Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Vox first dropped into hell, to say he was lost was an understatement. 

He wasn’t a religious person by any means, so he couldn’t exactly say he took the whole ‘being not dead’ thing… well. But him being in the so-called ‘Bad Place?’ No surprises there. Now though, despite those memories being so blurry, so faded, unimportant. The seven rings dancing at the edge of his fingertips, he felt just as lost and alone as he did when he first died. 

The only difference was that before, he wouldn’t have had the balls to be where he was now. Standing at the top while everyone else got crushed underneath his heel. He wouldn’t have had the strength it took to be an overlord, to not close his eyes when he pulled the trigger. That pathetic, moral, human bag of emotions and blood and viscera would have cried at the sight of the atrocities he had committed with the flick of his wrist, the push of a button. And yet, here he was now.

He remembered, vaguely, trying to keep ahold of that, that humanity. To not drown in the violence and death and decay. 

But with so many opportunities for depravity, no inhibitions or social norms he had to adhere to, it was so easy to just… let go. To give into the whispers, the temptations, the evil that was advertised like a soda pop from back when he was still breathing. And when the music was raging so loud, the seven rings spinning so fast, power, the control, just right there for the taking..

Why not let go? 

At least before, he knew it would be a regret.

He was such a different person than he was before, it made him wonder if he’d even recognise his old face in the mirror. Or if it would just be a stranger staring back.

Shockingly, it made him think about his family.

It made him wonder if they would even recognise him. It had been almost a century since he had seen them, more of a general fact than an actual person or thing to care about. Sure, he knew he had parents, but what they looked like? Who they were? It was more like vague impressions, muffled voices, stifled emotions. Did they remember him? Or was he a fading photograph, going yellow around the edges, gathering dust in the attic. 

For some reason, it felt like he was easy to forget about..

Vox shook his head, quickly regretting it as his vision blurred and twisted in nauseating directions. He trudged back to his bedroom, fumbling to find his bed in the dark. Shards of glass fell from his face, burying themselves into the carpet. Despite knowing how much of a bitch it would be to get out later, he couldn’t bring himself to care at that moment. He fell into bed with a small ‘oomph,’ grimacing as the pieces of his face shifted and pressed together. 

In a minute, Vox would go across the hall and fix his face, making it good as new. It would be like it never even happened. A blank slate. And for everything that wasn’t as easy to remove? Well, the marks and cuts would be easy enough to cover. The bite marks? The bleeding? It would all heal quickly so why even bother to try and staunch the wounds? 

The water… 

Well, it would dry.

Vox could feel his blood seeping into the blankets, his sliced skin burning, the bruises aching. Yet all he could feel was the low buzzing in the back of head as he stared at the smooth ceiling. Maybe it was the water messing with his circuits, numbing his nerves as it fucked with his brain.

His mind ran away from him, letting that droning buzz get ever louder as he relaxed in the dark, for just a moment. Just a minute. Just one. Then he’d be Vox again. One minute to let the persona slip, one minute to be himself for once, and he’d be back to his good-old advertising, brand-selling self. But for that one minute, that whole sixty seconds… 

Well, who he was was nobody’s business but his, wasn’t it?

And if that person couldn’t handle the excruciating pain of having his face caved in by the man he loved? If that person let a few tears slip into the circuitry, the tell tale sizzle and pop of already agitated wires as he cried? Well, no one had to know. 

One minute. Just one. And if that one minute became two, then three, then… well, he wasn’t even counting. Had it been a second or an hour? It felt like he was falling, 

                         falling, 

                                                 falling… 

Maybe if he didn’t wake up, he wouldn’t have to be Vox anymore. If he didn’t wake up, he wouldn’t have to be anyone ever again. Like it was supposed to be when he died for the first time. 

But he knew his minute was up. 

Vox opened his eyes, ignoring the smarting pain in his face as he got up, cursing himself for shutting the door, just knowing that he’d step on pieces of what used to be his face. Fuck, if he hadn’t been such a little bitch earlier and caused the blackout, maybe everything wouldn’t hurt so much. 

Not that he didn’t deserve it.

What was he even thinking? He hadn’t, he never did. As soon as he heard that fucker’s name he hadn’t even spared a single thought to how it would look, what the media would think, how much he could tarnish his reputation with just one wrong word, one misstep. 

One very large, very dramatic, temper tantrum.

No, all he could think about was wringing that lying-cheating-goat-faced-fucker’s neck until it snapped–

And right after telling off Val about acting rashly– he was just asking for it, wasn’t he? If anything he got off easy after making an ass of himself in front of the whole of Pride and then causing the entire city’s power to go out.

At least Val found some inspiration with his punishment. Vox shuddered, hunching over and seizing, error codes popping up in his vision. Sparks of pain shot down his spine in sharp bolts, hissing and snapping as more sparks shot out from the cracks in his casing. When it stopped, Vox took a minute to collect himself before hopping onto his operating table. At least Val would take his new kink to the studio, and he better fucking keep it there. Waterboarding was not something he ever wanted to experience again, and yet there he was. 

“Fuck, stop Val! I- I’m sorry okay? I’m sorry, but please just fucking stop and listen–” 

“I’ll listen when you stop being a brat and behave.”

Vox shook his head. It didn’t matter, it was his fault, he was just being a whiny bitch about something that he had coming for him. Even if he had to get another waterproof case, even if he needed another screen, a hundred new screens, he knew at the end of the day that that was on him. He knew how temperamental he could be, how angry and pissy and jealous and controlling. He was lucky Val even stayed, lucky that he was so patient, willing to put up with his bullshit for so long, even when he didn’t learn, or needed ‘reminders.’

He was lucky. 

The cracks in his face ached. 

The procedure only took a few hours, but the time slipped through his hands like seconds. Vox made sure to stay awake the whole time to make sure the claws he programmed to assist with any upgrades he might need were working smoothly for the more intricate details. He’d already made that mistake once, and he could not deal with waking up with an extra arm again. Velvette had already laughed at him enough for that one incident for a lifetime. When it was finally finished, he had a shiny new screen and new waterproof casing, one that was harder to pry off this time. 

Realism his ass, Val just wanted to see him short circuit. Get off on the fact that his brain was frying inside his skull, that his veins felt like they were burning and god make it stop please make it stop I can’t breathe I can’t breathe–

Vox gasped, clutching at his chest. It burned, red and hot and it burned. He could feel metal on his wrists, still blackened from where the electricity had scorched them. Curling in on himself, Vox tried to take in a deep breath, but he couldn’t because there was water in his throat, his lungs, and he was choking and it burned it burned it burned–

His vision blurred, and Vox swore he could taste the acrid smoke from Val’s cigarettes, feel the vibrations from the smooth timbre of his voice, his laughter, his moans as he watched Vox fighting tooth and nail for just a scrap of air. 

“You’re so pretty when you cry, baby.” 

“Take it like the whore you are.” 

“Stop lying, I know you like it. Your body doesn’t lie.”

Despite himself, despite everything, Vox felt hot tears burning at his eyes for the third time that night. Hot and heavy and silent, any sounds muffled by his trembling hands.

He felt disgusting, dirty, weak. If he really didn’t want it, he would have stopped it. He was stronger than Val, it would have been so easy. He was being dramatic, Val was right. If he really hated it then why did it end up feeling so good? When Val took him kicking and screaming he still came, even if it hurt, even if he was left in a dirty heap of fluids and filth, he still let it happen because he liked it, it was the only reason. It had to be. 

Vox didn’t know how long he stayed like that, feeling whispers of touches that were nothing but smoke, and memories that turned to ash in his mouth. But he did know that the sun had risen high into the sky by the time he was able to collect himself enough to stand again, and even longer before he was able to feign indifference. 

When he saw Velvette for lunch, he told her that he was fine.

And when he saw Val, he apologised.

Val loved him, he knew that.

Even though they were long gone, he could still feel the cracks.

Chapter Text

Vox woke up wishing the world would fuck off already so he could go back to sleep. Or, more accurately, closing his eyes as his inner monologue rambled itself into knots and crashed every train of thought he had into one explosive wreck. 

A week. It had been one, tiny, meaninglessly miniscule week since his latest breakup with Valentino (not that he was counting, he had much more important shit to do than worry about that dumb moth), and already those fucking vultures posted it on every social media site possible, the general public eating up every last scrap of detail like a pack of rabid dogs. He couldn’t even open up his phone without getting his eyes assaulted by those obnoxious headlines: ‘Did The Radio Steal The Video Star?’ and ‘Breaking News! Trouble in Paradise, Once Again.’ If he had to see one more post insinuating that he was secretly getting railed by that smiley-fucker he was going to throw his phone off a cliff.

He would do the railing, obviously!

It really didn’t help that Velvette had taken it upon herself to try and get them to make up. Or in her words, ‘stop whining and FUCK already!’ Ugh. Whether it be locking them in a closet together until they broke down the door, or setting up some sort of candle-lit dinner with a rose-filled bed like a shitty rom com, (which for some reason Val liked ). But no matter what ridiculous thing was set up  for them to talk or fuck, it always ended up with Vox being kicked out while some of Val’s employees were let in. Vox wasn’t exactly surprised, but it still managed to drive that hurt deeper into his chest.

He always forgot what it felt like whenever Val broke up with him. How much it hurt to have the man he loved look at him like he was worth less than the scum on the bottom of his shoe. Those high moments, those hot, heady sessions and sickly sweet cigars. He missed it, he craved it. To have Val look at him as though Vox was powerful, was someone who he wanted ruling by his side. Like he was worth something..

He would take any amount of vitriol and anger and hatred if it meant Val would look at him that way. 

If Val would look at him at all. 

Picking up his phone off of his nightstand, Vox tapped on the contact at the top of his list. ‘My Rat ’ had over fifty unread apologies from Vox, ranging from passive-aggressive, threatening and violent, to downright begging and pleading, all left unread. Vox skipped past them and called Val, waiting for him to answer, not surprised in the least when he didn't. This would be voicemail number thirty three, after all. Not that he counted. Yet, he still felt that familiar pang of bitterness that welled up in his throat. 

