Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

5:00 A.M.

Because why wouldn't your megalomaniac, and borderline sociopath of a boss put you on a regular schedule like a normal person?

You groan wanting nothing more than to roll back over and forget you still exist. You were under the impression that after going down in a swarm of bees, that was it. Just a void of nothingness and the ceasing of your consciousness at the end.

Ha ha, guess again.

You glare at the bright digitally illuminated letters as if that would do anything. Sometimes you wish Vox would have taken an Exterminator's spear to the screen, but sadly he remained safe in his panic room every year. Though that was no longer an option so you suppose you needed to just accept that this was the rest of your eternity.

He wasn't the worst boss in the world sure, but Vox wasn't one of the heads of the food chain down here for no reason. He treated you fairly enough, you suppose. Fuck knows you're grateful to not be Val's personal assistant—hell, even Velvette frightened you in her own way. Ultimately, choosing to sell your soul to Vox didn't seem like nearly your worst option.

But it most certainly wasn't your fucking best.

"Argh!" You scream loudly into your pillow.

It was best to get your frustrations and upset out now, rather than potentially crack under the pressure of the rest of the day. You already knew exactly how much you had on your agenda and the notion of doing it all, filled you with dread.

Did you mention there's no days off in Hell?

At least not with your eternal digital headed owner.

You really needed to get up and dressed for the day. If you weren't up in the kitchen making coffee by five–thirty, you'd be guaranteed to receive a verbal lashing from said boss. Despite being an overzealous workaholic, Vox wasn't particularly the biggest morning person. You're glad the smell of coffee was usually his wake up call, otherwise your mornings would be far worse. The few times you've been required to go poke the slumbering bear in person, you'd barely walked out unscathed. You weren't frequently the subject of Vox's ire, but the few times you had—you were far from likely to forget it.

You don't rapidly rush through getting ready for the day, but you're certainly not taking your time. Eyeing the clock as the minutes tick up a few at a time. You watch yourself carefully in the mirror as you button up your shirt, smoothing down the front of it after checking the cuffs. You slip a burgundy bow tie around your neck, tying it based entirely on muscle memory at this point. You do less about the rest of your physical appearance, only a minute or two to tidy your hair up. The most minimal amount of makeup applied, just enough to accentuate your natural features.

You were more blessed than others when it came to the body you inhabited here in Hell, the majority of your human traits remaining. The new features you'd been adapting to for the past decade or so, was a small pair of wings that consistently rested flat to your back. They were useless, nothing but decoration and a mocking nod to your demise. The matching set of antenna was less useless but still nothing you were proud of. You hated how easily they could reveal your emotions at times, both of them constantly moving and twitching about with your frequently erratic thoughts. You'd gotten better at hiding it—at least you liked to think so—but there were still occasional jabs sent your way about it.

Hostile work environment didn't even begin to cover it, and it wasn't just because of the Overlords in control of everyone under this roof. Camaraderie wasn't something that was encouraged within Vee tower, if nothing else it felt as if it was discouraged. Every demon out for themselves. Eat or be eaten.

Friends didn't exist in Hell.

5:28 A.M.

You walk into Vox's penthouse, the lights around the edges of the room provide the only amount of illumination in the otherwise dark space. Your feet carry you to the kitchen on memory alone. You swipe the control tablet from the counter, fiddling with things until the kitchen is lit with enough cool light to continue about your task.

Fingers flick and twist buttons on the coffee machine, preparing it to the exact specifications that Vox trained you to do. You had to admit that if caffeine didn't exist in Hell, you'd have jumped in front of an Exterminator yourself years ago. No one could be Vox's personal assistant without stupid copious amounts of caffeine.

5:30 A.M.

"I've trained you so well busy bee." The groggy electronic voice of Vox pierces through the quiet in the kitchen.

You take in a swift deep breath, exhaling as you turn to face him. The coffee maker dripping and humming quietly behind you.

Seeing Vox shirtless didn't phase you these days, not when this is how you saw him most mornings. There were very few given the privilege of seeing him like this, nothing but a pair of sweats hanging loosely off his hips. You watch as the faint glow of his veins and circuits pulse beneath his cobalt blue skin. You've caught yourself staring at the mesmerizing sight on more than one morning, though it was out of pure fascination and nothing more.

"Good morning, sir." You incline your head the smallest amount. Vox loved any amount of respect given to his power and status. He liked knowing that you knew your place—he loved that you never challenged it.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you enjoyed working for me." His screen further illuminates the space around you two, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You've been my perfect little busy bee since day one."

"How else would I be able to keep up with the almighty Vox of all people?" You give him a small genial smile of your own, despite the exhaustion you can still feel sluggishly working its way from your mind.

Vox chuckles moving further into the kitchen, his movements relaxed and casual. He takes a seat at the counter, perching his head atop his hand as he watches you return to your task.

"Did you get the list I sent you last night? I had a few things added to it that I need you to do with the rest. That won't be too much of a problem, will it?" You can almost sense his mocking tone.

One of Vox's favorite pass times was to give you longer and longer lists of things that need to be accomplished and taken care of in the same day. Sometimes you wonder if it was a game, seeing how much he could keep piling until you finally broke under the weight of it all. Until you cracked and showed him a side of yourself he seems so desperate to witness.

After all, most Overlords were eager to get off on the torment of others. Still, six years and you remain standing in the same spot you entered on day one. Surely that had to count for something.

Still that didn't stop Vox from having the determination to see you otherwise.

"Yeah I saw it come through. It's not a problem at all." You force a wide smile on your face even as you scream in a distant corner of your mind from the promise of more exhaustion to come.

"There's my good bee." Vox winks at you.

You busy yourself finishing his coffee, listening to him run through various pieces of news and things of interest for this morning. Not all of the information makes it into your brain but you do your best to be a vigilant listener all the same.

Vox demanded your best and you did what you could to give it to him every day. Still, you weren't infallible, but as long as he didn't see evidence of that, you'd survive.

You had to admit you'd grown fond of your time with Vox. Granted, sometimes it felt against your will. After all, you either learned to like being in his company, or you would suffer every day for the rest of your eternity. He was pleasant—when he wasn't being a overzealous, controlling, self obsessed asshole. It's why you always strived so hard to just do your job and stay on his good side.

The longer the two of you sit, the more time you have to sip at your coffee. The warm roast making its way through your veins into your brain, allowing for your thoughts to become more coherent and solid.

"Oh! I forgot. The gala this weekend, you still have that on your schedule right? My tux should be ready to be picked up today, I made sure to put it on your list." Vox has already drained his mug and stands to make another.

You guess you'd missed that part of your day's agenda but a trip into another district shouldn't take too much extra time out of your day. If scheduled correctly, you'd be able to get that done along with the rest of the tasks mounted upon your plate. You can feel a familiar trickle of anxiety gnawing at your insides, sluggish worry beginning to eat at you on whether or not this would be the day you finally stumbled and couldn't recover.

This time the smile you offer up is forced and tight. "Of course, consider it done. I'll head up to your office to get started looking at those reports you sent over."

"You really are my perfect little busy bee." Vox's grin is wide as he looks down at you.

Your antennae twitch at the praise, a motion of which does not go unnoticed by him. His grin turning into a smirk as you do your best to just move your body towards the door.

"I'll see you upstairs." Is all you offer him before making your way there.

6:00 A.M.

You can hear the sound of Vox's agitated voice long before he reaches the office doors. Quiet was one of the furthest descripting words you would ever place on the man. It seemed to be a default setting for Vox to always be as loud as possible, almost like a requirement for him.

"No, I said Saturday night, not Sunday, you absolutely worthless piece of shit. Don't give me that! Just because both days start with S doesn't mean you can use that as an excuse. Fix it or so help me god, I will let Valentino use you for target practice!" Vox bursts into his office with his flaring temperament, his face etched with a deep frown of frustration where he glares down at his phone.

"I swear, no one knows how to do their fucking jobs correctly!" He rubs the space on his screen between where his brows would be. "I guess it's true, if you want something done right, do it your fucking self."

You sigh as he approaches where you sit at his desk. You gather the papers in front of you and your tablet before moving to the couch close by. Setting your things on the table before turning back to your boss. He's already sat down, claws rapidly flying across the keyboard.

Sometimes you think it's a miracle he sleeps at all. If he didn't, would you?

"Make sure the interview with Verosika gets scheduled on Saturday night, like it was supposed to, won't you Bee?" Vox doesn't glance at you while asking, his eyes still glued to the monitors in front of him.

"Of course, sir."

You pull the itinerary up for the day on your tablet, making sure to add an extra note in about the interview. If there was one thing you were good at, it was talking to people and getting situations to work in your favor. So long as Verosika's agent wasn't a huge ass, rescheduling the interview should be one of the easiest tasks for you to do today.

The morning passes by in its usual manner. Brief comments being exchanged between Vox and you while both tackling your respective tasks. Sometimes in the silence, you can't help but feel like an additional piece of furniture or object, only being acknowledged when in use. When he wasn't talking to you, sometimes it felt like he forgot you existed all together.

Sometimes it made you feel like shit, others, you suppose, made you grateful.

You weren't the type of girl to go intentionally catching the attention of an Overlord. No it's better to remain small and invisible, lest you be squished like the bug you resemble.

11:00 A.M.

Walking through Hell shockingly had it's charms. Some streets were more pleasant than others. It wasn't many, but there were a few streets here capable of almost tricking you into thinking you were still alive on Earth.

You didn't stray close to Cannibal Town frequently, in all honesty you'd only been inside the district proper on a single occasion. The closest you got were these semi frequent trips to Vox's tailor on the outskirts of that part of the Pride ring. You'd be lying if you said you didn't think it was weird for Vox to make this specific choice of tailor, after all, it was rumored that the Radio Demon frequented this area and based on the rest of Vox's behavior, you'd think he'd want to chose a tailor far from any area that may be associated with the other media based Overlord.

Still, it wasn't your place to ask questions. It was to keep your head down and do your job as you're told. It was something you were good at, your husband had trained you well.

You hoped you never saw that miserable bastard down here once he kicked the bucket. At the very least he couldn't touch you when you had the protection of one of Hell's most powerful men.

Silver linings and all that.

The smell of the streets shifts as you make your way across the pentagram from the Entertainment district down over to Cannibal Town. Pungent acrid fumes waft from open grates along the street as you pass through Carmine's district. It's been a few years since you felt the need to wear some sort of covering on your face to mitigate the horrid smells, but there were still times you thought about still doing it. You told yourself you just had to get used to it, and though you had somewhat, there were some times that it was still exceptionally horrid.

You almost breath a sigh of relief once the buildings start to take on a different look and style.

Finally.

11:45 A.M.

The bell above the door gives a pleasant chime as you carefully push it open. The front of the shop is empty, though that was the usual sight that greeted you. He wasn't the most popular, far from it based on what you've seen—still Vox insisted that all of his nicest suits come from him and who were you to say otherwise.

The tailor was kind enough. He himself was a resident of Cannibal Town but despite that, still decided on placing his storefront along the outskirts. You wonder if Vox would remain insistant on him specifically if it required going all the way into the town proper.

You're grateful either way—becoming lunch for one of its residents was not on the top of your to-do list.

You decide to busy yourself with perusing the various assortment of pre-made garments and fabric choices. Maurice would be along in a minute, he never missed the sound of the bell. Your hand brushes delicately along the bolts of fabric, the selection of fine silks pleasant to touch. The red light of Hell filters softly through the windows casting everything in a warm glow. It was never unpleasant when you needed to make visits, you would almost dare say you enjoyed it.

The sound of two doors opening and closing simultaneously draws your attention away. The bell above the front door chimes cheerily at the same time Maurice emerges from the back, stealing any of your potential attention from the newcomer.

You smile warmly as you approach the counter, greeting the old cannibal brightly. "Good afternoon Mauri!"

His hollow eye sockets squint at you before opening wide and crinkling around the edges. A smile of his own stretches his lips, his sharp pointed teeth on full display. He lifts his arms wide in greeting. "Bea! How's one of my favorite costumers doing?"

"Oh please, you and I both know the money I'm giving you every visit isn't from me. I'd look much better if I was dressed in your suits day to day instead of fucking Vel's." You grumble a bit bitterly as you lean across the counter.

You watch Maurice's attention flashes up behind you for a moment. "I'll be right with you once I'm finished with her."

"Please, take all the time you need." The voice which greets your ears isn't one you're familiar with on a personal level but know plenty about the individual it belongs to.

You don't turn around, remaining with your full focus on the demon before you. If you could remain unnoticed enough to quickly wrap things up and slip home, there would be nothing to worry about. If you didn't draw his interest, this could be a simple thing to forget about in time. There was no guarantee you'd be forced to conversate with the Overlord, but the mere chance sends a tremble through your hands.

"He sent you for the tux, correct?" Maurice asks once his eyes are back on you.

You nod your head in confirmation. "Sure thing! I'm just glad I don't have to go as his plus one. God knows he's insufferable enough when he's not constantly kissing other people's asses, a night full of that sounds like my own personal hell."

He laughs boisterously. "It's amazing you've survived him this long. I don't really keep track of it but I'd be shocked if you weren't his longest lasting assistant. I feel like the rest of them came and went a lot quicker than you, but somehow you're still here."

You cringe at his words, having known the history of Vox and his personal assistants. It wasn't simply the obedience and submission that your husband had ingrained and beat into you that forced you into line daily—it was the somewhat common knowledge of what the Vees did with the souls they deemed needing disposed of.

You hadn't yet stumbled during your time with Vox because if you did—you weren't likely to see another sunrise in Hell.

"I'm nothing if not a good listener. It's hard for him to be upset when I just do as he says all the time." You roll your eyes a bit at the thought of your boss and his never ending demands.

"Well I hope that continues to work for you because I sure like seeing you around. You're one of the few souls under contract with those insufferable bastards that aren't as dreadful as their masters."

"Thanks Mauri, I guess I can't be too bad if I can get an old geezer like you to like me." You give him a cheeky wink which elicits a deep chuckle from him.

"Alright, alright. You young-ins don't know how to treat your elders these days. You only get away with it because you make up with charm, don't abuse it too much. I'll be right back with that tux kiddo." He gives you another warm smile before turning to head back into his workshop.

The hairs on the back of your neck raise in apprehension as you suddenly remember the identity of the other customer in the shop with you. Your short nails click idly against the counter as each second passes you by in wait. There's no other sound in the shop aside from a low humming you had yet to notice until now. It was a dull mechanical buzz that vaguely played against your nerves.

You had no idea what he might be doing behind you, you had no reason to believe he was scrutinizing you with intent from behind, yet the feeling pervades regardless.

It isn't a moment or so more before Maurice is emerging once again. In his hands he clutches an expensive black garment bag containing Vox's tuxedo for the gala. You breathe a sigh of relief as you mentally check one more thing off your list. Now to just wrap up and get back to the tower.

Without needing to be prompted you pull out a large white envelope and slide it across the counter to the man. He passes you the garment bag before picking it up. He tucks it into his jacket pocket without so much as a glance inside.

"Aren't you going to count it?" You ask a bit bemused. Especially considering this was a new change in his behavior.

"I think I can trust that your boss is good for it after all this time, he's never been off in his payments before, I'm not sure he's likely to start now."

You hum in agreement not being able to dispute his reasoning. It strikes you a bit odd upon notice that he hadn't once referred to Vox by name, but you suppose if his rivalry with the Radio Demon was such common public knowledge—Maurice may feel inclined to prevent said rival from knowing who you were here for. Taking notice of Maurice's own potential unease with the other man's presence, does nothing to help ease your own.

You nod in acknowledgment. "Thank you again. Hopefully he'll be content and you won't hear from us until the next big event."

"If he has another issue with it I swear to god he'll have to start coming in person himself if he's going to constantly nitpick after the final stitches are sewn. I wouldn't put up with his behavior if he didn't pay so well."

"Hey at least you're getting paid." You joke, not realizing the information that could be gleaned from such a simple sentence. "Thank you though, really. I'll see you again sometime soon, yeah?"

"I look forward to it Bee." The elderly cannibal grins before his eye is caught once more by something over your shoulder.

You fear turning around, though you know it's required to leave. There's just no denying the dread that has creeped up into your gut upon knowing you'll come face to face with him for the first time.

Would you get in trouble with Vox for simply talking to the other Overlord?

What if he tries to talk to you?

What do you do if he asks who you are?

Could you just bolt out the doors towards safety and freedom?

You watch Maurice's face to gauge his feelings based on the expressions he may show. You didn't like that the overwhelming thing you took notice of, was fear.

That felt like enough for you to want to attempt an escape. When the black voids of Maurice's eyes meet yours, his expression causes you to clutch the bag closer to your chest, as if the garment inside has a means to provide you defense.

'I'm sorry.' You watch his mouth form the words silently before turning to slip back into the workshop.

It left the panic in your gut to grow more solid.

What was that about?

You know your only option left is to turn around and confront him head on. Maybe if you were lucky you'd find a speedy way out of this, maybe things wouldn't be that bad.

Deep breaths.

You've got this.

When you turn around your helpless to prevent the shock from showing on your face. You'd never seen photographs of Alastor—many saying it was impossible to do—so you really hadn't known what to expect upon seeing the man for the first time. He was nothing like you had pictured yet every part of him seemed to make perfect sense somehow. The only thing you knew to expect about his appearance was the red suit.

Unlike so many others it seems, you knew that it was possible to photograph Alastor for that fact. You had stumbled upon a torn photograph of him and Vox together once, the red suit being the only detail you could recall. You hadn't know who it was at the time considering you were still so early into your post mortem years. But Vox's reaction upon finding out you'd seen it was one of the worst you'd had to endure thus far in your career with him.

The only thing that consistently threw Vox off was mention of his former friend. The memory of stumbling across that photograph—and Vox's subsequent reaction to it—was proof of such fact.

You were used to tall and imposing demons but even Alastor's stature gave you pause. You couldn't be sure, but you thought he might even have a couple inches on Vox. It was another time you were confronted with just how small you were, especially in Hell.

You nod your head in greeting hoping that might be enough to appease him as you try for a speedy exit. His side step into your path upon your attempt tells you it is not.

Fuck.

"And where are you off to in such a rush, my dear?" His voice is laced with crackling static as he immediately addresses you.

You swallow down the lump of fear threatening at the back of your throat in response to the sound. You plaster on your usual smiling facade, the one Vox was oh so endeared to. It was the one that kept you on the sidelines, in the background—away and out of trouble.

You needed it to do the same here.

"Sorry, I've got to get this back to my boss. I've got a schedule to keep and he is so very particular about me sticking to it." You suppose you don't need to make up a lie about your urgency. There was no need for him to know where you were off to specifically.

"I can't say I've had the pleasure of seeing you around. I'm not one to forget a pretty face like yours. Especially one so bold and daring to be this close to Cannibal Town. Did I over hear you're a frequent patron of our good Maurice?" His grin is so very wide, it seems almost unnatural. His eyes hold a wild sort of mania that seems as though it would be nothing other than unpredictable.

You'd heard the stories, the whispered rumors around the tower. Alastor had only recently returned to Hell. You'd known of it when it happened—everyone did. There was no escaping Vox's temper the day he found out about Alastor's return. You'd heard he'd then cheered in triumph when his enemy had been near slaughtered in the botched Extermination attempt from Heaven. Alastor had been a part of a group residing at the princess of Hell's hotel and had served as the front line fighters to push back and win against the angelic forces. Though you hadn't heard anything about the man since.

Now he stood before you, grander and entirely all the more frightening than any of your fellow Sinner's could have prepared you for.

"I am." You respond carefully.

"Why?"

"My boss frequently has new articles made for his wardrobe. I come pick them up to deliver to him when they're finished."

"Does your boss have you do all of his errands?"

"It's kinda in my job description." You shrug.

"Which is?"

"Personal assistant."

He hums.

"What do they call you, darling?"

"Bea."

The rapid exchange of questions and answers leaves you momentarily a bit flustered. You hadn't expected him to talk so much even if he did speak to you. Let alone with such abruptness.

"Pleasure to be meeting you Bea, quite the pleasure. The name's Alastor, perhaps you may have heard of me from my radio broadcast." His beams wide, his hands flourishing out to the side like the performer he's said to be. He's bright and bold, charming but in the most dangerous of ways.

"Something like that." You supply vaguely, doing your best to hold back a grimace.

"Might I offer you an escort to your next destination? These streets can be quite dangerous, don't you know little abeille?"

That seemed stupid, like it was just asking for danger. There's a certain look in Alastor's eyes that makes you hesitate in your instant denial. For a single instance it feels like the air shudders around you, growing colder as it's laced with the warning of danger. You watch as Alastor's eyes shift from red to black, then back to red again. You feel woozy as you feel the oppression of his power close in on you briefly.

It's gone faster than you can blink—leaving you to wonder if you'd imagined it—but the dread lingering in your body provides proof you hadn't.

"I-I—" You begin to stammer stupidly. All your training leaving out the window.

"I have a preference for verbalized answers but a nod yes will do just fine for now." He chastises as if you were a small child.

You can't help it, you do.

"Good girl." He says patting atop your head.

You want to shy away from his touch but as he moves to your side, his hand finds its place to the base of your back to gently guide you out of the shop. He extends his arm out with his elbow crooked—a silent invitation to join with yours.

He's already given you one more thing you want nothing more than to deny, though all it takes is another look into his fierce eyes to get you to comply. He makes you feel so small as you slip your arm into his. The size difference between the two of you making itself so blatantly obvious. It sends a cold chill through you alongside the recollection of Alastor—of his power and sadistic tendencies. If you wanted to remain unscathed, it was beyond pertinent you remain in the Overlord's good graces.

You could deal with Vox potentially finding out about this later.

12:10 P.M.

The two of you take down the street—Alastor keeping at a casual pace so as to not completely drag you along behind him. He holds his microphone behind his back, a gentle jazz tune emits softly from it as you make your way through the different areas.

He continues to present you with questions that you try your damnest to give vague answers to. Maybe if you could remain boring and dull he would likely forget about you before the days end—a mere inconsequential moment among the rest of events in his day.

His persistence in pressing you for more information does little to help ease the anxiety still brewing uncomfortably in your chest. The longer you remain in close proximity to the man, the more unsettled you become. As you slowly grow closer to the Entertainment district, more and more modern tech can be seen, leaving you to become hyper aware of every camera that may capture evidence of the transgression you're currently (unwillingly) committing against your boss.

Please God, I know I'm just a Sinner but if you care for me at all, don't let Vox know.

"Have you been in Hell long dear?" He presses as you pass through alongside a large stretch of industrial warehouses.

You shrug, continuing your aim for obscure answers. "I've been here for some time now."

His eyes narrow seemingly unamused with each ambiguous answer you provide him. At this point you know he's picking for information, digging his wicked claws in to any point of you he could get to.

"Have you been working for your boss the whole time?"

"Roughly."

It isn't until you see the first peeks of neon through the buildings that you realize you hadn't been the one leading this walk the entire time. Without any help or guidance Alastor had led the both of you into the proper direction of your home.

That couldn't be a good thing.

Your hands begin to sweat and holding onto the tux was suddenly becoming difficult. You pray Alastor won't notice your apprehension—that you might have noticed something wrong with all this.

He hadn't heard Vox's name once. You hadn't told him where you were headed.

Oh no…

The closer you get to Vee Tower, the more you want to bolt. Alastor—seeming to take note—pulls your arm from his, leaving him free to wrap his around your waist—pulling you even closer into his side.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

You didn't even think he'd be so bold as to approach this close. Rumor has it he and Vox never strayed into one anothers' territory, not after their falling out some years prior.

So why was he strolling so casually along with you like this was his normal afternoon routine? Dodging all of his questions seems suddenly meaningless.

Had he known who you worked for this entire time?

Oh god, what happens when Vox finds out?

Because surely there was no way Vox's worst enemy could wander into the heart of his territory with his personal assistant hanging off his arm as if returning her from an evening's date.

As you come to a slow in front of the tower you're sure your terror is plain on your face—no amount of conditioning could keep it away.

"Your boss really should do well to keep better track of his things, it'd be such a shame if something were to happen when he's not looking."

You open your mouth to retort but Alastor has already slipped from your side to stand in front of you. He takes your free hand in one of his own, bringing it up to his lips before placing a delicate chaste kiss atop the back of it.

You can't help the way your body flushes in response, heat filling you beside the fear.

"I look forward to seeing you again, abeille." His teeth suddenly look sharper than they had a moment ago, wicked with the promise of pain. You shudder at the potential of what he was capable of doing with them.

You open your mouth to say something—anything in response—but he's gone into the shadows in a mere blink of your eyes.

~

Vox watches the various screens sprawled out across the wall in front of him. His eyes flicking between each one, his processor taking in each minute piece of information he can glean from the footage playing out in front of him. Different Sinners milling about, indulging in their sins from the tamest to the most wild, all of it played out in a debaucherous display before him.

He was always observing, always learning more about those around him—how he could best pick apart and exploit the masses. This is what brought him joy, this is what gave him purpose. They were all lemmings to him, eagerly allowing for him to lead them off a cliff without question.

Everything that played out before him was no different than what he was used to, all of it seeming to unfold like expected clockwork.

Everything that is… except for that.

The glitching distortion is what initially catches his eye, drawing it down to one of the TVs he had in the bottom right corner.

It's upon closer inspection that Vox can't help but do glitching of his own, the sight greeting him instantly leaves him flustered and disturbed. He uses his powers to transfer the footage onto the largest screen.

Sure enough he watches in horror as his rival—the man who tore his heart from his chest only to stomp it into the ground—leans over to place a kiss on the back of your hand. Your expression lit up in a complex mix of emotions that Vox doesn't even bother to focus on. All he sees is Alastor's lips pressing to your hand.

Alastor touching you, Vox's personal assistant.

Vox was fuming, livid down to every bit of his being. This was the last thing he expected to see well… ever. He didn't like the sight. He didn't like it one bit.

Oh Alastor…

Didn't his mother ever teach him not to touch things that didn't belong to him?

Chapter Text

Vox sat in his chair rewinding the security footage over and over—far more times than he'd ever admit to. Alastor held you close to him, his arm wrapped comfortably around your waist, his posture so casual and relaxed as he waltzed about the Entertainment district like he didn't have a care in the world. He'd zoomed in on the moment he'd kissed the back of your hand, playing it repeatedly, causing his brain to do a continual short circuit, each frame he studied filling him with more rage.

He couldn't hear what was said between the two of you, static chewing up the clear audio making it impossible to decipher words. Vox knew he was seeing Alastor only because the man allowed him to—of course he wouldn't let him get greedy and hear his voice as well. It was rare enough that Vox got him somewhat clearly on his cameras. He can see Alastor's lips move, forming words as he grins deviously at you. The look he gives you makes Vox's stomach churn with emotions he's helpless to name.

He can't decide who he's more upset with; you or Alastor. He's not even entirely sure what he witnessed, what he keeps witnessing.

Alastor had kept to himself since his defeat at the hand of Adam. Vox knew he hadn't been killed, just severely wounded. He'd truly ran with his tail tucked between his legs and kept hidden away while he licked and healed his wounds. The security Vox kept on the Hazbin told him enough to know the vague details of what Alastor had been doing since, at least to the point he felt he had a decent eye on the fellow Overlord.

But now the man is out and about, strolling all over the Pentagram, his little Bee in tow as if she were his. Vox is suddenly struck with the realization that Alastor never touched him with such casual care—not even when they were at their closest. There was always a rigidity in which Alastor held himself around Vox. In the small times when he allowed Vox to touch him, he was always met with the same tense reaction—even when Alastor would assure him it was fine—Vox never believed him.

And now here he was with you paraded by his side, his hands touching you as if you'd known each other a life time.

Vox can name at least one emotion he's feeling. It strikes him over and over as he tortures himself with the repetitive viewings. He could deny all he wanted, but he'd never actually let go of his feelings for Alastor. Not after he'd torn his heart from his chest to offer up to the other Sinner, only for him to take and stomp it into the dirt. Not even after they had nearly torn each other apart, destroying everything they had hoped to accomplish together.

He wanted to be rid of his feelings for the Radio Demon right then and there as he watched him limp away in defeat—the softest 'goodbye Vox' falling from his lips as he did.

Vox should have stopped loving him right there.

He didn't.

No matter how much he told others his emotions had morphed into nothing but hate and vitriol for Alastor, deep down, Vox could never hide the truth from himself.

Oh yes, he can name this emotion, he can name it well.

Jealousy always tasted so bitter on his tongue.

~

4:00 P.M.

You hadn't seen Vox since your return to the tower. You weren't entirely sure if his lack of presence was a good or bad thing. You knew you'd see him before the end of the day to wrap things up together. He always had a way of walking you through the schedule he'd laid out in the morning, ticking through each thing he'd assigned to you. You'd always met them without fail, even when it had come at the expense of your mental health and sanity.

You would not fail Vox.

You could not fail Vox.

You've never stumbled before.

You won't stumble now.

Your leg bounces up and down with uncontrolled anxiety. The events of your encounter earlier playing on a loop in your mind. You couldn't help the mounting sense of dread continuing to follow you as you tried to finish the rest of your tasks for the day—a subtle sixth sense telling you Vox already knew.

You wanted it to be the usual ramblings of your anxiety.

You needed it to be.

Your pen taps against the tablet in front of you. You asked Vox once if he'd let you write things down in a notebook, but the man insisted on everything being digital. If there was a technical equivalent to doing things, that's what Vox would demand was done. You hated the design of your tablet's pen. It drove you a bit mad trying to use it all the time, but just like everything else—you somehow managed.

You keep reading the same words over and over again. Not a single part of the sentence sticking in your mind.

You still had several things to get done before Vox would want to meet together to talk about things, but no matter how hard you tried to keep your attention on your tasks—your brain would not focus on anything other than the emotions brewing tumultuously inside you. Your mind a violent storm of conflict and fear.

Fuck.

5:30 P.M.

You weren't making much progress. Vox had asked you to meet him in his office at six and you still had five things left to get completed. All of them were specific documents that needed to be sifted through and edited, but your luck of gaining back focus was far from improving.

Your nerves were fraying at the edges as you desperately try to focus on the words in front of you. The pen tap, tap, tapping at the edge of the tablet.

You had to finish this.

You had to get this done.

You had thirty minutes.

Vox knew.

Vox was going to kill you.

Was this your last bit of time in the afterlife?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The words morph and blur into undecipherable script in front of you, each letter looking as if it belonged to a different language.

You can still recall the feeling of Alastor's lips pressed against the back of your hand, the warmth of his hand pressed against your back. You'd have done anything to not catch Alastor's attention, but there was no changing it now that you had.

6:00 P.M.

Your hands sweat profusely as you wrap them around the door handles. You take a deep breath in and out before pulling them open. Vox waits in his usual spot behind his desk when you enter. Though one immediate thing stands out to you as different. Instead of his attention being on his computer or phone before him, his hands are folded beneath his chin, his gaze already directly fixed on you.

His instant gaze upon your skin lights your nerves with fresh new anxiety. Vox always regarded you as an after thought, something unimportant to be addressed when he felt he had the time to spare. But right now, his digital eyes bore into yours with an intensity you'd not yet known till now.

Your damp hands shake as they try to grip the tablet.

You didn't know what to do—didn't know what to say. You open your mouth to greet him in your usual manner but no sound comes out.

"Sit down, Bea. It's time for our daily recap." There's an underlying emotion in Vox's tone that you can't help but pick up on.

It's already enough to set you further on edge, your knees near threatening to buckle as you slowly make your way across the room to him.

His expression is no different than normal, all of his pixels in their respective orders—yet still there was something latent beneath it all, something you had yet to decipher but had a decent idea of. You don't like how still Vox is, his demeanor always holding some shifting movement—the man not capable of being motionless.

Something was very much in fact, wrong.

The chair presses uncomfortably into your legs as you take a seat in front of him. You perch the tablet across your tightly pressed legs. Despite always wearing slacks, the habit instilled from childhood to keep your legs closed when you sat in all those horrible dresses your mother put you in, it had never gone away. She'd be so proud you kept your demurity even in Hell.

You subtly wipe your hand along the side of your pants, desperately willing them to just stop sweating.

"Well? Come on, we've been doing these chats for years now, you should know what I expect by now." Vox's brow raises in a silent challenge.

Vox always had such watchful eyes, seemed to always be so interested in anything and everything. Right now this expression feels different. Suddenly you feel like Vox might be seeing you for the actual first time, and you didn't like how it was causing you to feel.

Vox doesn't feel like the same boss you've had all these years; He's starting to feel much closer to the sinister Overlord you sold your soul to.

You don't want to take your eyes off him even if you know you have to.

