Chapter Text
It wasn’t so bad being in Hell. Initially, you were distraught over the fact that this is where you had landed yourself. Who wouldn’t be? But you were nothing if not an opportunist, so you made the most of it. You’d be wrong to call yourself a one-woman show after the ensemble of demons you screwed over to get to this point, however, nothing could be traced back to you, so you didn’t need to care.
Holding a bottle of perfume like it were an Academy Award trophy you won for Best Actress, you carefully spritzed the sweet fragrance that never failed to bring you compliments on the back of your neck. Then on the inside of your wrists. It had nothing to do with the supposed physical “chemistry” explanation, but everything to do with the convention. As did the rest of your meticulousness when it came to your appearance. Your speech. Your mannerisms. Your reactions. All for the idea of yourself you presented. The illusion.
Figuratively, and literally.
You were attractive, yes, but it was the way in which you were attractive that you were very purposeful in curating. You believed a certain author would have referred to you as ‘The Coquette’ archetype with how you looked and acted. Pretty, sweet, playful, and a master of playing the hot and cold game. Just like that, you had anyone you wanted wrapped around your manicured finger.
Literally speaking though, you gained the power of creating high quality illusions when you fell into Hell. They could be completely immersive life-like sensory experiences, traumatizing any foe that stood in your way. Thankfully, you didn’t need to use it as much anymore, now that you had the security of a loft apartment in the high-end side of the entertainment district.
You know it’s approximately 8:40AM when your phone pings with a message from your long-time assistant, Vikki. The first soul you ever owned, given to you as a gift for saving her life.
As always, the message read that she was waiting outside for you in the car. Tossing your laptop into your purse, you made your way downstairs. You took one last look at yourself in the full length mirror by the door, just to make sure you were absolutely perfect. Your typical work outfits varied between dresses, mini pencil skirts with button downs and waistcoats, and- the height of luxury for your time, and your signature look- 90s Chanel suits. Reminiscent of the bold looks that strutted the runways, you loved a form fitting strapless dress with a mini blazer, or a skirt-top duo opposed to a dress. Today though, you picked the waistcoat centered outfit.
Hell’s trademark sticky humid air greeted you, only lasting as long as the moment when you said a cheery good morning to your chauffeur holding the door open for you, then vanquished by the AC. You slid into the seat next to Vikki, graciously taking the coffee cup she offered you. Tapping your cup against hers, you both simultaneously took a much needed sip. A satisfied smile graced your features as the warmth blossomed in your chest.
“Thank you, as always,” You said to her, relaxing into the grooved leather seats as the car took off.
“Anytime! I need it as much as you do.” She joked, pulling out her phone. You sipped your coffee in anticipation for the list Vikki was about to throw at you.
“Not too many things to do today…You should be done by 6!”
Vikki’s voice drew on as you continued drinking your coffee, making mental notes of everything even though there was a digital copy of it at the ready. Appointment with Velvette to go over her new line campaign…Review some ads for the Carmine account…analytics to go over…meeting with Vox. As an overlord yourself, it only made sense for you to work closely with the others. The Vees were your most demanding clients, given their severe desire for social relevance. Valentino always had new porn films and actors that needed to be advertised. Your least favorite, for all the reasons why a pimp would be anyone's least favorite person. Vox, with everything from tech to all television entertainment and constantly onto the next new trendy product. You worked…relatively..closely. Lots of late night espresso shots and take out dinners. You knew about his thing for you, and pretended you didn’t. Then, of course, was Velvette, who you were probably closest with. Although terrifyingly intense sometimes, she’s the most rewarding to work with. Perks included fashion show invites, clothes, and once in a while, a modeling job.
The car arrived at V Tower and you stepped out, waving good-bye to Vikki who you’re sure will call you later to update you on projects. After exchanging pleasantries with the receptionist, she slid your access card to you, and you passed through security to take the elevator up to Velvette’s studio. Upon entering you could hear her shouting at incompetent designers and scattered models. The room was a mess with fabrics draped over furniture and clothing racks turned over.
