#vox x reader

She knew exactly what Alastor wanted. That was precisely why she'd refused to make things easy for him.

There was something delightfully entertaining about watching the infamous Radio Demon dance to her tune. Alastor so rarely found himself on the back foot that she couldn't resist enjoying the novelty while it lasted.

Was it wrong for a gal like her to indulge in a little harmless fun?

Setting her teacup aside, she turned her attention back to the chessboard resting between the two armchairs. She studied the board for a thoughtful moment before delicately picking up a knight.

With a soft click, she moved it into position. "Hm."

Her smile deepened.

If she knew Alastor and she most certainly did—he wouldn't leave matters as they were. Being outmaneuvered gnawed at him. He despised feeling cornered, hated the sensation of becoming prey tangled in someone else's web. Sooner or later, he'd return with a different approach, convinced he'd discovered the perfect move.

"It hardly matters, darling," she murmured to the empty room.

Her gaze drifted from the chessboard to the window overlooking Cannibal Town, her smile becoming knowingly mischievous. Because no matter what clever strategy Alastor devised next...

She still had you. 

The notification arrived while you were halfway through reviewing this month's financial reports. Your phone vibrated across the desk, its screen lighting up with the unmistakable red banner of an official emergency broadcast. Raising an eyebrow, you unlocked it and skimmed the headline. 

VOX vs ALASTOR FACE OFF!!! COLLATERAL DEATH COUNT RISING

You stared at the notification for all of three seconds. Then you locked your phone and set it back down beside your coffee."Huh."

That was. surprisingly unsurprising. Honestly, you had been expecting this to happen sooner or later. With a small shrug, you returned your attention to the paperwork spread across your desk.

It wasn't your problem. They were both grown men—If they wanted to throw tantrums and settle decades-old grudges by tearing chunks out of Pentagram City, that was entirely between them.

You had no intention of inserting yourself into... whatever brand of bullshit they had going on.

Besides, experience has taught you one very important lesson. The moment you involved yourself in either Vox's or Alastor's affairs, they somehow became your affairs.

No, thank you.

You valued your remaining sanity far too much.

Taking another sip of your coffee, you calmly reached for the next report in the stack, silently deciding that unless one of them physically crashed through your office wall, they could fight to their hearts' content.

You had a district to run.

They could sort out their own dramatic nonsense.

The city had changed. It was something subtle that settled over Pentagram City during the week following the battle. Rumors spread through every district faster than wildfire, each one more unbelievable than the last.

The Radio Demon had lost. The mere thought would've been laughable only a month ago.

Alastor had always carried an air of invincibility around him. He wasn't simply powerful—he was the Radio Demon, the Overlord whose very arrival sent lesser sinners fleeing. He cultivated that reputation meticulously, ensuring everyone believed he was untouchable.

Some Overlords smelled opportunity, others sensed danger. Those who had remained neutral for years quietly began reassessing old alliances, while ambitious upstarts wondered if the legendary Radio Demon had finally become vulnerable.

You, however, found yourself far less interested in Hell's newest political gossip than everyone else seemed to be.

Alastor was still Alastor. Whether he'd won, lost, or fought Heaven itself made little difference to how you intended to treat him. Your thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of your phone.

You glanced down at the screen, immediately recognizing the caller.

Vox.

You sighed before even answering. "What?"

His amused chuckle flowed through the speaker. "Straight to business. I missed that."

"I somehow doubt you called because you missed me."

"Ouch."

"What do you want?"

"I've got something I'd like to discuss."

"...That's incredibly vague."

"It'll make more sense in person."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Vox—"

"Come to V Tower."

The line disconnected before you could protest.

You stared at the phone for several long seconds. "I hate him."

Now, as your car rolled to a stop outside V Tower once again, you couldn't help rubbing your temples. "This is becoming a bad habit," you muttered to yourself.

You stepped out onto the pavement, straightening your jacket before making your way toward the towering glass entrance. You hadn't wanted this to become a regular occurrence.

Whatever Vox wanted, you'd hear him out, refuse anything idiotic, and leave.

Simple.

The familiar monochrome hallway stretched before you, polished floors reflecting the soft neon lighting overhead. Employees immediately noticed your arrival and instinctively stepped aside, offering polite greetings before hurrying out of your path. 