You feel sick.

It's impossible to cease the shaking in your hands as you pull open your tablet.

You clear your throat in a pitiful attempt to sound more collected than you are.

"Well firstly you'll be happy to know I got Verosika's interview rescheduled. We are in fact good to keep with the original plan." You really hope he can't hear the subtle shake in your voice. You do everything in your power to project your usual air of confidence and competency.

Your eyes flit between your screen and Vox. You've been put into a mode of heightened awareness, your eyes consistently flicking over Vox to look for subtle changes in his body language. Being married to Evan was like being put into a constant state of hyper vigilance on the daily. He was such a loose cannon, the egg shells you danced around him on were painful—particularly at the end.

Though now you knew why.

That's what this moment reminded you of, your evenings waiting for him to come home. And once he was, the game was to see how long you could survive without setting him off. It always left you with this feeling of nauseous apprehension.

The very same you were feeling now.

You feel as if you ramble off the events of your day, not even entirely knowing whether or not you were making sense. The thoughts in your head were louder than the words coming out of your mouth, and you were beginning to worry that you were losing control over them both.

You've been avoiding mentioning certain tasks, hoping against all odds he'll simply not mention it. Maybe you were just crazy, maybe it'd all finally gotten to you and you snapped. There's a chance your fear is entirely unfounded.

When your eyes flick up to meet Vox's next, you know that's not true. There's an obvious corruption in the pixels around his mouth and eyes, his expression a bit too pinched.

"Anything happen today you think might be worth noting to me?" The question is spoken like a warning. As if Vox had already gotten to the end of his rope, struggling desperately to hold onto his veneer.

Your blood turns to ice. There is only a single reason he would ask a question out of the ordinary like this. You had been right.

Vox already knew.

For the first time since he took ownership of your soul, you stumble.

Little did you know, you'd never get back up.

The attempt at a lie is pitiful before it even leaves your lips.

"No," You say it far too quickly. "Of course not. I always do exactly as you ask me to."

Vox smirks, but it's cold—stilted. He leans forward on the desk, and you're reminded of how intimidating his size can be—even when he's only sitting down.

"Did I ask you to let the Radio Demon put his hands all over you?" His voice is controlled despite the discontentment underlying it.

All of a sudden years of trauma flood back to you in the span of a single instance. Evan's raging temper, his stinging hands, his constant reminders of how worthless you were. Even when you did everything he asked, you were never enough.

Why were you never good enough?

The cold in your body has grown to the point of numbing you, you aren't entirely sure you can even feel your limbs. It feels like there's a hand squeezing your lungs threatening to make them burst. You're hyper aware of your pulse, your dead heart pumping rapidly in your veins.

"I can explain." You sound so small.

Evan would have smiled.

Vox shakes his head as he tsks. His expression one full of so much disappointment.

"Bea…"

"I was just picking up your suit and you technically didn't say not to tal—"

Something akin to a distorted growl rips from Vox's lips as he narrows his eyes at you threateningly. "Oh you're kidding? He's the one man I hate—no loathe—more than anyone else down here. One of my number one rules is don't talk about that fuck head prick. I shouldn't have to tell you not to let him touch what's mine. And you my dear, are mine!"

You feel the heat around your neck before you see the chain manifest between the two of you. The sensation startles you, causing you to drop your tablet into your lap—hands reaching up to grasp the collar in reflex. Your eyes fly up to meet Vox's, watching as bloody lines form and drip around his mouth, his eyes glowing a darker red. The space between you is illuminated with a cool neon blue, the chain crackling quietly with electricity.

You'd only seen it two or three other times. Vox rarely used it as a tactic against you. You had a feeling that things were about to become completely different with Vox now—that your relationship was never going to be the same. It served as a physical reminder of your soul's imprisonment with him—his eternal ownership over you.

It made this situation feel all the more dire.

"Even at your worst, I don't think I've ever seen you look at me that way." Vox leers at you, drinking in each bit of your fear with eager satisfaction.

You're reminded once more that your boss has a sadistic streak almost as bad as his boyfriend, Vox was just better at keeping it behind close doors than Valentino was.

There's a sharp yank and your forcefully pulled towards the desk. Your hands slam atop it to steady yourself, your breathing growing ragged. Your eyes well up with tears, the tremors in your body continuing to grow.

"You've been such a good little assistant till now. Let this remind you to not go getting any stupid ideas."

He thumbs the links in his hand with a small smile, each pass of the finger sending a slight jolt of electricity into you.

"I don't like that Alastor thinks he can so casually touch you. I don't like that he thinks he can walk into my territory and put a claim on something that's mine. He doesn't get to do that."

"It's not my fault… please, I was scared." You sob quietly. Your eyes are on the desk, no longer able to meet Vox's cruel gaze. You didn't know why he was taking this out on you so hard, you couldn't have done anything differently. You didn't want to know what Alastor would have done to you if you had fought or pushed back.

"I don't care." He seethes. "The only man I ever want you to be afraid of, is me."

He rakes his eyes over your body, drinking in as much of your despair as he can. Vox really never put much notice into you, you were always simply just there. You were a good assistant—his best really—but beyond that there was never a reason to look further.

Vox was certainly looking now.

"Strip." It's said as a single solitary command with zero room for argument. He snaps his fingers and the soul chain is gone, leaving you to brace yourself as you try to take in adequate amounts of air.

"What?" You almost choke.

"Don't make me ask twice, Blossom. I'm sick of seeing you in those god awful suits and blazers. I have a feeling you've got a stunning figure under there, it's a shame I haven't noticed till now."

Your skin feels like it's on fire at the mere notion of undressing yourself in front of Vox, let alone baring yourself to him entirely. You hadn't had anyone since Evan, not once seeking a partner in Hell. It's not like you even could with the schedule Vox kept you on. Still your stomach felt sour as you think that the last man to see you naked had you in a similar position once—domination was always the name of his game.

Really Vox should be no different.

You want to protest, but the lingering feeling of his energy on your skin makes you think twice. You stand on shaky legs, your hands having to continue to brace in front of you until you feel stable enough to let go of the desk. You slowly slip off your suit coat, your hands shaking as they move to the bow tie around your neck. Your fingers slip over one another several times as you try your best to undo it.

Vox watches you with a mix of unimpressed and rapt fascination.

You weren't sure you wanted to know what the Overlord was thinking. You didn't want to know what he was planning either.

You had some fair guesses though.

After some time, you finally get it untied and removed from your shirt collar, your fingers continuing to tremble as they try to complete the demanded task. You slide the shirt down your arms at the same time more tears spill from your eyes.

The room feels cold—more so than usual. You can already feel your nipples hardening beneath your bra. It made the apprehension about undressing even worse.

Dread was always such a frigid feeling.

By the time you're down to just your underwear, the tears have begun to fall freely. You can no longer hide the emotions you're feeling. You were scared, you were so fucking scared. You didn't want to feel this way again. You never wanted to feel this way again after Evan finally rid himself of you.

You knew Vox was dangerous but you could never have prepared yourself for what you'd get into.

How could you have known?

Nearly seven years working with him and you've never once experienced this side of him. You'd made him angry but it was never anything he wouldn't calm down from.

Running into Alastor was now starting to feel like a life altering event.

"Come now doll, you and I both know I never like a job left half done." Vox smirks as his eyes rake greedily over the expanse of your freshly exposed flesh.

You can feel pressure in your nose, your throat wet with your snot and tears. Your hands peel your last two barriers off painfully slow, desperate to draw this out a little longer. Maybe he'd change his mind.

Realistically though, you knew it'd take a miracle, and that was simply something you knew you didn't have.

"Good girl. Now I want you to come over here and get on your knees." Vox leans back in his chair, his legs spreading wide as he points to the floor between them.

You hesitate, your body feeling sluggish in its responses. The shivering from having your skin exposed wasn't helping. You didn't want to acknowledge where this was going—what Vox was asking of you.

"Come on Blossom, you know better than to make me repeat myself." Despite his attempt at keeping his tone light, his urgency and frustration is still heavily laced through with it.

You want to say no, fuck you wanted to deny him, but you and he both knew he could do whatever he pleased to you in this moment and you'd be helpless to stop him. He held your soul in palm of his hand and would not hesitate to do what he saw fit with it.

When your knees collide with the cold ground—it feels like defeat.

Cold.

Brutal.

"Vox, come on. This isn't you. Please don't do this..." You plead in a desperate attempt to talk senese into the man. You were starting to lose track of yourself, you just wanted this to stop, you didn't want this to continue.

"When you agreed to be mine, you gave me the right to do whatever I wanted with you. Don't go forgetting that now. You signed your pretty little name on my contract, signing yourself away for me to do with as I pleased and saw fit. Now be my usual good little Bee, and listen."

You tip your head up to look at him. In your position on the floor—even with him sitting in his chair—he seems so much larger than life. A terrifying imposing force to be reckoned with. The subtle distortions forming on his face with his emotions makes his visage all the more disturbing.

"I want you to use those pretty little hands and do what you do best, listen to what I say. You're going to unzip my pants and take out my cock."

Your mind and body screams at you in protest, you didn't want to do this.

Please god, don't let him make you do this.

Would Evan be proud?

Him and Vox would make such perfect companions. Maybe they would take turns torturing and tormenting you.

You will your hands to cease their tremors though they don't listen. If anything it increases as you rise on your knees and begin to reach for fastenings on his pants. It takes several tries at his button before it comes undone. The zipper is a slightly easier feat but the action still leaves you struggling.

"Even Valentino's virgins aren't this terrified of sucking cock for the first time. You're absolutely shaking like a leaf Blossom. I knew I was a bit of a sadist but fuck, this is something else." He muses with something akin to sadistic glee.

His eyes watch you with rapt attention as you continue struggling to meet his demands. There's a spark of something in his chest, an intense feeling stirring within him. You look so desperate, so pathetic. For Vox to know he had something—owned something—that Alastor seemed to want, and was able to do as he pleased to you and he couldn't?

Fuck this was almost better than watching Alastor get his ass handed to him by the first man.

And he couldn't help but admit to himself how pretty you were, how your regular demure and complacent attitude made you so perfect. It's almost a shame he didn't notice sooner.

Your watery gaze meets Vox's once more, though it's a struggle to make him out clearly at this point. He smirks looking from your face down to your hands where they rest timidly around his cock.

"Well… you know I don't like waiting."

One of his large clawed hands comes up to grab the back of your head forcing your head forward into his lap. Your antennae twitch frantically as you can't help but reflexively fight back.

You didn't want this.

Why was this happening to you again?

At least Vox had no delusional claims of loving you.

"Open your fucking mouth, I won't ask again."

You do as he says, despite feeling yourself shatter a little further. You hated how familiar this all felt. You don't have the chance to get a good look at him before he's immediately thrusting half of his length into your hesitantly opened lips. You can't help but sputter and choke a bit as he persists forward without delay. His actions are rough and unrestrained as he seeks pleasure from your warm mouth.

You feel utterly humiliated as you quiver between his legs, his brutal treatment of you causing your mind to begin to disassociate. It was something you were an expert at by now, forcing yourself to be somewhere else while you were forced to endure horrors inflicted upon your body.

Your mind always doing its damnest to protect you, starting at a terribly young age.

Why would Hell provide anything different than what you'd endured your entire life on Earth?

Your throat restricts painfully around Vox's length as it harshly breaches the back of your throat. You can't help but spasm as your body tries everything it can to reject the intrusion. Your hands brace against the top of his thighs as you will yourself to relax—anything that might make this just a little more bearable.

Vox wastes no time at setting a savage pace as he begins to fuck your face. Your eyes squeeze tightly shut against the onslaught, your brain willing you to somewhere—anywhere—that wasn't this room and moment with Vox.

"Fuck Bea, now I'm really regretting wasting all those years not doing this." Vox hisses through clenched teeth. "Even when you fight you're still such a good girl."

His girth stretches your lips painfully around him, his length suffocating you as it relentlessly rams down your throat. His voice makes it hard to keep your brain away from him, his grip on your hair a painful reminder of every second of torture he's putting you through.

"Do you think Alastor would want you now, if he saw you like this? Fuck, that bastard never had an interest in anything sexual, he'd be disgusted by you. What did he say to you? Why did he touch you like that?"

Despite everything you're feeling, you can't help but make note of the strangeness with this part of this behavior. You couldn't help but feel like Vox's rivalry with Alastor wasn't simply that. You knew emotions well and anger didn't manifest this way—Vox's emotions were fueled by so much more than rage, you just weren't sure what else.

Either way, it made for something far more dangerous than you'd like to be caught up in.

It could have been forever—though was likely only a few minutes—while Vox mercilessly uses you for his desires. The relief is minor but relief nonetheless as he reaches his climax with you.

His breathing is ragged and a rough growl echoes from him as he shoots copious amounts of his bitter cum down your throat.

Your struggle not to vomit renews as he keeps you held firmly down on him as he finishes. You can't help but slap his thighs as a desperate means to get him to stop.

Your head begins to pound and your vision tinges with black before he finally relents and pulls you off him. You can't help but instantly collapse to the ground as you take in great heaving breaths. Your lungs burn with the horrible need to be filled with air. Everything hurt.

Why was everything so painful?

Painful static fills your head as you try to come back to yourself. The feeling of everything leaving you disoriented on the cold floor. You can't even make out the sight of the ceiling above you, everything fading in and out in shades of gray.

"Who knew this is how my little busy bee looks best, wrecked by me and sprawled out between my feet. I think we might need to adjust your duties for me." You can't see it but the smile Vox wears is smug and triumphant.

Chapter Text

The fact that Velvette is using physical tools to get you measured and fitted in and out of various dresses, tells you the choice was deliberate. The Overlord diva could do all this at the snap of her fingers, it felt clear this was intentional. Another pin pricking painfully into your skin makes you think it even more.

Vox and Velvette had been talking over you all morning, acting as if you merely weren't there with them. Despite the fact that you were frequently the topic of conversation between them—on and off. Velvette was intensely intrigued by Vox's request this morning. She could tell things had changed between the two of you.

Vox had never looked at you like this before.

It was wildly amusing to her.

"Stop moving you useless twit!" Velvette snaps at you after you flinch from another pin prick.

"I'm sorry," you murmur softly. "It hurts is all."

"I don't give a flying fuck! God Vox, control your pet. I swear you and Valentino are so useless with your souls." She mutters angrily under her breath as she moves you about with agitation.

"Vel…" Vox sighs. He's grown so accustomed to his partners behaviors—it barely even phased him anymore.

"Save it." She snaps right back at him. "I'm only doing this because we basically owe each other an indefinite amount of favors and this what I do best. But I swear if you don't get this little bitch to behave and listen, I won't play nice anymore."

"Are you ever nice, my dear?" Vox coos snidely.

Velvette's middle finger is shoved in his direction, a soft scoff falling from her lips. "God damn prick."

Her attention is turned back to you and you can't help but find yourself squirming under her harsh gaze. Velvette always had a way of scrutinizing you to the point you felt you were being picked apart on a molecular level. It was always so unsettling.

The small Overlord was ruthless and feisty, no one being made exception to her behavior. She was a wild card—unpredictable in a unique way to her male partners. No one knew what to expect from Velvette when. It was frightening.

Last night with Vox was horrible. After he had finished, you'd hoped to be excused to run back home to the safety of your own space. You'd been sorely mistaken. Vox was not eager to let you go so easily. He'd meant it when he mentioned a reevaluation of your duties to him.

You were still going to be Vox's personal assistant—you'd proven yourself far to valuable to have him cease your work for him. It was the additional obligations he forced on you which broke you just that little bit more. Vox made it clear last night was just the beginning.

The worst part was when he'd forced you over his desk, his claws buried deeply inside you. He had pulled out your soul chain once more, the hand not brutalizing you had winded up with the chain pulling you back hard enough to cut off your breathing. You'd nearly blacked out again from it all. Vox never once touching you with anything other than ire and contempt.

By the time he'd let you leave, it was pushing three in the morning. You barely managed to get two hours of sleep. Upon the sound of your alarm at five a.m. you broke into tears. The events of the day and night prior filling you with absolute horror and dread. You didn't know what to expect from today—though you knew nothing good could possibly happen; not after all these events.

When Vox had told you he was changing your wardrobe, you felt your dejection grow. You'd grown comfortable and accustomed to Velvette's suits, you didn't want to switch to anything else. Your apprehension grew when you heard Vox discuss his desires for the new clothes with Velvette.

"So the fifties but made less puritanical?" Velvette had snarked sarcastically. Though with the style of all the dresses, you suppose she wasn't all that far off.

You hated it. The fact that every last thing she put you in was a dress. Vox seemed wildly pleased and you couldn't help but worry about the danger that spelled for you. You felt safe and hidden behind the long lengths of clothes you wore, it felt so nice to cover up the majority of your skin. But just like Evan, Vox was delighting in playing dress up with you and each dress made your stomach more sick.

The mask you were trying to desperately to hold in place shattered when Velvette slips with a pair of sheers when adjusting your hem.

"Oops!" She giggles a bit too manically for you to think it was an accident. A smug smirk adorning her lips. "My bad."

A small inch long cut is left behind on your upper thigh. Blood immediately wells up to the surface of the wound, the crimson bubbling up before spilling down your leg. The scissors were sharp allowing for the blade to slice cleanly, but it causes the wound to bleed at a shockingly rapid pace.

You can't help the absolute cry of anguish that leaves your lips at the stinging feeling. It's the final thing on top of everything that causes you to break. Tears flow freely from your eyes despite your desperate attempts to stop them. You know both Overlords are looking at you—watching what you do.

The blood spills over your foot and begins to form a small pool on the ground. The sensation uncomfortable between your bare toes. You don't know what to do.

You know what you want to do. Wanting nothing more than to run and hide from both of them. You didn't want them to witness this, to see you so broken. You're afraid you're helpless otherwise.

You can physically feel Vox's gaze on you as his partner regards the scene with a exasperated roll of her eyes.

"Honestly Vox, your toys can't even keep themselves clean. Look at the mess she's making. She's going to stain the fabric of this dress and you know how much I hate stains in my garments." She stands off to your side, her arms crossed over her chest as she regards you with a callus manner.

You don't know what to do—don't know what to say. Your eyes turn over to Vox on instinct—habitually you would always look to the man with power over you. Your father, your brother, Evan, Vox; hell you would likely do the same with someone like Alastor. There was always someone with more control over you than you did. Since birth you'd never belonged to yourself, it was always another.

Vox's red eyes hold nothing but cold cruelty as he observes and calculates. The smile that breaks out on his face makes your blood run cold. The dread builds with the painfully sharp anticipation.

"You're right Velvette. She is making quite the mess. I thought I taught you to clean up after yourself better Blossom."

Out of the corner of your eye you see Velvette raise a brow at Vox's new nickname for you. He'd never strayed away from his classic terms of endearment but this was one he'd only just began using.

His eyes bore into you cruelly as he provides you with his next command.

"Get on your knees and clean up your mess."

Your eyes fall shut, as your breath catches painfully in your lungs, more tears spilling from you. When you make contact with the floor you realize you haven't been given instructions on how.

You look up to meet his manic grin as he eagerly takes in the sight of you below him once more. You didn't like being looked at by Vox this way. You hated being seen this much, being put into such a low position.

"Can I have a rag please?" You question with your voice barely above a whisper.

His grin only widens. "No."

"How do you want me to clean it then?" You aren't protesting but you have a feeling Vox will take your behavior as such.

"I'm sure you can get creative."

You almost let out a helpless whine at the despairing feeling eating away at you. There's no way you'll use the skirt of the dress you're wearing, Velvette would kill you Vox's ire be damned. You couldn't just use your hands, then you'd have no where to wipe the blood.

It hits you all of a sudden what Vox intended for you to do. You look back to him with a pleading look for mercy. You almost want to try begging, maybe that would be less horrifying than this. You knew the notion was simply pointless though.

He raises one of his eyebrows in a taunting manner as if daring you to defy. Your only option was to submit, there would be no other way out.

You take a deep breath before placing both of your hands on the ground in front of you, allowing for you to bring your face close to the small pool of your blood. You fight back fear induced nausea as you get uncomfortably close to the ground. You can hear the sound of Velvette's phone snapping photos while she snickers.

When your tongue hits the metallic puddle the first time you almost release a violent shudder, it's impossible for you to suppress your body's reaction entirely.

"I don't want a single trace left on the floor. So don't you dare stop till you're done."

"I stand corrected. This is far better than what I was expecting from you Vox. I almost want to say I'm impressed."

You can feel your muscles locked with tense stress from the situation. The humiliation of it all only serving to set you further on the physical edge. You've stopped crying but only out of sheer shock at the task you're being made to preform. You're almost beginning to believe that Velvette cut you on purpose just so the two of them could force you to play out this sick scene before them.

The blood has already cooled and has begun to slightly coagulate making for the most horrific sensation upon your tongue and sliding down your throat.

You decide fear tastes a lot like blood: metallic, sharp, and pungent.

You want nothing more than to close your eyes and block out the rest, but you can't. Instead your eyes obsessively scour the dark floor for any remaining traces. You didn't want to make anything worse for yourself. You'd be safe if you pleased him. If you just did as he said, he wouldn't hurt you.

That's how you'd survived Evan for so long.

"Stop."

The single command has you freezing before recollecting yourself upright atop your knees. Your eyes reside on the floor, too scared to meet your boss's own.

"Look at me Bea." His voice is low as he draws your attention up to him.

You didn't want to, but it's always so much easier to just listen.

Listening usually hurt less.

Your eyelashes are still heavy and damp with more tears still yet to spill. Vox looks pleased, though there was an underlying lingering vexation he couldn't completely conceal.

He approaches you closer, his footsteps measured and slow. "Stick out your tongue."

Your hesitation last a bit longer this time. It's clear Vox doesn't like this, as he grabs your chin harshly with his claws dragging you up to balance on your knees to meet him where he looms threateningly over you. A small whimper flees from you but you follow his command nonetheless.

You slowly part you lips and stick your tongue out between them. You can still feel the bitter tang of your blood on it, you almost think he can see streaks of your blood remaining. When his eyes zero in on the muscle, you know that's what he's seeing.

"Such a good doll." He purrs before his tongue is snaking from his own mouth to collide against yours.

It's a mockery of a kiss. More teeth and tongue than lips. You feel electric pops rise along your tongue as Vox sucks your blood off of it. A pleased growl emanating from deep within his chest. Your senses are filled with him as he delves deeper with his exploration of you. You feel as if you're suffocating on all that is Vox.

"Oh, what's this? My little Voxy having fun without me? This seems like a party I was uninvited to." The sickening sound of Valentino's voice jolts you away from your current actions.

You yank back from Vox so suddenly that his hold on you loosens, allowing for you to go sprawling into the ground. Your back hits the floor hard enough the wind is momentarily knocked out of you. Your head swimming with a million and one things as the third Vee inserts himself into your morning.

As if things couldn't get worse.

"Good morning Val." Vox greets his partner casually as if his tongue hadn't just been shoved down the back of your throat.

Your chest heaves in your attempts to catch your breath. You can't tell if the room is spinning or not, but your body is making you feel as if it is.

What a pathetic sight you must make, sprawled out with blood drying in a trail down your your leg, strands of your hair sticking to your damp forehead. Dried tears smeared across your face, your lashes slightly clumped together because of them. You know you should scramble to compose yourself—save some semblance of your dignity—but you remain where you are, not capable of anything else.

"Took you long enough. Honestly Vox I never thought you were going to take advantage of the pretty little muñeca you had parading around behind you, all these years." Your hazy eyes watch as the pink haze of Valentino's smoke floats above your head.

Why did he have to be here?

Valentino had never not been vulgar in his behavior towards you. Since the first day you'd taken your spot at Vox's side, he was always eager to leer and make comments that made you squirm.

"Tell me, is her pussy just as tight as I think it is?"

Comments like that.

You fight the urge not to retch. You can feel all three pairs of the Overlord's eyes settled on you as you continue to fight for composure on the floor. It felt utterly dehumanizing and debasing for them to all be witness to this—even if they were the reasons you were this way to begin with.

It hadn't even been a full twenty-four hours. How were you going to get through this for the rest of your days?

Vox's response just makes everything worse. "You have no idea."

The blood threatens to come racing back up your esophagus which causes your eyes to slam shut again. You hated how vulnerable you felt, like wounded prey being stared down by a multitude of predators.

It felt scarily familiar to your childhood when you'd get in trouble. It left the same sense of wrong lingering in your body now as it did then.

"I swear to god, is it always about sex with you two?" Velvette barks at the two.

"You do know what I do don't you Vel?" Valentino mockingly teases. "Besides I can't help my curiosity. The damn girl has the exact legs I knew you were hiding behind all those awful slacks. It makes me wonder all the other things I might have been right about."

"As much as I love when you visit, we're a little busy." Vox's voice is somewhat strained, it's clear he doesn't like the interruption.

"Clearly." Valentino snorts dryly.

"Did you need something, Val?"

You hear him hum, taking another drag from his almost eternally lit cigarette. "Honestly I just came to see if it was true about you and your little bee. I'm almost offended I didn't learn about it from you, but I suppose I can't blame you. I'd get distracted by her too.~"

You want to move, but are terrified to draw further attention to yourself. You hated that you were just laying on the floor beneath the three powerful demons.

Your tongue stings from Vox's kiss, the taste of your blood lingering. It's so strong you swear you can almost smell it. Though the cut on your leg hasn't ceased bleeding, it's been reduced to a sluggish flow.

"Where the fuck did you even learn about it?" Vox's usual command over his demeanor has begun to falter with his agitation.

"Oh!~ You didn't know? I suppose the power hasn't cut out so it makes sense you don't."

"Cut the shit Val."

"Your little radio obsession seems to have quite the captivating interest in your relationship with your abeja. He seems to have a specific picture of your little relationship together." His voice is filled with nothing but delighted glee as he shares this information.

There's a sound akin to something glitching, a light bulb somewhere in the distance pops. Clearing his throat, Vox chuckles low and dangerous. "What?"

"Oh it was the topic of almost his entire broadcast this afternoon. At least from what I hear."

Your eyes fly open, instinctively looking to Vox. You know it's not your fault. None of this is, none of it has been. Yet still, deep down, you know you're the one who will suffer the repercussions for this.

The room is silent for a moment, not even the sound of Velvette typing away on her phone can be heard. The three of them standing around you waiting for what happens next. The light's flicker as Vox's screen darkens, his eyes growing a darker shade of red, swirls beginning to slowly form in his left eye.

"He's talking about her?" Vox's question is deadly.

"Mm hmm…" Valentino purrs as he blows another cloud of smoke into the room. "Though you know I can't blame him just as much as I can't blame you. Tell me Vox, are you going to be nice and share your toy?"

"Get out." His voice is icy with barely concealed wrath.

"Come on, don't be like that." Valentino pouts.

"I said," Vox draws the words out slowly. "Get out!"

An arc of electricity licks out from a socket on the wall in rageful warning. Vox's ire reaching a clear point that his fellow Overlords decide it really would be in their best interest to listen, both of them making hasty exits leaving you alone at his feet.

You want to say something, to reach out and placate him. But if he was anything like Evan, it would only enrage him more. The quieter you were, the more obedient you were, the easier this would be—the faster you would make it through.

"So now he's talking about you on his broadcast?"

You're trying to figure out how to defend yourself to best avoid pain, knowing that even if you told Vox the truth, he was beyond believing anything that wasn't concocted by his own brain.

What chance did you stand?

It's a clear struggle for you as you try your best to get back onto your knees. You need to provide yourself a little more dignity if you're going to endure what comes next. You kneel before Vox once more, your hands folded demurely in your lap, your head angled down in submission.

"I didn't know anything about this sir, please. I promise." You try to keep your tone steady but it wavers the entire time.

"For someone so smart, you seem to not know so much these days." Vox mocks condescendingly. "I'm sorry that it's so difficult for me to believe that Alastor of all people just suddenly has an interest in you enough to talk about you on his bullshit broadcast. Have you been hiding something from me Bea? Because it feels an awful lot like this has been going on longer than simply meeting him for the first time by chance yesterday."

Vox's temper was getting the better of him, his rage and indignation growing to a breaking point. He couldn't think straight—clear thinking had gone out the window at the mention of Alastor once more. After all that had transpired in the past twenty-four hours, after all of the thoughts, feelings, and emotions that had festered inside his twisted soul—the name of his almost lover shatters his remaining cool.

You trembled before him trying so desperately to hold on despite his best attempts to make you otherwise.

Part of him almost thought it would be worse if you didn't know, if you really hadn't meant to draw Alastor's eye to you. The thought of you being as oblivious as you claimed to be sparked his rage further. If Alastor were to simply pick you out of a crowd and target you with affection for seemingly no reason, it stoked his aggravation to violent levels. Why would someone of so little importance get to receive what Vox thought rightfully belonged to him.

His hands itch with the need to do something, to punish. Anything to not feel the feelings inside him right now.

Why you?

You weren't anything special, so why was Alastor so interested in you?

These questions and more swirled about in Vox's mind as he stares down at you below him. He can feel himself growing close to setting off his temperature warning, his electronics starting to heat up to dangerous levels.

All Vox could see was red. He was seething and could no longer think rationally because of it.

You shift anxiously back and forth on your knees as you try your best to think of a reply. Nothing in your brain seemed adequate enough of an excuse or reason to get him to understand.

Your trepidation grows as he begins to pace in slow circles around you, calculating his next move as he watches each tiny movement you make.

"Get on the couch." He orders suddenly with a bark.

You open your mouth to protest on instinct but the sharp crack of electricity somewhere in the room makes you think otherwise. You glance up at him nervously as you make to rise on your feet. He looks wild—manic even—as he watches you with hateful predatory eyes.

When you move to sit on the couch like normal Vox snaps a correction. "Turn around and get on your knees. Face the back of the couch."

Your body moves on auto pilot, desperate to move if it meant your survival. You do as he says, even as a fresh wave of tears threatens behind your eyes.

The feeling of Vox's cold hands on you makes you jolt upon instinct. He caresses a dangerous path up the back of your thighs with his claws. He dances the line between threatening pain and soothing touches. He slowly pushes the short hem off the dress up over your ass, exposing you in nothing but the modest underwear you'd worn. Vox let's out a sigh as if he's disappointed.

"We'll have to get Velvette to change this part of your wardrobe too, I think."

The next thing you feel is his hands making quick work of them. The fabric shredded to nothing in less than an instance. You can't help the cold sweat that breaks out on your body having Vox this close to your intimate parts once more. You don't want a repeat of the night prior but you had a feeling that's exactly where he was intending to take things.

"Be a good girl and sit still, yeah?" Vox taunts close to your ear. His hands have begun to lazily roam your body. "I'd hate to have to hurt you."

You hear the sound of a zipper being undone. New panic making its waves through you. You knew this escalation was to be expected, it was guaranteed to come, but when Vox initially presses his cock against your entrance—your tears have begun to flow freely once more.

He's by no means gentle as he bullies his way inside you. You have barely any lubrication to prep your body, his intrusion barely aided. You yelp helplessly as he continues his rough intrusion without hesitation. Painful whimpers fall from your lips as he settles himself completely inside you.

Your hands desperately clutch the fabric of the couch beneath you, anything to possibly stabilize yourself against the brutal feeling of his invasion. You can feel the texture of it beneath your legs, the rough fabric itching and making the situation that much more unbearable.

You could focus on nothing and everything.

Your husband had never been a small man by any definition of the word. Sex with him had been painful most of the time, the man rarely being gentle with you and your body. It felt like he'd always used sex as a means to punish you and never out of a form of love and connection as spouses.

But Vox put Evan to shame with his size. The feeling of his cock inside you—despite not yet moving—was bordering on unbearable. He held your hips tightly against his own, small groans of satisfaction leaving him as he adjusted to the sensation of you.

His grip leaves no room for it, yet you still try to squirm anyway. You bury your head into the couch between your arms as you try desperately not to scream.

This feeling of helplessness was painful. This reminder of your mortal life.

You were no longer here with Vox, you were back in your bedroom on your wedding night sobbing violently into the sheets as Evan brutalized you for the first time as husband and wife.

There's no controlling your tears now, nor the weeping you try to muffle into the couch. It only grows worse and harder to hide when he begins to move.

The agony is near unbearable as his large girth begins to stretch you to uncomfortable levels. You can hear as his breathing grows ragged and stressed, the lights around you flickering in and out at a quicker rate. Vox wastes no time in setting a speed that feels like you're being fucked into a second afterlife.

There's no faltering as he chases his pleasure inside you. All you can do is try your best to make it through, to survive just a little longer.

