Allie

she/they | aroace (plz stop blocking me im literally an adult)

[lovetrouble123]

Masterlist Links

I ran out of link space (whatever tf that is) so I was forced to make a new one:) Stay safe and enjoy reading<3

DC COMICS

BNHA

MCR

QUACKITY

FNAF

HAZBIN HOTEL

TBHK

TADC

[lovetrouble123]

You Might Lie And I Might Cry

Synopsis: Y/N’s got every reason to avoid Valentino, and while Vox and Velvette both understand why, Valentino seems blind to it. (Or in which Val rlly doesn’t think he’s ab*sive)

TW: nsfw/suggestive content (the p0rn industry, Val’s dick gets mentioned waaay to much, r*pe mentioned/alluded to, nonconsensual touching) Val is toxic and bipolar af, mentions of OD/alcohol/Val being physically ab*sive, events in “Weight Watchers,” Val putting Y/N down, Val degrading women, physically ab*se, panic attack

A/N: I’ve had this in my drafts for some months now and I’ve been patiently waiting to upload it😌 I’ve written a few Vox centric stories so I figured it was time for Val😌

Main Masterlist

TV, Sharks & Moths Masterlist

Valentino’s studio was chaotic as always with sultry lights beaming down, cameras rolling from every angle and assistants that hurried around with makeup kits and water bottles.

“Cut!” Valentino yelled as his stars paused mid fuck session, as if they had been caught red handed. “For fucks sake, if I wanted stiff performances I would have hired corpses.” He spat, “let’s try this again!”

His stars quickly hurried to reset their positions without complaint because nobody argued with a Vee, unless they were stupid or had a death wish.

Normally, this was the part of the day where he’d have another distraction that wasn’t just his cigarette burning. A very persistent and cheerful one named Y/N.

She’d always wander into his studio, sometimes while he was filming and other times when he wasn’t. Either way she’d wander over to his chair, curiously stand beside him and ask, “what are you filming today?”

Valentino would tell her and soon, she’d be seated in his lap like a cat would with its owner. Sometimes she’d play on her phone, other times she would mess with the fluff around his neck or even take a drag of his cigarette even though she hated smoking.

She’d always complain about the taste but then somehow would end up taking another drag.

If Valentino was watching one of the monitors, she’d lean too far into him and make a comment about what was being filmed. It was usually something silly, and somehow her lips would always find his.

Around them, many of his employees pretended not to notice because of how often she appeared in his studio. At some point, Y/N became apart of the scenery—the ditzy shark Overlord who showered a really nasty Overlord like he was innocent.

Today though, Valentino’s lap was empty.

There were no random comments. No nails running through his fur. No shark tail happily swiping through the air as someone tripped over it.

Her absence should have made filming easier, but it didn’t.

Where the hell was she?

She could have been with Vox, hell, she was dating him as well.

She could have been with Velvette, maybe out shopping for another set of cute lingerie.

Or maybe she was visiting her territory that resided on the outskirts of the Pentagram.

As the film wrapped up, Valentino’s attitude seemed to sour, which wasn’t totally unexpected.

He waved down one of his employees who nervously walked over.

“Do you know where Y/N is?” He asked.

“Y-Yes sir.” They nodded, “she was here—.”

“Why isn’t she here now?” Valentino snapped.

“Sh-She stopped by l-long enough to drop a g-gift off for Angel Dust, then she—.”

“Angel Dust?” He interrupted as he stood up, “where’s this little ‘gift’ at?”

The sinner quickly ran off and returned with a little box, and inside was a wind-up toy spider that was suspiciously painted in Angel Dust’s color scheme. Valentino frowned and demanded for the gift to be thrown away, and so, it was.

Valentino tried to keep his thoughts rational about the gift. Y/N was a sweetheart…maybe she just wanted to show Angel Dust she appreciated his ‘friendship.’

It didn’t take long for him to retreat to his office and send her a single text…then two…then five…then fifteen…then thirty…

Was she ignoring him?

As the thought settled in his mind, he remembered walking into Vox’s penthouse last night to find the two of them on the couch. Y/N was laughing and animatedly saying something to Vox, only to quiet down after Valentino walked in and then make some excuse as to why she had to leave.

Then there was the day before that—now that Valentino thought of it—where Y/N said she had somewhere to be after he had come to ask Velvette a question.

One time wasn’t anything.

Twice was just a coincidence.

“What the hell is her problem?”

His words lingered in the empty space. The same space where Y/N usually curled up in his lap and talked about whatever came to her mind.

And for the first time all week, Valentino realized that she wasn’t just making up excuses for the fun of it, she was purposefully avoiding him.

•••

The clacking of heels echoed throughout Velvette’s department.

Mannequins stood shoulder to shoulder in half finished outfits while fabrics were strewn about, ready for use. Assistants hurried from one side to the other as they carried armfuls of supplies ranging from fabrics to sequins to feathers.

Velvette stood in the middle of the organized chaos, screaming at another wannabe assistant who she was close to firing because of how much they had fucked up in the last hour.

“Did I ask for fucking leather? No. I said velvet.” She snapped, “how could you forget something like that? The fabric and I share a god damn name!” She then snapped her fingers, pointing off in another direction to emphasize her point. “Now go fix the problem!”

“Babydoll~. Are you busy?”

Velvette sighed and looked over to find Valentino standing in the doorway.

She turned to face him, a hand on her hip as he easily descended the small staircase the led down to her floor. “What do you think, twat? I have to get these prototypes done before Vox looses his shit again.”

“Mhm. Yeah, that’s nice.” Valentino hummed before stopping just in front of the shorter Overlord. “Do you have any idea why Y/N is fucking ignoring me?”

Velvette looked up at Valentino—who was still quite tall despite the fact he had bent down at the waist—with a look. One that said: “you’re kidding me, right?”

“You can’t be that stupid, Val.”

“That whore is fucking ignoring me!” Valentino snapped, “who the hell does she think she is? One minute she’s: ‘Oh Val, I love you and please fuck me into tomorrow,’” he said as he put on a voice, “and now she’s making bullshit up just to avoid me!”

Velvette cringed. “Ugh, okay. TMI on the sex stuff. But you’re literally answering your own question, Val.”

Valentino blinked, crossing his lower set of arms. “I don’t get it. Are you trying to tell me that I did something wrong?”

Velvette gave a long silence before nodding. “Yeah…that’s it.”

“What did I do wrong?” He asked her.

“Do I really need to list it out for you?” Velvette then sighed again, “alright. Fine. You made her have an overdose not once, but six times.”

“She wanted it.”

“She was drunk all six times.”

“She still wanted it.”

“You’ve laid your hands on her—.”

“I always put my hands on her.”

Velvette glared up at him. “You know I mean. Don’t try that word play bullshit with me.”

“When have I ever hit her?”

“You hit her two months ago because she was out at a party after she forgot it was your night with her.”

“I was just making sure she would remember for next time.”

“Not only that, but you are constantly putting her down.”

“Okay, see, now I know you’re lying because I would never do that.”

“Uh…she literally doesn’t have most if not all her organs in her body anymore because of you?”

“She should be thanking me.” Valentino admitted, “she was fat.”

Velvette stared up at him before looking away. “You’re in-fucking-credible, Val.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong.” Valentino then paused before tilting his head to the side, his eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses. “Is she telling you lies behind my back?”

Velvette quickly looked back at him.

“Girl, wha—?”

“That fucking bitch!” He screamed, “I give her the best dick she’s ever had in her whole life, and she’s out her talking shit?!”

Velvette ran her hands over her face. “You know what? I don’t have time for this. If you want to believe that Y/N’s a lying piece of shit, have at it. Just leave me out of this.”

Valentino watched as Velvette turned away and returned to her work. The moth demon stood there for a few seconds before turning on his heel and making his way out of her department.

When had he—the Valentino—ever done any of that to his girlfriend?

The one he loved oh so very much?

Never.

•••

The elevator doors slid open.

Standing behind his desk, back turned to face the elevator, was Vox with his palms pressed against the cool glass of his pet shark’s tank. Shok.Wav was floating inside, his snout pressed to the glass as if he were begging to be closer to his father.

The smell of cherries filled Vox’s senses, causing a small electrical current between his two antennas before they quickly disappeared from sight.

