CW: just fun, reader is just like her father, reader is blunt
Notes: i totally think vox would be a girl dad and spoils her too much.
One would think giving your daughter everything she desires would make her grateful, but instead you were a spoiled entitled brat. Whom did you even learn that from? (You got it from him) Not that he didn't love you with all his heart, but sometimes you could be too much...and you were so blunt.
"You like Valentino? Good for you, finally - you needed to get dicked down."
"What's that supposed to mean?! And I don't—we're business partners!"
"Sure, dad, sure."
When Alastor comes back after seven years, it's hilarious to watch your dad, truly. But someone has to give him a reality check. And of course, you take the task.
"Dad, when will you stop thirsting over that deer?"
"I-what?! I'm not—watch your tone, young lady!"
When he propositioned the plan to get to heaven:
"Dad I know delulu is solulu, but this is too much, even for you."
"I honestly don't know what it means, but if it's coming from your mouth, it must be an insult, so I'm taking away your phone, laptop, VPad Pro, and VPods."
"How can you do this to me?!"
You run to the other Vees to complain; Valentino would make you learn Spanish swear words so you can piss off Vox next time-
"Hijo de puta!"
"What? Are you spending too much time with Val? I told you to not to pick up that island language."
"Wooow, how are you even getting that mothussy after all that racist shit?"
You often go to your cool lesbian aunt, Velvette, when your dads-ahem, sorry, Vox has banned you from calling them that because it's not that serious-are fighting. Vel and you spend time have a girl's day out, while you try to set her up with one of her gorgeous employee.
Of course, many people tell you your personality was exactly like Vox, but your dad often told you were his better version.
"Dad, there is too much risk! We shouldn't mess with angelic power, it's too unpredictable-"
Vox patted your head. "You stay inside, kid. Shock.wav will protect you."
"But-"
"I'll be fine. Your dad is the strongest sinner in hell. No one can touch me. You sit tight until it's over okay, hm?"
"Just...don't die."
When the smoke clears, you're in a good mood to give your dad a stern lecture until -
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Vox hadn’t realized how loud silence could be until it started screaming at him through a phone screen.
The penthouse was lit in its usual neon glow—screens humming, data scrolling, ads looping endlessly—but none of it drowned out the four letters burning a hole through his vision.
okay
That was it.
That was all she’d sent.
He stared at it, processors running hot, rereading the timestamp like it might change if he glared hard enough. It had taken her twelve seconds to respond. Twelve. Normally she’d send him rambling voice-to-text paragraphs—little inflections picked up by the software he’d customized just for her, every laugh and sigh rendered into text because typing was a nightmare when you couldn’t see the damn keyboard.
Normally she told him about everything. What she tripped over. What song got stuck in her head. How the city felt today.
Now?
Okay.
Vox’s claws tapped against the glass table, a sharp, irregular rhythm. His other hand hovered over the phone, typing… deleting… typing again.
Hey. You good? I’ve been thinking about you all morning. Did you eat? I can send something over if you want. Or—fuck, I can come get you, if you want me to. Just say the word.
Delivered.
Read.
Three dots appeared.
Then vanished.
Another message finally came through.
no thanks
Vox’s chest tightened, static crackling faintly along the edges of his screen. His brightness dimmed without him meaning to. That wasn’t her. She always elaborated, always softened it, always made it hers.
Something was wrong.
Bad wrong.
He was already halfway through another message—longer this time, rambling despite himself—when a familiar presence slid far too close behind him.
“Well, damn,” Val purred, fingers gliding along Vox’s shoulder casing like he owned it. “You’ve been glued to that thing all day, papi. Miss me already?”
Vox stiffened instantly.
“Don’t,” he snapped, jerking forward out of reach. The word came out sharper than intended, edged with distortion.
Val blinked, surprised—then smiled wider, sharp and amused. “Whoa. Touchy. What, you on your period or somethin’?”
Vox didn’t laugh. Didn’t turn. His attention flicked right back to the phone, thumb hovering uselessly over the screen.
Val noticed.
Oh, Val always noticed.
He leaned in again, deliberately pressing closer this time, breath warm against Vox’s audio receptors. “Lemme guess. It’s the girl. The little charity case finally bored of you?”