“Hey, Val, I…” Vox sighed, pinching the centre of his screen. “Look, I’m.. sorry,” the words felt like ash in his mouth. “okay? I know you don’t like it when I talk to Ala– The Radio Demon, but it wasn’t–” He paused, letting out a small huff of air, jaw clenching as electricity ran up his arms in quick, snapping jolts. “No, NO- ḟ̲̄u̸͕ͥcͥk̎̐ you! I didn’t even do anything you entitled as̟̊̀s-”

Vox quickly cut himself off, a harsh breath seeping through his gritted teeth. Deep breaths he told himself, smile, just tell him what he wants to hear.. “...there isn’t an excuse I can give…” He said slowly, forcing his muscles to relax, smile sharp and jagged, the static in his voice barely contained. 

“I shouldn’t have done it, and I ruined your day with the blackout, I know.” He started to pace, a hand rubbing up and down his arm, quick and fidgety. “Just please let me at least talk to you in person, I’ll do anything– anything, I just… I miss you, Val.” He internally cringed at the crack in his voice as he hastily ended the call, tossing his phone onto the mattress with a frustrated noise. 

Fuck, how pathetic was he? Begging for attention like some sort of lost little whore? He was an Overlord, he had money, he had power, and he could have anyone he wanted! 

…but he didn’t want anyone else..

He deftly pushed away the thought of antique radios and haunting red eyes-

What did Val want from him? More grovelling? More attention? To get on his knees and lick his boots? Vox doubted he would be able to take much more of this, the hits to his pride only able to take so much. Val should fucking know not to mess with him like this, drag him along by his petty whims and stunted emotions. It made him feel so- so-

Fuck, fuck, Vox gripped the sides of his head and fell face-first into his pillow, groaning. Great, he had a headache now, too.

After a few minutes he sat up again, knowing he wouldn’t be able to fall back into some semblance of rest, his nerves too jittery, too pent up to ignore. He thought of going back to work, but for once the idea wasn’t exactly appealing. Maybe it was because he had been working non-stop for a week straight, barely sparing time to go to the bathroom, let alone any thoughts about Val. Despite that, despite it all, those whispers always managed to seep through the cracks, pungent in their sweet stench that drove Vox mad.

No, he needed a new distraction, one that would wipe that rat-faced bastard from his mind, for at least one night. Just enough to let him fall asleep without being reminded of how cold the bed was, how quiet. Ugh, what was he, a teen girl? He could sleep alone. He wasn’t that pathetic!

..he just- he didn’t want- he always– he was an Overlord he didn’t have to explain himself!

Velvette was Vox’s first thought when it came to a distraction and a decent time, but he remembered her mentioning some sort of fashion show she was hosting that night, so she was out. And… that was it for his list of friends he could bother since his boy– ex- boyfriend wasn’t exactly an option at the moment, so.. going alone it was. 

It wasn’t sad, he didn’t need those two to have fun, anyways. 

Yeah, he could have fun and stick it to Val. He was fine, great, absolutely fucking fantastic and he would show the whole of Hell that he didn’t need Valentino, he didn’t need anybody.

With that thought on his mind, Vox zapped himself to the nearest bar. 

It was your average dive bar, at least for hell. He could feel his shoes stick to the tacky floorboards, and grimaced at the grease-slick counter, despite the half-hearted attempts from the bartender to scrub it off. It wasn’t crowded, but there were enough people that he’d have to rub elbows with strangers, joy. He had half a mind to go and find somewhere classier, but at least here no one would give him a second glance. Even if it was… substandard, it would get him drunk, at least

This usually wasn’t Vox’s scene, especially not by himself– please, he had much better taste than this– but it was fine, especially for how he was feeling at the moment. It was late, the red sky a deep burgundy, despite him having just woken up. There were already people dropping down from alcohol poisoning and getting as high as kites on whatever drugs they managed to scrounge up.

Keeping his head down, Vox ordered his drink, muttering an insincere pleasantry as it was handed to him. He was glad he didn’t change out of his more casual clothes, since it didn’t seem as though anybody recognised him without his signature suit and hat on. Relishing in the burn, he tossed the whiskey down like water, and raised his glass to order another.

As he did, somebody else shoved him out of the way to grab a tray of their own. He was just going to flip them off and leave it at that, before he saw them take out an all too familiar pink bottle, pouring it into one of the martini glasses. 

Vox watched as his stomach twisted into knots, as that pink smoke rose up, up, up from the drink, swirling into a mocking heart, before breaking apart into wisps.

Frozen, Vox’s eyes followed the demon cross the bar, watching him offer the drinks to what he assumed was the bastard’s friends and whatever sad-fuck he was about to drug. No, not just drug, leave seizing on the ground, foaming at the mouth because the dumbass put in way too much. 

Not that he would know anything about that.

He hated how familiar the scene was. How saccharine the smile on the demon’s face was, how the group snickered as though it was all some sort of funny joke. He watched as the man– victim– grabbed the glass with a sly smirk, and– wait, why did he look so familiar? Oh, oh, he was… 

Angel Dust, Valentino’s “favourite.” 

The spider demon his boy– ex wouldn’t stop gushing about like he was the next fucking messiah. ‘Oh, Voxxy have you seen his legs?’ ‘Just look at him, that’s a body people would sell their souls to have for just one night.’ ‘I’ve tried him, you couldn’t believe how flexible he is, you could snap him in half and he would just keep begging for more.’

Jealousy reared its ugly head and snarled, and Vox looked away from the oncoming disaster. If he was such a golden goose maybe it would serve Val right if his favourite toy finally broke. He could just imagine how devastated Valentino would be if his precious ‘Angel Dust’ wasn’t able to come back from this, because even if his body revived his mind sure wouldn’t. He’d be nothing but holes for some demon to fill and toss away, nothing but–

It’s not his fault Val dumped him, 

Angel Dust held up the glass, oblivious. 

Vox clenched his fists, it wasn’t his problem. This was Hell, it wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine. This shit happened all the time and no one even batted an eye, so why should he step in, especially when it would benefit him if this happened. All he had to do was look the other way. 

No one would care. 

No one would think differently of him. 

The drink touched Angel’s lips. 

Vox felt a phantom touch on his throat. Deep, mocking laughter.. Come on baby, it’s just one drink…

CRACK

The lights in the bar burst into a sprinkler of sparks and fireworks as Vox stood up, sinners screaming as they shattered, glass raining down overhead. They seemed to finally realise that they were in the presence of an Overlord, and a pissed one at that. Steps calm and measured, Vox grazed his sharp claws against the sticky, beer-stained wood on the table, inwardly smirking as the lesser demons cowered at what was essentially a glorified light show. 

Though of the little group, only one demon didn’t look like they were about to piss themselves, and it was none other than the “favourite,” which wasn’t exactly surprising. Considering how much the other had to deal with Val, no wonder he was used to it. His showman’s smile widened. “Gentleman, may I ask just what, exactly, you were trying to accomplish here?” 

He leaned over them, taking advantage of the fact that he was the only one standing. One of them, the one who spiked the drink, decided to open his disgusting mouth, “Nothin’ that concerns you, pal.”

Vox nodded, tapping his chin “uh-huh, uh-huh.. so you weren’t about to drug one of my employees, then?” A technicality. He did all of the paperwork for the Vees, and having them all under his payroll was easier since the other two idiots couldn’t be bothered. 

Though he asked, as soon as  those words left his lips, and that same, annoying sinner went to answer, he found he was too impatient for this interaction. It wasn’t worth his time, and he simply didn’t care.

It barely took a second to reduce them to smoking chunks of meat. 

Movement from the table got Vox to look up at the spider-demon, who had gotten up and made a beeline to the door, shoulders tight and arms wrapped around his torso. He should have just left it at that, just sat back down at the bar to get wasted like he had planned or cut his losses and just go home, because who was he kidding? He didn’t even want to be outside, let alone talk to the “favourite.”

It wasn’t his problem, or his business. He killed the dicks, he did way more charity work than he had ever done in his life, for free, no less! He owed that whore nothing, less than nothing.

But… 

He felt his guts 

T

   w 

      i 

         s

      t

   i 

n

   g 

as Angel slipped out that door, out into the night. 

He should leave it alone, walk away, walk away– 

Come on baby, it’s just one drink…

Just one drink. 

Just–

Before he knew it Vox was out the door and down the street. 

–

“Hey, those weren’t your friend’s back there, right?” Angel suppressed a flinch at the voice that he had been hoping would leave him the fuck alone, calling out to him. Was that really so much to ask for? Just for once could he just get something he wanted? Apparently not, because life loved to fuck him in the ass, literally.

And of all people it just had to be yet another Overlord that decided to ruin his night. He was so sick of Overlords, of how they believed they could get away with anything, because they could, and they knew it. But that didn’t mean they had to always go to him to make themselves feel more powerful, they could pick literally anyone else to hurt. 

Angel was so, so tempted to just keep walking and ignore him, maybe flip him off for good measure, but he knew he couldn’t. He saw how easy it was for the guy to reduce those other demons to ashes, not even Smiles showcased brutality like that with such indifference, and it left him more disturbed than he would admit. “And what if they were?” Angel turned, facing the smaller demon. 

Vox, of course Angel had heard about him, seen him too, though not very often. He didn’t know much about the other– but he did know that he was dating his boss, and had to be a whole new level of fucked-up psycho to deal with Val willingly. “Then get better friends.” The media Overlord scoffed, shrugging. Angel laughed at that, cold and brittle. As if that fucker had any right to say that to him.

“What do you want?” Because that was what it always came down to, wasn’t it? Everybody wanted something from him, whether it be his body, his looks, a belief in a  hopeless dream. He was tired of it, tired period , and he couldn’t– just couldn’t– Overlord be damned. Heck, maybe he’d piss Vox off enough that he’d kill him.

At least then he’d finally be alone, for a little while.

“Lemme guess, a blowjob?” Angel smirked, dragging his hand up to push out his chest, the other trailing tantalizingly down his thigh, “or maybe an hour for each big, bad man you protected me from, huh?” 

“W–what? No, I–” Vox took a step back, a bewildered, disgusted look crossing his face. 

