel, and it was his mother.
"You're not hot?" Alastor called out to you with a teased voice, to which you turned to face him in response.
At first glance, Alastor realized why your hair was down. It was because you had never been inside this chapel before, and likely had never been in New Orleans as a whole before. A fact he deduced as he had never seen your face before.
New Orleans was a community. Oftentimes not the healthiest community, but a community nonetheless. Everyone knew everyone within a twenty minute range, and Alastor noted to himself that he would have remembered laying his eyes upon a face as beautiful as yours.
Before you could respond, however, the preacher approached from behind you. He placed his hand on your shoulder, and encouraged you to approach Alastor.
"I tried to warn her it'll be hot in here, but she'll learn," the preacher answered for you with a smile. "She's a-new."
"I figured such. I had never seen her before," Alastor responded to the preacher, before turning to face you directly. Alastor bowed his head slightly in respect of you, a common gesture back then. "It's a pleasure to meet you, miss. My name is Alastor. What's your name?"
You responded by introducing yourself, your tone bubbly, but your body language reflected how shy you were.
"She's my niece," the preacher added. "Her ma and pa ain't the best. So she came down here to live with me. She's quite beautiful, isn't she?" The preacher made a point to add, which you blushed out of embarrassment.
"Uncle Jim!" You exclaimed, voice cracking out of surprise. Alastor chuckled in response, before assuring you.
"Don't act coy, your Uncle is correct, Miss. You are quite beautiful." Alastor complimented, causing your blush to turn into one of flattery.
"Ohโ! Well, thank you, Mr. Alastor." You breathed, as Alastor took note of your sweet little mannerisms.
"No problem. I'd offer to show you around, but I'm assuming you know all there is to know by now." Alastor offered, secretly hoping that he would be proven incorrect.
Oftentimes, when Alastor was initially spoken to, the words he received were delivered with slight aggression. Unfortunately, racism was still a looming existence in the 1930s, that always found a way of piercing at him.
Considering how charming Alastor was, he would usually talk himself into being an exception whenever such aggression was presented to him. Although, if the side remarks were ever outrageously disrespectful or continuous, the mouth that uttered such words at him would soon never utter a thing again. Funny how that works.
But Preacher Jim had never said a single remark towards Alastor, or his mother. Which is why Alastor remained so devoted to Jim's church after his mother's passing, rather than switching to another one. And as Alastor spoke to you, he noticed the softness in every word. Not a single aggression or ulterior motive in sight.
You reminded him of a sweet little doe.
"She would actually love to have you show her 'round," Preacher Jim answered, as he motioned for you to take a seat next to Alastor. "This is her first time down here at all. And this is only her second day."
Alastor's brow quirked in appeasement, as he smiled at you, now seated beside him.
"Oh really?" Alastor inquired, as you smiled back at him.
"Yes, it's true," you confirmed. "I'd love to have you show me around. If you would want to."
"It would be my pleasure, dear." Alastor assured, as you took note of him calling you 'dear.' It wasn't unusual to be called a little pet name, but hearing it come from this handsome stranger made your heart skip a beat.
"I'mma get ready for preachin'!" Preacher Jim announced to the both of you, before stepping away. "Don't be a-kissin' on my pews."
Your gloved hand immediately covered your mouth in surprise, as you watched Alastor become flustered as well.
"I...I am so sorry about my Uncle." You awkwardly giggled out, lowering your hand from your face. "He...just really wants me to have a boyfriend. For some reason."
"You don't have one already? No long-distance lover for you to letter back to?" Alastor inquired, watching for your expression to change.
"No. I don't. The boys back in my hometown are quite mean." You clarified, as Alastor hummed quietly in response.
"Well, I'm pleased to assure you that I am not mean." Alastor promised, as you scanned his face, admiring his features.
"Did you really mean what you said earlier? About me being beautiful?" You asked meekly, praying to the Lord that Alastor would say yes.
"I have eyes, don't I?" Alastor responded teasingly, as you heard your Uncle approach the pulpit.
You smiled, whispering in response: "Thank you, handsome."
Clearly, you were going to love New Orleans.
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This is my first ever time writing Alastor !! Felt weird to write him instead of Vox or Vincent, lol.
If you liked my story, please please please comment! I read them all and it encourages me to keep writing! Thank you!!
๐๐ เฃชห ึด๐ Trouble in Paradise.
โ Vox x Fem!Reader โ Summary: You and Vox get into an argument after you keep him waiting. ( HAPPY ENDING, of course! )
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You had promised Vox that you would meet him at Dante's Inferno, 5'oclock sharp, for dinner.
And you had intended to keep that promise.
Emphasis on the word...intended. Because although you had never expected yourself to run late, hell met you with a pleasant surprise today. Around noon, you received a call from one of your friends who was always busy. She told you that she had the afternoon free, and was wondering if you'd like to spend it with her.
Ecstatic, you agreed, and the pair of you floated around Pentagram City. You two did everything from shopping to watching the latest VoxMedia Film.
"Do you know anything about this movie? Since, you know, your boyfriend is Vox himself." Your friend chuckled, as the two of you sat together in the theater.
"No. I don't even go to that side of the tower. And Vox obviously doesn't have a hand on any of these films, so." You responded with a smile.
Overall, it turned out to be one of the best afternoons you've had in a long time.
But unfortunately, in the midst of everything the pair of you had done, you lost track of time. You sat in the back of one of Vox's limos, as you and your friend had been driven around inside it all afternoon. And after you had your friend dropped off, and you waved goodbye, you asked the limo driver what time it was.
"It's 4:56, ma'am." The driver responded, as he pulled out of your friend's neighborhood and began to head for Dante's Inferno.
Not even accounting for all the possible mishaps that would happen along the way โ as it is hell โ it would take you twenty minutes to reach Dante's Inferno. You were going to be late. You felt a twinge of guilt, as you immediately pulled out your phone to text your boyfriend.
You: Hiii babe! So sorry! I lost track of time. It's going to be about twenty minutes before I get there. I'm on the way though. I love you!!
