Chapter Text
7:00 AM
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Vox’s hand clumsily pats the nightstand to find his phone, silencing the alarm with a swipe of his thumb. Great. Time to get up already. He never feels rested anymore these days.
With a deep breath, he stretches out his arms and blinks open his eyes. Valentino is still asleep next to him, he always sleeps through his alarms. Vox has pretty much become Val’s personal alarm clock at this point.
“Come on, Val, get up.” Vox gives the other man a nudge as he starts to sit up in the bed. “We’ve got a lot of shit to do today.” He can already feel his head pounding and he hasn’t even been awake for 2 minutes yet. It’s going to be a long day.
7:32 AM
He finally manages to pull himself out of bed, after plenty of mental preparation and too much scrolling. Vox walks into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him, looking over himself in the mirror.
God, he looks like shit. He definitely stayed up way too late last night. And now he’s paying for it. Surely once he gets some coffee this damn headache will start to subside.
He picks up the VoxTek branded microfiber cloth off the counter and brings it up to his face, wiping the corners of his screen and over his eyes. Vox has back to back plans all day long, multiple involving him acting as the public face of the company, so he needs to look his best. Even if he feels like doing nothing other than crawling back into bed right about now.
7:55 AM
Vox steps out of the bathroom, straightening his bowtie and looking far more composed than he did an hour ago. Valentino has finally gotten out of bed, standing by the coffee maker and preparing two fresh cups.
“There’s my Voxxy.” Valentino spins around with coffee in hand, passing one off to Vox with a casual grin. He notices the scowl pulling at Vox’s lips, the way his muscles look too stiff, so he softens his voice. “Is it the headache again?”
“As usual.” Vox scoffs, bringing the coffee up to his lips. The bitterness helps, snapping away that last lingering feeling of drowsiness. “And I’ve got that commercial filming with Katie today. I can’t stand that bitch.”
“She is kind of a whore, isn’t she?” Valentino chuckles, taking a sip of his own coffee. “You’ll do fine, baby. Just get in, get out, and then you’re done.” He taps his fingers against the mug with a tilt of his head. “You didn’t forget about dinner tonight, did you?”
“Oh, shit.” Vox groans. He did. He totally forgot. Just another thing to add to the fucking list. “I’ll have one of my assistants run and get some drinks.”
Valentino rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue in disappointment. Despite being used to Vox’s forgetfulness, it’s particularly annoying when it’s their own dates. “Just make sure they get the good shit this time. If they get that trashy beer again, I’ll fire the whole department.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll handle it. I’ll make sure they get something good.” Vox finishes off the rest of his coffee, walking over to the sink to rinse out the cup.
As his hand flips on the sink, Vox feels a feather light brush against his skin beneath his suit. Right in the crook of his elbow. It makes his arm twitch, but he brushes it off just as quickly. Just a loose thread in his suit. He should ask Velvette to get him a new one. How long has he even had this suit?
“Ay, someone’s already high at the studio?!” Valentino’s voice cuts off Vox’s inner musings, the moth staring down at his phone with a growl. “These sluts can’t even wait until their shift starts?”
With a loud clink against the counter, Val sets down his coffee mug and starts walking towards the door. “Gotta run, baby. Don’t be late for dinner.”
The door slams behind him, leaving Vox staring down at the sink with nothing but his own thoughts. Okay. Time to get this shit over with.
8:15 AM
The click of Vox’s shoes echo down the hallway as he stalks towards his office. Employees are already running around to clock in and get their days started, sinners slowing their pace as they pass by Vox before starting to speed walk once they’re out of sight. Typical.
Vox steps into the elevator, smashing the button for his office and sliding his phone out of his pocket. His schedule for today is a mess. Recording the commercial, a big rally this afternoon, dinner tonight, and a bunch of shit in between.
The elevator doors shut and it starts travelling up with its singular passenger. At least the caffeine has taken the edge off and the headache is finally starting to fade away. The sooner he can get started, the sooner this day can be over.
He idly scrolls through the news articles released this morning.