“Then what, daddy?” Angel purred, “‘cause I’m off the clock, so you’d hafta pay double to get me on my knees,” he tilted his head, looking the other up and down, “or you on yours, I can work with both.” He felt a slight spark of amusement at Vox’s expression, he looked like he was going to blow a fuse. Angel didn’t think someone whose boyfriend was a literal pimp could be such a prude. 

Vox quickly shook his head, as though that would erase the way Angel had steered the conversation. “Look, I– fuck, why am I even…” He rubbed a hand down his face, then muttered something that Angel couldn’t quite make out. Sighing, he turned back around, consequences be damned, he was too impatient for this bullshit. 

He got three steps before Vox’s words stopped him dead in his tracks. 

“Are you okay?” Spoken quietly, tense, like something that should have never left his lips. A secret.

Dangerous.

It made Angel snap. 

“Am I okay?” He whispered, grin wobbling as he whipped around, not noticing how the other flinched. “ Am I okay?!” Marching up to the Overlord, backing him into the wall, snarl on his lips as he jabbed a finger underneath his chin. “You don’t get to fuckin’ ask me that, jackass. Ya come– come in like some white knight an– an’ what? Expect me to get on my knees and thank you, call you my saviour, is that it?! Well, I’m not, I didn’t– didn’t ask Charlie to save me and I didn’t ask you, to save me. So take your fukin’ selflessness and shove it up yer ass, or find someone who actually gives a shit.”

Angel heaved, shoulder shaking from the amount of emotion and vitriol that spewed from his lips. But once the white-anger that had consumed him washed away, fear seeped in. Angel backed up from where he had been leaning over Vox, fixing his eyes to the pavement, shoulders hiking up to his ears. 

“So…” Vox started, and Angel couldn’t suppress the flinch this time. Fuck, fuck, what was he thinking, talking to an Overlord like that, let alone Val’s guard dog. If he thought tonight was bad… he shuddered to think of what Val would do when he found out about this. “...I’ll take that as a no, then.”

Angel’s surprise made him look up, then made him really look. Vox looked… like shit. His shirt was a bit too big, crumpled and singed from the ‘fight’ from earlier. There were deep bags under his pixelated eyes, which raised a bunch of questions about sinner biology he would rather not think about. Either way, he looked tired, and small, not something he ever thought an overlord could look like. It shattered the image he had conjured in his mind, made it so hard to keep being wary, to keep his walls up. Maybe that was his plan? Maybe Val sent him, to try and keep tabs on him. 

At this point he was too tired to care.

Letting out a humourless chuckle, Angel sat down on the curb, head hanging between his knees. It didn’t take long for Vox to join him, sitting a foot away, keeping his knees curled to his chest. “You here to keep tabs on me or what? Val not satisfied with my performance?” Despite his jovial, sarcastic tone, he felt his stomach twist at that notion. Angel couldn’t deal with another session like that again so soon, he might finally snap if that happened. 

But Vox merely shrugged, pulling out a cigar and lighting it with a snap of his fingers. “No, nothing like that. I’m here for what I’m guessing is the same reason you are.” He pulled out another one, and offered it to Angel, who scoffed as he snatched it from the media demon’s fingers.

“What’d’ya think that is, exactly?” He snapped, taking a long drag, breathing out the– thankfully– grey smoke out into the cool night air.  

“To forget.” 

The two sat in silence for a little while after that, long enough for Angel to think that maybe, maybe, he was being genuine, that it wasn’t some sick joke from Val. A trick to make him vulnerable and say something he shouldn’t, used as another excuse to punish him.. to restrict and change the contract.. but– fuck it, he was pretty drunk already and he already had a death wish, what else could he possibly loose at this point? 

“What?” Vox jumped and looked over at Angel, eyes widened slightly, and he couldn’t help but think the guy resembled a spooked animal with how on edge he was. “Ya said to forget. Forget what?”

Vox laughed at that, dry and humourless, tired.  It tapered off into a sigh, and ended with him taking another drag. He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl for a moment, before he smiled, small and bitter. “Val.” Just one word, three letters, a single name,  yet it held so much emotion, so much meaning that couldn’t be expressed out loud. 

He said nothing, yet more than Angel ever expected from someone like him. 

Which was what made it too hard to believe, left him sceptical and nervous. Sceptical because it was an Overlord telling him this, an all powerful, larger than life demon with unimaginable power at his fingertips… and if what he thought he was saying was right, then… the thought made him feel sick. He wouldn’t, couldn’t believe it.

“Trouble in paradise? Classic.” Angel laughed, loud and ugly and fake. He turned to look at Vox, an exaggerated pout on his lips, “someone get mad ~” expecting some sort of scoff, or retort or denial or something, he didn’t expect the cold silence. 

Vox just curled into himself more, resting the base of his screen on his knees, eyes distant, cigar forgotten in his lax fingers. Angel felt something squirming in his gut as he frowned. He had wanted Vox to feel bad, but not… bad.

“Hey,” Angel spoke up again, and again Vox startled, turning to look at him. He hated how innocent Vox looked in this light, how naïve. This wasn’t the same towering Overlord who had killed five sinners with cold indifference, not the same businessman who looked so cool and collected and charismatic on air, he was just… Vox. 

And that was almost worse, in a way.

So Angel decided to ignore it, and instead asked another question that was nagging at him. “Why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“At the bar, not a lotta people– nah, no one woulda cared if you left me there. So why?” Angel didn’t really know if he wanted the answer, but he had to know. He knew Val and Vox had a weird on again and off again relationship, and he would be stupid if he hadn’t noticed Val’s more frequent.. mood swings, in the studio, recently. If this was just some cheap shot, some bargaining piece to get back in Valentino’s good graces… he was out. He refused to be some damsel in distress, he had the situation handled, he would have been fine.. 

As fine as he could be after they had their way with him.  

Luckily he was pulled out of his thoughts by Vox’s voice. Quiet– so fuckin’ quiet it was getting unnerving– “They put too much in.” He stated, as though that explained anything. Picking at his sleeve, he looked anywhere but at Angel, having the gall to look nervous. “-the–the drinks, they put too much of it in yours, you would’ve been unresponsive for over twelve hours, but still– aware..” 

That.. Angel opened his mouth but nothing came out. He looked at the smaller demon with wide eyes. Fuck, he was so small, he realised, compared to Val… 

Twelve fucking hours…

Angel laughed, the first genuine laugh he’d had in a long time. Gut-wrenching and tear-inducing, and it didn’t take him long to realise that Vox was laughing too. It was so sad it was funny, and if he didn’t laugh he knew he would start sobbing. Here was one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell, able to go toe-to-toe with the Radio Demon and come out alive, stuck in the same fucking position he was– right under Val’s thumb. “We’re both fucked up, huh?” he said once they had both finally stopped, wiping tears from his eyes.

“I guess so,” Vox composed himself. In a flash of blue light he had a rather large bottle of whiskey in his hands. Prying off the lid, he took a long swig before handing the bottle to Angel. “Wanna forget about it for a little longer?” 

Angel grinned, “Ya read my mind.”

–

He didn’t know how long they spent like that, just sitting on the curb getting drunker as one bottle of whiskey became two, and two became three. Then Vox got too intoxicated to make any more, pathetic little sparks flicking between his fingers as he tried his damnedest to summon one more bottle. They erupted into giggles, leaning on each other as they watched a pathetic little puddle of alcohol spew out of Vox’s fingertips.  

“Did he– he really do that t’ya?” Angel asked, eyes sparkling with mirth. 

“Y̨͈̫ë́ah.” Vox hiccoughed, “he– he saͩ̑ì̶̹̼d̴ͧ͢ that it was apart–part of hisͯ ‘artistic process.’” He tried to air-quote but it came off more as unenthusiastic jazz hands. 

Angel scoffed, “bull shit, who the fuck’s gonna believe that?” He would probably feel disgusted if he wasn’t so shitfaced. To think Val did all of the fucked up shit he’d seen at the studio with his boyfriend was honestly wild, yet also unsurprising.

“ I did! And he is ŝ͙͛o̿̌ adamant about it, too. I͂ͩ͡ had to re͈̫̍s̢͈̻̍͜ort to fȗ̷̠̻͂c͍k̞̪͆ing turning on a… a fucking lamp so he’d get di̲͗͆s̬ͤ̏ț̷͋͡racte̶͍d̓ by the light.”

“That’s… fucked.” Angel blurted out.

Vox paused, “I…  yeah, yeah, that is fucked.” 

“Fuck Val!” Angel yelled.

“Yeah, fuͫͅck him!”

And that was how it went, both of them sharing some of the bullshit Val had pulled and making fun of the pimp. They didn’t share everything, no, but it still left Angel feeling so much lighter. Made breathing just a little bit easier. He felt like for the first time there was someone else, like he wasn’t alone. And while it was an awful thing to think,  he was glad Vox was there with him. Glad he wasn’t alone. 

At least, until the phone in Vox’s pocket started buzzing. He fumbled with his pants for a moment before hitting ‘answer’ and holding it up to what Angel assumed was his ear. “The fuck is this?” Vox slurred into the receiver, blinking slowly. It was silent for a moment as Vox listened to the voice on the other line. Something changed in his demeanour as the call went on, his back straightened out and his expression sobered. 

“Why d’you even care?” he shot back, harsher than before, “You've been ignorin’ me for a week already, so why’s it matter if I–” He paused for a moment, listening, before he scoffed “I did not! You were the one who didn’t even tell me the fucker was back! You’re the one who rubbed in in my face just to fucking piss me off!” Vox snapped, grip tightening on his phone. “You’re so fucking–”

Angel could practically see Vox’s thoughts screech to a halt, his screen glitching slightly as his shoulders hunched in on himself. “...I..” He seemed to regain some of his composer as he  fumbled over his words, that easy charisma of his broken down into something far more raw, vulnerable, and Angel looked away. It didn’t feel like he should be seeing this.. “..Look I didn’t mean– I’m sorry– I already said I was sorry, what more do you want–”

A strangled noise came from Vox’s throat, “Val…”

Angel froze at the name, spoken with such a familiar pain it made him ache. All it took was a few words… fuck, Val wasn’t even there and he was able to make Vox look so… 

Weak. 