Checking Vox's location, he was at the restaurant already. Obviously he was, the pair of you had agreed on 5'oclock. But after switching back to your shared messages, you noticed that although Vox didn't text you, he read your message. You sighed, as it was a clear indicator that your boyfriend was mad at you.
You arrived at Dante's Inferno at 5:30.
Fiddling with your dress as you stepped inside, you greeted the waiter stationed at the entrance with a smile. He smiled back at you, leading you to the private table where your boyfriend was sitting. No verbal exchange was ever needed here. Vox took you to Dante's a lot, as he thrilled in both the menu they had, and how even dining there was a significant flaunt of wealth.
Turning the corner, you smiled once Vox was in your view. He looked handsome as always, wearing a new suit that looked ravishing on him, but still humble in comparison to other suits he owned.
But your smile didn't remain authentic for long. You thanked the waiter as he stepped away, and as you sat down at the table, you were immediately crushed by the weight of tensioned silence.
"You look so handsome, baby. I love your new suit." You praised, as Vox finally looked up at you. His eyes had remained lowered, fixated on the menu the entire time.
"Thanks," your boyfriend responded flatly. "What a shame you couldn't have seen it earlier."
Your smile turned into a frown, as you felt guilty for keeping your boyfriend waiting.
"I'm sorry." You responded. "I was hanging out with Mandy all afternoon, and I lost track of time. I'll have to show you what I bought! She got this pink skirt, and I got a blue one, of course. For you. And we even saw that new VoxMedia film of yoursโ"
"All that and you didn't even text me?" Vox interrupted, his tone reflecting his discontentment.
"But I did text you?" You answered, confused. "I told you I was running lateโ"
"You didn't tell me you were spending the afternoon with that girl. I had to look at your location to see you were at some random store in Pentagram City, and I had to look at the cameras to see who you were with." Vox interrupted again.
"Yeah. Exactly. You looked at my location, and you tapped into the city's cameras. As you always do. Why would I need to tell you that I'm leaving the tower when you watch me constantly?" You countered, your own patience starting to wither.
"It's a sign of respect. So is being on time." Vox explained harshly, as your eyes widened in frustration.
"Okay! I don't know why you're making such a big deal of this?! This is the first and only time I've ever kept you waiting for anything! But I can count at least four times in the last month alone you've told me 'hey babe! I'll be back at nine' or 'doll, can you fix me lunch for 1' and you were late. And I never said a thing, because I know you're a busy man. But you're going to throw a tantrum about this?!" You huffed, as now Vox's eyes widened at your 'audacity.'
"Are you fucking kidding me? Yeah, you understand. Because when I'm late, it's because I'm working to build a future and fucking provide for us. Not because I'm galivanting around the Pentagram with some bitch." Vox asserted, as your mouth widened at Vox's words.
"You're the fucking CEO of VoxTek! You know damn well you can leave something a little early to honor the time you told me, and still provide for us just fine!" You were enraged at this point. But unfortunately, so was your boyfriend. "And I know you did not just call my friend 'some bitch!' Are you kidding me? I'm always so respectful of Val and Velvette and this is how you treat my friends in return?"
Vox stumbled over his words as he attempted to counter you, but you did not allow him to babble for long.
"You know what? Forget this date!" You spat out, as you stood from your chair and began to walk away.
"You're seriously not about to fucking walk away from me?!" Vox yelled at you, as he stood up from his chair.
"Really? Watch me." You dared, as you strutted past all the other tables, leaving the restaurant with such an attitude that no one dared question you.
You knew that Vox was trailing behind you, but you didn't care. Once you finally reached the limo, you grabbed the door handle and began to open it. Before you could open it much farther than an inch, Vox caught up to you and slammed the door shut with his hand.
As you turned around, anger boiling inside you, your mouth opened in preparation to continue arguing with Vox.
But before you could say a word, Vox swiftly moved his hand to your chin and kissed you. To your own surprise, you didn't pull away. Instead, you melted into the kiss, feeling your own anger melt away as well. The kiss started off as rough and sloppy โ a clear attempt from Vox to keep you there and shut you up. But after a few seconds of his lips lingering onto yours, the kiss turned soft and sweet, before Vox pulled away.
Vox stared at you, clearly still frustrated but his face had softened as well.
"Fucking brat." He commented, although his tone was flat, and did not carry any of the anger it had just minutes before.
You sighed, feeling Vox's hand move to your waist.
"I'm sorry I made you wait." You apologized, looking up at Vox with your sweet eyes that he could never say no to.
"Well, you're forgiven." Vox said, pausing for a moment before he sighed as well. "And...I guess I'm sorry for insulting your friend. Okay? I am sorry. And shit, I'm really sorry for making you wait all those times before. I...I honestly never realized I made you wait like that so often."
"It's okay." You assured, although you sounded more exhausted than genuine.
"It's....not. I'll do better. For you. If I have to shove a dildo up everyone's asses so they'll stay still for an hour, I'll do it so I can come see you when I say I will." Vox promised, as you laughed at his explicit example.
"Gosh, you're so gross." You continued to laugh, as you fiddled with Vox's bowtie.
"Only for you, babe." Vox said, his voice lowering, as you could tell he had just been put in the mood.
"If you truly forgive me, can we go back inside and eat that pasta before you fuck me?" You asked boldly, as Vox now laughed in response to you.
"Sure doll, sure." He whispered.
๐๐ เฃชห ึด๐๐๐ เฃชห ึด๐๐๐ เฃชห ึด๐๐๐ เฃชห ึด๐
Surprise! I wrote the Vox fic as well! If you liked it, please please do comment! I read every comment and it encourages me to write! Thank you!
๐๐ เฃชห ึด๐ My Fakest Condolences.
โ Vincent Whittman x Fem!Reader โ Summary: Your cousin was the host of his own hunting segment, until he tragically passed away in a gunshot "accident." As his only family, you visit the studio to collect his belongings, and are introduced to none other than Vincent Whittman.
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"It is with...a heavy heart...that I must announce to you all the passing of one of our own,"
Vincent began. Staring directly into the camera lens across from him, his eyes softened with a sympathy that only he knew was inauthentic.