“That’s not funny,” Vox said flatly.
Val’s hand slid down anyway, possessive, familiar—too familiar. Years of habit. Years of shared beds and backroom deals and bodies tangled without thinking. Normally Vox barely registered it.
Now it made his skin crawl.
He shoved Val’s wrist away, harder this time. “I said don’t touch me.”
The room went quiet.
Not the comfortable hum of machines—this was sharp, brittle silence.
Val stared at him, expression darkening inch by inch. “Excuse me?”
Vox finally turned, screen flickering with barely contained agitation. “I’m not in the mood. Back off.”
Val laughed once, short and humorless. “Since when?”
Since her, Vox thought, viciously.
But he didn’t say it.
Val stepped forward again, crowding him, claws curling around Vox’s jacket lapel. “You don’t get to shut me out, Vox. Not after all these years. We fuck, we fight, we cool off. That’s how this works.”
Vox’s jaw clenched. “Things change.”
Val’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah. They do. And funny how it lines up with you getting all soft over some blind little—”
The sound Vox made wasn’t human.
The lights in the room flickered violently, screens glitching as a surge of static rolled through the penthouse. Vox grabbed Val’s wrist mid-gesture, grip iron-tight, electricity biting just enough to make a point.
“Finish that sentence,” Vox growled, voice low and distorted, “and I will end this conversation permanently.”
For a split second, something like real anger flashed across Val’s face.
He yanked his wrist free, rubbing it, eyes sharp and calculating. “You’re rejectin’ me for her now? That’s new.”
Vox didn’t respond. He was already looking back at his phone, at another unread message draft, chest tight with something dangerously close to panic.
Val followed his gaze, scoffing. “Lemme guess. She’s icing you out. Figures. They always do.”
“Shut up,” Vox snapped.
Val stepped closer again, deliberate, invasive, lips brushing Vox’s audio port as he whispered, “Careful, babe. You keep pushin’ me away, I might start gettin’ ideas.”
Val raised his hands mockingly. “Relax. I’m goin’.” He paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder. “Just remember—she’s temporary. I’m not.”
The door slid shut behind him.
The moment Val was gone, Vox’s strength drained out of him all at once. He slumped back against the table, claws digging into the edge as his screen dimmed, flickered, then steadied.
His phone buzzed again.
Hope flared painfully—
Then died.
k
That was it.
Vox stared at the letter until it blurred, static hissing softly in his ears. He replayed every second from the Vee Tower in his head—every look, every hesitation, every way she’d gone quiet when Val was around.
He’d missed something.
And whatever it was?
It was eating her alive.
Vox straightened slowly, resolve hardening beneath the panic. His screen brightened, sharp and focused now.
------------------
He paced the penthouse like a caged animal, shoes clicking against the floor in sharp, uneven beats. Every screen around him mirrored his agitation—ads stuttering, colors glitching, volume levels spiking and dipping erratically. Normally, he’d have corrected it without thinking.
Now he barely noticed.
Okay.
no thanks
K.
Each reply replayed in his head on a loop, growing heavier every time.
“Fuck,” Vox muttered, raking a claw through the static at the side of his screen. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
He stopped short, chest tightening as another possibility hit him.
“Oh my god. Was I too much?”
He turned in a slow circle, staring at nothing. “Was I… pushy? Shit—maybe I was pushy.” His voice rose, warbling with distortion. “I mean—okay, yeah, she was into it, she was definitely into it, but—what if I didn’t notice something? What if she did wanna say no?”
His processors spiraled, pulling up every moment in merciless detail.
The movie night.
Him narrating every stupid visual detail because he wanted her to experience it the way he did.
“Did she hate that?” Vox groaned. “God, was I annoying? Was I talking too much?”
He pressed his palms to his screen, pacing again. “Or—shit—the grinding. The kissing. Oh fuck.”
His chest buzzed with anxious static.
“What if I pushed things too fast?” he rambled, voice spilling out unchecked. “What if she went home and thought I just—used her? Like every other asshole in this city?”
The idea made something in him twist painfully.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said quietly, stopping in front of Shock.Wav’s tank.