“Radio Demon Sentenced to CHAIR PRISON”
“Charlie Morningstar KICKS PUPPIES?!”
"10 Reasons you SHOULDN’T call that bitch back and why she’s probably FUCKING YOUR DAD”
A scoff escapes from him as he continues to scroll. At least it’ll get clicks.
Vox’s idle scrolling is interrupted as he feels something… weird. Almost like back in his room.
There’s the sensation of a sloooow drag up his side, starting at the bottom rib and dragging aaallll the way up to the top.
Vox flinches and his hand flies down to his side to wipe the sensation off of him, but it’s gone before he even has a chance. What the hell was that? Is his suit really that old? Or did something crawl under his clothes?
Ding.
The elevator doors slide open to the empty hallway right outside of Vox’s office. Whatever. He can deal with it later. His skin still feels a little tingly, his palm brushing over his side before he steps into the hallway. Time to go check in on his prisoner.
8:18 AM
Vox pushes the office door open, eyes scanning the room for any shit Alastor might’ve caused during the night. Thankfully, his office is exactly as he left it, the deer demon sitting in his chair, just as he should be.
“Ah, Vox! Did you do something with your tie? You look even more miserable than usual.” Alastor immediately goes for a jab, eager for a source of entertainment after sitting in this dark room all night.
“Shut it, Alastor. I don’t have time to deal with you right now.” Vox waves off the snark, walking over to his desk and peeling open the drawers. He needs to grab that advertisement that needs copied, grab that release form that needs signed, grab the-
“My, my, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning!” Alastor scoots the rolling chair forward, entirely unbothered by the cables binding him in place. “Hasn’t anyone told you it’s rude to ignore your guests?”
An annoyed grumble comes from Vox’s throat as he looks up at the other man, whose smile looks far too sharp today. He’s up to something. What did the bastard do this time?
“Cut the shit. What is it? Did you break something?” Vox’s eyes narrow as he glances around the office and back to the captive in front of him. Everything looks normal and in place. But Alastor looks significantly more smug than he usually does.
Alastor lets out a theatrical, offended gasp. “Break something? Me? How poorly you must think of me.” He leans back in the chair, idly tapping one of his shoes on the ground. “On the contrary, I’ve sat here in this delightful little chair for the past 8 hours while you snoozed away. It’s been dreadfully boring.”
Vox doesn’t believe him. Not in the slightest. They were friends before. Decades ago, sure, but he only got that shit eating grin on his face when he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
A sharp buzz from Vox’s pocket snaps him out of the suspicion, his hand flying down to his pocket to pull out his phone again. Shit. He’s running behind already.
“Whatever. I don’t have time to deal with this.” He snatches the stack of papers that he needs before slamming the drawer shut, pivoting to head towards the door. “Just sit there and… do whatever it is you do when I’m not here.”
The door slams shut behind him, putting the Radio Demon as far out of his mind as he can. He stares down at the papers in his claws, flipping through them. Right, the order forms. He needs to drop those off with Ethan. Simple enough to start.
8:26 AM
At least Ethan is always easy to find.
Vox shoves the door open, spotting the eel demon buried nose deep in a computer screen. At least someone gets shit done around here. He’s always been a good assistant.
He steps over to the desk and drops down the stack of order forms. “Need you to fill these out. We’re running low on everything since that bitch I fired last week didn’t know how to do her job.”
“Oh, uh, sure thing, boss. By the way, I was able to get in touch with Carmine, and she wants to see you tomorrow to work out the whole ca-”
Vox cuts him off. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. Just put it on my schedule.” Just as he’s about to turn and start walking out the door, he remembers. The drinks. Ethan won’t fuck it up, at least.
He spins on his heel and continues, “Actually, I have another thing I need you to do for me.” Just as he steps right back over to the desk, his muscles stiffen.
There’s that weird feeling again.
It feels like a pointed finger tracing aroooound and aroooound in slow circles at the base of his spine. It’s just light enough to make his muscles twitch and send tingles over his skin.
What the fuck is going on? Why does this keep happening?