"Thomas Smith, whom many of you know as the host of our hunting segment โ appearing every night at 8'oclock โ has passed away. He was found in the woods early this morning...a gunshot wound to his chest. Authorities have ruled the incident as self-inflicted and accidental. We extend our dearest sympathies to his family. They need our prayers right now." Vincent concluded his performance through bowing his head in a false prayer, before he was interrupted by the sound of someone announcing: "And we're off the air!"
Vincent raised his head in return, glancing around the room as he was immediately showered with compliments from the studio crew.
"Great job, Mr. Whittman." "Only you could keep it together when talking about a topic like this..." "Thomas would've been honored to know you honored him in such a way."
Vincent acknowledged each compliment with a smile and a nod, preparing to head to his office. He was barely parted from his desk when one of the studio assistants frantically approached him.
"Mr. Whittman!" the assistant called out. Vincent turned around, facing the assistant as they finally caught up to him. "I'm so sorry to pester you. But, Mr. Montgomery would like to speak to you in his office, sir."
"Not a problem. Thank you for letting me know." Vincent smiled in response, before walking the opposite direction towards Bob Montgomery's office.
Bob Montgomery was the stern, reserved head of the studio, whose "expiration date" had well passed in Vincent's eyes. The man was in his late sixties, and had a country accent strong enough to give him a starring role in a western film. The only reason Vincent hadn't sealed Bob's fate in the same way he had sealed the fates of various other people in the studio, including Thomas Smith, was because Bob approved Vincent for everything he had ever requested. Including every position Vincent sought after, such as head news reporter.
If Bob were to ever break his streak of pleasing Vincent, however, Vincent knew Bob's neck would be next to break.
"Bob!" Vincent greeted cheerfully, as he entered Bob's office with no warning. "I was told you wished to speak with me?"
Bob ushered for Vincent to close the door behind him, and once Vincent did so, Bob responded with a nod.
"Yes, I did. You did great reporting on Thomas's death. You kept it brief, but also honorable." Bob praised, as Vincent's smile widened.
"Why, thank youโ" Vincent began to respond pridefully, before Bob interrupted.
"I just didn't expect your closing statement to be inaccurate." Bob said flatly, which humbled Vincent.
"What do you mean by that?" Vincent inquired, equally confused and insulted at the notion that anything he had done was imperfect.
"You said at the end... 'They need our prayers right now,' in reference to the boys' family," Bob began. "That boy has no family. None. Not in the way one would picture it. He has no ma, or pa, no sisters or brothers. He told me that when he first started here. That's why he wanted his own huntin' segment so bad. He wanted to be someone's pa who had no pa, and teach them how to hunt."
Vincent became slightly more intrigued, but still did not feel any authentic sympathy. The only thing Vincent wondered in that moment was how this boy could have no family whatsoever.
"The most he ever had was a cousin, and she wants to come up here round an hour from now and gather his belongin's," Bob paused, before continuing. "Vincent, I know you're not exactly a man of servitude, but I want you to help her gather her cousins' shit. Can you help her do that?"
Vincent took in a sharp breath. The idea of staying overtime to help someone โ no less the cousin of the boy he had...rid himself of...the night before, rummaging through the belongings of said boy he had...rid himself of...the night before โ annoying him greatly. But Vincent certainly was not about to present himself as an asshole to a mourning woman, so he agreed.
"I'll be waiting in Thomas's office for her." Vincent promised, before excusing himself from the room.
After an hour had passed by, Vincent was leaned against the doorframe to Thomas's office. He sighed frustratedly, wondering when this girl would just get here already so he could leave. Lost in his thoughts, the head news reporter did not even notice the unfamiliar frame approaching through the hallway.
"Excuse meโ?" You called out sweetly, as you approached your cousin's office, and consequently, the unknown man blocking the entrance.
Vincent snapped himself out of his thoughts, only to get lost in them again once he laid his eyes on you.
You had the most precious smile painted across your face, and a few loose strands of hair, which perfectly framed your face as well. Your cheeks were flushed slightly, evidence of you crying just moments before. Adorned across your body was a beautiful, floral blue dress that seemed to flow as you walked. And given it was the 1950s, of course, your outfit was paired with white laced gloves and a pearl handbag.
You were so pretty.
"Oh, hello there." Vincent straightened up, before extending his hand out to you. "My name is Vincent Whittman. But please, call me Vincent. I'd like to help you in collecting your cousins' belongings. I'm deeply sorry for your loss."
Your eyes widened in recognition of who the man was. Accepting his hand, you were taken aback when he shook it softly. You smiled once he let go of your hand.
"Oh! Mr. Whittmanโ I mean, Vincent. You are so kind. You do not have to help me, I am certain you are a very busy man." You told him, surprised that the head news reporter would seemingly volunteer himself to help you.
"Oh please, allow me to help you. It would be my pleasure, missโ?" Vincent trailed off, smiling once you told him your name. Gosh, your name was so pretty too. "Where would you like to start?"
"Truthfully, most of this could be thrown away." You stated, entering Thomas's office and taking a brief look around the room. "But I do want to grab his hunting journal. He showed it during every segment, so I know he kept it here. Oh, that journal was so precious to him."
As grief became more evident through every passing word, Vincent did start to feel a twinge of guilt. Not for taking the life of Thomas Smith, an actual human being. No, Vincent felt guilty solely for making a pretty thing like you so sad.
You began to rummage through the room, starting with Thomas's desk. Vincent helped you, as he looked through the drawers on the other side of the desk. You both searched in silence, before Vincent finally spoke up.
"I didn't know much about your cousin at all," Vincent began. "We only shared a few conversations about the incompetent assholes hosting the other segments. But he seemed like a really good man."
"That means a lot to me," you told him. "You actually have no idea how much that means to me."
Silence overtook the room once again. But only briefly, as this time, you were the one to break it.
"Tommy always wanted to have his own hunting show or segment. But nobody in our family ever believed in him. Not even his own parents," you explained sadly, the smile you maintained the whole time dissolving into a frown. "His siblings made fun of him too. Our whole family called him a loser for wanting to be on television. It broke his heart. I was the only one who believed in him. That's why he cut them all off, and only kept me around."
