#slowburnpayoff

if it’s not too much trouble, can you please write about vox where he likes that reader is a pathetic loser girlfailure (or gender neutral but with that vibe) and genuinely thinks he’s the only one who loves them until one day someone else takes an interest in them so he gets jealous and has to grapple with the fact that he actually has to try to keep them around…

Of course I can do that! Hope I made it well for you <3 (It is my first time writing for someonelse)

Interrupting My Life, Capturing My Heart

As shot notice: The longer version with 5k words is on my Wattpad!

Word Count: ~2k

CW: Emotional Manipulation, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Power Imbalance, Invasion of Privacy (Surveillance), Emotional Distress / Crying, Toxic Tendencies (Acknowledged & Addressed)

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Vox had never been this interested in someone before. Not really. Not like this.

But you? You were different.

You weren’t glamorous. Not successful in the traditional sense. Your job in Hell was mediocre, your apartment small and worn down, and your social skills… well. They left a lot to be desired. You stumbled over your own words when someone spoke to you directly, and your clothes were practical rather than stylish.

That was exactly why Vox had assumed he was the only one.

The only one who noticed the way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you loved. The only one who caught the quiet humming when you thought no one was listening. The only one who saw that behind your shy exterior lived a sharp mind and a surprisingly dry sense of humor.

He had taken his time. No rush. Why would there be? You weren’t going anywhere. No one else would want you — that was his quiet conviction. So he enjoyed watching you, appearing in your life now and then, making you smile. He was playing the long game.

Until he showed up.

It happened on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon at the small café where you often spent your break. Vox, as usual, had dropped by “by coincidence” — his screen-face displaying a charming smile as he sat down across from you.

“Well, my little underachiever,” he greeted you in that condescendingly affectionate tone he reserved only for you. “How’s your thrilling day of mediocrity going?”

You were just about to respond when another voice cut in.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Vox’s screen flickered slightly. Standing by your table was a demon — not particularly impressive, but attractive in an approachable way. Someone who… was more in your league, Vox had to admit unwillingly.

“Actually—” Vox began.

“Yes, sure!” you said, before he could finish.

The stranger sat down, and what followed was pure torture for Vox. The guy — his name was apparently Bennett — seemed to know you from work. And worse: he actually seemed interested.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while,” Bennett said with a warm smile, “if maybe you’d like to grab a drink after work sometime?”

Vox’s screen showed a millisecond of static.

“I… oh… I don’t know…” you stammered, your cheeks flushing in that adorable way Vox loved so much. But you smiled. You smiled at that idiot.

“No pressure,” Bennett said quickly. “Just think about it, okay? Here’s my number.” He slid a piece of paper across the table.

You took it. You actually took it.

Bennett stood, gave you a wink, and left.

Silence.

Vox stared at the folded slip of paper in your hand as if it were a grenade.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” Vox finally said, his tone razor-sharp. “I mean, as if you’d go out with someone like that.”

You looked at him, confused. “What do you mean? He was nice.”

“Nice.” Vox’s voice dripped with contempt. “How thrilling. Nice is what you say about greeting cards and house slippers. The guy looks like his greatest life achievement is showing up to work on time.”

“Not everyone has to be a powerful Overlord, Vox,” you said quietly, something sharp beneath your words. “Some of us are just… normal people.”

“You’re not—” He cut himself off, frustration flickering across his screen. “Whatever. Do what you want. I don’t care.”

But he did care. And that was the problem.

The next few days were hell. And that was saying something, considering you already lived there.

Vox tried to distract himself. Meetings with the other Vees. New business plans. The usual manipulation and power plays. But his thoughts kept circling back to you. To your smile. To the way you’d taken Bennett’s number.

Had you already called him? Had you already gone out with him?

After three agonizing days, Vox couldn’t take it anymore. He materialized out of the nearest television in your apartment — an invasion of your privacy that usually came easily to him, but now felt… desperate.

You were sitting on your worn-out couch, phone in hand, staring at the screen.

“Am I interrupting something?” Vox asked, forcing casualness.

You startled, nearly dropping your phone. “Vox! You can’t just—”

“My tech, my rules,” he interrupted. His gaze fell to your phone. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you said too quickly, pressing the phone to your chest.

His screen flickered. With a lazy gesture, he made the phone float out of your hands and into his own. Before you could protest, he had already scanned the screen.

A message. From Bennett. I had a really great time tonight. When can I see you again?

Something inside Vox shattered.

“You went out with him.” It wasn’t a question.

“That… that’s none of your business,” you said, though your voice trembled.

“None of my business?” His laugh was harsh, distorted. “None of my business?”

“Vox, you have no right—”

“How was it?” He stepped closer, his screen filling your vision. “Did he make you laugh? Did he hold your hand? Did he—”

“Stop!” You jumped to your feet, tears shimmering in your eyes. “You can’t just show up here and interrogate me like… like I belong to you!”

“But you—” He broke off, electricity crackling around him. “You don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand?” you shouted now. “That you only show interest when someone else does? That I waited for months for some kind of sign from you, and all I got were condescending comments and occasional visits?”

Vox froze. “You… you were waiting for me?”

“Of course I was!” Tears streamed down your face now. “I thought it was obvious. But you treated me like… like a pastime. Like something you owned without ever having to actually try.”

“That’s not true—”

“Oh no?” you shot back. “When did you ever ask me on a real date? When did you ever make me feel like I was more than just… a distraction?”

