[for @poisonedspider, Continued From Here]

[for @poisonedspider, continued from here]

Vox smiled when Angel actually accepted the drink, then even more when he spoke to him. Despite them having lived together for so long, he and Angel had had very few one-on-one conversations. When they did, they were usually something short and to the point, like Vox asking what kind of pizza Angel wanted, or the civil exchange of greetings. The two of them didn't interact all that often, certainly not directly. All this time, that had been by design--his design, not Angel's. Vox didn't want the interaction or the intimacy. He didn't want the risk. Too much time with Angel might upset Valentino--or Angel, for that matter--and there was always too much work to do to risk adding more to it. Vox had so many projects happening at any given time, his attention was being pulled in so many directions, that he didn't enjoy having to deal with emotional...

Issues.

But lately, he'd begun realizing that was a mistake--especially when it came to Angel Dust.

The Tower was a little too quiet without Angel around. Something unexpected was missing when he wasn't there, something Vox couldn't name or fully understand; whatever it was, it left an ache behind, left the world too quiet. So this? Having an uncomplicated moment together? It felt nice. Overdue. Stupid, maybe, for so many reasons, but still. Nice.

Vox walked alongside him, smiling--the smile half for Angel and half for the sharks they were going to see.

When one of Angel's arms brushed his shoulder, Vox shivered. He buttoned his shirt up, realizing that maybe he wasn't comfortable showing quite so much of his pale blue skin right now, and hoped Angel hadn't noticed. It wasn't that he didn't trust Angel, it was--something else. Something about Angel, something Vox knew better than to think about. Something dangerous.

Something tempting.

"There's a difference between not being busy," he pointed out, twitching an eyebrow, "and being interested in doing something. Allegedly," playfulness making his eyes seem to sparkle, "it's good for people to just have some downtime. To do nothing." Not that Vox bothered with that often.. or at all. Relaxation was for people who didn't have their own business empires to run; even here, even now, he was constantly processing data and monitoring the projects that needed it most.

Angel probably knew him well enough to know that, and might well make fun of him for it, which Vox wouldn't even be able to say was wrong of him. There were things Angel and Valentino both seemed to understand about being a person that Vox just... didn't. But that was fine. It took all sorts, right? Either way, Vox was happy. There was some pep in his step as the two of them walked along to the lagoon, although for once, Vox didn't seem to be in a hurry. He wasn't rushing--walking next to Angel Dust wasn't something that should be rushed.

"So, do you... have any plans for this week? Other than look incredible, of course."

"It's been fifteen years-- If you're being genuine, I want a real official date first."

Blitz's eyes widened at first, because he had been expecting Fizz to laugh and mock and just generally chew him out, which would have been fair. And shit, maybe that was still coming, maybe this was just the setup for a joke, but...

Fuck it.

Blitz would risk being set up for Fizz. He'd risk damn near anything for Fizz. So, expression softening, he stepped close and touched their foreheads together very lightly, very briefly, smiling.

"You got it," Blitz said, his voice genuine for once, no overtones of bullshit or defensiveness or teasing. "You and me, Fizz. A first date or til death do us part. I'm good with goddamn anything, as long as it's with you."

What the hell was Valentino doing with Angel Dust? All this time, Val had been obsessed with him, always coming up with wilder and darker plots for their films, but it had seemed... Vox had assumed it was consensual. That the two of them had a relationship. He'd seen them together often enough, days when Val was in one of his more glowing moods and felt like showing Angel off a little, when Valentino would bring Angel to dinner with Vox and Velvette, nights when they would all curl up together and watch a movie, and Vox would do his best to ignore whatever giggling happened under the blanket over on their end of the couch.

Angel Dust belonged to Valentino in every way, and thus wasn't really any of Vox's business. Unless he knew Velvette or Valentino were going to be out doing something dangerous, Vox just didn't spy on the two of them, and thus he never spied on whoever they were fucking. He could, of course, but he didn't; the three of them had a tenuous truce, ever-flexible, but that was one of the main threads running through it. Vox didn't spy on them, or on their immediate affairs, because he chose to trust them both.

But after seeing Angel like that up on the balcony, eyes desperate, body frantically trying to shut down and escape at once, and the way Valentino had smirked about it and then not even seemed to care... Vox wondered if maybe, maybe he had made a mistake.

Maybe he should have been watching Angel.

So, now, he was.