Vox finally turned to find Valentino leaning against his desk, looking at him with a less than pleased look.

“Can I help you, Val?” Vox asked, using a hand to gesture to the massive tank behind him. “I’m a bit busy at the moment.”

“You don’t look busy to me,” Valentino replied.

“Well I—.”

“Since I’m here, do you mind telling me why Y/N’s been a bitch to me recently?”

Vox blinked before dismissing Shok.Wav with a flick of his wrist. He then sat down in his chair and crossed his legs before giving his partner a blank look.

“What?”

“She’s been avoiding me. Velvette said it’s because I’ve been ‘abusive’,” he said using air quotes, “toward her. But I know that isn’t true. Okay, well, she didn’t use that word exactly, but I know that’s what she wanted to say.”

Vox stared at him for a long moment.

“And before you tell me that you don’t know, I know you do. She’s only been hanging out with you and Velvette, and every time I come around, she leaves. What? Is my dick not good enough for her or something anymore?”

“Val…I want you to think long and hard over why she may be avoiding you.”

“I have.” Valentino said, “and I don’t know why she is.”

Vox pulled up a hologram which played television static before focusing on a video—a security video of Y/N and Valentino. It was hard to pinpoint when exactly it was taken, but it clearly wasn’t being shown for proof of a date, more so for proof that something happened.

Y/N was seen standing in Valentino’s bedroom with a bottle lying on the floor with some pearlescent pink liquid pooling out of it. Her shark tail was wrapped around her leg as she nervously fidgeted.

“Do you have any idea what that was worth?!” Valentino screamed as he stood just in front of her.

“I-I said I was—.”

“It’s always ‘sorry’ with you, isn’t it?” He interrupted, “you’re always breaking shit and then apologizing for it. Fuck, Y/N, this perfume isn’t even being made anymore!”

“I-I can f-find you a similar one—.”

“I don’t want a similar one!”

The rest of the feed continued to show the two of them in the bedroom, with Y/N getting progressively more upset as Valentino screamed at her.

After Vox paused the video and he looked at Valentino.

“She’s just sensitive,” Valentino said.

“Yes, at times she can be.” Vox agreed, “but this was completely unnecessary behavior, Val.”

“But it’s okay if you yell at her when she breaks your stuff?”

“We’re not talking about me,” Vox said as he pulled up another security video.

The next feed had Y/N and Valentino at one of his many clubs. She was off somewhere—god knows where—and eventually, she came into frame with a girl by her side. They were both clearly intoxicated and the lipstick marks left on both girls told another story.

“Val, this is Maddie!” Y/N drunkenly said, “she fell into Hell recently and—.”

“Amor, what did we say about kissing other people who I don’t approve of?” Valentino hummed, his tone light and airy but there was underlying heat to it.

“That I can only kiss pretty people. B-But I think she’s—.”

“Ugly? Yeah. She is.” Valentino nodded as he reached for her wrist. “Besides, you’re happily taken by me! Why do you need this ugly whore?”

Y/N stumbled forward and into Valentino’s lap.

“Val, she isn’t—.”

He then roughly kissed her to shut her up as Vox stopped the video and looked at Valentino again.

“What’s wrong with this one?” He asked. “She was ugly. Do you really think I’m gonna let our girl be seen with some ugly fuck? Ugh. Of course not.”

“We all agreed that our relationship would be open.” Vox admits, “if she wants to kiss someone, she’s allowed to do it. This seems…controlling.”

“But you’re not?”

“Again, we are not—.”

“You know what?” Valentino huffed as he stood up, “I’ll go ask her myself what her deal is.”

“I know what her deal is.”

Valentino tilted his head, his eyes narrowing behind his shades. “Then why aren’t you telling me?”

“I don’t have to tell you, Val.” Vox reminded. “Not everything is your business.”

Valentino turned and made his way toward the elevator to leave.

“Says the guy who knows everything about everyone.”

And like that, Valentino left and he had decided that tomorrow, he was going to get to the bottom of this.

•••

V Tower felt like a cage as of late, which meant Y/N was some bird who couldn’t quite get free no matter what she did.

Recently, she had been avoiding Valentino like he had the plague. Strolling around the halls of the tower felt like a nightmare. Where she used to skip down these halls and happily hum to herself while employees from all three departments tried to avoid her, she now felt like the one who was trying to avoid other people.

Y/N kept her head down and her tail wrapped tight around her leg as she walked down these familiar halls. In her hand was a shopping bag full of accessories that Velvette had asked for earlier that day, and so, she was just bringing them to her.

Simple as that.

Y/N approached the end of the hallway and clicked the elevator button. She nervously bounced on her heels, looking down both hallways for a certain pimp. So far, she hadn’t seen him, but it seemed like her luck had run out when the doors to the elevator opened.

“Y/N~. I’ve been looking everywhere for you, amor~.”

Y/N looked up, her eyes wide with fear as she took in Valentino’s towering appearance in the elevator. She tried to take a step back and make a run for it, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside.

Her back slammed against the back wall as she tried to slip out of his grasp and reach for the elevator doors…but they shut.

“Y/N, I have a small question to ask you~,” Valentino purred as he tilted his head. “Have you been avoiding me recently?”

Y/N’s eyes flickered from the shut elevator doors and then up to Valentino. “N-No.”

“Hm.” He hummed as his smile widened, “really? Because I think that’s bullshit.”

“It isn’t—.”

“You see, Vox and Velvette told me that you’ve been telling them shit behind my back,” he said. “You know I don’t take kindly to gossip about me.”

“I didn’t t-tell them—.”

“Sweetheart, stop making this harder than it needs to be.” He innocently interrupted. “I just need you to be honest with me.”

Valentino’s grip on her wrist tightened. It wasn’t enough to bruise—of course not, it took a lot for her too—but enough that she could register the pain.

“Tell me, tiburón, why have I barely seen my pretty girl all week?”

“I-I’ve been…busy.”

“Busy?” He laughed. “Busy avoiding me?”

Y/N shook her head quickly. “N-No, of course not!”

Valentino then dramatically sighed and shook his head. “You know what really pisses me off about all of this? It’s that I’ve been nothing but good to you.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted into a tight knot as she stared up at him. She prayed to whatever Gods were above in Heaven that this whole interaction would come to end, but she knew that her prayers were futile.

“I let you hang around my studio and clubs. I let you fuck me whenever you want. I let you drink all my god damn alcohol—I practically spoil you rotten.” He said, his voice lowering into something dangerous, “so why am I suddenly the bad guy?”

“I-I never said that you were—.”

“But Vox and Velvette seem to think that you have a lot to say.”

“V-Val, I swear that I-I didn’t tell them anything,” Y/N stuttered out.

He leaned closer, the smell of his cologne and the faint smell of cherries mixed together to create something intoxicatingly dangerous.

“Then tell me why you’re avoiding me.”

The elevator suddenly felt smaller than it had before and the lights seemed brighter than they had been too. Were the walls closing in?

Y/N tried to form a sentence, or at least a word to help her out of this situation. She kept trying to steady her heart and will herself to say something, literally anything, but her mind was a blur of static.

She couldn’t come up with some excuse, not that an excuse to leave would help her out any.

Actually, why was she in the elevator to begin with? She couldn’t quite remember at the moment. All she could think about was the ten foot Overlord towering over her.

Was this how his employees felt?

The shopping bag slipped from her fingers and collided with the floor. The accessories that Velvette had asked for spilled out, decorating the elevator—oh right, Velvette…she had asked for some stuff and she was going to deliver it to her.

“I’m s-s-sorry Val, but I need to—.”

“No.” He sternly said, “we’re talking. Don’t you know that it’s rude to leave a conversation?”

Y/N swallowed as she muttered out a shaky apology, but that only seemed to make Valentino that more upset.

“That’s all you ever say, isn’t it? It’s always ‘sorry’ with you.”

Suddenly, Valentino’s voice became a blur. She knew he was talking to her, although he was probably just insulting her now, but she couldn’t hear him. It was like she was submerged underwater.

Her breathing had become shallow somewhere in between and she used her free hand to claw at the front of her shirt, as though loosening the fabric would somehow allow her to get more oxygen in.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Y/N gasped for air as she tried to communicate that she couldn’t breathe, but she couldn’t. And somehow her gasps for air made Valentino frown as he continued to insult her.