The silence was crushing.

“Bennett invited me to dinner,” you continued, your voice breaking. “He complimented me — compliments that felt genuine. He asked how my day was and actually listened. And do you know what the saddest part is? I spent the entire time thinking about you. About you, who doesn’t even care enough to be honest about what I mean to you.”

Vox’s screen displayed a storm of emotions. Then, abruptly, he vanished — retreating back into the technology he came from.

You were left alone in your small apartment, crying, wondering if you had just ruined everything.

Two weeks. Two weeks without a word from Vox. No accidental visits. No messages. Nothing.

You tried to move on. Bennett was… nice. Attentive. Everything you theoretically wanted. But every hug felt wrong. Every smile was forced.

Then, on a Friday night, every screen in your apartment turned on at once.

Vox’s face appeared on all of them. But he looked different. His usual smug expression was gone. Instead, he looked… tired. Vulnerable.

“Come to the VoxTek Tower,” he said. “Top floor. Please.”

The please made your heart stumble.

The trip to the tower felt surreal. Security let you through without question, as if they had been instructed to expect you. The elevator carried you to the very top — Vox’s private penthouse, a place you had only ever heard about.

The doors opened, and you froze.

The penthouse had been transformed. Everywhere you looked were… your favorite things. Band posters you loved. Books you had once mentioned in passing. Your favorite food, steaming on an elegantly set table. And in the center of the room, surrounded by dim light, stood Vox.

“You came,” he said, his voice rough.

“Vox, what—”

“Let me finish,” he said, raising a hand. “Please. I’m… I’m not good at this. With words. With… feelings. But you were right. About everything.”

He stepped closer, and you noticed that his hands — usually so steady — were trembling slightly.

“I took you for granted,” he continued. “Because I was a coward. Because it was easier to pretend I was untouchable than to admit that someone like you — someone real — absolutely terrifies me.”

“Terrifies you?” you whispered.

“I’m an Overlord,” he said, bitter humor in his voice. “I control media, manipulate masses, make deals that cost souls. But you? You can’t be controlled. And the thought of losing you — of having already lost you — is the only thing in this damned Hell that truly scares me.”

He took your hands, his touch unexpectedly gentle.

“These two weeks without you were… I searched for you on a hundred screens every day. I read your messages with Bennett.” He winced. “Yes, I know that’s creepy and wrong, but I had to know if I still had a chance. And when I saw how unhappy you looked, even when he made you smile…”

“I was unhappy because he wasn’t you,” you whispered.

Vox’s screen flickered violently. “You… still?”

“I never wanted Bennett, you idiot,” you said, laughing through tears. “I wanted you. I always wanted you. But I needed you to try. To show me that I was worth it.”

“You’re more than worth it,” he said fiercely. “You’re… damn it, you’re the only thing in my entire miserable existence that feels real. The only thing that reminds me I can be more than just a manipulative bastard with a TV head.”

He gestured to the room around you. “This… this was my attempt to show you. You’re not a given. You never were. You’re in every one of my thoughts. On every screen. In every broadcast I make, I wonder if it would make you laugh.”

His voice dropped, intimate. “You’re not my pastime. You’re… hell, you’re my entire program. My prime time. The only thing I never want to turn off.”

Tears streamed down your face, but this time they were good tears.

“That was almost romantic,” you whispered. “For you.”

“I’m a work in progress,” he said, a crooked smile appearing on his screen. “But if you give me a chance — a real chance — I promise you’ll never doubt what you mean to me again.”

He pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. “Stay with me,” he whispered. “Not because you have no options. But because I’m the option you want. I’ll prove it to you every day.”

“What about Bennett?” you asked quietly.

“Already taken care of,” Vox replied, satisfaction coloring his voice. “I offered him a job. In Alaska. He accepted. Very generous of me, don’t you think?”

“Vox!”

“What? I didn’t kill him. See? I’m already a better man for you.” He grinned shamelessly. “Besides, it was a very good job offer.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“Hopelessly in love with you, maybe,” he murmured — and before you could react, he kissed you.

Not the L-word outright. But close enough. And from Vox, that was everything.

The kiss was electric — literally. Small sparks danced between your lips, but it felt perfect. His hands held you tightly, as if he were afraid you might disappear.

When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, “and I’m yours. That’s the deal. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you whispered back. “But if you ever take me for granted again—”

“I’ll lay every screen in this city at your feet to apologize,” he interrupted. “I’m learning. Slowly, but I’m learning.”

You smiled and kissed him again. “That’s enough for me.”

And in that moment — surrounded by all the things you loved, in the arms of a demon too proud to say the word love out loud but desperate enough to show it in a thousand other ways — you were completely happy.

“By the way,” Vox said, leading you toward the table, “I recorded all your favorite shows. We could do a marathon night. Just you and me and… no interruptions. I even turned off all the cameras.”

“All of them?” you asked skeptically.

“Almost all,” he admitted with a mischievous grin. “Old habits.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re hopeless.”

“Hopeless for you,” he corrected, pulling you into his arms.

And as the city glittered and hummed below you, you both knew: This was real. Chaotic. Complicated. But real.

Exactly the way it was meant to be.

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Autors Note:

Okay, I am so done. You guys got the short Version. I thought 5k Would be to much much for Tumblr. Idk how often I translatet all of this. Hope 5 hours work is worth it! If you want a story just ask! I am open to everything!

More Vox ? 📺🦈