His office doors slid open automatically. Standing at the far end of the room beside the panoramic windows was Vox. He turned at the sound of the doors.

And then—That stupid smile appeared.

The kind of smile that suggested he knew something you didn't.

Combined with the perfectly tailored suit, the neatly adjusted bow tie, and the effortless confidence with which he carried himself...

It was, frankly, infuriating.

Stupid sexy smirk.

Stupid sexy attitude.

Vox's smile widened ever so slightly as you approached, as though he could somehow read the internal argument taking place inside your head. "Right on time," he said smoothly.

You stopped a few feet away, folding your arms to hide just how irrationally flustered you suddenly felt. "You'd better have a good reason for dragging me back here."

"Oh," Vox replied, his grin somehow becoming even more insufferable, "I think you'll find this one's worth your time."

The moment the doors to Vox's office slid open, your eyes were immediately drawn to the unexpected sight in the corner of the room. The Radio Demon sat tied rather unceremoniously to a chair with thick electrical cables wrapped around his arms and torso. His ever-present smile remained firmly in place, though his half-lidded eyes betrayed a level of irritation that only someone who knew him well could recognize.

You slowed to a stop, blinking. "Should I even ask?"

Alastor merely smiled wider. "My dear, I do believe your charming companion has become dreadfully insecure."

"I heard that," Vox called without an ounce of shame.

You stared at them both for a long moment before pinching the bridge of your nose. "I don't even want to know."

"Wise decision," Vox said immediately. His clawed hand settled against the small of your back with practiced ease, gently steering you away before Alastor could offer another commentary. "Come on."

You cast one last puzzled glance over your shoulder at the Radio Demon.

Alastor simply tipped his head politely toward you. "Do enjoy yourselves."

"...Thanks?" you answered uncertainly.

The second set of doors slid open, revealing Vox's private bedroom.

You had been inside before. This...wasn't the same room. You took one slow step inside, your eyes sweeping across the space. Something felt different…warmer?

Your gaze swept across the room before stopping on an elegant vanity that definitely hadn't been there during your previous visits. Soft cyan lighting framed the mirror, while its shelves had been meticulously organized with skincare products, perfumes, cosmetics, brushes, and hair accessories. You stepped closer, picking up one of the bottles. Your brows rose. It was your cleanser. Right beside it sat the moisturizer you always bought, your favorite perfume, the exact shade of lipstick you reached for most often, and even the hand cream you carried in your purse during colder months. 

What a stalker. You shook your head in exasperation but a smirk played on your lips.

Before you could question him, Vox was already leading you farther into the room. A concealed door slid open to reveal what looked less like a closet and more like an upscale designer showroom.

The walk-in wardrobe was enormous.

Rows of clothing stretched along the walls beneath soft neon lighting. Dresses, coats, jackets, tailored trousers, knitwear, shoes, handbags—everything had been arranged with meticulous precision. You wandered farther inside, fingertips brushing over the fabrics as an uncomfortable sense of familiarity settled over you.

Every piece looked like something you would wear.

You slowly shook your head, a disbelieving laugh escaping under your breath as you looked around the room one last time. 

"Vox..." you said, your voice quieter than before. "What is all this?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, that infuriatingly confident smile returned to his face. "Since I won our part of the deal."

You frowned. "I... what?"

"The Overlords are in my favour."

The words made you blink.

You opened your mouth to question him, but Vox was already one step ahead. "Even Carmilla."

Your expression changed instantly. "Carmine agreed?"

For the first time since entering the room, genuine surprise crossed your features. Carmilla Carmine was not someone who threw her support behind reckless ideas. 

Vox gave a satisfied chuckle as he stepped closer. A single clawed finger slipped beneath your chin, gently tilting your face upward until you met his eyes. "Yes," he said softly. "Surprised? You shouldn't be."

His thumb brushed lightly against your jaw before he continued. "This is only the beginning, sweetheart."

His hand slid from your chin to your waist, resting there with practiced ease before drawing you a little closer. "So, what do you say?"

You held his gaze for several long moments.

You knew exactly what he was asking. This had never been about simple political support.

Having you publicly stand beside him would mean far more than another Overlord lending their name to his cause. You had remained neutral for years, earning the respect of allies and rivals alike. If you endorsed him, others would see it as proof that even his competitors believed in his vision.