The massive glass cylinder glowed softly, filled with shimmering blue liquid. Inside, Shock.Wav noticed Vox immediately, little fins fluttering as he zipped excitedly in circles. He bumped the glass once, then again, tail swishing happily.
Vox let out a weak huff of a laugh. “Hey, buddy.”
Shock.Wav swam closer, pressing against the glass, antennae wiggling like he was listening intently.
Vox leaned forward, resting his screen against the tank. “I think I fucked up,” he admitted aloud, words spilling easier now that there was someone there—even if that someone was a genetically engineered aquatic nightmare with the emotional range of a golden retriever.
Shock.Wav chirped softly, doing a happy loop.
“Yeah, I know,” Vox said, nodding absently. “I like her. That’s the problem.” His voice dropped, quieter. “Like… actually like her.”
Shock.Wav bumped the glass again, enthusiastic.
“I don’t know what I’m doin’,” Vox continued, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ve done this shit for decades. Fuckin’, flirting, moving on. Easy.” He scoffed. “Now I can’t even send a text without spiraling.”
He glanced down at his phone again. No new messages.
“She won’t talk to me,” Vox said, frustration bleeding through the worry. “And Val and Vel?” He snorted bitterly. “Useless. They hate her. They’d probably throw a party if she dumped me.”
Shock.Wav swam in an excited circle, clearly just thrilled Vox was talking at all.
Vox straightened slowly, something resolute clicking into place.
“…Okay,” he said firmly.
He shrugged on his jacket, smoothing the front like he needed the grounding gesture. His claws adjusted the collar, posture squaring.
“No more guessing,” Vox muttered. “No more fuckin’ maybes.”
Shock.Wav chirped again.
Vox turned back to the tank, softening. “I’ll be back,” he promised, tapping the glass gently. “Don’t eat anything important while I’m gone, yeah?”
Shock.Wav did a celebratory spin.
Vox pulled out his phone, fingers steady now as he entered her address into the GPS. The route lit up immediately, a clean line cutting through the city.
“If she won’t tell me what’s wrong,” Vox said under his breath, determination burning bright behind his screen, “then I’ll ask her myself.”
He turned toward the elevator, screen glowing with resolve.
Face to face.
No filters. No texts.
Whatever was hurting her—
He was done letting it sit between them.
--------
The entertainment district always smelled like ozone and cheap perfume, neon bleeding into every crack of the street. Vox barely noticed any of it.
People noticed him, though.
Heads turned. Fingers pointed. Whispers followed in his wake as he stalked down the sidewalk, shoulders tense, jaw set so tight his screen gave off a faint stress-line flicker. Usually, he’d eat that attention up—pose, preen, toss out a wink or a snide comment.
Tonight, no one dared approach him.
Good.
He was wound so tight he was pretty sure if someone asked for a photo, he’d short-circuit them out of pure spite.
The building came into view—small, old, tucked between louder, flashier towers like it was trying to disappear. Vox slowed, staring up at it. His GPS pinged softly.
Here.
“She lives here,” he muttered, something about that fact twisting uncomfortably in his chest. It wasn’t the penthouse. It wasn’t guarded. It wasn’t safe in the way his places were.
He pushed through the front door and headed straight for the stairs. The elevator was too slow. His thoughts were already racing ahead of him, stacking worst-case scenarios on top of each other like a collapsing tower.
By the time he reached her floor, his chest buzzed with nervous static.
Her door.
He stopped in front of it, claws hovering in the air for half a second before knocking—quick, sharp raps that betrayed his urgency.
Nothing.
Vox frowned, glancing at his phone again. The tracker pulsed calmly. Still here.
He knocked again, louder this time, jaw tightening. “C’mon…,” he muttered under his breath.
Silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.
He exhaled slowly, forcing his voice to soften as he leaned closer to the door. “Hey… dollface?” he called, trying for casual and failing. “I know you’re in there.”
A pause.
His screen dimmed slightly as worry crept in. “I just wanna talk, okay? You don’t gotta open the door if you don’t want to. I’ll— I’ll stand out here.”
Another beat.
Then, from the other side, quiet but firm: “I said I didn’t need anything.”
The words hit harder than he expected.
Vox sucked in a breath, fingers curling into fists at his sides. “…Christ,” he whispered, the composure he’d been clinging to finally cracking.