“Oh, don’t start crying now. I haven’t even done anything to make you cry yet.”

But Y/N wasn’t crying, at least not yet.

Her body began to tremble as her knees dared to buckle under her. She desperately tried to focus on something—the number of elevator buttons, the non moving elevator floor number that was permanently stuck at ‘2’, or even just her reflection in the glass window.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, puta.”

Y/N stared at her shaky reflection in the mirror, her eyes flickering over to the reflection that stood in front of her own in red.

She couldn’t bare to look at Valentino.

Her name echoed in her head as Valentino called out to her, but she barely registered it.

A warmth landed on her shoulder.

Valentino’s hand.

Y/N whipped her head around to look at her shoulder. She saw his hand resting on her, but instead of registering it as belonging to her partner, all she saw was a threat.

Before she could rationally think about it, she lunged at him and sunk her teeth into his forearm.

Quickly, Valentino jerked away and stumbled backwards, instinctively ripping his arm away from her mouth.

“¡Aye!” He yelped. “What the fuck?!”

Y/N bolted for the elevator doors, pressing one of the buttons as the doors slipped open. She had abandoned the bag of accessories Velvette had asked for, leaving them behind with Valentino as she ran down the many halls of V Tower.

She couldn’t do this.

Not right now.

She couldn’t breathe.

Coming across an empty hallway, she slowed her pace when she realized she was surrounded by Shok.Wav’s tank. A tank which Vox had designed to travel around V Tower so that Shok.Wav could move freely…a tank system in which she was fixing to take advantage—.

“Motherfucker!” Valentino screamed as he slammed her against the tank. “You whore!”

“Let me go!” Y/N yelled as she tried to wiggle out of Valentino’s hold, but this time, he had used all four of his hands to pin her down.

“Do you really think I’m gonna let you go?” He snapped. “After you just bit the shit out of me?”

“Val—!” Y/N cried out.

“All you have to do is be a good girl and listen.” Valentino explained. “Simple as that and I’ll let you go.”

Tears finally filled up in Y/N’s eyes, and with one blink, the tears streamed down her face like a waterfall.

“Are you gonna tell me or not?” He asked. “I don’t have all fucking day.”

“Th-The other night,” she slowly confessed, “when we were…we were at your place and…and we…”

Y/N swallowed, trying her best to get the words out, but it proved to be much harder when your brain was trapped in that memory…in that moment.

“We were drinking and you…you asked me for…for sex and I-I didn’t want it but…but you kept touching me and—.”

“What?” Valentino interrupted, “did you think I wasn’t going to stop?” He asked, “that I was going to rape you?”

Y/N frowned, her bottom lip quivering as she replayed the memory in her head.

She remembered being drunk…really drunk and cuddling beside Valentino on his couch while watching some shitty tv show. Kitty strolled over with drink refills every time a glass emptied before she wandered off again.

Y/N remembered Valentino flirting with her like he always did. She remembered him putting his hand on her thigh like he always did.

Then she remembered his hand moving inward as he continued to flirt with her. She remembered pushing his hand off, drunkenly expressing that she wasn’t in the mood for anything…but his hand crept back to her thigh and he nudged her thighs apart.

That was all she remembered.

She woke up the next morning in Valentino’s bed.

She assumed that he hadn’t done anything to her. She assumed that she had passed out on the couch and he had been nice enough to bring her to bed…but this wasn’t Vox. Vox wasn’t the type to take advantage of her while she unconscious, no matter how fucked in the head he was.

Valentino was…and that sliver of doubt had been enough to make her avoid him.

Valentino stared at her for a long moment before laughing. “Tiburón, this is what you’ve been hiding from me?” His expression then shifted to something almost pitiful. “You really think I would force you to?” He laughed again, “why would I force you to when I could just take it?”

His words did nothing to help the pit in Y/N’s stomach.

“But I didn’t because you said no.”

“But I…I don’t remember anything after that, Val.”

“You were hella drunk, tiburón.” Valentino smiled, “of course you don’t remember. But I do. You passed out on me and I took you to bed, that’s all.”

Y/N sniffled. “That’s…all?”

“Mhm.”

Y/N wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t.

She didn’t know why though. Maybe it was because she knew Valentino’s true nature underneath all the charm.

But…she nodded along.

It was best to believe him.

And while the two made up and Valentino reassured her, he was the only one knew the truth.

And that truth was exactly what Y/N had feared.

[lovetrouble123]

Professional Delusions

Synopsis: Y/N has been one of Vox's assistance for a while now. During this time, they’re become a total hopeless romantic toward him. And after he compliments their work, it must mean he reciprocates, right?

TW: Y/N is delusional, slightly suggestive content

A/N: Hoping to get back into oneshot writing! I haven't been too inspired as of late.

Masterlist

Everyone said that working for one of the Vee's—regardless of which one—would ultimately be the worst decision of your life.

However, for a sinner named Y/N, it had proven to be both the worst decision and yet somehow the best decision they had ever made.

It was the best because Voxtek Entertainment was the most technological advanced company in Hell. The pay was...alright, the benefits were...well, there weren't any, but at least the coffee in the breakroom was good.

The worst part of it was that Y/N had accidentally, catastrophically and irreversibly fallen in love with their boss, Vox.

The crush hadn't started intentionally. It started rather innocently with Y/N finding themselves in Hell rather unexpectedly. Being a corporate slave to a simple 9-5 in their human life, they found that being in Hell wasn't much different. This meant that if you wanted to survive, you had to make a living.

The first thing Y/N admired about Vox was his confidence.

He carried himself with an effortless authority that commanded every room he entered. Employees straightened when he was nearby. Daily conversations between coworkers seemed to revolve around him.

Plus, watching him run Voxtek was impressive.

He always seemed to know exactly what to do. Like if a server went down, it would be fixed within the hour. If an investor threatened to pull funding, he'd have them signing a better contract by the end of the meeting.

Next, they had fallen for his intelligence.

Y/N had lost count how many meetings they had sat through where executives twice their age walked in believing they knew better, only for Vox to dismantle every argument with a smug efficiency that left them speechless.

Then, they found themselves getting turned on by his stupidly hot, stupidly attractive voice.

Somewhere along the way, admiration turned into a crush and Y/N found themselves wanting to be more than just his secondary assistant.

That realization had been...less than ideal.

At first, Y/N convinced themself that it was only a temporary office crush.

Everyone had one at some point and if they gave it some time, it was sure to go away.

Except it didn't.

So, when Vox complimented their work with a simple "good job," it felt like they had won the lottery.

It was pathetic.

They knew it was pathetic.

And they had accepted that it was pathetic.

But at least they had Ethan to snap them back into reality.

"I'll need those reports done by noon." Vox said, his eyes flickering from Ethan to Y/N. "And good work on those investor files."

"Thank you, sir," Y/N had calmly replied. But once Vox had walked away from their desks, all cards were off the table.

"Don't."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"All he said was 'good work on those investor files.'"

"He noticed."

"He just approved a document."

"He specifically complimented me."

"He acknowledged that you successfully performed the job he is paying you to do."

"He remembered that he gave it to me."

Ethan sighed. "If our boss told the printer it did a 'good job,' would you think he was in love with it?"

Y/N shook their head. "That's totally different because a printer can't handle his emotional vulnerability."

"There was none."

"He was yearning."

"You're delusional."

"You never support my dreams."

"That it because your dreams lack common sense."

But before Y/N could reply, Ethan beat them to it.

"And don't even start with another fantasy of yours. Our boss would never have a work place relationship with anyone other than Valentino."

"That just means I have to be better than Valentino!"

Ethan took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "Please just have a normal work crush...for once."

But Y/N wasn't exactly normal, were they?

How could they be when the hottest man in Hell was literally their boss?

Later that afternoon, Vox had called Y/N up to his office. It was a bit odd considering most of the staff at Voxtek had already begun retiring for the day as shift change was currently happening.

The ride up to Vox's office was nerve wracking.

Y/N wasn't nervous because they were at risk of being fired or fed to his pet shark. No, they were nervous because their crush (their boss) had asked to speak with them privately.

Fixing their hair in the elevator doors reflection, it finally opened to reveal the minimalistic office that belonged to their boss.

"You wanted to speak to me, sir?" Y/N asked, walking over and stepping in front of his desk.