Vox’s eyes flicked to his before he stood up, pacing the empty street, quickly switching back to anger, the guy was like a see-saw with his emotions. “You can’t just order me around like one of your–” 

There was a few seconds of silence as Angel tried to decipher whatever his boss was saying on the other line. He couldn’t hear much, but he was able to understand a few words, none of which were positive. Vox tensed up, scowl on his face as he stood up, beginning to pace, screen glitching   “so, what? I’m not allowed to even talk to anyone other than you? How is that–” Vox went completely still, and he seemed to deflate, hunching in on himself. “Yes, Val.” And with that he hung up

Vox looked at Angel, a small smile on his face. It looked more like a grimace. “I gotta go…” He fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve, droplets of whiskey splattered on it. His heels scuffed the pavement, as his eyes flicked from where Angel was sitting to the ground. He was so easy to read it was painful.

But he knew where it was coming from, feeling that same ache in his chest at the idea of this– whatever it was– disappearing. 

Angel knew he couldn’t stop Vox from going back, even if he wanted to. But he wasn’t an idiot, he knew what was going to happen as soon as Vox went back. How Val got when he was mad.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to.. to..

So he did the only thing he could think of, he got up and snatched Vox’s phone from his hand. “Hey, what–” 

“This,” Angel pushed the phone back into Vox’s hand, “is my number, don’t wear it out.” With that he pulled on a fake smile and winked, “call me.” Angel turned around and walked away, he didn’t see the smile on Vox’s face before he vanished in a flash of blue.

He started his trek back to the hotel with a real smile of his own.

Chapter Text

When Vox answered his phone, his brain caught up with three very important facts just a few seconds too late. One, that this was his private phone. Two, that there were only two numbers on said phone. And three…

Velvette was still at her fashion show. 

“The fuck is this?”

“Voxxy~ don’t play games with me..” At the sound of that sugary sweet voice, dripping with a bitter warning, Vox’s stomach dropped. “I heard that you were out at a bar, this late? That’s not like you.” Not like him? Like Val even– even knew what he was like.. He could be fun! He could party, especially without him.

“Why d’you even care?” Vox’s words spilled from his loose lips, that pleasant buzz soured by the reminder of their breakup. A week of Valentino giving him the silent treatment like a whiny teenage girl, a week of seeing Val run around and fuck everything that moved blatantly in front of him, a whole week of crushing frustration, anger, and– and–  he was lonely, and upset, and he missed him.. Despite that longing, all he could feel was more and more surmounting resentment at every word spilled from his ex’s lips. Vox’s claws dug into his knees. “You've been ignorin’ me for a week already, so why’s it matter if I–”

“Is that really the bullshit excuse you’re going with?” Val’s voice grew cold, his playful veneer slipping, and Vox’s mouth snapped shut, chest growing tight. “Remember, I wasn’t the one who threw a temper tantrum while acting like an attention whore on live television.”

Vox scoffed “I did not!” Well.. it wasn’t exactly his proudest moment, even he could admit that much.. “You were the one who didn’t even tell me the fucker was back! You’re the one who rubbed in in my face just to fucking piss me off!” Vox snapped, grip tightening on his phone. “You’re so fucking–” 

“I’m what?” Valentino cut him off, and he could practically see the smoke swirling around the moth, making Vox’s head spin as Val grabbed him– “finish what you were saying, Vox.”

“...I..” He hated this.. He hated how much control Valentino had when it was like this.. How much power. How small he felt.. A lump rose in his throat, his hands were shaking. 

He was in trouble. 

He knew it.

“..Look I didn’t mean– I’m sorry– I already said I was sorry,” Vox said, words shakier than he would ever admit, desperation bubbling up his throat as a thousand different scenarios flashed through his mind. “What more do you want–”

“Maybe don’t run off in the middle of the night with my favourite bitch, hm?” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck–

“Val…” Vox whispered, feeling electricity jump from his fingers, tingling his knees.

“I don’t want to hear your whining ” Valentino’s voice was hard and cold, sounding every piece the overlord he was. “What I want is a boyfriend who isn’t such a pathetic little bitch that he can’t even last a week before whoring himself out to anyone just to have a cock shoved in his holes.” There was a pause, and Vox could practically feel the tone shift in the air. “Come back to the studio, baby. Let me show you what a real man can do.” Valentino purred.

Any other day of this horrible week Vox would have jumped at the opportunity, the mere idea of this offer leaving him drooling. Make-up sex wasn’t exactly new for them, and he could say with confidence it was always the best sex they had. All of that anger and frustration that had built up between them like a spark finally igniting, turning into a raging fire of desire and heat. Any other day, this would be the best possible outcome he could have hoped for…

But now the thought of going back to the studio made his stomach twist.

His eyes flicked to Angel, who was looking at him with.. Concern? No, no.. nothing that depreciating. Understanding.

Vox stood up, spare hand balled into a fist as he started to pace the empty street. “You can’t just order me around like one of your–” 

A scoff from the other line quickly cut him off. “What, you have something better to do, please. You know how I get when you try to make me jealous. ” Oh please, Val got jealous over him talking to anyone! 

Vox clenched his fists. The fucking nerve, “so, what? I’m not allowed to even talk to anyone other than you? How is that–”

“Do you want me to show you what’s fair, Voxxy? Because I’d say that you still haven’t learned your lesson from last time. Either come to the studio now or I will make you regret it.” The threat made Vox’s stomach turn to lead. Phantom hands seemed to grab and claw at his skin, pulling and ripping and breaking, suffocating in their invasiveness. 

The burning in his lungs.

The frying circuits in his brain–

“You’re so pretty when you cry, baby.” 

Just the idea of another night like the last one he spent with Val made him pause, his anger quickly shriveling into something he didn’t want to name.

“Didn’t you promise me, Voxxy? Or was that just another sales pitch.” It took a moment for Vox to realise what Valentino was even talking about, before his mind flashed to earlier that night. 

“Just please let me at least talk to you in person, I’ll do anything– anything, I just… I miss you, Val.”

Valentino.. was right. If he really wanted things to work.. If he really wanted Val– and god, even when he was mad, did he want him– then he had to follow through.

He did say anything, didn’t he?

Vox stopped pacing, and he let out a quiet sigh. “Yes, Val.”

–

It took Vox half an hour to make it to the studio, partly because he was a bit too drunk to teleport any long distance safely, and he could admit that yes, he was fucking stalling, sue him, he didn’t want to deal with Val when he was pissy, so what? Glaring down at his trembling hands, he forced them to stop shaking as he finished tightening the knot of his tie, sitting uncomfortably tight around his throat.

Shoes glistening with fresh polish, straight from the box. Suit free of wrinkles and pressed in all the right ways. Impeccable. Not a single strand out of place. Taking one last look at himself, Vox straightened his back, pushing his shoulders back, and placed a winning smile on his face. 

You’re never fully dressed without one~

Slamming that thought back into the box it came from, Vox turned away from the mirror. He was as sober and ready as he could be. With a wave of his hands and a flash of light, he appeared before the large double doors of Valentino’s penthouse. It was just Valentino.. Another shitty meeting with Val, how bad could it possibly be? 

But.. he knew this wasn’t that simple. 

Sure, Valentino the overlord was easy enough to manipulate and control, stop from  doing something fucking stupid like chase his whores all around the pentagram, but.. this wasn’t Valentino, this was Val… his Tino. 

Taking a deep breath, Vox pushed open the door to Valentino’s office, a noxious fog of sugary sweet smoke oozing around his dress shoes. Fucking great, this was sure to ruin the outfit he had meticulously put together for the oh-so joyous occasion. Scowling, he did his best at shooing some of it away, making his way deeper into the room, taking slow, measured steps. 

“Val?”

Two large hands grabbed his hips and spun him around causing his heart to seize painfully in his chest, that bravado and false confidence leaving him in an instant. Vox looked up, up, up at the moth demon who was looming over him, smile sharp and bordering on predatory as he looked down at Vox, who couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “ Voxxy~ you kept me waiting.” Val already looked like he wanted to rip out his throat. 

His smile faltered as the hands on his waist started to prick his skin with their sharp claws. Maybe ‘angry’ was an understatement.. “I just wanted to sober up before–” 

“You were drunk?” His voice sounded light, but the way his upper arms gripped onto Vox’s shoulders, boxing him in– when had he been pushed into the wall?–, said anything but. 

His eyes darted away. “Does it matter?” 

Valentino’s grip on his shoulders tightened, “don’t get mouthy with me, Vox. What were you doing?” Valentino’s lower pair of hands crept lower, brushing his thighs before he pulled away, turning and sauntering over to the sofa that Vox could barely make out amidst all of the smoke.

A chill swept through Vox, and he hesitated for only a moment, taking a deep, shuddering breath before he smirked, crossed his arms, and scoffed. “You know how I get when I miss you, babe.” He followed Val’s lead, sitting next to him, ignoring how it made his stomach twist.

Valentino nodded absently, not so much as bothering to give Vox a glance. Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, he released it slowly, letting it join the dizzying haze in the room. The tension seemed to ease from his shoulders before his piercing eyes met Vox’s own. “And that’s why you were with Angel? Because you missed me so much?”

“It wasn't what it looked like–”

“Are you saying that I’m blind, Voxxy?” The sharp tone made Vox’s muscles seize up, flinching away from the moth. Before he could give into the rapidly growing part of his brain screaming ‘run,’ Val grabbed his arms and pinned him to the sofa. 

Saliva dripped from Valentino’s fangs, globbing onto Vox’s screen, he suppressed a grimace. “Because I can see just fine.” A snarl ripped out of his throat, his painful grip  on Vox’s wrists tightening even further, bones creaking under the pressure. “I could see how you two looked at each other,” a second set of hands dragged down the front of Vox’s chest, nails catching on his skin. “How you touched each other,” his shirt was torn away, “how you looked like you were ready to get fucked like a bitch in heat.” 