He leaned his forehead against the door, knocking again—softer now, almost pleading. “Hey. Hey, no, listen to me.” His voice dropped, stripped of bravado. “I don’t care about that. I care about you.”
He swallowed, words spilling faster as panic took over. “You’ve been quiet. You’ve been off. And I—I don’t do well with that, okay? My brain fills in the blanks and it gets ugly real fast.”
Another knock, gentler still.
“Did something happen the other night?” Vox asked, voice tight. “Did I say something stupid? Do something wrong?” He shook his head even though she couldn’t see it. “Fuck, maybe I did everything wrong. If I did, I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I pushed. I’m sorry if I moved too fast. I’m sorry if I talked too much or not enough or—hell, I don’t know, doll, I’m sorry for all of it.”
He huffed out a shaky laugh. “I don’t even know what I’m apologizin’ for, but I’ll apologize for it anyway if it means you’ll talk to me.”
Silence again.
Vox’s claws trembled as he lifted his hand, resting it flat against the door. “You matter to me,” he said quietly. “So don’t shut me out. Please.”
The lock clicked.
His head snapped up just as the door cracked open, inch by inch.
There she was.
Vox’s screen softened immediately, the tension draining out of his posture as his eyes drank her in. She wasn’t hurt—no bruises, no blood—but the absence of her usual smile hit him like a punch to the gut. Her shoulders were slumped, expression tired, guarded.
“…Hey,” he breathed.
Without thinking, he stepped forward, hands coming up to cup her face the moment the door was open enough. His claws were gentle, thumbs brushing her cheeks like he was afraid she might vanish if he didn’t touch her. “I missed you,” he admitted, voice low and raw. “You got no idea how much.”
He searched her face desperately. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Talk to me.”
Her lips parted. “It’s nothing—”
“Nope,” Vox cut in immediately, shaking his head. His tone was firm but not harsh. “Don’t do that.” He leaned closer, screen glowing faintly. “If it was nothin’, you wouldn’t look like this. And you wouldn’t be answerin’ me like a fuckin’ customer service bot.”
She hesitated, shoulders rising with a slow breath.
Vox softened instantly. “Hey,” he murmured. “You don’t gotta protect me. Whatever it is, we deal with it. Together.”
Another moment passed, then she sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion. “…Just—come in,” she said quietly, stepping back to make room.
Vox followed her inside without hesitation, one hand lingering at her wrist like he needed the contact to ground himself. The door shut behind them with a soft click, sealing them off from the noise of the city.
Her apartment hit him like a quiet punch to the chest.
It was immaculate—no clutter, no tripping hazards, no mess. Everything had a place, and everything was in it. Vox clocked it instantly, the way his eyes always scanned spaces, cataloguing. The floors were bare. Counters clean. Furniture arranged with careful intention.
And it was dark.
Not ominous. Just… dim. The only light came from the windows, thin bands of neon glow slipping through the curtains from the city outside. Vox’s screen automatically adjusted, brightening to compensate.
Right, he thought, something twisting uncomfortably in his chest. She doesn’t need the light.
She moved through the space with quiet confidence, guiding him down the narrow hallway. Normally—normally—this was where she’d reach back, fingers finding his hand without even thinking about it. Like it was instinct. Like it was theirs.
Tonight, her hands stayed at her sides.
That hurt more than it should’ve.
Vox followed anyway, jaw tight, every step feeling heavier than the last. She stopped in the living room and turned, lowering herself onto the couch. After a second, she patted the cushion beside her.
He didn’t hesitate. He practically launched himself onto the seat, turning toward her immediately, hands already lifting—
And she pulled away.
Her fingers slipped out of his grasp like she hadn’t even meant for him to touch them in the first place.
The static in his chest spiked.
She angled her body away from him, not fully turning her back, but enough—just her head turned aside, gaze unfocused toward the wall like she couldn’t stand to face his screen.
Vox swallowed hard.
“…Vox,” she started, voice quiet but steady. Too steady. “I’ve been thinking, and I don’t— I don’t think this is something we should keep doing.”
His system stuttered.
