●○ You're struggling to reach all of your feathers to properly preen yourself. You're confident you can do it alone, but Vox is just as adamant in his ability to help. Unfortunate news on both ends.
no established gender for reader insert, pre-established relationship but it's not romantic, Vox is crushing hard though which sucks for him, Vox's POV and he's the biggest unreliable narrator ever, open ended angst but I'd like to think it's still funny, reader insert is shirtless the whole time but I swear it doesn't lead to anything other than Vox being Vox
I love making relationships complicated :)
[Masterlist] [AO3]
[Fall on Grace] [Treasured Connections] [Old Goodbyes to New Tomorrows] [☆Ruffled Feathers] [Ask: Crossed Wires] [Ask: Fishy Business]
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Vox will swear up and down he didn't know what he was expecting when he opened the door to the guest bedroom you were staying in (all he heard was grunting and cursing, and the camera in the room only showed your bare back— wait what camera there's no camera!). He can tell you don't really believe him, but he can't bring himself to care as he takes in the view of you.
You're sitting on the bed, shirtless with one of your wings splayed across the sheets and the other twisted in the air as you try to reach the back. The light from the nearby window casts a soft red glow on your skin and bounces off of your feathers in a way he thought made you look like absolute perfection.
He couldn't tear his eyes away from you— letting his gaze travel from the tips of your wings to your chest. He doesn't notice the red drool glitching into existence on the corner of his mouth, but you do and swiftly bring your wing down to cover yourself.
"Can I help you? I'm a little busy here."
Your voice snaps him out of his daydreaming. Right... You're actually sitting on the bed in front of him. He's not staring at a picture he can fantasize about without consequence. His eyes now dart around the room, noticing how ruffled your wings actually are and how much feathers are scattered around the room.
His screen brightens a tad in embarrassment, but he shoves that all down and tries to regain control of himself. Slapping his showman grin on, Vox locks eyes with you and desperately uses every last ounce of willpower to keep his eyes on your face.
He laughs off your question and teases you instead to get your mind off his earlier blunder, "Kinda sounds more like your struggling."
"Same thing." You roll your eyes at him and go back to reaching for the back of your wings— ignoring his presence in the room altogether. While he's completely fine just watching you do your thing (especially when you're shirtless), he has no idea what you're actually doing.
"What uh... What are you even doing?"
"I'm trying to preen my wings, but it's hard to reach the back to do them properly." You drop your arms and wing with a sigh, "I used to get help from my family but... Well, you already know."
Vox can't help the snort that escapes him. Yeah, he was keenly aware of how low your family actually was. Lilith up and left all of you, Lucifer has done fuck all for you the past few years and basically forced you to pick up all his work, and while Charlie may be... nice, she still left all the responsibilities for you to take care of while she worked on her delusional wish list.
Family matters aside, Vox hates seeing you look so defeated. Especially when the cause involves the family that clearly doesn't care enough about you. And your wings are so pretty, even when ruffled like this. It'd be a shame if you hid them away forever 'cause you couldn't care for them effectively.
"I can help?"
He spoke before he could even process how he wanted to fix your issue in the first place. While he doesn't exactly want to take back what he said, the look you give him is enough to have him scrambling to backtrack.
"I mean— if someones always done this for you I don't mind taking time— Uh, I'm not that busy anyway so—"
"Do you even know the first thing about preening wings?"
His confidence immediately comes back as he hears your retort and puffs out his chest, "I'm a walking search engine babe, anything I don't know I can find out in seconds."
You stare at him for a few seconds, brow raised unimpressed, but Vox doesn't let himself falter for a second time. When you finally look away from him and look down to smooth out your topmost feathers, your response is short and clipped.
"I'll be fine on my own."
His anxiety spikes for a moment at how lacklustre you sounded before he smooths himself out with pure logic. If your family were the people to help you before, not being able to do it yourself must be grating on your nerves. Any reminders of his deadbeat family would piss him off too. So, what if he just... replaced the memories for you?
Vox's grin widens at his thought and slowly brings his hands up to grasp your shoulders, "I get you want to separate yourself from your family as much as possible and be completely independent from them—"
"When did I say—"
"But you still have me! Val and Velvette to I suppose, but we have known each other forever!" He leans in closer, stopping right in front of your face and dragging a hand down your shoulder to thread through your feathers, "I wouldn't mind... filling in the void."
Your breaths mingle together. The short distance between the both of you send a shiver up Vox's spine. What he would give for you to lean in the rest of the way and put an end to this song and dance.
Suddenly you pull back, looking down and moving your wing away from his hand to his disappointment.
"I'll eventually get it done myself. You don't need to waste your time."
You sound so tired, he can't help the smirk that appears and grips your shoulders with both hands again. It's cute that you're thinking of his time and business, but really he'd rather be spending the whole day with you. VoxTek will last a day without him.
"C'mon, not everything I do is to benefit something! It can just be something we do, at least let me just this once? If I'm terrible at it we never have to do this again, and if I'm great you don't have to fumble around like a headless chicken for hours on end."
You sigh, and Vox is already celebrating in his head— knowing he's won you over.
"Fine."
"Great!" He doesn't hide the enthusiasm in his voice or his actions, not wasting a moment before he's jumping onto the bed behind you. "Now, what am I doing?"
"I thought you were a walking search engine?"
"I am!" He lets his claws run over your feathers, nearly losing himself at how soft they are, "But you surely have specifics. Can't imagine you have a normal routine with wings like this."
Vox hasn't met many with feathered wings, but none have looked as pretty as yours and he highly doubts they're as soft either. It may just be a perk of being a Morningstar, but you must do something special with them and he doesn't want to mess it up.
"You don't have to bother with any of that. Right now I just need the loose and broken feathers removed."
He snickers and starts scrutinizing the feathers more closely, "Any sensitive spots I should know about?"
"Nice try Vox."
"Worth a shot."
The next little while passes by in a comfortable silence— the longest Vox thinks he's been quiet in your presence in years. He fumbled through your feathers at the start, but quickly grew more confident in his motions when he knew which ones to look out for. He lets himself admire you as his hands start to move on autopilot, every twitch in your wing and flex of your back driving him deeper into desire.
The urge to drag a claw down your spine to see how you react grows with each passing second, so he tries to think of something to talk about to distract himself from following through.
"Y'know, we've known each other for decades and not once have you asked me for anything."
You shrug, "And I still haven't. You were the one practically begging to help me."
"That's the thing isn't it? I'm always the one searching for you, so tell me," Vox pauses his ministrations and rests his head right behind yours, his voice becoming edged with static, "Is there anything you want from me?"
The room grows warmer as he mindlessly plays with a feather and awaits your reply. This is the most forward he's been since he's allowed these feelings for you too fester under his circuitry. Surely this will finally be the one you pick up and throw back at him with your own.
Would you ask for a date? He'd take you anywhere you anywhere you wanted— whether that be a high end restaurant like Dante's Inferno or a simple picnic at a park. Would you skip the date and ask him to be your boyfriend— or even better, skip the pleasantries and ask him to marry you? Or have his advances worked too well and you'd just pull him into the sheets. The thought of making a complete mess of you excites him to no end, not just as royalty but as the one person who's stuck by him through everything. He'd make all of Pride bow to the both of you and utterly ruin you so well no one else would be able to—
"I already have everything I could ever need. Why would I ask anything of you?"
His entire world shatters.
You have... nothing to ask of him? Nothing? No sudden confessions, no wants to watch a movie and gorge on takeout? Hell, he'd even take an ask to help with your workload, but nothing? Absolutely nothing???
That's when memories start resurfacing like a tidal wave. Ones he's elected to wave off, excuse and ignore for the last few years.
Suddenly he's remembering all the missed calls and late replies— something you never used to slack on that he just chalked up to you getting more busy. He's remembering all the times you dropped by without a word or any prompting slowly become more sporadic until they eventually stopped altogether. He's remembering all the cheesy post-it notes and mystery snacks that showing up around his office. He's remembering needing to set up more and more meetings with you under "business" just to make sure you'd come over and not flake out for something else.
He's remembering a time where you used to be everywhere, and suddenly realizing you're barely in it now. It feels like you took the knife Vox didn't even know was deeply embedded in his chest and twisted it.
He thinks a bullet would've been kinder.
"W-well," his voice glitches, unable to stop it still trying to process his crumbling reality, "You're busy so o-often. I wouldn't mind help-ping out here and there to lighten-en the load."
He has his own shit to deal with, managing VoxTek with all of it's products and shows while corralling Val and Velvette from public outbursts, but hell he'd carve out whatever time necessary for you if asked. He'd do anything if it meant he got to spend even a second more with you— anything to get more than what he's finally realized you're currently giving him.
You sigh at his words and he can't tell if it's out of frustration or exhaustion. Either way he knew it wasn't positive and it was igniting his nerves further.
"All my work is to run Pride or for other sins Vox. Nothing you can possibly help with."
He's fumbling through your feathers again at this point— any sense of confidence he gained with your wings gone in the face of his sheer panic.
When did this get so hard? It's always been you and him against Hell since the moment he fell here, so what happened? When did spending time together only happen during business meetings? When did talking outside of that become a rarity? When did texting become wishing you had time to read the message?
When did you get so far away from him?
...
Was it Alastor?
The thought alone that fucking deer possibly had something to do with your sudden aversion makes his blood boil, but it adds up with his disappearing act doesn't it? This wasn't as big of a problem before he disappeared— at least he doesn't think so. God he hopes not. He'll have to ask Val and Velvette if they noticed any sudden distance from you—
"Vox."
He's abruptly pulled from his spiralling at your call. You stretch your wings, effectively taking his hands off of them aswell and start smoothing the last of them out yourself.
"I can handle my wings from here. You got all spots I couldn't reach and you're starting to seem..." You turn your head back enough to give him a once over, "Stressed. Thanks for the help though."
You give him a small smile, so small he nearly missed it and gone as soon as he noticed, but he latches onto that like it's his life support.
"Of course, anytime! I mean it!"
He knows he sounds desperate, and in any other situation he'd beat himself up over it and try to recover, but this is you he's talking to. How could he be anything less when he's now noticed the cavernous distance that's somehow come between you two?
He's quick to get up and leave the room, his mind already swirling with theories and plans as he makes a b-line to his control room. Despite the conflicting thoughts and emotions swirling around inside him, one stays at the forefront like a guiding force he knows will consume him until he either solves the problem or watches it erupt in his face.
When did you start to move on, and how can he fix it before it's too late? He won't let you become another Alastor— He can't let you become another Alastor.
Separating now is not an option.
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Had this story in the bag for a while, but never had much intentions on finishing the whole thing. If you want to see an actual good chaptered story for a Morningstar!Reader, read Heavy Is The Crown by @9kaytor7!
I kinda feel like writing a little bit. I'm willing to take a few suggestions if that just so happens to interest you :)
○● Today was supposed to be Vox's "once in a blue moon" mostly full day with you, but his employees seem to be helpless on their own. At least Shok.wav is around to keep you company, but if he doesn't get out soon he's going to blow a fuse.
Another ask another entree into the growing Morningstar!Reader collection. There is fluff… at the end… and quite a bit of angst before that. My bad lol
Feathers and Wires are of the same cannon but don’t have to be read.
no established gender for reader insert, Reader and Vox already have history, Vox is crushing hard which sucks for him, I was asked for fluff but angst crept in anyway, Valentino has a minor role but he doesn’t really do anything, Vox’s POV, unreliable narrator Vox is back at it again, I truly mean he’s unreliable
[Masterlist] [AO3] [Ask]
[Fall on Grace] [Treasured Connections] [Old Goodbyes to New Tomorrows] [Ruffled Feathers] [Ask: Crossed Wires] [☆Ask: Fishy Business]
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“So, you want me to sit here and do… nothing, while you go off to your meeting more important than my time?”
Your statement has Vox laugh out of stress. He more than respected your time— hell the whole day was supposed to be for you! His subordinates though are fucking insufferable and apparently can’t stand on their own for more than a couple of hours.