"That's very unfortunate." Vincent responded, trying to think of what else he could say. Truthfully, his own mind was blurred through what you had just told Vincent. You had believed in your cousin's ambitions to be a television personality, even when nobody else did. That struck a chord in Vincent's heart, one that the man did not know even existed, as he recalled the feeling of initially having nobody at all to support him.
"Yeah. He didn't let it get to him, thoughโ" you answered, before interrupting yourself with a huff. "I don't know why I'm keeping these gloves on. It's making it hard to rummage through all this stuff." You complained, before retracting your hands from the drawers and opting to remove your gloves.
Once you removed your gloves, placing them on top off the desk, Vincent turned to his left to steal a glance at you. His eyes shifted from your face to your now bare hands. Without even thinking, he blurted out:
"No ring?"
The sudden, unexpected comment caused you to shift your vision from the drawers to Vincent's face. You looked both confused and embarrassed, but you were really just searching for any disapproval on Vincent's face. It wasn't uncommon for people to direct side comments at you for not being hitched off the second you turned 18. Acknowledging how uncomfortable you became, Vincent quickly clarified himself.
"I didn't mean it maliciously." Vincent assured. "It's justโ it's quite unusual to see a woman as beautiful and thoughtful as yourself still unwed."
You immediately blushed, your eyes widened and mouth opened in surprise at Vincent's comment.
"Iโ uhmโ oh! You... you think I'm thoughtful?" You responded in surprise.
"Very." Vincent emphasized. "I mean, I imagine you have men throwing themselves at you all the time. Why aren't you married, then?"
Your eyes focused in another direction, as you switched to searching through a lower drawer. Sighing, you awkwardly answered his question.
"Yes, men do throw themselves at me all the time. But...well. They only see me for my beauty. They never see me as anything else. Ever. And I want to be so much more than a pretty face. I mean, what you did just now, calling me thoughtful? You're the first man to ever do that." You admitted.
Right as you finished speaking, Vincent laid his hands on a book within one of the desk drawers. Vincent pulled it out, showing it to you as your eyes brightened up again.
"His journal!" You exclaimed, taking it from Vincent's hands and holding it close to your chest. "Thank you, Vincent. You're wonderful." You praised sweetly, as you looked up at him with the soft, adoring eyes.
In that moment, it was Vincent's turn to admit something awkwardly to you. He smiled, before taking in a breath.
"You know...I relate a lot to something you said earlier," Vincent said, as you tilted your head in interest. "When you said that your cousin was constantly called a loser, and that nobody believed in him. I relate to that a lot. That's how everyone treated me as well. My father, he uhm, he especially had no faith in me. I don't talk to my family anymore either." You became visibly sad at Vincent's admission, feeling so much sympathy for him. "I wish I had someone like you. He was so...blessed to have you." Vincent concluded.
"You know...when you said that you related a lot to something I said earlier, I didn't think this was the direction you were going to take." You said quietly, as Vincent raised a brow. "I thought that...well, I thought that you were going to say that you relate to having people throw themselves at you a lot, but by women. Since you're so handsome."
Vincent blushed at your response, before quickly pulling himself together. He put on a charming smile, before offering to take your hand. This time, when you accepted it, he kissed your palm.
"Perhaps I could take you out to dinner tonight, sweet girl? And we can look through your cousins journal, together? I'm sure he has a lot of wonderful things written in there." Vincent offered, to which you smiled at the idea of honoring your cousin a final time.
"You think I'm sweet, too?" Your precious smile widened.
"Indeed." Vincent confirmed.
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If you enjoyed, please please please comment! I read every comment, and it encourages me to keep writing! So yes. Please comment. Thanks!
What would you prefer?
Vox x Reader
Vincent Whittman x Reader
I want to see how you write Alastor!
Hoping to write + post tonight :) let me know what you'd like to see the soonest. I'll go with whatever is in the lead when I sit down tonight.
UPDATE: Wrote and posted all three!!!
๐๐ เฃชห ึด๐ If you ever broke up.
โ Vincent Whittman x Fem!Reader โ Written as detailed headcanons. My perception of how a breakup with Vincent Whittman would go.
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โ The pair of you had only been dating for a few months, when you accidentally said or did something to impair Vincent's ego.
โ Whether it be you thoughtlessly made a comment about him being promoted from weatherman to news anchor, that Vincent took personally... ( "Wow, I'm surprised they promoted you that fast!" )
โ Or he leaned in to give you a kiss one day, and you thoughtlessly dodged it in front of other people... ( perhaps you simply didn't want to ruin your lipstick. )
โ Somehow, you had impaired Vincent's ego. And considering how outrageously high said ego was, he did not take well to the feeling.
โ So, Vincent started to quietly convince himself that he actually did not love you as much as you loved him. He convinced himself that he did not truly care about you, and maybe that other woman in a different department would serve him better as a partner anyway.
โ Ultimately, Vincent broke things off with you.
"I took a step back and looked at what we had, and I realized that I did not love you as much as you loved me." Vincent explained to you, although it sounded more as if he was trying to convince himself than you.
โ Considering how doting of a lover he had been up until the final days of your relationship, you were extremely taken aback. You cried in solace while he appeared to be doing just fine without you.
โ Emphasis on the word "appeared." Within his own private moments, Vincent's thoughts seemed to always go back to you. Were you okay? Did he hurt you as bad as he thought he did? Was it true that one of the cameramen saw you crying after the interaction that day?
โ Of course you cried. The Vincent Whittman just ended things with you, he told himself, returning to his usual ego-inflation.
โ Vincent would spend the next month or two continuing his careless act, pretending as if he never even thought of you. And perhaps he would entertain something more romantic with that woman from another department.
Until.
โ One day, returning to the studio after a two-day sick leave, he saw it. You, sitting in the lobby of the studio, laughing hysterically with Beau. A careless, stupid man โ Vincent told himself โ that somehow received his own hunting segment.
โ Although he tried to ignore it, Vincent could feel his heart clenching in his chest at the sight. You were HIS GIRLโ oh. That's just it. You were his girl.