The desk that they wanted him to bend them over on and—.

"I need you to handle something."

He's nervous!

"I know this is a bit personal."

Personal?!

"And I've been thinking about this for a while now."

Could this finally be it?!

Had the good Lord in Heaven heard their prayers all the way from in Hell?!

Was their sexy ass boss about to declare his undying love, bend them over and—?!

"So, I need you to head over to Valentino's studio."

Y/N blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"He killed a few of his employees," Vox explained, pulling up a holographic feed out of thin air. "I need someone to supervise the cleanup crew. I'd send Eelthan down there, but he's busy with financial reports."

"Oh."

Dismissing the holographic screen, Vox leaned back in his chair.

"Be a doll and take care of that for me, yeah?"

[lovetrouble123]

I was wondering if we could get more Teru content I was thinking his siblings reacting to reader moving in with them and reader and teru have a kid of their own perhaps 💗

Hi! While I would love to write this, I'm not very comfortable with it due to Teru being 17. I'm not comfortable with aging him up either! So sorry:(

[kremzzzzzz]

Fem VoxVal

[lovetrouble123]

I love women bro

[videokilledtheradiost4r]

My comfort ship honestly

[moomooofdoom]

[plushance]

ᴠᴇɴᴇᴇʀ

vincent whittman (vox) x fem!reader x alastor, murdermedia x reader

yandere!vox x actress!reader x yandere!alastor, alastor lives to see the 50s in this one, no beta we die. period.

warnings: yandere behavior, age gaps, graphic violence/murder, blood, disassociation, non-consensual touching, physical restraint, coercive behavior, forced proximity

word count: ~1.2k

synopsis: there are moments that split a life cleanly in two: before you know, and after.

this is what comes after.

You had always been squeamish around blood.

During your breakout picture last spring, one splash of corn syrup and red dye had sent you off set for a glass of water and a ten-minute cool-down. Vincent had laughed about it from his director's chair, promising to buy you a nice dinner to make up for the trauma. Alastor had simply handed over his silk handkerchief and murmured something about the fragility of beautiful things, low enough that only you heard it.

Tonight, you hadn't even managed a scream.

You'd gone down to the basement studio for a misplaced script, nothing more than that. The door had been unlocked, and you'd pushed it open expecting an empty room.

Beyond it, Alastor was holding the studio executive down by both arms, patient as a man waiting for a bus. Vincent swung the pipe. The crunch of the man's jaw breaking was wet, and the spray of it reached you before you understood what you were looking at.

Tonight, there was nothing fake about the blood on your cheek.

You could only remember bits and pieces of getting back home: Vincent's hand clamped around your elbow, Alastor on your other side with two fingers resting at the small of your back. The two of them had steered you up the service stairs and out to the car like a pair of men helping a friend who'd had too much to drink.

Now you sat in a velvet vanity chair in your own bedroom, staring at yourself in the mirror. The studio's box office darling, and you looked like you’d been dragged out of a river.

"You're freezing." Vincent shoved a crystal tumbler toward your mouth, spilling rye on your lap. "Drink. Please. It'll help, baby. I've got you—you're safe, I swear to God you're safe—"

Before the glass reached your lips, Alastor caught Vincent's wrist with the crook of his cane and pulled it back.

“Do be careful, Vincent. You're crowding her.” There was none of the bright radio lilt in Alastor’s voice now. He sounded almost bored.

In the mirror, you watched him come up behind you, unhurried, drawing a folded handkerchief from his vest pocket. His hair was still neat. His smile hadn't moved. Entirely too put-together for a man who had just killed someone.

“I hardly think drowning her in rye will improve matters, Vincent.” Alastor’s gloved hand settled at the back of your neck, holding you still as he wiped the blood from your cheek. “There now, cher. No need to let such an ugly business spoil that pretty face.”

You actually liked rye. Drank it neat most nights the studio got to be too much. But your jaw had locked somewhere between the basement and here.

Alastor didn't ask you to drink, or to speak. All you had to do was sit still and let him hold your face in his hand.

So you did.

Vincent’s breath came out sharp. “Her face?” he snapped. “Are you fucking serious? She just watched us cave a man’s head in, and you’re worried about how she looks?” He set the glass down hard. “Get your hands off her.”

The order was barely out before he knocked Alastor’s hand away and pulled you from the chair. One arm slipped behind your back, the other beneath your legs, and then you were in the armchair with him, dragged tight across his lap.

A small, choked gasp escaped you— the first sound you’d made all night.

Vincent's hands locked around your waist, bunching the silk at your hips. He buried his face in your neck, breath ragged against your skin.

“Look at her,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “She's not even here. She’s shell-shocked because you turned a contract negotiation into a fucking slaughterhouse.”

You shifted. His grip tightened.

“I'm staying tonight. I'm not leaving her like this.”

Alastor folded the handkerchief and set it on the vanity. "Leaving?" His eyes flicked to the bed. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

Vincent’s nails dug into your waist. It hurt enough that you tried to tell him, but your jaw still wouldn’t open.

“No,” he spoke through his teeth. “You’re not doing this.”

“Doing what, precisely?”

“That.” He glared at Alastor over your shoulder. “Standing there like you've already decided how this goes. She's staying with me.”

Alastor's gaze dropped to where Vincent's hands were locked around your waist. “And what comfort do you imagine she'll find, smothered by your nerves?”

Vincent's grip loosened by a fraction before he caught himself. “Fuck off. You're not getting in that bed.”

Alastor looked back at him, still smiling.

“My dear Vincent, you speak as though you have a say in the matter.” He slipped two fingers beneath your chin and turned your face toward him, his thumb resting over your pulse. “She has grown rather attached to you. I had hoped, for her sake, that you might prove useful tonight.” His eyes dropped to Vincent’s hands around your waist. “Clearly, I was mistaken.”

Vincent's nails dug even deeper into your waist. Pain finally broke a word loose from your locked jaw.

"...Vinny."

You meant to tell him he was hurting you. His name was all you could get out.

Vincent lit up like you'd handed him a gift. "Hear that?" He pulled you tighter, grinning against your hair. "She wants me." He pressed his mouth to your neck, already rewriting the last five minutes into something he could live with.

Alastor’s thumb slid along your jaw, turning your face toward him. “A sweet sound, Vincent, but she's looking at me. Aren't you, darling?”

Before Vincent could stop him, Alastor slipped one arm behind your back and the other beneath your knees, lifting you off his lap— not a strain in it, as if you weighed nothing at all. Alastor drew you against his chest and carried you to your bed.

“Put her down, Al!” Vincent was already moving. “She doesn’t need some relic from the silent era pawing at her. You’re thirty years older than her, for fuck’s sake. You’re old enough to be her father.”

Alastor’s hand stilled at your shoulder.

Vincent caught it. “She needs someone who can actually keep up with her.”

Alastor lowered you onto the pillows without looking back. “Then it is a profound mercy she has you around to keep track of the calendar, Vincent. But do keep your voice down— surely a man who is a full decade ahead of her himself shouldn't pretend he's her peer. If I am ancient history, my boy, you are hardly the new release.”

Alastor sat on the edge of the bed and unlaced his shoes before settling beside you, his fingers tangling into your hair as he leaned against the pillows and drew the covers over you both.

Vincent didn't bother with his shoes. He dropped onto the mattress on your other side, the springs groaning under him, and threw a heavy arm across your waist.

You couldn't do anything but lie still between them.

a/n: i genuinely can’t tell if this is the best fic i’ve ever written or the worst, but what the hell. posting it anyway. apologies for my abuse of the em dash. i cant help but love the em dash the way an alcoholic mother loves her estranged child. also, huge shoutout to @dostoevskya for the amazing inspo from her wonderful fics, which you should all definitely go check out. saving ourselves from the murdermedia x reader drought one fic at a time 🫡

[lovetrouble123]

I fuck heavy with this one chat

[verosihoeee]

Could I please request a yandere Vees x Charlie's sister reader?

Imagine the sweetest quiet princess imaginable that could give you cavities just by smiling at you, Being courted on by the unholy trinity of overlords, Gifts being piled up with sweet and NSFW messages attached by the front lobby that it creates a fire hazard as the crew is shocked and kinda intrigued especially since it involves Charlie and Lucifer.  