You're struggling to catch your own breath through your tears and his motions. You suddenly can't remember anything that led up to this, or even why, you just knew you needed to make it through.

He'd leave you alone if you let him have you, if you let him use you. Things will go back to normal after this, he'll be kind again.

He always said he'd be better. So why did he lie?

"Tell me you want this." Vox heavily pants against your ear. His claws grip painfully into your hips, the tips of them threatening to spill more of your blood. "Say you want me. Tell me you want me."

The sensation of him snapping into you prevents most thoughts from properly forming. "I-I ca-can't." You barely manage to make out between short breaths. Your brain flickering in and out while he fucks up into you.

"Yes you can. And if you don't, I'll make it so you will."

"Vox please." You weakly beg as you try to push against the back of the couch. Any defiance you have is pointless though, you knew you wouldn't escape.

You were trapped here, beneath him, for eternity. You'd made sure of that fact when you sold your soul to him all those years ago. You'd signed yourself away to this very fate willingly and you'd never even known.

Suddenly Vox ceases everything he's doing. He pulls away from you with such abruptness you nearly get whiplash from the change.

It's only made worse when Vox grabs your leg, harshly pulling it so you're flipped around to be on your back. You stare up at him with abject terror as he looms over you. He still looks frightening, his hypnotic eye still swirling. You can't help but be caught into it, the repeated pattern distracts from your distress.

You barely even notice the smirk form on his lips. The circles repeating faster.

"Good girl." You distantly hear him purr. Your mind is swiftly spiraling down into a rabbit hole you have no control over.

A sensation akin to TV static begins to fill up your brain, your thoughts growing light and distorted by the noise. There's nothing to think about, nothing to say. It's all just white noise echoing and filling the space around you.

There's the tiniest part of yourself that remains. Locked deep down somewhere inside you, her screaming barely registers to you. Trapped under layers of influence much stronger than your own.

"Tell me you want me."

"I want you, Vox." You say on automatic command.

Somewhere inside you bang on mental bars in an attempt to be heard. The sound of TV static drowns the sound out, making it easier to lean into the easy light headed feeling surrounding you.

"Tell me you want to feel my touch. That you want my hands on your body."

"Please." You respond breathily. "Put your hands on me, I want to feel your touch."

Hands resume their earlier caressing as his screen looms closer to your face.

You don't know why you were fighting him.

This was so much easier.

This felt better.

You really did want him, you wanted to feel him all over your body—both inside and out.

"Beg for me. Tell me how desperately you need my cock filling your tight cunt." Vox's voice is cutting in and out of his usual polished performance. These events unleashing something inside him he didn't know he had prior.

He needed this, even if it was a lie. Just for a second Vox needed to pretend that he was wanted, that someone actually longed for and needed him. If only for a second, he needed to feel like he was desired.

Even if this is what it took to get it.

The static roars loudly in your mind as you spread your legs like an eager whore for him. Your fingers slide down to spread your lips, exposing your fluttering hole to his hungry gaze.

"I want you so badly Vox. I need you. Please fuck me. Fuck my tight cunt. I want you Vox, please."

It's a mercy you don't feel the humiliation and shame of this moment till later.

"Fuck." Vox hadn't expected you to respond so well to his hypnosis. He'd never had to use it on you before and the positive results he was getting were better than he could have ever asked for.

Your words do exactly what he needs. He groans in pleasure as he pushes back into you. Your walls are so tight it's almost painful as he sheaths himself back into your warmth.

"Tell me how good I feel." He commands brokenly as he returns to the same brutal pace he'd set inside you originally.

Your moan is loud and lewd as he fucks up into your g spot over and over again. Even under his control you still struggle to form the proper words.

"S-so go—, fuck!" You sharply cry as he drives into you with a particularly hard thrust.

"Such a good honeybee, fuck you're doing so good Blossom. Fuck you feel so much better than I expected. I'm not going to last very long. Holy fuck!" The words fall from his lips at a rapid pace.

Your body responds to his touch and your mouth to his commands but your brain remains a room full of white noise.

"And fuck you look so good in these dresses. I'm so excited to get to see more of you now. It's such a shame you were hiding this all for so long. Valentino was right." His hands slide down your legs only to hoist them up onto his shoulders so he can pound deeper into you. "You do have a killer set of legs."

The elevation of your legs makes your walls constrict tighter around him forcing Vox to his climax far quicker than he'd like to.

"Fuck!!" He bellows loudly as he slams into you one final time. His cock twitches inside you as it paints your walls with his demonic seed.

Your eyes close shut as your body braces against it all.

By the time you come back into control of yourself you make note that you're alone. You're laying against the couch, your heartbeat echoing sluggishly in your ears. You're not entirely sure how long you've been staring at the ceiling but you can distantly feel Vox's cum leaking from you and onto the couch below.

You can hear several notifications chiming from your tablet on the table across the room. Your head swims as it struggles to shake off the remainder of Vox's influence. Your body begins to tremble, silent tears rolling down the sides of your face to soak the couch below you. You felt so used and broken.

How do you go on with your day after this?

Chapter Text

Venturing out of the tower felt… different now, somehow. The past few days felt like an entire reworking of your afterlife into a echo of your former life, so many emotions and feelings you'd forgotten about welling to the surface demanding to be felt.

Had it even been a week now?

How much time has passed?

It was getting harder to keep up and stay on top of things with the new dynamic change. Vox seemed to still demand everything he had of you prior except now he was demanding you physically as well. Your body constantly aches despite the rapid regeneration magic in Hell. Vox was eager to put whatever marks on you he could, your skin constantly a tapestry of his violent advances.

By now everyone in the tower either knew or suspected the new parameters of Vox's and your relationship. You hadn't been looked at much by your colleagues before—the other souls doomed to be owned by the Vees—but now it felt like everyone was interested in catching a glimpse of you—of witnessing you and Vox in a room together. You'd been around for so long without issue, so what changed?

Alastor.

Alastor is what changed.

You could hear whispers from others talking about his broadcast, the one that'd caused Vox's ire when Valentino mentioned its existence. You still had no idea what was said about you, but everyone seemed to think it good enough to risk gossiping about. Everyone in Vee Tower knew not to talk about Alastor, but with this being the latest round of hot news, it was impossible to mitigate entirely.

The one thing being made clear about it to you was this, you'd caught Alastor's attention and everyone could unanimously agree that you were screwed because of it.

You almost couldn't worry about Alastor's interest with everything Vox was doing to you. It felt as if it were secondary to everything else, after all Alastor wasn't an immediate threat.

Vox however, was.

This morning had been agony upon your usual entrance into Vox's apartment. It was abnormal for him to be awake this early, so you were immediately put on edge when you'd arrived to see him already waiting for you at the counter.

Apparently he'd had a rough night with Val, the two of them disagreeing on something for the millionth time. You could see the evidence of their violent affair last night, several pieces of furniture and decorations destroyed and shattered on the floor. Vox was wearing his same shirt from the day prior though now there was a large rip in the upper right sleeve—of which through you could see a sizable gash split open on his bicep. It wasn't bleeding but it still looked like it'd take the majority of the next day or so to heal.

You'd frozen on the spot, immediately feeling like a deer in headlights. You had no idea what to say or to do.

Vox hadn't liked that, the fact of which he made clear very quickly.

Your back still stings with overwhelming pain from where he'd dug his claws right above your wings. The dress you were wearing left the marks exposed and on full display. Each time someone brushed against you in the hallways or the elevator you wanted to cry out in anguish.

He'd held you so tightly to him using his claws, his cock buried deep inside you as he finished with a growl.

You'd helped stitch his wound up after as you felt his seed drip down your thighs. It's a miracle you'd done as good of a job as you did. Though you suppose being married to Evan helped you become an expert in stitching closed wounds.

Your body moves you through the day on autopilot, your tasks being completed on muscle memory alone. It was nearing two in the afternoon and you were dragging. Subconsciously a part of you knew you would need caffeine to finish your day, so before you knew it you were standing in line at a coffee shop—wherever it was you were currently in the Pentagram. You couldn't remember your last few stops let alone what district you were in.

The cafe was nice, much better than the horrible places littered throughout the entertainment district. This place was quaint, quiet. It reminded you of the coffee shops you used to frequently escape to back on Earth, when life would just get to be too much and you needed to run away from it all even if only for a few hours. Soft music plays around the room. The interior all exposed and rustic looking brick, plants adorning various corners, and stunning artwork spread across the walls.

There's a wall of coffee mugs behind the counter, each one of them a different and unique piece. For a moment you were distracted from all the torment as your eyes read each one while you waited your turn in line.

It wasn't horribly busy but it was clear the place was popular enough.

You were so distracted by the mugs, you weren't able to realize the subtle change in the atmosphere of the cafe. Nor did you notice the looming presence that had come up behind you.

"Ouch, that looks rather savage. Trouble in paradise?" The worst possible voice greets your ears.

You didn't know how to face the man who was the reason you were in this position in the first place. His attention being immediately drawn to the marks on your back make you frown before you even turn around.

This was bad.

This could only spell trouble for you.

You can only avoid turning around for so long. You do your best to take in a deep centering breath before turning to face Alastor. You attempt to plaster on the most polite fake smile you can muster.

"Alastor, good afternoon." You greet calmly despite the rapid pace your heart is taking in your chest.

His usual smile crooks up into a more mischievous grin. There's a dangerous glint of malicious glee twinkling in his eyes. Part of you almost wants to break out into tears on the spot. Any interaction with Alastor could mean nothing good for you—whether he meant you ill will or not, Vox's wrath would feel ten times worse.

Vox owned your soul.

Alastor did not.

"Ma chére abeille, you look positively dreadful compared to our introduction earlier this week. Has your afterlife truly been so unkind to you?" His eyes scan your form head to toe, scrutinizing each and every detail available for him to see.

You weren't sure how to respond to this, you weren't sure how best to go about navigating a way out of this conversation and away from him. It wasn't likely you were about to open up to Alastor right here and tell him everything that had transpired in the last week, but you also knew you couldn't say nothing.

The question slips from between your lips before you even have the chance to stop it. "Why did you talk about me on your broadcast?"

Instant regret fills you. Dread seeping deep into your pores like caustic chemicals. You'd just opened a door that really should have remained closed. You have no doubt panic fills your eyes as you stare up at the taller demon.

His smile grows impossibly wider.

"I didn't expect you to listen to my show."

"I didn't." The words come out more bitter than you intend but they're already out there.

"Ah, I see." He hums with intrigue.

"Next!" The employee behind the counter calls.

You turn around to see you're in fact the next in line and suddenly you feel forced to make a decision. To be honest, you had no idea which one to settle on.

They all felt like losing.

You hesitate too long, your back turned to Alastor as you settle on a decision. Alastor it seems, makes it for you.

"Oh come now my dear, we wouldn't want to keep everyone waiting, would we?" He asks as his hand settles on your lower back, guiding you forwards.

Your mouth opens up to stutter a protest, but you struggle to get anything out. He's gentle yet firm and unyielding in his touch. Every second his hand is on you, you want to scream. You knew that if Vox caught any wind of this—you'd be hopelessly fucked.

Could you really fight off the Radio Demon though?

He stands just off to your side, his hand still lingering at the base of your back. You find yourself hating how comfortable he feels with touching you. It's one thing for Vox to feel entitled to do so, but for Alastor to touch you with such a casual intimate air—it made your stomach churn in a unique way.

"Ladies first." He gestures to the demon behind the counter ready to take your order.

The poor Sinner looks absolutely mortified but does their best to keep up a brave face despite it. How often did people have casual experiences serving Alastor? From all the rumors you've heard about the man, it doesn't seem like he'd be the type to do such mundane things.

You want to open your mouth to protest but he's quick to cut you off.

"Please darling, it's my treat. I insist." There's a brief flash of warning in his eyes, there and gone in an instant.

You swallow apprehensively, your eyes lingering on his for a moment—prey watching the predator hunting them. You keep them on him as long as you can while turning your head back to the employee.

You can feel his hand slide along your back and around your side as you quietly place your order.

"And for you, sir?" The fear was evident in their question as they turned their attention to Alastor.

"Just a regular black coffee, thank you."

They nod their head once, typing the order into the system before accepting Alastor's payment.

His touch has remained on you the entire time and it's taking everything in you not to scream from the sensation. You already felt so strung out and overstimulated from Vox's harsh treatments, Alastor's touch was driving you to the brink of your total insanity—no matter how kind it felt, it was still unwanted.

Once your order is finished being prepared, Alastor hands you your drink and guides you to a secluded table towards the back of the cafe. Your stomach twists further as you realize he intends to stay within your company for a longer period of time.

Like everything else, it felt like the only way out was through.

He's the definition of a gentlemen in his treatment of you, complete with pulling out your seat and pushing it in for you. You try to keep the racing of your heart under control as your hands anxiously fidget with the paper coffee cup in front of you. At this point you aren't even sure you remember what you ordered, you'd done it on autopilot the same as the rest of your day.

"Bea?" Alastor's voice draws your attention back to him. His eyes are narrowed as he watches you, almost as if you were a puzzle he was trying to pick apart and decipher.

You realize he had been talking to you and you'd been unresponsive. You shake your head as if that could physically clear your mind.

"Sorry. Can you repeat that?" You hated how tired you constantly sounded these days, how small.

"Does Vox always keep you on such a level of exhaustion?"

Ah so the pretense of not knowing has been dropped. You didn't know if that would make things easier or worse for you now.

Still his question couldn't be answered with honesty. You couldn't offer Alastor much of it, not now at least.

"It's been a rough week."

That was honest at least.

"Clearly." He muses as he takes a sip from his cup. Momentarily he closes his eyes savoring the bitter taste as it washes over his tongue.

You don't like how casual he's making all this feel. For a moment you could almost trick yourself into believing you were out getting coffee with a friend. Despite the looming threat of Alastor being well Alastor, you find yourself strangely comfortable—even if it's all built on a facade.

You aren't sure what to say, opting to keep quiet as you sip from the cup. Only half of the taste registers to you, the hot liquid simply a welcoming distraction from the rest of the situation at hand.

"I meant it when I said I hadn't seen you around before. There's no way I'd have missed a precious thing like you following around behind that insipid idiot. How long has he owned your soul little abeille?" He asks the question so simply, the way one would inquire about the day's weather.

You can't help but pick at the warming sleeve on the cup, anything to keep your hands busy, to distract from the sudden debilitating panic. Why was he asking these questions? Why was he here in the first place? You had things that needed to get done, you couldn't end your day with Vox the way it had started. You would break entirely, you were sure of it.

"He doesn't like when I'm late or behind on tasks," you whisper quietly, avoiding his question with some truth. "I really should be getting back."

Alastor's grin twists into something sour despite the edges remaining upturned. It was clear he wasn't happy with your attempt at retreat. It was clear he had intentions about this interaction with you and wasn't pleased with your push back.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't deflect my questions. I'm not asking without reason." You can hear the sharp warning in his tone despite him trying to keep it polite.

It hits something deep inside of you, a part of you that was always so desperate not to be a disappointment—even if it ended up being to your detriment. It's painful, a potent emotion felt on a deeper level than most. The kind of emotion that's been learned over years and years of treatment. For a second Alastor's tone sounds too much like your father's.

You dip your head down in shame, eyes down cast with your shame. "Six years, sir, almost seven."

"I suppose that would explain it then…" He seems to say offhandedly. "And you've been his little assistant this entire time?"

You nod.

"You have a radiant smile my dear, it's a shame you keep it hidden away so often." There's a small furrow between his brows as he continues to watch you.

You don't like what his words do to you, a simple compliment causing your resolve to grow unsteady.

How long had it been since someone had said something so kind?

"I'm sorry." You apologize on instinct.

"Why ever for, darling?"

No one had ever questioned one of your apologies before and you almost have to admit it leaves you stumped. Because logically you knew you had no reason to do it, you had no reason to apologize for not smiling. But years of being told and made to feel otherwise had you apologizing to furniture you bumped into—this really wasn't unusual.

"I don't know…" You whisper honestly.

"You're not at all what I pictured." He muses quietly with a small tilt of his head.

Your eyes are on your hands once more, the floor, the plants—anything that wasn't Alastor.

Yet you could still feel his on you.

You always felt like you had a set of eyes on you these days.

Part of you just wants to blurt out and ask him, what do you want from me? Why are you doing this?

Instead you take another scalding sip of liquid, eyes still dancing around the room.

"I take it Vox didn't like my little acknowledgment. I thought he'd appreciate my eyes on something of his, he has been ever so desperate for my attention these days."

"That's an understatement." You immediately cringe upon the fleeing words.

"Did he give it a personal listen? I did have a specific message I thought he needed to hear."

You immediately go to shake your head but pause a second into it. "Not initially… he might have listened after learning about it." You wish desperately you had more clothes to hide behind, long sleeves to tuck your hands into. The dresses Vox chose for you left you feeling naked and exposed on a consistent basis.

"But you did not?"

"No. I don't have much free time for listening to things in the first place. I'm sorry."

You felt like you'd offended him simply for not doing such. It's not your fault though, how could it be?

"What did you say?" You ask before you can think better of it.

His smile pulls at the edges once more, a new glint dancing in his eyes. He looks excited, though about what you aren't sure.

"I could tell you, or…" He drags out with anticipation. "I could give you a tour of my studio, play you the recording for myself."

It sounds like an offer but you know it's not. He's simply made you aware of how you'd be spending your next few hours. Your palms begin to perspirate at the thought of what you'll be facing after this.

It was already to late.

The look in Alastor's eye made that clear.

"That sounds nice." You offer placatingly.

At least make it as easy for yourself as you can, right?

"You're a bit of a polite little thing, aren't you?" The glee in his eyes is tinged with surprise. He stands from his seat coming to your side of the table to offer you his hand.

You stare at it in your momentary hesitation, this felt like signing your own death warrant.

There isn't more time to ponder, you already accepted your fate—whatever it shall be. Your hand finds its place in his and you allow him to aid you to your feet. He tucks your hand into his arm the way he'd done the week prior, his suit just as soft as you'd remembered. He grabs your cup from off the table before handing it to you.

"Shall we?"

You give a hesitant half nod, your mind racing with a million other thoughts which was pulling your attention from this moment.

You're suddenly grateful to be holding onto Alastor as the world slowly starts to fade to black around you. For a moment you think the fear reached such an intensity you've simply fainted, but the subtle motion of your body and Alastor's firm grip proved otherwise.

"What's going on?" Your voice sounds distant and otherworldly as it echoes in the dark void around you.

Alastor leans in, murmuring quietly into your ear. "Hush chouchou, it'll be over in a moment."

He isn't lying, from one blink to the next you can see the surroundings of Hell once more. Though now you're somewhere entirely different. Your body feels ill and cold as it tries to catch up with the rapid travel process.

"The sickness will pass in a moment, you'll be fine."

You clutch his arm a little tighter as you realize you have no idea where you are. You don't recognize which part of the Pentagram you're in. It causes the anxiety of returning home to increase to the forefront of your thoughts.

You're about to ask where he's brought you until you really begin to look around. You're finally unable to ignore the giant looming building in front of you. It's a beautiful work of architecture, grand and overarching in its design. There's a few things that stick out against the rest like the two opposing towers on either end of the roof, two distinctly different themes being put on ostentatious display. It reminded you of Vee Tower and its garish grandiosity.

Everyone who had power in Hell was the same.

He'd brought you to the Hazbin Hotel, the princess' little redemption project.

You wonder if you would have tried for redemption, had you still had ownership of your soul. The mere notion was pointless now, so it was useless to dwell on what ifs and could have beens.

Still subconsciously in the back of your mind you know you'd kill for a way out of this place. Even with the exterminations ordered by Heaven, surely they couldn't be worse than the afterlife you're living now.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!" He says with a dramatic flare in his tone.

Your eyes flicker over to him before returning to the hotel. You try to take in a subtle deep breath, anything that could help prepare you for what might lay ahead.

"You certainly are a quiet one, aren't you?" He notes more to himself than you. His grasp on you never relenting as he carefully ushers you inside the hotel. Somewhere he's lost his coffee cup and his free hand wastes no time in busying itself by touching you more.

Most of his touches felt innocent, gentlemanly, but part of you couldn't help feeling like there was something more beneath it all. Your skin still feels tender and sensitive from the morning, each brush of Alastor's gloved hand against a patch of your bare skin sent small tremors through your body. You hope the reactions go unnoticed by your companion but you have a feeling you aren't so lucky.

The inside of the hotel matches the lavish exterior. It certainly looks as if owned by royalty, all the colors rich and saturated, trimmed with bits of gold. Everything looked so new and clean, but you suppose with the battle against Heaven only being a short time ago it makes sense they would have had to potentially rebuild.

The lobby is mostly empty but you suppose that would be normal for a hotel in the afternoon. There's a large ornate bar that has been set off to one side of the lobby, a Sinner resembling a feline with wings standing behind it. He wears a scowl that only seems to deepen as he spots the two of you. You catch a note of what could be concern in his expression before it's gone.

It's the Sinner next to him that launches your heart into your throat.

Angel Dust and you weren't anything that could be considered close to friends, but you were far from strangers.

His eyes immediately connect with yours, concern and question lingering in them. You aren't even sure what you could say, if you could say anything at all. He opens his mouth as if about to say something but Alastor speaks up first.

"Don't concern yourself with them darling. They're rather not worth your time."

You almost open your mouth to protest on command but his hand is once more at your back, guiding you forward. You're helpless to protest, allowing as he ushers you further into the hotel.

You barely catch Angel's soft voice fading behind you. "Holy shit, Val wasn't lying."

The response from the other Sinner doesn't reach your ears, Alastor having already escorted you quickly away.

You can't help but become hyper aware of the fear in your body as he guides you into the elevator at the end of the hall you've been walking. Your limbs have begun to take turns growing numb, tingling sensations cascading from your head down to your toes. You can't help but bite anxiously at the skin on your lip, your eyes flitting about the elegant interior of the elevator.

"Do you trust me?" Alastor asks suddenly.

You're shocked by your lack of hesitation. "No."

"Smart girl." He hums off to your side.

The ride on the elevator is uncomfortable but thankfully not long. The walk to his radio tower is even shorter and upon crossing the threshold you fear you may burst into a panic attack.

You struggle to actually take in your surroundings, all the thoughts in your mind screaming at you to just run.

"Welcome to my humble studio!" Alastor announces with a dramatic flare of his hands.

You're so high strung you hadn't noticed the distance he's given you. You wish it was enough to give you some breath back. Instead you remain a step inside the door, your feet glued to the floor.

Alastor doesn't like this, his brows furrowing before returning to your side, his hands on your arm and back leading you further into the space. Your eyes dart from one corner of the room to the next, the dread inside of you mounting with every step forward.

There's a long console filled with various buttons, levers, and switches that's stretched along the far wall of the studio. There is a microphone hanging above it all, tucked off to the side while not in use. In the far left corner there's an unlit 'On Air' sign. The walls are all a deep red, the furniture scattered about dark walnut. There's a large shelf full of records and an antique phonograph off to it's side. There's a couch and chair tucked on the wall opposite the control panel, a small bookshelf sat nearby.

Various different things decorate the walls from art work to old photos, and the various animal part hung here or there.

Your eyes catch on everything and nothing, all you can feel is Alastor's presence. You begin to feel flighty, finally making an attempt to do something.

You break away from Alastor's touch backing up away from him. You've managed to put him between you and the door but that doesn't matter right now, all you need is distance from him, even if it's only for a second.

"I'm sorry." You apologize even as you back further away from him.

He doesn't miss a beat as he follows you. If anything he looks delighted that you've put up some resistance.

"What has the little one so flighty? Are you afraid I'll hurt you my dear?" He questions with curiosity.

"Yes."

You take another step back.

He takes a step forward.

It's only now you've realized he's crowded you back against his console. You can feel the cold metal dig into your lower back as he forcefully traps you against it. There's a bit of panic seeping into your veins at the realization of this going sideways a lot quicker than you'd like. It comes from multiple sources, oozing and festering about in your body and brain, filling you with the familiar dread of helplessness.

There was no winning here. If you denied Alastor you risked hisire. If you let him continue whatever sick dance this was, you risk Vox's ire. There was no escaping this unscathed.

There was no escaping period.

You were twisted up in this intricate web spun between two powerful Overlords who were intent on winning over each other. You were a mere toy, a tool for them to use to pick and unravel the other one apart. It caused you to long for the days when Vox treated you like you were invisible, only acknowledging your existence when it was to add another task to your already overflowing pile.

You wish you never let Alastor walk you home.

You wish you never even gave him your name.

You should have just taken your chances on running that day.

Your hands shake as they tightly grip the console behind you, your breath an obvious shudder as you crane your neck to look up at him. His usual grin is tinged with sadistic glee, looking for all intents and purposes like the cat that caught the canary. Your trepidation is obvious, if his reactions are any indicator.

"There's no need to tremble, little Abeille. You really think I would bring you harm?" He angles his neck to look down at you.

The only way out is through.

"Yes." Comes again easily.

His smile widens. Your breath catches in your chest as you watch him slowly close more of the distance between you two. You feel his nose trail along the side of your face, nudging next to your ear. His voice comes out in a thin whisper.

"You really are smarter than your idiot boss gives you credit for."

You're caught off guard at the sensation of the delicate kiss he places at the base of your jaw. The gentle gesture nearly bringing you crumbling to your knees in an instant. Though it had only been a few days of your new dynamic with Vox, nothing he did would be considered gentle. You already belonged to him, why would he go through the effort of pretending to be something he wasn't. And with his rival seeming to seek you out in a means to rile him up, why wouldn't he be taking it out on the easiest target available?

After all, he couldn't just knock down the Hazbin, taking Alastor out along with it—not like he so desperately wanted to.

Alastor's touch is as unwanted as Vox's, though you have to admit his careful handling of you is far more preferable than Vox's dominating violence. One of his hands delicately clutches your waist, the other comes to softly caress his claws down your face.

You can't help the way your eyes flutter closed, his sensitive touch a much needed reprieve from everything you'd been through.

You could pretend, couldn't you? If only for a little.

This wasn't fair. Letting Alastor do this was dangerous, so very dangerous. Yet no part of you makes to stop him. Your hands clutch desperately at the switch board, you're terrified to do anything other than freeze.

It would be easier to let him do as he pleases—it's always easier when you submit to them.

"Vox seems to have such a peculiar attachment to you. He's always been particular about his things but never to this degree. He does seem ever so protective and touchy when it comes to you." His claws trace back and forth in slow sweeping motions.

You can't help but close your eyes and savor his touch. It'd been so very long since you'd experienced a kindness as simple as a light and careful touch. Your body can't help but ease into his, the slightest bit of tension leaving your body.

Tender cruelty, that's what you'd come to expect with Alastor.

"The only time Vox is going to feel my touch like he so desperately wants to, will be the phantom traces of it on your skin when he makes his next pathetic attempt to claim you." His words are hushed but the contempt is clear.

Your voice trembles as you question him. "What're you going to do?" Your eyes are large and watery as they meet his.

"I'm going to show Vox what making a proper claim looks like."

You didn't anticipate the feeling on his teeth latching into your neck after those words—his grip increasing harshly. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as your hands scramble to find purchase on Alastor. The pain is overbearing, the razor edges of his teeth severing through the layers of your skin. His hold is delicate as he keeps your head at an angle, the one at your hip ghosting along the outside of your thigh.

Even with the searing agony in your neck, the contrast of his gentle touch everywhere else on your body has tears rising to your eyes.

He pulls away from you after a moment or two longer, his grin bloody and triumphant as he stares at you below him. You stare up at him with wet half lidded eyes, your chest rising and falling with your ragged breaths.

"Careful darling, I might just eat you up." His static crescendos with his growl.

He leans down to capture your mouth with his own. It's such a stark difference to the way Vox kisses you. Alastor does so with a reverence you didn't think possible. His bloodied lips moving carefully against yours. It's slow, patient.

His hand on your thigh grows bolder as his fingers dip under the hem of your skirt. His claws carefully drawing back and forth along it. His other hand begins to play with your hair in a manner that causes more tears to escape from you.

You were beginning to grow afraid of the tender touches, they caused your heart to ache more than the violence did.

Why was he doing this?

You didn't deserve this.

You didn't deserve to be treated like you were worth something.

You can't help the sob that escapes from between your pressed lips. The situation was beginning to disorient you more than the morning had.

"It's okay darling," he whispers against your lips. "I promise I won't hurt you. Just be a good girl for me and sit still."

He pulls away from you and your eyes rapidly fly open to see what he'll do next. You don't think he's lying, you don't think he intends to hurt you. Still you can't help but flinch as he raises his hands, but instead of returning to you he carefully begins to remove his gloves. If it weren't for your feelings over this entire situation you'd be fascinated by the reveal of them. His hands are stained a dark black as if permanently drenched in ash. Though now his claws look even more wicked—dangerous and deadly.

"Do you really want to know what I said about you, little abeille?"

Something nags at you to say no but your curiosity is stronger, even through your distress. You hesitantly nod your head.

He brings his hand back up to your face, his fingers once more moving in soft patterns along the side. "I said Vox didn't deserve to have someone like you following around behind him, listening to his every command. I may have made an implication you would have been better off if you had sold your soul to another."

You can't help yourself. "You?"

"Why who else my dear?" When he smiles you can still see the traces of your blood on his teeth.

He kisses you again, his hands resuming their interest in exploring your body. The sensation of him touching you is heightened with his bare skin brushing against yours. He caresses the skin around your back carefully, his touch feels merciful to the pain still radiating from the wounds. It momentarily eases the sting with its contrasting touch.

"I'd take much better care of you than him." He whispers into your mouth.

For what it's worth, you believe him. But what ifs and could have beens were detrimental to dwell on.

"Relax dear, I've got you."

Your hands fist tighter into the material of his suit coat when you feel his bare hand brush between your slightly parted thighs. The feeling of him touching such a sensitive part of you has your eyes wetting with fresh tears. He slips his thumb beneath the edge of your panties, following along it to tease the skin beneath. You let out a shuddering breath into the kiss.

When he parts from you again, you're panting heavier than before. When he drops suddenly to his knees you almost let out a startled yelp. His eyes stare up at you with intensity, his hands moving back up your legs. His movements are measured as he carefully tugs your underwear down your legs. In another unexpected move he slides his arms around the back of your thighs to lift you onto the console—this time a squeak of surprise does leave you.

The look in Alastor's eyes grows as his gaze moves to your exposed body, his gaze narrowing in on your parted thighs. You swallow another wave of fear as the severity of the situation grows.

His lips carefully place a path of kisses up your legs, his hands gently spreading them to allow himself further access to you. When his tongue hits your center you let out a soft cry. The first initial licks against you are strangely hesitant but the longer he's between your thighs, the more confident and bolder he grows. He lays his long tongue flat against your clit, giving it a firm lick. A broken moan finally tumbles from you.

You can feel him grin against you.

He takes a moment to place several kisses on your lower lips and thighs. His promise of not hurting you didn't extend to not biting you again, you surmise as his he sinks his teeth into the delicate skin of your inner legs. This time your screech is something unholy.

You're almost afraid Vox could hear you all the way from his tower, screaming desperately for his sworn enemy. You were sure to be murdered if Vox discovers what's transpiring here. He'd gut you on the spot if he knew you'd let Alastor make such an intimate attempt to claim you.

Your thighs shake violently even as he releases you from his painful bite. Your eyes stare blankly at the ceiling as you try to hold onto a single thought. Even as Alastor returns his mouth to you, you still contend to gather them into something coherent.

Fear, pleasure, agony, despair, relief, and worst of all—hope. Hope that there could be something better than what you currently had, even if you knew it was fruitless. Hope was the most cruel emotion of all, one you wish you had rid yourself of entirely long ago, yet here it was knocking at your door.

It was all too much.

You release a deafening wail when your orgasm crashes into you. It slams harder into you, far stronger than any that Vox had managed to pull from you. The attention he gives you is so different from the rest, you almost don't feel guilty for enjoying the feeling—almost.

"You are so beautiful." He murmurs up at you.

You don't want to look at him—you can't look at him. It would make all of this worse, you're sure of it.

Of course Alastor doesn't give you much of a choice as he rises from his spot between your legs, upon him standing at full height it's impossible to avoid. Without even trying he captures your gaze with his. He looks every bit the predator he's rumored to be, getting ready to devour his prey.

"It's a true shame Vox got to you before I did." He brushes away the strands of your hair that have begun to stick to your forehead.

When he kisses you again, it steals the remaining breath from your lungs.

You decide you like kissing Alastor and it makes you hate yourself for it.