Not in real-time, not yet, but from his office. Vox locked the door and plugged himself in, frowning as he pulled up every feed, every video, every logged data-point he had about Angel Dust and Valentino. Vox had years of film to go through and he processed it quickly--but not quickly enough. Not quickly enough to avoid feeling it, feeling it creeping through him, coating his skin with that slick oily feeling Val's tongue left behind. Some of what he saw made his lip curl. Some made his cheek twitch.

All of it made his fists clench.

Vox had allowed Valentino to do so much to him in bed because he thought he was Val's outlet. Val sometimes needed to be violent and controlling, and Vox was more than strong enough to take it. He didn't like it, but he didn't need to like it; his lover liked and needed the cruelty, Vox could take it, and as far as he had known, that was that. He assumed he was an adequate outlet--all the more so because he was willing. And, from what Vox was seeing, Angel was not. Not at fucking all. Willing to be loved and petted and made into a star, willing to do his job, sure, yeah, he was willing to do those things. But willing to be physically beaten and terrorized in their downtime? Willing to be gaslit, broken, terrorized, forced into addiction to Val's venom?

Vox was furious.

This wasn't the way to retain good employees.

This wasn't the way to win masses over.

This--

Was vile.

This was Valentino fucking with the Vees' image as a whole.

And, worst of all, Angel was their friend. At least, Vox had thought he was. In some distant way, more of an acquaintance maybe, but still. Angel Dust's image was strongly associated with the Vees through Valentino. He ought to be being treated well. He ought to have nothing bad to say about the Vees. Valentino was fucking that up.

And the footage of Angel crying... angry looks Angel sometimes shot towards a camera as if, all this time, he had expected that Vox was watching... and then they would get together for lunch the next day and Angel must have thought he knew and just didn't care, didn't say anything, and--

Fucking. Val. Why couldn't he just do his damn job without constantly trying to destroy their image? Without betraying their friend? Because what, what were the Vees if they didn't have loyalty? If they couldn't trust each other? And every time Valentino broke Angel, left him crying on the goddamn tiles--

Vox was shaking when he put all of the files back in storage, fury making his nerves quite literally sparkle under the skin, thankfully covered up by the suit. Although there was no one there to see, he straightened his jacket and then his tie anyway when he stood up and walked out to his main office, to his computer.

A few clicks was all it took to invade Val's privacy further, and Angel's, by looking into the paystubs for Val's studio.

Angle was paid less than the key grip.

Vox let out a slow, controlled breath, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back. I will fix this, he thought coldly and calmly, and he took out his phone. After sending several texts, he put the phone away, stood, and headed out.

"Cancel all of my appointments for the rest of the day," he told his assistant--who was paid at least three times what Angel Dust was paid, not including the fact that he actually got overtime, and who had never once had to sell himself on the fucking streets--without looking over at him, voice smooth, calm, composed. Vox walked on, forcing himself to go slowly as he headed up to Val's floor--

To Angel Dust's dressing room.

Although he wanted to burst in, he raised a hand and knocked politely on the door instead.

"Angel Dust," Vox called, his voice perhaps surprisingly serious for once; he usually used his public voice with Angel, cheerful and energetic. "I'd like to come in, please."

Starter for @doublejango

To say that he felt embarassed was the biggest understatement of the century. That emotion barely skimmed the surface of what he was feeling in that moment. Shame, agony, distress, anger. It was a dangerous cocktail, and it was no wonder that Angel Dust spent most of his time in the studio high as a kite if he could help it. There was no other way he'd be able to tolerate the overwhelming emotions that hit him like a truck.

Valentino of course knew exactly what he was doing to Angel. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last time that the pimp had laid a hand on him. Though as far as Angel knew, this was the first time that Vox had been witness to it. He wasn't stupid. He knew there were cameras all over that damn tower, and surely the flat-faced prick had to have seen what went down. Right?

But Vox's expression before he had poofed off to fuck knows where through the electrical currents said that maybe he hadn't known. Either that, or he was just disgusted that Valentino kept letting filth like him into the Vee Tower, especially after Angel had so clearly left. But knowing there were multiple individuals that were judging him, feeding off his misery, it only made matters worse.

Mascara tracks painted the white fur that framed his face, any makeup that the team had worked so hard on to hide that black eye blotchy and revealing now. He slammed the balcony door shut, grabbing the bottle of Velvette's stupid love potion that was on the table and smashing it against the wall, shoving his vanity mirror down too until it shattered into hundreds of fragments, his broken face now reflecting at him times ten.