And then there were your resources.

Your district produced a significant portion of Hell's industrial materials—wiring, hardware, specialized components, which was used for your gaming hardware, peripherals, and tools designed to improve video gameplay, such as gaming mice, mechanical keyboards, and headsets. You had managed to grow without being dependent on Voxtek devices due to this.

Everything required to manufacture equipment on a massive scale. Everything Vox would inevitably need.

You disliked admitting it but you had made a deal and you were a woman who honored her word.

Closing your eyes briefly, you released a slow breath. "Very well. My resources, in reasonable quantities, are yours."

For a heartbeat, Vox simply stared at you. Then the triumphant smile that spread across his face could have powered the entirety of Pentagram City.

Pure, unmistakable victory.

His hand rose from your waist to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. "You make me the happiest man alive."

Before you could think of an appropriately sarcastic response, he leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss.

Vox was on a high unlike anything he had ever experienced. His ratings were soaring, the crowds in V Square had gathered by the thousands just to hear him, and every screen in Pentagram City seemed to carry his face. The best part, however, wasn't the numbers or the applause—to his surprise.

His rival's own protégé had chosen his side, and the satisfaction of that victory ran deeper than any rating ever could. Vox looked out over the cheering crowd with a triumphant smile. It couldn't get any better.

*

It was honestly impressive—the way Vox had stood against Lucifer himself and then the High Seraphim without so much as flinching. Anyone else would have shit their pants at the mere thought of confronting beings that powerful. Either Vox genuinely believed himself untouchable, or his ego had reached such extraordinary heights that the concept of fear simply couldn't reach him anymore. You weren't entirely sure which was worse.

By the time he came backstage, the adrenaline of the confrontation was still clinging to him. His posture was impossibly confident, his white suit immaculate despite everything that had happened, and that smug little power-trip smile was firmly in place. 

The moment Vox stepped through the curtains, his eyes immediately found you. His already smug expression widened into something positively insufferable, and you caught yourself staring before you could stop yourself. His white suit was immaculate, sharply tailored and fitting him far better than you cared to admit. There was something about Vox dressed in white that made him look almost... Unfortunately, you were dressed in white as well, and standing beside him, the two of you looked suspiciously coordinated.

Vox noticed your lingering gaze almost immediately. "Like what you see, sweetheart?" he murmured, leaning slightly closer.

You recovered quickly, rolling your eyes. "Don't flatter yourself."

Before you could come up with a suitable response, the reporters descended upon you both. Cameras flashed from every direction as microphones were thrust forward, questions overlapping one another in a chaotic barrage. Vox slipped an arm around your waist with practiced ease, drawing you against his side while you instinctively placed a hand against his chest.

"Vox! Is it true that you and the newest Overlord are officially working together?"

Vox looked down at you, his expression softening into an almost embarrassingly affectionate smile. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

You smiled sweetly for the cameras. "He's surprisingly tolerable when he isn't being insufferable."

The reporters laughed, and Vox placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "See? That's practically a love confession coming from her."

"Don't push your luck."

Another reporter immediately shouted, "Are the two of you actually dating?"

You felt Vox's arm tighten slightly around your waist. He glanced toward you, and for a brief second, the smugness disappeared, replaced by something warmer.

"Well?" he asked softly.

You understood the game. So you leaned a little closer to him and smiled. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

You returned backstage to cool down while Vox assured you that he would handle the rest of the reporters. You were more than happy to leave him to it; he seemed perfectly capable of charming an entire crowd when he wanted to. His private dressing room was the obvious place to wait, especially since the other option involved spending time with the other Vees, and you had absolutely no desire to invade their spaces unless business required it. You sank onto the sofa with a tired sigh, kicked your shoes off for a moment, and pulled out your phone.

After ordering yourself something to eat and a cold drink, you settled into the familiar ritual of doomscrolling. A few minutes later, sinners arrived with your order, leaving you comfortably surrounded by snacks while you mindlessly flicked through Voxstagram. You scrolled past advertisements, gossip, arguments, memes, and an alarming number of posts about today's events before something familiar caught your attention.

The photographs from the event were already everywhere.