โ As Vincent approached his office, he ran into one of the assistants that somehow always knew the latest studio gossip.
"Hey, you, question." Vincent called out, as they crossed paths in the hallway. "Do you know anything about Beau and, um โ"
"If you're about to ask about Beau and the girl that used to be yours," she began sassily. She had to know that she was rubbing it in, and she had to be thrilling in it. Maybe Vincent had offended her before. "Haha! Yeah. They totally hit it off in the two days you were gone. Hell, I mean, they haven't confirmed it to anyone yet. But the whole studio has been whispering about their conversations and little giggles."
Vincent clenched his fist, before performing with a "thank you" and a smile, walking into his office.
โ There was a saying, you never know how much you love someone until you lose them. And in that moment, the very saying that Vincent had always pined off as juvenile had been proven correct, as Vincent absolutely writhed in his office at the thought of you with another man.
โ How ironic was it โ that you weren't even with another man. Everyone in the studio, including Vincent, were horribly off course. The truth was, you had befriended Beau in grief of your relationship with Vincent. And Beau had befriended you in grief of his past relationship with another woman as well. You two confided in each other over how much you had missed your previous lovers, and everyone was unaware of this.
โ At first, you and Beau laughed at the thought of everyone assuming a Romeo and Juliet romance between the two of you. But it wouldn't be funny much longer, as that same day, Vincent cornered Beau in one of the spare rooms.
"Listen to me, Beau, because I'm only going to warn you once." Vincent writhed, as he stood across from Beau in the tiny room. "She is still in love with me. She only wants me. So you better stay away from her. It's for your greater good!"
Before Beau could even respond, Vincent added to his cautioning with a smile full of malice, before walking out the door.
โ When you would initially approach Vincent about the conversation, he would deny it. His ego still in full swing.
"Vincent, why did you tell Beau to stay away from me? You're the one that ended things!" You questioned.
"I have never even spoken to that shell of a man. He doesn't get that privilege, unfortunately for him." Vincent responded.
โ But as you continued to stay around Beau, and Vincent continued to witness it, Vincent's jealousy would never subside. And thus, Vincent's attempts to get Beau to stay THE HELL AWAY FROM YOUโ to politely refrain from being in your presence. Never subsided as well.
โ It got to the point where every time Beau saw Vincent approaching him, Beau would sigh, knowing that Vincent was about to interrogate Beau regarding you.
โ After nearly an additional month of this ridiculous back and forth, you and Beau thought that it would never end.
โ Until, one day, you heard a knock on your door at home. You opened your door to findโ
"FUCK โ! I cannot take it anymore!" Vincent admitted, as he stood in front of your door, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. "I love you, okay?! Is that what you wanted to hear?! I love you, I made the biggest mistake of my life letting you go, I can't live without you, nobody can replace you and I fucking HATE seeing you around that greasy haired-asshole!"
Vincent panted to catch his breath, worry etched across his face that you would not accept the apology. What if you didn't love him anymore? What if you and Beau were actually engaged? What ifโ
"Beau and I were never dating." You clarified, as Vincent's face relaxed, eyebrows raised in surprise. You reached to grab the bouquet from Vincent's hands, as you continued with a... "I still love you too, Vincent."
For a moment, it was just quiet between the two of you, before you motioned for Vincent to step inside your house. Once he followed suit, and you closed the door behind you, Vincent began to speak.
"I've had a lot of lovers before you, but nobody that I ever loved. So that day, when you had embarrassed me, it made me realize that you actually had power over me. That you had the ability to even make me feel embarrassed. It made me realize I loved you. And that thoughtโ that unfamiliar feelingโ it terrified me. So I tried to convince myself I never loved you, and I was an asshole for it." Vincent confessed.
"You've always had the biggest ego, and it's always ruined everything." You added, as Vincent sighed.
"I'll be better, for you, if you let me?" Vincent promised, as you accepted it by kissing him.
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Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please please comment! It encourages me to write! :)
๐๐ เฃชห ึด๐ Unwell.
โ Vincent Whittman x fem!reader โ Summary: Your husband, Vincent, takes care of you while you're sick. ( I posted a Vox version a few weeks ago ! )
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The morning started off like any other.
Vincent awoke to the sound of his alarm clock going off beside him, quickly shutting it off. He let out a frustrated, sleepy groan, before he turned to his left to see you sleeping beside him.
A soft smile appeared on Vincent's face at the sight of you. You always looked so cute when you were at rest, your messy hair draped across your face. Vincent's thoughts drifted off to all the times he had your hair messy, but also damp, as he had his way with yoโ anyways!
Reluctantly, Vincent got out of bed, and began getting ready for the day ahead. He journeyed to the living room, grabbing his favorite suit that his sweet wife had ironed for him the night before.
And only after making sure that said suit was accompanied by his favorite shark pin, did Vincent finally head for the door. Fiddling with the keys, his mind was running through a checklist.
"I brushed my teeth, I have my pin, I have my briefcase, my hair is combed back, goodโ" as Vincent passed by the kitchen, however, he saw something out of the ordinary.
Perched atop the counter, was a bottle of medicine.
It was nestled between the bowl of oranges that Vincent liked to keep on top of said counter, and between a vase of flowers that you liked to keep on the counter as well. The flowers were always fresh, as Vincent was diligent in returning a new bouquet home to you every week.
To be frank, had anyone else lived in that house, they wouldn't have noticed the bottle of medicine sitting there. But Vincent was a very attentive, detailed-oriented man. He had to be, due to his โ well โ tendencies... that you were unaware of.
After taking a pause, Vincent retracted his steps and headed back to your shared bedroom. He approached you, still sound asleep underneath the blankets.
"Darling," Vincent whispered, as he shook you awake. You acknowledged your husband with a groan, before he continued. "Are you sick?"
"No, I'm not." You croaked out, eyes still shut.
Vincent raised a brow, not believing your response. He had to ensure that his precious girl was well before he left. If you weren't, he would call out immediately to stay home and tend to you. Knowing this, you did not want to make Vincent aware of your condition. You did not want him to worry about you.