“So tell me, Voxxy” Valentino’s sharp red eyes met his own flickering ones. “Where exactly did he touch you?”

It wasn’t true, it wasn’t. He didn’t want to do anything like that with the stipper, but did it really look like that? Did it really seem that way? Angel Dust was… what was he exactly? No, no, he was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just some sad schmuck he had a lapse in judgement over.

As he looked at Val, at the vitriol in his eyes, he felt nothing but the stinging burn of regret for earlier that night. Why did he save some hooker when he knew Val would get like this? Why did he even go outside in the first place? Why couldn’t he have just waited like he was supposed to, played the game like he was meant to, and not have to deal with all of this?

It would have been so much easier if he had just looked the other way. 

Valentino continued, hands starting to wander, harsher, more insistent. “He doesn’t know how to treat you, baby..” his fingers, skilled and deadly, were quick to find the sensitive sockets in his circuitry, creating jolts of invasive pleasure that made Vox’s mind go blank . A strangled noise got caught in his throat, trapped by the hand that was squeezing it. “He doesn’t know how to make you scream like I do.”

Before Vox could respond, lips pressed to his and a tongue was pushing itself into his mouth. A moan was pulled from him before he started to struggle, pulling at the vices on his wrists with growing urgency as thick, syrupy saliva suffocated his senses.

The tongue– the hands– his throat–

He couldn’t–  

Everything was so hot, so tight, and the more he fought it the more he felt his strength slip away. 

–he can’t–

Sharp claws dug into his throat as smoke filled his lungs, his mind spun, a dizzying cocktail of fear and pain and pleasure and fear-

–he– 

Valentino pulled away and chuckled, “Please…” stop, please stop. Vox wanted to scream but his lips couldn’t form the words. “Please–”

–couldn’t–

A claw, gentle and slow in its actions, scraped against his screen, tracing his left eye. “You’re so pretty when you cry, baby~”

He couldn’t breathe.

–

Vox never wanted to wake up.

Everything was warm, and soft, soothing invisible aches he hadn’t even noticed until they were gone. He squeezed his pillow tighter, belatedly wondering why he had gotten his body pillow out– Which definitely didn’t have Alastor on it– but not really able grasp onto those thoughts fully. It didn’t take long for those little pestering questions to pop up yet again..

Then, he felt it. The slow, deep, rising and fall of someone breathing beneath him, the warm breath brushing against his antenna, shooting tingles down his spine.. It.. it wasn’t... Vox’s eyes cracked open to meet Valentino’s, throat tightening at the way he looked at him..

That one look…

A deep, soothing laugh resonated through Vox’s body as a large hand cupped his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into his skin. “Good morning, Voxxy~”

Vox craned his neck, blinking slowly. “Val…?”

More laughter, a soft touch on the side of his face, tracing the edges of his screen. “We made up last night, remember?” His eyes focused on Valentino, features highlighted by the rays of Hell’s bright mornings. He could see the creases around his eyes, a dried bit of pink drool stuck to the corner of his mouth, his antenna and fur unkempt from sleep. 

It made his heart stutter––

It made him feel like he was worth something–

It made him stop and appreciate the view.

Yawning, Vox felt tears prick the corner of his eyes. He frowned slightly, as he thought about his boyfriend’s question. “Yeah yeah, of course I remember..” He lied. Thinking back to the night before, things got a little fuzzy around the third drink..

Oh, oh. Fuuuuck. 

Valentino must have seen something in his expression, as his smile curled into something more sinister. “There you go, baby. All coming back now?” 

The edge to his voice was telling, as was the way his claws lightly scraped against Vox's nape, a warning that sent shivers down his spine.

It made a well of guilt sink in his stomach, as his thoughts turned to the night before. Of talking such bullshit with what was essentially a stranger about his boyfriend. Not only was it a shitty thing to do, Val thought he was cheating on top of it all! And he had acted like such a dick when his boyfriend was just worried… 

Vox sat up in Valentino's lap, hands gripping shoulders. “Tell me what I can do. Anything, Val, anything.” His voice was firm, and he resolutely ignored  the slight waver it had. How was it that every single, every single fucking time, Valentino was able so delicately take him apart? 

He was supposed to be better than this. He was better than this. 

Large hands dragged up his thighs and held into his waist, a third hand stroked underneath his chin. “I can’t trust you, not on your own anymore.” Valentino tilted his head up as he leaned in, “how am I supposed to know you won’t just run off if you just lie about it?”

Realisation crossed Vox’s face, “I won’t–”

“That means nothing.” Vox felt a twinge in his chest he vehemently ignored. “But…” Val looked reluctant to say, rolling his tongue across his teeth. “I may be willing to consider forgiving you, if you stay here. With me.” 

Chewing on his lip, the smaller demon actually found himself considering it. Despite how many times he had yelled at Valentino saying that ‘no, he didn’t want to live in a fiucking porn studio, even if it is the penthouse!’ or ‘ Is it really unreasonable to want my own space?’. Not only was the studio farther away from his own work, there was no tank for Vark to stay in. And with how Val was with his previous pets… he was wary to have the two under the same roof unsupervised. Plus, he wouldn’t be able to make his own medical  ward here, which was useful for when Valentino got ‘handsy.’

However, they had been dating for the better part of sixty years, and wasn’t this a step they should have taken by now? Fuck, he had lived with Al for far–

Vox cut off his train of thought right there, meeting his boyfriend's eyes. This wasn’t about him. So before he could think about more pros and cons, the fights, the possibilities, Vox wrapped his arms around Valentino’s neck, leaning forward with a sly smile on his face. “Alright Val, I’ll move in with you.” 

That night, Vox stayed in Valentino’s room, and while he had done so hundreds of times before, it felt different, final. Like something he couldn’t take back. As he was pressed into the sheets by Valentino, hands groping and touching, breath heady and hot and sugary sweet, he knew he had made the right choice. 

He had said anything , hadn’t he?

Chapter Text

Waking up to an ear-splitting headache and someone trying to break down his door was never something Angel liked in the morning. “M’comin,’ m’comin,’” he mumbled into his pillow, letting out a groan, bidding goodbye to his wonderful, wonderful bed. 

The numbers on the clock crammed onto his cluttered nightstand were  too smudged to make out, as Angel eyed it, rubbing his face blearily. 3:30 PM. Ugh... still too early. Especially for the fucking night he had.

“Angel?” Charlie’s  voice was muffled as she respectfully tapped on it again, getting just a smidge more frantic, her concern practically seeping through the walls.  

Pulling on a jumper he picked up off the floor, Angel stumbled to his door, “right here, dollface.” 

The princess let out a relieved breath, “You’re okay! I asked Husk to go and find you but– not important..” trailing off, her shoulders rose to her ears. Husk? That hack went after him? Angel was glad the fake piece of shit hadn’t found him. Especially after..

Stopping that train of thought, Angel refocused on Charlie, who was rambling herself into a deep hole, flailing her... sparkly hands? “–I know now it was wrong of me to intrude on your privacy and push you, not knowing all the details– and I–” her breath hitched as Charlie looked back at him, eyes filling with tears which were quickly wiped away. Pausing for a moment, she actually took the time to gather herself, levelling him with a much calmer expression. “I.. I want you to know I won’t ever take your no for granted again.”

“Charlie, what're ya…” Angel paused, processing her words.. did she.. did she really think it was her fault?

Gaze shifting, he couldn't meet her eyes..  those wide, earnest eyes that saw something in him that simply wasn't there. Someone worth caring about; worth saving. Other people deserved her time, her kindness, her tears. There were better sinners to redeem, ones who actually deserved it. Who actually tried to be better . Who didn't actively drag down her dream. Despite that, despite everything, she still cared, so much… 

“Charlie, I…”  Don’t deserve this, your compassion, your kindness. “Thank you. It’s fine, I get it.” 

Arms wrapped around his waist, making him tense, but for once didn’t bring that cloying nausea to swirl in his gut. Angel looked down at the weeping princess, who had glitter and glue stuck on her face and in her hair, who had probably spent all night on writing out what she wanted to say.. spending all night to apologise to him, of all people.. Choking back the emotions that clawed and tore at his insides, making his chest ache, he hugged Charlie back in hopes of stopping them from ripping him apart. 

You don’t deserve her compassion. 

She cares so much…

You just want attention. 

She tried so hard to protect me… 

Charlie seemed to cry harder as he recuperated her hug, and while it was nice for a moment, when he tried to gently push her away, she clung to him even more. "Ah.. Charlie?"

Realisation crossed her flushed features, and the princess jumped back. "Sorry, sorry! Boundaries, right" She bit her lip. "I'll see you for the evening trust exercises?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, dollface."

That seemed to make her relax, and she bbit goodbye, turning away as she mumbled on about personal space, quickly fading into background noise, the nothing at all.

Letting his shoulders drop, the harsh throbbing in his temples made itself known. Meds.. did he have any meds? Taking one glance into his mess of a room... ugh. Just thinking about searching through piles of clothes and shit to possibly find some expired painkillers made him want to smack his head into a wall. Instead,  he sucked it up, going back injust to give nugs his very late breakfast, and some ear scritches, because he was the most perfect little baby!

Mood slightly improved by Nuggs, Angel finally dragged himself to the elevator, making his way to the kitchen.

No one was there— fucking thankfully— and he checked the fridge for some leftovers, mentally cheering at the wrapped up bowl of gumbo left over from last night's dinner.

As his lunch was heating up, Angel grabbed his phone and decided to scroll through sinstagram. He saw a post from Cherri Bomb, from last night, she was up on a building, giving the middle finger to one of Valentino’s billboards, which had dynamite taped all along the sides, and a look in her eyes that Angel knew very well, she was gonna fuck shit up. The caption was unsurprising, confirming what Angel thought: 

Saw this damn thing in the city, so about to blow it sky high! Rest in pieces!🧨🐀

Angel snorted, typing out a comment, lips quirking upwards. An ache in his chest formed when he thought about his best friend, he hadn't been seeing her nearly as much lately, which was a crime if you asked him. Bu they were both busy.. life got in the way. Val got in the way. Grimacing, he pushed that thought away, checking the hotel member's accounts instead— swiftly blocking Husker— but there was nothing interesting. Thumb idly brushing  past coffee shop photos, nudes and full on porn, before he stopped. Before he saw.. him.