There were edits of you and Vox standing together, clips of the two of you answering questions, and enough romantic captions to make you question whether Hell's population had collectively lost its mind.

"People really have nothing better to do," you muttered, taking a sip of your drink.

Then you saw another reel. The caption immediately made you pause.

The way Vox looks at her when she isn't looking...

You raised an eyebrow before tapping on it.

The video began with footage from the event. You were speaking to one of the reporters, completely unaware of the camera pointed slightly past you. Vox stood a few feet away, apparently listening to someone else. Except he wasn't. He was watching you.

The clip changed.

You were fixing your sleeve while another reporter spoke. Again, Vox was in the background. Again, his eyes were on you.

Another clip showed you laughing at something one of the reporters had said. Vox's expression softened almost imperceptibly as he watched you, his usual smug smile nowhere to be found.

You stopped scrolling. "What the fuck?"

The edit continued, stitching together tiny moments you'd never noticed—the way his attention followed you whenever you moved through a crowd, the way his expression changed whenever you laughed, the way his gaze lingered whenever you weren't looking directly at him.

The comments were moving almost as quickly as you could read them.

oopsimdead: THAT MAN IS GONE

saintly_sinner: He looks at her like she's the only person in the room

hells_it_girl: They're not beating the allegations

toohotforheaven: Vox is DOWN BAD

You stared at the screen. That gaze...

It wasn't the smug look he used when he was manipulating someone. It wasn't the charming expression he put on for reporters. It wasn't even the amusement he'd shown when teasing you.

The dressing-room door suddenly clicked. You nearly dropped the phone.

You looked up sharply.

Vox stood in the doorway, having apparently finished his interviews. His bow tie was slightly crooked now, and his expression carried the satisfied exhaustion of someone who had just conquered an entire room.

His eyes immediately found yours. "What are you watching, sweetheart?"

You quickly locked your phone. "Nothing."

Vox's screen flickered with amusement. "That was suspiciously fast."

You avoided his gaze, "...Go fix your bow tie, idiot."

Vox grinned, his gaze roaming over you with unmistakable appreciation before settling back on your face. "Come and fix it for me," he said, deliberately leaving just enough of a teasing edge in his voice to make you roll your eyes.

You chuckled softly and shook your head, but you stepped toward him anyway. You barely had time to reach for the crooked knot before his clawed hands slipped around your waist. 

He suddenly dipped you backward with effortless ease, catching you securely against him as a startled yelp escaped your lips. Then he leaned down and kissed you.

The kiss was playful at first, carrying that same maddening confidence that seemed to accompany everything Vox did. But when you instinctively reached up and caught his shoulder for balance, his hold on you gentled, keeping you securely supported as the kiss lingered.

When he finally pulled back, he was still holding you in the dip, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"You are impossible," you breathed.

"And yet," Vox replied smugly, slowly bringing you upright again, "you keep coming back."

You barely had time to straighten yourself before Vox caught you by the waist and whirled you around, leaving your back against the dressing-room door. Before you could protest, he leaned in again, kissing you with a warmth that made whatever argument you'd been about to make disappear completely. 

One clawed hand came up to cup your cheek while the other remained securely at your hip, keeping you close as his kisses grew softer between whispered words you couldn't quite make out. You were too distracted to listen, too caught up in the warmth of him and the strange tenderness he rarely allowed anyone to see.

Then he paused just enough to murmur, "You know that, right?"

You blinked, still trying to gather your thoughts. "Know what?"

His gaze held yours, and for once there was no smugness behind it. "I only have eyes for you." His voice carried a sincerity that made your heart stumble.  “You're driving me to madness."

You stared into his eyes—or rather, the glowing depths of his screen where his eyes would have been. People always said the eyes were the window to one's soul, and despite everything that should have made the sentiment ridiculous, you found yourself believing it in that moment. There was something in the way he looked at you that felt dangerously close to love. 

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Because you knew better.

People like the two of you didn't say I love you. Not when power, pride, rivalry, and survival had shaped every part of your lives. Those three words were far too dangerous to place between two Overlords who had spent so long pretending they couldn't possibly need anyone.

So you said nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the next update will be on 17th august!

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But something inside you wanted to call everything off, you loved Vincent, as far as you and everyone else knew he was a good man who cherished you, who had a good job and was consistently rising the ranks in at his job, sure he was selfish at times, standing you up at dates amongst other things but it could be worse especially for the times you were in.