Collapsing onto the ground, Angel brought his knees up to his chest, curling all four arms tightly around himself, trying to make himself into as small a ball as humanly possible. Face buried into his knees, entire body trembling as he tried to calm himself down. Now that Val wasn't occupied by Vox, he would probably be trying to come into Angel's room any minute, and if he saw the destruction of both his room and himself, he knew there would only be further consequences.

Fuck. Blitz was usually the one to lead when it came to kissing someone, initiating things, setting off cascades of dangerous sparks. That was usually his fault--his doing. But giving in and letting Angel kiss him like this? It was nice, for a couple of seconds. For just a moment there, it was kind of wonderful. The kiss was hot, and as Blitz returned it with full enthusiasm, it was sexy as fuck--

Until he felt it.

The honesty.

The need.

The yearning. Not even desire, but a yearning behind that passion. The need to connect. To see and be seen. To hold and be hold. Angel had just willingly smashed all of his own walls down, taken down his own protections, and he was putting himself out here--fully vulnerable, fully courageous.

The way Blitz kissed him back softened, eased, pulling back from something passionate and dangerous, smoothing into something gentler, but no less deep, no less wanting. Eventually, when he pulled back enough to look up into Angel's eyes, Blitz's expression was almost imploring. Don't hurt yourself to help me, he wanted to say. I'm going to find a way to help you someday. Whatever it takes. But that means you need to be around to be helped... why are you risking yourself like this? Why are you risking baring yourself to me? He could feel the tenderness of a good heart here, a heart that could be bruised, that maybe bruised itself half the time when a smile was forced...

A little overwhelmed with the weight of this trust, Blitz nonetheless took it in stride. He didn't imagine he was hiding anything anymore, either.

"Angel?" He took two of his hands and kissed them both, unsure what he was trying to accomplish here, only that there was some kind of need, fractured sparks bouncing between them, impossible to see, impossible not to feel. "I don't... know what you... ah, fuck. I'm gonna try so fucking hard not to hurt you, okay? But if--if you start to feel hurt or anything, and you, you, you need to pull away, or stop reading my texts, or just... anything. You should. And I'll get it." It took courage to make oneself vulnerable like this. Angel deserved better than a shitty relationship with a shitty imp--but here they were, starting something without any apparent brakes or definitions, and it felt... fucking nice. Right?

Could a relationship ever feel even halfway right...?

Angel knew what was happening all too well. He was no mind reader, but he knew the signs enough. He had seen them reflected in his own mirror, the over extended confidence that yeah, he did have, but it was his only shield, hiding away all the hurt and broken feelings that lingered inside. He didn't know what monster had put those thoughts into Blitz' head, in fact, maybe it had been the imp doing it to himself, but Angel didn't care. All he knew was - he was there. He got it.

Even the way the other forced that smile, put on the facade, it was all sickeningly familiar. Just smile and nod, pretend that the world wasn't falling apart, that Hell wasn't truly the suffering that they had always been promised. He hated every moment that he had lost being alive, because he had thought that was true Hell. His overdose had been a result of that pain, unintentional, yet intentional all the same, trying to escape the torment.

Only to be thrust into it tenfold.

He had stayed silent for a moment, Angel studying Blitz the way that Blitz studied him. A fierce understanding, not needing words. Angel didn't know if he believed in fate, per se, but something had made it so they had met that day. Out of all the souls of Hell. Especially knowing imps could travel between rings, it had been something to draw Blitzo to the Pride Ring at that very moment. And maybe this was it.

He was admittedly terrified; terrified for the first time when it came to using his body as a tool to tell his story. Because he knew as soon as he kissed this man - there was no going back. He knew that every secret feeling he had kept locked up was going to come spilling out, and Angel's heart would once again be at risk. A bleeding soul, desperate to be loved for who he was. For all of him, every broken piece.

But he could tell Blitz felt the same. A need to be understood, despite his brokenness. And that was what had thrust him into action. His upper hands shooting forward, grabbing the other by the front of his shirt, tugging the smaller man towards him. Lower arms wrapped around Blitz' waist, pulling him against his fluffy torso, as he unabashedly slammed his lips into the other. Maybe not the most delicate, but certainly passionate. A kiss that said he was here. He had him. He accepted him. He maybe even loved him.

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Artist : @ayamnnn_195

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