Memories from last night rose up in Angel’s mind, and he gripped his chest to stop his heart from leaping right out of it. The bar,the too-pink drink, that sharp smile and knowing eyes…

Bullshit, all of it was bullshit.

Fuck, he was an idiot, wasn’t he? A stupid, brainless idiot who made dumb decisions when he was drunk off his ass.

Why did he ever think that talking, let alone being vulnerable with an Overlord was a good idea, let alone his boss’s fucking bitchy-ass boyfriend?! He should have just annoyed him until he left, yelled at him, fucking piss him off until he killed Angel where he stood– just anything other than what he’d done. Val was going to hear about this, he always hears about it, and it wouldn’t matter that he’s the favourite, or the cash cow, or that his face was plastered on billboards all over the city, because everyone in the studio knew you did not disrespect Valentino directly. Ever. And he had went and done just that, hadn’t he?

Was that the angle? Was that why Vox had approached him last night, as some kind of sick revenge in a petty lover’s spat? A way to get Angel to ‘back off’ of a man he didn’t even want to begin with? He didn’t know– he didn’t fucking care to know– but he did know that the media Overlord was an unhinged, unpredictable psychopath. With how much he kept to himself, he was someone that was unpredictable at best and downright maniacal at worst.

And he was powerful, to a point where he could just eviscerate five demons without so much as batting his eye. That amount of power… it just wasn’t fair, was it? That he got so much while people like him had to drop to their knees to pay the bills.

So why did he seem so.. pathetic? So powerless? It had to have been a trick, had to have been some sort of con to get Angel to drop his guard, and it fucking worked. He had spoken his mind about how he thought Valentino was a fuck-bucket who could eat shit and die. If he thought yesterday’s shift was bad… 

It would be a nice walk in the park compared to the punishment he was about to get.

Angel’s thumb hovered on the screen of his phone, for some reason he couldn’t stop looking at the post that had ruined his day off. The picture was simple, one taken from Valentino’s couch in his office, one he knew a little too well. You could see the lower half of Val’s body, and on top of it was Vox, fast asleep with his face pressed into the moth demon’s chest.

‘guess who came crawling back~ ❤️ ’

Morbid curiosity caused him to tap on his boss’s social media account, one he was forced to follow but never looked at as a petty form of retaliation. 

He had never realised how much he posted about Vox, but he was in a lot of the pictures, mostly looking annoyed or doing something mundane with some sort of lude caption from Val. It all seemed normal. Disappointment sat sour in his gut, which pissed him off even more. Of course what happened last night had been fake. Lies. Just like everything else– everyone else. Angel never actually thought what Vox had said last night was true, of course not.. He wasn’t that naÏve.

“They put too much in.”

“-the–the drinks, they put too much of it in yours, you would’ve been unresponsive for over twelve hours, though still– aware..” 

Angel grit his teeth and willed the words to leave his mind. They were fake. He wouldn’t be used and broken by someone else, he wasn’t a fool, the pathetic act would not work on him. Exactly, it wouldn’t. 

No one can fake that amount of fear. 

The thought sent a shiver down his spine, but he knew it was just wishful thinking. 

He was alone and Val never let him forget it. 

Backing out of Valentino’s account, Angel was going to close the app, having had enough of thinking about this bullshit on his one day off, when he saw yet another post, air getting trapped in his throat.

It was one of Vox, a selfie he had taken in front of the mirror, but what was the most disturbing part was the deep, painful-looking cracks across his face. His entire left eye was gone, and one of his antennae was bent at an unnatural angle. There was a comment from Val, dating back a good decade ago.

‘you woke me up, sorry not sorry’ 

It made a spike of sickening hope well up inside Angel. Looking at the account name– VoxxyDaddyArchives6969, he tapped in it, finding a wide range of long-gone deleted posts from both Valentino and Vox.. even then a few were unavailable or taken down, but whoever was running the page seemed to be dedicated, and for once Angel was thankful for a stranger’s odd obsession. There were quite a few posts, ranging from Valentino

Time to get a new screen. Ungrateful rat🐀😠 #notmyboyfriend

Thanks for the Soda Voxy 🤗 DONT fuck up my order next time 🖕

5:30am… I asked Vox to get me a Strawberry Iced coffee SEVERAL hours ago. The fucker shows up NOW with a half finished DIET SODA! Do I kill him Y/N?🤗

Voxy got me a new TV to apologise, compensating much? 📺💗 (smashed up my other one yesterday😛) His lucky it doesn’t vibrate or I would have a new Boyfriend 👏 🤗

Angel kept scrolling.. There wasn’t a lot.. But enough. For every photo of Valentino and Vox getting along there were three more where Vox was blatantly injured, insulted, belittled, threatened… 

Images of him busted up on the floor… of replacing his screen. Again.. The death threats.. The violence..

And this is what Valentino had felt okay posting..

Then what was going on when they were alone?

Biting his lip, Angel looked through the old archived comments, and to his surprise, found  that almost everyone was laughing, like it was a joke. Was it a joke? Angel wouldn’t put it past Val to make sickening parodies of abuse just for fun. 

But Vox… 

He didn’t know Vox, that was the problem, wasn’t it? Angel sighed and closed the app, though not before following both the archive account and the Media Overlord himself. . Just in case, he told himself. It was probably a lie, a prank, a trick that was made just to make him feel humiliated. But as much as he wanted to believe that, as much as he needed to, all he could see was the dishevelled, hunched over form of the Overlord– no, of Vox, as he admitted to something he had probably never said out loud before, as he spoke Val’s name with so much fear it made Angel’s heart ache.

Dragging a hand down his face, he opened up his messages, finding Cherri in his contacts quickly. He needed a distraction, he needed to forget , and he knew exactly how. 

Heading upstairs, Angel went to get dressed before meeting his best friend, and left the Hotel before anyone could ask why.

—         

—RED—BLUE—            

—GREEN—

 RED—BLUE—

PURPLE

RED

   BLUE

BLUE- BLUE-B  L  U  E

B

         L

               U

                       E                          

— ORANGE —YELLOW— ORANGE —YELLOW— ORANGE —YELLOW— ORANGE —YELLOW— ORANGE—

Pink.

R e p e a t .

Angel stared at the bright, spinning ceiling, it was so bright, was it always that bright? He didn't care.. it was pretty, seeping into the walls, the floors, his skin. Bright, shiny, bursting stars of colour-colour- colour— kissing his eyelids in short whispers. The push and pull of warm, sweaty bodies made his skin tingle, press back, like he was a wave in the push and pull of spinning, whirling oceans of— orange- red- yellow -blue -purple- pinkpinkpink— His calves ached, but it felt so far,  so distant against the bursts of colour and bright bright bright— everything else felt far too good.

Not a thought crossed his mind as he melded with the crowd, dancing to his own tune, yet still in sync with every single person there. Out of the entirety of his afterlife, he had to admit that this was one of the best feelings he had ever experienced. For once he didn’t have to be Angel Dust: The Pornstar, because most people didn’t care. All they wanted was to jump and dance and feel the amazing colours caressing his skin and kissing his eyes and it was bright, so, so good...

A giggle rose up his throat, the only way he could even tell was feeling the vibrations travelling down his throat, and he threw his hands into the air, reaching  for the lights, smile splitting his face.

It was so—

Two arms wrapped around his middle, pulling him into a firm chest that made his skin buzz. Angel bit his lip as a warm mouth sucked on his neck, soaking his fur and scraping his skin with their teeth. His breath hitched, and he leaned into it with a groan— fuuuck...

Lips traced up his neck, to his jaw, panting, a large hand slipping down his sweaty fur to his twitching cock. "What do you say, pretty boy?" Hot breath fanned over his ear, a hand grazing his throat—

A hand grasping his chin, sweet breath ghosting over his ear, the curved line of a cruel smile brushing his cheek.. “I own you, or have you forgotten that.”

A chain wrapped around his throat, ghosting through his fingers yet leaving deep bruises that won't fade in the morning. “When I say leaving deep bruises that won't fade in the morning. "When I say cum, you say…”

A harsh shove sent the demon sprawling to the floor, smacking his head on the sticky, coloured acrylic. A few people moved away, making space for the man on the floor. Angel took one, two, three steps back, turning and running from the dance floor, from the club. Without even seeing it, he knew exactly what expression that man had on his face.

His face, at first, would be shocked, at first, then twisting into a snarl. His eyes would narrow as he wiped the blood from his lips, maybe spit out a tooth if Angel was lucky. Then he'd get up, he'd march towards Angel, puffing out his chest, large hands clenched into fists that made claws bite into skin.

Anger. Humiliation. Entitlement.

Someone's broken pride would break a lot of other things for Angel.

And he couldn't stomach staying around for that look. Those hands, teeth, claws, touching, cloying, pressing— breaking—

" Angie! " A hand grabbed his shoulder— when I say you're fucking twenty guys before lunch— Angel spun around, making the person— he blinked—  Cherri stumbled, looking up at him with a wide eye. "What the fuck was that?"

"I.." Pressing his hand to the wall, he swallowed, taking a shaly breath. "I.." The sidewalk was stretching, spinning, he felt a hollow, gnawing, queasy feeling in gut. "I jus' needed some air.."

"Angel~ Can I see you in your dressing room for a moment?"

The cool wall was jarring compared to the phantom hands on his throat,tight, insistent, suffocating, his gut clenching and spasming at the thick scent of cloying, saccharine sweetness invaded his nostrils. "Air? Angie, you threw a guy across the room! I love myself a good bar fight, but.." Glassy eyes flicked from the rapidly stretching pavement to his friend, fixating on her bitten lips. "Are you okay?"

A giggle threatened to rise up his throat, shoulders trembling to keep it down. Was he okay? Was he okay?! He... he didn't know anymore..