You thought it was cold feet at first, something that would be temporary, it would go away after the wedding wouldn't it?

I found a secret note, "Burn after reading this"

It was almost as if someone was looking out for you, because how on earth could you explain a letter that was addressed to one of your husband to be's coworkers asking to meet somewhere secretly the night before he had gone missing just so happened to fly out of Vincent's coat after what was supposed to be your final date night out before you were wed?

Maybe it was just a sick coincidence? Maybe he hadn't gotten the chance to give it to him?

Or maybe you were right to doubt the wedding.

It's supernatural, the feeling's sinking in

This isn't cold feet, these aren't fireworks

You spent the entire night looking back on your relationship, on him, on you.

Wasn't it suspicious on how quickly he rose through the ranks? After all he was just a humble weatherman, with his brown suit and blocky glasses, then suddenly his higher ups start going missing, start having horrific accidents on set and he just so happens to fill their roles?

The sky is menacing and that's an iceberg

He thinks he's velvet smooth, I've fallen for the act

How did you not realize this before? He wore their clothes?

Everyone likes him enough, your family does so much so that you think if you told them this, they would laugh you off or worse, send you off to a mental institution.

I'm in the other room and seeing through the cracks

The voices in my head are screaming, "No, don't"

You had to leave, you had to get out but how? You'd lose everything unless everything was brought to light but how? Aside from this sheet of paper you had no proof, and so many people liked him, who would believe you?

You don't have to waste your night and wear your heart out

No one would, no one would believe you, not the police, not the press, not even your own friends and family

Almost all of them spoke highly of him it was almost cult-like, so you had two choices

Either you left everything behind, your friends, your family, your life or you marry Vincent, you'll live well off, you'll have kids, preferably two, a boy and a girl, you'd have to live with the fact that your husband murdered people to get to where he was, you'd have to live with the fact that he could kill you at any moment.

The warning signs are flashing now

Stop the wedding

Stop the wedding

You would be lying if you said the idea of being a wealthy housewife wasn't a little tempting, after all you wouldn't have to do much work, Vincent could hire a maid or nanny if you wished if you didn't want to change diapers or deal with throw up.

He had always spoiled you.

But at the end of the day he could one day up and divorce you, with no warning or he could kill you.

Even though the table's set, the guests are waiting

You can burn the dress and run away

You took your wedding dress out of the closet and stared at it, the dress itself was beautiful, it was the latest fashion after all, you had gone to countless shops to find a dress you adored.

It was a pity you'd never get to wear it as you decided then and there you would escape.

You decided you would pack away your things, maybe you would make it look like you were kidnapped maybe that would make it less shameful?

Stop the wedding

Stop the wedding

While you were planning your escape, Vincent was out drinking with friends, people he at the moment had no intention of eliminating, drunkenly daydreaming about seeing you in your white dress, lifting that veil off of your pretty little head and marrying you.

He wanted two children he made that clear telling you about how he'd spoil them with the greatest things this world had to offer just like he did you!

You've been such a good girl

Talking like you should, girl

He had met you before he had become someone with power, when he was still a pathetic weatherman for the local news, but the way you had adored him, asking him questions, about his job, about the weather, about him!

Not to mention you were just so proud of him when he rose through the ranks, of course you had no idea that he hadn't gotten there though his own merits but by murder, he could imagine your horrified face at what he had done.

But you would never know he was sure of it.

Keep avoiding disappointing in your white satin heels

But you know how you really feel

And even if you did somehow find out, well by then you would be married, you'd grow to accept it eventually after all he'd never hurt you now would he?

You don't have to waste your night and wear your heart out

The warning signs are flashing now

Stop the wedding

You had a suitcase packed with the essentials, money, clothes, valuables you could sell if need be, you were just about to start breaking stuff when mother had dragged you out to prepare you, she sat you down as your aunties, cousins and bridemaids surrounded you, putting cold cucumbers on your eyes to reduce the puffiness, some type of face mask was put on you as you felt gentle hands run through your hair.

You heard their chatter, from tidbits of wedding advice, to how lucky you were, how Vincent adored you, how you were going to live well.