Meanwhile poor reader is unaware of their advances and sends them thank you gifts and sweet replies which only fuels the fire between V tower and the Hazbin Hotel. (Vox would totally use his hypnosis as part of the plan)

Hihi! Thank you for the req! I rlly like this one :)) enjoy

Vees x charlies sister

You sit in the cozy window seat of the Hazbin Hotel’s library, sunlight filtering through the stained-glass panes in soft rainbow hues across your lap. A sketchbook rests on your knees, filled with delicate drawings of redeemed sinners and whimsical Hellscapes that somehow still manage to look hopeful. Your sister Charlie calls you her “little sunshine in the pit,” and even Lucifer, your dad, ruffles your hair and declares you too pure for the rings you were born into. Quiet by nature, you prefer gentle smiles and handwritten notes over grand speeches. Your voice is soft, almost melodic, the kind that makes demons pause mid-rant just to listen.

You have no idea that three of the most powerful, depraved Overlords in Pentagram City have set their sights on you.

It started subtly enough.

A single black-and-crimson box arrived at the hotel’s front desk one morning, wrapped in velvet ribbon that shimmered like fresh blood under stage lights. Inside: a necklace of glowing crimson rubies shaped like tiny hearts, each one pulsing faintly with embedded VoxTek tech. The card attached was written in elegant, looping script:

“To the sweetest princess in Hell,
Your smile could power a thousand screens. Wear this so I can keep you close.
Always watching,
—Vox”

Niffty squealed and tried to climb the box like a mountain. Husk grunted something about “fucking tech overlords” and poured himself a double. Angel Dust whistled low, picking up the necklace with two fingers. “Whoa, toots. That’s some high-end ‘come fuck me’ jewelry.”

Charlie’s eyes widened in horror. “That’s for my sister?! No. Absolutely not. Dad’s gonna lose it.”

But the gifts didn’t stop.

The next day, a towering arrangement of black roses and glowing neon lilies arrived, petals edged in electric blue. Tucked inside was a silk lingerie set in your exact size—delicate, expensive, and filthy in its implications. The note, scented with Valentino’s signature smoke-and-sin cologne, read:

“Mi dulce princesita,
Imagine this against your skin while I whisper all the pretty things I’d do to make you moan my name.
You’d look so good crying for me.
—Valentino 💋”

By the third day, the lobby was starting to look like a war zone of luxury. Stacks of designer dresses from Velvette’s latest collection, each with handwritten compliments on the tags: “This color would make that innocent blush pop, babe. Wear it when you finally sit on my lap.” Limited-edition VoxTek tablets pre-loaded with playlists titled “Songs to make the quiet ones scream.” A custom perfume from Valentino that smelled like sin and strawberries. Velvette sent a pair of thigh-high boots with hidden knives in the heels and a note that simply said, “For when the hotel gets boring, cutie.”

The pile grew so high it became a legitimate fire hazard. Charlie tried to organize it. Alastor’s grin sharpened with every new delivery, static crackling in the air. “My dear, it appears the picture box and his little pets have taken quite the fancy to our resident angel.”

Lucifer showed up in a burst of dramatic flames after the seventh delivery—a life-sized portrait of you painted by one of Valentino’s artists, with a very NSFW alternative version hidden behind it. “THEY SENT MY BABY GIRL LINGERIE?! I’ll turn that flat-faced TV into a paperweight!”

You remained blissfully unaware of the full extent of their intentions.

You were in the garden behind the hotel, humming softly while tending to a patch of hellpoppies that bloomed brighter around you, when the latest delivery arrived. A massive bouquet of glowing flowers that shifted colors to match your mood—currently soft pink and gold. Attached was a sleek black box from VoxTek.

Inside: a delicate bracelet that hummed with gentle static, and a handwritten note in Vox’s precise, digital font mixed with flowing ink:

“Princess,
Every time you smile, my entire grid lights up. Let me be the one to keep that smile safe. Wear this, and think of me. I’ll make sure no one else ever gets close enough to dim it.
Hypnotized by you,
Vox”

You tilted your head, cheeks flushing a pretty rose. “Oh… that’s so kind. They keep sending such thoughtful things.” You didn’t notice the faint hypnotic pulse in the bracelet’s core, designed to make your thoughts drift toward V Tower whenever you felt lonely.

You carefully wrote three separate thank-you notes in your elegant, looping handwriting, sealing them with little wax seals pressed with a heart stamp.

To Vox:
“Dear Vox,
Thank you for the beautiful bracelet. It feels warm, like a friend is nearby. Your flowers made the whole lobby smell amazing. I hope you have a wonderful day full of bright ideas!
With gratitude,
Charlie’s Sister 💕”

To Valentino:
“Dear Mr. Valentino,
The roses are stunning! I’ve never seen black ones that glow like that. You’re very generous. I drew a little picture of one for you—hope it makes you smile.
Sweetly yours,
Charlie’s Sister”

To Velvette:
“Dearest Velvette,
The dresses are so pretty! I tried on the pink one—it twirls perfectly. You have such wonderful taste. Thank you for thinking of me.
Hugs,
Charlie’s Sister”

You even sent small gifts back: a handmade friendship bracelet woven with protective runes for Vox, a watercolor portrait of a stylish outfit for Velvette, and a batch of homemade cookies shaped like little hearts for Valentino (with extra sugar because you thought he might like sweet things).

The Vees lost their collective minds.

Inside V Tower, the penthouse suite was thick with tension and ego.

Vox’s screen face glitched with static joy as he read your note for the fifth time, the bracelet’s signal feeding him faint images of you smiling in the hotel garden. “She called it warm. She’s wearing it. She’s wearing my fucking mark.” His hypnosis script was working—slowly, gently pulling your thoughts toward him during quiet moments.

Valentino lounged on a heart-shaped couch, your watercolor portrait propped on his lap like a trophy. He exhaled a cloud of pink smoke. “Look at this handwriting. So fucking innocent. I want to ruin it with my name on her tongue. She sent me cookies, Vox. Cookies. I’m going to bend her over my desk and—”

“Shut the fuck up, Val,” Velvette snapped, but she was smirking, twirling the friendship bracelet around her finger. “She liked the dresses. Said they twirl. We need to escalate. The hotel freaks are probably having aneurysms.”

Vox leaned back, eyes narrowed in a predatory grin. “She’s too pure to realize we’re courting her. Perfect. Next wave: I’ll broadcast a private signal through her bracelet—subtle suggestions. Make her dream about us. Valentino, send the custom toy set. Velvette, the lingerie photoshoot invitation disguised as a ‘fashion consultation.’”

Back at the hotel, chaos reigned.

The lobby looked like a luxury department store had exploded. Angel Dust was modeling one of the dresses, striking poses. “Damn, these threads are fire. Your sister’s got herself a harem of psychos, Charlie.”

Husk grumbled from the bar. “Three Overlords simping for the quiet kid. This ends in blood.”

Alastor’s shadow stretched across the ceiling. “How delightfully entertaining. The Radio Demon versus the Vees for the heart of a princess. I do love a good rivalry.”

Charlie paced frantically, wings half-flared. “She doesn’t even know! She thinks they’re being nice! Dad nearly set the gifts on fire this morning!”

Lucifer appeared in a swirl of apple-scented smoke, clutching one of the NSFW notes like evidence in a trial. “My precious baby girl is being courted by porn and television! I raised her better than this!”

You wandered in from the garden, still humming, the new bracelet glinting on your wrist. Everyone froze.

“Hi everyone,” you said softly, offering that cavity-inducing smile. “More gifts? That’s so sweet of them. I sent thank-yous and some cookies. Do you think they liked them?”

The room erupted.

Angel Dust cackled. “Toots, they liked them too much.”

Charlie rushed over, grabbing your hands. “Sis, you need to understand—these aren’t just nice demons. They’re… intense.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “They seem very thoughtful. Vox’s bracelet makes me feel less alone when I’m drawing. And Valentino’s flowers are so pretty in my room.”

A faint static hum came from the bracelet. For a second, your eyes softened dreamily, imagining a tall, charismatic TV demon smiling just for you.

Outside, a new delivery van pulled up—three massive boxes this time.

One from Vox: a custom headset that promised “the clearest music in Hell” (and doubled as a two-way communication device with hypnotic undertones).