"I'm fine." Angel's smile wobbled. "Jus' tired.. long day at work." The sky was a bleak red, filled with dissipating and rising smoke, far more interesting than what he knew would be Cherri's disappointed face. "Yeah, yeah, no work talk." He answered before she could ask. "I'll see ya around, Cherri.. I think I'm gonna head home.."

Silence stretched, Angel shuffled his feet, not daring to look at her. "..to the hotel?"

No. "Yeah. S'just round the block. Don't worry bout me, sugar tits." When his eyes finally met hers, he mustered a smirk. "I'll call you tomorrow?"

"..Yeah," Cherri shook her head. "Yeah, course, you..." Shoulders dropping, she cocked her hip, arms crossed as a smirk slid onto her face. "You know you can always call me, right?"

That didn't mean he would.

—

Booking a sleazy motel room took the last of the cash Angel had on him, but it was worth it to finally be alone, away from the talking, the touching. Something that had been his biggest comfort in one moment threatened to choke and drown him in another. Lighting up a cigarette, he sat down on the sex-stained bed, looking up at the yellow, peeling pain on the ceiling, trying and failing to hide the rot and decay. The walls  were ripped and browned and burned, walls cracked and decrepit, on its last legs from all the turf wars.. Figures. At least he didn't have to suck dick for it.

Small mercies.

Do you really think you can have Lucifer's little bitch fight your battles for you?

Hands. It seems even when Angel was alone he couldn't escape the hands. Pawing at his body, grabbing his flesh, his thighs, ripping his fur, slipping between his legs..

Tongues down his throat—

Leather in his mouth—

Sugary sweet sweet sweet—

Vomiting never got easier, no matter how much you do it. Whether it be to get rid of your lunch because your boss asked you to lose a few pounds you didn't have, or if only to get the taste of cum out of your mouth.

At least it wasn't sweet.

The smell of rancid, watery bile stung his nose as Angel dropped his head into the porcelain bow, claws gripping the stained, broken seat. Tears brimmed his eyes as  his throat and stomach spasmed, clenching as he gagged up whatever he had in him, which wasn't much. When was the last time he had ingested something other than drugs and alcohol? His head hurt too much to think about it.

The floor was cold as he sat down on the tiles, curling his  knees to his chest, head resting on the hideous yellow cabinets under the sink. Squeezing his eyes shut, he rubbed his temple, he felt like he was spinning...

If he thought about it hard enough he could almost see those lights again, the pretty ones.

—RED—

Just like his eyes  

BLUE—   

       They put too much in...

—GREEN—

Cash snatched out of his hands, a cruel smirk leaving just one bill. "Stay with me tonight baby, maybe I'll give you the rest~"

RED—

Eyes— cruel, angry, sugary sweet—

BLUE—

Cracked smile— cracked soul— cracked face—

PURPLE

His skin was always so soft when he let Angel touch his face— like lovers..

RED

—Blood— his mouth, his thighs, claws sinking in deeper deeper deeper—

BLUE

“Wanna forget about it for a little longer?” 

BLUE- BLUE-B  L  U  E

B

         L

               U

                       E                          

— ORANGE —YELLOW— ORANGE —YELLOW— ORANGE —YELLOW— ORANGE —YELLOW— ORANGE—

Pink.

Angel threw up a lot more than once that night.

Chapter Text

The taxi ride back to the hotel was silent for Angel, and he passed the time by scrolling through all of the messages he received from the hotel staff. The majority of them were sent by increasingly concerned Charlie, which wasn’t surprising, but left a sour taste in his mouth. Vaggie sent him rather.. colourful threats to hide her worry. Husk had sent a simple ‘u ok’, and Niffy had sent him pictures of dead cockroaches. 

Angel turned his phone off, not replying to any of it. He would be back soon enough, they shouldn’t even be worrying about him anyways. It was just one day, not  even! He deserved a break after all that shit, didn't he? All this goodie-two-shoes bullshit couldn't be expected of him eight days a fucking week, it was stupid!

...he was tired.

Curling in on himself, Angel looked out the window, staring dully at the chaos that flew by, a splatter of blood landing on the window. Once the hotel rolled into view, Angel handed over some cash to the driver and got out of the car.

Entering the hotel, he was quick to notice how quiet it was. Husk wasn’t at the bar, but he could hear some people talking in the lobby. “Hello?”

“Angel!” Charlie ran over to him, clearly ready to hug him hard, but quickly stopped herself, pulling her hands away from him, and wiping her eyes. "You're okay!"

“Hey, dollface. What’s…”Angel looked up, frowning, “...goin’ on.” 

Everyone was in the living room, well, almost everyone if you didn't count Smiles and Sir Pentious, and it looked like they were discussing something important with how serious everyone looked. Even Niffty didn’t seem as stabby as usual. Vaggie growled, standing up to glare at him. “You didn’t come home last night.”

Angel rubbed the back of his head, shrugging. “Yeah, look, I’m sorry, I was hangin’ out with a pal of mine and lost track of time.” They didn't need to know what happened after the fact, he could still taste vomit in the back of his throat.

Vaggie’s eyes narrowed. “So this has nothing to do with Vox?” 

…what? 

“What?” Angel’s stomach dropped as he laughed. “Whaddya mean, why would he have anythin’ to do wit any of this?”

Charlie pulled away from him, wiping her eyes, and he quickly looked away from her teary gaze. “We were worried, after you left— before last night, the night before. We asked Husk to make sure you were safe, and…” 

“I saw the two of you.” Husk interjected with a grunt, taking a swig from a bottle. Wiping his lips, he looked at Angel with a strange look in his eyes. “Looked like you were getting friendly.”

Angel grit his teeth. “I wasn’t… this has nothin’ to do wit that flatscreen freak!” His lips curled into a sneer. "What? Are ya jealous, kitty cat?" The growl that left Husk was satisfying to his ears.

Vaggie scoffed, “just tell us the truth, Angel; did you go and see him again tonight?” 

“Wha– no!” Why did this feel like a fucking interrogation? Why didn't they believe him? Their judgmental eyes made him curl in on himself, teeth bared. “I was jus’ hangin’ wit Cherri! Yeesh, do I hafta tell you when I go take a shit too?"

"Well maybe if you didn't keep disappearing—"

"It was one fuckin' night!"

Charlie quickly stepped between  the two, and a gently hand landed on Angel's chest, he shoved it away. "Angel.. we're just worried about you.. you need to tell us when you go out if this is going to become a regular thing. We let it go last time because you had a bad day, but we need to know where you are to make sure you’re okay.” Charlie hesitantly reached for his hands, slow enough that he could pull away if he wanted to. When he didn't, she took a hold of his hands, a sad smile on her lips as she brushed her thumbs over his knuckles. The sweet gesture made his chest ache.

“I…” Angel blinked, then pulled his hands back from her grasp, ignoring the pang in his heart at the way her face fell. “You don’t need to worry dollface, I can handle myself. Besides, it wasn’t like I was doing anything bad,” he’d consider ecstasy rather good in his opinion— at least when he didn't have a shit high.. “Or is it now a horrible sin to talk to people and have friends? ”

“Well, no, but–”

Angel pushed past her, making his way towards the stairs. “Exactly, so if you don’t mind, I have a few things I need to do before my next shift.” Which was sit and watch some trashy show with nuggs, maybe shoot up a little, take out the stress before it hits for real. 

Before he made it, however, Vaggie blocked his way, crossing her arms. “No, your behaviour has been unacceptable. We can’t have you running off at all hours with no way to contact you, Angel! How can you ever hope to redeem yourself if you’re never even here?” 

Yeah right. What utter bullshit. “Yeah, okay. I’ll come to the next sharing circle or whateva, jus’ lemme go to my room.” He was tired and rather done with the lecturing. That, and he needed to double check that he hadn't gotten any messages from Val mixed in with the barrage of others. Angel hoped to satan that he hadn’t, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Vaggie opened her mouth, looking ready to argue further, but Charlie came over and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Vaggie, let him go. We can talk about this later.” She turned to him, voice small, yet sincere, “I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“Yeah,” Angel swallowed down the bile in his throat. “Thanks.” He quickly went up the stairs and into his room, shutting the door before sliding down it.

Taking in a shaky breath, Angel hesitantly turned on his phone again. Scrolling down, he checked Val’s number; no new messages. He let out a relieved laugh, raking a hand through his hair. Either this meant that Valentino was none the wiser, or he was so pissed he had circled back around to calm, and if that was the case, Angel wasn’t so sure he’d be living past tonight.

Last day in Hell, Angel laughed again. He hated how much he liked that thought. 

—

“C’mere, boy!” The padding of little shark paws running down the hall made Vox grin, and he opened his arms to be greeted with an armful of a wriggly, scaly, slobbery Vark. A wet tongue lapped at the front of his screen, his lips twitched upwards. “Yeah, I missed you too, buddy.” Vox gently nudged Vark off of his chest so he could get up, feeling a bit bad when he heard him whine. Definitely missed him, then. a stab of guilt twisted in his gut, he hated leaving Vark on his own like that, but it was for the best.

Grabbing Vark's leash, he clicked it into place before he stood up, looking around at his now empty apartment. It had been a bit hectic, moving everything out so quickly, but if Vox was anything, he was efficient. Unfortunately for now, Vark would be staying with Velvet due to the lack of tank at Val's place. And while he was grateful to her for offering to take care of him for the week, it would take to get one installed, well.. he looked down at the shark demon, who was currently leaning into his leg, looking up at him with those large eyes that didn't hold a single thought behind them. His heart twisted. 

Vox knelt down again, rubbing the top of Vark's head, between his eyes like he knew the shark demon liked. His tail thumped happily on the floor, and he nuzzled into Vox's arms.

"Are you seriously rolling around on the floor with that mut?" Vox turned his screen to see Valentino leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a cigarette dangling between his fingers, getting ash on the freshly cleaned floors.

Standing up, Vox pulled on the tight smile. "I sleep with you, don't I?"

The cigarette slipped from Valentino's slender fingers onto the smooth tile, a high heel quickly crushing it with a loud clack. Vox winced, taking a step back, regret burning in the back of his throat. "Wait, Val I didn't mean—"

Crack.