This was one of your extremely rare mostly free days Vox had managed to snag for himself after a long time of begging persuasion. He already got the business talk and lunch date you didn’t even consider a date out of the way. He was about to start phase two— slightly poke and prod to find out what about himself upsets you the most— when he received emergency notice from his board of directors. He told them to handle it themselves but they were all insistent he had to be involved.
Vox was pissed. You were too evidently, but only because he asked you to wait for him to finish whatever it is his employees needed from him, so now he’s pissed and panicking trying to think of ways to keep you here.
“You have free rein of the tower you don’t have to stay in here. I made sure everyone who works here knows you can come and go wherever you please.”
You raise a brow, and Vox is sure if he had a normal head he’d be sweating.
“Why don’t I just leave and we can continue this another time—”
“No!”
You’re taken aback by his sudden shout and he scrambles to backtrack so your opinion of him doesn’t get any lower, “I mean— I promise it won’t take that long, and you can do whatever you want! I’m sure Velvette wouldn’t mind having you in her studio. You’ll get to see her… creative process.”
He knows that’s a terrible idea as he’s saying it. Velvette’s creative process is akin to a tornado bulldozing through a country and shouting obscenities at everything it picks up. From your barely veiled grimace Vox can tell you feel the same.
“I think I’ll just stay in here.”
“Great, I’ll be back!” Vox smiles and zaps away, each blood vessel and internal circuit heating up at the embarrassment his staff put him through.
He’s standing in the meeting room in an instant. Each of the board are already seated and in what seemed to be a heated discussion before he showed up. Now they’re all staring at him like he might tear them apart for one wrong move. Which honestly he just might depending on how this meeting goes.
He crosses his arms and glares at the whole room, “What did you idiots fuck up so bad that you had to call me in after I explicitly stated I DO NOT want to be disturbed today.”
Vox raises and arm and they instantly all stop talking, “You know what? I don’t care. Just get this over with as soon as possible before I feed you all to Shok.wav.”
They quickly get started explaining the situation to him after he takes his seat. Some sinner or something blew up a couple of his stations with a weapon made by Carmilla Carmine so a lot of his staff is dead dead and needs to be replaced. He doesn’t know the greater details since his staff is brain dead and started arguing over where they should put their focus on rebuilding and expanding first. He zoned out after a while.
This is the nonsense they decided was more important than his time with you? He’s not one to provide convenience for his staff members, no matter how high up the ladder they are, but if this is the result of an emergency meeting it could’ve just been a fucking email.
By the time Vox swears he’s heard them repeat the same talking points seven times, he’s about to jump in and yell at them for wasting his time when the doors are suddenly slammed open by a moth in red.
“VOX!”
Of course, like the universe is taunting him with the fact that yes, his day can always get worse, Valentino struts in like he’s the living embodiment of appeal in a club. None of his board dare say anything when he comes over and caresses the side of his face.
“There he is! So, I have a question~”
If Vox lacked any self restraint he would’ve torn off his antennas and smashed his screen on the table. Though as of right now he does and settles for pushing Val off him and glaring.
“What the fuck do you want Val? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a meeting!?”
“A meeting you clearly don’t give a fuck about.” Val’s gaze sweeps the room, and all the staff have the right mind not to hold it before focusing back on Vox. “I heard our little birdy was visiting today! I checked the lounge but they weren’t there, so can you do your camera stalking thing and tell me where they are?”
Of course Val came to ask him where you are. Something else to get in the way of his once in a blue moon supposed to be full day alone with you. Vox barely tolerated Valentino’s fantasies of you on a good day— there’s no way he’s telling Val where you are today of all days.
“Look around yourself or go back to work. I don’t have time to check every camera for you.”
Val scoffs, “You’re only saying that ‘cause you already got to see them.”
“V̷͉̑a̷͓͒l̵̘̈́.”
“Fuck fine. I’ll just check your penthouse.” Val grumbles, but concedes and walks out of the meeting room. Thankfully, he only punched one of his employees on the way out.
Ignoring the one currently crying on the floor, Vox turns his attention to the rest of them that are currently just gawking at him instead of working.
“Well? Are you all just going to sit around or get back to the meeting?” His eyes narrow and he purposefully deepens his voice and edges it with static, “If this meeting isn’t done in the next ten minutes it’s all of your heads on a pike, in a tank.”
Everyone rushes to continue the meeting, without devolving into petty feuds this time. Vox huffs and nearly overheats at the clear sign these idiots could’ve solved this issue without him. The only thing keeping him from calling Val back in or slaughtering them all himself is the fact he doesn’t want to go back to you covered in blood.
Speaking of, he should probably warn you Valentino’s searching for you.
Without care to the rest of the people in the room, he pulls out his phone to message you. He could just his send it from his head, but he feels this sends a different message to his board not to waste his time.
[Their Royal Highness]
Vox: Valentino is looking for you.
He’s honestly not expecting you to reply in a timely manner, or to even reply at all, so he’s pleasantly surprised when you do so quickly.
You: Why exactly?
Vox: I don’t know. He showed up and asked me but I told him to fuck off.
There’s a pause before you start writing your next message that already makes Vox’s nerves shot.
You: I’m not dealing with this today and I still have work I could be doing instead of sitting around.
You: I’ll leave and we can continue another time.
Knowing you, “another time” means “next decade”, and Vox is not about to wait that long or end today with zero progress being made. His next messages have a few errors to his displeasure— you should only be met with perfection— but he needed to send them before you were impossible to get a hold of again.
Vox: The meetings finished in 15mins you dont have to go
Vox: Val doesnt go near my sharks so you can go to them
Electricity jolts through his entire system and his antenna twitch as he anxiously awaits your response. He swears if you say you’re going to leave anyway he will kill everyone in this room for not only wasting his and your time, but also for causing him to lose the one day he was supposed to have with you—
You: Fine. I’ll be with Shok.wav when you’re done.
His screen immediately lights up a bright blue. The surge of energy causes the lights in the building to fluctuate and flicker for a short moment, but he’s able to compose himself before the meeting stops again to worry over nothing.
Not once have you ever stayed long enough to see his sharks when he was finally able to get them— let alone when he got Shok.wav. You congratulated him when he told you and nothing more. Introducing you two has been a dream of his for the longest time, and now it’s finally happening and he can’t even see it cause he’s stuck in this FUCKING MEETING!?
Well, he can still open the security feed for Shok.wav’s room, but it’s not the same as watching in person!
He’ll just save the sight for when he’s able to escape this and set all cameras to record you so he can watch it back later. He just has to trudge through the rest of this meeting first.
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Finally free of that dreadful waste of time that his board of directors had the audacity to call a meeting, as soon as Vox walked out the door he zapped himself all the way to Shok.wav’s tank. His heart was pounding, hoping whatever scene he walked in on would be of you two bonding and not anything else potentially negative.
“I’M HERE— oh…”
The room was empty.
Shok.wav has the biggest area in the tower, so he wouldn’t be surprised if you were just out of sight, but walking towards the water he can see Shok.wav isn’t in there at all. No matter how big the tank is, his shark lights up like a christian town during Christmas season, he’d be visible.
With a sigh and still wanting to keep his first time looking at you both for his eyes, he opens the tracker he has on Shok.wav to see… he’s on the roof???
Confusion aside, now he’s concerned something happened between you both, so he doesn’t waste any time zapping over.
“There you are! I was—”
All of Vox’s joints lock in place as he takes in the scene in front of him.
You’re laying on top of Shok.wav— eyes closed and arms behind your head like this is a normal picnic at a park. This is also probably the happiest he’s seen Shok.wav eating a platter of varied meats. Vox doesn’t know what meat you got him, but he’s obviously enjoying every second of it.
He’s still in Hell, but this is all he needed to complete his personal heaven.
Before his systems overheat completely, he forces his internal AC to run at full blast and takes his head out of the clouds. As perfect as this scene is, you’re both still on the roof for some unknown reasons and Shok.wav is eating something that looks too good to have come from Hell.
“What the fuck are you doing on the roof? And what is Shok.wav eating?”
You open one eye to look down at him, and Vox has to cross his arms to keep from visibly jolting at the surge of electricity that just went through him. Though he makes sure to never take his eyes off you when you stand and stretch before you leap off Shok.wav— landing directly in front of him.
“I thought I was allowed to do whatever I wanted in the tower.”
“You are! I’m not taking that away from you.” Vox raises his arms and gestures to Shok.wav who’s still gorging himself on all that mystery meat, “I’d just like to know what my sharks are eating.”
“Do you now?”
Vox is stunned at the sudden hostility coming from you, and by the look on your face it’s clear you are too. Your eyes were blown wide and your face went stiff for barely a second, but he caught it.
He’s heard a thousand times worse from other people, both now and in life— hell what you said barely counted as it is, but he’s never heard you directly accuse him of anything. Even after you stopped seeking him out, not once have you ever openly voiced he was doing something you didn’t like. He always had to learn through facial expressions or body language. So… what gives?
“Did… something happen with Shok.wav? Or was it—”
“Nothing of note happened no.”
He was cautions when trying to approach the issue, but you still brushed him off before he could even finish. You continue on, acting like everything’s still the status quo.
“I was going to stay in his room, but when I said ‘treat’ he dragged me around the whole building. He wouldn’t stop, so I asked him to bring me up here and created a meat platter for him.” You raise your hand, and after a bright flash of light what Vox assumes is a large steak appears in your grasp, “It was made with my magic, you don’t have to worry over him eating something unsavoury.”
You chuck the steak-like meat behind you, which Shok.wav is quick to turn around and catch before going back to eating what little is left on his plate.
Vox just knows that’s not the whole story— it can’t be. Something else had to have happened for you to have a change of character after almost a century… but you weren’t going to budge and… he didn’t have it in his heart to push further. Whether it be because he cares way more for you than every tactic he knows to get you to speak or he’s simply scared of the answer; the cost is currently too high.
He’ll pretend that little slip up didn’t happen, but there’s no way he’s not going to check the camera feed.
“That’s great! I’m all for giving my big baby special treatment,” He walks over to Shok.wav, who just finished licking his plate clean, and pats his side before leaning on him, “But maybe if you actually read Voxtek’s rules of conduct you wouldn’t have been in this position to begin with.”
You don’t hesitate, “Well since you hardly know how to spell ‘shock’ or ‘wave’ properly I highly doubted your book of rules would be up to any respectable standards either.”
Suddenly Shok.wav starts to grumble, and while you won’t know what anything’s up with him, Vox had the displeasure of reading the message he just sent.
[Bestest Shark Ever <3]
Shok.wav: they make gr8 food
Shok.wav: u 2 should get married
Shok.wav: then they have to stay
Shok.wav: i get good food and u stop crying in ur office
His own shark is teasing him. What an embarrassment.
The silver lining is that you have no idea of the nonsense he’s spewing, so Vox can act like he said nothing and continue the conversation with you. Even if it is you insulting how said shark’s name is spelt.
“Shok.wav is a great name!”
Again, it takes you no time at all to think of a retort, “‘Tis a fine name, however when one spells it akin to a toddler learning to dot their I’s and cross their T’s one has to question your level of knowledge with the English lexicon.”
“Don’t insult me in old English!”
“Would you rather I do it in Latin?”
“Oh fuck you.”
Vox lifts his middle finger and you laugh. You actually laughed! At something he said!
He doesn’t care if it was the least original retort in the universe— he got you to laugh! After how many years?… Actually it’s better not to count that but he got you to laugh now so it doesn’t matter!
Then Shok.wav buts in again and it’s enough to make his antennas spark.
[Bestest Shark Ever <3]
Shok.wav: u can fuck if u get married
Vox: Please stop
When he shakes Shok.wav’s message off his screen, Vox notices you’ve also come to lean against him— closer to his fin. He also doesn’t miss the mischievous glint in your eyes and prepares for more humiliation.
“Did you give Shok.wav the ability to fly so he could catch you if you were about to fall on someone?”