Unfortunately, your husband knew you too well.
"Swallow for me." He commanded, his mind drifting off to all the other times he told you toโ anyways! Gosh, he's always so dirty minded with you. He commanded, as the first symptom to always plague you when you were sick was a sore throat. Your least favorite thing in the whole world.
Vincent watched as you followed through, your face scrunching with pain as you gave yourself away.
"You're such a liar." Vincent announced, as he sighed. "You're unwell."
"I'm fine!" You countered, as you opened your eyes and sat up. "There's no need to worry. Just aโ just a little sore throat."
"Yes, but your symptoms always progress. Soon, you'll be coughing, and then sneezing, as you always do." Vincent was right. You becoming sick was like clockwork. It would always begin with a sore throat. Then, you'd progress to coughing and sneezing. Finally, you'd have a runny nose that would last for days.
"And that's not up to you to worry about!" You responded, as you fought to hide the pain of your throat from showing on your face. "Go to work, honey. You'll be late."
You were right. If Vincent did not leave soon, he would be late to work. With hesitation, he caved in.
"Alright. I love you." Was all Vincent said, before he pressed a kiss to your head and left out the door.
Vincent started his car, getting maybe a block away from your shared house, before the thoughts of you started to overwhelm him.
"Is she really okay? What if she's actually horribly sick and she isn't telling me? What if she tries to find the medicine but forgot that she placed it between the oranges and the vase? What if she needs me and doesn't tell me? What ifโ I can't do this."
The composed, careless, and normally work-engulfed Vincent drove into a random parking lot, before reversing his car and driving back to the house.
He pulled into the driveway, careful enough not to slam the car door and alarm you. He shared this thought with the door to the house, as he was mindful with his keys and with pushing it open.
Once he closed the door, he walked over to the house phone, where he called the studio. Vincent alerted them that he would not be there today, as he was sick.
Had Vincent told them that you were sick, he knew that he would be met with careless side comments, comprised of "she can take care of herself!"
And although nobody could stop him from tending to you, Vincent simply wasn't in the mood to be lectured by horrible men who likely beat their wives. No less cared about them, not in the way Vincent cared about you.
Returning the phone back to its stand, Vincent prepared an ice-cold glass of water for you, before walking up the stairs. Once he reached the bedroom, he knocked on the door.
"Darling, I have water for you." Vincent announced, as he opened the door. He smiled when he saw you, his pretty girl, sat on the bed. You were reading a book, and although you smiled in return at the sight of Vincent, your sick condition was evident.
"Honey! Youโ wait, what about work?" You questioned in concern, as Vincent approached you with the glass of water.
"I called in and told them that I was the sick one." He answered, as you took the water from his hands.
"Why?" You questioned again, as concern wasn't just present, but overtook your tone.
"Because, unfortunately, I'm a man who gives a shit about my wife. Horrible, isn't it?" Vincent responded with an eye roll, as you took his hand into yours.
"You're going to get all of my germs. Then you'll actually be sick." You laughed dryly, as your throat was still horribly sore. Using your free hand, you reached over to Vincent's little shark plush, a secret enjoyment of his that you two kept secret. You handed it over to your husband, as he smiled faintly.
"Oh well," Vincent responded with a shrug. "As long as we get to share the tub of ice cream."
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If you liked this, be sure to comment! Pretty pretty pretty please! I read every comment and it encourages me to write! Thank you!
"Umm? Excuse me? Hello ma'am/sir/person?" *hands you a microphone* "how is it like being the best vox writer on Tumbler, and if I say so myself, on any writing platform?"
(Imma about to get YOU your own fandom, assuming there isn't a cult- I MEAN FANDOM- for you)
HAHA!! You are so so sweet. You made my day. Thank you so much for your kind words. I appreciate you so much.
๐๐ เฃชห ึด๐ Feeling hellish.
โ Vox x Fem!Reader โ Summary: Your husband, Vox, takes care of you while you're sick.
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When you were alive, you had imagined hell as a giant torture chamber.
You pictured red-coated creatures with horns and a tail parading around, plunging every soul they encounter into the lake of eternal fire.
And although that interpretation of hell was severely off-course, you might as well have been plunged into the lake of eternal fire...with how you were burning up.
You laid in you and Vox's shared bed, engulfed underneath the comforters, yet also brushed by the wind of a fan โ perched atop your husband's neon blue nightstand.
Somehow, you were horribly hot and catastrophically cold at the same time.
By the time you had awoken, and consequently realized you were sick, your husband had already left for the day.
He had such a busy day ahead of him. Vox had complained to you last night โ his arms wrapped around your waist, underneath those same comforters โ that he had a plethora of meetings to attend. The first of those meetings would be the weekly touchpoint, held between Vox and the heads of all VoxTek departments.
Although you never had to attend every meeting your husband was apart of, it was an unsaid priority of Vox's that you attend the weekly touchpoint meetings.
When you and Vox were first married, you dropped in on a touchpoint meeting to surprise your husband with lunch.
You had not planned to be there for more than maybe ten seconds. You had envisioned yourself walking in the door, placing the meal in front of Vox, then leaving the room.
But two things about you โ that substantially set yourself apart from your husband โ was that you were a kind woman. You held a great deal of patience. So, every VoxTek employee not only loved you, but delighted in your company. It had never been a rare occurrence for you to become bored in you and Vox's bedroom, and visiting a random department to share conversation with whoever wanted to. Which, oftentimes, was everyone in every department.
Who wouldn't choose talking to their boss's sweet wife, over having to actually work? Besides, a lot of employees initially prioritized "winning (your) favor," before they came to genuinely enjoy your presence.
And because of how beloved you were by the lower employees, you were confided in with a lot of things that your husband did not know.
"I think our department hitched in sales because of Dane. He's supposed to be one of our sales representatives, but he's performing horribly. He only sold one phone this week." The head of the phone department accused.
An accusation that was initially believed by Vox without a second thought. But unfortunately for the head of the phone department, the accusation was presented during the ten-second interval that you had planned on being in that room. You had just reached Vox's side, and as you placed the meal in front of him, Vox gazed up at you with a smile and a hand to your waist. But when Vox saw a look of yours that clearly screamed "excuse me?" โ he quickly matched your expression, following it with a "what's wrong, babe?"