Vox’s hand shoots around to his back to rub at the spot with his fingers, eyes narrowing in thought as he looks down at Ethan. “I need you to- toohohoo-”
The circling motion has started to crawl up his spine, little wiggle-wiggles of a sharp finger. It tickles. His shoulders hunch as he tries to shake off the sensation, his words cracking as he tries to hold back the urge to chuckle.
“Uh, boss…?”
The sensation starts to fade away as quickly as it snuck up.
Vox clears his throat with a cough, his eyes narrowed in confusion at whatever the hell just happened. At least there’s nobody else in the office.
With a sharp straightening of his bowtie, he forces his tone into something resembling his typical snark. “Right. I need you to pick up some drinks for dinner tonight. None of the cheap shit. And no beer. Val got real pissy last time.”
“Oh, uh, sure. I’ll drop them by your office later.”
“Fantastic.” Vox eagerly spins on his heel and walks out the door without further pleasantries. What was that about? It felt like a finger on his back. But there was nobody touching him. Maybe he’s even more sleep deprived than he thought…
But that’s the third time it’s happened today. Vox lets out a frustrated huff of air as he strides down the hallway, claws scratching at his back where the tickling sensation had traced moments ago. He should probably check his suit. Just in case.
8:30 AM
Vox kicks open the door to the private bathroom, locking it behind him. He marches straight over to the mirror, looking over himself with a critical eye. Even as he turns to the side to look over his shoulder, there’s nothing there.
He starts unbuttoning the fabric and peeling it off, holding in front of his face to check the inside. There’s no dangling threads. Nothing crawling around inside of it. So where the hell has that feeling been coming from? His suit looks exactly the same as it does every day.
With a grumble, he slides his arms back into the sleeves. It must just be the lack of sleep. Or the stress. There’s still so much shit that needs done today, and he’s already feeling like he’s losing his mind.
Vox snaps the suit buttons back together, straightening out the wrinkles. Maybe he should grab another coffee before he has to get to the recording. Interruptions like that are not going to slide at the studio. He has enough bullshit to deal with over there.
Once he’s composed himself back into the image of a professional CEO that all of Hell loves, he swings the bathroom door open and steps out. The coffee machine better not be empty again.
9:01 AM
Vox’s form zaps into existence inside of the 666 News Studio, chatter of employees already assaulting his ears. The extra coffee hardly helped, he’s still feeling on edge from whatever’s been going on with him today. But he needs to focus. He needs to put on that charming smile that all of the Pride Ring lives for.
With a put upon sigh, he pushes his way inside of the main recording room. The voice of Katie bickering at Tom carries over everything else, immediately grating on Vox’s nerves.
Katie was a pain in the ass to put up with on a normal day. Today is going to be awful.
“Where the fuck’s the set up crew at? Are we recording in here?” Vox stops by the two news anchors, crossing his arms over his chest. The sooner he can get this over with, the better.
“Oh, Vox!” Katie turns her tirade away from Tom, attention fully snapping onto Vox. “Half of ‘em stormed out an hour ago. Something about not getting their paychecks? I dunno, I don’t give a shit. Wasn't paying attention."
“Great. That’s just peachy.” Vox rolls his eyes, tapping his claws in little annoyed ticks. Some idiot in payroll not doing their job. “Whatever. Where are we filming, then? Let’s get it over with.”
“Lemme go grab what’s left of the crew.” Katie pushes to her feet and gestures to the desk behind her. “You just… Sit there and look pretty. You should have no problem with that.”
Vox groans at the comment. Typical. He does, however, go and sit down behind the desk where news segments are typically recorded.
With a moment to himself, his fingers tap anxiously against the wood. No weird sensations have come back yet. Maybe the coffee did help. As long as he can get through the recording without looking like an idiot, that’s all that matters right now.
Just smile, say the lines, get out. Nothing he hasn’t done before.
9:26 AM
“Rolling!”
Vox slides a charming smile on his face, looking into the camera with all the confidence and charisma he can muster. Just read off the teleprompter. Easy.