“W—what?” he blurted, panic crashing in all at once. He leaned toward her instinctively, claws twitching. “No—hey, no, don’t—don’t say that, okay? Where is this comin’ from?”
He reached for her hands again, slower this time, careful—
She stood up.
The sudden absence of her beside him felt brutal. Vox shot to his feet too fast, screen flaring before he could stop it. She stood a few steps away from the couch now, arms folded tight around herself like she was bracing for impact.
“We can’t keep doing this,” she said, firmer now. “It’s not— it’s not smart.”
His voice dropped, rough around the edges. “You don’t just wake up one day and decide that.” He shook his head, claws flexing helplessly. “What happened? What did I do that made you pull away like this?”
She shook her head, lips pressed together. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“That’s bullshit,” Vox snapped, immediately softening when her shoulders tensed. “—Sorry. I just… if it wasn’t me, then what?”
She drew in a breath, exhaling slowly. “I thought about what this looks like. About you.” Her head tilted slightly, like she was choosing her words carefully. “You’re not just… some guy, Vox. You’re everywhere. You’re powerful. People treat you like—like you’re untouchable.”
He looked down at his hands, screen dimming.
She continued, voice quieter. “Do you know what happens when you even talk to someone publicly? When people think you’re interested in a woman who isn’t a reporter or a brand deal?” A humorless huff. “They go insane. They dig. They threaten. They try to ruin her life just for existing near you.”
His claws curled slowly into fists.
“I don’t feel safe,” she finished. “And I don’t think I ever will.”
That did it.
Vox crossed the space between them in two long strides, hands coming up to her shoulders as he dropped down in front of her, knees hitting the floor with a soft thud. He looked up at her, screen glowing with frantic intensity.
“Hey—hey, look at me,” he said quickly, then caught himself. He gently took her hand and guided it up, pressing her palm flat against his screen so she could feel where he was. “I’m right here.”
Her brows knit in confusion, breath hitching.
“I can fix that,” he said, words tumbling out faster now. “I swear to you, I can. I’ll protect you. I don’t care who it is—fan, freak, overlord—anyone who even thinks about hurtin’ you is done.”
She shifted, trying to step back.
Vox’s hands slid to her hips, firm but gentle, keeping her there. He leaned forward, resting his screen against her stomach like he needed the contact, like he was grounding himself in her presence.
“I’ll change how they see you,” he continued, voice cracking. “I’ll make it clear you’re not just someone I’m talkin’ to—you’re important. To me. I’ll make them respect you the same way they respect me.”
“That’s not—Vox—”
“I’ll do anything,” he cut in, desperation bleeding through now. “Security, silence orders, media blackout—hell, I’ll rewrite the narrative if I have to. I don’t care. I like you too much to let this go.”
His claws tightened slightly at her hips, not restraining—pleading.
“Don’t leave me,” he said quietly. “Please. I don’t do this. I don’t beg.” A shaky laugh slipped out. “But I’m beggin’ you now.”
He pressed closer, voice low and raw. “I care about you. Too much. And I’ll burn this whole fuckin’ city down before I let it scare you away from me.”
Her hands moved first.
Slowly, carefully, like she was afraid he might disappear if she went too fast—her fingers slid along the sides of his screen. Vox felt the faint drag of her skin against the glass, the warmth, the way her touch always grounded him. Then she leaned down and wrapped her arms around his screen fully, pressing her forehead to the edge of it.
She hugged him like she was drowning.Vox made a broken sound he didn’t even recognize as his own.
“Oh—shit—” He surged up from the floor, arms snapping around her reflexively, claws digging into the fabric of her clothes as he pulled her tight against his chest. He held her like he was terrified someone might rip her away mid-breath. Her face pressed against his jacket, arms locked around his screen, clinging.His screen dimmed instinctively, softening so it wouldn’t overwhelm her.
For a second, neither of them spoke. Just breathing. Just the way her body fit against his like it had always belonged there.
Her voice finally came, small and trembling.
“…you’d really do all that for me?”
Vox didn’t hesitate. Not for a fraction of a second.
“Yeah,” he said immediately, too fast, already nodding even though she couldn’t see it. “Yeah, of course I would. I’d do more. Whatever you need. I don’t give a damn how messy it gets—I’ll handle it. I’ll always handle it.”
