What if... Fallen angel Reader that gets found by Vox after an extermination, Vox using his charming persona on this vulnerable angel so they'd be a source of information... but, as time passes, fallen angel Reader sees Vox as their savior, an unhealthy devotion, death doesn't scare Reader if it helps Vox. Just, devoted servant reader, hopelessly in love. Maybe a secretary after years in Hell by Vox's side?
And Vox saw them as a tool, a fancy toy to break with time but got attached. Vox isn't sure in what way, romantic, platonic, something? Fallen angel Reader is so deeply rooted and intertwined with his life that Vox doesn't want to and actually can't imagine his life without reader.
Yours truly,
🖍
Angels fell more frequently than people though but it wasn’t always a hell creating event. More often than not, it was someone doing what they thought was right.
You were one of those people.
Wingless and bleeding, Vox found you.
You were delirious with pain and he took advantage of that.
He scooped you up and took you with him to Voxtec, a simple teleport away.
He turned you on your back and cauterized your wounds with an electric spark.
He kept you alive.
He didn’t let you die. He had things to ask.
When you woke, he was in the room typing away at a computer and you could hear a beeping sound of a heart monitor.
“So, I can finally get the age old question answered,” he said before he turned to you with a striking smile. “Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?”
From that day on, you were wrapped around his finger.
He treated you will but with specific intentions.
He kept you isolated for nearly a year but still showed you the ropes of Hell but with the distance of screens.
He asked you about Heaven. He wanted to know everything. From the daily life to the solider life.
He was obsessed with you and it didn’t take much for anyone to figure out.
It took three years for people to know what Mr. Vox’s newest obsession was when you were appointed his secretary.
He had you close, always.
A hand never left you and people knew you were his.
Somewhere along the way though, those soft touches along your back scars became something he cherished, as he felt your breathing level when you fell asleep on his chest.
The gifts he’d given were no longer just to gain your favor before he had questions or a task to ask you.
They shifted to be something personal and something frequent.
It was when you shared a kiss for the first time, a year into you being his secretary that he realized how fucked he was.
It wasn’t until his last fight with Alastor that he realized how devoted you were.
You didn’t hesitate to jump in when Vox was almost beaten and take on one of the most power overlords in Hell. You’d even successfully managed to fight him back.
Covered in his own and Alastor’s blood he was thankful there wasn’t a scratch on you to reveal the golden liquid of your own.
He took your face in one hand, smearing blood across it, and his other went between your scars.
He realized the fact that you once had wings had nothing to do with how deeply he felt for you.
“I love you,” he said and he meant it even if he felt sick to his stomach at the admission.
He kissed you and this time it felt different.
It wasn’t like that first kiss which was used to manipulate you nor the ones that followed which were secretly savored.
This one was open and honest and raw and real. Why did he feel so guilty about it then?
