May I please request some good ol’ fashioned enemies to lovers for Vox x female hotel reader?😭❤️ Like reader works closely with Charlie and she knows of Vox but he surprisingly doesn’t know of her until they officially meet like in season 2 episode 3? And right off the bat, these two are already going at it, back and forth😭 The verbal spar offs, reader sassing Vox for being a narcissistic control freak and Vox getting irritated by her quick jabs but Vox switches it up by being smooth and charming to get on her good side (because that’s what usually works for him), getting all up in her space, being touchy with reader which irritates tf out of her but at the same time she likes it and Vox can tell😏 the chemistry and tension is just sizzling🔥🔥🔥 and Vox is so tempted to make frequent visits back to the hotel because of this🤭
Hey hii! Doing some more requests!! Thank you and enjoy!
The Hazbin Hotel buzzed with its usual chaotic energy. You had been working closely with Charlie Morningstar for months now—helping organize group activities, managing the front desk when Husk was too hungover to glare at guests, and occasionally mediating between the residents when things got too demonic. As Charlie’s right-hand, you’d heard all about the Overlords, especially the Vees. Vox, in particular. The narcissistic TV demon who thought he owned Hell’s airwaves and everyone on them. You’d seen his broadcasts—smug grin, hypnotic eyes, that irritatingly smooth voice layered with static. But he’d never seen you.
It started like any other afternoon. Charlie had called voxtek to send the best reporters to spread the news how redemption was real. You were in the lobby, clipboard in hand, jotting notes when the double doors slammed open with a burst of electric sparks. In strode Vox, screen face glitching faintly with irritation, sharp suit impeccable, claws tapping against his cane.
he cane inside, voice echoing with that signature reverb. “Oh Its a pleasure to finally meet you princess-!”
His gaze landed on you. For a split second, his pixelated eyes widened, then narrowed in assessment. He clearly didn’t recognize you. Perfect.
You didn’t miss a beat. “And you are…?” you asked coolly, crossing your arms.
Charlie blinked rapidly. “Oh! Vox, this is my assistant! She’s been helping keep everything running here! Anyway-“
Vox’s grin stretched wide, sharp and predatory. He sauntered closer, towering over you with that unnatural height. “Assistant, huh? Didn’t know Charlie was hiring mouthy little sinners now.” His voice dropped, laced with static charm. “Name’s Vox, darling. Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”
You arched an eyebrow, refusing to step back even as his screen flickered closer, heat radiating from his chassis. “Mouthy? That’s rich coming from the guy who broadcasts his ego 24/7. What, couldn’t handle a few sinners actually trying to improve instead of rotting in front of your screens?”
Vox’s eye twitched. “Careful. I could have you canceled before you finish that sentence.”
“Try it,” you shot back, stepping forward until you were nearly chest-to-screen with him. “I’d love to see your precious ratings tank when everyone realizes the big bad TV Overlord is threatened by a hotel.”
The lobby went quiet. Angel Dust whistled low from the couch. Charlie looked like she wanted to hide under the reception desk.
Vox laughed—a short, glitchy burst—but his claws flexed. “Feisty. I like that.” Then, without warning, he switched gears. The irritation melted into a velvet-smooth smirk. He leaned in, one hand lightly brushing your arm as he gestured dramatically. “But why waste that fire on this doomed project? A smart, sharp thing like you could shine on my network. Imagine it—prime time, adoring fans, real influence instead of babysitting has-beens.”
His touch lingered a second too long, fingertips tracing down your forearm before pulling away. A spark of electricity danced across your skin—literal and figurative. You hated how your pulse jumped.
You swatted his hand away. “Touchy, aren’t we? Personal space is a thing, even in Hell. And no thanks. I’d rather scrub the floors here than stroke your narcissistic ego on camera.”
Vox’s grin faltered for a fraction of a second, then returned full force. “Playing hard to get already? Adorable.” He circled you slowly, voice dropping to a murmur meant only for you. “You feel it too, don’t you? That spark. I could make it literal.”
You turned with him, refusing to let him get behind you. “The only spark here is the one I’ll shove up your circuits if you don’t back off.”
Charlie finally intervened, laughing nervously. “Okay! Great meeting energy, everyone! Vox, maybe we can talk about the reason I asked you here..?”
Vox didn’t take his eyes off you.“Got a feeling this hotel just got a lot more interesting.”
He returned three days later.
You were in the middle of helping Vaggie train a new arrival when the doors opened again. Vox strolled in like he owned the place, holding a sleek tablet. “Miss me, darling?”
