you should’ve known better than to tick off vox.

it had started as something stupid — a sarcastic comment about his “ego being bigger than his tv empire,” or maybe when you changed the channel during one of his interviews. either way, he’d gone quiet after that, smiling too sweetly, eyes flickering with static before he just said, “oh, baby… you’ll regret that.”

you brushed it off.

now you’re curled up on the couch, snacks ready, watching tv. the screen glows bright and you’re finally relaxed.

until it happens.

the image freezes. the audio cuts. the spinning buffer wheel appears.

then, through the tinny speakers, you hear it: that familiar, distorted laugh. it starts low, then builds into full-on cackling, echoing through the static like he’s right there in the wires.

“having some trouble, sweetheart?” vox’s voice drawls through the tv, smug and electric. “maybe you should’ve thought twice before mouthing off to your boyfriend.”