… You’ve got to be kidding. Of all the dirt you have over him, you still choose to bring up how he first met you? If it wasn’t, well… you, he would’ve fried you alive and expunged that terrible meeting from his memory already.
“Are you ever gonna let that go? It was one time!”
You snicker, “And it was a terrible first impression. You didn’t even stick the landing.”
Suddenly you’re shoved closer to Vox, and with every fiber of his body he tries not to blush or look too pleased about it while you’re glaring at Shok.wav. You’re so close he’s able to pick up your body heat and it’s so so tempting to say “fuck it” and wrap his arms around you.
“He keeps pushing me. I don’t know what he wants.”
Shok.wav’s message comes quick.
[Bestest Shark Ever <3]
Shok.wav: tell them to pet me
Vox: Is that the only reason you did this?
Shok.wav: totally
Vox snorts as he reads the message and relays it to you, “He wants you to give him attention.”
“Oh.”
Your face smooths out and loses the glare, taking in every metal grove and LED on the shark before placing your hand on him. You run your hand along each metal plating closest to you and trace any LED that comes across your path. Shok.wav lets out a sigh of content as you repeat your ministrations and Vox is left in bliss just watching you two get along.
“It looks like someone’s taken a liking to you.”
You laugh softly and continue to trail your hand over the metal, “It would seem so.”
“Is he the best shark ever or what?”
You pause to give him a look, but he only smiles wider, causing you to laugh again and continue petting Shok.wav.
“I haven’t met many sharks, but I’m sure once you show me the rest you have Shok.wav will still be my favourite.”
His heart is going to explode he swears. Not only did you agree with him— Shok.wav is the best, but you insinuated you’d be willing to see the rest of his sharks? There’s no way you’re leaving without him introducing you to each and every one in the tower.
Vox grabs your hands and brings you face to face, already walking backwards to the elevator, “I have more than just Shok.wav! I can show you where their tanks are and tell you anything you want to know! We can go right now!”
You try to pull back against his pull. It gets him to stop for a moment, but seeing your face start to fall back into passivity already informs him what you’re about to say.
“I have work to get back to Vox—”
“Fuck the Rings and the Sins. They can wait the sharks cannot!”
Vox encapsulates your whole wrist with his hand and pulls you the rest of the way to the elevator while Shok.wav flies towards his own entrance. He’s not letting you go back to brooding just yet— he doesn’t know when he’ll get the chance to see you like this again.
This is what it’s supposed to be— complete ease between the two of you. No emotional distance the size of the grand canyon. No seemingly hidden feelings of hatred boiling underneath your skin. No three week wait time to reply to one simple message. Just three two people taking on Hell despite what anyone might say.
Yeah, things aren’t actually great right now. He’s not so fried as to think one random mood swing is enough to fix decades of distance. He saw it in the way you immediately tried to leave at the thought of spending more time here and in the fact you refused to tell him what was wrong earlier yourself. Right now though, he’s going to take this miracle at face value and rip off the band-aid when watching the footage back later. But god he can’t help but wonder…
Why couldn’t things stay this way?
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Thank you for reading! Here’s some more of these two :)
[Fall on Grace] [Treasured Connections] [Old Goodbyes to New Tomorrows] [Ruffled Feathers] [Ask: Crossed Wires] [☆Ask: Fishy Business]
○● Vincent was supposed to be a god, something to be treasured and heralded as he brought in the new era. He was Vincent Whittman, God of entertainment! But of course fate pulled a fast one on him, threw him in Hell, and now he has to climb the ladder all over again. At least he has a chance to speed things along this time around.
Yay it's the moment these two goobers meeting for the first time :)
This ended up being less an x reader and more of a Vox writing exercise, but that’s what I get for writing their first meeting in his POV
[Masterlist] [AO3]
[☆Fall on Grace] [Treasured Connections] [Old Goodbyes to New Tomorrows] [Ruffled Feathers] [Ask: Crossed Wires] [Ask: Fishy Business]
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“The other studios wanna feed you the same old crap everyone’s seen before.”
This is what everything in his life was building up to. Everything he was born to achieve— no matter what his sorry excuse for parents had to say. No matter how many people tried to stand in his way. Vincent knows he was destined for greatness. For everyone to follow his lead so he could rise above all. He’s proved it time and time again.
“You want newer, you want bigger, you want brighter!”
So why…
“I will be your voice and we will redefine what it means to rule the airwaves. Trust me and your future will be brighter!”
How was he supposed to know the televisions weren’t connected properly?
“Now, who’s ready to be baptized into a new era of entertainment!”
It happened so suddenly. One moment he’s holding the biggest orientation of his career, the next… the next a wire snaps, and his pride and joy crumbles around him.
Every cell in his body is being fried, torture by the ends of the perfect tool for his uprising. It’s unbearable being cooked alive and feeling his skin burn away, but it’s nowhere near as heart wrenching as losing everything he’s strived for up to this moment.
He falls, and the room falls with him. One accident wiping out years of hard work in one fell swoop. How tragic.
Vincent wouldn’t have called himself very religious, he wasn’t exactly a disciple of God, but he couldn’t say he didn’t believe in the chance of there being some kind of afterlife. He doesn’t know what to expect if it does exist, but he knows he’s not getting into the good place.
It’s dark for some time. His consciousness barely together long enough to string thoughts or feelings to put to the situation. He’d think this was peaceful if he was able to do so at all. He’s unable to know how long he was like that for, but after an arbitrary amount of time he gets the tangential sense something has started changing. There’s a fleeting moment where his mind pulled taut long enough for him to feel the extent of what’s happening, and he’s so glad his mind is usually to scattered to experience most of it.
His body— or what’s left of it— was mending itself and reshaping into whatever fate saw fit. His limbs snapping and elongating, his skull cracking and reforming over and over, his flesh patching itself and tearing again the longer the process goes on. The moments his mind comes together to form coherent thoughts and feel the brunt of every sensation he’s experiencing, it’s all the same.
What’s happening… It’s gross… It hurts… Why me… among numerous other observations he can make out of himself while stuck in this seemingly endless abyss.
Then in a flash, it’s over, and red floods his vision.
He barely has time to register anything that’s just happened to him or his surroundings when he notices he’s miles above the ground. Whatever reformed him gives him two seconds to take in his situation before he’s sent hurtling towards the floor.
“HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK!!!”
Every inch of him kicks into survival mode, but how the fuck is he supposed to stick the landing and live from a million feet in the air??? No matter how much he flails his arms around or kicks his legs, it’s not going to slow his descent to any degree. Everything is made a million times worse when his sight starts to get blocked out with static.
The last thing he sees before he hits the ground are feathers.
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Slowly, Vincent comes to from his impromptu stupor. His entire body is sore, and it’s almost like he has to learn to open his eyes again before he can glimpse the world around him, but when he does all he can see is static. He groans and tries to prop himself up to get off the floor, but his head feels so heavy. He has no idea what’s going on—
“You’ve finally woken up I see.”
Vincent snaps his head up towards whoever spoke and instantly regrets the action. With the motion, whatever is causing his head to weigh so much nearly breaks his neck at the speed he flung it back.
“You must be new here. Don’t go hurting yourself already.”
‘Yeah no shit Sherlock.’
Vincent doesn’t voice his thought, not wanting to piss of the first person he meets. He lets his head fall against the floor again, mildly concerned at the scrapping sound he hears when his forehead collides with bricks. Finally able to take a minute to think, everything that happened up to this point quickly comes back to him.
The feathers, the fall, all the red, his joints morphing and snapping, the complete darkness… and his ascension. Or, his would be ascension. It was torn away from him at the last moment and now he’s here… where ever here is.
Looking up, slowly this time, the static covering his vision fades enough for him to glance around and take in the immediate vicinity. There’s a lot of red, it’s basically the only colour in the area. Though in the middle of it all is probably one of the most breathtaking people he’s ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. He can’t’ focus on any of that now though— he can schmooze later— right now he needs to get his bearings.
He slowly gets up, unused to his limbs after whatever leg lengthening ritual happened within that void. Bringing his hand up to try and rub away his headache, he stalls when instead of skin or hair he touches hard plastic. Plastic he could feel…
His movements become frantic as he fully stands and tries to feel any portion of his head that’s normal, but all he finds is more plastic; including knobs, dials, and ports he knows aren’t random. He knows the shape of this like the back of his hand— he centered his whole movement around it, but he refuses to believe that’s what he’s come to. Even if he can feel every inch he’s touched, even if there’s a lack of his hair he’s spent hundreds to make sure is well kept, it’s not true. It can’t be.
He goes to tap his face with one of his hands, hoping beyond anything he touches skin and not a flat screen, but stops just shy when he gets a closer look at his hand.
Sharp pointed fingers lay directly in his line of sight. Easily visible through the static haze with how brightly they were coloured— a striking neon blue. The skin attached to the now claws a deep navy blue. Vincent flicks one finger, and the hand in front of him moves accordingly. He goes to tap his face.
…
Glass.
…
He can’t hold in his laughter— everything is collapsing around him again. He was supposed to be a god! Now he’s been reduced to some walking program!
Vincent clenches the sides of his head— trying not to hyperventilate or claw into the chassis in his panic. Though the moment he nearly puts a dent in it, you come over and softly grasp his hands with your own.
“Hey. You’re fine.”
His eyes snap to look at you. Your face conveys no emotion— at least none he can make out in his state— and does little to calm him down. His head is a fucking television! What do you mean he’ll be fine???
“FINE!? HOW IS THIS FINE WHEN—”
“Believe me, you look better than a majority of the sinners down here. A box head is the least of your issues.” You pull his hands away from his head and shrug loosely, as if this is an everyday occurrence and he’s not currently losing his mind, “But if you want to continue throwing a crisis you can. This is a secluded area after all. Not many are allowed here and there’s no one else to see but me, and I don’t care.”
You let go of him and wipe your hands on your clothes, an action he wishes he could feel more offended by if he wasn’t just panicking over himself. Though it does force him to get his head on straight.
‘Right. Vincent you just met this person, stop being a pussy and put a lid on it. This is already a terrible first impression.’
He takes a step back from you and smooths out his clothes, needing the extra time to better compose himself. He ignores the fact what he’s wearing— a shirt with puffy sleeves and a sweater vest— is definitely not what he was wearing before. There’s more important things to get answers to first, like where he currently is. Even if looking around and all the previous events gives him a vague idea already, he needs it confirmed before he starts planning anything.
“Thanks, I guess…” He can’t help himself from touching his head again, the light tap of the plastic against his claw causing him to wince, “Am I…”
“Dead?” You tilt your head and cross your arms, an action Vincent finds cute despite the lack of any emotion in your tone, “Yes. You’re a demon now. Welcome to Hell sinner.”
Vincent sighs, “Of course I died as soon as I was about to reach my peak.”
He glances around the area again now that the static covering his vision has mostly gone away. The sky is red with a little white dot he can only assume is heaven of in the distance (of course the righteous would love to flaunt their eternal peace over the damned), the dirt is a deep red, the brick pathway he’s standing on is a washed out red— almost everything is red apart from the tables and chairs nearby and all the plants around the area. Though the shrubbery is varying colours of black and green, it seems most of the flowers are still red.
He’s been here for no more than five minutes and he’s already sick of the colour. Still, there’s a lot less… chaos than he would’ve expected from what he’s learned is supposed to be eternal damnation.
“Hell’s… Not exactly what I was expecting.”
“What were you expecting?”
Vincent looks you dead in the eyes, not really believing you wouldn’t know what he’s talking about, but you look genuinely curious of his answer. Maybe you weren’t an American? He hopes that’s not the case. You speak english just fine so it might be something else.
“Fire and brimstone? Endless torture and suffering for all eternity? Maybe desolate and complete isolation. The Devil showing up to poke everyone with sticks I don’t know!” He paces waves his arms around to try and emphasize his point and nearly nicks himself on a rosebush, not used to how much longer his limbs have gotten.
You raise a brow at his display, “The Devil is a pansy. He wouldn’t do that.”