Stop the wedding

Even though the table's set, the guests are waiting

You never got the chance to escape you were pushed and prodded around, a hurdle of woman surrounded you touching up your makeup, making sure your hair was still perfectly in place, placing pearls upon your neck.

It felt suffocating.

You can burn the dress and run away

Stop the wedding

Stop the wedding

You looked into the mirror, you had gotten to wear the dress after all.

You looked beautiful, like a princess from the fairytales your mother had read to you as a child.

But you didn't want this, maybe once upon a time you did but not anymore.

Stop the wedding, stop the wedding

If your heart is dreading,

hands are sweating

While the sun is setting, you'll be getting out

The last person to leave the dressing room was your mother, she hummed as she laid the veil on your head.

Her hands slid down to your shoulders resting on them as she looked at you though the mirror.

You heard her let out a sigh, one you had heard countless times before when she was about to bring something unpleasant up.

"You don't want to get married to him, do you?"

Her words made your heart drop as you looked up at her,

"Mama I-" "Your father put your luggage in the old car, truthfully he's never liked Vincent, always thought he was too chatty."

She cut you off, moving her hands back to adjust your veil again.

You realize that maybe they would've believed you if you had told them earlier about Vincent, atleast your parents would've.

Maybe not the whole "I'm pretty sure my Fiancè is killing his higher-ups and coworkers to progress in his career" thing but they would've helped you

After all at the end of the day you were their baby girl.

"The choice is yours, whether you want to continue this wedding or not, We'll support you either way." She said dropping a car key on the vanity.

Stop the wedding, stop the wedding

If your heart is dreading, hands are sweating

While the sun is setting, you'll be getting out

The door closed as she left, you looked back in the mirror one more time before grabbing the keys.

You don't have to waste your life and wear your heart out

The warning signs are flashing now

Vincent was dazzling in his suit, it was expensive, everything at the wedding was, the cake, the decorations, the flowers everything was enough to put someone into debt but not him.

He stood waiting for you, waiting as the wedding march played, as the flower girls skipped down the aisle, throwing petals as they did so, you would come soon after.

Atleast that's what he thought, that was until he saw your father emerge without you.

Stop the wedding

Stop the wedding

As far as the guests knew you went missing, maybe you had gotten cold feet, maybe you had ran off with someone, maybe you were kidnapped, after all to them you had left with none of your belongings.

As far as Vincent knew maybe you had found out, maybe someone told you, and that scared you off, or maybe someone took you away as an act of revenge.

As far as he was willing to go he wouldn't stop looking for you, but he also wouldn't stop progressing in his career, after all the higher he climbs the easier it'll be to find you.

As your parents knew, you suddenly didn't want to get married, and so they helped you escape.

As far as you knew, you found out something you weren't supposed too, and while you were sure he loved you to some extent, you were not going to take the risk of him deciding that you get in his way and killing you.

Even though your heart was set on never breaking

You can burn the dress and run away

Stop the wedding

Stop the wedding

Your veil laid in the backseat of your dad's old but reliable car, you drove down the streets, eager to get as far away from here as possible.

Stop the wedding

Only you can stop

Stop the wedding

You'd call your parents from a hotel in the next city over, telling them you had gotten there safely.

Stop the wedding

Only you can stop

Stop the wedding

From there you would eventually move to your grandparents old house in the countryside, you'd live peacefully there, traveling around when you could seeing sights you likely wouldn't have seen had you gone through with the wedding.

Maybe one day you'd

Oh-oh

Stop the wedding

Maybe you'd wear a white dress again one day, or maybe you wouldn't, either way you were content as you were now, not as a bride, not as a wife, not as a mother but as you.

Only you can stop the wedding

GOOD EVENING FOLKS! it's been a while! But I'm back, mostly anyways, I've been listening to this song alot for the past day and I got an idea, I was debating on either Vox when he was alive or Vox Vox, but I felt Him being alive fit better, plus I imagine the reader lives happily and grows old, and yk does not end up in hell, and Vox never fully gets closure on his runaway bride.

Anyways so while trying to get a good grasp on How Vox behaved while he was still Vincent whittman I looked him up, to see how some people characterized him and

I WAS FLASHED, first post I see his weiner, I WOULD'VE LIKED A WARNING HELLO???