One from Valentino: a discreet, luxurious box containing toys “for when the nights get long and lonely, princesa,” with a note detailing exactly how he wanted to watch you use them.

One from Velvette: an entire wardrobe capsule collection with a handwritten invitation to “a private styling session at Vee Tower. Bring that innocent energy, babe. We’ll make it filthy.”

You opened the cards first, reading them aloud in your gentle voice, completely missing the explicit subtext.

The crew watched in horrified fascination as you started writing more thank-you notes, cheeks pink with genuine appreciation.

Vox’s screen in the corner of one of the gift boxes flickered to life briefly—his face appearing in a private feed only he could see, glitching with possessive delight. “That’s it, princess… keep smiling at us. We’re coming for you.”

Days blurred into a feverish exchange.

You baked more cookies. You drew portraits. You sent polite, heart-melting replies that made the Vees more obsessed.

Valentino started sending daily “good morning, mi amor” voice messages that oozed seduction.

Velvette sent outfit-of-the-day suggestions that grew increasingly revealing.

Vox began appearing on every screen in the hotel for split seconds, whispering compliments only you seemed to hear, thanks to the bracelet amplifying his signal.

The rivalry intensified. Alastor started “accidentally” sabotaging deliveries with shadowy tentacles. Lucifer enchanted half the gifts to scream show tunes when opened. Charlie tried to mediate with increasingly desperate redemption pitches aimed at the Vees themselves.

Yet you remained the eye of the storm—sweet, quiet, devastatingly unaware—your gentle thank-yous and returned gifts only pouring gasoline on the fire.

One evening, as another mountain of presents threatened to collapse the front desk, you stood among them, holding a new handwritten card from all three Vees.

It read simply:

“We’re not asking anymore, princess.
Come to V Tower. Let us worship you the way you deserve.
—The Vees”

You smiled softly, pressing the card to your chest.

“They really are persistent,” you murmured. “I should send more cookies.”

The hotel crew collectively facepalmed as another delivery truck rumbled up outside.

The war for your heart—and the very real danger of three Overlords burning down half the Pride Ring over it—was only just beginning.

[lovetrouble123]

Desperately need a part 2 omg

[lovetrouble123]

I’m only a few minutes into Dan and Phil reacting to their interactive introvert tour and it’s so crazy to me that my show was completely waterlogged so they couldn’t use any of the lights or anything. Like I remember Dan coming out and apologizing that the show was gonna be “unplugged.” Like why am I in 2026 jealous that everyone else got the full experience☹️

[hnjcollector]

[lucifersfavourite]

OPENING TWITTER TO BE BLESSED WITH THIIISISISSS 🥹🥹🥹🥹🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍 UUWWWWWEEEHHH HES SOOO SOSO CUTE. DOES BABY KNOW HIS DUCK’S BROKEN AHSKDJSJ hes the CUTEST EVER ohh my god mt favourite old man. Hes so soooo precious sAAAAHJDJSJAHAHA YAYAA

[lovetrouble123]

Nobody understands how happy this card makes me

[lovetrouble123]

Love that nobody knows wtf is going on in Madrid rn

[jinxedjynxx]

this is gonna be like your 3rd Vox ask 😭 but I was thinking it could be like alastor owns our soul and we’re kinda like an assistant to him so in s2 when he’s stuck in the vees tower so is reader(she/her) and Vox is kinda obsessed with her

☆ I kind of went a little off track with this one... I don't know what came over me when writing it so I apologise in advance 😓

★ Slightly angsty? Again, not sure where it came from... oops...

☆ I could probably do something more in the realm of headcanons if that was more of what you wanted me to go for, but please let me know!! (I really like this prompt so I am more than happy to write more for you, anon!)

★ I hope you enjoy nontheless :)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Vox x Alastor's Assistant!Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 2, 160

★ GN Reader!

☆ SUMMARY: Vox finally has his rival under his thumb, but was it ever really about his feud with Alastor?

You grunted as Alastor’s shoulder hit yours. A low growl vibrated in his throat, although you knew it was hardly directed at you. The two of you exchanged a brief look, but he was becoming impossibly harder for you to read as of late. Vox’s smug grin flashed in front of you and the brightness of his screen was harsh on your eyes. They stung and watered, causing you to have to squeeze them shut. He only laughed at the reaction. 

It took everything in you to not curse out Alastor right then and there. Why he made that deal with Vox, you weren’t sure, but anything could have been better than your current situation. 

Bound to a chair. 

At the mercy of the media overlord himself. 

Who of which was Alastor’s oldest enemy. 

The Radio Demon had gone a little off the rails ever since his battle with Adam. He hadn’t spoken a word to you about what happened, but you’d certainly caught a glimpse of the green stitches holding his chest together when he wasn’t looking. He was getting careless. Sloppy. The distinguished, put-together gentleman you were used to was slowly unraveling. 

And he dragged you into his mess. 

Why did it have to be you? Couldn’t it have been Niffty or Husk instead?

But even if you wanted to say anything, Alastor was whisked away at the flick of a hand before you could turn to dish out a glare to him. Vox silently watched him get dragged out of the office, eyes never leaving the deer’s strained smile. Until the door closed. 

Vox immediately took a step toward you and leaned forward ever so slightly, making sure his screen was closer than it should be to your face. His smirk still remained, though it grew noticeably larger now that it was just the two of you in the room. 

“Y’know..” He hummed. “I never understood how someone like you ended up working for him.” 

All you could do was frown. It was hard to tell whether that was an insult to you or your boss. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Vox only chuckled and straightened up. He tucked his hands behind his back and tilted his head. 

“Oh, simply that you had so many other better options. What does the Radio Demon give you that I couldn’t?” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Is that what this is about?”

“It’s a simple question, sweetheart.” 

You huffed. If you could cross your arms, you would. 

“I know for a fact it’s not sex.” 

You froze at his words. 

Seriously? 

He began to circle you slowly, eyes trained on taking in every inch of your features. 

From behind you; “Can’t be money, either.” He continued. 

On your left now. “Not the type.”  

“And he’d be damned before he’d ever give up any of his power for someone else.” Back in front of you. 

His hands rested on the arms of the chair and he towered over you. From up close, you could smell the faint metallic scent of his mechanical systems mixed with his cologne. 

“So, tell me. What is it that you get out of your deal with him?”

You remained silent. One of Vox’s eyes appeared to be brighter than the other, and you were certain that if you looked hard enough you’d see the spiralling crimson hypnosis behind his pupil. Alastor’s voice rang in your head and you quickly averted your gaze. He’d basically drilled it into your skull to avoid looking the television demon directly in his eye. Supposedly, his power could be used much more subtly when he wanted to sneak his way into your mind, so it was better not to risk it. 

Unfortunately, it was becoming increasingly difficult.

“Look at me, princess.” He practically growled in a low, threatening voice. 

One of his claws moved from the chair to your chin and grabbed it roughly between his fingers to guide your attention back to him. Your heart stuttered at the action and picked up speed out of nowhere. With nowhere else to look, you gave in and looked at him once more. His screen took up the majority of your vision, the blue glow burning your irises. You could only hope he assumed the heat of your face was just the reflection of his eyes on your skin. 

“That’s better.” He smirked. “Now, care to answer me?” 

You kept your mouth shut and challenged him with narrowed eyes. Usually, it was easy to put up an unbothered front around him. You could brush off his words and swiftly dodge his advances. He’d grown predictable over the years—or so you thought. Without Alastor around, you realised that the certainty you usually had in yourself was significantly lowered. He wasn’t there to protect you if things went sideways. You were completely and utterly at Vox’s mercy. Or, rather, his obsession. 

His eyes gleamed eagerly at the situation, the knowledge that he had the upper hand a particularly large boost to his already massive ego. He’d been trying for years to get you to where you were right then. 

“No?” He tilted his head curiously—mockingly. 

“You’re not usually this quiet.” He hummed and squeezed your jaw tighter, his claws digging into your cheeks slightly. 

You hated the way it made you feel. 

“Alastor threaten you?” He asked. “Beat you into submission so you wouldn’t spill all his secrets?” 

There was a split second where you noticed his own mask slip. The sudden flash of seriousness across his digital features. Concern. 

