Vox never thought once about being a father. He always thought work was his top priority but when he saw you, a child sinner, on the streets, he just had to take you in. He'd grown so attached to you since then, raising you as if you were his own and you practically were at this point.

You were a teenager now and had grown a lot. Your dad was sitting on the couch, scrolling through channels on the TV. Over the past few months, you had been questioning your identity a lot. I mean, of course you were, that's what teens do. After a lot of research, you came to the conclusion that you were part of the LGBTQ+ community. (this can be in any way you want. Gender wise, sexuality wise, whatever you wish).

You weren't exactly sure what his stance on that kinda stuff was but you decided to just wing it and tell him. You walked into the living room and next to the couch, your hands clasped together close to your chest. Vox glances at you and turns off the TV. "Oh, hey sweetie! What's the matter? You look nervous."