You're so caught up in him, you don't realize what he's doing until the blunt tip of him is pressing against your still twitching entrance. A soft gasp fills the space between you as he carefully pushes forward. He wasn't as large as Vox, but was by no means small. He fills you with a precision that feels frightening and you can't help but cling to him once more. One of his hands clutches your hip possessively, holding you tightly against him. His other arm snakes around your lower back providing support for you to remain upright. A fact of which you are grateful for with your waning strength, and you know the switch board would exacerbate the pain from your wounds.

He takes his time filling you, his mouth smothering you the entire time. It feels close to how you imagine intimacy was supposed to feel, kind and safe. For a moment you could pretend this is what that was, you sharing intimacy with a lover you trusted—someone who cared.

You can't help but whimper when he reaches his hilt, he remains unmoving whilst giving you time to adjust to the feeling of him. You can't help but consistently clench around him as you try and fail to accommodate him. Despite the overwhelming orgasm he had given you, your cunt still feels tender from Vox's brutality.

He leaves your lips to kiss a path around your neck and shoulders. Each press of his lips helping to further ease you.

The combination of all the sensations leaves your emotions more muddled and confused. None of this being at all what you expected from Alastor, the infamously cruel Radio Demon.

He kisses your temple softly as he begins to rock his hips against yours, the feeling of him sliding in and out of you pulling another soft moan from you.

"See, this isn't as uncomfortable as it could be, right?"

You shake your head.

"Words, dear abeille." He brushes his thumb along your jaw.

"No, it's not."

"Good girl."

His lips press more urgently to yours this time as his hips begin to increase in speed. His thrusts are steady and measured as they drive into your warm heat. You have no basis to go off of but the longer the two of you are joined, the more Alastor seems to be losing his composure, the sounds he makes growing with his actions. You can feel his claws dig into your hip as he borderline begins to drag you into him to meet each of his thrusts.

"A-alastor!" You can't help but cry as he hits a particular spot inside of you.

Your sensitivity has only increased after cumming once and you can quickly tell you're headed towards it again. Alastor is relentless in his motions. His eyes wildly watching your face, desperate to capture each and every reaction he pulls from you.

"Oh? Do you like it when I do that?" His grin is sinful as he repeats the action causing your eyes to roll into the back of your head.

"Fuck!" The curse leaves you unexpectedly.

"Cum for me Bea, let me know who's making you feel this way."

There's no denying him as you do exactly that. Your pleasure crashes into you with raging intensity, a crude scream ripping from your vocal cords. The sensation is so intense you feel yourself nearly on the brink of blacking out, your vision threatening to fade around the edges. His name threatening to shred your vocal cords.

Your walls clench tightly to Alastor, causing him to let out a coarse groan into your shoulder.

"That's it, good girl. Gods you feel divine my dear." He mutters reverently into your ear.

"Alastor…" You breathe shakily as you struggle to come down with his continued movements.

For the first time in what felt like forever, your head is blissfully empty. For a moment, you simply exist with no thoughts or emotions attached. It lingers longer than you anticipate, time passing faster around you than you notice.

"Fuck!" The sudden curse leaving Alastor is what snaps you back into reality.

He clutches you too him as if you were something precious, even as he lets out a guttural growl as he finishes inside you. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, his cum painting your insides. You can't help but clench around him, your walls trying to drag him further into you.

"A-ah!" You pant carefully, the exhaustion in your body growing to an almost unbearable degree.

"Shh my dear, I've got you, you're alright."

You wish you could believe him but you knew what you'd be facing upon your arrival home.

For a moment all Alastor does is cradle you against him, seeming content to simply have you in his arms. Another stark juxtaposition to Vox who would simply finish and walk away once he was satisfied. The caricature of affection makes you want to cry but all you manage is a solitary tear slipping from your closed eyes.

"Rest Bea."

You want to protest and push him away, you know the longer it takes you to get home, the more enraged Vox was likely to be upon your arrival. You didn't even want to know how angry he was currently—having certainly noticed your deviation from routine.

Still the exhaustion is much stronger than the anxiety and you can't help but follow through with his coaxing. Your consciousness beginning to fade as you remain in Alastor's hold, his hand softly stroking your hair.

In the corner of the room the 'On Air' sign turns back off.

Chapter Text

Your head feels simultaneously heavier and lighter when you come back into it. You can feel soft fabric beneath your cheek, your fingers subconsciously beginning to stroke the surface below them. Your brows furrow as you begin to fully emerge from sleep. Your eyes sliding open to observe your surroundings. Your stomach sinks when met with so much red, suddenly forced to remember everything that had transpired before you lost consciousness. 

You're still in Alastor's radio tower, your eyes tracing over everything you hadn't gotten a proper look at before. Part of you hopes to find yourself alone, but with your cursory scan you find Alastor settled on the chair across from you, a book placed atop his crossed legs. He must have moved you to the couch after you'd passed out in his arms. An anxious embarrassed heat floods your face at the recollection, especially when you begin to recall everything that had come before it in such vivid detail. 

You felt so much confusion over your feelings, you weren't even sure you could pinpoint what they were. Coupling that alongside your dread at having to return to Vee Tower, you're almost afraid your head will explode from it all. You don't even realize Alastor is staring until he speaks softly. 

"You really ought to get some more rest my dear. You've been out far longer than I thought you'd be." He gives you a small grin. 

Your heart all but stops in your chest at his words. "How long have I been asleep?" 

"Several hours at least." 

"What time is it?!" You ask no longer able to hide the frantic tone of your voice. 

"Half past eight in the evening." He says without looking away. "Forgive me, I figure you'd appreciate the rest." 

"Oh my god. He's going to kill me. " You shoot up off the couch, though your legs immediately buckle, forcing you back onto the cushions. A hasty sob escapes you as the horror you're sure to face sets in. 

You had to go. You didn't know how far the Hazbin was from the Entertainment District but fuck you needed to leave now, no matter what. 

You suck in another deep breath before you rise back to your legs. This time though Alastor quickly appears by your side, his hands gently stabilizing you. 

"I have to go." You say it as a plea. 

"Let me escort you." He slides an arm around you, pulling you tight against his side. 

You immediately try to push back against him, needing to be as far away from him as possible if you had any hopes of surviving Vox. "No! That'll make it worse. Please just let me go." 

"And what sort of gentlemen would I be if I were to let a lady like you walk the streets of Hell all by herself. After all, it is such a far distance to your home." He says it like he's doing you a favor, but you'd give anything for him to listen and leave you be. What if Vox saw you two? What if he knew what happened? 

Alastor's grip tightens on you, an inky blackness beginning to fill your vision, cold static prickling along your chilled skin as you move through the shadow dimension. It's as quick as it was the first time and when the shadows fade from around you, your faced once more with the familiar lights of the Entertainment District. 

It takes you a second to get your bearings, but you realize quickly that he's brought the two of you not far from the tower. At least he had the decency to not immediately drop you on Vox's door in such an obvious manner. Still the fear flooding your body has you struggling to be very grateful. Alastor was still by your side holding onto you so tightly. 

He says something but you don't hear it. Your ears are ringing and your mouth tastes like ash. 

Your legs somehow manage to move you on autopilot with the help of Alastor's gentle coaxing. The streets around you move in a blur of colors and sounds that you don't really see or hear. You feel as if you're being marched to your death by the very person who marked you with your sentence. Your body is numb and heavy, your ears are filled with cotton. Somehow Alastor still manages to pull you along. 

You only begin to notice the staring right before you get to Vee Tower. People have begun to stop and stare, a few pointing or turning to whisper to someone beside them. It makes your already frozen body feel impossibly colder. 

"Alastor..." You don't know what else to say, but you feel weary and sick with all the eyes on you. 

You've reached the entrance, Alastor releasing his hold before coming to stand in front of you. He grabs your hand, dragging it up to his mouth. "It's been a pleasure, ma abeille." Then he places a lingering kiss on the back of your hand. It's the only part of your body that feels warmth. He shoots you a wink before pulling away. Then he's fading back into the shadows, and you're left alone. 

You swallow, turning back to the doors. 

For the first time in decades, you send a prayer up to a god who never cared for you. 

~

You go to your room first, even though there's really no need. You should be expecting all the notifications on your phone when you pick it up. The last one is from five minutes ago. 

8:45 P.M. 

Vox: I know you're home. Come downstairs. Now. 

You allow yourself exactly two minutes to cry without restraint before you force yourself to follow his order. There would be no avoiding your fate now. 

~

"A bit pathetic, don't you think?" Valentino's voice purrs cruelly behind Vox. "You've just barely begun to break her in and already the radio demon is trying to steal your toys. Honestly I thought I'd taught you to control your pets better." 

His hand slides along the back of Vox's shoulders and neck. The touch isn't kind, it's a cruel mockery of real affection. Vox can't even shrug it off. All he can do is watch and listen to the sound waves of the broadcast. 

He couldn't believe everything he was hearing. The words exchanged, the noises made, the things done—Vox was almost ready to say fuck it and go start a war with Alastor. 

How dare he? 

How dare you? 

When Val begins to stroke the edges of his screen while continuing his mockery, Vox has finally had enough. He shakes Val off. 

Vox's feelings are raw, almost as if his nerves were exposed. Valentino coming in to mock him as he couldn't help but face the nightmare of it all over and over again. He didn't want to believe it was true when he'd been informed of it, god did he want it to be a cruel and senseless joke. 

It wasn't. 

He hasn't been able to stop listening to it since. You responded to Alastor so well. Vox had known you nearly seven years and you were terrified to let him touch you, constantly fought him every chance. Yet it sounded like you were so good for Alastor, you listened and did as you were told. 

And Alastor? 

To hear him say what he did?

It feels like brutal daggers in his heart. 

He missed the days when Alastor spoke to him so gently, when he didn't look at him with contempt and disgust. He missed a time where he could believe he mattered to Alastor, that his feelings were returned on some level. A time before he made the worst mistake of his life. Would Alastor have stayed if Vox never confessed? Would they have had a better chance somewhere down the line? 

Vox wonders if he would have met you. 

Would he have cared if he still had Alastor by his side? 

It didn't matter either way. Alastor was no longer by his side, you were. And yet somehow, despite belonging to him—mind, body, and soul—Alastor still managed to steal you, even if it had only been for a day. 

The thing that hurt worst of all; He broadcasted it so shamelessly to all of Pride. Vox was all but publicly cucked by his worst enemy for every Sinner to hear. 

It wasn't just rejection that festered painfully inside his chest, it was the humiliation. The audacity for Alastor to pull such a bold move, it made Vox near blind with rage. He needed an outlet, he needed to put his feelings somewhere, anywhere. 

Valentino's mocking only made it worse. The one person who wanted him, he didn't even really want in return. He'd never say it to his lover's face, but Vox settled for him. The bruises that he frequently hid from the public were proof of that. 

A small part of him buried deep beneath all his layers and defenses, just wanted to be loved—truly loved—not this caricature Val gave him. He wanted to be loved with quiet words and gentle touches, not gnashing teeth and violent hands.  

A large frown forms on Valentino's face as he pulls his hand back.  "Oh come on Vox, I'm just having a little fun. After all, I know you won't let me participate in the real fun of it. Tell me." Valentino says as his eyes scan the water surrounding the room. "Can the little abeja swim?" 

There's a faint gasp that is only caught by Valentino, Vox far too distracted for his processors to have caught it.

Valentino's smile has returned with an intense cruelty, a vicious gleam caught in his eyes. 

He doesn't give Vox any time to respond, he licks up his neck before whispering close to his speakers. 

"Maybe you'll just have to test it for me." His eyes flash to the cracked door, he can't see you but he knows you're there. "Remember who we are," Val purrs. "Nothing less than perfection. So let's ensure that, shall we?" 

The smirk he wears is sick as he strides out of Vox's room. He's more than pleased to find he was right when he sees you tucked against the wall by the doors. You look abjectly terrified, there is no doubt in his mind. 

His smile grows as he leans close to you.

"I'd say good luck but I don't think even that would save you now." 

And then he's gone. 

~

Val made it so you're already weary when you step into his work room. There's a single moment of peace—of hope that things might be okay—before it's dashed to pieces at the sound of Alastor's voice echoing through the room.

It's as if a bucket of ice has been dumped on you. You can see where Vox's claws are digging tightly into his desk, his posture tense and on edge. 

Fuck. 

It's hearing your own voice that spurs you into turning and running. You know somewhere on a logical level how futile the attempt is, there was no getting away from this. If Vox wanted you, if he was going to hurt you, he would, and you—nor anyone else—would be able to stop him. 

Still it doesn't prevent you from doing it regardless. A mad dash to the doors with the desperate hope to do something to get away. Even if you knew better. 

You don't even make it half the distance back the way you came before long cold cables are snaking their way around your ankles. They wind fast and tight, rapidly yanking taught to collapse you to your knees. You hit the ground hard, sharp pain jolts through your body at the impact. Your hands slam against the cold steel of the walk way, the feeling biting painfully into your palms. A harsh cry escapes your lips upon the feeling of everything. 

You barely have time to gather yourself before the cables are pulling tighter and dragging you painfully across the floor. You can't help but shriek at the feeling of it all. The terror and desperation welling up in your chest to the brink of a panic attack. 

You still had yet to recover from Alastor's touch from the time you'd had together. It was too soon to be touched by another—let alone with such violence—to be ripped apart so entirely in both body and mind. Any reprieve you had from Alastor being gentle is gone. You knew Vox would show you a new brand of cruelty you'd never experienced before. 

Somewhere along being dragged to your master, you're flipped onto your back. When you're dragged to rest at Vox's feet you're left trying what you could to gulp down your fear. 

It wasn't working. 

His screen projected an intense look of displeasure tinged heavily with wrath. His dark red eyes filled with virulence, the bloody lines around his mouth are more saturated as they drip down his screen. He looked like he was struggling desperately to hold onto himself and his composure, and failing miserably at such. 

"Sounds to me like you were such a good girl for him, don't tell me you're not going to do the same for me?" His tone is filled with thinly veiled rage. 

"Vox please, I can explain." In all honesty you weren't sure you could, but that wouldn't stop you from trying. 

"I don't understand Bea, what does he have that I don't? What do you have that I don't? Why am I not good enough for either of you? You shouldn't get to have each other, he shouldn't get to touch you. You shouldn't get to feel his touch." He raises his voice in escalation with each word. He's losing himself, his composure unraveling around its frayed edges in a way you've never experienced. 

You didn't understand him, you didn't understand Alastor. You didn't understand any of this. Why you? Why of all people had it been you to be caught up between two of Hell's most dangerous Overlords?

The cold ground seeps into the thin fabric of your dress. The wires around your ankles grow tighter as they wind further up your legs. 

"Please Vox, you have to believe me. I didn't want to. I never asked for any of this." You plead like your life depends on it. 

Vox snorts before dropping down suddenly and looming in frighteningly close to your face. His features are contorted into a vicious snarl as he speaks his next words. 

"I don't believe you."

 "Please!" You begin to shout but more of his cords have begun to wrap themselves around you; one of them slides into place around your head, securing itself as a gag over your mouth. Two more wrap themselves around your wrists and arms, pulling them above you to prevent further attempts at resistance. 

The restraints around your legs pull themselves in separate directions, leaving you spread open in a lewd display for him. He lowers his body to loosely straddle your legs as he admires the position he's forced you into. 

His face distorts frighteningly as his eyes lower to your parted thighs. You're only now realizing you'd never gotten your underwear back, the distress to get home over riding any other thoughts. You've never seen Vox look so demonic, the fear of your own safety never so intense as it was now. His claws trace along your folds lightly but with the threat of harm behind it. 

You couldn't help but fear he'd rip you open with them, tearing you to shreds. 

Any sounds you make continue to be muffled, so you begin a frantic shake of your head in a means to dissuade him from proceeding further. 

"Don't give me any of that. Trust me you don't want to piss me off any further. Right now, I'm going easy on you. This is me being nice." His words come in and out like distorted static during glitched TV broadcast. Some of his threats echoing with more of an electric perversion than others.  

The first tear slips from your eyes as the tip of one of his cyan claws begins entrance into you. Everything feels like it's ramping up to a breaking point. A cataclysmic event where everything reaches its peak above it all. You can still feel Alastor's cum between your legs, it's the only thing easing Vox's intrusion into you. It almost feels worse knowing it's a physical aid, especially with the clear upset it's causing in Vox. He adds another finger as he glares down at you. 

You can't help but watch his expression in horror as his fingers slip deeper inside you. There's so many emotions you can hardly keep up. The ones you can pick out among the rest are anger and disgust. You swear you almost catch a hint of betrayal but it's overshadowed by the rest. 

When he retracts his fingers it's slow, allowing you to feel each movement. Your chest heaves as you try to catch a proper breath through your gag, your eyes watching his next move with caution. 

His focus has shifted to his fingers, the product of Alastor's release coating them in a thin sheen. He regards them with a twisted sneer as he rubs his thumb against the fingers, spreading the wetness around. A hollow sardonic laugh leaves him as his eyes begin to fill with a crazed emotion. 

"He really knows which of my buttons to push, doesn't he?" Though the question is posed out loud, you're almost sure it's said to himself more than anything else. 

"He's a liar you know." 

Your eyes move from his fingers back to his face, anticipation induced fear seizing your heart in a vice grip. 

What was Vox talking about? 

"He wouldn't treat you better. His promises that he'd take care of you? It's a game Bea. That's what Alastor does, he forces himself into the lives of others, he makes them care with lies and deceit. Then he leaves. He doesn't care about you, he doesn't care about anyone but himself. You really shouldn't have let him talk to you Bea and you really, really shouldn't have let him touch you." His voice grows more distressed and distorted with each word he speaks. 

It was like watching a loose thread unravel in real time.

You want to beg, plead, anything to get him to stop. 

His hand moves back down between your spread legs, his fingers tracing the outline of the bite mark Alastor had left on your thigh. 

"Alastor can try and claim you all he wants, but at the end of the day..." His other hand darts out to grab under your chin, his palm pressing harsh enough to cut off your air as he forces you to look up at him. "You will always be mine." 

You swear you can feel his words resonate through the very soul you'd sold to him. Tears spring to your eyes knowing he's right. 

You were the one who made sure you were forever tied to him. 

You'd always been a silly stupid girl making stupid life altering mistakes. 

You stare up at him with pleading eyes, if you could just get him to show you an ounce of mercy. You try to say something but the attempts are futile. 

Vox leans over you, hovering just above your face. His eyes regard you with harsh scrutiny, his gaze tracing over your features before moving down the length of your body. He gives a displeased hum before both of his hands come to the front of your dress to violently rip it apart. The fabric slides down your shoulders revealing the expanse of your bare skin below. 

He plants one of his hands beside your head while the other drags his claws from your throat down your body. His hand comes down to cup your cunt, his middle finger pressing harshly against your clit. You can feel him send a small jolt of electricity through you which causes your body to violently jerk, a muffled shriek accompanying it. 

"I'm so upset with you Bea. I really thought I had taught you better." 

He circles your clit with his finger, another pulse of electricity being sent through you. 

"Maybe if you beg for forgiveness I'll consider being gentle." 

You stare up at him with wide eyes. You want him to see the pleading intent behind them. You wanted to make this easier on yourself, if you could. You nod your head as best as you can, showing him your willingness—despite your apprehension remaining so intense. Maybe you could get out of this with less marks, with less scars. 

"What's that?" He mockingly asks. "You going to listen to me? Actually do as I say?" 

You feel another current move through you even in your willingness to submit. Another desperate sound lost to the gag in your mouth. 

"If you do as your told, I'll only have to teach you this lesson once." 

He suddenly pushes himself off you and stands. You've never felt so impossibly small than here in this moment beneath him. You wish you could do nothing more than shrink and disappear away into the ground beneath you. 

Vox watches you squirm anxiously on the ground for a minute before he's turning to sit back in his chair. He relaxes against it far more casually and comfortably than you'd expect with the wild expression he still wore. You could see how it continually fluctuated and morphed with different emotions. You felt witness to an internal battle you weren't fully understanding, you couldn't even if you tried. 

Abruptly Vox snaps his fingers and all the cords fall away from your body. You struggle to move right away, all you can do is stare at him in frozen fear. 

"Come on Blossom..." Vox taunts with a shake of his head. "Convince me why I should forgive you. If you were anyone else right now, you'd be dead already. Honestly I'd say you're lucky I have a soft spot for you." 

Part of you wants to ask him how, but it almost seemed silly at this point. It was clear what Vox wanted, you were afraid you couldn't give it to him. 

You had to try. 

At all costs, you had to survive. All you needed to do, was survive. 

Your stomach churns as you roll over and begin to slowly push yourself up. It takes multiple tries to properly support your weight with your arms before you can begin rising to your knees. There's a moment where you have to close your eyes to keep yourself from collapsing again. You push through it, doing what you can to make it to your feet before Vox's soft tsking causes your movements to falter. 

Your eyes meet him with question. 

"I want you to crawl to me. You do look better on your hands and knees after all." 

Something comes loose in your chest but your fight is dying. You take a deep breath before following through with his order. You place your hand one over the other as you slowly make your way towards him. It's humiliating, and the shame burns painful and hot in the back of your throat. You're fighting back tears as you move closer to rest at his feet. One slides free when your gaze meets his once more. 

"What do you have to say for yourself?" 

You don't even hesitate, it would only do you more harm. "Please Vox, I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't want to let him do it, I wanted to just come home but I couldn't. You have to believe me. I'm sorry. Please." 

You sound so desperate and pathetic, like a scared little child. 

Had you ever stopped being a scared child? Even if she'd been locked deep somewhere inside your brain, it was always her and her fear that motivated you and your decisions—the ones you could make for yourself. Sometimes you wonder what things would be like if someone had been there for that scared little girl, if the protection and love of another would have been enough to keep you safe—to chase away the monsters in your life and inside your head. 

But they hadn't. 

No one saved you then, and no one would save you now. 

"I don't think that's good enough." 

You don't know what else to do, you don't know what else to say. The look in Vox's eyes tells you you have to do something, anything. Your fawn instinct wakens from deep inside you, an idea blossoming in your mind. You try to keep your movements steady and confident as you place your hands on top of his thighs. 

Vox raises a brow at you but says nothing. You take it as the go ahead and continue your plan. You move your hands up and down on his thighs gently before beginning to move them higher. You push onto unstable legs as you slide carefully into Vox's lap, your hands never leaving him as they stroke up and down along the different parts of his body. You try to keep the fear from your expression but you know it's asking the impossible. 

If anything Vox liked your fear, he was thriving on the very scent of it lingering in the air. 

You carefully slide your legs along either side of his. The fabric of his suit rubbing against your sensitive skin in a way that makes you want to cry. You're so aware of every feeling and the over sensitivity makes you want to cry. 

Vox's smirk grows as your hands shakily make their way around his neck, pulling your small frame closer to his. You didn't know if this would work, this could potentially just be making things worse on you but his lack of reaction made you want to keep going. At least he wasn't getting violent, he wasn't pushing back. 

Maybe you could make this work in your favor as much as possible. You needed so desperately to make it work. 

Your hands move across his chest slowly, carefully thumbing the lapels of his jacket before gradually pushing it down and off his arms. There's no hiding the way you tremble in his lap, your fear holding you in a vice grip. 

"I'm begging you to forgive me Vox," Your voice trembles softly as you hover close to his face. "Please." 

He hums unconvinced before roughly claiming your mouth with his own. You fight against your instincts to flee, doing your best to let Vox lay his claim to you. Hot static prickles across your tongue when Vox thrusts his against yours. His hands seize you, injecting his control over the situation. You can't help but flinch in response, your flight urge kicking back in. Vox's teeth nip harshly at your lips causing you to rear back. 

His low chuckle sounds dangerous. "Oh I'm sorry, did that hurt? Here let me kiss it better."

His lips meet yours again with brutal force. One of his hands squeezes your hip roughly as the other drags his claws along the marks he'd left on your back this morning. You cry agonizingly into his mouth as he holds you against him. Your hands come up to scramble at his shirt, pushing and pulling—anything to get yourself away from him and his cruel touch. 

All your fight does is make him grip you tighter increasing the pain. 

Your blunt nails snag his chest in your frantic attempt to put some distance between you. Vox growls at the sensation, his eyes cutting to yours with a dangerous intensity.

"I really hate that you won't just behave." He snarls as his cables snag around your wrists once more before pulling them harshly behind your back. 

You let out a sharp cry as you feel your shoulder painfully shift with the abrupt movements. "Vox, please!"

"I think we're beyond begging now Blossom, don't you?"

Another cord wraps back around your mouth muffling your cries of distress. He throws you off his lap, but the wires around your wrists are quickly to hoist you up. You're barely kneeling at his feet, only held aloft by your restraints. He stares down at you with something like hatred and contempt as he rises to his feet. You almost think you catch a look of genuine suffering behind it all, though you could be making it up in your state of fear. 

He stands before you, you'd partially ripped open his shirt, leaving his heaving chest exposed. He takes a moment, emotions flickering across his face in a kaleidoscope of feelings.

You desperately try to pull in a proper breath as you wait for what comes next.

His hand shoots out to grab your jaw, the sharp tip of his thumb strokes back and forth tauntingly as he watches you with wild eyes. You've never seen him look so disheveled, so unhinged. You've never been more afraid of him than in this moment.

"You look best when you're at my mercy." His manic grin spreads.

His thumb suddenly digs into your cheek causing you to gasp around your makeshift gag. The sound only gets him to squeeze harder, pain blossoming across your face as you feel his claw pierce your skin. A drop of crimson quickly wells to the surface before slipping down your face. Vox's eyes track it with morbid fascination.

"Don't think of this as punishment Bea, think of it more like a lesson. I'll break you if that's what it takes to make you reach perfection."

Somewhere in the back of your mind you hear Evan's voice echoing similar words in a different lifetime.

He squats down in front of you, his tongue flicking out to lick up the sluggish trail of your blood. A content hum rumbling in his chest.

"I don't think I ever understood Alastor's particularly morbid tastes, until now."

He presses his claw deeper into your skin causing more blood to spill. He laps up this trail just as quickly and you find yourself fighting the urge to vomit. When Alastor consumed your blood it was painful, all you could do was focus on the searing agony of his teeth. But the way Vox laps at you as if you were a fine delicacy, it makes you violently ill alongside your terror.

You're no longer in control of yourself, your body running purely on survival instinct alone. Your bindings are tight but you fight against them with what you can. You just wanted to escape this feeling—the fear, the dread, the hopelessness.

Vox's free hand grabs onto the hair at the base of your neck, yanking you back at a painful angle so your forced to stare up into his menacing features.

"Your soul is completely in my hands, I'm not sure if you want to go testing my patience right now." Vox sighs. "Please don't do anything more to upset me. The mess wouldn't be good for either of us."

Still you can't help but resist him.

Vox's frustration mounts, a humorless chuckle falling from his lips. He increases his hold on you. "Maybe we'll have to test Valentino's theory, huh? I once heard bees can hold their breath for up to five minutes. Can you?"

Your eyes fill with wild fear as Vox begins to maneuver you closer to the edge of the walkway. You can see the water lapping gently against the sides, distantly you can make out his pet sharks in the depths. A shriek threatens from you once you realize what he intends to do, but it's too late.

He shoves your head under the water with such a force the wind is knocked from you. You can't help but inhale which forces a painful amount of water into your lungs. Just when you think it can't get worse, you feel Vox brutally force himself inside of you. You release a soundless scream beneath the water, the pain from his intrusion is debilitating. You can barely focus as your head grows light and weightless. You can feel your subconscious fading.

It's so much easier to submit, to just let it happen.

The air forced into your lungs is painful when Vox rips you from the water. He holds you tightly against him as water cascades from your hair down your body. You fight to properly breathe but everything else makes it impossible to do.

The feeling of his cock inside of you is torture, the size is too much to handle even when you were prepared. Your cunt flutters and clenches painfully around it. You can't decide if the pain between your legs is worse than the pounding in your head.

Both of the feelings morph into one another as Vox suddenly pulls out of you only to harshly slam back in as he pushes your head under the surface once more.

Your mind blanks out with white hot agony.

No sound reaches you, no thoughts process. All you can feel is pain.

You wanted it to stop.

God you just wanted it to stop.

Your lungs feel on the brink of bursting, your body spasming uselessly in Vox's hold.

You always fought far longer than you should have.

There's a moment of reprieve, everything suddenly going black.

Then your lungs catch fire as your eyes fly open. A scream tearing from your lips before you can even stop it.

You're on your back staring up at the dark ceiling, the lights of Vox's monitors barely illuminating that far up. Vox's weight on top of you is unbearable. Despite the pain, every instinct in your body is still telling you to run.

But you're so weak, you can barely fight back.

You feel detached from your body and all too aware of it at the same time. Vox is still rutting mercilessly against you, his claws dug viciously into your hips—you swear he's drawn more blood.

One of his hands moves to your throat. You're unable to suppress a fresh wave of fear when you meet his gaze, his lips move but you don't hear his words. All you can hear is a high pitched ringing as your body twitches violently against him.

You can't help but slam your eyes shut when he thrusts in at a particularly harsh angle, the line between pleasure and pain momentarily blurring. It always felt so much worse when there was pleasure, it'd be easier if it was all pain. 

You wanted to only feel the pain.

"Look at me!" Vox's voice finally breaks through the ringing. His grip on your face grows tighter, his hips continually slamming against yours.

Your eyes fly open, a whimper catching in your throat. You only now realize your gag is gone, not knowing when it disappeared.

"You are mine! That's never going to change. You sold your soul to me, not him! You will always belong to me, I decide who you are, what you are. Your fate is mine."

Vox's movements grow more rapid and harsh to punctuate each of his words. He claws and clings to you like you're his salvation and he's angry about it. 

"I'll never let you forget that."

His lips crash against yours with a desperate hunger, a need to consume as if you could grant him new life. His hips slam into you a final time, his release burning you up from the inside out.

He growls into your mouth when even now you still try to break from his hold. "Mine!" 

Something final inside you breaks. A wave of defeat and despair hitting you with full force. There was no room for you to accept anything else. Vox was right. You were his. That would never change. 

You would be what he wanted you to be. Do what he wanted you to do. 

If he told you to throw yourself of the tower, you would. 

You had no other choice. 

Any remaining fight flees you, your body falling completely limp inside Vox's arms. 

Your eyes are closed when he breaks apart from you. You can't manage it—it's too painful. There's a few beats of nothing, neither of you moving. You flinch away at the light touch of his fingers along your face. 

"Shh..." He coaxes softly. 

He repeats the action, stroking softly along your cheek. He carefully pushes the wet strands of your hair away from your face. The gentle action feeling like the ultimate form of mockery. 

"I don't think I've ever really noticed just how beautiful you are, Bea." His voice is the most subdued it's been all day, he sounds almost content. "I really think you and I could love each other. Maybe you could make this pain go away." 

You can't help but look up at him in shock. 

What the fuck was he saying? 

You think you might have suffered brain damage from his drowning attempt. Surely that had to be the case, he wasn't really looking at you with that expression—like you could fix all his broken pieces. Not after everything he just put you through. 

"I'm lucky you were stupid enough to say yes to a deal with me. Even if it took me almost seven years to notice." 

You can feel him twitch inside you and despite your exhaustion, your fear freshly stirs. 

For the first time in days you're shown mercy when he withdrawals from you completely instead. His sad sigh at the loss of your warmth covers up your sigh of relief. 

You watch blankly, your body growing cold and numb, as he leans back and tucks himself back into his pants. 

"The pain is temporary, but you'll forever have learned better after this." Vox says, leaning over and gathering you into his arms. 

You're too tired to do anything other than tuck your head into his shoulder as he stands. Your body screaming in desperation for some reprieve. 

"You're not perfect yet, but you will be." 

Chapter Text

You wake up in a bed you immediately know isn't your own. The silk sheets cocooning your broken body could only really belong to one person. You don't immediately sense another presence in the room with you, causing you to dare peek your eyes open to take in your surroundings. The large amount of blue that greets you is all the confirmation you need to know you're in Vox's room. 

You'd only caught brief glimpses of it through the doorway. It was the one place in Vox's penthouse you'd never personally stepped foot in. Now you were wrapped up in the center of his bed, tucked in as if done with care. Even laying still, you can feel the pain pulsing through different parts of your body. It was far duller than last night, but it demanded your attention nonetheless. 

Your attempt to roll fully onto your back causes you to release a distressed whimper. The gouges Vox had left on your back still stung with ruthless determination. You're forced instead to roll back onto your side, your body curling defensively in on itself. Maybe if you made yourself small enough, you'd disappear. 