Okay, now you actually must be fucking with him. He has to pause his pacing to stare at you— really look at you. He needs to know if you’re pulling his leg here, but you’re completely guarded and extremely hard to read.
Then he realizes The Devil is still the least of his worries right now and circles back around to voice his original intent.
“Never mind that then. We in a specific part of Hell or what? You said this was a secluded area earlier, right?”
You nod and walk over to one of the taller pushes to pluck a rose, “Yes. This is my private garden. Normally your kind wouldn’t be allowed in here, but I decided to make an exception for you today. Seeing as you fell out of the sky and knocked yourself out on my back, it felt wrong to kick out someone so painfully new.”
…
One thing at a time—
Okay, so private property still exists here. He can surmise money and some form of society is down here too than, given how you talked about it. Saying ‘Your kind’ raises many questions about your nature but he can get back to that. That last thing though…
Vincent takes a deep breath, “I… fell on top of you?”
Without warning you spread your wings he didn’t notice were even there and take off— kicking up a gust of wind that makes him instinctually cover his eyes with his arm. You don’t go very far, only to the edge of the garden that has what he assumes is a workbench to pick up a pair of clippers. A few feathers fell loose in your short flight and float down in front of him, which he takes in are the exact same ones he noticed before he blacked out again.
“Made quite the mess of my feathers. I haven’t had the time to clean them up yet.”
Your voice makes him tear his gaze away from the fallen feathers back to you, but his eyes immediately zone in on the wings you’ve yet to tuck back in. It’s completely unfair he got stuck with this large inconvenient electronic box for a head while you actually get something useful. Despite how ruffled they are, the glow from the sky bounces off in a way that also makes them look so soft. And he almost ruined them…
Holy shit this is the worst first impression he’s ever left in his entire existence.
He has to breath in again. Even with the little quirks and occasional nonsense you spewed, you obviously got a handle on your life down here already. A decent on in fact, given you own such a large chunk of land and are able to keep others out of it. It’d do him well to get on your good side and stay there until he gets footing himself. He refuses to turn into a beggar.
As Vincent’s about to muster up some form of apology and start spinning his tale, you come over and place the rose you were holding in his breast pocket— all thorns already cut off. He doesn’t get the time to thank or question you before you knock on the side of his head and start speaking.
“What did you do to get stuck with this tin can for a head?”
He pushes your arm away from him and rubs the side of his head with a glare. He wishes you’d explain things to him before saying weird shit like he was supposed to understand the first time.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He stops there, then feels the need to correct you encase you’re actually just some square and have no idea what a TV is, “It’s a television not a tin can.”
You shrug, “A sinners new body is supposed to correlate with your death and an integral part of your life. So, what did you do to get a… Television as your head?”
“You want to know that and not why I’m here?” He’s honestly baffled and he’s sure he sounds like it even through the warbled static his voice has become. Maybe you are just old— he hasn’t been able to understand a single one of your actions this whole time.
You go back over to the rosebush to pluck a few more and clip them at the workbench, “Everyone down here did something terrible, I can’t bring myself to care anymore. I’ve never seen or even heard of this television thing before, so if you don’t mind indulging me while you’re here.”
You had to have been down here a while then. For you to not know one of humanities latest and greatest inventions you had to either be a square, live under a rock, or have been dead for a while. Everything is pointing to the latter in your case, and if so he can definitely make it big bringing TV to the masses. If he can convince you to support him that’d be a major boon for business. Time to do what he does best.
Vincent walks over to stand next to you, taking care not to trip over his long legs and lay his hand on your shoulder, “I worked with them a lot in life. They’re a fantastic invention that helped me get were I was before I ended up here. I guess it only makes sense this is what I’d end up with.”
You hum and continue cutting the roses. He obviously needs to learn more about you so he can convince you to join his cause, so he decides to segue to another topic he’s still curious about.
“What did you do in life to land yourself an incredible pair wings like this?” He tries to touch the wing closest to him, but you flinch it away and he watches them disappear into your back. At least he knows he’s not blind.
You huff and the edge of your lips twitch upward, your voice sounding a twinge more amused as you speak, “Curious are you? You haven’t even graced me with your name.”
If Vincent has a brow he knows it’d twitch, but he’s still unsure where his face is at right now. “I’ve told you plenty about myself already, and all I know of you is that you own a very nice garden.”
“A garden I’m currently allowing you to stand in after having my feathers tousled by you. I believe I have the right to ask a few questions and receive answers in turn. Unless you’d rather I show you the door.”
He has the urge to grumble, but stops himself since he’s still right next to you.
“Then allow me to uphold my manners. Well, I’m sure manners don’t matter much down here, but you saved me from embarrassing myself so I can spare some for you.” He takes a step away from you and raises one of his hands to shake, “Vincent Whittman. Former weather reporter turned god of entertainment.”
You huff again, but don’t bother holding back your smile this time as you shake his hand and tell him your first name. You still wipe your hand on your shirt afterwards and he’ll continue to overlook it. He got a positive open reaction out of you so he’ll roll with it for now.
“No last name for the mysterious gardener?”
You shrug and bring your attention back to the roses on your bench, “Those down here usually forgo their last name. I assume to be harder to research, since a not insignificant amount also change their first name upon arrival as well. The less someone knows the less can be used against you.”
Vincent knows that mentality all to well, but now he’s planning on being untouchable. It won’t matter if people know who he is. He doubts they’ll find anything they could use against him anyway. You on the other hand— he needs to know as much as possible to convince you to follow him. If the first step is to learn your last name, he’s getting it.
Given both times you’ve touched him of your own freewill you’ve wiped off whatever imaginary germs you think he has on your clothing, he restrains himself from placing a hand on your shoulder. He goes to lean against the workbench instead, minding the flowers and invading your space just a little.
“That may be true, but I gave you mine. Seems only fair to fully exchange the pleasantries.”
You don’t answer him for a while, only glancing at him and continuing to mess with the flowers. It’s long enough Vincent starts to second guess himself and slightly back up. Thankfully you answer before he starts to run his mouth.
“Alright.” You bunch all the roses together and wrap their stems with silk rope before presenting them to him with a small smile, “I am a Morningstar. Child of Lucifer and Lilith— second heir to the thrown behind my sister. It’s been a pleasure so far Mr. Whittman. I hope it stays that way.”
Oh…
Oh he’s hit the jackpot.
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Thank you for reading! Here’s some more of these two :)
[☆Fall on Grace] [Treasured Connections] [Old Goodbyes to New Tomorrows] [Ruffled Feathers] [Ask: Crossed Wires] [Ask: Fishy Business]
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Hazbin Hotel x Morningstar!Reader
●○ Vox malfunctions and needs his internal wiring fixed. His mechanic died recently and he can't wait for him to regenerate. The only other person he can trust with this task is you, but he doesn’t know if you’ll actually bother.
This is a part of the same universe as Ruffled Feathers! Thank you anon for the ask! I love this Morningstar!Reader and Vox I’ll take any excuse to write for them lol
no established gender for reader insert, pre-established relationship but it’s not romantic, Vox is crushing hard though which sucks for him, Vox’s POV and he’s a slightly better narrator than before, starts pretty angsty but it gets better
[Masterlist] [AO3] [Ask]
[Fall on Grace] [Treasured Connections] [Old Goodbyes to New Tomorrows] [Ruffled Feathers] [☆Ask: Crossed Wires] [Ask: Fishy Business]
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Vox was in agony.
Of course the day you come back from your hyper extended business trip, your ever so lovely sister calls and gets you to stay at that shit hotel. He couldn’t understand why you agreed to stay in the first place— you complained all the time— but he understands why you STILL stay after learning ALASTOR IS THERE!
To make matters worse, you ignored every message and call from him since you got there! A week and not a single word from you. Not even a ‘left on read’— you gave him NOTHING!
It was driving him up the fucking wall. He’s offered you space in his building plenty of times before— what was so special about some vermin infested landfill that’d make you take up little miss Morningstar’s offer over his! V Tower was large, clean, Alastor free, lacked any members from your disappointment of a family, was Alastor free, he lived here with the other Vees, and it was Alastor free!
With you ignoring him, obviously the only course of action he saw fit to take was to connect himself to the nearest drone and stalk the hotel. He couldn’t get inside the hotel, he wasn’t about to risk anyone catching it and informing you, but you often worked outside so it hadn’t mattered too much. Or at least it didn’t until that red antlered freak saw his drone from the balcony and destroyed it.
Vox had to scramble to switch to the next closest drone he had, but as he was cursing Alastor’s very existence and fighting off sparks, he didn’t notice the screaming rain starting around the tower.
In his rage, all it took was one strike for the lighting to mix dreadfully with his anger to blackout everything in the city and completely fry the buildings machinery. With all his wires still attached to multiple outlets he couldn’t escape the torrent of electricity that ripped through his internal circuitry and burst multiple wires.
The pain was unbearable— his shrieking reverberated throughout the entirety of the tower and wouldn’t stop until his pain receptors were burnt through. Though it had stopped, he was still connected to the towers systems and refused to until he was able to send a drone your way along with multiple messages.
By the time he disconnected, anything that hadn’t exploded was completely fried. Valentino and Velvette came in shortly after, but all they could do for him was drag him out of his control room to his penthouse. Velvette tried to call his current mechanic, but that didn’t accomplish anything other than learning he died and needed a few days to regenerate.
With not enough of his mechanical parts in working order, all he could do is sit on his sofa and wait while his body refused to act in any way he wanted.
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It’s been over half an hour since Val and Vel left him, and despite his lack of pain receptors at the moment he still feels like he’s about to die a second time. The two left the TV on for him, but when he could barely see the screen with the glitches in his own screen getting in the way it only made him feel that much worse.
Vox was expecting to sit there and do nothing but suffer until his mechanic showed up, but snapped out of his pity party when he heard a knock coming from the window.
He couldn’t turn to see who it was, but working purely on autopilot, he used the last bit of energy he had to get a wire and open a section of the window. When his brain finally caught up with his actions, feathers already came and filled half his vision.
It took everything for Vox to not just tear up at the sight of you.
“Y-You ca-ame…”
His voice comes out garbled and barely understandable, something both Velvette and Valentino threatened him to shut up until it was fixed, but all you did was raise a brow.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Your tone was dry and you didn’t look impressed at all, but you had said it without a hint of hesitation. His antennas spark and his chest tightens with a hope he wished he was able to keep in check.
You settle one of your wings over him, something he instantly leans into, and look over the rest of him with a grimace, “You look like one of Valentino’s employees. What happened?”
Vox attempts to roll his eyes, but is stopped when his screen stutters and settles for sarcasm instead. “Ha, h-ha. Lightning hit the *zzzz* build-ding while I was plugged in earlier and it fucked up my wiring. I need someone to fi-fix it.”
Your grimace smooths out into an expression he can’t decipher, “Why call me then? Don’t you have a mechanic for that? I don’t deal in any of this.”
“I know that!” Vox’s body sparks alongside his shout. His next words come out as desperate as it’s able to as he lists off whatever comes off the top of his head, “The mech-anic died and needs to re-egenerate and I can’t wait that long. If I don’t fix eve*zzzz*ing else that storm screwed with in-in the system today I might have to replace more machinery than I’d like. You’re the o-only other person down here I trust to not sabotage me.”
Your eyes widen a smidge, but Vox can’t keep his eyes on you to notice if you had any other reaction. God what an embarrassment, ‘You’re the only other person down here I trust’ that’s way to close to the truth and as close to a confession as he could get— what’s wrong with him!? You still don’t even like him right now for reasons unknown to him, so he can’t go around spewing sentimental crap like that!
Well… Maybe you like him a little; why else would you be here? He can’t make heads or tails right now with his head filled with static, but it doesn’t change the fact he said that after you gave him the silent treatment! For a week!
The only thing saving him from drowning in his mortification was the headache inducing, eye straining, kaleidoscope of colour occasionally covering his screen and filling his vision. He’s sparking more and he swears his internal cooling is failing ‘cause it feels like his body is letting off smoke.