The words kept spilling out of him, frantic, earnest. “I got resources, I got reach, I got people scared shitless of me for a reason. You wouldn’t have to worry about a single thing, doll. I swear it. I’d make this city bow before it ever touched you.”
Her arms tightened around him
.“…even if it was your friend?” she asked quietly.
The word hit him wrong.His rambling stalled mid-sentence. Vox blinked, confusion flickering across his screen. “My—” A short laugh escaped him. “Yeah? I mean—why wouldn’t I—”And then it clicked.
Friend.
His grip tightened.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
Valentino.
The static in Vox’s chest spiked violently, his screen flashing for half a second before dimming again—this time not for her comfort, but because he was fighting the urge to let it flare red-hot. A low growl vibrated through him, mechanical and furious.
“Of course,” he snarled under his breath. “Of fucking course it was him.”
Her body tensed against his chest, and Vox immediately adjusted his hold, one claw sliding up her back in a grounding motion. “Hey—hey, I got you,” he muttered, but his jaw was clenched so hard it ached.
His thoughts were racing now, sharp and violent.
That moth-fucker.
Valentino had always been a problem. Loud. Possessive. Cruel in that lazy, indulgent way that made Vox’s skin crawl if he thought about it too long. And Vox had tolerated it—managed it—for years.
But this?
His growl deepened, anger bleeding into his voice as he cursed into the air, words sharp and venomous. “I’m gonna rip his goddamn wings off. I swear to you—he doesn’t get to touch what’s mine. He doesn’t get to scare you. He doesn’t get to breathe near you.”
He pulled back just enough to rest his screen against the top of her head, hands still firm on her back. “You didn’t imagine this,” he said more steadily now, but no less intense. “And you didn’t overreact. If he did anything—said anything—”
His claws flexed.
“I don’t care how long I’ve known him,” Vox continued, voice cold now, lethal in its calm. “I don’t care what deals we’ve got. Nobody hurts you. Nobody. Not Val. Not Vel. Not anyone.”
He pressed a hand to the back of her head protectively. “You’re safe with me,” he said, slower, deliberate. “And I mean that.”
The fury was still there—boiling, waiting—but beneath it was something fiercer.
Resolve.
And Valentino, whether he knew it yet or not, had just crossed a line Vox would never forgive.
Sorry for not being too active lately. This this was in my drafts for a month, just had to tweak a few things. I know I need to feed you beasts lol
OK boss @voxtek-trustus, I can’t send you your gift over your inbox because there’s two parts to it and the second half is not supported by Tumblr and the stupid file type.
whatever! the boys and I got you something
You, Vinnie and Vincent can cuddle on it! I know you probably won’t because you hate yourself but think about it!
And this part I found on Pinterest (I mean, technically I found them both on Pinterest but whatever) and you can just send them to… Alastor whenever he’s being a little bitch!
Nov 22, 2025 - Found the shark plushie council 🤣 Follow for more gems!💎
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CC: its_peachybunnn
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#funnyvideos #plushies #shark #memes #fypage
How to train your hazbin hotel is here, featuring our very first victim: Vincent Whittman, accompanied by his beloved Shockwave🦈🎀
I originally planned to have both Alastor and Vox drawn at the same time and stuff but I've ultimately decided that alastor deserves his own page and also it would take too long
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Yeah, he manipulated Vox, but thats the EASIEST thing in the world for him to do. And his "clever plan" had a MILLION things that could've gone wrong. It was just as dumb and poorly thought out as Vox's plan to conquer heaven.
"Oh, but he had that awesome fight in the finale." Yeah. He lost that fight. He had to be saved by fucking EMILY. His bitch ass was getting beat by Vox's PET. And the fight itself was unnecessary. He didn't care about Vox's plan. He could've dipped and that would have pissed Vox off MORE. BUT he had to stay so he could try to win his and Vox's dick measuring contest. Him picking that fight was just as dumb and arrogant as him fighting Adam and almost ended even worse then that one.
what’s a hazbin hotel character that you have an obsession with? like if you see anything with them you start cackling maniacally and kicking your feet?
mine is vox, whenever i see him my reaction is like his when he sees shok.wav