You stare blankly out the floor to ceiling windows along one side of Vox's room. The red morning light of the Pride ring filters through the blue tinted windows casting a purplish tinge across the room. 

Your mind swims with all the events of yesterday. It was so hard to believe it'd only been a day. You'd been savagely taken apart in both body and mind by two men in the span of less than twenty-four hours. It felt almost like a miracle you hadn't broken yet. 

Or had you? 

The feeling of numb despair wasn't new to you, but this felt different. You'd never felt so hollowed out, as if you'd been scooped clean from the inside out and were now left an empty shell. You'd been used as a pawn before, your whole life being played within a game you had no control over. 

It only seemed fitting you'd still be forced to endure the wicked machinations of men even in death. This was your fate, to be passed from one set of hands to the next as you're used, abused, and then tossed to the side like a piece of rubble. 

You couldn't do this. 

You wouldn't survive this. 

You wish Vox had just extinguished your soul and been done with it. 

Maybe then you'd finally know peace. 

You long to know what it would be like to no longer be haunted by the things done to you by others, for freedom and control over yourself. What would things look like if you weren't always afraid? If you weren't always being chased by memories and the feelings they brought. What if you had someone who genuinely protected you, who would keep you safe from ever being harmed again? 

The thoughts were foolish, but you couldn't help thinking them. Anything that could be a temporary escape from everything else. If you could distract yourself with fantasies, no matter how unrealistic, maybe surviving reality would be easier. 

Your mind drifts back to the lazy comfortability of your apiaries. You'd never felt safer or more relaxed than the time you spent with your honeybees. It'd been a peculiar hobby to pick up in your teen years, all the students at school finding you strange when you spoke about it. They'd been the one thing Evan didn't taint with his twisted touch, until he did. 

You never blamed the bees for your murder, they didn't know any better. You barely knew better when he'd shoved you into a room full of an agitated swarm of them. You don't know what he'd done, but he'd gotten them angry—scared—they didn't recognize you. The stings stopped hurting far quicker than you would have thought. You're not even sure you really remember dying, it just felt like one minute you were alive, and then next you were here in Hell. 

It felt like the ultimate form of cruelty from your husband. You'd endured so much, you'd been so good, did everything he said, tried to be his perfect doll. In the end though, you'd always end up cast aside for not being good enough. You'd begun to stumble during his cons, your accidents far more frequently needing to be fixed or covered up. Maybe you could have made it through if that'd been the only case, but Evan wanted a child. 

You hadn't been good enough to give him one. Your body refusing to do the one thing you were raised to do. 

So when Evan realized he was playing with a broken doll, he threw it away. 

With his final act against you, he finished stealing everything from you. 

You didn't know whether to laugh or cry when you first looked into a mirror upon arriving in Hell. You couldn't tell if it was a karmic slap in the face or the universes attempts to give you some semblance of comfort. If you're being honest with yourself, you still don't know. 

You hear a door open somewhere else in the penthouse causing you to wrap yourself tighter in Vox's navy sheets. You wanted to make yourself as small as possible. 

That feeling only increases when the figure casting a shadow over the room isn't even the one you're expecting. 

It's so much worse. 

"Well, this certainly isn't what I expected to stumble upon this morning," Valentino's sickly sweet voice echoes gleefully from the doorway. "I thought you might be off somewhere in Hell regenerating a new body." 

You resist the urge to completely tuck yourself into a ball and hide away from the giant moth. Though you don't even know what to say. Why was Val even here? Would he leave you alone if you didn't give him any reason to stay? Could you ignore him long enough to escape more conflict? 

You always strived to make it so you were never alone with the other Vees, they were too unpredictable with Vox in the room with them, fuck knows you didn't want to know how it extended when they didn't have a reason to reign in their behavior. Vox strangely enough—even with the events of last night—was the most predictable of his partners. He was also the owner of your soul so he'd defend you from them to an extent. 

Now though you were alone with Valentino for the first time ever, and the fear was clarifyingly sharp. 

Your heart rate picks up at a jack rabbits pace, your body tensing painfully through the fear. Your hands shake as they clutch tighter around your fabric shield. Anxiety prickles along your exposed skin, and you become painfully aware of your vulnerable state beneath the covers. 

The word consent didn't seem to exist in Valentino's vocabulary, and you're almost positive without his boyfriend present, you wouldn't be an exception to that. You knew how Angel was treated and he was Val's top performer, why would Vox's play thing be any different. 

"Really, I'm surprised you're even in one piece considering the temper tantrum Vox threw before you came home. He was so very upset." Valentino muses as he pulls away from the door frame and begins walking towards you. 

His movements are calculated like a predator stalking its prey. His burning red eyes narrowed into slits as he regards you with an indecipherable expression. 

Your body is screaming at you to run. Hell you'd run straight through the windows to the pavement below if you thought it would do you any good. Your growing awareness of your nudity keeps you frozen. It was bad enough Vox had seen you so exposed, especially with everything he's done to you. The last thing you needed was Valentino taking it as an open opportunity. 

A small part of your subconscious was also afraid that if he did, and Vox came back, he'd simply turn a blind eye at that point and let Valentino finish with you. 

His towering form moves closer to the bed and you completely lose your ability to keep eye contact with him. 

Alarm bells scream loudly in your head but you're helpless to do anything. 

It's nearly impossible to suppress the shriek that rises in you when he suddenly drops to the edge of the bed, his massive frame reaching close to you even with him sitting. You can't stop yourself from scrambling back across the bed, immediately forgetting about your prior apprehension. 

Valentino leers at you with a large grin that only grows when the sheets fall away from your body. Something akin to a rumbling growl echoes from his chest. 

"Well, well, well, you really were hiding something under all that fabric. Shame Vox seems so intent on not sharing." 

You hate the way he's looking at you, his body is coiled and tense as if about to strike. 

Then, he does. 

He lunges at you with a speed you're helpless to stop. Just as you turn to launch yourself from the bed, his hand catches one of your wings to pull you back towards him. You let out a panicked cry at the agony it sends through you, his grip is so tight it feels as if your wings might threaten to tear. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. If not, I might have to do Vox a favor and clip your wings." 

"No!" You gape up at him with fear filled eyes. 

"Shut up!" 

Valentino grabs your hair tightly before shoving you face first into the mattress. You let out a fearful whimper into the sheets. 

"If you're quiet and take this like a good bitch, Vox won't find out." He grunts as he tries to get you to cease your struggle. 

"Oh I think he will actually." 

You'd never been so grateful to hear Vox's voice. You nearly cry with relief. 

"Get away from her, Val." His voice is heavy with displeasure. 

You can't see him from your angle on the bed but you know he's wearing a look of aggravation. You can feel the tension crackling in the air between the two Overlords. Valentino grips your hair tighter, pushing you further into the bed before releasing you. 

"You used to be so much fun Vox." He purrs as you feel his weight leave the bed entirely. 

You can't help the way your breathing picks up as if you're about to have a panic attack. The fabric of the sheets suddenly feels coarse and brittle beneath your bare skin. 

"You don't get to talk to her that way, and you sure as shit don't get to touch her like that." Vox's voice begins to distort with subtle bursts of buzzing electricity. 

"Don't I though? I thought what's yours is mine, mi amore. Isn't that how relationships work?" Valentino coos sweetly as he moves across the room to Vox. 

You keep your head down in the blankets, you wanted to draw as little attention to yourself as you could. It'd be easier to just leave them to it. Still Vox's words and tone leave you feeling... strange. 

"You know I can still smell you between her legs. Tell me, did you enjoy the Radio Demon's sloppy seconds?" 

A distorted growl rips from Vox, the sound heavily laced with static. The lights in the room begin to cut in and out, the electricity humming and popping loudly. 

"Get. Out." Vox's voice carries throughout the space in a haunting way. Everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

"Oh come on, you know I'm just teasing." Valentino murmurs. 

"I'm not in the mood Val. Leave." He violently shoves his finger in the direction of the door.

"Touchy today, are we? Alright, fine. I'll leave you to your little temper tantrum. Seems like you found a good outlet for it anyway." He leans in close to Vox, his voice dropping in tone. "I've taught you so well." 

With the soft sound of his wings swishing and the door closing, he's gone leaving you and Vox in solitude once more. 

You feel the bed dip next to you before you're being pulled into his arms. The quick change in positions shocks you, but it's the way he's holding you that ends up shocking you more. Despite his horrid treatment last night—his wrath about Alastor—he gathers you into his arms as if you were something precious. 

"Blossom, are you okay? Did he hurt you?" All the filters over his voice have ceded and his voice is now so gentle. 

The irony of his question is far from lost on you. You don't want Vox to see the tears forming in your eyes, so you bury your head into his chest, clinging to him like he'll offer you your salvation. It hurts, to seek comfort in your abuser. You always did because you had no other form of it. You'd take your comfort where you could get it, and right now, it was in the arms of the monster who caused your distress in the first place. 

"Bea? Please talk to me." 

Though instead of pushing you away, his arms cradle you closer. His touch now feels like such a rough juxtaposition to last night. How were the hands holding you so tenderly be the same ones to have drowned you last night? 

The mere memory of the panic and desperation he caused draws more tears to your eyes. 

His hands carefully move to cup your face, pulling you away from him just enough to be able to look down at you. His expression immediately softens when he sees your tear stained cheeks. The ache in your heart grows in the quiet moment where all you do is watch each other. 

"Did Valentino hurt you?" His tone is more serious but still soft. 

Finally you answer him with a shake of your head. The movement causes the tears to spill faster and you can no longer look at him. You put your face back against his chest, your hands clinging to his shirt with desperation. 

Vox lets out a sigh of relief. One of his hands comes up to stroke your hair, shushing you quietly. 

"I won't let him. I'll never let him lay a hand on you." Vox murmurs against your scalp. 

"Promise?" You question in distress. 

Vox makes a broken sound somewhere deep in his chest, one telling of untold pain. You didn't know the extent of his and Valentino's relationship, but you knew it wasn't healthy, or even really good. 

"I promise." He breathes out like a prayer. 

The two of you stay like that for a few more minutes, Vox not seeming to care as your tears begin to wet the fabric of his clothes. He hums gently as one of his hands carefully rubs your back while avoiding the wounds he'd left the prior morning. They were the most healed out of all the injuries, but they were still agonizing when touched. 

"Can I cook you breakfast?" 

The question is so absurd it makes you bark out a laugh. You can't help it, your emotions are so heightened and your brain fried. You don't even think about the possibility of him getting upset by your reaction. 

You pull back from him, eyes scrutinizing his features to figure out whether or not he's joking. 

It doesn't look like he is. 

"Vox..." You start to say cautiously. "As nice as that sounds, you and I both know you're basically helpless in the kitchen." 

He draws back, a hand coming up to clutch at his chest. Though the expression on his face is light and teasing. "Am not!" 

His silly reaction draws a small smile to your face. The topic of Vox's utter shit abilities in the kitchen isn't new between you. There was a reason the Vee's were ordering food more often than cooking. None of them could really cook to save their lives. Especially Vox. 

The sudden shift in your moods leaves you feeling strange, and for a second you have to remind yourself of who Vox really is and what he's done. What he's done to you. This feels too comfortable, especially with last night still being so raw. You can't help but admit your gratitude for it, a shred of normalcy feels nice, even if you knew it was only temporary. 

"Unless your aim is to poison me, you and I both know it'd be better to order something." 

Vox lifts his finger as if he's about to protest but then thinks better of it. "Alright... fine. You win. But you get to pick what we're eating. I don't even care if it's that shitty place down in the doomsday district. Though I'm still fucked to know why you like it." 

You're shocked he remembered the place you always had a preference for. There had been many a night where the two of you would end up pulling all nighters together to get the workload you had finished. Most of the times Vox would end up picking without your input, but the few times he did—and the even fewer times he agreed—you would always offer up the same suggestion. It's been so long since you had though, you're a bit shocked he remembered in any capacity. 

"Really? You hate that place." 

"I never said hate. Strong disgust isn't too far off though." His expression pulls into a sour one before smoothing back out. 

The sudden reminder of why you're here, of what you are to Vox, puts a bit of a bitter lens over this. 

"What about work?" You question quietly, your eyes focused on your lap. 

"Oh there's plenty to be done, but I think it's okay if we have a slightly later start to our day, hmm?" 

When you look up, he shoots you a grin that further spins your emotions out. 

You weren't asleep right now, this wasn't a dream, but this felt wrong. The events of the night still weigh heavily at the front of your mind, the physical reminders still pressed painfully into your skin. But Vox was being... 

What was Vox doing? 

You suppose Evan would do something similar, he'd put you through the worst pains of your life only to beg and attempt to buy back your forgiveness the next day. It was a violent whiplash every time it happened, your mind and body never quite being able to catch up with it all. It had broken you down to nothing, made you complacent but what other choice did you have if you wanted to survive? You never forgave him—you couldn't—but if you'd tried to deny him, it would only result in things worsening. You learned to take whatever Evan gave you, no matter if it was the violence or the rare kindness. You had no other choice. 

"Okay..." You agree quietly. 

His grin widens, his eyes brightening. It takes everything in you not to flinch away when he reaches his hand out to you. His thumb gently trails beneath your eyes, only now making you aware that you'd begun crying again. His eyes watch you with a strange emotion you're hopeless to name as he tenderly brushes your tears away. 

"There's my good Bee." 

After a moment he gets to his feet, extending a hand out to help you to yours. 

"I'll order the food, why don't you get in the shower. I'll join you in a minute." He says while gently ushering you towards the bathroom. 

You have no choice but to let him lead you there, not even desiring to push back on it. A shower did sound nice to you right now, you just wished you'd be able to remain alone while you did. 

The room he ushers you into looks like a clear extension of the bedroom, the color scheme and decor only shifting to suit the type of room. A giant shower takes up the entire back wall, glass doors enclosing the space. The back wall is made of white and grey marble, dark black grooves running through the design. The rainfall shower head spans the length of the ceiling, an illuminated pad on the doors allow for temperature control. It's so luxurious and makes you feel even more alien in the space. 

The tile below your feet is ice cold, sending a shock through your system. 

For a moment all you can do is simply stand in the middle of the room where Vox has left you. Your body freezes as you struggle to proceed with beginning the task by yourself. Your chest feels tight, tears burning at the back of your eyes. 

Why is a task as simple as moving your feet a short distance so impossible right now? 

How useless could you be if you couldn't follow a simple instruction? 

Vox will be so upset when he comes in here only for you to not have moved at all. But even as your mind wills your body to move, it just can't follow through with the command. 

You feel as if you're screaming out in your mind, begging to be able to do what you want and need to do. 

It shouldn't be this hard. 

Why was this so hard? 

"Blossom?" Vox's voice startles you from behind. 

He comes to stand in front of you, a look of concern crossing his expression. His eyes look you over from top to bottom before coming to rest on your face. His expression minutely softens. 

"Hey... you're okay. There's no need for tears. Let's get you into the shower doll, it'll help make things better." 

You almost miss the grimace he makes as he gently urges your tense body forward. Your body shakes with the effort but you don't protest. 

Vox stops before the doors, fingers quickly tapping away at the controls before the water begins to cascade down from the ceiling. You stare blankly at the floor as he strips behind you before opening the door and ushering you both inside. You allow Vox to move you about, your body following each of his small guiding touches as he moves to clean the both of you. He's shockingly gentle as he works shampoo into your hair, carefully avoiding your antennae as his claws gently massage it into your scalp. When he begins to rinse it he blocks the water from flowing into your eyes with his hand along your forehead, before he repeats the process with conditioner. 

He breaks the silence when he begins to scrub your body with a soapy wash cloth. 

"Bea... please say something. You're starting to scare me." His concerned tone feels like such a harsh juxtaposition to the flash backs of last night running through your head. 

Your eyes slowly shift to his, though your gaze remains unfocused and distant. 

"I'm sorry..." You whisper softly. "I'm fine." 

The water runs down Vox's screen, the droplets magnifying the digital pixels of his face. It reminds you of the bright neon lights of the city you grew up in when it rained. A specific drop catches your attention as it traces the side of it before catching on the edge of his screen, threatening its impending fall. 

Vox says something but it sounds like you're underwater. You don't even notice the change in his expression at your lack of reaction. 

Your surroundings become distant, your body detaching from itself as your brain puts you into a state of limbo within your thoughts and emotions. 

By the time you come back into awareness your sitting on the edge of Vox's bed dressed in one of his button up shirts, the fabric swallowing you with your considerable size difference. Vox is dressed in a pair of sweats and a loose V-neck shirt. He's crouched in front of you, one of his hands placed on each of your knees. 

You can feel the water drip from your hair down your neck and back. The sensation is uncomfortable but you can't bring yourself to care much about it. 

"Bea?"

Vox moves his hand in an abrupt motion towards your face and you can't help the way your entire body flinches away. 

"Please don't hit me!" You shriek despairingly, your hands moving to block your face as your body tries to move away. 

The worried expression on Vox's face grows stronger, his digital brows furrowing in serious concern. 

"I'm not." He answers dejectedly, his hand hovering in the air. "I'm just trying to make sure you're okay." 

There's a strange part of you that feels the need to reassure him, to ease his discomfort but you barely have the energy to form a verbal response. 

Something inside of Vox aches painfully at the realization of your damage running much deeper than your time here in Hell, a lingering human part of him he didn't really think still existed. 

His phone chimes on the nightstand drawing both of your attention away. He sighs before standing and walking over to it. 

"Food is here. I'm going to run down and get it, stay right here." 

Then he's gone, zipping through the tower's electrical system to get down to the ground floor. 

Your lungs heave with the effort of steadying your breathing, your eyes filling with fresh tears. Your surroundings don't feel real, the texture of the sheets feels wrong, objects looking off in ways you can't quite pin point. Even the air seems to contain a different quality than normal.

You collapse backwards on the sheets, your eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as you try to comprehend all that's happened. 

Was it really just a few days ago that you'd met Alastor? 

It hadn't even been a week and so much has happened. 

How was it only Friday? 

Your body feels as if you've been hit by a semi truck, pains unrelated to yesterday's ordeals popping up alongside it. Your muscles feel tight, as if they're containing feelings you've long since forgotten but your body hasn't. The weight of the whole world pushing down on your chest threatening your total collapse beneath it. 

"Bea." Vox's voice calls upon re-entry. 

You abruptly startle upright, your body subconsciously moving you backwards on the bed. 

"Sorry," you murmur sullenly. "I didn't hear you come back in." 

"Let's go eat in the kitchen." Is all he says before he's turning around, expecting you to follow suit. 

You force yourself to take another deep breath before rising onto unsteady legs to comply with his command. 

Each step you take feels like you're sinking further and further into quicksand, the very gravity of Hell threatening to bring you to your knees. 

Vox sets the bags on the table before moving to pull out a chair for you. He pushes it in carefully as your gaze zones out on the table in front of you. It sparks a sense of déjà vu from the coffee shop with Alastor. 

Vox is saying something to you as he lays the various take out containers on the table but despite hearing him, you don't process a single one of his words. When he opens one to place in front of you, the contents shock you enough to look up at him—something akin to a question in your gaze. 

"This is what you always order, isn't it?" Vox confidently inquiries. 

Your voice is barely audible as you respond. "It is." 

"If it's not to your tastes for any reason, I got a few other things to try." He says with a small flourish to the spread on the rest of the table. 

"Thank you." You say softly with a nod of your head in acknowledgment, even though the food in front of you makes your stomach curl. The thought of putting anything in your mouth right now causing a visceral reaction to bloom inside you. 

Still you can't afford to upset Vox by denying him. Your motions are mechanical as your plastic fork stabs through the food in front of you. 

A high pitched ringing echoes loudly in your ears alongside the thundering beat of your heart. Your hand shakes as you lift the fork to your lips. 

You don't know if it's intentional or not, but Vox decides this is the best moment to spring a request, or rather his next demand of you. He does so with what could be considered a malicious smile. 

"Tomorrow night you'll be joining me as my date to the gala. I've already arranged for Velvette to make your dress." 

Your stomach drops alongside your fork. 

Chapter Text

The person looking back at you from the mirror isn't you, it can't be. Yet you raise your hand to your face and the reflection does the same. 

Velvette has turned you into a beautiful caricature of yourself, it's impossible to deny. You still hate it though. 

The smoky eye she's given you exaggerates your natural eyes, a bold bright red lipstick to compliment the daring look. Your skin looks flawless, every bit the doll you feel like. She's done your hair up in an elegant up do, small ringlets framing your face. Your antennae twitch uncomfortably underneath it all, expressing your discomfort. 

The dress she crafted for you under Vox's direction is nothing less than her usual standard of perfection. The fabric she chose is black chiffon making it shockingly comfortable. Though the lace comprising up the halter neck causes your skin to itch below it. The skirt is cinched at the waist before flowing down into a high low skirt, the front of which stops just above your knees. The back of the dress is low enough your wings can rest comfortably against your skin whilst also being put on display. 

You shift uncomfortably in the black pumps she'd shoved on your feet, absolutely dreading spending the entirety of the night within them. 

In the room across from where you've been getting ready, you can hear the sound of Vox and Valentino fighting. Each bitter venom laced word making you flinch each time their pitch raised.

"I just didn't expect you to be escorting your whore to such an important event." Valentino's sickly sweet yet venomous tone slithers through the open door. 

"She's not a whore Val!" Vox says and you watch as the lights flicker for a moment. 

The chuckle Valentino lets out is low and mocking. "Mhmm, whatever you say Voxy. Let's just hope you trained her properly, I'd hate for her to ruin something so important for us. Perfection, remember?" 

Your stomach churns sickly.

Velvette's snicker draws your attention back up to the mirror, her eyes meeting yours in the reflection, a sneer on her lips. 

"You've really got those fuckers worked up this week. Val hates being out shined." 

"I'm sorry..." You whisper softly. "I don't mean to." 

Velvette scoffs as she grabs her clutch from of the table. "Yeah, that's the fuckin' point, doll." She says the last word mockingly.

On the other side of the wall you hear something shatter. 

"God dammit Valentino!" Vox roars. 

A set of heavy footsteps thunders out of the room at the same time a jolt of static snaps through the air. Vox appears behind you, his hand latching a bit harshly onto your shoulder. He gives a slight tug to turn you to face him. 

"You and I are driving separate." Vox's tone leaves no room for argument, whether from you or his two partners you're not sure. 

~

Your stomach sinks when the town car pulls up to the venue. You knew the gala tonight would be a big and important one, but the sheer size of the building and the large amount of individuals milling about causes what minor confidence you may have had about the evening to dissipate entirely. 

You can't help the way your hand shakes as it reaches for Vox's offered one. Your anxiety mounts ten fold when you're pulled from the car, only to immediately be met with the flashes of a hundred cameras and a sea of voices. 

"Stand up straight, Blossom. Smile. Don't say anything. Follow me." Vox orders into your ear before slipping his hand around your waist to pull you into him. 

He plasters a large smile on his face as he throws a genial wave to the crowd. 

"Vox!" 

"Mister Vox!" 

"Is there a reason the other Vees aren't with you?" 

"Who's your date?" 

It feels like everyone is trying to get his attention, the flashing lights and loud voices making your head spin as you move forward on unstable legs.

"Do you have anything to say about the Radio Demon's most recent broadcast?"

His claws painfully curl into your side at that particular reporter's question. You try everything you can to keep the smile plastered on your face and not wince. 

"Vox!" 

"Are you and Valentino still together?" 

You're only able to breathe some semblance of relief once you cross the threshold of the venue. The crowd outside being silenced upon the doors closing. 

You stare straight ahead as Vox slows his pace. He walks you over to the side of the grand hall, before stopping entirely. You turn to him a question already on your lips but he's already speaking. 

"I'm sorry, I should have prepared you better before tonight but I didn't have much time. Your job tonight is to look your gorgeous little self and keep your mouth shut. Don't speak unless directly addressed. I'd prefer you stay completely quiet but I know that's not entirely realistic. Don't fuck this up for me Bea. Tonight is more important than you know and I will not have you ruin it. Do I make myself clear?" 

"Yes Vox." You whisper meekly. 

"Good girl." He purrs. "Let's go. I've got lots of people to talk to. It's going to be a long night." 

A sweeping sense of vertigo washes over you once you break through the doors into the main event hall. A few hundred people laying on the other side. You immediately recognize many of them even with your brief cursory sweep of the room. 

Overlords, most of them if not all of them in their entirety. A few other powerful faces from around Pride fill in around the room as well, you recognize a few of the more well known Ars Goetia. You think you might have even spotted the princess but you're not entirely sure.

You realize now why Vox was so adamant about how important this night was with all these high ranking individuals. It has you questioning all over again why he brought you of all people as his date tonight. There's no way you could survive tonight without fucking up. Your heart is already thundering in your chest, your ears starting to ring as the noise of the rest of the room starts to fade out. Colors blur in your vision as your gaze zones out in the middle of the room. At some point you think you forget how to breathe, your ribs ache as if they're being squeezed in a vice. 

"God dammit." Vox's growl cuts through your mind. 

A steel grip wraps it's way around your arm, cyan claws digging into your delicate skin. Your wrenched backwards as Vox begins to haul you off out into the hall. 

You can't even manage a sound of distress, only silent tears drip from your eyes. 

~

Across the room a particular pair of individuals you'd somehow missed makes a comment regarding the scene that many others hadn't had the time to see. A sharp scowl formed on one's face while the ever present grin of the other failed to falter. 

"Well that was rather dramatic." Alastor drawls with a tone akin to boredom. 

"Alastor! Did you not see the poor girl? Have a heart." Rosie chides from off to the side.  

"Rosie dear, it's rather hard to have a heart when you've stopped so many others." 

Rosie sighs, her frown growing deeper with her concern. "You know this is your fault." 

Alastor scoffs with offense. "I hardly see how what just happened was my fault."

Rosie fixes her friend with a hard stare, her arms crossing in front of her chest. 

"I think you know full well what you were doing when you made that broadcast earlier this week. Did you not stop to think of how it would affect the poor girl? Not just the reaction you'd get out of Vox?" 

"She's a big girl, I'm sure she can handle herself." His tone is callus but the words taste rather ashy to him. 

"Alastor..." Her displeasure is more evident than before. She's near scowling at her friend and despite his care free attitude regarding other's thoughts of him, it hits him harder than he'd like to admit. 

"What would you have me do Rosie? Chase after her like some knight in shining armor? You and I both know that's not really my style." 

"Considering the look on that poor girl's face, right now, it needs to be. At least go make sure he's not killing her, it's the least you can do after subjecting her to his ire in the first place." 

Alastor lifts his finger in an attempt at protest but Rosie quickly cuts him off. 

"Please Alastor." She implores gently, her stomach turning more sour with each moment he lingers. 

She'd do it if she thought she had any ability to take on Vox by herself. At least she could hedge her bets on Vox not wanting to make a particularly dramatic scene at such an important event, even with his strong loathing and distaste for Alastor. 

Alastor lets out a long suffering sigh before twirling his microphone behind his back, straightening up with a look of hard determination on his features. 

"If this ends poorly, I'm blaming you dear." 

"I'll accept whatever comes." Rosie shrugs. "Just make sure she's okay." 

~

Your back is pressed into the cold marble wall, Vox having tucked the two of you into a small alcove where it was less likely you'd be seen. His claws threaten to pierce painfully into the skin of your jaw while the expression on his screen is twisted in a displeased snarl. 

"You're hurting me." You murmur, fighting to get away from his painful hold. 

"What do you mean it hurts? If it hurts that's because you're struggling. Stop." His grip tightens as he wrenches you forward up to his face. "If you just did as your told, this wouldn't be a problem would it?"

"I'm sorry." You cry, your eyes brimming with tears. "Please, I'm so sorry. I'll do better." 

"Oh Vox, is that anyway to treat a lady?" The last voice you'd hope to hear breaks through the otherwise silent hallway. 

The speed in which Vox whirls around threatens to give you whiplash just from watching it. His grasp on you remains firm and unyielding but his attention is now fixed on the owner of the voice that's now joined you. 

Why was he here? 

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Vox's voice growls with an edge of distortion. 

Alastor looks upon the scene of you two, something akin to a sneer marring his features. "Now is that any way to greet an old friend?" He tilts his head. 

You can feel Vox's claws dig deeper into your chin, the skin finally breaking underneath the pressure of is hold. You can't suppress the whimper it draws out of you. 

"You and I both know we haven't been friends for a long fucking time." 

Alastor rolls his eyes, looking bored. "Ah yes, because you couldn't handle not having more with me if I recall correctly." 

"You fucking bastard." Vox snarls as he finally releases you to lunge at the other Overlord. 

Alastor dissipates into his shadows before appearing in the empty space Vox had left in front of you. 

It happens so suddenly it takes Vox a second to process it. Though Alastor wastes no time in gently tilting your face up towards his to give it a proper examination. 

"Are you alright?" He softly asks. 

Vox turns back around, his expression glitching frantically, bloody red lines dripping from his mouth with his anger, black spirals beginning to swirl in his left eye. 

"Get your filthy fucking hands off of her!"

"Or what?" Alastor taunts. "You really want to make a move against me here, with all those witnesses in the other room? Think of what your pathetic associates would say?" 

The lights around the room flicker, Vox's indignant rage growing stronger the longer Alastor's touch lingers on your skin. 

You're not sure what to say, if you should even say anything at all. It felt like no matter what, you were going to be the loser in this situation. Your heart begins to pick up pace in your chest, the vice around your ribs growing tighter. 

"I'm not programmed to tolerate your bullshit Alastor." Vox is fighting himself, his tolerance for this situation growing thinner and thinner with each passing second. 

"I guess it's rather a shame you didn't kill me when you had the chance then, isn't it?" 

Alastor's gaze turns back to you where you stare at him with wide terrified eyes. 

Your heart slams against your ribs as if threatening to break free entirely. This was your fault, this was happening because of you. You should have done something different, you need to do something now, but you can't. 

"You know Vox, you really should take better care of your things." He says as he takes a closer look at your face. 

"Stay away from her Alastor. Why would you go after her when you knew she belongs to me?" Vox strides closer to the pair of you, his building rage rolling off of him in waves. 

Alastor's chuckle borders on cruel, his eyes not leaving yours as he traces the marks Vox had just left. He swipes up a drop of blood that'd welled up to the surface, regarding it with an air of curiosity. "Why you answered your own question. It's because she's yours." 

"If you missed me you could have just apologized." Vox intones mockingly. 

"Oh don't be absurd Vox, you hardly cross my mind anymore. It's hard not to see the clear distress you cause the poor girl. You can't blame me for showing her she had better options." 

"It doesn't matter what options she had, she already belongs to me. So I repeat. Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off." 

Alastor's eyes crinkle around the edge, his smile unwavering but his expression shifts the longer he looks at you. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He questions with a tilt of his head. 

The fear has you so wound tight, your only option is to try to mitigate and survive as best you can. 

"Please let me go." Your voice is barely above a whisper as you desperately plead with him. 

To your shock, he does. He lets go of you, taking a step back. He turns back to Vox, his tongue darting out to lick your blood off his thumb as he does. 

Your body has been so set on edge you begin to tremble in your heels like a new born foal. You have to lean back on the wall to prevent yourself from collapsing entirely. You can no longer breathe, your lungs seizing violently in your chest. Sweat breaks out along your forehead and the back of your neck. A panic attack you can no longer hold back capturing you in its vicious hold. The lights of the hall are too bright forcing you to slam your eyes shut. Your chest constricts painfully, parts of your limbs growing cold and numb. 

"It's so like you to go and ruin everything, isn't it Alastor?" Vox's voice barely cuts through the chaos in your mind. 

"Seems to me like you've done that all on your own, old pal." 

Somewhere above you several light bulbs shatter, bits of glass raining down and getting caught in your meticulously styled hair. You can't suppress the startled shriek the sensation elicits. When your eyes open it's to a more frightening sight than before. 

Both Overlords have begun shifting into their more demonic forms, limbs growing twisted and disproportioned. The flickering lights barely cut through the shadows threateningly looming behind Alastor. He looks monstrous with his extended limbs, his massive antlers casting a rather sinister shadow along the wall.  

Sparks of static fly off Vox in an erratic sequence, several cords extending from behind him. His screen glitching out as several eyes appear on his growing screen, each red and swirling. 

You want to say something to scream out and get them to stop. This couldn't happen. You were the cause of this. You needed to stop this. But when you open your mouth not a single sound escapes. 

"Oh bloody Hell." A new voice cuts through all the chaos. "You two fuckers are not doing this here!" 

Both of the men's heads whip towards the other end of the hall where a rather fuming and irate Velvette storms towards them. 

"You two need to save your pissing contest for another venue. You both know fully fucking well this is the last place you should be doing it." 