Vox blinked, staring at the crack in the wall, a smarting pain on the side of his screen and an ache in his neck slowly registering. He gingerly turned his head back to Valentino, the crack on the wall moving with him. Oh. It wasn't in the wall, it was his screen. Again.

Valentino's smile was as sharp as it was saccharine. "Want to try that again, mi querida tele?"

It hurt to swallow. "...I finished packing everything." His words were slow, measured, eyes darting from Val's piercing eyes to his claws.

Like a switch was flipped, arms wrapped around Vox's waist, pulling him into the moth's firm chest with a happy squeak. "¡Ah, Maravilloso! I knew you would come around, cariño."

Vox relaxed into Valentino's arms, grin softening into something more genuine. The crack in his screen faded quickly, and was forgotten just as fast.

—

They left with no goodbyes, Vark leading the charge with an eager pace, leaving Vox stumbling after him, Valentino chuckling behind his hand. The three got into the waiting limo, which drove off in the direction of the studio.

“Velvette said she’s coming over,” Vox murmured, leaning into his boyfriend’s chest, wrapping one arm around his waist, the other seeking out Valentino's wrist, thumb rubbing idle circles into the smooth skin. A warm palm was quick to open up and engulf his own. “To pick up Vark."

Val looked down at him, grimacing. "Good, I don't want that mut ruining my clothes." He squeezed Vox's middle once for emphasis, pressing them closer together. "Besides, I was hoping to make up for lost time."

“Hmm, yeah, yeah...” Vox had pulled out his phone, scrolling through meaningless emails, seeing if there was anything he should be particularly worried about. It was all the same, a bunch of complaints and whiny drivel he couldn’t quite focus on. He didn’t notice that Valentino hadn’t responded until he felt a hand on his inner thigh. 

“And I was hoping" Val repeated, claw dragging up to the seam of his pants. "We could have some fun~” Val whispered into his ear, “besides, you promised me you’d come to the shoot today, didn’t you?” He had. Usually Velvet, Valentino and himself steered clear of each other's sides of the business. They each had their own parts they had full control over, and as long as they were being profitable and efficient, there was no reason to step on each other's toes. But Valentino had asked, wanted him to come. His company. And, well.. despite not being particularly thrilled about the prospect of going, he knew it would help make up for this past week. 

“Is that so?” Vox felt his fans kick into a higher gear a blush creeping up his neck as Valentino pushed him down into the leather seats, waving  a hand at the driver to take a detour, before closing the slider. "You know how Vel gets when we're late—"

"She'll understand.." Valentino purred, peppering kisses down Vox’s neck, unbuttoning his shirt, claws sliding against navy skin. “Besides, I have a few new things I’ve been wanting to try…” Something warm and wet licked up Vox’s neck. 

"Fuck.." Vox gripped at the fur on Valentino's throat, tugging on it as too many hands explored his body. Gripping and rubbing and stroking, slipping under his shirt, claws grazing his tender flesh. Hot puffs of hair blew into the ports on the back of Vox's neck, as diligent fingers rubbed the ones on the base of his spine and on the inside of his left knee. Vox squirmed, arching into the warm body above him, slacks quickly growing too tight.

A groan escaped his lips when a warm palm pressed against the bulge in his pants, his hips jerking at the contact. A low chuckle reverberated against Vox's chest, going straight to his cock, serrated teeth nipping at the tender skin where flesh meets metal. "Still so sensitive.." A claw hooked into the port in his back, making him whine. "Such a needy little whore for me, aren't you?"

Shame curled un Vox's gut, mixing uncomfortably with the pleasure, screen flushing pink. He didn't have time to dwell on it, as Valentino swifty unzipped the front of his slacks, a large hand dipping inside, grasping him. Shit. His screen glitched, "Val—" he let out a gasp, tapering off into a keen as his boyfriend pressed his claw into his tip, spreading his precum around as he started to slowly jerk him off. Between that, the soft kisses, the hands fingering and playing with his ports— shit shit shit he wasn't going to last long at all.

The scent of candied cigarettes filled his senses as Valentino whispered into his processors. "Aw, baby, you really missed me, hm?" A strangled sound left him as Valentino started to pick up the pace, warm palm scorching against his aching skin. "Such a worthless little slut~"

Vox bit his lip, another pang of hurt hitting him in the chest, mixing with the pleasure. It wasn't new, Valentino calling him that when they had sex. Worthless. Freak. Pervert. Monster. Machine. Usually with it came with broken screens and bones, thick, cloying smoke and saliva that made his brain numb to the insults, made him enjoy it. But.. it was something about the gentle way he said it, the softness in his tone.

The sweetness.

Vox came with a pathetic whimper, spilling into his partner's fist as he wrung out every last drop of pleasure, claws fiddling with his sensitive ports until his thighs trembled and shook. Finally, he went limp under Valentino, who pulled his hand out of Vox's pants, licking it clean with a smug smirk. Vox felt electricity jump between his antenna at the sight, he swallowed. Hot.

A loud bark interrupted the two of them, and Vark grabbed Vox’s sleeve, pulling on it with an excited yip. It snapped Vox out of his post-orgasm haze a bit, and he let out a soft chuckle, wrestling his arm away from the shark before petting him. “Did you think we were having fun without you? Yeah? Yeah?” Vark wiggled happily at the attention.

Valentino huffed, crossing his arms, looking at Vark with narrowed eyes. “We were.” 

Vox snorted, before crawling over to the moth, wrapping his arms around the other demon’s neck, checking his internal clock as the limo arrived at the studio. A message popped up on his screen, Vel was running late. “Well.. we should have some time to ourselves at home before Velvette comes over..” Home. The word tasted odd in his mouth, but in a good way. New. Better. And the way Valentino looked at him after he said it was a reward in and of itself.

When they got there they didn’t make it to the bed. 

–

Angel Dust wasn’t ready for his shift, he never was. All he could really do was take something extra from his dwindling stash and hope Valentino would have something to take the edge off when he got there. He didn’t think he’d be that lucky today, but a man could dream. 

Grabbing his work bag off the floor, Angel mumbled a quick kiss-riddled goodbye to Nuggs's forehead, and made sure he had enough food and water, along with a little extra in case he didn’t make it home on time again. Last time, he had felt awful about forgetting about Nuggs, imagining the worst, but had found that his pig munching on some apple slices that had come from the kitchen. It made him feel worse, making Charlie carry the burden of looking after his pet on top of everything else..

Speak of the devil's daughter, Charlie and Vaggie greeted him at the door, and he held back a groan. Just great, exactly what he needed, another lecture. Angel held up his hand when Charlie opened her mouth to speak. “Look, princess, I get that ya care an’ all," even if for the life of him he couldn't understand why. " But I really can’t be late for this shift.” 

“This will only take a minute, I promise!” Stepping closer, Charlie thrust a clipboard into his lower set of hands.

He took it with a slight frown, there was quite a few pages, all blank, only having rectangular grids on them. That, and little motivational stickers stuck to both the bottom of the paper and the glittery clipboard itself.“What's this for?”

“It’s a sign-out sheet.” Vaggie explained, “if you ever want to leave the hotel, just put your name, the time you left, the reason why you’re leaving, where you’re going, and a rough time on when you’ll be back.” 

“I…” Angel looked down at the sheet, biting his lip. It was thoughtful, really thoughtful, but.. “Look, it’s a good idea an’ all, but I can’t give you a time on when I’ll be back, I..” It wasn’t up to him when he got back, it never was. It could be just a few hours, or it could be the next three days, it all depended on Val’s mood, and Angel doubted it would be a good one. 

“It doesn’t have to be exact!” Charlie took one of his hands, “it’s just so we know where you are, and if you aren’t back when you expect, we’ll know when we should start to worry.” Her voice got quieter as she spoke, and she pulled her hand back, concern shining in her eyes. 

Fuck, how the hell could he say no to that? She just didn’t want to worry about him.. why was she even worrying about him! Why does she care so damn much.. it hurt to think about, that someone like her could even spare a second thought for someone like him. 

He smiled, if only slightly, it was genuine. “‘Course.” Angel jotted down his name, the time— five thirty PM— that he was going to work at the studio, and that he should be back by morning, but it could be later. He handed it back, and he didn’t miss the relief in both of their eyes.

He decided to brush it off, waving off Charlie's hug before heading out the  door. “See ya later, ladies!” 

The taxi rolled up minutes later, and before he knew it he was looking up the towering building that was Valentino’s studio. Closing his eyes, he took one last breath of fresh air— as fresh as it could get in hell— and stepped inside, making his way to the correct set. He had been working on this movie for the past few weeks, and it hadn’t been going too well. Valentino had been temperamental and petty the whole way through the process, making absurd requests and an unreasonable amount of retakes until the actors could barely even get it up anymore, even with the 'extra help.' It had been annoying, but the work wasn’t too hard yet, and it beat being shoved onto some random street corner for the night.

“Angel Cakes~” Angel Dust did not flinch at the voice that called him over, and instead obediently went to Val’s side. It looked like the set was just about finished getting cleaned and redone. Huh, he was early for once. 

“Heya boss,” Valentino was perched upon his filming chair like it was a throne, his smile was sharp, but pleased, softening slightly at the edges. “Good shoot tonight?”

Laughing, Val breathed out a thick fog of pink smoke, “you could say that.” He got up, circling behind Angel, grabbing his shoulders lightly. The shorter demon tensed, steeling himself, ready for the mask to slip. For the smile to turn into a snarl. The soft touches becoming vicious, painful. 

But they didn’t. 

Val pulled away from him, leaving Angel room to breathe. “I want you to meet someone, actually. He’ll be around a lot more, since he’s joining the project, and it would only be proper to be the one to introduce you two.” Angel’s heart plummeted when a new figure entered the room. His posture was ramrod straight, with a winning smile on his face. 

The Television Demon entered the room with the aura of someone with thousands of cameras flashing in their face. He held out a hand, eyes sharp, calculating, knowing . This was not the man he met in the bar that night. No, this was a new monster entirely.

The Overlord's smile widened, shap, like the jaws of a shark. “Hello, Angel Dust was it? Pleasure to be working with you.”