You furrowed your brows at the thought. Alastor certainly wasn’t the kindest of demons, but he had never once laid a hand on you, nor come close to such a thing. You always assumed that Vox was aware of that. 

Either way, it was just unfortunate that he was just a bit too good at getting under your skin—no hypnosis needed. 

His hand moved with you as you tried to turn your head from side to side as an answer. The grip he had on you softened, even if only slightly. Then he realised what he was doing and quickly snapped back into his usual program. 

“Well, lucky it’s not him I want today.” 

You almost laughed at that. All of Hell knew about the ongoing feud between the two overlords. The notion of Vox ‘not wanting to hear about Alastor’ was something unheard of. 

He finally let go of you and straightened up to peer down at you. He looked as though he was itching to do or say something but was holding himself back for some reason or another. And then you realised there was an unusual expression on his face. One he wasn’t hiding. 

In the dim room, he easily shapeshifted into a completely different persona. 

“Do you realise how long I’ve worked to get you here?” He gestured to the office around the two of you. 

“I mean, preferably you would be standing by my side instead of on that chair.” 

A beat of silence. 

Back turned to you. 

Took a deep breath.

Turned back around, frowning. 

“We used to be friends.” 

Your stomach dropped to the floor as he spoke over his shoulder. A wave of nausea washed over you as the memories you’d tried to lock away came flooding back in. 

Back then, he was still Vincent. 

And you weren’t just ‘friends’, either.

You could still recall the first time the two of you met; drunk, in a bar. It was the first time Alastor treated you to whiskey instead of your usual vodka. You’d been a lowly assistant at his radio tower that managed to work your way up to acquaintances with the overlord. When Vincent approached you with a compliment to your choice of drink, you couldn’t help but flush and poorly explained that it was Alastor’s choice rather than yours. He found you amusing at that moment. The memory was a stark contrast to the sight before you now. 

From then on, the two of you were inseparable. Always together. Always on the same page. Ideas bounced off one another like a rhythmic game of ping pong. And the secrecy of your relationship only added to the thrill. By day you were close friends and business partners. By night you were tangled up in one another’s sheets. 

Until the overlords’ fallout. 

Then your deal with Alastor that finalised your debt to him; the catalyst for the feigned animosity between the two of you. 

Now, Vox watched the way your face fell with his own solemn one. His demeanour had completely switched. There was a pleading to his tone, a desperation you haven’t heard in a long time. One akin to the Vincent you once knew. 

“Why him?” 

It was two simple words that stabbed you right through the heart. You couldn’t bear to look away from him, as if doing so would sever any underlying connection you had left with him. As if it would seal your answer and hence your fate. 

You couldn’t tell him the real reason, as much as you wanted to. Did he know about the nights you lay awake with him running circles around your mind, just as you did with him? His obsession had certainly reached new heights in recent years, but you remained stuck on the man you tried to believe was still in there amongst all his modern developments. Box-headed and starry eyed. 

The moments of silence stretched on as you looked at one another, until he stepped forward to brush a thumb delicately across your cheek. It left behind a smeared wetness from a warm tear you hadn’t realised was there. At the realisation, the sting of your eyes suddenly registered in your mind. And for those fleeting seconds as you looked up at him through watery eyes, you swore you saw Vincent staring back at you. Holding your face gently in his hands the way he used to. 

“Why won’t you come back to me?” 

But when he spoke, it all came crashing down around you. This was Vox. New and improved. Cocky and narcissistic. His manipulative ways were only heightened around you with the shared memories hanging over your head. Alastor warned you of such things, yet you were too weak-minded to fight it. 

Even so, your foolish heart swelled and took over your thoughts. You remained still as the cords keeping you bound to the chair loosened and fell to the floor in a circled heap. It was your chance to run. To escape. Find Alastor and get out of there. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Vox held your gaze with such intensity that you were trying desperately to understand the unspoken words he was trying to get across to you. 

And then your lips were pressed against his screen. 

Neither of you were sure who instigated it, but neither of you pulled away, either. His hands clawed at the back of your head and tangled themselves in your hair whilst yours clutched onto the sides of his screen. The sensation was just as exhilarating as you remembered. The mixture between what was digital and tangible made your mind whir. 

“Stay.” He breathed when you pulled apart. “Stay at the tower.” 

“Vox…” You replied softly, only to be interrupted with his hands wrapped around your wrists to keep your arms around him. 

“Vincent.” He corrected in his impetuosity. “And I can talk to Alastor. You can stay here where you belong.” 

A sharp pang of emotion tugged at your heartstrings. You were looking in the eyes of a man so desperate that you should have found it pathetic. His insecurity of being left behind on full display. But you could only focus on the lingering feeling of his lips on yours and the electricity that still tingled in your bones. Could only conjure up the intense yearning for him that you’d pushed down for years, which he managed to dig up with just a few words. 

“How?” Was all you could get out. Any other words failed you the second they came to mind. 

“I’ll figure it out.” He whispered with a gentle squeeze of your hands. “I promise.” 

You chose to ignore the doubt that nagged at your mind and smiled instead. Just for a few minutes, you’d like to believe that everything would be okay. In reality, you knew you may be signing yourself up for a worse fate. The Vees had their own notorious reputation in the Pride Ring, and Vox was no exception. Alastor had kept you around for over a decade. Would Vox do the same? Or would his obsession run dry the moment the chase was over and leave you with nothing? 

The logical part of your brain was screaming at you to snap out of it. But when he kissed you once more, the alarm bells fell silent. 

Maybe this was where you were meant to be. 

“Okay.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

★ Request Guidelines

[lovetrouble123]

WAIT WHERES THE REST😭😭

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Watched Descendants: Wicked Wonderland…I have so much to say about it

[lovetrouble123]

Twinkle, Twinkle✨

Synopsis: Vox’s office is boring, why not bedazzle it?

TW: n/a

A/N: Old draft from a few months ago that I never posted but I haven’t written any new fics in a while:/ not really a fan of this one lol

TV, Sharks & Moths Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Y/N’s living room looked like a war zone.

Every surface shimmered under a chaotic layer of loose sparkle—whites, blues, and soft pinks that dusted the floor like freshly fallen snow, only far more hazardous.

Rhinestones were scattered everywhere, crunching faintly underfoot and catching the light in sharp, blinding flashes. A half used bedazzling kit lay torn open across the couch, its contents spilled out like guts, while a glue gun rested on the armrest, still warm and webbed with thin, stringy strands of drying adhesive.

The coffee table had long since disappeared beneath the aftermath—buried under glitter jars with missing lids, brushes that were stiff, and several objects in various stages of ‘improvement.’

A remote control now sparkled aggressively. A decorative bowl had been entirely overtaken, transformed into something that could no longer be touched without consequences. Even the rug—once soft and plush—had been changed, its fibers clinging desperately to every speck of glitter like it had accepted its fate.

And in the center of it all, like the eye of a very sparkly storm, sat Y/N cross legged and covered in her own handiwork. Glitter clung to her skin, her clothes, her hair—it dusted her lashes and shimmered across her cheeks every time she blinked. She hummed softly to herself, completely unbothered, carefully pressing another rhinestone into place on something that had long since stopped needing decoration.

To anyone else, it would’ve looked like destruction.

But to Y/N? It was perfect.

“Done!” Y/N cheered, pulling away as she looked down at the rhinestone covered picture frame that held a memory of her first date with Vox and Valentino. “Now, we look stylish and shiny.”

She leaned back against the couch, humming to herself as she tried to think of other things to decorate, whether it be by gluing glitter to them or bedazzling them.

Y/N gasped, an idea sparking in her head as she smirked and collected her rhinestones, glitter and glue gun. She packed them up in a bag before quickly heading toward the elevator outside her penthouse. She selected Vox’s office and thankfully when she arrived, he was missing.

Y/N stepped foot into the office clutching her bag close as Shok.Wav peered down at her from inside his tank. He bumped his snout against the glass, his eye flashing with recognition.

“Hello Shok.Wav!” Y/N greeted with a wave, “Vox isn’t here. Is he? I mean, I don’t see him.” She said, pulling out her phone. “Any idea where he is?”

It took a few seconds, but her phone soon lit up with a text notification from Shok.Wav:

“MEETING.”

“Perfect.” She said, setting her bag down on his desk. “Any idea when he’ll come back?”

Another text.

“2 HOURS.”