"Go away Velvette." Vox's voice is barely intelligible through the distortion. 

"No! Now I don't care what the fuck this is about. Get your shit together and act like fucking adults or so help me god I will go get Lucifer himself to toss you both out of here." 

Finally your body quits, your knees buckling sending you straight to the floor. You catch yourself on instincts alone, your hands barely keeping you from damaging yourself. 

The anger and displeasure between the two raging Overlords is palpable, you feel as if you'll break entirely under the weight of it. Vox's multitude of eyes dart over to your form, something like a snarl fizzing from him. Then, almost as if in a blink of an eye, he's back to normal. He adjusts his cuff links as if it were a mere nuisance and not like he was about to rip apart Alastor if Velvette hadn't snapped him out of it. 

It takes Alastor a moment longer but he follows suit, his hand casually brushing down the front of his tux jacket. 

"Now I expect you'll behave the rest of the night? Avoid each other, it's not that hard. The very future of the Pride ring and our place in it rests on how tonight goes, and the two of you will not going blowing it in front of Hell's royalty because you can't stand each other anymore. You can fight to the death tomorrow, I don't fucking care, but tonight you will do your job as Overlords." Velvette's eyes glow redder as she fixes them both with a serious look. The anger radiating off of her was a whole new level, even with her usual volatile temper. 

"And fucking hell Vox, make sure your pet gets her shit together too. God you're all pathetic." Her voice drips with disgust and disdain.

Alastor is the first to make a move to leave, a fact in which you distantly register shock of. From what you'd heard, Alastor wasn't one to listen to anyone other then himself. He adjusts his bow tie as he makes his way to the front of the hall.  

"A displeasure as always Vox." Alastor sneers before he's turning around and falling into his shadows.  

You can barely make out the feeling of the cold marble beneath your hands, white noise seems to be filling your head, and your vision blurs as you try to focus on anything around you. You can hear Vox and Velvette talking, but you're not listening. Time seems to slow as you sit there on the floor, reality seeming to almost shift around you. 

The next thing you register is Vox squatting down in front of you, his hand lifting your chin up so you meet his gaze. He looks at you with an irritated vexation that makes you want to disappear into the floor. 

"Is she crying? Oh my god, seriously? That's a bit pathetic, don't you think?" Velvette cackles cruelly. She comes to stand behind Vox, a sneer on her features as she regards you with aversion. "You know, I spent way too much effort getting her ready for you, the least you could do is get her under control for the rest of the night. I don't care what you have to do." 

"I thinks she's right Bea, you clearly can't control yourself, it's my turn." He taunts, his left eye beginning to spiral once more. 

You close your eyes on instinct, desperate to protect yourself. 

"Look at me Bea." Vox slams your head back against the wall. "You know better than to make me repeat myself." 

Your eyes fly open immediately getting caught up in his, Vox snaring you in his hypnosis before you can put up a proper protest. 

"I took so much time to make sure everything was perfect. I'm not going to let you ruin it. Now, do as I say." 

Your brain fills with familiar static, though the owner of it is not you. Your tears abruptly stop, your awareness of your body vanishing entirely. 

"Good girl." Vox purrs saccharinely. 

Velvette cackles. 

"Now let me see that pretty smile." 

Your lips lift automatically following his command. 

In the furthest recesses of your mind you let out a scream till your throat shreds.  

~ 

You slowly come back into your conscious on the ride home. Your eyes are staring out at the blurring lights of the various streets as your head rests against the back of your seat. Your body still tingles uncomfortably as you try to fight off the lingering traces of Vox's hypnotic influence. 

You try desperately to recall the events of the rest of the gala but nothing makes it past the murky barrier of your jumbled thoughts. 

"You know, you did good Blossom. Even if it wasn't for me, I'm still proud of you." Vox wears a smug grin on his face as he lounges casually along the opposite side of the seats. He's tugged his bow tie free, the ends of it dangling freely around his neck. He's removed his suit jacket, the top three buttons of his shirt undone, the sleeves of it rolled up his forearm. 

The lazy way in which he regards you tells you that he's had more than enough to drink tonight. 

You can't help but stare at him, your face contorted into a horrified look. You feel violated beyond belief, the missing chunk of memories of the night make you uncomfortable to acknowledge. You don't know what you did, what he made you do. And everything that had come before it? The encounter with Alastor in the hallway left you with more questions than answers, a new level of dread seeping into you the more you think about the event. 

The way Vox and Alastor talked to each other was strange, but not unexpected. The words they spoke though, that's what gave you pause. None of it made sense and all it did was add a further shroud over your previous encounters with the Radio Demon. You felt like a casualty of war between the two. It hadn't even been a week and you'd rather them end you than be caught up in whatever twisted game they were playing. 

You longed to feel safe again. 

Could you even recall the last time you really had? 

"Don't give me that fucking look." Vox's prior ease leaves him in an instant. He lunges towards you, his face captured in a snarl. "I can't stand when you look at me like that." 

"I'm sorry!" You cry, quickly cringing away in an attempt to protect yourself from his ire. 

"I've been fair to you so far, haven't I? Is this because of Alastor?" 

"What?" 

"If he hadn't interrupted us, I wouldn't have had to do any of this." 

Your limbs tense as he traps you against the door. There's no where for you to go yet your body screams at you to flee. You didn't want whatever was going to happen, you just wanted the night to end. You wanted all of this to be over. Your eyes are wide and fearful as you stare up at him. 

"Oh god, you wanted him to save you, didn't you? You thought the big scary Radio Demon would be able to save you from your monster. Go on, admit it. I want to hear you say it out loud." Vox's brow furrows, his expression growing more upset the closer he looms to you. His breath smells like ozone laced with alcohol, the metallic bitterness burning your nose at this proximity. 

"I didn't." You protest, but your voice is weak. 

"It's pathetic if you think he'd save you. You really think some worthless random Sinner would be worth that risk for him? Alastor of all people? You should know better by now, honeybee." He tsks mockingly.

"Please Vox." Though you no longer know what you're begging for. 

"I can't stand the way he looked at you. I won't let him have you Bea." 

Vox abruptly seizes your throat in a painful grip, cutting off your air in a near instant. Your hands fly up to scramble at his wrists but it does little to deter him. He watches you with rage filled eyes, both of them darting back and forth between yours. You try to form the word 'please' with your mouth but his grip is so tight you struggle to move it. 

"None of that now, you breathe when I say you can." 

He dives down to capture your lips with his, his harsh hold keeping you pinned in place unable to do anything but let him. His tongue invades your mouth, the feeling of electricity dancing on your tongue is chased by stale champagne. You begin to grow dizzy as the pressure in your head starts to build. You're on the verge of passing out entirely when he finally releases your throat. 

You slump limply against the door, nearly blacking out with the large intake of breath you instantly do. Your vision fades in and out, the edges of it looking fuzzy with TV static. Vox's chest heaves with his own heavy breaths, his eyes almost holding a dazed quality. 

He seems to snap out of it after a moment. You haven't properly recovered before he's roughly shoving the skirt of your dress up your legs, exposing the lace panties Velvette had forced you into earlier. There's little regard given as he promptly shreds the lace around your hips. Your struggle is renewed as his aggression increases. You didn't want this, you couldn't handle this again. 

"It's been a long night. Why don't we help each other unwind?" He asks as if you had a chance to protest otherwise. 

"No! Please Vox, not tonight." 

Your hands come up to try and push him away. His chest is solid and unyielding beneath your desperate attempts. 

His patience seems to wear thin and before you know it, your soul chain appears around your neck, the skin beneath it burning from the electric heat. Your hands quickly move to scramble at the collar instead. 

"You will do as I ask. Careful now Bea, or I'll make your collar a permanent fixture on that pretty slender neck. Remind every last one of them, but most especially Alastor, exactly just who it is that owns you." He yanks you forward and you fall, sprawling into his lap. 

You attempt to push yourself up with your hands but Vox swings the collar around so the chain is at the back. He pulls hard, choking you as he yanks you back up. 

"Come get in my lap." He commands as he stares into your terrified eyes. 

You have no room left to protest. He releases the chain enough to give you some slack but it's still difficult to maneuver yourself into the position he's demanding of you. As you awkwardly rise up on your feet to start to straddle him, Vox impatiently rips open the front of his pants. When you manage to get both legs over him, he takes over pulling you roughly down onto him. 

You can't help but cry out as his large length brutally forces you open. 

Vox lets out a contented groan at the feeling of your heat engulfing him. He felt so tightly wound all night, the confrontation with Alastor having left him irritable and on edge as he traversed complicated conversations with his usual charm. He was exhausted and desperately needed to put his feelings somewhere, where better than with you? 

He stares at you in awe, the glow of your soul chain illuminating you in his signature color. The blue highlights your distressed features but he can't bring himself to think about anything other than how good you look like this. One hand settles on your hip while the other wraps itself up in the chain to wield better control. 

He yanks you up to him, claiming your mouth with a vicious kiss. At the same time he thrusts as deep as possible, the hand on your hip preventing you from moving at all. He moves his lips against yours as if he means to consume you. 

You whimper in protest as he begins to thrust shallowly inside you, even the minute movements sending searing agony through your pelvis with your lack of preparation. It only grows worse as he swiftly picks up the pace. Not seeming to care about your comfort in any regards. He recklessly seeks out his release within you, using your body as if it were a mere toy. All you can manage to do is cling to his shoulders in an attempt to hold on. 

He pulls away from you, panting heavily as his focus comes down entirely to watching your face while he fucks you. 

Vox thrusts into you as if he were punishing you, using every bit of your body he could to relentlessly torture you. It's too much, it's all too much. You can't help it as the stimulation begins to pull out worse sensations inside you, pleasure sparking somewhere deep inside you despite your best efforts to fight it. 

Your cunt grows wet as it clenches painfully around Vox, your blunt nails making purchase in his shoulder as you do everything you can to prevent your inevitable climax. 

A look of victory forms on his face. "When I count to ten you're going to come." 

"No!" You protest, but your walls squeeze him tighter—his pace unrelenting. 

He begins to count and the worst part is, when he reaches ten, you do. You cum around him with an earth shattering scream, your body nearly giving out with the exhaustion of the over stimulation alone. 

Vox growls before kissing you a final time. His pace quickly growing choppy and uneven as he reaches his own end. You feel every small jolt and twitch of his cock as he empties himself into you. Weak protests falling from your lips even as you collapse limply against his chest. 

For a moment all either of you can do is try to catch your breath, the silence lingering between you making you want to cry. 

The chain disappears, the hand holding it comes up to brush the hair away from your face. The tender touch feels cruel.

"I hope you've learned your lesson Bea, but I'm not afraid to keep repeating it if that's what it takes." He says softly.

Chapter Text

Vox stares at you as you sleep beside him in his bed. After getting home last night, he was still far too irate to be able to let you go, insisting you stay with him in his room. You'd tried to protest but the events of the night had broken down your will to near nothing, relenting as he firmly forced you into his bed. 

He hasn't slept, not a single wink, his emotions over seeing Alastor again brewing in a violent storm. Even as the alcohol has worked its way through his system, one question seems to linger heavily on his mind.

Why?

Why? 

Why? 

Was he really so unlovable? 

Didn't he deserve to be loved like everyone else? 

Why? 

Why? 

Why? 

The pain of jealousy burns hot in the back of his throat. 

He'd never seen Alastor look at someone the way he'd looked at you. He hated it.

It hurt. 

Why couldn't it be him? 

Why did it have to be you? 

Vox remembers a time when Alastor didn't look at him with malice, when there was a fondness in his gaze whenever their eyes met. When there were jokes shared between them, not only insults and biting words. He couldn't have been making it up the entire time. Even at his most delusional he wouldn't have conjured those feelings from nothing. Right? 

Seeing the way Alastor looked at you last night drives a hot dagger further into his heart. The juxtaposition with how he'd been regarded feels borderline strangling in comparison. 

Why were you so special? What was different about you? 

Vox looks down at your sleeping form, the furrow pinching between your brow has yet to smooth despite you being asleep for several hours now. Even when you should be at peace, distress held you in a vice grip. He should feel guilty but his own feelings loom more intensely in his mind and he can't seem to manage it. A sick part of him wants to punish you for it, force you to feel the brunt of it all just to spare himself the hurt. 

Vox was so sick of being in pain all the time. It all hurt so much. 

Why did it hurt so much?

He lets out a heavy sigh before rising from the bed. There were still a few hours until sunrise but he knew there was no point in remaining. He needed to do something—anything—to get this gnawing despair out from under his skin.

Making his way into the kitchen he pauses seeing the figure sat at the counter. 

"Val?" 

The moth turns around, his eyes regarding him sharply. "Mi amore, couldn't sleep?" He lifts his mug with two of his hands to take a sip before setting it down, his chin resting on one of his others. 

"What are you doing here so early?" Vox can't help the bitter tone coming through his words. 

"Why I came to check on you, of course. Velvette told me all about your little," he waves his hands as if trying to find the right word. "Encounter at the gala." 

He'd never acknowledge it, but Vox's stomach drops with his words. Of course Velvette would tell Val, that wasn't even really a question, but he didn't expect to be confronted about it at four in the morning. He never knew what to expect with Valentino, his temper always so volatile. The worst part? He was capable of kindness too. Many didn't know, because so few were on the receiving end of it, but when he wanted to be, Valentino could be quite caring—thoughtful even. It was a shitty toss up every time on which side of him you'd end up getting. 

Vox walks into the kitchen trying his best to keep his demeanor casual and calm. He fiddles with the coffee maker, he was going to need more than even his usual copious quantities of caffeine to make it through today. He had an empire to run, he couldn't let his obsessive racing thoughts about Alastor consume him all day. He needed to put his energy into more important things. He was better than this for fucks sake. But he couldn't help but play his words back on a continuous loop in his head. It'd been years since they'd last come face to face, even after Alastor's return they'd avoided each other like the plague. He hated Alastor, he wanted him dead. 

So then why did him coming after you hurt in such a personal way? 

"What did she tell you?" 

Val's laugh is cruel and mocking as he stands from his stool. His massive frame looming over Vox threateningly as he comes closer to him. 

"That you acted like a pathetic little child who couldn't stand having his toys played with. I know you don't like to share Voxy, but really? When I told you that you needed to control your pet, I didn't think I needed to remind you to control yourself as well." 

"It's not like that!"

"Isn't it?" Valentino sneers. "It's like this every time when it comes to Alastor. You can deny it all you want but I know you still carry that pitiful flame for him. No one has ever been able to make you lose your composure quite like him." 

"That's not true!" 

Valentino chuckles cruelly. "It's cute that you think I don't see it written all over your face." 

Two of his hands come up to stroke the side of Vox's screen, his claws teasing along the side of it. 

"You never looked at Bea twice until that deer came sniffing around her. She was nothing to you. And now you're seemingly willing to throw away everything we've built all because of some lingering remnants of a man who never has and never will love you. Honestly I thought you were better than that, but this isn't the first time I was wrong about you." 

His words cut deep, slashing the emotional wound inside him even wider. Val was far too good with cruelty sometimes, and with Vox, he knew how to cut particularly deep.

Jerking his head away from his boyfriend's touch, Vox can't help but lash out a little. "Can you back the fuck off for just one second? Fuck Val! You don't always have to be such an asshole."

The way Valentino stills makes Vox all too aware he's fucked up. His eyes fixed on Vox with irritated disbelief. His expression morphing into a snarl. Valentino lunges at him before he can think to move out of the way.

"Are you aware of just how much of a pathetic little bitch you sound like right now?"

"Get off of me!"

Vox pushes his hands against the tall moths chest but he doesn't move an inch. If anything his struggling seems only in serving to piss Valentino off more. Vox puts up a good fight, but out of the two of them, Valentino has always been the strongest. He forces Vox back into the counter, his lower set of arms helping aid his advantage.

"Do you know how much I hate this version of you? You're no better than the miserable souls we have under our care. Where's the scary media Overlord I fell for huh? Because all I see right now is a worthless little man desperate for attention he knows he'll never receive."

"Fuck off Val!" Vox growls with contempt. The level of distress he feels is almost sickening.

Valentino gives a growl of his own in response, one of his hands grabbing the edge of Vox's screen, pulling it towards him for a second before violently shoving it back into the cupboards.

Vox is momentarily dazed as his head rings with pain, he grits his teeth against the feeling. He hears more than he feels the crack splintering across his screen at the action. The fight all but leaves his body entirely as he slumps against the counter.

"I'd suggest you get your shit together sooner rather than later, because this is unacceptable. I will not have us lose what we have all worked so hard for just because you can't get your worthless feelings in check."

He glares Vox down for another moment before releasing him. He turns back for a second on his way to the door.

"I suggest you clean yourself up before your little pet wakes up. Oh and do make sure to give her my regards."

~

The weeks begin to blur together as the rhythm of your new relationship with Vox settles. It's horrible how quickly you adjust, all things considered. It feels like an echo of your life on Earth, so many things forcing you into a sense of deja vu as you navigate through each day. The only constant you have to rely on is your never ending exhaustion. You thought your days were long before, but between your role as both personal assistant and plaything, you fear you'll never truly know rest again.

Your feet drag as you make your way through the halls of the tower, your brain sluggish as you try to remember where it was you were going specifically. You look down at the notes pulled up on your tablet, the words blurring and running together. You brace your hand against the wall, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily, hoping to clear your vision. When you open them, it seems to have only made things worse.

"Damn, you look like shit." A familiar voice calls from off to your side.

You turn to be met with Angel's grimacing face, something awfully close to concern plastered across it.

"Hi Angel." You greet softly.

"You doing okay toots? You seriously don't look too hot."

"I'm fine." You lift your hand away from the wall to wave him off. The small movement causes you to sway on unsteady feet, quickly forcing you to brace against it again. You let out a small wince.

Angel looks the furthest from convinced.

"Come on Bea, I'm in a simla' set of shoes. It's not a secret what Vox has been doin' to ya."

You close your eyes, turning your body so your back is against the wall. It was a realization you'd been avoiding for a while now. Your situation was all but common knowledge to most people these days. You knew it wasn't even confined to the tower, mostly in thanks to Alastor's actions, but also in part to Vox's demand of you to accompany him the night of the gala.

You try your best to choke back the sob building in your throat as tears threaten behind your closed eyelids. A hand on your shoulder startles them back open, your body flinching away.

"Hey, I'm sorry." Angel's expression shifts into consternation at the sight. "It's okay. I didn't mean to startle you. But doll I gotta say, I'm worried about you."

A single tear tracks its way down your cheek. "Why?"

Angel sighs. "Look I know we don't really got much of a relationship together, despite workin' in such close proximity all these years, but I know what it's like to be a favorite of one of the Vees. I know that Vox and Valentino are two different people, but it's clear to see they've got some cross over in their tendencies. I can't do much for ya, but I can make sure you're okay."

His words draw more tears you're unable to hold back, an emotional damn breaking inside you somewhere at having someone who seemed genuinely concerned for you and your well being. It wasn't like Alastor who seemed intent to play games with Vox, you merely being a pawn caught between them. Angel was facing you with a look that couldn't be confused for anything other than sincerity with his tone.

You close your eyes shaking your head, your head dropping down as you shudder out your response. "I'm so, so tired. I don't know the last time I knew rest. It's like if I'm not doing something for him, I'm with him. And in the rare moments of neither, I spend the entire time preparing for when I will. I'm always on edge, I'm worked to the bone…" You trail off as your thigh throbs with one fresher wound he'd left. "And he still demands more from me."

"I don't know what to do. Some days it feels like it's impossible to keep going, yet somehow I always do."

When you finally have the courage to meet his gaze, you can't help but feel sheepish for having unloaded even that much onto him. Even if it was what he was here to do, a part of you berates you for being such a burden, on someone you barely knew no less. You realize painfully you didn't have anyone else, but still it weighs on you.

"I knew it was bad, I didn't realize just how much…"

"And the worst part?" You laugh derisively. "He's still not worse than my ex-husband."

A brief silence settles between the two of you. You can hear the sound of the air conditioner in one of the rooms around you.

Angel's phone chimes, his face dropping into a frown at the sound. He pulls it from his back pocket with seeming reluctance, a quiet groan leaving him with whatever notification greets him. He turns it off before returning it to his pocket. He looks back at you, his eyes pinning you with an intense look.

"I gotta get back to the studio or else I'd stay with you longer. I know it's not much, but you're not alone. Okay?" Angel's hand gently squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. "Here give me your phone."

"Why?" You question apprehensively.

"Because I want you to be able to reach out, if you need it. I know talkin's not easy but I've learned that sometimes it can help just to get it out to someone. You don't have ta', but the offer is there."

Part of you screams you don't need help, being easier is alone, you can handle it by yourself. But you can't deny the offer sounds nice, even if you aren't sure if you'll take him up on it.

You pull your own phone out of your cardigan, passing it over to his waiting hands.. You missed having real pockets in your wardrobe.

Angel quickly types in his number before passing it back to you. You accept it with a quiet, "Thank you Angel."

"You're welcome. I gotta go, but I mean it, text me or call me. I mean it when I say I'm willin' to listen."

~

"I know, okay I know. But please, Vox, just give me five minutes. I promise I'll do it, please I just need five minutes."

Vox growls at the sight of your distress. "I don't have five minutes Bea. This meeting has to happen now. I need you in there beside me to help lead it, so I don't necessarily have time for your dramatics."

Tears stream down your face as you rock back and forth in your spot on the floor. The complete overwhelm you'd been experiencing coming to a debilitating head. Heavy breaths wrack through your chest as you do your best to calm down. Vox's ire makes it increasingly difficult as you do.

"I know, I know!" You cry, your own frustration mounting as you desperately try to claw your way back into stability. "I'm trying!"

Your vulnerability strikes you painfully hard as Vox witnesses your breakdown in its fullest. Whether on purpose or not, he'd been slowly chipping away at you mentally and emotionally, forcing you to show more and more of your frailty. You'd been falling apart in front of him more often than you'd like, whether triggered by him or someone else. It seemed to be a toss up which side of him you'd get. His tender care and concern, or his impatient rage that caused him to lash out always resulting in your condition growing worse than it'd already been.

He leans over at the waist, his fingers shooting out to grab at your chin. The sharp edges of his claws threatening to break skin.

"Well I need you to try harder!" He snaps in your face, his expression screwed into a sneer.

Your head instinctively pulls back as you begin muttering apologies. The tears continuing to fall as you do everything you can to try to pacify him.

He stares into your eyes, his gaze pinning you in place. A moment later he gives a frustrated scoff before violently shoving your face away. You barely manage to catch yourself as it upsets your balance, a sob catching in your throat.

"I'm going to go let everyone know it'll be another minute. I expect you to pull yourself together by the time I come back, or else there will be consequences."

You stare distantly at the floor, once more making an attempt at willing your tears to cease.

"Yes Vox."

~

"Oh come on Vox, you can do better than that." Valentino goads from his place on the couch. He sips his drink casually as if the scene before him wasn't one he'd participated in instigating.

Your heart is thundering in your chest, your head being pinned to the ground by Vox's shoe. It'd all happened so fast, you hadn't fully processed what had let you to this moment. You were hyper aware of the feeling of the rug beneath your cheek. Despite the softness of the fibers, the pressure Vox was exerting on you caused them to dig painfully into your skin. Your eye being forced closed as the strands of it threaten to scratch your cornea.

Your hands reach out in front of you as if there were something in your reach to help you, instead all you manage is to scrape your nails uselessly across the hardwood floor. A whimper falls from you as he forces a little more of his weight into his foot. Sharp pain beginning to radiate out through your skull.

Your startled when you hear Velvette's voice join in.

"Okay Vox, I think you've made your point. Val stop encouragin' 'im." She sounds bored as if she was above all this. "Unlike what Val thinks or says, you have to suffer the consequences of breakin' one of your toys. Wouldn't want to push the poor girl to far, eh?"

It's as if something immediately flips inside Vox, the pressure on your head letting up in an instant as he takes a step back.

Velvette getting into to defend you feels strange, and you can't help but wonder why now of all times. Either way though you can't help but admit silent gratitude for any help in this situation.

"Ugh Vel, you're no fun. I don't go around telling you how to handle your souls." Valentino says taking a lazy drag on his cigarette.

Velvette scoffs. "She doesn't even belong to you."

"My point still stands. Vox can do whatever he wants to her."

"Yeah well he cares more about his things breaking than you seem to."

Your ears start ringing when you feel Vox squat down to put a hand on your shoulder. You don't have the energy to flinch away.

"Get up."

~

You forget what taking a proper breath feels like, the panic ceasing hold of your lungs causing them to constrict tightly with your rapid breaths. The room around you blurs in varying shades of blue, the low lighting causing your thoughts to race at things that aren't really there. One of your hands paw desperately at the sheets while the other claws at your chest. Your body is tense and rigid. Somewhere between breaths sobs escape from between your shaking lips.

The hand touching your lower back drags a scream from you, your body reacting in a violent fit to get away. Another hand comes to grab your upper arm, keeping you from being able to move away.

Your head spins around to see Vox behind you, almost entirely forgetting you'd gone to sleep in his bed. His screen is dim in the late hours of the night but still bright enough to see the concern etched into his pixalated features.

"Hey, you're okay. Shhh…" He soothes, his voice soft. "You're not alone, it's okay. You gotta breathe Bea."

"I-I ca-can't." You choke out between quick breaths.

"Yes you can. I know you can. Come on."

You try to do as he says, knowing the sooner you calmed down, the less likely he was to start getting upset and begin yelling at you instead. It proves to be impossible as you just stare at him through watery eyes, doing everything you can to slow your breathing—and failing.

The hand on your back begins to move back and forth in a soothing pattern. His brows furrowed as he watches your face closely. Your body shakes with your efforts but feelings of your nightmare have followed you into reality, the traces of it haunting the outskirts of your mind.

You look at Vox, your eyes pleading with him to understand for once.

He frowns upon realizing you weren't going to simply calm down on your own. He sits further up, coming closer behind to wrap his arms around you. He shushes your protests gently while gathering you into his arms and reclining back. His arms feel restricting which only serves to further your distress, but then only one of his arms is around you, the other lifting into the air.

He begins to breath deeply while his fingers start tracing the air. Part of your brain immediately snaps into the distraction of the electricity sparking beneath his finger tips. As they move, they trail sparks through the air, each line lingering as if ink on a page. You can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back as your eyes trace the shapes he makes above you.

Subconsciously your breathing begins to match his own, your lungs no longer in a battle against themselves. His powers serving as the perfect distraction for your rattled mind to latch onto.

"There we go." He murmurs in your ear. "You've got this Blossom."

Once your body has the chance to fully come down, your faced with a fresh wave of mental and physical fatigue. Your eyelids grow heavy even as you continue watching Vox's movements. The sight mixed with the steady rhythm of his breaths lulls you back to the brink of sleep.

"It's okay Bea, go back to sleep. I'm right here."

You're helpless to fight it, your body going lax against his chest as your eyelids drift fully shut.

Chapter Text

Vox carefully thumbs the photo in his hand, his claw tracing the face in it with something akin to longing. He doesn't know why he still has it, he should have burned it years ago in all honesty. Instead he kept it, like some silly lovesick boy. It was hard for him to not have feelings of disgust and disdain for himself due to it.

Spread out on the desk before him are several letters that he also shouldn't have kept, his name written in neat elegant script on each envelope. Some carried more weathering and stains than others. He knows the exact contents of the letters containing the most damage.

The longer he sits there, the more it feels like there's a thousand needles piercing his heart. His free hand coming up to rub his chest at the physical discomfort he feels from it. A grimace pulls at his features.

When a tear splashes onto the photo he releases a growl of pain and frustration. He crumples the photograph in his fist as he feels the energetic pulses of electricity sparking off his antennas, the lights in his office flickering in sporadic rhythms.

He slams his hands down on the desk, pushing his chair away and rising from it in the same motion.

Fuck, why did he have to be so weak?

The urge to sink his claws into something—to force this hurt and suffering onto another—is all he can really focus on. He wouldn't have to feel this pain if he put it into somebody else, right?

~

Your fingers finish typing out your message, your eyes glancing over it. You sigh before back spacing it to start over again. This was the third time you'd done it, none of the words feeling appropriate for what you were feeling. You were still so anxious to reach out to Angel but the gnawing loneliness had been getting to you. You were going through so much, every day felt like a battle for survival, and maybe, just maybe, Angel could ease some of that. You knew he couldn't fix anything, no one could, but having a friend might help.

God you needed it to help.

Still you struggled to form words that felt right, not wanting to just burden him with everything but wanting to open up to him, test the waters of your potential friendship together.

You turn off your phone, hanging your head in defeat as you tell yourself you'll reach out to him later. It was more than you could handle right now.

You stand from your desk, setting down your phone to replace it with your tablet. You swipe across its surface, changing from your notes over to your list of tasks for the day. You nearly want to cry when you realize you'd have to make a trip to Vox's office this morning.

The relief upon entering the space only to realize Vox wasn't even there himself couldn't be rivaled. You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. You walk over to his desk to grab the hard drive he'd set aside for you, your eyes quickly catch onto something else instead.

It was rare to see paper of any kind cluttering Vox's desk, so the envelopes bearing his name caught you off guard. The crumpled photo laid a top them, even moreso. As you smooth it out you realize you'd seen the photo before—at least part of the photo—it was the only reason you knew it was Alastor when you'd met him at the tailors. It was also the oldest photo you'd seen of Vox, his head a CRT TV, rather than the flat screen he had today. The two Overlords gaze fondly at each other, though you felt like each was a different type of fondness for the other.

Seeing this photo after all these years, now with the new lens of all that's happened recently, it stirs up an uncomfortable amount of emotions and questions. What had you got caught in the middle of?

You can't help the gnawing curiosity about the envelopes, your eyes flicking towards the door, your antennae flicking as you try to listen for any footsteps. When you're met with silence your focus turns back to the desk.

You know you don't have much time, and you'd be a lunatic to steal one of them, so your fingers shake as you reach for a random one. You pull the envelope open as gently, yet still quickly, as you can. Your nerves sky rocketing as you flip open the folded letter.

Dear Vox,

Apologies for dinner last night, I did not expect to garner such a reaction from you. I'll try to tone down the spice next time I have you over, wouldn't want to send you into a second grave with my cooking, now would we? I'm growing rather fond of your company despite our differences.

There's a song I found that I think you'd enjoy. You should tune into my broadcast tomorrow so I can share it with you.

Dinner same time next week?

Best regards.

-Alastor

Your brows furrow, confusion filling you as you mindlessly return the letter to the envelope and pull open another.

Dear Vox,

The gramophone is lovely, thank you. It has been some time since I've received such a thoughtful gift, it looks quite nice in the corner of my library. Next time you come over for drinks I'll have to play you some real music on it.

Perhaps you could come by next Saturday after my broadcast? Or maybe you could broadcast with me? I have wanted to have you on it for some time. We could show everyone what it looks like when you do something of quality rather than the usual drivel you put out.

How's Vark?

Best regards.

-Alastor

The hesitation due to the fear of getting caught is gone, all you can think about is reading more. Of finally having some answers. It makes no sense.

Or does it?

Dear Vox,

Are you feeling any better? I know how nasty nightmares can be, especially the ones that have managed to follow us here to Hell. I'm truly sorry you're plagued by them so fiercely. If you ever encounter your vile father down here, I'd be more than happy to broadcast his screams, especially if it would help put your mind at ease.

I think you'll find I understand a lot more than you may think. My own father not being someone I have fond memories of.

Should you ever need to talk about it, I'd be happy to listen.

Come by my studio some time soon, I have a rather nice bottle of whiskey that I just know you'd appreciate.

Best regards.

-Alastor

Your fingers shuffle through the letters pulling more out, your eyes scanning the pages as you read words long ago given. You'd never guess Alastor to speak with something bordering so close to affection for Vox. His words throughout the pages discussing such trivial things. There was still an ego in them, one Alastor seemed to always wear, but there was an underlying softness that seemed almost misplaced with the picture you had of the two of them now.

Where did all the hatred come from?

There's too many letters, you know you don't have enough time to read all of them, yet you can't help yourself as you open one final one.

Dear Vox,

Things have been rather dull without you around, the entertainment of your company is far better than any of the other Overlords at the table these days. Must you always spend your time working? I completely understand the desire for more power, but must you spend so much time on the absurd amount of frivolous nonsense you do for the public? What happened to the good old days when you were less focused on that and using more of your unique hands on approach? I can't remember the last time you went on a mass slaughter with me.

It's a shame to see you spend so much time with that vulgar Overlord. I can't help but feel your time would be much better spent in the company of myself. Alas I suppose you do get to make your own decisions, even if they are the wrong ones.