You leaned into your husband's ear, whispering to him that the reason Dane had only sold one phone...was because the head of the phone department only gave him one phone to sell. You explained that the head of the phone department had a weird distaste for Dane, and would repeatedly use Dane as their scapegoat.
Quirking a brow, your husband turned to face the head of the phone department, relaying what he had just been informed. And when the response given was comprised of a nervous, telling stutter, that department head was fired that day.
And that day, Vox realized just how much valuable information regarding his employees was confided into you.
So rather than forcing you to sit down and explain all of the needless drama as they come, Vox proposed that you attend every touchpoint meeting, and simply call out nonsense as it comes.
Besides, it gave Vox an excuse to have his pretty little wife seated beside him.
Granted all of this, you felt immense guilt for not attending today's touchpoint meeting. Not guilty enough, however, to refrain from texting your husband's assistant and saying you won't be in attendance.
You: Hi Ethan! I wanted to let you know to keep me out of the attendance check during today's meeting. I haven't told Vox, as to not worry him, but I do not feel well today.
Ethan: Hi Mrs. Vox!! I am so sorry that you aren't feeling well. :-( Do you want me to have some soup delivered up to your floor?
You: You are so sweet, E. I appreciate you so much! But not right now. I promise I'll let you know if I do.
Ethan: Okay, Mrs. Vox. Get better soon!!!! :)
Ethan really was so kind. And, he was a great assistant too! So unfortunate that your husband did not recognize that. To the contrary, Vox frequently lashed out at Ethan.
"Uh โ oh โ okay, looks like we uh โ got everyone. We can begin." Ethan announced, as he checked off the final name on his attendance checklist for the touchpoint meeting.
"Um...no we don't. Are you okay?" Vox questioned, genuine confusion laced through his tone. "My wife??"
"Uh โ she won't โ uh โ be here today, Mr. Vox. She โ uh โ isn't feeling well." Ethan responded, clearly anxious.
"She WHAT?!" Vox screamed, as he pushed his chair back and stood from the table. All the department heads scrunched into their seats as they watched their boss's outburst.
"She โ uh โ is sick. Right now. Sir." Ethan pulled his clipboard close to his chest.
"And why, pray tell, didn't you FUCKING TELL ME?!" Vox felt insulted, approaching Ethan before towering just two feet away from him.
"Because โ sir โ you, uh, told me to stay out of you and the misses' business...." Ethan croaked out, as Vox immediately retracted at Ethan's reasoning.
Vox had actually told Ethan to stay out of you and his business. A very awkward portion of a conversation held the day after you and Vox got married, and Ethan was instructed to order the design of...well...a new bed.
"Why โ uh โ sir, do I need to order you and her a new bed? I thought โ uh โ your current one was perfect?" Ethan questioned in genuine confusion, as he tapped away at his computer.
"Just โ !!! SHUT UP and don't ask!!" Vox responded in embarassment, as his whole face became flushed. "Just โ stay out of me and my wife's business, okay?!"
After recalling that conversation, Vox responded with a "oh, shit. You're right," before immediately waving everyone out of the room.
Once everyone had left, Vox left as well, immediately heading towards you and his shared floor.
And once Vox arrived, he wasted not a second before entering the bedroom.
"Babe, are you okay? I hear you're not feeling well." Vox asked, his voice softened by concern.
"I'm โ cough โ fine." You smiled at the false assurance you just presented.
"You look like you just got wrecked. And not by me." Vox teased as he approached you, placing a hand to your forehead. He hummed at the warmth, before retracting his hand and using it to order your favorite soup.
"Ughhhhh, you're so dirty mindedddd." You groaned, laying your head onto a pillow at your side.
"You love me." Vox chuckled, as he placed his phone atop the nightstand. "And I love you. So let me take care of you."
You blushed at your husband's doting words, as he reorganized the bedsheets and pillows specifically for your comfort. He knew you so well.
"What about the touchpoint meeting? And all of the other meetings you have today? You have a lot." You asked, as Vox crawled into bed beside you.
"Cancelled them all." Vox assured, wrapping his arms around you, and placing your head on his chest. "Unfortunately, the woman I married just caught the plague."
"I did not catch the โ cough โ plague! It's just a common cold. Or, well, um, it's hell. Common hot, I guess?" You paused to think.
"You are hot, that's for sure." Vox asserted with a suggestive smile. "Even when you look like shit."
"Alright! You're done! Get out of here!" You teased, pretending to be insulted.
"Only to get that fuckass soup you like, babe." Vox smiled.
And so, you smiled.
Maybe being sick won't be so torturous.
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Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please please leave a comment! I read them all, and they encourage me to keep writing!
๐๐ เฃชห ึด๐ For His Eyes Only.
โ Vox x Fem!Reader โ Summary: Vox crashes out when his girlfriend, who happens to be Velvette's best model, is photographed in a revealing piece of nightwear.
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No pornographic outfits.
That was Vox's one rule. A rule that he established to both you and Velvette the day he allowed you to start working for her.
You and Vox had met the year prior, and immediately began dating. Afterall, the media overlord didn't exactly hesitate to ask you out. You were beautiful, so Vox knew that there would be a plethora of other sinners parading for your attention. To be honest, Vox was surprised that you weren't already taken.
After barely a few weeks of dating, Vox had you moved into Vee tower. And consequently, introduced you to the other two Vees โ his business partners โ Valentino and Velvette.
The second Velvette laid her eyes on you, an entire career of modeling was laid out in her mind.
"Oh my god! You are so pretty," Velvette announced, as she strutted towards you. "Have you ever considered a career in modeling?"
Before you could even answer, Vox completely dismissed the proposition with a wave.
"Absolutely not," Vox interjected. "I will not have my girlfriend walking around with pins and needles up her ass because of you."
"Oh please! She would be amazing, and she would enjoy it very much. Afterall, I'm sure she doesn't remember what enjoyment feels like, considering it's you she sleeps with." Velvette fired back, a smirk plastered across her face.