His internal struggle ends abruptly as soon as he hears you sigh. No matter how long it’s been or how distorted his hearing currently is, every single one of your cues has been branded into his memory for the rest of eternity. He knows when he’s won a disagreement with you and it elates him to know you can still succumb to his whims even with your current disliking towards him.
Using that elation, Vox manages to send one of his wires over to a hidden compartment and pull out an instruction booklet. Though partway through it glitches and drops it on the floor.
You suddenly tap the edge of his screen, not enough to push him but the surprise was enough to get him to jolt and spark. He can’t complain about it before you right in his face, and now he was cursing the fact his vision got as fucked up as it did.
“Stop moving unnecessarily. I’ll get it.”
As you pull away to pick up the booklet he dropped, Vox explains what it contains while sparks jump between his antennas.
“Th-that thing that ju-ust fell is instructionzzs the mechanic made in case he wasn’t here when I needed maintenance. Follow it and I sho-shzz-should be fine.”
You sit down next to him once you’ve grabbed it and wrap one of your wings around his shoulders, causing him to spark and overheat. He could barely keep himself in check when he was alone how was he supposed to do that when you’re right next to him??
Vox’s attention snaps back to you when you groan, “I have to turn you off? You absolutely sure you want me to be doing this?”
There’s no one else he’d rather have kill him again.
“There’s no one else here.”
You stare him down for a moment with that same look Vox couldn’t decipher earlier, but you give in just as you did before.
“Alright.” Exhaustion already exudes from your voice as you grab his arm to turn him around and expose his back, “At least I can’t kill you again.”
Before he could reassure you or think of literally anything better to say, he’s thrusted into complete darkness as his systems shut down.
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[Rebooting…]
[Running diagnostics…]
[No hardware malfunctions detected. No software malfunctions detected. No unknown programs detected. Vincent OS fully functional. Loading…]
With a flash Vox’s consciousness comes back along with his vision. He blinks as he waits for all the commands to disappear and for his screen to stabilize.
[Good morning Vincent. Fetching data from previous shut down…]
Numerous reports fill his vision that he’s quickly able to glance through. There’s little quirks here and there that have him raise a brow, but overall there’s nothing overtly wrong that would require him to immediately call someone more experienced to come and fix.
Holy shit you actually did a decent job.
“How are you feeling?”
Your voice drags Vox away from his inspection and he’s instantly stunned at the sight of you.
Your clothes are rumpled and all over the place, and you’ve sweat enough for it to run down the ridge of your nose. This is the most disheveled he’s ever seen you look, but that’s not what really gets to him. One glance at your eyes
Concern. Concern for him.
Fuck he’d do anything to keep you right here in this moment. To have your eyes on him— not with contempt or tolerance or boredom, but with unfiltered compassion. He craves more. He needs more of this like
He can’t say any of that to you though, so he forces himself to reign it in and smiles to cover his brightening screen.
“Well I’m feeling much better than before. Can’t find anything wrong either. You did great!”
All tension relaxes from your form. It makes Vox feel so much better being able to physically see how worried you actually were for him.
“Good. Though, you should still get your actual mechanic to look at you when he comes back.”
Your voice dips back into monotone, and just like that the moment is gone. Any concern that you managed to scrounge up for him vanishes from your eyes and Vox has to force himself not to show visible disappointment. Though when you turn around to head for the window, he instantly panics.
“I should get going. See you around—”
“Wait!”
You stop to look at him, but he honestly has no idea what to say to get you to stay. He still can’t tell you the truth, you’re not ready for that yet, so what is he supposed to do?
You tilt your head, “Don’t you have a building to fix?”
Vox clenches his fists. Unfortunately, he does. He might be fine now thanks to you, but the rest of the tower was still in shambles. He wouldn’t be surprised if he went down to see the place caught on fire while he was out of it.
As he’s about to agree and let you go, an idea comes to his mind. A simple one, but one hopefully enough to keep you here a little longer.
“Yes, but… Would you maybe… like to stay? I know Shok.wav misses you.”
You cross your arms. Vox is honestly a little offended Shok.wav wasn’t enough to tempt you, but it’s fine, he always has his fail-safe.
“Vox I really should—”
“Please.”
He hates having to resort to begging every time he wants you around, but if it gets you to give him and inch he will stretch it into a mile.
It’s a standstill between you both, each of you waiting for the other to give in. It’s when Vox starts thinking that maybe letting you go would put him in your good graces for longer, you sigh.
“Alright.”
All previous thoughts are instantly forgotten as he cheers and swings and arm over your shoulder, “Great! Maybe while you’re here I can teach you a thing or two about robotics and you can be my permanent mechanic!”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
You take his arm off you and walk off to the elevator without him. Before today that might’ve disappointed him, but right now he’s over the moon. Yeah, it’s obvious there’s still some underlying issue you have with him, but you still cared! You had to!
You wouldn’t have helped him if you didn’t. You wouldn’t have shown a shred of concern for him if you didn’t. You wouldn’t have stayed if you didn’t. There’s simply no way you don’t care about him and it’s making him giddy. Now, all he needs is to figure out why you’re upset with him in the first place.
With his head already buzzing with hundreds of ideas, Vox zaps through the cameras to stand next to you in the elevator— winking at you when you glare at him and groan.
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Thank you for reading! Here’s some more of these two :)
[Fall on Grace] [Treasured Connections] [Old Goodbyes to New Tomorrows] [Ruffled Feathers] [☆Ask: Crossed Wires] [Ask: Fishy Business]
●○ It's been two years since Alastor's disappearance, so why can't Vox catch a fucking break? It doesn't help he can't tell if you're making things better or worse...
no established gender for reader insert, Vox's POV and the start of his unreliable narrator journey, pre-established non-romantic relationship but man wouldn't you know :) I love Vox forever and always this one has been in my back pocket for a while :)
[Masterlist] [AO3]
[Fall on Grace] [Treasured Connections] [☆Old Goodbyes to New Tomorrows] [Ruffled Feathers] [Ask: Crossed Wires] [Ask: Fishy Business]
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“What the FUCK!”
The armchair Vox was just sitting on flies into the wall as he springs up and wires burst from his back. A loud crunch is heard as it makes impact, but he pays it little mind. His fists slam onto the coffee table in front of him as his eyes jump between each screen that pops up in the space around him.
“He’s not even fucking here anymore! How the fuck is that old talk-show road kill piece of shit still upstanding me!”
The screens floating around the room all crawl with ratings, reports, headlines, and social media feeds— all overlooking the same event that served to worsen his mood whenever he even glimpsed at one.
Two years ago today, the Radio Demon went missing. Vanished without a trace. No last radio broadcast, not letter or note of any kind, and nothing to assume something or someone finally finished off his existence for good. Not even the newly installed heavenly executioners seem to have any connection to his disappearance. Alastor was just… gone.
Truly, he should be fucking ecstatic. It doesn’t matter how he disappeared, what matters is the Radio Demon was finally out of his life for good. Though even with him physically gone, he still shows up like a ghost haunting his every waking move. Every move he seems to make gets overshadowed by a guy who may not even exist anymore and it was pissing him the hell off.
“Vox.”
His thoughts stall at the sound of your voice, but his body instantly turns to face you. In the middle of all the flashing screens all but begging for his attention, you sit on the chair opposite of him. You’re utterly composed in the face of his anger, one leg crossed over the other and a drink in hand.
A twinge of shame flashes through him at you seeing him act so rashly— when he received the first notification on the trending news he had forgotten where he was. Though, that shame is quickly replaced with exasperation when you lift one finger from your free hand and fix whatever damage the armchair received from his initial outburst. In the same beat you float it back over and dress it up to look like some regal throne before placing it back down behind him.
Vox sighs, already fed up with you showing off. He has no idea what you’re trying to accomplish, but he doesn’t have time to entertain your little party tricks when he’s currently in full crisis mode.
He brings a hand to his face, not exactly in a pinch but as close as he can get to one. “Look. Is there a reason you—”
“You know Alastor is only holding you back, right?” You lean back in your seat, putting your drink on a coaster and watching it dissipate to whatever fourth dimension you keep your stored objects.
Whatever point you’re trying to make, he understands even less now. He’s using the news as a means to get ahead of him— to figure out what’s so much more interesting about a guy who’s fucked off than his own shows or technology. He can’t do that without looking into everything.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
You shrug and don’t bother looking up at him, choosing to stare at one of the many reviews instead as you speak, “You let him poison your mind. He’s practically all you’ve thought about for the last few years— even before he disappeared.”
You tear your gaze away from the headline and look directly into eyes, “It’s clearly destroying you.”
Fury and dread mix together in his heart and washes over the rest of his system. The audacity for you to still be doubting him after all this time spent together infuriates him, but also brushes against something he’d rather not unpack.
Words spill from his mouth before he can form a proper response. The need to correct any doubt, doubt from you no less, taking over his rationale.
“I’m not— he’s not— I do not—”
“Yes you do.” You cut him off like you never planned to hear what he had to say in the first place. In a moments notice you get out of your chair and glide around the coffee table towards him, ignoring all his protests when you grab his shoulders and easily push him onto the now royal-esque seating. “Everything you touch crumbles to dust the moment his smug grin crosses your mind. You ever stop to think about how that’s more damaging to you than anything Alastor could ever do? How giving into his mockery, especially when he’s not even here, is only furthering his own victory over you?”
Vox freezes as you loom over him. He’s always found it hard to gauge what you were thinking. Though he’s gotten good at anticipating how you’d react in certain scenarios, your resting face never gave anything away. This is entirely new territory and he has no idea how you want him to react to all this information on Alastor of all demons.
“Well, I just…” Vox pauses to fully gather his thoughts so he doesn’t stumble over himself like before, drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair, “He’s still all the media outside my control ever talks about. Hate him or not he’s done something right to earn all this attention.”
Attention over him he almost adds, but forgoes at the last second.
Your eyes flick to a few of the screens still hovering around the both of you before looking at him again. He’s still struggling to figure out what you’re goal is, but your next actions nearly cause him to blue screen in the middle of his train of thought.
You lean down and cage him in, putting your hands over top his on the armrest. His vision is completely overtaken by your face, and you’re close enough he can feel you exhale against his screen. He’s internally scrambling to get himself together so he can pay attention to the next thing you have to say.
“Maybe, but…” You lean your head down further next to where one of his ears would be, trailing a hand up his arms to his shoulder and making him suppress a shiver, “Have you ever considered the fact that Alastor’s full of shit?”
Everything in him seizes up as he struggles to process what’s going on. What do you mean Alastor’s full of shit— holy hell you’re so close— wait you swore since when do you swear are you serious right now— why are you touching him like that— What are you trying to do here— you were always such a prude where is this coming from???
Vox tries to stay composed, but the stutters and glitching in his screen are unavoidable with the loop you just put him through.
“H̶-̷H̶o̷w̵ could he be when he’s the s̵t̷r̸o̷n̴g̶e̵s̴t̶ sinner in Hell? He didn’t even n̵͓͠e̶̙͘e̴̩̊d̵͓͒ a̸n̸y̷b̷o̵d̸y̶ to work with him to reach the t̷o̸p̵.”
You bring your hand back down from his shoulder and pull back slightly. Not enough to give him room to breath or think properly at all, but you’re at least not literally breathing down his neck anymore.
You’re normal passive outlook turns completely unimpressed, “You know he didn’t really work for that power he has, right?”
What? He didn’t work for it? What are you trying to tell him? How would you know? He’s really trying to dissect what you’re saying to actually think things over and provide a proper response, but you’re still so close it’s driving him mad.
“What are you—”
You steamroll through his words like you couldn’t hear him, “I’ve been here long before you or Alastor joined the scene. I wasn’t curled up in the manor ignorant to Hell’s landscape like my sister. I was looking for something, so obviously I had to pay attention.”
The reminder that you’re potentially older than he can probably fathom forces him to latch onto everything you say without realizing. You’re still consuming every thought floating at the surface, but since you’re older than Alastor you would’ve known him when he initially arrived in Hell, and Vox needs to know. He needs something— anything to help validate his own view of the man you’re trying to tear apart.