I'd prefer if you didn't bring Valentino up during our next get together, the mere mention of him gives me a headache. You're far better on your own than with him. I can't help but feel as if he only drags you down. I've witnessed some less than favorable behavior of the two of you together and feel as if you deserve better.

You mentioned wanting to discuss something with me? I'll be free Friday evening if that works for you. Let me know.

Best regards.

-Alastor

You have no context to which letters came first and which ones came later. Amongst these, one of them had to be some of the last words written.

What happened?

The need for answers feels like it's eating you alive. You still feel a lack of clarity about the two Overlords, not knowing if the context of these letters even helps. Your heart is thudding in your chest, your lungs fighting to keep your breaths steady. Was this even clarifying anything? It all felt far more complicated than you'd initially expected.

Where did you fall in all this? Why were you of all people caught up in it?

Your hands shake as you return the letters to the desk, trying your best to make them look as undisturbed as possible. The fear of Vox knowing you saw these gnaws at your insides with an uncomfortable intensity.

You grab the hard drive and your tablet, exiting the room as quick as you had come.

~

The cafe bustles around you, random blurs of shapes and colors move around on the outside of your periphery. Your eyes stare distantly into your iced coffee as your brain buzzes with distorted thoughts. You don't know how long you've been here, you can't really think about whether you should leave or not. There's a feeling stuck in your chest but you couldn't begin to place what it was. You watch as a single drop of condensation on the cup makes a slow descent from the lid down to the table.

"Bea?!" A voice has your head snapping up.

Angel Dust sits in front of you, a sharp frown causing his brows to furrow. His own coffee is empty, the ice melting and diluting the remaining dregs of the drink. Two of his hands are lifted as if in defense, or maybe a gesture to placate you.

Suddenly you remember why you're here and what you've been doing. A creeping sense of shame threatens to take over you. Did you zone out? What had you two been talking about?

Oh god, Angel must think you're losing it.

"I'm so sorry. Fuck I'm so fucking sorry." You ramble while fighting the desperate urge to cover yourself or flee.

"What are ya sorry for?" His frown deepens, his eyes scanning your face looking for something. "I say this in the nicest way I can, ya look like shit hun."

Despite your panic, that pulls a bark of laughter from you. It feels like it rises from nowhere and is gone as fast as it came.

"I can barely look at myself in the mirror these days, so it's hard to take care of my appearance." Your eyes find your hands in your lap.

"That's not what I'm talkin' about, sweetie."

You can't keep the tears from welling up in your eyes. You watch through blurry vision as one falls to the table below you.

"Ya look worse than I do when Val is in a bad mood. Every time I see ya in passing lately, ya look worse. I don't know, I just can't help but be worried about ya."

You close your eyes and shake your head.

"I'm fine," you croak softly. "I'm always fine."

You feel Angel slowly and gently place his hand on your arm, drawing your eyes open to meet his. He has a sad smile on his face, a look of understanding that makes your heart twinge painfully.

"I'm always fine too. So maybe we can just be fine togetha'."

You can read the deeper meaning to his words, feel the pain he too is trying to hide. Still there's a voice in your mind that whispers all the horrible reasons why he might be lying to you, the voices that constantly whisper to you about how you deserve everything you're going through—that you've been through.

You don't know what to say, but before you even have the chance to figure it out, Angel's phone begins to loudly ring.

He grimaces before pulling it from his pocket as if he already knew what name he would see.

"I'm sorry." He mumbles before hitting the call button.

The voice immediately yelling on the other end has you grimacing too. It's impossible to mistake Valentino throwing a tantrum even through the sound of someone elses phone.

"Val, V—val. Val!" Angel bites back. "Yea, I heard ya. Ya don't gotta keep repeatin' it. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Something about him being needed five minutes ago is shouted through the speaker. Angel just rolls his eyes and hits end call.

When he turns back to you it's with a sheepish look. You stop him before he can try to apologize.

"It's okay, Angel. I kinda get it more than anyone else. You should go before you end up getting worse than more screaming when you get there."

He looks reluctant but doesn't argue further.

"Text me, okay?"

You nod your head. "I will, promise."

"Do ya want to walk back to the tower with me? Or do ya still have some time for freedom?"

"I think I might stay here a little longer. I need to escape for as long as possible. I'm not ready to go back yet."

"I understand. I'll see ya later, okay?"

"Yeah."

You wave goodbye as he takes his cup to the garbage before quickly exiting the cafe.

The emotions weigh on you, your brain playing back the past hour on a loop. A wave of exhaustion hits despite the liquid caffeine you've been sipping on. It threatens up the back of your skull before causing your eyelids to burn. You use the palms of your hands to rub at your eyes trying your best to ease the burn away. The heaviness inside you has your body feeling like lead.

You lay your arms across the table before lowering your head to rest on top of them. You tell yourself you just need a second like this and then you'll be fine.

~

Your head jolts up, the sensation of panic ripping through you sending your body into fight or flight. Dread settles in alongside it upon the realization of being in unfamiliar surroundings. The color scheme of the room is all red and brown. The fireplace across from you cracks loudly as your heart thunders in your chest. It takes everything to tamp down the shriek your lungs want to send echoing into the room.

This place feels familiar but you know you've never been here before. You distantly make note of music filtering in from somewhere in the room. Your eyes scan around it to see if you can make out the source. They catch on the movement of a record spinning atop an old gramophone. The base is made from a dark chestnut while the horn was a polished gleaming gold. It triggers something in the back of your mind but you can't place exactly what.

You cautiously stand from the couch you had been resting on, your eyes still shifting about the room. The thing you'd missed initially was the most glaring part of the room. You tilt your head as you stare into the vast swamp in the side of the room next to you. Your brain struggles to comprehend it as you watch fireflies dance in and among the drooping trees.

You're about to take a step forward when a dark shadow rises in your path through the floor. Your heart rate increases impossibly as it solidifies into the form of Alastor.

"You're awake!" He says cheerfully.

His sharp tone makes you startle back, your legs hitting the couch causing you to stumble back onto it.

"What did you do? How did I get here?" You inquire with a wavering voice.

Your head still feels heavy with the whiplash of confusion. It's almost as if you lost time.

"My dear, I'm not sure what you're implying. When I found you passed out on a cafe table I couldn't help but worry. I figured you needed a watchful eye and somewhere safer to rest, nothing more. That's why I brought you here. It'd be a shame if some one were to harm a hair on that pretty little head of yours." He bends at the waist, his fingers brushing strands of hair away from your face.

His smile is wide and patronizing and he looks all too pleased with himself.

"You look quite precious when you sleep."

"I shouldn't be here." You abruptly stand, trying to step around Alastor.

He's all too quick to mirror your steps.

"Now now my sweet abeille, what's the harm?"

Something hot rises in your chest and for a moment, your panic is thrown to the wayside. You harshly jab your finger into his chest.

"You know exactly what the harm is."

He raises a brow, caught off guard by your sudden burst. Something about the expression causes the feeling in your chest to intensify.

"God Alastor, do you ever think of anyone other than yourself?"

"Oh calm down darling. Where is this even coming from?"

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down, you asshole." You say as your tone threatens the border of hysterics. You can feel as a buzzing begins beneath your skin, a nervous energy threatening to escape by any means possible.

"Come now, there's no need for these dramatics." He tries to placate, his expression looks bored.

It's impossible to stop the scoff you choke out. "You want to lecture me about dramatics? This is your fault. This is all your fault! Don't you see that? Everything that Vox has done, everything that's changed, it's all because of you. He didn't care about me until you walked me home that day. Vox was perfectly content to only acknowledge my presence when it regarded work. Yes he was an ass and worked me to the bone constantly, but at least I was invisible to him the rest of the time. And then you come along and change all of that! And the worst part? You don't even care! You have zero remorse for everything you've caused me to be subjected to. Because why would you? As long as Vox is suffering then that's all you care about. You know exactly the kind of man Vox is, you know what horrible things he's capable of. Did you ever stop to think once about the consequences I'd be facing because of your actions?"

You can feel the heat in your face, the distress consuming you with each word spat at him. Once you started, you couldn't stop, a million pent up emotions bubbling over until there was no containing them. You don't even care about the potential ways he could retaliate, it was too late to stop it now—consequences be damned.

"What even happened between the two of you?! Because it's pretty obvious that the hate between you two was a more recent thing. Those letters you wrote to him, I can see why things are so complicated for Vox. It seemed like you guys had a pretty close friendship, it feels like it would have taken a lot to ruin that. And now what? You guys are working through your feelings for each other through me? After all, I can't help but think I should have never been forced to get caught up in all this in the first place. I get you're both evil pieces of shit or whatever, but this, this is too much! If you're not going to kill each other, at least kill me so I'm no longer part of it. I can't do this, I don't want to do this anymore." The tears that suddenly appear—streaming down your face—don't dampen your anger, but your anguish is just as clearly on display. You hadn't meant to say so much, to say that. Why the fuck did you just do that?

"Fuck I wish I never met you, I wish you had just stayed away from me."

For the first time since meeting him, Alastor is stunned into silence. His grin is razor thin, a crease settled between his brows. His eyes roam over you, unexpectedly looking at you as if you were an enigma he couldn't solve.

He opens his mouth to say something but closes it once again.

All you can think is about returning home. God knows how bad things would already be when you returned to Vox, you didn't need to make it worse by waiting any longer. The record churns steadily in the background, the music echoing along your still thundering pulse.

"Now if you're not going to rip my soul apart for your broadcast, I'm leaving." You say with a confident finality.

"Bea…" Alastor lifts his hand as if to reach for you, something that could almost be confused for concern marring his features.

"So is that a no?" You huff, your brain fried—your emotions scrambled

His voice drops to something softer. "Of course I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then goodbye Alastor." You say turning on your heels and heading to the door before he can voice any protest.

The door shuts behind you with finality, leaving Alastor staring at the space you left so quickly. The feelings in his chest leave him confused and disturbed, the feeling too uncomfortable for his liking. He tilts his head, a thought prodding at the back of his mind he's not sure he's ready to examine.

~

You'd left the hotel at record speed for someone who didn't know how to navigate it. You'd simply kept turning corners and traversing hallways till you found a path to the stairs. The Sinner you'd seen before during your initial visit to the hotel had been back behind the bar, but you hadn't paid him as much as a second glance as you made a beeline for the front doors.

The rank air of Hell did little to settle your nerves as you made your way out of the Morningstar district. You still hadn't a clear idea of the pathway home but you had a rough enough idea to at least know the right direction. The buzzing beneath your skin hasn't faded, if anything it feels as if there is energy screaming beneath your skin. You have to ignore it, your focus being forced to putting one foot in front of the other, to just keep going.

You hear the sound of a glass bottle being kicked somewhere behind you, a voice saying something along it. You can't spare it a second glance. Your feet continuing further.

The familiar voice saying your name, your real name, frightens you more than anything you've endured in Hell so far. Your blood turns to ice, despite the unbearable heat of Hell. You don't want to turn around, your body abruptly freezes to the spot. 

The voice which spat venom and vitriol at you every time you made a minor mistake, whilst claiming to love you in the same breath. The voice that still haunts your dreams even after a decade of being dead. The voice which you prayed to god you would never hear again. 

How is he here? 

How did he find you? 

"Oh come on, I know it's you. You might look different, but you're not that different."

You're frozen, your limbs locked in place refusing to turn around. If you didn't turn around, he wasn't really there.

He couldn't be there.

He harshly barks your name. "Look at me!"

Your body follows the command almost as if on muscle memory, the need to protect yourself so deeply embedded into your DNA when met with that tone of voice. 

He looks entirely different, but when he smirks, you know it's him. 

"Aw Dove, don't give me that look. Didn't ya miss me?" 

Chapter Text

"Evan?" You breathe out even though you already know it's him.

His smirk grows as he steps closer to you. He's taller now, though not by much. His clothes are rougher than what he'd worn in life—it strikes you with the thought of not remembering the last time you saw him in something so casual as jeans and a t-shirt. His once chestnut locks have turned a jet black, white streaks running through them. A large bushy black and white tail trails behind him. His forest green eyes that used to mesmerize you with their intensity, have now turned a harsh red which bores into you painfully. You're reminded of the skunks you had to fight to keep away from your beehives in the summer and fall.

"It's been awhile."

You're still riding the wave of high strung emotions from your encounter with Alastor, which causes you to do something you'd never dared do while alive—you snap.

"And who's fault is that?"

His face pulls into a scowl at your words, something like a snarl emanating from his chest.

"I don't think I like your tone."

Your blood simmers despite your fear. "Fuck off Evan. I'm not yours anymore."

"Oh come on Dove, till death do us part, remember?"

"We're dead! Death parted us already. You made sure of that, didn't you?"

He growls, lunging forward to shove you into the wall behind you. Rough brick tears up your exposed back, a cry echoing out into the alleyway. Any confidence or bravado you felt a moment before is gone, replaced with the familiar feeling of dread and hopelessness which always so easily consumed you.

His hands are harsh, one pinning your shoulder while the other encircles your throat. His crimson eyes bore into yours, his nostrils flaring with frustration.

"You better shut that pretty mouth before I put it to work. Or did you forget what happens when you talk back to me?"

Tears prick your eyes. "You don't want to do this."

Evan puts his nose between your antennae, inhaling a deep lungful of your scent. "You may not have missed me but I very much missed you."

Despair wells up inside you as a wave of memories floods in. The feeling of Evan's hands on you, his body pressed into yours, it makes you want to scream and cry. Your mind is teetering on the precipice as if this is the final thing to send you careening into the cliffs of insanity in your mind.

The hand along your shoulder moves to cup your cheek. A smile which would come across as tender on anyone but him forms on his lips. The slightly curved claw on his thumb teases your bottom lip open before pressing the tip into it. You whimper at the sharp sensation, your eyes looking into his—pleading and desperate.

"I'm sorry, did that hurt?" He tilts his head to the side. "Here, let me kiss it better."

When his lips meet yours it feels like the end of the world. You hate the familiarity of it—the taste of fear he ignites on your tongue. Your hands frantically push at his chest. His hand squeezes your throat tightly in response, stealing what air he couldn't with his kiss.

"I'd suggest you get your hands off of her if you have any desire to keep them."

You hate the solace you feel at the sound of Vox's voice. Coming face to face with Evan again has you desperate for anyone other than him, even if your other options may very well be just as bad.

Evan pulls away quickly, looking over to the entrance of the alleyway, his expression shows he's less than amused at the interruption.

"You mind fucking off pal? This is a personal matter."

"Oh I don't think you know just how true that is. You see that's my assistant's throat you've got your hand around and I'd very much like to have her back."

Evan sneers at his words, clearly unimpressed by the Overlord. He must have been really new to Hell if he didn't know who was talking to him.

"Look buddy, I've been waiting for this for a long time and I'm not going to just let you come in and ruin it."

You can see the eyebrow Vox raises in regards to his words. You try desperately to keep a brave face but you know you're failing spectacularly. Surely your distress and anguish was clear as day.

Vox's chuckle is low and threatening, a sound which you were familiar with hearing right before he lost his cool.

He hums. "It's clear you must be new down here if you think talking to me like that is a good idea, so I'll give you one last chance before I stop being nice. Step back from my Bee and take your ratty ass self somewhere else, otherwise you won't like what happens next."

Evan's hold on your throat grows tighter as he laughs cruelly. "Aww, did my little Dove find herself a guard dog? Afraid the big bad wolf was going to find you again?"

You try to shake your head but his grip barely allows room for you to do so.

Vox sighs as if put upon by the circumstances, his eyes tracing your assailant with thinly veiled fury.

His tone is low as he says, "Let it be known that I did give you a chance."

You watch as the telephone cables break free from above you, quickly swerving towards the ground where the two of you stood. There's no chance for Evan to react before the thick wires wrap their way around his neck, smaller ones following in pursuit of his limbs.

A strangled yell rips from him but the rapid restriction of the cords cut him off. You're able to take a full breath as he's yanked away from you to the opposite wall. You crumple to the ground as you fight the wave of emotions inside you, fear pumping useless adrenaline through your veins as you stare at the scene unfolding before you.

Evan fumes as he struggles against his restraints, looking more like an angry bull with those hate filled eyes.

Vox walks further into the alley, hands behind his back, his screen tilted to the side as he considers the scene before him. He stops a few feet away from Evan.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Vox's laugh is cold—hollow. You can see bloody lines trailing off the edge of his mouth. "Someone you're not likely to forget after this."

"Go fuck yourse—"

Before he can finish one of the cables forces its way down his throat. Any sounds of protest are quickly smothered, his eyes finally sparking with fear. Vox grins wider as the cable slithers further down his throat. Evan's eyes widen with panic right before you watch the cable rip a large hole through his chest. Blood sprays the alley walls as the skin is torn and separated around it. When all the wires retreat from him, his body falls limp into the pool of blood beneath him.

Your body is rigid as his lifeless eyes look back into yours. You don't know if the burning in your chest is from too much air or the lack of it. Your heartbeat drums deafeningly inside your ears.

For a moment Vox simply stands there, his gaze held on the damage he'd just rended before him. When he finally turns around to face you you immediately notice the small spattering of blood across the left side of his screen.

Vox comes over to crouch beside you, his expression now softened and filled with concern. Your eyes drift back over to your husband.

His hand cups your chin, drawing your gaze back to him. "Pretend you never saw that, I can't stand when you look so frightened. Let's get you home."

You immediately begin to protest, "But—"

"None of that. Come on, the car isn't far."

There's no room in you to fight when he pulls you to your feet. You can't help one last glance at Evan before Vox is leading you out onto the street. You feel numb, your body moving on autopilot with the guidance of his hand along your lower back. Your ears ring and you can't feel your feet.

After getting you settled in the back of the car, Vox climbs in behind you. He signals to the driver to get moving before taking your hand in his.

"Who was that Bea?" Vox's tone is gentle but firm, leaving no room to argue. "You have to tell me."

"Please," your voice is a watery whisper. "Don't make me talk about it. I can't talk about this."

You try to pull your hand from his, desperately wanting to fold in on yourself. He doesn't let you, forcefully pulling your hand back towards him. He looks you over, his expression determined.

"Yes you can. And you will." 

The tremors in your body begin slowly, your hands starting to shake first. Your eyes find the ground as your body tenses on and off. 

"Look at me." Vox barks. 

Your eyes fly to his at the command, the tears already spilling free. 

"Please…" 

"Tell me who that was. I've never seen you this scared of anyone, not even Val. Who is he and what did he do to you?" 

It feels like the weight of everything comes crashing down on you, you've never told anyone what happened, always had to keep it inside. You didn't want it to be Vox, didn't want to relive your worst moments with him, but he was leaving you zero room to protest. 

"That was my husband..." 

Vox's eyes widen with shock and a multitude of other emotions you could only guess. For a moment all he can do is stare at you incredulously. 

"What do you mean your husband? You're married?" He does nothing to conceal the anger in his tone. 

"I was... I am? I don't know... We were married in life, I don't know what happens with all that after death…"  

Vox's gaze turns to scrutiny, you couldn't help but feel like a puzzle he was trying to pick over and solve. The burden of your trauma oppresses you into silence, the mere thought of saying anything more seals your lips closed.

"Bea."

You close your eyes, shaking your head. You make another attempt to pull your back your hand by pushing at his hand with your other. It only makes things worse as he grabs both of your wrists, pulling you forward closer to him. You try everything to resist, the restraint inducing more panic within you.

Vox grunts. "Stop fighting me Bea, I'm helping you."

"No! I can't!"

Vox yanks you forward so you collapse into his chest.

"What did he do to you?!" He yells in desperation.

"Everything!" You cry up at him. "Everything."

Your body finally gives up the fight and you collapse against him, heavy sobs wracking your chest. Ugly wails rip from you as all the dread, terror, and pain from your past comes to savage your body.

"You don't understand!"

"Then help me understand." He says tersely.

Your body trembles as forceful memories rip their way to the surface. You're helpless to fight it as you recall your earliest years with Evan.

"We were children." Your tears are torrential, the interior of the car nothing but mere blurs in your vision. You're barely seeing anything though as you remember those initial encounters. "I don't even remember how old. I refused him from the start. He hated that, he hated being refused and it only got worse the older we got… I would avoid him like the plague and he made it a game. He always played games. And of course when he talked to my dad, he played the perfect charming man—the perfect man to take his only daughter away. Not like he even needed to with the large price tag he offered for our marriage. My father wouldn't have sold me for less.

"And once Evan got his perfect doll? The games he played grew worse, so eager to break his new toy. That's all I ever was to him—an object, a thing to be thrown away when he inevitably grew bored."

The words keep tumbling, one right after the other, a waterfall of emotions pouring like a faucet.

"I wasn't good enough for him. I was never good enough and I was always punished for it. In the first year alone I lost track of all the punishments. He always had a new method, something worse than the last and I was supposed to just brush it off and smile by the next day. People died because of the things he made me do. I hated when he forced me to help with his work, I wanted to cry every time he told me we had a new 'job'. Scamming people, conning them, it was all a joke to him. We didn't even need the money. And if people got hurt, well at least it couldn't be traced back to us. The first time I screwed up a job, he pinned me to the laundry room floor and put an iron between my shoulder blades.

"And with a family name like his, he needed an heir, he was desperate for it. He was so fucking desperate for it. It didn't happen fast enough, we kept losing each one as quickly as it had taken, there was always so much blood…" Your eyes lose more focus and your brain feels hazy. The surroundings of the car grow distant. You can barely feel Vox's chest against your head.

"The doctor told us it wasn't possible, that I had a poisoned womb." Your voice grows quiet and small. "So of course Evan couldn't keep me. Between all the jobs I kept screwing up, and my inability to bear him a child… he threw me away. He murdered me with the only things I ever cared about."

Vox is silent as he listens to your words. You've said so much but he feels like you've also said nothing at all. His arms wrap around you slowly, drawing you tightly to his chest. You turn your face into his chest and cry, your heavy tears staining his suit below.

You're desperate for anything that might feel like comfort, like the shadow of safety you will never actually receive. Your arms wrap around Vox's torso, clinging onto him like a lost child. Your fists grip his jacket tightly, your body quivering along with your weeping.

"I never thought I'd see him again. I died so young, I thought he'd live a long life and by the time he wound up down here, he'd have forgotten about me entirely."

"Vox, I'm scared." You whisper.

One of his hands comes up to run through your hair, he softly shushes you while he strokes it.

"He'll never touch you again Bea. I promise. You don't have to worry about him. I'll make sure of it."

You don't know if you can believe his words but you want to, fuck you needed something to cling to—even if it was false.

By the time you get back to the tower, your tears are dried up, your body wilted in his arms, your breathing shallow but steady. There's no willpower to protest Vox when he pulls you into his arms to carry you to the elevator. You barely have enough strength to keep your arms around his neck as he walks. Your eyelids flutter weakly as the lights pass over them.

Your body feels used up, drained from all that's transpired—all of the emotions you've felt. A cold numbness has settled over you as you're emptied of all feeling. You feel false as the world moves around you.

After you get back to Vox's penthouse, he helps you change. He guides your body to lay down, your head hitting the pillow, and from one moment to the next, you're gone.

Chapter Text

You wake up screaming in the middle of the night, the sensation of hands pinning you to the ground still lingering on your vibrating skin. Shooting up in bed, your breaths come out in rapid gasps, your face already stained wet with tears. The tight grasp of your hands in the blankets threatens to rip them as your brain runs frantic with a million different thoughts.

The hand settling on your shoulder elicits another horrified shriek from you and for a moment all you see is Evan.

"No! Please! Leave me alone!"

You scramble to try and get away, your movements clumsy as you struggle to escape the bed, your limbs getting tangled in the sea of sheets in your desperate attempts.

"Bea, stop! Hey it's okay. Bea!"

A light illuminates the small space around you and the face looking back at you is no longer Evan, instead you see Vox's digital features creased in concerned distress. He's sat up in bed, leaning slightly forward, one of his hands cautiously resting on your leg.

You shake your head back and forth, your tears straying to wet your shorts.

"You're safe Bea," he whispers softly, coaxing you into his arms. "You're always safe here."

Were you though?

You turn to bury your head in his bare chest.

"I'll always protect you."

~

You wanted to believe him, you really did but protection from Evan felt impossible. You saw him around every corner, heard his voice in scattered conversations, his phantom touch cruelly grasped at you in your moments alone.

The days passed in a blur, as you lost any sense of time. Your schedule was the only thing keeping you going through the day. Though all you wanted to do was hide away in your apartment, to disappear from the world and fade away into nothing. Your sleep wasn't improving, nightmares seemed to plague you any time you faded into unconsciousness. The amount of them Vox had coaxed you out of was growing to a concerning level.

Vox…

Your feelings were growing increasingly more complicated for him which was only making matters worse for you. More often then not, you were clinging to him in moments behind closed doors. You didn't want to. You hated yourself every time you did it. But since he'd found you in that alleyway with Evan, since you'd told him who he was—what he'd done—things were different.

Vox's temper was still short, his ease to frustration just as quick as before. Yet less and less were you on the receiving end of his ire. The first time he'd walked out of the room when you were sure you were about to be the outlet of his frustrations, you'd been stunned and confused.

You were making mistakes, too many mistakes you were sure, yet Vox wasn't yelling. He wasn't using your body. He'd keep you tucked in his bed more often than not, but he'd do no more than hold you.

You didn't know what to make of any of it, you couldn't figure it out if you tried. Your brain was fried from the stress and anxiety, from the lack of sleep. You were trying desperately to sort out your thoughts and feelings, but it felt like they were sand sifting through your fingers before you had the chance to grasp it.

You thought about talking to Angel, you wanted to talk to Angel, but how were you suppose to talk about all of this? It was too much for you to handle, you wouldn't want to burden any one else with it.

You wanted to take safety in the memory of Vox ripping through Evan, but the knowledge his death was only temporary wasn't doing you any favors. Evan could reappear at any time, could do so much harm to you. Just the brief reminder of what it was like to be in his grasp was the main basis for your nightmares these days.

Walking into Vox's office had your heart thundering in your throat, but upon crossing the threshold, you realize he isn't there. You wished your search could end there, the headache blooming behind your eyes had you wishing hopelessly for some reprieve. You knew you were required to seek Vox out, and though his behavior towards you had been different these days, you were still teetering on the edge, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

What if today was when it all goes back to how it was? What if you take too long and he's upset, turning his ire back on you? What if you speak too loud? If you say too little?

What if?

Your eyes slam closed for a moment, the thoughts building rapidly at a painful pace.

Stop it.

Stop it.

Stop thinking!

You nearly cry in frustration at it all being too much.

Riding in the elevator gives you little more time to collect and compose yourself, your hands wiping frantically at the tears spilling from your eyes.

The whirring sound of the elevator is broken with the chime of the doors opening. You hear a jumbled collection of noises from the far end of the platform, each one of Vox's monitors playing something different. The chaotic cacophony is rivaled only to that of the thoughts in your head.

You sigh stepping out on unsteady feet as you make your way down the walkway. You can't help the way your eyes skip to the edge of the platform where Vox had drowned you, the memory rising to the front of your mind each time you entered the room since that night.

Vox doesn't turn around, even as your small heels click against the steel floor. It isn't until you're standing off to the side in front of him when his gaze settles on you.

Eager to get through this as quickly as possible, you're already pulling up files on your tablet.

"We need to talk about channel thirty-five, I saw the reports from the last quarter and I don't want to admit it but things are looking grim."

Vox's eyes flick up to one of the screens, his brow furrowing.

"How grim is grim?"

"I don't know, you've always been the one better with the numbers." You say before handing your tablet over to him.

He scans the screen, his frown deepening as his fingers swipe through the information in all the files.

"Fuck!" He shouts throwing the tablet onto his console.

You can't help the way you startle backwards, your back hitting the sharp end of the desk, a small cry falling from your lips.

Vox's gaze darts to you in concern, his previous irritation fading in an instant.

He looks almost… guilty?

"I'm fine." You assure before he can do or say anything.

"You don't look fine."

You shake your head, the threat of tears burning at the back of your eyes causing your mouth to remain closed.

"Come here." Vox coaxes gently.

You put out your hand in protest but all it does is give him the ability to grab it and drag you towards him. There's no room in you to fight him, allowing him to easily pull you into his lap.

"Vox I still have so much to do." You weakly object.

"What you need to do is rest. You look dead on your feet. I know you haven't been sleeping well, and you constantly look like you've seen a ghost."

That's because you had.

"Besides I'm the boss of you, aren't I? And right now I'm saying you need to rest, so please Bea, rest."

It's impossible to do anything other than what he says, and as you rest your head on his chest, you find yourself not wanting to even try. Your eyes drift shut far too easily, even as your head pounds with pain and thundering thoughts.

As you lose the battle with your consciousness, Vox's attention turns back to his screens. One of his arms cradle you as the other lifts in the air. His fingers flicking back and forth as he pulls up several security feeds around the Pride ring. He ignores the one in the corner, overlooking the Hazbin. He can't bring himself to turn the feed off, but his attention is being well spent elsewhere.

He'd started looking a few days ago, your nightmares growing increasingly worrisome to the point a plan was beginning to form in his head. It'd been so long since he'd put on a real performance, and for you, he'd give nothing but the best.

~

The sounds of Vee tower are only slightly muffled behind the doors on the various floors surrounding the stair well. It was the best you could get for now, a moment's peace tucked away from the rest of everything else.

The cold stairs seep into the fabric of your skirt, chilling the back of your thighs below it. You place your forehead against the wall, the dual cooling sensations grounding you to the moment you're in. Your hand hangs onto the railing keeping you from completely toppling over.

Distantly you hear someone scream, and although concerning, it wasn't a sound all that uncommon when you were on Valentino's side of the tower.

The door on the floor above opens, the sound echoing loudly into the space around you. It's followed by the sound of heels clicking loudly down the stairs. You aren't able to bring yourself to lift your head up until the sound stops right next to you. You're only able to when the figure settles down next to you.

You breath out a sigh of relief when you realize it's Angel Dust.

"Whatcha' doing all the way over here? And why are ya hiding in the stairwell?"

"I'm not hiding," you grumble defensively. "I'm just… taking a break. It's a lot of stairs."

"Why dontcha' just take the elevator?" He raises a brow skeptically.

You realize denial with Angel is moot, seeming as he could see right through you already.

"Okay… I might be hiding."

Angel grins and bumps your shoulder with his. "Mind if I hide with ya?"

"Not at all. We're probably hiding from the same person anyway."

"Why are you hiding from Val?"

"He's expecting me to bring him something from Vox but I just haven't been able to hype myself up to do it yet."

"Can't blame ya there. You're smart to avoid him right now, he's kinda in a…"

The sound of another scream echoes in the floor above you.

"Mood." He finishes with a grimace.

You nod your head in agreement. A shudder of fear rolling down your spine at the mere thought of what might be going on up there. Valentino's behavior had only gotten worse and your avoidance of him seemed to be getting harder the more he popped up.

"How've ya been holding up, Bee?" He switches the subject.

"Not much better than the last time you saw me." You shrug. "I don't know… things have been hard. But I'm not sure if they've been harder."

"Whaddya' mean?"

Your thoughts dance around in your head, echoes of the past mixing with more recent events. There's too much to say, and not enough time to say it.

"It's complicated." You look down at your hands, your nails picking idly at your cuticles.

"Honey I'm the queen of complicated." Angel puts a hand on his chest pridefully.

You chuckle softly, before a frown takes over tugging at the corners of your lips. You turn away.

"Maybe next time we get coffee I'll explain things."

"I'd love a next time. I liked having ya as my coffee buddy."

The two of you sit in silence for a moment before Angel is pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He offers you one which you decline. He gives a shrug before putting them away and lighting the one in his mouth with one of his free hands.

He takes a long drag on it, holding his breath before breathing out the smoke off to the side so it wouldn't get it your face.

"What's the boss man forcin' ya to bring to Val?"

"Just some hard drive. Don't ask me why or what for, I don't care and I don't want to know."

"Can't say I blame ya. Why don't I take it? I can't escape foreva', I see no reason why I can't deliver it for ya."

"You'd do that for me?"

Angel beams at you. "Of course I would! Besides, no need for you to face Val if ya don't have to, I've heard the way he talks about you. I'm more than happy to save ya from more of that directly to your face."

A warmth blossoms in your chest, the stress gnawing at your insides easing up for a moment.

"Thanks Angel, I really appreciate that."

He blows out another lungful of smoke. "Don't mention it."

You grab the hard drive off the ground next to you before handing it off to the spider. The two of you enjoy the silence between you as he finishes his cigarette. It felt nice to have someone to just exist with for a moment, no expectations on the table. Just two broken individuals, hiding from the world that broke them.