“Are you tired of feeling bad about yourself? Having no purpose? Bored out of your mind?” He sounds so painfully fake. “Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered!”
Just as Vox takes a breath to start launching into the next line, he feels it. That feeling is starting to come back. A small uuup and dooown just below his bottom rib.
Ignore it. It’s fine. Ignore it. It definitely does not tickle. Vox is not ticklish. No tickles whatsoever.
Pushing past it, he starts reading off the next line. “At VoxTek, we tre-treeheehee-” A giggle slips past his lips, completely faltering and unable to choke the sound back.
Fuck.
The sensation has gotten worse. It feels like fingers crawling up both sides of his ribs, just the tip of a sharp point wiggle-wiggle-wiggling up each bone.
Vox’s shoulders hunch as another laugh slips past his lips. Fuck, that tickles-
“Cut!”
Get it together, Vox.
Vox coughs and clears his throat with a shudder, trying to will that sensation away. Now is not the time. “Yeah, yeah, just run it again. Come on, I don’t have all day.” He places his palms on his sides and aggressively scrubs up and down, trying to force the tingles away. At least this isn’t a live recording.
“Okay, rolling!”
Vox slides the smile back onto his face effortlessly, launching right back into his promotion and reading off the teleprompter. But that sensation is starting to come back. And this time, it’s so much worse.
“At VoxTek, we trea- pffft-... we-heheHEE!”
He’s hit with an aggressive skitter-skitter-skitter up the length of his ribs until the feeling of pointed fingers lands right beneath his arm. Poke poke poke! The feeling of fingers scribbling right into his pits makes Vox flinch backwards, a bark of laughter escaping his throat.
The sensation doesn’t stop.
His hands fly up to cross over his chest to tuck his hands under his arms to shove the sensation away, but it just starts crawling downwards as soon as his hands land.
“WhahahahHEY! Kno-knock it OHOHOFF!” Vox’s hands start rubbing up and down his sides to try to catch the sensation, but each time his hands follow, it just shifts somewhere else. It’s impossible to catch.
“Uh… Cut?”
The confusion of the employees doesn’t even register as Vox is fighting for his life. Against tickles! How the hell did he not know he was this ticklish?!
“What the hell is going on over there? Don’t tell me he started doing fucking drugs.” An annoyed scoff from Katie gets completely drowned out by Vox’s wheezing laughs that are only growing louder.
The tickling sensation has scribbled down to his hips, sharply poking, squeezing, and jabbing the bones in a way that makes his knees hike up and kick his feet in the air.
Fuck, not the hips-!
Vox is slouched down in the chair, feet kicking and laughter bubbling out of his throat without his permission. “Pfffahahaha! G-get the fuck- off of mehehehe!”
The employees watch their boss dissolve into giggles for… seemingly no reason. They all stare at Vox as he kicks his feet and rubs his hands all over his sides, looking completely out of his element.
Just as quickly as the sensation had come on, it vanishes entirely. With one final jab to his hip bones, it fades away, leaving nothing but the lingering tingles against his skin and the panting gasps of catching his breath.
Vox blinks his eyes open, looking down at his suit and frantically searching for the culprit. But there’s nothing there. Absolutely no indication of whatever the hell was just tickling him into kicking his feet like a child.
A cough from one of the employees snaps Vox’s attention back. Shit. He’s in front of a group of people. Trying to do a recording.
Vox looks up at the other demons staring at him with a confused, slightly concerned, look on their faces. He straightens up his posture and pats down his suit, clearing his throat to put the image of the VoxTek CEO back on.
He flashes the employees a glare as if this was all their fault, trying to use a commanding tone to intimidate them into forgetting what they just witnessed. “Well? What are you waiting for? Are we rolling again or not? I’m not paying you to stand there and do nothing.”
Beneath the desk, his claws dig into his knees. There’s no way that was just his imagination. That was so, so ticklish. What the hell is that coming from then?
Someone is fucking with him. They have to be.
“Rolling!”
As soon as this is over, someone will be hearing about this.