“Alastor came in like a hurricane. He started slaughtering overlords almost as soon as he fell down here. Tell me Vox,” Your eyes narrow and your voice drops just shy of a whisper, “does that sound like a man who worked to earn his position?”
Your question finally makes Vox break through the fog you put him in. The implications coil around his image of Alastor and tug at them hard. With threads slowly coming loose, he’s able to question things that now looking back don’t exactly add up.
He had possibly the best start to the afterlife one could ever get. As soon as he died he fell into the property of the one member of the royal family willing to help get him situated. He quickly befriended and used your influence to quickly further his own, but that still took months of hard work. Vox couldn’t solely rely on you else his brand couldn’t stand apart from you at all. So… how the fuck did Alastor rise so high in the first few days?
Was there… really not much to aspire to be from him in the first place? Did he really just… spawn into Hell already at the peak of what a sinner could ever accomplish? Or did he find some miracle down here that gave him all the power he could ever want?
Vox is spiralling, but you continue on without a care in the world and add more onto his plate.
“Alastor laughed at you for wanting to work together— he called you pathetic even, but are you really the pathetic one here?” You reach a hand up and twirl one of his antennas around with your finger, “Yes you might not be as strong as him, you might never be, but is that really such a bad thing? What are those other two good for if not helping further your goals?”
Each stroke of your finger on his antenna threatens to rip a whimper from him and throw him back into that headspace revolving around nothing but you, but thinking about his business partners helps keep him sane. They don’t help brighten his mood though.
So what if Alastor either won the death lottery or took power from some poor sinner or somehow came across a blessing in Hell of all places, he’s still the strongest sinner. The Radio Demon doesn’t need comrades like he does to hold onto power.
“But—”
You shush him and bring your finger from his antenna (thank god) to push against where his mouth is on his screen.
“He’s strong enough to work alone, I know you can too, but you—” You remove your finger from his screen to poke at his chest, “You’re good at getting people to do things for you. Good at getting people to join your side and amass a cult following— to be loved by everyone.”
“Everyone but Alastor.”
That slips out his mouth without him thinking, though he doesn’t know if that’s something he truly wanted to say or not. His thoughts and emotions are all over the place thanks to you.
Does he want Alastor’s attention? His approval like old times? Vox doesn’t think so, but he honestly has no idea. If everything you’re saying is true, he’s not exactly someone he can look at for tricks, but he’s also the only one who ever looked at him like he was worth something. No matter how much of a little bitch he ended up being in the end, Alastor respected him at some point. He’s the only one—
You tilt Vox’s head up, bringing his attention away from his thoughts and back on you. As soon as your eyes lock, his processors stutter.
Oh.
“So you can’t change the heart of one man who wants to spend the rest of his eternity alone, unloved, and unwanted.”
Oh how long has this been going on.
“Do you understand what I’m saying now? Alastor can be feared— you can be that, and also be adored. Why fixate on that deer when you can be so much more than him? Who knows,” You trail your hand from the edge of his screen down his neck and he swallows at the sensation, “Maybe that’s why he rejected your offer in the first place.”
You peel away from him, and Vox finds himself needing to hold back the urge to pull you back.
He watches you walk over to grab one of the floating screens still in the air— something he honestly forgot about amidst everything that just happened. He doesn’t say anything as you skim the article and when you’re satisfied, slowly turn it around to show him what’s on it.
ANOTHER YEAR WITH NO RADIO DEMON! DISAPPEARANCE STILL COMPLETE MYSTERY!
You don’t give it a second glace as you hold it out for him to take, “Are you going to close this chapter for good?”
He looks at the screen and the countless others around him. He doesn’t take the one you’re holding from you, but he plugs himself into the nearest outlet to turn all of them off.
One by one they all blip away, all the clickbait headlines and performance reviews, until all he can see is you.
You nod as you watch the last one shut off in your hand and make your way to the window. He knows by now that means you’re going to leave, and that there’s nothing he can say to convince you, but he has so many things he has to say— things he needs to talk about. You can’t just walk away like this was normal!
“Wait—” He stands up to try and keep you from going. Grab your hand, hold you with his wires— literally anything if it meant you stayed to answer even one of his questions, but you’ve already opened the window when you turn back to him.
“Good luck Vincent.” Is the last words he hears before you spread your wings and fall backwards out the window. When he reaches the edge of the room, he can only stand and watch as you fly further and further away, until you’re a tiny speck in his vision.
Offhandedly he recognizes the direction you’re flying in is towards your garden, but his thoughts are still swarmed by everything else, so it’s quickly drowned out.
He stands there for a while just thinking, staring off into the horizon he last saw you. He doesn’t even notice he left the window open until Kitty comes around and closes it for him. Its action alone is enough to snap him out of his head for a moment, but as soon as he turns around his eyes catch sight of the armchair— still glittering with its new regal look.
He replayed this meeting over, and over again, for the next few months.
●○ A day in the life of you and Vincent, where he tries his damnedest to keep your opinion of him high and make use of your family name. Both tasks more annoying than he thought, but anything for his company, right?
The noise of Pentagram City was often a cacophony of suffering and pleasure. Being damned for an eternity often strips away all inhibitions for every fallen sinner— something Vincent learned the moment he stepped out of your land for the first time. Finally looking at the depravity of the place that would be his forever was more than a little… disappointing, but it was all the more reason to keep in your circle and quickly climb to the top.
After years of doing just that, he’d like to think he’s made spectacular progress. He had his own army of souls at his beck and call, his business was starting to take off, and he was finally able to get a place of his own— the tallest building in the area. Not to say he dropped you as soon as he was able, your presence by his side alone was enough to make others think twice before messing with him. He made sure to reinforce this knowledge as often as possible by going out with you whenever possible.
It’s on one of those days with you— walking around doing nothing in particular— when he spots a poster of Lilith announcing another one of her oh so famous concerts. Everyone seems to love her, and he can’t lie and say he doesn’t understand the appeal, but when you’re constantly in the presence of one of the royal family… safe to say the veil has been lifted a little.
You walk by the poster without so much as a passing glance, and while Vincent knows you don’t have the best relationship with her at the moment, he can’t help but comment on it hoping to dig for more information.
“So… I see Lilith’s having another concert.”
Your shoulders slump and you let out a long sigh as soon as those words leave his mouth.
“Charming.”
You speed up slightly, as if walking any faster will let you escape the conversation, and Vincent has to hold back a laugh so you don’t end up directing your ire at him instead of the air. Even though he holds on his laughter, he easily keeps pace with you to continue prodding you for answers— poking your arm all the while.
“What? She still sidelining you for all the fame and glory?” He makes sure he comes off as playful so you don’t take too much offence, and watching you swat his hand away with a quirk in your lip he knows he succeeded. Though, what little of your mood he managed to bring up comes back down just as fast.
You huff and avoid looking at him, but Vincent never takes his eyes off you.
“Not quite. I see her enough.”
This time he can’t help the snort that escapes him as he recalls the few conversations you’ve held about Lilith before, “If once a day during dinner is enough for you.”
Personally, he would have loved if his parents stayed out of his life as much as possible. He can’t imagine wanting to spend more time with his insufferable mother, but Lilith is supposed to be good or something if he took your word and her concerts as truth.
You roll your eyes, “She’s busy, and my sister is a handful. Not seeing her is not my issue.”
“Then what is it?”
No matter what you say it all sounds like excuses. You say she’s busy, he hears she brushed off time with you to spend with random people. You say Charlie is a handful, he hears that she favours your sister over you. He wonders if your next excuse will actually prove to him Lilith is some loving albeit busy mother, or if she's still a neglectful asshole and you're deeper in denial than he thought. Though, before you even get to open your mouth…
“Excuse me kind sirs—” An Imp walks over and buts in, though It cuts itself off— staring at you in mild horror.
Vincent can feel the blood under his skin start to boil. Not only did it have the audacity to interrupt his conversation with you, but if it really had to come over the least it could do was finish its sentence! If these creatures weren’t so useful to jumpstart his business, he’s sure he would have written them all off as fodder. Though no matter how useful, he’s not about to tolerate a single one cutting into his time with you— especially not when he’s about to get answers!
“We’re busy. You can stop gawking and fuck off. I’m sure you have photos you can jack off to at home.” Vincent's words are filled with vitriol, and he finishes with a roll of his eyes. He’s about to push the imp aside and walk past, but you elbow him in the gut and send him kneeling onto the pathway.
You ignore his wailing on the floor, uncaring of how much strength you used to stop him and bring your attention to the awaiting imp— who looks more nervous than earlier.
“Do you require something?” You ask with a raised brow. Your tone is flat—normal for when you’re talking to strangers from what Vincent's gathered, but that knowledge doesn't keep his gut from twisting.
He doesn’t hold back his growl at your doting knowing you’ll only take it as him groaning. So you have time to space for the imp, but not him? The one you just knocked onto the floor?? He knows you didn’t do it that hard on purpose, you actively go out of your way to not touch or harm sinners for some reason, so where’s his care??? Maybe you just don’t think he’s worth the apology.
If this imp doesn't have anything important to say he’s taking it out on both of you.
Vincent raises his head enough to get a look at the imp currently in the way and static instantly creeps into his vision at the sight of it. It’s not the sight of it tiptoeing around you that’s pissing him off— though that is a factor— it’s what it’s wearing. It looks like a fucking—
“I have newspapers from Earth for sale, but you may have one for free, your majesty.”
It’s a fucking paperboy.
He’s never disregarded pain or stood up faster in his life. He almost wants to applaud the imp for having the utter audacity to offer you a newspaper when the head of the news— the face of Hell’s television— is standing right there. He doesn’t know if he should laugh of throttle the little creature first.
“Who even reads newspapers anymore—”
“I do.” You elbow him again, lighter, but still with enough force that has him shut up and clutch his stomach. You kneel down to the imps level, “I’m curious of events on Earth as well. I’ll be happy take one off your hands.”
The imp’s skitterish nature evaporates as it hurries to hand you one of its papers, “Thank you! Take care your majesty.”
It scampers away with an odd pep in its step, and Vincent has to resist the urge to fry that imp where it stands. Just who the hell does it think it is? He found you first. He’s the one you go to for information— on Earth or otherwise. If you start going to these halfwits instead of him, he’s going to lose so much ground with you. Knowledge is the one trade he has at the moment outside of his company. If he loses that, then all he’ll have is himself, and that’s not going to last forever.
He leans closer to you to scan the first page of the paper, hoping there’s at least something useful on it after all the trouble, and he’s left disappointed. Ads for products he can’t buy, info on people he doesn’t know and probably won’t ever get to see, and random unsubstantiated attention grabbing headlines for bullshit that doesn’t matter. On all accounts, it’s a normal untrustworthy newspaper.
“You really that interested in human affairs you’d take from unreliable sources?”
“Hell-born have reliable ways to get to Earth, so I’m not concerned.” You roll up the paper and hold it at your side to give Vincent your full attention, “That and you already know I’ll never have the chance to see anything for myself. Are you not the least bit curious of humanities current affairs?”
He scoffs and crosses his arms, “I’m not. It’s not like I can go back, and I already know anything useful.”
He’s itching to take the newspaper from you and tear it to pieces, but even at a passing glance he’d be able to tell that’s not a great idea. Your shoulders are squared and you’re holding it further back— still at your side but out of his immediate reach. Though, your eyes hold no sign of distrust, so he can’t tell if your reaction is purposeful or not. Either way, Vincent groans and drags a hand down his screen, knowing his only option is to give in.
“But if you want to read it we can go to a bar or something to sit down.”
If he was honest, he is the tiniest bit curious, but he already has his own ways of keeping up with humanities growing technological capabilities. Ways that don't involve random imps on the street or the useless celebrity gossip that always ends up on the front page. But if that's what you're interested in? Fine. He’ll bite. Hell, he’ll do more than bite.