You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “Like a glitch in my system. What do you want this time?”
He ignored Vaggie’s glare and zeroed in on you, stepping right into your space again. Close enough that you could see the faint blue glow of his screen reflecting in your eyes. “Brought you something.” He tapped the tablet, pulling up a mock promotional graphic for the hotel—edited to look far more professional than anything Charlie had managed. “Free of charge. Consider it a peace offering.”
You snatched it, scanning quickly. It was good. Too good. “And the catch?”
“No catch.” His claw tipped your chin up gently, forcing eye contact. “Unless you count me wanting to see that pretty fire of yours more often.”
Your face heated. Damn him. The touch was possessive, electric, and way too effective. You liked the attention even as it infuriated you. “Flattery won’t work on me, Vox. I know your type—control freak who can’t stand when someone doesn’t fall at your feet.”
He chuckled, low and static-laced, thumb brushing your jaw before he let go. “Control freak? Harsh. I prefer ‘visionary.’ And you… you’re not like the others here. You see through the bullshit.” His voice turned almost sincere for a moment. “It’s refreshing. Irritating as hell, but refreshing.”
You shoved the tablet back at his chest. “Keep your vision. We’re doing this our way.”
Week two. You were alone in the lobby late at night, sorting paperwork by the fireplace, when static crackled behind you.
“Burning the midnight oil?” Vox appeared from the shadows near the entrance, screen dimmed slightly like he was trying to be subtle. He wasn’t.
You sighed but didn’t look up. “Some of us actually work instead of manipulating the masses.”
He crossed the room in long strides and dropped onto the couch beside you—too close, thigh brushing yours. “You wound me.” One arm draped casually along the back of the couch, fingers playing with a strand of your hair. “I’ve been thinking about you. That mouth of yours… dangerous.”
You turned sharply, ready to snap, but his face was inches away. The tension crackled like live wires. His eyes flickered between hearts and static. You could smell ozone and expensive cologne.
“Back off, Vox,” you muttered, but your voice lacked its usual bite. Your body leaned in despite yourself.
“Make me,” he whispered, claws ghosting down your side, light enough to tease. “Or admit you like when I don’t.”
You grabbed his tie and yanked him closer, glaring. “You’re insufferable. Arrogant. Obsessed with power.”
“And you,” he countered, voice husky, “are a stubborn, sharp-tongued distraction I can’t seem to ignore.” His free hand settled on your hip, pulling you against him. The contact sent heat flooding through you. “Tell me to leave right now and I will.”
You didn’t. Instead, you held his gaze, hearts pounding. “You keep coming back because you can’t stand losing.”
“Damn right.” His screen glitched with a grin. “But this? This feels like winning.”
He kissed you then—sudden, demanding, all static and hunger. You kissed back just as fiercely, nails digging into his suit jacket. The enemies’ fire didn’t vanish; it transformed, feeding the chemistry that had been sizzling since day one.
The visits became routine. Vox would show up under the guise of “business” with Charlie, only to corner you in hallways, the kitchen, even once during a group therapy session where he sat far too close and whispered filthy compliments that made you kick him under the table.
“You’re still a narcissistic control freak,” you’d hiss during one particularly charged argument in the back office, his hands pinning your wrists to the wall.
“And you still talk too much,” he’d growl back, kissing you breathless to shut you up. But the way he lingered afterward, screen resting against your forehead, claws gentle on your waist, said everything.
Charlie noticed eventually. “So… you and Vox? That’s… new!”
You groaned. “It’s complicated.”
Vox, overhearing from the doorway, smirked. “It’s perfect. She keeps me on my toes. I keep her entertained.”
You threw a pen at him. He caught it, laughing that glitchy laugh you were starting to love.
One night, months later, after a particularly brutal Extermination scare, Vox found you on the hotel roof, staring at the sky. He didn’t quip this time. Just sat beside you, pulling you into his lap without a word.
“You’re still annoying,” you murmured against his screen.
“Mm. And you’re still mine.” His arms wrapped around you, possessive but warm. “Enemies to… whatever the fuck this is. I like it.”
You smiled despite yourself, threading fingers through the edge of his coat. “Yeah. I do too.”
The tension never fully faded. The verbal jabs continued—quick, sharp, affectionate now. But underneath it all was the undeniable pull: two strong personalities who had found their perfect, chaotic match in the heart of Hell’s most ridiculous hotel.