Y/N nodded, her shark tail hitting the floor. “Perfect. Shok.Wav, how do you feel about being shiny and covered in rhinestones?”

A second after asking, Y/N clasped her hands together as if Shok.Wav had just agreed, even though he really hadn’t.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Y/N walked over to the tank where there was an indent, broken glass in a large circle from the time she made a hole in the glass for herself. Vox hadn’t replaced the glass, not entirely. He just reinstalled the piece she cut out, and now, it was coming in handy again.

Using her claws, she created a larger hole and helped Shok.Wav through it. Water gushed out, but Y/N patched the hole with some bright pink duct tape.

“Hi baby!” Y/N smiled as she kissed Shok.Wav’s snout, “are you ready to be so much more handsome than you already are?”

Y/N and Shok.Wav settled on the floor in the middle of Vox’s office. Shok.Wav sat on the floor, his body much larger than Y/N’s ever was despite them being the same species.

She left Shok.Wav on the floor and grabbed her bag before heading back over and sitting down with him. She reached into her bag, pulling out a jar of rhinestones. Twisting the lid off, she sprinkled just a little onto her palm before hesitating.

“Wait…do you want blue or pink?”

Shok.Wav stared at her.

“Right. Both. Good choice.”

Y/N giggled to herself and then got to work.

She worked with the kind of focus that only she could manage—tongue slightly poking out, brows furrowed in determination as she carefully pressed a rhinestone against Shok.Wav’s side.

It didn’t stick.

She blinked. “Hm.”

Picking up the glue gun and squeezing a generous amount onto his fin this time, the gems held.

“There we go.”

Shok.Wav didn’t move or protest. If anything, his tail gave a slow, pleased thump against the floor, sending a faint shimmer into the air.

Y/N gasped softly. “See? You love it. I knew you would.”

She continued, now with far more confidence.

Blue rhinestones lined the edges of his fins, catching the light and scattering it across the room in soft, shifting reflections. Pink ones followed—less organized, more ‘wherever felt right’—dotting along his back and sides like constellations.

Every so often, Y/N would pause just to admire her work.

“You’re literally the prettiest shark in Hell,” she whispered, patting his head affectionately before pressing another gem into place. “Just don’t tell Vox or Valentino that,” she giggled, “they’d beg to differ.”

•••

“—And if they can’t meet the deadline, they’re fired. Make sure they understand that, Eel—…I’m going to have to call you back.”

Vox stood by the elevator, blinking at the mess that greeted him in the middle of his office. The office that was usually so pristine and clean, was now ruined by water leaking out between brightly colored duct tape, his son, Shok.Wav, decked out in gems and his partner, Y/N, covered in glitter.

“Sweetheart…what the fuck are you doing?”

Y/N smiled and turned to Vox, holding Shok.Wav’s face. “Isn’t he adorable? I think he is.”

“You ruined my god damn office again,” Vox said. “For no perfectly good reason.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked, “there’s plenty of reason. Shok.Wav needed to be sparkly and shiny just like me! He’s my son too, you know.”

Vox placed a hand on his screen, face palming. “My dear, this is the 12th time you’ve flooded my office to be with Shok.Wav. Did you forget there is a drain water button for when he needs to come out?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Y/N pouted, standing up and walking over to her boyfriend. “And who cares if it’s been flooded before? You’re hot and rich.”

Vox’s screen turned a cyan color before he sighed. “Sweetheart, this behavior is unacceptable. Shok.Wav does not need to be covered in…gemstones. He is a predator.”

“But I think he looks cute. And besides, he agreed!”

As if on cue, Shok.Wav’s tail thumped loudly against the wet floor, as if agreeing with Y/N.

“Y/N, you can’t keep doing this.”

“Yes I can,” she smirked, “because who’s going to stop me?”

Shok.Wav’s tail thumped in agreement, clearly taking Y/N’s side in the situation.

“Oh my god!” Y/N gasped, her hands finding the sides of his screen. “What if I bedazzled your screen?!”

“Absolutely not.” Vox immediately replied, “have you lost your mind?”

“But you’d be all cute and glittery,” Y/N frowned. “Oh, I could bedazzle Valentino’s glasses and Velvette’s phone case too!” She then gasped again, “a glitter party!”

“You can’t bedazzle my screen.”

“So you don’t want to match me and Shok.Wav?” Y/N frowned.

Vox glanced over at Shok.Wav who looked like a pink and blue disco ball, then back at his partner.

Sighing, he gave in and Y/N picked him up and set him on top of his desk.

“Wait here please!” She smiled as she walked off and grabbed the materials that she’d need, only to return with regular craft glue and glitter.

“I thought you said you were going to bedazzle my face,” Vox said. “Not…glitter.”

“Well, I figured the glitter would be easier to wash off,” Y/N said as she stepped between Vox’s legs. “The rhinestones take a lot to come off.”

Vox’s screen flickered with cyan at the closeness, but he tried to keep himself together as she gently applied the glue to the casing of the screen.

Vox shifted, although he wasn’t sure if he was uncomfortable with the closeness or if it was because of how gently she was applying the glue.

“You have to hold still, baby.”

“I am holding still. I just don’t see why this is necessary.”

“Shh.” Y/N said, placing her finger over top of his mouth, “don’t ruin the moment.”

Vox went quiet. Not because he necessarily agreed, but because she was standing between his legs, close enough that he could see the fine scatter of glitter across her cheeks and the way it caught the light every time she moved.

It had somehow made its way into her lashes too, shimmering when she blinked like tiny, careless stars.

It was…distracting.

“This is a terrible idea.”

Y/N softly smiled, not looking up from her work. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s usually true.”

“And yet,” she looked up at him, their eyes meeting, “you let me do it anyway.”

Y/N then dipped her fingers into the glitter, the fine particles clinging instantly to the glue she’d spread along the edge of his screen. With careful, almost delicate movements, she began brushing it on in slow, intentional strokes, like she was painting something far more important than a man who very much did not need to sparkle.

“If this gets in between anything—.”

“It won’t.” Y/N assured, “I’m being careful.”

And she was. For all her chaos—for all the glitter currently invading his office, his floors, his life—her hands were steady. Gentle.

She avoided his screen, keeping to the casing and occasionally leaning in just a little closer to make sure everything sat exactly where she wanted it.

“You’re taking this very seriously,” Vox pointed out.

“Of course I am. It’s you.”

After a moment of silence, Y/N stepped back and tilted her head to the sides, inspecting her work before deciding that: “This side needs more glitter.”

Before he could respond, her hand came up again, her fingers brushing near the edge of his screen as she applied another layer.

“You realize,” he began, his voice quieter now, “that I have an image to maintain.”

Y/N finally looked up at him, her expression soft. “You’re still scary,” she said. “Just…sparkly.”

“That’s not better.”

“It is to me.”

And just like that, any remaining resistance Vox had fizzled.

Vox glanced at his reflection in one of the nearby glass walls. There was a soft shimmer along the edges of his screen, catching the light every time he moved.

It was ridiculous, impractical and completely unnecessary.

His gaze flicked back to Y/N and the way she looked so pleased with herself, and the way she was dusted in glitter from head to toe, like she belonged in the middle of all this chaos she created.

“You’ve made a mess of my office,” Vox said, though there was no real frustration left in his tone.

Y/N beamed. “A pretty mess!”

Vox huffed quietly, but his hand came up anyway where he brushed a stray piece of glitter from her cheek, his touch lingering just a second longer than it needed to.

“You’re lucky I tolerate you.”

Y/N giggled, leaning into the touch without thinking. “You love me.”

There was a brief pause where Vox’s screen dimmed just slightly, the cyan softening.

“Yeah,” he admitted.

Behind them, Shok.Wav’s tail thumped happily against the floor, sending tiny sparkles scattering into the air—glitter catching the light as it drifted down around them.

And for once, Vox didn’t even think about cleaning it up.

•••

“Vox, have you seen Y/N anywhere?” A familiar voice echoed as the elevator doors slid open with Valentino, who stepped inside the office, smelling like cherry cigarettes. “She hasn’t come to my place yet and—.” Valentino passed upon seeing his partners curled up on the floor, their backs pressed against Shok.Wav as they all slept together.

“Oh.”

[lovetrouble123]

DONT FUCKING PLAY WITH ME