If it's current earthly affairs you’re looking for, then he’ll scrape every nook and cranny he can lay his gaze on for information. Anything to keep you coming to him, and not any of the worthless hell-born loitering around the ring.
With all that in mind, he looks for the nicest bar in the area so you can read your silly little paper. He’ll get more information about Lilith out of you another time— keeping you interested and engaged is a higher priority.
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To Vincent’s luck, there was a bar nearby that only allowed higher profiled people inside. He has no idea if he got in on his own merit or because he was with you, but he chooses to believe the former.
Thankfully the interior wasn’t completely run down. There was the odd crack in the floor or counter, but other than that it felt like the owner of the establishment actually tried. Sleek wooden floors, leather chairs and bar stools, the largest selection of drinks he’s seen since landing in Hell sat behind the bar counter, and a small radio sat in the corner playing softer tunes for background noise. The only other buildings he’s seen this put together are his own, your property, and one dinner he came across by happenstance.
He lead you up to grab a seat by the bar closest to the wall and order drinks for the both of you. As soon as you sat down you unrolled the newspaper and began reading, only looking back up when your drink was delivered to thank him. He didn’t mind— he had his own ideas to sparse through for his own company, and with you still there he was occasionally able to ask for your input or lean over to see what you were reading. As he thought a lot of the passages were… beyond stupid, but you didn’t have any problem with him pointing them out so he continued to do just that.
For some time you’re both sitting there in each others company away from the chaos that is the rest of Hell. No one else in the bar dared to come over to talk— unlike a certain smarmy little imp— and it’s as peaceful as it can get. Until you bring up something from the newspaper that makes static prickle at the edges of his screen.
“Oh, you’re in here.” You bring the paper closer to your face and squint slightly, “That’s what you looked like before?”
“What!?”
Vincent snatches the newspaper out of your hands to look at it himself and low and behold, a picture of him when he was alive sits at the top of the page you turned to. From what he could tell it was taken during one of his speeches, though he’s struggling to remember which one given how long it’s been since then.He hasn't thought of his human looks in a while— no point crying over something that's never coming back. It’s a little surreal to stare at a picture of himself when he was alive compared to how he exists now.
“Yeah. That was me.” He glances at you when he feels you almost lean into his side. You’re completely absorbed by his image and pride floods his chest at the fact. He put in a lot of effort to make sure he was stunning, so he’s glad to see all that time was enough to capture even your attention, “I was a looker wasn’t I?”
“I won’t deny you had some flair about you.” You start, small smirk appearing on your face and your voice edging on amused, “But the screen has its own charm. Don’t sell your current self short now.”
You flick the side of his head but he barely registers it— his mind stuck buffering for a short while. You think he’s charming right now? Currently as he is with this dinky television for a head? Not just before when he was human?
He stares at you while you take back the newspaper to continue reading the passage about him. He thinks back to earlier with that imp with the newspaper and feels a little lighter. Maybe his presence really is enough to keep you around to help build his empire—
“You had a cult?”
You bring the paper down to stare at him, but his head is still in the cloud and he answers on autopilot.
“It was more of a movement— wait what.” His mind finally catches up to the conversation and he quickly leans over to read the passage, “How the hell did they…”
Vincent risks taking a look at you and stalls. You’re looking at him differently. It's not the usual content smile, playful smirk, or resting deadpan. This is something eerily close to… apprehension. While not strong, it's there, and he can’t lose you now— not with him so close to his goals. You’re still his fast ticket to the top. If he has to bend the truth a little to help you look past this minor thing, then so be it.
He straightens in his seat and puts on his showman’s smile, easily slipping into his preformative persona he’s spent years perfecting. “I did tell you I was the god of entertainment right? I was the face of the new world! A lot of people looked up to me, and they’re the ones who gave me the name by the way. I’m not about to lie to you and say it wasn’t exhilarating being that adored, but ‘cult leader’ is a little much don’t you think?”
Your look hardens as you glare at him, but Vincent doesn’t drop his mask. After a while of you staring him down, you look back towards the newspaper and reread the portion about him. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking, your face has lost the apprehension from before, but it’s turned completely passive. As worried as he is, he only allows himself to tap a finger against his arm to release his tension.
Eventually you put the newspaper down on the table. Vincent waits with bated breath as he watches you pinch the bridge of your nose with a sigh.
“Alright.” You look and sound tired, but you still smile when you bring your attention back to him, “If it helps you sleep better I suppose I’ll believe everything you just said.”
“Oh fuck you it’s true!”
You softly laugh at his exclaim and Vincent finally allows himself to relax and drop his tense posture. The moment between you stays lighthearted as you converse whatever else you find interesting about the paper. Drinks flow between you both in an amount that would have anyone else black out and Vincent supposes it’s one of the perks of being mostly bio-mechanical.
The mood is shot when the radio in the bar turns on by itself. The voice that comes through on the other side silences the entire establishment. His introduction is short, but it's one that's been ingrained into every being that lives in the pride ring, and soon after the screeching starts.
Sounds of bones snapping and sinners begging for mercy fill the air— all filtered through the static and noise of the radio. Nobody dares to move an inch— afraid the slightest hint of weakness will have the radio demon climb out and skewer them where they stand.
This lasts for no more than ten minutes, the radio suddenly cutting itself off as abruptly as it turned on. Though the screaming stopped, the tension never left the air. Even after the radio went back to playing the music from before and all the demons re-engaged in their previous conversations, it’s obvious to see it left everyone high strung. Well, everyone but you and Vincent.
While Alastor couldn’t even dream of harming you in any way that mattered, Vincent was barely paying attention to the radio in the first place. He could not care less about who was being tortured on the other end. What he was paying attention to was the sinners in the room. All of them are high profile in one way or another— all with power and prestige, but they all still cowered at the mere thought of the radio demon tuning his gaze on them. It was riveting to witness the effect one sinner can have on a room filled with purpose.
“Alastor’s at it again I hear.” Your voice breaks through Vincent's mild daydreaming, all emotion seemingly drained from you, “I don’t know what you see in him.”
He ignores your change of tone, assuming you’re unimpressed with Alastor’s display of power and tries to convey why it’s actually quite the opposite, “He’s the most powerful sinner in all of Hell! Who wouldn’t think highly of him?”
You sigh clearly exasperated and lean back on the stool, “Yes, yes, he dropped out of the sky a force to be reckoned with and swiftly climbed to the top. I understand he’s powerful, but is that really all there is?”
“Oh, there’s way more to Alastor than that! But…” He wants to go off on a rant about how phenomenal Alastor is for getting where he is today, but he takes one look at you and he’s forced to remember you’re not like either of them, “You’re not a sinner, you wouldn’t understand anything I have to say.”
You’re a Morningstar. You came out the womb with unfathomable power and a legacy behind your name. You never had to work for anything in your life. Those like him and Alastor worked endlessly for just a fraction of what you carried.
He’s working on changing that though. Soon he’ll have enough to match you, he's sure of it. You’ll have no choice but to look him in the eye as something more than just that helpless sinner that landed in your garden.
You lean back towards the bar and rest your head in your hand, “I suppose. I don’t seem to understand much of what you sinners do. You’ll keep entertaining my questions though, right?”
A shiver rips through him and his screen grows fuzzy for a second when you turn to him and smile.
“How could I call myself the god of entertainment if I didn’t.”
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Thank you for reading! Here’s some more of these two :)
[Fall on Grace] [☆Treasured Connections] [Old Goodbyes to New Tomorrows] [Ruffled Feathers] [Ask: Crossed Wires] [Ask: Fishy Business]
^ I’ll also take requests for these two goobers! ^
Vox (Hazbin Hotel) x Morningstar!Reader
(Minor Valentino & Velvette x Reader)
○● You're here. You're actually in his penthouse, choosing to live with him of your own free will. Why do you make it so difficult to be excited about this…
no established gender for reader insert, Vox's POV, Unreliable Narrator Vox strikes for the final time, Reader isn't in this one much till the end, angst, I tried to make it funny but there's really not much I could do here, Vox is spiraling
I will say, trying to get back into writing right before Art Fight has not been my brightest moment, oh well.
[Masterlist] [AO3]
[Fall on Grace] [Treasured Connections] [Old Goodbyes to New Tomorrows] [Ruffled Feathers] [Ask: Crossed Wires] [Ask: Fishy Business] [☆The Benefits of Being Your Lone Ally]
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Vox can't sit still. He can barely find it in himself to focus on his work— a fact he would be more annoyed by if you weren't the cause. Somehow, everything surrounding you has managed to fall in his favour and he couldn't be more conflicted.
Shortly after you left the day you met Shok.wav things just seemed to fall apart around you. He doesn't really know what happened, something involving a few Hell born and Lucifer, you didn't really explain. He's sure Alastor was involved somehow since none of this event seemed to be recorded on his end and he was too busy re-watching security footage to notice. Either way, this all ended up in you wanting to get as far away from the Hotel as possible, so you've chosen to come reside in V Tower for the time being. In a time of need you asked to crash in his penthouse. You chose to live with him.
Admittedly, he may have acted a little too excited when he initially heard your request, but now that you're here he can tell that something is wrong with you. He knows it's more than just the initial incident that led you here— since your encounter with Shok.wav you've been acting… off. Way more than usual anyway. If you moved in before that day he's sure things wouldn't be this bad.
Despite living in the same building now and sharing space in his penthouse, it's still rare if he'll actually get to see you on any given day. That in itself isn't too odd, but when he does end up in the same room as you it's like you've never been avoiding him at all. You so easily slip into the dynamic he had with you before everything started dissolving. At first Vox desperately wanted to believe things were finally getting back on track between the two of you, but he can only ignore the obvious for so long.
In every conversation you're extremely tense. It's like you're ready at a moments notice to grasp onto the closest excuse to bolt back into your temporary room. He wouldn't be surprised if you were. You also make sure to remind him that the room he gave you is temporary almost every time too— not once failing to correct him even if he so much as insinuated the room could be yours to keep if you wanted. There's a ton of other little things he's noticed, but he has no idea if he's the cause or if it's your father or those random Hell born you ran into or if it's Alastor or some other mysterious fifth thing.
All things considered, he'd be an idiot if he continued to ignore every single sign. Yes, he loves that you're here and chose to stay here of your own volition, but it's clear you don't actually want to be here. Whatever made you chose to spend time in his vicinity when you don't even want to look at him he'll forever be grateful for, but the least he could do for you right now is give you space. At least until he can either figure out a good excuse to get you to stay by his side or he figures out why you want nothing to do with him and fix the problem. So unfortunately, in the face of his further deteriorating relationship with you, he can do nothing but flounder and ponder. Business as usual.
He glances back at the work he should be doing. The numerous spreadsheets and names of people he should be checking in on feel like their glaring at him to get something done, but any time he clicks on one he finds himself switching back to the security cameras instead. At this point the only thing that will get him back to work is solving the whole issue that is you, but reviewing camera footage only gets him so far.
Vox wishes he had a clear idea of what happened the day you met Shok.wav, but his shark just so happened to block most of the security footage of you in every shot. Shok.wav didn't explain the situation well either, all he knows is that you ended up somewhere on Valentino's floor before heading to the roof. Anything could've happened and it was driving him mad not knowing—
“VOOX~”
The door to his control room bursts open, and just like that Vox has two more headaches to deal with instead of work. Valentino struts into the room with a purpose that will probably annoy the shit out of him, and Velvette follows behind without looking up from her phone.
He doesn't bother holding in his sigh, "What do you want Val. Can't you see I'm busy."
Velvette looks up from her phone to see what's on his screens and scoffs, "Busy. Right."
Valentino leans against Vox's chair without a care for the glare Vox is giving him. He squints at the screen to try and make out what he's looking at, and when he does Vox is sure he would've rolled his eyes if he had visible pupils.
"Watching this footage again babe? Haven't you looked through this a hundred times already?"
Vox feels his anger rising at Val's exasperated tone. This happened on his floor, the moth should know what's going on when he steps away and now because of him, Vox has less of an idea for what's wrong with you in areas he should know.