"I should get goin' back, and I'll make sure to hand this off to Val." Angel says as he waves the hard drive around. He takes a final drag then stubs it out on the steps.

He grabs the railing and rises to his feet. He turns back to face you, extending a hand.

"I guess I should probably head back too, since you're taking that."

You grab his offered hand and allow him to pull you to stand. For a second you're struck by just how tall Angel was. You didn't think you'd ever get used to being so small seemingly compared to the rest of Hell's citizens. Everyone seemed to tower above you, never allowing you to escape the feeling of being so small.

"I betta' be seein' ya for coffee soon. I'll be waiting on your text." Angel shoots you a faux serious look.

A small smile creeps its way onto your face as you nod. "Yeah."

You can't help the sad sigh escaping you as you watch his form trot up the stairs.

~

"Wait, what do you mean dinner tonight?"

"Exactly what I said. Valentino and Velvette are coming over for dinner tonight. It's been awhile since we've all done one together."

"What does this have to do with me?" You ask wearily.

"Why because you'll be joining me, of course." Vox says with a wide smile.

Your stomach churns at the mere thought of being trapped at a table for a whole meal with Valentino and Velvette. The unexpected possibilities of what would come from that were too much for you to handle.

"Why?" You can't help but question before you can think better.

Vox's eye twitches in a show of annoyance before he's closing his eyes, hands smoothing down the front of his jacket. He clears his throat then turns his gaze back to you, looking somewhat more collected.

"Because I want you there."

His tone leaves no room for you to protest, and you're far from wanting to push your luck.

You nod from your place on the couch, your mind spinning into a disaster of anxiety. Your fingers twitch idly against your palms, your teeth gnawing at the skin of your lip. You glance at the clock noting the time to count down until this evening. For once you wish for the day to drag on, the end of it never coming.

Of course things don't end up going your way, the day moving by just as quickly as the rest of them. You're pacing a hole into the floor in Vox's bedroom as you wait for your inevitable fate.

"Blossom?" You hear Vox call from the living room.

You stare longingly out the windows, gauging exactly how bad it would be if you were to run head first into them. The recovery time it would take you to regenerate would be long enough to get you out of this stupid dinner.

For all of Vox's acts of kindness recently, this still felt like a cruel reminder he could do whatever he wanted. Surely he knew how hard this would be on you, how much worse this would make you feel. It was hard to believe he cared at all if he was willing to throw you into the lions pit with him without so much as a second thought.

"Bea?" He says a little louder, a lingering frustration settled beneath his tone.

You tear your wistful stare away from the skyline. "Coming!"

You step into the living room, noting the fact the others hadn't yet arrived. The relief it brought you was only minute, knowing that it would change any moment now. Vox was pulling things out of a bag, setting them on the counter, a smile breaking out on his face when he notices you.

"It means a lot to me that you're here tonight."

Like you had a choice in the matter.

Rather than challenging him, potentially making things worse, you offer your assistance.

"Do you need help with anything? I can set the table."

His grin only widens, a gleam caught in his eyes. "That'd be great doll. You know where everything is, yeah?"

"Of course." You say moving towards the cupboards to pull things out.

You're carrying a small stack of plates when you hear the front door burst open loudly. The distinct sound of determined footsteps being followed by the sound of a clicking keyboard. You know it's Velvette before she even rounds the corner.

She enters the space like she owns it, flopping down on the couch without giving either of you a second glance.

Vox rolls his eyes as he greets her. "Good evening Vel."

She lifts a finger to indicate he stop, rapidly typing something away on her phone before finally clicking the power button and turning her attention back to him.

"Evenin' V." She says with something that could be mistaken for affection. Her eyes flit over to you where you're placing plates down at the table. "Oh is the little bee joining us for dinner? You know Val won't be happy about that."

Vox rubs the side of his screen as if already vexed. "I don't really care what Val thinks these days. He's a big boy, he can suck it up and act like an adult."

Velvette snorts. "That's a big ask for him and you know it."

"Well it's never too late to get him to try." Vox shrugs.

"Good luck with that. How long have you two been together?"

Vox sighs.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." She chuckles. She looks at the time on her phone. "Of course he's late, typical innit?"

"He'll be here soon."

You find yourself awkwardly standing off to the side of the counter having now finished setting the table. Your fingers pick idly at the grooves in the granite.

Velvette eyes you where you stand, a smile creeping up on her face. "Well I can't wait for this shit show to start. Honestly Vox, babes I love you, but you know this will only end in disaster."

"Shut up Velvette." He snaps.

She blows him a kiss. "You love me."

Vox turns to you.

"Help me take this to the table, yeah?" He says motioning to all the food on the counter.

You nod, silently moving to do as he says.

You hear the front door open again, this time louder as it slams into the wall. What you don't expect to hear is two sets of voices making their way into the main space of the penthouse. You don't know if you feel relief or if it's worse when you spot Angel walking behind a clearly irrate Valentino. He looks sheepish as he follows the moth into the room, his gaze only softening when it catches on you.

The two of you have a shared moment of realization about the shit storm you're both sure to endure. Tonight wasn't going to be easy, most of all for the two of you.

Valentino comes to a halt, a leering grin spreading across his face when he spots you. The urge to throw yourself out the windows comes back.

Before he says anything, Vox speaks up first.

"What the fuck is Angel Dust doing here?"

One of Valentino's arms reaches out to grab the spider, tucking him into his side with a smug look.

"I just knew you'd be bringing your pet, so why not bring mine?"

You can see Angel shift uncomfortably in his grasp, but he does nothing to try and break free.

The tension suddenly surging through the room is palpable in a way you're sure everyone feels it too. Vox and Valentino hold each other's gaze as if each were threatening the other to do or say something more.

Velvette loudly claps her hands together drawing all the attention to her.

"If you're done with whatever this is, can we eat? I for one am fucking starved."

It's as if the rest of you are snapped out of a trance, your movements being spurred back into action. Vox comes to your side, placing his lower hand on your back as he guides you to your seat. He pulls the chair out for you and you offer him a quiet 'thank you'. Across the table you can see Valentino roll his eyes at the gesture, his action causing you to bristle.

Angel looks ambivalent to sit down, but does so without a word. It feels strange to see him so quiet but you suppose this situation isn't any more comfortable for him either.

All three Overlords are eager to grab at the food on the table, filling their plates while exchanging meaningless conversation. The last thing on your mind is eating, your gaze growing blurry as you stare at nothing in particular.

Despite the time you've spent around them, you feel like an outsider intruding on an intimate moment. It was so rare to see all three of them together in a situation so mundane.

"Bea?"

Your head quickly snaps to Vox beside you, the immediate feeling of having done something wrong eating away at you.

"What?" You ask timidly.

"You need to eat." Vox says motioning to your empty plate.

"Oh please, if the bitch wants to starve herself, let her." Valentino mocks cruelly across the table. "Don't tell me you're starting to get soft."

"Would you mind fucking off Val?" Vox growls across the table. "It's none of your business how I've been treating her."

"Hmm touchy aren't we?"

"Is there no fucking salt on this table?" Velvette interjects exasperatedly.

Desperate for an excuse to leave the table, you pipe up quickly. "I'll get it."

"Do you need help?" Angel asks seemingly just as desperate to make an escape.

Before you have the chance to answer Valentino cuts in over you.

"I'm sure the little abeja is perfectly capable of doing it herself, isn't she?"

You nod, rounding the table to make your way into the kitchen. Your progress is quickly halted when your foot catches on something sending you toppling into the ground.

"Or maybe she isn't." Valentino laughs cruelly. "Maybe that's why you did her errand for her."

You fight to keep the tears from falling even as you hear Vox jump into your defense.

"What the fuck Val?"

"What? It's not my fault the little bug is so clumsy."

Angel slides out of his chair to help you to your feet. Your eyes meet his and you know he can see the anguish in them as he offers you his hand.

"You need to knock it off right now!" Vox snaps across the table.

Valentino grins dangerously. "Or what, amorcito?"

The lights flickering above is enough of a warning to everyone in the room.

"Would you two knock it off? Fuck! I would rather you two fucks bicker about work than whatever the fuck this is." Velvette barks at her two partners.

Angel helps you to your feet and for a moment the two of you simply stand there, bracing for whatever happens next.

Valentino and Vox say nothing, their gazes locked onto the other, intently glaring at one another.

"Vox, please," you say quietly, desperate to diffuse the tension. "It's fine."

"It's not."

Velvette rolls her eyes. "Oh yes let's all have dinner together, it'll be a great time, nothing will go wrong." She scoffs shaking her head. "I swear it's a miracle we even got to where we are with the two of you pulling shit like this all the time."

"Things wouldn't be a problem if Val would stop being so dramatic."

Valentino laughs coldly. "Oh I'm dramatic?"

"Kiss my ass."

"Not if you keep acting like this."

Vox slams his hands against the table, snarling in frustration.

Velvette tosses her napkin onto the table, sliding her chair back allowing her to stand. "You know what? I'm done. Maybe we can try this again when the two of you decide you can act like adults with each other."

With a flick of her hair she's sauntering out of the penthouse, the door slamming loudly behind her.

Her absence seems to do little to diffuse the tension in the room. You only now register the way you're clinging to Angel with desperation, him alone being your only life line in this.

Valentino leans across the table, his eyes filled with malice. "Look at you thinking you're so big and strong. Wouldn't want to be doing anything stupid like letting those thoughts go to your head. Or have you forgotten how things work between us?"

You barely miss the way Vox's eyes flick over to the two of you.

"Don't." He says firmly. "Not here."

Valentino glances back at you. "What? Afraid she'll see you as you really are?"

You swallow thickly as you share a look with Angel, he looks just as out of depth in this situation as you do.

"Val, maybe we should just go." Angel tries to coax.

"Shut the fuck up, you stupid whore. We leave when I say we do."

"No, Valentino, I think he's right. You should leave." Vox's voice is frigid, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Valentino's eyes narrow, a sneer tugging at his lips. Suddenly his expression smooths out and he stands.

"Fine then." He brushes his hands along the edge of his jacket before he's turning to you and Angel. His hand lands on the spider's shoulder before he's harshly tugging him away from you.

Before you have time to process it, he's leaning down, crowding your personal space.

His tone is low as he whispers cruelly in your ear. "I was here long before you came around, and I'll be here long after. A pathetic sinner like you is nothing, you will always be nothing. I want you to remember that when your precious reality is shattered."

He pulls away shooting you a false smile before he's putting his arm around Angel and corralling him out the door.

The silence suddenly permeating the penthouse is deafening. You turn to look at Vox, unsure of what to do but he's staring out the window, a distant—almost tormented—look on his face.

"Vox?" You say softly.

For a moment it seems as if he hasn't heard you, but it's as he's turning to face you that his phone begins to ring. He grimaces, but when he looks down at it his eyes light up.

"Excuse me Blossom, I gotta take this. I'll be right back, I promise."

Then he's rising from the table and quickly exiting the room.

You're left alone, shaken by the events of all that's transpired in the last thirty minutes or so. You stare at the empty table, the forgotten food, the skewed chairs. For a moment, nothing feels real, you almost begin to wonder if it was all some hallucination you'd conjured up.

What just happened?

In the other room Vox answers his phone immediately barking into it.

"This better be some good fucking news."

"Oh it is." The voice on the other end of the line reassures him. "We found him."

Vox looks at you through the crack in the door, the frown on his face morphing into a self satisfied grin.

"Perfect. You know where to take him."

Chapter Text

"I have a surprise for you."

Vox says this to you first thing in the morning. Your body and brain—still catching up with consciousness—buffers as you look at him in question. Your eyelids flutter for a second before you're focusing on him once more.

"What?"

He smiles, repeating himself.

"I have a surprise for you. No work today, I'm taking you somewhere special."

You can't help your immediate skepticism. You're apprehensive and on edge, your body already shifting into a state of anxiety and panic. Even with his recent behavior, Vox didn't exactly have the best track record. You were still waiting for the moment he snapped and all this changed. He was being too kind, patient—sweet. It was only a matter of time before he reverted to his previous ways and this false sense of security and safety was completely ripped from you.

You can't help eyeing him apprehensively. "Why?"

A large grin splits across his face, he gets up, walking over to your side. He leans down to put his face level with yours, his hand coming up to gently caress the side of your face.

"Because I'm finally going to give you what no one else did. You're finally going to get what you deserve." He says placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

Somehow that does nothing to ease the anxious nausea brewing in your stomach, if anything it only makes it worse.

"Vox…"

He smiles at you tapping the tip of your nose. "None of that now Blossom, you'll see soon enough. But first, how about some breakfast?"

~

When you get down to the unused studio, your confusion only grows. Your caution intensifying as Vox offers you his hand to help you out of the car. Your gaze sweeps up and down the streets, wholly unfamiliar with where you were. You'd been to many of VoxTek properties, different studios and warehouses used for filming and creating an insane variety of things. Screams echo a couple streets over, a car alarm blaring through the morning sky, gun shots rapidly firing, the distant sounds of Hell resound all around you as you slowly follow Vox towards the entrance.

It's clear the property is old, the space not having been used for years. Crumbling brick makes up the majority of the facade, dusty foggy windows dotting the front and sides. You can't help but wonder what on earth you could be doing here as he coaxes you along.

When he opens the door to usher you inside, the stale smell of dust and mildew reach your nose. The front room looks mostly barren as if the majority of things that might have previously filled this space had been moved long ago. Dust has settled upon every inch but you can still see impressions scattered on the floor where things once had been.

Vox continues to lead you further into the building, your eyes constantly scanning your surroundings trying your best to figure out what possible reason Vox could have for bringing you here. When he stops in front of a closed door, you can't help but hold your breath. He places his hand on the knob but doesn't open it. Instead he turns around to face you, a look of intense sincerity tinged with something that could be glee, settled on his expression.

"I want you to remember Bea, that I'm doing this for you. All of this, is for you."

You swallow nervously as you watch his hand turn the knob before stepping into a dark room. His hand flicks a light switch next to the door and what you see in the middle of the room causes your breath to flee from your lungs.

"Ta da!" Vox says with a flourish, walking further into the room.

In the middle of the room in a chair, tied with his hands behind his back, gag secured behind his head, and looking like a furious pissed off bull, was Evan. The rage in his eyes almost causes you to take a few steps back upon instinct, something inside you screaming to immediately bolt right back out the door. It didn't matter if he was incapacitated, he was angry and his attention was entirely directed at you.

"W-what?" You mutter not being able to say much beyond that.

"Your surprise my dear, I have an exciting show to put on for you with our less than lovely guest!"

His grin is wide and full of nothing but teeth. In this moment you're reminded every bit of the showman he is, always putting on a performance. But what could he possibly…

You shake your head, the sinking dread in your stomach already warning you of what's to come next. You weren't sure if you'd be able to handle it, you didn't want to be here.

You shuffle back a few more steps, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. Your eyes frantically scan the room for nothing in particular.

Vox looks concerned, taking the opportunity to get closer to you, his hands reach out for you carefully, giving you the time to see them.

"It's okay Bea. He can't hurt you right now. And trust me, when I'm done with him, he'll never be able to hurt you again."

It's impossible to fight him when his arms carefully wrap around you. He tucks you into him with such tender care. The crown of your head tingles when he places a soft kiss against it.

You can hear some sort of muffled protest from Evan, but it barely makes it past the gag. There's still an ardent instinct to flee, to escape and never look back, but Vox's arms keep you held in place.

"Let me show you how safe you are." He whispers.

The protest dies on your tongue when he lifts you onto an old desk in front of a console gathering dust on the far wall. Your hands grip the edge like a lifeline, your eyes frantically searching his.

Behind Vox you can make out Evan's struggling form, muffled profanities falling from his lips. Vox rolls his eyes at the sound before placing a kiss on your forehead and turning around.

A scoff falls from Vox's lips as he assess the man in front of him, tilting his head to the side in silent observation.

"You know, I'm not very impressed. My beautiful Bea has told me a bit about you and honestly, I expected more. But it shouldn't come as a shock that a wife beater would be so pathetic."

Vox walks closer to Evan, stopping right in front of his chair, a detestful glower resting on his features.

"Did it make you feel big? Powerful? Every time you left her bruised and bloody? Did that satiate your sick need for power and control?"

Evan's eyes form into a hateful glare, another muffled exclamation spewing through the gag.

Vox sighs, shaking his head. He leans over to undo the gag, harshly ripping it free of his mouth. Evan lets out a growl, his limbs tugging at his bindings.

"Aw, I'm sorry I thought you had something to say." Vox sneers.

"Go fuck yourself!"

Vox chuckles unbuttoning his blazer before shrugging it down his arms. He tosses it carelessly behind him before moving onto his vest to do the same.

"You know, I'm a lot more familiar with your types than you might think, and let me tell you, I'm not very impressed."

He tugs his bow tie undone, letting the ends of it hang around his neck.

"You have no idea who I am!" Evan spews bitterly.

Vox shakes his head, his fingers deftly unbuttoning his cuffs and beginning to roll his sleeves up.

"I know exactly who you are Evan. The thing here is, I don't think you know who I am."

Without a warning, Vox shoves his hand against Evan's chest. Evan lets out a deafening scream as Vox's hand illuminates sending a powerful wave of electricity through him.

Your knuckles go white from where you're gripping the desk, your body frozen in shock. The sounds of Evan's screams settle into your skull, the sensation making you feel strange and disoriented.

Only a moment later and Vox retreats, looking down at the other man as if he was a mere inconvenience. He looks at his hand, then back to Evan.

"Wow if that hurt, you're going to be a little bitch about everything that comes next."

Another furious growl rips through Evan.

"Fuck you!"

Vox's hand darts out to grab Evan's jaw, his claws immediately sinking into the soft flesh. "Oh you really think you're tough shit, don't you? Whatever things were like for you back in life, that shit doesn't matter down here. You're nothing but a sad, pathetic little man who gets off on the false semblance of power he gives himself. But you wouldn't know real power if it hit you in the face."

Evan grits his teeth, his brows furrowing at the sharp feeling. Blood blooms to the surface of his skin, trickling down his face in thin rivulets. His eyes dart over to you, and your spine goes straight.

"This all because of her? Cause I can assure you, her pussy is not worth the effort of all of this."

Your stomach twists painfully.

Vox growls, fisting his hand in Evan's hair, pulling his head back at a harsh angle. "Don't you dare talk about her that way. In fact I don't even want to see you look at her."

Vox's hand leaves his chin, his claw tipped thumb rapidly stabbing itself into Evan's right eye. He pulls it free slowly, his retreat gradual as he rips the organ from the other man's face. Evan yells brutally at the agonizing sensation, his head trying to jerk free but Vox's hold on his hair is tight and unyielding.

Once the eye is finally free, Vox drops his hold and takes a step back. Evan's head drops to stare down at his lap as he groans loudly, blood pours from his now empty eye socket. Vox examines the eye pierced on his thumb lazily before he's flicking his wrist sending it flying somewhere into the room.

"If you look at her one more time, I'll take the other. Got it?" He says with cool malice.

"What the fuck do you even want from me?"

Vox snaps his fingers, a showman's grin made up of his shark like teeth. "I'm so glad you asked. See I know what you've done; what you thought was okay to do to someone you called your wife. Let's just say I'll be playing the role of karma today."

Evan lifts his head, his left eye squinting up at Vox, his lips pulled into a deep frown. "You're a fucking psychopath!" He spits angrily.

Vox chuckles. "I prefer creative."

He snaps his fingers and suddenly a small table appears in between him and Evan. Evan's left hand has been moved from behind his back and is now pinned to it. His one good eye stares up at Vox in contempt and apprehension. All Vox does is grin. He snaps his fingers and a thin pair of needle nose pliers appear on the table beside his hand. He picks them up, looking them over with excitement.

"How many years were you and Bea married?"

"You know that's not her name, right?"

Vox sighs, inverting the pliers before jamming them into Evan's hand. He screams loudly in response. Vox just looks at him apathetically.

"I know a lot more about her than you think. Quit your bullshit, I asked you a question."

He twists the pliers still in his hand. Evan stomps his foot on the ground, his breath blowing heavily through his nose.

"Ten years! Fuck! We were married for ten years. Why the fuck does it matter?!"

Vox pulls the pliers out, grinning once more.

"Well that works out perfectly!"

One of his hands lays across the top of Evan's hand, pinning it to the table harder. His eye is wide watching in horror as Vox shoves the bottom nose of the plier underneath his pointer finger. Vox squeezes the pliers shut, the top coming to rest on the nail before he's tugging with a grunt.

The shriek of pain from Evan is so loud you can't help but raise your hands to your ears.

"That's one!" Vox says brightly, dropping the bloody finger nail to the floor.

You have to keep your ears covered as Vox rips the rest out in quick succession. The decibels of Evan's screams seeming to grow higher with each nail Vox rips out. You want to look away, but it's impossible to tear your eyes away from the scene. Something inside you feels terribly satisfied seeing Evan suffer so much, but there's also a part of you that feels the need to end this. Yet you do nothing, your body remaining frozen in place. The ability to move seeming impossible.

You're only able to pull your hands away from your ears when Vox is finished with both of his hands. He steps back, his shoes kicking aside the bloody finger nails on the floor. Evan is panting heavily, his left eye closed, his head tipped back as he attempts to recover from it.

Vox snaps his fingers, the table and pliers disappearing, Evan's hands being situated behind his back once more. Vox watches patiently as Evan tries desperately to compose himself. Evan's brow furrows as he manages to look at Vox, his lips tugged down in a grimace.

"You know, you sure do frown a lot. An old friend of mine would probably suggest you smile more. Here," Vox says snapping his fingers, a knife appearing in his hand. "Why don't I help you with that?"

Evan's expression is consumed with panic, he does his best to jerk his head away from Vox but fails miserably. Vox tsks at the man, grabbing his hair once more.

"It's only going to hurt more if you keep moving like that."

Evan whimpers pathetically when Vox raises the blade to his lips. There's no preamble as he begins to slice the sharp blade through his flesh. Evan lets out another round of brutal screams as Vox hums happily. He drags the blade all the way to Evan's ear, before repeating the same action on the other side. The skin of his face is split open, blood pours from the wounds, drenching his clothes.

Tears fall from his eye as Evan weeps pitifully. Still holding onto his hair, Vox steps to the side, grabbing the back of the chair and turning him to fully face you. The knife has disappeared, his lower hand clutching Evan's jaw brutally as he displays his work to you. Vox looks wild and manic, blood staining various parts of his body.

Vox calls over to you. "Look at him Bea. Does this pathetic waste of space look like he could hurt you again?"

Your body feels cold, you swallow and it feels like a stone going down your throat. You manage to shake your head slowly.

"Whatever happens to me, you'll still never escape the memory of me." Evan spits bitterly. "I'll always own some part of you."

Vox reaches into Evan's mouth, his claws wrapping around his tongue and then pulling. Evan squalls loudly, though it lasts only a second before he's choking on nothing but blood.

"That's enough out of you."

Vox eyes the tongue lazily, before tossing it aside with a sigh. He looks up at you, then back to Evan.

"You know I made a promise to you I haven't made good on. Let's see those hands again!" He snaps his finger and the table is back. This time both of Evan's hands are pinned to it, a large meat cleaver embedded in the wood in front of them.

Vox walks to the side of Evan, picking up the cleaver with a sharp smile. He spins it a couple of times in his hand, weighing the mass.

"I guess you didn't really have a desire to keep these after all, huh?"

You lean back with horror filled eyes as you watch Vox raise the knife. Evan shakes his head back and forth, gurgling incomprehensible words as he watches in horror. Vox's eyes are frenzied as he brings the cleaver down onto Evan's wrists, the massive blade severing his hands in an instant.

The sound of Evan choking on his own blood as he tries to scream is grotesque, the sight before you growing too much to bare witness to. You duck your head down and bring your hands up to block out the sound. A whimper of distress falling from your lips as a rapid storm of emotions brews tumultuously inside you.

For some reason you feel like you're about to be sick and you worry you might actually vomit on the floor.

You let out a startled shriek when you feel a hand on your face. You stare up at Vox with fear filled eyes as he cradles your cheek with a bloodied hand.

He's shushing you, his features filled with worry when as he scans over your face.

"It's okay Bea. I know, I know. It's a lot." He coos softly. "But I need you to see this next part. This is all for you. You need to see what I'm willing to do for you."

You shake your head back and forth, tears filling your eyes as you watch him in horror. A logical part of you always knew who Vox was, knew the worst of what he was capable of—of what he'd done. But being confronted with it, even when you knew you weren't in danger, it was a horrifying realization that shocks you painfully.

You wanted to go home, you didn't want to see this anymore.

"I made you a promise I intend to keep." Vox says looking you intently in the eye. "I need you to see that."

He brushes his thumbs below your eyes, collecting the tears that have fallen beneath them.

"You deserve to see this."

He steps away, turning back to a sniveling Evan. He looks near unrecognizable at this point and you begin to wonder how you ever found him handsome.

Vox waves his hand, a bolt of electricity running around it, then there's a small wooden box within his palm. He sets it on the table next to Evan's severed hands, then opens it.

"These are a fun gift given to me by a friend of mine to try out a little experiment I've been wanting to do." He begins to explain. Though at this point you're not sure if he's doing it for Evan or for you. "You see, I wanted to see what happened when my power got to play with angelic steel, and I've always been so very curious about extinguishing a Sinner's soul by myself. Who better to test it on, than you? You don't deserve an afterlife, and Bea certainly doesn't deserve to deal with you for the rest of hers."

Vox begins to pull several silver tips out of the box before sliding them onto each of the claws on right hand. He lifts it to inspect them, before he looks down at Evan. A smile splits across his face. He leans over the mangled man, his left hand bracing on the back of the chair.

"It's been fun."

A burst of light arcs from his hand before he's sinking his claws directly into Evan's chest. Evan throws his head back, another gargled mess of noise flees from his bloodied mouth as he tries desperately to scream. His head is thrown back, his body twitching in agony as the light from Vox's hand makes his chest grow bright.

It hurts to look at, but you swear you see something discolored in the middle of it, right where Evan's heart would be. You don't know if you're imagining it or what it could even be if you weren't. The lights of the building start to flicker, the sound of outlets arcing and light bulbs cracking fills your ears.

Vox's screen is growing discolored in places around his face like a test card image. Bloody lines drip from his mouth and his left eye swirls rapidly, his smile having gone deranged. The light increases to an impossible brightness before it snuffs out with a final burst.

At the same moment all the lights shatter, plunging the room into near darkness. All sound has stopped, you only hear the blood rushing in your ears. You can barely make out anything in the darkness, the only light coming from the windows beyond the door to the room. You think you can see Vox slumped over into Evan, his screen barely illuminated. Evan isn't moving, he's gone completely still.

Tears fall freely from your eyes and it feels impossible to take a proper breath.

It's only barely a moment or two before you see Vox's screen brighten, his hands bracing against Evan to push himself to stand. He's panting, and when he turns to you, his face is void of the demented look he wore only minutes ago. He's smiling, it's a touch prideful, but it's soft around the edges.

At this point, you don't know what your tears are for. Relief? Fear? Some twisted sense of joy? All your thoughts are muddled and disjointed. You don't know if you want to push Vox away or pull him closer. 

How were you even supposed to feel after your monster was slain by another? 

Your eyes can't help straying to Evan's mangled corpse. You couldn't even tell where one part of him started and the other began. It was a visceral disgusting scene, but even you couldn't deny that Vox gave him exactly what he deserved. 

You feel Vox's hand—wet with Evan's still warm blood—carefully lift your chin to redirect your gaze back to him. His screen is splattered with blood, his clothes soaked through with it as well. Your mind is too loud, you can't make sense of anything. You don't know what you're feeling but you don't think it's fear.

"It's okay," Vox whispers softly. "He's gone. He can't hurt you anymore." 

You can't help the shuddering sob that falls from your lips, a deluge of tears instantly spilling from your eyes. 

When Vox leans down to capture your lips, you meet him halfway. 

It feels so truly fucked up to find comfort in him of all people, especially now, but in this moment you'd take anything you were given, even from him. If nothing else just to feel safe. 

The delicacy in which Vox strips you of your dress is startling, even with the moments of kindness he's shown you before, he's never handled you with this level of care. It could rival Alastor in the way he touches you as if you were a porcelain doll on the verge of shattering. 

It wasn't far off from the way you felt. 

It's easy to lose yourself in his touch, the way it feels to kiss him. For a moment you can delude yourself into thinking he hadn't hurt you either, that he didn't have his fair share of atrocities committed against you. 

Vox deepens the kiss as he peels off your underwear, his tongue invading your mouth as his hands grip your hips in a gentle—yet possessive—grasp, smearing blood along them. 

"You're mine Bea, I'll take care of you. I'll always take care of you. I promise." Vox murmurs between heated kisses. 

You know you can't trust him, but in this moment, you'll believe anything. 

His hands fiddle with the buttons on his shirt for a moment before he finally manages to get it open, ripping it off his arms with far more force than how he handled you.

He pulls back, his eyes hang heavily as he stares at you with an intensity you'd never witnessed until now. His gaze doesn't leave yours as he undoes his pants, pushing them down his legs before sliding them off. 

You don't know what you're feeling as you watch him stroke his hard length slowly, his other hand pulling you closer. The blood had soaked through his clothes, the red staining his bare blue skin an almost maroon shade. 

"Eyes on me, Blossom," he says softly. 

You follow his command without hesitation, your eyes meeting his as he lines up with your entrance. One of his hands lifts your leg up on his hip, the other coming up to tenderly stroke your cheek. 

Then, as if he had any right to say them, he speaks the worst words he's ever said to you. 

"I love you, Bea." 

His lips press to yours as he sinks into you with a slow firm thrust. It's impossible to suppress the moan it pulls from you. Something inside you twists and you know this is wrong, deep down you know exactly how terrible this is. The sea of emotions is stronger, louder than that knowledge, and all you can do is cling to Vox as your only safety in the storm.

The usual pain of him stretching you gives way to a pleasure that startles you with its intensity. It's almost embarrassing how wet you were already, your body reacting to his in ways it had never previous. Vox settles against you when he reaches his hilt, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. You feel a desperate need to get closer to him, both of your legs wrapping tightly around his lower back, holding him to you. Your arms wind around his neck as you deepen the kiss.

A whimper falls from your lips as he withdraws, only to thrust back in deeper this time. The body of another has never felt so intimate in its slide against yours.

Vox's hands cling to you as if you were his only lifeline in the afterlife, like you alone would be his salvation.

His thrusts pick up pace, the old desk rattling against the wooden floor and switch board behind it, each movement causing it to shudder and bang. Though the sound is distant to your ears as all you can focus on is the ragged heavy breathing of Vox.

"You're so perfect Bea, so fucking perfect. And you're mine, you'll always be mine. I'll never let you go, no one else will ever have you. Fuck! I love you. God I love you."

One of his hands snakes through your hair, brushing the strands of it away from your face. His other settles on your lower back keeping you pinned against him.

You felt as if you longed for a love like this for an unbearably long time, but it was still wrong.

You'd always been willing to accept scraps, any semblance of what you wanted and desired, so why would this be any different?

"F-fuck!" You moan softly as he hits a spot inside you that causes your vision to blur along the edges.

Vox's hand rubs circles on your leg, his hand creeping higher and higher. His other hand strokes your back softly. His eyes find yours, locking you into his intense gaze. He thrusts inside you slowly as his thumb finds home on your clit. He starts to make sluggish steady circles around it. The sensation of it sends a bolt of pleasure straight through you, and you can feel yourself growing wetter. Another moan tumbles from your lips as Vox speeds up his motions inside of you, his thumb matching the pace of his thrusts.

You cling to him like your life depends on it, your legs tensing along his hips as your cunt clenches tightly around him.

"Oh god!" You whimper as you feel yourself nearing the edge.

Vox's voice whispers roughly in your ear, "Cum for me Bea."

It takes less than an instant for your body to follow his direction, your vision blacking out as your orgasm hits you at an Earth shattering pace. His name is a deafening shriek on your tongue. A shocking wetness floods its way out of you and around his cock, your sensitivity growing intensely as he fucks you through it.

The sensation of you squirting is what sends Vox off the edge, his hips sliding deep into you one final time. You feel him pulse against your walls as he groans loudly in your ear.

"Fuck yes. Fuck you're so good. So fucking perfect."

He pants in your ear as he comes down, his arms holding you gently as your body goes limp, weak from all you'd just been through.

Your head is strangely empty aside from one lone thought buzzing inside of it.

Maybe you were finally good enough.