Velvette spotted you in her peripheral, “For fucksake-It's about time!” she shouted, beckoning you over. You fell into step with her without missing a beat, Velvette going off. “I’ve been dealing with these IDIOTS all morning long, I need someone around here with some common sense.”
“I’m flattered,” You smiled, voice carrying a note of sarcasm to relieve the tension. Velvette only rolled her eyes in response before motioning you to follow her. For the next 3 hours you’re previewing mock designs and going over options for a campaign around the collection. As manager to the stars, aka CEO of your ad agency, the main part of your job was working directly with the clients at your level or higher. Of course each client account had one of your teams assigned to them, but the high profile clients met personally with you. It was your pleasure, and you let them know it was too.
Velvette beamed, a glorious sight that made your heart leap in your chest, “That’s it! That’s what I want.”
“Beautiful!” You clapped your hands together, and starred the vision board on your laptop. “I’ll get this to my team and forward it to yours.”
“Yes, yes, looking forward to seeing what you cook up,” She said, shifting her gaze to check the time on her phone and groaned. “Valentino’s on his way. You better get your ass out of here if you don’t want to see the fucking shitshow of a massacre he’s about to start here.”
You pushed the hair from your face, clenching your teeth. “Thanks for the warning,” You tucked your laptop back in your purse, “Bad mood lately?”
Velvette’s sigh alone was enough to tell you that the answer was ‘yes’. “He’s beyond pissed that his favorite plaything moved out.”
You nodded, raising your brows in understanding. She was referring to Angel Dust, the renowned porn star. Valentino’s obsession.
“Trouble in paradise?” You asked, almost under your breath but loud enough for Velvette to know you meant for her to hear it.
“More like the fucking end of the world.”
You shrugged and winked at her, “Same thing.”
Blowing her a kiss and flitting your fingers goodbye, you quickly left V Tower. The last thing you needed was for Valentino to catch you and start whining to you about his personal life. Valentino crossed so many lines as a colleague. Industry gossip was one thing, feelings were another. Touching you and whispering lewd things meant to tempt you into being a part-time porn star were a new level. If it weren’t for Vox, Valentino never would have been your client. At least he paid you well.
Back at your office, you worked away on reviewing the advertisements for Carmilla. She didn’t ask for your help much, as she had already established herself as a household name in Hell. You were happy to help out a fellow overlord though, and Carmilla liked you fine. Final edits for the exclusive product showcase online banners and such until it was time for you to return to the V Tower for your meeting with Vox. Before entering Vox’s main office, you smoothed out your shirt and fixed your hair. Vox was almost always in a mood whenever you entered, so you begrudgingly turned the door handle to see what kind of Vox would be waiting for you.
Vox was leaning back in his chair with a foot resting on the edge of his desk, as if he was going to launch himself off of it and into the wall. He sounded irritated with one of his employees, deadpanning at the aquarium across from him. You quickly caught his eye, and he fixed the way he was sitting before telling the person he was talking to he’d call them back.
“There she is! Good to see you, have a seat!” He smiled. You laughed at the sudden enthusiasm back in his voice as you sat across from him.
You shook your head slightly, mouth quirked up at a corner, “You know you don’t have to do the whole TV show host act when I’m here, right?” You taunted him.
Vox chuckled in return, before looking at you again with more relaxed eyes. His posture remained rigid. “I do know that, I’m just excited to see you this afternoon.”
“Oh?” You tilted your head to the side, “Why’s that?”
“Our latest campaign was a hit! We’ve been raking in the money you know.” The sound of a crowd cheering plays from Vox as he leans over to you. “You never fail to impress me, Y/N.”
You beam back at him, pleased with yourself for another successful ad campaign.
“Oh, I’m only the brains behind that pretty face of yours.” You laughed, leaning forwards just a touch to tease him.
“You’re much more than that.” Vox caught his near breathy tone of voice when he said that after laughing along with you. He straightened himself back up. “I was thinking we should celebrate!”
Your eyes widened with surprise. Normally you didn’t do much for celebration. Is he joking? “I-”
“I already called your office. Your assistant said you were all clear after this meeting. Whatd’ya say, how about we go for a couple of drinks?”