Vox bats at Val's arm to get it off, "Well, unless you can tell me what happened on your floor then maybe I wouldn't need to!"
Val makes a noise a mix of a scoff and whine before leaning against the chair again with more weight, "I already told you I wasn't there! If I had known our little bird was going to come around my studio I wouldn't have left it in the first place."
"Then let me analyze in peace so I can figure out what went wrong!"
"Yeah, and your hundred and tenth time looks to be going so well." Velvette's voice rings out, her disapproval evident in her voice and expression as she continues to tap away at her phone, "You're an old man, shouldn't getting off your ass and doing something come easier to you than sitting around doing fuck all?"
Vox turns his glares onto her, but she can't even be bothered to glance up at him.
Val tugs on the edge of Vox's screen to bring his attention back on him, "Where is our piece of the crown anyway? You told us they were living here, but we haven't seen any part of them at all."
He really doesn't want to tell Val where you're staying. If you can barely handle being in his own presence there's no way in Hell you'd be able to stand these two. Though he knows if he doesn't Val's just going to abandon his studio again just to go looking and Velvette will probably spam you with messages. So begrudgingly he gives in to Val's demand.
“They’re in my penthouse, but—” Vox quickly interjects when Val steps away to presumably annoy the shit out of you, “they don’t want to be bothered, so pack it in and sit down.”
This time Val actually whines like a dog being denied treats, “They've been here for a matter of days and they're already tired of us? When the hell are they gonna get over themself.”
Velvette finally puts her phone away to cross her arms over her chest, “Yeah, what gives? Usually I can find a few feathers lying around whenever they drop by, but because of their lack of anything I've had to resort to taking from Val's stash, and they don't feel the same after getting disinfected.”
"Wait, you're the one who's been stealing my—"
"Who fucking cares." Vox cuts Val off before he can go into detail about what he does with your feathers. Never in his existence would he ever want to know. “Have you considered the fact they’ve never really liked either of you? We're lucky they chose to stay here at all.”
Velvette flips him off and mumbles something before walking away from his desk. Valentino softly laughs at him with a growing smirk, stroking the side of his head and making the electricity under his skin spark.
“It’s not like you’re doing much better right now.”
Vox has to hold in throwing obscenities at Val. The moth has no right to say anything about his relationship with you, especially with that relationship he has with Angel, but he can't act out if he wants to go back to his penthouse with the least amount of trouble possible.
He swallows his frustrations as he's done numerous times before and speaks through his simulated gritted teeth, "All the more reason to leave them alone. If we keep hounding them then they're just going to leave and we'll be back at the start."
Val gets off his chair and gestures wildly with both sets of arms as he speaks, "You're not going to get anywhere sitting around stalking them either! Maybe try another kink 'cause this one is obviously not working."
Vox sputters at that, trying to keep the heat away from his screen and failing miserably, "What the fuck I'm trying to get them to like me first! If I tried anything else they'd really never talk to me again!"
The moth stops and stares at him incredulously. It's silent between the two for long enough that Vox thinks he's somehow broken the man. Though before he can ask what the fuck happened with him, Val shouts out his next words full of shock.
"Have neither of you had sex before!? With the way you talk I thought you were fucking behind my back and you missed that ass. Your this high strung over another antique you never even got to fuck??"
"Oh, fuck you! They're different!"
Whether Vox is talking about you, Alastor, or both, Valentino's not able to tell, so he ignores him altogether.
"How is your game this weak? Maybe they're just not into pathetic men like you." Val grins wider at the sight of Vox's growing displeasure, "At this rate I bet I'd have a better chance at hitting that then you ever will."
Vox abruptly stands from his seat. Sparks fly between his antennas and fingers in his ever increasing anger each word the moth lets slip past his mouth.
"Watch it Val."
Val just smirks and crosses his bottom set of arms and lays his top set on his hips, "Whaat? Just saying, seventy years and you haven't pulled that yet is extremely sad. Next you're gonna say you haven't kissed either."
Vox doesn't think he's ever wanted to strangle Valentino as much as he does right now. It's something that must come across his face visibly since Val seemingly lights up even more at the sight of it.
"Holy shit."
"Don't."
The cackle Valentino emits nearly sends Vox into a fritz. The lights in the building flicker in time with his waning self control. The only thing keeping the city from a blackout is the thought of you sitting in his penthouse in the dark and probably becoming even more disappointing in him than you already are. Though even that final thread it's close to reaching it's end the longer Val goes on.
"Velvette can you believe this guy—" Val trails off when he looks past Vox, his smile dropping even further the more he looks around the room, "Vel? Uh, ha ha, where’d she go?"
His entire body suddenly goes cold. Turning his head to where Velvette was standing earlier to then dart around to take in the whole room, he realizes she's not in the room at all. He doesn't waste any time checking the security footage, switching off what happened days prior to the live feed and immediately checking his penthouse cameras. Low and behold, there Velvette is— standing in his living room talking to you.
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While Valentino rushed to the elevator screaming about how unfair she was being, Vox elected to zap through the buildings electricity to get there immediately. He couldn't be more furious at Velvette for going against what he just said. He has the final say on how they should deal with you. What if she talks shit about him and sours your opinion of him even further? What if you end up leaving 'cause you think his annoying business partners are going to keep bothering you and you go back to the Hotel? What if she fucks up so bad you never want to talk to him ever again?
He doesn't get much time to ruminate on any of those possibilities, 'cause he lands in his penthouse nigh instantly to break up whatever is going on and you looked… fine? Not exactly fine, it's obvious you're still irritated and rather have been left alone, but as soon as you spot him your visage completely changes. Now you're back to that tense ready to bolt at a moments notice version of yourself he's unfortunately gotten to know during the duration of your stay here.
When it was just Velvette you looked like yourself. Sure it was the version of you that's been ignoring him for decades now and not the one he's been desperately trying to get back, but that was still you. If he's not even allowed to see that one anymore… He doesn't allow himself to dwell on it, choosing instead to focus on Velvette for ignoring his very important ask to leave you alone, but even that's too hard.
She's standing there with her usual air of discontent, like nothing is wrong about this whole thing. It's pissing him off— since when did you tolerate Velvette's presence more than his?
"Velvette."
He wants to be angry at her and to let her know it, but with you standing right there it's better to act unbothered. Though all he managed was to remove all emotion from his voice. Vel still rolls her eyes and starts to walk over to the elevator.
"Whatever. I got what I wanted— wait." Vel stops and turns to look back, pointing her phone at you, "The extra feathers, I still need them for my current line."
What? What does she mean she got what she wanted if she still needs feathers? The thought she came up here just to ask about getting some of your loose feathers is irritating enough, but to have some mysterious thing on top of that?
Vox's irritation and confusion only deepens when you glance at her with disinterested eyes, "I am having doubts you were paying attention to anything I said. Why would I give you anything of mine?"
"'Cause I'm part of the reason your reputation isn't tied to daddy dearest, so if you'd like to keep it that way."
"… Just wait here." You sigh, dragging a hand over your head and walking down the hallway to get to your temporary room.
It takes every fibre of his being to not lash out or move an inch till he hears the door to your room open and close. As soon as it does he immediately hounds on Velvette with all the harshness he can get away with without yelling.
"Velvette what the fuck was that?"
Velvette clicks her tongue, her voice also lowering into a half-whisper, "Doing your job for you. I'd say your welcome, but honestly you're fucking screwed."
"What the fuck are you talking about—"
"WHERE ARE THEY!?"
As if to remind him his day can always, always, get worse, the elevator door opens to reveal Valentino and he walks in before Vox can force shut the doors in his face. To make things even worse, his shouting seemed to have you rush back into the living room. Your shoulders drooped the tiniest amount at the sight of Val, but the moth either didn't notice or chose to ignore it.
"There's our slice of royalty!" Val walks past both Vox and Velvette, also ignoring the looks they were giving him to try and drape himself across your shoulders, "This is the first time I'm seeing you since you moved in. Vox been keeping you locked away on his floor like a fairy tale?"
You dodge Val's attempt at touching you and walk over to Velvette. You both ignore Val nearly stumble to the floor and she happily reaches out to take the jar of feathers from you.
"Thanks darling. My next line would be stunning with your figure by the way. You should—"
"Since when did you do business with Velvette?" Vox couldn't stop himself from asking after seeing her speak to you like this was her business as usual. How, when, and why did this happen? You've never liked the other Vees, you made that obvious from day one. So why…
You glance in his direction and quirk your head, "You're not the only Vee in the tower. I do business with overlords, not just you Vox."
He can feel what's left of his heart splintering, "But—"
"You've never done business with me cariño." Val leans on top of Vox's head, effectively cutting him off and getting playful with you instead, "I'm sure if we did a few videos together we'd be raking in views."
No emotion shows on your face other than a flicker in your eye. That's all it takes for the last thread of his to finally snap and he swats Valentino off him like the bug the moth really is.
"Fuck off Val like they'd ever do a shoot with you or any of your whores." His voice is laced with static as sparks fly off of him in random bursts. One manages to land on the moths hand, causing him to yelp and back off before he could make a single retort. Velvette also takes a few steps back not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.
"Vox, it's fine." You attempt to lay a hand against his shoulder, but when he spins back around you pull back, only angering him further.
"The fuck you mean it's fine? You won't even spend five minutes with me! Why would you give any of your time to them! I'm the one who listened to you talk about your shittt family and let you vent. I'm the one who told you whatever you wanted to hear about Earth. I'm the one who's been with you for near a hundred years— not these two! I'm the one who's been there for you, so please, make it make sense!"
A pin drop could be heard in the silence that followed.
You let no reaction to his outburst known, just continued to stare at him with the same tired eyes he hasn't seen you without for the last decade. Val and Velvette both stepped further away, glancing between each other and the both of you without saying a single word. Though Vox barely pays them any mind when you're still right in front of him and yet to have said or done anything at all.
To soon, the adrenaline starts to fade away, and the reality of the situation smacks himself in the face. His arms shake as he tries to reach out to you, but you back up before he could even step closer.
"Wait. I… I didn't mean to—"
“Look.” You cut him off, your voice starting off void of all emotion, but the more you talk the easier it is to tell you're just exhausted, “I’m here, because right now it's more favourable than spending time at the Hazbin Hotel. Though quite frankly, I don't have the capacity to deal with… any of this at this moment. So, if you all could leave me alone for the remainder of my stay that'd be much appreciated."
You stare him down with a face unchanging. He can see Val and Vel look at him waiting for him to do something to fix this, but what do they want from him? What else is there to do but listen?
Vox stands straight and brings his hands behind his back so you don't see how hard he's clenching them together.
“Okay.” He fully turns to face the other two Vees, "Let's go."
Val waves around his top set of arms half astonished, “Vox are you serious—”
“Let's go Val.”
Val scoffs and mutter something under his breath, making his way to the elevator. Velvette follows shortly after, sharing brief eye contact with you beforehand, but not adding anything else. The two close the doors and descend without him, probably knowing he's going to try and do something stupid before zapping himself down anyway.
Vox pauses, something within himself refusing to leave everything on the floor like this. If he leaves now, when will he get the opportunity to pick up the pieces? A month? A year? Another decade? His mind scrambles for some last minute solution— anything he could do to lessen the burden somewhere, to get something off this floor and back where it rightfully belongs.
…
But he doesn’t know what to say.
“I’ll be in my office.”
You don’t respond, but he's grown used to your silence. So he zaps away without another word.
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[Fall on Grace] [Treasured Connections] [Old Goodbyes to New Tomorrows] [Ruffled Feathers] [Ask: Crossed Wires] [Ask: Fishy Business] [☆The Benefits of Being Your Lone Ally]
Oh my goodness thank you so much for the crossed wires fic, it’s so amazing and scrumptious!
Would you be comfortable/okay if you got more requests for the Vox x Morningstar reader because I’m in love with the concept you came up with for those two
Oh please ask me about those two
I'll get to expand the document and flesh them out more. They are not in here enough so send in whatever requests/ideas you have :)