Yeah. After that comment, Vox was positive that he would never allow you to model for Velvette.
Unfortunately, there were a lot of things that Vox was positive about, that would ultimately be altered under your sweet words.
Although he would never admit it, all it took was you pleading with those sweet, doe-like eyes of yours for Vox to finally succumb with a "you can model for Velvette."
Given how possessive and instructive your boyfriend can be, you figured that there would be an entire list of rules for you to adhere to. For example: No modeling on (insert) days! You must return to our floor before (insert) time! All clothing must be blue, to assert that you are my girlfriend!
But to your surprise, and contentment, there was only one rule. No pornographic outfits.
Initially, it seemed easy enough! You could wear outfits that showed a little cleavage, or showed off your legs a little, but nothing too much. "There should always be room left to the imagination," as Vox told you before that first day.
Afterall, you were Vox's girl! Your body should be for his eyes only!
And to be quite frank, there was never a single article of clothing that tempted you to break that rule.
Until...
"Your boyfriend is going to hate this dress," Velvette cautioned, as she approached you with a light-blue dress in her hands. "I mean, it still provides some coverage though."
As Velvette passed you the dress, you were ready to deny wearing it, based off of her cautioning alone. But as you held the dress in your hands, and you fully laid your eyes on it, you could've sworn that your eyes sparkled. Just as the dress did.
It was the most beautiful, the most sparkly, lingerie-style dress that you had ever seen. Emphasis, however, on the fact that it was a lingerie dress.
"Just trying it on wouldn't hurt!" You justified, as Velvette smirked.
"Oh yeah, we can just see how it would look on you, babe. We don't have to take pictures in it." Velvette assured.
Once you adorned the dress, you could not peel your eyes away from the mirror! The top part served as a bra, pushing your breasts together. And the dress itself was flowy, but low-cut, so every sinner could see how your thighs looked.
To say you looked ethereal...would be a sinful understatement.
To say that Velvette snapped a lot of pictures of you...would also be a sinful understatement.
And to say that when Velvette published the best picture, and Vox opened his phone to see such a picture of you plastered across social media, Vox absolutely raged...would be a sinful understatement.
The second that it settled in Vox's mind that all of hell just saw his girl in a sexy lingerie dress...every light in Pentagram City fried off from how infuriated he became.
And the second that the lights ceased, and you heard your name screamed by your boyfriend two floors above, you knew what was coming for you.
You snuggled under the comforter in you and Vox's shared bed, as he immediately zipped into the room through a camera.
"What the HELL were you thinking?!" Vox yelled, as he appeared in the room. He approached the bed, standing in front of the edge.
"What do you mean, honey?" You feigned innocence with a smile, as you sat up on the bed.
"Don't you DARE 'honey' me! You know EXACTLY WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!!!! I'm talking about the fact that ALL OF HELL just saw MY GIRLS' tits!!" Vox's voice became increasingly louder with every word, as his blood increasingly boiled.
"All of hell did not see my tits," you retorted. "They saw cleavage. They saw a little bit more of my legs. But that's it."
"SAME THING! You might as well have been in one of Val's pornos! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT!?" Vox was absolutely seething. Practically huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf.
"No, honey, I do not want that. Nor do I want to make my handsome boyfriend mad, although he is extremely hot when he is," you assured, causing Vox to blush profusely. "I have turned down many outfits that Velvette proposed to me, purely because I knew they would reveal far too much for your taste. And sometimes, even my taste as well. I just did not consider this dress as one of them."
"Well, this one did make me upset." Vox pouted, as all the anger deteriorated from his body, and he was now moping like a baby.
"I'm sorry, then." You opened your arms, as Vox crawled into the bed, laying in your arms.
"I justโ you're so beautiful, you know? It makes me jealous to even think of other guys being able to admire your body the way I do." Vox sniffled. He really was a baby sometimes.
"They can only admire my body, baby. You're the only one that can touch it." You pointed out, as a suggestive smile appeared on your face.
You fiddled with Vox's bowtie, as he began to do the same with your nightgown.
"Why don't you uhโ go grab that dress and put it on for me? Right now?" Vox proposed, as he returned your smile with one of his own.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," you argued. "The way you're looking at me now...I feel like you'll ruin that dress."
"Perhaps. But only because I'm about to ruin you."
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If you liked this, please comment! I read all of your comments and they encourage me to write! Love you guys!
how does it feel being the best vox writer on this app?? ๐ฅน๐ซถ๐ป
How does it feel to make me cry of joy
If i may ask : what is your writing process for writing stories ? Because you portray Vox so well! How do you go about writing him ? Do you have like a inner Vincent Whittman inside ๐คฃ๐ญ
You are so kind! You're one of my favorite people on here.
And as much as I want to tell you something really cool, the truth is I just get an idea, and then I sit on my bed and write it until I'm done lol. So all of the stories you see (except for the Jealous one, that was written for a friend because the people at her job are assholes) I literally came up with, sat down, wrote them, and then published them.
It usually takes me between 30 minutes to an hour to write each story because they're all on the lengthier side.
But I do appreciate you saying I portray Vox well! That means a lot to me.
About to rename half of my characters because why did I start off strong with Priya and then move to Melissa, Mary, Mason, and Michael??? Why are they all M names??? I just gained consciousness because wtf
If this is too personal I get it. But I want to ask. How old are you and do you have a career in writing, your really good
I actually posted my first fic the day after I turned 18. And no I don't have a career in writing, but you are very kind
Were you a waitress at a restaurant at some point? Because the way you portrayed what itโs like being one is way too accurate
Yes! I was a waitress when I lived in the south. And I can say, southern hospitality doesn't hold up as much when you're in customer service. At least in my experience. I'd like to argue that people treat you nicer up north.
How I feel after posting an entirely new Vox x Reader fanfic in an entirely new universe, while I literally have over 40 requests for a part 2 with a fic that has +1.2k likes:
Anyways! Vox/Vincent Whittman lovers, go read Pretty When You Cry. ห โน เฃช เฑจเงหโ