You stared at him for a moment unblinking, while he looked back at you, his eyes wavering with… nerves? An overwhelming laughter escapes, you causing your eyes to tear up and for you to pitch forwards to clutch your stomach. You wiped away a tear and looked at him again, only to see that he was eyeing you with a perplexed and slightly embarrassed expression.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You smile sincerely, waving your hand in dismissal as if you could fan away the tension. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been a total workaholic- I mean- you’ve shocked me before to keep me up from falling asleep.” You chuckled. “I’d be happy to go out for a drink. I just wasn’t expecting you to ask that.”
“Well you made that obvious.” He said flatly, but his face looked amused with your seemingly genuine care.
“Aw come on, I’m sorry I reacted like that. I’d really love to go with you, I promise.”
Vox let out a relieved huff before standing up and leading you to the door.
“I do like having fun. It’s not my fault that before you all of my ads were so fucking flimsy that when I was done with one thing it was on to the next. You’re the reason I can take a little break.”
Lights flickered between purples, blue, red and pink in a psychedelic sequence as Vox led you through the nightclub to the private lounge he reserved. Vox sat next to you in the booth, with both of his hands on his neck as he leaned back against the soft couch. A server brought a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, as well as two glass champagne flutes and placed them on the table. She quickly uncorked the bottle and poured you each a glass.
“To Y/N! The reason I’m here and not working myself to second death.” He chuckled before clinking his glass against yours. You giggled back modestly, and gulped down your drink. You savored the cold and yet slightly burning feel of the champagne down your throat, mixed with the already humid air in the club.
It wasn’t long before you and Vox had finished the bottle, and he mentioned getting another. You were quick to suggest shots instead. With a grudging smirk, Vox let you take his hand and drag him over to the bar, following close to you as you weaved through the crowd. You each took one and downed it. Before you knew it, you were asking for another one. And another. And another.
The night became a blur of dancing, drinking and laughing with Vox. He loosened up after a few drinks, a side you didn’t get to see often. To see him drunk, you mean. There was one night at a conference where he got plastered-
You hadn’t seen him near alcohol since that night. Luckily, tonight he kept the conversation light, mostly going off on rants about work or Valentino’s recent destructive behavior. As for you, even though you were drunk out of your mind, you kept the wit to encourage his ranting. You didn’t care in the slightest about what it was Vox was talking about, and yet you kept laughing and egging him on so he wouldn’t stop. When you did get tired of it though, you offered him a dance instead.
Vox murmured something incomprehensible in your ear when he got up behind you, and your pulse quickened. Whatever it was, it was incredibly clear that he was drunk. You were too, despite your best efforts to hold your liquor.
Quipping back, you gently pushed him backwards and rolled your eyes. Not that anything mattered. It was late. You were tired and drunk, and tomorrow you probably had a busy day. Your head was pounding from the lights and music, your heels felt like they were being pierced after wearing your stilettos all day. You took Vox’s hand and went back to your lounge area to call your drivers, ignoring his whines about how he wanted to stay out with you a little longer. According to convention, you should personally bring Vox back to V Tower and help him get settled. Though, given your history, you decided it would be better to play it safe and let Vox get home himself. Together, you drunkenly stumbled through the venue outside. Vox clutched your waist to keep himself steady, and heat radiated from his screen against your head. “There you are,” Your voice strained as you helped him into the back seat of his car, his weight leaving your arms.
“Fuck, when will I see you again?” He breathed, the brows on his screen pinched together to be pleading. You couldn’t resist, “In your dreams, I’m sure.” You bent down and fixed the collar of his shirt, “Night, Vox.”
He groaned out a goodnight and you shut the door, giving his driver the go ahead to leave. On your way home you would have fallen asleep if it wasn’t for the call you received from.. Vikki? Why would she be calling so late?
“Hey Vikki, what’s up?” You manage to say given your state.
“Y/N, the, um, Radio Demon has requested to meet with you tomorrow morning. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”